Authors: Shelby C. Jacobs
Debbie’s apartment is in East Nashville, normally a fifteen minute drive with the morning traffic. At 10:45 in the evening and no traffic, I made the trip to Jimmy’s Bar and Grill on Second Avenue in eleven minutes. It seemed longer. Charley’s husband, Randle, had been murdered at Jimmy’s four weeks earlier in the first salvo of a brewing war between the two major crime kingpins in Middle Tennessee. The established boss in Nashville was Leonard Martin who controlled most of the prostitution, money laundering and protection in Nashville and the counties to the North. But Jack Schmidt had his tentacles wrapped around the drug business and loan sharking in the smaller wealthier municipalities surrounding Nashville. Martin had established his informal headquarters at Jimmy’s, threatening to fire bomb the building if Jimmy didn’t cooperate. Schmidt operated out of an office in one of the banks in central Nashville.
Jimmy Brewster’s son Randle had gotten involved in some unsavory business while studying accounting at the University of Tennessee. Martin threatened to expose Randle if he didn’t come to work for him. Unfortunately, working for Martin led to Randle’s brutal murder and ultimately to Charley miscarrying her baby and landing her at Grace Mercy in the psych ward.
I’m the lead detective on Randle’s murder, so yeah; I am very interested in a shooting at Jimmy’s. As I sped the short distance to Jimmy’s, I prayed neither Charley not Jimmy were involved, especially Charley.
*****
“I heard a sharp pop and then a lot of shouting. I was upstairs in the apartment listening to some soft music and daydreaming about the good times Randle and I had; having a pity party, I guess. The noise startled me, so I grabbed my sweater and rushed to the stairs. About halfway down, I could hear Jimmy talking to someone …”
I went over to the bar where Jimmy was standing, taking a large shot of whisky. “Yeah, I cornered the punk over there by the freezer. He had just run from the special door to the kitchen from Martin’s private booth in the Bar. I yelled to him, ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ It was that slick gunman for Jack Schmidt. He pointed that pistol at me and calmly said. ‘We don’t mean you no harm Jimmy. Jack just had some unfinished business to take care of. Sorry about your boy. Keep your mouth shut and things will work out, understand?’ I’m just going to grab another bottle. I was so furious at him and at that bastard Schmidt, I nearly lunged at him despite the gun, I was going to kill him.”
“What stopped you?” I said.
“Out of the corner of my eye I saw Charley at the foot of the stairs. She has just come home, you know … and I couldn’t stand it she got hurt.” Jimmy stopped and stared at Charley. “I couldn’t let anything happen to her, she’s like my own baby girl. So I pushed around the jerk and went to her.”
Charley suddenly intervened. “I heard everything they were talking about, mainly that this brute had killed my Randle. I was shaking and couldn’t catch my breath. Then Jimmy got to me and took me in his arms.”
“What happened then, Jimmy?”
“The jerk turned to Charley, tipped his fedora, and said. ‘Sorry about your husband Ms. Brewster, I liked him a lot. It was nothing personal.’ And then he turned and left me holding a frightened and hysterical woman.”
I turned immediately to Charley, feeling sick in my stomach. “Charley, I’m so sorry this had to happen to you on your first day home. Are you okay now?”
“I think so.”
“I hate to ask this now, but I really need to know.”
“What Bobby?” Charley seemed almost calm as she looked directly at me. I could tell she was starting to slip away from reality and into that tiny shell in her head she had escaped to after Randle’s murder.
“Did either of you actually see Schmidt’s man shoot Martin?”
Charley was the first to speak. “No I didn’t see him shoot Martin, but I heard him say he did, that’s worth something isn’t it?”
“Jimmy?”
“Bobby, I was on my way back to the kitchen when I heard a ruckus coming from Martin’s table. I turned around and stared straight at Bruce as he was putting his pistol back in his pocket. When he ran through the booth’s side door to the back, I went through the swinging doors and that is where I stopped him.”
“Would you testify to that?”
“Gladly … just say the word and I will be ready …”
Being continued … and available soon!