by Debra Dunbar
She smiled and gave him a quick handshake. “How are you, Avi?”
“It’s cold, don’t you think?”
She grinned and nodded with exaggerated deliberation. As she turned to Vincent, she said, “Avi, I’d like you to meet my friend. Pete.”
Vincent lifted a brow.
Avi reached out with both hands to grasp Vincent’s. “An honor, sir!”
“I’d ask how business was,” Hattie continued with a glance over her shoulder, “but I think the business speaks for itself.”
Avi sneered. “Bah. These are no good. They sit here all day. Drive off my customers.”
Vincent asked, “Drive them off…how?”
“Well, you know. They are rude. Start fights. Get drunk.”
Hattie leaned in. “Can’t you do anything? Get some protection out here?”
“Protection?” Avi wheezed. “From where? The city?” He whispered with a thrust of his thumb over his shoulder, “Who do you think these bad-newsers work for?”
“I’d like to know,” Vincent said.
“Well, you know. Them.” Avi’s head dropped into his shoulders, almost like a turtle. “The gangsters.”
“What gangsters?” Vincent pushed. “I thought they went out like yesterday’s news.”
Avi shook his head, wide-eyed. “Are you new to town?” The man snickered with a wag of his head. “No, they are today’s news. So many, now. All these angry men, all working for Sharp.”
Vincent sucked in a breath, wincing. “Betty Sharp?”
“She runs the town, now.”
Hattie glanced at Vincent. “I guess she made good on that plan, after all.”
Vincent reached for Avi’s shoulder. “When you say she runs the town…”
Avi’s head retreated a little more into his chest. “No one goes in without her knowing it. No one leaves without her allowing it. Most of the original gangsters went south. It’s just these hooligans now working for her.”
Vincent released Avi’s shoulder, then fished out a fiver. “For your trouble, sir. And a top-off, if you don’t mind?”
Avi stared at the money, then snatched it with timid fingers.
Hattie took Vincent’s arm in hers as they made their way back along the pier, keeping a stiff posture as she put on the manner of a happy couple. As they cleared the last of the Bianco Fiore crews, she muttered, “Betty Capstein’s moved up in the world.”
“Best not use that name around here,” he urged. “Someone like her, with an army of thugs at her beck and call… I get the sense she’s one to take offense and go after a person’s family.”
“I didn’t like what he said about her knowing everyone who enters the city.”
“You picked up on that, too?” Vincent glanced up the river. “I don’t know. I feel like we’re pushing our luck. I figured I could slip into the city by myself. Probably easier than with a war party. But now? I’m not so sure.”
“Do you want to turn around, head back north?”
With a sigh, he nodded.
Once the boat was full of diesel, Hattie had it out on the water and halfway to the Bay within a space of minutes. She didn’t truly relax until they’d cleared Deltaville, and she was sure none of the Bianco Fiore craft had followed them.
Vincent, for his part, remained up by the bow. He just stood there staring into the distance, seemingly immune to the whipping wind. There was that dark fugue again. Hattie was coming to recognize it. Those moments when he retreated so deep inside his head to confront uncomfortable truths. Perhaps he showed it more often around her, now that they had been reunited?
Perhaps that meant he fully trusted her?
She thought about his tale of growing up in the Catholic schools in New York, denied any real Christmas celebration. What sort of childhood would that have been? How desperate would a man like that be today? She knew precisely how desperate. That urge to belong to the Crew had driven him to hunt her down. But even then, he’d been trying to embrace her, not ensnare her. Somehow in spite of all that, he’d wound up a good man. And that seemed to be a miracle.
Watching him, she resolved to send a letter out to her cousin in Brooklyn. With any luck, Vincent had some family left alive. He wasn’t so old he couldn’t reclaim something of his true heritage and maybe the family relationships that were stolen from him.
As they returned to Winnow’s Slip, Hattie stopped the motor. A lone figure stood on the wharf, a single hand stuffed into a trenchcoat pocket.
Vincent stared up at the cloud-laden sky, shaking his head as he swore under his breath.
“It’s about time,” Lefty called from the shore.
Hattie started the engine again just long enough to dock. Vincent moored the craft to its slip, avoiding eye contact with his handler the whole time. When Hattie reached the pier, she stood square-shouldered in front of Lefty.
“Hello again, Mr. Mancuso.”
Lefty pulled his hand from his coat and bowed low. The man had manners, that was for certain.
Those manners faded, however, as Vincent brushed around Lefty.
“You feel like answering my question, or am I going to just stand here like a nugget?”
Vincent huffed, “What?”
“I told you one of these days, you’ll run off without me, and that’s when you’ll get in real trouble. I’m guessing you secured Miss Malloy’s assistance in your little errand?”
“We just took in the lay of the land, is all. We didn’t start a fuss,” Hattie chimed in.
Lefty nodded to her with aplomb, then turned to glare at Vincent. “And you thought that was a good idea?”
“The fewer people I brought with me, the less likely Betty Sharp would notice.”
Lefty shook his head. “Well, I don’t see her in the boat so I suppose you discovered the flaw in your logic?”
Vincent gestured with open palms. “What do you want, Lefty? You sore I didn’t drag you out onto the freezing-ass Bay? I’m not gonna apologize. I was getting the facts straight before you brought this to Vito.”
Lefty snorted. “Fat lotta good that’ll do you, now.”
“What do you mean?”
Lefty turned to examine Hattie. She thrust a jaw out at him. No way in hell she was going to miss out on this conversation. With a sigh, the man returned his attention to Vincent, his demeanor suddenly leaden.
“Cooper’s dead.”
Chapter 7
Vincent winced as Lefty’s car bounced over a particularly regrettable pothole. The journey north had brought them free of the snow that had fallen two nights prior, but the roads had clearly suffered from previous bad weather.
Lefty glowered from the passenger seat, arms crossed. Vincent wasn’t sure if he was angry over the potholes, or over Cooper, or over him taking off with Hattie down south and not cluing him in. Probably all of the above. Although Lefty was perpetually angry regardless of what he did, or didn’t, do.
In the back seat, Hattie peered back and forth from window to window, wisely remaining silent. It was a wisdom Vincent lacked.
“Has Vito heard?” he asked Lefty. It was the first word spoken in the vehicle since the three had left the city. Before that, there were several heated words exchanged as Lefty refused to allow Hattie to ride along, and Vincent had dug in his heels.
There was a good chance he’d be sent upstate or given a dirt nap for this. He wanted to spend every moment he could with Hattie, because he had a strong suspicion these might be the last moments he’d ever spend with her.
Lefty nodded. “I was there when Vito got the news. He…we need a good reason for Cooper to have been in Pennsylvania.”
Vincent pursed his lips. There was a good reason. Just not one that would be acceptable to Vito.
Cooper had cornered a free pincher in Lancaster County. The “scary kind” according to the little prick. He’d left word for Vincent to meet him at a given location in two days’ time. That would have been midday tomorrow. But something had gone horribly, fat
ally wrong.
“Who brought word?” Vincent asked.
“Your friend, Arnoud.”
Vincent squinted. “He’s not my friend.”
“Yeah,” Lefty grumbled, “that figures. This coulda been quiet. But now it’s all over the Old Moravia.”
“Just my luck.”
Lefty turned in his seat to face Vincent. “Luck? Are you kidding me? You’re the one who horn-wrangled Cooper into this private errand. Which means it’s you that got him killed. If Vito puts that together, we’re both bent hard!”
Vincent glared at Lefty, then eyed Hattie before returning his attention to the ruined county lane.
Lefty shook his head. “Excuse my language, miss.”
Before Hattie could respond, Vincent said, “I’m worried about what happened to Cooper. What’d you hear?”
“Only that what was left of him was found in an Amish village outside of Ephrata.”
“Did you say Amish?” Vincent grumbled.
“I figured it would make sense to you.”
“Nothing about this makes sense to me.”
They continued up the road, passing through Lancaster, then northeast toward Ephrata. Long, fallow fields lay dormant in the midwinter. Red-painted barns held guard over rolling pastureland. Dairy barns steamed in the late afternoon chill as their residents settled into the winter vigil.
After another half hour, Lefty guided Vincent off the road, pointing for a double-rutted length of trail leading away from the highway and deeper into farmland. Vincent pulled into tall, brown grass to allow a horse carriage past. Its long-bearded driver glared at them with intensity as he passed. There was a cluster of houses with more modern residents based on the automobile in one driveway and a group of children playing outside on the lawn.
Two of them stared at their car as Vincent eased back up the trail and spotted a barely visible break in the bare-branched maple trees that showed recently worn tire ruts.
He turned the vehicle up what passed for a trail. Scraggly vines and dead grass whipped against the sides of the car as he ascended a hillock. The trail ended at the crest overlooking a fog-shrouded valley of farms and pickets. They exited the car to take in the scene.
“Odd sort of fog, isn’t it?” Hattie said, pointing to the hollow between hills that housed the village.
Lefty replied, “That’s not fog. It’s smoke.”
Vincent sniffed the air. Sure enough, the aroma of burning wood lingered in subtle notes, like a bonfire long since extinguished.
At the top of the hillock they found a blasted heap. The bottom half of a frame too large to be a farm house huddled in smoldering ruin. Black and ash-gray lumber stood in echo of what was once a spacious barn with dead grass in a neatly scorched circle around the scene.
Hattie stepped alongside Vincent. “That’s it, then?”
“Guess so,” Vincent replied.
“Is…is he in there?” Hattie asked Lefty.
Lefty shook his head. “They bundled what they could find and handed it over to the county. Sheriff ruled it a hay fire. Wasn’t until they ran a search on Cooper’s car that they even found out whose bones were inside.”
Vincent asked, “Then, this was a day or two old?”
“A day,” Lefty said. “That pincher in Philly was Johnny-on-the-spot.”
“I bet he was,” Vincent grumbled.
Hattie ambled up the hillside to inspect the smoldering ruin more closely. Vincent watched as she slowly drew into herself, taking in the scene with furtive glances. He gave Lefty a “stay” gesture and approached.
“Anything about this look familiar to you?” she whispered.
“Deltaville?”
“Exactly.”
“Is it possible that whatever did this was the one who put the screws to our little demon friend?”
Vincent thought it over. The rapid succession of discoveries was too coincidental. Perhaps his foray to Richmond had uncovered more work by this free pincher Cooper had run afoul of?
Lefty called, “Vincent?”
“What?”
They turned to find a boy standing next to Lefty. He looked to be about twelve. A younger girl was about ten feet behind him, looking as if she were ready to run for it if need be.
The boy took in Vincent’s suit then tilted his head. “They already come for the body and the car. You all is too late.”
Hattie approached, a friendly smile on her face. “It’s a horrible thing that happened here. I hope you didn’t see anything to give you nightmares.”
The little girl whimpered, taking a step back, but the boy looked up at Hattie, his eyes bold. “Everyone knows Devil Man. Ma says you just have to pray enough and he won’t send the hell monsters for you. I guess the man in the suit didn’t pray enough.”
Vincent caught his breath. “There were two men here?” He turned a questioning glance toward Lefty.
The other man shrugged. “Only one body that I heard.”
“Devil Man doesn’t get burned,” the boy scoffed, as if they were all imbeciles to think otherwise. “The man in the suit got burned up though.”
“Did you see it?” Hattie asked, a note of horror in her voice.
The boy nodded. “I saw the suit-man drive up. Nobody comes up this way, so I was curious. I heard them talking—heard the suit-man say that the gig was up and someone really bad was going to hunt the other man down, so he better just come along nice and not make trouble. That’s when I saw the devil-signs glow and the fire and I knew the suit-man was arguing with Devil Man.” The boy shook his head. “Not very smart to make threats to Devil Man, especially when you ain’t been praying enough.”
“You must have run away then,” Hattie said.
The boy shook his head, a mop of hair falling into his eyes. “There was screams, and I thought about running, but then I saw the fire monster and I was too afraid to move. I didn’t want him to see me and burn me. But Devil Man said some foreign words and the fire monster went away. That’s when I ran.”
Hattie and Vincent exchanged a knowing glance. Fire monster—like at Deltaville. But who was this Devil Man and where had he gone?
Vincent pulled two coins out of his pocket handing one to the boy and tossing the other to the girl. They pocketed them and ran back down the briar-choked lane, while Vincent turned back to look at the remains of the burned-out building.
Lefty approached, his face twisted in thought. “I got a problem with this.”
“Yeah, you’re not the only one.”
“No,” Lefty said, lifting a finger. “I mean beyond this devil-and-monster story. You said Cooper was up here already. Right? He was waiting for you?”
Vincent nodded.
Lefty added, “And you was supposed to make it here…how?”
Vincent lifted his chin, then reached into his pocket to pull the leather-bound journal. “This.”
Hattie stared at the book over Vincent’s elbow. “What’s that?”
“Cooper mailed it to me,” Vincent replied. “Gave me directions to…” He opened the journal to the note that remained folded inside. And a map.
Lefty said, “I saw that map he scribbled. Am I insane, or is this the wrong place?”
Vincent shook his head. “You’re right. This map would’ve taken us closer to town.”
Lefty examined the paper. “So, what in hell was he doing here?”
As Vincent mulled the question, Hattie sucked in a breath.
“Fire,” she whispered. “You said Cooper was hunting down a pincher for Vito. On your behalf?”
Vincent nodded.
She pointed at Lefty. “You told us once that our kind can’t pinch fire. So, how can it be a free pincher that did this?”
Vincent lowered the journal slowly. “Hell pincher.”
Lefty nodded somberly.
Hattie frowned. “That’s what Capstein said probably summoned that demon in Deltaville. So another one is up here? Or the same one? And was the demon that did this the same
one that was in Deltaville, or different?”
Lefty replied, “I’m thinking these Hell pinchers are nothing you want to reckon with, if you value your life.”
Vincent pocketed the journal once again. “And it looks like I sent Cooper right into the hands of one.”
“Not intentionally,” Hattie insisted.
“Won’t matter,” Vincent grumbled. “Not to Vito.”
Lefty said, “Unless we bring this son of a bitch back to Baltimore with us.”
Vincent shot an incredulous look at Lefty. “Are you serious?”
The other man shrugged and waved a hand at the burned building. “Can you imagine the Crew having someone who could do this? Those New York families would shit their pants.” He winced and turned to Hattie. “Sorry, ma’am.”
She stared at him, unblinking. “Yes, they’d shit their pants, and so would the Crew. Do you really think Vito would be able to strongarm someone who could do something like this? Someone who’s been free their entire life?”
Vincent winced. “Hattie, they have ways to break someone. But that’s all pure speculation. We don’t have this Hell pincher in hand and I’m not sure we’d be able to bring him in even if we found him.”
Lefty pointed back to the car. “What say we follow the map? Something had to have changed. Cooper decided to get premature and nick this Hell pincher on his own. Maybe he left a clue why—a clue that will hopefully pull your sorry ass out of the hot water you’re in.”
Vincent pulled the map back out of his pocket. “Worth a shot.”
They followed the map back toward Lancaster, easing off the main road once again to plunge into farmland. The map wasn’t easy to follow, and they passed a trail twice before deciding it was the intended path.
The trail led to a clutch of clapboard buildings huddled together in the middle of a patchwork of corn farms. Vincent parked the car and hopped out to open the rear door for Hattie. She stepped out with a nervous sort of energy that Vincent completely sympathized with. The scene laid before them could have been charming in the right season, and in the right context. But today? The entire village possessed a gloom that sent chills through Vincent’s trunk.
The three marched down the slope for the village. A tall, elderly man bustled up the path, flanked by two younger men. They all wore dull black coats and sported long beards. Vincent held up to allow the locals to approach. When the three farmers reached their party, the elder of the three babbled on in a language Vincent didn’t even recognize.
