“The Gun-shine State if yesterday is any indication.”
Mae laughs and settles into the chair being held by the maître d’. “I saw in the papers that Red Shannon died. It was here, wasn’t it? Did you see it?”
“I was there, next to the railing. Saw the whole thing. The chase, the gunfire, the body.”
“The Coast Guard is out of control, doll. Worse than any Chicago coppers.”
“Speaking of Chicago, that was quite an entrance, Mae.”
“Oh, you know how it is. Al is the celebrity.”
“And how are things going with Al? The conviction on tax evasion must have come as a shock.”
“Ironic, isn’t it? After everything they could have got him on, they send him up for something like that. They’re keeping him in Cook County jail until they can transfer him to the federal pen in Atlanta. He’s got it pretty cozy there. Before I left Chicago, I visited and it was like a hotel suite with the carpets and the furniture, him ordering off the menus from favorite restaurants.”
“It sounds like he has more than the warden in his pocket,” Edith says.
Mae laughs. “You know Al. Always winds up on top. There’s gotta be a few fringe benefits to this life with all the baloney we have to put up with. But enough about me; I want to hear how you’re doing.”
Edith stares past the bobbing yachts in the marina to the horizon beyond.
The silence lies heavy between them. Mae takes her friend’s hand. “You look terrible, doll.” she says, softening the words with a squeeze to Edith’s hand.
“It’s been a rough few months. After Mickey was shot—”
“Al and I were sorry to have missed the funeral. The legal stuff kept us in Chicago, and then there was Thanksgiving, then Christmas. You know how it is. Family.”
“It was a grand funeral. Thousands of people lined the street even though it was cold for October. People phoning, dropping by, the newspapers going crazy. And the Feds, trying to find Mickey’s money. Ha. Fat chance that.”
Mae nods. Gangsters’ wives know it’s never in the bank. “You set okay? Find everything?”
“No worries there. I’m golden for now, although it won’t last forever. I guess that’s something else I should think about.”
“You have it better than me, doll. Al always paid himself a percentage, but treated the money like it belonged to the gang. Which I guess in a way it did. Now that he’s in jail, things are pretty tight. My kid, Sonny, is talking about opening a restaurant. I may put some money into that. Florida’s a great spot, what with the tourists needing to be fed and entertained.”
“I never had to worry about the money. Mickey believed in the motto of paying yourself first.” Edith winks at Mae and picks up her menu.
“Did they ever catch who did it? I read that the police had made some arrests.”
“That was probably Frankie Carbo you were reading about, but he got off with an alibi. A couple of Mickey’s guys conveniently fingered another mug and took care of it. Me, I’m not so sure,” Edith shrugs, looking out over the marina. Her menu quivers.
“Sounds like you think the mug that shot him is still walking around.”
Edith nods, suddenly interested in the lists of food. “Yes. It looks like someone got away with it.”
“I wouldn’t worry, doll. Actions and consequences are a packaged deal.”
Edith pales and reaches for her martini. Her hand continues to tremble.
“I’m sorry. I’ve gone and upset you when I promised myself to keep it all light and cheerful.” Mae reaches over and pats Edith’s arm. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. We’ll put you back together again. I can’t imagine what it’s been like. I mean, Al’s gone, so I have a bit of a clue. But I know where he is, and he’ll be back in a few years. For you it’s different. Poor Edith.”
“Knock it off, Mae. Self-pity is poison. I gave it up when I shut the door on the house in Philly and got on the train to Miami.”
“Atta girl, Edith. I always knew you were made of stern stuff.”
A waiter arrives to take their order and refresh their glasses, promising another shaker of martinis right away. Edith’s hand is steadier on the next round. She tips the glass at Mae and winks. “Medicinal.”
“Take some advice from me. Find yourself something to keep busy with. It takes your mind off things and helps pass the days. And speaking of busy, what do you want to do while you’re here?”
“I’ll let you be the tour guide. I haven’t any energy for a social life. I don’t have much pep for anything these days. Things are bleak back home right now, and it’s not just the weather.”
It’s not long before the maître d’ announces Mae’s snapper and slides the red fish in front of her. “Mrs. Capone.” At his nod toward Edith, a similar plate appears.
“Mrs. Duffy is a special friend of mine, Ramone. Can you make sure the hotel looks after her properly?”
“Of course, Mrs. Capone. I’ll look after it personally.” And with a brief bow, Ramone is gone.
Edith enjoys the fish, the sun, the conversation. Mae gives her the highlights of a Miami visit: what to do, where to go, who to see. Mae might be alone right now, but she isn’t lonely. The gravity pull of Al Capone ensures that the world continues to beat a path to her door.
Deep inside Edith, a tightly twisted spring loosens. As Mae chatters, Edith is reminded of happier times when her days were full, and when there was always something to look forward to.
Later, as the empty plates are cleared away, the gals sip more martinis and gaze at the yachts in the marina.
“I’m glad you decided to come to Miami, Edith. The change of scene will do you good. Aside from some touring, have you given any thought to what you want to do with your life? Big picture. About what will make you happy again?”
Edith follows a pair of herons at the water’s edge. Their long legs stalk the shallows, a quick jab of a beak, and lunch is served. Beyond the feeding herons are moored yachts and high-end cruisers—pass-times of the rich and famous. Sleek, elegant people surround her at lunch, dressed in freshly pressed linens and cottons, talking tennis, scandal, and money. Is this my fate? Adrift on money and desires; never satisfied, always feeding in the shallow end, searching for something more?
Mae frowns in concern. “I’m sorry, doll. Maybe it’s too soon,” she says.
“What would make me happy? I thought I knew the answer to that one, but I was wrong.” The herons are almost out of sight. Edith dabs at her lips and lays down her napkin. “You’re right. It’s time. Enough grief. Those days are behind me. What would make me happy? Another martini, I suppose. Miami’s sure haven’t been a disappointment.”
Mae’s specialty is arm patting. She delivers another round of comfort. “You need to talk, you call, okay? We’re like family, sweetie. I don’t understand why you won’t stay with me at the house. I have the whole place to myself right now.”
“Thanks, Mae. I appreciate the offer, but I want to be alone right now. I’m working through some things and need my space.”
“Ah, doll. We all miss Mickey. He was brilliant in his way, and a heck of a guy. But I hope you don’t think I’m going to leave you alone to brood, do you? That’s not why you came to paradise. I’ll make a few phone calls. Anna’s here with Lansky, and Bugsy and Esta Siegel should arrive on the weekend. It’ll be just like old times.”
“Nope, old times are behind me. I want new times.”
“Okay, new times but with old friends. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Chapter 3
“E dith? You still with us?” Esta Siegel, childhood sweetheart of Bugsy Siegel, peers over her dark glasses. She’s working vigorously on a wad of chewing gum. Edith, hidden by her own sunglasses, pretends to snooze.
Mae had given Edith a few days of solitude to settle in and acclimatize, and then insisted she come over and spend the day by the pool. ‘You need company, doll. You didn’t come to Miami to be alone.’
; As promised, she’s also included the wives of two of Mickey’s former colleagues. The four women, poolside, are connected by violence, fear, money, and power. It’s a singular life, being married to the mob. More often than not, they’re thrown together in a forced intimacy and solidarity that only the wives of soldiers or business partners understand. Omerta. Silence.
“Shh, Esta, let her sleep. Poor thing’s worn ragged,” Mae says from the other side of Esta’s lounge chair.
“Ragged is the right word, Mae,” Anna Lansky whispers over Edith’s supposedly sleeping body.
Snarky witch. Rather than engage, Edith wraps herself in memories of happier days. The day Mickey walked into Zeiss’s Café. Those goofy ears were the first thing I noticed, and then he looked at me. Zing. I was a goner; it was only a matter of time. What a hoot, being part of a trio: me, Mickey, and Henry Mercer. Finding the warehouse close to a spur line; the perfect spot to start our bootlegging business. I did that—me. It felt like I’d really pulled off something important. Mickey was so proud of me. Hell, even I was proud of me. Those were the days when a fast car with a big trunk and ice water in your veins were the only criteria you needed for success.
“I hear Bugsy’s helping out Lucky Luciano. Meyer works with him, too. Haven’t the press started calling him the CEO of Murder, Inc.?” Anna asks Esta who is lying in the neighboring lounge chair.
“CEO. Pish. Don’t believe everything you read. The guy’s a boob.” Esta moves the wad of gum from one side of her mouth to the other. “Arnie Rothstein had to take him shopping to dress him up so he could look like a big shot. The man’s got no sense of style, not like my Bugsy.”
Luciano. I know that name. He tried to move in on Mickey in Philly. What a mistake. Mickey was at the peak of his power then; the Bootleg King. Those were the glory years, and then it all started to slip sideways—sitting home waiting for him, being left behind, his other women, syphilis, the babies that never drew a breath. The memories stream in fast; good times rare and far between.
Success can take you far, but success and a gun take you further. God, I remember the shooting that night at Club Cadix. One of many attempts to take Mickey out. The funerals of friends shot down in deals gone wrong. Mickey’s madness. Edith’s eyes are squeezed shut behind her sunglasses. She grips the towel she’s lying on. Wailing widows. So much pain and grief. Risky business. Bloody business. Deadly business.
Bang!
Edith sits up with a start, gasping.
“Sorry, doll. That sorry excuse for a pool boy just dropped something,” Mae says soothingly. Anna and Esta stare at her over their sunglasses.
“What’s the matter with you?” Anna asks, scorn in her voice and eyes as she scowls at Edith.
Edith glances warily at Anna, her heart still pounding. You don’t bleed around sharks. While Anna may look like the matronly version of a mobster wife—a little plump, a little plain—she’s tougher than nails. You gotta’ be in this racket. Around Anna you never let your guard down; she had edges that could slice you.
Edith breathes again, forcing herself to relax.
“It happens to Bugsy all the time,” Esta says. “A sudden noise and, look out, he’s pulled a gun on ya.” Esta, on the other hand, is the starlet version of the gun moll package. Her looks will take her far, although her goodness may be trouble later on if she can manage to hang on to it.
Edith laughs. “Startled me out of my nap. Darn sun makes me sleepy.”
“Not to worry, doll. You snooze all you want,” Mae says, looking concerned.
Anna looks over. “Although, now that you’re finally awake, why don’t we plan a few trips. I figure that’s why we’re here, right?”
“You’re here because we’re all good friends and we want to help Edith get through this difficult time,” Mae says.
Edith catches the warning in Mae’s voice; a sharp jerk to Anna’s chain. Behave. Mrs. Capone is one of the few that can pull it off.
Anna’s eyes roll.
“Oh, Edith, there’s so much to do in Miami. You’re going to love being here,” Esta says, glancing between Mae and Anna.
“Yes, Edith. Now that you have all these empty days to fill,” Anna says, an arch tone in her voice.
“Anna,” Mae growls. “Please don’t outstay your welcome, dear.”
Anna lies rigid in her chaise lounge, staring at the pool, a movie magazine gripped tightly in her hand.
Edith smirks, always pleased to see a rival in trouble. What a snarky witch she is. What is her problem?
Edith checks out Mae over the top of her sunglasses. “I’m up for something besides lying by the pool all day. As nice as it is, I think I’d go crazy if a deep tan was all I accomplished while I was in Miami. I might need a bit more drama.”
Esta nods eagerly. “Sure, ya can’t just lie around all the time. When we’re here, sometimes we go for lunch somewhere swanky, and, if there’s a lot of time to kill, we’ll go shopping. And of course, I have to get my nails done, too. Hey, if you’re bored Edith, I can give you the name of my manicurist; she’ll squeeze you in if I ask her to. You’d love her, a real chatterbox. She always has all the best gossip.”
Edith smiles, looking at Esta’s perfect coral nails. “I’ve already called the salon at the hotel and got something booked, but thanks sweetie.”
“Well, don’t forget your toes. With all the sandals down here, they’re as important as the fingers,” Esta says, looking wise and thoughtful.
“Any other ideas, girls? What should we show Edith while she’s here?” Mae asks.
Esta sits up, slapping her hands on the arms of the chaise lounge to get everyone’s attention. “I know; why don’t we go out to Cap’s Place?”
“Past Fort Lauderdale? That’s too long a drive,” Anna says scowling, burying her nose in the magazine.
That frown line is more like a trench. Ha.
“It’s not too bad, Anna. Basically, straight up Highway One,” says Mae.
“Point me in the right direction, and I’ll drive,” Edith says, a small smile on her lips when she hears Anna huff.
Esta claps her hands. “Perfect. What day shall we go? I have the perfect outfit to wear. One of those little halter tops. Bugsy loves it.”
Edith isn’t the only one to notice Anna’s annoyance.
“Is there anything in particular you’d like to do while Edith’s in town, Anna?” Mae asks.
There is a graciousness to Mae that Edith finds soothing. I couldn’t pull off manners like that, but thank goodness for Mae.
Edith offers Anna a saccharin sweet smile. “Please don’t go to any trouble, Anna. I didn’t bring anything to wear to clubs or out on the town. Something low-key suits me fine.”
“Well, I’m not going to sit cloistered in some nunnery. While I’m here I want to go to Tobacco Road and go dancing,” Anna says. She returns Edith’s smile, tit for tat. “You’ll love it, Edith. It’s one of Miami’s best night clubs, with great bands, tons of people, and loads of fun.”
“I’m not sure Edith—” Mae says.
“Then we’ll need to plan a shopping trip. Like I said, I traveled light,” Edith says, a pointed look to Anna. That gal always wants her own way.
“I like shopping,” Esta says. “The stores in Miami are swell, Edith. There’s a Miami-look you just can’t find in New York or Philly.”
“I noticed. I do need to pick up a few things,” Edith says, rubbing a bit of suntan oil on her legs and arms. She reclines and closes her eyes, letting her thoughts drift. Filling long, empty days. I’ve always had long empty days, even married to Mickey. But who says it has to stay that way? I got options that I never had before, and a woman with options has power.
“Oh. My. God.” Anna gasps.
“What is it, Anna? What’s wrong?” Esta asks. They all look at Anna with alarm.
“It’s Jean Harlow. She’s dyed her hair red.” Anna holds up the pictures in Movie Classic magazine.
Esta snatches it away. “Let
me see that.” She studies the pictures intently. “What do you think?” she says holding the magazine next to her face, “Could I be a redhead?”
“And you think there’s no drama,” Anna says to Edith, snatching her magazine back.
Edith resettles and closes her eyes again.
They’re like preening birds. A gaggle of geese. A bevy of quail. A bouquet of pheasants. A brood of hens. Birds of a feather, flocking together. Together? Do I still want to be part of this flock? A murmuration of starlings. A muster of storks. A murder of crows.
Edith shivers.
“I hear Meyer’s opened up a new casino, Anna. He’s building quite the empire down here. Will that bring you down to Miami more often?” Mae asks.
Edith’s ears perk up. Business. I used to be good at that. Mickey and Henry were always the do-ers, but I was the brains of the group. Although if I started something, I’d be on my own this time. Could I be a do-er, too? Ha, and what could this do-er do exactly?
“Probably. He thinks there’s a real future in gambling. Prohibition won’t last forever so he’s looking at options besides the booze. His carpet-joints are always popular. Folks lined up ‘round the block. And you know Meyer and money. He runs a tight ship. No cheating. No rigged clip joints. People know they can trust him with the odds,” Anna says.
Lined up ‘round the block. Like Mickey’s old club, the Cadix. That was some place.
“I’ve always admired how he’s two steps ahead of things. Does Bugsy have a piece of that, Esta?” Mae asks.
“Sure. Since the old days, Bugsy and Meyer have always worked together. They got each other’s back. It’s one of the reasons why Anna and I are such good friends.”
Mae smiles and nods. “Al always did well when he worked with them both. ‘You wanna go fast, go alone; you wanna’ go far, go together.’ That partnership’s paid off big-time.”
“The last time I went to a casino I wore this incredible dress covered in gold-sequined fringes. It shimmered every time I moved. Maybe I should go blonde?” Esta says. She frowns, wrestling with this weighty problem.
Edith notices the awkward silence that settles over the other women. Anna smirks, Esta blushes, and Mae is suddenly busy arranging her towel.
Gathering Storm Page 2
