Herr Gunther peddled smut like a baker peddled bread. The books in the window displays were just there for show. Mr. Zeit had been shocked at first, discovering that most of the stock on the shelves were just window-dressing, that the real merchandise lay in crates in the back. De Sade, Boccaccio, Defoe, Voltaire, Lawrence all wrapped carefully in straw next to photos and crude drawings of women and men engaged in unspeakable acts. The money, though, could not be overlooked. Eventually Mr. Zeit inherited Herr Gunther’s business and contacts; and, following his heart attack, Ms. Zeit inherited it all from her husband.
A police raid while Edwin’s father still lived brought the Zeit’s into Archie Chance’s sphere of influence. Fast friends, Arnold and Archie met each week to drink and exchange stories, occasional favors were traded and not a few secrets made their way from Baltimore’s fledgling pornography industry to the police when things got out of hand. Above this den of iniquity the Zeit’s made their new home. Ed and his mother shared the rooms now, though Ms. Zeit had the apartment to herself most nights.
When Ed entered the bookshop, his mother was sweeping the floor and humming an old tune to herself. Regardless of how much sweeping took place, the bookshop always seemed dusty. Especially now, when the young scholars of Baltimore were too busy studying to invest their free dollars in illicit material. Ms. Zeit was having trouble finding a young man to work the desk. She had discovered early on that randy young men were unlikely to purchase goods from someone who reminded them of their mothers and grandmothers. Cowards.
“Good afternoon, mom,” Ed called as he entered the shop. “Sorry for not coming home last night, Archie has me working a case. Looks like I’ll be out tonight, too.”
Ed’s mother, gray-haired and bent with age, still had a youthfulness about her face that gave her a slightly timeless appearance. The smile lines around her eyes, turned to deep canyons long ago, curled around her cheeks as her face broke into a playful grin.
“So Mr. Chance has started to wear the cheap perfume? Mrs. Chance has more taste than that, I think.”
“Not you, too,” Ed rolled his eyes in mock frustration. “It has to have faded a bit by now. A girl spilled some on me last night at the fight.”
“It is nothing like Dr. Greenfold’s Apothecary today! Did you arrive from there? Awful! He cleared three whole buildings! His assistant, Greg, had to be taken to the hospital. The firemen showed up in masks like your father wore in the war!”
“Slow down, what did Dr. Greenfold do?” Ed sat down with a weary sigh in an overstuffed chair that resided next to the cash register, head in hand.
“Some confused chemicals, the whole block smells of sauerkraut, eggs, cabbage. Schrecklich!,” the woman spat. “Dr. Greenfold mixed up some bottles and made gas instead of medicine.” The look on her face told Ed that she had been by the pharmacy and smelled the result first hand.
“Everything else okay?,” he asked. “Slow day?”
“Yes, yes, now you care about the shop. Go upstairs and get some sleep. I can tell when you have been out all night. I will let you know if Mr. Chance calls you up. Leave that jacket in the hall, I will have it cleaned before you wear it next.”
Chapter 4: Inner Urge
Archie had known Dave Winchell, the Admiral’s hotel detective, for as long as Archie had his private dick license. Dave was a beat cop back in the day and made a name for himself cleaning up his small corner of Baltimore by being a reliable confidant to the business owners and neighborhood groups. A quiet word to Officer Dave was enough to get those troublesome teens away from your display window or a rowdy patron banned from your bar. Dave found out the hard way that age catches up to cops faster than others, the goons kept getting younger and he kept getting slower. After retirement, Dave found a solid job playing house-mom to a swanky little hotel downtown. The job was not demanding, just keeping tabs on the guests and making sure no one was sneaking women or booze up to their rooms after hours.
Archie went straight to Dave’s office and knocked on his way through the door. The large man was sitting behind his desk reading a newspaper with a headline that screamed “THIEVES FISHED OUT OF HARBOR?” in large letters on the front page. The ugly scar from the fight that forced Dave into retirement ran across one cheek and then dove under his shirt collar and out of sight. Archie shuddered at the thought of what must have gone down that dark night.
“They caught the thieves?,” Archie asked dispensing with any pleasantries.
Dave chuckled and handed the paper over to his old buddy. “Caught is a funny way of putting it. Three bodies found floating in the harbor, all died of gunshot wounds. Looks like they’d been swimming for a while, paper didn’t say how long but hinted it might’ve been since the night of the robbery. No identities, if they were local they were unknown.”
“Only three?,” Archie asked scanning the article that was more innuendo than hard facts. “And no trace of the cash.” He tossed the paper onto the desk between them. Time for business. “I need to ask a favor and there’s dough in it for you. You have a woman meeting her partner here shortly and I need to be able to see and or hear what happens in that room.”
“God-damn, Archie,” answered Dave. “This isn’t some flophouse. There are no holes drilled through walls or stained mattresses thrown on basement floors here. This is a respectable hotel. White sheets and all. Housekeepers even.”
Archie piled four five dollar bills on the table. “I’m not saying I need a chair next to the bed, I’m just saying I need a quiet spot that will let me know what’s happening. I’ve never had to come to you with this stuff before, but there’s a husband paying good money to prove his wife is less than true.” Archie pulled the unfinished half of his cigar from his pocket and put it in his mouth unlit, sitting back in the chair to let the message and the money sink in. Twenty bucks was a lot of money for what he was asking.
Dave swept the dough off the table top and into his top drawer. “Alright, call it a favor for an old buddy. Any idea what name they’re registered under or plan to use?”
“No idea. Someone would have called around 10:45 maybe 11 to reserve a room.” Archie checked his watch. “Their plan was to meet at 12:30, I only hope I’m earlier than they are.”
“Stay here, I’ll see what the front desk has to say.”
Archie went back to the newspaper while Dave went to the front desk. There were obviously some details to the robbery that were being withheld, and none of it seemed to make sense. Four dead guards, three dead robbers. How many were walking around free and clear? Was it a local job or a team from somewhere else. The feds had spent most of the thirties chasing down bank robbers in the mid-west, rum runners in the south, drugs and whores from New York City and the west coast. Baltimore was relatively quiet. Gangs existed in town and fought one another, but the big stuff was happening elsewhere. This whole story had gripped the town but Archie doubted if there would be a satisfying resolution now. Whomever had shot the three robbers had a week’s head start and was probably half way to somewhere warm. Archie switched to the editorial columns for his own peace of mind.