by Blake Pierce
She was glad to see him excited because it got Jeffrey excited, even though he did not yet understand the full scope of professional boxing. And anything that kept Jeffrey alight and smiling these days was always welcome.
With dinner over, Roosevelt willingly cleaned the dishes while Ava and Jeffrey headed to his bedroom. While he changed into pajamas, Ava sat down on his floor and looked through his thin collection of books. She picked one out and said, “What about The Lucky Pup?”
Jeffrey frowned but said, “Sure. That’s fine.”
“Do you not want a story?” Ava asked.
“Not one of those. I want one like Dad used to tell.”
Ava felt her heart shudder a bit. Her palms started to grow sweaty right away and an idea came to her. “Jeffrey, I’m never going to be able to tell those stories like your father could. But you know what? What about I tell you a story about your dad? There sure are enough of them to choose from.”
“Whoa, really? That would be great!”
They sat on his bed and as she began Jeffrey settled his head into her shoulder. “Now, you know your dad didn’t get upset very easily,” Ava started, “but that wasn’t true on the day he had to go scare off all these stray dogs that found their way into a butcher’s shop.”
Jeffrey was giggling right away, and it helped her to get though the story. Because even though it was absolutely a true story—and among the funniest she’d ever heard from Clarence and his friends alike—it made her miss him fiercely. When the story was over ten minutes later, Ava could not decide if the tears streaming down her face were of joy or sorrow.
She tucked Jeffrey in and gave him a kiss goodnight. He’d been going to bed much earlier since Clarence died and when she closed his door, she thought it looked like he was already nodding off.
She found her father in the living room, thumbing through her records. She found this funny, as he’d always been quite vocal about how much he disliked jazz. He enjoyed what he called “hillbilly music” from artists like Uncle Dave Macon and Jimmie Rodgers.
“Still nothing good to listen to,” Roosevelt commented as she came into the room.
“That’s a matter of opinion,” Ava said, settling down into her favorite chair. “Thanks for dinner, Dad. You didn’t have to.”
“I know. But I wanted to. You’ve got this high-falutin’ job now. You need all the help you can get. How’s it going, by the way?”
The little girl wanting to please her father was bursting to tell him that she’d been assigned a case. But the facts of it all would suck the joy out of it—that she was only on it to paint a pretty picture of the police force in the wake of what was looking to turn into a serial killer case.
“There’s a lot of walking, that’s for sure.”
“Are the men down there giving you hell? Need me to give them a talking to?”
She thought of the man who had tried to assault her in the locker room, and the reactions of the men who had come in with him. “I’m getting some sass, but nothing too bad. I’m a big girl, Dad.”
“Oh, I know. A big girl with a vicious right hook, at that.” He cracked his knuckles nervously and looked sadly at his daughter. “Ava, I’ve been thinking about it and…if you’ll have me, I’d like to stay here for a while. I think it’ll just be easier until you get used to the job and until you and Jeffrey both get used to Clarence not being here.”
“That’s lovely, Dad, but where would you sleep?”
“I’ll lug the mattress from my apartment.”
Ava wriggled her nose at the thought of the grimy apartment over the gym—the place he’d been calling home for more than ten years now, ever since her mother had died. She was about to comment on his apartment and the aforementioned mattress, but then a thought occurred to her. With the thought came guilt, and then a bit of excitement.
“You know,” she said, “you could start tonight, if you want. There was a small case at work that I was asked to help with after hours but I didn’t know how you’d feel about it—and I had told Jeffrey I’d be on time this evening. If you want to stay here tonight, you could have my bed and I’ll bunk with Jeffrey when I get back.”
“Really? What sort of case do they have dames working on after hours?”
“I think it’s just some records stuff…looking into these two recent murders of women.”
The lie came too easy—as did the thought of Clarence’s gun resting on the top shelf of their bedroom closet.
“I’m game for it if you are,” Roosevelt said. “You sure your old man living with you isn’t going to get in the way?”
“Of course not,” she said, getting to her feet and giving him a hug. “I love having you around. And I think it helps Jeffrey more than you know.”
“You leaving now?” he asked.
“Yeah. The sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll get back. Just need to change my clothes.”
This was another lie. They seem to really be piling up, huh? she thought.
She knew she was lying because the idea she had seemed a little crazy. Now, thinking of the old Smith and Wesson Model 10 Clarence kept in their closet, she couldn’t help but not think of her plan.
She went to the bedroom and walked toward the closet. She thought of Jeffrey and of how careful she needed to be when she went out. But more than that, she thought of a man known as Tony Two—and how he wasn’t going to be at this poker game forever.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The streets were lit up by a few glowering street lamps as Ava made her way over toward Madison Avenue. It was nearing nine o’clock and there weren’t many people on the street. On her way over, she paused outside of a public telephone booth, wondering if she should call the precinct to see if Frank had ever showed up and left a message for her. It seemed like a bad idea, though; if it was discovered she’d called at this hour looking for Frank, it would really seem that they had been working independently and that she had already gone way off the rails.
She turned her back on the phone and continued walking as the intersection that would cross her over to the automobile dealership came into view. She walked slowly, as to not draw attention from anyone she passed. She knew she likely looked a little out of place because she was wearing a thin cardigan jacket despite the modest heat of the summer night. The cardigan was necessary though, as it was hiding the pistol that was tucked between her back and the waistband of her skirt.
As the auto dealership came into view, she tried talking herself out of going ahead. She had a child at home. She had a future head of her, even if Clarence was no longer here. Did she really think she was just going to drop in on a mobster’s poker game and get all the answers she needed for this case?
She didn’t know. But what she did know was that her knees were already deciding for her, working in tandem with her feet to haul her across the street. She looked to the darkened glass of the dealership. There were others in town that were doing much better as people started to make more money and realized just how reliable and necessary automobiles would be in the coming years. There were even projections that half the county would be using them by the 1950s—something that seemed almost unreal to Ava. However, the one on Madison was a newer one and, as far as she knew, wasn’t doing quite as well as the others. Given that, she supposed it made sense for the owner to allow illegal poker games involving nefarious men on his property. Certainly there was some sort of financial advantage to it.
She stayed a good distance away after crossing the street. She remained out of the building’s shadow until she had walked all the way around to the back. If she needed proof that Jack Dooley had been telling her the truth, she saw it in the form of three parked cars in the rear lot. There was a single door along the back wall of the building and as she approached it, she could see a little sliver of light along the bottom, barely touching the parking lot.
Ava walked to the door and pressed her ear against it. She could hear several murmuring voices and muted movement. Someone coughed
lightly, then two people laughed. She thought she even heard a woman’s faint voice as well.
Slowly, she tried the door and was rather surprised to find that it was not locked. She guessed anyone with information about this game would have had an invitation—so there was no need to lock the door. With the knob already halfway turned in her hands, she figured she may as well go ahead and get the job done. She took a deep breath, steeled up her courage, and pushed the door open.
At the same time, she stepped inside and pulled out the S&W Model 10. The world went swimmy for just a moment, mainly because of the almost natural feeling that swept through her as she drew the weapon.
As she stepped inside and the door swung closed behind her, the world seemed to freeze for a moment. Ava found herself looking at a rather small, crowded room. There were four men in the room, sitting around a small table set up in the center of the floor. One of the men had a long-legged dame sitting on his knee. Another man was also paired with a broad who had gams that seemed to go straight up to her neck. She was currently leaning over, pretending to get a good look at the cards but really just shoving her sample bosom into the man’s face in an obvious way. The room was filled with smoke and the strong yet enticing smell of liquor.
“What the…” one of the men said as all eyes turned to Ava.
She saw the man known as Tony Two, slightly shorter than the rest, but dressed very dapper. There was a hesitant smile on his face as he tried to figure out why this crazy dame had burst in on his poker game. The other men had the same look on their faces but then, all at once, they seemed to notice the gun in her hands.
Questions flew through the air like bullets as everyone suddenly snapped to a crazy sort of attention.
“What are you doing with that bean shooter?” one of the men asked.
“Who the hell are you?” one of the others asked.
Tony Two, getting to his feet and reaching toward his waist asked, “What are you doing here, you crazy skirt?”
“Keep your hands where I can see them, Tony.”
Tony’s eyes narrowed when she used his name. He hesitated and stopped moving his hands. The other men also got to their feet, their ladies backing away to the far wall.
“This some kind of raid?” Tony asked. He snickered here and grinned, looking to his boys. When he looked back to Ava he said, “You some kind of cop?”
Everyone laughed at this, even the women.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Ava said. “And no, this isn’t a raid. This is—”
She barely saw the man to the right move. He moved very fast, pelting a brown bottle at her. Clear, pungent-smelling liquid came spilling out of it as it flew end over end toward her. Ava dodged the bottle just in time; she could hear it whistling past her ear and got splashes of the alcohol in her hair.
While she was distracted, Tony went back to his waist, surely about to pull a gun. Ava pivoted out of her dodge and wheeled back around with a backhanded blow. It took Tony in the chest and he stumbled backwards. He had been going for a gun—it clattered to the floor as she struck him.
As he reached for it, one of the women at the back had apparently had enough of this scene. She dashed forward, heading for the door In her haste, her elegantly crafted leg slammed into Tony Two’s head just as he grabbed the gun. Ava took advantage of this and dashed forward, gun still raised.
“Stand up, Tony!”
Tony did as she asked, looking at her as if he might very well shoot bullets out of his eyes. Ava wasn’t sure anyone had ever looked at her with so much anger before. As they locked eyes, another of the poker players took advantage and, in an act of desperation, flipped the table over. Cards, money, and cigars went flying. More alcohol was spilled, and the back room of the auto dealership was suddenly alive with a flurry of activity.
The table struck Ava’s legs and she stumbled back. One of the other men came rushing after her, his eyes on her gun. Ava did not want to use it—not at all, actually—so she quickly transferred it to her left hand so she could catch the man with a vicious jab to the chin. It rocked him hard and he staggered back, his eyes going swimmy as he fell.
As soon as he fell, another man was coming after her, As he did, she noted two other things: the third man was going for Tony’s gun and Tony was scrambling for the door, right behind the woman with the generous bosom.
She acted quickly, figuring she had about three seconds before the third man had the gun in his hands and took aim. She brought her own gun up, hating how odd it felt in her left hand. It was enough to get the rushing man to stop, though. With his eyes distracted by the sight of the pistol, she brought her right hand around again, cold-cocking him right along the temple. He spun in a half circle, tripped on one of the table legs, and went down in a heap.
Ava then placed her foot on the upended table and pushed hard at it. She pushed it against the man going for Tony’s gun and the leg closest to him slammed into his shoulder. As he reeled back from that attack, Ava grabbed Tony’s gun and turned to stop him from retreating.
But it was too late. Tony had already made his way out the door and across the parking lot. She could just barely see his dark form turning to nothing more than shadow as he sprinted across the corner and down Madison. In his retreat, he’d knocked down one of the women from the back room. She was still on the ground, holding her forearm to her chest. Ava instinctively reached down to help her up, her eyes still on Tony’s retreating figure.
As she watched, she saw another figure come hurtling out of the shadows of one of the neighboring buildings, on a collision course with Tony Two.
“What the hell…” Ava said.
She took off running, releasing the slender woman so quickly that she almost fell to the pavement again. Ava ran as hard as she could, now transferring the pistol back to her right hand. She kept her eyes on the two figures as they came together and as they tumbled, it was clear to see that someone had come from out of nowhere to knock Tony Two down.
It wasn’t until she was about a dozen or so feet away that she clearly saw the other figure.
It was Frank. He had Tony Two down on the concrete and was applying handcuffs. Frank looked up to Ava and said, “I damn sure hope there’s a need for me putting these things on.”
“He drew a gun on me…or, rather, tried.”
“Crazy broad!” Tony yelled as Frank hauled him to his feet. “What’s this all about anyway?”
Ava and Frank ignored him. Frank looked in the direction Ava and Tony had been coming from and frowned slightly. “Were you chasing him or something? I got your note about the auto dealership…”
“I sort of was. There’s three other guys back there.”
“They hurt you? Are they still there?”
She shrugged almost playfully. “Oh, they’re still there, all right.”
“Crazy broad came in just throwing punches with that bean shooter pulled out!” Tony said.
“Hold on,” Frank said, marching Tony along with them as they hurried back to the dealership. “You mean to tell me you busted up a poker game and beat up four men on your own?”
“I wouldn’t say beat up,” Ava said.
They came to the door and Ava opened it slowly. One of the men was getting back to his feet, using the wall as leverage. The other two were still knocked out cold.
Frank turned to her with a confused smile—an impressed smile, if Ava was reading it correctly. “If you don’t call this beat up, I sure would like to know what you call it.”
“How much trouble is this going to put me in?”
With the same smile on his face, Frank shook his head. “If you can start showing some of this side at the station, I’ll make sure there’s no trouble.”
“Oh, I can make it enough for you,” Tony said.
“That sounds like a threat, Tony Two,” Frank said. “I think we need to have a little chat at the station.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“I ain’t no rat,” Tony said as they hauled
him into the precinct. Ava was directly behind him and the automatic attention the man generated made her slightly uncomfortable. He spoke loudly, as if wanting to make sure he gave everyone on duty a show. “And I didn’t do a damned thing tonight.”
“Tell it to us in an interrogation room,” Frank said, pushing him roughly along. Ava could tell Frank wanted to get the guy to an interrogation room before he caused too much chaos and confusion in the bullpen and hallways of the station.
“Why you being so rough with me?” Tony demanded. “Being tough now, I see. But it was this dame right here that did all the work!” He cackled as he got more and more attention, officers turning in his direction as he was marched through the building. “You coppers hear that? This big bad copper didn’t do a thing but tackle me when I wasn’t looking! It was the broad that had the real muscle!”
Frank sneered and hauled Tony all the way back to the interrogation rooms. When Ava followed him in, she realized it was her fist time inside of one. Honestly, when she’d asked Minard for the job, she never dreamed she would have come this far—and especially not in such record time. It was awe-inspiring, but it also made her feel as if all of the weight of the world was, in that moment, on her shoulders.
The room contained only a table and two chairs, one on each side. Simple and straightforward, but to Ava it felt like the site of some huge test. And she was the only one taking it.
Frank shoved Tony into the chair on the opposite side of the table with such force that it, and Tony along with it, almost went tipping over.
“You done screaming?” Frank asked.
“What’s wrong, dick? I embarrass you?”
Ava could see the fury in Frank’s eyes when he turned to her. He did his best to keep his voice calm and calculated when he spoke. “Officer Gold, would you step out and let me talk to this gentleman?”
Ava nodded. She was a bit disappointed, but given the way the night had gone she didn’t want to push too hard.
