A Lesson in Love and Murder (14 page)

The darkest part of any city was always by the docks. This he had learned quickly as a reporter, but firstly as an immigrant in Toronto. Often those disembarking from third-class water passage could make it little farther on their few coins and their inability to talk their way into the city. There was always work to be had with vessels and barges tugging in and out, and all manner of trade, legitimate and less-than-legal. It was also cheapest to hole out near the water, where rats scurried and makeshift tin roofs did little to stave off the elements.

The sun was blazing. Ray was glad he had left his heavy black bowler at home in exchange for a light cotton cap. He peered at the small piece of paper containing Viola's address. He had left behind the rest of the message he had scrawled at the office, so desperate was he to get to the train.

He was perspiring and parched by the time he found the address—a tenement building with a room Viola shared with another family. A partitioned blanket separated their individual living spaces.

His sister was in his arms before he even had time to remove his hat.

She was never a large woman, but now he could feel her shoulder blades jutting from under her flimsy cotton dress, and when he pulled away, holding her at arm's length, it was hard to recognize her. Her lovely black eyes were hollow, Tony's temper was tattooed on her temple, and her cheeks were chalky and gaunt.

Ray had trouble conjuring up a smile no matter how his heart quickened at seeing her. A slight one tickled his cheek. “Where's Luca?”

“Tony has him. Taking him out to see the big boats.” Viola's smile tugged at him. “I am so glad you are here. We will be all right. And you came at the right time. If Tony saw you here… ”

She pulled him into the cramped space his salary helped secure. A table and chairs, a bucket of murky water. Even her cottage in the Ward had been better than this. The smell was horrid in the summer heat. Through the worn cotton sheet separating her side of the
room, he could make out the shapes of a mother and two children. One was crying.

Viola had a cistern of fresh water near the stove, and she poured two glasses, setting them down on a scratched table still bearing half a loaf of bread and crumbs from their midday meal.

“It's worse than I thought.” He grabbed her hand and held so tightly his knuckles whitened. “Viola, come back with me.”

“Tony has found some good work, Ray.” She reached into her apron and took out a few coins. “He brought this home! He's taking Luca for ice cream.”

Ray narrowed his eyes, confused. “Then why did you call me?”

“I was scared. I had no reason to be. I heard a man talking about a job for Tony, and they exchanged words and he didn't come home.” Viola laughed sadly. “I am a silly woman. Afraid of her own shadow, like Tony says.”

The baby through the sheet wailed more loudly. Ray winced and mouthed an apology to his stricken sister. To live in that place! He shuddered. The coins in his pocket and his watch were all he had in the world. Would his inability to provide result in Jem and her baby relegated to the same hovel of a life as Viola? Unable to afford even the dingiest bed for the night?

They turned at the doorknob and Tony's voice. “Quickly, leave through the back entrance,” Viola hissed.

“I want to see my nephew.”

“Meet me at Arpeggios. The coffee shop on Michigan Avenue. Six o'clock this evening. Tony has a long shift tonight.”

And Ray was huddled off into the yellow grass of the sickly yard.

Chicago was spliced by a murky river. Sure, it glistened in the sun, but it was also plagued by drifts of wood and debris. Ray shuddered to think of being plunged into its sewery depth. Like Toronto, Chicago was forging an identity, grittily pounding its way to progress.

The main streets were lined with towers of industry, scraping the blue sky, pronouncing their enterprise and commerce, offering wares and goods. The buildings were entered and exited by men with airs of importance and erect top hats, and women with plumes of feathers, taking the hand of a carriage driver, escorted to the swept sidewalk in pursuit of shopping. Beyond Randolph and State Streets, a large patch of grass was as yet untouched, and passengers in the railcars could look at it as they passed and wonder what would be built next.

Lake Michigan, at the mouth of the city and yelping wide into the blue horizon, put Ray in immediate mind of Toronto. They had such a similar geography. But Chicago was bigger. Much bigger. Overpowering. Like Toronto, Chicago bore the mark of immigrant influx, possessing the same Babel-like confusion in overlapping dialects. Ray took it all in, sheets of journal-worthy sights and sounds, as he made his way to meet Viola.

Luca had grown since Viola had left Toronto. Ray held out his arms, eager to feel his nephew's hair under his chin, but flinched when Luca squirmed and pulled fussily away.

“He doesn't remember me,” Ray said, not hiding the hurt in his voice.

“Of course he does,” Viola cooed, pulling Luca to her skirt. “He just doesn't always sit still.”

Ray ordered for them, and they took a table near the back, away from the window, in the shadows.

“I hate that we have to meet like this,” Ray said sullenly. “Hiding.”

“You know how Tony is.”

Ray spread his hands on the table, watching Luca suck his thumb while looking shyly over at Ray from Viola's shoulder.

He was cowering, Ray noticed, terrified in the presence of a man. Ray's heart rose, thinking of what Tony might have done to scare this little boy so. Watching Luca settled his rising temper, so he focused on the boy.

“You don't know what he'll do next, Vi.” Ray kept his eyes on his nephew. “Which is why I am here, hundreds of miles from home.”

The thin fingers on Viola's right hand trembled as she gripped her coffee cup.

“I would like to hear about my sister-in-law,” Viola said brightly, giving him a rare smile. “Something happy, yes?”

“I up and left her to rush after you, Viola,” Ray said bitterly, staring ruefully into his coffee. “She's probably furious with me. And you have never met her, Vi. It's strange being married to someone you don't know.”

“But I will meet her. She is very beautiful in the pictures I have seen.”

“Even more in person.”

“And I am sure she would be lovely with Luca.”

“She would love Luca,” Ray said shortly. Talking about Jem made him sad. Luca was staring at him intently, his black eyes wide. Ray cracked a smile.

Viola transferred the boy across the table, and Ray hugged him tightly, pressing his lips to Luca's cheek. “I missed you.” Ray positioned Luca on the side of the table, propping him up with his hands and giving him his pocket watch to play with. Luca gripped it with his little fingers.

With his nephew occupied, Ray leaned over and closed the space between himself and his sister.

“Jem is going to have a baby of her own, Vi, and I cannot keep supporting you the way I have.” He watched Viola's face blanch with guilt. “I am not telling you this because I want you to feel bad. I just want to find a solution. For everyone. I can't provide for you and Luca and Jem and a baby on my reporter's salary. Tony is clearly not helping.”

“If you tell him, Ray, if we explain… ”

“He's never listened to us before,” Ray growled. “Why would he start now?”

“Ray, you must be so very excited. I am so happy. A baby. For Luca to play with!”

“How can Luca play with a baby who lives in another country? This has to end, Viola. You don't belong here.”

“I belong with Tony.” She gripped the end of the table tightly. “But he cannot know that you are here because I asked you, Ray. I don't know what he might do if… ”

Ray nodded. “I know. But this has to be the end of it, Viola. I am here to take you home. Tony's chances are over. He can either reform completely and find a respectable job by the time I hop on a train back to Toronto, or I will report him to the authorities and you and Luca will come back to Canada with me.”

“Authorities?

“Tony can't go two feet without stepping into something illegal. I just have to find out what it is this time.” Ray rubbed at his unshaven jaw. “My stomach turns thinking of his hurting you or Luca, and I have my own family now, Vi. So I can't ever leave Jem again and rush over here.”

“You don't understand. He doesn't mean to… ”

“You're right. I understand less now than I ever did.” Ray rose, tossing a few coins on the checkered tablecloth. “I would cut off my right hand before hurting my Jemima, so I cannot understand how a man who claims he loves you and Luca could treat you like this.”

Silence followed them out of the café and onto the muggy street. Ray held tightly to Luca's hand as they walked back to Michigan Avenue.

“I need some money, Ray,” Viola said quietly. “We were turned out after you came this morning. Tony took the money you sent. And I have nothing more set aside.”

Ray pulled Luca closer, tucking a truant curl behind his ear. He pressed a few coins into Viola's hand. “Give this to your landlord for tonight. I'll get more tomorrow,” he said with assurance, though he wasn't sure how or where. He handed her the watch. “If you have to.”

“Papa's watch.”

“If you have a choice between food and Papa's watch, you sell the watch.” He pressed it into her palm. Viola smiled at the memories evoked by its familiar circumference in her hand. She flipped it open and found a picture of herself and Luca.

“You are a good brother, Ray.”

Ray kissed her on the cheek and ruffled Luca's hair, and then he let the night close around him. First he'd find Tony, and then he'd find whatever work he could at the docks to secure himself a bed for a night and replenish the little he had given Viola. If there was any benefit to working muckraking pieces for McCormick at the old
Hog
, it was that he wasn't overly particular about where he slept. As long as he had a roof over his head, he'd be comfortable.

But finding Tony in a city this size proved more difficult than Ray had anticipated. He wound along the docks, peering into one seedy hovel of a bar after another. Music clanged and the smell of whiskey and sweat fogged the air. Ray fell back on his accent as he searched, making his English seem poorer than it was, and blending in with his open collar and threadbare shirt.

Finally, the bars began to close. As their lights winked out and the patrons stumbled into the streets, Ray had to admit that he wasn't going to find Tony tonight. He pulled his cap down low over his eyes, thinking. After giving those coins to Viola, he didn't have enough left even to afford a flophouse for the night. Could he go back to her tenement and sleep on her floor? No, suppose Tony should turn up. It would have to be a park bench for the night. At least he had enough money for a hot cup of coffee in the morning.

It was getting on evening the next day before he found him. Just as Ray was beginning to despair, wondering if Tony had fled the city, he stumbled on the right bar. The man looked gaunt, bloodshot eyes focused on a hand of cards, emitting a few curses through a funnel of boisterous laughter. Tony was in the corner seat, filmed by smoke, lubricated by whatever was in the tankard at his elbow, when he looked up and recognized his wife's brother.