Roses in the Devil's Garden

by Charlie Cochet

Harlan called over his shoulder at the officers who'd started crowding in the hallway, and ordered them to get a medical team immediately. He quickly joined Nathan, who looked frightfully pale and stricken.

  "We were putting the screws on him," Nathan replied shakily, "when the bastard mentioned some mug named Giorgio. Whoever it was, it got to Danny. When I asked him about it, Shifty pulled out a .32. I drew, but I wasn't quick enough. He plugged Danny." He looked down at his bloody hand and shook his head. "Oh God, he's going to die, Harley. I'm gonna lose him again."

  "Danny's not going anywhere, Nate," Harlan assured him, fully aware there was no way to know for certain, but he couldn't let Nathan fall apart. The last time he'd seen Nathan like this was after they had first met, after Danny's disappearance. If Nathan lost Danny again, God only knew what it would do to him. "He's going to pull through this. Right, John?"

  John lifted his gaze to Harlan, then looked at Nathan. "Damn right. He's a fighter, Nate. You gotta believe in that."

  It broke Harlan's heart when he was forced to drag Nathan away from Danny as the medics hurried him off to Broad Street Hospital. John stayed behind, promising he'd join them at the hospital as soon as he got some answers, and judging by his severe expression, Harlan had no doubt he'd do just that.

  HARLAN AND Nathan spent the rest of the day and well into the late evening waiting for word on Danny from the doctors. As soon as they'd arrived at the hospital, Harlan insisted no expense be spared in doing everything possible to help Danny. Hours later, he sat in a small chair in the wide, too-white corridor, with Nathan pacing steadily back and forth, not saying a word. Harlan let him handle things his way, occasionally asking if he wanted water or coffee. Nathan would shake his head and continue pacing.

  A door opened and Nathan came to a halt. Harlan quickly went to his side as the doctor approached.

  "How is he?" Nathan asked, receiving a hand on his shoulder and a reassuring smile, which immediately relieved a great deal of the tension in Harlan's shoulders.

  "He'll be fine, gentlemen." The doctor's smile slowly disappeared, and he motioned for Harlan and Nathan to sit, which they did, though Harlan could see it was taking everything Nathan had to keep still.

  "What is it, Doc?" Nathan asked worriedly.

  "I take it he served?"

  Nathan nodded. "In Hamel."

  The doctor pursed his lips, seemed to think about something for a moment, then continued, "I gathered as much. He has several prominent scars on various parts of his body. Physically, he is a strong young man. The bullet went straight through, and the damage was minimal. He should recover comparatively quickly. However, I have... other concerns."

  That had both Harlan and Nathan sitting forward, and Harlan could tell Nathan was barely able to keep himself seated. "What is it, Doctor?"

  "We found a rather troubling amount of diacetylmorphine in his blood."

  "Heroin?" Harlan asked, stunned.

  At the rather dubious look they received, Harlan presented his badge. Having his mind put somewhat at ease, the doctor carried on. "Yes. Judging by his extensive physical injuries, it's possible that while hospitalized, he may have developed an addiction to the morphine he was given. As he wasn't treated in the United States, and I have no notion as to what hospital he may have ended up in, there's no way to determine what treatment, if any, he may have been given for his addiction. At the moment, it seems he's in control of the doses, but there's no telling how much longer that will remain. We would have to discuss it with him and arrange treatment."

  Nathan nodded, though Harlan could tell he was having a great deal of difficulty taking all this in. From the corner of his eye, Harlan saw John heading toward them. The expression on his face didn't bode well.

  "Can we see him?" Nathan asked as John reached them. The doctor took one look at John and stepped back. "This is Detective Flynn. He's investigating the shooting. He's also a friend," Nathan added.

  "Oh, of course," the doctor said, with what was very clearly relief. "Yes, you can all go in, but not for long. He needs rest."

  They followed the doctor into the private room Harlan had insisted Danny have. If he was footing the bill for this, he might as well go all the way. Whatever it took to put Nathan's mind at ease, he would do it. The doctor gave them a nod and left them alone, closing the door behind him.

  Danny was propped up against his pillow, his eyes glassy but open. The moment he saw Nathan, he smiled and turned his hand over. Nathan was at his side in a blink, holding it.

  "How are you feeling?" Nathan asked him.

  "Like I got plugged," Danny replied hoarsely. As Nathan and Danny talked, Harlan leaned over to whisper at John.

  "You have to do something about that poker face, John."

  A deep red flooded John's face, making Harlan chuckle. Apparently John thought Danny was more than just a "looker."

  "What happened, Danny? Why did Shifty shoot you?" Nathan asked, drawing Harlan's and John's attention. "Someone went through a hell of a lot of trouble to get a gun in his hand, and I don't think it was a coincidence he shot at you."

  Danny took a deep breath, which made him wince. When he opened his eyes, his gaze landed on John. To Harlan's surprise, Danny's face lit up and he smiled.

  "Detective Flynn, nice to see you again."

  "Brogan," John muttered by way of greeting, his face still holding some of that pink.

  "Maybe you could share what you've discovered?" Danny said, a knowing look in his pale green eyes. "I'm kind of tired, and I know there will be questions."

  All eyes were on John, who cleared his throat and gave a curt nod. He looked Danny straight in the eye and said, "You were on the take."

  "What?" Nathan straightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Easy there, John. You can't throw around accusations like that without--"

  "He's right," Danny said, sucking the air out of the room.

  Harlan's heart went out to Nathan, who looked like someone had just kicked his puppy. Danny, however, ignored Nathan, his gaze still on John.

  "You're doing good, Johnny. Go on."

  John gave Danny a smirk and continued, "You've also got a price on your head."

  Danny nodded his approval. Harlan and Nathan were too stunned to speak. Harlan especially couldn't understand how the hell Danny could be so cool and collected about the whole thing. He decided he would keep his trap shut until he knew exactly what the hell was going on. Nathan must have had the same idea, because he stood there, waiting for John to finish.

  "I called in a few favors at the Bureau in Chicago, and...." John gave Danny a smile, which only went to make matters even more confusing. "Hoover's after you."

  Harlan grabbed John's arm and turned him away, speaking quietly. "John, what the hell is going on? I'm not crazy about the guy myself, but you don't gotta look so happy about it."

  "Let him talk, Harlan," Danny insisted quietly. When they turned around, Danny looked almost impressed. "I want to see how good your detective friend is."

  "You got it," John replied, then turned to Nathan. "Hoover's after Danny, but not for the reasons you think. He wants Danny for his New York Field Office. Apparently Harvard, here, is single-handedly responsible for putting twenty-three men in prison four months ago, after the Giorgio massacre."

  "I remember that," Nathan said thoughtfully, still looking as baffled as Harlan felt. "Five of Giorgio Besso's associates were found executed in some backwater town."

  "Yep. Did I mention one of the mugs Danny sent to prison was Giorgio himself? The rest were men on his payroll, half of them Prohis."

  "Well, I'll be damned," Harlan exclaimed, looking over at Danny. "You got more guts than I gave you credit for."

  "As soon as Giorgio was convicted, he put a hit out on Danny. When he found out Danny was moved to New York City, he knew he had to work fast before the transfer to the Bureau of Investigation went through."

  Nathan shook his head. "I don't get what that has to do with Shifty." />
  "Shifty worked for Masin, who we know for a fact has done business with Giorgio, both of whom have lost a significant amount of money due to Danny's decision to turn over a new leaf. Masin knew we had Shifty, and he knew someone was going to be sent over to interrogate him. He made sure that someone was Danny. Then all he had to do was get in contact with his inside man." John's expression hardened, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. Harlan was glad he wasn't at the other end of whatever it was John had planned. "The gun found in Shifty's hand was one of ours, though the serial number was filed off." He turned to Danny, his voice filled with conviction. "I'll find out who did this, and I promise I'll make them pay."

  "Easy there, cowboy. Don't go tarnishing that sheriff's badge on my account."

  Some sort of unspoken exchange went on between John and Danny, one that had Nathan turning to Harlan with a contained smile.

  "We should probably leave you to rest," Harlan said, nodding toward the door.

  Nathan put his hand on Danny's shoulder, his expression every inch the reprimanding sibling. "You're going to rest, recover, and then you and I are going to have a long talk." Nathan gave him a pointed look, and Danny suddenly seemed to have trouble looking Nathan in the eye. Harlan's guess was that Danny knew exactly what Nathan was talking about. Danny gave a small nod, and Nathan came up beside Harlan. They walked to the door, but they noticed John lingered.

  "You comin', John?" Nathan asked, though Harlan was pretty certain they all knew the answer.

  "I'm gonna hang around here a little longer," John managed to get out without going too red in the face, "to discuss the case with Danny." He turned to Danny, who was clearly fighting back a smile. "If you're feeling up to it, that is."

  "I'm certain I can find the strength," Danny replied.

  Harlan and Nathan left the two alone, with promises to come back in the morning.

  NATHAN HAD a big grin on his face the whole ride home. As soon as they stepped foot into the house, he burst out with "John's a goner, ain't he?"

  "I think he's pretty smitten," Harlan agreed, pulling Nathan into his arms. "Though he's got one hell of a time ahead of him if what the doc says is true."

  Nathan's smile faded, and he let his head rest on Harlan's shoulder, nuzzling his face against his neck. "John's a good guy, and he's been through a hell of a lot himself. Maybe he's what Danny needs."

  "This isn't over, you know." Harlan was reluctant to say it. "Masin, Danny, Dench. I got a feeling this is all just the beginning, and we're gonna be stuck right in the middle of it."

  Nathan went quiet for a moment. When he pulled back, he looked into Harlan's eyes. "What if we joined Danny?"

  "What?" Harlan certainly hadn't expected that. "You mean, join the Bureau of Investigation?"

  "Yeah, why not? With Hoover at the helm, the Bureau ain't what it used to be. I hear he's done some impressive things in the year he's been director. Will you at least think about it?"

  Harlan nodded. Wherever Nathan went, he would follow. Whatever storm was on the horizon, they would weather it together. Who knew, maybe John would join them, especially now that he seemed to have made a decision about Danny.

  Together, the four of them could make one hell of a team. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. It would be one screwy team, and heaven knew, there would be double the trouble, especially with Nathan and Danny being let loose on an unsuspecting public, but what mattered most was that they could make a difference. He was getting tired of chasing down two-bit thugs carting beer barrels. There were worse evils out there than bootleggers. Evils like Masin, Giorgio, and the corrupt men who made a mockery of the badges they had been entrusted with. If Danny could find the courage to stand up to those men, Harlan sure as hell could, and with Nathan at his side, those bastards wouldn't stand a chance.

  With a broad grin, he threw his arms around Nathan's waist and hauled him off his feet, Nathan's shocked yelp quickly yielding to laughter when Harlan threw him over his shoulder and headed to the bedroom. The evils of the city would have to wait until tomorrow. Tonight, he had his own personal brand of trouble to conquer, one he had no intention of ever letting go.

  Glossary of 1920s Slang

  all wet: Washed up.

  And how!: An expression of strong agreement.

  Applesauce!: Nonsense!

  attaboy/attagirl: Well done!

  ax: Dismissal from work. To fire.

  baby: Sweetheart.

  balled-up: Confused. Messed up.

  baloney: Nonsense!

  bearcat: A sexy or seductive woman.

  beat one's gums: To talk a lot.

  beef: A complaint.

  bee's knees: Something outstanding.

  beeswax: Business.

  bell-bottom: A sailor.

  big cheese: An important person.

  big shot: An important person.

  big six: A strong man.

  bird: An eccentric.

  blouse: Slang meaning let's get out of here.

  bluenose: A prude.

  bootleg: Illegal, smuggled.

  bozo: A stupid person.

  breezer: A convertible car.

  Bronx cheer: Blowing a raspberry.

  bruno: Tough guy, enforcer.

  bull session: Men gossiping, often referring to their sexual exploits.

  butt me: Give me a cigarette.

  bump off: To kill.

  bum's rush: Thrown out by force.

  canned: Drunk.

  caper: A crime.

  carry a torch: To be in love with someone or have a crush.

  cat's meow: Something excellent.

  cheaters: Eyeglasses.

  clam: A dollar.

  copacetic: Okay, all right.

  corked: Drunk, intoxicated.

  crush: An infatuation.

  daddy: A rich man who usually expects favors from his female charge.

  dame: A woman.

  dead soldier: An empty beer bottle.

  dick: A private investigator.

  dive: A cheap bar.

  doll: An attractive woman.

  Don't take any wooden nickels: Don't do anything stupid.

  dumb Dora: A stupid woman.

  dumps: Depressed, melancholy.

  earful: Get told off.

  edge: State of intoxication.

  fall guy: A scapegoat.

  fire extinguisher: A chaperon.

  fix: A bribe.

  flapper: A woman in short, stylish skirts and short bob.

  flat: Out of air.

  flat tire: Boring.

  flivver: A Model T Ford.

  fly boy: A glamorous term for a pilot, someone in the Air Force.

  frame: A set up..

  fried: Drunk, intoxicated.

  G: A grand, $1,000.

  gam: A woman's leg.

  get a wiggle on: Speed up.

  giggle water: Liquor or other alcoholic beverage.

  gigolo: A kept man who lives off women.

  gin mill: A bar.

  glad rags: Dressy clothes.

  gold-digger: A woman trying to marry a wealthy man.

  goofy: Crazy, insane.

  grand: A thousand dollars.

  guy: A fellow.

  handcuff: An engagement ring.

  hard-boiled: Tough.

  hayburner: A gas-guzzling car.

  hayburner: A horse that never wins a race.

  heat: A gun.

  heater: A gun.

  heebie-jeebies: The jitters.

  high-hat: To snub someone.

  hit on all sixes: To perform perfectly.

  hit the road: To leave.

  hood: A hoodlum, gangster.

  hoofer: A dancer.

  hooey: Nonsense.

  horse feathers: Nonsense.

  hot seat: The electric chair.

  in hot water: In trouble.

  it: Sex appeal.

  jalopy: An old, beat-up car.

  jane: Any woman.

  java: Coffee.<
br />
  joe: Coffee.

  john: The toilet.

  juice joint: A speakeasy.

  junkie: Drug addict.

  kisser: Mouth.

  left holding the bag: Blamed for something.

  level: Honest, truthful.

  make whoopee: To hug and kiss.

  Now you're on the trolley!: Now you've caught on.

  off the deep end: To lose control, go crazy.

  old man: Father.

  on the lam: Fleeing from the law.

  on the take: Accepting a bribe or financial gain in a business transaction illegal in nature.

  on the level: Honest, truthful.

  on the up-and-up: Honest, truthful.

  ossified: Drunk, intoxicated.

  over the edge: Crazy, insane.

  palooka: A strong man.

  pet: To hug and kiss.

  piker: A cheapskate.

  pill: An unlikable person.

  pinch: To capture or arrest.

  pip: Something excellent, outstanding.

  pipe down: Be quiet.

  plastered: Drunk, intoxicated.

  pop: To hit.

  punk: A young hooligan.

  pushover: A person easily convinced.

  put on the Ritz: To do something in high style.

  rag: Newspaper.

  razz: To tease, make fun of.

  ritzy: Luxurious.

  rube: An unsophisticated person from the country.

  sap: To hit, to club.

  sap: A stupid person.

  Says you!: Expression of disbelief.

  scram: To leave. Get lost.

  shack up: To sleep with someone at a hotel or motel.

  Sheba: A sexy or seductive woman.

  Sheik: A sexy man.

  shiv: A knife.

  sinker: A donut.

  slay: Be very funny.

  sleep around: To have love affairs.

  slumming: To go to a bad side of town.

  smoke: To kill.

  speakeasy: An illicit bar selling bootleg liquor.

  steady: Boyfriend or girlfriend.

  struggle buggy: The back seat of a car.

  stuck on: To be in love with.

  swanky: Fancy, luxurious.

  sweetie: A term of affection for a female.

  swell: Excellent, outstanding.

  take: To swindle or cheat.

  take for a ride: To drive someone away to kill.

  The bank is closed: No kissing or hugging.

  the berries: Something excellent, outstanding.

  the hair of the dog: A shot of an alcoholic drink to relieve a hangover.

  the real McCoy: Something genuine.

  torpedo: A hired killer.

  twerp: Petty, immature brat.

  washed up: Finished, done in.

  What's eating you?: Expression meaning What's wrong with you?