by Rachel Ford
“It’s complicated, love. First, let me introduce you to my friends. Then, I’ll tell you everything.”
Introductions were made, and Dori Edwards welcomed Nancy and Alfred to her parent’s home. They were already asleep, she told them – which, as far as the taxman could tell, was a good thing. It was going to be awkward enough to explain to one member of the Edwards’ family how they’d materialized into her living room, never mind trying to make the entire family understand.
Fortunately for him, this task fell to Ray Lorina. And though it took several tries and a few false starts, Dori did end up accepting that her sweetheart had been rescued by a time travelling gumshoe.
Alfred strongly suspected that it was the choice of believing Ray’s story, or believing Ray mad, that pushed her toward belief.
Still, believe it she did, and the conversation turned to the case. Dorothy Edwards cycled between rage and terror, railing against the corrupt agent one moment, and fearing for her Ray’s safety the next.
“I still don’t understand how knowing that he’s on the take helps,” she declared, once they’d finished the explanations. “It doesn’t matter if we know, if they arrest you before we can prove it.”
“Well, that’s part of why I’m wearing this ridiculous disguise.”
Dori paused to scrutinize him now, and then she laughed, acknowledging, “I wasn’t going to say anything…but I do kind of hate it, Ray. Especially the mustache.”
He grinned. “Really? I liked that part. I was thinking of trying a real one, when all’s said and done.” She shivered, which seemed to be the reaction he wanted, because he laughed too. “It’s awful, isn’t it?”
“Very.”
Alfred cleared his throat tactfully. “Not to put too fine a point on it…but the clock is ticking.”
“Right.” The pair flushed, and the detective picked up his line of reasoning. “The plan is, we’ll stake out Tiny’s. Make sure that’s the joint they’re using now. And once we get visual confirmation, we call in Boyle and his mugs to catch them in the act. They’ll get Kennedy with his payout, and Mario bribing a federal agent.” He shrugged. “Maybe we can send that bastard away for good this time. Finally.”
She nodded. “But how do we get past the detectives outside? They’ve been watching this place ever since you disappeared, love.”
Here, Nancy supplied the answer. “We’ll use the device. It can move us through space as well as time. It’ll basically transport us to wherever we want to be.”
Dorothy blinked, more confused by the explanation than the question it was meant to answer.
“Trust her,” Ray said. “It works.”
“Alright,” the other woman nodded. “Well, let’s go then.”
Here, he seemed perplexed. “Darling, I came to let you know I was fine. But it’s going to be dangerous. You can’t be involved.”
Dorothy fixed him with a steely gaze. “Like hell I can’t, Ray Lorina. I thought I lost you once already. I thought they snatched you. I thought the only way I’d see you again is if they fished your dead body out of the bay one of these days.” She put her hands around his waist. “So if you think I’m letting you out of my sight after that, you don’t know me at all.”
The detective’s eyes softened with affection. “I guess I should have known better than that.”
“You’re damned right you should have.”
He grinned at her cheeky language, then turned to Alfred and Nancy. “Hey, uh, would you give us a minute?”
The taxman blinked. “Um…sure. But, where do you want us to go?” It wasn’t like there were a lot of options in a world he didn’t really know, with detectives waiting right outside the door.
“Just wait in the other room. I need to talk to Dori.”
“Sure. Okay.” They milled out, closing the door after them.
“What was that all about?” Nancy wondered.
“No idea,” Alfred acknowledged. “Maybe he just needs to make sure she’s really okay with, you know, time travel and all that.”
“It is a lot to absorb. I think she thought we were all nuts for a few minutes there.”
“Yeah. If it wasn’t for Ray telling her, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have believed it.”
They waited in silence for a few moments. “Alfred?”
“Yeah?”
“What happens if this doesn’t work?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, babe. We’ll figure something out. We can always go back to our time, and keep working.”
Nancy sighed. “Yeah. I just…I hope it works.”
He wrapped an arm around her. “Me too, Nance. Me too.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The mystery of Ray’s conversation with Dori was laid to rest a few minutes later. The pair emerged all smiles, with the detective referring to her as “the future Mrs. Lorina.”
“Oh.” Alfred blinked. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks, taxman.” He squeezed Dorothy’s hand. “I’m a helluva lucky guy.”
Alfred managed to not roll his eyes at the lovesick simpers passing between them. He liked Ray, and though he knew Dori only a little, was inclined to like her too. But, the fact remained that they were on the run from both the police and the mob, hunted by criminal and cop alike. They had a steep hill to climb to prove the detective’s innocence, if it was even going to be possible. So if that was his definition of “lucky,” the taxman didn’t want to hear his version of bad news.
Nance, meanwhile, offered her own congratulations, then entered the coordinates into the device. “Alright, so we’ll wind up in the apartments across from Tiny’s Pub. In Room Two-Ten. That should give us a clear vantage of the bar. Plus, according to Boyle’s records, the place hadn’t been let in over a year. So, it should be unoccupied.”
Ray wrapped an arm around Dori. “Ready, babe?”
She nodded, her face drawn. “Ready.”
“Here goes, then,” Nance declared.
A moment later, Alfred found himself blinking into a dim room. It was largely unfurnished, with a mattress lying against the wall and the odd end table and chair laying around the room. It was not enough to imagine someone had cleared out without their belongings, but it was too much to suppose it had been missed accidentally. What remained, he surmised, was what the last tenant had been too lazy to cart to the trash.
The air was chilly here, and the only light that remained came in from the windows. Alfred pulled his coat tight around himself and shivered, as much at the ambience as the temperature.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Dori gasped, meanwhile. “That…that actually worked.”
“You alright?” Ray wondered.
“Yes. I think so. I can’t believe it actually worked though.”
“There’s Tiny’s,” Nance declared. She’d moved to the window, and now pointed at an establishment across the road. It was a small, old-timey dive bar, and Alfred marveled at the sight of it. It was like something straight out of a black-and-white film. He half imagined it full of smoke and chintzy dames, with Humphrey Bogart brooding in a corner somewhere.
But the grim parade of toughs coming in and out of the place soon drove away any such notions. On the contrary, Ray’s narration sent new shivers up the taxman’s spine.
“That’s Trigger Finger Tomassi. He’s one of Mario’s nephews. Rumor has it, he bumped Patty MacNamara.”
“Benito Moretti? So you’re back in town, eh? Well, well. We’re going to have to get reacquainted.”
“Vito Gallo, you son-of-a-bitch.”
He even recognized some of the women. “I’ll be. That’s Dona Esposito. You know, Anthony Tomassi’s moll.”
Alfred didn’t know, but he was getting a pretty good idea: Tiny’s Pub hosted its own who’s-who of villains.
Still, the minutes ticked by without any sign of Mario Tomassi or Walton Kennedy. The taxman started to pace. The room was cold, cold enough that he could see his breath in the air when he neared the wi
ndows. Apparently, unlet apartments didn’t get heat. Or electricity.
But it was more than the cold and dark. This was boring work. Sure, Ray was excited to see so many of his nemeses coming and going. But Alfred didn’t know these men from Adam, and after the first few, well, the novelty wore off. He’d seen enough mobsters so that they didn’t impress him anymore.
He was sighing to himself, wondering again how he possibly could have imagined a detective’s life exciting, when Ray’s voice called, “There he is.”
Of one volition, Alfred, Nancy and Dori swarmed to the window, each vying for a spot. “Who?”
“Where?”
“Mario. Right there.” Lorina pointed to a thin figure stepping out of a snazzy looking car. He was an old man, with pinched features and a measured step. He wore a dapper suit and hat, and carried a silver-handled cane.
For all that, and despite his age and apparent frailty, there was a dangerous air to the man. Alfred couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe it was the slow, careful way he threw his gaze over the street. Like a snake, taking in its surroundings. Maybe it was the man’s eyes. Even from this distance, he could see an iciness in them that made the taxman’s blood run a little colder. “So that’s the infamous Mario Tomassi?”
The detective nodded. “Don of the biggest crime family in New York City, in the flesh.”
“Who is that with him?” Dori asked, pointing to the second form to emerge from the vehicle. This was a younger man, whose clothes were not so nice, and whose step was not so confident. He kept a respectful distance from Mario, trailing a few paces behind the older man.
“Joe Corelli. He’s one of the Tomassi bean counters. And you see the briefcase he’s carrying?” They nodded. “That’d be Kennedy’s payoff.”
“Shouldn’t we call Boyle?” Nancy wondered. “Now that we know they’re here?”
But Ray shook his head. “We need to make sure Kennedy actually shows up. We don’t want to blow our chance, if this meet is with someone else.”
So they waited. And waited.
Alfred found himself pacing again. “How do you survive this?” he wondered after a while.
“What?”
“The waiting. Just sitting there, hoping something happens. That’d drive me crazy.”
Lorina shrugged. “It’s part of the job.”
Alfred sighed. Give me a spreadsheet or a good audit any day of the week.
Finally, though, the long anticipated call of, “He’s here,” sounded.
The taxman was at the window again, as fast as his chilled legs could take him. Sure enough, the bespectacled IRS agent plodded down the street, adjusted his hat, and stepped into the establishment.
“Let’s go make the call,” Alfred suggested.
But, again, Ray shook his head. “Not yet. Let’s make sure he takes the payoff.”
“But…won’t it be too late then?”
“Not with that device of yours, Favero. There’s no such thing as too late with that.”
“Oh. I suppose not.”
“Exactly. We’ll make sure this is the moment we’re looking for, and then we’ll skip back a few hours, and pay our friend Isaac Boyle a visit.”
The minutes ticked by, but, at last, Walton Kennedy reappeared, the case in hand. Alfred whooped in delight. “We’ve got him.”
A minute later, Mario and Joe followed, returning to their car. Now, a triumphant smile spread across his features, Ray turned to the group. “We’ve got ‘em, alright, taxman. Both of ‘em.”
They were seated in Alfred’s living room, strategizing. It had taken a few minutes to get Dori to focus on the case, instead of marveling at the wonders around her. “My goodness, that’s a television now? It’s so big.”
Ray wasn’t much help, either. “And it’s in color, darling.”
“Color?” Her eyes widened. “Oh, I have to see it. May I?”
Alfred obliged, and Dori watched with wonder that bordered on horror, cringing with each sudden movement or loud noise, and gaping with delight at the clarity and quality.
Eventually, though, he was able to draw them back to the case. “We really should figure out our next move.”
“Of course. Of course, you’re right, taxman.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, he switched off the television and moved to their makeshift command center in the dining room. “Alright, so-”
But, again, he was waylaid by Detective Lorina. “This is the cat, darling,” he said, drawing Dori’s attention to Fluff. “The one who took out Fat Sal.”
“Ohh,” she cooed. “He’s so pretty. And fluffy.”
“A real American hero,” Ray added. “Taking out Sal? He did more good for this City than half the department will accomplish this year.”
Alfred frowned, feeling suddenly shortchanged in all of this. He’d taken nothing but lumps for crossing through time and interfering with the timeline. Yet Satan – who, his mind argued, actually killed a man – got nothing but credit. It was decidedly unfair.
Still, he kept this to himself. He felt he’d do himself no favors in Nancy’s eyes by drawing attention to his little jaunt through history. And he wasn’t about to vie for attention with a cat.
And, finally, they all took their seats. “Alright,” Lorina said, “so we know when Walton and Mario meet. We know where. We know – at least, we’re pretty sure – we can trust Boyle. So we’ve got to get Boyle to the meetup.”
“So we call in a tip?” Alfred asked. “Tell Boyle that Tomassi and Kennedy are going to be doing a deal that night?”
“Will that be enough?” Nancy wondered. “I mean, as far as Boyle knows, Kennedy’s one of the good guys.”
Ray considered this for a moment. “That’s a good point.”
“And what if we’re wrong about Boyle? What if he was building the case against Kennedy as an insurance policy, in case they meant to double cross him? What if he didn’t actually intend to turn him in?”
Lorina frowned. “Damn. You’d make a good gumshoe yourself, Miss Nancy.”
“Are there any other cops we could call?” Alfred suggested. “Anyone you know we can trust?”
“I hate to say this…but, no. I don’t know who Tomassi’s reached. And if we shoot blind on this, and reach out to the wrong person…word gets back to Mario, and this whole thing goes up in smoke.”
“What you need, then,” Dori suggested, “is proof that the drop happens. So even if Boyle is dirty, you can still prove it.”
Alfred sighed. “This would be so easy now. All we’d need is a cellphone, and…” He shrugged. “We could get video, pictures – whatever we needed.”
Nancy’s eyes, now, opened wide. “That’s it, Alfred.”
“It is? Babe, smartphones won’t be invented for decades. We’d contaminate the timeline.”
She shook her head. “We need pictures, but not with a smartphone. We need a photographer from the period. Who isn’t afraid of pissing the mob off.” Her eyes were sparkling. “We need…”
“Joe Donelly,” Ray finished with a grin. “That damned, determined reporter from The Globe.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“You sure you got this, darling?” Ray asked. His arms were wrapped around Dori’s waist, and his brow was creased in a worried expression.
“Of course I’m sure, Ray. You’re not the only one who can take care of themselves, you know.”
He grinned, rubbing his jaw. “I know. I’m still sore.”
She laughed. “Well, that’s what you get for scaring the daylights out of me.”
“I did have it coming, I suppose,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose against hers. “Didn’t I?”
“You certainly did, Ray Lorina,” she returned.
Alfred sighed, throwing Nancy a doleful glance. He wasn’t unsympathetic to the plight of reunited lovers, of course. But, on the other hand, he didn’t really need to be a party to their reunion.
She just laughed at his discomfort, though, slipping her h
and into his. “It’s alright, my robot,” she whispered. “These displays of human affection will be over soon enough.”
He frowned. “I’m not a robot, Nance. We’re just on a schedule.”
“Mhm,” she murmured teasingly. “That’s it. It’s definitely not that it’s overloading your emotion chip.”
Despite himself, he grinned. “You watch way too much science fiction, darling.”
“Especially for someone who lives with a robot.”
“Robot, eh?”
She answered the challenge in his tone with a nod, and he wrapped an arm around her and drew her close for a kiss. “I’ll show you ‘robot,’ Nancy Abbot.”
They were mid-kiss when Alfred heard a throat clearing. Ray was standing by, staring awkwardly at the far door. Dori seemed similarly enwrapped by the living room trim.
“Oh…uh, you ready?” the taxman wondered.
“Yup.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll continue this discussion later, Mister Favero,” Nancy murmured. Then, clearing her throat, she stepped out of his embrace. “Okay, you ready, Dori?”
“I am.”
“Great. Well, let’s go, then.”
The two women moved for the other room. They would be making this jump alone, to get Dori home. Alfred sighed, watching Nance go. He was surprised to hear a similar sound issue forth from the detective.
“Okay. Here goes, then.” With a glance in his direction, Nance smiled. “See you soon, babe.”
Then, they were gone.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that,” Ray said.
“Me either,” Alfred agreed.
Just as suddenly, though, Nancy reappeared in the space she’d been occupying a moment earlier with Dori. “Did you miss me?” she asked with a grin, heading back to the pair.
“You know I did,” Alfred answered.
“She back home?” the detective wondered.
“Safe and sound.”
Ray nodded. “Then I guess it’s our turn.”
“Let me put in the coordinates,” Nance said. For a moment, she worked at the dials. Then, she declared, “Alright. I’m ready.”