Mid-day. It could be hours before Henry’s home. Sadie can see the neighbors’ curtains twitch. She hunches, trying to make herself look smaller. She waits.
* * * *
Edith peaks out again, across the yard toward Henry’s house. The girl is still there. A ragged thing. “Mickey, who is that girl on Henry’s doorstep?”
Mickey is sitting in the chair, a newspaper open on his lap, unread. “Edith, come away from the window. It’s none of your business.”
Edith shrugs and continues to watch. Young. Maybe twenty? Hard to tell under that gawd-awful hat.
“Edith. Keep your nose out of it. Come away.” Mickey’s bark surprises her, and she drops the drape she’d been holding, flouncing down into a chair opposite him. She keeps an eye on the draped window.
“Is Henry seeing anyone?” Edith asks.
“How should I know?”
“Why else would a girl and a suitcase be on his front step?”
Mickey picks up his paper to hide behind.
“Does he have a sister or a niece?” Edith persists.
“You know him as well as I do. He hasn’t talked to his family in years. I think they live outta state.”
Edith goes back and forth to the window. The girl doesn’t move. Just sits there. Leaning against the door.
“Maybe I should invite her in? It’s not that warm out there. She must be thirsty.”
“Stay out of it, Edith.”
* * * *
Henry’s car headlights sweep the house as he pulls into the driveway. It had been a long day at the brewery, and the drive back from Camden had been a chore. The headlights catch a shape on the doorstep. It stands.
“Sadie? What are you doing out here?” Henry, not even shutting off the car, hurries over, wrapping her into his arms. Sadie buries her face in his coat, sobbing.
In the glow of his headlights, Henry holds her, trying to make sense of what she’s trying to tell him. A fight with her parents? A baby?
Henry holds her at arms-length. “What? A baby? You’re having a baby?” He searches her red, splotched face, trying to see the joke, the mistake in his hearing.
She nods, her lower lip trembling, eyes downcast.
He pulls her back into an embrace, absently patting her back. “Well now. I wasn’t expecting that.” They stand there. Looking over his shoulder, he can see Edith at the window of her house; watches her pull the drapes closed.
“Come on. Let me shut off the car, and we’ll go inside and you can tell me what’s going on.”
Chapter 28
T he next morning, while Hilda cooks breakfast, Edith prepares Mickey’s orange juice with the special drops from the doctor. She sets the glass of juice on the table and goes to the front door to retrieve the Philadelphia Inquirer. A dark sedan is parked at the curb across from her house. As she watches, it starts up and drives away.
Edith freezes. Baileys. I’d know those evil, ugly faces anywhere. Those two mugs peering out from the car, it could be that night at the Cadix all over again.
Alarmed, she slams the door and locks it. Mickey, coming down the stairs, sees her fright. “Edith? What is it? You’re as pale as a ghost.”
“Nothing, Bunny. I thought I saw a racoon in my roses, but it was just the neighbor’s cat.”
“A racoon? What would a racoon be doing in this neighborhood? Is that the paper?” He chuckles as he reaches for the paper she’s clutching.
Edith shivers and follows Mickey into the dining room where Hilda has laid out breakfast. Should I say anything to Mickey? How would he handle it? Could he handle it? Knowing the Baileys are cruising around might cause a relapse. No, I’ll talk to Henry instead. He’ll know what to do.
“Hey Edith, listen to this. Some dame struck out Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig during an exhibition game between the Yankees and the Chattanooga Lookouts. Now I’ve seen everything,” Mickey says through the paper.
He’s always so much better in the morning, before he takes his medicine. I’m going to talk to the doctor again. By supper, after he’s had his evening dose, he’s almost catatonic. That can’t be right.
“What are your plans today, Mickey?” Edith asks.
“I thought I’d head into the city. Would you like to come? Maybe do some shopping?”
“Um, not today. I have a few things to do around the house.”
“Suit yourself. Looks like the Phillies are going to start Ray Benge this season. He’s got a heck of an arm.”
“Yes, Bunny. Sounds good,” Edith murmurs, distracted by thoughts of her day and what she needs to do.
* * * *
Mickey has barely left the driveway when Edith scoots over to Henry’s house. She doesn’t have time to ring the bell before the front door opens and Henry is standing there, shirtsleeves and suspenders. Startled, Edith stoops and hands him his newspaper from the front step.
“Special delivery. Edith sports a coy grin.
“Good morning, Edith,” Henry says, looking behind him. “Come on in, but keep your voice down. I have a guest upstairs who’s still asleep.”
Edith peers up the staircase before following him down the hall and into his kitchen.
“I’ve got coffee on. Want a cup?” he asks.
“Sure. Love a cup.”
“So, what brings you over this morning? Or need I ask?”
“I noticed you have company.”
“And want to know what’s going on?”
“I like to look out for you, Henry. You and Mickey may be on the outs, but we’re still neighbors and, I hope, still friends.”
“Of course we are, Edith. How is Mickey, by the way?”
“Pretty good today. He’s just gone into the city. I imagine he’ll head over to the Ritz. He got a new pool table, Henry. You should come over for a game some time.”
“Perhaps I will.”
Edith stirs her coffee. “Is your niece visiting?” she asks with a studied casualness.
“Ha. So much for small talk. No, she’s not my niece, as you well know. Her name is Sadie Bloom and she’s the daughter of a friend of Max Hassel.”
Edith sits and waits, her expression alternating between innocence and cat and mouse.
“She’s had a disagreement with her family, so she’s going to stay here for a while.”
“Henry, you can’t have a young girl living here. The neighbors will go nuts.”
Henry shrugs. “She’s got nowhere else to go.”
“What did she and her folks fight about?”
“It’s personal, Edith.”
“A man?”
“Edith.” Henry issues a warning.
“Was it you? Are you the reason the poor girl has nowhere to go?”
“I’m not going to say anything more, Edith. You’re such a snoop. Tell the neighbors that she’s my niece, that her folks have died, and she’s going to stay with me for a bit. Family tragedy. That should be good for a few chin wags.”
“Oh, all right. But sometime I want to hear the whole story.” Edith sips her coffee. “Now, the real reason I came over this morning is that I saw something when I went to get the paper.”
“You are incredible. The neighborhood watch dog. And don’t deny you were looking through your drapes last night. I saw you.” Henry chuckles.
“You’ll be glad I am the watchdog. I saw the Baileys, Henry. Parked right across the street from our house.”
“The Baileys? Aren’t they still in the joint?”
“Apparently not if they were across the street.”
“Maybe they just look like the Baileys. It’s been a few years since Frankie and James were sent away.”
“I’d know them anywhere. They haunt my nightmares. That horrible night…” Edith shudders, eyes closed, seeing every detail of the assassination attempt at the Cadix.
“Shh, it’s alright, Edith. A long time ago and everybody came through.”
“Except poor John Bricker. And the doorman. Maggie was there, too. Mickey was in the hospit
al for months. He could have died. I could have died.”
Henry pats her hand. “I’ll ask around and see if anyone else has run into them. And I’ll keep an eye out as well. Have you told Mickey?”
“No, not in the shape he’s in. I’ll maybe say something to Eddie Regan, and he can have someone come over to keep an eye on things.”
Henry flinches at the mention of Eddie’s name. “He’s still hanging around, eh?”
“Yeah, he pretty much runs things while Mickey’s not there. It coulda been you, you know. It still could be. Mickey would take you back in a heartbeat.”
“Those days are behind me, Edith. Too much violence. Too much death. No, I like what I’m doing for Max. I run his breweries, order the supplies, make sure the beer tastes good and is shipped out on time, and somebody else looks after the other side of things.”
“I never thought I’d see it. Between you and Mickey. You two used to be the baddest bad guys in Gray’s Ferry, and look at you now.”
“Happy and content?”
“Perhaps. Look, if your ‘niece’ wants a bit of girl time, send her over. I’ll be home all day. Or if she needs to borrow anything. It didn’t look like she arrived for her visit with much.”
“Ha, you were looking.”
“Just keeping an eye on things. Somebody’s got to look out for you boys.”
Chapter 29
S itting in her office, Maggie glances at the clock and decides to call it a day. It’s only four o’clock but, if she gets home early, she’ll have time to pull a salad together to go with the rest of dinner. Or maybe she’ll stop by the bakery and pick up some sweet treat for her boys. She closes the file she’s working on and tidies her desk. Shutting off the light, she heads to reception and then stops, delighted to see Tommy sitting in a chair, reading.
“Tommy, what a wonderful surprise. Why are you here?”
Tommy looks confused and glances at Ron. “Mr. McNeely called this morning before school and said we were going to grab supper and then go to the movies tonight.”
Ron, wearing a big grin, closes his files and comes round to where she’s standing. “And we are. Grab your coat, Maggie. You’ve been working too hard lately, and it will be nice for the three of us to go out and have some fun.”
“The three of us?”
“Yup. I thought we’d catch The Public Enemy. It just came out. Starring Jean Harlow and some guy, Jimmy Cagne. It’s all about gangsters.”
“You’re sure it won’t be too violent for Tommy?” Maggie asks over her shoulder as Ron helps her on with her coat.
“Aw, Mother. Come on, I want to go.”
“All right. Dinner and a movie. But we’d better go if we’re going to make the eight o’clock show.”
“Great. Where shall we go for eats?” Ron says, shepherding Maggie and Tommy out the door and turning off the lights.
* * * *
“You go ahead, Tommy. I’ll be in in a minute. I just want to say goodnight to Mr. McNeely.” The three of them are standing on the veranda after a great night at the flicks.
Tommy heads into the house. Maggie can hear him shouting for Archie and telling him all about the movie.
“That was probably a little too realistic for Tommy. Especially where ‘Tom’ smashes the grapefruit into his girlfriend’s face. And there was a lot of shooting.”
“I had a great time, and so did Tommy,” Ron says.
“Test driving the idea of us as a family?” Maggie offers him a coy smile.
Ron clutches his chest, staggering back. “A dead hit.”
“You goof. I’d better go in.”
Ron grabs her arm, turning her around. “Not before I say goodnight.” He sweeps her up in his arms, giving her a deep kiss. Maggie melts, and then pulls away breathlessly.
“Oh, my.”
“Goodnight, Maggie. See you Monday.”
Chapter 30
E ven with the disaster in a kitchen two bachelors can leave, Maggie gives thanks that the lodgers had managed with leftovers while she, Ron, and Tommy were on their movie date. She restores order, and carries her coffee into the living room. Frank is waiting in his favorite chair. Smiling, she crosses over and turns on the radio.
“It’s been a while since we’ve had a chance to talk shop, so to speak,” Frank says, lighting his cigar with two matches from the box that always seems to be in his pocket.
“It’s been busy at work,” Maggie says, a blush rising to her cheeks.
“Yes, very busy.” Frank repeats her words with a knowing look.
Flustered, Maggie clears her throat. “Have you had a chance to check out those speakeasies Mickey told us about?”
“Yes. Mickey knows his business, despite the medication he’s taking. I went to the Kit Kat Klub first. The bartender there, a Lou Waller, is pocketing the money from every fifth drink. It’s usually beer, but sometimes whiskey. The patrons are none the wiser, and no one else in the place seems to have noticed. I also went to several of the other establishments Mickey has listed.”
Maggie leans forward, eager for some investigative news. It has been a while since she’s been involved in a case. “What did you find out? Is it just the one bartender, or are there others in on the scam?”
“If it was just him, it probably would have passed unnoticed. It could have been put down to spillage, or a customer walking out without paying—any number of legitimate reasons why the kegs and bottle counts would have been short. Mickey’s accountant likely wouldn’t have picked it up in the monthly totals. It has been going on for so long it might appear that the Kit Kat Klub is just making generous pours and not getting the usual amount from their stock. I doubt whether Mickey himself would have noticed.”
“So how did Mickey catch it? I’m surprised he’s on top of his business like that, given everything that Edith has said,” Maggie says, a small frown line creasing her brow.
“I’m not sure that the medication is a good thing, Maggie. It’s not natural to see someone like Mickey that doped up. You should say something to Edith. Maybe she can mention it to his doctor.”
“All right, I will. Edith’s worried about it, too. So, with all the medication he’s on, and how fuzzy his brain is, he still managed to sense something is wrong?”
Frank nods, puffing on his cigar. “He’s still a keen businessman. Gets it from my side of the family I think. He must have an intuitive feel for the numbers after all these years. It’s not like bootleggers can rely on good record keeping. You have to really know the business. Anyway, what tipped him off was, like most crimes, an excess of greed. The Kit Kat bartender must have mentioned something to the bartender at Monte’s, who then talked to the bartender at O’Toole’s, or maybe they move from speak to speak depending on the crowd. I don’t know how they know, but there are five or six places that are pocketing the fifth.”
“Do you think there’s something bigger going on?”
“Like it’s organized? I considered that. It would have to be before the tally gets entered into the accountant’s books. On a busy night, five or six joints hopping, it could add up. I’d be surprised, though, that the bartenders would take on that kind of risk for only a piece of the action in order to pay somebody else off.”
“I can talk to Joe. He might know something about collusion from something that Mickey’s accountant has said. Do you want to go back to the speakeasies to check into it before I talk to Mickey?”
“I think so. People stealing from him may be the thing that cuts through his drugged stupor. If past actions are any indications, Mickey’s going to go ballistic when he hears. I would hazard a guess that it’s not going to be a prolonged investigation after we make our initial report.”
Maggie shakes her head vigorously. “Mickey promised me that he wouldn’t kill anyone, otherwise I wouldn’t take on the case.”
“A noble promise, my dear. Let’s hope that he honors it.”
Chapter 31
T ommy scans the cards he’s holding,
and sighs. He’s going to lose again. “I don’t know how you do it, Jimmy. I know you’re cheating, but darned if I can tell how.”
Come at the King Page 13