Miss Shumway Waves A Wand

“Not much. He was the fellow who found the girl. By rights, I suppose, he ought to have had the reward, but they agreed between themselves to split it. I only saw him once and that was after Shumway and the girl had drawn the money.”

“What did he want?” I asked, feeling that we might be getting places.

“He wanted to get in touch with Kruger,” Dowdy replied.

I stared at him, “Peppi Kruger?” I asked, startled.

“Yes, Peppi’s a big shot now, Millan,” Dowdy returned. “He’s president of the Brooklyn Motor Company and an important political figure in lower East Side politics. About six months ago he got control of the Taxi Chauffeurs’ union. You know the racket. He scared the pants off the taxicab companies and made a pile of jack. Any company that doesn’t pay up, gets into trouble. He’s got them eating out of his hand at the moment, but something tells me that the D.A.’ll get on to him before long. Anyway, he’s made enough money now to retire.”

I whistled, “A guy like that,” I said in disgust, “when I knew him he was running rum for Brescia. What did Kelly want with him?”

Dowdy slid off his stool. “I don’t know,” he said, “I wasn’t having anything to do with it, but I guess he could get in touch with Kruger easily enough.” He looked longingly at the door, “Well, I’ve got to get back,” he went on, “Maddox might want me.”

“Okay, Dowdy,” I said. “You’ve given me a lead.”

He looked at me suspiciously, “What’s the idea? Why are you interested in Shumway?”

“Wouldn’t you be interested in some guy who lost you your job?” I said, meeting his eye. He looked a little scared, “You aren’t going to start trouble, are you, Millan?” he said nervously. “Maddox wouldn’t like that.”

“Do you think I care what Maddox likes or dislikes?” I said. “Why a midget wouldn’t be scared of a rat like him.”

He gave me another troubled look, shook hands and went off across the street to the Recorder Offices.

I finished my coffee, lit another cigarette and then reached for the telephone book. Kruger had a house on East Seventy-eight Street. That made me think. To have a house in that narrow territory bounded by Lexington on the east and Fifth Avenue on the west meant something. It meant more than something. It meant money. Stacks of money.

“Remember Peppi?” I said to Willy, who had just got through preparing the free lunch sandwiches.

“Yeah,” he said, “that punk used to worry me. He didn’t come in here much, but when he did, he sure started a draught. Well, I guess he’s had a successful career, but he didn’t come by it honestly. I don’t envy him.”

I shook my head, “it wouldn’t make a lot of difference if you did,” I said with a grin, “Peppi wouldn’t care.”

Willy grinned back, “I guess that’s right,” he said. “You wouldn’t be interested in Peppi now, would you, Mr. Millan?”

“I don’t know,” I said, “I’ve got time to be interested in anyone.”

“Out of a job?” The big barman’s face showed sympathy.

“Resting,” I said, yawning. “When I want work, I’ll get work. Well, so long, Willy, I’ll be in again.”

“So long, Mr. Millan,” Willy still looked worried, “I hope you get a break.”

Walking down the street, I hoped so too.

Anyway the morning wasn’t wasted. I had something to think about. Why did Kelly want to get into touch with Peppi? 1’hat was interesting. Had Shumway and the girl double-crossed Kelly? Maybe Kelly had once worked for Peppi and wanted him to put some pressure on Shumway to divide up the dough.

I remembered Peppi well. You couldn’t easily forget him. Last time I saw him was about two years ago. He was on trial for murder. I remember him sitting with his Counsel, listening to the opening address by the District Attorney. He never batted an eyelid throughout the two-day trial and he got away with it without the jury leaving the box. As far as I knew, he’d stood trial four times for murder and four times he’d been acquitted. Now, of course, he could pay some other guy to do his killing for him.

Peppi was a little guy with big bulging eyes. When he was a kid he contracted a skin disease that had stripped off his hair. He’d been as bald as an egg ever since. Apart from looking like a second cousin of Lugosi, he had a mean disposition.

So it came back to the problem. What did Kelly want with him? The only thing I could do was to call on Peppi and find out. If I went with a good enough story I might get somewhere. I didn’t exactly relish the visit, but I argued that if a guy had a house on East Seventy-eight, then he wasn’t likely to cut my throat. Or was he?

Anyway, thinking along those lines didn’t get me anywhere so I hailed a cab and gave Peppi’s address.

The driver knew him all right.

“Friend of yours, Bud?” he said, pushing the taxi through the traffic like he was anxious to get rid of me.

“You ask him. He’ll tell you if he wants you to know,” I returned.

“Wise guy, huh?” the driver snorted. “A dime a dozen. A dime a dozen.”

“I heard you the first time,” I said.