Lady Vigilante (Episodes 16 – 18) (Lady Vigilante Crime Compilations)

by Hayley Camille

  “Mommy?” shouted a voice from the hallway. “What are you doing?”

  Pooof! The pillow Betty was holding exploded in a white blizzard of down as Georgie swung the door open and threw his little body into the room. Betty and Nancy looked at each other wide eyed as the tiny feathers snowed around the room in a great white flurry. They both looked as guilty as sin.

  “Sorry,” Nancy choked out, her hand tight over her mouth. She tried to stifle a giggle but lost it. Nancy fell on the floor at the sight of her little brother frozen in the doorway, his eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline, his mouth gaping like a fish.

  “Are you making a snowman?” the six-year-old asked, perplexed.

  At that, Betty collapsed onto the floor as well, laughing until she couldn’t draw breath. She pulled Georgie onto her lap and tickled him, then passed him over to Nancy, who, for the first time in months, acted her age. She rolled on the floor with her brother, kicking up a snowstorm of feather down and dragging their limbs across the hardwood, shaping snow angels in the mess.

  “This will really clog the Hoover,” Betty said.

  “Holy mackerel,” said another, deeper voice. “What in the blazers?”

  Betty looked up to find both Jacob and Adina standing in the doorway.

  “Sergeant Jake is here,” Georgie announced, needlessly.

  “I can see that, dear,” Betty laughed.

  “I came upon that little scamp sledding when I called next door to visit Adina, just now,” Jacob said. His face was still bruised from their fight outside the Russian Bar. “I thought we could all have a coffee, so I sent him in to let you know I was here.”

  “How delightful,” Betty said, picking feathers from her hair as she got to her feet. She brushed her dress down, then gave it up as a bad job. “I’ll put the kettle on. Nancy and I were just – plumping the cushions.” Behind her, Nancy chortled, then scrambled to her feet as well.

  “I’ll get the Hoover.”

  “Thank you darling,” Betty said, winking at her daughter, and feeling lighter than she had in weeks. “I’ll put the kettle on. How are you, Adina?” She took Adina’s arm in her own feathery one, and led her out of the room toward the kitchen.

  “I’m fine,” Adina said. “A little nervous about my last hearing next week, but other than that, I’m just swell. Six months ago I never thought I’d be happy again, but I feel like I can finally breathe.”

  “I can see it in your face, darling, you’re positively glowing. I certainly hope some of that is due to our dear Jacob.”

  Adina blushed. “I’m sure plenty of it is,” she said. Jake shot her back a smile, though Betty thought it dropped a little too soon. “It’s everything, I suppose,” Adina continued. “I’m nearly done with this awful business. Pinzolo’s in jail, for now at least. And I’ll be free to return home again once all the formalities with the court wind up, although –”

  She paused, biting her lip.

  “Although what?” Betty’s eyes narrowed. She filled up the kettle and lit the stove.

  “Well, I was thinking I might actually stay next door for a while longer. Mrs. Porter doesn’t mind the company, and it’s closer to the orphanage than Ima and Aba’s house. I quite like the independence it’s given me; despite the limitations of being in protective custody earlier on. I can’t bear the thought of being fussed over by Ima again when I return home. I’m not exactly the wide-eyed ingénue I once was, after all.”

  “None of us are, dear,” Betty said, chagrinned. “But I think you’re absolutely right. I’ve enjoyed our Sunday dinners and the children adore having you close by. The number of times you’ve saved my skin by coming over when I had to rush out for an Avon appointment has been an absolute blessing to me.”

  “I don’t mind at all,” Adina said. “Georgie and I are great friends now, aren’t we?” She winked at the little boy, who had followed them into the kitchen and was hopping around the linoleum, dropping feathers in his wake. “Teddy was asking about you again, you know, Georgie. Perhaps you can come to St. Augustine’s with me on the weekend to play with the boys?”

  “Can I, Mommy?” Georgie turned his hopeful eyes to Betty, jumping on the spot.

  “If you stop making a mess on the floor, dear. Speaking of which,” Betty added, “I think you’d better get upstairs and run a bath, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Do I have to?”

  “Unless you’d rather help Nancy with Hoovering –”

  In a flash, George Junior was out the kitchen door. His footsteps thumped up the staircase.

  “It’s astonishing how fast the threat of housework can make them disappear,” Betty rolled her eyes. She finished making the coffee and carried cups and saucers to the table, where Adina and Jacob had settled. “Thank you for looking after them the other night, by the way,” Betty said, pouring Adina’s coffee from the pot. “Cream and sugar?”

  “Thank you,” Adina said, taking the sugar, “and you’re very welcome. He had a blast making a papier-mâché mess with Teddy and Chester. So, how was it?”

  “How was what?”

  “Your Avon appointment. You were out very late, I’m sorry for falling asleep on the couch.”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” Betty shot a furtive look to Jacob. Although Adina now knew Betty was helping Jacob in his search for the Boudoir Butcher, she wasn’t privy to the unique type of help Betty could offer. A late-night jaunt to a Russian Bar dressed as a prostitute would have raised too many questions, so Betty had donned her long winter coat and asked Jacob to collect her a little further up the street to keep their escapade a secret. “It was rather a bore, actually,” Betty said, taking a sip of coffee. “A regional sales meeting to view the upcoming Spring line. I was already quite familiar with the products as I managed to nab an advance copy of the catalog from Gladys last week. Still, it was nice to get my hands dirty. I do love a good cosmetics demonstration. There were some darling colors that will make your complexion glow, Adina. I’ll bring them over for you as soon as I get some samples.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Betty saw Jacob shake his head a little and smirk. Apparently, he found her ability to lie so effortlessly, amusing.

  “And what about you, Jake?” Betty smiled, giving him a taste of his own medicine. “How was your evening with Officer Parker, out on the trail for the Boudoir Butcher? Got the whole sordid affair wrapped up, have you?”

  “Hardly,” Jacob said. “Though Parker was extremely helpful in helping me apprehend the informant initially. Unfortunately, he let her get away.”

  “Butterfingers?” Betty grinned.

  “Something like that. Turns out, the informant was our grand prize – the Boudoir Butcher herself. And we let her slip away.”

  “You actually saw her?!” Adina asked, sitting forward on her chair. “She’s murdered at least a half dozen men! It’s still all over the newspapers. You’re still all over the newspapers. I mean, of course you know that –” She sat back, embarrassed.

  “Eight men, I think. And as for the newspapers, I wish I wasn’t. It’s a right pain in the backside.”

  “Well, I for one, feel better sleeping at night knowing you’re on the case,” Adina admitted. “The Boudoir Butcher though – goodness! Tell us, what did she look like?”

  “About your age, I suppose, a real dish too. I don’t remember much, as I was knocked out,” he said, chagrined, “but I recall she had the most mesmerizing blue eyes.”

  “You had a beautiful serial killer right there in your hands, and you let her get away?”

  “It’s not the first time,” Jacob muttered. Betty caught his eye and blushed, but Adina continued unabated.

  “Well, did she give you anything useful before she escaped?”

  “I got names, but unfortunately no locations. It seems the person orchestrating these Boudoir Butcher murders is a Russian Mobster by the name of Vladimir Malinov. I haven’t been able to track him down. He’s always on t
he move, a different hideaway every night. All my usual informants have their traps shut tight. I can hardly blame them; this mac is one nasty guy. The woman is helping him. She’s an American. Violet Mills. They’re working together.”

  “And you think she’s the Boudoir Butcher, herself?” Adina asked. She was leaning toward Jacob, her arms on the table and hands cupping her coffee, utterly drawn to him. Jacob leaned back. A flit of something crossed his face, then disappeared.

  “I know she is. But I’ll be blowed if I can trace her either.”

  “You are in a pickle, aren’t you?” Betty said. “Perhaps we should put an advertisement in the New York Times? ‘Wanted for Hire. A Russian Gangster and his American Lover. Must be sociopaths and willing to murder on demand. Fifty dollars a day. Bullets supplied.’ You never know, they might take the bait.”

  “Goodness, I’ll do it for fifty dollars a day,” Adina laughed.

  “I’m not sure you’d fit the criteria, darling,” Betty said. “But if you can scrounge up a Russian lover, you’d be in with a chance. You are a brunette after all, like the murderous Miss Mills.” Betty looked over at Jacob, who again was shaking his head at her, grinning. “Though I think this police officer has been trying very hard to keep you out of jail, rather than lock you in it.”

  “You’re an absolute riot,” Jacob drawled. Adina looked thoughtful.

  “Perhaps I can help in another way,” she said. “When I was working at Fort Hamilton, I got to know quite a few of the girls in the munitions and metal factories that build bomber components for the war effort. There was one in particular – a Boeing sub-assembly manufacturer on Liberty Way, that had quite a lot of young Russian women working in it. They have a very tight-knit community, you see, so they tend to stick together. Most are second generation immigrants. They’re lovely girls. I just thought, well, maybe there’s someone who will speak to you there? Perhaps one of the girls has heard of him, this Vladimir character?”

  “What a good idea!” Betty said.

  “The trouble is you, I’m afraid, Jake,” said Adina.

  “Isn’t it always?”

  “Don’t be silly. I just mean, it sounds as if everyone is terrified to say a word against this Tin Man fellow. The minute you step in and flash your badge, those girls will clam up tighter than a hangman’s knot. I’d offer to go myself, but I’ve been blacklisted from the entire area. There’s no way they’ll let me close to anyone at Fort Hamilton.”

  “Perhaps I can go and talk to them for you?” Betty chirped. “I’m sure they’ll get a lunch break and be free to chat. I can be rather persuasive, you know.”

  “Well, I do know one of the floor supervisors in that factory,” Adina said. “She’s one of the few who didn’t entirely turn her back on me after – the mess I made. I could ask her for a name, perhaps? Somewhere to start?”

  “Hang on Betty,” Jacob interrupted. “Under what pretext can you turn up to a secure military facility and interrogate the workers? There must be – what – two thousand young women in that factory, grinding their fingers to the bone to build fighter bombers night and day? The security will be tight.”

  Betty turned to him, exasperated. “Honestly Jacob, two thousand young women? It will be like shooting fish in a barrel! Haven’t you heard? I’m an Avon Lady.”

  “Here we are again, Mrs. Jones.”

  “We are making a habit of these little outings, aren’t we, Office Parker?” Betty smiled at the young policeman in his smart military-styled uniform and double-breasted choker overcoat. Two diagonal lines of four brass buttons aside ran down his chest. “It was very good of you to accompany me again.”

  “My pleasure, Ma’am. I’ll admit though, I’m curious to know why Mr. Pinzolo called you back to see him.” He gave Betty a quick smile, then looked out of the ferry window at the freezing East River churning up aside them.

  “I have no idea,” Betty said. “I can’t imagine what on earth he means by it.”

  As they drew closer to Riker’s, the rotten-egg scent of methane mixed with the brine of winter waters was assaulting. The great island made of garbage and populated by prisoners was almost upon them.

  They prepared to disembark.

  “Ready for another adventure then, Officer Parker?”

  As before, Parker oversaw their special clearance, and he and Betty were led by a lone guard through the bowels of the penitentiary. They snaked their way slowly toward the ‘hotbox’, stop-starting at an endless progression of bolted doors along the way. The crackle of static radios skipped ahead of them one zone at a time, relaying permissions for the party of three to continue. After what seemed an age of trailing whitewashed concrete corridors lined with steel doors bolted by heavy pins, their guard finally rattled his keys for the last time.

  “Twenty minutes.”

  Through the small window tray cut at eye level into the steel door, Betty could see Donald Pinzolo languishing on the concrete bed jutting out from the wall of his tiny cell. He was still dressed in the same washed out grey-blue denim coveralls as he had been last time Betty had visited. This time, the words Betty knew were stamped on his back, ADS Prisoner, which signified his allocation to the solitary confinement wing, were obscured. The top of his collared coverall was unbuttoned and hung down from his waist. In its place, was the plain white t-shirt worn underneath.

  “You’ve got a visitor, Pinzolo,” the guard called out as he swung the heavy door open.

  Donald Pinzolo got to his feet as Betty entered the cell. His eyes flashed at the sight of her.

  “You came,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t think you would.”

  Betty smiled incandescently. She turned and looked over her shoulder at Officer Parker and the security guard. “Thank you, Gentlemen, I can take it from here.”

  With a wary eye, Officer Parker followed the guard out, as per Jacob’s instructions. Once again, Betty felt the hesitancy in his heart and the warning in his gut. He would wait impatiently until she was back on the safer side of the steel door. It clanged shut behind them.

  “I couldn’t resist the opportunity to see you wallowing in your own filth again,” Betty said, drily, dropping her act now that the guard was out of earshot. “It really brightens my day.”

  Donny sat back down on his concrete bed. “And here I was,” he said, darkly amused, “telling the warden what a top notch broad you are – that big heart of yours, so full of charity and goodwill for your fellow man.”

  “Well, I don’t blame you for getting yourself muddled. You are rather old and obsolete now, Donny. But as it turns out, I have no fellow man – I have fellow women, and we’re all rather glad you’re locked up in here.”

  “Well, you’re in for a big disappointment, Mrs. Jones. I’ll be lucky to see another month inside this shithole. I made a deal with the devil and the devil set me free.”

  “I assumed you told the FBI everything,” Betty said. She looked around the tiny, empty room, patently bored. “That tiresome Ratliff fellow has been dogging me again. When he finally gathers up the moxie to approach me, he’ll wish he hadn’t.”

  “Oh, they’ll be taking the kid gloves off next time,” Donny laughed. “Now that they know what they’re dealing with.”

  “Alright, so, you’ve given them what they wanted. Me.” Betty said lightly. “And what was your price, Donny? A get-out-of-jail-free card?”

  “So much more,” Donny gloated. “All I have to do is sit here like a good boy while they dot their i’s and cross their t’s, and then I get the gravy.” He stretched, sitting on his bed, his back against the filthy wall. Betty tried to shake off the urge to knock him senseless. He watched her, amused. “It seems the feds think your hotshot sergeant is doing a shoddy job of getting the streets in order. He just doesn’t have the muscle to pull it off.”

  “And you do?”

  Donny just shrugged, a smug look on his face.

  “I told you this would happen, did
n’t I, little Suzie? You broke the system. I had it all under control. The cartels, the Serbs, the Triads, the Rats, the Micks – the whole goddam city. They hold down their own circles and anyone stepped out o’ line, they got served by me. Simple. Now, you’ve got this Butcher moving in and stirrin’ up trouble. She’s takin’ out the heads, the boys are fightin’ each other, and the hits and paybacks are getting out of control. Lawrence can’t get a handle on it. It’s a circus.” He gave a self-satisfied smile. “They need me back.”

  “Better the devil you know, is it?” Betty said, disgusted. She watched Donny critically, and he watched her back. There were no lies in the depths of his eyes, and strangely, no malice. But there was something… Betty dove into his mind. She saw Ratliff, the FBI agent that had been trailing her, sitting in this very cell. Conversations, many of them. Negotiations. An agreement. She pulled out of Donny’s thoughts, shocked. “They’re giving you the Harbor.”

  “There’s a war on, Mrs. Jones,” Donny grinned. “Haven’t you heard? They need a fine upstanding businessman like myself to keep the east docks safe for all our cargo ships. I have the connections, the longshoremen, the unions. I gotta do my patriotic duty, don’t I? You never know when a U-boat’s gonna surface in the East River and blow the Financial District to smithereens. And we can’t have those River Pirates causing trouble for our navy friends down at Hamilton and Wadsworth. Someone’s gotta keep this city’s nose clean. Your man Lawrence took too long to clean up the streets, they got desperate, I saw opportunity. This is how it works, sugar. What a prize, huh?”