MESSENGERS OF DEATH
STEVE CRONIN followed a round-about path to the cigar store that was run by Georgie Sommers. The time had not yet arrived for his prospective alibi but he realized that it was advisable for him to utilize discretion during every stage of this night’s venture. In fact, he probably would not have been summoned to Nick Savoli’s apartment, but for the fact that he had been a frequent visitor there during the past few weeks.
The cigar store was located on a side street at the edge of the Loop. Cronin entered the place and was pleased to observe that it was virtually deserted. Georgie Sommers, a rotund man who looked like an ex-bartender, stood behind the counter in his shirt sleeves, and waved his hand in greeting when the gunman arrived.
“Hello, Georgie,” said Steve Cronin. “Not many of the boys here tonight. Checking business getting slow?”
“Not a bit of it,” replied Sommers. “They’ve all been here and gone.”
“I’m kind of late, eh? Well, I’m not going anywhere for a while. How about a game of cards, Georgie? Anything doing?”
Sommers looked at Cronin rather skeptically. He had not been told whom to expect. He wanted to be sure that the gangster was the right man.
Sommers knew that Cronin was well established with both Savoli and Borrango. Nevertheless he believed in being careful.
“A game of cards, eh?” he questioned.
“You said it, Georgie,” answered Cronin. “Any of the bunch upstairs now?”