The Rum Runner

by Christine Marciniak

  “Did we give you enough time?” Marty asked.

  “We were just wrapping up,” Alice said, finding her heart was searching for Hank to be with them. But clearly, he wasn’t. She put on a smile. “Your timing was perfect.”

  The children rushed to their mother, eager to tell about the ice cream and about an adventure they had with a stray dog that tried to get Sari’s ice cream, but Uncle Doug saved everyone.

  “It wasn’t nearly as dramatic as it sounds,” Douglas said, with endearing humility, “but I don’t mind being thought of as a hero.”

  “Doug is going out on Hank’s boat tomorrow,” Marty sounded like a proud mother. “He’s being trained to be the new captain of the Katinka!”

  “And when I’m big enough I’m going to be first mate!” Ernst proclaimed.

  Douglas tousled the boy’s dark hair. “That’s right, mate.”

  Alice felt frozen to the floor. Hank was leaving. Tomorrow. Without saying goodbye? Of course, she had walked out on him. But he hadn’t even attempted to apologize or anything.

  She’d almost fooled herself into thinking that maybe he cared about her, and that was why he was being stupidly protective of her. Clearly, she’d been wrong. It didn’t matter. She had bigger things to worry about than emotionally stunted sea captains.

  Somewhere there was a link between Jiggy Malone, Vince Salerno, her father, Tomas Nagy and maybe even Hank Chapman. That link had to do with rum running. She needed to do some good solid police work and figure it out.

  Douglas and Marty took off to spend a few precious hours alone, and Alice turned to Irene.

  “Could you perhaps do me a favor?”

  Irene’s eyes opened wide. “Is something I can help you with? Only ask!”

  “I want to talk to Tomas’s men. Did he keep a list of his crew?”

  “Not always same men,” Irene said, uncertainly. “Some go with him all the time. Patsy, Snake, Benji. Some go only sometimes. I do have a list. You give me a minute?”

  “Of course.”

  Irene hurried to a back room, while Alice waited with the children. Sari took a paper from a cupboard and approached Alice with it. It was clearly a picture she had drawn. It showed a man and a woman, with a little girl between them.

  “That’s you and Uncle Hank when you found me when I was lost,” she explained. “It’s for you.”

  Alice’s heart melted a little. Trudy’s children sometimes drew her pictures, and she was always touched to receive their artwork. This picture made her both happy and sad, though, because it showed the possibility of there being a future between her and Hank, when in reality there was none.

  “It is lovely,” she exclaimed, surprised to find tears in her eyes. “I will treasure it.”

  Sari beamed proudly as Irene arrived with a penciled list of names and addresses. “These are the men on the last trip.” There were stars next to two names. “Those men. New for that trip. I not know them.”

  Interesting. Maybe those were the men that got Tomas to switch buyers. Maybe they were the place to start.

  “Thank you, Irene. I’ll come by Monday and see how you are getting on.”

  With the drawing and the list of names safely stowed in her handbag, Alice took leave of the Nagy house. It was too late now to deal with this, but she’d go straight after work tomorrow. Since it wasn’t her case, or an official investigation, it would probably be best if she wasn’t in uniform.

  But Friday after work, Trudy invited her for dinner, and she could hardly say no, especially not if she didn’t want to have to explain her extra-curricular investigation to Mark. Saturday her mother recruited her for work in the garden, while the day was bright and sunny.

  It wasn’t until the afternoon that she finally had a chance to investigate. Before going through the men on the list, she decided to stop in and see George Evans. Hank might not want to file a complaint, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t ask him why he’d been sneaking around on the Mary B.

  As she approached the Evans’ house, she could hear raised voices inside. Perhaps it was serendipitous that she was stopping by now. She paused on the porch, hand raised to knock on the door, as she tried to get a sense of what was going on inside.

  “You are useless!” George Evans shouted, presumably at Matilda. “Look at this place. It’s a wreck. What do you do all day?”

  “What do I do all day?” Matilda shouted back. “I cook your meals and watch your children and you sit around on your ass drinking. A little help would go a long way.”

  Alice knocked before the fight could escalate to blows, which she was sure wouldn’t be far off at this point.

  The silence inside was instantaneous. The door was opened by an innocent-faced George Evans. He saw Alice and scowled. “Who called the cops on us this time?”

  “No one. I’m off duty. I wanted to ask you some questions, though.”

  “The wife and I were just having a disagreement. No crime in that.” He started to shut the door and Alice knew she wasn’t going to be as good at forcing the door to stay open as Mark was. Then again, she wasn’t here officially; she had no right to force the door open.

  “I completely agree. But I would like to talk to you, if you have a minute.”

  He stepped out on the porch.

  “What is it?” He wasn’t gracious, but at least he hadn’t slammed the door on her.

  “What were you hoping to steal from the Mary B the other night?”

  “I wasn’t going to steal nothing!”

  Which was an implied admission that he had been on board the boat.

  “Were you going to sabotage her for Vince Salerno?”

  His brow wrinkled in confusion. “Why would Salerno want to sabotage her? She can’t bring in cargo if she don’t work.”

  “So why were you there?”

  “I wasn’t,” he said, a bit belatedly.

  “I was there. I saw you. Might as well tell me, when it’s all unofficial and you’re not under arrest for trespass.”

  He looked nervously up and down the street as if expecting someone to jump out and arrest him at any moment.

  “If I talk to you, that means there will be no arrest.”

  “Yes.” As long as Hank didn’t change his mind about filing the complaint.

  “Okay, listen. I wasn’t gonna do no harm. You can tell Chapman that. I wasn’t gonna hurt the Mary B. I wasn’t gonna steal nothing. I just needed to see how she was outfitted. How much she could carry.”

  “How many scallops? Why would Salerno want to know that?”

  “Not scallops. Hams.”

  “Hams?” She might not know a lot about fishing or farming, but she was fairly sure you didn’t fish for ham. Why would a fishing boat need to store any?

  Evans scratched his nose. “It’s what you call a bundle of wine bottles. Six of them, wrapped in canvas. Kind of looks like a ham.”

  “So Salerno thinks Hank is a rum runner.”

  “Lady, Hank is a rum runner.” He let out a mirthless laugh. “Quite the mismatch—the cop and the rum runner.”

  “There’s no match, mis or otherwise,” she said firmly.

  She ignored the pain in her heart. She’d suspected it for a while; she just didn’t like to have it confirmed.

  “Anything else?” Evans asked, impatiently.

  “Why did Salerno want to know how many hams he could carry?”

  “I don’t know, lady. You’ll have to ask him.”

  “Where can I find him?”

  “Probably Perth Amboy. That’s where his boat is.” Without another word he went back into his house and shut the door firmly.

  Alice walked slowly down the porch steps. At the very least, she hoped her interruption had cooled tempers down and there’d be no punches flung today.

  She took out her list from Irene. The first man, a Mr. William Forster, lived only a few blocks away. He was one of the starred men, and as good as any a place to continue her investigation. He was also, if memor
y served, the man Patsy had said decided to tell Jiggy about Tomas’s new customer.

  There were several men sitting out on the steps of the New Street house when she got there, all smoking cigars, and passing around a flask. She wasn’t in uniform. She’d ignore the flask. They looked up when she approached, but none of them seemed particularly welcoming.

  “I’m looking for a William Forster.”

  A slim man sitting on the top step, leaning against the porch railing, spoke up.

  “I’m Will Forster,” he said. “You collecting for charity or something?”

  “No.” If it weren’t for the obvious drinking, she would introduce herself as an officer, but she didn’t want to scare them off before she had a chance to ask any questions. “I’m a friend of Irene Nagy’s.” When the name didn’t draw any immediate recognition, she continued. “Tomas Nagy’s widow.”

  He nodded and his mouth turned down in a frown. “Damn shame what happened to Tomas. He was a good guy. But what you want from me? I did donate to the fund the guys got up to help them. Can’t help no more than that, especially since now I’m out of work.”

  “The Katinka will sail again soon,” she assured them.

  “Hopefully we’ll be on it.”

  “You all worked with Tomas?” This could be better than she had hoped.

  “No, just me and Shorty are fishermen.” He indicated a tall man sitting on the porch.

  She wondered which of the names on her list belonged to Shorty.

  “What is it you want?” Will asked.

  “I had a few questions about the day Tomas died.” She had to be careful here. How much was reasonable to ask when she wasn’t officially investigating anything?

  “Don’t know much.” Will took a big draw from his cigar and breathed the smoke out slowly. “What I did know, I already told the cops. We got in, unloaded the fish, Tomas paid us off, and we went our separate ways.”

  Alice already knew that wasn’t the full story. Patsy had told her about unloading the liquor for Salerno and the argument about telling Jiggy, but for now she’d play along with the story Will was telling her.

  “Any idea where he was headed next?”

  Will studied her carefully, taking a few more draws on his cigar. Finally, he said. “What did you say your name was?”

  “I didn’t,” she answered. “But I’m Alice Grady.”

  “A cop.”

  Damn. She didn’t think she was that well known in town. Clearly, she’d never be allowed to do undercover work.

  A man in a paint-speckled shirt with the sleeves rolled up, shoved the flask behind his back. She pretended she didn’t notice.

  “I thought they caught they guy who shot Tomas,” Shorty said.

  “They did. But I have some questions. Unofficially.” She stood, hands at her sides, trying not to look threatening or impatient. She needed information from them. If they had it.

  Will stood up, rested his cigar on the porch railing, and came down the steps to her. “What is it you want to know?” he asked, quietly, his voice not carrying back to his friends on the steps.

  “What did Jiggy say to you when you told him Tomas sold his shipment to Vince Salerno?”

  He glanced back up at the house before giving her a curt nod. “Let’s walk,” he said. When they were a few houses away, he answered her. “Who told you about that?”

  “Does it matter?” She wasn’t going to snitch on Patsy.

  He rubbed a work-scarred hand over his face. “No, I suppose it doesn’t. Jiggy wasn’t happy about it. And he said so. In words that wouldn’t exactly be good for mixed company, if you get my drift.”

  She sighed. She was a police officer. Why anyone thought foul language would offend her was beyond her. Though she supposed it was nice to see some vestige of chivalry left.

  “Do you think Salerno had anything to do with Nagy’s death?”

  Will couldn’t hide his surprise at the question, his eyes widened, and he took a step back from her.

  “Salerno?”

  So he wasn’t surprised by the insinuation that someone was behind Nagy’s death, just surprised by who she had suggested. Interesting.

  “Yes. My sources seem to think he is a pirate and had something to do with it.”

  “He ain’t no pirate. At least I don’t think so. After all, pirates steal, and he was buying.”

  That was a fairly valid point. She needed to talk to Salerno or Jiggy. Those were the names that kept coming up, one or both of them were the lynch pins here.

  “Know where I can find him?”

  “Salerno?”

  “Or Jiggy Malone—when he’s not at his hut, that is.”

  Will looked taken aback that she knew about the hut. More than knew about it, she’d spent several hours staking it out the other night, with nothing to show for it. He obviously only used it as needed.

  “Can’t say for certain for either of them.”

  “If you had to take a guess.”

  Will shifted his feet and seemed to consider whether he was going to answer or not. “Perth Amboy. But I wouldn’t advise talking to either of them.”

  Alice stopped walking and turned to face him. “I’m a cop, as you pointed out. I can handle it.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Damn it. First Hank tells me to stay away from Jiggy and now you think I’m too weak to talk to him or Salerno.”

  “Whoa!” He put his hand on her arm. “I didn’t say you were weak. But they’re dangerous.”

  “I’m aware of that,” she said, her voice a bit snippier than she intended. “At least one man is dead, after all.”

  “Is there more than one?” Will suddenly sounded worried.

  “My father,” she said, because the more she turned it over in her mind, the more she was convinced that was the case. “Thank you for your time.” She walked away without a backward glance.

  It was time to go to Perth Amboy.

  She walked up New Street, passing girls jumping rope and boys playing stick ball, everyone taking advantage of a nice spring afternoon. At Amboy Avenue she waited for the bus that would take her to Perth Amboy, digging in her bag for change for the fare. The bus, when it came, was nearly empty. A woman and a little boy sat on a bench near the front. A pair of high school-aged boys sat in the back, whispering behind their hands. Alice took a seat near the middle.

  Twenty minutes later she exited the bus by the Tottenville Ferry. From here she could easily stroll the length of the developed waterfront and see if Vince Salerno or Jiggy Malone happened to cross her path.

  The air was cooling down as evening progressed and the breeze lifted the hair at the back of her neck, which felt quite refreshing after the rather stifling bus ride. What would it be like to be a fisherman? To spend long days at sea? She’d never even been on a boat ride, other than a ferry. How had that happened? They lived so close to the water. Every town had a marina, yet she’d kept her feet on dry land. It always seemed rather extravagant, taking off on an ocean voyage, or even just a speedboat trip. She didn’t have the time for something like that. Or the person to do it with. She sighed. She could do these things alone, she supposed, but they’d be much more fun with someone else.

  She stopped to admire the boats docked in the marina. Scruffy, utilitarian fishing boats, sleek runabouts with polished wood that gleamed in the evening sun, sailboats with cabins for sleeping.

  “You like boats, do you?”

  Startled, she looked to her right, where Vince Salerno himself was standing next to her as casually as anything.

  “They are pretty to look at,” she admitted, her mind whirling. Here he was, the object of her search. Now she just had to steer the conversation in the direction she needed without arousing suspicion. “I’ve never been out on one, though.”

  “Seems hard to believe. Your father never took you out on a pleasure ride?”

  “He never had the time,” she admitted.

  “That’s a shame. The bes
t times of my life are spent out on the water.”

  “Oh?” She affected a look of interest that she suspected bordered on the flirtatious. “Tell me about it.”

  “You don’t want to hear about me.”

  “I asked, didn’t I? Which kind of boat did you have?”

  “I can show you. Come with me.” He started walking down the dock, and against her better judgment she followed. Don’t go with strange men was common advice she’d had drummed into her head since she was small. But she was a police officer investigating a crime, and if she wanted to get answers, she needed to take risks. He led her through the gate on the dock to the boats below, stopping in front of a gleaming wooden boat with a cabin and red leather seats. “Would you like to come aboard?”

  “Sure.” She accepted his help as she gingerly stepped on the deck. Instantly she tottered as the swaying of the boat caught her off guard. He steadied her.

  “You’ll get used to the movement in no time.”

  She knew that was true. She’d had the same experience when she’d visited Hank on his fishing boat. This boat was smaller, but more luxurious. The Mary B was designed to be functional. This boat was clearly designed for pleasure and comfort.

  “Can I get you a drink…um…” He paused, awkwardly. She might know who he was, but they’d never exchanged names. Did he recognize her from their brief encounter in the speakeasy? She rather hoped he did not.

  “Alice.” That was all he needed to know for right now.

  “Nice to meet you, Alice.” He bowed slightly. “You can call me Sal. Now, would you like a drink? I’ve got some juice in the galley.”

  Staying long enough to have a drink would give her an excuse to stay and talk to him. She agreed.

  “I’ll be right back. Have a seat.” He ducked into the cabin.

  Alice sat on the plush leather bench seat. Not that she was letting her guard down, but Sal seemed quite nice and gentlemanly, hardly the dangerous person Will warned her about. Or that people thought was a pirate. He hardly seemed like the kind to be involved in Tomas’s death. But then again, Jiggy had been perfectly nice when she’d spoken to him as well. But she’d dealt with all kinds of people in her job. She knew that psychopaths could be very charming. She had to be careful.