Gathering Storm

by Sherilyn Decter

  Later, Zeke wanders into the barroom. Edith is at the table working on ideas for opening night. A cup of coffee beside her.

  “The kid said you wanted to talk to me about something?”

  “Have a seat and I’ll get you a coffee.” Putting a full cup in front of him, she joins him at the table. “First, thanks for your help last night.”

  Zeke looks surprised. “Um, sure. No problem.”

  “Because of what happened, I need to find the boss of the Wharf Rats. Do you know anything about how I might find out who that is?”

  Zeke leaps up having spilled coffee on his lap. “Damn,” he yells.

  Edith tosses him a cleaning rag. “You okay?”

  “I just poured steaming coffee on my…” Zeke looks at Edith and blushes.

  “Well, do you? Do you know anything about the Wharf Rats?”

  “I know enough to know you shouldn’t be talking to them. They’re a rough bunch. You should just do what they said and get while the getting’s good.”

  Edith shakes her head. “I can’t do that, Zeke. Gator’s is too important to me. I want to try and talk to them. Find out what they want. And get them to leave me alone. If I have to pay protection money, I will. It’s done all the time in Philly.”

  Zeke continues to try and talk her out of meeting with the Wharf Rats. Finally, exasperated, he throws the cleaning rag on the table and stands. “Fine. You are one stubborn dame, I’ll give you that. Let me ask around. Whatever you do, don’t go trying to find him on your own. Promise me?”

  * * * *

  “So the fella’s name is Buford. He’s mean. He’ll listen to what you have to say. And then you listen to what he has to say.”

  Zeke and Edith are walking toward a car parked on the side of a dark road. Her heart is pounding and her palms damp. The headlights blind Edith and she stumbles a few times.

  As she gets close to the front of the car, the driver’s door opens and a heavy man gets out and shines a flashlight in her face. “Stop right there.”

  She raises her hand to shield her eyes. “Can you turn off that light? I can’t see a thing.”

  The voice behind the flashlight says “No. I’m here. So whadda ya have to say?”

  That voice. This is the man that held me. She struggles to breathe.

  Buford snarls. “Cat got your tongue? You wanna talk, so talk.”

  “Why are you doing this? What do you want?”

  The light wavers as Buford shrugs, looking behind him. “I think it might be for kicks, but who knows.”

  “What? Kicks? You don’t want money?”

  “Lookit, doll. You need to get out of town. Close up your joint and leave. Sell it. I don’t care, but take off.”

  “Well, that’s not going to happen.”

  Buford chuckles. “You are the second stubbornest person I know. Your funeral, I guess. Time’s up. Zeke, get her out of here.”

  “What? That’s it?” Edith steps forward. Zeke grabs hold of her arm, pulling her back. “Hold on a sec. I came out here to talk. You haven’t said anything different than when you broke into Gator Joe’s.”

  “I got nothing else to say.”

  Edith squints against the glare of the light. “Well, I’ve got plenty I want to say to you. You Wharf Rats leave Gator Joe’s alone. Paying’s not a problem. Just tell me the terms. But the harassment stops. Now.”

  Buford laughs again. “Like you’re in a position to negotiate. Zeke, take the little girlie home. It’s past her bedtime.” He switches off the flashlight and walks back to the car. When he opens the door, Edith can see a shadowy figure in the back seat.

  She lets herself be pulled away.

  “This ain’t over you know,” Zeke says. “There’s going to be more trouble.”

  Edith shrugs free and steps ahead of him, striding into the darkness toward her truck. “No, it’s most certainly not over. Yes, let’s go home, Zeke. I’ve got a bar to open.”

  Chapter 29

  T here’s no time like the present and Edith’s mind is made up. Wednesday seems an auspicious day. It will give them a few days of opening jitters before the weekend crowd. Oh, please let there be a weekend crowd.

  There’s a flurry of activity getting things ready at Gator Joe’s for the first customers. The shelves behind the bar are empty, but thankfully the cases of beer were in the shed the night of the attack. In addition to a last-minute buff and polish in the barroom and filling the cooler, Edith and Leroy have gone around town passing out coupons for a free beer. Edith wants to make sure folks in town know that Gator’s is open for business.

  Mickey wouldn’t let this slide. I know I’m playing with fire, but I’ve never let a gangster tell me what I can or can’t do and, sure as shooting, I’m not going to start now.

  The sun’s set and the moon’s just risen when there’s a knock at Gator Joe’s screen door. “Are you ready to open, ma’am?” A steady, deep voice asks.

  Edith, polishing a glass behind the bar, recognizes a couple of fellas from Coconut Grove, and grins. “We sure are. Come on in.”

  Zeke shakes his head. “This is going to cause trouble. We should have waited,” he says in a low tone to Leroy, the two of them sitting at a corner table.

  “You’re our first customers. I hope you’re thirsty.” Edith’s smile is as wide as Biscayne Bay as he puts down his hand-drawn coupon on the bar. She has high hopes that these first customers won’t be her last.

  Soon, more curious, thirsty, and couponed guests arrive. A young man with a freshly barbered look about him hands over a coupon and buys a beer for his friend, a big bear of a man with a grin shining through a heavy beard. Before long, they’re joined by a young woman with short reddish-brown hair and a dimple that winks every time she smiles at the bearded man, which is often.

  Edith wanders over to their table. “My name’s Edith Duffy. Welcome to Gator Joe’s. Can I get you another round?”

  “That would be great. I’m Billy Shaw. These folks are Harley and Nancy,” says the freshly scrubbed young man.

  A third man joins them. “Nice place ya got here. I’ll have a rum with cola,” he says, sliding into a chair.

  Edith smiles brightly. “I’m afraid all we got is beer tonight. But we’ll soon have a good supply of whiskey and other liquor.”

  “Then a cold beer it is,” he says, nodding.

  “You should hook up with a gal out of the Bahamas, Cleo Lythgoe. She carries all the best brands,” Billy says. The table guffaws and the young man looks sheepish. “So I’ve been told.”

  “Lythgoe. Yes, I’ve heard of her,” Edith says, nodding. It was the same person Reggie and Meyer Lansky had mentioned that night at the club. “You don’t happen to know how I get a hold of her, do you?”

  Billy Shaw blushes a bright red. Harley, punching him in the shoulder, laughs. “Word will get out, Miz Edith, and the Queen of the Bahamas will find you. Don’t mind my friend. He tends to talk more than he should after a beer or two. He’s a mechanic at the Coast Guard base at Dinner Key. I gotta watch him like a hawk or he’ll blab and get into trouble.” Turning to Billy, he says with mock severity, “Now Ensign Shaw, you don’t know anything about the notorious Queen that you’ll be wanting to share with the rest of us, do you?”

  Billy sinks lower into the chair.

  “Good lad, Ensign. Now drink up. I’ll stand the table for another round,” Harley says with a grin.

  A few more customers arrive and sit, but they’re outnumbered by a steady stream of folks coming in to use their coupon to fill a flask—they’re not intending to stay. Edith, happy to oblige, is puzzled by the demand for take-out service. They seem to be a nervous lot. Maybe they don’t want their wives to know they’re out at a blind tiger? “Hope to see you again, soon,” Edith says as they scuttle out the door.

  Halfway through the night, a familiar type strolls in, looking like he’s casing the joint. Pinstripe suit, black shirt and tie, polished wingtip shoes; the whole package screams big-city
gangster.

  Tray in hand, Edith approaches to take his order. “Welcome to Gator Joe’s. Tonight’s the first night we’re open, and the bar isn’t fully set up yet. But I have a cooler full of ice-cold beer if you’re interested.”

  The gangster takes the toothpick out of his mouth and pushes back his felt fedora. “A beer would taste great.”

  Bringing it back to the table, Edith smiles and asks the inevitable, “You’re not from around here?”

  He smiles and lets his eyes travel over her. The smile widens. “Nope. Miami.”

  “Sounds more like the Bronx to me.”

  “Good ear. Nice little place. Expecting a crowd later?”

  “I hope not. Once the cooler’s empty, I’m out of beer. But I wanted to take the place for a test run to see what else needed attention before we have the grand opening.”

  “And when might that be? I might drive out for it.”

  “Sometime next month. Depending on what needs to get done.”

  He finishes his beer and stands, throwing a fin on the table, which Edith picks up.

  “I’ll need to get you some change. A beer is twenty-five cents.”

  “Ah, keep it. Put it toward the rest of the renovations you’re wanting to be doing.” He tips his hat and offers another slow, lazy smile. “And best of luck to you, Mrs. Duffy.”

  Open mouthed, Edith stands and watches him go. Now who was that?

  The rest of the night keeps Leroy busy clearing empties off the tables and bringing trays of beer over to the few tables that are full. Edith, with a nervous look at the cooler, realizes that the first night they’re open won’t be a long one.

  Wiping down the bar, Edith finds one of those strange cards tucked into a corner. “Where did you come from?” It’s the image of a regal woman sitting on a marble throne, her face in profile like on a coin. She’s holding a sword; one hand is raised as if to greet a visitor. She looks like a woman in charge. I wonder who she is? Maybe I’ll ask Leroy about her at the end of the night. Edith tucks the card into the pocket of her apron.

  It’s been a long day and a late night. The last customer is just leaving the place when the deputy sheriff strolls in. He tips his hat, “Evening, ma’am.” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Leroy disappear down the hall to the kitchen.

  “Evening, Deputy Purvis. I’m sorry, we’re just closing.”

  “Not a problem. Word is out around town that Gator’s is open for business and I thought I’d wander in and check things out. You’ve done a mighty fine job on all the renovations. Joe would be proud.”

  “Thank you, Deputy,” Edith says, puzzled why he wasn’t leaving.

  Deputy Purvis groans. “I recall that you’re not from around here, so perhaps I should explain. Folks here in Coconut Grove are right neighborly. They tend to help one another out. You may not have heard, but I have terrible eyesight. It’s a right bad problem to have in the law enforcement business. A lot of the local blind tigers like to make a small donation to my eye doctor fund if you know what I mean.” Deputy Roy Purvis looks at her, one eyebrow raised, waiting.

  Nodding, Edith smiles. “Ah, yes of course. And I’d be delighted to help contribute to the fund. How much is the usual donation?” she asks, pulling open her cash drawer. She pulls out the recommended amount, handing it to the deputy. “That should handle it. When do you think you might drop by again?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you, ma’am. Most kind-hearted folks running café’s like yours tend to stop by the sheriff’s office in town once a month, to top up the fund so to speak.”

  “Then I’ll see you before the end of the month, Deputy.”

  Deputy Purvis tugs at his belt, adjusting it so it settles more comfortably around his girth. He walks behind the bar to Edith. “I don’t suppose you have anything cold in this here cooler, do you?”

  “Not much,” Edith says, pressed up hard against the counter. There’s not much space behind the bar, and Deputy Purvis is a big man.

  Edith watches open-mouthed as the deputy lifts out the last three beers. “I may have to confiscate these.”

  “But I thought my donation looked after that kind of thing?”

  “Consider it an opening-night gift,” he says. He puts the bottles on the counter, cracks open one, and lifts his hat. “It’s been a pleasure, ma’am.” Picking up the bottles, he strolls out as casually as he had strolled in.

  “I should have taken care of that look-away bribe the day I picked you up,” she says to Zeke, who had sat at the corner table the entire time, silent and unhelpful.

  “Is he gone?” Leroy asks from the entrance to the hall.

  “He is. It’s safe to come out.”

  Hearing that she’s run out of beer, the remaining customers in the place finish up and leave.

  Edith surveys her barroom, mentally counting the customers they’d served. “Not too bad for the first night, and a short shift at that. No proper booze and no advertising except for the coupons. We’ll be busier tomorrow.”

  “And what will we be serving tomorrow?” Zeke asks.

  “Whatever you can buy out on Rum Row tonight. You like to go out at night, right?”

  “I ain’t going out to Rum Row by myself,” Zeke says, frowning.

  “Then find that no-good brother of yours. I’ll give you the cash, and you two can see about stocking these shelves.”

  She opens the cooler. “Aw, not even one beer left. We gotta get a handle on the booze. We can’t go lurching from night to night, we need to get that liquor shed full.” She starts gathering glasses from the tables.

  The club in Philly never seemed to have a problem keeping enough liquor on hand. What was Mickey doing that I’m not? “And it’s got to be premium stock, Zeke. That fella tonight is going to tell all his friends that we don’t have any rum.”

  “I still think this is a crazy idea. A dame running a blind tiger is just wrong. If Deputy Purvis don’t close you down, the Wharf Rats will. Ain’t you scared they’ll come back? Why don’t you just call it a day, Miz Edith? With all the work you’ve put into this place, it’ll fetch a good price.”

  “I don’t care about Wharf Rats. I don’t care about dirty cops. I don’t care about the Coast Guard. What I DO care about is having empty liquor shelves behind the bar. And you can’t run a blind tiger without booze. If you don't get me some liquor, I’ll find someone who can.”

  Having taken the dirty glasses into the kitchen, Leroy comes over with a cream soda and takes a seat next to Zeke.

  “Good luck finding someone else to do your rum running. Nobody’s going to work for a dame. That’s the simple truth of it,” Zeke says, his chin out and eyes narrow.

  “I don’t mind working for a dame.” Leroy looks at Edith and grins. “And she’s a good cook.”

  “Thanks, Leroy,” she says, smiling back at the boy. “Now, about that liquor, Zeke?” Edith’s hands are on her hips, one foot tapping. “I’m waiting for an answer. Do I call Reggie again or will you do it?”

  Zeke eases out of his chair and puts on his hat. “All right. All right. I’ll find Otis, and we’ll get you some liquor. But if you ask me, this is a fool’s game.”

  “Well, I didn’t. And it isn’t.”

  Edith and Leroy watch Zeke stomp out. She wiggles her eyebrows and grins at Leroy “Okay there kiddo. Let’s go count the cash.”

  Chapter 30

  A row of whiskey bottles line the veranda when Edith takes her morning coffee outside. A mid-range brand, better than the usual gut-rot they bring back.

  Turning to Leroy, who’s joined her, she says, “Things are looking up. Why don’t we go into Coconut Grove and find us a radio?”

  Leroy bounces from one foot to the other in excitement. “That’d be swell, Miz Edith.”

  She ruffles his hair. “You’ve worked hard on getting us ready to open and deserve a reward.”

  Dashing past her, he races up the path to the truck.

  “Hang on a sec, Ler
oy. I need to grab some cash.” Edith heads inside. She pulls the cash drawer open and screams. Inside, wedged into one of the trays, is a dead rat. She stands transfixed as Leroy runs in.

  “What is it, Miz Edith? What’s wrong?”

  The two at them stare. It is a giant, fat, gray rat; its scaly tail is draped across the top of the trays. “Eww,” Leroy says. “Where did that come from?”

  “Not funny, Leroy. Did you put it in here?”

  “No, Miz Edith.”

  “We’re going to need to get traps and poison when we’re in town. God, I hate these things. They’re dirty and carry disease. Leroy, take it outside for me, please.”

  Well, that little detente didn’t last long.

  Leroy lifts the rat by the tail and holds it aloft in front of him as he leaves the barroom. Edith shudders as she touches the money she needs. She utters sounds of disgust as she quickly stuffs the cash into her handbag.

  She almost bumps into Zeke on the veranda. “Do you know anything about a dead rat?” She stands, arms crossed and nostrils flaring. “Nailed to the door, stuffed in the cash drawer. This is getting ridiculous. What a bunch of children.”

  Zeke stares at his shoes. “No, Miz Edith,” he says, mumbling. “I saw the boy had one by the tail and was throwing it in the creek for the gators.”

  “Well, I’m going to get to the bottom of it. Leroy and I are heading into town. Can you check around inside to make sure there aren’t anymore?” She shudders again.

  “I picked up some whiskey for you,” Zeke says, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his overalls.

  “I saw. Can you take it inside and put it on the shelves?”

  “It’s not too bad this time. And, Miz Edith, please don’t tell Otis. Say your friend in Miami got it for you. It’s not much but it’ll get you through the weekend.”

  Edith cocks her head to one side. “Sure. I can say that. And thanks, Zeke. I appreciate it. Now, I’ve got to get going or Leroy will be driving the truck into town by himself.”