The Bootlegger (Isaac Bell 7)

“Go on, son. If you’re going to be a detective, you have to ask questions. Ask.”

“What wasn’t true?”

“I didn’t buy my derringer. I took a derringer away from somebody. And kept it.”

Darren McKinney ran into the bull pen. “Mr. Bell!”

“McKinney.”

“My Washington fellow came through.”

• • •

SHIPMENTS TO the New York region from the War Department director of sales included a dozen surplus Liberty engines, and crates of spare parts, to the Long Island Railroad freight depot in Bayport, sixty miles from the city. Isaac Bell drew a circle on the map, representing the likely distance a truck would drive from a railroad depot, and dispatched detectives to all the South Shore towns within it.

“Blue Point, Sayville, Patchogue, Great River, Bay Shore, Islip, West Islip.”

“Needle in a haystack,” said McKinney.

But Isaac Bell was optimistic. “We were looking in a hundred-mile haystack. Now we’re down to ten.”

The Van Dorn operator rang. “Long-distance telephone from Texas Walt Hatfield.”

“Detroit?”

“Yes, but not on the private line.”

It was a fairly decent connection. Bell could hear hints of Walt’s drawl. “Ah busted some heads, cleaning up the office. We’re down to two good men.”

“Are you sure about them?”

“Plumb sure. Exceptin’ we had a mite of trouble. They’re both in the hospital, owing to a bushwhacker lobbing a hand grenade into the premises.”

Bell asked how badly they were hurt.

“They’ll recover, but they’re not tip-top at the moment.”

“Who threw the grenade?”

“I’d say the Purple Gang.”

“The Purple Gang are street kids.”

“The little tykes are growing by leaps and bounds. Partly on account of their vicious habits. Partly due to the Eye-talians killing each other off leaving the Purples to play the big time. Most of the Detroit big boys are sleeping in the river. There’s been a complete change of gang bosses.”

“Close the office.”

“The hand grenade sort of did that already. I’ve got a real estate fellow looking for a new space.”

“Close it. Permanently.”

“Now, hold on, Isaac,” Texas Walt drawled. “These hydrophobic skunks will get the wrong idea if we slink out of town with our tails between our legs.”

“We’ll come back—undercover.”

“I already told you it won’t do having folks stopping me for my autograph while I’m masquerading as a criminal.”

Isaac Bell said, “And I told you I’m going to hide you in plain sight—”