Livvie's Song (21 page)

“How did you find me, and, more important, why?”

Hank spoke for the first time. “Guess you didn’t reco’nize me on the train that day you came into town. I was there, hangin’ back in the shadows. Followed you here.”

He sifted through his memory. Shoot! He should have canvassed his fellow riders more closely that day, but freedom had given him a false sense of security. “I can’t imagine what difference it would make to you where I went after serving ten years for a crime you participated in. Did you notice I never named any of you as coconspirators? You ought to be thanking me for that right about now.”

Hank and Rudy slunk back a tad, but Clem kept that snide, sneering expression in place. “Sorry, that ain’t why we came—to thank you for showin’ us mercy. No, actually, we come to ask you what you did with the goods.”

Will could take them all down, and he knew it, but he didn’t want to break anything or make a scene. “What goods? I walked out of that prison with nothing but a change of clothes and a few personal items. That’s it. And if you think I’m about to join up with you fellas again, well, you’re dumber than a box of toys in the attic. I’m toeing the line from here on out.”

Clem swept four filthy fingers through his greasy, brownish-gray hair. He’d lost a front tooth since the last time Will had seen him. That he’d ever run around with these creeps and even considered them friends made him want to retch. Another prayer shot up to heaven, this one for protection and the right words to use to get rid of them. Forever.

“By goods, I’m talkin’ ’bout them jewels you lifted. Where are they? Newspapers reported a week or so after the robbery, they never recovered the loot. That means you done somethin’ with that leather pouch I gave you. We was in this thing together, remember? And we think we deserve our fair share.”

Will could hardly keep from laughing. “You’re kidding, right?” Now he did chuckle as he scratched the back of his neck in disbelief. “Sorry to disappoint you, boys, but you’re chasing a dream if you think I have anything to give you.”

“Wasn’t we all in agreement that we’d split the loot four ways?” Rudy’s whiny voice chimed in for the first time. In Will’s estimation, Rudy had always been the one with the smallest brain. Of course, back then, he’d run a tight race with him.

“Sorry to have to put it to you like this, but the treasure is long gone.”

Clem jerked his head back. “What do you mean, it’s long gone? You must’ve stashed it somewheres. We figure you befriended somebody whilst you was in that prison and struck a bargain with ’im. For a price, he’d go to your hidin’ spot, snatch up that bag of jewels, take it someplace discreet—like Wabash, here—and run off with ’is share, and then you’d be set for life once you got out.”

Will couldn’t contain his sudden burst of laughter. “There are so many holes in that theory, I could sift flour with it. First of all, there are no jewels, and there wasn’t a single friend in prison I’d have trusted with them, anyway. You don’t go to jail to make friends, unless you have no hopes of getting out. A jailbird’s number one job is to keep his nose clean. Nice try, though.” He tried to sober himself but first had to let out some lingering chuckles. “Listen, boys. I didn’t ‘stash’ that pouch anywhere. I threw it down a sewer drain when I was running from the cops. The police searched for days in the area where I said I made the drop but came up short. If somebody found it, he isn’t telling. I didn’t want to be caught with the loot because I thought it would save my skin, which was foolish, it turns out, because one of the cops spotted me from a block away, running out of the store with that bag in tow. So, in a sense, they caught me red-handed, even though there wasn’t any evidence on me when they finally nabbed me.” He looked from one of the three sorry men to the next. “You boys ought to have learned a lesson from me. Crime never pays. Get out of it before you all wind up in the Big House.”

Clem narrowed his beady eyes at Will. “Don’t think for a second I believe your tale about tossin’ them diamonds ’n’ such down a sewer drain, Taylor. You ain’t that stupid.”

“Yeah, I am, but thanks for your vote of confidence,” he joked. “Unfortunately, back then, I had the smarts of a toadstool. Anyway, I don’t care what you believe.”

Clem stood cemented to the floor, his face so red, it looked as if letting out his breath would cause his head to explode. “Perplexed” best described Hank and Rudy’s expressions.

Will scrambled to come up with a way to still the waters and then to get these goofs out of Livvie’s Kitchen. He decided on telling the truth.

“Look, I feel bad you came all the way from New York thinking to get something you thought you deserved. I really do. But the truth is, even if I had stashed that bag of gems somewhere, I would have turned it in. I’m a Christian now, and my conscience would not have allowed me to walk through that prison gate without making everything as right as I could. I wrote a letter from my jail cell to Mr. Samson at Samson and Sons Jewelers and apologized for breaking down his door and stealing from his jewelry cases. Unfortunately, I can’t pay him back, so the letter had to do. He never did reply, not that I blame him. He’s probably still steaming with anger.”

They all stood there for several seconds, their mouths gaping.

“You sayin’ you found religion?” Rudy finally asked, keeping his head down. He ground his toe into a groove in the wood floor.

“Yeah, I did. The jail cook introduced me to Jesus, told me the Lord loved me, in spite of all I’d done.”

“So, you—”

“Oh, for cryin’ in a rowboat, this ain’t no revival service!” Clem screeched.

Rudy recoiled. Hank just stood there stewing to himself, whatever thoughts he had on the subject staying tucked deep inside him.

“This Jesus junk is nothin’ but a cover-up,” Clem spat out. “You’re just playin’ the religion card to get us outta your hair.”

“It’s not religion I’ve found but a relationship with Jesus. You are right on one point, though: I’d like to get you out of my hair.”
Especially before Livvie overhears Clem’s raspy voice from her second-floor apartment and comes down to investigate.

“Let not mercy and truth forsake thee: bind them about thy neck; write them upon the table of thine heart: so shalt thou find favour and good understanding in the sight of God and man.” —Proverbs 3:3–4

Livvie left the boys to their game of marbles in the living room and gathered the soiled clothes and linens for tomorrow’s wash. In the small room off the kitchen, she separated them by color and fabric in two piles on top of the washing machine, all the while pondering the success of the very first Family Feast. As she worked, she hummed “It Had to Be You,” one of the tunes Will had played for the clientele.

Grinning, she silently marveled at his talent for making that little instrument sing with precision and intensity. It seemed Will Taylor had endless abilities. A real showman, that’s what he was—in the kitchen, on the stage, and even while mingling with strangers. The more she observed him with Joe’s old cronies, the more it struck her how easily he blended in, conversing with young and old alike, relating with equal comfort to the aged Coot Hermanson and her young boys. Watching his interactions, especially with her sons, sounded a chord of optimism in her heart. Why, she’d heard nothing but glowing remarks from patrons about the evening, from the unforgettable meal Will had prepared to his gracious, welcoming ways, and how they could listen to him warble on that harp for hours. She had to admit, she’d been quite charmed, herself.

And her boys—my, how they’d been perfect gentlemen all night, ushering entire families inside, taking them to their tables, and pulling out the ladies’ chairs. Many of the customers had been so impressed that they’d promised to return weekly, making her wonder how they would accommodate so many people on a regular basis. Frank would be so pleased to see how well things had gone for Livvie’s Kitchen ever since Joe had left for Chicago. Or, would he? A part of her could see him turning up his nose at the way Will Taylor had taken over his kitchen, moving things around to suit his preferences. And what would he think of her agreeing to go to church with him this Sunday? Would he turn up his nose at that, as well? Not that it mattered, of course. He’d been gone well over a year. Surely, he didn’t expect her to wallow in self-pity forever. But what on earth was she thinking? It wasn’t as if Will had shown any romantic interest in her. Goodness gracious! An invitation to church could hardly be confused with a proposal of courtship, especially with her boys in tow.

She shook her head to free it of such fanciful notions, then shuffled down the hall to her bedroom to gather a few more items to launder. In the living room, the boys had found something to squabble about, so she called out a threat of early bedtime if they didn’t stop. Silence instantly followed. Considering how tired they had to be after a long day of play and helping out at the restaurant, they ought to have been eager to go to bed, but that was almost never the case. Rather than inquire about their dispute, she decided to finish her chores.

Piano music echoed through the back alley; it came from Isaac’s Restaurant, one block south on Canal Street. Most people referred to Isaac’s as a speakeasy, and, while Isaac Winters didn’t have liquor on the menu, plenty of people went into his establishment sober and came out quite the opposite. Livvie sometimes wondered how, in this time of Prohibition, he got away with selling alcohol. But then, she recalled the rumors about Sheriff Morris’s fondness for the stuff. Considering that he had been elected for two consecutive terms, she figured most of Wabash’s good citizens held the man in high regard, despite his weak enforcement of Prohibition laws.

The piano player at Isaac’s switched from honky-tonk to a quieter tune, and Livvie found herself meandering to the open window that overlooked the alley between her building and the Gaylord & Bambauer Drug Store. The night was unusually warm, yet pleasant, and the curtains ruffled in the gentle evening breeze. Below, two cats faced off with each other, their backs hunched in readiness for combat. “Scat!” she scolded them, poking her head out the window. When they scampered away in opposite directions, she smiled with satisfaction. She ducked her head back inside and prepared to get back to her chores, but something quite different grabbed her attention: the sound of the screen door of the restaurant slamming shut, followed by a rowdy voice that overpowered the other night noises.

“He’s a blame fool,” said a cranky male voice. “I swear, them stolen jewels are hidden somewheres. Got to be.”

“He said he tossed ’em in a sewer drain, Clem. It makes pretty logical sense to me,” said another.

“You’d think a dancin’ duck was logical,” the first one spat back.

“He does seem different from ten years ago. Gettin’ religion would explain that,” said a third fellow.

The threesome started making their way down the alley in her direction, so Livvie stepped to the side of the window, then crouched down and peeked over the sill, keeping an ear to the open window and an eye on their sauntering figures. She couldn’t make out their faces in the shadows, but she could tell they weren’t familiar. What did they mean by stolen jewels, and just whom were they referring to when they said that “he tossed ’em in a sewer drain”? Surely, they weren’t speaking of Will, even though she felt certain they’d just come from her restaurant. She would recognize that rusty squeak anywhere. The door had been making the sound for years, and, while she’d asked Frank countless times to fix it, she’d grown accustomed to hearing it. Her stomach twisted in a sickening knot, and she put a hand to her throat, gulping down a bitter taste. It would seem she still had much to learn about her cook. Just what had he been involved in before coming to Wabash?

“Religion? Really, Rudy. I’ll eat my boots if he got religion. He made too good a crook. Fellas like him don’t reform easy,” said the one who’d spoken first.

A crook, did he say? A panicky sensation crowded her chest.

“He got caught, didn’t he? That ain’t bein’ such a good crook.”

The three men stopped directly under her window, and she heard the strike of a match. Were they lighting up? She stood up just high enough to see one man draw something shiny from his pocket. A gun?

“Put that thing away ’fore somebody sees it,” said one fellow. “Sheesh, you’re nuts. I’m gettin’ back on that train tomorrow. I got no time to mess around this jerkwater town. New York’s got a whole lot more opportunities for me. This plan o’ yours stank from the beginnin’.”

“I’m with Hank. I ain’t hangin’ ’round, neither.”

“Suit yourselves, fools. Just don’t expect no piece o’ the pie if I discover he stashed them stolen goods ’round these parts.”

“You’re the fool, Dodd. Didn’t you hear ’im? There ain’t no pie, and I believe ’im. Will seems…I don’t know. Different.”

“Bosh. You two squirrels got leaks in your think tanks. Good riddance to both of you.”

They set off again, their voices turning garbled as they moved further up the alley.

Livvie stood up fully and sucked in a cavernous breath, then slowly expelled it. “So help me, if that man’s a thief, I’ll show him the door faster than he can say tiddlywinks,” she muttered under her breath, more angry than troubled by what she’d overheard. She needed to learn Will Taylor’s true identity, and, suddenly, tonight seemed as good a time as any. Yes, indeed. No matter what he thought of the intrusion, just as soon as she was sure her boys were asleep, she would march across the hall and knock on his door.

And then, she’d demand answers.

***

In the big, claw-foot tub, Will soaked the sweat off his body till his skin felt waterlogged. And then, he soaked some more. He couldn’t believe the sudden appearance of the old gang. He could have sworn he’d seen the last of them years ago. Matter of fact, they should have been wise enough to stay away. How did they know he wouldn’t wring their necks for leaving him stranded at that jewelry store and letting him take the rap for the crime? Lucky for them, he felt no bitterness, even though he would have preferred never to have laid eyes on them again. Talk about putting a damper on the events of the evening! And the claim that he’d stowed those jewels in some remote spot to retrieve once he was free? He’d never heard anything so asinine.