Okay. So that was how he was going to play it. He didn’t know about it.
But the hell of it was, maybe he didn’t. I had seen the papers, and only the afternoon editions had anything about Tom’s murder, and those had been squibs, buried deep.
If Hoffa was innocent in this thing, he really wouldn’t know.
“Tom was murdered last night, Jim. In his hotel room.”
If he was acting, he was good. The razor jogged, then froze, and when he wiped the lather from his face, I saw a little blood come away on the towel. He hadn’t really finished the shave, but he threw some water on his face, toweled off, stuck a little piece of toilet paper where he’d nicked himself, and exited the john.
“I do not mean to downplay the import of this thing,” Hoffa said, “but you talk while I get ready.”
He got dressed, initially sitting on the edge of the bed to pull the white socks on. He’d motioned me to sit across from him, which took pulling a chair around, which I did. I gave him a condensed, factual report, including the police suspecting a hooker robbery gone awry, and my own feeling that this was a horseshit theory, and that in all likelihood a man had committed the act. Hoffa was ready for his dinner engagement by the time I finished.
But he didn’t stir. He just sat on the edge of the bed facing me, big hands on his small knees.
“I’m gonna save you the trouble,” he said. His face was serious, even somber, his eyes hard but not cold. He gestured with a karate chop. “I can see where you could think this thing may be related to that other thing.”
Apparently Hoffa was not convinced the Bismarck was free of bugs, and I don’t mean bedbugs.
“It seems suspicious to me, yes. You were unhappy with Tom, because he hired me to go along on that handoff.”
I was doing my best to be cryptic myself, in case cops or FBI were listening.
“I think you have a valid concern,” Hoffa said.
This surprised me.
Then he stood, gave me the finger crook like Gladys (not as ominous, strangely, coming from him), said, “In my office,” and I followed him back into the bathroom.
He turned on both faucets, all the way, letting them run hard and loud. He gestured to the toilet, which had the seat down. I sat. He stood near the sink with his arms folded and a piece of toilet paper on his face.
Well, it appeared once again we were going to talk in the can.
“If Tom became a loose end that somebody decided to cut off,” he said softly but forcefully, “it was done without my knowing, and is not something I would have approved. Something like that when I am in town, doing business? Jesus H. Fucking Christ. I have already seriously reprimanded the individual who involved a civilian in this thing in the first place.”
“Jim, a reprimand doesn’t go far with a widow and two young kids.”
“No, it don’t.” He looked grave. Nothing seemed phony about it. “If I gave you, say, ten grand for the family, would you pass it along?”
That was funny. Well, not hilarious, but sick-joke funny: that had been the amount of cash in the envelope Tom gave Ruby at the 606.
He cocked his head, raised an eyebrow. “You would have to accept that it comes out of genuine concern for the family of a trusted business associate, and is not in no way an admission of guilt. Nate, I swear on my mother’s grave I had nothing to do with this goddamn thing.”
“That’s good to hear.” I had no idea if he was telling me the truth or not.
“That will come out of my personal funds,” he said, tapping his chest, allowing himself just a touch of magnanimity.
The running water seemed to be shushing us.
“I’ll get the ten grand to them,” I said. “I’ll say it’s from an anonymous friend of Tom’s.”
“Good. I would appreciate it.”
I’d keep the ten grand. Jean Ellison wouldn’t accept it, and I could use it to fund the investigation. That way I could spare her the expenses.
He rocked on his heels; standing there in that suit, he might have been a cut-rate after-dinner speaker, or the headwaiter at a hash house.
“What are your intentions in this thing, Nate? Are you going to let this thing lie?”
The sink noise wanted to know, too.
I met his unblinking gaze, wondering if my life depended on my answer.
“Here’s what I’m thinking of doing, Jim-I will put agents on the case here and in Milwaukee, and see if this murder really was a robbery gone wrong, whether a hooker or some asshole robbing hotel rooms. I’ll also see if there’s anything else going on in Tom’s life that could have got him killed. You never know-some people have secret lives. He could have a girlfriend who had a boyfriend who decided to get rid of the competition. He could have a business partner who is embezzling that wanted him gone. Anything’s possible.”
Hoffa said, “Anything’s possible.”
“But if you tell me not to look into this, I won’t. I don’t want to be a loose end, Jim.”
I might have been lying about the former, but I was telling the God’s honest truth about the latter.
And after several moments’ thought, Hoffa said something interesting: “Would it make the little woman feel better, you looking into it?”
“I think it probably would … unless I come up with an answer that doesn’t sit well.”
“Another woman kinda thing.”
“Right.”
He shook his head, made a sympathetic clicking sound in his cheek. “I can’t see any reason why you shouldn’t do this investigation and bring some peace of mind to the little lady.”
“All right.”
“But I can’t promise you this ain’t connected.”
That shook me but I tried not to show it. “No?”
“No. Sometimes subordinates do things that they think they should do-you know? Sometimes these sons of bitches think too much on their own. They take the goddamn fucking initiative, the ass-kissing jackasses. Guys like me, you know how it is, Nate-we’re insulated. So I will not lie to you. It is possible Tom getting killed was a by-product of that favor he did.”
I wasn’t sure I should ask, but heard myself saying, “Would you be willing to ask around? If some subordinate of yours was responsible … and you’re unhappy with him … maybe I could … fire him for you.”
That got a big smile out of Hoffa. “Kiddo, you are one of a kind. You always never fail to surprise me. Goddamn right, I will ask around. Anything else? I’m five minutes late. I fucking hate being late.”
I raised a hand, gesturing for just another moment. “There is one other thing. If somebody under or … over you? If there is such a person? If somebody considers me a loose end that needs tying off, would you … please discourage them?”
He nodded with a big, reassuring smile, and he patted the air with his palms to indicate, No problem.
Then he added, “If I can’t discourage them, how about I warn your ass?”
“Please.”
“Okay? We done?”
“I can see taking a guy like Tom out,” I said, ignoring the dismissal. “I hate it, and I don’t think it was smart or necessary. But he was a civilian, and the mistake was enlisting a civilian.”
“I one hunnerd percent agree.”
“I don’t know what makes that little bagman exercise at the 606 worth killing somebody over.…”
“We don’t know that it was,” Hoffa reminded me.
I rose from toilet lid. “Right. But if it was worth killing somebody over? I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know why, and I don’t want to know what it’s about. I don’t want to know anything about it. I just want to live long enough to happily retire and see my son grow up and get rich enough to support me in my old age.”
The running water sounded like applause now.
“I hear ya!” he chortled. “Come on, come on.”
Then he turned off the faucets, slipped an arm around my shoulder, and showed me out of his “office.”
“I’m not a civilian, Jim,” I said, as he escorted me into the living room. “Look back over my history, and think about everything I’ve seen, everything I know, and see if you can find me ever testifying about any of it.”