by Jo Schaffer
Throwing away a cigarette, Arthur turned to face him. “I ain’t in a laughing mood. Pigeons are going missing. My pops ain’t doing so hot. And neither is my mom. And the swells are dancing in a few days, as if the whole country ain’t starving.”
Stanley was going to agree, but he stopped himself. Arthur didn’t need gasoline thrown on the fire. The kid was on the edge. They walked until they reached Forest Park, and he realized that Artie was taking him to the boxcar. When they got there, all the Knights had assembled, and there stood Frisky Jones in all her redheaded glory.
“Well, well, look at what the cat dragged in, King Arthur his own self,” she said, giving them a mock bow.
Stanley gave her a half smile. “Hey, Frisky, what’s the word?”
She’d always acted tough and gave him lip. Of all the girls he’d met, only Frisky seemed immune to his charms, telling him once, “Back off, St. Stanley, I’m too much of a woman for you. I don’t want you confessing me to the good Father.”
But now, she played with her long, red hair, almost pulling it out of her head. The rest of the Knights looked grim. Even Shuffles’ good cheer seemed to have vanished, as he fidgeted with his baseball cap.
“Teeth. My little Teeth. He’s gone,” Frisky blurted out.
“What? What are you talking about?” Stanley said, taking off his hat.
“It’s true,” Arthur said.
“He ain’t been home for a few days. His mother is in fits, and that’s a fact.” Frisky shoved her hands into her trouser pockets and paced.
“How do you know Teeth?” Jakob asked, adjusting his yarmulke.
“What is this, a shakedown? Was just letting you know. He’s gone,” Frisky said, jumping off the boxcar and starting to walk away.
“Wait, Frisky, please, we need information,” Stanley said, catching her by the arm.
“St. Stanley, if you don’t take your masher mitts off me, I’ll get you but good, got me?”
He let go of her and put up his hands. “Sorry, but we need to know information if we are going to find him.”
Arthur lit a cigarette and gave it to Frisky. She took a pull and said, “You okay, Artie? You don’t look so good.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m fine. Tell Stanny what you know.”
She took a deep drag. “Well, I used to babysit Teeth. Just about everyone on the block, really. I fuss over him and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, like join you fools. He pretends not to like it, but I can tell you, he don’t run home to momma when he needs some boobs to cry on.”
Anino sniggered and then covered his mouth. Shuffles turned away and pretended to cough.
“If you’re done talking about your boobs, Frisky, can we get on with it?” Stanley said, pacing the ground.
“I remember a time when you wanted to do more than talk,” she said, taking a slow drag.
Stanley sighed. “Frisky, please.”
She nodded, looking away. “I’m sorry. You’re right. He’s gone. His momma doesn’t know where he is, and everyone is looking for him.”
“I have an idea where,” Arthur said, going over to Frisky and putting his arm around her. “It’s that clinic, Stanley, the one where your rich princess helps us poor folks.”
“Oh, yeah, the one run by Dr. Galton. I met him at Haze’s party.”
“What did you think?” Jakob asked, jumping off the boxcar.
“I dunno. He was a rich snob who thought he was better than me. But what else is new? I was mostly focused on …” He stopped, and he could feel the heat rising in his face.
Frisky smirked. “Boy, he’s dizzy for her, ain’t he? You were spot on, Artie.”
“So, what about the clinic?” Shuffles said before Stanley lost his mind.
“That’s the last place anyone saw Teeth, boyo. And that maid who was found shot in the head,” Arthur said.
Stanley felt like throwing up. “We need info. Fast. Everyone needs to spread out and see what they can find. I’ll join you in a few hours.”
“Where you goin’, to do some smooching?” Frisky said, stomping her cigarette in the ground. They all looked at him for a response, and then he realized. He hadn’t told them about the newspaper business.
“Look, you mugs, this thing might be bigger than we think.”
Arthur shook his head. “That ain’t so. I already know.”
“Maybe not everything. There’s a group putting together a newspaper. I’m writing for it.” He told them about the meeting and what they wanted the Knights to do.
Anino smiled. “So, while we sell our papers, we pass out the rag you’re writing for, is that it?”
“That’s about the size of it, yeah. We know they don’t print the full truth in the papers. We gotta spread the word up and down the city.”
Anino nodded. “I’m in.”
Shuffles put on his hat and said, “Count this Mormon in, time to go Porter Rockwell.”
Jakob smiled. “And just call me Maccabee the Hammer.”
Stanley could have hugged them all, but he said, “Look, once this gets out, well … You all know about the Rookery. I don’t know if I can ask you to do that.”
Arthur said, “We know the risks, Lord Stanley. We ain’t just takin’ them for you. This is for all of us.”
Frisky ran a hand through her wild hair. “Yeah, pretty boy. The whole world don’t revolve around your majesty.”
Stanley rolled his eyes. “Good. I’ll meet you all back here in a few hours after I write the article. Let’s see what rats we can scare out of their holes.”
All of the Knights departed except for Frisky. She was twisting her hair, tying it in small knots.
“You will find him, won’t you Stanny?”
“I promise to do what I can. I love that kid, you know.”
She nodded, wiping away tears. “He showed me the baseball stuff you got him. You don’t even know …”
Stanley went to hug her, and Frisky said, “Whoa, there, Stanny boy, that wasn’t an invitation for a free grope. Just get to work.”
And then she walked away, her red hair disappearing into the dark.
Stanley stood there for a moment and then leapt into the boxcar. He found the case where he hid his typewriter and scrolled a piece of paper into place. With a deep breath, he started to type, the clacking echoing in the boxcar.
Days of school and worry passed. Hazel hadn’t seen Stanley or heard any word about Teeth. Nothing in the papers suggested that Maxie’s murderer had been captured. Hazel didn’t want to think about any of it. Maybe if she ignored what was happening and stayed comfortably wrapped in her satin world, she wouldn’t end up in danger again—or like Evelyn.
Peggy didn’t seem to be around much either lately. Mumsy seemed to keep her busier than ever, and at night, she disappeared. Hazel longed to sit and tell her everything and let Peggy hug her and tell her everything would be all right in her soothing Irish lilt.
The Veiled Prophet Ball was only a couple of days away, and it overshadowed everything. Gabriel Sinclair had come to call after school twice. The visits consisted of small talk in the parlor with beverages and listening to music on the gramophone. He made Hazel feel shy and a little giddy now. She hated it.
After one visit as he said goodbye at her door, Gabriel leaned in as if to kiss her.
“See you soon,” he whispered, coming closer.
Hazel’s heart sped up and then paused when, over his shoulder out in the dimness of twilight near the front gate, she saw the shape of a person and the red spark of a cigarette. She drew back. “Yeah. See ya,” she muttered and shut the door.
Was Arthur out there watching her?
Hazel watched out the window as Gabriel walked away, shaking his head, and the figure by the gate moved away down the sidewalk. She wondered how often eyes followed her when she didn’t know it. What made that dirty bum think he had a right to stalk her? How would he like it? Hazel paced the g
leaming, parquet floor of the foyer.
It was an hour until dinner. Hazel slipped out the front door, made her way across the lawn, and through the hedges. She wasn’t sure what she was doing. On a hunch, she headed toward the Schmidt’s house to see if her stalker was heading there too. Hazel and Sandy knew all of the gaps in the bushes and fences to get to one another’s houses without taking to the street. She hunched down in a honeysuckle bush that climbed the fence surrounding the Schmidt’s extensive garden. It always felt like reentering the summers of her childhood to push through the leaves, with a sweet aroma of the delicate flowers surrounding her. But there were no blossoms on it this time of year. Night was almost fully drawn down like a shade against the light of the descending sun. The air chilled, and Hazel shivered.
She scanned the flower-lined walkways and patios of the Schmidt estate. Her eye caught movement in the large gazebo situated in the back corner of the yard. Hazel crept quietly toward it and stopped behind a bed of orange, winter-blooming Canterbury Bells when she heard voices.
“You’re early.”
“I was in the neighborhood.”
Hazel crouched and moved closer, careful not to scuff her shoes on the paving stones. Looking up through the bushes, into the shadowed gazebo, Hazel saw two figures facing one another, almost touching. The smell of cigarette smoke floated toward her.
“Where else you been? With Frisky?” It was Sandy, wearing a black dress and no hat. She had an angry pout on her face.
“Nah. It ain’t like that with her.” Arthur dropped his cigarette to the floor and stomped it out.
“Liar.” Sandy took a step backward.
“Say, what’s it to you?” Arthur grabbed Sandy by the shoulders and pushed her against one of the columns of the white gazebo. “Want to play in the dirt a little, swell? You liked it before.”
Sandy gasped. “Ouch. I oughta slap you.”
“Just you try.” He pressed closer to her. “What’sa matter, swell? Afraid you’ll get your hands dirty?”
“You’re an animal.”
“And you ain’t?” he growled.
Hazel watched her friend stare down the boy in the bowler hat, Sandy’s chest rising with every breath. The air seemed to crackle with electricity.
“I despise you,” Sandy rasped.
Arthur snorted and wrapped his arms around Sandy. Hazel almost jumped from her hiding place to defend her friend but stopped when the two smashed together in a rough kiss that Sandy was definitely not fighting.
Hazel looked away while the couple passionately gripped one another, making sounds that made her face burn.
“Artie,” Sandy gasped. “You send me.” His black bowler hat fell to the floor as Sandy moved her hands into Arthur’s hair.
“I’m no good,” he said while he kissed her neck—more like devoured it. Hazel tried not to stare.
“I know,” Sandy moaned.
They slid down the column to the floor of the gazebo. Arthur turned Sandy in his arms with a grunt, settling on top of her. She pushed the suspenders off his shoulders and started to unbutton his shirt.
“Say that you ain’t better than me,” Arthur breathed low. He slid one side of her dress off her shoulder and pressed his lips there.
“Yes. Yes. It’s true.” Sandy kissed him again, and he kissed her back. Then the intensity shifted, and Arthur pulled away and rested his head on her chest.
He let out a sigh. “You mean it, dollface?”
“Yeah.” Sandy ran her hands down his back.
Arthur raised up onto his elbows and gazed down at her, his usually stony face fracturing with emotion. “You with me?”
“Yeah.”
“They won’t like it.”
“I don’t give a hang. Let them squawk and lose their tail feathers over it.” She pushed up against him until he rolled over so that she rested on his chest.
“My plan for the ball? You’ll help me out?” He reached up and touched her hair, a fire in his eyes.
“Anything you want.” Sandy burrowed into his chest. “I don’t care what happens. They deserve what they get for what they did to you … and what they did to my sister and me. I hate them.”
“That’s right, baby. We’ll show ‘em. You’re like me—not them.”
“Maybe that’s why we hate each other.”
“Yeah,” Arthur said as their mouths met again.
A voice called from the back of the house. “Miss Alesandra! You out here? Dinner.” It was Flora.
Sandy scrambled to her feet and straightened her clothing. “Coming, Flora.” She put a finger up to her lips to hush Arthur. “Tomorrow,” she whispered.
“I’m gone,” Arthur said quietly. He picked up his hat and rose to his feet.
Arthur stood, looking at Sandy for several moments, and Hazel thought they would start into necking again. But he placed his bowler hat on his head, gave Sandy a slight smile, and slipped away into the shadows.
Sandy sighed to herself and wiped a hand over her mouth. She cleared her throat. The darkness seemed to hold her as she stared the direction that Arthur had gone. Hazel wondered what was going through her mind. Sandy tugged her dress back over her shoulder and stepped out of the gazebo, heading toward her house. Flora stood waiting for her. Light and soft music spilled out of the doorway to the kitchen, where servants laughed and talked while Bing Crosby crooned “Temptation.”
Hazel watched her friend go, wondering what to do. Arthur and Sandy. It seemed like some kind of mess. Sandy was not the same since her kidnapping; that was for certain.
Hazel had Jennings wait in the Buick as she walked toward the clinic the morning of the Veiled Prophet Ball. She would have plenty of time to get ready. The clinic had been the last place that she’d seen Teeth and the Sinclair’s maid, Maxie, and she felt drawn there.
“Lady Bananas.”
Hazel turned around. Stanley. His cap gripped in his hands, hair a mess, he examined her with his blue eyes.
“Stanley. Hi. What are you doing here?” She swallowed. Something about the look on his face made her nervous.
“Looking for you.” The shadow of golden stubble on his chin and the dark circles under his eyes made him seem dangerous and unhinged. Hazel had a flashback of Arthur and Sandy’s heavy smooching, and for a moment, she wanted to know what it would be like with Stanley.
“Don’t go there.”
“Huh?” Startled out of her vision of Stanley crushing her in his arms, Hazel blushed. “What? Go where?”
“The clinic. Stay away from it.”
Hazel sighed, relieved he wasn’t reading her mind, which he sometimes seemed to be able to do. “Listen, Snoopy, you have your way of helping the poor, and I have mine. While the idea of raiding trash cans may be alluring, I think I’d rather keep my hands clean.” She was being rude again and knew it.
His eyes darkened, and his face reddened. “I see. You think that’s all I do?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know what you do.”
Stanley pulled a folded copy of what he’d typed up for The Knights Voice from his pocket and handed it to her.
Hazel’s head pounded when she saw that the articles were about Evelyn and her diary. “What’s this … I don’t want to know.”
“It’s for a paper. One that will print the truth.”
“This looks like trouble.”
“We got trouble. We were supposed to be a team. But you’re all screwy right now. Even your dad is helping. He’s behind this paper we’re gonna print.” He stepped closer, searching her eyes, as she rubbed her forehead. “Head hurt again, huh?”
Hazel nodded. Stanley’s face went from scrutiny to concern.
“They’re in your head.” He reached up to lightly brush her forehead with his fingertips.
She stepped away. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Legion. They work with darkness … the occult.”
“No. That’s all
nuts and superstition.”
“It isn’t.” His face was grim. “I saw it around Charles the night he killed Evelyn.”
“Charles is in prison. The others will steer clear of us, because people would start to suspect there was more to the story if anything happened to us now. Wouldn’t that be bad for the VP?”
“They’re not afraid of us or what it looks like, because they control the papers and the police. Look, we got all the info from the diary we need. There are other things I’m learning. Underground forces at play.”
Hazel shook her head. “What’s all this got to do with the clinic and their work for the poor?”
“The Winnowing. Eugenics. You know that word?”
“No …”
“Means they decide who lives and dies. They decide who breeds.”
Hazel thought of the pamphlets she had seen, and her head hurt again. “Oh … but this is where people come for help.”
“You know something isn’t right here. Nobody’s seen Teeth since he came to this place.”
Something stopped Hazel from saying that it was also the last place she’d seen Maxie. “Doctor Galton drove him home, himself. You can ask Teeth’s father, the doctor said he talked to him.”
“Teeth’s daddy? He’s with the CCC, working out west, Bananas. The doc lied to you.”
“Wait … the CCC?” Hazel shook her head.
“The Civilian Conservation Corps that Prez Roosevelt put together for men out of work.”
“But the doctor said … There must be a reasonable explanation.”
“For a lie? Sure. Deception is a fairly reasonable explanation. Especially when you’re hiding the fact that you’re evil.” Stanley’s voice rose and emphasized the last word.
No. It couldn’t be true. “Evil! Listen to you. You think everyone is in on some plot? Some of us are just trying to help.” Hazel’s heart sped up, and a splitting pain made her grab her head.
“Haze …”
She shut her eyes. “Stop! Don’t say anything else.”
Stanley’s eyes grew wide, and he stepped back with his hands up. “Okay, Bananas. Okay …” A look of fear passed over his face. He kept his eyes on her and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. He held it out, a white flag of surrender. “Your nose is bleeding, Haze.”
