The Canary Club

by Sherry D. Ficklin

  “I’m as good as I can be, considering,” I admit. Truthfully, other than the shoulder, I’m feeling better. “I doubt I’ll be singing any tunes in the next few days, but it no longer feels like I’m swallowing glass whenever I speak, so that’s an improvement.”

  He fiddles with his fedora on the table between us. “Might not be so bad, being married to Artie. He’s a decent-enough fella.”

  I raise one eyebrow. “Then maybe you should marry him.”

  He frowns. “You know what I mean.”

  “I do,” I say, sliding my tray of food away. “You tell me, what would you do if Daddy ordered you to marry someone? Because, much as I love June, you gotta know you aren’t far behind me on this train. Once he decided he can marry us off to cement alliances, it’s only a matter of time before he finds you a nice broodmare and puts a saddle on you.”

  He visibly flinches.

  “Oh, has he already?” I ask, leaning forward across the table.

  “He introduced me to Caroline Tate yesterday. She’s an heiress from England. Family’s in the lumber racket or something. Made it a point to tell me she’s worth a cool mil in dowry alone—not to mention what she stands to inherit when her old man passes.”

  “Oh, I’m sure June just loved that.” A guilty look creeps across his face and I reach across the table, slugging him in the arm. “You cad. You didn’t tell her.”

  He shrugs. “Nothing to tell, not yet anyway. But it’s different for me. I could marry the dumb Dora and still keep June on the side.”

  I fold my arms across my chest. We both know June would never agree to that, no matter how much she might be smitten with him. “Balderdash.”

  He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “You’re right. I have no intention of walking down the aisle with anyone but June. But I’m not sure we have a choice, Mas.”

  I bite my lip, debating mentioning Benjamin’s plan, but force myself to stay quiet. Because if it fails, then once Benny’s gone, once he’s safe, I’ve already decided I’m not going to be anyone else’s property, not ever again.

  “The town’s buzzing about opening night next week,” he says, turning the conversation away from my impending nuptials. “The mayor himself will be attending, not to mention a who’s who of Hollywood bigshots, city bosses, senators, and judges.”

  “Hey, you two, come check this out,” Benjamin says, interrupting us.

  We slide from the table, and he leads us toward the bar.

  “I designed it myself,” he says, motioning to a glass display of various colorful booze bottles. “JD, there’s a switch by the front door. Will you go flip it?”

  He nods and crosses the room, poking his head around the corner so he can still see us, then he hits the switch. In an instant, the whole case falls into the back of the bar, hiding all the bottles under what suddenly looks just like a long serving bar. He pulls a piece of wood forward, covering the case completely, as if it never existed.

  “Well, that’s swell,” JD offers with a whistle. “How do you bring it back up?”

  Benjamin points to a rope hanging near the exit. It looks like something to open and close the curtain affixed above it, but when he crosses to it and gives it a tug, the case swings back up and into place.

  “Well done,” I offer with a clap. “What other secret goodies have you added?”

  He waves his hand around the room. “Every booth has a secret exit, via a trap door in the floor, that leads to the basement and a rear tunnel. Not to mention the alarm at the door that can be sounded at the first sight of cops outside, giving us a decent head start on ditching the booze. You have to know the password to get the secret drink menu, and even then, at a glance, it will all appear very on the level.”

  JD, who has met up with us back at the bar, slaps him on the back. “Well done, truly. Dutch made a good choice, putting you in charge.”

  Benjamin nods once, turning to me formally. “Masie, it’s been lovely to have you here today to supervise. I hope to see you again tomorrow?”

  I almost balk at his formality, then I remember my guard is on the seat not three feet away, listening intently whilst pretending not to.

  “I have a lunch appointment, but I’m sure I can come by after,” I say, offering him my hand, which he kisses chastely.

  “I look forward to it. JD, I have a few questions about the ledger you gave me. Do you have a few moments to show me how to enter some things properly?”

  JD nods. “Of course. See you at dinner, sissy?”

  I put a hand to my forehead dramatically. “Actually, I’m feeling a bit faint with all the excitement. Think I’ll call it a night. Do extend my apologies?”

  “I will.”

  With that, I walk over and tap Thomas once on the shoulder. “I’m ready to go.”

  “Home?” he asks as we spill out into early evening, pulling my car door open for me.

  “I need to make a stop first,” I say, sliding in and closing the door myself.

  I close the heavy office door. It’s hidden behind a bookshelf, so once shut, it’s completely invisible to the club.

  “Oh, check this out,” I say, motioning JD to the far wall where a painting of a log cabin in a winter meadow hangs in a silver-and-white frame.

  With one hand, I pull it away from the wall, exposing a hinge and slit that when opened, allows us to look out over the stage.

  “Impressive,” he offers. “But that’s not really what you brought me in here for, is it?”

  Taking a deep breath, I replace the painting, rounding the antique mahogany desk and taking a seat in the high-back chair. Pulling open the top drawer, I retrieve the ledger and toss it on the desk.

  “I want to help Masie,” I say flatly. “I’m afraid that if I don’t…I’m afraid she’ll end up like your mother. Or worse.”

  At the mention of his mother, JD flinches. “What do you know about it?”

  Okay, time to lay my cards on the table. None of this works unless I can get JD on board. I need to make my pitch, and I need him to swing at it.

  “Masie took me to Rockford,” I admit. “She’s afraid she’s going to end up the same way. And if she’s forced into this marriage, I believe that she will.”

  Narrowing his eyes, JD takes the seat across the desk, crosses his legs, and draws a hand down his long face. “What do you want to do about it?”

  “She won’t leave, not so long as you and Dutch are here. She’s afraid for you, and for what Dutch will become if she does.”

  He nods, pursing his lips. “Dutch would never let her go. He’d hunt her to the ends of the earth and drag her back. And he’d eliminate anything or anyone who tries to take her from him.”

  I rake a hand through my hair. “I know. But I think I know a way that we can get you both out, and get Dutch out of the business, too.”

  “I’m not killing my old man,” he says, raising his chin defiantly.

  I hold up both hands. “No, I wouldn’t let anything like that happen. But what I need to know is, if I can manage it, if I can oust Dutch from the business, will you go? Or will you stay here and fight for him?”

  Leaning on one arm, he rubs his chin, contemplating his words carefully. “If something happened and Dutch wasn’t the boss anymore—if he were out of the game—then Masie and I would have to leave, for our own safety. He’d understand that. If, say, Lucky took over, we’d be viewed as a possible threat to his leadership. We’d have no choice but to go.”

  “And how would you feel about that?” I press.

  “I’m not gonna say I’d be heartbroken. Dutch will never trust me to run the show, that much is abundantly clear. And I’ve always wanted to go my own way—find my own niche. And besides, he’s already made it very clear he’s not gonna let me and June live our own lives. Getting outta this racket might be the best thing for both of us. ” He pauses, pointing at me. “Though if you tell him I said so, I’ll deny it. But I won’t move against him either. He’s still family. He’s still
blood.”

  “And I wouldn’t ask you to. Just to be clear.” I stand, pressing my palms into the warm, dark wood. “But I have to get her out of here. I have to get us all out of here. I can do it. I can get you and June somewhere safe, get Masie and my family clear of this, if you’ll help me. So can you be ready to move by opening night?”

  He snorts. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yeah, I can be ready. What do I have to do?”

  “I need help with one small thing, then you just be ready to go on my signal.”

  “What signal?” he asks.

  I sigh, righting myself. “Oh, you’ll know it when it happens.”

  We go over the plan for the better part of an hour before I hitch a ride with JD to the other club, where the evening’s festivities are in full swing. We sneak in through the rear entrance, passing the dressing rooms and spilling out onto the dance floor.

  Dutch is there, as expected, sitting at a table with Jack and Artie Berman as well as Alistair Rothchild. I cross the room at JD’s heels, and once at their table, Dutch stands.

  “If you gentleman will excuse me, I need to speak to Benny for a moment. JD, you join me as well.”

  Artie snickers, and a chill drives its way into my veins. I follow Dutch toward the back meeting room. Once inside, he waves me to the leather chairs nestled by the fireplace.

  “I received a disturbing report today, Benny. Seems Artie saw you cozying up to one of New York’s finest last night. You care to tell me what all that’s about?” I open my mouth, and he holds up a hand. “And you should know that if you lie to me, the punishment will be extremely severe.”

  “It’s a fella named O’Hara,” I say quickly. “The special prosecutor. He’s been on me since the day I got shot. They were following you, I guess. He and his partner came at me hoping to get the goods on you.”

  Dutch wrinkles his nose, helping himself to a glass of champagne from the ice chest hidden inside the antique globe beside his chair.

  “How many times have you met with him?”

  “He’s tracked me down three times. The first time at my place, the second a few weeks ago after I dropped Masie off, while you were in Chicago, then last night. He just showed up at my place.”

  “And what did he want?”

  I can’t help feeling he already knows all the answers to each question he’s asking—this is just some kind of test to see if I’ll lie. So I make up my mind that I won’t. No matter what.

  “You. Specifically, any information about you and your dealings. He inquired about a ledger. I told him I didn’t know anything, and he backed off, for a while at least.”

  He waves a hand at me. “Continue.”

  “Last night, he came with some bogus charge, said he’d throw my ma in jail and take the twins away unless I gave him something. And he’d do it; I know he would.”

  Dutch stares at me for a long moment, as if gauging my words before he speaks again. “And what did you do?”

  “I gave him the location of one of your warehouses. The smallest one, near the river, by the horse stalls. I had to give him something, but I knew it had nothing he could trace back to you, not really.” I pause, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I know I betrayed your trust. But I had to do something. He threatened my family.”

  “And the next time he threatened them? What would you do then?” He leans forward in his seat. “What piece of my business would you give away to save your own skin?”

  I shake my head. “I came here tonight to tell you, sir. I knew I was in over my head. But I didn’t want to come last night. I knew you’d be celebrating with your partners, so I came today as soon as I was finished at the club.” It’s a lie. I’d never intended to tell him, but I know I have to say something, have to convince him I’m still on his side for this plan to work.

  When JD speaks, drawing my attention to him for the first time during this interrogation, his lie is smooth and convincing. “I came by the club today. He had just told me what was happening. I told him to bring it to you directly, so here we are.”

  “Is that so?” Dutch says, sitting back. “Why don’t you give us a minute?” he says curtly.

  JD rises from his chair, grabs the bottle of champagne by the neck, and heads out the door. Once he’s gone, Dutch stands, rounding his chair and leaning against the back of it.

  “Benny, Benny. What am I going to do with you?”

  “I understand that I did wrong,” I say, trying to sound sufficiently humbled as I let my head hang. “I’m still adjusting to this life, sir. I’ve never been threatened by the cops before. But, of course, I’ll accept whatever punishment you see fit.”

  He groans. “Ah, applesauce, kid, why you gotta be sucha damn saint?”

  Now I’m sure I’ve misheard him. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “My daughter’s crazy about you, did you know that? She thinks she’s in love.” His words are like a bucket of cold water dousing me. Before I can protest, he continues. “I’ve seen it. I’m not blind—and I’m not stupid either. I’ve seen how she looks at you, and how you look at her. It’s a fool’s errand, love. Does nothing but awful things to a man. I let it go till now, figured it was harmless and that she’d get tired of you soon enough, but it seems I was mistaken.”

  “I wouldn’t know, sir. But I know Miss Masie is engaged to Artie. I know my boundaries, sir.” Another lie, another silver-tongue deception. I only hope he buys it.

  “Do you, now?” He snorts. “She loves you because she thinks you’re better than me—better than us. She knows your hands are still clean. But I think it’s time to change that.”

  If I weren’t scared stiff at his words, I’d scratch my head. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I’ve just gotten the go ahead from my business partners to eliminate a problem I’ve been having. You see, my former associate, Vincent Coll, recently came to me, demanding to be made an equal partner in the organization, or he’d go to the feds about certain work he’s done for me.”

  He doesn’t have to explain. It’s common knowledge that Coll is—or was—Dutch’s enforcer. He’d done more dirty work than half the trash men in New York, and he was, apparently, Masie’s childhood friend.

  “Needless to say, I’m not about to let this dumb mick take me down. The partners agree, he’s gotta be dealt with.”

  “Then why not just let the cops arrest him?”

  “Because, my boy, he’d flip on me in a hot minute. Can’t have that. So, instead, I want you to deal with him.”

  I hear his words, but it takes a moment for his order to really register. “Are you telling me to take him out?”

  He nods, splaying his hands. “You do this favor for me, and I’ll forget about your little rat session, and about the eye you’ve got on my daughter. You do this, and your hands are just as dirty as mine—no more risk of you turning on me, because I’d have the goods on you as well.”

  The air rushes from my lungs, the room growing uncomfortably hot.

  He continues. “And not to press the matter, but you gotta know that the first place he’ll hit me is through the people I care about.”

  “You mean Masie.”

  He nods again. I feel my eyebrows knit together in a deep frown. Hadn’t she said he wouldn’t hurt her? Is there a chance she could be wrong?

  “He’s already threatened her once. And now, with the engagement, she’s even more of a target.”

  The horror of what he’s saying hits me like a truck. Of course he’d have to move on Masie now, to prevent the families from joining forces, to dismantle their union and keep Dutch weak. If it goes through, then Dutch becomes practically untouchable—no matter what evidence he might have.

  As my mind works through all this, another thing hits me. He knew this would happen. He knew that by announcing the engagement, he’d be making Masie a target. He’d done it knowing—and not caring—about the danger it’d put her in. His own daughter.

  It’s everything I have not to lu
nge forward and deck him right in the face.

  Still, intentions aside, Masie is in danger, and I need to keep his trust for my plan to work. Finally, slowly, I stand.

  “Then I should get to it. Any idea where I might start looking for him?”

  Dutch grins, a hard, bitter smile that changes every feature on his face, twisting it into something cruel and barely human looking. “Try the penthouse. I’m sure he’ll show up there soon enough. And take your buddy Dickey. Trust me when I tell you not to underestimate Coll. He’s as devious as he is strong. You find him, you take him to Saint Raymonds, to the shed behind the cemetery. That’s where we do our work. I pay off a gravedigger who will add him into one of tomorrow’s burials.”

  Nodding once, I make my way out of the office, unable to stop myself from shooting Artie Berman a nasty glare as I pass by. Luckily, Dickey is at the bar chatting up a couple of shebas in fringed dresses.

  “Hey,” I say, approaching. “Dutch has a job for me, and I need your help.”

  The girls murmur their disappointment, and he bows gracefully. “Duty calls, girls.”

  We sit across the street from the penthouse for an hour as I explain my plan to Dickey. He whistles, shaking his head.

  “You are one crazy mook. You know that, Benny?”

  “I know,” I agree. “But I got no other play here.”

  Silence between us stretches across the dimly lit sidewalk. We stand in the alley, each of us with a back against one side of a building, watching down each end of the street. I’d already warned Rudy to keep the back entrance locked up tight, and Albert is in the garage keeping his own eyes peeled.

  Masie is already asleep, Rudy informed me, and I’d told him to let her rest. No need to worry her for maybe nothing.

  “You know, it means you’ll want to leave town too,” I say finally.

  He chortles. “Nah, you know me, Benny. This city’s in my blood.”

  “What will you do, then?”

  He curls his fingers like claws and swipes them through the air. “I’m like a cat. Nine lives and all.” Dropping his hands, he shrugs. “I’ll make nice with the Luciano’s, take a spot with them. They’ll protect me. It’s you I’m worried about.”