“Yeah? Well, next time you’ll hear chin music.”
“That was my nicest suit.”
Shoe let out a long, slow sigh. “I’m not running a flophouse, Rudy. Spill and then take a hike. Why do you find it necessary to break into my room twice and at such an ungodly hour?” A simple message left with the extremely accommodating concierge would have sufficed.”
Rudy sat down at the bottom of the bed. “I’m in a bit of a fix.”
“Here we go,” Shoe mumbled. He swung his legs off the bed and waited for the new variation on a Rudy story he had heard repeated dozens of times by his newspaper buddies. “I’m sure that’s an understatement. And I’m pretty sure I really don’t care.”
“I met this girl over in Clinton. It seems some of her family think we, uh, spent some quality time together—”
Shoe nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. Now I’m positive I don’t care.” He pointed to the door. “See yourself out.”
“You don’t understand. A couple of Arlene’s outraged menfolk have tracked me to Nevis. When they find me, they’re going to beat my brains out.”
“Old news, Rudy. I ran into a few of your friends this afternoon down at the warehouses. They thought I was you, took me for a nice little ride, and nearly beat the crap out of me before I could convince them otherwise.”
Rudy’s jaw dropped. “That was you?”
“Yeah, thanks, brother. Apparently you diddled their younger sister.”
“I most certainly did not! But it kinda looked that way. She crawled into my bed, and I politely showed her the door. The next morning, I found her asleep on my floor. Her brothers must have discovered her empty room.”
Shoe shuddered at the thought of some used-up hooker offering sex and clap for the next month’s rent. “Didn’t you stop to think who else she might have propositioned before you?” He threw in a little applause for emphasis.
“No, I put her right out, I swear. And she wasn’t like that. Young country girl.”
“First time?”
Rudy gave him a disgusted look. “Shoe, you’ve got to help me dodge ’em.” His eyes were serious and sincere. “Besides, you owe me for the shoulder off the pier the other day.”
“Owe you? Owe you? I nearly get pummeled to death in an isolated farm field, and I owe you? You’re full of it. By my count, you’re in my debt. I corrected their misinformation and told them you were headed out of town. Make yourself scarce for a bit. They’ll eventually wear themselves out and go back home.”
Rudy flopped back on the bed. “Oh, thank you, Jesus.”
“You’re thanking the wrong one, but that’s okay. Scram and don’t come back. Go to Philly, where the Clinton farm boys can’t find you.”
Rudy propped himself up on his elbows. “I got it. I got it. But I can’t leave yet. I’m very busy here.” He seemed outwardly calmer, but the brain was still barreling ahead on all four cylinders.
“Before you go, Rudy, there is one thing I need to ask. I’ve been churning it over in my noggin here, and I still can’t figure it out. Why did they have me and you confused? That journalist in Nevis might have been a reason to grab me off the street, but considering we’re both recent arrivals, I don’t believe that’s it. No,” he said, shaking his head, “they were specifically looking for Shoemaker. You didn’t perchance fall back into old habits and give sweet, chaste Arlene my name, did you?”
Rudy’s eyes went south.
Shoe rolled toward Rudy and shoved his gun into his side. “You lousy—give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right here. An intruder, in the dead of night, sneaking into my room to do God knows what? They’d never charge me.”
Rudy grabbed the barrel of the gun and twisted Shoe’s wrist counterclockwise as he rolled over to pin him on the bed. “Try taking the safety off first,” he grunted.
“Love to,” Shoe countered as he wrapped his free arm around Rudy’s neck and began to squeeze. They grappled a moment with neither gaining an advantage before both rolled off the bed, Shoe on top. They stayed like that a moment, both panting heavily.
“Truce?” Shoe asked.
“Truce.”
Shoe staggered up. As he latched onto Rudy’s wrist and pulled him to his feet, his eyes fell upon a small red mark peeking out from the edge of his shirt cuff. “Fresh ink?” he asked, trying to drawing Rudy closer to get a better look. “I didn’t think you were the type.”
Rudy pushed him away with a le’go.
“No, let me see the mark. Maybe I’ll get one just like it.”
Rudy yanked free and assumed a boxer’s stance. “I didn’t come here to get into fisticuffs with you, but—”
Shoe stepped out of range. “Stop it. I just asked about the tattoo. I don’t need you Dempsey-ing me onto my rear end. I’ll never understand two men getting paid to pummel each other’s faces.”
Rudy remained in fighting position. “Because maybe you don’t know what it’s like to grow up having to fight your way out of your house in the morning and back in again in the afternoon.”
“Can’t control where my parents decided to live, Rudy.” Shoe cocked his head sideways and took another stab at deciphering the tattoo. “D-E-L-L-A. Della.” He did a double take. “You’re Mena’s mysterious suitor? You’re Lewis Ware?” He staggered back several steps. “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s—. Haven’t we moved up in the world.”
Rudy stopped his posturing and pulled down his sleeve. “Pfft. I’m flattered, but I hardly fit into Weathersby’s Newport set. There’s not an elitist bone in my body.”
“Yeah, maybe not, but from what I’ve heard, Mena wasn’t traveling in those circles anymore. And how is it you know who I’m talking about? I didn’t say anything about the Weathersbys. Come on, Rudy, what are you really doing in Nevis?”
Rudy looked like a squirrel in the middle of Main Street with a Model A bearing down on him. Was it going to be another lie or would he come clean?
“How did you know about the tattoo?”
“Confectionary. Everybody talks if you pay them enough. Emerson told you she’s dead, right?”
Rudy sank straight down to the bed, put his head in his hands, and sobbed, “Dear God, my sweet Mena.”
Shoe didn’t know whether to hug or slap him. He settled for an I’m sorry and sat down next him.
“Rudy, you’ve got my head spinning. Nobody’s tighter with information than Emerson. He hire you? Or are you buddied up with the cops? No wait, you’re one of the dicks they hired to shadow Mena. Come on, Rudy, straighten me out. Emerson wants me to find out who killed her. A boyfriend would be a prime suspect, but your name never came up in conversation.”
Rudy let out a long, slow, shuddering breath. “I didn’t kill her. I loved—love her. We did a lot of sneaking around, ferociously protective of what we had. We often used the aliases Lewis and Della Ware. Private joke. Lewes, Delaware? A favorite place.”
He gave Shoe a quick look, got no reaction, and continued. “Emerson had no clue. None of them did. Mena cut them off as much as they cut her off. She hated that vacuous life. So, so passionate about people and life,” he said, shaking his head.
“You say you’ve changed, but an addict from the Bowery? With all due respect, where’s your good judgment?”
A venomous look replaced the pain in Rudy's eyes. “Addict? Don’t be absurd. You don’t know anything. She was bright and funny. One of the most talented people I’ve ever met.”
“Stop right there. I don’t want to hear any specifics about your kinky sexual habits.”
The anger turned to befuddlement. “Kinky sex? What in tarnation are you talking about? Mena was a painter.”
“P-p-painter? Emerson said she was a hook—er, plying a trade in the Bowery’s red-light area. Stage name Mena Beebe?”
“Filthy liar,” Rudy said, looking as if his head were ready to blow off. “Let’s see. The best ones I’ve heard are that Mena was ensconced in the Bowery suffering from opiate addiction, she was turning
tricks in a bordello . . . no, wait, there was a better one. She was so talented that she had become the madame in said whorehouse.” He let out a long slow hiss as he vented his rage.
“Look. I’m sorry, but all I had to go on was what Emerson told me.”
“Sick, sick family. Choosing to live in the bohemian section of New York is not on the dance card for women of her pedigree. Mena didn’t sell herself or have a problem with addiction. She had a family problem. She hid out in the Bowery and took money from them with one purpose in mind: escaping them. I was the only man Mena was ever with or wanted. You can trust me on that.”
Shoe’s mind flashed back to Rudy’s flirtatious encounter with Fannie. “Well, okay. If they can sink so low as to besmirch the character of their own daughter, what’s to keep them from nailing your hide to the wall when they find out you were involved with her?”
“If they haven’t found out by now—” Rudy’s chin snapped up, his face plastered with a wide-eyed, incredulous look. “Wait! You’d rat me out?”
“Of course not. But we’re probably not the only ones Emerson has approached. No telling how many more gumshoes are out there trying to earn big bucks. Every time I go out, I’m looking over my shoulder. Somebody’s going to nose out your relationship. You know they will. Nevis is the last place in the universe you should be right now. Get out of town, man. I can keep you apprised. Besides, you’re probably too close to be objective.”
“No dice,” Rudy said, shaking his head. “I promised that I’d take care of her. I owe it to her to stay. If something bad happens . . .” He shrugged. “They can plant me where they find me because I really don’t care anymore.”
Promises to a dead person. In Shoe’s experience, most survivors often went off half-cocked with ill-considered plans, and the end results never turned out well. Maybe Rudy needed someone to stay close and keep an eye on him, but that someone wasn’t Tatum Shoemaker.
“Me being close is good. You see, I’ve got inside information. Mena messaged me the night she died. I know exactly where she was going and why. You and I should work together.”
“Where?”
“Uh uh,” Rudy said. “I’m not saying anything else until we’re in agreement. Do we have a deal or not? I want the sonuvabitch who destroyed my life. The Clinton crew is an unneeded sideshow. You watch my back and we split Emerson fifty-fifty. Whadda ya say, Shoe? Together?”
There were fifty thousand reasons Shoe should say no—the first three being that Rudy was a lying, philandering sneak. But hey, so was dear old Dad. Shoe didn’t hold to the proverbial blood is thicker than water. Despite sudden family connection and hearty handshake, he believed Rudy capable of trading up on him as soon as the opportunity arose. If Rudy had insider information, then he needed to be pumped before he was out of sight. Of course, the same didn’t apply to what Shoe knew. Until Rudy proved he was the least little bit trustworthy, he wasn’t sharing what Jack uncovered about the young Western Union victim, his brother, or the strange goings-on with property in town. He thrust out his hand to shake on a deal he had little doubt he would come to regret.
Rudy settled himself into the upholstered chair near at the window and Shoe surmised he intended to stay the night. If Shoe didn’t hit him up now, he risked falling asleep and having Rudy sneak out on him before sunrise. “So, Rudy, why did you come to Nevis? Seems a long way to rendezvous with Mena.”
“Business in Nevis and I was to meet Mena.”
“What was in Mena’s message?”
“You go first,” Rudy said, kicking off his shoes. “I’ve already given you something.”
Shoe gave him a bewildered look. “What—”
“The tattoo,” Rudy said, tapping his cuff. “I’ve given something. You can’t just take and give me nothing in return.” He cocked an eyebrow and waited.
Shoe glanced at the clock. It was 3 a.m., and if he didn’t get some shuteye soon, he would be a goner for the rest of the day. Rudy’s information was valuable and the man knew it. “Okay, but then you tell me about Mena,” he said. “How much do you know about Hanner Mackall?”
“Owns a boat.”
Both of Shoe’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re wandering around that side of town and that’s all you know? Christmas! He’s a scum bucket like all the rest of those shifty dock characters. They don’t fish, and they’re not employed by the established businesses along the water. They’re freelancing smugglers. You pick the cargo, offer a decent price, and they’re game.”
Rudy’s hands went up in a “whatever” gesture.
Yep, Rudy was troublesomely fearless and half-cocked. He’d be dead by the end of the week. “Darby says he doesn’t know Mackall, but I’m not buying it. The Mackall family owns the cliffs south of the dig, and Mackall’s raking in the scratch escorting tourists down there to hunt fossils. There is no way they haven’t met to establish boundaries. Something funny’s going on and I aim to find out what it is.”
“Maybe,” Rudy said, “but then again, it might just be good business. Maybe Darby didn’t want you including Hanner in your little piece.”
“No, Darby’s so full of it. He’d never consider Mackall worthy. And it’s only good business until you start threatening people. When I got on Mackall’s boat with you, he warned me to watch my step. His intent was clear: don’t go snooping around. No,” Shoe said, shaking his head. “It’s as clear as my father’s nose on your face. Mackall’s after more than the two bits someone’s throwing at him for a family bucket of sharks’ teeth. Whatever he’s up to, he’s afraid I’ll find it out.”
Rudy yawned broadly. “If you think I’m going to hang around the docks all night waiting for some cutthroat ruffians to bring illicit goods offshore, think again.”
“Of course not. We hit the wharf tomorrow morning about nine. Darby said his storage is in warehouse 17. We snoop around that a bit to see who’s who and what’s what, and then we pull back.” He hopped out of bed, pulled an army duffle bag out from under it, and produced a set of binoculars. “We find some high ground and watch. Does somebody come in and take stuff out, or do they squirrel it away in storage for someone to pick up later? If nobody shows, we take a look-see inside the warehouse.” He slid the bag back under the bed. “You game?”
Rudy didn’t answer.
Their agreement was what, three minutes old and it was already souring? Shoe looked over at Rudy, ready to light into him. His feisty, pugilistic half-brother had been replaced by a soft body that had melted into the shape of the chair, and his chin was almost on his chest. The soft buzz of gentle snoring drained the fire right out of Shoe. The stress of loss and of being hunted like prey was taking its toll.
He walked over and bumped the toe of Rudy’s boot. Rudy emitted an ugly snort and adjusted his sleeping position without waking from his deep sleep. Shoe studied his relaxed face a moment and then turned away with a shudder as he realized how much Rudy resembled their father.
Rudy might look like Shoemaker, Sr., but Shoe was certain his half-brother wasn’t half the man their father was. He dragged the wooden desk chair across the carpet and tilted it backwards until it wedged under the door handle. Then he stepped back to admire his ingenuity and with a nod deemed it satisfactory. Let the little brother try to sneak past that without making a commotion.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dependability
Shoe woke with a start, a crick in his neck and soft light streaming through the window. The wooden chair was back at the desk. Rudy had blown the place, and Shoe suspected he wasn’t coming back with biscuits, coffee, and any of his secrets. He should have beaten the information out of him when he had the chance. If Rudy didn’t track him down by nine, he’d know a deal with his brother—dear God, what a painful address—was as worthless as a plug nickel.
He dropped his Calvert Cliffs story at the Evening Star. Tanner wasn’t around, which was ideal. The assignment on the Darby expedition had provided a promising lead but Shoe didn’t need a second assig
nment. There was no way he’d get that lucky twice. He left it on the editor’s desk and headed for Betty’s diner. If Fannie’s mother could spare her, he would grab Fannie and send her off to check on Calvert Unlimited and the ownership of the Opossum Pike houses.
At the diner door, he caught sight of Fannie conversing with someone at the counter. He stopped and watched the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed. He always liked it when she looked like that. Apparently, the young gentleman at the counter did too; Shoe could hear him laughing heartily. It suddenly dawned on him how little time he had spent with Fannie since their return to Nevis. The dame was the whole package and he had no money problems now. What was he doing? God forbid her girlfriends set her up with some guy. Maybe this guy? Was he a regular customer? Shoe pushed through the door vowing to take her out for dinner, dancing, or some other hooley-goo women enjoyed.
Jack was leaving as he was coming in. “Busy tonight?” Shoe asked. “I need some help.”
Jack breezed past and started down the stairs. “Don’t know. Got a job.”
“Job? Does that mean you aren’t interested in helping me anymore?”
Jack paused at the bottom of the steps. “I never said that. I’m fourteen. Time to stop drifting and carry my own weight.”
When they first met, Jack’s age was one of the first lies he tried to put over on Shoe. Jack was a solid thirteen. What was ailing the kid? “What do you mean, drifting?”
Jack shrugged and his shoulders stayed up next to his ears a wee bit too long before sagging back down.
“Okay, I got it. It’s your friends. You come back and everybody else seems to have it all together. Might be making a little cabbage too. That’s okay. When I first came to Nevis, I couldn’t wait to bolt back to Philly, but then I met your sister and the feeling passed. You’ll find your niche. Promise.”
Jack gave him a contemptuous look. “I’m not interested in no girls.”
Shoe came back down the stairs. “No, no. That’s the right answer, Jack, ’cause trust me, they can turn you upside down and make your head whirl.”
The Dame on the Dock Page 14
