“Right, right,” Mickey says, nodding slowly. “You know, Eddie, I think I’m going to head home. You’re doing great though. I’ll see ya tomorrow, okay?”
“Ah, sure, Boss. You know where to find me, eh?” Eddie helps Mickey on with his coat and hands him his hat.
Alone in the hallway outside the suite, Mickey pauses, confused. “I know this place. I’m at the Ritz. But am I coming or going?” he mutters. “Those damn drops. Can’t think straight.” The elevator door opens and an older couple gets out. The gentleman holds the door open, looking at Mickey.
“Going down?” Mickey asks.
“You bet. All the way to the lobby,” the man replies.
“That’ll do the trick,” Mickey says, nodding to the fellow as the door slides shut. “Home. I’m going home.”
Chapter 17
M aggie looks around the interview room at the precinct. It has been over a year since she’s been here. The same paint, the same smell, the same wobbly table. Joe comes in with a smile. “Maggie, it’s good to see you back.”
“If you say ‘like I belong here’ I’ll not take it as a compliment,” she says, smiling at him.
Joe chuckles. “Like you’ve never been away. I miss you. The force misses you.”
“I’ve been busy working the day job, Joe. The accounting firm takes all my time.”
“I know. It took a while for things to settle down here, too. The Grand Jury gutted us. It’s been a year or more of rebuilding.”
Maggie nods. “I’m glad to hear things are getting back to normal. How goes the Malazdrewicz case? Are you getting good information from him?”
“Oh, yeah. That lead turned out to be a gold mine. And thank you for it. I’m working with the treasury agents, which is a whole other world, you know.”
“I keep thinking I’ll hear you’re bringing Mickey in.”
“It’s always a dilemma. While we’ve got Malazdrewicz in place, we’re letting things ride. There are some interesting things going on with the Duffy crew, and we don’t want to interrupt the flow of information,” Joe says.
“Oh? I had heard things were slower. What with Mickey’s recovery and all.”
“While the cats away the mice will play. There’s a fellow that’s stepped into Henry Mercer’s shoes. A nasty piece of work that’s hooked up with the Lanzettas. You know much about Eddie Regan?”
“No, I don’t think I know the name. I could ask Edith about him if you like.”
“Don’t do that. We don’t want to tip our hand. As I was saying, with Mickey gone and his lieutenant Henry Mercer outta the scene, there’s a bit of a power vacuum that Regan seems to be trying to fill. We’re watching things very closely. How is Mickey by the way? You still see much of Edith? I saw that they were at the funeral.”
“Yes, I see them both regularly. Mickey’s not the same man he was. Much less volatile, as long as he takes his medicine. But it’s maybe calmed him down too much. Some days he doesn’t leave the house, which drives Edith crazy and isn’t Mickey at all.”
“Yeah, I’d heard he wasn’t around the business too much. I never thought I’d say this, but I think it was better when he was running things,” Joe says, shaking his head.
“Mickey’s the reason why I’ve stopped by, actually. I figure, with your relationship with his accountant, that you’d want to know about an issue Mickey’s worried about. And maybe you could do a bit of snooping for me for a change.”
“I’m not the Phantom Informant, but I’ll see what I can do,” Joe says with a wink. “What’s up?”
“He’s asked me to look into a little issue he’s having with his bartenders. He suspects that they’re stealing from him. Receipts are down, but inventory seems to still be coming into the speakeasies at the same pace. They’re either drinking it, selling it themselves on the side and pocketing the change, giving it away, or not recording the sales,” says Maggie.
“I wouldn’t think that speakeasies had many financial controls. It’s not a paperwork-heavy kinda business,” says Joe.
“That’s true, and it isn’t. Anytime you have a cash-based business like a saloon or a restaurant, you have to keep close track of the money and the inventory, or both can go waltzing out the back door. Mickey seems to have a very strong intuitive sense of the business, and Mike Malazdrewicz must have some controls in place to watch for that kind of thing,” says Maggie.
“There’s so little oversight with Mickey not in the picture, I’m not surprised to hear they’re taking advantage of the situation. I’m glad you told me. I’ll check with Mike the next time we meet to see if he knows anything,” says Joe.
Maggie clears her throat. “I was wondering if Malazdrewicz was maybe in on it.”
“Not a chance. He’s in the best situation to understand what happens when Mickey finds out that an accountant is betraying him. He hasn’t forgotten how he got the job in the first place. No, Mike’s on the up and up these days. If there are shenanigans going on in Mickey’s speaks, and he knows about it, he’ll spill the beans.”
“Good, but don’t mention my connection to this, okay. The fewer people who know about the investigation the better,” says Maggie.
“I presume that the Phantom Informant will be on the job?” Joe asks.
“Of course. He’ll be a lot more inconspicuous sitting at the bar than I would be.” Maggie grins.
“You were pretty good selling the stuff from what I remember.” Joe laughs.
“Ha. Operation Minnow. I’m afraid my street corner days are over, Joe. It wouldn’t do for one of my accounting clients to see me working undercover.”
“These are interesting times, Maggie. There’s no telling what might surprise people.”
Chapter 18
M aggie looks around the restaurant in Green’s Hotel. The Garden Cafe used to be crowded with fashionable people. Today, it is half empty. A sign of the times. It’s easy to find Edith, holding court with a couple of waiters. Her gloved hands flutter, and the feather in her hat dips and sways as she flirts shamelessly.
“Edith, sorry I kept you waiting. You wouldn’t believe how snowed under I am. But I think I finally have the last of those year ends out the door.” Maggie swoops down and gives her friend a kiss on each cheek. Up close, she can see the fine lines, and the odd strand of silver amidst dark raven tresses that have escaped her eagle’s eye and tweezers. If Edith is starting to show her age, how do I look?
“Not to worry, doll. These gentlemen were doing a fine job keeping me entertained.” Grinning, one of the waiters hands Maggie a menu.
“Trout almandine is the special today, madam. And will you be sharing Mrs. Duffy’s beverage?”
“No, I think I’ll stick with water, thank you.”
“Oh, pooh.” Edith pouts. “You said you were finished those year-ends. You should cut loose a little and celebrate.”
“All right. But only a half glass. There will be more work when I get back to the office.” The waiter takes out the bottle of champagne chilling in the bucket and pours a small glass. The ladies order, and then turn to the serious business at hand: men.
“I want to hear where things are at with your Ron fella. Has he kissed you yet?”
“No. I mean yes, but just a peck when he leaves me at the door. But not a real kiss, the kind that makes your toes curl,” Maggie answers, blushing. “But he might. I don’t know how I feel about that, Edith.”
“It’s like riding a bicycle, doll. It’ll all come back to you once you get started.”
“Edith, that’s not what I meant.” Maggie, pink faced, drains her glass of champagne and gestures for Edith to fill up her glass again. “I like Ron. I really like Ron. Sometimes, and don’t you dare tell a soul, Edith Duffy, I lie awake at night thinking what it might be like to let go of the fear and just let myself fall in love again.”
Oh, Mags, most dames would be lying awake at night thinking a lot of thoughts about the fella they’re interested in. But afraid to fall in love? Nope, it wouldn’t be o
n the list.”
“But I’m older than he is. I don’t think he knows that. I’m in my early thirties, very early thirties, and he’s in his late twenties. There are a few years between us. I don’t want this to go further if there’s no future in it.”
“Why would there be no future? You’re overthinking this, Mags. You like him. He likes you. The real you he knows and sees almost every day. Not some bit of ink on a birth certificate. Relax. Enjoy it. How long has it been since you’ve had romance in your life? There is a glow in your cheeks, Maggie Barnes, and I like seeing it there. So, if he hasn’t kissed you yet, what has he done?”
“We’ve been out for dinner a few times, and I had brunch with his family.”
“Those are all promising steps. What’s his mother like? You can always tell a lot about a guy by the way he treats his mother.”
“She wasn’t there very long. Apparently she’s not well, and hasn’t been for quite some time. Mother would call it a touch of the vapors. In fact, I should probably ask Mother about her. One thing about Cordelia is that she always knows the inside scoop of what’s happing in her circle of friends. Ron’s fairly guarded about it, but I can tell he’s frustrated. Is that a bad sign?”
“You’ve got to stop looking for reasons not to jump, doll.”
“I know, I know. Did you meet Mickey’s mother before you got married?”
“That was different. I didn’t even know Mickey had a mother when we got married. It was a bit of a whirlwind romance.”
“And how is Mickey these days?”
“Much the same. Oh Mags, I thought I was hitching my wagon to a lion, not a tabby cat. I don’t know which is worse, his moods without the drops or the doped up Mickey. He wanders the house, morose. I can’t get him interested in anything, and I do mean anything,” Edith says with a wink.
Maggie blushes. “Well, that doesn’t sound like Mickey at all.”
“I’m only able to be out today because he’s over at the Ritz.”
“Surely he’s okay to be on his own. He’s not an invalid.”
“I went out a few times and, when I got back, he’d be sitting in the same chair I left him. The coffee beside him grown cold. Hilda can’t be bothered to get him up and dressed. Some days, the bad ones, he just stays in bed.”
“Oh Edith, that’s terrible. A man like Mickey.” Maggie thinks back to the first time she met Mickey: strong, vital, feared. He was her protector when she found herself alone in a tight spot.
“I know how Ron’s father feels. Trapped. Smothered. Being buried alive,” Edith says, whispering into her champagne glass.
“Maybe the dosage on the medicine is too strong?”
“I asked the doctor, and he said that the body gets used to the chloral hydrate, so I have to keep giving him extra. But I don’t know, Maggie. I think Mickey knows what’s going on. He knows he feels different. Or maybe knows he’s not feeling at all. The only sign of life I’ve seen out of him is that stupid pool table. If I’d known how badly he wanted one, I would have planned for it in the renovation of the house, but having him spending all day stuck in that dreary basement is just sad. It can’t be helping matters none.”
“So what are you going to do?” Maggie asks.
“I don’t think there’s anything I can do. I guess I’ll just wall the both of us up in that beautiful house until we both fade away and die.”
“Edith, that’s nonsense,” Maggie says, frowning.
“Ha, and I thought the old house was a mausoleum.” Edith takes a sip of her champagne. “You’re right. Enough of my sad tales. No more talk of men, especially ones who are miserable. Tell me, Miss Career Gal, how are things with you?”
“Things have been so busy at work. I’ve moved across the hall into my father’s old office. It was a moment, sitting in his chair. I can’t believe it some days.”
“Oh Mags, I always knew you had it in you. You’re so smart and committed. I really envy you. Heading out into the world every day, making decisions, having people look up to you and listen to what you have to say. You’ve got the world by the tail.”
“You make it sound like the movies. It’s a ton of hard work and long hours, and sometimes those clients are yelling AT you rather than listening TO you,” Maggie says.
“Yeah, I know. But still, you’re in charge of your life. And a busy life—career and home. It must be crazy juggling Tommy and the lodgers.”
“That is definitely a challenge. I’ve been going in every day but Friday, which means meals are pretty lean at home. No one’s complained, but there have been comments about my delicious roasts that sound a bit nostalgic.”
“You’ve only got the two now, right? The reporter and the teacher?”
“Yes, Reg moved out several months ago. Things were slow at the car dealership, so he moved to California to try his luck there. I haven’t filled the empty room because I’m not sure I want lodgers anymore. The money isn’t as tight as it used to be. Dick and Archie are like family. A couple of brothers, really. Dick is amusing and Archie is cranky, but he has his moments.”
“I talked to both of them out at your mother’s place after the funeral. I see what you mean about Archie. So morose; a real hang-dog look about him.”
Maggie laughs. “No ray of sunshine, that’s for sure.”
“Have you thought about hiring a housekeeper? There’re lots of women right now that could really use the extra money. I’m sure Hilda could hook you up.”
“Money’s not that easy, Edith. I could swap it for room and board, but then I’d be back to letting out the three rooms again. I’ll muddle along. I’ll just try and get better at planning ahead.”
“Maggie, you are the best planner I know.” Edith refills her glass and tops up Maggie’s.
“Not as good as you’d think. Remember that loan I took out against the house a few years ago to fix the roof?”
“I remember. That’s when you went back to school and took those accounting classes. What was that professor’s name? Wasn’t he just something, speaking of mothers?”
The waiter comes over and tops up Edith’s glass, draining the bottle. “Would you like another?”
“Oh no, not for me. I’ve got to go back to work this afternoon, Edith.”
“Just bring me a very dry martini with a couple of olives, will ya sweetie? And I mean dry. Think Arizona.”
Maggie takes a sip of champagne. “Teddy. Yes, my boyfriend with training wheels I think you called him.” The memory causes both gals to chuckle.
“You were telling me about the loan?”
“Right. I knew I shouldn’t have had any champagne. It leaves me fuzzy headed, and in the middle of the work day no less. That horrible loan. They made me secure it against the house. Not the best decision I’ve ever made, although it did get me out of a bad spot.”
“I remember. A leaky roof, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, and upgrades to the kitchen I needed to make because of the lodgers. I’ve been making monthly loan payments for the past five years, but I’m almost at the end.”
“You don’t look happy, Maggie. That’s good news, isn’t it?”
Maggie grimaces. “That last payment is a whopper. It’s called a balloon payment because it’s got principle and interest in it, and it’s due next month. And it’s big. I should have planned for it, but I always pushed that bit of bad news down the road, and now here we are.”
“I take it you don’t have the money?”
“Oh, I could figure it out. Between savings and maybe borrowing against the business, I could meet it. But the question is, do I want to? Do you happen to know what happens if the bank holding your mortgage goes under?”
“Maggie, why would I know anything about that? Sorry, sweetie, but you’re on your own there.”
The waiter puts down Edith’s drink and clears their plates. Edith purrs as she picks up her glass.
“I figure I’ve got a couple of weeks to figure it out,” Maggie says. Her slumped shoulder
s and bowed head a marked contrast to the confident woman who had entered the restaurant earlier.
“Why not ask your friend, Ron?” Edith asks, sucking on her martini olive.
“It’s too soon, Edith. I’d thought of it, but I think I’d rather he saw me in a bathing suit, rolls and wrinkles and all, than to know about something as personal as my finances.”
“You have wrinkles and rolls? Where? I don’t believe it.” Edith holds her hands to her face in mock horror, and Maggie laughs.
“You’re such a card, Edith. You always make me laugh. How about we have dessert to cheer our sad selves up? A bit of something sweet to sweeten our moods?”
Come at the King Page 8
