Come at the King

by Sherilyn Decter

  “Ha! Touché. I just wanted something different. When I saw it in the window at Wanamaker’s it just looked so cheery I had to buy it. Where should I put this?” She thrusts the large cake box forward. Tommy, bounding down the stairs, offers to take it to the kitchen.

  Maggie laughs. “I’ve seen the cookies disappearing all morning, young man. Maybe take the cake to Sadie and Grandmother in the kitchen. They’ll make sure it arrives on the dining room table in one piece.”

  “Aw, Mother.”

  “Don’t ‘aw-Mother’ me, Tommy. You have evidence on your shirt,” Maggie says, smiling and brushing crumbs off. She turns back to Edith. “Can I get you to go back to the kitchen and rescue Sadie from Mother? And chaperone Tommy? The cake will need to be put on a cake plate.”

  “Sure, doll,” Edith says, heading into the now crowded kitchen with Tommy and the cake. “Mrs. Gifford, how lovely to see you. And I love your dress. That color is so you.”

  Maggie chuckles. Cordelia and Edith, two forces of nature, two women learning to get on with life on their own. She’s about to close the door when Ron pulls up. My, doesn’t he look handsome. A warm glow spreads out from her tummy, and she gives him a large smile. She walks down the veranda steps toward the car.

  “I’m so glad you’ve come.” She links her arm through his. “Nervous?”

  “Very. Your mother, your lodgers, your best friend. What could go wrong?”

  “Nothing will go wrong, you goof. They’re going to love you like I do.”

  “Then marry me,” he says, dropping to one knee on the sidewalk.

  Maggie laughs delightedly, looking around and pulling him up. “Stop it. People will see.”

  Ron gets up and kisses her on the cheek. “All right. I’ve got it out of my system. I’ll behave.” The two stroll into the house.

  Cordelia swoops as soon as they’re in the door. “So, you’re Mr. McNeely. My daughter has told me all about you.”

  “Oh, I sincerely hope not,” Ron says with an engaging grin at Maggie, trying to crack Cordelia’s icy façade.

  “Why don’t you two sit and get to know each other? And Mother, be nice.”

  Cordelia harrumphs, but consents to be lead away by Ron to a corner near the fireplace where they can talk.

  Maggie is putting the final touches on the table when the doorbell rings again. Archie, who was just coming down the stairs, answers.

  “Hello, you must be Henry Mercer. Maggie says you work for Max Hassel. Is it true that he doesn’t carry a gun?” Archie says.

  Henry comes in laden with several huge bouquets. “Um, yes. You’ve got to be Archie. I’ve heard about you. You seem to know a lot about bootlegging,” Henry says. Archie preens.

  Maggie meets Henry in the front hall. “Henry. Thank you for coming. Sadie will be thrilled you’re here.”

  “I couldn’t decide which bouquet, so I bought them all. Some are for you, and thank you for including me today. And I thought some would be for Sadie. She loves flowers.”

  “How lovely. Why don’t you take these back to the kitchen and find some water for them? Sadie’s there and will be able to find a vase. And shoo everyone else out, will you? Maybe send Tommy to bring more chairs.”

  “Here, I’ll show you,” offers Archie. “So, what’s Mickey Duffy like? And did you know Boo-Boo Hoff?”

  Oh, oh. I’d better watch that Archie doesn’t monopolize Henry’s time too much. He’s such a fan. Hopefully, he left his autograph book upstairs.

  “Hi, Mr. Mercer.” Maggie smiles when she hears her son’s voice in the kitchen. She heads back to try and create a bit of privacy for Henry and Sadie.

  “I see that Joe and Fanny are just pulling up. Archie, can you get the door for them? And Tommy, why don’t you show the children your room? I want to rescue Ron. Come on, Edith, we’ll leave these two alone for a bit.” She winks at Sadie, who smiles gratefully. Henry hovers. Maggie loves to see the way they look at each other.

  Dick, Joe, and Archie are crowded in the small foyer with Fanny and their two small children. And Fanny is expecting again. Goodness, we’re going to be overrun with babies. Maggie comes over and gives her a hug. “Congratulations, Fanny. You look radiant.”

  “That’s a lovely thing to say. My ankles are swollen and I can’t get my rings on. I hate being pregnant in the summer,” Fanny says, but laughs. The toddler scrambles after his older sister, who’s making a dash for the dining room. “Jo-Jo, stop chasing your sister.” Fanny makes a lunge for the two year old.

  “Come on, sport. Let’s go meet the rest of the party,” Joe says, swooping down and picking up Joe Jr. The little boy giggles delightedly.

  “Airplane. Airplane.”

  “We’ll go outside and play airplane later. I’m sure Uncle Archie would love to give you a ride, eh Arch?”

  The terrified look on Archie’s face makes Joe and Maggie laugh.

  “Well, Uncle Dick is always good for airplane rides,” says Dick, who takes the small, wiggling boy from Joe. “Holy cow, you’re getting big. Now, where’s your sister? Is that her hiding under the dining room table? Let’s go find her.”

  “Which one is your fella, Maggie?” Fanny whispers.

  “The one my mother has cornered in the living room. Maybe give him a hand?”

  “You bet, I’m on it.”

  What a houseful. Children running around. Happy expectant mothers. Edith and Cordelia, a pair of strong women. And Ron. He fits in so well.

  Maggie looks for the Inspector. Maybe it’s too crowded in here? He may not make it. This disappoints her. What would I have done without him? The roof. The loan. Going back to school. Letting my father back into my life. No doubt I’ll see him later when things are a bit calmer. There’s a sudden cry as Joe’s youngest bumps his head on the table and has everyone scurrying.

  Plates are filled. The kasha knish are a hit. People find a spot to perch.

  “Hey, Maggie. If this is a party, we need some music. Mind if I turn the radio on?” Dick asks, already fiddling with the dials. The popular tune ‘Brother, can you spare a dime’ pours out.

  Edith jumps up and shoulders him out of the way. “Oh pooh, that’s too sad for a day like today. Pick something else. Something with some bounce,” she says, also spinning the dial. She finds something with a bit more pep. “You Rascal You,” Edith says, nodding.

  “Are you referring to me?” Dick smiles and exaggerates a leer.

  “Silly boy. No, that’s the song. Come here and we can dance.” Dick grabs her and gives a deep dip. Everyone laughs, and Tommy grabs five year old Hazel’s hands and starts to dance with her. Jo-Jo pulls at their arms, trying to dance too, so Sadie scoops him up and they sway and twirl to the music.

  Maggie puts a hand on Ron’s arm. “Sweetie, if I’m going to burn that mortgage of mine, I’m going to need a blaze. Can I get you to look after that?” Ron grins, and starts a fire in the fireplace with much advice from the assembled men. Standing in front of the fireplace, Maggie looks out at her tribe. Her heart swells tight in her chest; the feeling is complete when she sees the Inspector standing in the hallway. He smiles and nods.

  Maggie clears her throat to get everyone’s attention, but it’s not until Ron begins to tap a spoon on the side of a glass that folks stop chatting, and settle. Dick turns off the radio.

  “My dear friends and family. I want to thank you so much for being part of this day. It’s not one that I had ever thought to celebrate.” She holds up the discharged mortgage, a duplicate for just this purpose. “I want to thank a lot of people who have helped me get here. Tommy, you never complained about the watery soup, or when we moved lodgers into the house. We studied together when I went back to school. You have helped me when I was juggling work and home. You are one terrific kid, a young man now, and I love you.”

  “Aw, Mother.” Tommy, sitting on the arm of Cordelia’s chair, blushes. “You promised no mushy stuff.” Maggie looks around the laughing room, seeing Henry with his arm around Sadie
, standing near the door to the kitchen, and hopes the couple find a way to be together.

  “I also want to thank Joe and Archie and Dick. You started out as lodgers and have become my family. I’m grateful for your tolerance as I learned to be a landlady. And for your patience as I took on even more with school, and now work.”

  The three lodgers salute her with raised punch glasses.

  “These are troubled times, but I feel that things are solid underneath us. No one will take away my house. Being financially secure means Tommy and I have a strong foundation to build on—and a non-leaky roof over our heads. And the people we love are beside us.” She and Ron exchange smiles. “Meeting these payments has sometimes been difficult, but I did it—no small thing for a woman to say. Five years ago, when I took out the loan, I never imagined my life now. Thank you all for being part of that journey.”

  And, with that, she flings the mortgage document into the fireplace. The guests watch, mesmerized, as the edges of the pages turn brown and curl. A cheer goes up when the document bursts into flame.

  “Mazel tov, Maggie,” Sadie cheers.

  Henry gazes at her adoringly. “Yes, mazel tov.”

  Maggie looks at the burning document in the fireplace and says with force, “Goodbye and good riddance.”

  Chapter 51

  A s the end of the school year approaches, Tommy is snowed under with studying for finals. He’s been spending time in the library with Cecilia but, when he really needs to get work done, he cracks the books at home or in Maggie’s office. He’s diligent about his grades, especially now he has a smart girl to impress, but all work and no play makes for a dull boy. Tommy is glad when Jimmy calls to set up a rematch at the pool hall.

  “Hey, I thought we were going to play some pool. Why are we stopping here?” Tommy asks Jimmy, who has pulled up in front of an older apartment building.

  “We’ll get there, pal. I gotta make a stop for Mickey first. Give me a hand with those boxes in the back seat, will ya.”

  Jimmy and Tommy each carry a cardboard box up the stairs. It’s a mean, dark place that reminds Tommy, unpleasantly, of picking up bets from old man Schmidt.

  “What are we doing?”

  “Every couple of weeks I drop off groceries for Emerich.”

  “Who’s Emerich?”

  “You’ll see,” Jimmy says, knocking at the door of one of the apartments. Inside, a dog begins to bark.

  An old man, thin, bald, bent double, opens the door. He’s wearing a ratty cardigan sweater that hasn’t got all the buttons through the right holes. Tommy doesn’t giggle when he sees the man is toothless.

  “Hiya Mr. Juettner. Hiya, mutt.”

  “James, come in. Come in.” Mr. Juettner speaks with a thick accent. “Put the boxes on the table. You are too kind. And make sure to thank Mr. Duffy.”

  Tommy glances around the one room apartment: a bouncing dog; a narrow, iron bed; a couple of wooden chairs; a small, old refrigerator—the kind with the motor on top. In the corner, on a table, is a small, hand-cranked printing press.

  Emerich Juettner sees him looking. “Your friend like to see? Come,” he says, tottering over to the press.

  Tommy follows, curious.

  “I print zee money. See?” Emerich says, giving it a crank. A paper one dollar bill is revealed.

  “Neat,” cries Tommy, picking up the still damp sheet. “Oh, oh. Mr. Juettner? You’ve spelled Washington wrong.”

  “What?” Emerich holds the paper up close to rheumy eyes. “No. Not wrong. Washington.”

  “No, see here. It says W-A-S-H-N-G-I-T-O-N. You’ve got the ‘I-N-G’ part mixed up.” Emerich peers again. “You are right. James, your friend has good eyes. I fix.”

  Jimmy, who has been unpacking the boxes and putting food into the refrigerator, holds up a package from the butcher. “Can I give mutt his bone?”

  “Sure. Sure. He is good dog. Right, mutt?”

  “You call your dog ‘Mutt’?” Tommy asks.

  “He have no name. No need one from me. He know who he is, right mutt?”

  Mutt is sitting in front of Jimmy, tail wagging, waiting for his bone. Jimmy unwraps the meaty bone and gives it to the dog.

  “We gotta get going, Mr. Juettner. But I’ll be by again soon,” Jimmy says.

  Emerich grabs two crumpled dollars off the stack on the dresser. “Here. You take this for your trouble. One for you, James, and one for your friend.” He presses a bill into each boy’s hand. “Thank you, and thank Mr. Duffy. He good man.”

  The two boys head back down the stairs. “What’s his story?” Tommy asks.

  “Emerich? It’s a good one. You won’t believe it. A long time ago, when Mickey was first getting started, Emerich tried to pass one of his counterfeit dollar bills at one of Mickey’s speaks. You saw how ‘good’ they were, right? Well, the bartender spotted it right away and tells Mickey, who goes to raise hell with Emerich. He and the old man get talking and, before you know it, he’s dropping off groceries. Turns out that Emerich was really hard up and didn’t have any money for food for mutt. So he figured he’d make some, money I mean. He goes to the stationary store and buys some letter paper and then copies a one dollar bill.”

  “How’d he do that?”

  “He was an engraver in Austria, where he’s from. One time, he showed me how he does it. You photograph a dollar bill and transfer the image onto a zinc plate. Then you put the plate in something called an acid bath. With a little retouching, and a small hand press, he is ready to make zee money by, well, making more money.”

  Tommy shakes his head in disbelief as they get back into the car. “That’s amazing. You say he’s been doing it a long time. How come he’s not been caught? They’re not very good copies.”

  Jimmy starts the car, and they drive off toward the pool hall. “He has two strict rules that he never breaks. He only makes one dollar bills and, I mean, whoever looks at one of those. People would look close at a twenty or even a tenner, but a one? Nah.”

  “And the other rule?”

  “He never passes more than one at a time, and never at the same place twice. He’ll walk miles to make sure it’s a different store. And he buys things that cost a lot less than a dollar, like trolley fares. They cost a nickel, so he gets ninety-five cents of real money back. He saves up the real money and uses it to pay his rent.”

  Tommy shakes his head. “Why does Mickey give him groceries?”

  “Emerich is a nice old guy. Everybody likes him. I guess Mickey has a soft spot for hard luck cases. And, I dunno, he likes dogs? Mickey himself makes sure I go regular. I’ve been doing it for a couple of years now, but before me another guy did it.”

  At the pool hall, Tommy racks the balls and they begin to play.

  “What’s new, champ?”

  “I gotta girl,” Tommy says, shyly.

  “What? Is she blind?”

  “Ha ha. No, idjit. She’s very pretty. I met her at the library.”

  “How smart can she be to be going out with the likes of you?”

  “I’m going to invite her to the dance they’re having down at the community hall.”

  “First date?”

  “First real date. We’ve gone out for malts sometimes, but not on a real date where I pick her up at her house.”

  “Oh-oh, meet the mother. Scary stuff.”

  “I’ve met her mother. She’s the head librarian down at the library.”

  “Oh, Tommy, your ma is going to love her.”

  Chapter 52

  E ddie Regan slides into the booth across from Frankie and James Bailey. He’s vibrating with anger over the latest slight from Mickey.

  “That bastard. Treats me like dirt. After all I done for him.”

  Frankie and James exchange knowing looks. “Sounds like Duffy all right. What’s he done to ya?” asks James.

  Eddie glares at him. “None of your business.”

  The bartender puts down another round of whiskeys. Eddie picks up his glass. “
Here’s to the end of Mickey Duffy. Long may he burn in hell.” The other two clink glasses.

  “Have you figured out a plan yet?” Eddie asks.

  “You were saying his old lady threw him out, and that he’s spending his time at the Ritz?” Frankie smacks his lips at the taste of the whiskey.

  “Sleeps there most nights. And he’s either at the Ritz or the warehouse during the day.”

  “The warehouse wouldn’t be good. Too many other shooters. But, if we could catch him napping and alone, that would be easiest. Whaddya think James?” Frankie asks.