Rafferty paused across the street from the Lion’s Club. He looked up and down the

street. The brown car was parked down the street. He didn’t see the driver.

He didn’t like the car turning up now that he was about to walk in and talk to Mick

Brown. It was a complication he didn’t need.

Was he wrong about the driver?

Did the man work for Brown? Was he waiting for his target?

Was he waiting for Rafferty to show up?

The detective thought so.

Rafferty went to the door. He wondered if the doorman would let him in. He knocked

on the door. He waited for an answer.

The doorman opened the slot to look down on him. The eyes were unfriendly.

“What do you want?,” said the doorman.

“Mick Brown in?,” asked Rafferty.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” said the doorman.

“Ask him if he killed Bob Corklin,” said Rafferty. “I’ll wait for his answer.”

“Why would I do that?,” said the doorman.

“Because eventually the police will be by to ask him the same thing,” said Rafferty.

“Go ahead. Tell him Rafferty is waiting outside for him to come out unless he’s going

to hide in there forever.”

The slot closed.

Rafferty stepped back from the door. He looked the street over. The brown car still

sat in its place.

How long did he wait?

Did the driver want to see Brown too?

Was he in the club with Brown?

Rafferty wished he smoked. That might give him something to do other than think.

The door opened. The doorman looked down at him from the top of the three steps

leading up to the club door.

“Mr. Brown wants to talk to you,” he said.

“That’s good,” said Rafferty. He made a gesture with his hand. “Lead the way.”

The doorman stepped back from the door to let him by. He smiled slightly as he

walked inside. They didn’t plan to let him leave. He could see it in the man’s eyes.

That was okay. If he went down, he planned to take Brown with him.

The doorman shut the door. He led the way through the ground floor where the

members made use of parlors to talk about their latest ventures. He paused at the

bottom of a short staircase leading to a short hall.

“Mr. Brown is in room six at the end of the hall,” said the doorman.

“Thanks,” said Rafferty. He started up the stairs. He smiled. Room six had two thugs

in suits outside of it.

He walked forward, hands in his pants pockets. They looked like they expected him

to pause to be searched. He didn’t pause. He swung his left on that side. The other

man charged to grapple with him. Rafferty turned and threw his weight against the

other man. They crashed into the door. The detective used the other man’s head for

a door knocker. He dropped the guard on the other man.

Rafferty bent down and grabbed the other man’s head. He slammed it against the

floor of the hall. He searched them and retrieved their weapons. He tucked them in

his coat as he straightened.

He might need pistols more than they would in the next few moments.

Rafferty pushed open the office door. He stepped inside and looked around. He didn’t

see any more guards.

“Hello, Rafferty,” said Brown. “What are you doing here?”

“Just came by for a talk, Mick.” Rafferty closed the door. “I want to know what you

know about Bob Corklin getting shot in his place.”

“What makes you think I know anything about that?,” said Brown. He leaned back

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

in his chair. Its padded bulk was twice as big as he needed.

“Because he was the witness that got you off the hook,” said Rafferty. He went to a

sideboard. He poured himself a shot of whiskey. “And you are the one that ties up

loose ends.”

“I didn’t have to tie that off,” said Brown. “He had already done his job. Matter of

fact, I was getting ready to send him overseas to do some things for me in other

places.”

“So his death is an inconvenience,” said Rafferty. He sipped the whiskey.

“Yes,” said Brown. “What is it to you?”

“Nothing,” said Rafferty. “I was hoping to squeeze him until he gave me something

to use to break you.”

“Not likely,” said Brown. “You couldn’t stop me with a hundred Yards.”

“I don’t have to now,” said Rafferty. He finished his whiskey. “Someone killed

Corklin. I’m sure they’ll get you next. Have a good day, Mick.”

He put the glass down on the sideboard. He walked out of the office. He stepped over

the guards as he went down to the steps. The doorman wasn’t in sight. He walked

back the way he had come to the front door.

The doorman stepped out of a cubby set aside for him to relax from his duties. He

pulled the door open for the detective to leave.

“Thank you,” said Rafferty. He smiled. “Keep an eye out. Someone is looking for Mr.

Brown.”

“Someone other than yourself?,” said the doorman.

“Yes,” said Rafferty.

The detective stepped out of the club. He looked down the street. The brown car was

still there.

He didn’t like it. Where was the driver? Was it the same car?

Rafferty decided to take a closer look. He checked the street as he walked toward the

car. He didn’t see anyone out.

He looked inside the car. He spotted trash on the floorboard on the passenger side. He

opened the door and slid inside behind the wheel. He opened the glove box. He

pawed at the papers in the box.

He frowned at the name on the paperwork. He was sitting in a dead man’s car.

He looked around. He saw a figure in coat and hat bundled up in a niche so he could

look up and down the street. The man pointed a gun at the window of the car.

Rafferty ducked. Bullets pushed glass on him. He shook his head. He had hoped to

catch the other man unaware. He should have known that the other man would wait

on him to get a clear shot.

Now he was pinned down inside the car. The man could just walk up and finish him

off.

It was a good thing he had taken those guns from Brown’s guards.

Rafferty took the pistols out of his coat pocket. He peeked over the dashboard. He

saw the man advancing toward the car. He started firing back through the window.

That should give the mystery man something to think about while he thought about

trying to get out of the car.

Rafferty pushed out of the open door. He fell on the street. He had the body of the car

as a shield now. He looked under the car but didn’t see any feet. He couldn’t shoot

the other man in the limbs if he couldn’t see him.

He stood. One of the pistols tracked across the hood of the car. The shooter was

behind another car up ahead.

Rafferty frowned. How did he cross that space without getting shot? He ducked down

as the other man lined up another shot and took the mirror off.

He looked around. He needed to move. Where could he go?

He decided there was something he could do. It was risky, but it was a notion that

might give him the upper hand.

He reached under the dashboard and worked the wiring. The engine turned over for

him. He slid behind the wheel. He pressed the gas down and directed the car out of

the slot and toward where his enemy waited.

Bullets dug into the body of the car. He fired back through the window. He didn’t

think he had scored a hit.

He slammed the brakes. He jumped out of the car and aimed a pistol into the space.

Where had the mystery man gone?

Rafferty cautiously went around the front of the brown car. He looked the area over.

Brown and his guards were in the door of the club. The mobster shook his head.

The detective frowned. There was only one way the guy could have gone. He didn’t

like to chase anyone down an alley.

He looked at Brown and his bullies. The mobster made a be my guest gesture. The

detective frowned at them.

Rafferty moved forward. He paused at the mouth of the space. He didn’t see anything

moving. He decided that if he could reach the first trashcan without getting shot at,

then he could try for the end to check to see if the shooter was waiting at the end.

Nothing moved. He paused behind the trashcan. No one shot at him. He looked

behind him. Brown wasn’t in evidence.

He moved down to the end of the alley. He didn’t see the man in the coat. He cursed

as he looked up and down the street.

Rafferty smiled. The guy was slippery, but he was on foot. There was no way he

would go back for the car now that he had lost it.

Rafferty started back down the alley. He still had to explain this to any constable that

showed up to ask what was going on.

He paused when he heard the roar of an engine. He started running. The man in the

coat had got around him to get the car.

He burst out of the alley in time to see the car roll away. Brown pulled back from the

doorway. The driver fired at the club as he passed.

Rafferty didn’t bother shooting at the car. There was no way to hit the driver from

where he was.

He walked over to where Brown and his men had taken cover. He put the stolen

pistols away.

“Looks like I’m not the only one he’s looking to get rid of, mate,” said Rafferty.

“Maybe you should flee the country.”

“Aren’t you going to protect me?,” said Brown.

“I’m not a policeman any more,” said Rafferty.

He started down the street. What was he going to do now?

He needed to check in with Hawley and Fletcher. The car belonged to the man Brown

had killed. Who had the access? That was his lead.

If he knew who could get the car from where it was, that would give him a lead on the

gunman.

On the other hand, he had an idea he was looking for a relative of Litner’s. The police

had missed them during the investigation.

Another fork was a friend that had decided to take up arms.

Rafferty knew that Brown wasn’t involved in this. It didn’t mean much, but with the

mobster being a target, he didn’t have to worry about the man coming after him until

he had this situation straightened out.

He needed some food and drink. Then he could think of some way to track his

problem down and deal with him.

Maybe Fletcher had some kind of thoughts where he should go next.

Rafferty looked back at the club. The members were going to have to get someone to

fix the front of the building.