by Debra Dunbar
“I figured you was here alone. Probably letting all of this eat you up.”
“Actually,” he said, recorking the bottle and sticking it back into the cabinet, “I was sound asleep until you arrived.”
“Horse apples.”
“So, you want to play cards, or something?” Vincent prodded.
“I got a call from my boys out by Dundalk port.”
He nodded. That was where most of Tony’s boat-leggers had been running hooch from the Hole out to the water.
“Something go wrong?” Vincent asked. “Or right?”
“Didn’t sound like a beach blanket picnic, so yeah. I’m afraid something’s gone wrong.”
“That’s why you’re here?” Vincent asked. “You need my help.”
Tony shrugged, then nodded noncommittally.
Vincent set down his glass to fetch his coat and hat. “Let’s beat feet, then. We’re burning moonlight.”
Tony hopped behind the wheel as Vincent climbed into his car, and they made their way to Dundalk Port without any obstacles. The whole way, Vincent considered Tony. This situation was odd, but not necessarily worrisome. Tony was in a pickle, arguably as bad as Vincent’s. He was charged with Vito’s other pet project—the assumption of all liquor traffic within the organization. And though Tony had “managed” Lizzie Sadler and her boat-leggers to date, he truly had no experience with large-scale distribution of illicit goods across state lines, no knowledge of the Feds and their favorite pinch points and shakedown schedules, no lay of the land, the Bay, and all of its endless inlets and outlets. Tony may have been a college man, but this sort of business required more horse sense than anything a book could teach.
Which was why Sadler had thrived.
But those days were gone now, and Tony probably saw something in Vincent he could relate to. The same sort of pressure. The same alienation.
Tony broke the silence to make conversation as he drove. “I hear Vito hasn’t kicked up any fire and brimstone over that Curtis Creek bust.”
“Not yet,” Vincent agreed. “Though someone could dime me out at any moment.” He turned to Tony. “Someone who had two good boat crews sitting in the water getting a sunburn for nothing.”
Tony sneered. “You think I’m a rat?”
“You don’t owe me nothing, Tony. Why would you keep it under your hat like this?”
He shook his head. “Let’s call it professional courtesy.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Listen, Vincent, a lot of the guys are just getting their kicks on you. But they ain’t no one to go bend the Capo’s ear. Hell, watching you fall on your face is about the only sport they got, anymore. Ever since we dealt with the Russians last year, and the Richmond boys are cooling their heels.” He wagged his finger back and forth between the two of them. “People that matter, though? Close to the top? Me, Lefty… We know how easy it is for the right plan to go sideways. And we don’t put that on you. This girl’s as slippery as a greased eel. I mean, she was under our noses the whole time. How often did I see her in that warehouse, and never knew? Blended into the background, that one did. Hell, I barely noticed her. If I’d run smack into her on the street, I’m not sure I’d have known who she was. This isn’t your fault. The girl’s smart, she’s got magic, and she’s good at staying hid. Not your fault at all.”
“Yeah, but will Vito see it that way?”
“Heh. Hopefully you’ll have her before he finds out.”
Tony pulled the car down a hitch lane toward the port, easing between warehouses alongside ships and boats of various sizes and registries. A group of men lingered by a fishing boat with a fresh coat of paint. They waved him down as he parked.
As they stepped out of the car, Tony buttoned his jacket and started barking immediately. “Alright, so what’s the beef? It’s half past a monkey’s ass out here.”
They guided them toward the boat, empty aside from a couple dog-eared Crew members who looked like they’d just had their dog shot in front of them.
A short man with curly brown hair spilling out from underneath a cabbie cap hopped off the boat and ushered the rest away. “Heya, boss.”
“Curly? You got heat out on the water or something?” Tony prodded.
Curly sighed and crossed his arms. “We got hit. Right past McHenry.”
Vincent scowled. “That’s barely clear of the city.”
Curly shot Vincent a vicious glare. “What do you know about it, you freak?”
Tony pulled his hand back, then slugged Curly across the jaw, sending him to the ground. The muffled conversation on the boat fell to absolute silence, leaving only the sound of water lapping against the boat and Curly groaning as he nursed the side of his face.
Tony cracked his knuckles. “Mind your p’s and q’s, pal. He’s got more right to be here than you do.”
Curly scowled at them, still sitting on the ground rubbing his jaw.
With an impatient wave of his hands, Tony grunted, “So, what happened?”
“Boat,” Curly spat. “Came up on us outta nowhere. Maybe eight men with tillers. Had us dead to rights. Took the shipment, then left us in the wash.”
Tony groaned, “The whole shipment?”
Curly nodded.
Vincent stepped forward to offer a hand. After staring at it for a second, Curly took it as Vincent helped him to his feet.
Tony paced a circle. “How many barrels?”
“Fifteen.”
Vincent asked, “Where were they bound for?”
“Charleston,” Curly replied. “The Greeks were supposed to meet us at Newport News.”
Tony shook his head, his eyes searching the ground for something to say.
And so, Vincent kept prodding. “Tell me about the boat. Did you get a name?”
“Yeah…” Curly turned to the boat. “Hey, Carmine! You get the name of those sons a’ bitches?”
Carmine called, “Blanco Forte, or something.”
Vincent stiffened. “Bianco Fiore?”
“Yeah, that’s it!” Carmine chimed.
Tony squinted at Vincent. “That mean something to you?”
“It does,” Vincent replied. “They’re a band of righteous types. Lynch mobs on boats. Real Confederate cut to their patriotism, if you take my meaning.”
Curly shrugged. “They just marched us behind the engine house and carted off all the goods. Wasn’t no violence.”
Vincent cocked his head. “Did they give you the business over your Roman stock? Call you Wop or Guinea, or anything like that?”
Curly shook his head.
“What’re you thinking?” Tony asked almost out of desperation.
Vincent eyed Tony, then Curly, then turned to face the water. This was a bit far north for those Fiore thugs, especially given the current unsettled situation in their territory. And the timing of it all was a bit…convenient.
Fifteen barrels that never made it to the Carolinas? That would be enough to ripple the water between Baltimore and Charleston. It would likely kick off an exchange of words between them and the Crew, maybe more than just words. It would come at a time when Vito was looking to expand, not contract. Plus, the Crew would need to divert manpower to chasing down those decentralized Fiore idiots. All this right when Vito was poised to expand and show his power, right when his focus was on consolidating his business in house and adding a pincher to the Crew.
And Tony was in hot water as it was. Something like this would go a long way to pulling Vincent’s ass out of the fire. Tony knew it, too. If he returned to the vineyard with little more than “thugs took the hooch,” he’d be looking for a new line of work in short order.
However…
“Doesn’t sound like the Bianco Fiore,” Vincent declared, still staring over the water. “They’re out for blood, not booze. May come a day when they decide Sicilians aren’t their sort of complexion, but today isn’t that day.”
Tony asked, “If not them, then who?”
Vincent turned to face Tony. “Richmond.”
“Richmond?” Tony parroted. “How do you figure?”
“Something Smith told me when he tried to talk me out of siccing him on Malloy. He said the Upright Citizens were up to something. There’s always been some overlap between the gangsters and the bigots down that way, and they haven’t shied away from using those thugs to do their dirty work before. If someone were trying to rebuild on the sly, it’d be a good tactic to slap the words Bianco Fiore on a couple boats, then put a hit out on your boys here. They stand out.”
Curly sniffled. “Says you.”
“No,” Tony admitted, “he’s right. You wouldn’t know these hooligans from the Upright Citizens from the Feds. You nearly got pinched by the G-men just two days ago. Remember?”
Curly turned away.
Vincent offered, “I know Vito’s eager to keep the trade inside the family. But Sadler’s people knew the Bay. They knew every inch of the coastline. They had friends in every fueling stop, every speakeasy, every fishing camp, every hobo village. And they knew the difference between some sheet wearing reubens on the water and the Upright Citizens.”
Tony lifted a hand. “I get it, I get it. We were better off.”
Vincent nodded.
With a sigh, Tony said, “That’s gonna be a hard sell with Vito.”
“Tell me about hard sells some more.”
Tony smirked, then chuckled. “Yeah, I suppose you’re savvy as much as anyone. It helps being able to take the Richmond boys to Vito, instead of this bag of sorry bastards.” He nodded to the crew on the emptied boat.
“He’s gonna lose his mind, one way or another.”
“Yeah, but at least he’ll focus that at Richmond, and not me.” Tony grinned. “Thanks for that. You, uh…you didn’t have to volunteer that info.”
Vincent slapped his shoulder and turned back to the car. “Let’s call it professional courtesy.”
Chapter 17
The eastern sky was a shimmering cobalt as the low-hanging clouds over the peninsula glowed pink.
Raymond eyed the color and grunted, “Best hurry this up. Get these babies under cover before daylight.”
He growled as he hoisted a barrel of purloined moonshine from his boat, aided by Hattie Malloy who threw her shoulder into the work.
“We will,” she huffed. “How…how many more…left?”
Raymond settled the barrel onto the pier at Winnows Slip, caught his breath, then counted the remainders still on the boat. “Shit. Six.”
Hattie leaned against the engine house and stared at the sky. “Can I catch my breath, then? I’m knackered.”
Raymond shook his head. “We stop moving now, we’re gonna get sore. Then we won’t move anything.”
With a beleaguered nod, Hattie wound her way to the fore and began walking the next barrel toward the rail as Raymond lugged his into the warehouse they’d rented from the locals. Half an hour later, both had cleared the last of the barrels and lay sprawled along the warped wood planks of the pier as footsteps clacked from within the warehouse.
Lizzie Sadler emerged into the breaking dawn’s light like a conquering general. Her face was the picture of satisfaction.
Hattie grunted, “It was a good haul.”
Lizzie crossed her arms and cocked her hips. “Couldn’t have done it without a light pincher.”
Raymond lifted a hand. “And a pilot.”
Lizzie smiled. “Yeah, you. Couldn’t have done it without the both of you.”
She ushered them into the warehouse before too many locals emerged to stick their noses into their business. Inside the ill-lit building, Hattie hopped onto the top of one of the barrels, patting it with her palm. “Those daft buggers seemed eager to hand these over. I bet with a little more persuasion, I could’ve talked them into unloading them for us.”
Raymond grumbled, “They must not get paid so good.”
Lizzie scoffed, “Are you bucking for a raise there?”
He lifted his hands, head hung in exhaustion. “I’m too tired to buck anyone.”
“Well there’s a first,” Hattie jibed.
Admittedly, she was as worn out as Raymond. Though he did the lion’s share of heavy lifting, it was no easy task maintaining an illusion as detailed as the one she’d pinched for the Crew’s boat-leggers. Eight men with guns. A boat with Bianco Fiore scrawled across the transom. She’d remembered the precise look of it from earlier that spring, when she and Vincent had a run-in with that lot. The details helped, but she had to keep the pinch up for as long as it took to help Raymond unload the barrels. She felt no small measure of pride that she’d pulled it off. Perhaps her practice was paying dividends after all?
After a brief rest, Raymond departed to head back to his family, leaving Lizzie with Hattie. Lizzie slipped her hands into her pants pockets to step into the center of the warehouse.
“You think they took the bait, then?” Hattie asked.
Lizzie shrugged. “That depends on your friend, the time pincher.”
“He’s no friend of mine,” she snapped.
A razor-sharp smile lifted onto Liz’s lips. “I suppose you believe that.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Come on, Hattie. I’ve been dealing with the Baltimore Crew since Jake was alive. They want something, they take it and damn the consequences. Anyone else was after you, they’d have taken a cudgel to your head and had you tied in some basement before you knew what was happening. The only reason you’re walking free right now is because that boy is too sweet on you to muscle you around.”
Hattie swallowed hard, feeling that familiar ache in her chest. “I know. I mean, not that he’s sweet on me or anything. He’s just not the sort to be violent toward a woman or a woman friend, or…”
Liz’s eyebrows shot up.
“He’s not…it’s not…” Hattie scowled. “Anyway, it was a good plan to hijack these guys at Fort McHenry.”
“In truth, it wasn’t my plan at all.”
Hattie hopped off the barrel and approached. “Was it Smith?”
Lizzie nodded. “He knew where they were going to be and when. The man has the pulse of the Crew, I’ll give him that much. He’s a man in the know.”
“Aye,” Hattie grumbled. “He’s a crafty one.”
“But, as I said, it all depends on how well you know this Vincent Calendo. Too much of this hinges on him connecting the dots from Bianco Fiore to Richmond.”
“Oh, he’ll follow the bread crumbs.” Hattie lifted a finger. “And what about your part? Do you really think Tony will go to Vito, hat in hand?”
With a proud cackle, Lizzie replied, “I know that man. He’ll jump at the chance to get the business back in our hands.”
“He doesn’t take well to pressure, then?”
“Well, it depends on what you’re pressing.” Lizzie snickered. “And how hard.”
Hattie grinned and shook her head.
“Hattie,” Lizzie said after a moment of composure. “I wanted you to know…I was furious with you.”
The shift in conversation knocked Hattie mute.
“What you did. How hard you pushed for it. How very thorough you were in lousing it up. It felt like…”
“Betrayal?” Hattie finished.
“Like I was watching my own daughter piss away her livelihood, as well as mine. I know you fight a battle every day to stay free, despite your condition.”
Hattie wrinkled her nose at the phrasing, as if she were a leper.
Lizzie continued, “And though I see that, I feel there are more mundane concerns you should be attending to. There’s more to living than living free.”
“I disagree,” Hattie blurted.
“Hear me out. What’s the use in freedom if you spend it constantly on the lam? Looking over your shoulder, waiting for someone to drop a hammer on you. Ever heard of the Sword of Damocles?”
Hattie waved her off. “I read books, you know.”
“Fine, then
. You get what I’m saying.”
“I don’t think I do. You’re saying I should surrender to the Crew, so that I can live comfortably? Is that the short of’t?”
Lizzie frowned. “Heavens, girl. It’s like you’re not even listening. What I’m saying is you can’t only fight for freedom. You need something to live for. Family.”
“I’ve got one of those.”
“Industry.”
Hattie cast a glance at the barrels surrounding them. “What do you call all this, then?”
Lizzie lifted an eyebrow. “Love?”
Hattie’s stomach dropped like a lead weight. “How about I stick with family and industry.”
Lizzie stepped forward to lay both hands on Hattie’s shoulders. “Listen to me. I’ve been fortunate in life. I’ve had one great love. A magnificent man who never raised a hand against me. Who not only listened to me, he respected me. He believed I could contribute to his business, and he brought me alongside him. He saw me as an equal, as a partner, as someone who was just as smart, just as strong as he was. There will never be another man like that, as far as I’m concerned.”
Hattie dropped a sorrowful gaze to the ground. “Jake was one of a kind.”
Lizzie lifted Hattie’s chin with her finger. “And yet, here I am. Knocking boots with a gangster.” She stepped away. “Don’t think I don’t see how the both of you look at me sometimes. You and Raymond. When Tony’s driving off, and you act like you just showed up. Like I’m sullying our temple with another man’s affections. Like I’m…replacing…” Her voice failed her.
Hattie reached to lay a hand on Liz’s back. “No sense in you being lonely, Liz. We don’t judge you.”
“Oh,” Lizzie sniffled. “I’d like to believe that. But let’s be honest.”
Hattie nodded. “It seemed quick, how you two fell in together so soon after Jake’s death, but that’s not my business.”
“There’s a reason I’m telling you this.” She turned toward Hattie, eyes rimmed red with tears. “I would never betray Jake’s memory. But, Jake is gone. And he’s not coming back. There is simply no point in living my life a grieving widow, when all it does is to rob me of this painfully short time we have on this Earth.”