Out of Time: A Time Travel Mystery

by Martin, Monique

  Even the normally congenial patrons at Charlie’s were beginning to show the strain. Bickering replaced conversation, and Lester had to break up two arguments before they broke out into full scale brawls.

  That Friday night, an older, well-dressed gentleman entered the club and walked over to a recently emptied table against the wall. His tailored, herringbone suit and shock of white hair would normally have brought a few stares, but the heat had sapped everyone’s curiosity along with their good natures. He folded his lanky frame into the rickety, wooden chair, crossed his long legs and melted into the dark wall behind him.

  Dix didn’t even notice him at first. She was busy counting the hours till closing, dreaming of a cool bath to wash away the day’s grime. Eventually, she sidled over to his table to get his order.

  “Whiskey,” he said in a gentle, rich baritone as he pulled a small notebook from his breast pocket.

  “We got all kinds,” she said between snaps of her well-chewed gum. “Whatcha want? Scat? Panther?”

  He smiled politely, his grey eyes were cool and soothing. “Whatever you suggest.”

  “You’re English, huh?” she said, the thought taking the last of her energy.

  “Guilty as charged.”

  “The Professor is too,” she said, nodding her head toward Simon. “Don’t suppose you know him?”

  The gentleman cast a cursory glance at the piano and shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not.”

  Dix shrugged and dragged a finger under her eye to rub away the dripping mascara. “Ya never know. It ain’t...”

  The rest of her reply was drowned out by a commotion at the door. Three young men in their twenties tripped into the bar making enough noise to wake the dead.

  Dix tugged at the top of her bustier. “Now, we got trouble.”

  “Charlie Blue, you old stinkaroo!” the shortest of the three bellowed. His pug nose glowed red from the heat and the four sheets he rode in on.

  Charlie hurried around the bar and caught the man before he fell face first into the bar. “Come on, Jimmy. Why don’t you and the boys go on home. Looks like you’ve already had enough for one night.”

  “I’m all right, old man,” he sneered and pushed away from Charlie. “We just saw Crash Murdock get the tar thumped outta him and I plan on celebratin’!”

  One of the other boys squished up his pudgy face—he looked like a cherub that was kicked out of heaven—and pushed out his thick lips in a pout. “I’m tellin’ ya, the fix was in.”

  Jimmy cackled and slapped him hard on the back. “You’re just sore cause you lost that fin, Eugene,” Jimmy said, drawing out the last syllable. Judging from Eugene’s reaction, his name was a sore point. “Come on Roy, drinks are on fat boy.”

  Eugene grumbled under his breath, and the trio pushed their way through the crowd. Charlie put up a hand to signal Lester to let things be. For now. Maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t cause too much trouble.

  They commandeered a table not far from the piano and plopped down into the chairs. Elizabeth walked over to take their orders. “What can I get you boys?”

  Jimmy smirked and cocked his head to the side. “I can think of a few things.”

  “Why don’t you sit down, sweetheart?” Roy said, inching his chair back and patting his broad thigh.

  Elizabeth shook her head. After a month of waiting tables, this sort of thing was old hat. “You boys want drinks or don’t ya?”

  “Ooo, she’s got moxie, this one,” Jimmy said with a wink to his pals.

  Roy grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “That ain’t all she’s got.”

  “Call me when you make up your minds,” Elizabeth said and turned to leave, but Jimmy grabbed her arm.

  “Now, why are you runnin’ off so fast?” he said. “Not that I mind the view. You’re just as good goin’ as comin’. But I think I’d like you comin’ best.”

  Elizabeth tried to wrest her arm from his grip, but his dirty fingernails dug into her arm. Jimmy yanked harder and pulled her onto his lap. Grabbing her roughly about the waist, he tried to kiss her. His stale breath was hot and fetid.

  “Come on, baby,” he purred, as he squeezed her backside.

  “Let go,” she said, and managed to get to her feet. Reacting with pure instinct and adrenaline, she slapped his face.

  He smiled, even as the red mark blossomed on his cheek. “Like it rough, huh? You’re gonna have to do better than that if you—”

  The rest of his sentence never made it past his snarling lips. The words and a good portion of nose cartilage were smashed back by the force of a hard fist connecting flush with his face. The power of the punch sent his chair toppling. He landed on the floor with a clattering thud.

  Everyone in the club fell silent, waiting like a derelict old fireworks factory hoping for that errant spark. Jimmy pushed himself upright and gingerly covered his nose. He looked up to see Simon flexing his hand, towering over him.

  Jimmy coughed through the blood that dripped over his chin and gushed down the back of his throat. “You broke my nose,” he gurgled.

  “Next time I’ll break your bloody neck,” Simon growled.

  God, it felt good to hit someone, Simon thought, as he clenched his fist. He glared down at the man, still sitting stunned on the floor, willing him to stand up so he could hit him again. Jimmy was too shocked at the sight of his own blood to move. Tacitly satisfied, Simon turned his attention to Elizabeth. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. That was—Look out!” she cried, and tugged on Simon’s sleeve. He ducked, barely missing being hit in the back of the neck by Roy’s rabbit punch.

  Simon stepped aside, and Roy’s momentum caused him to careen off balance. He staggered and Elizabeth stepped forward, lifted her tray and clobbered him on the back of the head. The metal dented with a resounding bang. Stunned, Roy lurched forward and fell onto a small table that gave way under his weight.

  Simon blinked in surprise. “Elizabeth?”

  “What?” she said innocently.

  Eugene grunted and wedged himself out of his chair. “So you wanna play, huh?” he said, and charged at Simon. There wasn’t time to react, and the two of them crashed into another table. The stake in Simon’s pocket dug into his ribs. Teacups flew in every direction, hitting the floor and shattering into jagged shards. Freshly ordered whiskey dripped from the remnants.

  “We just got that,” a man lamented, more concerned about the wasted booze than the pile of humanity at his feet.

  “Told you we should have gone to Lenny’s,” his friend griped, oblivious as Simon pushed Eugene off his chest.

  Like cinders from a wildfire caught in the wind, smaller skirmishes flared up all around the room. Lester and Charlie did their best to put them out before they grew too hot. The blistering around the edges festered enough to keep them away from the main attraction.

  Simon laid into Eugene with vicious blows. All sense of purpose was gone, only blind rage remained. All his pent up frustration was unleashed in each strike. He pinned Eugene to the floor and pummeled into him. His hard fist mashed into the man’s soft face. Eugene cried out for mercy, but Simon didn’t care. He gripped the man’s shirt front and hit and hit and hit.

  All thoughts of pity had evaporated in the heat and the unquenchable anger. It wasn’t Eugene he was hitting, but King. In his mind, all he could see was that swarthy bastard’s face, smirking at his helplessness. Eugene couldn’t fight back, all he could do was try to fend off the blows.

  Roy recovered from the blow to his head and pushed the broken table to the side. He jumped up, grabbing Simon by the collar of his coat, and pulled him to his feet.

  Elizabeth tried to intervene, but Roy swatted her aside like an annoying housefly. A kid in a man’s body—twice as strong as he was smart—he spun Simon around and cracked him hard on the chin. Simon tried to find where Elizabeth had gone, but the world dimmed. Like in an old fashioned movie, his vision tunneled, a circle of light fighting against the fade to b
lack. Desperate to find her, he tried to push away the encroaching darkness.

  He stumbled and grabbed onto to whatever he could, then opened his eyes to see Jimmy’s grinning face. The prospect of a good fight (a good fight being one where they outnumbered the other guy three to one) pushed all worries of his flattened nose aside, and he punched Simon in the gut. Bile rose in Simon’s throat as his diaphragm did its level best to fly out of his mouth. He gasped for air, but his chest burned like he’d been skewered with a fiery poker.

  Elizabeth scrambled to her feet and grabbed Jimmy by the shoulder. Cocking her arm, she lunged into the punch. Her father’s advice rang in her ears. Keep your wrist tight! Don’t tuck your thumb in! Turn your hand over right before your arm extends!

  Her tiny fist smashed into Jimmy’s head right under the temple. Her knuckles popped as the tendons stretched and snapped back like rubber bands. It hurt like hell, but she set her feet and was about to throw another punch when, out of nowhere, Lester stepped in.

  A blow to the temple was an E ticket ride to what boxers called queer street. Lester took him the rest of the way.

  Without missing a beat, Lester grabbed Elizabeth by the arms, picked her up and set her aside. She was about to step back into the melee when another set of strong hands clamped around her arms.

  “Let him do his job,” Charlie said.

  Elizabeth struggled in his grip and watched as the bouncer did what he did best—bounced.

  Roy had picked up a chair and raised it over his head to finish Simon off, but Lester was too fast. He lunged forward and slugged Roy with a swift, straight right. Roy stumbled and dropped the chair. Lester delivered a quick one-two combination and Roy crumpled to the floor.

  As quickly as it had started, the fight was over.

  Jimmy lay unconscious, his broken nose oozing blood, Eugene, long since having given up, sat huddled on the floor, and Roy had enough sense left in his head to know when to call it quits. He was no match for Lester and he knew it. Everyone knew it. “Just havin’ a little fun.”

  “Get your boys and get out,” Lester said. “Or would ya like me to show ya the door? Up close and personal like?”

  Roy flushed and finally shook his head.

  Simon staggered to his feet as Roy brushed past. He started forward, but Lester put a strong hand on his shoulder. “S’all over, Professor,” he said. “Sorry it took me so long. A few others tried to join in.”

  Simon shrugged out of his grip, the searing pain in his back slowly subsiding.

  “Come on, Jimmy,” Roy said, as he slapped him back to consciousness.

  As Eugene crawled across the floor to his side, Jimmy came back around. He looked up again, only to see Simon glaring down at him. Cutting his losses, he blearily got to his feet. Lester stepped forward and escorted the trio to the door.

  Charlie let go of Elizabeth and turned to the rest of the bar. “All right. Show’s over. Club’s closed.”

  The patrons buzzed with the excitement of the fight and reluctantly made their way to the door. A few even stopped at the bar to even up tabs with Dix, who’d been hiding behind it.

  Elizabeth came to Simon’s side. “Are you all right?”

  He nodded, although it was clear from the pinched look on his face, he wasn’t. “And you?”

  Elizabeth knew better than to push him. “My butt’s seen better days,” she said, rubbing the spot where she’d landed.

  Simon started to laugh, but the movement was too painful. He sufficed with a weak smile and a touch of her cheek.

  She wrinkled her nose. “You reek.”

  His tuxedo, what was left of it, was soaked with alcohol. He tried vainly to straighten the hem of his jacket, running his hands over the sopping material. When they hit the bulge in his pocket, he cursed under his breath.

  Elizabeth’s brow furrowed with worry. “What is it?”

  “The watch,” he said and pulled the gold chain from his pocket. If the watch was damaged, there would be no way for them to return home.

  He opened the clasp and they both sighed in relief. It was undamaged.

  Neither of them saw the older gentleman with the thatch of white hair watching them, his eyes growing round with shocked recognition at the sight of the watch. Stuffing his small notebook into his breast pocket, he quickly joined the throng headed for the door.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  The storm that refused to break held true to form and hovered northeast of the island. The heavy cloud cover kept in the heat like the lid on a boiling pot. Finally, the next day, the clouds broke and the sun triumphantly poked through. Simon had insisted they stay in as much as possible to lessen their exposure to King and his men, but Elizabeth was going stir crazy inside their little apartment. Eventually, she managed to cajole Simon into taking a walk to break the monotony.

  They took the subway up to Fifth Avenue and the Vanderbilt gate entrance to Central Park. The plush green setting was an oasis in the cement jungle of the city. One step across the threshold and the dull grays and browns, the sooty air, and screaming of car horns faded away.

  Brilliant sun glittered off the glass panes of the Conservatory as they walked deeper into the park. The shores of the great reservoir stretched out in front of them. They walked along in peaceful silence under the shade of a grove of trees circling the perimeter. The paths diverged and meandered, but Elizabeth’s step didn’t falter; she knew exactly where she was going and Simon was content to follow.

  They crested the top of a small hill and Elizabeth stopped. “This is what I wanted to show you,” she said, pointing across the velvety grass.

  Standing on a slight knoll in the distance was a castle. The design was simple, but the effect was magical.

  “Belvedere Castle,” she said. “Is that cool or what?”

  “How did you know this was here?”

  “When things were...well, you know. After Coney Island when I went for walks to think, I found it. Thought I was seeing things at first. Not exactly what you expect to find in the middle of New York City, but there it was. It seemed like a peaceful place.”

  Simon took her hand in his. “I’m sorry.”

  She smiled and shook her head, then looked back at the castle. “It’s hollow inside, you know? No guts, just an empty façade. At the time I thought it was pretty darn ironic, but... I kept coming here anyway, to think.”

  “I don’t suppose I was exactly your knight in shining armor at that point.”

  “More like the village idiot.”

  He chuckled softly. “Well deserved.”

  “If the big, pointy shoe fits,” she said with a grin and turned to look at him. His chin was bruised and his green eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. “You were pretty knightly last night, being all chivalrous and coming to my rescue.”

  “I’m glad you think so,” he said and started them down the path. “Although, if I remember correctly, you held your own rather well. Where did you learn to fight like that, or am I better off in ignorance?”

  “Daddy. Thought it was a good idea for me to learn a little self defense. What about you?”

  “Boarding school. My first year I learned how to take a punch. My second, how to give one.”

  “And your third?”

  “That it’s better to avoid them altogether.”

  “Very sage for a teenager.”

  “Well, I am British.”

  Elizabeth smiled and pulled them toward the shade of a small grove of trees. The grass was thick and lush and she started to ease off her shoes. “Do you miss it?”

  “Boarding school? Hardly.”

  “No, England.”

  “I...what are you doing?” he asked, as she steadied herself and tossed her shoes aside.

  She let go and lifted up the hem of her dress and undid her garters. “Taking my shoes off.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Then why’d you ask?” she asked with a grin, as she rolled down her stockings.

  “E
lizabeth.”

  “What? I’m just gonna wiggle my toes in the grass. It’s been weeks since I’ve felt real grass,” she said, then sighed happily as her feet touched the cool blades. “You should do this. It feels great.” He arched an eyebrow as if to say—are you insane? She shrugged and wiggled her toes some more. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  He shook his head and sat down to watch her revel. She padded around in a small circle, stopping in front of him. “So, do you miss it?”

  “England? No, not very much.”

  She gave up her circling and sat down beside him. “Really? Not homesick at all?”

  “There are some things, but no. I haven’t thought of it as home in a very long time.”

  Elizabeth reached out and squeezed his hand.

  He looked down at her hand, bruised knuckles and all. “It doesn’t matter.”

  She smiled and nodded, even though she felt a pang of sadness at the way he just accepted things. She leaned back in the grass, silently urging him to follow. A little awkwardly, he lay down next to her, propping himself up on an elbow.

  She inhaled the fresh scent of the newly mowed grass. “This is nice, isn’t it? Away from everything.” When he didn’t answer her, she tilted her head to the side and was surprised to see him looking over her shoulder and frowning. “What?” she asked, craning her neck to see what had caught his attention.

  “Nothing,” he said with a forced smile, as he tugged gently on her hand.

  She rolled onto her side and cradled her head in her hand. “That nothing was definitely a something.”

  “Do you miss Texas?”

  She knew he was changing the subject and considered calling him on it, but thought better of it. “No, not since Daddy died. Anyway, the idea of Texas is much more appealing than the reality.”

  “And Southern California?”

  “Sort of. I miss my TV.”

  Simon snorted. “Americans.”

  “Oh, please. What do you miss, your tea set?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” he said with a scowl, but she could see the ghost of a smile fighting against it.