The Hobo Codes

Crime Fiction by Andrew Ricchiuti

“The cops are holding him,” Thatcher said. “They’re wrong. He didn’t do anything.”

I’ve heard that story before. Rarely true.

“How do you know that?” I said. “You have proof?”

“Only that I know Stone,” Thatcher said. “He wouldn’t hurt anyone. Especially not a kid. He lives by the hobo code of ethics. Numbers thirteen and fourteen say to protect and help children.”

“Oh. That settles it. I’m sure we can get him released now.”

Thatcher sighed. “I get it. You need more. Listen. A hobo’s not a bum. Just a guy down on his luck trying to get by. Get a day’s work whenever he can, Maybe a couple days in the same place. Stone’s like that. He’s been doing some chores at the Sibaney house. They like him.”

“He sounds like a saint.”

“Okay, okay. He’s got some demons too. He fought in France. He was there in the end of seventeen and eighteen. He saw some bad action. C’mon Donnelly. You know what it was like.”

I did. I also knew about demons. “Maybe I can look into it…”

“Sam. Sorry to interrupt, but we need to move quick,” my assistant Joe Santonia said as he and a woman barged into the room. “There’s a kid in trouble.”

“The Black Hand say they have her,” the woman with Santonia said. “They demanded a twenty thousand dollar ransom. They want it fast. Otherwise, they’ll probably just kill the girl and move onto to someone else.”

I recognized the woman as Eloise Tapse. She had worked with Margaret Travis, the lady social activist. She absorbed everything Travis could teach her. Just like Travis, Eloise spent money freely and had many upper crust connections. Unlike Travis, she could also play rough if the need was there.

“Who’s the kid?” I said. “What happened?”

“Lila Sibaney,” Eloise said. “She was walking a dog. They grabbed her and the dog.”

“See,” Thatcher said. “That should clear Stone.”

“Who’s Stone?” Santonia said. “What’s he go to do with this?”

“He was in the area when Lila was taken, “ I said. “The cops suspect him. They held him, You go with Thatcher. See your usual connections. Get him released. Talk to him, See what he knows. Call here and tell the kid , Morty, what he knows. Bring Stone here. Morty will find me and tell me what he said.”

“Where’re you going?”

“Me and Eloise are going to find the kid. You get going.”

***

Within minutes, we arrived at a small park near the river. Two empty warehouses sat on opposite sides of the park. The river framed a third side. A narrow street hit the last side.

“This is where she was taken,” Eloise said. “

“Why was she here?” I said. “All alone?”

“She helps some people named Percy with their dog. A tiny thing. A big time show dog. She walks it for a bit and plays with it some. They’re well off. They pay her a little something. It helps the family. Usually, there are other people around here.”

“Like the Black Hand?”

“Yeah, well about that. Something doesn’t seem right. You know I’m familiar with how they operate after me and Margaret dealt with them in New Orleans.”

“So? This isn’t New Orleans.”

“When they do something like this, it’s against people with money. The Sibaneys don’t have much. Why them?”

“Good question.”

“Besides, the Black Hand is just about gone. A more organized crime structure is taking their place. I wonder if it’s them who did the kidnapping.”

I didn’t like that idea. We’d then be up against somebody new and probably completely different. The sound of footsteps broke that chain of thought.

“Sam. I need to talk to you.” The words came from Morty, the young kid who kept hanging around the office looking to do something until I began tossing little jobs and errands to him.

Morty tried to speak and catch his breath at the same time. “They came into the office,” Morty said.

‘Who?

“A man and a woman named Percy,’ he said. “They wanted to talk about their dog.”

Eloise looked at me. “That’s the dog Lila watches,” she said.

“That’s what they said. ” Morty said. “As soon as I heard that, I ran right down here. I knew it was important.”

“Good thinking,” I said. “What did they want? Why did they come to the office?”

“I don’t know except about the dog,” Morty said. “Like I said, as soon as I heard, I ran here.” He shrugged. “I guess I should have got more information.”

Eloise smiled at him. “You’re learning. Next time, think it out before acting.”

“Well, Joe is back,” Morty said. “Him and the two hobos are talking to them. Joe said the three of them would come here as soon as they finished with them.”

I wanted to speak to Stone. If the cops brought him in, he must have been close or seen something. If that happened, why didn’t he try to do something. Was Eloise right and it wasn’t the Black Hand? Was Thatcher wrong and Stone part of this?

“Anything else from the Sibaneys?” I asked Eloise. “Did they notice anybody hanging around watching them or the kid? Have they had any trouble with anyone?”

“Nothing.”

“Do you have the note?”

“Yeah. Here.”

I took the ransom not and studied it. No cut out and paste for these kidnappers. Handwritten details filled the page. The handwriting looked neat, but not real educated. The twenty thousand demand appeared in numbers, not spelled. They wanted the money by midnight.

I gave the note back to Eloise.

“I think you’re right,” I said. “Not Black Hand. Look at the note. The writing has no European style. It’s looks like someone schooled here. Aren’t most of the Black Hand immigrants?”

“Yes. And, they don’t trust any native Americans enough to be into something like a kidnapping.”

Before I could answer, Joe and the two hobos arrived.

“This is Stone,” Thatcher said. “After the cops released him, he insisted on coming with us. He wants to help.”

One look at Stone told me his race determined his harsh treatment by the cops. Stone held himself like he still wore a uniform. The look on his face showed both an readiness to help and belief that he could. I guessed the pride and confidence in himself that showed probably didn’t help him with the cops. I noticed he wore a small pin with 369th in his lapel.

I held out my hand to him. “I’m Donnelly.” I pointed to the pin. “Harlem Hellfighter?”

“You know of us?”

“Yeah. You guys fought under the French. I was in the 27th. We fought under the British.”

Stone shook my hand. “I might have information that could help about Lila.”

“You know her?’

“I did some chores for her family on a regular basis. She chattered and tried to help. I like her.”

“What can you tell me?”

“Two guys. Very ordinary looking. Wearing worn but decent working man clothes. Both same height and weight. About five feet, maybe seven inches tall. Weighed maybe one hundred fifty pounds Black hair. Clean shaven. No scars.”

“Did they look Italian or Mediterranean?” Eloise asked him.

“Nope.”

“I think I’m right,” Eloise said to me. “Not Black Hand.”

“I agree,” I said and then to Stone. “Tell us what happened.”

“They tried to be nice at first, Gentle with the kid, Tried a little to play with the dog. I was busy working and didn’t watch them. Then sudden, one of them grabs the kid. She’s holding the dog, so he swoops both of them into a car. The second guy gets behind the wheel and starts the car. The other guy looks at me.”

“At you?”

“Yeah. I’m across the street. I notice what happened. I drop everything and start to run at them. The guy pulls a gun. He fires at me. At the first shot, I drop down and look for cover while I’m trying to move over there. He fires four more shots and jumps in the car. Not a good shot, but enough to slow me down. The car rips away.”

“Could you identify the car?”

“Not really. A Model T, Black naturally. Didn’t have a license plate.”

“Not much to go on. Did you give all that to the cops?’

“Tried to, but they didn’t want to listen to anything I said. Just an impression I got, but I think there’s somebody else calling the shots. I think they were worried about what he would say. Another thing, I don’t think the car belonged to the driver. He could hardly handle it.”

“The Percys’ are bitching about their dog,” Joe said. ‘It’s a show dog. He’s in some event tomorrow evening.”

“Lila is the focus,” I said.

“If they’re so worried, maybe they’ll pay the ransom,” Eloise said. “Why don’t I talk to them to see if they’re willing to pay some.”

“Good idea. Go with Joe . Morty, you go hang around by the cops. See what they’re doing. Keep Joe advised. And, Morty, don’t get yourself in trouble. Just stay low key.”

“I’ll go and put word through the Hobo network,” Thatcher said. “Maybe someone has seen something. Stone, you want to come?’

“No, I’ll stay with Donnelly.”

***

The two of us went in the direction Stone had seen the car go.

“I didn’t tell you everything,” Stone said.
“I figured.”

“It went pretty much the way I said, except I traded shots with them. I might have got the driver. Maybe the other. I definitely did some damage to the car.”

“So, you’re armed. I thought I saw you pick up something before we left.”

He pulled a M1917 Colt revolver from his jacket. “I ditched this before the cops grabbed me. Didn’t think it would be smart for them to find me carrying.”

“Army issued. An officer’s gun. How’d you get that?

“I found it after we went over the top one time.There were plenty lying around. Our officers said to keep it. Might need it. I brought it home with me.”

I opened my jacket and show him a similar gun. “Same with me.”

Just then, Morty ran up to us. “The cops don’t know anything. So, I came back to help.”

Stone pointed ahead to a car parked half in the street and half in the parking lane. “That’s the car.”

“Okay. We’ll approach it from opposite sides. Morty, stay here unless I call you.”

We each drew our guns and walked towards the car. Stone must be a decent shot. Two dings marked the driver side of the car. Two tires were shredded. We heard moaning from the driver’s side of the car.

I approached the driver’s side. Stone went to the passenger side. Only the driver was in the car. He slumped against door, his head nudged against the steering wheel.

“Can you hear me?” I said.

The driver nodded his head. The movement made the blood leak again. His face turned white. “Doctor,” he said. “Need a doctor. Please.”

“Is he dead?” Morty asked as he stepped up to the car and looked inside.

“Not yet,” I said. “There’s a police call box on the next block.Call in and get the police and a medic here. Stay at the box in case they have questions. Tell them to be quick.”

Stone ripped the driver’s shirt into long strips. He wrapped the strips against the driver’s wounds. The blood stopped leaking. He took a bottle of whiskey from the car floor,. He twisted off the cap and tilted the bottle at the driver’s mouth. The driver gasped, but some color returned to his face.

“He’s one of them,” Stone said.

“Doctor is on the way,” I said to the wounded man. “If you want help, you’ll answer my questions.”

“They just left me here,” he said. “Ran away. Both of them.”

“Where’s the girl?” I said.

“With them. Where else? They left just before you got here. I heard them say they’d try to steal another car. On the next street, Good luck to them. Without me they can’t do anything about a car.“

I ran in that direction. Stone came with me. We arrived at the next street. We heard them before we saw them. Two of them shouting at each other.

“Why can’t you start this car,?” a smooth cultured voice screamed. “You can’t do anything right. Get this thing moving.”

“I told you, I don’t know how to drive,” a rough voice yelled back. “And what didn’t I do right?”

Stone pointed at a black Chevrolet Series FA. “It’s coming from there,” he said.

“Do you see Lila?” I asked.

“Not yet. Let’s get closer.”

We moved forward a little. We stopped when the yelling started again.

“Why did you take the kid?” the smooth voice screamed. “You sent the note to the wrong people. I didn’t want her. Just the dog. They’ll pay for the dog, He’s a valuable show dog. The kid is worthless and she knows who we are.”

“We can take care of that,” the other voice said. ‘No big deal. I still have bullets.”

“We need to get there now,” Stone said. “Otherwise, we’ll be out of time.”

“Let’s go,” I said, but Stone was already charging towards the car. He waved his gun and yelled like he was still in France.

“Mister George,” Lila called and ran to Stone. “Help me.”

One of her captors jumped out of the car and pointed a gun at Lila. Stone grabbed her. He put himself between her and the gunman. I stood and fired two shots. Both hit the gunman. He fell to the ground. The second captor appeared. He aimed his gun and fired. Stone wrapped himself over the girl. I took careful aim and fired.

The kidnapper moved towards Stone. My first shot missed. The kidnapper squeezed off another shot. My second shot caught him in the chest. He fell. I rushed to him and kicked his gun well away from him. It wasn’t necessary. He couldn’t move. He gasped for breath.

I heard crying behind me. I looked back. Lila bent over Stone bawling. Stone couldn’t hear her. The kidnapper’s last shot hit in the back and came out through his heart.

The other rescuers arrived. I didn’t pay attention to them. I could only stare at Stone. I sighed. He made it through France, but not here at home.

He lived and died by the hobo code. He did protect and help a child.

Bio: Andrew Ricchiuti lives in New Jersey, writes and reads short fiction.
He has fiction posted or upcoming on Yellow Mama, Friday Flash Fiction, Pulp Modern Flash and Schlock.

He has posted with the Yard before. Read his previous work HERE.

Read more Detective Stories on The Yard: Crime Blog.

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