Speakeasy, Speak Love

by Sharon G Clark

  Eldon raised his head and braced by an elbow on the table. “I was good to her, Finn. She didn’t appreciate what I did for her.”

  Fiona loosed the hold on her temper. “Like what, Eldon? You certainly didn’t protect her, did you?” She stomped over to his table, towering over him as she looked down on him with as much disgust as she could muster. “Did you ever see the bruises and ask her how she got them? Did you never suspect what Jimmy was demanding from her? And she put up with it because she cared for you, wanted to be with you, the high-and-mighty Eldon Graham, bootlegger and wannabe gangster.” She slammed a fist on the table, setting the bottle to wobble precariously and the glass in his fist to shake. “Jimmy’s been playing you. Terry didn’t steal from you. Jimmy’s been doing that, while he goes behind your back with creeps like Dwyer in New York and Wallace here in town. Hell, maybe he’s making a deal with Giuffrida, too.”

  “He wouldn’t do that to his partner,” Eldon said, not looking at her.

  Who in the hell was he trying to convince, because she wasn’t falling for it. “Bullshit. You’re a means to an end, Eldon. An end Jimmy doesn’t need anymore.” Fiona turned away from him. “You never should have gotten into this business. You’re an ass, Eldon, but I don’t think you’re as despicable as Jimmy.”

  Eldon filled his glass and gulped the contents, wincing as he swallowed. “You don’t know what I’m capable of, Finn. I’m stronger than I look.”

  “Really? Let me be the judge of that, Eldon. How ’bout I tell you what Lorraine went through before she died, and judge by your reaction.”

  “How ’bout we do show-and-tell instead?” Fiona’s blood froze in her veins when she heard Jimmy’s voice. She spun around and with crystal-clarity knew her time had run out. On Jimmy’s left stood Junior Detweiler, on his right side none other than Quinn Cavanaugh. Gleaming pretty-as-you-please in Jimmy’s hand was a Colt M1911 automatic pistol, Armed Service issue, pointed directly at her heart.

  Sitting straighter in his chair, Eldon asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “Coming to teach lessons, like I already told you.” Jimmy glared at her, his lips curling in a sneer. “Gonna love this lesson more than I originally thought. Aren’t I Fiona?”

  “Fiona? Have you lost your—” Eldon’s comment was cut off by a bullet fired into his stomach. One hand clutched his gut, while the other clawed at the table for support to stay in his chair. “Fuck.”

  “Eventually,” Jimmy said. His gaze returned to her as she’d tried to make her way to an exit. “Stop where you are,” he said, swinging the gun in her direction. His gaze never left her. “Junior, get Cavanaugh that bottle we promised him.”

  In her peripheral, Fiona saw Junior retrieve a bottle from behind the bar, and then walk over to where Quinn sat at the table behind Eldon. He’d no sooner slammed it down, before Quinn latched on, uncorked it, and downed a third of the contents. Slowly, he put the bottle on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Junior twisted a chair around backwards, and plopped down resting his arms across the back as if ready for a show.

  Fiona had no doubt what Jimmy intended for her. She took a step back, Jimmy a step forward. She swung her gaze to Quinn. “Da, please, don’t let him do this.”

  Quinn smirked. “Need to learn your place girl.” Another long swig from the bottle, before he added, “Jimmy here’s just the man to do it, too.”

  She’d rather be shot in the back then succumb to what was intended for her, shocked her father didn’t seem bothered by watching, or that Junior would be also. Fiona spun around, and dashed for the raised stage, hoping to escape. Another shot and a fire burned in her left thigh, the leg giving out under her. Fiona fell short of the stage.

  Jimmy was on her in an instant, slamming a foot down on her wounded leg. Then, he wielded a kick to her abdomen, another, a third, fourth. Her breath escaped her lungs, the pain so severe Fiona couldn’t draw even a small inhale of air, stars danced in her vision. Grabbing her shirt into his fists, Jimmy jerked her upright, and smashed her into the lip of the stage. A fist hammered into her face until a mix of blood and swollen flesh darkened the edge of her vision. He continued the onslaught until she felt teeth loosening and her jaw break. At least she’d be unconscious for the worst brutality.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Jimmy said. He must have made some signal to Junior, because next Fiona knew, the harsh burn of liquor splashed into her open cuts and damaged flesh. She hissed at the contact. “Now for the part I enjoyed most with Lorraine.”

  From elsewhere in the room, Fiona heard Eldon’s faint mumbled protest. “Don’t do it, Jim.”

  Jimmy snickered. Fiona felt the sharp edge of cold metal biting into her clothing, her bindings, and her skin. Please, she prayed, let me die before he finishes. Her prayers were unanswered. Once he’d cut away her clothes, bruised flesh bared for all, Jimmy picked her up, slammed her down on a table, and cruelly spread her legs. Unable to fight, her muscles too tormented to defend herself, Fiona recited the mantra in her head, “Please let me die now.”

  As fingers brutally bit into the flesh of her thighs, a sharp spear of agony caused her to cry out. After the repeated pain of entry, Fiona heard another gunshot, before finally finding unconsciousness.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  MARGARET FELT A rush of relief when Janice pulled up in front of the Fisher’s Net, the last of Eldon’s businesses, and the final set of doctored books. She hadn’t been able to get Fiona out of her head, worried about leaving her in her weakened condition. “Last place.” She opened the passenger door as Fred appeared out of nowhere, racing toward the door. He had just kicked it open, when Ian jumped from the car and followed. “What’s going on?” she asked, not expecting an answer, which was a good thing, as she didn’t receive any. Somehow, Fred had located the entrance to Favors. A gunshot rang out from below.

  What she found in the Favor’s barroom had her speechless, and then terrified. An older man sat at a table drinking from a bottle and staring at a retreating Jimmy, Fred following. In front of him, a pale and bleeding Eldon sat, clutching his stomach and openly crying. Ian roughly pushed Junior’s face into the wooden front bar top while handcuffing him. Sunny moaned mournfully as she cradled the nearly naked and beaten body of Fiona on the floor, torn clothing pooled limply around her body. A toppled table lay beside Fiona’s head, what looked like her Browning atop Fiona’s stomach, Sunny clutching the weapon in a death grip.

  Immediately, Margaret rushed to Fiona and Sunny, dropped to her knees, ignoring the discomfort. The first thing she did was make sure Fiona was breathing. She glanced around the room until she locked gazes with the horrified Janice. “Please, find me something to cover her with.” Margaret carefully covered the hand Sunny clutched the gun in. “Sweetie, let’s get rid of this,” Margaret said. Sunny removed her hand, and then used the arm to pull Fiona closer. A folded tablecloth appeared over her shoulder. Margaret shook it open and covered Fiona with it. They needed to get Fiona to the hospital. Though she wanted to scream and cry, Margaret realized the necessity to maintain the appearance of calm.

  On silent feet, Ian appeared beside her. “We need to get Fiona and Eldon to the hospital. I need to appropriate your vehicle, Miss Hartwell.”

  Janice nodded.

  Ian bent to one knee beside Margaret. “Fred lost Jimmy. But he can take custody of our prisoners and get them to the station.”

  Margaret went behind Sunny and crouched down, wrapping her arms around her and speaking into her ear. “Sunny, Ian has to carry Fiona to the car. She needs the hospital.”

  Sunny nodded, reluctance showing in the slow release of her charge. Sunny’s hand absently reached for the gun, and when Sunny stood, she placed it in her pocket. Margaret would have to take the gun from her at some point. “I tried to kill him. He ran away when you came.” Sunny spun in her arms her body shaking with the fresh burst of emotions. “I was too late. He hurt her bad, Miss Margaret.”

  Margaret s
troked Sunny’s hair as the young girl cried on her chest. “I know, sweetheart, we’ll take care of her now.” Ian stood with Fiona cradled in his arms. He walked to the exit. Margaret and Sunny followed until a hand on Margaret’s arm stopped her. She turned to Janice, noting blood on her hands.

  Janice looked down, too. “Better clean up before Mark sees me.” She gave a wry grin. “Eldon needs to speak to you before you go.”

  She glanced toward her brother. He looked paler than when she arrived. “We can talk at the hospital.” Margaret was angry with him. Fiona and Lorraine were both seriously harmed because of him, one dead and another dying.

  “Says he’s not going,” Janice said.

  “But I don’t—” Janice stopped her with a raised eyebrow. “Fine. Ian, get Fiona to the hospital. Dr. Matthews will be waiting, I hope. Go.” She turned her attention to Sunny. “I really need your help. Will you look after her until I get there?” Panicked eyes met hers. “Fiona needs you right now, Sunny.” The words were the catalyst to get Sunny moving. She raced after Ian.

  “Why aren’t you going to the hospital?” she asked her brother. She wanted to hold him and hit him at the same time. “Would you rather I sent for an ambulance?”

  Eldon shook his head. “No, but if the cop is a friend of yours, we should get me upstairs to the restaurant. Don’t think you should be associated with this part of my business.” With Janice’s assistance, she was able to get Eldon upstairs and placed in front of another table. Fred had followed with Junior and the other man. Eldon swayed in his seat.

  “Eldon—”

  He shook his head, eyes becoming glazed and unfocused. “Do you know who the man is?” Eldon asked.

  “Not the older man. But Junior’s the one from the alley.”

  Eldon groaned. “Should’ve guessed Jimmy would hook up with him.” Eldon coughed and blood dribbled from the side of his mouth. “The other is Quinn, Finn’s father.”

  Margaret turned to glare at Quinn. “He watched and did nothing?”

  “So she would learn her place.” A tear trickled down his face, then another. “I was so busy being a big shot. I didn’t realize I was out of my league. Please tell Finn and Thelma—Sunny I guess you call her now—I’m so very sorry.”

  Margaret kneeled in front of him. “Tell them yourself. After you get fixed up at the hospital.”

  “No. Listen. I need you to do something for me.” His gaze was pleading. Margaret was torn between demanding he go and doing as he wanted.

  “What is it?” she asked. He leaned toward her and whispered. After a few moments, he pulled away, gave her a smile that could only be termed as macabre with the blood. Margaret nodded. Her agreement seemed to release Eldon. His head dropped to his chest, and his body slumped across the table. Eldon, her last living relative, was dead.

  Janice, standing behind her, pulled Margaret to her feet, much as she had done for Sunny earlier. “I secured the doors to downstairs. We should go to the hospital now. I’ll call a cab.”

  “I’ll have someone drive you.” Margaret had almost forgotten about the other man with her. Fred held a squirming Junior who somewhere along the way acquired a dishtowel stuffed into his mouth. She turned to them and without breaking eye contact with Quinn, whose gaze was darting erratically around the room, Margaret pulled a key from a small pocket in her dress. “Janice, go to the office and call Dr. Matthews.” She gave her the number, and Janice hurried from the room.

  Margaret walked to the men. She pointedly dismissed Junior. He was a bully who had found a home with bigger bullies like Jimmy Bennett, and the darker side of mobster life. Quinn confused her. How does the father sit and watch his daughter raped and beaten? Balling her hand tightly, Margaret punched him with all the anger—and fear—consuming her. He fell to the floor and neither she nor Fred assisted in helping him stand. Quinn didn’t seem in a hurry to get up.

  “There’s a unit coming,” Fred said. As if on cue, two uniformed officers raced into the room, Quinn and Junior given into their custody. Fred asked one to call the coroner for Eldon. Janice returned, standing beside her with an arm around Margaret’s waist.

  “I’ll get you ladies to the hospital now,” Fred said, as another group of uniforms entered the restaurant.

  Margaret nodded as she and Janice followed Fred.

  THE NURSE IN emergency forwarded them on to the waiting area for the operating room. Ian was there, joined by his sister, Claire, and Nana Donnelly. Ian gave her a nod of welcome as Nana pulled Margaret into a reassuring hug. Sitting in a chair, her knees pulled tight to her chest, rocking back and forth, sat Sunny, apparently oblivious to the others in the room. Margaret went to her, crouched beside her, and placed her palm to Sunny’s cheek. Sunny’s face turned to her slowly, and as recognition dawned, Sunny dropped her legs, slid from the chair, and clasped her arms around Margaret’s neck. Sunny’s head dropped to Margaret’s shoulder and she sobbed. With gentle reassuring pats to Sunny’s back, Margaret held her until she was spent. During that time, Molly, Dorcas, and Frank joined the group waiting on Fiona.

  Over four hours later, into the early hours of morning, Edward trudged into the waiting room. He would normally put on a clean lab coat, but appeared not to have taken the time on this occasion. Margaret realized how stressed and tired he was, his features showing every day of his fifty-plus years. Edward glanced at all the expected faces and said, “Fiona’s out of surgery.”

  “So she’s alive,” Nana said. “Blessings be.”

  Edward stared at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. Then it dawned on Margaret he was asking how much to tell. She shook her head. He nodded. “She’s in recovery, but not stable yet. If Fiona makes it through the night, there’s a chance she could recover.”

  Most of the occupants in the room broke down in sobs. Edward gave her a look that said she should follow, as he turned and walked into the hall. Margaret did, walking silently beside him until they reached the far end, well away from the waiting area. Edward placed gentle hands on her shoulders and looked her directly in the eyes. “It’s not good, Margaret. In simple terms, Fiona has multiple bruising and lacerations. She has well over one hundred sutures, three broken ribs, two lost teeth that she nearly suffocated on. There was damage to her spleen. She may have some vision problems, from damage to her left eye.” Edward paused and swallowed hard. “Are you sure you want to hear the rest?”

  Margaret knew it had to be bad if he needed to ask. Her mind screamed no. “Go ahead.”

  Edward inhaled deeply. “He didn’t just rape her.” He pulled something wrapped in plastic from his lab coat pocket. A gun. “The bastard also used this. We found it tangled in her clothing. Could be the gun used to shoot Eldon.”

  Margaret held up a hand and bit back a cry. She took deep breaths to get her turbulent emotions under control. “Give that to Ian Donnelly.” There was no way she could touch it to do so herself. “Make sure the others don’t hear you tell him what you just told me.” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep down the bile rising in her throat. “When can I go to her?”

  “Because she may not make it, I’d like to say you can take turns.” He shook his head. “But that may not be wise considering how she looks. It may frighten them more. Especially the young girl.”

  “Sunny needs to see Fiona most of all.” Margaret bowed her head. “She has more right than I do.” She leaned against the wall, swallowing hard.

  Edward didn’t ask her to explain. “I’ll come get you when Fiona’s more stable and out of recovery.” He left her standing where she was and returned to the waiting room, calling Ian into the hall. As Edward explained, handing the gun over to him, Ian shoved it in a pocket and stared down the hall at her. As they locked gazes, all the emotion she’d restrained until now, broke free. Margaret slid down the wall landing roughly on her backside and broke into body shuddering sobs.

  FOR SIX DAYS, Margaret and Sunny stood vigil beside Fiona’s bed. They took turns getting away lon
g enough to wash up and shower, but they did so in the hospital, approved under special directions of Edwards. During her time away, Margaret made phone calls and set plans into motion if—when—Fiona was well enough to leave. It was predawn of the seventh day, Sunny slouched in the chair on the opposite side of the bed, when Margaret asked the question she’d been afraid to broach. She suspected the answer, but had no idea how a private, self-sufficient Sunny would respond. In truth, Margaret realized she let the opportunities to know Sunny and Fiona better take a backseat in her attempts to please Eldon and discouraged Jimmy.

  She focused on Sunny, who seemed to sense the attention and returned her gaze with the questioning one. When the silence dragged on, and Sunny’s inquisitive expression turned to a frown, Margaret asked, “Would you like to change your name officially?”

  Sunny’s frown turned into a suspicious squint. “Officially how? And to what?”

  Margaret squirmed in her seat until ready to answer. “As soon as Fiona’s ready, we’ll be leaving for Colorado. I have a friend who can assist in getting you a birth certificate with a new name.” She paused, inhaled and exhaled. “With the name of Sunny Cavanaugh. He can use Fiona’s information to make you her younger sister.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?” Sunny asked. She stared at Margaret suspiciously, but there was excitement in her posture as she straightened in her chair.

  “How will anyone know? I’m not going to tell.”

  “Josephine,” Sunny blurted.

  “Who?”

  “Sunny Josephine Cavanaugh. Josephine’s after an aunt who treated me good, before my parents took me away.”

  “So it’s okay? You don’t mind?” Margaret wanted to be certain. This was a life-altering step, after all.