The Red Canary

by Rachel Scott McDaniel

  “Vinelli.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m warning you.”

  A wiry man filed in behind Vinelli. The attacker from Vera’s apartment. Mick’s pulse jumped.

  “Take it easy, Ace.” The captain’s voice called from the dark hallway. “My .38 is directed at them.”

  Mick glanced at their handcuffed wrists. Tension eased from his chest, and gratefulness slipped in that he’d informed the captain about his plan to visit the pawnshop. No doubt, his superior had spied the loaner car Mick had been driving.

  The captain stepped into the room, a blazing fire in his eyes. “Brought these vagrants back in the way they came out. I thought they should explain themselves.” The captain’s gaze shifted to Vera resting in Mick’s arms, and his expression hardened. “Boys, you’re in a heap of trouble.”

  CHAPTER 35

  A pain sharper than a thousand knives stabbed from the top of Vera’s head, stretching to her temples. Soreness chased away sleepiness, but her eyelids refused to budge. Mick better not want to go on a nature trek today. The idea of the short jaunt to the outdoor powder room made her groan. A new pounding jabbed at the base of her neck. Why did she feel this way? She shifted in her bed, wishing Mick wouldn’t be too long at Lacey’s.

  “For heaven’s sake, child, don’t move.” An unfamiliar voice stung her ears.

  Vera’s lids popped open. The room’s brightness gouged at her vision. She covered her aching eyes with her hand, needing to block out all light, ease the hurt.

  Cold fingertips tugged her arm down and pushed her head back against the pillow.

  “Keep it right there.” Her throaty lilt shoved into Vera’s thoughts.

  What happened to Mick? The cabin? A shiver tore through her. “Where … am I?” She braved squinting. Everything blurred, then came into focus. A hospital room? She gasped. “Did I have an accident?” She lifted her brows, and something shifted. A bandage. Why on earth was a bandage around her head?

  “Allegheny General.” The plump nurse lifted Vera’s wrist. “Pulse is strong. You’re a lucky lady.”

  She scowled. If she was so lucky, then how come her body screamed for relief? “I need an aspirin.”

  “Gracious me, no aspirin.” The nurse grabbed a compress cloth and placed it on Vera’s forehead. “The last thing you need is a blood thinner. And don’t touch your dressing. It’s set perfect.”

  Blood. Her memory triggered. The Kelly Club. Angelo and Stony Eyes. Her pulse raced. Carson and the boat. Had she been thrown in the river, and someone had rescued her? “What happened? Why’s it dark outside?” The sky’s black sheen lingered between the white cotton curtains. “Is it stormin’ out?”

  “Mercy, you ask a lot of questions for someone who’s been unconscious all day.” The nurse tapped Vera’s forehead, reminding her to keep her head back.

  Ouch. Didn’t she just tell the lady her head hurt?

  “And, no, it’s not storming. It’s half past twelve.”

  “At night?” Her stomach growled, yelling at her for missing lunch and apparently dinner. But the famished sensation rolled into nausea. The throbbing intensified, making her eyes ache if she looked anywhere but straight ahead.

  “Yes, yes, at night.” She pinched her lips. “Actually, in the morning.”

  Why did the nurse have to dance around her questions? Frustration pierced as deep as the pain. “Why am I here?”

  The nurse tossed a soiled towel into the basket. “Your head got cracked open.” She cupped her hand and made a motion of cracking an egg.

  Vera grimaced.

  Angelo. The image flashed of the brute with his gun raised. Next thing, she’d felt a thud and then nothing.

  “You better thank your lucky stars you’re alive.”

  Not her lucky stars, her wonderful God.

  “How’d I get the honor of this beautiful thing?” She grabbed a handful of the hospital gown. Way too big and way too white.

  “We had to check you to make sure you weren’t injured anywhere else.” The nurse faced Vera and popped her fists on her hips. “Now, are you done asking questions? Because I have to fetch the doctor and let him know you’re awake.”

  One more. “When can I leave?”

  The nurse laughed. “Let’s get through the night with no complications.”

  And that wasn’t an answer. Why couldn’t she get a nice nurse? One that fed her chocolate pudding and rubbed her feet? But then, Vera had no money to be here. And her dreams of leaving town were now non-existent. She filled her cheeks with air and huffed.

  “I’ll be back. Keep that head of yours still. And if that cop comes, tell him he has to wait until the doctor checks you before he can schmooze over you.”

  “What cop?” Her heart pounded as much as her head.

  “The one whispering endearments as he gave you—” Her mouth clamped shut. “Never mind. It’s not my place to say.” She put Vera’s chart down at the bottom of the bed and strutted out, leaving confusion in her wake.

  Mick had been here? And what endearments? Oh, she wished she had been conscious for that. A searing pain wormed across the back of her head. She clenched her fists and prayed for alleviation. Of all the nasty words Vera knew, she couldn’t bring herself to call the thugs any one of them. Instead, she smirked. “I told ’em they couldn’t kill me.”

  “That’s my girl.” A husky voice pulled her gaze to the door.

  “Captain.” She covered her disappointment with a weak smile and tugged the hem of the hospital gown over her knees. The movement made her head swirl and clouded her sight. She groaned and settled back.

  “How you feeling?” He straddled a stool beside the bed.

  “Right now, I’m seein’ gray dots.” Floating around in her vision like smoky bubbles. Remaining perfectly still was her best pain reducer. How could the ache extend to the tips of her hair? For goodness’ sake, the woman could have given her one crummy aspirin. “I feel like someone let loose a jackhammer on my head.”

  “More like the butt of a gun.” The stool creaked as he shifted his weight. “A blow to the head with one of these is just as dangerous as a bullet.” He motioned to the gun on his hip.

  Vera winced.

  “You’ve had a busy morning, little lady.”

  “Maybe you know this. How’d I get here?”

  “Ace.”

  Mick, the hero. What was a girl to do? Sigh. “He found me at the club?”

  “Yes, he found the elevator shaft, the printing press, and you.” His warm smile heaped a dose of comfort on her heart. He removed his glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief. His cloth reminded her of that disgusting one Angelo had shoved in her mouth.

  “What about those goons who conked me on the head? Angelo and …” Stony Eyes … what was his name?

  “Dudley Parvis?” The captain slid the glasses onto his face, a smile spreading. “I apprehended them myself.”

  Relief swept over her. “Why, Pops. I’m impressed.” She would’ve loved to have seen the old man in action. No doubt, he wasn’t as soft and easy-going as he was now. “What about Carson?”

  He glanced at his watch, scrunching his brow. “Listen, Vera. You have to rest. The doctor said you’re going to experience headaches and dizziness. He said no stress of any kind.”

  As if on cue, a sharp pain beat against her temple.

  “I’m having one of my men take you to my sister’s when you’re able to travel. She wants to take care of you.”

  The idea of soon seeing Lacey made Vera’s heart lighter. “The nurse said Mick gave me something. Where is it?” She wouldn’t dare whip her head about the room in search of it. Maybe the captain could find it for her. Whatever it was.

  “He gave you his blood.”

  Mercy. Good thing she was in a hospital because she was two breaths away from fainting.

  “You were weak and had lost a lot of blood.” His serious tone bothered her. Had she really been that close to dying? “Turns out, you and Ace have the same blood
type.”

  She couldn’t shake the thought that Mick was now a part of her. Inside her. Sustaining her. “Where is he now?”

  “He’d left earlier with the promise to rest before …” The captain frowned. “Listen, darlin’, when the doctor said no stress, that means emotional too.” He stood. “That means no Ace.”

  The man who had a habit of saving her life. The man who’d enamored her beyond anything she’d ever known. The man who didn’t love her. “Did you tell him what the doctor said?”

  Pops nodded. “He agreed and promised not to see you.”

  The words threatened to swallow her whole.

  The captain had given him an escape, and Mick had snatched it. She was right back to where they’d been the night he’d spilled his guts about Phyllis. Guess happy endings were only meant for the silver screen. He was not Gary Cooper, and she was not Clara Bow. The throbbing returned and brought its friend nausea to bully her around.

  “I’ll let you rest. Tomorrow, if you’re cleared to leave, I’ll arrange everything for you to go to Lacey’s.” He gave a reassuring smile. “It’ll be alright, darlin’. Get some shut-eye.”

  “Captain, you didn’t answer my question. What about Carson?”

  “Don’t you fret about him.”

  But the deep creases in Pop’s forehead raised her suspicion.

  What was going on?

  The waves smacked against the boat, spraying Mick with river water. He scowled and glanced over his shoulder at Officer Hundley. “From here out, you need to stay down. Vinelli said the client was coming alone.”

  His jaw clenched. Vinelli had better not be deceiving them. That tank of a bouncer had been right on the description of this boat and the name of the man who had the appointment. After Mick had reported it to the waterfront patrol squad, they’d caught the man at the last fueling. Nigel Witker now occupied a retaining cell, and for the time being, his boat belonged to Mick.

  He squeezed the steering wheel. What was a clever way to impersonate a moonshining goon from West Virginia? A weird sense of pity niggled in his chest. Witker was only a puppet. Like Angelo Vinelli. Where Vinelli had the real estate tycoon Kelly as his backbone, Witker had the illegal gambling syndicate leader Frank Johnson.

  Mick exhaled a choppy breath. He’d sworn faithfully to the captain and to the doctor who’d performed the transfusion that he’d get the prescribed five-hour rest, even though it nearly had unraveled him to leave Vera. But he had to at least pretend he’d rested or the captain would’ve never agreed to let Mick work tonight. Mick had never been aggressively persistent when it came to assignments, but he’d refused to allow anyone but him to head up this one. To his mild disbelief, the captain had supported him. He couldn’t mess this up. Men like Kelly needed justice so that women like Vera could live secure.

  Vera.

  When the captain had phoned two hours ago saying she was awake and acting like her usual feisty self, fierce emotion had pushed tears from his eyes. And when he’d been informed he couldn’t contact her, his breath had ripped from his chest. Vera had become the pulse of his reality, but if he had to stay away so she could be healthy, he would. God help him.

  The wind blew in his face, carrying mist from the murky water. Navigating in pitch-black conditions heightened his alertness. The last thing he needed was to crash into a buoy or floating dinghy.

  He scratched his nose, the false mustache irritating his upper lip. “Almost there.” He squinted at the dim glow in the distance. His heart quickened. “Kelly has the light on.” Which was the signal to the boats they were open for business. “Okay, Hundley, I’m driving to the dock.” If he could find it. He slowed the boat, inching toward a shadow extending over the water. There. He cut the engine, tied up the boat, then grabbed his hat and satchel. “Stay low. Listen for trouble.”

  “Got it.” Hundley’s voice was muffled.

  “Backup is around here somewhere.” He peered out over the tall grass surrounding the club, hoping it camouflaged at least ten of the state of Pennsylvania’s finest. The captain had resorted to the only means of bringing down this syndicate—by appealing to the governor.

  Mick leapt out. Now to find the tunnel he’d carried Vera out of this morning. The image of her bloodied face smacked his mind. He’d been so close to losing her. He clenched his hands into fists, then uncurled his knuckles slowly. Vengeance couldn’t rule him. He needed to keep his head clear.

  He rolled up his flannel sleeves and unbuttoned his collar. Soil crunched under his feet as he slipped beneath the dock. With the air whipping his face, he said a final prayer. The night was quiet, but he was about to knock on death’s door.

  CHAPTER 36

  Knock-slap.

  Mick counted to ten and raised his fist for the rest of the code.

  Knock-slap. Knock-knock-slap.

  The waves lapped against the pier, a slow dirge contrasting his erratic heartbeat. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck. It was time to place his order. “Hamilton fired first.” Hamilton was now on the ten-dollar bill, right? The Federal Reserve was always changing things. If Mick’d said that wrong, he’d be greeted with bullets. With one hand on his holster and the other clutching a satchel, he waited in darkness.

  “But Burr shot him in the heart.” Kelly’s voice boomed from the other side of the door.

  Fire pumped Mick’s veins.

  The deadbolt unlatched. The door creaked open. A dim lantern dangled from Kelly’s fingers, illuminating his face, casting shadows. His other hand gripped a revolver. “How many grieved Hamilton’s death?”

  Now the fun begins. “Twenty-five hundred.”

  Kelly grunted. “It was four thousand.”

  “Let’s agree on thirty-five hundred. Thirty-five hundred grieved Hamilton’s death.” He did the math in his head. He’d pay thirty-five hundred dollars for five thousand fakes.

  “Come in.”

  “I do all my business in the open air, mister.” Mick dropped the satchel on the ground.

  “That’s right, you’re a new one.”

  Mick gritted his teeth at Kelly’s condescending tone. The big ox oozed everything Mick despised—arrogance and greed.

  “How am I going to count money in the dark? Besides, your counterfeits are through this passageway behind me.”

  “All right. Have it your way.” Mick bent low, appearing to pick up the satchel, but knocked the gun out of Kelly’s hand.

  The ox hesitated, giving Mick time to throw a punch. Kelly jerked his head, and Mick’s fist struck only air.

  Mick reached for his gun, but Kelly lunged, tackling him to the ground. Mick squirmed under his weight.

  Strong fingers bit into Mick’s throat, squeezing.

  Mick could only move his left arm. His holster was on his right. He launched a punch and only grazed Kelly’s ear.

  “Can’t quite reach me.” Kelly laughed through gritted teeth.

  Where was Hundley? Flashes of light pricked his vision as he struggled to breathe against Kelly’s grip.

  His hand scraped the dirt, searching for something, anything. His thumb brushed metal.

  Kelly pushed harder on his neck. Mick writhed, the movement giving him the inch he needed. Got it.

  “Say goodnight.” Kelly spit on him.

  Mick swung the lantern, smacking Kelly in the back of the head. It shattered, pieces of glass dusting his face.

  Kelly moaned and collapsed to the ground beside him, unconscious. Mick scurried to his knees and drew his gun.

  “Drop it.” A voice shot from inside the tunnel. Voss, no doubt.

  Click.

  “That sound is my gun pointed at your heart.”

  Mick strengthened his grip on his pistol. No way Voss could see him, let alone aim at his heart. But Mick wouldn’t dare speak and give away his location.

  A shot fired. He flattened to the ground. The sound came from behind him. Hundley must’ve heard the glass and let off the signal.

  “It’s o
ver.” Mick launched to his feet. “You’re surrounded.”

  Voss retreated in the secret passage, his heavy footfalls betraying him. Mick sprinted after him. He caught up and shouldered him into the wall, trapping the wrist of his gun hand.

  Voss grunted.

  Mick pressed his gun into the man’s chest. With his other hand, he snatched the weapon out of the man’s clutch and holstered it.

  Beams of light skittered across the tunnel, landing on Mick. Hundley and several others appeared. “Hundley, keep a gun on Kelly. And send an officer over here.”

  The officer strode beside him, his flashlight shining first on Mick then on …

  “Shultz.” Mick’s voice betrayed his shock. He’d not been chasing down Ward Voss as he’d thought, but the man responsible for prosecuting those in Pittsburgh’s underworld. “They got to you, too, I see.” He shoved the gun harder into the D.A.’s chest, teeth grinding.

  The man’s chin quivered.

  “You’ve been in on this the whole time.” That’s why Kelly had been released. That’s how Kelly had known to send Angelo to the cabin. Shultz had told him. Mick fought the urge to sock him in the jaw.

  “I made more in a month than you could in ten years. Let me go and I–I’ll give you a cut.” His pathetic gaze bobbed between Mick and the other officer. “I’ll give you all a cut. I–I will.”

  Harsh words scorched the tip of Mick’s tongue. He bit them back. “You really think—”

  “He’s stirring out here.” Hundley’s voice drifted in along with Kelly’s groaning.

  “Be right there.” Mick motioned to the officer next to him. “Cuff Shultz and take him out.”

  The younger officer got right to the task.

  Mick jogged over to Hundley. “Take a few men and head inside. Ward Voss is in there somewhere.”

  Hundley nodded, handed Mick an extra flashlight along with cuffs, and led the backup, their footsteps echoing through the underpass.

  Mick squatted and slapped cuffs on Kelly, pinching them shut. “Justice is a lady, Kelly. Cross her and she’ll make you pay.”