Sirens

by Janet Fox

  “He’s an old family friend,” I said, with no hint of irony.

  On the drive I asked if the police had found anyone else on the property. Any unidentified man, alive or dead.

  “What do you mean?” He glanced at me in the rearview, his eyes sharp.

  Charlie squeezed my hand, but I pressed on.

  “During the storm, while the house was burning and we were trying to get out, I thought I saw someone, another man, outside the greenhouse.”

  I know I saw Teddy. I was so sure.

  Smith was silent for a minute. “No one mentioned that. But I’ll check into it.” He paused. “You say you saw the lightning strike the pole?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you don’t think someone set the fire? Someone like this man of yours?”

  “No, no, I don’t.”

  “Okay, I’ll check it out.” We drove for a time, then he glanced back at me again. “Hang on. Your name’s Winter. You aren’t related by any chance to Theodore Winter?”

  My heart skipped a beat. “I’m his sister.”

  “Oh, boy. This is a coincidence.” He shook his head.

  “What do you mean?” Now my heart was beating hard; Smith had pulled the car over, into a parking lot off to the side of the road.

  He cut the engine, then turned to face me, one arm over the backseat. “Your brother’s been missing for a while. About a year, right? His clothes were found down on the beach there, but no body. Everyone said it was suicide, being he was a vet and all.”

  I nodded.

  “You found those clothes, didn’t you? His sister. That’s what I remember. You found the stuff down on the beach. You reported how depressed he’d been and all, so everyone thought suicide.”

  I tightened my grip on Charlie’s hand.

  Smith sighed and ran his hand over his head. “I’m real sorry to tell you this now, Miss after all you’ve been through.”

  I waited, not breathing.

  “We found your brother’s remains a couple, three weeks ago, just down from Connor’s place. He’d been tied up, in a weighted bag, and dropped in, looks like about a year ago. Some lobsterman pulled it in from where it had caught on his traps. We’ve been trying for the past week to find family, but your house in White Plains is gone and your folks disappeared. We located your aunt and uncle a few days back, but they didn’t know where you were. And here you are, showing up here, just like that.”

  We all sat there, waiting, as if the car was suspended in thin air, floating.

  Then I whispered, “Are you sure it’s him?”

  Charlie leaned forward. “He’s been gone a whole year. How can you be sure?”

  “We got the dental records.” Smith’s eyes searched my face. “Looks like murder, now. He was tied up but good.”

  I stopped breathing.

  “Yeah.” Smith scratched his chin. “The signature of a gangster hit. Prohibition’s brought out the best in everyone, you know? Guy makes a mistake, they knock him out, stuff him in a sack with rocks, toss him overboard.”

  “Murder?” I whispered. “Teddy’s dead?”

  “Yeah. Likely we’ll never catch who did it.” He removed his hat, rubbed his balding head. “Something else you want to tell me? About your brother? About what he might have been doing before he disappeared?”

  I shook my head, while Charlie squeezed my hand tight. I’d been wrong. I hadn’t seen Teddy; I couldn’t have. Not once in all that time.

  Teddy was dead. Had been dead for a year.

  “I’m real sorry,” Smith said, shaking his head again. “What a coincidence.”

  When we arrived on Fifth Avenue, Smith pulled up at the curb, gave a low whistle. “So just the one guy lives here, huh?”

  “More or less,” I said. I was as exhausted as I’d ever been.

  We thanked Smith, and he gave us each a card with his name and phone number. “In case you think of anything else. About your brother, about anything.” He looked at Charlie. “I’ll need to ask your sister some questions, once she’s recovered. Need to close the books on her deceased boyfriend.”

  He watched us from the car as we rang the bell. I wasn’t sure whether Rushton’s butler would even be awake—it was just getting on seven in the morning—or that he’d know who I was or that he’d let us in. So I was taken aback when the door was answered by John Rushton himself, already dressed for the day.

  He looked us up and down and then stood aside to let us in. I still clutched the scarf and its contents in one hand; Charlie held the other, squeezing my fingers tight.

  We followed Rushton down the hallway, past several large rooms, and stopped in a smaller sitting room at the end. There he turned to face us.

  “I know all about it. I have connections with the police, who’ve been watching Danny Connor for a long time, at my request.”

  “Detective Smith didn’t know much,” Charlie said.

  Rushton smiled briefly. “My connections are a bit higher level.” He paused, then his eyes met mine. “I know you’re looking for answers. But the explanations could take some time. I suggest we wait until you’ve had a chance to rest.”

  I was having difficulty keeping my eyes open. I was having even more difficulty keeping the tears from spilling over. But it couldn’t wait.

  “No. You need to know about Melody. You need to hear it.”

  Rushton raised his hand.

  “Don’t shush me. Don’t!” I had nothing left but emotion. “I know about Leo. I know where he is, and who his mother is, and who his father was, too.”

  Rushton rubbed his eyes. “Can’t this wait?”

  “No. No.” I leaned into Charlie.

  Rushton said, “Fine. All right. It was Teddy. He made the request, the only one he ever made of me, and after he’d saved my life, I couldn’t say no. He asked me to take the boy in. I lost Frank, so Leo became everything to me.” He paused. “Leo is my family now.”

  “Teddy? Teddy asked you to take in the boy?”

  “His only favor. Well, that and assisting Melody during her time. Supporting her. Keeping her away from Patrick and Danny. I owed Teddy. I told him as much, and I make good on my debts.” Rushton paused, looking at his hands. “Besides. It was for Melody. I would do anything—” He stopped. “Teddy had to protect his family.” Rushton stared at his hands, flexing them, examining them. “That’s something I understood.”

  “Why not give the child back to Melody now, then?”

  “She doesn’t want Leo.” His voice shook. “And I’m attached to him.”

  “No, you’re wrong.” I was beginning to understand the real meaning of right and wrong.

  He lifted his hands. “Melody’s a flapper, enjoying herself. Doing what flappers do.” He was lying to himself. Now I could feel it. He was dismissing her because he was protecting himself. “She just wants to be out partying, having a good time. I’ve been watching, but it’s clear to me. She’s like all you other…well.” His eyes were bright. “You’ve made it clear you don’t think of yourself in that way, and I’ll respect your comments. But Melody spends her nights on the town, in speakeasies. Just the reason a cad like Patrick Connor could take advantage of her.” He looked at the floor. “I’m not certain she’d make a good mother for Leo.”

  “You couldn’t be more wrong,” I repeated, trying to keep my seething anger in check. “She’s suffering because she can’t take care of him. Because she can’t be with him.”

  “Nonsense.” He waved his hand and turned away.

  “I just spent the past forty-eight hours with nonsense,” I said, my voice rising. “Danny Connor was nonsense. I’ve watched Melody watch Leo. I’ve watched Melody drink to try to forget. I know she loves him.”

  Rushton turned, and his face had sagged. “But I’ve had him so long….”

  “Are you blind?”

  As I watched him then, all his arrogance slipped away. He seemed vulnerable and lost. “I can’t give up Leo. He’s the only family I have now. I’v
e kept him safe. I took him in. Melody doesn’t want either one of us.”

  My heart broke for him. His arrogance and haughty manner were a defense. He was as damaged as Teddy, from his past, from the war, and then broken further when he lost his brother. He’d done something generous by helping Mel and taking Leo in, but he’d acted out of his own self-interest, too. And I knew then how he truly felt about Mel.

  “You need to talk to her.” I looked at the floor. “She has a crush on you anyway,” I said, shrugging, looking up again. “She’s in love with you, for pete’s sake.”

  “What?” His eyes searched my face. “Miss Winter, I’m hopeless with people. I don’t understand them. And I’ve certainly never understood Melody. So please don’t tease me.”

  He cared for her, despite all the things he’d said. “I’m not teasing, John. She’s in love with you. Go talk to her.”

  He looked at me, his eyes suddenly bright with hope.

  “One last thing. Patrick and Danny Connor were involved in the bombings. Patrick helped pull the trigger, so to speak. But Danny, he gave his brother the money.”

  Rushton stiffened.

  “I suspect Connor financed the bombings because it was one more way for him to get in good with the Irish community. It was all he cared about, that he had their respect, even the anarchists’. But you can lay it to rest now, because both the Connors are dead.” And, I could have said, the proof is at the bottom of Long Island Sound.

  “I knew it.” Rushton said. “Thank you—thank you for, well, everything.”

  Charlie put his arm over my shoulder, and I leaned heavily against him.

  Rushton had his driver take me to my aunt and uncle’s apartment and take Charlie to his place.

  In the car, on Park Avenue, Charlie kissed me. “Can I see you later?”

  “In a day or two. Yes.”

  I watched that dark cloud creep over him. “Jo…”

  “Wait, Charlie. I really like you. Really and truly. But there are some things I have to sort out.” And then I kissed him, holding his face between my hands. “Okay?”

  He nodded, and I loved him for understanding. Loved him. So I kissed him again, full on the lips, letting myself melt against him, right there in the limo, his strong arms wrapping around me, his full sweet lips pressing hard against mine. I pulled away slowly, touching his cheeks, his dark hair, brushing the curls from his forehead. I touched his lips with my fingertips, gazing into his soft black eyes.

  And then I opened the car door and left.

  CHAPTER 53

  Lou

  Well, I wasn’t about to die and let Jo ditch my baby brother, now, was I?

  Plus, there was all that other stuff to clean up. John Rushton and Melody and little Leo. Jo’s future. Charlie’s future.

  My future.

  Teddy let me know I’d better get a move on if I was to straighten it all out, and I liked Teddy.

  Who knows? Maybe he and I…heck. It’s kinda hard to get stuck on a ghost, even if you’ve already been there yourself.

  CHAPTER 54

  JUNE 11–12, 1925

  No—Gatsby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and shortwinded elations of men.

  —F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby, 1925

  Jo

  Sleep is a wondrous thing.

  But first, Ed. I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy as I was when I stepped out of Rushton’s Daimler, all torn and ragged and messy, to be hugged by the likes of Ed the doorman. It was like having Pops, a happy Pops, back with me.

  And Joey—even he gave me a hug, and I told him on the way up in the elevator that starting in the next week I’d be tutoring him in his letters in his spare moments. To which he replied, wide-eyed, “Yes, miss. I’d like that, miss.”

  Aunt Mary and Uncle Bert were both there, both looking awful, which made me feel awful. But they were so relieved that I was all right that after hugs and tears they ushered me into my bedroom—my bedroom, tidied and neat—so that I could rest.

  “How’s Chester?” I asked.

  “He’s fine,” said Uncle Bert. “Nose like a boxer, but, well, it’s made him a little more humble, in fact.” My uncle cleared his throat.

  “And Melody?” I asked, trying to stifle a yawn.

  Aunt Mary shrugged. “Asleep. But she hasn’t been out carousing around since you left. She’s been talking about getting a job. Maybe something you said…?”

  I shook my head. “Not me, Aunt Mary. Mel’s got a mind of her own.”

  I wanted to take a bath, and I thought I might read that single last page of Teddy’s journal, that page I still clutched tight in its scarf bundle; but when I sat down on the bed, thinking, I might just rest my eyes first, I fell into a deep sleep before I could move again.

  When I awoke it was late afternoon, and I stood at the tall window of my room and watched the city that never sleeps match my yawn and stretch. I saw the buildings across the street reflect the late-day coppery sun. Saw the deepening blue of the sky beyond as I looked east, out over the east side of the island toward Long Island Sound.

  The Sound. Where Teddy had died.

  I sat on the windowsill and spread out the last page.

  September 12, 1923

  If you’re reading this now, Josie, it means I’m dead.

  I’m sorry, sweet Jo. If I was there, I’d be saying stuff like, I miss you, and how can this be, so I can only imagine what you’re thinking as you read this. ’Cause I know you’d never have opened this journal—you’d have kept your promise—unless I was dead.

  Danny Connor is going to come after me, and I have to keep him from going after you and Ma and Pops. So the outcome may not be what I want.

  But here’s the thing: I’ll protect you for as long as I can. I won’t rest until I know you’re okay. Happy and safe. That’s what I gave up my soul for, and until you’re safe I don’t get it back.

  Now that you’ve read this, you’ve got to do me a favor.

  I was never a true hero. Never felt like one, never liked the whole business.

  So I’m going to ask you to…

  CHAPTER 55

  SEPTEMBER 1925

  So we beat on, boats against the current,

  borne back ceaselessly into the past.

  —F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby, 1925

  Lou

  That’s the way it happened, I swear. You guys have been swell listeners.

  Lemme add a few things here. If it hadn’t been for Jo, I’d be dead. If it hadn’t been for Jo, Mel wouldn’t have gotten her little boy back—and bagged a guy like John Rushton in the bargain. If it hadn’t been for Jo, Charlie would never have been so happy.

  Now I’ve got a job, and Jo’s got…well, I’ll let her tell you. And we’ve got the apartment—our nice cozy little place in the Chelsea Hotel—thanks to Jo standing up for us and hitting the street. We’re not swimming in dough, but mine’s a decent job, and we’re sticking together. When Jo’s got her feet planted solid on the ground, that’s when she’ll consider taking Charlie up on his proposal. I admire that—she wants to make it herself and not depend on a guy, even a good guy like my brother, to make it for her.

  We kind of joke about how she thought she knew right from wrong but she really had no clue.

  Sometimes, when Jo doesn’t know I’m watching, I see her staring out there from our apartment window, out and up into the night sky, and what’s really spooky is she talks to herself. Actually, I think she’s talking to Teddy.

  So okay. I talk to him, too. You got a problem with that?

  I wonder. What does it mean to believe in yourself so much that you don’t let some guy push you around? What does it mean to believe in something, the way Jo does, something so big and powerful that you can’t let it go? What does it mean when Jo says, “Everything comes in shades of gray, Lou. Just when you think yo
u’re right, you find out something that sends it spinning backward.”

  I’m still trying to figure that one out.

  Well, Detective, I’ve got nothing more to add. You can see what really happened. I’m guilty of a lot of things, but nothing you can arrest me for.

  Am I free to go?

  Jo

  This window from our living room looks west. I like that; I’m more of a sunset type than a sunrise. There’s something about knowing New York is about to wake up for her nightlife and watching the lights go on and the stars come out, all that stretching and yawning and preparing; something about hearing the music that swells up from the street, smelling the toasted bitter of chestnuts, leaning out into the chill evening air, something about a New York night that makes me feel alive.

  And now I’m back in school—they let me in, up at Barnard Women’s College, a work-study thing, after I wrote about what I’d been through this past summer in a story that they said showed “promise.” I bit my lip not to laugh. Since I know a bunch about promises.

  I know Lou thinks I’m a little crazy. Maybe I am. I have Lou and my family. I have Charlie, and that thought makes me smile and warms me from my toes right on up. The little crazy part is that I also still have Teddy.

  It was when I went to the dock not long ago, that cold air, that icy water, those stars, when I let go of those medals, when I pitched them into the water, that’s when I felt it. Like a sigh, from me, from him, like the release of all the bad things Teddy thought he’d done and all the bad things he really had done, and I knew I’d freed him at last. Knew I’d really kept that promise anyhow. And now I have Teddy new, the golden-haired brother who loved me with a pure heart.