Ron shrugs. “She’s the boss’s daughter, Miriam. I’m working hard to earn what I get out of life. I don’t want to be the boss’s kid, and I certainly don’t want to marry the boss’s daughter.”
“Ha, you don’t know from nothing, boychick. Trust me, I know. That girl. You could do worse.”
* * * *
Frank paces in Maggie’s living room. He stops when the telephone rings and goes unanswered. He’d arrived for their regular evening report and found the house empty. He’s worried about Maggie and Tommy.
Tonight, Archie and Dick are out. Frank curses his inability to lift the receiver and find out what’s going on. He’d gathered from last night’s conversation between the two lodgers that Maggie and Tommy have gone to Overbrook to be with her deteriorating father. Since then, Frank’s been unable to gather any news. Dick’s been working long hours at the paper, and Archie’s spent a lot of time in his room. When the lodgers don’t talk to each other, Frank is at a loss for news. He starts pacing again. He can’t even pull back the drapes to peer out the window. Damn.
Settling into his chair to wait, Frank takes his customary two matches and lights a cigar. He likes a good flame to get the darn thing started. Maggie’s a strong woman. Her father’s death will hurt, but it’s not anything she can’t get through. It’s a good thing she’s had this year with him. It’s given them both a chance to make amends. And it’s been good for Tommy.
I wouldn’t wish on anyone the anguish of not being able to say goodbye. My goodbyes have gone unheard too many times. Maybe fate’s cruel hand at missing out on one that mattered most?
Outside, a car door slams. Is it Archie and Dick, home at last? Finally, someone to answer the telephone. Or maybe it’s Maggie and Tommy? Or maybe I should just go outside and look? Frank snorts at his impatience. I’ve gotten comfortable with Maggie’s good manners; holding the door open for me so I can come into a room or leave like a normal person. I guess I’ll wait here, like a normal person would, and see who comes in.
The front door opens and Maggie enters, dropping her overnight bag by the stairs. She looks defeated. Tommy hovers close by, a blank look on his face.
“Maggie, what’s happened?”
She raises her eyes and looks at him, giving a slight shake to her head, then she focuses on Tommy. “Here, sweetheart, give me your coat. How about I make some hot chocolate? Would you like that?”
Tommy merely nods and heads off into the kitchen.
“Father’s gone, Inspector,” she says in a low voice so as not to be overheard.
Frank takes a step toward her, his arms out. Then he stops, knowing the comfort is impossible to give. “I’m so very sorry, Maggie. Was it hard?”
Maggie shakes her head. “I can’t talk now. I have to see to Tommy. Are Archie and Dick here?”
“No, they’re out. It’s just us.”
“Let me get some food into Tommy and get him settled. Depending on how that goes, maybe we can talk later?”
Frank nods, wishing he could do more.
* * * *
Frank and Maggie are settled in the living room, Tommy upstairs. The house is quiet, with Archie and Dick still out for the evening.
“How is your mother coping with it all?”
“She’s shattered. I didn’t want to leave her, but I needed to come home to get a change of clothes, and Tommy needs to go to school tomorrow. I’m going to go back out there tomorrow after Tommy’s home from school and be with her. There’re so many arrangements, and Mother shouldn’t be alone.”
Maggie’s shoulders drop, and she puts a shaky hand to her forehead. “Oh Inspector, it’s all too much. I have to do a quick grocery run and put something on the back of the stove for Archie and Dick. And I must drop by the office and see Ron. We’re swamped with work right now, and I want him to know what’s happened. Oh Frank, I never thought I’d miss him this much.” Maggie cries and sinks deeper into the chair, folding in on herself.
“There’s a strong bond between fathers and daughters, Maggie. I cherished my own daughter, Edna.”
Maggie gathers herself. “It must have been hard for you, Inspector, not to be able to say goodbye. At least we had that. Were you there when your wife died? And the others in your family?”
“My wife, Mary, went very peacefully. I, as this—a ghost—sat beside her while she slept. Just before dawn, she had awakened and looked at me, and when she saw me she knew that it was time. She smiled then, not surprised to see me. Almost expecting it. And then she slipped away. I thought that I would follow—but I didn’t go with her; I stayed in this form.” Frank’s voice shakes with the ache of loneliness.
“That sounds almost lovely. What a gentle way to go.”
“It was less peaceful for my daughter, Edna, when her turn came. She had been ill. Not cancer, but consumption. It was sad. It was hard to see her suffer.”
“Was she able to see you as well?”
“Yes, but she was alarmed. She fought death with every breath. I was no welcome sight.”
“Death can be frightening.”
“I’ve seen so much of it. Family, friends, all loved and lost. When you’ve been around as long as I have, death is not unusual. I’ve come to regard it as not the opposite of life, but rather as part of it. I must take solace in remembering that those we love are always part of us. It’s all I can do.”
“Thank you, Inspector. That helps. I’ll pass those words along to Tommy. He may take some comfort in them, as well.”
“Do you think he’ll sleep?” Frank asks.
“I think so. He’s exhausted.”
“How is he handling it all?”
“We had time to talk on the drive back. There’s something about traveling at night in a car that makes it easy to speak from the heart. We talked about Father, but we also talked about his friend Oskar, and even about Jack. He’s had more than his fair share of death.”
Frank regards the woman in the chair opposite. He admires her resoluteness and her strength. “It was good for you to have this time with your father; that you were able to find a way back to each other.”
Maggie sighs, and twists her hands in her lap. “Oh, Inspector, I’m not so sure. I regret bringing this sadness into Tommy’s life. If I hadn’t reconciled with Father, Tommy wouldn’t have gotten to know and love his grandfather, and wouldn’t be grieving now.”
“And he would not have had the chance to know him if you hadn’t. You gave Tommy a gift. It’s bittersweet, but to have the memories, the counsel, the love of his grandfather, is worth the pain of saying goodbye. And think of the joy you gave your father. He was able to teach his grandson how to fish, and they shared a love of books. Your father should rest easy knowing that his legacy will live on through you and Tommy.”
They sit in silence, Frank’s thoughts wandering amongst the memories of loved ones gone. Not to be able to provide the smallest comfort when someone you love is grieving, frightened, dying. It’s an impossible burden. He glances up and sees tears on Maggie’s face. “Aw, Maggie. Don’t cry, my love. He’s at peace now.”
“Do you think so, Inspector? Can you look for him and tell him I love him, and how sorry I am that we had so many years apart? Can you find him and give him that message for me?” It breaks Frank’s heart to see the anguish on Maggie’s face.
“I would do that for you if I could, Maggie. But I won’t be seeing your father any more than I can see my wife, Mary. I’m here, not there.”
Maggie’s tears grow to sobs, and she covers her face. Frank comes and stands beside her, straining to give her solace for her grief.
The door opens and Archie and Dick come in. “Maggie. We saw the car out front. How are you?”
The men come over, and Frank steps back, feeling he is intruding. Dick crouches at her feet; Archie wraps his arms around her shoulders. “There, there, Maggie, we’re here now. It will be all right.” Maggie is held as she weeps, not alone anymore.
He stares at the tableau, his h
eart heavy. It’s not the first time I have been jealous of others’ humanity, but it may be the first time I’ve ever been jealous of another man.
Chapter 10
J oe has changed his usual Saturday schedule with the Treasury agents and Mike Malazdrewicz. Maggie’s father is going to be buried Saturday, so he’s asked to meet with each group on Friday.
Rather than in the diner for their usual weekend breakfast, Joe is meeting Mike at one of the empty, shuttered banks that the police are patrolling. Perhaps not unusual for an accountant to be seen going inside, should anyone happen to look. Joe had come in much earlier through the back, with a key that he’d filched from the desk sergeant’s drawer.
The space is cavernous, shadows reaching out of dark corners. Footsteps echo. Sunlight is filtered through dusty windows, the sadness, panic, and desperation absorbed by the very walls. The space seems suspended in time.
Joe and Mike have sought refuge in a space with a more human scale than the empty banking hall: inside the former manager’s office is a desk, a table and a couple of chairs. Out there, their voices had been hushed and anxious; here they can speak in normal tones.
“It’s creepy out there.” Mike says, looking around. “The ghosts of failure and bankruptcy haunt the place.” He shivers.
Joe looks around at the dust and cobwebs, and a few scattered papers still on the desk. “Yeah, I see what you mean. Lives disrupted.”
“‘I did but dream. O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!’” Mike intones.
Joe shivers. “You and your Shakespeare. Enough of spooks.” Joe clears his throat and opens his note pad, tapping the pencil on the clean sheet of paper. “So, what do you have for me, Mike? Anything more on the Lanzettas’ plans with Duffy?”
“Oh, it’s not good, Joe.” Mike hunches forward, his hands clasped in front of him. “Eddie is setting up to sell drugs for the Lanzettas: heroin and cocaine. He’s talking about making big money. Those Italians are a tough group. Mixed up with the mob in New York.”
“I’m surprised that Mickey’s going along with this.”
“I don’t think Mickey knows anything about it. He’s always been dead set against moving drugs. Just the booze and the ponies, and a few dames. The usual vices. But drugs, no way. Since his wife, Edith, had that trouble a few years back, and Henry Mercer, too, he’s said ‘no way’ to drugs.”
“So, Eddie’s doing it behind his back?”
“You gotta understand, Joe. It’s not business as usual. Mr. Mercer’s gone, of course. He was always the one that ran things. Mickey would dream up the grand schemes and Henry Mercer would figure out a way to get ‘em done. And Mickey himself isn’t around much, either. Which is almost a good thing,” Mike says, looking over his shoulder. “When he is in, he’s not his normal self. You could say he hasn’t been right for a while now, but certainly not since they had that trouble over at the Ritz.” Mike checks his other shoulder, and whispers, “You know what I mean, right? That shooting in the hall? When Mickey gunned down those guys?”
Joe nods, “Yeah, I remember.”
“Well, Eddie’s basically stepped in and is running things. A lot of the old timers are staying quiet about it. Gus and Fingers just find things to do that get them outta the line of fire. And Stan and Porter and Alfred? Well, they just put their heads down. Go along to get a long, you know what I mean? They all got families to feed, and bills to pay. Times are tough, and at least they’re earning good dough.”
Joe nods. This is all old news. “Come on Mike, the Lanzettas. What have you got for me?”
But Mike is caught up in his narrative and won’t be sidetracked. Once a week he meets with Joe like a Father Confessor, and he has stuff he needs to get off his chest. Joe will get what he needs, but all in good time.
“And then there’s a bunch of new fellas that Eddie’s brought in. They don’t know the ropes. They’re not from the neighborhood. No, it’s not like the old days,” Mike says, shaking his head sadly.
“Mike, we’re really interested in this new partnership. Do you think you could get us more information on it? Suppliers, shipment dates, that kind of thing?” Joe asks.
“I suppose. I could track Eddie down and tell him I need some invoices or something like that. He still brings me the cash, so I could talk to him then.” Mike works through logistics in his head. “Sure, I can do that.”
“And let us know what Mickey knows. If maybe he’s in on the deal.”
“I will. But don’t count on anything. As I said, I’m sure Mickey don’t know nothing about it. He hates the drugs.”
Chapter 11
F ebruary. Her father’s funeral. Fittingly, the day is raw, and threatens snow. What a way to start an ugly month. Nothing good happens in February. Years of being alone on Valentine’s Day. Her birthday. The shooting at the Cadix. Another bad memory to add to what is, thankfully, a short month.
The indoor church service is tasteful—the eulogy delivered by an old family friend. Her father was well respected in business circles, and regarded as a community leader in Overbrook.
Due to the weather, the graveside service is mercifully short. Standing beside her mother, with Tommy on her other side, Maggie receives the tributes and condolences of a parade of mourners. Cordelia, hiding behind a black veil and society’s expectations that limit emotions to private places, carries on.
As Ron steps forward, his father beside him, he holds Maggie’s gloved hands in his. “Don’t worry about the office, Maggie. I’ve got everything under control.” For one moment she wants to throw herself into the shelter of his strong arms. Make it better. Instead, Maggie gives his hand a quick squeeze, grateful that he’s there.
When Ron let’s go, Ron’s father takes both her hands in his. “So sad to meet you like this, Mrs. Barnes. Ron talks about you often. My wife sends her condolences and regrets that she wasn’t able to be here. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to join you at your parents’ house, but she did want me to extend an invitation to join us for brunch on Sunday, if you’re able.”
“Thank you, Mr. McNeely, and pass along my appreciation to Mrs. McNeely. If I might beg a rain check? I want to spend as much time with my mother as I can right now. Mother, this is Ron’s father, Mr. McNeely.”
“Of course, I know the McNeelys. From Bryn Mawr? How is your dear wife?”
Maggie passes Ron and his father along the line and turns to the next mourner.
Mickey and Edith are there. “You make sure you call me, Mags. And soon,” Edith says, whispering into her ear as Maggie leans forward for the customary double peck on the cheek.
Mickey covers her hands with his own. “A sad day, Maggie. I only ever heard good things about your father.”
Maggie pretends not to listen as Mickey greets Tommy. “Tom, so sorry for your loss. It sounds like you were spending a lot of time with your granddad, which was nice. For him, and for you.”
“Thanks, Mickey.”
“How you holding up, kid?”
“I’m okay. Thanks for coming today. Having you and Mrs. Duffy here means a lot to my ma.”
“I didn’t just come to see your ma, Tom.” Mickey continues to grip Tommy’s hand. Silent communication passes between them, and then Edith is kissing Tommy on the cheek. “You poor sweetie. How ya holding up, Tommy?”
Maggie turns her attention back to the receiving line. Bizarrely, Joe and Fanny are next. It’s like my life is parading past me.
Everyone is heading out to the Gifford’s in Overbrook after the service. Maggie ushers her mother into the car, then explains she will join her at the house. There’s one important mission she needs to complete.
“Come on, Tommy. Let’s go pay our respects to your father while we’re here.” She puts her arm around him, noting how tall and broad he’s getting. He feels like a young man. He is a young man.
Maggie sits on a convenient bench close by Jack’s gravesite. “This is new. How thoughtful,” she says, wondering over the benefactor. It�
�s like it was placed here just for us so that we’d have a comfortable spot to chat.
She bows her head while Tommy stands near the headstone. Jack, I hope you and father are able to lay aside your differences. I have no doubt that you’re both in heaven now, and eternity is a long time to spend with someone you don’t get along with.
Chuckling a little, Maggie raises her head and reads the inscription on Jack’s headstone.
John Thomas Barnes
Beloved husband and father
1892 – 1919
‘Solidarity Forever’
Come at the King Page 5
