by Debra Dunbar
“You’re a real comedian.” Vincent looked around for Buddy. “Where’s the kid?”
“Up in the office. He’s getting a medal, or something. Pat on the back.”
“He’ll eat that up,” Vincent muttered.
Lefty leaned in. “Miss Malloy is fine.”
“I know.”
“Wasn’t sure if you were distracted by it.”
Vincent peered at Lefty, then nodded once. “Thanks.”
After a moment of foot-shuffling, Lefty added, “You need to go check on her?”
A wave of emotion swelled up through Vincent’s throat, nearly bringing him to tears. “Didn’t think it’d be a good time for me to be absent.”
“Go,” Lefty urged. “I’ll cover for you. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Vincent sucked in a breath, nodded again, then turned for the exit.
Widow Dunne stood cross-armed at the top of the stoop, glaring at Vincent as he plodded up the stairs. He was drained of magic and couldn’t pinch time to side-step the old woman.
“And what’re you doing out at this obscene hour, then?” she asked with a frown.
Vincent sighed. “Is Miss Malloy in?”
“If she is, young man, I’m sure she’s sound asleep by now. So, why don’t you turn your arse back around and—”
A voice called from the door, “It’s fine, Mrs. Dunne.”
The widow turned to find Hattie haunting the doorframe, eyes heavy, skin pale.
“Fine, is it?” Mrs. Dunne squawked. “It’s past two in the morning. I can’t have boarders waking me up all hours like this. It’s indecent.”
Hattie stepped forward, resting a hand on the widow’s shoulder. “Please, let my brother come up. We’ll be quiet.”
Dunne’s eyes shot wide. “Brother?”
“Aye,” Hattie sniffled.
“But…he’s a guinea, isn’t he?”
Hattie grimaced, then looked up at Vincent. “He’s…he’s my half-brother. He’s been in America for the past ten years.”
Dunne eased away from Hattie. “You listen to me, girl. I took you and your friend in because I felt sorry for ya. But I’m not here running no bordello. I won’t have men visiting all hours, and I won’t be lied to. I know a bloody gangster when I see one. And I have no patience for that sort of violence here. You go on up and pack your things. I’ll have you out. Tonight.”
Hattie sucked in a breath to make her case, but thought better of it, choosing simply to agree.
Vincent waited on the street for almost a half hour until Hattie and Maria emerged with their suitcases, followed to Vincent’s surprise by Betty Sharp.
Dunne closed and locked the door behind them, leaving the quartet on the street.
“Well,” Vincent declared. “I suppose we’ll need a cab.”
“Where are we supposed to go?” Maria grumbled. “It’s three in the morning.”
“Come to the Monarch. The doormen there don’t care if you’re women.”
Hattie shook her head. “That’s Masseria’s property, isn’t it? Wouldn’t that be the last place we’d want to be?”
Betty snickered. “Right. Which means it’s the last place they’d look. Honestly, you people need to start thinking like gangsters if you want to play at being gangsters.”
Vincent shrugged. “She’s right. I’ll put you up in my room.”
“What about Lefty?” Hattie whispered.
“He’ll be fine.”
Maria asked, “And your sharpshooter?”
“Well, that’s a different story,” Vincent admitted. “But he’s had an exciting day. I think he’ll have put himself to bed before we even get there.”
They managed a cab back to the Monarch, where Vincent escorted them through the front doors while keeping an eye on the street. Satisfied they’d avoided the notice of the Masseria crew, he led them to his room, unlocking his door and holding it open for the women. Hattie led the way, but halted directly in the door, causing Maria to nearly bowl her over.
“What?” Maria grumbled.
Hattie cleared her throat and said, “Good evening, Lefty.”
Lefty nodded to her from the window. “Miss Malloy. You’ve been busy, I see.”
Chapter 28
The women shuffled into the room, now crowded with the extra company as Lefty leaned against the window sill.
Hattie and Maria set down their suitcases as Betty fished a cigarette out of her clutch. The glass pincher tossed herself onto the bed, leaning against the headboard as she motioned to Lefty.
“You got a light?”
Lefty reached into his pocket to produce his army lighter, tossing it to Betty.
Vincent shut the door, leaning against it with crossed arms. “The gang’s all here, I suppose.”
Hattie approached Lefty with head hung low. “I suppose I have some explaining to do.”
“Don’t bother with that.” Lefty reached out to pat her on the shoulder. “I’ve pieced it together on my own. All except the part where your scheme flew to pieces.”
Betty sighed. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? Catena played you people all along. All of you were supposed to die in that club. Me too, I suppose.”
Hattie shook her head. “But how did that bastard see through my magic? Was it from the beginning?”
“Definitely,” Betty replied with disinterest as she took a drag from her cigarette.
“Is it possible the man’s a null?” Hattie asked. “Like that Scandinavian battle-axe at Ithaca?”
Vincent shook his head. “Catena froze up with the rest of the room when I pinched time. Whatever went wrong with your magic, it didn’t save him from that.”
Betty blew a thin stream of smoke into the air. “It’s a pity I didn’t get the chance to kill Gertha.”
Vincent smirked. “She’s taking a permanent nap at the bottom of a lake.”
“Good for you,” Betty quipped.
Lefty lifted his hand. “Once Masseria’s people sober up, they’ll realize they let two pinchers slip through their fingers. Then they’ll turn the city inside-out looking for you. It’s time we got you ladies back to Baltimore.”
“What about Betty?” Hattie asked.
All eyes turned to the glass pincher, still lounging on the bed.
Betty rolled her eyes. “What? You want me to beg to come with you? Forget it.”
Hattie said, “Now that Maranzano’s dead, you’ll be in trouble.”
Vincent turned to Lefty, “In this whole stuffed-shirt system, what happens to pinchers when their gang falls to hell?”
Lefty replied, “Usually the assets are redistributed locally per family agreements. In a case like this, however, the spoils go to the victors.”
“So, Polizzi’s going to get rolled into Masseria’s crew?” Vincent asked.
“That’s likely,” Lefty replied before turning to Betty. “You, on the other hand?”
Betty waved him off. “Suits me. I’d rather kill them all.”
Hattie looked to Maria. “Your old Cleveland gang was massacred. Both sides, right?”
Maria nodded. “That’s how Augustus ended up in New York. I took advantage of the confusion and made a run for it.” She nodded to Betty. “That’s always an option.”
Betty sneered. “Run? Just when it’s getting fun?”
“This is no joke,” Hattie scolded. “They’re going to hunt you down, Betty. And we need you.”
“You don’t get it! There’s no hit on me. Not anymore.” She eyed Maria and Hattie, then turned away. “I cut a deal.”
“With whom?” Lefty asked.
“Catena. Who do you think?”
Hattie shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”
“Well, you should. Catena knew about you all along. Don’t ask me how, but he knew.” Betty wound around Lefty to stare out the window. “Henry found me two nights ago. Coulda had me, too. It would’ve been the end for Betty Sharp, but he had something to offer. A deal with Catena—a deal to serve
you up on a platter. I do that, and he lets me walk.”
“But you didn’t serve me up,” Hattie said. “You chose to save me, instead. Didn’t you?”
Betty frowned, slipping her cigarette between her lips and looking away.
“That was a decision, Betty,” Hattie pressed. “You chose me over freedom. You’re part of something, now.”
The glass pincher pulled the cigarette out of her mouth, sat up, then blew a line of smoke into Hattie’s face. “I just got bored.”
Maria reached out and knocked the cigarette out of Betty’s hand. “Get over yourself!”
Betty jumped off the bed, hands in claws. “You want to try that again?” she snapped.
“She saved your life,” Maria said. “On the bridge. Now, you’ve returned the favor.”
“I guess that makes us even.”
“It makes you more than that. I know it’s important for you to be the outsider. You go out of your way to paint that picture, and that’s fine. I was the same way not long ago. But I never stopped asking ‘what’s next?’ You better start asking that question, Betty.”
Betty wilted just a hair.
Vincent felt a jolt against his back, sending him stumbling forward.
The door eased open as Buddy peered inside. “Is this where the party is?”
The entire room turned to stare at Buddy, who took a careful step inside. He gripped a champagne bottle in one hand and a cigar in the other. His eyes drooped in boozy fumes.
But when those eyes found Betty, they shot open.
Buddy dropped the champagne bottle, sending it bouncing off the floorboards as he reached for his gun. He took aim at Betty, and his finger pulled back on the trigger.
The gun dry-clicked.
Buddy shook his head, lifting his gun to inspect it.
Vincent held up a flat palm, cradling six bullets he’d just plucked from the weapon in a time pinch.
“I’m sure you can still nail a target even when you’re drunk,” Vincent said. “So, I’m going to hold on to these until you sleep it off.”
Buddy stared at the faces in the room. “What is this? Who are you people?”
“Associates,” Lefty said as he pulled a chair from the tiny card table. “Why don’t you have a seat, kid.”
Buddy pointed to Betty. “She’s with them. She’s one of Maranzano’s.”
“Not anymore,” Lefty replied. “Thanks to you.”
He shook his head. “She’s still the enemy.”
Betty cackled. “Oh, see? He gets it.”
Vincent picked the bottle off the ground, holding it up to the light. “Better not open this for a little bit. We’ll all be wearing champagne.”
Buddy stepped away from Vincent. “How can you…why’s everyone making jokes?”
“You need to calm down,” Vincent urged as he strode across the room to set the bottle onto the table. “The fight’s over. And now the rules have changed.”
Buddy held a hand to the side of his face, pressing his revolver against his own cheek. “I’m confused.”
“Hey,” Lefty said. “You did good tonight. Corbi’s gonna be over the moon.”
A flicker of a grin lifted onto Buddy’s lips.
“But you really need to take a load off. Uncoil that spring inside your chest before you snap.”
Buddy shuffled past the girls, wandering to the chair to take a seat.
Hattie said, “Right, well. Where does that leave us?”
Betty turned for the door. “Leave us? That sounds pretty good to me.”
“Where are you going?” Maria asked.
Betty stabbed out her cigarette on the wall, dropping it onto the floor before reaching for the door knob. “Elsewhere. I don’t feel like sharing a room with a psychopath.”
She blew a kiss at Buddy.
“You don’t have to leave,” Hattie urged.
“Please stop. Stop…this. Stop trying to save me. It’s annoying.”
Hattie stepped past Vincent. “Then stay in town, at least one more day. Give me a chance.”
Betty’s eyes darted back and forth between Hattie’s. She struggled for a comeback, some crack to give her distance. But nothing came.
Instead, she just nodded and left.
Vincent shook his head. “If she welshed on Catena, she’s going to be worse off than before. He’ll put her down like a rabid dog.”
Buddy snickered. “Good.”
Maria reached behind Buddy’s head and gave it a solid slap.
“Ow.”
“Leave this to the grownups,” she chided.
Vincent said, “I hate to admit it, but Lefty might be right. It’s time we got you two out of New York.”
Hattie sighed. “But we’re so close. I can’t believe this was all for nothing.”
“It’s better than losing your life over a lost cause.”
She blinked at his statement. “A lost cause? Is that what it is?”
Buddy blurted, “What’re you talking about?”
Maria brandished the back of her hand, and Buddy lifted his hands in defense.
Vincent replied, “No, that’s not what I meant. Floresta’s pulled his support.”
“What about Luciano?” Hattie asked. “Isn’t he the one calling the shots?”
“I assumed Floresta was speaking for Luciano.”
“How well do you think a man like Luciano appreciates having someone else make up his mind? A lot’s changed in the past few hours. Give Luciano time to cool off. He’ll want to save this. The bastard’s too greedy to give up so easily.”
Vincent looked to Lefty. “What do you think?”
“She’s right,” Lefty replied. “If you’re utterly devoted to this, then sticking around until Luciano makes a new play isn’t the worst idea. But he needs to know you’re still on the table.”
Vincent nodded. “I’ll find him tomorrow. Get a word in without Floresta hanging onto his neck. I bet I can dangle the carrot.”
Hattie laid a hand on Vincent’s chest. “It’s worth trying. This is bigger than any of us.”
Vincent smiled, then peered at Buddy, who was admiring the hem of Maria’s dress.
“What about him?”
Lefty lifted the champagne bottle. “I think maybe half a bottle, and he won’t remember much.”
Lefty dropped the bottle into Buddy’s lap. “Come on, kid,” Lefty declared. “You’re going to share that champagne. And I’m going to tell you all about Cezanne’s Orchids in White.”
Buddy lumbered to his feet. “The what?”
“Cezanne, boy,” Lefty explained as he held the door open. “His rumored Orchids in White, a painting that went missing during the War. Nicked from the Musee d’Orsay in the middle of the fighting.” Lefty added as he closed the door behind them, “What if I told you I knew exactly where it is?”
Vincent took a seat on the bed. “Sorry I got you two thrown out of your room.”
Maria sighed. “I’m exhausted.”
Hattie nodded. “Aye.”
“Listen,” Vincent said. “I’m going to confiscate Buddy’s room. Leave you two alone to get some rest.”
Hattie reached for Vincent’s hand, gripping it tight. “Please tell me there’s hope.”
He smiled at her and winked. “Always.”
Chapter 29
Even though Hattie didn’t wake up in Vincent’s arms like the last time they’d shared a room together, she still found herself blinking away the fog of sleep with gratitude. Vincent had spent the night in a chair by the door. As Hattie sat up in bed, stretching and noting how badly she needed a shower, Vincent stirred and slumped forward to rub his neck.
“Good morning,” she whispered.
Vincent nodded, wincing at the stiffness he couldn’t seem to work loose.
Hattie pulled herself out of bed, wandering over to the man to massage his shoulders.
Maria stirred on the bed, glancing in their direction with a sigh. “You two want privacy?”
&nbs
p; Vincent groaned as Hattie hit a knot.
Hattie replied, “I’d rather clean up. This is a hotel, right? Hall bath?”
Vincent nodded without comment, pawing at her to keep rubbing.
Maria shuffled off the bed, straightening her dress that she really shouldn’t have slept in. Deep wrinkles had set in. That would be work getting pressed. But Vincent wouldn’t leave the two alone with the entirety of Masseria’s gang on the hunt, and Maria wasn’t the sort to strip down with an audience.
With an eye-roll, Maria nudged past the two, reaching for the door. “I’ll see if the bath’s free.” She opened the door and froze. “Uh, Hattie?”
Hattie turned to see that pinned in the center of the wood was a handwritten note.
“I think this is for you,” Maria said as she pulled the paper off its pin and handed it over.
Hattie took the paper and Vincent stood, reading over her shoulder
Malloy,
Meet me at Grand Central.
Noon.
Just you.
Hattie squinted at the looping script. “What’s the point in leaving ominous notes if one doesn’t sign it?”
Maria gripped the pin still lodged in the door, gritting her teeth as she pried it loose. “It was Betty.” She handed over the pin, a tiny glass bulb with a sharp, spiraling tail.
Vincent asked, “Why’s Betty calling you out alone?”
“Search me,” Hattie replied.
“Well, we can clear this up right now—you’re not going alone,” Maria grumbled.
Vincent nodded in agreement as Hattie shook her head.
“She’s asked for just me. You both know this woman. She’s smart. And if she sees either of you, she’ll go to ground. No, I trusted her with my life before, and she came through. No reason she’d change that now.”
“Sure there is,” Vincent said as he stood up. “She said it herself. She cut a deal with Catena.”
“A deal which she broke at the Julietta.”
Maria said, “All the more reason to cut a new deal. This could be her way of serving you up to save her own skin.”
“Didn’t I just say she was smart?” Hattie retorted. “No way she’d be this ham-fisted if that were her plan.”
Vincent nodded. “Good point. Besides, she’d just have shredded the door and throw glass at the problem, like usual.”