Later, Maggie convinced both my mother and me to go home for a break. Coming up the long drive through the trees to the big house sent memories running through my mind. I saw Jess dancing with Hanna Wesley that night at the party in our backyard; my father and his bodyguard attacking the man down at the gazebo by the creek; and later when I had watched my brother coming out of Hanna’s apartment after they had slept together. I had been gone for over three months, but it seemed like I had been away for years. So much had happened. So much had changed.
After a shower, which helped me to recover some from the long trip and night at my father’s bedside, I found a closet full of clothes in my old room. Wandering around, the bedroom felt strange as I looked at the books and things arranged on shelves and dressers that at one time had been so familiar, but now seemed a part of a life so many distant years away.
I found my sister sitting out on the back veranda with a pitcher of cold sweet tea. She told me that Mother had gone up to get some sleep. I sat down beside her and poured a drink, the cold glass sweating in the heat of early evening. The sun was down below the far tree-line, giving us some relief. All signs of the party from my last time out on this porch were, of course, gone now and the large yard was eerily quiet and deserted. Random chatter from birds up in the trees was all that broke the stillness of the place.
I told Maggie that Palumbo’s contacts had found Desmond hiding out down in Miami and that he had offered his help in bringing him back. I watched as my sister looked blankly out over the big lawn and didn’t seem to react. I reached over and touched her arm and said, “Maggie, did you hear what I said?”
She turned to look at me. There was so much sadness in her eyes and they were red and moist. When she spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “Mathew, all of this is just incredibly sad and I feel like everything we’ve known is slipping away.” She pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “As far as I’m concerned, my former husband can go straight to hell and I don’t care if he ever comes back.” Then the tears overwhelmed her. She covered her face with her hands.
I placed a hand on her shoulder and felt her gentle sobs. “Let’s worry about him later,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I had to tell you.” She nodded back and sniffed loudly, trying to swallow back the tears and then she wiped her face with the hankie as she gathered herself.
“Mathew, I know it’s not fair to ask you to do anything at this point, but I’m terribly afraid of what’s going to happen to this family,” she said, her voice now more composed. “What if Daddy never gets any better?”
I slept off and on through the night in my old bed, images of my life in Atlanta flashing across my mind; school and old friends, familiar places, better times with my brother and family. Then I would find myself drifting back to even more recent memories of the Florida coast, the people I had become close with and the places that were now becoming as familiar as even my home here in Atlanta. The song that Melanee and her mother, Sara, had sung together that night at the little Beach Hotel became stuck in my half-awake brain and the melody echoed within me as I lay in the quiet room.
In the morning, our cook, Velma Harold, had a big breakfast waiting for all of us. When my mother joined Maggie and me at the dining room table there was a brief moment when all seemed right again. But those reassuring feelings soon faded as we began to talk about my father and the problems we were facing.
Velma came back in to let us know a visitor had arrived, my father’s friend and business confidant, the police captain, Charles Watermann. My mother sent Velma back to show the man in. Watermann was an imposing figure, standing several inches over six feet and built full in the chest so it looked like he had taken a deep breath and never let it out. He came into the room and walked over to my mother and then expressed his regrets at my father’s situation. She offered him a seat and he nodded to both Maggie and me as he sat down.
“I just stopped over at the hospital,” he said in a heavy South Georgia drawl. “Sam is a tough old bastard. Please excuse my language, ladies.” Velma put a cup of coffee down in front of him and he sipped at it. “The doc says he’s showing some improvement,” he said, taking my mother’s hand. She tried to smile but didn’t answer and just looked across the table and out the windows into the woods beside the house. “I wanted to let you all know you don’t have to worry about the business. Sam and I worked very closely together and I can certainly help to keep things afloat until he’s feeling better,” he said. “Of course, Mathew, you are welcome to get involved at any level you feel inclined.”
I bristled as I sat there and listened to this man position himself in the business of our family. Of course, he was here to help when there was so much money on the table at stake. I really didn’t know Watermann well, although my father had always placed considerable trust in the man. But, I had to wonder how trustworthy a crooked cop could be. In a way, it would be a relief to have someone else take on the burden of my father’s affairs. “Captain Watermann,” I said slowly, my point of view on all of this still forming slowly in my mind, “it is very thoughtful of you to stop by today and we really do appreciate your offer of support.”
“Son, your father has been my closest friend for twenty years. I owe him an awful lot,” Watermann said. “You can rest assured we will do everything we can to cover for him now.”
By the reference to we, I had to assume he was speaking of other members of the Atlanta Police Department who were in his employ and also my father’s payroll. “We need to go over to the hospital now and check in on him,” I said. “Do you think we could meet later to discuss all of this?”
“Of course, Mathew. Whenever it’s convenient for you.” I thanked him and we shook hands before he gave his best to my mother and sister and then left.
An hour later we were all walking into the hospital when I froze in total astonishment. Sitting in the lobby with a newspaper and a cigar was Willie Palumbo. Anthony sat beside him reading another section of the newspaper. Palumbo hadn’t seen us yet and I walked over, still amazed the man had found us up here in Atlanta and then wondering why.
“Willie,” I said, and he looked up from the paper and then stood quickly.
“Hello, kid.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked.
“Well, I just thought you would need a friend at a time like this.”
“How’d you get here?”
“Caught the train last night out of Tallahassee,” he answered. “Just got in a few minutes ago. Got a taxi up from the station. How’s your old man?”
I told him the latest we knew on his condition and then took him over to meet my mother. Maggie of course recognized him from her visit to Grayton Beach and she smiled as we walked up. “Good morning, Mr. Palumbo. How nice of you to stop by,” she said with a smile and more than an edge of sarcasm.
Palumbo took her hand and bowed slightly and then turned to my mother. “Mrs. Coulter, it’s a pleasure to meet you and I’m so sorry about your husband. I do hope he’s doing better today.”
“Mother, this is a friend from Florida, Willie Palumbo,” I said.
“Mr. Palumbo,” my mother said formally and then shook his hand. “You will excuse me please. I would like to go up to see my husband.”
“Of course, of course,” Palumbo said. “I certainly hope they have brighter news for you this morning.”
My sister walked away down the hall with my mother and I told them I would be up in a few minutes. I turned to Palumbo. “Willie, really, what the hell…?”
“Mathew, I got to thinking about all you would be facing with your father’s health and all the other issues he’s been dealing with.”
“Well, I do appreciate your efforts to get up here. That train ride’s a bitch.” Palumbo laughed and pulled me over to sit where he had left his newspaper. In spite of an all-night ride on an old train he looked as refreshed as if he’d been relaxing at the beach for a week. His standard su
it of clothes and starched shirt even looked pressed… and where had he managed to shave? I sat down beside him and the thought occurred to me a lot of people were suddenly coming to our aid. Probably had nothing to do with my father running one of the most lucrative liquor networks in the South, I thought.
“Had another interesting visitor this morning,” I told Palumbo and then went on to describe the visit of the police captain, Charles Watermann and his similar offers of assistance. Palumbo squirmed in his seat a bit and looked around the room. We were alone except for a nurse up at the check-in desk.
Palumbo leaned close and said, “I know of this Watermann guy. He’s highly placed and very well-connected. He’s close to your old man, right?”
I nodded. Palumbo let all of this sink in for a while and then said, “Why don’t you go up and see your father and then when you get a few minutes I’d like to go for a walk and discuss some important business.”
I decided not to get into any of the discussion at that point. I really needed to get upstairs. I told him I’d be back when I could and if he needed a place to stay he could have Anthony run him up West Paces Ferry Road a mile to our house on the left and he was welcome to stay with us. He was very appreciative of the offer, but said he would wait for now in the lobby and for me to obviously take as much time as I needed with my father. I walked away from Palumbo thinking through all of the possible angles he was working.
In my father’s room the blinds were open this time and the light filtered in and lifted the overall mood of the place. He was sitting up on several pillows against the wall and the color seemed to be returning to his face, although his arms rested limply at his side and he was still unable to speak or even turn his head to acknowledge me when I came in. I walked over and took his hand and again he tried weakly to smile. He managed a low grunting sound. I just nodded and held his hand more tightly with both of mine. I looked over at my mother and Maggie who were standing at the foot of the bed talking to a doctor. I knew very little if anything about the recovery from a stroke of this magnitude, but it seemed clear it would be a very long time before my father was anything near the man he used to be.
An hour later my father was asleep again. The doctors informed us he had obviously made a little progress overnight, but the recovery would be long and difficult; that it was quite likely he would never walk again and his speech would be impaired at best. It was a sobering discussion that left all of us teary-eyed and worried. Maggie wanted to stay with my mother as long as she needed to be at the hospital, but my curiosity with Palumbo got the best of me. I explained I was going to take him and Anthony back to the house to get settled in. My mother was too tired to even consider protesting the presence of company at this point and, in fact, our house had always been open to guests of the family, sometime for prolonged periods, often to the dismay of my father.
I drove Palumbo and Anthony back to our house in Maggie’s car, a sporty roadster that was much too small for Anthony to be comfortable in the back, but he managed without protest. It occurred to me I hadn’t heard him speak more than an occasional grunt since I’d first met him. Velma greeted us and arranged for our guest’s few bags to be taken upstairs. I led them both through the house and out back to the lawn and then down a path through the woods. Anthony walked a dozen yards behind us, ever mindful of security for his boss. Finally, Palumbo got down to the discussion he had promised.
“Mathew, with all due respect for your father and his present condition, your family is terribly vulnerable at this time. This is a dirty business and assholes from far and wide will see this as an opportunity to move in.” He paused for a moment, I suppose to let his words of warning sink in. “As you know, I have many contacts here in Atlanta and I have a very good feel for the nature of the business… not so different from what we’re running up in New Jersey.”
It occurred to me that, somehow, he was still managing to keep his power over the enterprise to the north and I marveled at his ability to keep everything apparently under control. “Will you ever be able to go back home?” I asked.
“It’s still a little hot up there. There are more than a few federal and local authorities who would love to put my ass away for a very long time,” he said. “Fortunately, I have some good people, including my two sons.” It was the first time he had mentioned his family. It made me realize how little I knew about this man.
We reached the gazebo down by the stream where I had watched my father and his man beat a person nearly to death. As we walked up on the platform I looked to see if the blood was still evident on the planking of the deck, but it seemed to have been cleaned away.
Palumbo came up next to me and stood at a railing, looking off into the dark woods. “Mathew, I am in a position to do your family a considerable favor.”
“And what would that be?” I asked, very unsettled about what he could possibly be ready to offer.
“The Coulters are accustomed to living a very fine life,” he said, looking out across our vast property in the middle of the north edges of Atlanta. “Your father and all of you have worked very hard to earn what you have and you deserve to continue to enjoy the fruits of those efforts.”
“Willie, what are you talking about?” I finally said, trying to get him to come to the point.
“With a substantial sum of money invested in the accounts of you and your family, now and in perpetuity, I can assure you a life that will be free of worry and labor and free of this dirty liquor business once and for all.”
I had considered several possibilities, but I was shocked at what he was proposing. “You want to buy us out?” I said, totally flabbergasted at what he was proposing.
“Think about it, son. I doubt your father will ever be in a condition to allow him the strength needed to run this operation and with your older brother gone now, the bloodsuckers like Watermann are already moving in,” he said. “I know how you feel about all of this and that it’s the last thing you ever want to be involved with.”
My mind was spinning with the implications of what he was proposing, but foremost was the disbelief that Palumbo could simply step in and take over. What would Watermann and other powerful members of the system here in Atlanta do in reaction? I looked into Palumbo’s eyes and saw the same resolute confidence and assurance. Finally, I had to ask, “How do you propose to simply walk into a town like this and take over a business and a network that has taken my father decades to build? Watermann won’t just step aside and give you a key to the city.”
Palumbo laughed his self-assured and jolly laugh and I was amazed again at his confident air. “Watermann is only about the money and that’s the easiest damn thing to take care of. He’ll be my new best friend tomorrow if we move forward with all of this.”
I wasn’t so sure about Watermann or any of the other power brokers in town my father had worked with for so many years to establish his current position. “And what if you fail, Willie?” I asked. “Where does that leave my mother and Maggie?”
He looked at me for the longest time and was just nodding his head slowly up and down. Then he said, “Son, we’ve known each other for only a short time, but I hope you’ve come to know that, in spite of the nature of my business, I’m a very loyal man… loyal to my family and to my friends and I will do whatever it takes to care for them and protect them.” I thought back to our raid on Boudreaux’s club in New Orleans to pull Sara Dalton out of the hell she had been trapped in. Before I could speak he went on to say, “What you may not know is I’m also a very successful businessman and I have resources beyond your imagination. Even if something didn’t happen to work out right here in Atlanta and trust me, I don’t fail; I would still keep my obligations to you and your family.”
It was this last comment that got me to thinking that in agreeing to Palumbo’s proposition, I would be committing my family to a life beholden to a gangster, regardless of how successful he may be now or in the future. But then it also occurred to me my f
ather was cut from the same cloth now that Prohibition had sent him to the far side of the law. Was there really any difference in the arrangement? As I quickly thought through the implications, I realized the only true disparity in all of this would be my family and I would no longer have to deal with the ugly world of bootleggers and contraband whiskey. It seemed a convenient rationalization at that moment.
“I’m sure you’ve got a good family lawyer, kid,” Palumbo said. “We can make this as ironclad and legal as you want. The first issue, however, will be making sure we have power of attorney for your father.”
It was all sinking in and frankly, it seemed too easy which was always a trigger point for worry as far as I was concerned. Doing business with the devil always leads to the same fiery destination.
“Willie,” I said, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but you need to understand this is a huge decision for the family and with my father incapacitated I just don’t know how quickly we can even begin to consider such a thing.”
Palumbo didn’t hesitate for a moment and said, “I’m telling you kid the sharks are in the water and they smell blood. You don’t have the luxury of time to sit back and ponder. I know this is a big decision and you’re caught in the middle here. What I would suggest is we get your mother and Maggie together for dinner tonight, if and when they get back from the hospital and allow me some time to explain all of this in more detail for all of you.”
Grayton Winds Page 22
