“Look, I want to be in the pictures,” Gustavson said, wiping his work-reddened hands on his apron. “I’ve got to get away from that meatpacking job. They’ve got me working in the pickling room, and if there’s ever a version of hell on earth, that’s it. Do you have any idea what brining solution does to a man’s hands?” He held up his palms, red and raw. “Mr. Gridhorn, working in the pictures is all I’ve ever wanted, and I’ll do any sort of job you have open.”
Gridhorn looked him up and down, then pulled the wooden toothpick out of his mouth and shook his head. “Sorry, kid, but no can do. The crew’s full. We’re not hiring right now.”
Gustavson’s jaw clenched in resolve. “I can do security with the best of ‘em, Mr. Gridhorn. I can sweep. I can paint.”
“I’ve already got people to sweep and paint.”
Gustavson’s expression hardened. “You sure you don’t want to reconsider? I can be handy in all sorts of ways that have nothing to do with the talkies. There may be things coming up, where it would be good to keep me close by.” He leaned forward, his voice lowering a bit. “Like I said, I’ve had some experience with private security. I’ve done it for some big names in Chicago.”
Edwina didn’t need to see Gridhorn’s face to see the slight jerk of his shoulders at Gustavson’s words; so casual, so threatening. “Um, look…” he started, stepping back two paces and watching to be sure the large man wasn’t going to advance toward him, “if anything comes up I’ll be sure to let you know. You’re working just next door, right?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I’m sorry, but I just can’t afford to bring on anyone else right now,” Gridhorn said with an apologetic laugh.
Gustavson snorted in disgust and brushed past Gridhorn, his shoulder pushing the small director out of the way as he walked toward the front of the warehouse.
“Buddy, at this point you’d better start understanding that you can’t afford not to hire me.”
Chapter 10
After a tough day at work, it was nice to go out and get a drink at the local bar.
Even if it was illegal everywhere in America, including Chicago.
Bunny had brought up the idea of getting some people together to head to a speakeasy, and Edwina did her best to act casual about it. She’d already made plans to meet up with her friends Agnes and Preston, and luckily Bunny was open to the idea of trying out Edwina’s favorite little watering hole. Max had been walking by while Bunny and Edwina were discussing it, and a huge grin broke across his face when he figured out the topic of their conversation. In less than a minute, he’d invited himself and his girlfriend along, and Edwina had to make excuses later to slip into the office and phone Agnes, letting her know Edwina was going to be bringing along some people from her investigation, and not to blow her cover. Agnes Scapelli, Edwina’s blonde and bubbly best friend, had seemed thrilled at the prospect of being part of Edwina’s latest case, and after promising profusely that she wouldn’t spill the beans, she’d offered to let Preston know, too. To Agnes, it was all some sort of exotic adventure, and Edwina hung up the receiver with the nervous sense that it may have been a bad mistake. She loved Agnes, but the ideas of combining her two worlds together by inviting her friends and coworkers to the same place might be a real issue.
She shouldn’t have worried. Agnes was as good as her word that night, plopping down at Edwina’s table in a corner of the speakeasy, her face alight with the fun of keeping Edwina’s real identity secret. She sipped her drink and listened to Bunny and Max prattle on about work in the movie industry.
“Olivia had to wash her hair tonight,” Max explained, leaning back in his chair and surveying the packed room. “She said she wanted to come with me, but just not tonight.” He jerked his chin toward the empty stage, small and brightly lit. “What’s the deal? I thought you said there was going to be music.”
“Relax, Max. Bernie’s Bar has music almost all the time, and the band will be on in a few minutes. My friend Leonard French is playing tonight, and you needed an evening out with friends.” Edwina sighed and handed Bunny her drink across the table. “So did I, after today.”
“So, we’re friends now, are we?” Max asked, holding onto the handle of his copper mug and swirling the last remnants of his Moscow Mule around a bit. “That’s a new one.”
Agnes leaned across the small speakeasy table, her long beaded earrings brushing her shoulders. “If you’re invited out to drink with us, yes, we’re friends,” she said. “So, what’s the deal with you, Max?” she asked, her eyes bright with mischief. “And what’s the deal with Olivia? Does she have really long hair that takes all day to dry, or something?”
Max glared at her. “No, she’s just very particular about her appearance. Sometimes I don’t see her for a whole day when she’s busy… grooming.”
Bunny seemed confused. “A whole day? Is that normal?” she asked, and Max took a sip and pretended he hadn’t heard what she said.
Edwina was just about to change the subject when Agnes’ face lit up with glee.
“Preston, darling! It’s about time you showed up. Where you have you been, you old thing?” Agnes trilled, her conversation with Max forgotten as Preston Anderson leaned over to give her a resounding kiss on the cheek. “Make room, make room,” she ordered, fluttered her hands at Max and Edwina as they scooted closer. “We weren’t sure you were coming, so we didn’t save you a seat.”
“Can’t I just sit on your chair and have you sit on my lap?” Preston asked with a mischievous grin, and Agnes smacked him on the arm.
“Oh, you are horrible!” she said, just as Max stood up. He walked to the nearby table, where the lone female occupant was deep in animated conversation with another lady who was walking by. Max grabbed the vacant chair at the lady’s table, and plunked it down by Preston, gesturing for him to sit.
Edwina tried not to smile. “Um, Max, the guy who was in that seat just got up. He’s probably in the restroom.”
Max seemed unrepentant. “Well, he shouldn’t have had so much beer then, or he wouldn’t have lost his seat, would he?” he asked. “Besides, his date didn’t say I couldn’t have it.”
“She didn’t see you take it,” Edwina added, looking doubtful, but Max gave her a lopsided grin.
“Then she should’ve been more careful to save a place for her man, shouldn’t she?”
Realizing the conversation was going nowhere, and that Preston seemed perfectly happy to have a stolen chair, Edwina gave up and turned to Preston, who was trying and failing to flag down the lone waitress.
“Preston, you’re late. Where were you?”
“Sorry about that. Mother was upset about something on the news. They had some agitator on, talking about children working in factories and such. I had to get her calmed down before I was able to get out of the house.”
Preston’s mother had a well-earned reputation for loving her son, and also for being a bit of a drama queen when left alone. Her bouts of needing help seemed to perfectly coincide with the times Preston was ready to leave the house and have a good time, so Edwina wasn’t surprised by his statement.
It made her smile to see the lively interaction between Agnes and Preston. It was no secret that Preston had been smitten with the bubbly Agnes for some time, but if Agnes had any clue about Preston’s intentions, she didn’t let on. She seemed perfectly happy to have their chats be fun and flirtatious, but whenever the shy Preston tried to make a foray past that, it always seemed to fizzle out. Edwina had never asked Agnes about it, but she was still hopeful that someday the two of them would find some common ground that included more than friendship.
Behind her, she could hear people walking across the small stage, and turned her head far enough to see her friend, Lawrence French, waving at her. She smiled and waved back. Lawrence already looked hot under the lights, sweat glistening on his dark forehead as he mopped it with a handkerchief. Mr. French was known all over Chicago for being one of the best trumpet players
around, and his jazz quartet was in high demand. It had only been through their friendship that he’d been able to play at Edwina’s family’s party in February. Mr. French had apparently secured a new singer, and she was already smiling at the crowd and adjusting her microphone. The sparkling sequins on her fringed dress caught the light beautifully, sending glittering bits of dancing rainbows around the stage as she started slowly dancing to the music her bandmates were beginning to play behind her. The chattering in the room died down a bit as she grabbed the back of the microphone and put her rouged lips just inches from the metal. As Mr. French expertly played his trumpet behind her, she broke into song.
“We’re all alone, no chaperone, can’t get our number, the world’s in slumber, let’s misbehave…”
A broad smile broke out across Preston’s face and he looked at Agnes. “What an excellent idea. Care to dance?” he asked, and at her answering nod, he took her hand and twirled her onto the small dance floor.
“How long have those two been dating?” Bunny wanted to know, but Max broke in before Edwina could answer her.
“Oh, they’re not a couple,” he said, nodding their way as he leaned back in his chair. “He’s got the hots for her, but she’s got her sights elsewhere, I’m thinking. Notice how his eyes follow her everywhere, and she’s still looking around to see what sort of young fellow walks by?”
“Really?” Bunny asked, sounding disappointed as she watched Preston and Agnes dance. “But they’re so cute together.”
“That’s life,” Max said, looking over at Edwina. “Not everything is what it appears, you know.” He paused. “And not everyone is telling the truth all the time.”
Edwina turned away and took a sip of her sloe gin. Whatever sideways insult Max was directing her way didn’t merit answering, and she certainly wasn’t going to ask what he was talking about in front of other people. The last thing she needed was someone prying into her business, or to ask about what she was hiding.
Bunny was watching the dancers and moving her body to the music, a small smile on her face. Finally, she got the nerve to do what she’d been considering.
“Max, do you want to dance with me?” she said hopefully, but he shook his head.
“That’s sweet, and you’re swell, Bunny, but I don’t dance with anyone but my girl, unless she says it’s okay.”
Bunny gave a harrumph of disapproval and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms across her chest in disgust. “Max Crane, it took some courage for me to ask you to dance, and you should appreciate that. You are such a dog.”
Max smiled a bit and blew out a long sigh. “I may be a dog, Bunny, but I’m a one-woman dog. Sorry.”
Edwina wasn’t listening. “Do you see who I see?” she asked, scooting close to Max and pulling on his jacket sleeve. “Isn’t that Mr. Gustavson sitting over by the bathrooms?”
Max swiveled his head around and narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, it is. I wonder what that guy’s doing here. It’s not like this joint is the sort of place he’d go to after hours. He seems more like he’d be drinking bootleg hooch at home instead of paying for hard liquor here.”
Bunny blinked twice, her eyes wide. “He’s staring at us.”
Edwina glanced back and, sure enough, Gustavson was openly looking their way, his face set in lines of anger. He was sitting alone, a full bottle of liquor sat on his table, his empty glass beside it. “Oh, well that just won’t do,” Edwina declared, setting down her drink with a bang. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and marched through the moving crowd to Gustavson’s table.
As soon as she got close, she put both of her hands on her hips. “You have some sort of problem, mister? Are you following us?”
Gustavson’s jaw set in belligerent response. “You’re crazy, lady. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know, there are all sorts of places to go after work, Mr. Gustavson. What in the world are you doing the exact same speakeasy that I frequent? I mean, what are the odds?”
“What’s it to you?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “Maybe I just want to see how the other half lives.”
“What other half?”
He gave a snort of near-amusement. “The Hollywood Half. The half that can afford good liquor and big houses. The ones who make movies and get their photos in the society pages of the paper.”
“Well, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m none of those things. My friends and I are just having a quiet drink.”
He scoffed loudly. “That’s not what I see.” He leaned closer. “Looks to me like you and that guy Max are snuggling up real close. Real close.” He gave her a lopsided leer. “Five gets you ten he has you in bed by the end of the night.”
Edwina could feel her blood beginning to boil as she glared at him. “I barely know him.”
Gustavson slowly rose to his feet, towering over her.
She didn’t move an inch, keeping her eyes locked on his. If she was worried he was going to take out his anger on her, she sure as hell wasn’t going to show it.
“Oh, hit a nerve, did I?” he said smugly. “You know, all you girls who work in pictures are the same. Loose. Absolutely no morals.”
“That’s not true. Take it back,” she ground out.
“Truth hurts, doesn’t it?” he said, and before she could think clearly, Edwina had launched herself at him, claws out and ready to fight. She’d had men form all sorts of opinions about her behavior in the past, but never had been called loose to her face.
It was so far off the mark it was laughable. The truth was, she didn’t date much at all.
She got one good swing in, connecting as hard as she could as the side of his surprised face, when she felt him start to pull his right arm around to wind up for a terrible blow.
Suddenly, there was a blur of motion out of the corner of her eye, and she saw Preston sweep her back with one arm, as hard as he could. She landed on the floor in a dazed heap, watching Preston land a clenched fist right next to Gustavson’s eye. There was a flailing of arms and curses as the men pummeled each other, Edwina’s breath catching in her throat as she saw her friend defend her.
“I had him!” she yelled angrily at Preston, even though she knew it wasn’t true. She was just about to leap to her feet when she heard an enormous commotion near the speakeasy’s front entrance.
“Police! Everyone stay where you are!” boomed an authoritative voice, and it had the expected results.
It was complete chaos. Patrons were hollering for each and yelling as the crowd scrambled wildly to get away from the surge of police officer flooding into the room. Tables and chairs were overturned in the rush of people trying to flee from arrest and possible jail. Edwina could hear glassware shattering as bottles and tumblers landed on the hard floor, and the band grabbed its instruments and ran right along with the rest of the crowd, trying to escape.
“It’s a raid! Grab your coat and run!” Max bellowed, and Edwina hooked her coat with one hand and swiveled her head around just in time to see four blue-uniformed police officers forcing their way through the crowd, nightsticks at the ready.
And blocking the exits.
Chapter 11
As Edwina scanned the frantic chaos of the main room, Agnes and Bunny were nowhere to be seen, but Edwina could see the back of Preston’s back, heading for the main door, and pushing along with the crowd. Police were whistling and shouting at the partygoers, and grabbing anyone they could to be marched out to the paddy wagon waiting out front. Edwina could only hope her three friends were all together and would be able to escape going to jail.
“Grab the booze!” Max yelled, and Edwina was able to stretch down just far enough to get her fingers around the neck of the unopened bottle of vodka on Gustavson’s table. Gripping it tightly in one hand, she let Max pull her by the other as they ran for the doorway to the kitchen.
Two officers were trying to stop people from fleeing, even as guests frantically buffeted them and streamed past them, clutching each
other as they ran. Just as they got to the doorway to the kitchen another policeman jumped directly in Edwina’s path, his grin triumphant.
“Where do you think you’re going, little lady?” he asked, and before she could even think about it, Edwina swung the vodka bottle at him. It slammed into his neck, knocking him sideways, his face full of shock as he fell over into the fleeing partygoers around him.
Max’s eyes were wide as Edwina dashed through the opening in front of her, pulling Max’s clammy hand the whole way.
“You hit a cop!”
Edwina ignored him and followed the other people ahead of her. The backdoor from the kitchen to the alley was always propped open, flooding the kitchen with icy air, and they leaped through it, into the cold, dark night.
“This way!” Max said, jerking his head toward the alley, leading her away from the busy street out front. She pelted alongside him, her breath coming in short gasps as her lungs struggled to keep up the exertion. There was the smell of gasoline and garbage, and a faint whiff that proved someone had used the alley as a drunk’s urinal. Ahead of them was an assortment of metal trash cans, a stack of wooden cargo crates, and a delivery truck with a battered tarpaulin tied on top.
“The truck!” Max yelled, pointing at the tall cargo truck in front of them. “In the back!”
The truck was old, with the words VAN WINKLE SHIPPING stenciled on the doors, and a tailgate upright and locked into position. Max grabbed the tarp and flipped it up, pulling Edwina upward with the other hand. She jumped and put one foot on the bumper, then hauled herself up and flung her leg up and over the tailgate.
The inside of the truck was pitch black, but she didn’t care. She stepped over the tailgate and plunged into the darkness, landing face down.
Facedown in something deep and soft, that smells like her mother’s sheepskin-lined slippers. She was just about to tell Max the truck was full of sheared wool, cleaned and ready to head to the woolen mill, when she could see the silhouette of his head and shoulders below the lifted tarp. With a grunt of effort, he scrambled over the tailgate, and launched himself inside, too.
A Fatal Affair Page 5