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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: General Interest
- Published: 03/19/2022
The New England Crime Boss Encounter
Born 1929, M, from Roseville/CA, United States.jpeg)
The New England Crime Boss Encounter
Outside the wind was howling like a maniac and the rain was pounding down like a sledgehammer. Inside, George and I were playing gin in the study while Amy was curled up in an armchair by the fire reading a book on chaos theory. Alvin was somewhere in the back of the house, no doubt on his computer. George was closest to the door so when we heard a frantic pounding he moved with his smooth stride across the room and opened the door to the rain-soaked but beautiful young girl who almost fell inside, crying, “You’ve got to help me. You’ve got to help me.” Uh, oh, I thought to myself, here we go again.
To go back a bit, Alvin was a mathematician who claimed he’d partially solved the Universal Theorem, which explained everything about everything, and considering the bundle he’d made on the stock market using a corollary of the Theorem who was I to doubt him. I’d met him in Las Vegas, where he’d been testing another corollary on blackjack. There, he’d saved Amy, a showgirl with a Ph.D. in mathematics, from the clutches of Big Ed, a powerful casino owner. Along with his English “man” George, who I suspected was former MI6, I’d given him a little assistance and so had become kind of aide-de-camp.
It was because of rescuing Amy (see “Beating the Odds”) that we’d been in Europe the past year, letting Big Ed, who didn’t take to losing anything gracefully, cool off. Not that we’d been vacationing. Alvin, as I’d discovered, had a knack for attracting trouble, thus the London Teacup Adventure and the Paris Croissant Caper (both still to be written). Now we were all in Alvin’s house outside the New England college town where he used to teach before making all that money.
It didn’t take long before the beautiful young girl, whose name was Olivia Harrington, was sitting by the fire wrapped in a bathrobe and, in between sips of brandy, telling Alvin and the rest of us her story. Her brother Larry, who, she said, had once taken Alvin’s course, had disappeared two days before and had just an hour ago called her, saying he was being held against his will, that she shouldn’t go to the police, he needed money, lots of it. Then another voice had come on the phone and said, “We’ll take $50,000 as a down payment. We’ll call you tonight.”.
“Larry Harrington,” said Alvin. “I think I remember him. An eager student but lacking the patience to make a thorough study of the details. What do you think happened?”
“I’m sure it has to do with his gambling,” replied Olivia. “He thought he knew enough about probability after taking your class to bet on basketball, football, racing, anything, and at first I think he did pretty well. Then lately I know he’d been in a losing streak because he’d asked our father for money and Daddy of course turned him down.”
“Your father is Averill Harrington, philanthropist and president of the Golden Goose Golf club, isn’t he?” asked George.
“That’s right,” said Olivia.. “He has scads of money but he’s virtually disowned Larry. And I don’t have anything like $50,000. All my money is in a trust fund.”
“If Larry’s been gambling, then it’s a good bet, so to speak,” said George, “that Jimmy Diamond is involved in it.”
“Gentleman Jimmy” I put in. “Last I heard he was operating in New York.”
“Yes,” said George. “Now he’s what you’d call the crime boss of our little town.”
“Harry Hatfield still with him?” I asked.
“Harry Hats. He runs the casino out on Lilac Lane, also the strip club on Maybury Corners.”
“A casino and a strip club in our little community?” said Alvin.
“No different than any other community,” said George. “Gentleman Jimmy’s one of the wealthiest men around, maybe almost as rich as Harrington. Wants to become respectable, too, I’ve heard.”
“All very interesting,” said Amy. “But how do we help Olivia here?”
“Simple,” said Alvin. “I’ll call this Gentleman fellow and ask him if he knows anything about Larry’s whereabouts.”
Alvin always liked to go directly at a problem.
“Do you think he’ll tell you?” asked Olivia.
“Probability theory says he won’t, but he might reveal something. Meanwhile, somebody mentioned a strip club. Amy, why don’t you go there tomorrow, say you’d like to audition for a job, try to meet Harry Hats.”
“Won’t that be dangerous?” asked Olivia.
“Not for Amy,” said George. “Maybe for Harry Hats.”
* * *
Early next morning Alvin, George and myself were standing at the first hole of the Double Diamond golf course. The storm had dissipated overnight and the sky was a bright blue with only a few fluffy clouds in it. With us were “Gentleman” Jimmy Diamond, who’d bought the course when denied membership in the Golden Goose Golf Club, and two of his goons, one carrying his bag of clubs. Jimmy was of medium height, compact, tanned and fit-looking. He’d agreed to meet with Alvin but had specified that it had to be at his course. When Alvin had asked about the missing Larry, Jimmy had said he’d talk business after a round of golf. “You do play golf, don’t you, Alvin?”
“I’ve played a few times, Jimmy. But I don’t have any clubs with me.”
“James, if you don’t mind. I’ll be happy to provide you with clubs, the finest made, of course. Oh, and to make it interesting, what about a small wager, say $500 a hole?”
Alvin hesitated a moment, then said, “You’re on.”
I knew that “Gentleman” Jimmy, as part of his drive to become respectable, had taken up golf and had become quite good at it. So there we were with Alvin about to lose a bundle. Sure enough, Jimmy won every one of the first 17 holes. It wasn’t that Alvin was a complete duffer; he played surprisingly well for a novice. But Jimmy was really good. He was also feeling really good about winning. “You may be a golfer some day, Alvin,” he said, “but you have a long way to go.”
“Maybe,” said Alvin. “Tell you what, Jimmy, uh, James, why not make the last hole double or nothing?”
“Sure, if you want to lose even more money.”
Jimmy stepped up to the ball, smiling confidently. Just then a stiff wind came up. He stepped back and waited a moment while the wind seemed to calm down, then he took his swing. The ball was headed straight down the fairway but then a sharp gust caught it and it landed somewhere in the rough. “Damnit!” said Jimmy. “Where’d that wind come from?”
Alvin hit the ball, which also was headed toward the rough. Another gust of wind caught it but blew it right to the middle of the fairway. The same thing happened with the next three shots. I could almost see the wheels turning as Alvin calculated the varying currents of the wind. As a result, Jimmy’s ball was in a bunker while Alvin’s was on the green six feet from the hole. Jimmy made a pretty good shot but it was just short. Alvin calmly sank his putt and said, “I believe you owe me some money, James, and also some information about Larry Harrington.”
Jimmy was furious. One of his goons started to pull out his gun. George made a silky movement and the goon was on the ground, his gun in George’s hand. The other goon also started to draw his gun but I already had my automatic out. “Put your guns away,” snapped Jimmy. “He won the bet, although it was sheer luck. Here, I’ll write you a check.”
“And Larry Harrington?”
“That young man owes me a lot of money and I keep him until I get it.”
“That’s known as kidnapping,” said Alvin, “which I believe is against the law.”
“No, it’s business. He owes me and I intend to get it.”
“That kind of business isn’t going to do your reputation in the community much good.”
“Mr. Oats, I wanted to see what you’re made of and you’re someone to be reckoned with. But you’re still an amateur and I suggest you leave my business with young Larry to the pros.” With that, Jimmy walked away, followed by his two goons.
“Well, you won your bet anyway,” said George. “Lucky thing that wind came up when it did.”
“Yes, lucky,” smiled Alvin. “Of course one of the first things I do every morning is to check the weather forecast, not the official one, but the one given by the Theorem.”
“Ah,” said George. “I see. But now what do we do about getting Larry Harrington back.”
“Well,” said Alvin, “at least we’ve confirmed who has him. Let’s see what Amy can find out at the strip club.”
* * *
For her audition at the strip club, Amy wore a low-cut top, a correspondingly high-cut skirt and little else, except a small device George gave her which served the purpose of a wire while being almost impossible for anyone to spot, even with her skimpy outfit. It was early afternoon. George had parked a block away and out of sight of the club. We could hear Amy asking to see the manager and then a voice saying, “Hear you’re looking for a job, baby?”
“Harry Hats,” said George.
Amy made an appropriate response and Harry told her to follow him into his office. Harry, as expected, asked her to take off her clothes. “I only do that professionally,” replied Amy.
“Aw, come on. Don’t give me a hard time, baby.” We heard some noises, sounds of a scuffle, and I said, “We better go in.”
“Wait a minute,” said George. The next voice was Harry’s. “Boy, where’d you learn that trick? Look what you did to my hat. It’s crushed.”
“When I worked in Las Vegas I had to learn to defend myself.”
“You worked in Las Vegas? Why didn’t you say so? I knew you had class. Okay, you got the job.”
* * *
Alvin, George and I were ready to go out. It hadn’t taken Amy long to find out from the other girls that somebody was being held in the basement of the club; it had to be Larry. Amy had gone off earlier to make her debut; now we were preparing to extract Larry. “We can go to the club first to see Amy’s performance, then do the job,” said George.
Alvin gave him a look. “I have an idea that all performances will be cancelled tonight, technical difficulties.”
There was someone watching the back door of the club of course, but you couldn’t blame him for not hearing George approach him, nobody could have, and punch a needle in his arm. “He’ll be out for a while,” said George. “Let’s go.” We found the basement, threw open the door and saw someone, Larry presumably, tied to a chair. “Welcome, gentlemen,” said Harry Hats, sitting in another chair, wearing one of his trademark fedoras.
“We’ll take your guest off your hands,” said George.
“And we’ve got you covered,” said a voice behind us. Gentleman Jimmy’s two goons from the golf course stood against the back wall. “Get the kid,” said George. “I’ll attend to our friends.” There was a flurry of activity, shots fired, sounds of bones cracking and bodies falling. At the end of all this, the two goons were on the floor, George was dusting off his hands and I had untied Larry.
“We’ll be going now, Mister Hats,” said Alvin.
“Don’t leave so soon,” said another voice and Gentleman Jimmy stepped out of the shadows, holding someone in front of him. It was Olivia. “Put down your guns or something bad might happen to this attractive young lady, which would be a shame. I told you not to stick your nose into my affairs. You’re strictly an amateur.”
“I may be an amateur,” said Alvin, “but George is definitely a pro. George, do you think you can shoot Gentleman James, without harming Olivia?”
“Let’s see,” said George. He pointed his gun at Harry Hats and shot directly at him. Nothing happened.
“Hah,” said Harry. “Couldn’t even hit me at point-blank range.”
“Take off your hat, Harry,” said George.
Harry removed his fedora and looked at it. There was a bullet hole in the very top of the crown. “Holy smoke,” said Harry, who started to shake. “I cudda been killed. Holy smoke.”
“Hand over the girl,” I said.
Gentleman Jimmy hesitated. “Yes, that would be a good idea, Mr. Diamond,” said Alvin. “But don’t worry, you may salvage something out of your rash action yet. I have a proposition for you.”
* * *
So that’s how Olivia was released without any more shooting and Gentleman Jimmy was rewarded by being accepted into the Golden Goose Golf Club by her father, Averill Harrington. Shortly after, Alvin started teaching a graduate course at the college and Larry enrolled in it. We never did get to see Amy perform as a strip teaser, which was too bad. When I asked Alvin if he thought it was wise to have bargained with Gentleman Jimmy, he said that in return for his golf club membership Jimmy had not only forgiven Larry’s debt but had made a substantial contribution to the college and that while it was probable that George could have shot Jimmy without harming Olivia it wasn’t absolutely certain. “So you think Gentleman Jimmy will be a reformed character?” I asked him.
“No, that’s not very probable. I think we’ll have some more encounters with him.”
“Oh,” I said, “then I’d better write down the stories of the London Teapot Adventure, the Paris Croissant Caper and the New England Crime Boss Encounter as soon as possible.”
The End
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