The “old days” had not been that long ago, not that I had any desire to reminisce.

I raised my hands, palms out. “No offense, Jim, but I got responsibilities in Chicago.”

“Don’t we all?” He did the Jimmy Cagney hitch of his shoulders that had become a habit with him. He handed the stack of cash and I took it. “But this’ll just be a week or two of your time. I got something specific in mind.”

I got my wallet out, slid the twenty C notes inside, my hand quivering a little.

That slit of a grin flashed again. “Cold already, kid?”

He often called me “kid,” even though we were about the same age.

I shrugged. “How could I be? It’s August.”

He put a hand on my shoulder. Even though I towered over him a good seven inches, he could look up at me and still intimidate.

“You was in that room today. You saw what Booby was up to—trying to smear me with all that mob shit. Bringin’ in guys like Barney, God bless him, to make him look bad and me in the bargain. That whiny little bastard is trying to link me to every gangster in the goddamn country, and drive me out of the Teamster presidency, besmirchin’ me by the company they say I keep!”

“You do keep that kind of company, Jim.”

He glared up at me. “I deal with captains of fuckin’ industry every day but that don’t mean I run Montgomery Ward! I gotta sit down with all kinds of people.”

I gestured around at the fruits and vegetables, my breath pluming. “But not always in public. Plus there’s no chairs in here.”

He grunted a laugh. That was the one good thing about our relationship—he didn’t expect me to be a yes man.

“You heard the Kennedy kid in that caucus room, poking around in the St. Louis shit pile,” he said. “Bringin’ up Joe Costello. Even that bent cop Shoulders. Makes me wonder.”

“Makes you wonder what, Jim?”

His eyes disappeared in pouches gone tight. “How deep is he digging? What does he know?”

“Could he know something?”

The eyes reappeared, and wide. “Nothing to know! But if the rank and file start thinkin’ we had anything to do with that Greenlease ransom dough…well, it could turn the members against me. Think of it! That dirty little prick Kennedy stoopin’ so low as to splash some poor dead kid’s blood on me, me! Who has nothing but love for innocent kids. I got a boy of my own! And a girl.”

I knew there was no saying no to him.

“What do you want me to do, Jim?”

“Look into it! Go to St. Louis if that’s what it takes. I’ll cover your expenses, no questions asked. You know that. See what shit Kennedy’s got—not that there’s anything to get.”

I cocked my head. “You might not like where it leads, Jim. Three hundred grand is a lot of money, and there are a lot of crooks in St. Louis.”