Raven asked.
“He was having apoplexy by the time he arrived, something about the police blocking every road to the station,” Levac said with a grin. “We kept him upstairs until the paramedics thought his blood pressure was down to a safe level.”
“Thanks, Rupe,” Raven said. “That kid would never have opened up with that pig of an attorney there holding his hand. Without him, I think we have enough to go question this Caito guy. I doubt we have an address on him, but the kid gave me a tip on his location. Feel like a little Jazz?”
“Are you buying?” Levac asked.
Raven laughed and headed for the elevator. “Only if you keep Scotch off your tie.”
THE GREEN MILL LOUNGE ORIGINALLY opened in 1907 and had been in the same location on North Broadway ever since. The mafia had used the club on dozens of occasions and still made frequent use of the “hidden” tunnels beneath the club. Rumor was that the old tunnels extended throughout the city and you could cross the entire Loop without ever coming above ground. Others said they hid something far more sinister than booze, guns and drugs. So far the police hadn’t caught the current owners involved in anything illegal, but the club was too well located and had too much history for the mafia not to lean on them if and when necessary.
The outside of the Green Mill Lounge was lit up with a gold glitter-like sign surrounding antique neon that picked out the club’s name just as it had for decades. Beneath the sign was the club entrance, a discrete antique door next to two green-curtained windows. Jazz could be heard blaring from behind the door from dusk till dawn and though it was outside Old Town, House Tempeste vampires visited the club on a regular basis; the music was just that good.
Raven parked the Shelby half a block away and the two detectives joined the line waiting to get inside. As usual the audience was made up of tourists in jeans and tee shirts, business men and women in suits and dresses and couples dressed to the nines. The club had no dress code; some people just wanted to hang out, some people wanted to relax after a lousy day at work and others just wanted to give a visit to such a piece of the city’s history a sense of occasion.
When they reached the door, Raven handed the fifteen-dollar cover charge to a handsome young man in a dark green suit and the two detectives found a table with a good view of both the stage and the rest of the club. Levac ordered a Scotch and water, more water than Scotch and Raven ordered a cranberry club soda with a bowl full of warm pretzel bites from the restaurant next door.
It wasn’t long after their second drinks that the band started up. Raven had never heard of them, but they were good, playing a mix of thirties and forties jazz with both enthusiasm and skill, something well worth the cover charge for the night.
Raven was enjoying her third cranberry soda when she spotted Caito enter with an attractive dark-haired woman. Caito, tall, thin, blue-eyed and tanned was wearing a light grey suit and a blue shirt. Raven detected at least one knife under the suit. The woman was dusky skinned and golden eyed and looked like she’d ridden in on a Harley; Black leather pants, tank top, studded leather jacket and a black bandana that held her dreadlocks in place. Raven could see a knife sheathed at her waist and another in a sort of sheath up her left sleeve.
Raven tapped Levac’s arm and pointed at the couple, who were just taking seats by the stage. The two detectives finished their drinks and stood, approaching Caito and his date from behind. Raven fielded the couple’s drinks from the waitress and set them down on the table along with her badge. Caito took a sip from his drink and looked at the badge on the table.
“Good evening, Ms. Storm,” he said without looking up. “How can I help you?”
“Mr. Caito, I was wondering if you would mind answering a few questions for me,” Raven
“He was having apoplexy by the time he arrived, something about the police blocking every road to the station,” Levac said with a grin. “We kept him upstairs until the paramedics thought his blood pressure was down to a safe level.”
“Thanks, Rupe,” Raven said. “That kid would never have opened up with that pig of an attorney there holding his hand. Without him, I think we have enough to go question this Caito guy. I doubt we have an address on him, but the kid gave me a tip on his location. Feel like a little Jazz?”
“Are you buying?” Levac asked.
Raven laughed and headed for the elevator. “Only if you keep Scotch off your tie.”
THE GREEN MILL LOUNGE ORIGINALLY opened in 1907 and had been in the same location on North Broadway ever since. The mafia had used the club on dozens of occasions and still made frequent use of the “hidden” tunnels beneath the club. Rumor was that the old tunnels extended throughout the city and you could cross the entire Loop without ever coming above ground. Others said they hid something far more sinister than booze, guns and drugs. So far the police hadn’t caught the current owners involved in anything illegal, but the club was too well located and had too much history for the mafia not to lean on them if and when necessary.
The outside of the Green Mill Lounge was lit up with a gold glitter-like sign surrounding antique neon that picked out the club’s name just as it had for decades. Beneath the sign was the club entrance, a discrete antique door next to two green-curtained windows. Jazz could be heard blaring from behind the door from dusk till dawn and though it was outside Old Town, House Tempeste vampires visited the club on a regular basis; the music was just that good.
Raven parked the Shelby half a block away and the two detectives joined the line waiting to get inside. As usual the audience was made up of tourists in jeans and tee shirts, business men and women in suits and dresses and couples dressed to the nines. The club had no dress code; some people just wanted to hang out, some people wanted to relax after a lousy day at work and others just wanted to give a visit to such a piece of the city’s history a sense of occasion.
When they reached the door, Raven handed the fifteen-dollar cover charge to a handsome young man in a dark green suit and the two detectives found a table with a good view of both the stage and the rest of the club. Levac ordered a Scotch and water, more water than Scotch and Raven ordered a cranberry club soda with a bowl full of warm pretzel bites from the restaurant next door.
It wasn’t long after their second drinks that the band started up. Raven had never heard of them, but they were good, playing a mix of thirties and forties jazz with both enthusiasm and skill, something well worth the cover charge for the night.
Raven was enjoying her third cranberry soda when she spotted Caito enter with an attractive dark-haired woman. Caito, tall, thin, blue-eyed and tanned was wearing a light grey suit and a blue shirt. Raven detected at least one knife under the suit. The woman was dusky skinned and golden eyed and looked like she’d ridden in on a Harley; Black leather pants, tank top, studded leather jacket and a black bandana that held her dreadlocks in place. Raven could see a knife sheathed at her waist and another in a sort of sheath up her left sleeve.
Raven tapped Levac’s arm and pointed at the couple, who were just taking seats by the stage. The two detectives finished their drinks and stood, approaching Caito and his date from behind. Raven fielded the couple’s drinks from the waitress and set them down on the table along with her badge. Caito took a sip from his drink and looked at the badge on the table.
“Good evening, Ms. Storm,” he said without looking up. “How can I help you?”
“Mr. Caito, I was wondering if you would mind answering a few questions for me,” Raven
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