“Yes, Mr. Davies.”
Davies sat in a chair and let Horace detail his shoes. “Excellent.”
Gerry handed Horace the jacket. Horace slipped it over Davies’s arms and then pulled it over his shoulders. Davies buttoned it himself and Horace smoothed the lapels.
“Very nice, Mr. Davies,” said Gerry.
Davies looked down at Pearl. She flipped a page in her magazine.
“I still want you to join us for dinner. Then if you like you can take your sister to the movies.”
“I’m ready when you are,” she muttered as she continued to thumb through her Photoplay.
Davies glared at her. The room fell silent. “You’re not wearing that.”
Pearl put her free hand on her hip. “What’s the matter with this?”
“I’ve an important guest this evening. Do you think you could play the part of a lady for me? Now go to your room and find something decent to wear.”
Davies gestured to the chambermaid, who hustled Pearl down the hall. These modern American girls were so smart-mouthed, undisciplined, and fearless, a completely different animal than what he was used to back home. Pearl was a gift from an auto executive in Detroit who liked his girls a little wild. Davies was thinking what he needed was a more traditional girl, a girl who knew her place, a Canadian girl.
“Gerry, I’d like to go down and inspect the dining room. Have the wait staff meet me there in five minutes.”
“Yes, sir.”
Charlie got the door and Horace followed Gerry out.
It fell dead quiet in the suite. Davies let the silence hang for a minute. Charlie waited. Then the words came in hushed tones.
“Charlie.”
“Sir?”
“Pearl’s getting careless. She’s talking to the wrong people and drawing too much attention. Keep an eye on her for me and let me know by the end of the week what you think we should do about it.”
Davies circled Charlie and then stopped to look him straight in the eye. “Understand?”
Davies’ gaze was hot and penetrating. Charlie prided himself on being able to withstand anything his boss served up. Charlie was going to be his Number One.
“Yes, sir.”
Davies walked over to the cigarette case by the telephone. He squeezed it and it popped open. There was a photo of Pearl on the table.
“But honestly, Charlie, can you blame me?”
Charlie suppressed a smile. “No, sir.”
“Cigarette?”
“No, thank you.”
Davies eyed Charlie as he placed the cigarette in his mouth and lit it with a fancy tabletop lighter. The chambermaid reappeared from the hall.
“Will that be all, Mr. Davies?”
“Yes, Emma. Thank you.”
The chambermaid showed herself out and they were alone again.
“I can trust you, can’t I, Charlie?”
Charlie looked at his boss. He wondered where all this was coming from and where it was going. He knew Davies was putting together a big deal and things have been a bit tense lately, what with rumours of Jack McCloskey being back in town. But considering the small army that Davies was now able to command, there should be no worries.
“Of course, sir.”
Davies smiled. “Right.”
He walked over to the mirror and checked his tie. If this deal went through tonight, it would be the first step towards something truly great, something he couldn’t accomplish back in England or in Montreal. It was a way into America, and America was ready for him.
“I’m going downstairs to inspect the dining room. Order yourself some room service while I’m gone.”
Charlie nodded.
“And later on what would you say to the night off?”
“I wouldn’t say no, sir.”
“Jigsaw will be around, so will most of the others. And our friend from Detroit’s bringing his own people. Just make sure you’re back here by o-seven-hundred tomorrow. It’ll be a new day, Charlie.”
Davies closed the door behind him and Charlie stood there motionless for a couple minutes. Then he pressed his ear against the door and opened it slowly. He could see the dial above the elevator door counting down. Gerry and Olive would warn him if Davies was on his way back up.
“Yoo-hoo … Charlie!”
He walked over to the gramophone and dropped the needle on Club Royal Orchestra’s rendition of “The Sheik” and stopped at the credenza before heading down the hall. There was a bottle that still had a little brandy in it. He poured the liquor into him. It went down good.
“Where’s my desert flower?”
Pearl Shipley was writhing under the sheets of her canopy bed. She just loved the feeling of silk on her skin. When Charlie swung open the door she let out a gale of giggles. There were candles everywhere. It was all very romantic and inspired by the latest cinematic marvel, The Sheik’s Wife. Pearl had a mania for Arabia ever since Valentino rode onto the screen last year. She was always trying to get Charlie to participate in one of her little fantasies.
“Thought you could escape me, didn’t you?”
“Nope,” she said, “just playing hard to get.”
“Aw, Pearl, you ain’t that hard.”
“I ain’t easy, neither!”
When the music stopped she could hear her heart beating. Pearl watched his shadow move across the bed curtain. Then he pulled the curtain apart.
“Ah-hah!”
Pearl let out a yelp. The sheer size of Charlie always surprised her. He filled doorways.
He crept slowly across the massive bed, leaned over, and pinned her legs under his ribs. Pearl held the sheet up to her chin and trembled in an exaggerated way. They played a tug of war with it until she couldn’t grip it any longer and let it snap out of her fingers.
Pearl covered her eyes with the backs of her hands and pretended to faint. Charlie pulled the sheet down slowly, watching intently as Pearl’s body revealed itself — the soft, rounded belly and the smooth white thighs. The sight of Pearl’s nakedness never ceased to amaze him. He thought she looked perfect, “more perfect than the girls in the movies,” he liked to say. Pearl loved hearing that.
When the sheet reached her knees he yanked it off with the flourish of a vaudeville magician. He drank in her beauty and then picked up one of her tiny feet. It wasn’t much larger than his hand. He kissed it. She wiggled her toes but still kept quiet. When he tickled the bottom she burst out laughing and tossed a pillow at his head. Looking down at her again he saw her biting her lip and fluttering her eyelids.
Charlie slid his braces off his shoulders and let his trousers drop. He almost fell over trying to kick his shorts off.
“Why don’t you blow out those candles before we burn the place down?”
Tiny plumes of smoke rose from each extinguished flame. Pearl sunk back and soaked it all in — the warm, fuzzy feeling from the champagne, the hot humid air, the smell of the candles, and the tingling between her thighs. She purred like a kitten, Charlie’s kitten.
He didn’t feel as guilty now that he knew his boss wanted to dump her. But how could he make Pearl his without rubbing the boss the wrong way? And more importantly, could he ever afford to keep a girl like Pearl?
— Chapter 26 —
COMING AND GOING
Clara opened the door for McCloskey and he pushed right past her to get to Fields.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
Fields was collapsed on the chesterfield. McCloskey didn’t wait for him to get up.
“Last night you told me the Lieutenant’s boss was operating out of the Border Cities. What you forgot to mention was that he was Richard Davies.”
Clara turned to her brother. “You knew? Why didn’t —”
McCloskey wasn’t finished. “I thought you were letting me wander into the lion’s den, and I didn’t care. But now I’m thinking it was more like you were sending me in do your dirty work for you.”
&n
bsp; That got Fields’ blood moving. “Hey, I fight my —”
“You don’t want to go up against that kind of power, the kind of power a crusader cop and upstanding citizen like yourself bows down to every day.”
Fields tried to get up but then sat back down before he fell down. For as alive as he was right now, he felt like that bullet might as well have gone straight through his head. McCloskey continued kicking.
“You were counting on me to quickly make the connection and take out Davies, and why not? I got nothing to lose, not like you. You’re on the right side of the law, the right side of the tracks, the right side of everything, aren’t you, Henry? Davies’ cleanup crew has been tearing through the city ever since he arrived. You turned a blind eye at first because they were only killing their own — people like my pa, Billy, and Mo Lesperance.”
Clara let out a little gasp. “Lesperance is dead?”
McCloskey turned to Clara. “Yeah, and with the full cooperation of Ojibway’s finest.”
The stench of corruption. McCloskey held it right under Fields’ nose.
“So has your opinion changed now that you’ve seen how easily you and Clara can be targeted, now that there is no right or wrong side? Honestly, Henry, I can’t figure out if you’re naïve or just plain stupid.”
Clara kept eyeing her brother. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised at his behaviour any more, but she was. To naïve and stupid she would add conniving and two-faced. McCloskey started pacing the room. Fields sat with his eyes closed and his hand bracing the side of his head.
“No,” confessed Fields, “I didn’t tell you everything. Neither did I have a plan. I just knew that if I added you to the mix, something was bound to happen, and it might lead to an opportunity for me and the other boys.”
He gave a heavy sigh and then spilled. He explained how Davies had wasted no time establishing himself in the city, winning over the chief of police, a good portion of city council, and a number of key businessmen. Old allegiances broke down and new ones were forming. Cops were talking about left and right, black and white, red and Richard Davies. He said that for Davies bootlegging was a means to an end rather than an end in itself, though Fields wasn’t exactly sure what exactly that end might be. McCloskey told Fields what Jigsaw said about the coal strike. Fields’ eyes went wide.
A knock at the door cut the conversation. McCloskey instinctively receded into the room.
“Are you expecting someone?” he said.
Fields straightened up. “It’s Locke.”
“What?”
“He’s in the pro-Davies camp, so don’t even mention his name, all right?”
“Jesus, Henry.”
“Trust me.”
Clara answered the door. Locke was in uniform. He almost drew his weapon when he saw McCloskey.
“Whoa,” said Fields and raised a hand.
“What’s he doing here?” asked Locke.
“It seems we have a common enemy,” said Fields and then he looked to McCloskey to jump in.
McCloskey felt like Fields had just pushed him into a corner. He had to think fast, and he had to make this work.
“The Lieutenant,” he said. “He had my father and brother taken out last night. Apparently I was supposed to be part of that takedown, but something somewhere went wrong for them.”
Locke must have felt the same. He was clearly uncertain. McCloskey continued to improvise.
“They know I’m not going to walk away without a fight. But when it’s over I’ll leave the Border Cities for good, peacefully.”
“We’re laying old grievances to rest, Tom,” said Fields. “We need to work together if we’re going to get through this.”
Locke was still hesitating. Fields asked McCloskey to excuse them and then led Locke into the dining room for a heart to heart. He would have to leave out mention of Davies. That was okay; Fields knew what angle to play.
“Look at this as an opportunity for us to change things, Tom. We help McCloskey take down his old outfit and there’s a good chance they’ll take down the dirt we have on the force with them.”
Locke liked the idea but felt there was still a lot at stake. He would agree only if they’d make McCloskey the fall guy should anything go wrong.
“Okay,” said Fields. He was expecting that. He wanted Locke to make the demand so that he felt like he was getting something for his troubles. The two cops went back into the front room. Fields gave McCloskey the nod.
“Now,” said Fields, “what did you learn from the good doctor?”
“He’s not a real doctor.”
“My aunt could have told you that.”
“I know. His lawyer stopped his mouth before I could get anything else out of him.”
“Lawyer?”
“Arrived minutes after we did. Somebody must have called from the jail.”
“So we’ve got nothing.”
“Not quite.”
Locke pulled a photo from his breast pocket and handed it to Fields. “This him?”
“Look familiar?”
“I think so.”
“He was at the Elliott.”
Fields was still trying to sort out the morning’s events. It was coming back to him slowly, one piece at a time and in no particular order. “Yeah, he ran right past me.”
“Was he the one that shot you?” asked Clara.
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you remember the photo I showed you last week?” asked Locke.
“The guy you followed from the Prince Edward?” said Fields.
“Yeah.”
“It’s the same guy.”
Fields studied the photo a little closer. Locke filled in McCloskey, gave him the nickel version.
“A bootlegger I was shadowing met up with this guy in the picture a few days ago and passed him a thick envelope. I followed him to the Prince Edward. He resurfaced about an hour later, got back in his car and headed out to Riverside. He pulled into a waterfront property, opposite Belle Isle.”
“Whose?”
“Belongs to a businessman from Detroit. He rents it out in the summer months. That’s all I’ve been able to gather.”
“We should check it out,” said McCloskey.
“We?” said Locke.
“Yeah, me and you.”
“This is a police matter, McCloskey.”
McCloskey knew how Locke operated. “Will you be wearing your uniform? Carrying a badge?”
All eyes went to Locke, who swallowed bitterly.
“I thought as much,” said McCloskey. “Meet me outside the British-American at ten tonight. We’ll take my car.”
Fields slumped back in the chesterfield. He needed to get some rest. And McCloskey needed to get away from Locke. Clara came to the rescue.
“Jack, don’t you owe me dinner?”
“There’s an idea,” said Fields. “Tom can stay with me.”
Fields hated the idea of his sister going around with McCloskey. He told himself that after tonight there would be no need for him, that if everything worked out the way he envisioned, McCloskey and his kin would soon be a distant memory and he could have his life and his city back.
“We’ll see you later then,” said McCloskey.
“Right,” said Locke.
Clara kissed her brother’s cheek. “Take it easy, Henry.”
McCloskey walked Clara to a speakeasy over on Wyandotte. It was in the basement of a tailor’s shop and the entrance was off the alley. The owner knew McCloskey from way back and sat them at a good table.
“I think Henry’s warming up to you.”
McCloskey took a sip from his teacup. “Don’t be fooled. Politics makes strange bedfellows. I know he’s just using me to get what he wants.”
“Does it matter if you both want the same thing?”
“Maybe we don’t.”
“You mean you’re not going after Davies?”
McCloskey set down his cup. “Last night you were telling me that I’d alread
y lost the battle and should just leave town with my tail between my legs. What gives?”
Bodies were crammed in the speakeasy. The humid air was thickened with cigar smoke. Clara downed her whisky.
“Nothing.”
“No, you’ve seen the man that gave the order. Now an eye for any eye doesn’t seem like such a crazy idea.”
Clara tapped her spoon on the side of her teacup and a man wandering among the tables with a porcelain teapot came over and filled it. McCloskey dropped some more change on a saucer.
“What would you be avenging?” asked McCloskey. “It wouldn’t be Billy. And what would Davies’ death mean to you?”
Clara took a sip from her cup. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
She sighed. “I’ve never had Billy or you all to myself. You arrived at my door with all your baggage, which included Billy, the war, bootlegging, and the law. You both disappear, leaving me at the side of the curb, and then you reappear with, well, whatever all this is.”
She took another drag on her cigarette. “A girl can’t hardly have a life of her own; she has to find a man to have it with, and you men got these crazy lives and everything always has to be so goddamn complicated.”
“You’re drunk.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Well, you’re not making any sense. You want me to hunt down Davies because you can’t find a man that can hold a regular job, sit by the radio with you at night, and take you and your mother out for brunch on Sundays.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“That’s what I heard.”
They cooled for a moment.
“Well?” Clara said. “Are you going after Davies or aren’t you?”
McCloskey glanced over Clara’s shoulder at the happy faces swilling rye. As far as blind pigs go, it was one of the better ones in town.
“No.”
That was only sort of a lie.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m supposed to be going after the Lieutenant.”
“Huh?”
“There’s this guy in the outfit, and he’s got ambitions. He wants me to meet up with the Lieutenant tonight at the pool hall and ice him.”
Riverside Drive: Border City Blues Page 15