Innocence Lost

by Sherilyn Decter

  Chapter 50

  T he door of the warehouse bangs hard against the wall. “Where the hell is he?” Mickey’s face is mottled red in rage, his hands curled into fists at his side.

  Every one of Mickey’s men freeze, waiting for a clue about who he is looking for.

  “Smith,” Mickey barks. “Where the hell is he?”

  Some of the men look upward to the stairs and the overhead corner office. Eugene steps out, clutching the doorframe for support.

  Gus, who had driven Mickey back from the courthouse, leans in to quietly update Henry Mercer, who is standing next to him. Henry listens intently to the extraordinary circumstances in the courthouse that morning.

  “They kept at Mickey the whole night they took him in, all day yesterday, and again all last night, but he told them nuthin’,” Gus says. “This morning, they haul him before Judge Winter—“

  “He’s one of ours, right?” Henry interrupts.

  “Yeah. So the prosecutor starts laying out the case and talking about the list. Winter asks to see the list. There’s no list to be found. They look high and low. It’s gone like it was never there.” Gus snaps his fingers. “Poof. Magic. Of course, Copeland had to admit to the judge that nobody on the list had talked either, so they’re up a creek. Winter, who had by this time been prepped by Mickey’s lawyers, brought the gavel down and threw the case outta court. Mickey was there for less than an hour. Basically in and out. Free to go.”

  “So, what’s all this then?” Mercer says, nodding to Eugene, who is cowering, midway down the stairs.

  “Copeland says the list came from Eugene. And because of that list, they was able to shut down our supply of liquor and harass the speakeasys and the rest of the joints selling the stuff. All this trouble we’ve been having is because of that damn list.”

  Mickey walks over to where Eugene is standing and shoves him hard against the staircase. Eugene grabs the bannister to keep from falling. Mickey grabs hold of Eugene’s tie like a noose and drags him the rest of the way down the stairs.

  “What the hell were you thinking? That I wouldn’t find out? That you could get away with it?” When he gets Eugene to the bottom step, he flings him to the floor. Eugene curls up on the dirt floor of the garage, whimpering.

  Mickey gives him a sharp kick in the stomach and turns away. “Put him in that chair. We're going to have a talk.”

  Porter and Fingers dump Eugene onto a chair near the head of the table where Mickey usually sits.

  Mickey stands over him and lights a cigar. He flings the lit matches at Eugene. Eugene flinches. “So, you rat, why don’t you tell me how the City’s finest got a hold of my books?”

  The men shift shocked faces to Eugene. They form a circle behind Duffy, arms crossed and legs spread. Has he ratted them out, too?

  Eugene babbles denials.

  Eugene looks at him with pleading eyes. Mickey leans closer and gently brushes the hair from Eugene’s forehead.

  The punch to Eugene’s face contains Mickey’s fury of the betrayal and what it may cost him. Blood spurts from Eugene’s nose. Mickey pulls a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit and wipes his fingers. “Okay, Smith. Think harder. How did the cops get some of my books? Copeland told them they came from you. How did they get those pages, you bastard? Skurwysyn!”

  Mickey grabs Eugene’s lapels, pulling him half out of the chair. He shakes him violently then throws him back in the chair.

  “I didn’t give them to the cops, Mickey, I swear. Joe Kelly must have got them. Remember, I told you that we rented rooms in the same house?” Eugene is babbling, eyes wild.

  “Yeah, and I remember telling you to keep an eye on him.” Mickey slaps him again. Blood sprays.

  “Please, Mickey. It wasn’t me. The police hauled me in the same day they got you, but I didn’t tell them nothin’. Nothin’. They let me go and I’ve been hiding here outta sight ever since. Right boys?”

  Eugene looks around the room, eyes wild. No one says anything. “I didn’t give them the papers, Mickey. They came from Kelly. Or maybe it was the landlady, Mrs. Barnes. Copeland said she was at the station right before the papers showed up. I don’t know how the cops got them, but it wasn’t me. You gotta believe me.” As Eugene shakes his head in denial, blood flies from his nose. His eye is swelling shut. He slumps in the chair.

  “So, the dame finds them in your room and turns them over to the cops. Or maybe the cop finds them in your room. That’s a lot of people in and out of your room, Smith. How’d any papers get in your room in the first place? Eh? How’d they wind up there?”

  Eugene stares at him like a cornered rat. “I must have put them in my pocket, Mickey. But it wasn’t me who turned them into the cops. Not me. That copper must have snooped, or the landlady found them and gave them to him.”

  Mickey stares at the battered man. “What a sad excuse you are. Hiding behind some dame’s skirts. It couldn’t be the dame. They were accounting papers. What would she know about accounts and bootlegging? She wouldn’t even know what the list meant. She’s just a broad. It had to be the cop. Taking stuff out of the office? That’s why we have a separate place for you to work. You idiot. Idiota!”

  Mickey slaps him, first on one side of his head then the other. “You were supposed to be keeping an eye on him. Instead, he was busy watching you. He probably suspected you all along. Because the thing is, I learned last night that the copper’s bragging to Copeland that he’s the one that found the papers. He’s the big hero. What a pile of shit this is.” Mickey roars his frustration to the heavens.

  Mickey takes a breath and then turns to Henry. “Smith, you are nuthin but a rat. What do we do about rats, Mercer?”

  Henry Mercer rubs the scar on his forehead. “We gotta get rid of the rats to keep things nice and tidy.”

  Mickey turns his back on Eugene and steps away. Mickey doesn’t even flinch at the sound of the gunshot. “Rat poison. Works every time,” he says to no one in particular.

  Mercer walks over to Mickey. “I hear you didn't even get a chance to take your hat off in court.”

  “A piece of cake," Mickey says. “Not much of a case when there ain’t any witnesses and the evidence disappears. It’s gonna cost a bit more dough for the judge though, greedy bastard.”

  Mercer shrugs, not surprised by the judge’s opportunism.

  Mickey jerks his head back toward Eugene’s crumpled body. “Take him for a swim and then come back. We’ve still got loose ends to tie up in his story. And we’re going to have to come up with a plan for Copeland. He’s just not pulling his weight, Henry.”

  Chapter 51

  M aggie hurries along the sidewalk. The past three days have been frantic. The whole household has been in an uproar ever since Mickey was hauled in. She’s been worried about Eugene showing up, although there’s still no sign of him. Then there had been the upsetting scene in her kitchen yesterday morning when Joe had asked that she testify. After that, the trip to the police station to talk to Joe about the plan that ‘he’ claim to have found the list. Joe had taken some convincing but eventually agreed to do it.

  And then there was Edith. The longer Mickey stayed in jail, the more overwrought she became. She was spending her days with lawyers at the police station and then stopping by Maggie’s on her way home.

  Maggie is glad that everything is coming to a head and this will soon be behind her. Joe had left word that Mickey was going to be in court most of the morning today. She was late finishing chores at home and wants to get to the courthouse to see Mickey’s initial appearance before the judge.

  Joe had explained that it would be some months before the actual trial, but she couldn’t resist seeing Mickey in handcuffs. Edith will probably be there as well, finally able to use the bail money she’s been carrying around; if the judge allows bail. Maggie has decided that she’ll sit with her, despite what others may think. Edith will need a friend.

  She’s mulling these thoughts, especially how to approach
Edith, and doesn’t notice a large black sedan beside her. A slamming car door startles her.

  Instantly, she is seized by two men. “Let me go. Let. Me. Go.” Maggie shouts, trying to gain someone’s attention, but a hand covers her mouth. Her head bangs against the doorframe as she’s shoved roughly into the back seat of the car.

  Maggie goes for the door handle, but the man pushes her back against the seat. “Settle down,” he growls.

  She recognizes the voices, and then the faces, from the night she was called to Edith’s house: Gus and Fingers.

  Maggie lurches again for the car door handle. She lets out a blood-curdling scream, hoping that someone nearby will hear.

  “Stop the car, Gus, and give me a hand here,” Fingers says, as he withdraws a handkerchief from his pocket.

  Gus pulls over, leaps out, a gunnysack in his hand. He throws open the back door and Gus holds Maggie’s arms tight while Fingers tries to tie the handkerchief around her mouth. Maggie whips her head around and sinks her teeth into Finger’s hand. She tries to drive her head against his forehead when he pulls back in surprise.

  Fingers lunges at her again. “For Christ’s sake, Gus, hold her still. The bitch bit me.” Gus grabs Maggie’s hair and yanks her head still. Fingers ties the handkerchief, giving it an extra tight tug as he makes the knot.

  Gus throws the sack over her head and pushes her to the floor of the car. Maggie’s arms are wrenched behind her, and the rough cord bites into her wrists as her hands are tied.

  “Holy crap, she’s a scrapper.” Gus says, pulling away from the curb. Fingers grumbles, then brings his injured hand to his mouth. As she continues to thrash around on the floor of the car, he stomps on her back, leaving a foot firmly on top of her for the rest of the ride. Maggie grunts in pain, riding a wave of nausea.

  Mickey has ordered them to grab me, but not kill me. Yet. I have time. He must still be in the courthouse. Maybe they’re waiting for him? Won’t he be sent to jail until the trial? Joe has told them he found the list. I hope Joe’s okay. They’re animals. Show no fear.

  Lying on the rear floor of the car, Maggie feels it slow and then stop. Gus turns off the motor and gets out. The back car door opens and Fingers lifts his foot off her back. Despite her resolve to show nothing, a small moan escapes from Maggie.

  “Okay, we’re here. Easy now, no rough stuff.”

  He pulls her off the floor of the car like a puppet. Maggie hangs in Gus’ arms, her legs unable to support her. Still hooded and gagged, she desperately tries to see through the fabric. Where am I? What are they going to do?

  She’s dragged so that her heels dig into the ground. Her back aches. Her body meets the frame of a hard chair. Someone pushes her forward and unties her hands, grabbing her arms tight, then wrenching them behind the chair and retying them.

  Maggie shakes her head from side to side. The gag garbles her sound.

  “Nice and comfy there, doll?” A man’s voice. Others laugh. The voices wander away. I am either alone or have a quiet guard.

  She smells grease, oil, metal, and dirt. In the distance, she hears men talking in the accents of her neighborhood. When she concentrates, and works to ignore the pain in her back, she pieces together a quilt of voices that talk about Mickey getting off: walking out of the courtroom without a scratch, lost papers, a payoff. No one is speaking about her, her presence, her fate. Mickey’s out. Oh, my God. What does that mean?

  Maggie hears the clinking of glass and, over the metal and oil, smells the sharp tang of alcohol. Occasionally, someone laughs. Another male discusses his son's school grades.

  The Inspector has told her about Mickey’s warehouse. The warehouse. It must be. Is that where I am? Maybe the Inspector’s here and can help in some way? But if he were here, he’d speak to me.

  “So, Boss, we got your special guest all nice and comfy over here,” says a strong male voice just behind her. She flinches, startled at how close he is.

  The hood is pulled from Maggie’s head. She blinks and squints. Brick. More brick. Warehouse. Mickey’s back to her. He’s near a table with a group of men. Inspector Geyer is standing beside Mickey. He never takes his eyes off her. She stares back at him. “Be strong,” he says. “Be really strong. You’re a clever girl. Use your skills. Use your mind.”

  The man behind her yanks down the gag, leaving the wet cloth around her neck. She jerks her head around, glaring at Fingers.

  Mickey pulls a cigar out of his pocket. Striking two matches against the table, he slowly puffs it to life and flicks the matchsticks into the ashtray on the table. Only then does he look in Maggie’s direction.

  “Mrs. Barnes, Mrs. Barnes.” He shakes his head sadly. Looking at him, Maggie can see regret in his eyes. She starts to tremble. He has made a decision then, and it doesn’t look good for me.

  The room falls silent as Mickey's gang forms an audience behind him. They are also watching and waiting. Maggie recognizes a few of the men from her neighborhood. And from Oskar's funeral. Only some of the group will meet her eye. Of those that do, the hard, cold glint does nothing to reassure her. I’m not going to be able to count on any help from them. Even though some of them know I helped Oskar’s mother.

  “Mr. Duffy, please let me go. I’m not sure why I’m here.”

  “Mrs. Barnes, you’re here because I believe you know something you shouldn’t. And I aim to find out how you came by that information and how much you know.”

  He doesn’t know that I gave the pages to Joe. Maybe he will let me go after all? Frank holds a finger to his lips and shakes his head. Maggie presses her lips tightly together and looks back at Mickey.

  “How did the police get a part of my books? I was talking with our mutual friend, Eugene Smith, who says he didn’t give it to them. And I’m inclined to believe a dying man’s last words.”

  Maggie flinches. Eugene is dead. Mickey killed him to find the leak.

  “A list? I don’t understand.” Maggie’s voice quavers a bit. Her chin comes up. She looks Mickey in the eye.

  “I’ve got people telling me different things, Mrs. Barnes. Nobody seems to know for sure how the police got that list. Was it you? The coppers say Constable Kelly brought it in. The very same man you brought to my house and that was sitting in my own living room.”

  “Joe’s never mentioned a list.” Maggie looks to the Inspector for some help or advice but he is gone. Damn. She is on her own.

  Mickey plants himself on a chair in front of her. “Here’s what I know, doll. Smith had the list of some accounting information. He ‘lived’ at your house. Then the police had the list. Kelly, for now, ‘lives’ at your house. Your house. You’re the piece in the middle, Mrs. Barnes.” Mickey leans close. “Now, I gotta plug this leak. A man in my business can’t go around with the whole world knowing what he’s up to. If it was Eugene, well, that’s taken care of. Now we need to find out if it was you. What do you think, Henry?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Boss. A dame? Especially when there’s a copper living right there in the house?” Henry shakes his head.

  “How about you tell me all about Constable Kelly, Mrs. Barnes.”

  Stall. Appear to cooperate. Inspector? “Joe Kelly, yes,” Maggie says, nodding her head. “He’s taken a room with me for about four months now.” That much he can easily find out if he doesn’t already know. I’ve got to protect Joe.

  “You and he must be pretty tight if he came with you over to my house the other night. He looks out for you, right? He your boyfriend or something?” Mickey asks.

  “Hardly. Joe’s like a kid brother. He looks out for me and Tommy.” Oh, no. I just mentioned Tommy.

  “And Constable Kelly works with Colonel Butler, right? He’s part of that damn Enforcement Unit One bunch?”

  “I’m not sure. Colonel who? Constable Kelly doesn’t talk about his work. I don’t allow any of that talk in the house.” Eugene better not have said anything about all of Joe’s stories at dinner, or I’m sunk. Was he killed here? To
day? Will I be killed here? Today? What will they do to Joe? What will happen to Tommy?

  Mickey leans forward and shouts close to her face. “How did Kelly get a hold of my books?”

  Maggie cringes. “I don’t know, Mr. Duffy. Please. I just don’t know.” Real tears roll down her cheeks.

  “My dilemma, Mrs. Barnes, is this someone has fed important information about my racket to the damn cops. They’ve closed me down. They’ve busted up my supply line. That hurts my wallet and my reputation around town.”

  Maggie blinks to keep the tears flowing.