Avon Calling Box Set

by Hayley Camille

Felix stiffened and looked sideways to Carl. The other man was relaxed, pleased with himself.

  “I thought we should leave a message, boss,” Carl said. “To the ones stealing our shit.”

  “You did?” Pinzolo said.

  Carl snorted, grinning. “Yeah.”

  “Mmm. Well that’s your problem right there, Carl. I’m not paying you to think. I think. My cleaning lady thinks. My god-damn cat thinks. Not you. You follow orders.” Pinzolo stroked the ginger cat with his left hand as Carl’s grin dropped into a frown.

  “I didn’t-” he began. Pinzolo held up his right hand.

  “That stunt just made my job a whole lot harder. I said make ‘em talk, then make ‘em disappear. Not turn the job into a flat-foot circus.” As he spoke, Pinzolo used his free hand to open his desk drawer.

  Carl followed Pinzolo’s movements with his eyes. They widened. His whole body began to shake.

  “You’ve got no class, Carl. Never did.” And with that, Pinzolo lifted his right hand from his drawer, complete with revolver. Carl crumpled to the floor with a hole in his head as the cat screeched and fled from the desk. Two men in dark suits let themselves into the room from outside.

  “Get him out of here before he stains my rug,” Pinzolo said. The men gathered up Carl’s body and dragged it from the room. Standing alone now, Felix looked unmoved.

  “He wasn’t right in the head that one,” Pinzolo said. “It’s dangerous, when they’ve got no control over themselves.”

  Felix shrugged.

  “I need someone I can rely on,” Pinzolo said.

  “You can rely on me.”

  “Yeah, I think I can.” Pinzolo stretched back in his chair, choosing a cigar from a tin box and lighting it. “I’m a businessman, Felix, and I have a business transaction for you. I’ve been good to you, haven’t I?”

  “Yeah, boss. So far.”

  Pinzolo chuckled. “I like your attitude, Felix. You don’t trust anyone, even me. That means you’re smart. I wouldn’t trust me either.”

  Felix smiled vaguely. “What do you need?”

  “Find out who’s stealing my business. Whoever took out Marco, God-rest-his-soul, and Frankie and the boys on the truck jobs. Someone knows too much and they’re making a fool of me. I want them buried.”

  Felix considered the proposition in silence, nodding. “What’s in it for me?” he asked.

  Again, Pinzolo chuckled.

  “Your life, for starters,” he said. “Ten thousand. And you get Vince Junior’s spot at Kitty’s Kat House.”

  Felix raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m bringing him in to teach him the family business,” Pinzolo said. “I’m running out of nephews here. Besides, I know you’ve got a shine in your eye for one of those dancers. Little red-head with an ass to die for.” Pinzolo winked and Felix inhaled sharply. “How about I don’t kill her either.”

  Felix shot a glare at Pinzolo, quickly re-evaluating the man. There was no one, save Tilly herself that knew of their love affair. No one that knew Felix beyond the cold detachment to life and death he showed; that only she could peel away. The girl bit his bones. And apparently, Pinzolo knew all about it. Even his hunters were hunted.

  “She’s nothing to me,” Felix lied. “Just a bit of fun.”

  “We’ll see,” smiled Pinzolo.

  Want to Binge-Read Betty?

  Buy the Episode 4 – 6 compilation on Amazon here:

  https://www.hayleycamille.com/avon-calling-compilations-episode-4-6

  There’s more murder to come… can you keep up with Betty?

  BONUS EXTRAS

  Sneak Peek – Episode #4 “Kitty’s Kat House”

  In the basement of St. Augustine’s Home for Unwanted Boys, a wooden crate was being pried open with a crowbar at one end of a long table. Two dozen young boys stood around, fidgety and sullen. It was the kind of Saturday they would normally have raced into the dingy courtyard to play two-ball, swing on lamp posts and scuffle over turns on the old bicycle kept there. But recently, their lives had taken an unexpected turn. They now had a job to do.

  The basement was almost as long as the building itself. Wooden crates were stacked to the ceiling, dividing the room into parts. Many contained ammunition and rifles, hijacked off the route to Fort Hamilton. There were field rations too, granulated sugar, celery salt, pork luncheon meat and fruit bars, boxed up together in peel-back tins, never to reach the boys at the front. Instead, they were now destined for an underground market where anything could be bought for a price. An open box of Hershey’s Tropical Chocolate bars were used as rare incentives for the orphans to keep their mouths shut on what they saw. But the real incentive in working, was to avoid the punishment Pinzolo’s men regularly dished out to anyone that opened their mouth unnecessarily.

  Hidden behind one long wall of crates were two makeshift offices with grubby tables covered in cigarette butts, lewd magazines and playing cards. There was another table near the center of the main room, where Pinzolo’s goons could keep an eye on their young charges. A few steps away, Vincent Carelli Junior spilled the contents of the crate he was opening onto a long table. Fist-sized packets of small white pills piled in front of the children.

  “Same as yesterday, kids. Wrap each one in newspaper and string. Pile them back in the empty crate. When you’re done, start a new one.”

  With their eyes down, the orphans scurried to begin. No one wanted the beating they knew was waiting if they disobeyed. The youngest boy, of about nine years old, looked at the pills warily. He turned his dirty face up toward Vince.

  “What are they?” he asked. The others stopped and stared, mouths open. The sandy-haired kid closest to him elbowed the boy hard in the ribs.

  “Shut up!” the bigger boy hissed.

  Nearby, the table of men stopped playing their card game and looked over through a haze of cigarette smoke. One smirked.

  Vince narrowed his eyes and stared at the boy, who shrank back.

  “What’s your name, kid?”

  He hesitated.

  “Samuel.”

  “You like to know what’s going on, hey Sam? Don’t like to follow orders?” Vince strolled casually toward the boy and leaned down. He dropped a heavy hand on Sam’s tiny shoulder. The boy pulled himself straight, barely breathing. His eyes were like saucers. The kids standing around the table, shuffled back, subconsciously. Despite his fear, the dirty-faced boy lifted his chin slightly. He met Vince’s eyes with his own.

  “Not really. I just want to know what they are, that’s all.”

  The others recoiled. Vince however, looked surprised. He bent down, face to face with the boy. Sam frowned back.

  Buy the Episode 4 – 6 compilation on Amazon here:

  https://www.hayleycamille.com/avon-calling-compilations-episode-4-6

  BONUS EXTRAS

  The backdrop to Avon Calling – New York during WW2

  The world was in turmoil from 1939 to 1945 as a new world war raged on every front. But it wasn’t until the 1941 attack on Pearl Harbour that the United States joined the fray. By that point, New York had long been a melting pot of cultures. Immigrants pouring in through Ellis Island for generations had joined locals, and together they had built a cosmopolitan tour de force of innovation and economy. But stepping into war brought a new flavor to daily life for New Yorkers.

  The military took over the city, as New York became the principal port of embarkation for the warfront. Old forts became bustling military zones and faced massive renovations to accommodate the scale of new production needed to support the war. Nearly one million New Yorkers were enlisted to serve in the military, and by war’s end, 3.3 million soldiers had been shipped out through its port.

  The daily life of every person changed. Civilians mobilised and pulled together to face the challenges ahead. Though the mood was sombre and industrious, little celebrations were everywhere. Families struggled to buy groceries and clothes with their ration booklets, and a 'Mend and Make-do' attitude res
ounded amongst the mothers that kept daily life humming in the bustling city amidst the new chaos. 'Wheatless Wednesdays', 'Meatless Mondays' and home-grown 'Victory Gardens' were the recipes that kept thrifty wives and mothers with food on the table each night. A shortage of fabrics to make uniforms for the soldiers, meant their dresses were shorter and less adorned. Luxuries like nylon stockings and cosmetics were treasured and even patterned flour sacks were cut up and resewn to make children’s clothes.

  It was time of strong community ties, and the celebration of small victories. Mothers who had more than one son serving in combat were given special reference, children took to the streets in scrap metal drives for recycling to build planes and ammunition, butcher’s fat was collected to make glycerine for bombs, and rubber tires were reserviced. In every home, sacrifice was made and felt.

  Red Cross Volunteers rolled more than 4 million bandages to shipped across the seas to medical units. War heroes were honored and New Yorkers were encouraged to buy war bonds to finance the country’s defence initiatives. Even children built model planes for use by officers in plotting attack strategies. Every night, families could be found sitting close to the radio after dinner, listening to war news broadcasts, and the light entertainment of radio serials.

  The city mobilised. Anything that could be engineered, constructed and mass-produced for troops overseas was taken on by volunteers and new recruits. The majority of these were young women. They learned new skills and became engineers, mechanical specialists and electricians. They trained pilots and drove supply trucks, they decoded enemy transmissions and plotted ship convoy routes. 100,000 WAVES (Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service) were recruited to replace Navy soldiers in onshore roles, to allow the men to fight in Europe. So too, did 150,000 American women, who joined the WAC (Women’s Army Corps) and another 10,000 SPARS (Coast Guard Army Corps). 75,000 women joined the nurse Corps and over a thousand brave WASPS (Women’s Airforce Service Pilots) flew the night sky, testing and ferrying aircraft and training new pilots for war.

  While over 12 million United States servicemen had joined the war by 1945, nearly a half million would never return home from combat. More than half of the men serving were drafted and made to join, while the rest volunteered. Each night, the streets of New York could be found seething with sailors on Liberty Leave, where 24 hours of freedom would see them visit family and friends, hit jazz clubs and bars, theatres and bordellos.

  Domestic distillers turned their alcohol production to synthetic rubber and torpedo fuel to aid the war effort. But the drinks kept flowing. Sidecars, Gin Sours and Aviation Cocktails lightened the jazz bars to celebrate small victories, toast lost friends and forget the war for a while. Days were hard, but nights well lived.

  On every newspaper and street corner, war propaganda was rife, along with advertisements promoting charity, service and sacrifice. Young women were encouraged to volunteer, to replace the military men in onshore positions so they could fight overseas.

  In June 1942, a year into the war, with morale flagging and civilians disheartened, the government held their biggest military parade. Half a million marched through New York City. Military brass bands led the way with red feathered plumes, Red Cross nurses in their scarlet capes and servicemen and women in uniform with ceremonials swords. Flags flew. Cavalcades of troop carriers and army tanks crawled along the asphalt between a celebration of hundreds of floats, including small warplanes carried on the back of trucks. Two and a half million spectators watched from the sidelines as re-enactments of war scenes wove from Washington Square Park, in a moving display that lasted 11 hours.

  But despite the city’s patriotism, racial unrest grew dangerous as the war progressed. Suspicions flamed where before, there had been comradery. Innocent Japanese citizens were moved into internment camps and kept from marching in the parades, while Ellis Island was transformed into a holding camp for suspected German and Italian lawbreakers. The melting pot was in danger of tipping.

  City lights were dimmed to deter enemy air raids and submarines that threatened the harbor – as a naval powerhouse, New York had made itself a target for attacks by the enemy.

  Despite the building pressure, young people danced the night away to the Jitterbug, Jive and East Coast Swing. Wartime cocktails were flowing. Jazz and swing music hit a crescendo, and big brass orchestras sang out from clubs and bars all over the city.

  The iconic fashions of the 1940s became the basis of pinup girls for generations to come. The clean, hourglass silhouette of women in high-waisted skirts and A-line dresses were feminine and modest. Dresses were shortened to knee length due to the fabric shortages. They were worn with buttoned collars, belts and lines that possessed a military flavor, even out of work hours. Laced Oxfords, pumps, heeled sandals and peep-toes were all the rage, and ladies never left home without a decorative hat and gloves. It was a time of glamor and glitterati whenever the occasion arose, and the allure of the Hollywood starlets was emulated by women everywhere. Bright red lipstick helped lift women’s faces and spirits against the sombre backdrop of war. On the coal front, wide-legged overalls and head scarves or snoods in patriotic colors created the iconic Rosie the Riveter look.

  It was a time of gangsters and gentlemen, gloves, hats and overcoats with a martini on the side. Young men paraded street corners in pin-striped, wide shouldered zoot suits, boasting two-tone leather shoes and pocket watches draped on long chains. Fedora hats were the order of the day and Brylcreem kept the cool cats’ hair slick and neat on the dance floor. By night, smoky clubs and back alleys held secrets of black-market amphetamines, heroin addiction and gang violence. By day, the idyllic and industrious civilians took to the streets to keep the city singing a patriotic anthem of hard work.

  Out in the Navy Yards, security was tight. Ships were built on massive scale. Over the course of the war, 63 million tons of supplies were loaded up and sent sailing away to feed, clothe, fuel and arm the fighting soldiers. Pop-up training camps took in young men with their trembling draft letters, cut their hair, taught them to use a gun and trained them to fight. Within months, those same draftees would be back at port, waiting to be shipped out. In the busiest times, a naval ship would leave every quarter hour, laden with new recruits and supplies, destined for a dangerous journey into hostile lands.

  And through it all, the city that never sleeps, kept rising.

  BONUS EXTRAS

  The 'Avon Calling' Musical Playlist

  The Avon Calling Vigilante Crime Series would be nothing without the glamorous, jitterbug music that inspired me to write it. When I was originally invited to write a Superhero-inspired short story for the "This Mutant Life" Neo-pulp anthology, I felt out of my depth. Sure, I love superheroes (who doesn't!?) but what did I know about creating one? Not a thing. So, I looked for my inspiration a little closer to home...

  My 1940's jazz and swing playlist was on my mind as my favorite music to listen to as I slog out daily housework (yep, my kids make mess). Remember that song Mary Poppins sings as she helps the Banks children tidy their nursery? "Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down..." Well, like Mary Poppins, I think a bit of singing and dancing can make anything fun - even boring housework!

  For a bit of background - I'm a proud geek and nerd and there is nothing (seriously, nothing) I love better than donning some cosplay. Anytime, for any reason! Pass me a wig, a cape, trekkie uniform, a fake beard or a tutu and I'm in.

  So, when I'm not being a grown-up and respectable mother and author, I occasionally make light of boring housework by play-acting the perfect 1940's housewife for my own amusement (think flowery apron, hair curled-up, beads and red lipstick for an audience of my 3 kids, 2 cats and suffering husband...) Twirling around, pretending I'm the quintessential housewife with a slightly crazed, cheery smile and a feather duster in my hand may sound silly (because it really is), but hey, whatever makes the drudgery fun, right?!

  So there I am one weird day, dancing around to Glenn Mill
er, dressed up like a dizzy-doll with the feather-duster flying and it hits me – what better cover for a kick-ass vigilante super-hero than the perfect 1940's housewife??? She does everything her husband says, she looks impeccable, her manners are second to none, she never colors outside the lines… or does she? No one would ever suspect her! And, what more stereotypically perfect housewife exists than the vintage Avon Lady, who brings a radiant smile and hamper of cosmetics to your front door!? Now – throw in some daggers, heisted drugs, a sordid past and an irrepressible case of vengeance, and BAM!! She's the darling of all super-heroes!

  I write the ‘Avon Calling’ series to quite an extensive playlist of my favorite 1930's and 1940's music, and even incorporated some songs into the storyline. Although I can only mention titles or artists in the story itself (for copyright reasons), I want to share the songs that influence the book with you, as they are wonderful for setting the scene. You’ll be able to pick some out by name that are mentioned, others follow the original tune with new (but similar) lyrics. So, here are some of my favorites to download and listen to in your comfiest armchair while reading the episodes. I add to this playlist often with new songs from new scenes. I hope you enjoy it ~ Hayley

  Listen to the playlist on iTunes Music

  Listen to the playlist on Spotify

  What’s the Use of Wond’rin by Rodgers & Hammerstein

  I Married an Angel by Rodgers & Hart

  All the Cats Join In by Benny Goodman

  It’s only a Paper Moon by Benny Goodman & his Orchestra

  In the Mood by Glenn Miller & his Orchestra

  At Last by Glenn Miller & his Orchestra

  I Can’t Believe That You’re in Love With Me by McHugh & Gaskill

  Blue Skies by Tommy Dorsey & his Orchestra

  Harlem Nocturne by Hagan/ Rogers