by Janet Fox
We made a stop at my hotel so that I could pick up the journal; I tucked all the torn-out pages inside where they belonged. I knew there was still one set missing, but it couldn’t be helped. I needed to keep my family safe.
And to keep them safe I had to give Danny Connor Teddy’s journal.
Because I had only one other thing to give away: me.
The joint was quiet when we got there, since Charlie had to set up with the band. He seated me at a corner table with a reserved sign on it so I wouldn’t be bothered. Connor was to arrive around nine.
But long before that, Charlie gave me a tour of the place, showing me the layout of the club, and in particular how I could get from the ladies’ room to a door leading to the alley. Then he handed me a ten spot, despite my protests.
“In case of a raid,” he said. “Exit and cab fare, plus. That’s all I need to worry about, you being arrested.”
I smiled but felt a pang, because he was not smiling back.
Just before he went onstage to warm up, Charlie sat me at the table. As he started to move away, I grabbed his arm. “Wait.”
He turned back and stared at me with those great dark eyes. I pulled his arm, tugged him toward me, and as he moved toward me and took both my shoulders in his hands, I leaned to meet him. He kissed me, just a soft kiss but on the lips, like he was caressing his cornet, just ever so soft. Our first kiss, my first kiss. I let my eyes close, and when he pulled away again and I opened my eyes, he was smiling.
“Jo, you’re a mystery that I’m trying to understand,” he said, shaking his head.
“Please keep trying,” I whispered.
Charlie took the stage, and I ordered soda water and waited.
The place was dim, and soon smoke wreathed the ceiling as patrons gathered by twos and threes. The music started and filled the air, competing with the thrilling laughter, with the ice clicking in glasses; flappers paraded in and dapper swells glided by in black tie. Someone popped a cork, and the table exploded with surprise; couples began to dance, her beads flying, his hands snapping. A flapper with a feathered headband and a long cigarette holder sat with her back to me, her beau fingering the sequined fringe on her sleeve, while she did her best to pretend to ignore him.
It was a warm place, but I felt a growing chill.
I held the journal in my lap. In the semidark I thought I’d better recheck one last thing. I’d read it earlier, but it was still a puzzle. I opened to the last gap of missing pages. Nothing followed them except a small note:
It’s written not in but underneath the stars.
Underneath the stars? What could Teddy mean by that?
The band was still in its first set when Connor came in, early. Charlie, playing with his eyes closed, had no clue Connor was there. As Connor slid into the chair opposite me, his gray eyes met mine, and once again I felt the seductive power behind those eyes, once again I couldn’t help staring at him.
Charlie, I thought. Charlie was right around the corner. Sweet, kind Charlie. I could leap into his arms in a few long strides.
“Josephine. So happy you’ve changed your mind.” Connor leaned forward and took my free hand, lifted it, and brushed my fingertips with his lips. I cringed.
I cleared my throat. “Where’s Lou?”
He waved his hand. “She’s somewhere else.” His eyes didn’t leave my face. “You have something for me?”
I pulled the journal from my lap and placed it on the table between us. Connor’s eyes slipped from my face to the journal and back. He smiled. “Have you read it?”
I nodded.
His eyebrows lifted. “And?”
“There’s nothing here to worry about, since your brother is dead.”
Something flickered across his face, something I couldn’t read. The smile vanished. “I should like you to come back out to the house, Josephine.”
“I’m sure I shall.”
“Now.”
I froze inside. “No, thanks.”
“Surely you aren’t meeting someone else?” Connor’s eyes traveled away from me for the first time, moved to the stage where the music was in full swing, where Charlie was playing his heart out, lost in his music, unaware of anything around him.
“No, of course not.” I spoke loud, to pull his eyes away from the stage, away from Charlie. The thought of Chester, beaten, in the hospital, filled my mind. “But…I’m enjoying the music.”
He turned back to me. “You may believe you’re right about many things, Josephine. But understand, I’m not giving you a choice.”
Then I saw them, those two thugs, Ryan and Neil. They were over by the door, one on either side. Charlie, his back to me, was oblivious.
I had to do this by myself. I had to keep Charlie out of this, if I could. My family was bad enough. If I crossed Connor now, I might condemn them all, including Charlie, to something worse than Danny’d given Chester. The question was, What could I do?
Connor took out a cigarette, tapped it against the case, and lit it, the lighter flaring. I held as still as I could against the flame. He exhaled a stream of smoke, then said, “It doesn’t have to be this way between you and me. We don’t have to remain enemies. Not any longer. We could become good friends.” He leaned over and touched my arm.
I felt a chill but didn’t move.
“You see, I may have the journal, but I need to be sure that none of this information will ever find its way out into the world. You, for instance, have read the journal. And Teddy is still out there, isn’t he?” Connor smiled, all teeth. “So you understand that our friendship—that I’m assured I can trust you—that is paramount.”
“I see.”
“I could even make you a star, in return for your friendship. As you have seen, I like to surround myself with beautiful things.” He paused. “What is your greatest wish, Josephine? What do you want more than anything in the world?”
“I want you to leave my family alone,” I whispered.
“And for that you are willing to…what?” He took another drag, exhaled, his eyes never leaving my face.
“What do I have to do?”
A smile crept across his face. “Become such a good friend of mine that I can rest assured that neither you nor Teddy will ever betray me.”
“Good friend,” I echoed.
“Come out to the house, Josephine.”
I had no choice. He gave me no choice. I tried to smile, but it was a brittle attempt. “All right.”
Connor’s steel eyes kindled, and he placed his hand on my arm again. It took all my strength not to pull away.
“But I’d better hit the ladies’ before we take a drive.” I held up my empty glass.
He nodded, then took my wrist. “Don’t be long.”
“No,” I said. “No.” I tried not to let on that my mind was racing.
In the ladies’ I splashed water on my face. Danny Connor frightened and repulsed me. I couldn’t go with him, not ever. I prayed that what I did next would not make everything worse for those I loved.
I was in the alley inside of three minutes, made a fast loop to the nearest street, and hailed a cab. I looked back as we pulled away, and a figure stood on the curb, a man, staring after us.
I thought for a moment it was one of Connor’s men, but I’d moved like lightning. Or was it Teddy? Blond, with that stance…I almost stopped the cab, but we lurched away from the light and he was gone.
Teddy and I, together we could maybe take on Connor. But alone, I was not prepared for this. I pressed my fingers to my forehead. Maybe, like Teddy, I would have to disappear.
When I woke up, the sun was streaming through the windows of my safe room in my hotel. As I washed and dressed, I tried to figure out what to do next. Charlie would be worried sick about me, so I needed to let him know where I was right away.
I remembered the exchange number at Charlie’s building. I told Mrs. Daly that I was his sister Lou since I couldn’t play the Irish country cousin over the phone. When Charlie picked up, I cou
ld hear the relief in his voice, even as he whispered. I pictured Mrs. Daly hovering behind her partly open door.
“Where are you? I’ve been out of my mind.”
“I’m at my residence. I’m fine. Thanks to you and the ten bucks and the escape route you showed me.”
“Thank heavens. Can you meet me at five at the Algonquin?”
“I’ll be there.”
“What happened?”
“I’ll tell you when I see you.”
After I dressed I went downstairs to the lobby and sat for a few minutes, gathering my thoughts. I watched the other girls—not much older than me, most of them—heading out to work. They seemed ready to take on the world, some in neat, pressed, and belted suits; some in dropped-waist dresses with slouchy sweaters, neat-as-a-pin hats, gloves, clutches, hose, heeled shoes. All with an air of responsibility and livelihood. Maybe they had boyfriends. Maybe not. It didn’t matter—they had lives.
That could be me. I could be a working girl in New York City. And why not? I just had to slip into a new life, away from Danny Connor. The way Teddy had managed to do.
I returned to my room and packed my valise and gave the scowling matron a healthy tip to make up for my sudden change in plans.
I had tons of time before I’d meet Charlie, so I left the hotel and walked. And walked. New York on a fine day in early June was alive, stretching, growling, hissing, and belching; steam rising from holes in the street; the ground rumbling under my feet as the trucks and buses thundered past. I window-shopped and stopped for coffee and a doughnut at a cafeteria. I watched the passersby and tried to find myself in the crowd.
Tried to discover who I was. Tried to discover who I could be.
Josephine Winter, teacher.
Josephine Winter, secretary.
Josephine Winter, scribe.
In the few weeks I’d been in New York, I’d adopted a new style of dress, a new set of friends, and a couple of new addresses. But what about me, inside? My own journey had been lost in a flurry of confusion and danger surrounding my family, all because of something that began with Teddy.
Because of Teddy and his journal, and maybe what he’d done, everyone he cared about was in some kind of peril.
I bit my lip. I’d never thought about Teddy that way before. Like he’d been haunting me, but not in a good way.
No, I didn’t mean it. Thinking that Teddy might not be my guardian but my plague, as if the thoughts alone would bring down evil. No. Teddy had always been there for me.
I’d always have Teddy.
“Miss?”
“Oh, excuse me!” I’d stopped walking, was standing still in the middle of a crowded sidewalk, halting traffic, stopping the progress of one pleasant young man, who tipped his hat. I searched his face, thinking for a moment that I saw Teddy there, in such similar blue eyes, such a similar swatch of blond hair, such a similar expression. I knew I must’ve looked startled, to say the least.
“You all right, then?”
“I’m fine.” The color crept up my cheeks. “Thanks.”
He tipped his hat again and went on his way, that not-Teddy, as I moved to the nearest shop window, where a flapper ensemble was displayed, from dress to cloche to bobbed hair to full red lips. She was carrying a valise.
And then I realized. It was my reflection I saw, not a mannequin.
Who are you, Josephine Winter? Where are you going?
I walked farther until I was at the corner of Madison and Forty-second. Suddenly, I knew. It was written not in but underneath the stars. The stars!
I was going to see the stars.
CHAPTER 43
Lou
She could’ve been a star. Another Clara Bow. She had the looks for it. And the smarts.
That’s what scared me, that with those looks and brains and long legs and that sweet innocence she was Danny’s type. Younger, prettier. If Charlie was in the way of Danny, God help him. If I was in the way…
Danny didn’t know that I’d taken the other car that night. That I’d followed him. That I saw them together. Saw him smile at her. Saw him touch her arm. Saw that look in his eye.
I would’ve killed her right there, if I’d had a gun in my hand.
So you can see why I did what I did. I made up my mind that I was going to hang on to Danny one way or the other. Charlie, he didn’t know I’d turn snitch when he mentioned the journal. But then again, he didn’t see that look.
If that Jo Winter proved to be a problem, well, honey, as I said to Danny when we first met, I’m willing to manage anything.
Including making someone disappear.
But hang on. Don’t go thinking the wrong thing, Detective. The story ain’t over yet.
CHAPTER 44
JUNE 9, 1925
Apparently the diagram was placed on the floor and thence copied to the ceiling. It might have been better if the artist had held the diagram over his head and transferred it, as it were, by looking through it.
—”Constellations Reversed,” The New York Times, March 23, 1913
Jo
I stood there, looking up at Grand Central’s ceiling, trying to puzzle it out.
Okay, so the constellations were backward; that didn’t tell me a thing. I tried to recall our conversation, Teddy’s and mine, but that meant nothing to me, either. I walked from one end of the station to the other, lugging the valise, thankful that I hadn’t tried to bring any of my books, but nothing I could discern about these stars made any sense.
Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps these weren’t the stars Teddy meant. Maybe it didn’t even matter now that Connor had the rest of the journal.
But no. Something in my gut told me that this was just what he meant and that I needed to find those pages if I could. I set the valise down and looked up at Orion with his three-star belt, shading my eyes with my hand.
Bang!
The noise made me jump out of my skin. It echoed through the high-ceilinged hall, a shattering gunshot.
I froze, expecting to see chaos, to hear screaming. Looked down at my own body as if I expected to see my lifeblood oozing from a wound.
That’s when I realized that no one else was disturbed by the noise, and then I saw why. It wasn’t a gunshot: a man had just slammed the door to a locker, one of those metal lockers that lined the walls of the station to hold travelers’ parcels and suitcases while they waited for their trains.
A locker. Words from his journal: “not in but underneath the stars.”
If Teddy had put his final pages in a locker…
But which one? And where was the key? Where would Teddy hide something meant for me?
A train had arrived at the platform behind me, and passengers streamed past where I stood. Women with flowery dresses; flappers giggling and clutching at one another; men in business suits; a young man in uniform. A young man with blond hair and blue eyes who reminded me so much of Teddy that my heart stood still for a moment.
As he passed me, he smiled, and I smiled back, a frozen smile, my hand reaching for his arm, and I said, “Teddy?”
His smile broadened. “Sorry, miss. Name’s David. But Teddy’s one lucky fellow.” And he saluted and moved on past, as I caught a glimpse of the medals on his chest.
One was shaped like a star.
I practically ran to the ladies’ bathroom, where there were benches and I could open my valise without displaying the contents to the world. I found the scarlet poppies and unfolded the scarf to expose three small boxes.
In one of the boxes was a Silver Star.
I wrestled the medal out of the box; it was attached to felt wrapped over cardboard. As the medal and the cardboard popped out of the box, something else fell out and hit the floor with a metallic ring.
A key. I had to smile, though it was a sad smile. A key with the number 77. Of course, Teddy’s “lucky” number.
It took me a few minutes to find the locker and a few fumbling tries with the key, for the lock was stiff and hard to work, but then
it was open, and the smell hit me first. I stepped back, and that’s when I could see it.
There were no pages inside this locker. Only a decaying blossom, putrid, oozing. The blossom of a Venus flytrap.
I entered the Algonquin lobby a full hour before my rendezvous with Charlie, so I sat in the corner, trying to make myself disappear.
The shadows were long. A tired bellhop pushed a luggage cart, one wheel squeaking. Someone at the front desk argued with the manager. A harsh laugh erupted from the dining room. I was drained and frightened.
Connor had gotten to the locker ahead of me.
He’d pieced the puzzle out from the journal, and he’d figured out which locker to open. Danny surely knew Teddy’s military history. He would’ve known about the Seventy-seventh. He was a far better sleuth than I was. And he’d forced the locker—probably why I’d struggled with it—and he had Teddy’s last pages. I did not.
That dying flower in the locker was a message meant for me.
My entire plan had collapsed. My family would not be safe, not until I solved the problem of Danny Connor. Or until Teddy came back and helped me take care of our family.
A shadow fell across me, and I looked up, thinking it had to be Charlie. I started to reach for him, except it wasn’t Charlie.
It was Danny Connor.
“Let’s go,” Connor said.
About five years ago on a hot July afternoon, Pops had taken Ma and me on an excursion down to Coney Island, where Teddy joined us. It was one of the last times we were all together as a family, and happy. It took Teddy a full hour to persuade me to take a ride with him on the Wonder Wheel, which had just opened. As we went around the Ferris wheel and then stopped with our basket swaying from the highest point on the turn, I felt as if I’d left my stomach somewhere on the ground 150 feet below.
Teddy took my hand and steadied me, and pretty soon we were laughing together, and then he and I went back in line three times, even though each time we rode the wheel I felt that my stomach had to play catch-up.