Watch Your Back

by Sherilyn Decter

  “Two pieces of cake, Maggie?”

  “It is my birthday, Inspector.”

  “I haven’t forgotten. Many happy returns, Maggie. You have the gift of another year. And this day, more than others, makes that precious.”

  * * * *

  Even though he’d marked the day with Edith a few days before, one of the casualties from that night at the Cadix has overlooked the actual day of the attack. Violence is nothing remarkable in his world; it’s just another day at the office.

  Mickey, sitting on the couch in the hotel suite, snaps the paper to straighten it. “Here, listen to this. They’re calling it the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre.” The crew, gathered around the table playing cards, look up.

  Mickey reads aloud. “Police have been unable to locate Bugs Moran for questioning. Alphonse Capone, interviewed about the seven Chicago deaths, at his winter home in Miami, Florida, expressed concern about the recent lawlessness in the city. When asked about the supposed Moran quote that ‘only Capone kills like that’, Capone laughed and replied ‘there’s a reason why they call him Bugs’.” Mickey puts down the newspaper. ‘A reason why they call him Bugs’. He burst into laughter. “Get it? Bugs.”

  The men around the table give weak laughs. Eddie, a drink in each hand, wanders over to Mickey, handing him one. He gives a loud laugh. “That’s a good one, Boss.”

  “I can hardly wait to hear how it went down. When’re Henry and the boys back?”

  “Late this afternoon. I’m going to the station to pick them up,” says Ernie, Stan’s oldest. Sometimes working Mickey’s crew is a family affair.

  “Make sure you bring your pops and the rest of them straight here. Bugs. Ha”

  Chapter 66

  M ickey is pacing in his hotel suite. He’s screaming and cursing in Polish. Long-time comrades Fingers, Gus, and Henry, as well as Eddie, are the only ones brave enough to wait out the storm. Mickey swirls, grabs the lamp off the table and hurls it against the wall. More cursing. More screaming.

  Henry watches Mickey. On the trip back from Chicago, he’d done a lot of thinking about how to take advantage of Hoff’s misfortune and grow the Duffy empire, and he feels he has a solid plan. But seeing how Mickey is now, he’s put all the ideas away in his back pocket. Now is not the time, and Mickey has seemingly forgotten about their conversation, owing to his obsession with the upcoming Atlantic City conference. It will be an unprecedented gathering of all the crime bosses along the east coast and mid-west. They’re talking cooperation and consolidation.

  It had been two weeks since Mickey had talked with Al Capone about Moran. Grateful for the discrete and virtually perfect crime, he had promised Mickey that Nucky would be sending him an invite to the AC Conference in the mail. Since then, Mickey had grown increasingly erratic as the promised invitation has failed to arrive. He checks the front desk of the Ritz regularly. He badgers the postman at home. He paces. He prowls. He rages. He’s been left out.

  “I’m on the menu. That’s what Al says. At the table or on the menu. They’re all out to get me, Eddie. All of them.”

  “It’s just business, Mickey. Don’t worry about it. It don’t mean nuthin,” Eddie says, yawning from a late night with his girlfriend, Betty Bacon.

  Mickey, grabbing a steak knife off the room service cart, plunges the blade into the table in front of Eddie. “It’s not business. It’s survival.” Eddie slowly gets up and eases away from Mickey, who is scanning the room, wild-eyed.

  “Hey, Boss, let’s sit down and play a bit of poker, okay? I’ll give Nucky a call myself. Just ask how many guys we get to bring. I’ll let on like we already got the invite.” Henry moves to the dining room table and picks up a deck of cards, beginning to shuffle them.

  Mickey is nodding, his eyes following the cards moving in Henry’s hands.

  “Yeah, how many you guys want in?” Henry hands the deck of cards to Gus. “Why don’t you deal ‘em, Gus.”

  “Sure, cards. Deal me in, Gus. I just wanna head down to the lobby. Maybe the front desk has something and forgot to call,” Mickey says, and starts walking toward the door.

  “I can do that, Mickey,” Eddie says, starting for the door as well, but careful to keep out of Mickey’s way.

  Mickey turns on him. “Why so anxious to leave, Eddie? You got someplace ya need to be all of a sudden?”

  Eddie backs up further, hands up. “No, Mickey. I just thought I’d go downstairs and you could sit up here with Gus and play cards.”

  Mickey stomps back over to the table. “Cards? I don’t trust you, Regan. You cheat at cards.” Mickey sweeps the cards that Gus had begun to lay out on the table onto the floor. “You’re all cheaters. You’re all out to get me. I’m going downstairs.”

  Mickey emerges from the elevator. He’s figured it out on the way down. Glancing around the lobby, behind every pillar and palm, alert for attack. Maybe the reason he doesn’t have an invite is because they’ve got a hit out on him. Maybe they’d decided to get rid of the competition before the meeting?

  There! Who’s that?

  He spies two men, heavy pin-stripes, bulges under their arm, fedoras pulled low, cross the lobby. They stop at the front desk, asking for his suite number.

  I knew it. Mickey slowly backs into the elevator, punching the button to his floor. They’re coming. There’re here. It’s a hit. I’ve gotta get back upstairs to Mercer.

  Riding up, he hatches a new plan. An ambush. Getting off the elevator, he stands to one side, pulls his gun, and waits. The elevator door closes and descends. It begins to rise again. The whirring of the pulleys. The door bings and begins to open.

  Mickey is focused. The two men step out. They’ve gone a few steps when Mickey screams, “murderers.” He fires, screaming and firing again. Point blank range in the back.

  Henry flings open the hotel suite door and races out, gun drawn. He sees Mickey, jabbering wildly, standing over two men lying in a pool of blood.

  Other hotel room doors open. “Get back inside” He barks the order and doors slam shut.

  He cautiously approaches. “Mickey, you okay?”

  “A couple of hit men, Henry. They were going to kill me. That’s why I don’t have an invite. Too much competition. I told you. I told you. I was on the menu.”

  Henry lowers his gun and slowly pulls Mickey away. Gus and Fingers, who had also run into the hallway, come over, and together they lead Mickey back into the suite.

  Henry goes back to the two men and kneels down, looking for ID. Inside the breast pocket, soaked in blood, is a thick white envelope with Mickey’s name. Inside, his invitation to the Atlantic Conference.

  Chapter 67

  “A nd we’re going to redo the whole living room. Lots of glass, and I’ve got a decorator coming in to really give it an art deco touch.” Edith twirls in the middle of the large, empty room that will eventually be the primary entertaining space, with a series of French doors that open onto a paved patio and expansive grounds. Henry has dropped by to see the new house, and to check up on Mickey.

  In the empty house, their voices echo. On the staircase in the front hall is a bunch of mail for the previous owner that will have to be redirected. They’d left in rather a hurry and hadn’t had time to make proper arrangements. Yesterday’s Philadelphia Inquirer is also part of the pile. The headline blares

  “Racket Inquest Ends with Hoff and Duffy Untouched. Probers Assert Police-Criminal Alliance Broken.”

  That’ll be the day, Henry thinks as he glances at the headline. “I don’t know much about decorating, Edith. But it sounds swell. How’s Mickey by the way?”

  “Much better. The doctor has given him something for his nerves, and we’re going on a bit of a holiday. Lots of rest. He should be good as new when we get back. I think that treatment I got a while back will do him a world of good. His doctor thinks so, too.”

  “It will be good for you guys to get away. Now that the Grand Jury is wrapping up, he’s clear to go.”

  “He
had talked about needing to go to Atlantic City, but I guess whatever business that was fell through.”

  “You’ve got a beautiful view out these windows, Edith.” Henry admires the green lawn and groves of trees that are just coming into bud.

  “Thanks, but all that space is just another lot next door. Nobody’s built there yet, but it will be right in the way, and the neighbors will be able to see our place clear as a bell.”

  “Empty, you say?”

  “I’d asked Mickey to buy it just to keep it empty, but he wouldn’t. So I guess I’ll just have to take my chances.”

  “How about I buy it?”

  “Henry, what would you want with a big lot like that? You’re never home.”

  “I’ve been thinking of retiring. I figure I’ve got enough money socked away to live off of for the rest of my life. I’d like to plant a few tomatoes. Maybe settle down and start a family.”

  “You dog, I didn’t know you were seeing anybody. You must introduce me.”

  “Oh I haven’t met the lucky Mrs. Mercer yet. I haven’t had time to go looking. But with a house, and a bit of spare time, anything’s possible.”

  “Henry, that would be great. We could be neighbors. And any girl would be lucky to snag you. Imagine, a whole passel of little Mercers running around.”

  “A passel of little Mercers,” Henry says, staring out the window at the vacant lot. He turns to Edith. “Say, Edith, you and me, we’ve been friends a long time—can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, Henry. What’s up?”

  “It’s about this retirement thing. I’ll wait until Mickey’s back and on his feet of course, but I was thinking of getting outta the business. For real.”

  Edith gives Henry a long look. They both know what that means. “Folks don’t usually retire from this business, Henry. What would Mickey do without you?”

  “He’ll manage. I’ve been thinking that, after all these years, Mickey maybe owes me the chance to step back.”

  “You’re not talking stepping back, Henry. You’re talking stepping right out of the picture, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, I guess I am. You think it’s possible?”

  Edith shrugs. “Yeah, I do. Although I don’t think you’re the retirement type, you know? I can’t see you hitting little white balls around a golf course, or whatever it is that men do when they retire. It’s not you, Henry.”

  “I’d like to find out if that’s true, Edith. I’m tired. Mickey isn’t the only one in need of a rest.”

  Edith comes over and puts her arms around him. “Henry. You do what you gotta do. Mickey loves you like a brother. He’ll understand.”

  Chapter 68

  A cross town in the Northern Liberties neighborhood, Maggie hears the post drop through the slot on the floor. She walks over and starts sorting through it. Bills she leaves on her desk. There’s an Easter card for Tommy from her mother and father. They’ve made plans to go there for dinner. The last envelope has a New York address. Curious, she rips it open.

  Dear Mrs. Barnes;

  My niece was kind enough to pass along your letter inquiring about any family link to the late Franklin P. Geyer. If the fellow you are looking for was the police detective that solved the JJ Holmes murders, then indeed we are relatives of his. Albeit distant relatives. I believe that my mother was his great granddaughter. There are family stories about his exploits that I would be delighted to share with you.

  You can reach me at the following address, should you find yourself in New York.

  Kind regards,

  Muriel Duffy

  The End

  Wait!! Don’t go.

  There are two exciting opportunities you might want to check out.

  Curious about the day that Edith and Mickey met?

  Was it love at first sight or fireworks?

  Only Bootlegger Readers Group subscribers get the exclusive novella, Destinations.

  Go to https://sherilyndecter.com/destinations-landing-page/ and you can start reading today

  Book Five:

  Come at the King

  Release date: May 23, 2019

  She's losing her business. He's lost his mind. As the Great Depression closes in, will either of them survive?

  Philadelphia, 1931. Maggie Barnes isn't proud of everything she's done to make it this far. But with her bank shuttered and the clients in her accountancy business circling the drain, she may be all out of options. With her livelihood in danger, her only path toward keeping the lights on may be working with a vicious mobster one final time…

  Mickey Duffy's sanity hangs by a thread. Convinced there's a rat in his family, the ruthless bootlegger hires occasional enemy Maggie Barnes to nail the traitor. But with both the cops and the mob threatening to take him down, his latest effort to clean house could get him killed.

  When Maggie discovers a dark secret in Mickey's books, the criminal completely snaps. Will her less-than-legal efforts to keep her business afloat end up getting both of them killed?

  Come at the King is the explosive final novel in The Bootleggers’ Chronicles historical crime fiction series. If you like Prohibition-era lawlessness, meticulous historical detail, and mysteries with a ghostly twist, then you’ll love Sherilyn Decter’s thrilling tale.

  The Bootleggers’ Chronicles series:

  Innocence Lost (Book One)

  Tasting the Apple (Book Two)

  Best Served Cold (Book Three)

  Watch Your Back (Book Four)

  Come at the King (Book Five)

  Author’s Notes

  There is the romantic image of a writer, toiling alone in a garret, suffering for her muse. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. I write all my books with a couple of bad dogs curled up at my feet in the comfort of my home, either in Canada or Mexico.

  Standing behind me and peering over my shoulder (figuratively, at least) is my editor Marie Beswick-Arthur and her trusty partner in crime, Richard. She’s been the most patient of editors and coaches and I certainly couldn’t have done it without her. (Although I will keep insisting that draft ninety-seven wasn’t necessary- LOL). I was also lucky to work with a great cover designer, Jane Dixon-Smith. She reached into my imagination and brought Maggie, Frank, and all the other rogues and heroes to life.

  I also had a great team of beta readers for Watch Your Back: Kate Decter, Rachel Andrews, Jessica Decter, Kim Mitchell, Grant McPhail, Jeanne Millis, and Johann Laesecke . They were very kind and gentle in their comments to a first time writer.

  Finally, where would I be without my husband Derry? He listened to the subtle difference of phrasing many, many times, provided his medical expertise for several key scenes, and kept me going when I was ready to give up.

  Thank you one and all.

  * * * *

  Historians are vital for those who want to understand our present and get a sense of what the future may hold. They sift through the detritus of people’s lives, pulling out facts and patterns and then reweaving them into a whole to provide us mere mortals with a path forward.

  As appealing as that is, I am not an historian. I am a story teller. I take those same facts and attempt to reshape them into something that I hope you will find entertaining. My fictional characters get to live with factual characters.

  These books are works of fiction and should never be considered anything but. While I’ve tried to stay true to the grand arch of history, occasionally I’ve moved an event that happened in one month into another so that it has a better flow through the story.

  The Bootleggers’ Chronicles series is based in Philadelphia during the 1920s. It is set during the time of Prohibition, an era that reshaped America. Many of the characters found between the pages of the Bootleggers’ Chronicles were actual people, walking the streets and living their lives in Philadelphia during this time. I have been inspired by their individual stories, but have reshaped them to fit the plot of my books. Sometimes things happened in real life in a similar fashion to what I
have laid out, and sometimes it is a complete fabrication.

  In the character listing at the back of each book is a Wikipedia link to many of the real individuals, and I encourage you to do your own research into their fascinating lives. They were compelling characters, both fictional and historical, and it was an honour to get to know them all better.

  Cast of Recurring Characters in the Bootleggers’ Chronicles:

  The Gangsters

  Mickey Duffy (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mickey_Duffy) a fictionalized portrayal of a real bootlegger who was affectionately known as King of the Bootleggers in Philadelphia during the 1920s.