by Debra Dunbar
They went straight from the train station to the Old Moravia. The lobby with the jazz quartet thumping away while couples danced. The bar with lightly-soused Baltimore socialites untroubled by prohibition. The bellhops with their red suits and click-clack shoes.
Lefty walked alongside Vincent, decked out in a new black suit that he must have bought when he was up in New York. It looked strange on Lefty, who almost never wore black. It aged him, made him seem more venerable, less surly. Buddy followed, lingering as he smiled at a young woman in a knee-length ruby dress. She, in turn, smiled back.
Tony waved to them from the bar, setting aside his seltzer water as they huddled together.
“Gents,” he greeted them, voice low and conspiratorial.
“Is he here yet?” Lefty asked.
“In the war room. He’s waiting.”
Lefty turned to Buddy. “I want you to stay here. This is going to take a delicate touch.”
Buddy shrugged. “Suits me.”
Lefty added with a nod. “You did good, kid. Real good.”
Buddy’s face flowed with pride. He grinned, then turned and stepped back out into the lobby, making a straight line for the girl in the red dress.
“What’s his mood?” Lefty asked Tony.
“The usual. He’s angry that Vincent betrayed him, and he’s confused by the conflicting reports out of New York. Masseria still wants Buddy back, and that’s adding fuel to the fire. Basically he wants everyone’s head on a pike.”
Lefty stepped past both of them. “Then let’s get this over with.”
Vincent followed, indulging in a last moment of peace before stepping into the path of Vito Corbi’s wrath.
Inside the war room, the single bare bulb hummed overhead as Vito Corbi pawed over several sealed documents. When they stepped inside, he slapped his palm against the table.
“Sit down. All of you!”
Lefty reached for a chair across the table from Corbi, face stony and resolute. Corbi never rattled Lefty and Vincent had always admired that. Tony seemed calm, as well. Vincent took heart in their demeanor. If Corbi was prepared to explode, they’d have shielded Vincent, or at least betrayed a notion to hunker down.
Corbi tossed a handwritten letter into the middle of the table with a sour face. “These are not men. These are children.”
“Masseria?” Lefty asked.
“Luciano, his new consigliere.” Corbi prodded the letter, easing it farther away. “He makes demands as if he were Capo. Who is he but some soldier?”
“Indeed,” Lefty replied.
Corbi shifted his gaze to Vincent. “And you. What is this? I am told you scheme against us. That you tried to have Masseria killed.”
“Masseria has one pincher he inherited from Maranzano and Luciano’s pincher,” Vincent told him. “You have two. That is, unless you believe the lies and kill me, and then you have one. I think Masseria would be very happy if you had one pincher, Capo.”
Corbi scowled. “I thought of that as well. This request for Buddy’s return will be denied. I am not giving up my stregone. Even you, as exhausting as you are. Magic is power, and now I have two stregone. Maybe now the families in New York will pay me my due respect.”
“I’m happy to serve,” Vincent lied.
Corbi nodded, then turned to Tony. “Antonio, I wish to speak about this woman shipping our product. This Irish woman, O’Toole?”
Tony looked to Lefty.
Lefty gave him a nod, and the other man reached inside his jacket.
Corbi continued, “She must be eliminated. I am not satisfied with—”
Tony pulled his gun from his jacket, and pulled the trigger. Corbi blinked at the gunshot, stiffening as his eyes widened. Vincent launched out of his seat, his heart racing.
A rattling noise rose from Corbi’s throat as a bubble of blood emerged from the corners of his mouth. A crimson stain spread across his vest, and a tremor shook his chest, calming as quickly as it came. With a wheeze, Vito Corbi slumped forward, nose smacking against the table.
Tony lifted his pistol, emptying the remaining bullets and handing it out to Lefty.
Vincent glanced back and forth between the two in shock. “What have you done?” he asked.
Lefty stared at the far wall, eyes focused on some distant thought, image, or memory. He reached for Tony’s gun, setting it onto the table.
Vincent gripped Tony’s shoulder. “What did you do?”
Tony glanced up at Vincent, a bit pale. Eyes wide, slightly breathless. But his expression held no fear, only exhilaration.
The door to the war room burst open. Crew gunmen had their pistols out, searching back and forth, taking in the scene.
Tony lifted his hands. “Vito Corbi is dead.” He nodded to Lefty. “Viva il Capo!”
Stunned eyes fell onto Corbi’s body, still slumped over the growing puddle of blood on the table.
Lefty’s face remained stiff and resolute, unblinking. Vincent stared at him, worried that he’d just signed his own death warrant. The gunmen lifted their weapons at Lefty. Some lowered their guns, while others kept them trained on him. Hammers pulled back. Then, one by one, they eased the guns down. Each looked to one another, searching for their next step.
Finally, Lefty rose from his seat.
“Tony, I release you from all consequence for the death of my predecessor. Furthermore, I hereby name you as my consigliere.” Tony bowed and Lefty then turned to the others. “The rest of you, clean up this mess.”
The goons exchanged looks one more time before they holstered their weapons and began collecting Corbi’s body.
“Vincent?” Lefty said as he turned for the door. “A word, if you would?”
Vincent looked to Tony, who gave him a cheerful nod.
He followed Lefty out of the war room and through the middle of the lobby, avoiding the gaze of everyone gathered. The band had stopped playing. There were no more conversations in the bar. The entire hotel seemed wreathed in silence.
Lefty pushed his way through the revolving door, stepping out into the Baltimore evening air and pausing. Vincent walked up to stand beside him, both looking over the rooftops at a moon rising to the east.
“I don’t know what to say,” Vincent announced.
Lefty nodded. “Nor do I.” He added as he turned to face Vincent and patted him on the shoulder, “But between the two of us, and Miss Malloy of course, I think we’ll figure something out.”
They stood on the street, side by side, as the promise of opportunity sank in. No more need to run from the Crew. No more pincher hunting. No more having to hide his relationship with Hattie. He was free. He was free to do as he wanted—free to marry. This was the dawn of the first free pincher state in human history.
Vincent laughed at the suddenness of it all, even though it felt like he’d been working toward this end his entire life. “Yeah, I guess we’ll figure something out.”
Chapter 33
Hattie squinted as sunlight spilled through the glass of the Charge warehouse a sliver at a time as Blake and Charley scraped off the black paint. The more the interior was illuminated, the older and more disheveled it all seemed. Had they really lived in such squalor? Could they rebuild all of it now that there was no need to hide?
The front doors opened, and three children rushed into the space, gawking at the converted warehouse as they walked in a circle. Adults followed, faces more reserved and dubious.
Hattie nodded to them. “Welcome!”
This new clutch of pinchers had come from the Outer Banks, courtesy of Raymond. Just as Hattie wondered how her friend had fared, Raymond Bowles stepped into the warehouse.
“Damn, girl,” he declared. “This is where you’ve been hiding?”
“More or less,” she replied with a grin, rushing up to give him a hug. “How’d it go?”
Raymond took a seat in a chair by the front door with a groan. “We pushed hard. The Charleston boys got more boats, now. Makin’ it real tough to outr
un ’em.”
“We’ll need to send pinchers with you from now on. Once you’re north of Newport, you’ll be safe. But outside the Chesapeake, you’ll need magical assistance.”
He laughed. “Can you hear yourself? You sound like old Lizzie.”
Hattie leaned against the stairs. “Heard from her since she left?”
He shook his head. “I’m just hopin’ she’s doing fine in the oil business.”
Hattie reached into her overalls. “Speaking of business, here’s your payday from last week.”
Raymond took the envelope from her and weighed it in his hands. “Been wantin’ to talk to you about somethin’. You got a minute?”
“Sure.” Hattie led him upstairs to her office and motioned for Raymond to take a seat. “What’s on your mind?”
The man took a deep breath. “I’d like to offer to buy a share in the business. Half, if it suits.”
Hattie blinked in surprise.
“I’ve been thinkin’…” Raymond went on. “This prohibition probably ain’t gonna last for much longer. Time for us to make hay, as the farmers say. I got a couple men with fishing boats who would make a run or two a week and be quiet about it. We can increase our runs, now that the Crew is working with us and the West Virginia shiners are on board. Double, or even triple our distribution.”
Hattie nodded. “Go on.”
“You got a lot going on.” Raymond twisted his hands together in his lap. “What with the Charge, and helping with the Crew, and pinchers coming in from south and north. Can’t be easy to keep your eye on this side of the business. I know the income helps fuel the Charge, so I’m thinking I become a managing partner. I buy out half the business and earn half the profits, and I take a salary for managing the whole lot of it. You don’t have to think twice about it at all, and still get income from your investment to run the Charge.”
He dug a wad of cash out of his pocket and handed it to Hattie.
Her eyes widened. “I thought you and Nadine were saving to buy a house?”
“This is a sight better of an investment.” He grinned. “And as much as Nadine wants a new house, she knows this won’t just buy us a house, it’ll get our kids the best schooling and help us set them up for their futures.”
Hattie shook her head and took the stack of money. “Brigid O’Toole’s busted anyway. Everyone up and down the East Coast knows she was a sham. Won’t do Lefty any good to deal with a ghost. We can put the business in your name, and I’ll be a silent investor.”
Raymond sat back in his chair. “Then we have a deal?”
Hattie stood and reached out to shake his hand. “Absolutely. Partner.”
“Partner.” Raymond clasped her hand in a crushing grip. “Although you’re still a brat.”
Hattie laughed. “And you’re still a bully.”
Cleanup continued in the warehouse, bolstered by the willing industry of the newcomers. Gossip had spread about the new gang in town, and how the fact that they hadn’t officially declared pinchers to be equals didn’t make it less true.
Maria and Charley huddled over the kitchen table, his girls practicing their handwriting as they looked on. Hattie caught Maria staring at Charley as he ran his finger along their lines, giving patient correction.
She caught Hattie looking at her and reached out to give Charley’s arm a squeeze before getting up.
“He’s glad you’re back in one piece?” Hattie asked.
“Looks that way. Embarrassing, really.”
“Oh, don’t try that. I know better. And I see the way you look at him.”
“Am I that obvious?” Maria sighed and grinned. “The way he is with his daughters. He never talks down to them. Never tells them they can’t be whatever it is they want to be. He’s a good, kind, loyal man.”
Hattie smiled. “Sounds like my da.”
“Now that we don’t have to worry about the Crew, I wonder if we can find them a proper school,” Maria mused.
Hattie turned to her, motioning for her to follow. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that might not be as easy as you think.”
“Why not?”
Hattie led her up the stairs to her office. She closed the door behind them and gestured for Maria to take a seat. “As you know, there’s a veritable flood of pinchers looking to stream in from Pennsylvania, now that word’s out.”
“We already have volunteers with the newcomers. No one’s talking about going west anymore. They want to stay here.”
“Aye. And that’s good. But we’re going to run out of room, and quickly.” Hattie tapped the papers on her desk. “I’ve done the numbers, and this sort of growth won’t be sustainable unless we look to the future.”
Maria nodded. “Plus, Charleston is continuing to be a challenge, from what I hear.”
“They are. Now that the power in New York has settled, and Lefty’s not giving them quarter to edge into our territory, they’re desperate to sponge up as many free pinchers as they can.”
Maria squinted. “What does this have to do with Charley and his daughters?”
“In a word, Richmond.”
“Richmond?”
Hattie took a seat. “No one’s filled the power vacuum in Richmond—not since Betty Sharp was removed. Charleston’s looking to absorb Richmond into their territory. I suggest we beat them to the punch.”
“How?”
“By setting up another Charge in Richmond.”
Maria’s mouth drew into an appreciative smirk. “That’s ambitious.”
“We can do it,” Hattie said. “We have the numbers. I spoke with Lefty and we have the financial backing of the Baltimore Crew. All we need is a strong leader with a military mind. One we can trust.”
Maria snickered. “Uh…okay. Listen, I like Charley as much as anyone, but I don’t think he’s exactly leadership material.”
“I agree,” Hattie said. “Which is why I want you to take over Richmond operations.”
Maria blinked. “What?”
“I took you to New York not to test your loyalty, but to test your ability. I’m convinced there’s no one else who could hold everything together in Virginia. It’ll be difficult. You’ll be closer to Charleston, with the heat rising. But you’re more of a fighter than I am.” Hattie added with a wistful smile, “You remind me a lot of Sadie, to be honest.”
Maria sat in stunned silence for a moment.
Hattie lifted her eyebrows. “Well, then?”
“I…guess that makes sense.”
“Will you do it?”
Maria blinked again. “Of course, I will. It’s just a lot to take in.”
“You’ll have help,” Hattie said. “I’m sure if we ask for volunteers, a red-haired pincher will be the first to step up, and I don’t mean me.”
Maria chuckled. “What about you and Vincent? What does that future look like for you two?”
Hattie waved her off. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll think about that when there’s less to do.”
“Are you kidding me? Now’s the time to make things official between you two.”
“The timing’s not right.” Hattie squirmed. “Yeah, Lefty’s in charge here, but there’s someone in Philadelphia who might not be too enthused over what’s going on with the Crew now. And then there’s Luciano. And Boston. And Pittsburgh. There’s plenty of work left.”
Maria leaned forward. “There will never be a perfect time to share a life with someone. If you wait for that, it’ll never come.”
Hattie stared at her desk. The truth was that Vincent hadn’t asked, and she wasn’t sure when or if he would.
“Time will tell, I guess,” she finally replied.
Chapter 34
Hattie adjusted the gloves on her forearms and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. A couple passed her on the street. The woman gave her a warm smile.
Hattie returned it, marveling at the feeling of walking the streets of Baltimore without an illusion wrapped around her. No more fear that the mob
would grab her and drag her into slavery. Here she was, a pincher, living like a normal person.
Vincent’s invitation had given a simple address. As Hattie ventured down Orleans Street, she discovered the street address was leading her to a place that was all too familiar.
The Fontainebleu’s windows were lit from inside. A tinkle of jazz piano slipped into the evening air. It had been almost a year since Hattie had been to the Fontainebleu. She’d spent so much time running from the Crew, from Vincent, from Galloway… This was perfect.
Hattie straightened her gloves again and pulled open the door.
The interior of the Fontainebleu was completely empty, save for several tables, the bar as usual, and the old upright piano. No customers. Hattie smiled to herself. Vincent must have rented the entire club just for tonight. She approached the bar and took a seat on a stool, setting her clutch in front of her. The bartender turned to face her with a grin.
Hattie gasped. “Leon?”
Her old friend laughed, reaching over the bar to pat her on the shoulders.
“Hattie.” He snickered. “It’s been a way too long!”
“My God, what are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “I got a call from an old friend. Dey tell me dere was a special occasion, so I made da trip.”
“I don’t believe this. How’s Chicago, then?”
“Oh,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Too much for one man. Good thing I got so many men, yeah?”
She slapped his arm.
“By da way,” Leon said, reaching into his pocket. “I brought ya something.”
He set a glass dram onto the bar. The brilliant blue liquid inside glimmered in the candlelight.
“Is that…”
He nodded. “Aqua vitae. For your father.”
She reached out to hug him once again. “You’re a saint among men, Leon.”
“Well, let dis saint pour ya a drink.”
“Gin, please,” she replied.
As he poured some gin on ice and gave it a shake, Hattie turned to look at the piano. Instead of one pianist, there were two.
“Really pulled out the stops, here,” Hattie mumbled.
