by Janet Fox
“Everything except a wedding ring,” I said.
Charlie laughed out loud. “Lou, married? Nah. Especially not to Danny Connor.”
Danny Connor. I needed him to like me so I could help Pops. I shivered. I said without thinking, “What is it about him?”
“Connor?” Charlie took my question differently, thank goodness. “He’s a tough cookie, but clever. He’s the boss of a gang that controls most of the East Side. Came out of the Lower East Side as a boxer, and must’ve knocked off a few bruisers in order to rise to the top. Runs the speakeasies and jazz joints up and down town. Had some mix-up back in ’nineteen and ’twenty when people were all scared of the Reds. Connor may be a Red, for all I know. For sure, he’s a supporter of the Irish community. He’s been pretty nice to me and Lou.” Charlie hesitated. “He can be a little peculiar. He’s got this thing about collecting.”
This gave me pause. “Collecting?”
“Stuff. Artifacts, artwork. He buys all these antiques, things from Europe, has them all over his house. You should see the museum he’s got there, his own private museum. It’s like he needs to have all this stuff. Not that I wouldn’t like living that way. Surrounded by all that nice stuff. His biggest thing is plants.”
“He mentioned something about his greenhouse. About orchids.”
Charlie nodded. “He gets these shipments in special crates from all over the world. He knows a thing or two, I’ll give him that. The orchids, they’re really delicate. Can only be sent at certain times of the year. Then he breeds his own, too. Even has one named after him, supposedly.” He paused, rubbing his chin. “It’s kind of spooky, that greenhouse.”
It was as if a cloud had covered the sun. I stopped walking and folded my arms across my chest. “Why?”
“It’s locked, and he’s the only one with the key. Even Louie’s been inside only once or twice. And those incidents spooked her pretty good.” We’d reached the edge of one of the ponds. Ducks paddled in our direction looking for us to toss them a treat, and the water rippled in the breeze. Charlie laughed, but he sounded uneasy. “Maybe he buries his bodies under the dirt.”
“Bodies!” I hugged myself tighter, feeling a chill creep up the back of my neck.
Charlie shrugged. “You can’t be a tough guy and not be tough.”
“How tough? Like Al Capone tough?”
“Yeah. Capone. I read some article where Capone says he’s not a killer, but…well. Everyone says Capone’s a gangster, no matter what he says.” Charlie examined his hands. “Connor filled in the void here when Capone left New York for Chicago.”
I shuddered. Connor was Capone dangerous. Capone thought nothing of murder. I thought about Connor’s invitation to see his greenhouse. He’d let me in…would he let me out? “So Connor’s a murderer?”
Charlie looked away, then back again. “There’s no proof of that. But it’s pretty wild, if you look real close. Connor’s just doing what anyone wants to do in a free country. Make money and be powerful.”
“Charlie, if Daniel Connor is that bad, why do you let your sister…”
Charlie moved away; I sensed his impatience. “Look. What Louie does is her business. I can’t stop her. She’s got to make her choices. All I can do is hang around and keep an eye on her. She’s Connor’s moll, and that’s that.” Charlie turned away from me, bent, picked up a small rock, and threw it far across the pond, where it splashed and sent the water away in great circles. He stood with his back to me, silent for a couple of minutes. Then he turned back toward me with a grin. “But heck. Because of Lou, he keeps setting me up with gigs. He got me a new job for a couple of nights from now. I’ll be playing in a joint up in Harlem.” Charlie watched me. “And whether he knows it or not, he made it so I could meet you.”
The flush crept up my face, my cheeks flaming. “I guess he did.”
“You know, with help like that, I could really be something someday. A great musician. Famous. Rich, even.” He paused. “I know that a girl like you…”
“What?” I asked as his words trailed off.
“Well, a girl like you wants a smart guy. You, you’re different. You don’t want just any joe. You want someone special. Someone who can give you pretty things. Someone who can make things happen.” Charlie’s cheeks were dark. “I know you don’t just want some guy who waits tables. I want you to know that I’m gonna make it as a musician. Be the best. Who knows?” He stubbed his toe at a clump of grass. “Danny Connor can help me make it. I do a few things for him…he makes things happen for me. No big deal.” He shrugged. “Then maybe even a girl like you would like a guy like me.”
My heart was flapping like butterfly wings in my chest. “I think you’ve got enough talent to make it on your own,” I murmured.
“You think?” Now his eyes were bright. “Gee.”
We stood there in the shade of a great oak. Charlie was a sweet guy. Those dark expressive eyes of his were like windows. He couldn’t help showing me his heart, everything he thought, or so I believed in that moment. I said, “So Charlie. Want to walk me home?”
The rest of the walk was filled with noises of the city as we walked without talking. I’d never even had a guy friend, much less a crush. Molly used to rib me about turning into an old maid before I was even old. Now here I was, talking with Charlie as if I’d known him all my life. We paused on the sidewalk a couple of blocks from the apartment. Charlie shuffled his feet. “Probably see you tomorrow, if Connor wants me back on the job.”
Despite Charlie, a dark feeling stole over me at his words. “Why do you think he’s having you follow me?”
Charlie shrugged. “I’m just glad he asked me, and not one of those other two.”
“Other two?”
“Ryan and Neil. His right-hand men.”
“Well, I’m glad he asked you, too. But I still don’t get it.”
Charlie looked up the avenue. “I overheard something. Connor was talking to Ryan. Saying something about you and your family.”
“Saying what?” The wind was knocked out of me.
“Something about how you might know where Teddy is. That maybe you were meeting him. That Connor wants to find him.”
I looked across the street.
Charlie shuffled. “I mean, I thought he was dead, but Connor, he seems to think otherwise. Do you know where Teddy is?”
I looked at Charlie with a creeping suspicion. “You knew Teddy?”
He shrugged. “A little. Not well. Is he? Dead, I mean?”
I swallowed hard. I wouldn’t answer that. “Why do you think Connor would want to find him?”
“I don’t ask Danny Connor why.”
“Even when it involves me?” I felt like I’d swallowed a golf ball. Only minutes earlier I’d thought I could see into Charlie’s heart. Now, he was a closed book.
“Look, long story. Forget I asked.” Charlie stared at the sidewalk.
That chill came over me again, bitter and sharp. Charlie worked for Danny. Danny was looking for Teddy. I kept Teddy’s secret. Was Charlie being nice to me just so I’d take him into my confidence?
It may have been a nice spring day for some, but for me it was clouded and bruised and portended storms. The city air smelled rancid and bitter.
“I’d better go,” I said. I couldn’t keep the anger out of my voice.
“Right,” Charlie said. He stabbed his toe at something invisible. “Listen…”
“Don’t,” I snapped.
“Okay.” His voice was wounded, sour. “Okay. See you, then.”
I watched him walk away from me, waiting until he’d darted across the street, until he walked on down the avenue, head down, that now familiar wolflike gait, with his hands jammed deep into his pants’ pockets. Only then did I turn toward the apartment.
I found it empty except for the staff—Adela still rummaging around the bedrooms, fetching and distributing clean linens and laundry; Malcolm setting the dining room for dinner. I still didn’t feel comforta
ble fetching Teddy’s journal from the drawer in my room; it would have to wait until I didn’t feel someone’s sharp eyes on me.
The apartment, for all it had, was a vast white space, luxurious and lonely and sad. I wondered at that, at my aunt and uncle living in a place with no heart, having a life with no soul. I sat in the library as the afternoon slipped toward evening, but for a change I wasn’t reading.
CHAPTER 23
Lou
Yeah, I remember when Teddy came into our little world. Teddy’s uncle recommended him to Danny. Said Teddy was discreet.
Danny took a liking to him right off the bat. He was a good hard worker. But I had to be real careful, ’cause Teddy was a good-looking kid and older than me and younger than Danny, and he’d been a war hero and all that. I had to make sure Danny never found us alone together, even having a simple conversation, ’cause I hated to think what Danny would do to either one of us.
It was Paddy who liked to yak about the greenhouse. Danny didn’t seem to mind when Paddy talked to me in private, though I sure did. Especially after that time Paddy followed me out to the beach. When all I wanted was a little sun after a long, cooped-up winter.
The shadow fell on me, and I sat up. “Hey, Louise.”
“Patrick.” I pulled on my robe.
“Aw, you don’t have to cover up on my account. That new bathing costume sure looks nice on you.”
I could see him looking at my legs. I drew the robe tight around me. “Time I was getting back.”
He sat down next to me, too close. I tried to scootch away, but he put his hand on my arm. “Why are you in such a hurry?”
“Patrick, take your hand off me.”
He did, but not as fast as I wanted. “Say, I know you’ve been dying to see what’s inside the greenhouse. How’s about we go exploring?”
“How about I leave now?” I made to gather my things and stand, but Paddy put his hand on my arm again.
I eyed him hard. “Danny’ll kill you,” I said through my teeth.
“Not if I tell him you came on to me,” Paddy said with a grin. “Come on, little bearcat, just one kiss for your boyfriend’s brother.”
I tried to twist my arm away, but he held me tight. And it would’ve ended badly except for Teddy.
We both heard him pushing through the roses, and Paddy removed his arm just in time.
“Hi!” Teddy came down the path with a big warm smile, so big it made my heart ache with thanks. “Hey, Paddy, we’ve got to move some boxes. Hi, Miss Louise.”
“Move ’em yourself,” Paddy grumbled.
“Hi, Teddy. Say, would you be a sweetheart and help me up? I’m about done roasting out here.”
Teddy helped me to my feet, and I beat it for the house double time.
Yes, I would’ve agreed with Teddy’s uncle Bert. Teddy was discreet. And that war hero stuff—even with the mutterings, I knew that Teddy had the hero’s touch.
CHAPTER 24
MAY 23–24, 1925
Houdini, who has a genius for contriving, and then getting out of dangerous situations, was in the most ticklish position of his eventful life yesterday afternoon.
—“Houdini in Sealed Coffin 91 Minutes,” Youngstown Vindicator, August 6, 1926
Jo
The elevator door slammed open, and Melody walked straight into the library and right past me without missing a beat. She opened the hidden cabinet, yanked out a bottle and a glass, poured some of the brown liquid into the glass, and knocked that drink back without a second’s hesitation; then she refilled.
“Mel…”
She whirled on me, pointing her index finger at me while she still held the bottle by the neck. “Don’t.” Her face was twisted, contorted, all that pretty girlish charm lost to some inner demon. She knocked back the second drink.
This was not the Melody who’d welcomed me to New York, who’d outfitted me from head to toe, who’d partied at the speakeasy.
It hurt just to look at her. Tears sprang into my eyes, and Melody turned away, putting the bottle back in the cabinet only after topping up the glass yet again. Then she settled into a chair opposite, watching me, swirling the scotch around and around.
“I bet you think I’m really sick,” she said.
“I think you have a problem,” I whispered. “And not just with the booze.”
“Yeah, well, Miss High and Mighty, you’ve got no idea.” She watched me with narrowed eyes. “What makes you so special? How come you think you’re so right?” She took a gulp. “Why do you think you’ve got it rough and you alone, you little Goody Two-shoes?”
That hurt. “I don’t think that way at all.”
“Oh, sure. Perfect Teddy up and disappears, and it all falls on you now, doesn’t it? Which must make you bloody annoyed.”
“That’s got nothing to do with you.” I felt angry now. I wanted to give her my sympathy, but she was making it hard.
“Are you sure?” She leaned toward me. “You asked me a few days ago why you were sent here. You have no idea why you’re here, in this apartment, right now, do you?”
Something in the way she said it made my insides freeze. I lied, “Pops thinks I should find a husband. He sent me here because he thought your parents would help me meet the kind of man…” I couldn’t finish. It was all a cover, a lie.
She snorted. “Something like that.” She took a sip, staring hard into her glass.
I leaned forward, sliding closer. “Something like what, Mel?”
“Find a something, that’s for sure.” She nodded. “Women got the vote, right? We’ve got all this freedom? Sure thing. Let me fill you in on a small surprise. Nothing’s really changed, Jo. We’re still property. We’re still being laced up good and tight. We’re still being told what to do, how to think, what to feel, and oh, by the way, put on a good show, girls. ’Cause if you step too far out of line, look out. Somebody’s gonna take away everything you care about. Somebody’s gonna tell you you can’t have what you want. Somebody’s gonna break your heart.”
“Mel.” I didn’t know what to say.
“Aw, honey. Maybe I can just get over it, huh? I bet all it’ll take is me reciting that line, you know, the cure from that Frenchie psychologist. Coué, or whatever his name is.” Her voice went up a notch as she parodied. “‘Every day in every way I’m getting better and better.’ Hah!” She tossed back the last of her drink, slammed down the glass, and stood and stalked out of the room.
I sank back, stunned. Somebody had broken Melody’s heart, no doubt about it. And she’d kept all that emotion locked up good and tight, so that I hadn’t seen it until now.
The shadows were long and I would have turned on a light, but I kept thinking, trying to piece it all together. It was dark in the library when Chester came home. He turned on a lamp, looked up and saw me, and started.
“Cuz! Sitting alone in the shadows?” He grinned, then shook his head and put up his hands, wiggling his fingers as if he was conjuring evil. “The Cates family has already gotten to you.”
“Stop.” I couldn’t put up with Chester’s obnoxious behavior at that moment.
“Whoa, sorry. What bit you?”
Maybe Chester could enlighten me, at least about Melody. “Your sister has a serious problem.”
Chester turned and paced away from me before answering. He sat down and drew his hands behind his head. “Yes. She does.”
“What do you know about it?”
He shrugged, but kept his eyes cast up, addressing the ceiling.
“Chester, come on. Don’t you want to help her?”
“Jo, nobody can help Mel now. She made her bed, and now she’s got to lie in it.”
I snorted. “What does that mean?”
He moved his eyes to meet mine. “It means Melody made a mistake. One she’s going to pay for the rest of her life. And that’s all I’m gonna say about it.”
I shook my head. He didn’t want to help his sister; he refused to tell me anything but wanted to know
what I knew. I disliked him for what he’d done when we were kids; now I was beginning to detest him. Only one thing might make him open up. I thought about how helping Melody was worth my taking a risk. “Okay, Chester. Have it your way. You can forget about learning another thing about Teddy.” I bit my lip. If he called my bluff, I might have to tell him something.
We watched each other in silence. It was so quiet I could hear the tick, tick of the small brass clock on the bookshelf across the room.
“I’ll think about it,” he said. Then he got up and left.
There was no family dinner that evening. Uncle Bert was working late; Aunt Mary had to attend some social function or other. Melody and Chester stayed put in their rooms. I ate alone at the great polished dining table, served by Malcolm, who did his best to make me comfortable even when he was clearly feeling the brunt of the awkward silence. I went to my room, uneasy with the weight of the sadness that hung over my aunt and uncle’s house.
And at last I had my room to myself and knew I wouldn’t be disturbed or spied on. Teddy’s journal was waiting for me, maybe to give me answers to my questions. I closed my bedroom door and sat on the floor next to the dresser as I unwrapped the scarf and opened to the page where I’d left off.
The next entries were made after Teddy’d returned home and were short and filled with gaps.
December 12, 1918
They all look good. Ma and Pops and Josie. Makes me feel like I did the right thing. Went to war to take care of them.
January 5, 1919
Marched in the parade. All those folks cheering for me. Felt like a fake. I am a fake. A fake who wanted to get home and got lucky.
Some guy said, “Seventy-seventh. Sounds like it was a lucky number for you, mate.”
Yeah. 77. My lucky number.
