Prohibition

Chapter 43

"I'm telling you: if you do not have an appointment, you cannot see Mr. Simmons," the newspaper office's receptionist said impatiently. "You'll have to come back another time."

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Raymond returned coolly. Opening his coat, he displayed his agent's badge—as well as his pistol in its holster. "Police business. Now, will you take me to see Mr. Simmons, or do I have to force my way in?"

At the sight of his badge and the mention of police business, the receptionist had gone very pale. "Right this way, sir," she whispered, gesturing with a shaking hand towards the back of the office building. "And sir? I never did anything wrong; I swear on my—"

"I'm sure you didn't," Raymond interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm here to see your boss, not you."

"Yes, of course, sir." Some color returned to the receptionist's cheeks as she led Raymond down the long hallway to a shining oak doorway. Opening the door, she announced, "A policeman is here to see you, sir."

"A policeman?" Mr. Simmons, editor of The Sun, the newspaper that had been publishing all the Collins family scandals, looked up from his desk. His steely grey eyes scanned Raymond, narrowing suspiciously as they took in his youthful appearance. "What does he want?"

"To talk to you about something you probably don't want your employees to hear," Raymond said, striding over to Mr. Simmons's desk and seating himself in front of it.

With a wave of his hand, Mr. Simmons gestured for the receptionist to leave, and she did so, closing the door behind her. "Now," Mr. Simmons said, leaning forward in his chair and steepling his fingers together, "why have you come? What do you want?"

"I want you to stop printing scandalous stories about Richard Collins and his daughter."

"Really?" A vulpine grin slid across Mr. Simmons' face, revealing gleaming, sharp teeth. "And why is that? Why would you, a random policeman, care about the well-being of Richard Collins or his daughter?" His grin widened. "Are you the unidentified gentleman who took our fair Miss Collins to bed last night?"

"That's none— "Raymond tried to say, but Mr. Simmons ignored him.

"What a story that will make!" he said triumphantly. His hands spread wide, framing an invisible newspaper headline in midair. "I can see it now: 'Penniless Policeman Seduces Richard Collins' Daughter.' Why—"

"There will be no headline like that," Raymond interrupted. "Nor will you print any unfavorable stories about the Collins family ever again. And, if you are unwilling to acquiesce, I will be back here by the end of the day with a warrant for your arrest."

"You can't arrest me." Mr. Simmons leaned back in his chair, smiling nastily. "I've done nothing wrong."

"Actually, you have." Now it was Raymond's turn to smile. "For several months now, you've been buying alcohol cheaply and reselling it at a profit—often, to your employees who are too frightened to refuse your "generous" offer. I don't think I need to remind you of the illegality of your actions."

At his words, Mr. Simmons had gone pale, then red. "You—" he sputtered. "You can't—"

"I don't wish to be unpleasant," Raymond said, his voice kind and friendly. "All I ask is that you stop printing unfavorable news about the Collins family. Do that, and you'll never see me again."

"No." Some of Mr. Simmons' bravado had returned. "You can't pin anything on me. You have no evidence."

"I have multiple people lined up who would be willing to testify against you in court." Raymond stared at Mr. Simmons, gauging his reaction. "And, while we're on the subject of illegal activities, you've also been overworking and underpaying your employees—particularly your women workers. Do I need to add that to your list of offenses when I sign your arrest warrant?" He smiled. "But don't worry—I'm sure your business can survive the scandal. It's not as if you have several competitors who would be more than ready to take over your job and business if you were to leave..."

"Fine." Mr. Simmons knew he was beaten. "I agree. I won't publish any more unfavorable stories about the ."

"I'll need a written statement saying that you agree to my terms." Taking a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket, Raymond pushed it across the desk to Mr. Simmons.

"And once I sign this, I'm off the hook?" Mr. Simmons asked skeptically. "How do I know you won't come back and threaten me again next time you want to save someone?"

Raymond shrugged. "You don't. But that's the price you pay for getting involved in illegal activities."

"Then why should I sign this?"

"Because you don't want to be arrested now."

With a huff, Mr. Simmons signed the paper and shoved it back at Raymond. "There. You have your statement. Now get out."

"Thank you." Raymond stood, tipping his hat to Mr. Simmons as he did so. "Good-bye."

"Ask your boss for a few days off," he called to the receptionist as left the building. "I have a feeling he might agree to it." Whistling to himself, he made his way back to his apartment. Almost as soon as he had walked through the door, the telephone rang. It was Evelyn.

Conner just leaks all his stories to a new newspaper that's more than happy to print a juicy story like that