Chapter 1

Eli Detective Agency - May 30, 1937
                   
         “So tell me Mr. Fink,” Marcus Eli said, “why do you grace me with your presence tonight?”
         “Mr. Eli...”
         “Call me Marcus.”
         “...I understand you’ve been sticking your nose in places it doesn’t belong”  Mr. Eli smiled at this with a Chesterfield cigarette between his teeth, then he lit it.  One big puff of smoke filled the air between the two men. 
         “You smoke?”
         “Mr. Eli”, Fink said, “you stop your little investigation with Mrs. Halloday or my boss is going to have to come down on you.  And when my boss comes down on people, he doesn’t do it gently.”
         At this Eli took a long drag of his cigarette and blew it out slowly towards the chubby face across from him.  He sized up Fink, one fat blob of a man with a scar on his left cheek.  Marcus could have sworn he had seen him somewhere but couldn’t place him.  There’s fat bastards everywhere in Chicago, so Marcus shrugged off the thought.
         “Is that right Mr. Fink? Should I be shaking in my boots?”
         “I don’t really care what you do, I’ve told you what I’ve came here to tell you.  What you do is your choice.  Scared or not scared, my boss doesn’t play around and for your sake I hope you don’t choose to test that fact.  Good night Mr. Eli.”
         “Shut the door on your way out, will ya?”

         Marcus Eli had played this one off as cool as he could.  He knew who the Boss was, everyone in Chicago did.  The Boss was Antony Ciceroni, he ran Chicago from top to bottom and everyone including Eli knew he wasn’t a man you could afford to play around with, not unless you had a death wish.  However, Marcus refused to be pushed around by any of the Boss’s men.  Not by Fink or anyone else.
         His current client Mrs. Halloday was less well known in the Windy City, but had strong ties with the Boss.  Antony Ciceroni, owed her money, fifty large to be exact. 
         Anne Halloday had come in from the rain one night to his office on Randolph Street .  Her blonde hair a wet mop of a mess but she still looked good, damn good.  She had told him the whole story.  The rebelling from her father, her love affair with Mr. Ciceroni, and why he owed her money.  He thought her reasons were a little weak, but he took the case.  Who could resist?  Not Mr. Eli.   
         Marcus rubbed his face, which was shadowed well past five 'o’ clock and leaned back in his chair and interlaced his knuckles behind his head.  He was thinking hard.  Ten minutes later he decided some fresh air and whiskey would help.