Wooden Nickels: White Lightning Series, Book 1
Page 22
“Aye…I do,” she grumbled. “Which is why it’s a secret. And it’s my secret.” She pointed at Raymond. “He doesn’t know.”
“That a fact?” Vincent mused. “I guess it’s easy to pull the wool over someone’s eyes if you can do what you do.”
“It was easy. Until you came along.” She shook her head. “I know what you want with Doc Freedman. You want to recruit him, whatever you call it. But if he truly exists out there somewhere, I need him. I won’t help you. You can keep your hundred dollars. We’re done.”
Vincent smirked. “You need him? Or his magic potion?”
“One comes with the other, doesn’t it?”
“So, what? You’re going to steal it from him?”
She jabbed her stick at him. “I’m not like you. I don’t just take. I’ll trade for it.”
“Trade? With what?”
“I have money.”
“Not much,” Vincent said. “You’d have more if you worked for us proper-like. Enough to buy this elixir, if you need it so bad. Though you look healthy enough.”
“It’s not for me, you thick gobshite. It’s for…” She swallowed her words, her face turning red.
“It’s for someone you know? Someone close to you?” Vincent asked, not really liking the direction his thoughts were taking on this.
She glared at him with venom. “You’ll have to drop this time pinch eventually, else it’ll eat through your insides.”
He chuckled. “Ah. Good to hear it’s not just me, then. Well, I’ll tell you something, Hattie Malloy. This little time pinch is cheaper than most. It small, contained, just big enough for the other two. Which means I can keep this up for a while before I get the twist.”
“So, I’m a hostage now?”
“I want to talk this out,” he urged. “Like adults.”
“Then talk.”
“Alright, here’s the skinny. I have to find a pincher for Vito Corbi. That’s my task. My purpose. Capo Vito is a fair man, but his patience won’t last forever. The sooner I find a free pincher to join up with the Crew, the happier Vito will be. Which will pay off for yours truly. Now, you don’t have to be that pincher. Right? I just need any pincher. It could be this Freedman.”
She sniffed. “Your point?”
He paced a few steps. “I realize all this changes things. But you still have the knowledge I need. Knowledge of the Bay and its backwaters. I think you’re the best person to help me find Freedman. And if we can work together with our powers, more’s the better.”
“You want me to help you enslave another pincher? You can’t be serious.”
“It’s not slavery!” he shouted before calming himself. “It’s meaning.”
“Tell me something, Vincent Calendo. If you didn’t want to find another pincher for your masters, could you say no?”
He pursed his lips.
She sneered. “You don’t have a choice, do you?”
“You have to understand—”
“I don’t think you understand. You’re trapped in this errand. And you want to trap someone else along with you. Forget it.”
Vincent crossed his arms, stared at the ground, then set his jaw as he looked up at her. “No.”
“No?”
“No,” he repeated.
Hattie wagged her head. “What do you mean, ‘no’? It’s decided. I won’t help you. You can keep me in this bubble of time only so long. I’ll wait it out. And then I’m gone.” She added with a squint, “And maybe my illusions don’t work on you, but they do work on your friend, there. I can make him see anything I like. Horrible things. Maybe even see you pointing a gun at him. He may have to defend himself.”
Vincent stared at the rocks.
Hattie concluded, “So don’t think this time pinch will stop me. Eventually, I’ll get myself away from you, and you’ll never see me again.”
Vincent replied, “Maybe so. But I know who you work for. Lizzie Sadler, right? Over by Locust Point? She does business exclusively with the Crew. That’s because all she does is run booze down the Bay. And that doesn’t happen without our knowing about it. If the Crew were to decide she was a liability, what do you think would happen?”
Hattie stared daggers through Vincent.
He continued with a nod to Raymond. “What would happen to him? He’s got a little boy now, right? You don’t think he needs his job now more than ever?”
“Are you threatening my friends?”
Vincent pointed at Lefty. “You threatened mine. I suppose this is how pinchers negotiate.”
Hattie fumbled over words for a moment.
Vincent felt a stab of guilt. This wasn’t the way he’d wanted this conversation to go. There had to be a way to turn it around, backpedal from all the threats.
“I didn’t want to start a fight,” he said. “I’m offering you something: A life of means in the city, working for the Crew, or a hundred dollars and my fondest wishes if you help me find Doc Freedman. You come out ahead both ways. Only way you lose is if you shine me off.”
Hattie hissed, “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
She tossed her stick toward the fire. It stuck in midair. As he watched her, Vincent felt a spasm in his stomach. It was a tiny cramp, nothing enormous, but the time pinch was definitely making itself known. This conversation would have to end sooner rather than later. Vincent reached for the stick and set it onto the ground at a specific angle. “It was here.”
“If I help you find this water pincher, you’ll leave Lizzie and Raymond be?” Hattie asked, her voice choked.
“On my word.”
“Your word means little to me,” she snapped.
“Then I swear by Calvin goddamn Coolidge.”
“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Hattie rolled her eyes.
His face hardened. “Funny.”
She sighed, then extended a hand. “Right, then. We have a new arrangement.”
Vincent peered at her hand, then took it cautiously. She might still try something, but at least she didn’t have a weapon anymore.
Hattie gave his hand one tug, then whipped her fingers in the air. “Fine. Now pull this down.”
Vincent said, “You’ll need to go back where you were.”
“What?”
He pointed at the spot near the dirt where she’d been rooting for worms. “You were over there.”
“So?”
“So,” he replied, “it’s jarring to be one place, then another when the pinch comes down. Trust me. I’ve done this my whole life. You learn how to keep track of who was where and such.”
Hattie shook her head, then turned back for the grass.
Vincent urged, “A little further, and crouch back down.”
She complied with a huff.
Satisfied that Hattie was positioned more or less where she wouldn’t call attention, he returned to his spot and snapped his fingers.
The fire snapped and crackled as the log settled in the flames.
Vincent turned to Lefty. “Thanks.”
Hattie went back to digging for worms, while Vincent watched her carefully. He wasn’t sure how this was going to play out. He was absolutely certain that she trusted him even less than before, but at least he knew what she was, now.
A free pincher.
She was right there. This whole search for Doc Freedman could end right now, and he’d have what Vito wanted. He’d return a hero.
But it didn’t feel right. Besides, she was a spitfire and hell-bent on rubbing Vincent raw. Having her in the Crew would be an unceasing headache, no matter how useful her skills would be. She’d never accept it. She wasn’t raised in the service of the mob. No, this girl had lived an entire life outside of the family—out here, on the Bay.
Hattie stood up and turned toward the water. She lifted her hand and shouted to Raymond, “Got four big ones.”
Vincent examined her face. It was well-practiced, blithe and smiling. But there was an edge to her eyes.
With any luck, Doc Freedman would be more open to negotiation. Although he should probably polish his sales pitch a bit more between here and there…wherever there would be.
Chapter 19
The two gangsters stood forward of the engine house, while Hattie haunted the bench behind Raymond. She balled up as much rage as she could manage without exploding into tiny pieces, silently fuming while Raymond piloted the boat south. The sun was setting, and soon the evening hours would capture the Bay. That meant boats that were out for legitimate business would dock, and the passengers would either go home, or would hunker down for a night of booze, gambling, or perhaps even reading. The timing was right for their purposes, but Hattie didn’t care a lick about whether it was sunrise or sunset.
She’d been found out by the Crew’s pincher. And when it came down to it, he’d let her know that she was in his grasp, regardless of whether she chose to join or not. Help him enslave another free pincher, or doom all of her friends in the world to financial ruin…and possibly a late-night visit from a man with a gun. No way out. No clear course. She had to play his game, or he’d end her world.
That sort of power was obscene.
Raymond shot her a look, then nodded to her. “You okay, over there?”
“I’m starving to death, is what I am,” she deflected. “If you’d caught at least one fish, maybe I wouldn’t waste away.”
“Can it,” he grumbled. “Tide’s high. Fish won’t bite when they got a tide over their heads.”
She bit down on her lip, still on a slow simmer.
Raymond asked, “What’s next?”
“Kent Island,” she replied. “Long Narrows Wharf.”
“Oyster boats don’t let in at Narrows.”
“This isn’t an oyster boat,” she replied. “It’s a trawler.”
Raymond cocked a brow, then leaned in. “Why’d you tell these clowns it was an oyster boat, then?”
“Because,” she whispered, “I don’t trust them.”
“We’re getting paid, right?”
“Yes,” she said. “Fifty-fifty, like we discussed.”
“So, why are you givin’ them the business?”
Hattie held a hand to her forehead. “Things are just…we’re still negotiating.”
Raymond’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, as long as I get my fifty bucks, I’m gonna go where you tell me to go. You can get twisted up about it all you like.”
She smiled. Oh, to have his simple take on the situation. All he needed to do was drive the boat. He didn’t have anyone’s livelihoods hanging on his shoulders.
Kent Island wasn’t far from the Chester, and they’d made it to Long Narrows Wharf before the last of the sunlight had faded into a dark cobalt overhead. The wharf sported several piers with nice, solid moorings. Raymond and Hattie made quick work securing the boat, and before long all four passengers were standing on solid ground. Or rather…solid planks.
“Alright,” Hattie announced to the group. “I know the wharf better than any of you. So, I’m going to look for this Bianco Fiore.”
Raymond hopped to her side. “What she meant to say was…we know the wharf better than the two of you. So, we’re going to go look for this boat.”
Vincent grinned. “Hey, that’s peachy with me.”
Hattie did not return his grin. Instead, she pointed at a squat two-story clapboard building at the end of the piers. “Boats are coming in. They usually serve soup or something they call soup about this time. Go see what they have on.”
Vincent nodded as he glanced to Lefty. “Hope it’s not minestrone. That’s all Shakes knows how to make.”
Lefty sneered his agreement. “No one said Shakes was a gourmet.”
The two stepped up the planks toward the inn, Vincent adding, “But his gnocchi, though. With that walnut sauce?”
“Yeah,” Lefty muttered. “Yeah, not bad.”
Raymond crouched down to Hattie and whispered, “Who do you suppose Shakes is?”
“Doesn’t matter. Come on,” she grunted, leading him along the lines of fishing trawlers.
“What’s got you in a stink?” Raymond asked.
“Nothing…it’s just…”
“Come on. You been chewin’ your own face off ever since that hobo camp. What gives?”
Hattie stopped, crossing her arms. A wave of frustration washed over her, threatening to jerk tears from her eyes. Flee. Run. Hide. Disappear. It’s all she’d ever known to do, and right now the urge to run for it was almost more than she could stand.
“I’m not so sure we can trust this lot,” she muttered, lifting her chin to the mobsters.
“Well, yeah. I know that. But, a payday’s a payday.”
She turned back toward the water, casting a glance at the Bay. “We’re about even with Winnow’s Slip, aren’t we?”
Raymond nodded.
“If we took off right now, while they’re inside the inn, they’ll be here until they get another boat. Maybe they could hire one of the fishers…not sure.”
Raymond frowned. “Now, what are you talkin’ about?”
She reached for his arms, gripping them as tears welled beneath her irises. “How fast could we make it? Straight on to Winnow’s. We could find Lizzie. You could get your family.” She made some mental calculations. “It’d take a half hour just to get into the city. By then, do you think these two could—”
He brushed her arms aside and thrust a finger into her face. “Hey, now! You calm your ass down!”
She blinked and shook the tears away.
Raymond said, “You’re talkin’ crazy, girl. Packin’ up my…what? We got two days with these mobsters, just cartin’ them around. And we get paid big. All off the books.”
Hattie whispered, “It could be dangerous.”
“More dangerous than gettin’ shot at over a couple barrels of rum? What’s gotten into you? This is easy money.”
“The money isn’t worth it, Raymond. The young one, there? He has…powers. I’ve seen it.”
He blinked at her, then straightened up. “The what, now?”
“He’s what they call a pincher,” she explained. “It’s like a wizard, or a warlock.”
Raymond’s eyes widened, and he bent over to whisper, “Oh…he’s a devil worshipper?”
“Not like that. He has real powers. He can stop time. Do things while the clock’s frozen.”
“You seen him do this?”
She nodded. “I got stuck in one of his pinches. He…threatened me.”
Raymond’s expression of alarm eased into one of anger. “Oh, yeah?”
“Aye. Threatened me. Threatened you. Even Lizzie.”
He closed his mouth, sucking in breaths through his nostrils causing them to flare. “Oh, no he didn’t.”
“The hundred isn’t worth it, Raymond,” she pleaded. “I know how much you need that money, but this whole arrangement is going to cost us more than we gain.”
He shook his head, clamping his eyes shut as he held a hand up to his head. “This don’t make no sense, though. He’s been nice to us. Both of them have been. Why would he just up and get the itch like that?”
She swallowed hard. More than anything in the world, she wanted to tell Raymond why Vincent had threatened her. Why the person he was looking for could never be found. Why she was the real danger to Raymond and his family. But that would only increase the chances that he would say the wrong thing. Do the wrong thing. Take a swing, maybe even pull a gun.
And even if they ditched these two right here, they would still know where they lived. The entire enterprise Jake Sadler had built, and Lizzie had continued in his name, would come crashing down.
She wasn’t being smart about this. That realization swept
through her brain, and she took several breaths.
Raymond gestured for her to say something. “Well?”
She whispered, “I… I’m just being stupid.”
“What? You’re tellin’ me this white man can do magic, and he’s got his thumb on us. And now you’re saying you’re bein’ stupid?” He shook his head. “You’re a lot of things, but stupid ain’t one of them.”
Hattie ran her hands over her face. “I was wrong. I’m…tired. Maybe I’ve gone barmy, I can’t say. Maybe there was something in that drink those hoboes gave me.”
Raymond jerked his head back. “Wait, you took a swig of hobo rotgut?”
She latched onto the moment. “Aye. Foul skite, it was. I got dizzy, almost walked into the water. Maybe there was something more potent in that booze?”
Raymond released a long breath, then bent over, holding himself up at his knees. He released a long chuckle. “Oh, Lord!”
“I know, I know,” Hattie said.
“Girl, I…” He laughed, then caught his breath. “You had me goin’. I…warlock? Oh, Lord Jesus!”
Hattie pinched as fiery a smirk onto her face as her abilities could allow. “You’re getting gullible in your old age.”
Raymond lifted his brows, then shook off another fit of laughter. When he calmed down, he reached out and play-choked Hattie before chucking her shoulder. “I’ll get you for that one.”
“Well, wait for it,” she added. “I was about to tell you I was a pincher, too. And that I always was but could never tell you because the mob would swoop in and take me prisoner.”
Another spate of laughter, and a plea for her to stop.
She turned away and released the light pinch over her face. In truth, she was terrified.
“Right,” Raymond gasped. “You’re a witch. That would explain so, so much actually.”
She snapped her fingers. “Come on. We have easy money to make, and we’re not going to earn it farting around.”
They walked up and down each pier, Hattie squinting in the dying daylight at the names painted along the backs of each boat. Raymond stepped past her, taking one side while she surveyed the other. One pier…two piers…no Bianco Fiore.