Jimmy the Stick (25 page)

Back in the car, I asked Oh Boy to swing by the Chelsea before we left. Compared to Luciano's digs at the Waldorf, the lobby looked pretty dingy. But it was still home. Funny, though, after being away I didn't have the same feeling for the hotel that I had for the speak. Maybe that was really home to me.

Tommy, the night man, said, “Good evening, Mr. Quinn. Hope you're doing well.” He handed over a key.

“Can't complain. Tell me, is the lady in?”

He looked back at the board of keys. “No, I haven't seen her since last night.” He had a funny expression on his face. He'd probably seen her leave and knew she wasn't coming back.

I went up the stairs to the third floor and opened the door. I wasn't surprised by what I found. If she'd moved in, there was no sign. Her clothes were gone from the wardrobe and the dresser. No makeup or other female stuff was left in the bathroom. I could still smell some of her soaps and perfume, though.

She'd tossed the place pretty good, too. The cash I kept at the back of the top drawer was gone. It looked like she'd tried to pry apart the little lockbox I kept in the closet. She'd have been disappointed if she'd got it open. Nothing in it but a pistol. The drawers had been pulled out of the roll-top desk. She'd found one stash that I kept there but missed the other. All in all, I figured I'd got off easy. Almost all of my real money was in the safe in the Chelsea office, and inside the box at the Harriman Bank.

I sat at the desk, straightening up old notebooks Connie had scattered about, and surveyed the room. I could still see her on the tangled bed in the late afternoon light, remembering that slow smile as we lay there, my hand rubbing her smooth, sweaty stomach. I thought that her funny expression meant she was happy, happy to be where she was. But it didn't mean that at all. She was trying to figure out where she ought to be, with me, with her husband, or someplace else.

And what had I been thinking? Beyond the simple satisfaction of having my ashes so enthusiastically hauled, I was content to be there and to be quiet with her. Was that love? I doubted it. It sure wasn't great overpowering passion, the kind of thing I saw in the movies. But, hell, that was just the movies. All I knew was that I felt good to be with her. And if she opened my door right that minute and said, “Jimmy, I took your money and I need some more,” I'd give it to her.

What a goddamn sap.

Nothing made sense. Hell, nothing had made sense since that big lug Hourigan showed up. You think you know how things work. You've got a business, it's going along OK, not making as much money as you'd hoped but you're all right. You're paying off the people who need to be paid off, you're keeping an eye out for competition. You're thinking about what to do when Prohibition is lifted. And then on a cold Tuesday night, none of that means a damn thing.

I didn't say much on the way back to Valley Green and continued to mull things over. The rain had turned to snow and sleet that rattled against the car. By the time we got past Newark, it was coming down pretty good. We were about a mile from the house when Oh Boy tapped on the glass. His voice was low, not to bother the dozing women. He said, “Somebody's following us.”

“I know,” I said from the jump seat. “I've been watching too.” I was worn out from everything that night, not in the mood to put up with any more foolishness. “Go dead slow after you turn in. If they follow us onto the property, I'll shoot them.”

Oh Boy downshifted, easing into the driveway. He slowed to a crawl on the gravel. The snow was beginning to stick on the path.

The car following us made the turn but stopped before the gate. It stood still for a moment, then reversed quickly back onto the road, and went on. Appeared to be a Model A four-door. Could have been one of the vehicles I'd seen from my window. I was glad I didn't have to shoot anybody, but a little disappointed, too. As tired as I was, the fight had left me feeling unfinished. It would have been good to let it out.

As we rounded the last curve, the house came into view through the snow. All the lights were on, inside and out. As soon as I saw the bright windows, a sick feeling churned my stomach. Something was wrong.There were two cars in front, the Pierce-Arrow parked by the doors and Dr. Cloninger's white ambulance turning around to leave. The orderly behind the wheel was one of the guys who came when we found Fordham Evans. He was also on duty when Teddy and Titus, the two college boys, were removed. What was he doing here now?

As the women took little Ethan inside, I asked Oh Boy if the house was usually lit up that way.

He shook his head and said, “Not this late, oh, boy.” He was as worried as I was. We were right.

Inside, I found Mrs. Conway and Mrs. Pennyweight huddled together. Neither looked happy. Connie Nix headed upstairs with the boy as music and drunken voices came through the open doors of the ballroom. I saw that the Sisters of Isadora were dancing again. Teddy and Titus, their faces still bruised and swollen, were working their way through Spence's liquor cabinet.

I realized I was starving and was about to ask Mrs. Conway for some breakfast when Mrs. Pennyweight said, “Cook tells me that Walter has been trying to reach us by telephone. He's been calling every hour and wants to speak to you.”

Hell. “OK, I'll wait for him in the library. Mrs. Conway, could you fix me something to eat?”

Mrs. Pennyweight's face lit up. “Breakfast! What a capital idea.”

By the time Spence called, I had built a fire against the howling blizzard outside and was into the good brandy. I picked up on the first ring.

“Jimmy, is that you? Where the hell have you been?”

I could barely make out the voice, as if the storm was caught in the telephone lines. “Taking care of the business at my speak. Your mother-in-law came along to look after your son. He's fine.” Maybe a little drugged up, but that was nothing unusual.

“Was there trouble?”

I decided to misunderstand and said, “Did you hear about your friend Fordham Evans?”

“Who? What? Fordham? What about him?”

“Somebody shot him and nailed him to a tree. He was naked at the time.”

“This line is terrible. I thought you said he was nailed to a tree.”

“Don't worry about it.” There was no time or need to explain. “He'll live. And there was some business with a couple of guys that Flora knows. Titus and Teddy? Do you know them? I had a talk with them too.”

“What the hell are you saying? This is nonsense.”

“Also, I think somebody's been watching the house. There's a couple of cars on the roads every night, and I saw somebody in the trees the first night you left.” I decided not to mention the business with the bloody doll.

Spence was momentarily speechless. “Christ, Jimmy, I don't know what to say.”

“Tell me when you're coming back.”

“As soon as the weather lets up. This storm has moved straight up the coast. The pilot says a day or so. We've done our work; the wells look very promising. If everything goes as I expect, this means a new day for Pennyweight Petroleum.”

He paused. “Did you say Teddy and Titus were there?”

“Yeah, they're here now. Maybe you want to talk to your wife?”

“Yeah,” he hesitated. “I should.”

I gimped to the ballroom. When the foursome saw me, the women stopped dancing, like children who'd been caught playing a naughty game by a grown-up. Cameron Rivers was dressed in a man's tuxedo. Flora wore a long wine-red velvet dress, and had her hair done up. The swelling had gone down a bit on Titus's eye and mouth though the bruising still ranged from purple to yellow. The side of Teddy's face was mostly purple and red. The guys gave me hard looks, like they wanted to go another round. But they didn't say or do anything.

I said, “Flora, Spence is on the telephone. He wants to talk to you.”

She broke away from Cameron and ran a little unsteadily down the hall, her dancing shoes slapping on the marble floor. I waited outside the library. At first, I couldn't make out any words but then her voice rose, “Oh, Walter, that's wonderful. I must tell everyone. . . . No . . . Well, yes, they're here. . . . Oh, no, of course not. Don't be silly, darling. Good-bye now.”

As she swanned past me, she sang out, “Grand news, everyone! Walter has saved us from financial catastrophe. Titus, open another bottle!”

I went downstairs for something to eat. Finally.

Mrs. Pennyweight was sitting at the end of the big table, in Mr. Mears's chair. There was an empty plate in front of her, and she was smoking a cigarette. Newspapers they'd bought in the city littered the table.

“How could I have lived all these years,” she said, “and not discovered salami and eggs?”

Mrs. Conway brought a mug of coffee and said she was making more.

Mrs. Pennyweight leaned back and said, “I haven't had a meal down here in years. When the girls were young and Ethan was traveling so much, we ate here almost every day. Do you remember?”

“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Conway, her voice warm. “Wouldn't it be wonderful if she could be with us again, just the four of us at the table.”

Mrs. Pennyweight nodded in agreement and said, “But she'll never make any progress. We shouldn't get our hopes up.”

“Wait a minute,” I said as Mrs. Conway set a plate of eggs in front of me. “Are you saying your daughter Mandelina is in Cloninger's sanatorium?”

Mrs. Pennyweight nodded. Mrs. Conway said, “But given the poor darling's condition, she might as well be dead.”

“So, why's there a tombstone with her name on it?”

Mrs. Pennyweight said, “Mr. Quinn, my eldest daughter will never be able to live outside an institution. It took a long time for me to accept that fact. I'm not sure Flora ever could. She bears some responsibility for the accident. Mandelina is able to understand that, at least she was able to, and so she asked us to put the stone there. It's a small deception for Flora. She never really—”

And all the lights went out.

Mrs. Conway lit a candle and an oil lamp. We heard giddy laughter and the sound of something breaking upstairs. Then a gunshot.

I swore and said, “Does Nix have the kid in your room?”

Mrs. Pennyweight nodded yes.

“Good. I'll take care of this.” I took the oil lamp upstairs.

In the ballroom, Flora and Cameron had collapsed on the chaise, holding each other in helpless giggles. Titus stood behind Flora, his hands rubbing her shoulders. Three candles on the piano provided a little light. Teddy stood apart from the others, stifling his own laughter. I guessed that if I looked around, I'd find the bullet hole that they found so amusing.

With a drunk's slow pronunciation, Teddy said, “It is quite true that spirituous liquors may temporarily have gotten the best of us. But I remind you, sir, we are not under your supervision.”

I put the oil lamp on the piano. “Give me the gun.”

“Gun? What gun? Did anybody see a gun?” He laughed and the others laughed harder.

I jabbed him hard in the stomach with the tip of the stick. He doubled over and I ripped a small automatic from his right coat pocket. Titus stayed where he was.

“Turn out your pockets. Now.”

The larger asshole was still giving me the hard stare but in time he pulled out his empty pockets. The women finally stopped laughing. I grabbed the lamp and headed upstairs.

The brace clicked as I climbed, hurrying down the hall to Mrs. Pennyweight's suite. I twisted the knob. The door was locked. Connie Nix's voice was loud. “Don't come in. I've got a gun.”

“It's OK. It's me.”

She opened the door. I could see the little boy woozily awake in his crib, the fire warming his face to a pink glow. Connie Nix held the Winchester in her hands. “I heard a shot.” She looked and sounded angry. “What's going on?”

“The houseguests are drunk. They've been celebrating, not that they need a reason. But I talked to Spence . . . Mr. Spencer. He says his trip was a big success.”

“About time.” The edge hadn't left her voice. “Here.” She tried to hand me the rifle.

“Why don't you hold on to it. Something still stinks about all this.”

“I know what you mean. I've been hearing strange noises ever since I brought the baby up here.” She shot me a look. “And don't try to tell me it was the wind. It wasn't that. I think there was someone in the hall.”

“I'm not going to argue with you. I've felt it.”

She'd taken off her coat, and I could see that she wasn't wearing her frumpy maid's uniform. She had on a light-brown dress and jacket, a white blouse with a big floppy bow underneath. Maybe she wore a little makeup, too, I couldn't tell. But she sure looked good.

“The other night in Mr. Pennyweight's reading room by the library, you said you thought something wasn't right in this place. Do you still think that?”

She looked away. “Even more now. But I shouldn't have said anything to begin with.”

I was trying to figure out what she meant when Mrs. Pennyweight arrived.

“Quinn,” she said, sounding tired. “Please go downstairs and talk to my daughter. She is most put out with you.”

When I walked back inside the ballroom, Teddy was doubled over on the chaise. His face was gray and he looked like he was about to throw up. Cameron Rivers was lighting a thin cigar, and Titus was whispering to Flora. She twisted away from the big guy and stalked toward me.

“You've got to apologize to Teddy right now. What you did was completely appalling and uncalled for. You either apologize or leave this house immediately.”

Tempting as the offer was, I was too tired to argue. I said, “Shut the fuck up.”

I wouldn't normally use that kind of talk with a woman, but I needed to get her attention, and fast.

“Think about this. Do you really want a drunk with a loaded pistol in the same house with your son? Don't try to tell me there's nothing to worry about. I know what can happen. It's time for you to grow up, dammit.”