Chapter 5: Lanigan

I mentioned Howling Jack Lanigan in connection with another case, but didn’t go into detail. Although we both operated in the same city I’d somehow, perhaps naively, never expected to have anything to do with the man on a one-to-one basis, so was surprised to get a phone call from him. He won’t mind my telling you about this now. He won’t mind anything, as he is, to paraphrase Omar Khayyam, himself with yesterday’s seven thousand years, having succumbed to a fast-moving object with a diameter of 9mm.

I was in a trough. No case for four weeks. It was difficult enough for me, but I’d begun to think about how things must be for the mice. I was having visions of them sitting around a table in plenary session, discussing the wisdom of broaching their strategic reserves. I wondered about that for a while, then I wondered what the hell was wrong with me. At such times, I was consoled by the fact that I didn’t have a pulchritudinous secretary, catering for my every need and engaging me in airy badinage. It would have been a tough job telling her that she’d have to go. To make me feel that bit better, snow was falling.

I’d considered going downstairs to buy a couple of newspapers, then thought about the trees falling to produce them. I had trouble handling that, possibly because I’d recently gone through my third reading of Richard St. Barbe Baker’s superb book ‘Green Glory’, which dealt with the world’s forests and the human depredations on them. Furthermore, I didn’t really want to know what the rags had to say, even if it was accurate. I never was one to prejudice my social views with the facts. Not that I am knocking the fourth estate, you understand. Whenever I get the inclination to do that, I think of the fellow who asked whether the majority of people would prefer a press without a government, or a government without a press. Good question, isn’t it?

I was about to call it a day when the phone rang. I picked up, but got no chance to introduce myself, as an ultra-gruff voice came at me almost before I’d got the receiver to my ear. “That Cyril Potts?”

“The same,” I said. Suave.

“Lanigan here. Maybe you heard of me.”

I was taken aback, but recovered quickly. “Would that be Jack Lanigan?”

“Right,” he grunted. “I got a proposition that might interest you. How about you drop in, pretty soon?”

I didn’t care for the sound of that, but as I’ve indicated, times were hard. “Sure,” I said. “Where?”

“Right here,” he said.

“And that would be?”

“My place. The White Rose Club.

“I know it,” I said. “I can spare you a little time now, if you’re –”

He didn’t care. “Okay. Fifteen minutes, right?”

“Fine,” I said.

I couldn’t think what a man like Howling Jack Lanigan might want from the likes of me. I mean, most of the time, we were on opposite sides of the law. I believe I mentioned elsewhere that Lanigan got his nickname from his habit of emitting wolf-like howls at anything that tickled him. As far as I knew, his main business was gambling, but there were other little matters, such as pimping, protection and so on. I’d always thought of him as a relic from bygone days, though in his way he was a big wheel. I’d seen him twice, both times from a distance, and had no overwhelming desire to meet him. Still, he ran the White Rose Club, and I was a transplant from England’s white rose county. Something there, perhaps? An omen? Anyway, there couldn’t be any harm in talking, could there?

I reached the club on time and was admitted to the lair. My host hadn’t stinted himself with regard to personal space. The office, or rather study – embossed red and gold wallpaper made the difference – was nearly twice the size of my den, and reeked of money. Behind an impressive acreage of oak, Lanigan got up from a swivel-and-tilt chair. He was a big man, about six-two, not deep-chested but wide, with high square shoulders. He was a granite slab. I think he stood up only to show me that there was plenty of him. He didn’t offer to shake hands. “Well, we meet at last,” he said, in a voice like falling gravel. “I heard about you. Sit.”

I sat. “I’m not accustomed to being preceded by my fame,” I said.

“Don’t be modest. You’ve a reputation for gettin’ things done.”

That was further news to me, but if it was what he thought, I didn’t see any point in disabusing him. “I seem to manage,” I said. “What’s up?”

“We’ll get to that in a minute. Now look, I checked in the phone book an’ you’re down there as C. J. Potts. I want to know what the J stands for – an’ I hope you’re not goin’ to disappoint me.”

The idea of doing that was not attractive, but I had no reasonable choice “It’s John,” I said. I didn’t know why my parents threw in the middle name. Maybe they did it in case I might have disagreed with their first choice. I’d never asked them.

“Well, that’s okay,” he said. “John’s like jack, right?”

“Some people regard it that way.”

“So, we’re two Jacks, ain’t we?

“Two Jacks indeed,” I said.

“That’s a funny one.”

I grinned. “Hilarious.”

“You know,” he said, “I once won five hundred dollars at poker with two jacks.”

“Congratulations,” I replied.

“‘Course,” he went on, “I had three nines as well. Full house. You don’t get that too many times.” He threw his head back and I thought I was going to be treated to the wolf-call, but he just chortled. “Now,” he said, “you can help me out. I’m a little short-handed right now. I need somethin’ took care of an’ I think you’re my man.”

“Just a minute, Jack,” I said. “Let’s get things straight. I’m a PI. Generally, I work on the side of right, truth and justice.”

“So?”

“Well, the last thing I want to do is offend you, but the word is that some of your operations are, shall we say, borderline?” I was acutely uncomfortable.

Lanigan had been rocking back in his chair. Now he fell forwards, his fearsome paws slamming down on the desk. I was afraid I’d annoyed him, but I was wrong. “Peeper,” he growled, “I like you.”

“You do?”

“That’s right. You have class. I think you’re my kinda people.”

I was relieved and would have been happy to quit while ahead, but that wasn’t on Lanigan’s agenda. “I have a little problem,” he said. “You ever heard of Horsehead Mulrooney?”

“Yes,” I said. “I hear he’s very big just north of here.”

“You hear right. In a way, he’s a business associate. He runs his area an’ I run mine. Normally no trouble, but we’ve had a disagreement.”

God preserve me from a gang war. “How so?” I said.

Lanigan leaned back. “You don’t need the story. What concerns you is that Mulrooney’s mad at me an’ he’s sent in his top torpedo, Slugs Kalinski, to look me up. You know Kalinski?”

“I’ve heard of him,” I said. “They say he’s a good man not to know. Anyway, what about your own boys?”

“That’s the snag,” said Lanigan. “Ordinarily, I could take care of Kalinski with one hand tied behind me, but right now I’m in a touchy situation. I can’t afford distractions, an’ as to my boys, the best one’s out in Hawaii an’ I can’t get him back right now an’ – can you beat this? – my other three real soldiers are down with flu. Serves ‘em right for livin’ in the same apartment, but still, I need a good man – an’ it means a big score for you.”

“That’s all very well, Jack,” I said, “but it raises questions.”

“What questions?” he grunted.

“First, you and Mulrooney. I mean, how about the all Irishmen together thing?”

“Forget it,” he said. “It’s every man for himself in this game.”

“Okay,” I said, “but then there’s the legal side?”

Lanigan spread his hands. “Look at it this way,” he said. “You’re a sorta copper. Now, what’s a copper’s first duty? Preventin’ crime, ain’t it?”

I knew this was a verbal trap, but I walked into it. Any psychiatrist would have concluded that my reaction was linked to my financial state – and would have pocketed more per hour than I did. “Let’s say you’re right,” I said. “So what?”

“Just this, my friend. Kalinski’s here in town, at the Mount Pleasant hotel, an’ he aims to do me a little no good, like with a dose of lead. You can stop him. That’s crime prevention, ain’t it? An’ like I say, you’ll come out way ahead.”

That was a good one, I had to admit. His argument had a certain logic. Maybe specious was the word. “What do you mean by a big score for me?” I said.

Lanigan flopped even further back in his chair. He knew he’d won. “What are your fees, Cyril?”

I told him and he laughed out loud. Still not lupine, but impressive. “Man, are you in the wrong business,” he said. “Look, see to this matter for me an’ I’ll give you that an’ plenty more. An’ you could settle things in a day or two. How about it?”

I was unhappy, but I’ve already said enough to indicate that rent was uppermost in my mind. “Okay, Jack,” I said, “but I don’t usually kill people, you understand?”