Innocence Lost

by Sherilyn Decter

  That’s a far cry from Mickey’s crew, and other bootleggers, who rely on their vehicles for business and status. They have very specific criteria, with the most desirable cars designed to be both fast and to carry large payloads. Of the various cars and trucks, the two Packards, affectionately known as Whiskey Sixes because of their purpose and size of the engines, are the crew’s pride and joy.

  Mickey and Alfred have made extensive modifications to them to haul the illegal gin, vodka, and whiskey from the moonshine stills out in the country.

  Alfred’s altered two vehicles in particular, removing the back seat of each to create more cargo space. False floorboards hide some of the booze, and there’s even more storage areas under the cars for more bottles. No space is wasted; the stuffing and spiral springs have been removed from the cars' seatbacks, making room for tin containers.

  Because of the added weight when fully loaded, Alfred has changed the suspension to a degree that, when running empty, unless they weight it with bricks or jugs of water, the rear end will ride high and have a distinctive bounce. Alfred laughs when he sees them running without the ballast, calling them ‘cats in heat'.

  The current trend of dividing the gas tank so that one side can hold alcohol has been rejected by Alfred. So many of their moonshine runs are out to the isolated countryside, he’s made sure Mickey’s cars have two gas tanks for distance, and he’s armor plated them.

  Anticipating the inevitable chases with Prohbies and hijackers, Alfred has taken out the windows, loaded the front passenger floor with chains and cans of nails, and mounted spotlights on the rear of each car. These can be turned on to blind pursuers. He has also drilled holes through the floorboards so that the man riding shotgun can pour oil onto the hot muffler to create a smokescreen.

  His main challenge is to keep tires on the two Packards. It is a tough job, with gravel roads, dirt tracks, open fields, and reckless speeds putting severe strain on the rubber. Alfred knows of one crew that had seven blowouts running from Spokane, Washington up to Fernie, British Columbia. Everyone in the crew has a story of someone who is sitting in jail because his tires had failed at some critical moment.

  Sometimes the whiskey six runs are long and the men won’t return until just before dawn. Frank has seen them leave the loads in place while they head home to sleep. Other times the men pick up orders off a train car that is conveniently stopped on the railway siding next to the warehouse.

  Liquor is usually delivered early in the week. By midweek, all bottles are ready to go back out for the busy weekend business. Mickey never keeps a large inventory of alcohol onsite; does his best to move it in and out quickly. The opportunity for theft or seizure is high. As well, given the quality of some of the hooch, Frank also assumes Mickey must be concerned about explosions.

  Off in the corner, within eyesight of the door, is a long table and chairs. Here the men gather to get their assignments, play cards, and, of course, sample the product. Quality control.

  In another corner, at the top of a short flight of stairs, is a small office with glass windows overlooking the floor of the warehouse. Frank has rarely seen anyone go into the office except to use the phone. When the orders or messages come in, they are written out and given to Mickey or Harry Mercer during the gang’s evening meeting.

  What Frank hasn’t seen in the warehouse office are ledgers. Somewhere there has to be a list of who the suppliers are, who the customers are, who has paid, which cops and judges are on the take and for how much, and, importantly, how much each man in the gang is owed from each job. He’d been hopeful when he first saw the small office that it might be a good source of information, but he has since learned that Mickey’s bookkeeper’s office is somewhere else in the city.

  The cash-only nature of the bootlegging business means keeping a sharp eye out for theft and ‘breakage'. There aren't a lot of invoices given out. Mickey runs a tight ship, making sure that personal greed is never the primary motivation for his crew, because he'll never be able to control it.

  The more Frank thinks about it, the more convinced he is that it will be the paperwork that will do Mickey in.

  Frank isn’t sure how to deal with Maggie’s curiosity about the warehouse operations. She keeps insisting that she wants to be part of a stakeout. She wants to see for herself the comings and goings and get a sense of Mickey’s business. Frank hasn’t yet found a place where she might hide and spy, and he isn’t going to put her in harm’s way or risk her discovery.

  * * * *

  While Frank stakes out the warehouse, Maggie has her own surveillance assignment. Each day, after getting Tommy off to school, and her lodgers off to work, she catches the trolley and gets off on North Broad Street.

  The street is lined with grand homes, in all kinds of architectural styles, set close to the sidewalks. Further along Broad are theatres, restaurants, and hotels. The Duffy mansion is a Romanesque red brick and stone three-story home with towering chimneys and turrets. Maggie is intrigued with the small, curved balcony on the second floor, wondering what lies behind its Palladian windows.

  The various housekeepers and other household staff have already arrived by the time Maggie is in place. Sometimes she's in a park across the street if the weather is decent. She takes shelter in an alleyway if the wind is too chilly.

  Most days, Edith is at home until eleven. After that, Maggie sees her being driven off. Maggie presumes she’s going to luncheons downtown or to various clubs or private homes. There is always a steady stream of deliveries to the house from various boutiques and shops from downtown Philadelphia known as Center City. Maggie takes note of the box labels so she can ‘bump into’ Edith at one of the stores she frequents.

  Mickey leaves before Edith--around ten. He rarely returns before dinner, which, Maggie has learned from chatting with the staff, is served around seven. Several times a week, there are guests for dinner.

  More often as not, Mickey and Edith head out to the clubs in the evening. Maggie has heard tell of the fancy clothes from the staff, but she is usually back home sitting at her own dining room table when the Duffys go out, so has yet to see for herself.

  Today, reading through the society pages in the café close to the Duffys’, Maggie notes that a club that Edith belongs to will be meeting at Green’s Hotel next Tuesday for lunch. How exciting. Finally, I’ll get to do a bit of inside work. Maybe I’ll even get to tail her.

  Chapter 34

  M aggie dresses with care, disguising herself as best she can as a well-heeled matron. There isn't much in her wardrobe that would meet Vogue's standards but, with a bit of creative flair, she might be able to pull off the bit of sleuthing she has on today’s calendar.

  A different set of decisions, years ago, and I may have become this woman in the mirror. She is the woman Mother wanted me to be before I fell for Jack. If I'd chosen the easy path, I'd probably have less gray in my hair, and certainly fewer frown lines on my forehead. But no Tommy, so no chance. But when did I give up caring about how I looked? After Jack died? These have been hard years, raising Tommy. Looking good takes a back seat when money is short.

  Maggie dabs on a bit of lip color and rouge, then winks at herself. Putting her hair up, rather than just twisting it into a bun at the back, adds style. She turns her head from side to side, debating the merits of bobbing it. The dress is a bit too long, but will have to do. A string of pearls, a gift from her parents on her sixteenth birthday, completes the ensemble. She hasn't yet got hungry enough or desperate enough to pawn those pearls, and if the boarding house continues to prosper, she never will. Maggie imagines a matching set of pearl earrings, and laughs. A washing machine and new refrigerator first. I’ll have to wait for a man in my life if I’m going to own pearl earrings.

  As the finishing touch, she fixes a new cloche hat firmly on her head. It was the hat’s feather Maggie had fallen in love with.

  Full of resolve and last minute advice from the Inspector, Maggie sets out to get to know Edith Duf
fy better. She’s convinced that Edith holds some of the answers to build the case against Mickey Duffy.

  The Zonta Club is holding its monthly luncheon at Green’s Hotel, the first hotel Maggie had approached after she and the Inspector had started their investigation. She remembers the fussy desk clerk, and grimaces.

  Maggie finds a bench across the street from Green's. She eats her sandwich brought from home while she passes the time from Edith’s arrival. Closer to two o’clock, she moves into the lobby, knowing that it will soon be filled with exiting Zonta Club members who have lunched on delicacies much finer than her sandwich. One more woman in a hat, even a hat with such an elegant feather, will not be noticed.

  The Grand Ballroom doors open and the first women begin to trickle out. They are a parade of women’s fashion. Maggie is distracted from checking faces as she checks out hemlines, waists, and the new spring colors. She watches as they head to the coat check to collect their warm, fur-collared coats. Looking at her galoshes, she sighs. No fancy, delicate shoes for her. Without a driver to ferry her from place to place, she has to walk through slush to catch the trolley.

  Edith walks out of the ballroom with another woman. Maggie hopes the two of them aren't going shopping together. They stop to peck each other on the cheek, then Edith's companion heads to the powder room. Edith collects her wrap at the coat check. Maggie swings in behind, keeping other people between herself and her quarry, like the Inspector has taught her.

  On Market Street, Edith pauses to glance in several of the store windows. It looks like hemlines are going up again this season. Maggie concentrates on Edith and tries not to get distracted in her own enjoyment of window shopping. Edith admires Strawbridge’s large window, and its display of European hats—a rainbow of colors. Edith enters. Maggie follows.

  They wander through the racks of beautiful silk scarves, past the counters of jewelry and perfume, and arrive at the hat department. Women’s hats of every description adorn mannequins’ heads. Wooley roll-brim hats and lovely embroidered tam o’shanters suitable for winter are on sale to make way for some of the prettiest spring straw hats Maggie has seen. There is a fetching purple hat whose black band has fanciful silk flowers along the front.

  Edith moves between the displays, Maggie admires a tri-corner musketeer hat in luscious blue velvet. The front brim is smocked and holds a large peacock-blue satin bow on one side.

  “Good afternoon, Madame. May I be of assistance?” The fashionably dressed young woman cuts a fine balance between officious disdain toward any customer not worthy to shop in Strawbridge’s and helpful assistance, as she works on commission.

  “I’m wanting something new for spring. Maybe in blue?” Maggie declares with false confidence. She is ‘undercover’; wants to play her role.

  As the sales clerk gathers a few blue items, Maggie drifts over to Edith, who is looking at a toque hat that a saleswoman is holding. Its tall, stiff emerald-green panels are sewn with beads and sequins. Edith initially centers it on top of her head, which is where the ladies from her club would normally wear it. But, glancing around, she tilts it rakishly forward over her forehead and grins, adopting a mischievous flapper pose.

  “Oh Mrs. Duffy, that looks lovely on you. It is so your color.”

  Edith turns and looks at Maggie, a puzzled smile on her face. She is trying to place her.

  “I’m Mrs. Maggie Barnes. We met at Alicja Leszek’s. At the funeral reception for her son, Oskar.”

  Edith’s brow smooths. “Now I remember. Wasn’t that just the saddest day? It’s great seeing you again, Mrs. Barnes.” Edith turns back to consider the hat, tilting her head from one side to the other. “You don’t think that it’s too… flashy? I need a new hat for church and club meetings and I don’t want those old dames’ chins to start wagging.”

  Maggie also considers the hat, which definitely has style. “It’s maybe a bit too much for Sundays, but you look great in it. Maybe you could wear it to lunch? Or to the movies?”

  “Oh, yes.” Edith puckers up and blows herself a kiss in the mirror, and turns to face Maggie. “It’s been ages since Mickey and I went to the flicks. I’d love to see that new Valentino picture. Have you seen it yet?”

  I’m lucky to see the poster let alone sit inside one of those movie palaces. “No, not yet. Maybe this weekend, if it’s still playing at The Stanton. I loved him in The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Those eyes.” Maggie plays at swooning, and then giggles.

  Edith removes the gorgeous hat and hands it to the salesclerk. “I’ll take it. Please box it and I’ll have my driver fetch it this afternoon.”

  Edith leans close to Maggie. “I’m so glad you talked me into buying that hat. I love it.”

  Maggie nods. “It’s going to turn a few heads at The Stanton, for sure.” She examines one of the blue hats. “I’ll have to think on this,” she tells the salesclerk.

  “How swell that we ran into each other again. Do you have time to join me for tea or coffee before heading off? We could just pop in to the lunchroom?” Edith grabs Maggie’s arm. “Oh, I know. Instead, let’s go over to Child’s for ice cream.” She bounces and wiggles like a puppy.

  “Ice cream would be lovely, but I don’t think I have time for Child’s today. I have to be off soon, but I’d love a quick cup of coffee first.” Seeing Edith’s pout, she pats the hand that is still on her arm. “Tell you what, we’ll go to Child’s next time, when I have more time. We can share one of their banana splits. How does that sound, Mrs. Duffy?”

  “Oh please, call me Edith.” She hooks her arm through Maggie’s.

  “And you must call me Maggie.”

  Settling into a table in Strawbridge’s lunch room, Edith leans forward, inviting a confidence. “And how is Alicja doing? It must be so hard to lose a child, especially under those horrific circumstances.”

  “She is managing as best she can. With so many other children, she hasn’t had time to think about herself too much. Do you have children?”

  Edith slowly stirs her cup of coffee. “No, Mickey and I haven’t been that lucky.”

  There is genuine sorrow in Edith’s eyes. Maggie reaches over and clasps her hand. “I’m so sorry, Edith. I imagine that it’s been tough.”

  “Not just for me, you know. Mickey would love to be a father. When we first got hitched, we were sure it was just a matter of time. But month after month, nothing, bupkiss. There were a couple of times I thought maybe, but it didn’t last. You know, it didn’t… take.”

  “Oh Edith, that’s so sad. But surely there’s lots of time yet?”

  Edith gives a bitter, little laugh. “Oh yeah, we still have lots of time. And boy, we do like to practice.” Edith wiggles her eyebrows.

  Maggie’s blush makes Edith laugh.

  “How did you and Mickey meet?”

  “Oh Maggie, it’s a wonderful story. I was a sweet, young thing, working at the coat check in a club downtown. Mickey came in one night, full of life and energy and just swept me off my feet. He was a real big-timer. A man with plans, that Mickey. And in a hurry to get where he was sure he was going. We’ve had such swell times, he and I.”

  “At the funeral, we talked a little bit about Mickey’s work,” Maggie says. “It doesn’t scare you?”

  “Oh honey, I've always been a bit of a wild child. That danger was part of the spark in the first place. But things change. I sure didn't expect to wind up looking for a nice quiet hat for church.”

  Edith throws her head back and laughs. She raises her arms in the air, keeping time with an invisible bandleader. Customers and wait staff look away.

  “Back in those days, it was all about the Charleston, and drinking sidecars, and keeping up with the boys.”

  “So, what happened?” Maggie asks.

  “Well, Mickey grew up around Gray’s Ferry. He was a real thug for sure. The toughest tough boy in a tough part of town.” Edith leans forward, enjoying telling her tale. She lights a cigarette. “Do you mind? I’m desperate for
a ciggy.”

  Maggie can’t get used to a woman smoking in a public place. But, being undercover, she shrugs casually, “Naw, help yourself.”

  Edith blows smoke out of the corner of her mouth and continues. “He made some bad decisions and got sent up. When we met, he’d just been let out of Eastern State Pen. But he had already seen what a bit of moxie and some luck could do. He was never going to make any real money as a mechanic, so he came up with a different plan. Do you know Henry Mercer? Got a big scar on his face. On account of Mickey. Them two spent time together in the joint. After they got out, he and Mickey joined up to make some clams with all the illegal booze.”

  I am a mother, I have lodgers, responsibilities, and here I sit, undercover, listening to the wife of a notorious gangster leader speak casually about a whole other world.

  Edith takes another puff of her cigarette, knocking the ash into the ashtray in the center of the table. “I remember you saying at Alicja’s that you were a widow. That must be rough.”