“The boys better have some information when they get here. Once we know who was behind it, we get even.”
“How?”
“That depends on who it was.”
Helen paced until the others arrived.
“Well?”
“Sounds like the order came straight from the top,” a young brunette said.
“The top? Why would Capone want to off me?”
“Word is he wanted to use you to send a message to O’Donnell.”
Helen nodded. So she wasn’t worth taking out as a threat, but only to let another leader know he should back off? She knew she’d have to prove her gang. That was the only type of retaliation that would take some sting off.
“So what are we going to do?” another lieutenant asked.
“Charlie, you and Jack round up ten, maybe fifteen men. I want the First Chicago hit.”
“You want us to rob a bank on the South Side?”
“I do. Shoot it up. Take some cash. Get out. I want it quick and clean. And successful.”
“When should we do this?”
“Two o’clock.”
“That don’t give us much time,” Jack protested.
“Then you’d better round some fellas up. Don’t fuck this up.”
Charlie and Jack left, and Helen looked at the remaining three men with her.
“What have you got for me?”
Kevin sat next to Helen while her remaining officers handed over their collections and earnings.
Helen scrupulously entered every amount in a ledger, then split up some money for her men and put the remainder in the safe that only she and Kevin knew the combination to.
One of her men, the oldest at thirty-two, spoke.
“You want us to go keep an eye on the bank in case something goes wrong?”
“Floyd, I trust them. They’re in charge. Relax. Pour a drink. Deal some cards. All we do now is wait.”
The four of them played poker to pass the time. As usual, Helen was having little trouble relieving the men of their money. Finally, at four o’clock, the door burst open and in walked Charlie and Jack, each lugging hefty bags of cash.
“You did it?”
“We did,” Charlie said. “Some fellas gave chase, but we lost them over on the North End. We laid low up there then circled back here.”
“Let’s see what you brought.”
The six of them divvied up the money, and Helen was happy with the take of seven thousand dollars.
“You did good work.” She handed the men each a thousand dollars. “This is for all of you. Split it among the men as you see fit.”
She locked the rest of the money away and turned to Kevin.
“Take me to get my car, then go get cleaned up. We’re going out tonight.”
*
At eight o’clock, Helen slid into the backseat of Kevin’s Packard.
“You think they’re still gunnin’ for you?”
“Beats me, but I’m not taking any chances.”
“Where we headed, boss?”
“Gattino’s.”
“You really are set on getting yourself killed, aren’t you?”
“I’m not going to lay low. I need to show them I’m not scared.”
“Yeah, but why do we have to go to one of their clubs?”
“I want to check out the competition.”
Kevin shook his head, knowing it was useless to argue with Helen once her mind was made up. Instead, he navigated through traffic to the southern edge of Chicago and one of the more famous speakeasies of the city.
They parked several blocks away, and Kevin walked behind Helen, constantly alert for any potential ambush.
“Relax. No one knows I’m going to be here. Hell, you didn’t even know until you picked me up.”
“Still. We might have had a tail.”
“Did you notice a tail?”
“No.”
“Then calm down. We’ll have to be aware of every movement once we get inside. That will be troubling enough. Don’t get all worked up until you have to.”
Helen appreciated Kevin and was grateful for his concern. But the last thing she wanted was to call attention to herself as they entered the club. She’d make sure any higher-ups in Capone’s organization would know she was there. But she didn’t want the general public aware of her. She wanted to observe their establishment, make sure they knew she wasn’t backing down, and leave. It would be short and sweet.
They walked in and immediately saw a flurry of activity at a back table. Helen and Kevin reached for their weapons, but neither drew as they approached the bar. Men scattered from the table, leaving one man and a woman.
“Bourbon and water,” Helen said.
“Scotch on the rocks.” Kevin leaned his large frame against the bar and surveyed the crowd. He quickly noted where each of the men originally at the back table had ended up.
“They’re watching us.”
“Good. Someone screwed up since I’m still alive. They’re probably all worried about the wrath of Big Al.”
“They really fucked that hit up.”
“They underestimate us. Big mistake.”
She turned her attention to the table at the rear of the club. She easily recognized Franco Moretti from her teen gang years. She raised her glass to him, but he simply sat staring at her.
“Shall we say hello?”
“Lead the way.”
As they cut through the crowd, Helen’s focus was drawn away from Moretti to the dark beauty sharing his table. She stopped briefly as she looked at the woman she’d seen many times on the arms of many lower ranking officers. She looked striking sitting with Franco, like she was on top of the world where she belonged.
The woman’s gaze never left Helen as they approached. Helen knew she should look at Franco, but she didn’t give a shit. They’d disrespected her. She could disrespect him.
She drew her eyes away from the Italian beauty only when she was standing at the table. She looked at Capone’s lieutenant and smiled.
“How’s things, Moretti?”
“Helen. Nice of you to stop by. Have a seat.”
His words were flat, his tone carefully measured. Helen walked around the table so her back was also to the wall. She sat next to Moretti’s girl while Kevin stood behind her.
Helen turned her attention to the woman.
“Maria, isn’t it? You’ve certainly fucked your way up the ranks, haven’t you?”
Maria placed a cigarette between her painted lips, and Helen was quick to light it. She’d never seen her up close before, and found herself appreciating her lined brown eyes and red lips.
Maria took a long drag on her cigarette and exhaled in Helen’s face. She turned to Franco.
“I’m bored.”
“Maybe what you need is someone like me who can show you what a good time really is,” Helen said. She heard Kevin snicker behind her.
“You here to talk to me or her?” Franco asked.
“I’m just here for a drink.” Helen leaned back and surveyed the crowd.
“You don’t belong here. I’m sure you think you had some point to make. Now you can beat it.”
“I’m just getting warmed up.”
“Franco, baby, I’m bored,” Maria whined again.
“Come on, doll.” Helen stood and offered her hand. “Let’s dance.”
“With you?”
“I don’t see anyone else offering.”
Maria pouted at Franco, who stared silently at Helen.
“Are you gonna make me dance with her?”
“What do I care?”
Maria stood and deliberately turned away from Helen as she moved to the floor. A jazz ensemble was playing a catchy number. Helen pulled Maria to her and they began to move. Helen considered herself an expert dancer and was pleasantly surprised that Maria kept pace. By the end of their second dance, Maria was laughing and obviously enjoying herself.
Helen felt something shift inside as they danced to a thi
rd song. She enjoyed watching Maria move and wondered how she’d move in bed. Her desire had moved from wanting to stick it to Franco to honestly wanting to make time with Maria.
Exhausted after three songs, they walked back to the table, Helen with her arm easily draped over Maria’s thin shoulders.
“How tall are you?” Maria asked, looking up at Helen.
“I’m five eight.”
“I’m only five three. No wonder you seem bigger than life.”
“I’m tall, all right. Bigger than life? Sometimes, maybe.” She grinned.
“This one can really cut a rug.” Maria laughed as she fell into her seat. She reached for her drink, only to find her glass empty. She turned to Franco and pouted again.
“I’ll get you a refill, doll.” Helen stood. “You want another one, Moretti?”
“I’m fine.”
Helen pushed through the crowd with Kevin at her back.
“You trying to see how mad you can make him?” he asked. “What happened to getting in and getting out?”
“I’m having fun.”
“She’s Moretti’s girl. You can’t really be thinking of fucking her.”
“She’s a smarty. And you know she’s got to be ripe for some real bedtime.”
“You’ve made your point, Helen. We don’t need to push your luck.”
“Right. We’ll leave after these drinks.”
They got back to the table and Maria’s mood had noticeably soured.
“What’s wrong?” Helen asked.
Maria didn’t say anything.
“Hey, I thought we were having some laughs. What happened?”
“I’m not supposed to have fun with you.”
“Why not?”
“Leave her be,” Franco said. “You’ve stayed longer than you needed. I’m sure you have business to attend.”
Helen didn’t like feeling like she was getting the bum’s rush, but the hardened look in Franco’s eyes told her she was testing her good fortune.
“Maria.” She bent over Maria’s hand and brushed the knuckles with her lips. She extended a hand to Franco, who didn’t move.
“You’ve made your point,” he said. “I suggest you keep away from our territory from now on.”
“It’s a small town.”
“Not that small.”
“I’m sure I won’t see any of your friends in my neighborhood, either?”
“I wouldn’t think so.” His eyes never softened. She knew she’d never believe him, but the words sounded good.
“Nice seeing you again.” She winked once more at Maria and led Kevin out into the muggy night air.
Chapter Three
Work had kept Helen busy, and tensions between gangs ran high. She needed some downtime and a little relief. She knew she could hire a working girl for the night, but she was in the mood for the chase, the game of wooing a young lady to share her bed. She drove to Towertown, or what was left of the art colony on the Near North Side.
She parked under the giant water tower that gave the neighborhood its name and walked the busy streets, admiring the gays and lesbians enjoying the September night. She made her way to The Corset, a speakeasy specifically for women who loved women. She smoothed her jacket and adjusted her tie. She may not have literally owned the place, but that wouldn’t stop her from acting like she did.
She sauntered in and looked around. Damn, she loved flappers. She loved tits, to be sure, but there was something alluring about the boyish look of a flapper, with their flattened chests and straight waists. She liked the game of a dame peeking out from under the brim of her hat with charcoal around her eyes.
While she very much enjoyed her own hair bobbed, she missed the days the ladies’ hair fell to their waists. Still, she couldn’t deny her love of this new breed of women.
She watched a few couples on the dance floor shimmying and shaking while the band played. She noted several women at tables throughout the room who were focused on her. She leaned against the bar and weighed her options as she waited for the bartender.
A small blonde walked up to her. She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, but there was a spunk to her step and a challenge in her gaze.
“You’re Helen Byrne, ain’t ya?”
Helen was awash with conflicting emotions. While she enjoyed her notoriety and sense of fame, sometimes she just wanted to be another nameless person out looking for a good time. This was one of those times.
“What do you know about Helen Byrne?”
“I work at the orphanage on Wabash.”
Helen cringed at the mention of her childhood home.
“What’s your point?”
“I know you drop off things for the kids all the time. Like blankets and warm clothes in the winter.”
“That’s what you heard, huh?”
“I’ve seen you.”
It was true. Helen really felt for the kids at the orphanage and knew they never had enough. She also knew if she gave the place money, the priests that ran it would pocket every last cent. So she bought supplies and dropped them off herself, making sure they got to the kids.
“Sure. That’s me.”
“Well, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I have to say you’re quite a legend.”
“I’d think workin’ at an orphanage and all that, you’d be a law-abiding citizen and not be able to stand the likes of me.”
“Why? Because you’re a bootlegger? Prohibition is a stupid law. I’d have to think so or I wouldn’t be here, right?”
“Good point.”
Helen was amused by the spry woman. She looked soft and kind, but there was a definite edge to her.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“I’ll have a martini.”
She took the drink from Helen, who studied her another moment.
“I thought only nuns worked at the orphanage.”
“Yeah. So?”
Helen choked on her drink.
“You’re a nun?”
“I am. My name’s Mary Margaret. You can call me Maggie.”
“Wouldn’t the mother superior be a little upset if she knew where you were?”
“Sure she would. But she’ll never know.”
Helen motioned to an empty table and admired the sway of Maggie’s hips as she followed her.
“You dance?” Helen asked.
“Doesn’t everyone?”
Helen stood and offered her hand, which Maggie took. She led her to an open spot on the floor and they proceeded to dance the Charleston. The band played many lively tunes, and Helen was more than happy to continue dancing with the energetic Maggie.
“You sure know how to cut a rug,” Helen said when they finally sat down again.
“You’re not so bad yourself. Where did you learn to dance like that?”
Helen shrugged. She’d picked up moves watching the older guys from the gangs at the bars when she was coming up the ranks. She didn’t think that sounded all that impressive.
“I think maybe I was just born with it.”
“That happens. Well, you’re sure a natural.”
“So tell me, Sister. How does a nun learn of a speakeasy in Towertown?”
“I listen. I learn.”
“But good, Mass-going people don’t frequent this area of town.”
“No, but when places like this get raided, they talk about it. A lot.”
Helen nodded.
“True. So you hear about it, then lay low and check it out when the heat’s died down.”
“Exactly.”
Helen smiled at Maggie’s cleverness and raised her glass to her before taking a sip.
“So tell me everything there is to know about who Helen Byrne really is.”
Helen leaned back in her chair and crossed her ankle over her knee.
“There’s not much to tell.”
“I think you’re swell. I think it’s great that you haven’t forgotten where you came from and you give back some of what you make.�
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“I’m flattered. But I don’t feel like I do anything special. I just try to do what’s right.”
“More people should follow your lead.”
“You’re an interesting person, Sister Mary Margaret. There’s a bit of a pious side to you, even as you sit here sipping an illegal martini with a known rumrunner.”
“I suppose I come across as pious only because I do believe in helping the less fortunate. As for the rest of it, I’m enjoying a drink with an attractive woman. That would be the human side of me.”
Helen leaned forward and traced Maggie’s jaw.
“I like the human side of you.”
“There’s plenty of it for you to see.”
Helen arched an eyebrow.
“How much are you willing to show me?”
“The sky’s the limit.”
“I keep an apartment a few blocks away.”
“Lead the way.”
Helen reached for Maggie’s hand and led the way out of the bar and down the street to a newer building. She let them in and rode the elevator to the eighth floor. Her apartment covered the west side of the floor and had an expansive view of the city.
“This is nice.” Maggie was visibly impressed. “How many other places like this do you have?”
“I have a few.” Helen went to the bar while Maggie looked around. She mixed a martini, then poured her usual bourbon and water.
She found Maggie in the library.
“Have you read all these books?” Maggie asked.
“Not all, but most. Someday I’ll have them all read.”
“But there must be a million.”
“I enjoy reading.”
“You’re an interesting person, Helen Byrne. A street thug who reads.”
Helen threw her head back and laughed loudly.
“A street thug, huh? Is that all I am?”
“Well, you’re the leader of a criminal organization, it’s true. But you’re still just a thug, aren’t you?”
“I suppose I am.”
“I don’t mean any disrespect.”
Helen grabbed Maggie and pulled her close.
“I didn’t take it that way.” She lowered her mouth and tasted Maggie’s. She tasted the martinis as their lips met tentatively. She straightened.
“That’s all I get?” Maggie asked.
“You in some kind of hurry?”
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