by Harper Lin
“Now, Patsy, I haven’t been gone for that long, have I? You can’t forget your favorite gal, can you?” Becky flirted.
“Becky? I almost didn’t recognize you. You changed your hair,” Patsy replied before shutting the little window and opening the door. “In this light, I can’t see the red. You know how much I love redheads. That fiery temper.”
“Patsy, you’re so full of hot air. Let us in before we’re picked up for loitering,” Becky said as she slipped inside.
Patsy was a strong fellow who wore a button-down shirt open at the collar without a tie and had his sleeves rolled up. His trousers were high up his waist and frayed around the cuffs.
“I gotta tell you, Beck, you might want to find another dive to go to tonight,” Patsy said, stooping a little so Becky could hear him.
“Why? What’s stirring?”
“You heard about that fire today?” Patsy said, looking into the main room of revelers then back at her.
“Sure,” she replied without going into any greater detail.
“Well, there are a couple of fellows who have in no uncertain terms made it clear they are quite happy with the outcome of that fire,” Patsy said. “They got my neck hairs up. There will be a brawl before the night is over. You can take that to the bank. On any other night, I’d pull up a chair for you. But I don’t think you should stay tonight. Not tonight.”
“Patsy, we came all this way. Don’t send us away dry,” Becky pouted.
Patsy took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder then back at Becky. “Promise you won’t stay too long?”
“Cross my heart,” Becky flirted then took hold of Martha’s hand and sauntered in. Martha blew a kiss to Patsy. Teddy shook his hand and introduced Fanny and Hugh.
The Crazy Calico held a maximum of twenty people, but at least twice that many were crammed inside. The long bar that took up the north wall was completely full with fellows in their work blues and bibs. Sprinkled between them were ladies in their frocks and stockings rolled to their knees who patted their finger waves as they sized up Becky and her group. Still, even with almost every inch of space taken, Becky managed to find a small table that she and her friends could gather around.
The place was very dark due to the years of smoke and dirt that had accumulated on the walls. The lights were nothing more than a couple of bulbs hanging from the ceiling and a couple of storm lamps behind the bar. The floor was covered with peanut shells and sawdust.
“We are like fish out of water here,” Fanny whispered.
“Relax,” Martha said as she leaned against Becky. “The gin is just as wet here as anywhere else.”
“You said a mouthful,” Teddy said. “Hugh, ol’ boy, come with me. These ladies aren’t going to water themselves.” Teddy clapped Hugh on the back, making him cough.
As the men strolled up to the bar, Becky looked around and saw a couple of rather grim fellows looking in her direction.
“What’s wrong with those guys?” Martha whispered in Becky’s ear.
“Don’t worry about it. They’re probably just lit,” Becky said. Although she was sure she’d seen those men somewhere before. They’d never be allowed in Willie’s club dressed the way they were. And they weren’t from the juke joint on the edge of the creek. As she flipped through the list of speakeasies she knew, nothing rang a bell.
“They are making me rather uneasy,” Fanny said as she adjusted her skirt high on her knees and leaned back in her chair. If this was how she acted when she was uneasy, Becky was sure her dress would fall off completely if she were relaxed.
When Teddy and Hugh returned with drinks, Martha was the first to notice that Hugh had something different in his hand.
“That doesn’t look like a champagne cocktail.” Becky pointed to the Mason jar he was holding.
“Moonshine,” he said proudly.
“You ever drink moonshine, Hugh? I don’t know if that is such a good idea,” Martha said. “Teddy could pour it in the gas tank, and we’d be able to drive for miles.”
“When in Rome,” Hugh said and raised his jar.
The rest of them took their drinks, raised them high, and clanked them together as they toasted to the Crazy Calico.
It didn’t take long for the regulars to forget about Becky and her friends. Soon the piano was playing loudly, and people were dancing in the tiny square of space in the middle of the room, shouting to one another and laughing.
One of the fellows who had been staring at Becky strolled up to the table. “Care to dance?” he asked.
“I’d love to,” she said without hesitation. “Martha, make sure my ice doesn’t melt.”
Within seconds, they were crammed onto the tiny dance floor with the other partiers. The man held her tightly around the waist and was a surprisingly good dancer. He swung her around in that small space as if she weighed no more than a feather.
“You’re not from around here,” he said in her ear.
“You’re daft. I’m born and raised in Savannah. Ain’t no part of this city I don’t know.” She smiled sweetly. “In fact, I heard all about that fire this morning. I’ll bet I knew all about it before anyone.”
The man’s steps slowed, and he tightened his grip around her waist.
“Hey, now.” She pushed against his chest. “Don’t act like some palooka. Turn me loose, or I’ll…”
“You’ll what?” he said in her ear. “You shouldn’t be shooting your mouth off about that fire. You don’t know anything about it.”
“You’re wrong. I was there,” she said with the most angelic smile. “I heard him screaming, and I don’t believe that fire started itself.”
She stared into the man’s beady eyes as he squinted nervously at her.
“I’m going to tell you something, girlie-girl. Ruthmeyer got what was coming to him. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before he got his comeuppance.”
“Comeuppance for what?” Becky pushed.
The man sneered at her and shook his head. He licked his lips then swallowed as if he was getting ready to tell her a long tale. But he didn’t say anything and instead stared at her.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Becky continued. “You don’t have to tell me anything. But I have a way of knowing things without people saying a word.”
“I wouldn’t go saying that too loudly around some people, girlie-girl,” the man said. “And I certainly wouldn’t tell anyone I had any contact with anyone by the name of Ruthmeyer unless you want to suffer the same fate.”
He looked down at her, his feet no longer moving to the rhythm of the music and his grip around her waist even tighter than before.
Just then, Becky noticed a strange symbol scratched into the wall. Had she not looked directly at it, she would have dismissed it as wear and tear or maybe graffiti scratched by some drunken patron. It was a circle the size of a human head with a slash through it.
“What is that symbol scratched in the wall?”
Becky had hoped her dance partner would turn to look, but instead he clenched his teeth. He pulled her even closer to him. She could feel his hot breath against her cheek. Becky Mackenzie had dealt with her share of grabby gents who threw back one too many, but this man didn’t smell of alcohol. He was sober, and that made Becky very scared.
“You’re hurting me,” she said between tight lips.
“Oh, you don’t know what I’m capable of. We aren’t scared of people like you here,” the man said, a sinister smile stretching across his lips.
“People like me?” Becky’s face twisted in a mixture of discomfort and confusion.
“Hey, hey, hey.” Hugh suddenly appeared, his nose red and his eyes glazed over. “Good sir, do you mind if I cut in?”
“I most certainly do.” The man scowled.
“My dogs are barking. I think a sip of something cold would do me some good.” Becky tried to pull away, but this strange, angry dance partner was not ready to let her go.
“Now,
friend, I think I’d like to dance with this lady.” Hugh poked the man sternly on the shoulder. Hugh was soft all over, and perhaps if he were sober, he would have decided against cutting in. But as it was, that moonshine he was sipping gave him courage he probably didn’t know he had.
“I ain’t your friend,” the man said.
“Come on. We’re all friends here,” Becky insisted, finally pulling out of her dance partner’s grip and slipping her arm through Hugh’s. “We can have another dance later.”
“I don’t think so,” the man replied.
By now everyone was watching. The regulars at the bar had turned around in their seats to get a better view. The ladies were shaking their heads, whispering to each other as they looked disgusted with Becky and her entourage. The music had also stopped, and even the bartender, a huge, hairy man with an apron around his waist, looked like he wanted to box their ears.
“I think you owe the lady an apology,” Hugh said. “You might not be used to dealing with a woman of her caliber, but I assure you that your actions are those of a backwoods rogue.” It seemed the moonshine made him not only brave but poetic.
“What did you just say?” the man asked, causing half the patrons in the joint to stand up, showing their solidarity with him.
“He didn’t say anything. It was the moonshine that did the talking. You can’t blame a man for what he says after drinking that stuff,” Becky said, frantically waving to Martha, Teddy, and Fanny. “But we’ve obviously caused quite a stir. We don’t want trouble, so we’ll be on our way.”
“I don’t think any of you are going anywhere,” Becky’s dance partner hissed. “You ask a lot of questions. People around here don’t like strangers snooping around.”
“What questions? I just mentioned knowing about the fire at the Ruthmeyer place,” Becky stuttered as she inched toward the door. It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the place.
“Benny. Lock that back door.”
Becky looked at the man who had up until a few minutes ago been simply dancing with her and thought perhaps it was all a ruse. People in places like this sometimes picked out the rubes or the greenhorns in order to roll them for their money. But Becky and her friends weren’t rubes.
“Patsy!” Becky shouted.
Within seconds, the bouncer was at her side. His hands clenched and unclenched as his bulging eyes scanned the room. From where Becky was standing, it looked like Patsy was hoping for a brawl. He had that look of a man who’d been cooped up for too long, and stretching his legs just wasn’t going to cut it. Only a fight would put out the flame.
“I think you are right, Patsy. We’ll be leaving,” Becky said.
After grabbing Hugh with one hand and Martha with the other, she let Patsy lead them safely to the door. Teddy tended to Fanny, who was clinging tightly to him.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Patsy said as he pushed them out the door. “Didn’t I say it was off its rocker in there?”
“You did,” Becky said with her chin to her chest and a pout on her lips.
“Come back when it isn’t so hot outside. You won’t run into that group when it starts to get cold outside,” he added.
“Okay. Why is that?” Becky scratched her head.
“I guess they just don’t like the cold.” Patsy shrugged.
“Let me tell you something, friend.” Hugh looked up about six inches to see into Patsy’s face. “I don’t care who you are or what you do. I will not let you continue on your way without some advice.”
“Here it comes.” Patsy rolled his eyes.
“If you don’t grab what you want…there will be too much…and everything in between. Don’t forget it.” Hugh patted Patsy’s shoulder, turned on his heel, and with the precision of a bumblebee, started to walk in the direction of the car.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I think we ought to scram, and fast,” Martha said while looking over her shoulder as the group walked down the alley.
“What did you say to that man?” Fanny asked. “I swear I saw his face turn half a dozen shades of red.”
“I was just asking about the fire. They all seemed to know about it and Mr. Ruthmeyer. I was just making conversation,” Becky replied innocently.
“I don’t know. I think we ought to take Hugh back to Becky’s place. He isn’t going to last much longer.” Teddy pointed to Hugh, who was standing at the opening of the alley, swaying as if a tropical breeze was gently blowing.
“I agree. Tonight’s a bust,” Becky added.
Everyone helped Hugh along and quickly got him to Teddy’s jalopy, where he promptly fell into a deep sleep, complete with snoring and flatulating.
“Poor Hugh.” Martha shook her head. “I don’t know what would possess any man to drink moonshine. My daddy said he’s known more than one man to go blind from the stuff.”
“Stick to gin, champagne, and rye in the bathtub like civilized bootleggers,” Teddy pretended to complain and made Martha laugh.
Becky smiled, but she was distracted by what she’d learned from that man in the speakeasy. She didn’t think she’d be visiting the Crazy Calico again any time soon. But she couldn’t forget how he had looked when she mentioned the fire or that strange symbol carved on the wall.
Chapter Four
“I hope you’re happy with yourself,” Fanny whispered to Becky when she came down the stairs the following morning.
Becky wrinkled her face, pinched her eyebrows together, and pulled her wild red hair away from her face. Even though she’d barely had anything to drink the prior night, her head was foggy and ached at the temples.
“What?”
“Hugh Loomis never made it home last night. In fact, he never made it out of the driveway. Your father’s employees from the field found him slumped over, sound asleep, still in the driveway.”
Becky chuckled.
“It isn’t funny. Do you realize the rumors that are going to circulate?” Fanny straightened her back. “Why, it’ll bring shame on the entire house.”
“Hugh Loomis took three sips of moonshine and got knocked on his keister? That’s the headline for today’s news? I think the Mackenzie household will survive the scandal,” Becky said as she elbowed her way past Fanny to the bathroom.
It didn’t take long for Kitty to find her.
“Out, right now, young lady,” Kitty ordered.
Becky came out of the bathroom, her face freshly washed and her hair pinned back. She looked fresh as a daisy, a fact that rather surprised her mother.
“Now, Mama, before you get wound up, it was Hugh’s decision to get himself some moonshine. We all advised against it. But you know how it is trying to tell a man what to do. Especially at a speakeasy.” Becky batted her lashes.
“Do you know your father’s foreman and several of the field hands saw him this morning?” Kitty asked, folding her arms in front of her.
“He said he was fine to drive himself home. He insisted,” Becky replied.
“This is shameful. Do you know his mother was up pacing the floor all night? What is she going to say about us after this?” Kitty tapped her foot and tilted her head, glaring at Becky.
“Well, she better not say a darn thing. It was her son who drank moonshine. No one held him down with a funnel in his mouth.” Becky folded her arms and tilted her head, mimicking her mother.
Kitty took a deep breath and let her arms fall to her sides. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do with you. I think you owe Hugh an apology.”
“What? What for?”
“For not taking better care,” Kitty replied.
“Well, I didn’t know he was as helpless as a newborn kitten. I sure will, Mama. I’ll pen him the longest, most sincere apology I can write.”
“You won’t have to write it. He’s downstairs with your father.” With that, Kitty turned and walked into the master bedroom, shutting the door behind her.
Becky stood in the hallway with her mouth hanging open. It had to be past eig
ht o’clock. How could Hugh still be loitering around?
After swallowing hard, patting her hair into place, and pulling her robe shut tightly around her, Becky marched downstairs. Moxley came from her father’s den and gave Becky a nod while putting his finger to his lips. She waved and nodded back.
Through the door to the den, Becky heard her father speaking softly but firmly to an audience that didn’t make a peep.
“It’s not the way to win a woman over, son. Especially not one like my daughter,” Judge said. “And I know that you won’t be spinning tales about things that didn’t happen. Sometimes opportunities arise for a man to do some bragging, embellishing, fibbing, and the attention of one’s constituents blinds him to the severity of his actions. We aren’t going to have any situations like that, now, are we?”
Becky didn’t hear a sound, but her father’s reply made it clear that his audience was in total agreement with him.
“I knew you were a man of honor, son. And I welcome you back in my house at any time.”
Becky rolled her eyes at her father’s last comment. What in the world would Hugh Loomis ever want to come back here for? His mama certainly wouldn’t want him coming back. With that final thought, Becky cleared her throat and entered the room. A fit of laughter raced up her throat but got choked back as she straightened her posture and smiled at Judge.
“Good morning, Daddy.”
“Good morning, Becky,” Judge said with a wink.
“Good morning, Hugh. Why, I didn’t expect you to come back and see me so soon,” she said, adjusting her robe and patting her hair back. It was so painfully obvious that Hugh had the hangover to end all hangovers that Becky wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep a straight face.
He was sweating terribly. After sleeping in his car, his clothes were wrinkled and dirty from the dew collecting on him in the early hours and the dust kicking up with just the slightest breeze then clinging to the moisture. But his eyes said it all. They were the most bloodshot red Becky had ever seen, peeking from black baggy caverns.
“I never made it home. I passed out in my car,” he replied bashfully as Judge clapped him on the shoulder before leaving them alone. Becky could tell the gesture rattled his brain, making him wince.
