Speak Easy (7 page)

“That’s the way it goes.”

“Jesus.” I collapsed back onto the sofa. “I just want out of this. And how the hell am I going to do that when I can’t even make my own runs anymore? I don’t have any money to spare for your
friends
.” I spat the last word. “And I’m sorry to say, I don’t see a damn bit of difference between what they’re doing and what Angel’s doing. He just happened to nab Daddy first.”

“Well, there is a difference. And if you’re smart, you’ll respect the way
they
want things done. The only reason they didn’t bother us tonight is because I told them what happened with Angel. Sam wants to make a deal with you.”

“Who the hell is Sam?”

“Sam the Barber. He’s head of the River Gang.”

“Swell. What kind of deal?”

Joey cleared his throat. “Well, they’ll allow you to run your own small loads to pay Angel off, and in return, you give them the hearses and…some information.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Information about what?”

“About Angel’s operation. About the club. About any big shipments they have coming in.”

My spine snapped straight. “They want me to be their spy? No chance, Joey!” I splayed my hands on my chest. “You think I’m crazy? Angel would kill me or Daddy or maybe both of us if he found out! And it’s not like the DiFiores are my friends—they have my father hostage!”

Joey remained infuriatingly calm. “Still. You’re able to get closer than they can.” He paused. “And you said Enzo likes you.”

I glared at him. Of course he’d bring that up, now that he needed it to be true. “What if I say no?”

“I’m not sure you have a choice. It’s either work with them or pay for their services. I can’t promise I’ll be able to hold them off.”

“Oh my God.” Struggling to breathe, I lowered my face to my knees, covering my head with my hands. “How did I get into so much trouble?”

“You never could stay out of it.”

“It was always your fault.” Resting there for a moment, I was surprised when I felt a hand on my back. Joey and I didn’t touch each other like that.

“Hey.”

I looked over at him. He’d moved closer to me, and his expression was serious and almost tender. I sat up. “What?”

“You’re not alone in this. I mean, you don’t have to be.”

His tone was cajoling, but his asking price was too high. “No. I don’t want to be a soldier in any gang war, Joey. I just want to get the money, get Daddy released, and turn this problem over to him.” Heaving a big sigh, I stood. “And after that, I need to get a new job. Secretary. Phone operator. Dog catcher.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” He picked up his cap from the couch. “You got the twelve cases sold?”

“Nearly. Tomorrow I just have to deliver and collect. Then I need to buy more whisky.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“Yeah.” I met his eyes. “Will your friends bother us?”

He shrugged. “I guess we can take our chances, stay well north of the city.” He rubbed the stubble on his jaw, and for one insane second I wondered what it would feel like against my cheek. “Lock the door behind me, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I stood in the doorway and watched him go down the front porch steps. “Hey, Joey?”

He turned around.

“Why are you doing this? I mean, I’m grateful,” I added quickly, “but I’m also curious. You’d cross those guys for me?”

“Hmm.” He came back up the steps and stretched his hands to the walls on either side of the door. “Maybe it’s because your dad was good to me when I needed help after my dad died. Or maybe it’s because I always felt bad about stealing your underwear.” He leaned forward, putting us nearly nose to nose. “Maybe I’m planning to steal all that whisky from the boathouse tonight.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Be sure to shoot me when you’re done.”

“Maybe I’m just a nice guy, Tiny.”

“Maybe.” His full lips were so close, I couldn’t help staring at them, wondering what kind of kisser he was. They tipped up in a wicked grin.

“So how’s about a goodnight kiss?”

I shut the door in his face before my lips could answer otherwise.

Chapter Seven

Monday dawned cloudy and humid. Trying not to think about all the money I could be putting in my tuition stash after a day like today, I loaded the four cases from my house into the Ford and made my rounds. I sold all forty-eight bottles by telling our customers I wasn’t sure when I’d get another load since running near the river was getting dangerous and expensive. No one wanted to be without, so people were willing to buy a little extra to stock up.

By one o’ clock, I’d collected all money owed plus twelve dollars and fifty cents in tips. I went home, shoved the money under my mattress, and made lunch. After that, the girls headed to the library for the afternoon, and I drove over to the boathouse to load up Al Murphy’s cases. Joey was right about using a hearse—in my car, several of the sacks were visible because there wasn’t enough hidden space. Thankfully I only had one destination, and I was hoping Al would be around to help me unload. My back and my hip were hurting like mad.

The Murphys lived in a large old Victorian hidden behind a thick grove of pines, and they ran a speakeasy in the old carriage house at the back of their property. I parked in the drive, knocked on the massive front door, and Gladys Murphy answered it a moment later. A former showgirl, she was a tall middle-aged woman with unnaturally black hair, and she always penciled in her eyebrows overly-arched. It gave her a look of constant surprise, which my sisters and I giggled about whenever she came into the store.

“Tiny,” she said in her slight Southern accent. “Al’s been trying to reach your father.” Her forehead was wrinkled with concern.

“He’s out of town. Is there a problem?”

She wrung her hands and looked down the street in each direction. “Come in.” The hair at the back of my neck stood on end as I stepped into their elaborately furnished living room. I’d never seen the Murphys nervous about deliveries before. “Wait here. I’ll get Al,” Gladys told me. She peeked out the window before disappearing up the wide staircase.

I perched on a clawfoot chair and bit my thumbnail. The air in the room was stuffy and still, and the heavy drapes were pulled. Gladys returned a minute later, followed by Al, a portly guy with a thick head of red-brown hair and a mustache. He must have been shaving, because he had a speck of shaving cream on his neck and his collar was open.

“Tiny,” he said, coming forward with his hand out. “How’s your pop?”

“He’s fine.” I stood and shook Al’s hand but gave him a wary eye. “I’ve got your whisky. Eight cases.”

Al and Gladys exchanged glances and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Uh…the thing is, Tiny, I can’t buy whisky from you anymore.”

“Why not? You always buy whisky from us! Has somebody offered it cheaper?”

“No, no. It’s not that. It’s—” He swallowed again. “I have to buy it from somebody else now.”

It took me a few seconds to comprehend what he was saying. “Or that
somebody else
will get mad?”

He nodded. “Your pop’s been my friend a long time, done a lot for me, but…”

“They threatened us.” Gladys’s voice shook. “They showed up here with guns last night and said they’d bring in feds, or maybe just blow the place up if we bought from anyone else.”

“Of course they did.” My skin itched with fury. Enzo—that son of a bitch. He asked me what speaks we supplied and I’d flat-out told him. This was my fault. And now I was stuck with eight cases of whisky, which I’d never be able to sell by tonight, so I’d have no cash to buy the rest of the whisky I needed to make five grand by tomorrow night. Daddy was as good as dead.

And maybe I was too.

Without a word to the Murphys, I bolted to the door and yanked it open, then flew down the steps to my car. Tears spilled over as I backed out of the drive and took off down the street.

“Shit!” I pounded the steering wheel. “Shit, shit, shit!” Now what was I going to do? Wiping my nose with the back of my hand, I drove to the boathouse and unloaded everything again. I barely noticed any pain in my hip; I was too busy panicking about Daddy and fuming about Enzo. How dare he trick me that way? And then kiss me that way?

You kissed him, remember?

“That is not the goddamn point!” I yelled to no one.

I shoved my own culpability to the back of my mind and drove to Bridget’s. To my relief, Joey’s car was parked behind the store. Breathless, I rushed in the back door and found him unpacking boxes in the stock room. “Thank God you’re here.”

Joey lifted his brow. “Did I hear that right?”

“This is serious.” I took the carton of Armour’s Oats he was holding and threw it back into the box. “Come with me.” Dragging him by the arm into the alley, I shut the back door and threw my hands in the air. “They screwed me!”

“Who?”

“The DiFiores! At least, I assume that’s who it is.” I told him what had happened at Al Murphy’s house.

Joey crossed his arms. “How’d they know your pop supplied Murphy?”

My neck got hot. “I mighta let that slip when I was with Enzo the other night.”

He pressed his lips together. “So now what?”

“Now I hang myself, Joey! I don’t know what to do.” I slapped a hand to my sticky forehead. The air was hot and heavy, and I figured it would probably storm tonight, making a run across the lake much more difficult, if not impossible. I kicked the brick wall, which hurt my foot, and then slumped back against it.

“All right now, just relax. Let me think.”

“If I don’t get five grand by tomorrow night…”

“I
said
, let me think.” Joey looked down the alley for a moment. “I gotta make some calls.”

“Wait.” I grabbed his bicep. “No gang stuff.”

He held up his hands. “No promises, Tiny. You want your dad back, you might have to trade some favors.” He pointed at the store. “You go in there and help Bridget. I’ll call you here later.”

I hopped from one foot to the other. “When? It’s almost three, and if I don’t unload those eight cases of whisky today…” I hated how panicky and small my voice sounded, but all my confidence in myself was shot.

“I got it. Now go in there and make yourself useful.” Finally he attempted a grin. “Although I know that’s hard for you.”

#

Joey finally called the store around six, just as Bridget and I were closing up. When the telephone rang, I was sweeping near the front door, but I dropped the broom and vaulted over the counter to grab it. “Hello?”

“It’s me.”

“Yes?”

“I got it worked out. Meet me tonight, ten o’clock, at the boathouse.”

I turned away from Bridget’s quizzical stare. “And?”

“And bring the keys for the hearses. Any of them that run.”

#

After supper, Mary Grace went outside to play, but I pulled Molly aside before she could follow. “I need to talk to you.”

She took her arm from my grasp. “Well, I’m meeting someone, so hurry up.”

“I have to make a late run tonight.” I’d decided to be up front with her. In case anything happened, someone should know where I went.

“Why?” She narrowed her eyes. “Where’s Daddy anyway? He’s not usually gone so long.”

Jesus. She has to pick tonight to get wise?
“He’s working on some business connections in Cleveland. We might…run some whisky down there.”

“Oh.” Molly appeared satisfied by that. “So what time will you be home?”

“I’m not sure. But I want you both in bed at a decent hour, and no one comes over. Is that understood? Or do I have to ask Mrs. Mulder to check up on you?” Mrs. Mulder was our two-doors-down neighbor. When we were younger we used to call her “Meanie Mulder” because she was always crabbing at kids who ran across her lawn.

“Ugh, no. But all this late night running around is strange, Tiny.” She began to walk out, then turned around, one eyebrow arched like Gladys Murphy’s. “Is there a
boy
involved?” she asked, a gleam in her eye. She tapped a finger on her chin. “Now that I think of it, I believe I
did
see a new dress in your closet, perhaps even new shoes—and a lipstick in your dresser.” She blinked coquettishly.

I could feel the heat in my cheeks. “Stay out of my room.”

Her mouth dropped open. “There
is
a boy! And you better tell me who it is, or I’ll tell Daddy about the lipstick and all these late nights!”

I grabbed her by the ear, which I knew she hated more than anything. We were about the same height, and she probably had a few pounds on me, but when I got her like that, she knew she’d better listen good. “You cross me,” I whispered fiercely, “and I’ll tell him what I know about you and Jimmy Haskell on the back porch.”

She gasped. “Mary Grace, that little tattle tale!”

I let go of her ear. “I don’t want to hear another word out of you, is that understood?”

“You’re not my mother,” she spat, rubbing her ear. “And I’m sick of you acting like it.”

I almost laughed. “You know what, Molly? I’m sick of it too.”

#

When I pulled up at the boathouse at ten, I saw two cars—Joey’s Ford and a beautiful red Buick Touring. I parked next to the Ford and took a few deep breaths before opening my door. A group of guys stood on the dock, cigarette tips glowing orange in the blackness. No moon tonight.

I picked out Joey right away. He wasn’t the shortest or the tallest, but his silhouette in the dark was familiar to me now. It made me feel a little safer. Walking toward the group, I held the hearse keys in one hand and an envelope of cash in the other.

“Tiny.” Joey’s deep voice cut through the slap of waves against the seawall. “This is Sam and Angelo and Whitey.” All three of them wore suits, no ties. Angelo and Whitey wore floppy caps like Joey, but Sam’s head was bare. He was a short, thick-necked, and bald, which surprised me—for some reason I’d pictured a barber with a full head of hair.

“Hello,” I said.

They said nothing. One might have nodded.

Joey cleared his throat. “Did you bring the keys like I asked?” I held them out, and he gave them to Sam.

“Where are they?” Sam asked, tossing his cigarette butt into the water.

“They’re at the garage I told you about,” Joey said. “Here’s the key.” For a minute I was confused as to why Joey would have a garage key, but then I remembered that he had replaced the back door today.

“At least two are running right now.” I swallowed hard when they all looked at me. “There’s a third my father was still working on.”

“I can get it running,” Joey said quickly. He turned to me. “In exchange for the hearses, Sam here’s gonna buy all the cases in the boathouse.”

“One fifty per,” Sam said.

I bit my lip. That was thirty bucks less per case than usual, but what was I going to do? It was sell to Sam at a discount or kiss Daddy goodbye. I nodded. “OK.”

“And he’s also going to let us make a run tonight without paying his percentage,” Joey added. His tone implied I should be grateful.

“Thank you,” I said. Sam took a wad of bills from his pocket and handed it to me. I tucked it into the envelope, too scared to count it in front of him.

Joey spoke up again. “One more thing.”

“Yes?” My voice cracked.

“We heard—well, Sam heard—that Angel’s expecting a huge rum shipment this week by rail from the East Coast. You know anything?”

Was he serious? “No. And there’s no way for me to find out.” Rain began to fall. Fat, heavy drops that hit the dock with soft
thups
.

“All you have to do is listen,” said Sam. “Someone always talks.” His voice was so low and gravelly I could hardly hear it. “We want to know what night it’s coming.”

“I—I don’t…” I flashed Joey a look that said help me. There was no way any of the DiFiores would let something like that slip—especially in front of me.

“Just keep your eyes and ears open, Tiny. That’s all we’re asking.” Joey’s expression pleaded with me to accept the terms.

“OK,” I whispered.

“We better go.” Joey sounded relieved. “We got seventeen cases waiting to be picked up. Tiny, unlock the boathouse for them.”

I did as he said, and the guys loaded the whisky into the red Buick. Once they’d driven away, Joey and I hurried to the boat. Although the rain was intermittent, the wind had picked up and the lake was even choppier than last night. I held on tight as we headed out to the open water.

“You all right?” Joey asked.

“No, I’m not all right! Not only did I just give away three hearses and the keys to the garage, but I sold eight cases of whisky at a discount when I need every penny I can get!”

“I know, but that was his price. And you don’t have a lot of time to turn a profit here, Tiny. You’re better off selling fast than selling high right now.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But nothing. You got a thousand bucks in your pocket that you wouldn’t have if I hadn’t negotiated the deal with Sam. Now forget about what’s already sold and start thinking about the next load you’re gonna have to sell—by
tomorrow night
.”

He was right. It wouldn’t do any good to agonize over what was already done. I focused my attention on the lights across the lake as the waves tossed us up and down.

At the Canadian docks, I paid the distributor—a younger guy I didn’t recognize—five hundred ninety-five dollars. The seventeen cases barely fit into the boat, which sat frighteningly low in the water. “Come on, hurry,” Joey said. “The rain’s starting again.” He was veering out to the lake before I could even sit down. Halfway across, he stiffened and sat up tall.

“What?” My pulse quickened.

“Come here,” he said quietly, slowing the boat and shutting off the engine.

“Joey, it’s raining! Turn the motor back on and get us back!”

“Just come here,” he said, more insistent this time. He thumped the space next to him on the bench. As we drifted on the swells, I carefully stepped between the sacks to sit beside him. He put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “Kiss me.”

My stomach cartwheeled. “Are you nuts?”

“Kiss me,” he said again, but he didn’t wait for me to do it. He squeezed my upper arms and pressed his mouth to mine. His fingers dug into my skin as my heart careened out of control.
What the hell is going on? He picks this moment to get romantic?
He took his lips off mine and buried his face in my hair by my ear. “Inspectors,” he whispered. “Now act like you love me.”