A noise behind me draws my attention. Butler is sweeping up the glass from the floor. He pauses, a look of concern crossing his wizened face. He’s not an old fella, but he’s probably Dutch’s age, stout with dark hair, glasses, and a thick brown moustache.
I motion to her. “Passed out cold. Can you show me where her room is so I can lay her down?”
He looks from me to her, then nods. “This way, sir.”
He leads me down the long hallway to the room at the very end and pushes the door open. Stepping inside is like stepping onto a cloud. Everything is pristine white, from the thick fur rug at my feet to the lace valances to the white lilies in a white vase beside her bed. After laying her carefully across the fluffy white pillows, I take a step back. She rolls onto her side, murmuring something I can’t make out.
Turning to the butler, who is carefully turning down the lamps, I gesture to the white chair beside the window. “Mind if I stay here, keep an eye on her till JD gets home?”
His stern mouth twitches, but he shrugs. “I suppose so. But keep the door open.”
“Will do, pal. Ah, say, what’s your name?”
“Rudolpho, sir.”
“That’s a mouthful. Mind if I call you Rudy?”
He looks as if I’ve slipped a plate of rotten eggs under his nose, but simply says, “As you will, sir,” before leaving.
The room is dark, but my eyes adjust quickly to the sliver of pale moonlight slithering in from the window behind me. I stare at Masie, counting each rise and fall of her chest until my eyelids grow heavy. Can I really let her keep the truth about her attack a secret? And if I do come forward, what does that mean for my position here? I still need this job to take care of Ma and the twins. Clearly, Masie isn’t just a pretty, spoiled rich girl. Maybe her life is more terrible and complicated than I gave her credit for. But what can I do about it? Her regular guard will be back soon and I’ll be off doing whatever job Dutch throws at me next. My life will go back to normal then, right?
The real question, the one doing laps inside my skull, is much harder to answer.
How can I protect someone who won’t let me?
A hand on my shoulder jerks me from my slumber. Blinking, I lean forward in the chair.
“What is it, Rudy?” I ask, my body waking quickly as adrenaline floods my veins.
“Someone to see you, sir.”
“Me?”
He nods.
I follow him out into the hall, one hand twitching, ready to draw my weapon at a moment’s notice. A familiar mop of blond hair greets me.
“Tommy?” I say, relaxing just a bit. “What are you doing here?”
He rushes into my arms. It’s only then that I notice his face, red and tearstained. “It’s Agnes,” he says, the words rushing from him so fast I can barely catch them. “She got real sick last night. I couldn’t wake her up, and she was moaning. Ma called an ambulance. She’s in the hospital now. She needs you.”
“Where is she?” I ask, retrieving my jacket and hat from the rack beside the door.
He sniffles, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “Booth Memorial.”
I’m about to step out the door when Masie calls out. “Give me a minute to dress. I’m coming with you.”
Looking at her over my shoulder, I wave her off. “No. You stay here. I don’t have time to wait.”
She shifts her hands to her hips. “You’re supposed to be guarding me, remember? Besides, we’ll take my car. It’ll save more than the time it would take you to get a trolley or a cab. Two minutes.” Turning to Rudy, she orders, “Call down for the car. Have it out front in two minutes.”
And with that, she heads back down the hall.
I practically growl. “Two minutes.”
Rudy makes a quick call downstairs, then disappears into the kitchen. Just when I think he’s vanished entirely, he returns with a basket of muffins, cheese, and some apples. Bowing, he hands the basket to Tommy. “Ran all the way here, did you? You must be famished. Why don’t you take this for you and your mother?”
“Thanks, mister,” Tommy says, accepting the food like it’s made of gold.
Just as I’m about to shout my intention to leave without her, Masie glides back into the room. She’s changed into a snappy white pantsuit and matching cloche hat. By some miracle, the bruise riding the side of her face is all but invisible—no doubt hidden by copious amounts of powder and rouge. She grabs her hand bag and strides to the door, which Rudy hastily opens.
I have to admit her sudden change of attire surprises me. Gone is the flirty ingénue show she puts on for the club crowd. Replacing her is a sophisticated, well-bred lady to match any deb or socialite. It’s Tommy who draws me from my momentary stupor as he takes my hand, pulling me through the door and into the elevator.
We pile into the back of the town car and race off to the hospital. Along the way, Tommy recounts being woken from his sleep by Agnes gasping for air, how Ma had panicked and called an ambulance, and how, by the time they arrived, Agnes’ eyes had rolled back in her head and her lips had gone blue.
We arrive at the hospital in good time, thanks to the extremely early hour giving us mostly clear streets. The sun is just rising over the towering skyscrapers as we head inside and Tommy leads us to her room.
As soon as she sees me, Ma rushes forward, pulling me into her arms. She smells of oysters and stale cigarettes, telling me the stress had made her pick up the habit again.
“What did the doc say?” I ask, peering through the white curtain at Aggie, who looks impossibly small and pale in the bed, a tall tank with various tubes and hoses feeding into a large tent with a clear window that covers her head and shoulders.
“The infection is in her lungs. They are trying everything, but the specialist can’t make it in until tomorrow.” Her voice breaks, fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she clutches me. “They don’t expect her to make it through the night.”
Behind me, I hear Masie’s footsteps wander off—no doubt giving us some privacy. Tommy takes a seat across the hall and digs into one of the muffins from the basket.
I hold Ma, rubbing her back and soothing her as best I can before she lurches away, her hands running down my sides and finding the lump of metal strapped there.
“Benjamin Elias Fleischer, are you carrying…” She leans forward, dropping her voice but with her blue eyes still drilling into me. “A gun?”
I sigh, taking her hands in mine. “Yes, Ma. Just something small, for protection.”
“Protection from what?” she fumes. “What have you gotten yourself into?”
“It’s my fault, I’m afraid,” Masie offers sweetly. I hadn’t heard her return, but she was barely a foot from me. Ma cocks her head, squinting her eyes at the response. “My father is out of town, and he hired Benjamin to look after me while he’s away. The gun is for my protection.”
Ma sniffles, straightening herself and wiping the tears from her face. “And you are?”
Masie steps forward, holding out one gloved hand. “Masie, ma’am. Masie Schultz.”
Hesitantly, Ma accepts her greeting. “My Benjamin is a good boy. He doesn’t need any trouble,” she says sternly.
Masie smiles, and the first cracks appear in Ma’s rigid expression. “Of course not, we certainly aren’t expecting any. But my father has a better-safe-than-sorry policy. He only hired Benjamin because of his quick thinking and trustworthiness.” Dropping her shoulder, she opens her purse and withdraws a small silver flask. “I don’t normally approve of this sort of thing, but you certainly look like you might need a little something to calm your nerves. And my butler sent some food as well. You must be starving.”
With a deep sigh, Ma offers her a light shrug. “Perhaps just a little something—for my nerves. And a bit of food sounds wonderful.”
Masie discreetly passes her the flask. Ma heads over to where Thomas is sitting, plucking an apple from the basket.
Once she’s out of earshot, I mutter, “Is there a
nyone you can’t charm the wool off?”
Masie smirks. “If there is, I have yet to meet them. And that includes the kind orderly who is about to personally drive to Albany and retrieve the specialist. He should be back with him by about two o’clock this afternoon.”
I blink, processing her words. “How did you—?”
She waves me off. “Benjamin, with the right amount of dough, anything is possible.”
I shake my head. “I can’t…”
“Of course you can, and you will. In the meantime, I’m going to sneak down to the shop and grab a few magazines to keep me occupied. Should I bring you some coffee?”
“I don’t know how I’m ever going to be able to repay you for this, but I will. I swear I will.”
Touching my arm gently, Masie drops her voice even further. “I’m sorry about last night. I was badly shaken and edged to boot.”
“It’s fine,” I assure her. “We can talk about it later.”
Glancing over her shoulder at Ma and Thomas, she smiles, pats me once on the chest, and struts off, saying nothing more.
The ward is lined with beds on the left, with chairs and a large nurse’s station on the right. Each bed is separated by hanging curtains. A few are closed, but most are open, the beds empty. I slip into Aggie’s room and take a seat on the stool next to her bed. The machine whirrs as it pumps oxygen into her tent. She struggles to take it in, wheezing from deep within her chest loudly enough that I hear it despite the other noise. There’s an IV poking out of her tiny little arm and I take her hand, careful not to graze the tube.
“Sweet Aggie, I need you to be strong. Be strong for just a little longer,” I whisper, winding my fingers through hers.
I sit with her for some time, watching the rise and fall of her chest, listening to the dull droning of the machine. I’m not sure how much time passes, but I start to nod off, jerking awake each time my head begins to fall. A hand on my shoulder makes me jump.
“Benjamin,” Ma whispers, rubbing my back. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”
Stretching, I shake my head. “No, I want to be here.”
“You’re no good to anyone if you can’t even keep your eyes open. Go rest. I’ll stay here. Take Tommy home too. He could use a nap.”
She jerks her head to where Tommy has fallen asleep, stretched across two chairs with his head in Masie’s lap. Masie absently runs her fingers through his hair with one hand and holds an open magazine with the other.
“Go,” Ma urges again.
Capturing her hand, I kiss it gently. “Alright. Just for an hour. And if anything happens…”
She nods. “I’ll telephone.”
Rolling my head to the sides, I crack my neck, then puff out my chest to do the same to my stiff back before rising and making my way to Tommy and Masie. She closes the magazine with a flick and looks up at me.
“I’m gonna take you and Tommy home. JD’s probably back by now, so you won’t be alone.”
She nods, so I scoop Tommy off the chairs and into my arms.
“Drop me at home, then Albert will take the two of you home with the car,” she says. By now, I know better than to argue.
“Thank you.”
When we arrive back at the penthouse, I leave Tommy snoozing in the car with Albert and walk Masie upstairs. As I’d hoped, JD is home having an early lunch with June on the terrace. I peek outside, my hat in my hands.
“JD, do you have a minute?”
He nods and waves me over. June is busy spreading butter across a slice of nearly burnt toast, taking only a moment to look up and acknowledge me with a smile.
“Morning, Benny,” she chirps though it’s nearly noon. “I hear you had a wild night.”
For a moment, my heart leaps into my throat. Had someone found out about Masie’s attack?
JD laughs. “Yes, Benny managed to take down a waiter who was stealing from the club. Dutch will be quite pleased when he gets back.”
I sigh, relief flooding me. “Glad to help. But, um, I have a family emergency. I have to go today.”
JD sets down his fork and leans back in his chair. Masie floats onto the terrace and takes a seat next to him. “His little sister is in the hospital, poor thing. Very ill. I told Benjamin to take the day to be with his family. I’ll spend the day with you, dear brother, if that’s alright?”
JD frowns, raking his hand through his slicked-back hair. “Yes, of course you should go, Benny.” He jerks his head toward Masie. “I will keep the monster on a leash today.”
Grinning, he turns toward her. She sticks her tongue out at him, then announces, “And I will be an absolute brat.”
“So, like every other day, then?” JD digs, tossing a bit of cheese at her.
They share a laugh. For a moment, I imagine Tommy and Agnes, grown and teasing each other across the breakfast table. It draws an ache from deep within my chest.
“Do let me know how it goes today,” Masie requests, the smile dissolving from her face.
“I will,” I say, turning on my heel and heading for the front door. I wave to Rudy. He offers me a slight nod as I make my way back to the car.
Albert takes us to our tenement building, and Tommy wakes just as we hit the curb. Both of us groggy, we walk up the four flights of stairs into the house. Stripping of his shoes, socks, and jacket as he walks, Tommy heads to the bedroom. Knowing I must be a bit more careful, I slide out of my holster, hang my coat to cover it, pull my suspenders down off my shoulders, and strip off my shirt, hanging it as well. Only then do I flop onto the couch, stretch out, and close my eyes.
The sound of fists beating against the front door stirs me from my sleep. A glance at the clock tells me it’s nearly three o’clock. Mentally cursing myself, I throw on my shirt and amble toward the door.
They beat again.
“Hold your horses, I’m coming,” I grumble, fully expecting it to be the landlord looking for rent.
I throw the door open. Two men I’ve never seen before stand across from me. One in black slacks, a white shirt, and a black-and-white striped tie, the other in a long trench coat and grey suit with matching hat.
“Are you Benjamin Fleischer?” the one in the striped tie asks, drawing his black jacket back to reveal the gun holstered at his side.
“I am,” I say, drawing in a deep breath. Both men are clean shaven, the man in black obviously the younger of the two, and something about them makes me clench my jaw.
“I’m Detective Dewey,” the trench-coat fella says, introducing himself. He holds out a friendly hand, which I shake cautiously. The other offers no such formality.
“And I’m William O’Hara from the office of the special prosecutor. We’d like to speak with you for a moment.”
“So, Benjamin busted your waiter skimming?” I ask, taking a sip of badly needed coffee.
Beside me, JD bristles. “Don’t know what you’re implying…”
“Oh, please,” I say, saucer in hand. “I’m not implying anything. You’ve been skimming off the club for months. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
JD folds the day’s paper and lays it in his lap. “Have you said anything to Dutch?”
I blow gently across the top of my cup before taking another sip. “Of course not.”
“So, this is extortion, then? What do you need, Mas?”
I lower my cup, setting it aside with a clank. “I want to keep Benjamin on as my guard.”
JD glares at me. “You are playing with fire, sister.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I say, feigning offense.
“Why can’t you just neck in the back of cars with college boys like the other dames do?”
“This isn’t a romantic request.”
He rolls his eyes. Sometimes, when he looks at me like that, I see so much of Daddy in him that my chest aches with it. “Of course it is. You’ve got a soft spot for Benny, and you want to keep him close. I’ve seen the way you look at him—and the way he looks at you.�
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“And I suppose you’re going to tell me not to bed the help? Don’t worry, Zelda already covered that lesson.”
Reaching over, he pats my hand. “Dear sister, I honestly couldn’t care less. I’m perfectly happy to let you be perfectly happy. Dutch, on the other hand, well, I doubt he’d take it that well. I’m just saying to be careful.”
I grin. “So you’ll help me?”
“If you’ll keep your mouth shut about my extra income, then yes. But be aware that Dutch has big plans for you, and living happily ever after with some boy from the wrong side of town is not a part of that picture.”
I sigh. It’s nothing I don’t already know, of course, but it’s frustrating all the same. “You know, there’s something deeply unsettling about not having a say in your own life.”
JD clicks his tongue, returning to his paper reading. “Tell me about it.”
“If you could do anything, go anywhere, what would you do, JD?”
Folding the corner down to look at me, he smiles. “I’d like to head west, to Nevada. There are some people making plans for that dust bowl. I’d take June and settle out that way, maybe start up a racket of my own. What about you? Hollywood bound?”
“College first, but then maybe acting. I do love being on stage, though I think it might be better if I didn’t come home every night wet with a drink some schmuck spilled on me, smelling like booze and cigarettes. Or maybe just something quiet, a little house on the ocean, a couple of kids. Honestly, I haven’t thought about it in a really long time.”
“Well, that’s probably for the best. Because I don’t need some nickel fortune teller to know where we’re gonna end up. We’re here till we die, Mas. No sense dreaming otherwise.”
Without waiting for an invitation, O’Hara pushes his way into the living room, his beady eyes scanning the apartment. Beneath his black fedora, hair a startling shade of red pokes out around the edges, matching freckles riding across his nose and beneath his eyes.
The Canary Club Page 13