by Shaw, Johnny
“Oh, I’m upset all right. Especially because I’m sitting in the middle of nowhere trying to figure out how to get to where you are.”
It took him a second to absorb that. “You flew out here? To be with me?”
“You didn’t think I was just going to wait at home for you, did you, baby?”
“I was worried you’d be so angry you might file for divorce,” he admitted in a sheepish tone.
“I’d never do that to you, baby,” I said, and I meant it.
*****
The only person who seemed distinctly unhappy to see me was Kady. When Jake brought me back to her house, where all of the family was meeting, her mouth pursed, just like her mother’s had when she’d met me. Kady had been friendly enough when I’d encountered her before, but now I saw bitterness and recrimination in her eyes. But that might only have heated up after her husband, a ruggedly handsome man named Ry, hugged me for longer than was strictly necessary.
“I’m sorry about your mother,” I told her. She nodded, keeping her eyes on my face. Her own was red and blotchy, and her eyes were swollen. Her two young sons stopped running around long enough to inspect me, then took off, laughing. In the living room, a collection of cousins sat around drinking and laughing. It didn’t seem as if anyone missed Mrs. Carlow much.
“You got here in a hurry,” Kady said to me.
“It’s a tough time for Jake. I wasn’t going to leave him alone.”
“You sure that’s the reason? Or were you afraid he’d come back here and go native?” Kady’s voice was more refined and less country than her mother’s had been, but it had the same twangy undertones.
“Go native?”
“You know exactly what I mean. You’re the reason he never came home. Jake was going to come back and be a doctor here. You wouldn’t let him do that.”
“That’s ridiculous. Jake never wanted to come back here.”
“Yes, he did, and you’re the one who ruined it. You’re the one who got him to throw his life away, doing them plastic surgeries instead of proper medicine.” As her temper heated up, her diction slipped.
“Last time I checked, Jake was an adult who could make his own decisions.”
“You’re a thief, nothing more.”
“Really?” I rolled my eyes. “That was what your mother said, too. That was why Jake stopped speaking to her, you know.”
“Oh, I know that full well. You got a hell of a nerve coming back here. You stole Mama’s earrings just like she said you did. You’re a thief and a liar.”
“I didn’t steal anything,” I said, my voice calm. I had the truth on my side. Maybe I had told Jake a lie or two for his own good, but I’d never stolen anything.
“Mama caught you in her room that time Jake brought you to her house!”
“I just wanted to see the photographs. There was nothing wrong with that.”
“Then she found her pearl earrings were gone. You took them. It had to be you.”
“She went and grabbed my purse and dumped it out on the table because she thought they were in there,” I said. “Then, when she found they weren’t, she practically ripped off my blouse because she thought I was hiding them in my bra. She was wrong.”
“You had them,” Kady insisted. “You know what Mama called you? Magpie, on account of you seeing something good and shiny and not being able to keep yourself from thieving.”
The insult rankled, but I wasn’t going to let that show. “Your mother was delusional. Maybe that runs in the family.”
“I don’t know how you got them earrings outta the house, but you did. You stole them, sure as you stole my brother away from his home. But you’re in for a surprise, because this time Jake’s gonna stay where he belongs.”
“You go on thinking that if it makes you happy,” I said. “But after the funeral, we’re going home.”
*****
Jake and I went to his mother’s house the next day. It was only my second time there, but I remembered it well. It was old-lady fussy, with plastic over the sofa and white doilies on the tables. There were little carvings and statuettes on every available surface, including a series of owls that were downright spooky.
“I’m surprised you were willing to come along for this, but I’m glad you did, Erica.”
“I couldn’t let you go through your mother’s things by yourself, baby. That would be too stressful.”
“Kady’s already done a lot of the work. I’m just looking for anything I want to keep. Kady’s already got the photo albums and Mama’s jewelry and the family Bible at her place.”
“Wow. She lost no time helping herself to your mother’s things.”
“Don’t start, Erica. Please. This is stressful enough.”
I bit my tongue. The last thing I needed to do was fight with Jake right now. I noticed his verbal lapse—Mama—and that made me nervous. Old habits came back quickly, didn’t they? But I was also slightly annoyed with myself. Of course Kady took her mother’s jewelry. If I’d planned ahead, I would have gotten a pair of earrings like Mrs. Carlow had owned—baroque pearls on 14-karat gold stems—and set them in her jewelry box, then remarked on them while Jake was nearby. It was too late for that now. Better to stick with my original plan.
While Jake was going through the record collection, I slipped out of my dress. For a moment I debated leaving my bra and panties on and letting Jake remove them, but then I pulled them off, too. It was important not to have any margin for error. I went up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist from behind.
“This isn’t a good time, Erica. I can’t right now.”
“Oh, baby, you always can.”
We went back and forth like that for a while. I thought he might give in, but all of those owls watching had a negative effect on his libido. After a while I sighed and said I was going to the bathroom.
“You’ll keep an eye on my purse and stuff, right?” I called from the doorway.
Jake turned. It was important that he know I was completely naked. “Sure. But no one’s running off with it.”
I went to the bathroom and closed the door. Everything in the room was pink or had a floral print on it. There was even a pink owl sitting next to the sink.. It made me feel a little self-conscious as I knelt down and opened the vanity. Inside were half-used bottles of shampoo, boxes of baking soda, and other junk I didn’t care about. Instead, I ran my fingers along the inside ledge just above the doors. When I hit something that felt like hardened putty, I pried it loose. There, encased in hardened gum, were the missing earrings, just as I’d left them. When I pried them free, I noticed that the pearls were looking a little gray. Of course, pearls needed contact with skin to keep their luster. These had been neglected for five years.
“You won’t believe what I found,” I told Jake when I came out. I put the earrings into his hand.
“Where did you get these?”
“They were in the bathroom.”
“They’ve been in the house all this time?” He frowned. “Where were they, exactly?”
“In the medicine cabinet.”
“Why were you in the medicine cabinet?”
“Why does that matter? I was looking for a Band-Aid, okay?” This wasn’t the reaction I’d expected at all. “The point is, your mother accused me of stealing her earrings, and they’ve been here all this time.”
“I don’t think these are the same ones. They look fake.”
“If they’re fake, it’s because they were always fake!” I was exasperated. “Those are the earrings.”
“How can you be sure?”
I stopped, realizing that that was a trick question. That time we’d visited, I’d denied even seeing the earrings. How could I claim I knew what they looked like. “I guess I just got excited when I saw them. Like maybe your mother realized she was wrong.” I started to get dressed. I’d wanted Jake to know that I hadn’t carried anything into the bathroom with me, but now that seemed pointless.
“I’ll g
ive them to Kady. She’ll know them better than me.”
But Kady wasn’t any more convinced than her brother when she saw them. “These look like cheap-ass imitations. Not the real thing,” she said.
They did look like fakes, truth be told. But that wasn’t my fault.
“You think they’re Mama’s?” Jake asked.
“I’d bet they’re replacements put there by someone with a guilty conscience.” Kady looked at me. I fought the urge to kick her and turned to the window. Her husband, Ry, was outside, playing with their boys. This trip wasn’t going as I expected it to at all. I needed to do something to fix that fast, before it was too late.
*****
“We need to talk,” Jake told me on the morning of his mother’s funeral.
“What is it, baby?”
“We’ve been out in Los Angeles for five years. I’m not happy there. I don’t like the work I’m doing. I trained as an otolaryngologist, and what am I doing? I’m making starlets look like Barbie.”
“But you’re doing so well. They love you at the clinic. And every month you volunteer…”
“It’s not enough, Erica. I want to help people here. That was always my plan. I just got sidetracked.”
“Sidetracked?” I stared at him. “You have a great life. These people here, don’t you think any of them would kill to get what you have? You got out. That’s what the people here want to do.”
“It’s not like your old neighborhood, Erica. There are a lot of people happy to be living out here. I’m sick of being in the city.”
“This is just guilt talking,” I said. “Your mother died, and now you feel bad. Never mind that she was an evil person who told lies about people to try to manipulate you.”
“Erica.” He looked at me, his face serious. “That time we visited her…you didn’t accidentally take her earrings or anything like that, did you?”
“I can’t believe you’re even asking.” Now I was getting angry. “I told you then, and I can’t believe you’re making me say it again, but I swear to you, I didn’t steal her earrings, accidentally or otherwise.”
“It’s just… it’s kind of funny you found those replacements. It is a little weird.”
“I guess your whole family thinks I’m a thief and a liar.”
“Of course not, Erica. I’m sorry, I just…”
I walked out of the room. We were silent on the drive to the church; at least, I was. Jake made a few attempts at conversation, which I ignored. At the church, I sat next to him, but stared straight ahead, ignoring him. Jake was busy consoling Kady, who wore a frumpy black dress and a big black hat with a veil. The two of them stood over their mother’s casket for the longest time.
“Can’t say I miss the old bat,” Kady’s husband, Ry, whispered to me. “She was a pain in the ass. She was always fighting with somebody.”
I’d thought to pack a form-fitting black designer dress that hugged my curves. Jake was too preoccupied to notice, but it didn’t escape Ry.
Back at the house for the wake, Ry whispered, “So, Kady says you planted fake pearls at her mama’s house. She’s all steamed about it.”
“What makes you think I did something?” I smiled at him.
He grinned back. “You’re the kinda gal who’s always up to something, Erica.”
“Well, it’s never good to be boring.” We clinked glasses. Ry was drinking bourbon, while I was guzzling more wine than I’d planned. It was frustrating, knowing I was right about something and not being able to prove it.
“It must’ve been awful, living only an hour away from Mrs. Carlow,” I said.
“Lemme tell you about that.” He did, and he made me laugh, which earned some dark looks from Kady. Then Ry followed me when I went upstairs.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring at me,” I said. We were standing in the guest bedroom where Jake and I were staying. I looked in the mirror and unpinned my hair.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice you enjoying it,” he answered.
“Do you think anyone will come up here?”
“Not if we’re quiet.”
I pounced on him. Ry was a surprisingly good kisser. I thought about Kady’s sour face and figured he must be getting practice somewhere else. He started to unzip my dress. “No,” I whispered. “Rip it off.”
“But it must’ve cost a pretty penny.”
“Rip it off,” I ordered. There was a sound like a series of pops as the fabric broke apart at the seam.
“Oh, I like this,” Ry said.
“I bet you do.” With that, I reached out and raked my nails over his face.
“What the fuck?” He pushed me away and touched his skin. I let out a bloodcurdling scream, opened the door, and ran from the room. Jake was on the stairs and I ran into his arms. Then I sobbed and sobbed.
*****
The trip home to Los Angeles was uneventful. Jake was silent most of the time. I wore a little eye mask so that I could sleep, but occasionally I would tug at the corner to watch him. He was drinking whiskey, his jaw taut. Every so often his eyes would narrow, but mostly he just drank.
“Do you think I did the right thing?” I asked him. “By not pressing charges against Ry, I mean.”
“I think that would’ve been a mistake,” Jake answered. “Those kids don’t need their dad locked up in jail.”
“At long as he doesn’t attack some other woman,” I mused.
“He won’t do that,” Jake muttered.
That made me frown, but he didn’t say anything else and I let the matter drop. I fell asleep somewhere over the Midwest, and when I did, I dreamt I was back in Mrs. Carlow’s house.
“What are you doing in here?” she snapped at me, just as she had in real life. I was in her bedroom, standing in front of her dresser. There were framed photos there, of her dead husband and her children, and one of Mrs. Carlow herself before she was Mrs. anything.
“Nothing,” I said, brushing past her and walking down the hall, turning into the bathroom. My heart was racing as I locked the door. I opened my hand and saw the earrings in my palm. There was a beautiful black bird sitting in the open window, and I dropped the pearls into her mouth. Then magpie flew away until she was just a distant dot on the horizon, getting as far from that place as fast as she could.
Lady Madeline’s Dive
by Terrence P. McCauley
NEW YORK CITY
1928
Quinn’s mouth went dry when he saw the green and white squad car in his rearview mirror. The red spotlight flashing, but no siren.
Normally, getting pulled over by the cops was a simple inconvenience. Most of them were on Archie Doyle’s payroll anyway. Just like Quinn.
But that night was different. Because the Plymouth that he was driving was stolen.
And there was a dead man in the trunk.
Dead men in trunks of stolen cars and cops don’t mix. Even cops on the take have limits on what they’ll ignore. This wasn’t Chicago; it was New York.
He thought about taking a hard right turn and flooring it; disappearing into traffic. He might’ve even gotten away. But he decided to try talking his way out of it instead. He took his foot off the gas and eased the Plymouth over toward the right side of Houston Street.
He was surprised when the squad car sped past him heading west. They hadn’t been looking to pull him over after all. They’d just wanted him to get out of their way.
The cop in the passenger seat leaned out the window and gave him a big wave. A beat cop named O’Hara—one of Archie’s boys from before they passed Volstead eight years prior. Quinn waved back and began to breathe again.
At the next red light, he lit a cigarette and drew the smoke deep into his lungs. The tobacco revved his nerves and gave him the kick he needed to stay awake. He needed all the help he could get.
He felt dried out and hungover, like he was on the fifth day of a four-day bender. It wasn’t from too much booze or too many late nights on the town. It was from
a lack of sleep, courtesy of the dead bastard in the trunk.
It had all started a few days before, when Doyle had realized the take from one of his gambling dives had been short—very short—every week for the past month. Doyle hadn’t told Quinn how short, but short enough to get Doyle’s attention.
And short enough for him to ask Quinn to find out why.
The dive was off an alley on 14th Street run by Lady Madeline and her husband, a hophead named Joey. The place was a pit, but it had always made good coin. Lady Madeline and Joey had never had problems making Doyle’s payments before.
So Doyle had Quinn do some digging. He checked around and found out that the place was busier than ever, especially since Doyle gave them the okay to start selling booze. His booze, of course. The take being off meant someone was getting greedy. And stupid.
People didn’t steal from Doyle very often, but when they did, it was up to Quinn to find out why and to put a stop to it. One way or the other.
Hence the dead guy in the trunk.
Quinn hadn’t meant to kill him. If the little son of a bitch had kicked loose with the information earlier, he would’ve still been alive. Instead, the man decided to play it tough. It took Quinn almost two nights to break him, and in the end the little punk died anyway. A bum heart. A bad break.
Normally, Archie would’ve let him dump the body somewhere public, a place where someone would find him. Word would hit the street even before the cops showed up to remove the body. The story would’ve run in all the papers and the message would’ve been loud and clear: Steal from Archie Doyle and see what happens.
Example made. Problem solved.
But this time, Archie didn’t just want to solve a problem. This time, he wanted to make a statement that would show the other Lady Madelines and Joeys in Doyle’s empire what happens to people who steal from him.
And it was up to Quinn to make that statement loud and clear.