by Terri Lee
Frankie was briefed on where to go once they crossed into Canada and given an envelope for payment. He hoped Sam didn’t notice the shaking of his hands as he took the manila packet.
Frances had devised a story that the two of them were attending a family wedding in Montreal. They were dressed appropriately in their finest attire. A beautifully wrapped gift was placed on the back seat as a prop for good measure.
Frankie looked over at his wife, who continued to amaze him every day. With her cream hat perched on her head and a small bit of netting pulled seductively over her eyes she was stunning. She could still take his breath away. She looked every bit the part of the elegant wedding party that their story placed them in.
Sophia had cheerfully agreed to watch Robert, although Frances made sure that Sophia had no idea of the true nature of their escapade. It would be a long day, more than fourteen hours round trip, and Frankie knew a lot could happen in that amount of time.
Before they knew it, they were at the Canadian border. Getting across would not be the problem, but they were intent on establishing their story.
“Bonjour.” The border agent smiled as they pulled their car to a stop.
“Good afternoon,” Frankie smiled back.
The agent bent down to get a good look inside the car. “What is the nature of your trip?”
“We’re going to a family wedding.” Frances piped up as she leaned across Frankie to engage the officer. She noted that the officer’s swift glance took in the package on the back seat.
“A wedding, eh?”
“Yes sir. My cousin Marguerite.”
“Where is the wedding?” The officer asked nonchalantly, but Frankie was positive he was gathering intelligence for the case against them.
Frances was unfazed, “Basilique Notre-Dame” she answered with a flawless accent.
“Parlez-vous François?”
“Qui. Toute ma famille est originaire de Montréal. J’ai été le seul né en Amérique.” She gave him a playful frown. ““Je suis heureux d’y revenir pour une courte visite.”
“Enjoy your trip,” The officer said and sent them on their way with a tap on the roof of the car.
Frances leaned back in the seat and gave Frankie a little victory smile as he pulled the car out into traffic. Granted, this was the easiest part of their journey and there would be no reason to have anticipated any trouble crossing into Canada, but Frankie was still happy to have one thing checked off the list.
“What did you say to him?” Frankie was curious.
“I just said that my entire family was from Montreal and then I pouted about being the only one born in America. And that I was happy to be going back for a short visit.”
“Well let’s hope you can hypnotize everyone on our way back, as well.”
The business end of the trip didn’t take very long. Once they found their way to the nondescript warehouse down a series of winding alleys, the actual transaction went off without a hitch. The gentlemen involved were all business, and Frankie was relieved that he wouldn’t be expected to stand around and make small talk. He didn’t have the nerves for it and he didn’t want anyone talking to Frances, anyway.
The men worked swiftly and it was obvious this was simply a routine workday to them. The car was quickly packed to overflowing with cases of expensive contraband, liquid gold that would soon be poured into crystal glasses and sipped by some of the most influential people in the city. With each small box that was snuggly placed next to its companion for the long ride home, his stomach turned somersaults.
The leather seat of the Duesenberg was firmly snapped in place and Frankie rubbed the back of his neck, both anxious to be on his way and dreading the drive home. A dense fog rolled in and enveloped the moonless night. Frankie felt an ominous undertone to the gray mist that surrounded them.
“Perfect,” he mumbled under his breath. This would certainly slow them down.
Frances reached across the seat and patted his hand, “It’ll be fine. Just take your time.”
They were both tired by the time they took their spot in the line at the border. They had been warned about the long wait as an endless parade of cars queued up for the inspection.
Nerves were on edge as officers asked their seemingly random questions, the information they sought known only to themselves. The history between the two countries had been changed dramatically since Prohibition. Bootlegging had altered the once easy relationship between these neighbors without a fence. New Englanders and Canadians alike who had been quite used to hopping over an invisible line in the dirt for dinner or a bit of shopping were now subjected to searches and everyone was treated with suspicion.
The car ahead of them had a small family in tow and Frankie was alarmed to see the guard ask everyone to get out of the vehicle while he performed a quick search. Frankie looked over at Frances and squeezed her hand as a wave of panic swept over him. What had triggered this decision to remove an entire family from the warmth of their car into the middle of a dark night, only to let them go again? Were they searching everyone?
“If we get stopped, you know nothing about what’s under here. You are completely innocent. Understand?” He said urgently.
She only nodded quietly. His heart was beating out of his chest. There was nowhere to run and there was no turning back.
“Steady your nerves, old boy,” Frankie whispered to himself. What in the world was he doing? Why had he ever agreed to such nonsense? Job or no job. He could hear Frances taking a deep breath and preparing for the acting role of a lifetime.
“Good evening,” Frankie smiled as he rolled down his window to meet the guard.
“Bon soir,” The agent responded in his brisk French accent and Frances was displeased to see that she would have to perform for a new audience. They must be ushered through the French station before being questioned one last time by the American guards.
“How was your trip?” The young man studied their faces while looking over the car.
“It was a wedding,” Frances nodded. “It was beautiful.”
“You came all the way up here for a wedding, and a return trip in one day?”
“Unfortunately yes, we have a small child at home.” Frances spoke up and Frankie could hear the French-Canadian accent wrapping around her words.
“No shopping?” The guard was skeptical.
Frankie just shook his head and Frances answered, “Non.”
“Did you enjoy the wedding?” The guard asked in French.
“Qui.” Frances grinned.
“Où était le mariage qui a eu lieu?”
“Basilique Notre-Dame. Savez-vous?
“Qui. Je pense que oui.”
“Il est près de la Place d’Armes.”
“Maintenant, je me rappelle.” He nodded.
She saw the guard looking over the back seat and was glad she had taken the extra time to set the stage for this little story. Two pieces of cake carefully wrapped on a plate and an invitation that had been stored inside the package on the way up were now haphazardly tossed onto the back seat. It was all very convincing.
The guard took one last look at them and then waved them through.
“What was that all about?” Frankie was desperate as they moved into the next line.
“I think he was testing me to see if I knew what I was talking about.”
“I assume you did.”
“Apparently.”
They came to a stop one more time. Now for the third and final act of this dangerous farce, this time on American soil. They halted in front of the crossing arm and the American border guard, who seemed much more impressed with his own authority than his Canadian counterpart, took his turn at the interrogation.
“Good evening, folks,” he smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Good evening.”
“Americans?” He inquired briskly.
“Yes, sir, New Yorkers,” Frankie said and he could hear Frances yawning beside him.
“Long day?” The officer leaned in.
“Yes,” she covered her mouth with her petite gloved hand. “A wedding. You know how exhausting they can be.”
“Yes ma’am,” he nodded.
Frankie tried to remain calm, but he was sure the officer could tell his wife was perched primly atop a false bottom seat filled with thousands of dollars of expensive liquor. He could probably smell it. Frankie was just waiting for the order to step out of the car so the officer could inspect under the leather bench.
“Anything to declare?”
“No sir. Just a couple pieces of wedding cake,” Frankie shook his head.
The guard took a long moment as his gaze traveled the length of the car, observing its sleek lines as Frankie and Frances suffered in silence. He seemed prepared to say something else as he leaned through the driver’s side window for one last look at the two of them, when Frances’s countenance displayed just the tiniest bit of annoyance as if a servant had taken too long with her order. It was a look of disaffected boredom at being bothered with the rules of the lower class. It was enough.
“Welcome home.” He stood back and waved them through.
Frankie rolled the window up slowly and inched the car out onto New York State Route 276. Neither one of them turned to look at the other until they were at least a mile down the road and the check station had faded into the Canadian fog. Finally the reluctant smugglers felt safe enough to release their collective breath and Frances let out a whoop.
“We did it.”
“I guess we did.” Frankie’s used the steering wheel to steady his shaking hands. As he looked over at his wife he knew he would have never made it without Frances. She was a great little actress and her pitch-perfect accent, as well as knowledge of the area were integral to their safe passage. But Frankie knew the truth of their escape relied more on the things she was unaware of. It was the way she was bred. There something about the way she held herself.
“For once, I’m grateful for the fact that you can never take the heiress out of the girl.” He said.
“You’re welcome.”
Frankie recognized the familiar head toss that had captured him all those years ago. He was glad to know that the young girl he had fallen in love with was still in there, despite the hardship of the past year. She hadn’t let it beat her down.
He stared out the window as Frances chattered on and though he joined in the laughter in the nervous excitement of the moment, his laughter was hollow. His beautiful little Frances was now a bootlegger’s wife and he was not happy. She was too good, too beautiful, too pure and he alone had done this to her.
She would follow him to the ends of the earth, of that he had no doubt. But where would he lead her? To ruin? To jail? The specter of the decade old prediction made by her parents came back to haunt him. He was sick to his stomach to admit that tonight the Durants had been vindicated. He would indeed drag her down with him.
There was no joy in the fact that the two of them had succeeded in this little performance and they had managed to skirt by undetected with a carload of bootleg liquor. It was not simply an innocent thumbing of their noses to the rules; they were playing a very dangerous game. They had been extremely lucky. But what about next time? Frankie knew one thing for sure; there would be no next time. For something inside him had died tonight.
THIRTY SEVEN
“I won’t be doing any more runs to Canada,” Frankie told Sam the next day.
“Why’s that?” Sam squinted at him from across the bar. “From what I heard, everything went smooth as a silk stocking.”
“I just can’t do it. I’m not cut out for it. And I will never again involve my wife.”
“She’s too high and mighty for your business?” Sam taunted.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, she is.”
“Fine, then don’t involve her.”
“I don’t want her to be a bootlegger’s wife, either,” Frankie said.
“I see.” Sam studied Frankie’s face and his rejection. He continued after a moment’s thought, “Well I don’t think that will be a problem. It seems that Lou is so impressed with you that you’ve been bumped up.”
Frankie was taken aback. “Bumped up to where?”
“The big leagues. Lou’s Place. You’ll be running the joint and taking care of all the books for his entire operation.”
“What?”
Sam slid a small piece of paper across the bar. “A promotion comes with a bump up in salary, of course.”
Frankie unfolded the note and stared with wide-eyed wonder at the figure before his eyes.
He had no words for this news. He was caught completely off guard. He knew one thing for sure, there was no way this promotion, wrapped neatly in a salary that couldn’t be ignored, came without strings attached. Therein lay the worry that overshadowed what should have been good news. Just how entangled was he about to become? And once tied up in this expensive bow, would he be able to break free?
When discussing it with Frances later, she agreed that on the surface, there was nothing to be concerned about. But they both knew it was what they couldn’t see that would be the problem. Frankie figured that the bootleg run was a test of loyalty. Apparently, he had passed with flying colors. He also suspected that one test would never be enough.
“I’m sure you know what’s best.” Frances said as the two of them continued to discuss the matter, but Frankie read the concern behind her words.
“I’ll get out the minute I feel I’m being pulled under.”
“How will you recognize that minute?”Frances looked worried. “What if that minute has already come and gone?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you said this job would be temporary. This doesn’t feel like a temporary move.”
“I hear you, baby. I do.” Frankie took both of her hands in his. “I still want to find something else. I will find something else.”
She wasn’t sure at that moment if the words were meant to reassure her or himself.
***
Lou’s Place was a legitimate night club with dancing and entertainment and a glittering crowd. Well, legitimate only because the alcohol was kept off the books. Frankie was relieved to know that he wouldn’t be expected to find a way to work the money from the bootleg liquor into the daily records of the business. For that he was grateful, and he didn’t ask any questions.
It didn’t take Frankie long to realize that this was an entirely different crowd than the one he had been used to at Chubby’s. The regulars at Chubby’s were just average Joes, spending a dollar or two on a Friday night. They might be rough around the edges, but this group at Lou’s, dressed to the nines, was much more dangerous. Lou’s was full of the swells. The crowd was fast, and the money was faster. Deals were made, and bribes and favors changed hands in the time it took a round of drinks to be brought to the table. There was much more going on than Frankie ever wanted to know about.
Poppy, the bartender, took Frankie under his wing. Having worked for Lou for many years, he had seen and heard it all. His priceless gray-haired advice consisted of telling Frankie, “Keep your mouth shut and do what you’re told, with no questions asked.” Frankie probably would have figured that one out on his own. Frankie had to listen closely to catch Poppy’s words of wisdom as they were pushed out of only one side of his mouth, the other side permanently occupied by a well-chewed cigar.
Any concerns about his new position Frankie kept to himself. What he shared with Frances was, the names of some the biggest stars of the day that headlined at Lou’s. On any given night, the likes of Ethel Merman, Jimmie Rodgers, and even Duke Ellington could be found rubbing elbows with politicians and the elite from the inner circle. People liked the idea of being seen at Lou’s. It was a high class joint that provided the rich and famous the fantasy that they were living on the wild side. But the last thing Frankie wanted was to drag his wife to the wild side.
***
�
�What’s that?” Frances covered her mouth with her hand and pointed at the offending object.
Frankie picked up the snub nosed revolver and placed it into the holster under his arm, trying his best to appear unfazed as he continued to dress for work. “It’s part of the job. I’m dealing with the kind of money that could put me in a vulnerable position.”
“Where did you get it?” She was wide-eyed.
“Sam.”
“Of course.”
“He said he’d feel better if I were packing heat.”
“Packing heat? Now you’re even beginning to talk like them. So you still think this is just a temporary gig? Nothing to worry about?”
Frankie placed both hands on Frances’s slender shoulders and he could feel her trembling beneath his touch. He looked squarely into his wife’s eyes. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“You’re wearing a gun, Frankie! Don’t tell me I have nothing to worry about.”
“It’s simply a precaution.”
“Until the day you have to actually use it.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.”
Frankie took her in his arms, to soothe her and to turn his attention away from the disappointment in her eyes. It was easier to lie to her if he didn’t have to look at her.
***
One night before the club opened for business, Frankie was downstairs going over some receipts with Poppy. Poppy nudged Frankie with his elbow.
“That’s Lou over there.” He nodded to an impeccably dressed man in the booth in the back. Frankie had yet to come face to face with the club’s namesake.
“Does he come in here often?” Frankie asked. He was still taking all of his orders directly from Sam.
“Sure. Lotta business goes on in that booth. You’ll see people come and go. Coppers, too. But whatever goes on over there, it has nothing to do with you. Keep your peepers on your own business and your gums shut, understand?”