The Search for Al Capone's Diary

The Search for Al Capone’s Diary

A Mystery

By: Joseph Stengele

Copyright 2010 by Joseph Stengele

Published by Joe Stengele on Smashwords.com

Copyright © 2010 by Joseph Stengele

ISBN 978-1-4657-7890-1

Smashwords.com Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Other titles coming soon!!!

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Chapter 1)

The day was starting out as most days started for Max Munroe. Get the paper, grab a cup of coffee, go to the office and see if there were any leads from a potential client. His office was on the first floor of an old brick building just off Dock Street in Cedar Key, Florida. Florida had always been a favorite vacation spot for Max. When he retired and set up shop as a private investigator, it was natural for him to move to the sunshine state. He really didn’t like all the hustle and bustle of some of the bigger cities, so this little haven away from all of that was just perfect. Located on the Gulf Coast of Florida, more than an hour from any of the larger cities, not over run with development, more of a quaint little village than a city. Just a few restaurants, bars and warm, salty air. Max didn’t need any more than that, except an interesting case now and then. Little did he know, one was about to land right on his lap.

Max had retired early from the Chicago Police Department. Not on his own terms, but on the terms of a perp who had a grudge against anyone wearing a blue uniform, especially when it included a badge. The perp had tried to shoot it out with Max and his partner during a failed car jacking. Max was the lucky one, he was able to retire. His partner didn’t make it. But, then, neither did the perp. Max had taken the first shot to his chest, his vest stopped that one, but the second one tore up his hip. He had laid on the street, bleeding, helpless, watching his partner die. Within minutes, after the shootout, reinforcements arrived, but the damage was done. The last thing he remembered before he passed out was his fellow officers putting him into the ambulance. He vaguely remembered looking around for his partner, to see, if by chance he had made it, but all he saw was the body bag being loaded into another van. He woke the next day in the hospital. The hip was eventually replaced but it still hurt like hell when it going to rain. He never fully regained full use of it so the department had no choice but to force him into early retirement. Since he never had any permanent relationships, except for his immediate family. It was an easy decision to move from the blustery winters of Chicago to the warm and balmy winters of Florida

Now was not winter. Now was the middle of August and it was plenty hot and humid. It seemed like it always a contest to see which was higher, the temperature or the humidity. He had only walked about six blocks from his little two bedroom, five room house to get to work and he was already working up a mild sweat. It was still pretty early in the day, just past nine but the humidity was already up around 80 percent. Oh well, another beautiful day in Florida. His trusty assistant, Carly, was always at the office early. Along with Max’s best friend, his black Labrador Duke, the three of them made quite a team. Duke came with the office. When the previous tenant moved out, Duke stayed. It was his home, and nobody but nobody was taking him from here. Unless, of course, Max was driving around town in his rag top Jeep, then Duke was always ready to go.

It had been about three years since the official opening of the Max Munroe Agency and Carly had been there from the beginning. She had been a godsend. Max had meet Carly when he was looking for office space and she was working at the real estate office that was handling the rental of his future office. She had a knack for the private investigator business from the start. She must have gotten that from her late husband. He had also been a cop, not a beat cop like Max but an investigator. He had been on the Milwaukee force for about 12 years when his number was up. It happened one night during a stake out one night in the middle of Milwaukee’s Italian village. Bud, her husband, was working on a big Mob job, he was undercover and was investigating for the Feds who were getting ready to prosecute the entire family, but they needed more information. Bud had great contacts, so he was elected. Someone must have tipped off the outfit because in the middle of the stake out, his car blew up. A bomb had been placed directly under his car. He had mostly worked the gangs but this night was on an outfit job. Carly had been devastated. They had two young sons who were the spitting images of their father. Tall, dark hair and a mischievous grin that would certainly get them either into or out of trouble some day. The oldest had been only five years old, the other had been three. Now, in their early teens, a day didn’t go past that Carly didn’t see her Bud in her sons, but she knew she had to move on. So, she decided to get out of the northern winters and moved to Florida, after some urging from her family. The life insurance and death benefits didn’t add up to much, but enough to get her and the boys to Florida and settled in a modest house. It wasn’t much, but it was home.

Chapter 2)

The Munroe Agency handles pretty mundane matters, usually. Mostly checking up on errant husbands, watching dishonest employees take a little off the top and really anything that would pay the bills. Max was patiently waiting for the big payday, a really juicy case that would pay some major bills. Today maybe was his day. When he arrived at the office, Carly was wearing a big smile. Duke anticipated his entrance and was waiting at the door with his favorite toy, a ratty old tennis ball. Max was immediately suspicious when he entered the door.

So, what’s that smile for, he said as Carly was waving a pink message sheet like it was some kind of miniature fan.

It looks like the Gods are smiling down on you Mr. Munroe, she said dripping with sarcasms. All Max could think about was this must really be good if she was calling me Mr. Munroe. Since he left the force, nobody called him Mr. Munroe, unless he was in trouble.

Well, let’s see it he said as grabbed the message. What could it be, she still had that smile on her face. All the message said was to call a Mr. Smith and that it was urgent.

So, who is this Mr. Smith and what is so urgent?

Carly said, He first asked me if we handle missing persons. I told him sure, we do. He asked if we might have time to handle this situation. I told him we might be able to squeeze it in. So, he said to call as soon as you got into the office.

Did he say who he is or who he works for? No, he did sound kind of professional though. Sort of like some of the men that worked with my husband. You know the type, all business, almost military with their language, yes maam, and all that.

Did he say who was missing?

No, just to give him a call. So quit stalling and call the man, we need the case.

Yes maam, he said still wondering how he got so lucky to have her working for him. Or was he working for her. God was she good.

A call like this could only be made from the official office of the Munroe Agency, with his feet under the desk, not on it, and with his shoes on, not something that happened very often. Just make the call, he kept telling himself, this might be a big case. So he called. He dialed, the phone rang about twenty times and he was almost ready to hang up when the phone was finally picked up. There was a short hesitation before a voice said hello.

Clearing his throat one last time Max said, Uh, yes, this is Max Munroe from the Munroe Agency returning your call.

Again, another hesitation from the other end, Thank you for calling Mr. Munroe. We’re not a speaker phone are we?

Uh, no, we’re not, said Max wondering if this guy’s for real. He sounded so, mysterious, and professional.

Good, I asked your assistant when I called before if you handle missing person’s cases and she said that you do. Have you handled very many?

Well, not exactly a lot, but on occasion back on the force, we would see a few come through.

Right, back in Chicago.

Right, hey, how did you know I was on the Police force in Chicago? This was going from mysterious to spooky.

That’s not important right now, said the voice.

Might I ask your name and who you work for? Max was dying to know.

My name is Smith, Dave Smith, and who I work for isn’t important. What is important is for me to know if this case is something you can handle. Not just handle, but to be very discreet. Is this something you can handle?

Well, yes, but we need to talk about my fee, I’ll need a retainer, expenses, a little background on who we’re looking for, you know, information and money. Is that something you can handle? Max said. While he waited for the answer, which seemed to take forever, he heard his outer office door open. Carly said thank you to someone and the door closed. Must have been a delivery of some sort.

Yes, Mr. Munroe, that is something we can handle. A package was just delivered to your assistant; it has a retainer and enough expenses for about two weeks. After that, we’ll see how far along you are with the case and go from there, said Mr. Smith. Max jumped out of his chair and ran toward his door to catch a glimpse of who just delivered the package, but, forgetting to put the phone down, got almost to the door when the cord reached it’s maximum length and jerked his head back as he was trying to hear what Mr. Smith was saying. Damn, just missed him.

OK, said Max, walking back to his desk rubbing his ear. The ear that had been attached to the phone. Regaining his composure Max said, but how do you know that I have time to take this case?

Please, Mr. Munroe, you stretching out the surveillance on that rich Mrs. Vogel’s husband, you already know he’s not cheating on her but you keep telling her that you not sure yet. And that pretty little bartender down at Frog’s Landing that the owner suspects of skimming, you know, where you like to hang out, drink long necks and slam down those crab cakes, which are pretty decent I will admit. You already know she’s skimming, but you’re enjoying the view so much that you can’t quite admit that she might not be around there much longer. And, oh yeah, and over at the Island Time Hotel, or never mind, you get the point. We know you have plenty of time for this case. What’s it going to be, Mr. Munroe?

I’ll, uh, I’ll need some time to look over the information that you dropped off and I’ll get back to you.

No, you won’t get back to us, we’ll be back in touch at two this afternoon.

Oh, OK, I’ll look over everything and I’m sure you have a contract, or something, for me to sign, and we can get started, said Max as he realized that he was getting irritated and was suddenly gripping the phone rather tightly. Nobody talks to Max Munroe like that.

No, Mr. Munroe, we don’t operate with contracts. Nor, do we operate with checks. Please take a look at the contents of the package. Don’t let anyone else see the information. We will back in touch this afternoon. With that, the line went dead. Well that had to be one of the strangest conversations in the entire history of the Munroe Agency, no, it was the strangest. By a long shot. Slowly getting up and walking to Carly’s office, he suddenly had a very bad feeling about this whole thing. Maybe he should just give the envelope back to Mr. Smith and he could find somebody else. How did he know so much about my cases? How long have they been watching him? How come he didn’t see them? Who are these guys? Carly could read his face as he walked through the door.

"Well, how did it go? Did we get the case? Oh, this came for you when you were on the phone, do you want me to open it?

No, screamed Max, I’m sorry, what I meant to say is, No, I’ll get it, thanks. Her look went from her usual amused-at-the-boss look to one of talk-to-me-again-like-that-and-I-won’t-be-responsible-for-what-I-do look. Even old Duke looked Max over as if to say, What’s up with you, boss? No, I’ll just go into my office and go through this information. He started for his office and stopped and decided to ask, Oh, who dropped this off?

Some guy, kind of plain, shorter hair, he looked like he was in good shape, other than that, just some guy. Oh, he looked sorta out of place, like he wasn’t used to wearing casual clothes, you know what I mean? she said as she looked at her boss, waiting for answers that weren’t coming.

I’ll be in my office.

Chapter 3)

Closing the door behind him, Max was back at his desk with the mysterious package, placing it right in the middle of his desk. That little voice in the back of his head was telling him to not touch it, don’t even think about opening it, it can’t be anything but trouble. Minutes went past, he just stared at it. He thought back to his conversation with Mr. Smith. How did he know all about my business? He probably had a bug in his office and they were listening to everything he said and did. Bastards were probably watching him right now. Who were they anyway? Temptation was just too great. Might as well open it and get it over with. Well, here goes. Did you ever have the feeling that something that you were about to do was going to change your life? Well, this was it. Slowly, he slit the end of the manila envelope open, at least nothing blew up. That was a step in the right direction. He spilled the contents out onto his desk. Whistling softly as he saw the stacks of hundred dollar bills all neatly stacked, I guess this is what Mr. Smith meant when he said they don’t deal in checks. The only actual information was a very thin file folder with the word secret stamped on the front. Yes, this was definitely something that was going to change his life and he didn’t think it was going to be for the better.

Going through the file didn’t take all that long. The type of file was vaguely familiar. It was just like the ones that he saw back on the force in Chicago. Inside were some older photos, not very good ones, side shots mostly, nothing that you could really get a good description of any of the individuals. Some of the men looked official, some were definitely not official. One guy even looked like an Indian, an American Indian. Some of the shots looked like they were on a lake in the north woods somewhere. It looked like some of the photos that his father had taken when they were on vacation in the north woods, except, it didn’t look like any of these guys were vacationing. There were only a few pages of actual information. A brief history of a case. Apparently, involving the mob in St. Louis and Chicago. Somebody going into the witness protection program that was going to testify against the mob boss. Somebody pretty close to the top. And then the witness disappeared. Ah, the missing person that needs to be found before the trial. The trial date is …. over? Wait a minute, the trial date looks like it was over a year ago. There was no witness so the charges had to be dropped. Case closed. So who is the witness and why are they still looking for him? And who are they?

Several miles away, in the back room of a convenience store, the two rather scruffy looking men shook hands and sat down to go over the days event.

Well, did everything go as planned? as one opened a beer for the other.

Yes it did, just like clockwork, I switched the lotto tickets, put the right one in the envelope and away it went, just like you planned.

Excellent, I just hope she can figure it out before she throws it away.

Are you going to tell me what this is all about anyway? I’ve done everything you asked

No I’m not. I paid you do to a job, you did it, it’s all over as far you’re concerned, said the visitor to the proprietor. With that part of the operation under control, the stranger got up to leave. He had just a short ride back to his place. A little out of the way place that was nice and quiet, just the way he liked it. His rented home, just north on Route 347, a few miles out of town with no neighbors. Well, not the two legged kind. A day didn’t go past that he didn’t look twice when he went out the front door on the lookout for those prehistoric looking monsters. Alligators were supposed to be everywhere in this wet, low lying area, but he had never actually seen one. Just the tracks from one that seemed to get way too close to his house. Back home, the worst he had to worry about were some squirrels and raccoons getting into his garbage from time to time. Soon enough he would back home picking up after those little beggars.

He already had everything packed. All he had to do was to pack his old red pickup truck and drive. But where would he go. Back home? The planning for the operation up to this point had taken all of his time. Now the operation was coming to a close, he hoped, so where should he go? They would be looking for him there, wouldn’t