Free Mile High by Richard Condon

could.
    â€œYou gonna be district leader, kid?”
    â€œI’m running John Kullers.”
    â€œHe’s all right, but he’s yours.”
    â€œOurs, Paolo. John and I will take care of everything for you.”
    â€œThat’s good.”
    â€œYou’ll tell the Leader it’s all straightened out?”
    â€œI’ll tell him today.” They shook hands and Eddie went downtown.
    The biggest men in the city were in the Franklin Street saloon, retasting the vigor of Paddy’s funeral. Some, who had five days of alcohol in their systems, were misty-eyed or openly weeping. One leading actor was asking all who would listen if they had caught him when the news of Paddy’s death had come to him. Eddie shook a lot of hands and accepted a lot of commiseration with his long face and his cold eyes and his blatted Gelbart Academy accent. When he found the chance he told the head bartender to send Willie Tobin upstairs as soon as he could be found. Willie was Jiggs Tobin’s son, a bail bondsman Paddy had used as a runner to the judges, the police and the prosecutors across the street. Paddy had made Willie take the bar examinations three times until he had passed. He was two years older than Eddie, a born lobbygow and second gravedigger.
    Willie came into the shabby office cautiously, as he did everything else, closing the door behind him. He was a small-boned, dapper man with a vaguely epicene air. Eddie didn’t tell him to sit down so he didn’t. “How long were you with Paddy, Willie?” Eddie asked.
    â€œSince I’m thirteen. Half my life almost. God rest his soul.”
    â€œThis was Paddy’s office, but this afternoon your name goes up on that door.” The offer seemed to make Willie nervous. “‘William Tobin, Attorney-at-Law,’ it’ll say. It’s your office now.”
    â€œWhy is that, Eddie?” Willie’s teeth were working on his lower lip.
    â€œNew brooms sweep efficiently, and I’m the sweeper here, Willie. John Kullers is the new leader. John will run the district and all the saloons. Rhonda will handle the cathouses and I’ll make an arrangement for the gambling rooms. But you’ll run all the contracts. No more than that. It’s work you know well. I wouldn’t ask for the impossible.”
    â€œBut how’ll I know which contracts to take? Paddy always decided that.”
    â€œYou’ll know because I’ll tell you. There’s the phone. And you’ll always know where I am. And I’m bumping you to thirty a week.” Eddie got up and put on his hat. He looked slowly around the shabby office. “I’ll never be back here,” he said and started out. Willie called him.
    â€œI think it oughta be fifty, Eddie.”
    â€œThirty. When I see how you settle in I’ll put you on a percentage basis and you’ll make some real money.” He left, closing the door loudly. The telephone rang. Willie picked it up.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œWho’s this?”
    â€œBill Tobin. Did you expect Paddy?”
    â€œLemme talk to Eddie.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œNo? You know who this is?”
    â€œTell me what you want and I’ll get back to you.” There was an uncertain pause at the other end. “Or hang up,” Tobin said.
    â€œYou don’t wanna know who this is?”
    â€œSo far what for?”
    â€œThis is Mike Segal.”
    â€œHello, Mike.”
    â€œHello, Willie.”
    â€œThere’s been a change, Mike.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œEverybody calls me Bill.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œWhat can we do for you, Mike?”
    â€œI got a contract. Benny needs a gun permit. Unlimited.”
    â€œI’ll get back to you tomorrow.”
    â€œJesus, its got to be late this afternoon.”
    â€œI need Eddie’s okay and Eddie’s on a horsecar somewhere. I’ll get back to you by five