Avon Calling Box Set

by Hayley Camille

  Avon Calling. At least now he had something to work with.

  Episode Three

  Chocolate Cake and Sandwiches

  At six o’clock precisely, Sergeant Jacob Lawrence knocked on the door of a tall, handsome house in Borough Park, Brooklyn. A middle-aged woman with glossy, dark hair piled up elegantly, opened the door, meeting him with kind eyes and a wide smile.

  “My bubbeleh!”

  “Hello, Ima,” Jacob said, her smile bringing light to his own tired eyes.

  “Where is my neshika?” She pulled Jacob into a tight hug and kissed his cheeks affectionately. “I’ve barely seen you the last few weeks. You work too hard.”

  “It’s just been a bit crazy at work,” he said.

  “Ah, you don’t need to explain to me. The wife of a police commissioner, remember?” Golda Lawrence ushered her son into the house and shut the door behind him. “I’m just glad your father has retired and I finally get some time with him, even though he plays golf every other day.” Jacob could hear voices coming from the lounge.

  “Is Michael home?” he asked, keen to see his younger brother who had recently begun university.

  “Yes, he’s here,” his mother said, a twinkle in her eye. “And I invited the Sonbergs for dinner as well. Adina has come with them.”

  “Mother, please-”

  “Oh, shush Jacob. She is lovely and such a beryeh for you. So smart and a good Jewish girl, what could be better?”

  “I’ve told you mother, I work too much, I’m no good for anyone right now,” Jacob said.

  “You are nearly thirty years old, Jacob,” his mother said, reproachfully. “You need to make a life for yourself and some grandbabies for me. Goodness knows your brother isn’t going to give me one anytime soon, he can barely string a sentence together around women.” She pulled her eldest son into another hug. “Just have some fun for once, hey? Take her out, see a show.”

  With a reluctant sigh, Jacob followed his mother into the lounge. Amos and Esther Sonberg were talking animatedly to his father by the fireplace, while Michael sat awkwardly on the couch with a pretty young woman who seemed to be trying her hardest to elicit conversation from him. Michael’s face lit up in sheer relief at the sight of his brother.

  “Jacob!” he said.

  The others turned around at his name and within a moment, Jacob was wrapped in the warm embrace of his father followed by a sturdy handshake from Amos.

  “My son, the newest Sergeant in the New York City Police Department!” said Abraham Lawrence proudly.

  “Well done, dear,” said Esther leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

  “Just like your father,” Amos added. “And a better man couldn’t be found. The city’s in safe hands.”

  “That’s very kind,” Jacob said, smiling, and moved over to hug his brother.

  “Have you met our daughter, Jacob?” asked Esther, rushing forward. “This is Adina. You know, she is the personal secretary for General Brandway under the Women’s Reserve. Such an important job!”

  “Oh mother,” Adina said, getting to her feet, laughing. “It’s really not that important.”

  “I’m sure it is,” said Jacob kindly, reaching out to shake Adina’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” Their eyes met, and Jacob’s heart shifted a little. “So, you’re a SPAR then?” Jacob asked, impressed. The SPARS were a new reserve of civilian women, dedicated to administrative roles that assisted military operations. The Coast Guard had formalized the arrangement to replace men in recruitment, shopfronts, warehouses and communication roles, freeing them up for active service.

  “One of the first,” Adina replied. “I was a clerk for a few years, straight out of secretarial college. When the opportunity came up to help our country, well, I wanted to be part of it. In my own small way, of course.”

  Esther hovered nearby, beaming. “What a good girl. So responsible. You’ll make a fine mother, one day. Don’t you think so?”

  “Ima!” Adina flushed and Jacob couldn’t help but laugh. It seemed he wasn’t the only one under duress.

  “Well, I for one, will be happy when you leave that job, children or not,” Amos growled. “There are other ways to serve our country, Adina. That General gets his pound of flesh out of you, that’s for sure! Barely home before ten in the evening some days,” he continued, turning to Jacob. “I know there’s a war on, but a young lady shouldn’t be out that late on her own. There are too many troublemakers on the streets nowadays. You’d know that well enough, Jacob, I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, Aba,” Adina interrupted, with a frown. “It’s only a short walk to the train station and there are plenty of night guards around the General’s office. You worry too much.” She nudged her father gently and gave him a reassuring smile, which softened his face.

  “I still don’t have to like it,” Amos grumbled. “Young women out on the street at night, coming and going, it’s not safe.”

  “I’ve heard of General Brandway,” Jacob said, deftly changing the subject, “although I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him yet.”

  “Well, I’m not sure it will be a pleasure in all honesty,” Adina said. “He tends to be rather abrasive. I think I’m the only one who can manage his temper sometimes.”

  “That can’t be easy to work with in such close quarters,” said Jacob, a flicker of concern crossing his features.

  “Oh, I don’t mind so much,” Adina said. “I’m tougher than I look, despite what my father says.” She raised an eyebrow to Amos and his brow furrowed again.

  “Thinks she’s unbreakable,” he muttered.

  “It’s my job to make it a little easier for the General,” Adina smirked and continued on, resting her head momentarily on her father’s shoulder. “Arranging appointments, taking notes and typing, managing his personal affairs, that sort of thing. I’m sure it’s rather drab compared to the goings-on of a police sergeant though.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Jacob chuckled, “I probably have more paperwork on my desk than you do right now. And I’m probably half as good at managing it.”

  “I’m sure you’re not,” Adina replied. From the corner of his eye, Jacob noticed his mother exchange a look with Esther. If he wasn’t so engaged in conversation, he’d have given her a look of his own. As it turned out though, Adina was far more interesting than he’d expected. She was lively and intelligent, with a pretty face, olive skin and coffee-colored eyes lit with good humor.

  “In any case, the General is a busy man with a difficult job,” she was saying, “especially lately with the- well, with some unexpected problems we’ve encountered over the past months.”

  Jacob raised an eyebrow, then nodded thoughtfully. He knew all about those unexpected problems. “Yes, I’m sure it has been difficult,” he said. “My department has recently become involved with Brandway’s logistics operation - not our usual area of expertise. The military tend to handle these things internally, but this time there are some boundaries crossed. To be honest, the General’s problems have fallen into my lap as the newly minted workhorse at the station.”

  “Really?” Adina said, surprised. “Well, I suppose that means I’ll be seeing a bit more of you then, Jacob.” Her eyes twinkled.

  Jacob felt a rush of warmth to his neck. He looked down at the roses woven into the green rug beneath his feet, then back to Adina and couldn’t help but grin. It had been a long time since a woman had left him short of words. Perhaps there was, after all, something a bit different about this one.

  “What is this, Adina?” Amos interjected. “What have the police to do with your work? I told you it’s not safe for a young lady!”

  “Nothing Aba,” Adina cajoled. “It’s just a small thing, but you know I can’t talk about the particulars with you anyway. It’s classified.”

  “Classified, my knee!” Amos muttered. Esther rolled her eyes and took her husband by the elbow. “Oh, let the young people talk, you old
kvetch,” she clucked, and led him over to the fireplace to pour another drink. Abraham and Golda laughed and joined them, beginning a new conversation.

  Jacob grinned at Adina, who was watching her parents with affection. Beside him, Michael stood awkwardly, not sure which party to join, or avoid.

  “We should worry when they stop worrying about us,” Jacob said, nodding toward their parents. “Thankfully I have Michael here to absorb most of my parents’ attention,” he said to Adina, wrapping his arm around his brother’s shoulder. “A clever plan I instigated when I reached twelve years old and decided a baby brother would be the best countermeasure for over-protective parents.” He winked at Michael, who shook his head, red-faced and chuckling.

  “All your idea, then was it?” Adina laughed.

  “Unquestionably,” said Jacob. “I can be very persuasive.”

  “You could never quite persuade them to let you have that motorcycle you wanted,” said Michael, looking between them with a raised eyebrow.

  “Now hang on a minute, I was stitched up!” Jacob objected, mock offense in his eyes. “I nearly had them convinced on that until the Drezner brothers ruined it for me. If David hadn’t taken a flip over the dock under Brooklyn Bridge, they’d never have found out we’d been practicing until we already had our license!”

  “All three of them ended up in the East River, including the motorcycle they’d borrowed off Charlie Banstein’s pop,” Michael laughed, shrugging off his brother’s arm and picking up his drink. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard mom scold him so loud. He turned up at the doorstep soaked to the bone, right on dinnertime, with Officer Tilley holding him by the scruff of his neck. I was awfully impressed, even at five years old.”

  “So you should have been, I was an unsung hero that day! It took me six months to pay back my share of that motorcycle, and I wasn’t even the one that rode it off the dock. I jumped in to save David, and then Caleb jumped in after me! There we were flapping about in the water trying to keep the thing from sinking with an audience of fishermen laughing their pants off. There wasn’t a chance mom would let me get my own bike after that. I never heard the end of it.”

  Adina laughed, holding her arms across her middle. Jacob regaled her with more tales of his youthful misadventures while Michael directed him toward the silliest memories and skirted others. There was always a shadow his younger brother was sensitive enough to leave alone. They turned to Michael’s college classes for conversation, peppered with a few good-natured jibes about his reluctance to take out the myriad of pretty girls he was surrounded by on campus. By the time Golda called them into the dining room for dinner, the three of them were in high spirits.

  “To these young people,” Abraham said, raising his glass above the sumptuous spread of food laid before them, “a brilliant law student, a clever and unbreakable young woman and the newest police sergeant on the force.” His eyes were nothing but pride.

  “Mazel Tov!” they all toasted, and the conversation flowed across the table once more.

  An hour later, as his family and their guests drifted back into the lounge room after dinner, Jacob stepped out to the back porch with his drink. It had been a good night. A great night in fact. But like always, Jacob couldn’t seem to shake the cloud that followed him. He heard the screen door click quietly behind him and turned to see his father standing there.

  “I hear there’ve been a few nasty hits lately,” Abraham said, gently. “They land on your desk?”

  “Yeah,” Jacob sighed. “Polletti’s crew and some others, street dealers mostly.”

  “Mmm.” His father leant against the rail, looking up into the night sky. “Better that rubbish is gone. Been causing trouble for years. They were bound to end up cold at some point.”

  “Yeah well, they were certainly that,” Jacob muttered, the blood-soaked image of the office all too easy to recollect.

  “You think it’s connected to the GI heists?” Abraham said, his eyes still sweeping the stars.

  Jacob looked at him, surprised. “How do you know about that?”

  “Please, son,” Abraham said, turning to face him. “I haven’t been out of the game that long. People talk. Besides, what else would Brandway have to do with it? Amos might not know what his daughter does every day, but I do. He’s right, it’s not safe at the moment. Not that anywhere is with this rotten war going on.”

  Jacob hesitated. “I think they’re connected. Just not sure how yet.”

  “It’ll come,” his father said. “In the meantime, how about you start getting out once in a while? You need to have some fun, have a life, son. Adina, she’s a nice girl.”

  “I don’t know, Pop.”

  “Listen Jake,” his father said, seriously. “I know what you’ve been doing all these years. I saw it too.”

  Jacob closed his eyes.

  He was not yet eighteen when his father had answered that phone call, with a coffee mug in one hand, dressed in his uniform and ready to leave for the station. Abraham had rushed off, but not fast enough for Jacob to miss the look that passed between his parents and then across to him. Fear. As a seasoned police inspector, his father had never shown fear of anything before.

  “Stay here”, Abraham had yelled as he’d left. And immediately, Jacob had known that that fear was meant for him. But fear of what? He wasn't even finished with high school. The only thing Jacob had to fear was loss. And outside of his family, the only loss great enough was…

  Cold dread washed over Jacob’s skin and he sprang up from the breakfast table, defying his mother’s pleas as she dropped a plate of toast in front of his five-year-old brother. Jacob dragged his bicycle from the front porch and took off, over flowerbeds and through hedges, taking every shortcut he knew to reach Susie’s house. He skidded to a stop, throwing his bike aside at the end of her street. The entire road was blocked off by police.

  Neighbors stood about in dressing gowns and pajamas, evacuated from their homes to the street before sunrise to keep them safe. With the immediate danger now gone, they stared at the flattened and smoking remains of Susie’s house with morbid curiosity from behind police tape, waiting to be allowed back inside their kitchens and bedrooms to resume their lives. None of them had cared for the years that she’d suffered, but now, they stretched their necks forward, keen to see into the house they had so readily turned a blind eye to before. A group of old women uttered sympathies and prayers to each other, shaking their heads in shallow affectation.

  “Go away!” Jacob yelled at them, as he pushed through the crowd. “Please! Just get away!”

  Jacob stumbled across the gray-ashen bitumen yelling her name, blindly fighting against a web of arms that tried to restrain him. A terrible smell, burnt plastic and chemicals stung his nostrils, making the ground spin. The road was wet. The ash, the timber, the uniforms. Everything was sopping wet. From some far-away place, he heard the siren of a fire truck, clearing a path through the onlookers to leave. Their job was over. Others, just beginning.

  “Let him through,” a voice eventually called. It took every ounce of will to focus his eyes on the face of the man picking his way through the debris to reach him. The tiniest part of Jacob was aware and thankful that he wasn’t alone. But the numbing fog in his head registered that same fearful look he’d seen only twenty minutes earlier at the breakfast table. It was a fear of telling his son a terrible truth. Fear of breaking his heart.

  “I’m sorry, son,” his father said. “She’s gone. No one could have survived this mess.”

  “No.” Every visceral part of Jacob’s body twisted inside and he fell forward, vomiting onto the ash. He felt his father’s strong arms supporting him. After a few minutes, his knees felt steady enough to sit upright. A singular thought broke through the shock.

  “Roy?”

  “They found him in the kitchen, what’s left of him. Isn’t much, I’m afraid to say,” Abraham replied. “There were signs of violence. It looks like the house was broken into first. He w
as already dead when the fire began.”

  There was something in those words that was uncomfortably satisfying. Not least for all the years Jacob wished he could have repaid Susie’s father for the abuse he so readily handed out to his daughter. Someone had finally dealt him the death he deserved. There was no end to the list of lowlifes that might have wanted him dead. But Susie, though, she was just a girl trapped in a terrible life she couldn’t escape. She hadn’t deserved a death like that.

  “How long are you going to chase ghosts, Jake?” Abraham asked, laying a gentle hand on his son’s shoulder. “There’s no revenge to be had. Nothing you can do now to change the way things turned out.”

  Jacob looked at his father, twelve years on and wearing that same thoughtful expression, now framed by grey hair and the lines of a difficult career.

  “You need to live your life. It’s good to work hard, I worked hard - I would never have made commissioner if I hadn’t. But work for the right reasons, son. To build a life for yourself, to make a better world for your family, for the children you’ll have one day.”

  Jacob took a deep breath and then smiled at his father, tears in his eyes. He blinked them away. “You are right, of course, Aba, you always are,” he replied.

  “Just give this girl a chance,” Abraham said. “She’s clever and has a nice smile. And I hear she can make a mean mandlach.”

  Jacob chuckled, finally convinced. “Alright, alright, I’ll ask her. Let’s get back inside, before they leave.”

  In the quiet of the house, Betty was finishing the last stitches to the underside of George Junior’s mattress. She was sitting on the floor, half hidden behind the bed and confident that George and the children were distracted in the yard outside. She could hear the little ones playing tag and the occasional swish of newspaper as George turned the page. Oops, an escapee. Betty smirked as she picked up a single hundred-dollar bill from the floor near her knee. She rolled it up and stuffed it into the unstitched gap where she had slit the edging of the mattress for what seemed like the millionth time. The cash she’d taken from Polletti’s safe had a new home. In fact, the mattress was almost more cash than stuffing now, but little George Junior couldn’t tell the difference and George Senior was none the wiser either. She wasn’t entirely sure of her plans for it, but it always paid to keep a little money aside for a rainy day. Or a lot, as it were. Betty finished her neat stitching and straightened the sheets. She picked up her son’s teddy bear and popped it on his pillow, then left with his dirty clothes basket under her arm.