Sledge Hammered

Sledge Hammered: #21 The Case of the Wayward Wife

This is my small contribution to the The 2021 "Hammered: an Ode to Mickey Spillane" Author Challenge.

I sat at my desk in the dimly lit space of the dingy office I called "home". I felt yet another bead of sweat as it started from my neck and ran down my spine toward the crack of my ass. It sent shivers across my body as the sweat grew cold before it reached its final destination. The antiquated air conditioner was blowing air that was slightly below the outside temperature. The thermometer outside my window read 94°, so conditioned air at 90 to 92° was stale and it failed to provide any comfort at all. Therefore, it was just a typical sweltering summer night in the second city. I watched the neon of the old pensioner's residence flash as it reflected off walls that haven't seen paint in a hundred years. I looked out the window and immediately recognized the irony as the sign across the street flashed HOT. The EL long since failed and left unrepaired.

I reached into the bottom of my desk and retrieved a bottle of cheap rye and a glass. I poured myself a generous portion. As I drank, I felt the raspy burn of the harsh liquid as it tore up my throat. I suddenly remembered why I had that bottle. It reminded me that no matter how rough this whisky was or how it tore up my tongue and throat as it passed, it was nothing compared to the pain my ex-wife had wreaked upon my life. I felt fortunate that she decided to run away with that beer salesman from Milwaukee. My only regret is she didn't go farther than Wisconsin. I believed that straight to hell would have got the job done nicely. Well, can't have everything I supposed.

I put the bottle and the glass back in the drawer. One of the side benefits from this rye is that it also repelled cockroaches. I was set to leave for the evening when I heard a faint yet distinct clicking sound on the concrete floor of the hallway. "Damn," I thought to myself, "I really looked forward to grabbing a bite to eat as I had skipped lunch tailing a mark. The sound increased in volume as it neared my outer office. I drew my snub nosed .38 from my shoulder holster and held it under the desk aimed at the entrance to my office. One can never be too careful in this racket as I knew it could be a vengeful spouse or a disgruntled client. Hey, it happened more often than you'd believe.

I listened and distinguished the heavier sound of footfalls as the door to the outer office creaked as it opened and closed before the footsteps resumed. I pulled back the hammer of my Smith & Wesson and awaited my surprise visitor. When my door opened a rather unassuming little man entered the office. He asked, "Are you Mr. Hammered?" He stuttered his words and I saw the fight in his eyes. I noticed that he trembled slightly. I looked him over and didn't believe him to be a threat but I refused to drop my guard or my gun too quickly as the mild mannered schtick could be an act to get me to lower my defenses.

"I'm Hammered." I told him as I handed him my card. He read the card, "S.H. Investigations: Sledge Hammered, Private Investigator. "And you are?" I asked him as I still eyed him warily as he stammered out, "I'm Jacob Stein, Mr. Hammered."

"Just what can I do for you Mr. Stein?" I asked him as I decided to ease the hammer back to a safe position on my Saturday Night Special. He sat down and explained his problem.

"Mr. Hammered, I believe that my wife Daisy has cheated and continues to cheat on me. I just can't prove it. That's why I'd like to retain your services. I heard you're the best in the business and a man that got evidence and dug out cheating wives when no one else even got a whiff of a clue. If she is cheating, I want my ass and assets protected before I file for divorce. Interested?"

I sized this guy up rather quick. Expensive suit, derby hat, shined shoes, and a gold watch that hung from a gold watch chain and a real leather fob. This guy may not be rich but he had money. His stature and demeanor told me he was no common laborer and never worked a hard day in his life, at least in a strictly physical sense. He was educated, professional and damn uncomfortable having been forced to crawl down near the fetid sewer where I made my bread and butter. His shakes, the stammering indicated that he felt partly afraid and partly disgusted. I'm sure he sized me up as unsavory and slightly dangerous and he wasn't wrong.

I wanted to see how deep his pockets were and if he was truly serious about retaining me. I needed the work but I also didn't need to spend hours going up and down the underbelly of the city if I wasn't about to hit a major payday. I'm one gumshoe who is averted to wearing his out soles on a red herring. "I get $100 a day plus expenses." I told him. "I also require a $500 retainer fee payable immediately and I also needed to be paid weekly." I watched him and he never batted an eye. He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a bankroll that would've choked a horse. He peeled off twenty-four crisp and newly minted C notes and handed them to me.

"Your retainer, two weeks' pay, and $500 for expenses. Are we squared up Mr. Hammered?"

Now I looked shocked and awed as I stared at the $2400, I held in my hand and replied, "Yes Mr. Stein, you're more than covered."

He handed me as business card that read 'Stein, Goldblum and Meyers', Public Accountants: Jacob Stein, Founding Partner, CPA.

I looked this man squarely in the eye. His fear had subsided though his discomfort remained.

"I'd need your home address, phone number along with a detailed description and photograph of your wife. Any information about her daily activities, at least to the best of your ability Mr. Stein, would be immensely helpful. Doctors, hairdresser, where she shops, her friends, anything that might give me some insights into her routine and daily habits. It doesn't have to be detailed; I'll do the necessary legwork. Yet anything you can provide of that nature can provide me a starting point and greatly speed up the process." I told him. He reached into his briefcase and removed a file. Inside he provided a detailed dossier on his wife.

"Oh, Mr. Stein. If I, were you, I'd put that bankroll in my front trouser pocket and cover it with the jacket and carry my briefcase on that side so it's less noticeable. This is a fairly rough neighborhood and I'd hate to see you get mugged and lose it."

I watched as he moved the cash and secured it better. "Thanks for the advice, Mr. Hammered." As he walked out, I looked at the photos that he provided of his wife. She was a real looker with a humongous set of bazookas and it appeared she liked to show them off. I noticed that in the immediate background in several of the photos I recognized a low life tough and mafia enforcer by the name of Joey "Wacko" Wachowicz. I knew a few guys in the life but I never, thankfully, had the displeasure of crossing paths with Wacko. Guys I knew who knew him said he didn't get the moniker Wacko just from his last name, they said the guy is a one certifiable and a stone-cold maniac who'd kill you just as well as look at you and had no sense of morality at all.

I examined the photos closely and started to put two plus two together. Joey Wacko was almost always around Daisy Stein. Even if I believed in coincidences, and I don't, his appearance in that many photographs were beyond coincidence and he appeared to always be lurking in the shadows every time the bimbo was photographed. What settled things for me was the look on Joey Wacko's face whenever Daisy Stein stood next to her husband and especially when she kissed or touched him. Joey Wacko looked as if someone had just pissed in his cornflakes.

He looked like a jealous lover and if true, that didn't bode well for Mr. Jacob Stein given the homicidal nature of this guy, Stein was as good as dead and he'd be whacked before the end of the month if not sooner. The question now is Daisy Mae Stein. If I guessed right Stein has substantial assets. Was she just an ignorant bimbo that chose to fool around with the wrong bad boy, is she using him to rid herself of a husband or have they conspired to oft the old boy and live happily ever after on his dough? Perhaps she had set her sights on a big pay day and planned to cash out when hubby cashed in. No matter what, one thing rang true, Stein is immediate mortal danger.

I made sure I secured my cash and had my equalizer secured in my hand with my finger on the trigger in my right pocket. I locked up and headed home for the night. I stopped at Enzo's Diner for a bite. Enzo's is on the street corner, and every time I stop here, I'm reminded of that Hopper painting Nighthawks. It's near the Tribune building and it is home for a lot of beat reporters. I frequent the joint whenever I needed information and I provided the beat guys with hot leads. If it moved, shaked, or slithered in this town, these boys knew who, what where, when, and why.

As I chowed down on a double cheeseburger and a pile of fries, Phil Hammond, the Tribune's ace crime reporter walked in the door. I called to him to come over and I told him I'd buy him dinner if he'd sit and chat a few minutes. "What do ya need Sledge? I knew this wasn't any social call when you pried open that wallet of yours and sprung for a free meal. Do ya need me to catch those moths for ya?" We both chuckled at that.

"Philly, I need everything you got and can git on Joey "Wacko" Wachowicz. Seems that a client's wife is somehow involved with that nut job and it looks like he's about ready to cancel the guy's breathing privileges. I got to find a way to stop it from happening." I looked as serious as a heart attack.

"Sledge, Joey Wacko is a bad, bad guy and no one you want mad at you. The good news is he's not a made guy. I heard around that despite how good he is as an enforcer he likes the violence and murder too much even for "Big" Pauly Catalano himself. That says a lot coming from a man who is believed to have done 11 murders personally and ordered dozens more since he took over control of the Sinicropi Family. He's too much of a loose cannon because he constantly does unsolicited hits, especially when its personal and nothing is more personal than a beef over a dame, am I right or am I right? You need to get this client protected before it's too late." I saw the fear in his eyes and this is a guy who was a southside kid at the time "Scarface" Al Capone ruled Chicago and blood flowed freely in the streets on a nearly daily basis.

I felt a sudden sense of urgency and wondered why it took me so long to come to my senses. I got up and headed for the phone booth and dialed Stein's office number. I hoped he decided to burn some midnight oil. The phone rang several times and I nearly hung up panicked that I was too late before I heard, "Good evening, Jacob Stein speaking."

"Mr. Stein, this is Sledge Hammered. Listen, this is life or death, yours. You need to get out of Chicago for a few days. After I examined the pictures you gave me, I recognized a real bad guy constantly lurking in the background, a mobbed-up lowlife named Joey "Wacko" Wachowicz. He's known to be an enforcer for the Sinicropi Family and I believe he's the one involved with your wife. This guy's a real nut job and I certain he's already planned your killing." I hoped I put the Fear of God or at least the fear of Joey Wacko into old Jake.

"Are you certain Mr. Hammered?" I heard him say, surprised he didn't sound more concerned.

I replied, "I'm as certain as a Chicago wind Mr. Stein. I'll call Union Station and leave a train ticket under the name Waldo Emerson for the Wyoming Clipper. Head to Jackson Hole and well, hole up until I notify you that I've got everything sewn up here. Contact no one. Don't call me, I'll call you. The train leaves at 9pm. The less people involved in knowing your whereabouts, the healthier it is for you, got it?"

I heard nothing but silence over the line. I said, "Got it Jacob?"

"I got it Mr. Hammered."

"I'll Get you a room under the name Marcus D. Sade at the Jackson Inn. Leave now and good luck Mr. Stein. Remember, don't underestimate this prick, he maybe unhinged but he is one cunning and maniacal son of a bitch and he's very good at his job and even more he really enjoys it. Get on that train and I call you in three days."

After I hung up, I got a call from Phil Hammond. "Hey, Sledge, let's catch up. Meet me at Enzo's, 5pm."

"Got it." I replied before the line went dead. I knew that Philly had something for me and that he didn't want to talk over the phone. I made a mental note to use a public phone when I called Stein. The Sinicropi's have a lot of eyes and ears and it's possible they had some operator that monitored my phone and listened in. I might need to move Stein I'd find out for sure when Shaun called. Good thing I hired Shaun "the Knife" Sullivan to ride along and keep a close eye on old Jake. He knew most of the bottom feeders that might hire out to eliminate Stein. He'd be, for the most part, safe on the train with "the Knife".

I used the time before I met with Phil to catch up on some overdue bills. I wrote the checks and had Angie, my secretary mail them on her way home. I locked my desk when I heard the unmistakable click of women's heel on the floor. When my inner door opened, I was treated to a buxom platinum blonde whose tits arrived minutes before the rest of her. She wore a stunning cocktail dress that revealed a canyon of cleavage and a generous portion of those luscious tatas threatened to spill out as she leaned in toward me across the desk. She planned on using all her weapons and believe me, this dame was well armed. Of course, I recognized her from the photos but black and white didn't do this broad justice. She had more curves than Lombard Street in San Francisco and was just as dangerous. After I gave her the once over twice, I asked, "How can I be of service miss?"

"Mr. Hammered," her voice oozed sex appeal, "I heard my husband stopped by here a couple of days ago. Pray tell, what could he have wanted with a private detective?"

I knew it was crucial that if she wasn't already aware of the true nature of her husband's visit then I needed to steer her away from suspicion. "Excuse me doll, Who are you and who is your husband? I've had more than a few people darken my doorstep over the past few days. Was he some type of salesman? If he was, I probably shot him and dumped his body in Lake Michigan."

She chuckled before she replied, "My name is Daisy Stein and my husband is Jacob Stein."

"Ah, yes Mr. Stein. He wanted to have a client of his investigated for possibly embezzling funds from his company. Your husband said this client wanted him to find a way to cleanse the cash and then have it deposited in a Swiss bank. Your husband didn't want to do anything that might make him compliant in an illegal activity. I took the job and your husband said he was headed out of town. He believed he'd be able to get some concrete evidence of the embezzlement by meeting with the corporation's management and assist them in conducting a forensic audit of their local division's financials. If he discovered his suspicions to be true, he'd avoid getting involved in illegal activity, put a criminal away and possibly earn himself a new, even more wealthy client in the process. He mentioned something about professional and ethical integrity or something like that. I'm to report my finding upon his return next week." I really laid it on thick for this bimbo

I watched as she breathed a sigh of relief. I wondered if I'm that good an actor or if she's truly that dumb. I asked, "It's nothing but a business deal, why'd you come here? Why didn't you ask your husband? Obviously, he must have mentioned our meeting or you wouldn't have been able to track me down."

"That sounds just like my Jake, he's big into ethics and integrity and is always focused on increasing his bottom line. To answer your question Mr. Hammered, I haven't seen my husband since he left for the office yesterday morning. A friend of mine saw him come into your office the other night I and thought he might have planned to have me investigated while he looked to divorce me. Silly old me, I should've known my Jake still loved me and it was something to do with work. You wouldn't happen to know where he went do you, Sledge? May I call you Sledge?" Every word dripped with sarcasm. I thought, This broad was a real snake in the grass for certain as I nodded affirmative.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Stein, I'm not sure. I believed he mentioned something about New York but it wasn't the city. Maybe Rochester, Buffalo or Syracuse. He didn't give specifics so I'm just not sure. If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment that I'm late for. Sorry, I couldn't be more help."

"Don't worry Sledge, you've eased my mind considerably. My friend will be relieved to know that my marriage isn't in trouble. He was extremely concerned for me. You know how rumors are in this town." I lit up a smoke, took a deep pull. Then as I exhaled, I watched the blue gray haze as it twirled outward and upward and, in the dim light of my desk lamp, it cast a ghoulish pallor across the dame's face. "Goodnight, Sledge and good luck with your case."

With that she turned quickly and clicked her way down the hallway. I watched out the window and noticed a shiny black Caddy parked on the street below and I noticed Joey Wacko. As he paced impatiently, he patted the left side of his jacket where he no doubt had a heater in a shoulder holster. My instincts told me that he looked as if he was itching to use it. I grabbed my .38 and made sure I had it cocked and ready just in case that crazy bastard came gunning for me. I watched him and the dame as they exchanged some word on the sidewalk. When she finished, he seemed to have relaxed and calmed down. They jumped into the Caddy and sped off.

I had held my breath until they drove off and as I exhaled, I was relieved she bought my cover story and he swallowed it hook, line and sinker. I guessed it was easier for them to believe that the cuckold was as clueless as they believed him to be. I eased the hammer off my .38 and locked up the office before I headed out for my meet with Phil. I ended up being 10 minutes late. I walked into Enzo's and sat at his booth in a quiet and sparsely occupied area of the diner. "Hammered, you're late!" He said as he tapped his wristwatch.

"Sorry, Phil I just got visited by the client's wife and had Joey Wacko waiting outside. I had to get rid of her and I waited to make sure that neither Wacko nor one of his dirtbags waited for me outside. For some reason breathing regular has appealed to me of late. What do ya got?"

"You never mentioned your client, it wouldn't happen to be an accountant by the name of Jacob Stein, would it?" I nodded yes. "Well, your client is well connected. It seems he does the books for Big Pauly C himself as well as the family business. I gathered that you're the one responsible for him disappearing off the face of the earth, am I right?" Again, I nodded up and down. "Listen, I've arranged a meet with you and the big boss in an hour. You need to come clean with what you know before he has you wacked."

I called the waitress, Sally, over. She was the sassy brunette with abundant curls, big brown eyes and those wide breeding hips that looked as if they'd knock into next week if you got in their way. "What will it be fellas?" She smiled at me. I ordered a BLT and a beer and Phil had the chili. I ate quickly. Phil explained that Big Pauly was extremely protective of his moneyman, thus the meet and if I failed to adequately explain what had happened, I'd be feeding the fishes in Lake Michigan. I swallowed the last of my beer when two walking talking mountains stepped out of the shadows. Barely more articulate than a gorilla at the Brookfield Zoo, goon one said, "You! The boss wants to see ya, now!" So, I slid out of the booth and followed goon one while goon two got on my six like a tight pair of pants.