2008-9-28 01:40:00
by Ted Dewey
There was no celebration when the trio returned to the ranch, but also no regrets. They had tackled a very difficult job and had come out with flying colors. This move had been one of self-defense, at least as far as they were concerned. And, if Ira Baker alias Frank Poletti and his gang of killers had gone up with the smoke so much for the better!
The two men took a shower and doctored their cuts and scratches -- which there were many. Julie put on a fresh pot of coffee.
Henry dug deep into the cupboard and came up with a full quart of Old Crow Whiskey. "This," he said, "has been in there for years. I kept it here just in case of a snake bite. There were no snakes out there tonight, but we damn near got dog bite! Maybe a shot of this in a cup of coffee would settle our nerves a bit."
Rodney passed his cup over to Henry. "I'll go along with that. How about you Julie?"
"Count me in!" She got up and walked over to a small radio that was setting on a shelf. "Does this thing work?" she asked.
Henry nodded. "Just twist that knob on the right. There should be some news about what we did pretty soon."
"That is what I had in mind. I wonder what they will say about the big explosion?"
Henry poured a liberal shot of whiskey into each cup. "I seldom touch the stuff," he said. "Beer is my weakness. My parents were both Germans who came over from the old country right after World War I. They both liked their beer. I think I was born with it in my veins."
Rodney raised his cup. "Here is to the three of us."
Everyone took a swallow.
Then the radio announcer announced, "Folks it's time for the early morning news..."
Julie jumped to her feet and turned up the volume.
"About two hours ago," said the reporter, "the city of Prescott was shaken by a terrific explosion. The home of Ira Baker in the new sub-division at Granite Butte was totally destroyed.
"The mangled bodies of six men have been recovered. Just what blew up or caused the explosion no one seems to know. But now fresh from the scene is our own deputy Sheriff Daniel De-Shazo... What is the latest, Dan?"
De-Shazo cleared his throat. "We have identified two of the six male bodies. One of them is the owner of the house -- a Mister Ira Baker. The other one is Lonnie Phillips. He and Baker cane to Prescott a little over a year ago. They were both staying at the house..."
"And the other four?"
"No one seems to know anything about them. We have salvaged their fingerprints. Maybe we can learn something from them. And, if there is anyone listening to this broadcast that knows anything about them please give us a call."
"Can you tell us a little bit about the explosion?"
"It was a real big one. Everything was leveled right off the top of the ground -- a total loss."
"What was it that exploded? A bomb?"
"That is about all I can tell you right now," said the deputy. "We got the place all roped off. No one will be allowed on the property until the investigation is over. That is all I had better say right now."
"Thank you Dan. Now to another story...."
Julie, who was looking quite pale around the mouth, got up and turned the radio off, then stood staring out the window.
Henry got to his feet and took her by the arm. "Better step outside and get a little fresh air," he told her. "Take a short walk, then you will feel better." He opened the door.
With one hand over her mouth the other holding her stomach she moved outside and closed the door.
"That deputy sure didn't tell all he knew," Rodney was saying. "Didn't say one thing about exploding shells or shattered machine guns. I guess they will keep this a secret until they get to the bottom of the thing."
"I hope they don't dig too deep," was Henry's comment.
Rodney began pacing up and down the room. "Maybe we should help them," he said. "If they discovered that it was just a bunch of no good gangsters that got blown up maybe they would quit looking. What do you think?"
Henry nodded. "Keep talking."
"Didn't that deputy say that if anyone knew anything about these guys to call in?"
"That's what he said."
Rodney stopped pacing and picked up the empty coffee cup he had set on the table. He held it up to the side of his mouth and spoke in a low voice. "How does this sound?"
Henry grinned, "Great, talk just a little bit more into the cup. The closer you get the farther away you sound."
Rodney tried once more. "Is this better?"
Henry nodded. "That should do it. No one would ever recognize you."
"Fine. Now, I will talk to Mister De-Shazo on the phone." Once more the cup was in position. "Mister De-Shazo?" Rodney paused. "I just listened to your radio broadcast... Get your pencil and paper ready and I will tell you a secret." Rodney paused again. "Are you ready now? O.K. Here we go. The name of the owner of the house that blew up is not Baker."
Again, Rodney paused. "His real name is Frank Poletti, a well known gangster from the East coast. His specialty is high explosives. Guns and ammunition, and he usually has a big stock on hand."
"No, Phillips is not his name. The underworld calls him 'Silent Louie'... He's Poletti's henchman and hit man..."
"The other four? They are members of a gang that just flew in from Chicago. If you would like their names inquire at Eastern Air Lines in Phoenix."
Henry was all smiles, "Look out phone booth here we come!"
-- End Of Chapter Thirty-Three --
Copyright © 2008 by J.J. Dewey, All Rights Reserved