Full Contact

  Books by Robert J. Randisi

  Nick Delvecchio Novels

  The End of Brooklyn *

  The Dead of Brooklyn

  No Exit from Brooklyn

  Miles Jacoby Novels

  Eye in the Ring *

  Beaten to a Pulp *

  Full Contact *

  Separate Cases *

  Hard Look *

  Stand-Up *

  Other Novels

  The Bottom of Every Bottle *

  Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand)

  Luck Be a Lady, Don’t Die

  Everybody Kills Somebody Sometime

  Alone With the Dead

  Arch Angels

  East of the Arch

  Blood on the Arch

  In the Shadow of the Arch

  Short Stories

  The Guilt Edge *

  Anthologies (Editor)

  The Shamus Winner Volume I (1982-1995) *

  The Shamus Winners Volume II (1996-2009) *

  *Published by Perfect Crime Books

  FULL CONTACT. Copyright © 2012, 1984 by Robert J. Randisi. Afterword Copyright © 2012 by Robert J. Randisi. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored by any means without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Crime@PerfectCrimeBooks.com.

  Perfect Crime BooksTM is a registered Trademark.

  Cover by Christopher Mills.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, entities and institutions are products of the Author’s imagination and do not refer to actual persons, entities, or institutions.

  Perfect Crime Books Trade Paperback Edition

  July 2012

  Kindle Edition July 2012

  For Anna and Christopher

  I would like to thank the following people for the support and friendship they have supplied over the years: Chris Steinbrunner, Max Allan Collins, Michael Seidman, Loren D. Estleman, and Warren Murphy.

  I would also like to thank Billy and Karen Palmer for allowing Jacoby and his creator to become part of their lives, and part of Bogie’s.

  Thanks to all of the above I can no longer count all of my “good” friends on the fingers of one hand.

  Thanks, too, to the entire membership of PWA, without whom a dream could not have become a reality.

  One

  I had just come out of the shower in the back office at Bogie’s, which was doubling as my apartment for a while, when the intercom buzzer sounded. Billy Palmer, the owner of the restaurant, was out front, so I knew it couldn’t be for him.

  “Yeah, hello?” I said, picking up the receiver.

  “Jack, you’ve got company up here,” Billy’s voice informed me.

  “A client?”

  “She says she’s a friend of yours,” Billy said. “I put her at your table. Want me to get her name?”

  “No, that’s all right,” I said, drying my hair with a towel. “I’ll be right out. Thanks, Billy.”

  “I’ll tell her.”

  “Give her whatever she wants, okay?”

  “Sure,” he said, and hung up.

  Billy Palmer was a good friend. I had moved out of my apartment some months back—temporarily, I thought—and he had kindly extended to me the hospitality of his back office, which was actually an apartment. Then, when somebody blew up my place—and my brother with it—Billy had told me I could stay in the office as long as I liked. I hoped to be ready to move out before he regretted his decision.

  The office/apartment was actually part of the next building, so to get to the restaurant I had to go out the back door and enter Bogie’s through the kitchen. When I descended the short stairway into the restaurant proper, I knew who my visitor was.

  “My table,” as Billy had called it, was the one against the wall in front of the mirror, and I was treated to a double view of the lovely face of Tiger Lee, who was Knock Wood Lee’s “bottom lady.” Wood was a Chinese bookie whose real name was Nok Woo Lee, and Tiger Lee, whose real name was Anna, had been one his “girls” back when he was running girls. He still has some of them on tap for special occasions, but Tiger isn’t one of them.

  “Lee,” I said, approaching the table.

  She turned her head at the sound of my voice, and I could see the worry in her beautiful, almond-shaped eyes.

  “Jack,” she breathed, relieved to see me. “Oh God, Jack.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, taking her hands in mine. Her fingers were cold and clammy. There was a glass of amber liquid in front of her. It could have been cream soda or scotch, among other things.

  “It’s Wood, Jack,” she said. She had to fight to get the words out.

  “Relax, Lee.”

  “There’s no time,” she replied. “We need your help, Jack.”

  “Then I guess you’d better tell me what’s happened.”

  “It’s Wood,” she repeated. “He’s been arrested.”

  “Wood’s been arrested before, honey.”

  “I know, but not for murder!”

  “What?”

  “He was arrested this morning for murder, Jack,” she said. “You’ve got to help him.”

  “All right, Lee,” I said, cradling both her hands in mine, “but before I can do that you’ve got to tell me everything you know.”

  “All I know is that he called me from the police station and told me to find you. He said you’d help.”

  “You know I’ll help, Lee. You didn’t need Wood to tell you that.”

  “No,” she agreed, and now her hands clung to mine, “you’re right, I didn’t. Jack—”

  “Who is he accused of killing?”

  “I know that he left home this morning to see a man named Alan Cross. Cross owes Wood a lot of money, and is way behind on his payments.”

  “And now Cross is dead?”

  She shook her head and said, “I don’t know, I don’t know. . . .”

  “All right, take it easy,” I said, wanting to touch her again but refraining. “Even if Cross is dead, the fact that he owed Wood money is a motive for Wood to want him alive, not dead. The cops will see that.”

  “I hope so,” she said, not sounding very confident.

  “Where did he call you from?”

  “The Seventeenth Precinct.”

  “Don’t tell me, let me guess. The arresting officer was Detective Hocus?”

  “He didn’t say, Jack. All he said was to get hold of you. I went to your office first, but when I saw you weren’t there I came here.”

  “Okay, I’ll get up there and find out what the story is. When I know something I’ll call you.”

  “I want to come with you,” she said.

  “I think you better go home, babe,” I said, gently. “I’ll have Billy get you a cab.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll call you as soon as I find out anything,” I said again. “I promise.”

  She stared at me for a few seconds, then released my hands reluctantly and said, “All right.”

  “Trust me, Lee,” I said, touching her shoulder through the dark curtain of her hair, “I’ll take care of it.”

  “I knew you would, Jack.”

  I went over to the bar to ask Billy to call a cab for her.

  “What’s up?”

  “Her man just got locked up for murder,” I explained. “I told her not to worry about it, that I’d handle it.”

  “That was nice of you.”

  “Yeah,” I said with a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Now I only hope I can deliver.”

  My brother had been arrested for murder once, before he was killed by a bomb that was meant for me. That had been the first time I’d gone to the Seventeenth Precin
ct. There had been many times since then, but this trip was the only one that made me think of Benny again.

  It felt the same and, in one way, I hoped it would be. My brother had been innocent.

  The desk man knew me, so I waved and went right upstairs to the squad room. Hocus was seated at his desk—he always seemed to be at his desk when I came around. If I didn’t know what a good cop he was, I might have gotten the wrong idea by now.

  “I hear you collared Knock Wood Lee for murder. Can you tell me about it?”

  He looked up at me in surprise and then said, “No, I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not my collar.”

  “Oh. Then whose is it?”

  “Vadala.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  Detective Vadala and I had never seen eye to eye. I don’t think it was me so much as it was the fact that I was a private investigator. He hated P.I.’s.

  “Shit,” I said again, “it would be him.”

  “Sorry, pal.”

  “Well, what can you tell me about it anyway?”

  “Not much, and I shouldn’t be telling you anything at all.”

  “I appreciate that fact.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Wood was arrested for beating a man named Alan Cross to death.”

  “With what?”

  “His hands. You and I both know, Jack, that’s all Knock Wood Lee would need.”

  That much was true. Wood was a third or fourth degree black belt in karate, and he could easily tear up someone twice his size.

  “This guy was supposed to owe Wood money, Hocus,” I said. “You know Wood wouldn’t kill for money.”

  “Tell that to Vadala,” Hocus said. “He’s the one sitting on the evidence, and if there’s anyone he dislikes more than you, it’s Knock Wood Lee.”

  “Damn,” I swore, softly but with feeling. “Where is he?”

  “Wood’s in the lockup,” he said, “and Vadala is talking to the A.D.A.”

  “Can I get in to see Wood?”

  “I doubt it,” he said. “You’re not family and you’re not legal counsel.”

  “No, I’m not,” I said thoughtfully, “but maybe we can fix that.”

  “How? You gonna adopt him?”

  “No, but I can get him a lawyer.” I picked up his phone and started dialing, still talking. “Once I get him a lawyer, he can get me in to see Wood.”

  “Going a little out of your way, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe,” I said, listening to the ringing at the other end of the line, “but Wood’s gone out of his way often enough for me.”

  Hocus shrugged and the phone was picked up at the other end.

  “Mr. Delgado’s office,” a female voice said.

  “Hi, Missy, it’s me.”

  “Jack? How are you? We haven’t seen you—”

  “I’ve got to talk to Heck, Missy,” I interrupted her. “It’s urgent.”

  “Hold on,” she said, without asking a bunch of questions first. A few seconds later, Hector Domingo Gonzales Delgado came on the line.

  “What’s the matter, Jack?” he asked. “Missy said it was urgent.”

  “It is, Heck. A friend of mine has been arrested and is being held at the Seventeenth Precinct.”

  “What is he charged with?”

  “Murder, I think. I haven’t been able to get in to see him, or to get all of the particulars. The arresting officer is not a fan of mine—”

  “—and you need some sort of official status to be allowed to see him,” he finished for me.

  “Right,” I said. “I need a favor.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Heck said, “but this doesn’t mean that I’ll take the case once we’ve heard all the facts.”

  “I understand,” I said. “Thanks, Heck.”

  “See you soon.”

  When I hung up Hocus was looking at me. He said, “Vadala’s not going to like this.”

  “That’s tough,” I said. “Once Heck is here to represent Wood, I can go in with him as his investigator, and there’s nothing Vadala can do about it.”

  “That’s what I mean,” Hocus said, nodding. “He’s not going to like it at all.”

  Two

  Heck made it from his office on Madison and Twenty- third Street to the precinct, which was on Fifty-first Street between Lexington and Third, in just under twenty minutes.

  “Had trouble finding a cab,” he apologized, unnecessarily.

  “No problem,” I assured him. “I appreciate this.”

  “Where’s the arresting officer?”

  As if on cue, Vadala walked into the squad room and pulled up short when he saw me.

  “What do you want, Jacoby?”

  “I understand you have arrested a client of mine,” Heck said in his fine Ricardo Montalban-accented voice.

  “Who would that be?”

  “Nok Woo Lee.”

  Vadala made a face and said, “Yeah, I’ve got him.”

  “My associate and I would like to see him, please.”

  “Your associate?” Vadala said. He fixed a glare on me and said to Heck, “I don’t want him—”

  “Mr. Jacoby is my investigator on this case, detective,” Heck said, cutting him off. “He has as much right to see my client as I do.”

  Vadala looked past me at Hocus, as if it was his fault, and when Hocus just shrugged, Vadala looked at Heck and said, “Follow me.”

  “Would you care to explain to me just what evidence you have against my client?” Heck asked, playing the game to the hilt.

  “Why don’t you talk to him first?” Vadala said. “Afterward, come back to the squad room and I’ll give you what we have. Just do me one favor,” he added.

  “What’s that?”

  “Leave your ‘associate’ behind.”

  We followed him down to the lockup and he had Wood taken from his cell to a room where we could sit and talk.

  “Knock when you’re finished,” Vadala said. “I’ll be in the squad room.”

  “Have a nice day,” I said, but he ignored me and left.

  Wood was seated at a long table, dressed in his own clothes, although by now they had a rumpled look to them. Other than that, he looked as he always did, cool and totally inscrutable.

  “Wood, this is Heck Delgado,” I said, making the introductions.

  “Ah yes,” Wood said, “you’ve mentioned him several times.”

  “I’m flattered,” Heck said.

  “Are you going to be my lawyer?”

  “It was the only way I could get in to see you,” I explained. “Whether or not he’ll be your lawyer will be up to the two of you.”

  “I see. You spoke to Lee?” Wood asked me.

  “Yes, but she didn’t know much.”

  “I didn’t tell her much,” he admitted. “Is she all right?”

  “Reasonably,” I said. “We’ll all feel a little better once you tell us what happened.”

  “It’s very simple,” he said. “I’m being framed.”

  Heck closed his eyes and said, “I was hoping he wouldn’t say that.”

  “How about running it down from the top, Wood?”

  “Alan Cross owed me money,” Wood said, “and he was way behind on the payments. I’d given him enough chances already.”

  “So you sent someone to see him?” Heck asked.

  “Wood doesn’t use knuckle-dusters,” I explained. “When somebody is that far behind, he goes to see them himself.”

  “Ah, the personal touch.”

  “It’s so impersonal the other way,” Wood said.

  “I can see that.”

  “So, you went to see Cross this morning,” I said, “and . . . ?”

  “And found him dead.”

  “How?” I asked.

  “His door was open. I just walked in—”

  “No, I meant, how was he killed?”

  “Oh. He was beaten to death,” Wood said. “Good job, too.”

 
“You sound like an expert,” Heck said.

  “Black belt,” I said, “in judo and karate.”

  “Oh,” Heck said. He didn’t look particularly happy about that little piece of news.

  “Yeah,” Wood said, understanding.

  “Is that on your sheet?” Heck asked.

  “Oh, yes.”

  “I see. Means and motive,” Heck said gloomily.

  “What motive?” I asked. “Cross owed Wood money. That’s a motive not to kill him.”

  “Not to the police, I’m afraid,” Heck said. “They have an odd sort of intellect.”

  Wood smiled for the first time since we’d arrived and said, “I like this friend of yours, Jack.”

  “Thank you,” Heck said. “Tell me, how did they catch you?”

  “They got there a couple of minutes after I did.”

  “And you were still there?”

  Wood looked sheepish and said, “I was looking for my money.”

  “I can imagine,” Heck said. “Weren’t you shocked by what you’d found?”

  “I’ve seen death before,” Wood explained. “I would have been gone in another minute or so, money or no money.”

  “But they got there first,” I said.

  “How convenient,” Heck said.

  “I was set up,” Wood said, again.

  “It would seem so,” Heck said in agreement, “if your story is true.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “Actually,” Heck said, standing up, “I don’t have to believe you, I just have to get you off.”

  Wood smiled again and said, “All right!”

  Heck looked at me and said, “Let’s go talk to Vadala.”

  “Sit tight,” I said to Wood. “We’re on it, now.”

  “Tell Lee how much of a retainer you need,” Wood said to both of us.

  “Heck will need a retainer,” I said. “I owe you a couple of favors.”

  “Ha!” Wood said, derisively. “A couple?”