“The job is great. I’ve got all my own clients, and I help out with the new clients to the firm. Mostly it’s basic bookkeeping like I was doing before, but sometimes my father brings me in for consultations. I love working with those clients. It’s always so interesting.”
“Right, accounting is interesting. How much bubbly have you had?” Edith says with a grin, tapping her glass. “Tell me about this Ron fella. Now, he sounds interesting.”
Maggie blushes. “He’s very nice—“
Edith interrupts, laughing. “There you go, always with the nice ones. You need a bit of spice, doll. No more nice accountants. The last one was a real mama’s boy.”
“Ron’s anything but that,” Maggie says forcefully. Edith pauses her teasing and takes a long look at Maggie.
“That sounds promising. Do tell.”
“He’s smart. And laughs, a lot. And his family live out in Bryn Mawr. They have a big firm offering financial services in Philadelphia, but Ron’s more of a small firm kinda guy.”
“Has he asked you out yet?”
“No, we just work together. Tell me, what do you think of the idea?”
“Of you and this Ron fella going out? I think it’s terrific. I’ve been telling you for years that you need to start having more fun,” Edith says, her champagne glass raised in a toast.
“But what about the working together. Don’t you think it would be awkward in the office?”
“Well, Maggie Barnes. What are you suggesting? The two of you ka-noodling in the supplies cupboard?”
Maggie blushes a very deep red. Actually, she had thoughts of ka-noodling. “No, of course not. But I want to be professional. And there’s the age thing. I’m older than he is.”
“Didn’t you hear what I said? Fun, doll. Young ones have more stamina.”
Hopelessly, Maggie’s blush deepens. “Edith. You’re impossible.”
“Well, you asked. Look, if he asks you out, you should go. Check it out. No commitment. Keep it light.”
“Good advice. Light. Nothing serious.”
“You gotta promise to keep me posted, Mags. I want details.”
Maggie’s shoulders relax, and she leans back in her chair. It has been far too long, this girl-time with Edith. A gal can’t be all work and no play. She promises herself to make sure that they get together more often.
“And how are you managing with your lodgers, with all this downtown office work? You still have the lodgers, right?” Edith asks.
“Oh yes, and it’s the only downside to all this. The days I work from home, I try and put a roast in the oven so that we can fix leftovers the days that I work. Tommy’s been really good about helping out in the kitchen. He’s no chef, but he can turn on the stove.”
“I bet. Mickey couldn’t find a pot to warm up soup. He’s hopeless in the kitchen.”
The waiter interrupts to put their lunches down. Salads for both gals.
“Can I ask you a serious question, Edith? No teasing this time.”
“Sure, doll. What’s up?”
“I feel funny. About this Ron thing.”
Edith smiles and takes hold of Maggie’s hand. “It’s not the office or the age thing, is it? It’s Jack. Am I right?”
Maggie looks down at her salad and nods.
Edith pats her hand. “Mags, honey. You and Jack were so young when he died. He wouldn’t expect you to be alone forever. He’d want you to be happy. It’s just been you and his memory for too long.”
“I know. And maybe that’s part of it. I don’t know whether I want to take that chance again. Oh Edith, it hurt so much when he died. I felt destroyed. The only thing that kept me going was Tommy. I’ve been happy, alone. For a long time, I’ve told myself that Jack was my one true love. But what if he wasn’t- the only one I mean. What if I fall in love? I’m not sure I could go through that again.”
Edith smiles at her friend, her eyes damp with tears. “Maggie honey, you have to open your heart knowing that there’s a chance it may be broken. Because it’s only by opening your heart you’ll be able to feel joy again. Maggie, choose joy, and keep choosing it every day.”
“Oh, Edith. What would I do without you?”
“Drink less champagne?” Edith quips. “This salad is delish.”
“And how is Mickey? Things still rough between you two?”
A shadow passes over Edith’s face. “On again, off again. He forgets things, like my name, if you can believe it. I thought that he was seeing somebody else when that started, but Henry says that it happens to him, too. I hope things get better now that it looks like he’s not going to be called to testify before the Grand Jury.”
“I remember, that night at dinner at your house, some papers had gone missing. Did that all get sorted?” Maggie asks casually, hunting through her lettuce for a piece of apple. She’d ordered the Waldorf Salad, but there were never enough apples and raisins.
Edith puts her fork on the side of her plate and leans in close. “Maggie, it was horrible. The police came to the house and demanded I open the safe. They had search warrants and made a huge mess. They were not nice at all. Mickey went ballistic. It took him days to get over it, and then, pouf, everything is hunky-dory again.”
Edith pauses dramatically, slipping her hand into her purse, “And he did buy me that house I was wanting.” She lifts the key, holding it triumphantly.
Maggie squeals. “Edith, that’s fabulous. That one in Overbrook you were looking at?”
“Yes, the one in Overbrook. You must come out and see it. I’m out there almost every day meeting with decorators and tradesmen. It needs a ton of work. We’re replacing a lot of the interior, and completely redoing the grounds. I want lots of light, and everything to be modern. All new furniture. Very art deco. Oh, and you should see what I’m going to do in the dining room with strips of mirrors. It’s going to be amazing.”
“Sounds perfect. I can hardly wait to see it. Maybe Tommy and I will stop by on the weekend sometime, when I’m heading out to see Mother and Father.”
Edith pours herself another glass of champagne but there’s only half a glass. “Should we get another bottle?”
“Oh, no. I’ve got to have some restraint when I get to the stores. You and me tottering around half looped would be an expensive day,” Maggie says, laughing.
“How’s Tommy? He must be fully recovered now.”
“Oh yes, although he doesn’t like people coming up behind him. Nothing ever happened to those thugs, you know. They’re still out there.”
“Do you want me to mention anything to Mickey? I’m sure he’d be able to knock some sense into them. For Tommy’s sake.”
Maggie pauses, her fork halfway to her mouth. She puts it down. “Does Mickey ever mention Tommy?”
“Tommy? Why would he do that?” Edith looks puzzled.
“No reason. I know that they ran into each other once or twice, so I was just wondering. He’s spending time with his grandfather on Saturdays.”
“How is your pops?” Edith asks, as she spears a wedge of tomato with her fork.
“He has good days and bad. Some days he doesn’t make it into the office. Those are really bad days. The doctors say that there’s not much that they can do for him except make him comfortable when the pain gets bad.”
Edith covers her friend’s hand. “Oh, Maggie. I’m so sorry. It sounds rough. How’s your mother coping?”
“She’s strong. But it will be hard on her when he’s gone. They’ve been together a long time.”
“Look, we’re going to have a great afternoon and put a smile on that pretty face of yours. We’ll do a bit of shopping.” Edith winks at Maggie. “Okay, a lot of shopping. And gossip about absolutely everyone. With you working now, we must make the most of it.”
Chapter 64
P ete Gusenberg, one of Al Capone’s lieutenants, meets Henry and the boys at Chicago’s Union Station. Henry’s heard some wild stories about Gusenberg. When he was just a kid, he came home from
school and found his mother dead but, before he called the cops, he pulled out her earrings and pried her gold wedding ring off her cold finger. No wonder Capone likes him.
“You gonna be able to get the things we need?” Henry asks him, as they weave their way through the crowded train station.
“Yeah. Odd requests. Al said you were a smart one. Looks like you brought some reinforcements,” Gusenberg says, glancing behind him at the men following.
With the situation with Max Hassel resolved, Henry is confident enough to bring four other guys with him. If there’s going to be trouble, he wants Fingers, Porter, Stan, and Gus standing with him. All good in a fight. Men he could trust. He’d hand-picked the group, and they all knew it was high risk.
“New faces. Won’t be recognized.”
Gusenberg nods and keeps walking. “Al says you’re the boss.”
The next day, Henry calls Bugs Moran, claiming to be from the Purple Gang in Detroit. He tells him that there’s a hijacked shipment of premium whiskey, eighty cases of Old Log Cabin, and he needs to unload it, quick. Moran agrees to meet him at ten the next morning at a garage in Lincoln Park.
Henry wakes in a hotel bed, energized for the task ahead. He’s slept well. It’s Thursday, Valentine’s Day, the north side of Chicago. They’ve made arrangements for Gusenberg to steal two Chicago police cars and five uniforms before breakfast that morning. None of the jackets are a good fit for Stan, so Henry plans to use him as lookout across the street from the garage. He has Moran’s description from Gusenberg, and an old newspaper photo. They’ll wait for Stan’s signal that Moran has arrived. Fingers and Gus will be in the first police car and will go in the front door of the garage. Henry and Porter will be in the back alley and go in through the rear door. The civilian and the four police officers drive off in the two squad cars, heading for the SMC Cartage Garage.
* * * *
Bugs Moran, mob boss for the Chicago North Side Gang, is walking to his car parked in front of the Parkway Hotel. With him is trusted lieutenant and brother-in-law, Albert Kachellek. Albert had married Moran’s sister, and there was a bit of hero worship to the guy: walks like Bugs, talks like Bugs, even dresses like Bugs. Folks are mistaking them for each other all the time.
“Hey, Albert, I got time to get a haircut before we meet with the Detroit boys?”
Albert checks his own hair in the rear view mirror. Might need a trim. “Sure. The rest of the guys are meeting us there. I’ll drop you, and we’ll start without you. We’ll leave the final negotiation until you get there.”
Thick snow is falling, making for difficult driving. It was hard work for the wipers to keep up with the flurries.
Standing in the SMC Cartage Garage is Adam Heyer, the North Side Gang’s bookkeeper and business manager, who’s there to pay for the liquor. With him are three enforcers to help unload the expected truck. Also there is John May, Bugs’ safecracker who also works as a mechanic and owns the garage.
“Sorry I’m late. It’s really coming down.” An older, dapper fellow in a pencil moustache wearing a gray cashmere overcoat with velvet lapels has just walked in. He’s brushing the snow from his shoulders.
“Hey, Doc.”
Dr. Schwimer, a local optician and gambler, is a fan of the gangsters. He lives with his mother, and hanging out with Bugs and the boys is a welcome relief. He gets away and meets up with the boys every chance he gets.
“Can you tie up that dog of yours, John? I hate dogs,” Dr. Schwimer says.
“Highball wouldn’t hurt a flea,” John says, tying up the German shepherd to a post in the back of the garage.
“And has the fleas to prove it,” jokes Albert, who has just walked in. “Bugs is going to be a bit late. He said to get started without him. Our friends from Detroit here yet?”
“Nah, no sign of them yet. I hope they’re not long. I promised Mary that I’d get home before lunch. She wants to go visit her mother, and wants me to watch the kids.”
“How many you got now, John?”
“Seven.”
“Ouch. That’s a bundle.”
“Tell me about it. We’re three months behind on the rent and I wanna talk to Mr. Moran, when he gets here, about maybe more hours or a loan. Think he’d go for it, Mr. Heyer?”
“I’ll let him figure it out, John. Although you’d have more for your kids if you got rid of that dog. Must eat you out of house and home.”
“Ah, Highball’s a good watchdog, ain’t ya girl?” Highball wags her tail. John gives her a pet, then slides under a car, and soon there’s the sound of hammer on metal.
Pete Guzman, who’s been watching out the window for the Purple Gang, turns round. “Wait, hang on a sec, fellas. A cop car just pulled up.”
“Isn’t that just swell. What a time for a raid. We all paid up, Heyer?”
“Sure are. Shouldn’t be any trouble.”
Two cops walk into the garage.
Pete comes over, all swagger. “Something I can do for you boys?”
“Shuddap. Put your hands against the wall and lean in,” says one of the cops.
“You, too,” says the other cop, kicking John’s foot which is sticking out from under the car he’s working on.
Highball is barking furiously. One of the cops shouts, “Somebody shut that dog up.”
One of the cops comes over and frisks them, removing their guns. “Wait ‘til they hear about this downtown. It might be time to rethink our donation to the Policemen’s Ball,” Heyer quips over his shoulder.
While the first cop is busy disarming the Moran crew who are all standing facing the wall, the second cop walks over to the rear door and opens it. Henry and the two other shooters follow him into the garage, carrying tommy guns held low. Stan, who’s come from around the front, is with them carrying the shot gun he’d left in the police car that’s parked in the alley. The barking dog covers the sounds of their footsteps.
Henry, Porter, and Fingers raise their guns: Henry’s with a twenty round box magazine, and the others with fifty round drums each. They are thorough, spraying their victims left and right. They continue firing even after all seven North Siders have hit the floor. Seven men ripped apart in the volley. Two shotgun blasts from Gus and Stan afterward all but obliterate the faces of Albert and John. Highball starts to howl.
Henry aims his gun at Gus, who has stripped off his police jacket and given it to Fingers. Stan comes over and stands behind him. The two decoy criminals , standing in shirt sleeves, put their hands up. Henry perp-walks them out the front door and puts them in the rear seat of the police car. A crowd has gathered, alerted by the gun fire. Henry attaches the siren to the roof of the police car, the wire dangling down and in through the front driver’s window. Siren whining, Henry drives away. While this is going on, Fingers heads out the back door with Porter. They follow Henry in the second police car. The spectacle over, the crowd that has gathered in front of the garage disperses, going about their business.
* * * *
Henry picks up the telephone and places a call to Mickey at the hotel. It is his second call. The first was to Al in Florida.
“We’re on our way home. Everyone’s fine. I’ll tell you about it when we get there. Probably tomorrow afternoon… yeah, he knows. Says he’ll call ya.”
Chapter 65
M aggie is dreading her birthday, and not for the usual reasons a woman in her thirties—early thirties—would be. Two years ago today she was almost killed in front of the Cadix. She can still remember the sound of the guns, the screams, the smell of the blood. John Bricker had died that night. And Mickey had almost died, as well. Her birthday will never be the same. No celebrations for her. Last year, she and Edith had met up for lunch, but it was just too morbid. She’d rather spend it with Tommy. Gratitude and a trip to church will be how she marks the day.
Earlier in the day, she’d arrived at work to find a bouquet of flowers on her desk and a birthday card from ‘a secret admirer’. Then her father had taken her out for l
unch. He’d given her a beautiful fountain pen, engraved with her name. Ron was also there and, for a few moments at least, she had been able to put away the ragged memories of that day. Ron had raised a glass. “Happy birthday, Maggie. And best wishes on the upcoming year.” His smile had caused a warm tide to spread from the tips of her toes to the top of her head and her heart to race. Joy.
That night, at dinner, there is a subdued celebration. A surprise cake. One candle. There are small gifts and cards, a bit of singing, and the boys take care of the washing up. Maggie carries another plate of cake and her coffee into the living room.
Watch Your Back Page 26