Murphy nodded. "So now that you've got your clients safely tucked away, what comes next?"
"More wiping out than they counted on," I said. "I'm going to find Beckitt and ask her nicely not to kill anyone else and to point me to the Skavis. Then I'll have a polite conversation with him. Then I'll settle up with Grey Cloak and Passenger Madrigal."
"How do you find Beckitt?"
"Um," I said, "I'm sure I'll figure out something. This entire mess is still way too nebulous for me."
"Yeah," Murphy said. "All these killings. It still doesn't make any sense."
"It makes sense," I said. "We just don't know how, yet." I grimaced. "We're missing something."
"Maybe not," Murphy said.
I arched an eyebrow at her.
"Remember our odd corpse out?"
"Jessica Blanche," I said. "The one Molly saw."
"Right," Murphy said. "I found out more about her."
"She some kind of cultist or something?"
"Or something," Murphy said. "According to a friend in 'Vice, she was an employee of the Velvet Room."
"The Velvet Room? I thought I burned that plac - uh, that is, I thought some as-yet-unidentified perpetrator burned that place to the ground."
"It's reopened," Murphy said. "Under new management."
Click. Now some pieces were falling into place. "Marcone?" I asked.
"Marcone."
Gentleman Johnnie Marcone was the biggest, scariest gangster in a city famous for its gangsters. Once the old famiglias had fallen to internal bickering, Marcone had done an impression of Alexander the Great and carved out one of the largest criminal empires in the world - assuming you didn't count governments. Chicago's violent crime rate had dropped as much because of Marcone's draco-nian rule of the city's rackets as because of the dedication of the city's police force. The criminal economy had more than doubled, and Marcone's power continued to steadily grow.
He was a smart, tough, dangerous man - and he was absolutely fearless. That is a deadly combination, and I avoided crossing paths with him whenever I could.
The way things were shaping up, though, this time I couldn't.
"You happen to know where the new Velvet Room is?" I asked Murphy.
She gave me a look.
"Right, right. Sorry." I blew out a breath. "Seems like it might be a good idea to speak to some of the girl's coworkers. I'll bet they'll be willing to do a little talking to avoid trouble with the law."
She showed me her teeth in a fierce grin. "They just might. And if not, Marcone might be willing to talk to you."
"Marcone doesn't like me," I said. "And it's mutual."
"Marcone doesn't like anybody," Murphy replied. "But he respects you."
"Like that says much for me."
Murphy shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Marcone's scum, but he's no fool, and he does what he says he'll do."
"I'll talk to Elaine once she's got everyone settled," I said. "Get her to stay here with Mouse and keep an eye on things."
Murphy nodded. "Elaine, huh? The ex."
"Yeah."
"The one working against you last time she was in town."
"Yeah."
"You trust her?"
I looked down at Murphy for a minute, then up at the hotel room. "I want to."
She exhaled slowly. "I have a feeling things are going to get hairy. You need someone who's got your back."
"Got that," I said, holding up my fist. "You."
Murphy rapped her knuckles gently against mine and snorted. "You're going syrupy on me, Dredsen."
"If it rains, I'll melt," I agreed.
"It's to be expected," she said. "What with how you're gay and all now."
"I'm wh..." I blinked. "Oh. Thomas's apartment. Hell's bells, you cops got a fast grapevine."
"Yeah. Rawlins heard it at the coffee machine and he just had to call me up and tell me all about you and your boyfriend being in a fight. He asked me if he should get you the sound track to Les Mis-erables or Phantom of the Opera for Christmas this year. Varetti and Farrel got a deal on track lighting from Malone's brother-in-law."
"Don't you people have lives?" I said. At her continued smile, I asked warily, "What are you getting me?"
She grinned, blue eyes sparkling. "Stallings and I found an autographed picture of Julie Newmar on eBay."
"You guys are never going to let go of this one, are you?" I sighed.
"We're cops," Murphy said. "Of course not."
We shared a smile that faded a moment later. Both of us turned to watch the street, alert for any unwanted company. We were silent for a while. Cars went by. City sounds of engine and horn. A car alarm a block over. Dark shadows where the streetlights didn't touch. Distant sirens. Rotating, attention-getting spotlights lancing up to the dark summer night from the front of a theater.
"Hell's bells," I said, after a time. "Marcone."
"Yeah," Murphy said. "It changes things."
Marcone was involved.
Matters had just become a great deal more dangerous.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The new Velvet Room looked nothing like the old Velvet Room. "A health club?" I asked Murphy. "You've got to be kidding me."
Murphy goosed her Harley right up next to the Beetle. There had been only one parking space open, but there was room for both of our rides in it, more or less. It wasn't like I was worried about collecting a few more dents and dings in addition to the dozens already there.
"It's progressive," Murphy said. "You can get in shape, generate testosterone, and find an outlet for it all under one roof."
I shook my head. A modest sign on the second floor over a row of smaller shops proclaimed, EXECUTIVE PRIORITY HEALTH. It lacked the wide-open, well-lit windows of most health clubs, and apparently occupied the whole of the second floor.
"Wait a minute," I said. "Isn't that the hotel where Tommy Tomm got murdered?"
"Mmmm," Murphy said, nodding. "The Madison. A corporation that has absolutely no visible connection to John Marcone recently bought it and is renovating it."
"You have to admit it was a little... overdone," I said.
"It looked like the set of a burlesque show about an opium lord's harem," Murphy said.
"And now... it is one," I said.
"But it won't look like it," Murphy said.