Stanley & Hazel: The Winnowing

by Jo Schaffer

  “So, who is your next man, Gabriel or the doctor? Get bored of me already?” He wanted her to laugh it off and throw her arms around him like she sometimes did when he was out of sorts.

  Hazel frowned at him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Stanley took a deep breath, trying to control his temper and a feeling he couldn’t describe. He had no real right to feel jealous. Stanley tried to sound reasonable.

  “Forget it. Look, I have a bad feeling about that doctor. Something is off about that clinic.”

  Hazel snorted. “Dr. Galton? He is the sweetest and kindest man I know. That new clinic he started up is helping the poor. Volunteering there has really opened my eyes to the needs in this city.”

  Stanley stared at her for a moment and then pulled one of the flyers from his pocket. “Yeah, I know. Looks like they’re really putting the word out.”

  She glanced at the flyer. “Yeah, I helped put that together. Isn’t it great? We’re handing them out all over the city. It’s going to make a real difference, finally.” Hazel smiled, but it seemed forced.

  Stanley gazed at her and almost didn’t say anything else. She seemed really convinced she was doing some good. Why crush her? Let her have this, whatever it was. But the tingling feeling he always got as a warning wouldn’t stop.

  “I can’t tell you why. I don’t know myself. But this whole thing bugs me. Just be careful, okay?”

  “Oh, because you’re Mr. Careful.”

  Stanley shrugged. “Okay. Sorry. Just …” He touched his eye. It had swollen to the point where he could barely see out of it.

  “What happened to your eye anyway?”

  “Haze, its Legion, or the Veiled Prophet or someone working for him. They snuck into my house, well, all of the Knight’s houses.” He described what happened.

  Hazel wrinkled her brow and seemed annoyed. “Perhaps it was someone playing a prank. I mean, why would they go into your house and stir up trouble? I mean, even if ‘they’ exist, I doubt they want to expose themselves like that. We’re safe, Cracker Jack kids and all. They wouldn’t dare. Sandy and I didn’t get any branches in our bed,” Hazel said with her arms crossed.

  Stanley didn’t know what to say. He didn’t expect this reaction at all. She didn’t seem afraid or concerned. She was looking at him like he was nuts.

  “Of course you didn’t, Ms. High Society. Don’t you get it? They can terrorize us at will. You two, on the other hand, are high and dry. You can’t be touched. No one will believe us and would probably think we were trying to get more famous or something.”

  Hazel chuckled. “Maybe you are. More dames for you, the big hero and all.”

  Stanley took off his hat and ran his hands through his hair. Why was she throwing his past into his face after all they’d been through together? His temper flared. “What’s the matter with you, Lady Bananas? Smooching on Gabriel mess with your brain? I saw you blushing when he had his hands all over you.” The way that dress made her look, he knew exactly what Gabriel and any other man with eyeballs was thinking. She was a dish and how, but it made him hot under the collar that fellows drooled over her packaging without knowing what was inside.

  Hazel scoffed. “As if you have any room to talk, Mr. Margaret-and-half-the-ladies-of-the-streets.” She tossed her head back and eyed him. “Gabriel is being really nice after everything in the caves. I like him. He’s being a gentleman, unlike some people I know.”

  His fists tightened. “Yeah, because he wants you to forget that it was his best pal in the caves carving up your friend. He doesn’t know you, Haze … and he wants to kiss you and get his pansy hands on you. Did he, before I got here?”

  Hazel stood her ground, and she raised her eyebrows disdainfully. “What if he did? What businesses is it of yours, Snoopy? Sure, he knows me. I knew him long before I met you.”

  Stanley shook his head. “Forever wouldn’t be enough for a guy like that. He’ll never know you like I do. Stop wasting your time with these jokes.”

  “You shopped around, why can’t I? You’re not the only good-looking fellow in St. Louis.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that. “Look, Lady Bananas, what I did or didn’t do before we met is over. I thought you and I had a thing.”

  She curled her lip a little. “Did you now? And why is that?”

  “You know. The baseball game. Everything we’ve done together. Our talks. Holding hands. We’re partners. We’re in each other’s heads.”

  “Is that why I have a headache? Look, none of that entitles you to telling me who I can dance with,” Hazel said, brows pushed together.

  He stepped closer to her again, wanting her to come back. Be who she was before. “I see you. You see me. Nobody has what we have, Haze … You and I, we got it figured out. Nothing that they threw at us stopped us. All this rich and poor garbage. We’re over that. Our fight is good against bad. Right now … you’re surrounded by sharks in fancy duds.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as if struggling to think. “Maybe it’s not all as it seems. Maybe Charles made it all up. I’m starting to wonder. He certainly was crazy like everyone is saying. I mean, he killed Evelyn and kidnapped us. Everyone around me seems really sorry about it all. I can’t believe that any of them had anything to do with it.”

  Stanley stared at her. What was going on here? She totally blew off everything he had just said, while he was gushing away like some kind of lovesick fool. It was like she was a completely different person. It made him feel helpless and angry.

  “Did you forget Evelyn’s lousy diary? Everything we read? All the evidence? The numbers on Evelyn’s body? The black branches now?”

  She stood there, blinking but not saying a word, as if the things he was saying were not sinking in. He hated it. He would rather have her shout and be angry. But she didn’t seem right, like she was sick or something. Hazel rubbed the sides of her head. Stanley reached out to touch her on the arm.

  “Are you okay? You don’t seem right.”

  Hazel shook off his arm and looked around the garden, as if she didn’t want to be seen having street rat slime on her precious skin. Stanley’s stomach dropped. Arthur was right. She really was no different from the other swells when push came to shove. The anger inside of him exploded, and he looked for just the right combination of words to crush her.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Would you rather have Gabriel touch you? Or Dr. Galton? Well, go ahead and be their debutante. You know what happens when they’re done using girls like you. Cast off and beaten to a bloody pulp with a baseball bat.”

  “Get. Out,” Hazel hissed. The look of disgust on her face shot through him like an arrow.

  “Already on my way, my lady.” He gave her a mock bow. “Happy birthday.” He reached into his pocket and slapped a small, brown package into her hands before stomping away into the darkness of the garden, the anger inside numbing the devastation he felt. The bushes to his right rustled, and out stepped Arthur, a smudge of red on his cheek.

  “Where’s the fire, boss?” Arthur said, taking out a cigarette and lighting it.

  “Nowhere. Want to get the hell out of here.”

  “Oh. Why? Ms. Hazel and you have a little scuffle? You’ll make up.” Arthur smiled.

  “What do you care? You don’t like her anyway. And where have you been? What’s that on your cheek?”

  Arthur took a swipe at it. “Nothin’. None of your biz.”

  Stanley smirked. “Sandy in the bushes with you?”

  Drawing on his cigarette, Arthur looked down, almost ashamed. “She was. She wanted to get back inside and be with her friends or something. She’s a little … I dunno …”

  They stood there for a moment, and Stanley looked up at the house. “No matter what we do, Artie, they’ll never accept us. This isn’t our world.”

  Arthur nodded. “No. It ain’t. Hazel too?”

  “Yeah. She’s starting to act like one of them. And s
omehow she’s starting to believe all of this mess with the Veiled Prophet was only Charles being crazy and making everything up. I gotta say, it’s making me start to doubt my own sanity.”

  “You know that ain’t true, boss. You know it.”

  “Not entirely sure what I know anymore.”

  “You’re just dizzy cuz you love that snooty dame.” Arthur spat on the ground.

  “Do I love Hazel? I mean, how well do I know her anyway? Maybe I just feel attached, because we almost died together.” He scratched his head. “Although even before that … every other dame paled in comparison. She unsettles me like nobody else ever has. Does that mean something?”

  Arthur snorted. “You’s asking the wrong person on that one. And are we really gabbing about our feelings?”

  Stanley laughed. “You’re right. This is screwy.” Stanley eyed his friend. “You’re sweet on Sandy, though.”

  Looking at the lit end of his cigarette, Arthur said, “I don’t mind her. I like her lips. And she’s kinda like me. Hates the world too.”

  They stood there for a moment in the moonlit garden. Music and laughter from the party sounded in the background from the Malloy mansion. “I don’t want to go back in there, but I feel like I should. Try to explain things to Hazel.”

  Arthur shook his head. “Nah. Not tonight. I can tell you’re about to punch a wall. No point in losing it in a room full of swells. Ain’t smart.”

  “God help us when you’re the voice of reason, Artie.” Stanley snorted. “I don’t know. I want to shake her … I’m worried. It’s like she’s another person right now. ”

  “You said that before. Maybe she ain’t another person. She’s in her real world, Stanny boy. Those are her people. Bound to happen. Come on, let’s go to the Square.” Arthur blew smoke out of his nose.

  They made their way out of the grounds, when a small brown-haired kid, wearing clothes too big for him, ran up to them, huffing and puffing.

  “Sirs … came as fast as I can … sirs … something …” The kid’s chest heaved with the effort of trying to talk.

  “Easy kid. Take a powder and a breath,” Arthur said, patting him on the shoulder. “How ya been Dusty?” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a lollipop. “Here ya go, kiddo.”

  The boy grinned and took the candy, trying to catch his breath. “I ain’t bad.”

  This, Stanley thought, is the Arthur that no one sees. He found himself wondering, again, what his friend was like before his life went down the sewer.

  “But something … has happened at The Rookery. All the coppers of St. Louis are there.”

  His heart pounding, Stanley grasped the St. Jude pendant he wore around his neck. “What is it? Gang shootout?”

  The kid shook his head. “Nah, the Raven is the only real gangster left in St. Louis. He was about to leave, by all accounts. Cops were letting him.”

  Arthur nodded. “What do you know?”

  “I wasn’t there. But from what I hear, it’s not good, and one of the pigeons there said that Seamus,” he said, nodding to Stanley, “said he wanted you there.”

  “What would that be about?” Arthur asked.

  Stanley closed his eyes. “Vinnie. He’s there. He borrowed my shoes for some going away party. Something isn’t right. We gotta go, Artie. Or at least, I do.”

  Arthur nodded. “I’m with you. Thanks, Dusty.”

  With that, the kid sped off across the street and into Forest Park.

  “It’ll take about an hour. So, we better make tracks.”

  They walked fast through the historic, cobbled streets of St. Louis. Stanley and Arthur knew all of the shortcuts to the brewery, cutting through darkened yards and alleyways. They kept a sharp eye out for beat cops, but Stanley didn’t see one the entire time.

  Winding through a rundown neighborhood near the Mississippi River, they came to a wooden fence surrounding the old, abandoned warehouse that had become the gang’s stronghold as times got bad. In the dark of night, it looked dilapidated and haunted. The Rookery was nothing like the mansions the mob used to have in their heyday. Something more powerful and frightening had moved into town and “cleaned it up.” The gangs were a thing of the past.

  Stanley counted ten cop cars with a brief glance, including the car of the St. Louis Chief of Police. Uniformed cops moved around in the dark with flashlights, patrolling the perimeter, and he couldn’t figure out how to get past them without his uncle.

  “What’s our play, boss?” Arthur said, scanning the crowd.

  “Maybe just walk right up to one of the gumshoes.”

  Arthur frowned and dropped his cigarette. “Worst plan I ever heard. But I don’t have a scrap. So, lead the way.”

  Stanley scanned some of the policemen and breathed a sigh of relief. He saw Jakob’s dad, Sergeant Kopan, walking about twenty feet from them.

  “Look, there’s our ticket,” Stanley said.

  “He hates me.” Arthur scowled.

  “Everyone hates you, Artie. Except me.” Stanley elbowed him with a grin.

  “Up yours, Irish.”

  They walked over to the short, paunchy cop. Stanley fought the urge to panic and tried to seem only mildly interested. “Hey, Mr. Kopan, what gives?”

  The dark eyes of the Sergeant regarded him, narrowed in suspicion. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be at the fancy party?”

  “Jakob’s still there kicking up his heels. I got bored with all the swells. Heard something was going on here. Is my uncle around?” Stanley said.

  Levi Kopan sighed, rubbing his face, anxious. “I’ll get him, but I’m not gonna guarantee that he’ll be happy to see you.”

  “He’s expecting me.”

  The old cop nodded. “Okay … but this isn’t a party.” He crossed the weedy, gravel lot and went into the Rookery.

  Arthur paced, gazing at the building, mumbling to himself.

  “What are you doing?” Stanley finally asked.

  “Thinking.” He tapped his bowler hat.

  “Can you do it to yourself? You’re making me batty.”

  Arthur walked away from him a little and lit another cigarette. The orange glow of it lit up his face, emphasizing his furrowed brow.

  Seamus came out of the building and strolled toward them. “Boyo, I knew you’d be here quicker than lightning. Do you know what’s goin’ on?”

  Seamus’s manner threw him off guard. Usually, around other cops, his uncle kept up the gruff, commanding exterior that showed no one what he would call “weak emotions.” But when Seamus finally reached them, he put his hand on Stanley’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

  “No. I don’t. Where’s Vinnie? I want to talk to that dumb, Italian idiot and get my shoes back.”

  Seamus frowned, his face pale in the dim light. “I dunno where your pal is. I think you better come with me, son. You best be seeing this.”

  Hazel stared down at the small, brown package tied with twine in her hands. She tore it open and dropped the wrapping to the ground. A small medallion of St. Joan of Arc on a string glinted in her palm. Her heart squeezed, and she wrapped the string around her wrist. Oh, Stanley.

  She fled into the conservatory. Hazel bit her lip and blinked back tears. Stanley had stormed away, and although she’d wanted him to leave, now that he had, she felt alone standing in the middle of a crowd of people dancing and laughing. It was her birthday party, and the maddening boy had caused a scene and left. How could he even complain about the doctor or Gabriel when he couldn’t even walk by a dame without giving her goo-goo eyes? Things were so out of whack. What had happened to their friendship? She rubbed her head and took a deep breath.

  Some of the things he’d said needled her. There was a growing feeling inside Hazel that these really were her people, and Stanley didn’t have a right to judge them the way he did. Maybe Charles really was crazy with all of his talk about the Veiled Prophet. Maybe the cops were dirty, and maybe the gangs
were really the ones to blame for everything that was going on. The rich and privileged were always being blamed for everything.

  Stanley was selfish and unpredictable. Things had been so confusing lately. She and Stanley clashed more now than they ever had. There was so much pressure from everyone else about how Hazel should behave and the stress of figuring out what was going on. More and more the whole ordeal seemed to be a bunch of hooey. Yet she wondered what the story of the black branch Stanley had found in his bed was all about. She just wanted to forget all about it and enjoy her life. She didn’t know who to trust anymore.

  Dr. Galton approached with a cup of punch. “Here you are. Happy birthday, Hazel.”

  Hazel took a sip of the cherry lime punch, glad to have something to do to keep from bursting into tears. She cleared her throat and forced a smile. “Thank you.” She looked around at all the important people enjoying themselves and felt a rush of relief.

  “Hazel!” Her mother’s brash voice carried across the room. “Come here, and bring that delicious doctor with you!”

  Hazel cringed and gave Dr. Galton an apologetic look. Half the room seemed to move away from where Mumsy danced in place, swaying her hips, her drink sloshing back and forth in the glass. She was drunk, of course. Mumsy had gone through her own change since Hazel was kidnapped. Mostly, it involved martinis and champagne at all hours of the day, not just at parties.

  The young doctor smiled. “That’s an invitation I have no intention of ignoring.”

  Hazel appreciated how matter-of-fact and polite he was about everything. A true gentleman. What a contrast to the crass and disrespectful way that Stanley behaved.

  As they approached, Mumsy giggled and held her martini glass high. Her gown was cut too low and was covered with downy feathers that surrounded her shoulders and head like the froth on the top of a glass of beer. Hazel recalled how her mother had chosen white to be “boring like the other society dames.” But nobody could look at Mumsy and be bored. She was a stunning woman, but also looked as if she would do just about anything for fun.