Murder on Location by Howard Engel Page A

She know quite a bit about her husband’s connections in Atlantic City. But it looks as though none of it will ever be seen, unless I can make a deal with Elwood Kellogg, the assistant general manager. For nine months I’ve had his help. He’s covered me in all the right places, but the lawyers and brass are leaning on him …” He went on about his troubles, and I let him. Then, when he stopped to restore his fires, I asked:
    â€œWhy would the mob want to kill Billie Mason?”
    â€œWell, they aren’t playing touch football. Piccadilly isn’t a bunch of amateurs.”
    â€œTell me about it.”
    â€œPiccadilly fronts for a group trading as Morden Realty. Behind Morden lurks Anthony Horne Pritchett.He’s the kingpin. Now, through Morden and Piccadilly he pumps money into Mason’s smallish business. Mason’s probably one of many such outlets. He invests their money all dressed up to look like his own. Nothing overtly crooked; all legitimate schemes.”
    â€œAnd you’re planning to blow the whistle on them on your program?”
    â€œGiven the chance.”
    â€œDoes Pritchett have interests in Niagara Falls?”
    â€œUmmm,” he muttered through his teeth. “I can’t think of anything. The syndicate is too big in those parts. We covered that in another program. Our research isn’t as fresh there, but the last time I looked the syndicate had things sewn up, and I mean everything: prostitution, drugs, loansharking, liquor, you name it, and at the same time they’re dealing with legitimate businesses: tourist stuff, vending machines, small businesses.”
    â€œDoes the name David Hayes ring a bell anywhere?”
    â€œIt doesn’t feedback on me. If you want names, the best is Pritchett. That’s the start of everything in the mob.”
    â€œAnd in the syndicate?”
    â€œThere you’ve got a pair of twins: an Italian and a Jew.”
    â€œLet me guess. How about Tony D’Abruzzi and Hyman Shatz?”
    â€œNever heard of either of them. No, the boys in charge are Tullio Solmi and Mordecai Cohn. Where’d you get those others?”
    â€œIn a lottery.”
    â€œSolmi’s gang hangs out at the Chinese tower at the Falls.”
    â€œThe Pagoda?”
    â€œThat’s the place. The front’s called Cataract Vending. There are a few others in upper New York State too, but his main organization is located there.”
    â€œBut this isn’t new material?”
    â€œNew enough. I hope you get a chance to see the program. The Corp’s sunk too much money into it to shelve it. It’s just a matter of settling who gets final cut. What you’ve just told me suggests we may be sitting on more of a time-bomb than we thought. Now I know a way to get Kellogg off the racketball court and back to business.” He started leading me around the corridors of the CBC brass again and I got off the phone as soon as I politely could.
    I don’t know about other people, but when I hear about the mob, I want it to be in a movie or a thriller. I don’t want any part of a non-fictional mob. Unfortunately, as I was thinking on my way back to Grantham, mob-tracks cover the Niagara Peninsula running back through the Depression to Prohibition. Prohibition hit Ontario in 1916 during World War One. That’s when, for a choice few, the illegal liquor business became fun. When the States went dry in 1920, it became big business. After 1925, Ontario went dry again, but there were still big bucks to be made in bathtub gin and hijacked bonded rye. For the most part, the Canadian authoritieswinked at the illegal traffic. The laws were unenforceable and bootleggers were as popular as Robin Hood’s little green men of Sherwood.
    That’s all ancient history now. Water over the falls. But successful bootleggers are clipping coupons today; the unsuccessful ones are wearing cement galoshes at the bottom of