Lakefront and Mrs. Grey

by Mr. David R. Dorrycott

Chapter Eight

Police

“No one knows who he was” Detective Jake Carter asked. “Strong build, white skin. What was left of it. There’s nothing to identify him by?”

“Nothin” his partner answered. “Couple missin joes reports, he fits dah bill on two. Lest bah height.”

“Right. What have you there.”

Paul Morton lifted a few stained sheets of paper, his morning coffee having spilled upon them at least once. “Second Officer oh tha White Cloud ahn an mug by tha name of Paddy Morton. Gah, guy has mah name.”

“Only your last one. Lemme get ah gander at those papers.” Reading carefully Carter compared the two sheet of numbers. “Rich boy Paddy’s ah drinker” he announced. “Our sailors boy’s a worker. Betten it’s the second Mate. Any tattoo’s, rings. Anything?”

“Nothing but an effen huge hole innis head.”

“Okay then. We call him the sailor for now. Wouldn’t be any reason for no rich boy to be slumming in Irish Town. No reason for anyone there tah ace him either. I’ll send ah note over to tha White Cloud, see if they can send someone over. Right now though its mox-nix who that ground beef was.” Tossing the pages back to his partner the Detective leaned back, looking up at a stained ceiling above him. “I hear old Tarkin’s gonna squeal like a pig. I guess that money he swiped from his day job wasn’t enough. I hear some Federal Agent went and promised him ah new identity. Money, new place to live. Bet the kid promised him a blond too. What’s tha odds he don’t make it to court on Monday.”

“Nine tah one. For. Why. You don’t gamble.”

“Wondering. Got that court order for MacGregor’s yet? Be nice to see how he cooked those books.”

“Nah. Judge Hawkins is out fishin and Judge Paulson wants more proof. Dags taking it tah Judge Willcox, but he’s rumored tah be onna take. Could be tomorrow, day after afore we get it signed.”

“Soon enough. Okay, what happened last night anyway.”

“Couple shootins, breakin and enterin. Same ol same ole. Nothin new at all. Damn quiet, scary.”

Carter snorted, thinking of how nice it would be to investigate something hard. Since the massacre locally called The Gang Wars all that was left were amateurs. Letting his feet drop he stood, grabbing for his hat. “Guess we start earning our cup oh joe” he decided. “Grab some reports, lets see if we can clear any before six. Might as well wander down to tha docks. Haven’t been aboard a ship in months.”