Dusk was falling into the night and she wallowed in the orange, purples and reds of the sky caused by the dwindling sun. The summerhouse looked inviting. It’d be a great place to spend long afternoons with the twins. She could turn it into a playroom. A sanctuary for the kids no matter what went on in the main house - not that she had any plans. She reckoned they’d want their own space as they got older although she couldn’t imagine Alice or Frank Jr as teenagers. Them going to school was beyond comprehension.
The summerhouse: that was the answer. First, she crept upstairs to check on the children and, satisfied that all was well, she nipped downstairs and scurried outside with a torch. There was a key dangling in the lock and she wandered inside.
The space was enormous - fifty feet by twenty - and empty apart from two stacked chairs in one corner. Mary Lou stood at the entrance, shining the light into every cranny hoping for inspiration. Then something caught her eye: two walls were glass to let the sun swarm in. One of the other walls remained solidly brick and the fourth had wooden cladding on it. No biggie. Except there was a door handle.
She strode over and entered the room. It was an empty store cupboard. Mary Lou checked out the handle: no lock. If she removed the handle from the front and added a single hole for a lock then the walk-in store room would be a perfect hiding place for the money and anything she might acquire that needed discretion. Her firearms were a good example of this. A quiet life was all she wanted right now but she’d been on the run for so long, she hadn’t convinced herself that world was over for her.
The next day she found a local hardware store on South Cerritos Drive: left out of Oakcrest and left again after a five minute walk. The man behind the counter was more than helpful.
“You want some help putting this into the door, little lady?”
“No thanks. I’ll be fine.”
“I'm happy to come by and finish the job for you, honey.”
“Really. You’re very kind but I know what I'm doing.”
“Oh?”
“My husband died two years ago and I've had to fend for myself ever since.”
“I'm mighty sorry to hear that darling.”
Had she revealed too much about herself? There’s a world of difference between saying your husband was shot and killed robbing the Lansdowne branch of the First Bank of Baltimore and admitting he was dead at all. The twins were a testament to the fact she’d had Frank’s sperm inside her. He had existed and now he was gone. That was inescapable. So better to glide past the truth as often as possible instead of creating some cockamamie story she’d be stuck repeating for the rest of her life.
Armed with a toolkit she’d also purchased, Mary Lou set to work removing the handles, adding a lock and making the front appear seamlessly smooth. She reminded herself to buy drawers and cupboards for the room - and some furniture. Later she’d add steel reinforcement to the hidey-hole so the door couldn’t be kicked in but for now she needed to prevent Cindy from opening the bag - and not much else.
9
The emptiness in the pit of her stomach still lingered every day since she held Frank in her arms and watched him bleed out before her. Now there were two things that put a sparkle back in her expression: Frank Jr and Alice.
As each glowing parent in the past has known, they were the light of her life. Despite the pudgy face only a toddler can get away with, Frank Jr’s eyes reminded Mary Lou of his father and Alice had his lips without a shadow of doubt.
Time spent with the two of them was magical - in part because she had been forced to go and work in Canada. Even though Faye reassured her the kids were all right, she knew they would grow up to be better people if they were with their mom. Her own childhood showed that truth.
Mary Lou converted one bedroom into a playroom - at least until the summerhouse got sorted - and while Cindy dusted and cleaned the place, Mary Lou would sit on the ground playing with Alice or tickling FJ. Small cuddly islands of hope in a sea of loss.
Other times she and Cindy would fight coats and hats onto the twins and Mary Lou’d push them in their two-seater buggy around the area. The sole entrance to Oakcrest Drive had a two-minute walk to flat park land with a view of the white-peaked mountains beyond. For Mary Lou, this was the best of both worlds: she was urban through and through but she enjoyed beauty when she could find it.
She lit a cigarette after she laid out a picnic blanket and released the twins out of their harness. The two sat still for a second and then FJ reared onto his haunches and skedaddled off on an adventure of his own. Alice watched as he raced twenty feet off and kept the same expression on her face as he collapsed and rolled on the ground.
She took longer to get up but made her way over and sat next to him, picking out blades of grass and daisies from the park lawn. Mary Lou remained on the blanket enjoying the view. The giggles of her children causing a mimicking effect on the corners of her mouth. This moment of pleasure sparked a memory of the night she and Frank had met. A judder slithered down her spine as her thoughts turned to darker times.
Mary Lou did not allow herself to wallow. Instead, she leapt up and ran over to the twins and gave them each an enormous hug. Then she pulled at Alice’s striped top and blew a massive raspberry on her tummy. The girl created the most amazing chuckle she had ever known. No-one could be sad with that noise in their ears.
“Me! Me!”
FJ wanted in on the action and Mary Lou saw no reason to disappoint. His guffaw was fabulous but Alice’s was the best.
“Think it. Don’t say it.”
Mary Lou had no favorites: she loved both the same, but she knew FJ had the advantage of being born a boy. Even though she was older by four minutes, Alice would have to fight to be seen above the herds of young men vying for top dog. She wanted her daughter to be strong enough to beat them.
She returned to the blanket and threw a ball over to the pair. Both children ran toward her and they kicked it around until everyone needed to lie down and rest. Peanut jelly sandwiches appeared out of the voluminous contents of the buggy and, stoked on a sugar high, the twins played chase for ten minutes, returning to Mary Lou to refuel.
An hour later and FJ got tetchy and Mary Lou knew it was nap time. Before they arrived home, he was asleep and Alice wasn't far behind him.
“That was fun.”
“You’ve certainly tired them out.”
“All three of us will sleep well tonight.”
Cindy helped take them upstairs and the two women laid their charges out for the rest of the nap. Mary Lou returned downstairs and Cindy took her post in their room - in case of need. Mary Lou never wanted them to be alone, not for a minute, ever in their lives.
A WEEK AFTER VALENTINE’S Day, Mary Lou attended yet another house party hosted by Sylvia and Raymond, the epicenter of the neighborhood social scene. This time there were more than just the immediate neighbors: the first floor was packed with people. Some from Oakcrest Drive but most from around town - Sylvia’s Country Club buddies, Raymond’s business contacts. Mary Lou felt that if you had met Raymond or Sylvia at any point in your life then you got an invite to this do.
“Lovely to see you.”
“Thanks. Been quite a while since I’ve been surrounded by so many people.”
“Can be daunting, can’t it? Don’t worry though. They’re all nice. And I need to introduce you to so many of them. Grab yourself a drink and we'll catch up later.”
The hostess with the mostest swanned off to another part of the room to engage in chitchat with some other social butterfly. Meantime, Mary Lou headed for the bar at the side of the living room and took her beer outside as the air was still warm and hadn’t succumbed yet to the evening chill.
The layout of their house and backyard was the same as number twenty; only the decor was different. A scan of the patio showed several huddles of couples and she couldn't face any more conversation about the travails of husbands and wives. It only drew her attention on how much she missed Frank near he
r.
Instead, there was one guy leaning against a post sipping his drink and watching the world go by.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
“I’ll pass, thanks. Nothing personal but you don’t want to know what’s going on inside my head.”
“Oh? Nothing too malicious I hope. You haven’t had time to judge me.”
He smiled and clinked his glass against the neck of her bottle.
“Bobby. Pleased to meet you.”
“Mary Lou.”
“You’re the single mother who moved in a week or two ago.”
“Yep, guilty as charged. I have other hidden shallows a single sentence can’t cover too. Don’t know about you but I love being reduced to a series of stereotypes.”
Bobby laughed and took another sip of what looked like scotch and cola on the rocks.
“You know everything there is about me but you are a Palm Springs man of mystery. Spill your guts, mister.”
“Nothing to tell. I have some business interests in LA but I choose to live here. Like to see the mountains when I wake up in the morning.”
“I can understand that.”
She glanced at the hand holding the whiskey and saw no wedding band.
“You got family round here?”
“No, I'm not married. Not any more...”
The last words were spoken with a sadness weighing down his heart. Mary Lou echoed how that felt.
“Divorced or dead?”
“Divorced.”
“Mine’s dead.”
“So I heard.”
“How long since the ink dried?”
“Couple of years.”
“Any kids?”
“Not any more.”
Bobby’s response caused a chill in the air. Most times when a child dies, the parents split within five years. This was Bobby’s story, she guessed.
“Fuck. Happy days, huh?”
“Like a fucking Halloween party.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
Another clink and a sip to let the words fade and the images play out in their heads.
“You know many folks here?”
“Fair few. I've lived round here most of my life.”
“And you don’t need this come-over poking her nose into your affairs.”
“I didn't say that.”
“But implied.”
“Not intentionally. You’re right that I dreaded you opening your mouth as you walked toward me. No kidding, but now we’re talking I'm warming to you.”
“Gee, thanks. Is that what you say to all the girls?”
“What girls?”
“You telling me you go to parties in your home town and always get into bed later alone?”
“You’ve got me confused with another man.”
Bobby smiled. Was it her directness or the fact she was prepared to speak with him and not tread egg shells? Either way he suffered but not in silence. This could go in two directions. Bobby might be a depressing individual who should stay at home until he gets over himself. Or he might be the only person in town who knows the meaning of loss.
“You look just like the one standing in front of me. And I like what I see.”
“Straight back at ya.”
“And what do people do round here to enjoy themselves when they’re not hanging around near a swimming pool on someone else’s patio?”
“The usual.”
For a man who’d revealed his heart to her two minute ago, Bobby was making this conversation heavy going.
“Like...?”
“Golf is good.”
“Never tried it. Are there any decent places to eat?”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Why?”
“The number of people with... business interests... round here. Of course, you can find a good restaurant or two. You really are fresh to the streets.”
“Never pretended otherwise, Bobby.”
“I’ll show you the sights if you like.”
“That’d be good. Real nice.”
“Give me your number and I’ll call you.”
Mary Lou pulled out a pen from her bag and they went inside to find something to write on. By the time Bobby placed the strip into his pocket, Sylvia had swooped on Mary Lou and taken her to the far side of the room.
“I see you’ve met Bobby Trevisan.”
“Yes, a kindred dark soul.”
“Are you that sad?”
“Now and again, Sylvia. I keep a brave expression on my face but there are wounds still sore.”
Sylvia hugged her and took her by the hand upstairs into a bedroom.
“Listen, honey. Don’t take this the wrong way, but be careful with Bobby.”
“Why?”
“He’s prickly and you’ll only end up hurt.”
“I can look after myself. Don’t worry about me.”
“But I do. Bobby treats women badly. He pushes them away so he won’t get hurt again. And you deserve better than him.”
“What if he’s the best that there is?”
Part 7: March 1971
10
Mary Lou sat in a booth at the Palm Springs Country Club. This was a lovely plush affair where members of the golf club mingled with those who liked to watch and lunch. The seating was red leather and screamed out money although she had never spent a penny since she first visited a week before. The remarkable prejudice in this part of California was that the man always paid. As far as she was concerned, this made the men fools for parting so swiftly with their cash. And she owed them nothing.
Janet and Vivian arrived a moment later, and they settled in for the afternoon with a selection of cosmos and martinis. Mary Lou never finished hers but let the other women get fractious as the hours progressed. They also had the habit of letting their guard down and saying what they meant instead of maintaining the facade built up over the years.
Like everyone else in America, they were unhappy. They didn't like the houses they lived in, they didn't like the places they went to and they were dissatisfied with their husbands.
“I know he spends all the week slaving and working to support our family, but when he turns up at the weekends, he’s dead beat. No good to me and no good to the kids. And definitely no good in bed.”
The two others giggled at Vivian’s comments and Janet nodded in appreciation.
“Same here. He goes. He returns. He sleeps. That’s not a life; that’s not a way for a man to behave.”
“So what do they do to tire themselves out? Running a business doesn’t wipe you out. It’s not like they are lugging bricks, is it?”
A cold silence descended on the group after Mary Lou spoke: she’d stumbled onto something without realizing.
“Listen, darling. Our men are fine workers. Great providers. You know what they say? What goes on in LA stays in LA.”
“And what sort of stuff goes on in LA?”
The words were barely audible from Mary Lou's lips. Vivian eyed Janet, who responded in kind.
“Tell her.”
“Okay then, I will. We all come from Italian families with a long tradition running back to Sicily, you get me?”
Blank face. Beat. Eyes opened wide then relaxed back to normal.
“I see.”
She tried to hide the fear within her, knotting her stomach and causing her hands to grip the edge of the table, creasing the white tablecloth. She knew the mob had its tentacles in California but had been unaware that it had an enclave in Palm Springs.
“Don’t worry, dear. It’s not like you think. Roy and Milton don’t go around whacking people who don’t pay their bills or nothing.”
“It’s like a union for business owners. They look after their own and give better rates to their members.”
Mary Lou processed these statements, knowing what bullshit she was hearing. Uncle Frankie had ties to the New York mob and look what he had done: raped her, sent men the other side of the country to take the heist money and kil
l Frank and herself. You couldn’t get much further from preferential terms if you tried.
“And that’s all?”
“Oh yes. Roy isn’t tired from gang shootings. He’s tired from banging his mistress. Why do you think the men stay in the city all week long?”
Good question. These women sipping cocktails at this table produced children, looked pretty and paid someone to keep the house clean. That way, their men could lead a sweet life in the City of Angels and come home to feel good about themselves at the weekend.
“You don’t mind?”
“Mind? You’re kidding me, right?”
“No. I...”
“Listen. While he’s spending his nights fucking some whore and not making demands on me, I have no problem. Provided she’s clean. And while the cat’s away...”
A knowing glance to Janet.
“You mean?”
“Baby. You better believe it.”
There were so many double lives being played out, Mary Lou didn't know what to think. She and Frank might have had their difficulties over the years, but they were sexually honest with each other. At least when he was out the Penitentiary.
“Jeez, you girls.”
“Are you shocked?”
“Surprised to be honest. Everyone looks so normal. I don’t mean that in a bad way. You all appear settled and happy.”
“We are happy, just not the way you thought.”
“And does that mean your fellas have connections?”
This was Mary Lou's problem. She didn't really care who fucked whom in Palm Springs or Los Angeles. If these guys were hooked up with the New York mob, she was as good as dead.
“They know members of the club, yes.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I understand, but we don’t know each other well enough for me to answer your question. You a cop?”
“No, I'm not. Are you?”
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