“This reminds me of the small place my wife and I had when we first moved to Chicago,” Capone said, with nostalgia. “It was above the Four Deuces, where I worked as a bouncer. I would come home after a long day, to an apartment almost like this, and kiss my wife and bounce my son on my knee.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that; I was shocked that Al Capone was revealing such private information to me. I decided it was better to keep my mouth shut.
Capone walked around the kitchen, first looking into the living room and then my bedroom. It was a bit unnerving, like he was putting me under a microscope. I hadn’t had this feeling since my Mom had come over to see my apartment right after I had moved in. At least Capone didn’t pull out a handkerchief like Mom did to run along the baseboards.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Capone?” I finally asked.
Capone stopped in the entryway into my bedroom and turned, his steel-grey eyes boring into me. “Did you know that Moira was one of the first people I met when I came to Chicago? Hmmm?”
I shook my head dumbly.
“I was most upset at learning about her passing. She was special to me. She’d worked in one of the brothels before I saved her.” He looked almost wistfully toward the ceiling, as if recalling a favorite memory.
“Did she ever mention that? Her past? She worked in one of the sleaziest whorehouses in all of Chicago. I bet she must have spread her legs for half the men in the city.” He looked at me as if expecting an answer, but my mouth had gone dry. I could feel my hands clenching into fists. I wanted to remember Moira as I knew her, not as the whore that Capone was making her out to be. Capone must have seen me clenching my fists since he gave me a sneering grin.
“No? She learned much during her time there, and with my gift she was able to use that experience to her full advantage. She always had an independent streak, and she could be a wild one in bed, as I’m sure you know.” He gave me a knowing smile, and I felt bile rise in my throat as I realized that Moira and Capone had been lovers. “And she never failed me at anything, ever. That is, before she met you. Why is that, do you suppose?” His voice almost purred and he raised a questioning eyebrow, but he didn’t give me time to respond. I was starting to wonder what the hell Capone wanted. Why had he come to my place?
“Moira may have been a bit too independent. Sure, I could control her, but she was always fighting, straining at the bit to get free. In a way, I guess I should thank you for killing her. I would have had to have done it eventually, and it would have hurt me here,” he patted his chest, “to do it, but I would have done it. Do you know why?” Capone gave me a piercing look.
“I would have killed Moira myself because she wasn’t family. Family is important. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Imbierowicz, that family is important?”
I nodded, not liking where this conversation was going. Oh shit.
Capone walked back to the center of the kitchen, resting a gloved hand on the back of my new chair. “My family is very important to me. My wife and son, my mother. My brothers, too. All of them are important to me.” He gave me another piercing look. I couldn’t have spoken, even though I had nothing to say.
“Yesterday, the Feds arrested my brother Ralph. They pulled him from his home before dawn, in front of his wife and kids, like a common criminal.” Capone made a dismissive gesture with his hat. “That didn’t worry me too much. The cops have done that sort of thing in the past and the Feds didn’t have anything they could make stick. In fact, Ralph was out of jail and back home by lunch.”
Capone paused, looking down at his shoes. “Then, this morning, when Ralph was heading to work, somebody had the gall to drive by his house, shooting up the peaceful morning and filling the air with lead.”
“Thats—” The word escaped from my mouth without thought. I now knew what Moran had meant by his parting words in my hospital room early this morning.
“Tragic, yes,” said Capone, thankfully misinterpreting my statement. “Luckily for Ralph—and his family—the shooter didn’t know what the hell he was doing. Every shot missed. Nobody got hurt.”
“Oh, thank God.” Again, the words came without my thinking about them. I instantly regretted it since it sounded like I was more relieved for myself than I was for Ralph. Capone seemed to sense my relief.
“You’ll be thanking Him in person tomorrow if you don’t get me those fuckin’ books!” Capone’s voice suddenly boomed and echoed around my kitchen, his face coloring as he jabbed a finger at me. “I want those books, and I fuckin’ want them tonight!” He paused and straightened his suit and tie and put the fedora back on. His face relaxed a bit and I swear that I saw fangs receding back into his mouth.
“You will get the books and deliver them to me tonight,” Capone’s voice was softer now, more under control. “Or tomorrow morning a similar shooter will come by as your pop is walking to the meat packing plant, and another will visit your mom and sister at their apartment. I can assure you that my gunmen know exactly what they are doing, and by this time tomorrow you will be looking for a good undertaker for your whole family.”
“S-s-sure thing,” I said. My heart was racing and my stomach felt like it was in my throat. “I will get the books for you tonight. How do I contact you?”
Capone turned and opened the door. “Call on me at the Lexington.” He headed out the door, closing it softly behind him.
Chapter 30
I stared at the door for a couple of minutes after Capone had left, unsure as to what to do next. My situation really hadn’t changed since Capone still expected me to get the books. I wasn’t sure anymore if Moran still expected me to get them for him as well, or if he’d satisfied his anger by taking a shot at Ralph. Whether he did or not, I only had one real course of action available to me if I wanted to try and keep my parents and sister alive. I went downstairs to the phone and called the Feds.
“Bureau of Investigations,” said the familiar voice on the other end of the phone.
“Wright,” I said. “It’s Saul.”
“Hey, Saul. You make it home from the hospital alright?”
“Yeah, but I’ve had a couple of visitors since we last talked.” I explained for a couple of minutes about the visit that I’d received from Moran last night, and then my encounter with Capone just now. Wright was silent while I talked.
“I need to get the books for Capone,” I said, once I’d finished. “It’s the only thing that will make Capone happy and make it so that my parents and sister don’t end up dead.”
There was silence on the other end. After a minute I couldn’t stand the lack of noise. “Wright, are you still there?”
“I’m here,” came a gruff reply. Wright must have handed the phone to Truesdale. “Listen, kid. Get your ass to work tonight like normal. We’ve got everything sorted out. Whenever we contact you, you need to be ready to do whatever the fuck we tell you to do.”
“What about the books? I don’t care about anything else, I just want to make sure that my family is safe.”
“Again with the family,” Truesdale said in a commanding voice. “I told you, we’ve got it sorted out.” He slammed the receiver down.
I stared at the phone for a moment, worried that my family’s lives were now in the hands of Agents Truesdale and Wright. I shuddered. I hung up the phone and went back upstairs. Unfortunately, I ran into Mrs. Rabinowitz as she came out of her apartment. “My goodness, Saul! Look at all those bandages. Are you sure you’re alright after that burglar broke in yesterday?” She stared at me and I realized that I must have looked horrible just with the bruises and bandages that were showing.
“Yes, Mrs. R,” I said. “It’s really just a few scratches and bumps. The doctors were just being overly protective.”
Mrs. R. gave me the same look that Mom had given me as a kid whenever I told her one of my lies. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, but then nodded s
lightly. “Well, I hope you have gotten a second lock put on your door now, Saul.”
“Yes ma’am.” I wasn’t in the mood to have this conversation again. I tried to move past her and up the stairs.
“Oh, Saul.”
“Yes, Mrs. Rabinowitz,” I sighed.
“That nice young girl you’ve been seeing,” Mrs. R. reached out and patted my arm and smiled. “When are you going to take her home to meet your mother?”
Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Even if Moira had still been alive, how would I have introduced a vampire to my mother? “Soon,” I lied again.
“That’s good,” Mrs. R. said. “I’m sure that your mother would really like her.” She headed down the stairs.
I continued upstairs to my apartment. I shut and locked my door, double checking the lock for some reason. I went to the bedroom and looked at the clock. It was just after 2 p.m. I laid down on the bed and set the alarm but, even as exhausted as I was, I was too wound up to sleep. I didn’t know what was going to happen in the next few hours, and thoughts that my family’s lives were now in the Feds hands kept me wide awake. I really didn’t know if Truesdale and Wright were in this to help me and save my family, or were just trying to find out if Capone was some vampire gang leader.
I finally gave up on trying to go to sleep. I got out of bed and drew a bath. I managed to get plenty of hot water and gave myself a nice bath. My wounds stung in the hot water, and the bruises that I could see on my legs and stomach were turning an ugly yellow-green color. My ‘love bite’ from Moira was still raw. It looked like the doctor and nurse had managed to clean it up some but, as I touched it, fresh blood still oozed from the wound. It had an ugly look to it; the skin around the wound was turning a green-black color, like the skin was dying.
I realized that there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. I couldn’t worry about myself right now. I finished cleaning up, got out of the bath, shaved, and dressed for work. The sun was just setting as I left the apartment. I walked downstairs and headed up the street to the L. The air was very cold; I could see small crystals forming around me as I walked and there was a smell of snow in the air.
I got off the L and walked down to the Post Office. I was several hours early for my shift so I walked into the diner to have dinner. I didn’t recognize either the waitress or cook who worked the evening shift, which was fine with me. I didn’t want to have to talk to anybody right now. I ordered dinner—meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and carrots—and coffee. When my meal arrived, I picked at the food but didn’t feel like eating. I couldn’t remember the last meal that I’d eaten but I wasn’t really hungry. I guess that I had too many butterflies flittering around in my stomach. I ended up just pushing the food around on my plate, eating an occasional bite. Eventually, the food got cold and I gave up on the thought of eating.
I did drink a lot of coffee, and I got a nasty look from the waitress when she gave me my fourth coffee refill, but I didn’t care. There were too many thoughts running around in my head. Would the Feds be able to save my family? Was I becoming a vampire?
Mostly, I just thought about getting my hands on those damn books and if, once I had them, they would be enough to satisfy Capone and keep him from going after my family.
Chapter 31
At around 9:45 I finally got up from the booth and paid for my food. I even gave the waitress a dime tip, but I don’t think that she was very happy that I’d taken up space in her booth all night. I walked out through the lobby, past the information booth, and took the elevators up to the third floor. I clocked in and was busy at my station sorting mail when Joe arrived. He gave me a look of surprise. “Hey Saul, I’m surprised to see you here. When you missed work yesterday I figured you’d either gotten run over or fired.”
“The former,” I said.
Joe turned and gave me a look like I was pulling his leg, then paused as he took in my various bruises and cuts. “Shit, Saul. What the hell happened to you?”
I was just about to tell him when I saw Mr. Dickenson, the shift supervisor, walking over. “Mr. Imbierowicz,” he said. “I hope that you have sufficiently recovered from your accident and that you are able to work. The detectives explained everything, so I will forgive your absence yesterday, but I can’t have you shirking your duties. If you miss any more work I will have to terminate you.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “I’m fine. There won’t be any problems.”
Mr. Dickenson gave me a look; I’m sure he was looking at my black eye and the bandage that poked out from under the collar of my shirt. He seemed to be satisfied with my answer and walked back to his office. I looked over at Joe, who said, “So, spill the beans. What the hell happened to you?”
I grabbed a stack of envelopes and winced a bit from the pain in my shoulder as I started to sort the mail. “It was dumb, man. I was walking home from work the other morning when this big dog just started chasing me for no reason. I would have outrun it, but I slipped on some ice and the damn thing bit me on the shoulder.” I pointed to my right shoulder with a stack of envelopes.
“Man, that must have hurt.”
“No shit!” That was certainly not a lie. It had hurt like hell when Moira had bitten me.
“Seems sorta odd that it would bite you on the shoulder.”
“Huh?”
“Well, you’d think that a dog would bite you on the leg, or the arm, or something. If you were trying to fend it off.”
“Well, you try fending off a ferocious beast when you’ve fallen on your ass. It’s harder than you’d think.”
Joe shrugged, but seemed to be satisfied by my answer and we went back to sorting the mail. The job was mind-numbingly boring, but Joe and I kept up enough chatter about nothing in particular that the time seemed to go by pretty quickly. At around midnight, Mr. Dickenson let everyone take a ten minute smoke break. We weren’t allowed to smoke in the sorting room as there was too much risk that a burning cigarette might start a fire. Joe and I headed out into the hallway, along with about three-quarters of the rest of the staff. Everybody broke into little groups of friends as they lit up their Luckies, Chesterfields, and Morleys. Joe and I headed down the hall to a spot we used, generally away from the others. It was by one of the large windows and looked out toward the city and the lake beyond.
I pulled out my pack of Chesterfields and my Ronson, lighting up a cigarette as we leaned against the window ledge. There was a flare of a match from Joe as he lit up his own Morley. I looked out the window and wondered what was taking Truesdale so long. It was after midnight and I’d not heard a peep from him. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to him.
“So, why did the cops get involved?” Joe asked as he blew out a puff of smoke.
“Huh?” I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I was caught off guard by the question and, at first, I didn’t know exactly what he was talking about.
“Your dog bite,” he pointed at my shoulder with his hand, cigarette lightly held between two fingers. “Why’d the cops get involved?”
I took a pull on my own cigarette to stall. Why did Joe have to be so nosy? I thought maybe I could lie and avoid the question.
“What cops?” I asked innocently. “I didn’t need any cops for a dog bite.”
“Mr. Dickenson said earlier that some detectives came by to tell him why you weren’t at work last night. Why would the cops be needed for a stupid dog bite?”
Joe took another drag on his cigarette, the flare of the tip casting a red glow to his face. I was immediately on edge by his question. Joe had always been a nosy SOB, but he was never this pointed, or this observant, in his questions.
“I’m just glad they helped out otherwise I wouldn’t be here to have this dumb conversation with you.” I tried to make it sound like I was joking with Joe, hoping that he’d drop the subject. “Does it matter?” I asked, not trying to hide the exasperation from my voi
ce.
Joe shrugged and took another pull on his cigarette. “I guess not,” he admitted. He looked out the window, the lights of the city giving him a pale, washed out look. I turned to look at the clock in the hallway. Come on, Truesdale. What’s taking you so long? I could feel my stomach churning as I watched the second hand sweep by on the clock. Truesdale is going to leave me hanging here, and I’m going to find my family’s corpses when I get off work. He never cared about me or my family. Why did I ever trust him?
“How’s Moira?” Joe asked.
“What?” The question shocked me out of my reverie and I dropped my cigarette onto my pants. “Oh, crap.” I batted at the spot to wipe away the ash and bent to pick up the cigarette.
Joe laughed at my clumsiness, “Man, are you some kind of klutz. How’s your girlfriend doing?”
“Fine, fine,” I said. I wasn’t about to tell Joe that I had shoved a chair leg through her chest.
“You know, you really ought to be careful around her.”
I froze and looked at Joe. What the hell was he talking about?
“I don’t think you know what you are getting yourself into with her.” He looked at me with an expression that was a mix of stern parent and concerned friend.
I was about to ask him what he meant when Mr. Dickenson walked up and cleared his throat, catching us both by surprise. “Final warning, gentlemen,” he said. “Next time I will dock your pay.”
Joe and I stubbed our cigarettes out in the ashtray and hurried back into the sorting room. There was a fresh box of letters for each of us, and Mr. Dickenson felt that he had to stand around watching us to make sure that we didn’t slack off any more. With him around, I couldn’t ask Joe anything about what he had meant by his comment about Moira. Every time I looked over at Joe he just ignored me.
Unremarkable Page 15
