The Vampire Files Anthology

by P. N. Elrod

  Adelle knew nothing about what I’d been through with Hog Bristow, and for some reason that helped me to be stronger for her. I felt better for the giving, like my old self, and it lasted longer than a few seconds. I held her tight and murmured the often useless but frequently comforting, “It’s okay, everything’s going to be all right” at the top of her head.

  Damned if it didn’t work. After a while, she pulled away. Makeup running, eyes puffed, her whole face seemed bruised. She sat on one of the cushioned chairs and scrounged in her purse for a handkerchief—no dinky lace thing, but a large practical one—and blew and dabbed and swiped. I sat across from her, waiting to listen. Damn, the things I do for friends.

  “Most men,” she said, her voice deeper, more husky than normal, “go into a dithering panic when a woman cries. They either want to run for the hills or instantly fix the problem so she stops. Or they try to kiss her or slap her. I’m glad you’re the sensible type.”

  “Nah, I’m a fake. I couldn’t make up my mind which would work.”

  She unexpectedly giggled while trying to blow her nose again and made a real mess of it, requiring another handkerchief.

  I sat next to her. “If I ran, the mugs here would shoot me out of reflex. I can’t fix the problem, not knowing what it is, so that wasn’t the right road. If I tried kissing or hitting, I’d risk a sock in the chops from you, being shot by Gordy when he found out, being shot by Bobbi when she found out, or all three.”

  Adelle put a hand over her mouth to stifle the laugh. “God, I wish you could stay with us. I need the change.”

  “Maybe I can swing by later.” Gordy had been staying at her place I’d heard.

  “It’s all right. I know you’re busy with…the business. There’s no one I can talk to. Gordy’s men are polite, but they’re not…well…”

  “You can’t let ’em see you cry.”

  “No. You’re different from them. You’ve got a heart. To you I’m a friend, not just the boss’s piece.”

  “Hey, you’re not—”

  She waved it away. “I overhear their talk, but it doesn’t matter. They can only define me by the limits of their world.”

  “You lemme know which ones are being disrespectful, and I’ll widen their experience. Now, what’s the big problem?”

  “Gordy.”

  “What? He not treating you right?” No way. For all his rough side with the mob, he was always a gentleman with her, emphasis on “gentle.”

  “It’s not that. Oh, Jack, he’s ill.”

  “Ill? Pneumonia? Measles? What?” God, if he caught anything while he was still shaky from the bullets…

  “Not that kind. He’s pushing himself and he’s up too soon and he’s exhausting everything in him and I can’t make him listen to reason.”

  She’d work herself into another bout of tears in another second. I made calming motions. “Take it easy, I was going to talk to him about it anyway. Strome told me he was here tonight, and I couldn’t believe he was outta bed again.”

  “Gordy thinks if he doesn’t show a strong face, it’ll undermine his authority over his men.”

  “He’s got a point, but if he falls on his duff, it’ll undermine worse.”

  “It’s more than that. I’m afraid it’s killing him. He’s so gray, and he hides it, but I know he’s weak. He barely made it from the car into here, then Kroun came in, and he went upstairs like nothing was wrong. It’s all a front and—”

  “I get the picture.”

  “You’ll talk to him? Make him rest?”

  “You bet your sweet…ah…tonsils I’ll do that.”

  “He looked awful yesterday and worse today. That Kroun’s got him all stirred up. Gordy doesn’t let on to me, but I hear stuff when he’s on the phone or talking with Lowrey.”

  “What stuff?”

  “One of the things I heard…the boys here said Kroun was going to kill you.” She whispered the last part.

  I took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “That’s old news. We’re copacetic now.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah. Guaranteed. Everything’s fine there, or I wouldn’t be here.” Not strictly true. If all the guys in the gang liked me, I wouldn’t have had slashed tires. Then I wouldn’t have been around to help Jewel and Adelle. Instead I’d have been in my upper-tier booth of my club hiding in its shadows and probably feeling very sorry for myself. Funny how things can turn out.

  “I wish you could make that Kroun go back to wherever he came from.”

  “Same here.” Maybe I could, if I felt up to it. “Do you need anything?”

  She blew her nose. “A new head on my shoulders?”

  “I’m fresh out. What’s wrong with this one?”

  “Gordy makes me crazy.”

  That was my second time tonight to hear the same tune from a woman. Adelle made me wonder if I was driving Bobbi crazy in some way. The odds favored it.

  “It’s the life he’s got that’s doing this to me,” she said. “It forces things like that shooting to happen. I’ve been able to ignore it until now. At first dating a gangster seemed very thrilling, but suddenly it turned different. He’s not some kind of a misunderstood hero with a dark side, he’s a man with a lot of insane, vicious enemies who will cut him down at the first chance.”

  “The hard part for you is that Gordy accepts that.”

  “One of the hard parts. There are a hundred other things.”

  “More like a couple thousand.”

  “To him it’s just part of the job. You prepare as much as you can, then go on like you think it won’t happen. But it does and it did.”

  “He’s still here, Adelle.”

  “And for how long? Oh—no, I’m sorry, that was a stupid, filthy thing to say.”

  “You’re scared, honey. No one blames you for that. But the fact is, whether he’s a gangster or a streetcar conductor, it’s all the same. Any one of us can die at any time; we don’t get to pick and choose when or where, it’s out of our hands.”

  “I know that. But Gordy’s in a business where the chances are higher against him. It’s one thing to know you could get accidentally run over by a truck; it’s quite another to keep standing in the middle of the road.”

  “Touché and no arguments. But if he did any other kind of work, he wouldn’t be Gordy. Don’t kid yourself that you can change him.”

  She made a “ha” sound. “I gave that illusion up when I was married to Roland.”

  This was the first time she’d ever referred to him with me.

  “I tried and tried, but I could not change that man, even when it was to save his life from the booze. Gordy’s the same. I’m hoping he’ll change for himself and quit the mob, like Roland when he decided to stop drinking. So many never do change, though.”

  “Almost never.” I’d certainly done it, involuntarily, doing things now I’d have never dreamed about two years ago. It was about then that I’d begun thinking about coming out to Chicago and starting my life over. My hope to find Maureen was nearly gone, and it seemed like every corner of New York reminded me of her. I did a lot of thinking and boozing and selling off or hocking stuff to save up the train fare. Hard to do when I kept drinking a substantial part of the gleanings. It took me all the way until August to finally save enough cash to leave New York…and find death in Chicago. A slow, hard, and ugly dying.

  And if I had stayed in New York, what then? I’d be a thirty-seven-yearold reporter rapidly drinking my way to forty-seven, which was about when I could expect Bright’s disease or some liver problem or a car crash to do me in, if not sooner.

  Looking at it that way made it almost seem like I’d been a different man whose unfinished biography I had read a long time ago. A man who had indifferently squandered his all-too-finite life by spending it feeling sorry for himself.

  “Jack?” Adelle touched my hand.

  “Yeah?” I hauled myself back from the might-have-been wreckage.

  “What is it?”r />
  “I was thinking that once in a while life makes the change, not the man, but whether it’s for good or bad is usually up to the man.”

  “Or woman.”

  “You got it. Listen, Angel: Gordy has to do the kind of tough dealings you never want to know about, but where you’re concerned he’s a good man and always will be.”

  “I’ve felt that. But I’m not enough. He’s already talking about when he gets back to work, the things he’s going to do…. They’re apart from the business, though. He says he wants to set me up at his club like you have with Bobbi. A regular headliner, the big star, Chicago’s favorite. I like the life, but I don’t know if I like it as much as I used to.”

  “What, you planning to move to the country, maybe buy a chicken farm?”

  She laughed a little. “That sounds pretty good about now. But it would drive me quite rollicking mad.”

  “So long as you know.”

  “But I do wish…I just want a world that doesn’t have this in it.” She made a sideways gesture as though to take in gangland and all its grief.

  I could wish the same.

  With more waiting to do for the both of us, we left the casino for the outer bar. Adelle looked like she could use something to steady her down. I could watch while she drank it.

  Jewel Caine was gone by now. I checked with her waitress. The lady had engulfed her meal and departed backstage. I couldn’t imagine why she’d talk to Caine unless she wanted to let him know part of his check would be going to her as alimony. Not smart. He’d raise a stink and could find a different club to sing in, cutting her off. I sent a bouncer to go find Jewel; he came back to say she was backstage visiting girlfriends in the chorus. She was nowhere near Caine, or there might have been a ruckus.

  Adelle and I parked at the house’s best table and watched the place gradually fill up. The band started earning their keep and couples made forays onto the dance floor. A few people came by to say hello, and a woman asked for Adelle’s autograph, which lifted her mood.

  Then Whitey Kroun emerged from the back, saw me, and came over. Mitchell was with him, still doing his glaring game. He would seriously bore me in a minute. Strome walked through, heading for the front entry. I wondered if he ever got tired of all the driving.

  “You might want to leave,” I told Adelle.

  “Should I? This is my chance to meet the big boss.”

  “I thought you had.”

  “Gordy likes me gone when there’s business to conduct.”

  “Why do you want to meet Kroun?”

  “The face of the enemy,” she murmured darkly. She was all charm when Kroun stopped at the table.

  I stood up and started to introduce them, but Kroun beat me to it, taking her hand and looking deep into her eyes.

  “Miss Adelle Taylor,” he said, making a pleased announcement of it, as though to confirm it to himself. That personal wattage he had going went up a few thousand volts. Adelle actually blinked from his surprisingly warm smile. “This is an honor and a very great pleasure, Miss Taylor. I knew you were in Chicago, but never expected to meet you. Knock me over with a feather, I’m in heaven.”

  For a second I thought he’d kiss her hand, but he settled for holding it just long enough to make his first impression on her memorable, then released. Somehow, without being asked, he was sitting at our table. Thankfully, Mitchell remained standing, but on the other side. I wouldn’t have wanted him looming over my shoulder.

  “Mr. Kroun,” Adelle said, in turn, graciously.

  “Please, call me Whitey. You can see why.” He brushed a hand through his hair, combining the gesture with an ironic but genial, invitation-to-intimacy smile. Special friends only.

  She didn’t fall for it, but did ask him about the white streak. “It’s very striking.”

  “Well…I can’t exactly take credit for it.”

  “Really? I thought it was natural.”

  “Anything but. I was shot there.” His tone softened what should have been alarming news down to the level of amusing anecdote. “Some guy got too frisky and tried to take my head off, but he just missed. The bullet cut this into my thick skull. When the hair grew back…well, you can see what happened.”

  “How horrible for you.”

  “I didn’t feel a thing.”

  “What happened to the man?”

  “They’re still trying to figure that one out,” he said, which wasn’t really an answer.

  Adelle was savvy enough to know when to stop.

  Kroun smoothly filled in the gap. “I just want to say I am a great admirer of yours. Soon as your movies hit town I’d watch three and four times in a row. Couldn’t get enough of ’em. Why don’t you make some more? You’re terrific.”

  “Why, thank you!” She instantly warmed up. He’d struck one of her favorite chords. “Tell that to the producers in Hollywood. The casting is quite out of my hands.”

  “That’s just not right. They should have you starring in all kinds of things. I’ve already said you’re terrific, now I have to let you know you’re wonderful.”

  Mitchell stopped glaring at me long enough to spare a look at his boss and did a restrained rolling of eyes. I might have done the same, but for picking up that Kroun’s high regard for Adelle was absolutely sincere. He seemed to be utterly smitten, but not pushy about it. He held the personal charm note perfectly, drawing it out.

  “I’ll be around, Mr. Kroun,” Mitchell said, and drifted away without waiting for a reply. Good thing, since he didn’t get one.

  Adelle agreed with Kroun about Hollywood’s lack of judgment in regard to her career. They had plenty of common ground: his veneration for her and her agreeing with him about it. I wasn’t going to leave her alone with him, but she turned her big eyes on me. “Jack, would you mind doing that little favor I asked?”

  “You sure?” This didn’t seem to be the best time, but Gordy would be free. She’d keep Kroun well distracted, too.

  “Certainly.”

  I took that to mean she knew how to deal with him, and she had to like the flattery. Who wouldn’t? “I’ll be back shortly, then,” I said, leaving. My money was on Adelle, that she’d learn more about Kroun in five minutes than I would in a week. I was glad she and I were on the same side.

  Upstairs I bumped into Derner in the hall. “Gordy wants to see you,” he said.

  “Mutual, I’m sure.” I went past him, not breaking stride. Evidently this would be a private meeting, since Derner went on to clatter down the stairs. Suited me. I pushed open the office door and found Gordy sitting the same as ever in his big chair at the desk. What was unusual was him apparently being asleep. His eyes were fast shut, his head down on his chest. He didn’t look so good.

  As I drew closer I chanced to take in a whiff of air. In this place with the familiar chrome furnishings and pastoral paintings I was startled to pick up a very out-of-place hospital taint. Heavy, sweet, but with an odd acidic tang to it. Certain smells will trigger memories. This one stripped away half a lifetime and hauled me back to the casualty wards from when I’d been in the War. I’d lost too many friends there.

  My heart sank. Adelle’s assessment about Gordy being bad off were all too right.

  In addition to the sickroom miasma—it wasn’t that strong, just enough that only I could have noticed—I picked up bloodsmell. His wounds must be seeping. If it triggered another damn bout of shaking…Gordy wasn’t the only one who had to limit the number of people seeing him vulnerable. He didn’t need my troubles on top of his own, either.

  Going to a window, I eased it open, lifting high. The curtains immediately billowed as icy air swept in. We were high enough off the street for it to be fresh. After a minute the place was freezing, but much of the smell dissipated. Because I’d been chilled through since waking, this cold got to me more than it should. I fought off increasingly violent shivers until it hurt. Enough was too much. I lowered the window, leaving it short a couple inches, and turned toward the desk, t
rying to rub warmth into my arms. Wasn’t working. That was for people with circulating blood, and mine…well, mine just didn’t work that way.

  “’Lo, Fleming.”

  If my ears hadn’t been so sensitive, I might not have heard him.

  Gordy’s eyelids cracked, and he took a deep breath. “That’s good. I tell ’em to leave a window open, but Derner’s afraid of pneumonia.” He sounded worse than last night and whatever rest he’d had failed to clear away the circles under his eyes and the weary droop around his mouth. He looked a lot older and more tired than he had any right to be. His large body took up just as much space, but seemed oddly hollow, as though all the strength had been scraped out.

  My heart went into my throat, and I hoped Gordy didn’t see the fear. I made a thumbs-up sign to him and felt like a complete ass for its inadequacy.

  “You need anything?” I asked, taking a chair by him.

  “Have it. Forgot what air’s like. Adelle keeps me wrapped like a mummy when we go out.”

  “How you doing?”

  Gordy shut his eyes and opened them, slow. He looked steadily at one of the landscapes on the opposite wall. It was a good one and must have been his favorite since it faced his desk. I wondered what he liked best about it. “Doc Clarson says the holes are healing clean. No fever. I’m fine. Getting better every day.”

  Yeah, sure you are. God, but he looked tired.

  “He kept me pretty doped at first. I say I want to lay off except at night so I can sleep. I seen what too much of that stuff does to mugs. I’m better. Something wrong? Kroun givin’ you grief?”

  “Not really.” Gordy was throwing out distractions. I knew all about that angle. “You’re the problem. You’ve got Adelle scared half out of her mind.”

  “What d’ya mean?”

  I tapped my shoulder where Adelle had cried. “This ain’t rainwater making a damp spot on my coat. The woman’s on the ragged edge because of you not taking care of yourself.”

  “I can do that after Kroun leaves town.”