Page 7 of Romancing the Rumrunner
Jameson shrugged. “Miss Harlan’s shop floundered after her father died. And then suddenly it started flourishing again. Though there hasn’t been a noticeable influx of new customers. And her father was famous around these parts for his gin. Before Prohibition, of course. Made the stuff his whole life. She doesn’t keep it in her shop that we can tell, so where did it all go? She apparently dug up enough clams from somewhere to save her shop, so where did the money come from?”
“You must have some idea.”
“We do.”
Jameson tossed another file onto the desk, one even thinner than Miss Harlan’s, if that were possible. “The Phoenix? Really?”
Jameson shrugged again. “That’s what he’s known by. Owns a speakeasy called The Red Phoenix.”
Tony flipped the single sheet in the file over. “That’s all you know about him? His name and the name of his club? How do you even know he exists? Or that he’s involved with Miss Harlan?”
“We have our sources.”
Tony snorted and tossed the file down on his desk. “Then why can’t these sources get the information you need? Why come to me?”
“She’s cagey.” He shrugged. “But a skirt’s a skirt. And you’ve always been able to attract the dames with that good-looking mug of yours. I’m sure it’d be no problem for a man like you to charm some information out of her. Might be easier to get what we need if she’s carrying a torch for you. Catch more flies with honey and all that.”
Jameson looked out the window and Tony smiled. Jameson could squawk all day about charm and good looks, but Tony knew why they’d come to him. Because when it came to undercover work, he was the best. It must gall Jameson to have to admit it, though. Tony sat there and watched him squirm, enjoying the jackass being on the other end of their little game for a change.
Finally, he relented. “So what exactly do you want me to do?”
“We want you to find the Phoenix and bring him in. His speakeasy has become the hottest spot in town. Only we’ve never been able to pinch anyone on a raid. Every time we think we’ve got some credible information about where the damn place is, all we find are empty storerooms.”
“You don’t know where the joint is? You’ve never caught anyone?”
Jameson grimaced. “A few tanked stragglers wandering around on the street, but a thorough search of the buildings they are found near has never turned anything up. Nothing to indicate a speakeasy has ever been in the area. The man is more clever than most. We never know when the place is up and running and wouldn’t know where to look even if we did. And like I said, the few times we’ve gotten reliable information, we didn’t find anything.”
“And how does this dame factor in to all this?”
“She’s his girl. And if you want to know when the club is open, you need to go to her shop to find out.”
The knot in Tony’s gut hardened and he swallowed. “Then just pick her up. Question her.”
Jameson pinned him with an exasperated look. “We already have. She won’t talk.”
“And you can’t make her?” Tony couldn’t keep the smugness out of his voice and Jameson’s face darkened.
“We’ve had men tailing her for months. She’s careful. And until now we didn’t know the pass phrase to get the information on the club.”
“No offense, but since it didn’t work, I’d say you still don’t know it.”
Jameson glowered at him.
“Why not just send another agent in? I’m sure you’ve got enough men hanging around doing nothing.”
Jameson smiled, though there was nothing friendly about it. “We want a little more than just finding out the nights the club is open.”
Tony frowned. He didn’t like where this was going.
“We also need to know particulars about the club. Where is it? How are people getting out? Who’s the supplier? Where are the stores of liquor? Especially where the liquor is. For Miss Harlan’s own protection, of course.”
“What do you mean?”
“As far as we can tell, the Phoenix isn’t bootlegging across any of the supply chains we’ve come across. He could be a rumrunner, transporting the stuff by ship, across the lakes, but the more likely option is that the Phoenix is either using Miss Harlan’s father’s stock, or she’s making the stuff herself to supply him. But if she’s buying it from someone else to keep his club stocked, it’s not from Willie the Weasel. Because he’s taken an unhealthy interest in her.”
Both Tony’s eyebrows shot up at that. If Willie was interested, the club must be doing quite well, indeed.
“Wouldn’t her involvement with Russo already have brought her to Willie’s attention?”
