by Selena Kitt
“What do you mean, even if you don’t get her, old sport?” Eddie smiled bitterly. “She’s yours. Anyone can see she’s crazy about you.”
“Yeah, but…” Bart didn’t say what he was thinking, but Eddie read his mind.
“You’re gonna tell her.” Eddie sat back, cigarette winking briefly before he blew smoke out the corner of his mouth. “You dumb-ass. She’ll dump you in a heartbeat.”
“I’m not gonna do anything stupid,” Bart assured him, trying to reassure himself. “I swear.”
“It’s written all over your face.”
The waitress came with Eddie’s beer and they went quiet until she left.
Then, Eddie said, ”Get out of here, Bart. You make me sick.”
Bart stood, wearing clothes that were far too nice for this seedy little bar. He looked and felt out of place.
“We still have to meet tomorrow,” Bart said, putting money down on the table to pay for his beer. “To pay off Boardwalk Louie. Whatever else happens, at least we still have to save our hides.”
“For what they’re worth.” Eddie waved him away, as if he was a pesky fly. “Get lost.”
Chapter 6
“So it’s settled then,” Libby said, snugging up against him on the settee. “We’re going to elope. Italy?”
“Italy’s perfect.” He put an arm around her shoulder.
Now that they were engaged, they could touch each other like this in public. Not that anyone but the servants were around. Libby’s grandmother was taking her after-lunch nap, still sitting at the long dining room table, white head bowed, her soft snoring the only other sound in the room.
“You know, I never asked you… how is Vizard?” Libby asked, cocking her head at him. “That time he showed up all bloody? Did you find out what happened?”
“Vizard has a gambling problem.” Bart pressed his lips together and looked away, watching the servants quietly clearing the rest of their lunch through the parlor door.
“Ah.” She nodded knowingly. “Is everything all right now?”
“Yes,” Bart lied. It wasn’t all right yet, but it would be. In just a short while, in fact. He checked his watch. “Speaking of Vizard, he’s taking me into town on business. I should get going...”
“Well, then, kiss me goodbye.” She snaked her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. “I hate it when we’re apart, even for an afternoon.”
It surprised him how much he enjoyed her company, how much he missed her when they weren’t together. She had become a part of him.
Bart pressed his lips to hers, feeling her open to him, her body melting into his. The warm press of her made him want to take her upstairs right then, but he had to attempt to be respectable, especially in front of the servants. They weren’t married, not yet.
“I can’t wait to be your wife,” she breathed when they parted, as if she’d read his thoughts. “I’m so glad we’re eloping. It’ll be so much faster.”
“Faster is better,” he agreed, touching her lower lip with his thumb, rubbing it back and forth.
“For so many reasons.” Her dark eyes glittered with light and she lowered her voice. “I have a secret, Bart.”
“A secret?” His breath caught. Did she know his secret? Had she found out about him?
She leaned in close, her mouth right beside his ear, and whispered, “I’m going to have your baby.”
Bart’s heart skipped and thudded so hard it felt like horses were trying to gallop right out of his chest.
“Libby.” He pulled away, holding her by the shoulders. “You’re sure?”
“I saw a doctor yesterday.” Her smiled widened. “He confirmed it.”
“Oh Libby.” He grabbed her to him, breathing in her scent, his nose in her hair. “I love you so much.”
“You’re crushing me!” she gasped, then laughed when he loosened his grip a little. “So does this mean you’re happy, then?”
“So happy,” he murmured, holding her close. “You make me the happiest man alive.”
She relaxed against him, smiling. “Well, that’s a relief. I wondered if it might scare you away.”
“Sweetheart, nothing could scare me away from you,” he assured her. “My heart belongs to you. No matter what happens. I’ll always love you.”
“Well I hope so,” she said, laughing. “Because what’s going to happen is, we’re going to be married in two weeks, and next spring, we’re going to be parents.”
He looked into her eyes and wondered if he should tell her now. She’d told him her secret. He could tell her his, and they would both be unburdened. But what if she couldn’t accept it? What if she decided, even if she was carrying his child, that she couldn’t be with a man who had lied, cheated and stolen his way through life? A man who had been lying to her since the day they met?
Who was lying to her still. Now.
“I can’t wait, my darling.” He kissed her softly, afraid if he didn’t, his mouth would spill over with the truth.
And he couldn’t tell her, not yet.
Once Boardwalk Louie was off their backs, once he had things buttoned up with Eddie, then he would tell her the truth. Come what may.
“All right, off with you. I’m sure Vizard is waiting.” She pushed against his chest and stood. “I’m going to wake grandmother so we can start planning my trousseau. I get to have one, even if I’m eloping.”
“I’ll see you in a few hours.” He stood, buttoning his suit coat.
Libby went over to her grandmother, putting a hand on her shoulder and shaking gently.
Bart paused in the doorway. “Oh and Libs?”
She looked up and smiled at him, cocking her head in question.
“I have a secret, too,” he confessed.
“A secret!” Her eyes lit up with curiosity. “Tell me!”
“I’ll tell you at dinner.” He managed a smile and a wink.
“Something to look forward to!” She clapped her hands. “I’m so excited!”
He left her that way, happy with anticipation, but his heart was heavy, knowing what he had to tell her. His secret was far less joyous than the one she had shared with him.
And her secret might become more ominous the moment he revealed his own.
A baby. He was going to be a father.
That thought consumed him as he went back to his room and changed, dressing down, taking off his expensive watch.
When he dug out the suitcase he had to take to Boardwalk Louie, his heart sank. It was way too light.
He opened it and discovered it was empty.
The money was gone.
“Eddie,” Bart whispered to himself.
He rushed downstairs, threading his way through the hallways, back to the servants’ quarters.
But when he got to Eddie’s room, he found that, sure enough, he was gone, too.
At least the Duesenberg wasn’t gone.
He retrieved the keys and took the car, heading off to see Boardwalk Louie. There was nothing else to do. He had to face the music. Eddie could take the money and run, but as long as Bart was with Libby, there was nowhere he could run or hide from Louie’s men.
He was going to have to talk his way out of this, maybe buy some time, and hope he didn’t get himself beaten up too badly. Or even killed.
The drive was long, and he was consumed with possible explanations, trying to figure out what lie he could tell Libby if he came back black and blue.
On the other hand, if he didn’t come back at all, there would be no need for any more lies.
The warehouse, located just a few blocks from the boardwalk, seemed deserted in the middle of the afternoon. Bart pulled the Duesenberg up outside and killed the engine. He took a deep breath and wished for a gun. Eddie was against guns. He said carrying a gun was how a guy got himself killed. It had always seemed to Bart that carrying a gun might actually keep a guy from being killed, but what did he know? Eddie was the one who knew the ins and outs of the grift, and Bart had al
ways followed his lead.
Until now.
Louie was already inside waiting, flanked by his men. And they all had guns.
Bart came in talking fast—he’d been practicing that in his head on the way over, too—before Louie could get a word in, explaining what had happened and what Bart was going to do to fix it.
“Look, Louie, I’m sorry about this,” Bart apologized. “It’s not the way I wanted it. But I swear, I can get you the money if you just give me a little time.”
“Sure, sure. More time.” Louie leaned against an old barrel, his gaze sweeping over Bart. Even dressed down, his clothes were expensive. “How much time? A week? A month? And that turns into another month after that? What’s the excuse next time, Lamplighter? Now that Eddie’s skipped out on you?”
“No excuse.” Bart held up his empty hands. “As you said, Eddie’s gone. He’s not part of the equation anymore. He’s the unreliable one, but you don’t have to worry about me. Just give me a little time, and I’ll make good on that $100,000.”
“More time.” Louie sighed. “They always want more time, don’t they, Frank?”
The man beside him grunted, not moving, his hand still on the butt of the gun stuck in a holster on his hip.
“How much time are we talking?” Louie asked. “And what about you, Lamplighter? Even if you get me the money, Vizard still owes you $100,000. Or $50,000, anyway.”
“You let me worry about that.” Bart didn’t want to talk about Eddie and what he’d done with the money. He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. Eddie lived the grift and always would. A leopard couldn’t change its spots.
“I don’t imagine you’re too worried about it.” Louie’s grin widened. “What with that Bancroft dame on the line. She’s a dish, ain’t she, boys?”
Louie’s men chuckled lewdly, jostling each other with their elbows.
Bart ignored them. “Just thirty days, Louie. That’s all I need.”
A couple of Louie’s men had moved towards him menacingly, clearly anticipating some fun. Looking meditatively at the dirty warehouse floor, Louie stopped them with a mere gesture of his hand.
“Listen to me.” Louie straightened, unbuttoning his suit jacket and walking slowly toward Bart. “Punks like you and Eddie come along all the time with their excuses.”
“Eddie was the one who bet the money,” Bart told him.
“Pleeeease Louie, pleeeease! Just one more month!” Louie’s voice went higher, mocking. He was so close now, he could smell the whiskey and tobacco on his breath. “I know I crapped out on you three times already, but pleaasse just give me another week! Please, Louie, just one more fucking day!”
Bart stood his ground, although it wasn’t easy.
“If I gave everyone that kind of leeway, word would get around. People would start saying I’m going soft. They’d start taking advantage. You know what I’m saying?”
“Yeah.”
“Slewfoot O’Connell kept giving me excuses,” Louie told him. “Every time we had business, it was always some damned excuse. Sorry, Louie, I lost the money, but next week for sure.”
It reminded Bart of Eddie and his excuses.
“Have you heard of Slewfoot O’Connell?”
“I’ve heard the name, sure.” Bart knew him peripherally. It was someone Eddie had palled around with sometimes. A fellow gambling buddy.
“Have you heard it lately?”
Bart shook his head slowly. “No.”
“My point exactly.”
There was a long pause.
“I understand,” Bart said.
“I know all about this Bancroft woman, Bart.” Louie put a hand on Bart’s shoulder, an overly familiar gesture, but Bart didn’t move away. “It’s nice when you find a good woman, isn’t it?”
Bart swallowed. “Yes.”
Bart’s mind was racing. What did Louie know about Libby? Had Eddie told him everything?
“You want to keep her safe, son.” A smile spread across Louie’s wide, red face. “Anything can happen... after thirty days.”
So Louie was going to give him the thirty days. That was a relief. But Libby... what about Libby?
“Listen, Louie, the Bancroft dame,” Bart said, doing his best to sound casual. “She’s just a mark. She doesn’t mean anything—”
“You underestimate me, son.” Louie slid his arm fully around Bart’s shoulder in a fatherly way that was terrifying and began to lead him to the door of the warehouse. ”A little birdy named Vizard told me that Bright Bart Lamplighter actually fell for the dame he was trying to con, and now he wants out of the whole game. So you just keep that woman safe, Bart. And don’t let me down.”
~*~
Bart sat alone in the same booth, at the same bar, where he’d left Eddie the day before.
He signaled to the waitress and she brought him another shot of whiskey.
It went down hot and he let it warm him from the inside out.
Louie was on his mind, but only peripherally. Bart had managed to talk his way out of trouble, at least for the moment. He had thirty days. In the life of a con man, thirty days was an eternity.
He had a bigger, more serious opponent to worry about.
Himself.
He had told Eddie the truth—he loved Libby and he wanted to marry her. But he couldn’t do it under false pretenses.
He knew full well that if he went home and confessed right now, he would likely lose her. Baby or no baby.
But what if?
He could just go through with it. Marry her. Eventually, she’d find out he had no fortune. That he’d lied.
Then what?
Then, as her husband, he would have access to her fortune.
And she would hate him as a fraud.
Bart couldn’t bear the thought. There was nothing else to do but to go home, tell her the truth, and pray for a miracle.
He knew telling her the truth meant he’d probably lose her forever. And he’d have no partner to go back to.
He’d also still be $100,000 in debt to Boardwalk Louie. He’d have to secure that money somehow, no matter what, just to keep Libby safe. If it was just him, he’d skip town. Maybe head to the west coast and look for a real job, since grifting now left a bad taste in his mouth. Louie was dangerous, but his reach wasn’t unlimited.
Except, Libby. And the baby.
He had to make sure she was safe, and if he had to endure the shame of begging her for another $100,000 in order to pay Eddie’s debt and save her life, he would do it. All because the man who claimed to love her had stupidly put her in harm’s way.
Bart hung his head. He was lost, but there was nothing more he could do.
He slowly drove the Duesenberg back to the Bancroft Estate.
He snuck into the house as quietly as he possibly could. He wanted to go up and change before he saw Libby—not into something nicer, but into his regular street clothes. The ones that would show Libby who he really was. Not Barton Kirwin Burnett but just plain old Bart Lamplighter.
“Ow! You try that again, I’ll shoot you in your pretty face!”
Bart would know Eddie Vizard’s voice anywhere and he stopped dead in his tracks. It was coming from the parlor.
“You won’t shoot me until you’ve got what you want.”
Libby.
Oh God, Eddie had Libby.
Without thinking, Bart burst into the parlor, finding not just his fiancée but another man, both of them bound to chairs. The other man, who had gray hair and glasses, was gagged.
“Well, there’s your loverboy.” Eddie was just finishing tying Libby’s gag.
“Eddie, what in the hell are you up to?” Bart’s gaze moved to Libby’s face. Her eyes were dark with anger. “You’ve got your money. I thought you’d be long gone.”
“Oh, no, I thought I’d stick around.” Eddie’s smile widened, but it was bitter. His eyes were almost as angry as Libby’s. “Came here to tell Miss Bancroft a thing or two about her precious loverboy.”
>
Bart’s stomach dropped to his knees. He saw the truth of it in Libby’s eyes. She knew. Eddie had told her everything.
“Figured she’d wanna know what you’ve been up to, and what we’ve been planning all along, since you two ‘lovebirds’ met.”
“Eddie, please...” Bart took a step forward, but Eddie pointed the gun in his direction, so he stopped. “Since when did you start liking guns so much? I thought you said that was how you got killed?”
“Well I ain’t got a partner no more, do I?” Eddie looked down at the shiny new gun. “This is my partner now.”
“Eddie, listen—”
“No you listen, buddy.” Eddie gave a little laugh. “You see, I’m just getting started. Miss Bancroft here is going to sign some papers for me. Then I’m going to head over to her bank and clean out her safety deposit boxes, just like you were planning to do. Before you walked out on me, anyway. Then, I’ll disappear.”
“Eddie... don’t do this.”
“I’m finishing this. I’ve put a lot of time in on this job, Bart, as you well know, and I intend to collect.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking, old sport, about how much time I’ve spent.” Eddie looked pointedly at him. “Not just on this job, but with you, over the years. I took you off the street, Bart. I taught you everything you know.”
“I know, Eddie, I—” Bart started, but Eddie wasn’t listening.
“It just don’t sit right with me, after all that time and all I gave you, I got nothing to show for it.” Eddie’s eyes glittered with anger. “So no, buddy, a hundred grand just ain’t enough. I’m taking more. A lot more.”
Bart was wondering who would win in a struggle for the gun, and how he might protect Libby in the meantime. He wondered where all the servants were. Had they figured out what happened and called the police? Maybe they were already on the way.
He saw fear on Libby’s face, underneath her anger, and he tried to tell her with his eyes to stay calm. He was going to figure a way out of this, if it was the last thing he did.
Then he heard a loud thump at the front door. It was a huge, heavy thing. He’d locked it behind him on the way in.
Eddie’s head came up, looking confused. The thumping came again, louder this time. Then, a great crashing sound and the splintering of wood.