The Yankee Club (33 page)

More pounding.

Laura sighed and helped me to my feet. She buttoned her blouse then took a hankie from her skirt pocket and wiped lipstick from my mouth. As she left the room, I followed, admiring her shapely backside.

At the door she covered her mouth and giggled. She pointed at me. “Do something about that.”

I followed her gaze and glanced down at the arousal in my trousers. I rearranged my clothing.

“Hurry up, Jake,” Mildred pounded on the door. “You’re not my only author, you know.”

Her whiny voice accomplished the desired effect. I nodded, and Laura opened the door.

With a book in her hand, Mildred brushed past Laura as if she wasn’t there. “These last forty-eight hours have been brutal, just brutal. After the unfortunate delay in publishing your book, I bribed the production boys to finish, with booze and cigarettes. I barely slept. I must look a fright.” She patted her hair and finally took a breath.

No “I read about you in the papers. Are you and Laura all right?” This was typical Mildred.

“May I get you some coffee?” Laura lifted a white carafe from the table.

“Yes, darling, cream, one sugar.” She handed over my latest Blackie Doyle mystery as Laura shot her a look. “Notice anything different?”

For the first time, my name appeared above the title. Blackie stood silhouetted beneath a streetlight smoking a cigarette. Behind him was the East River. Oh, the irony.

Laura warmed Kennedy’s half-filled cup with a splash of coffee, dropped in three sugars and a dash of cream. She handed the cup to Mildred and winked at me.

My editor took a sip. “That’s wonderful, darling.” She always treated Laura like my secretary. Mildred knew writing and publishing but next to nothing about people not in the business.

I read Dashiell’s flattering blurb on the back cover as Mildred sipped the coffee and recounted all the work she’d done since I last saw her. “Tell me you’ve started your next novel. With a series, you don’t want your audience to wait too long for the next one.”

“I’m taking a vacation of sorts.” I set the book on the table.

“I thought that’s what you’d been doing.”

Laura licked her moist lips and ignored Mildred. She smiled as her fingers caressed the hard porcelain of the white carafe.

I couldn’t look Mildred in the eye. “My return to the city has been no vacation.”

“Are you referring to that business about getting shot? You seem fine.” She finished the
coffee and set the cup beside the book. “Oh, all right, I can tell you’re upset about me not returning your calls, darling, but that’s business. It’ll never happen again. Now, about your next novel—”

“I’ll start the first chapter the minute we reach Hollywood.”

“Hollywood?”

“Laura has a part in a movie. She signed with Carville Studios. Our train leaves at two, giving us several days of peaceful travel.”

Mildred led me across the room and lowered her voice. “You know I think the world of Laura.”

I knew nothing of the kind. “Really?”

“Really, but you write your best when the two of you are apart.” Before I could come up with the proper response of outrage, Mildred glanced at her watch. “Oh good heavens, I’m late.” She kissed me then headed for the door. She gave Laura a kiss that fell six inches short. Then she was gone.

Laura burst out laughing and muttered to herself, “Oh, Mildred, I’m going to miss you.” She wiped my editor’s lipstick from my face then threw her arms around me and pulled me close. “Where were we?”

“In the bedroom.” I kissed her and ran my hand down her back. Another knock sounded. Damn!

Laura let out a frustrated sigh and gestured toward the door.

Dorothy Greenwoody stood in the corridor wearing a clingy white dress and her black-rimmed glasses. “The papers say you’re leaving town today.” She entered the room, acknowledging Laura with a chilly glance. “Jake, I just had to thank you, for what you did for my father, I mean.”

I closed the door. “Your father was always a hero to me. Still is. The country will think so, too, after he testifies to Congress.”

“If it wasn’t for you, Father would’ve made a dreadful mistake. You were …”

She didn’t have to say
wonderful
. I read the word on her face, and so apparently did Laura, based on her pursed lips. Dorothy’s feelings for me were misdirected. She loved Blackie Doyle, but Laura didn’t know that.

After an awkward silence, Dorothy cleared her throat. “So when does your next Blackie Doyle novel come out?”

“Not until fall.” I picked up the advance copy from the table and handed it to her. “Here.”

Dorothy’s eyes widened. “
Blackie Doyle’s Revenge
. I love the cover.” She clutched the book to her chest. “I know what I’ll be doing tonight.”

Laura chuckled then bit her lip.

“Would you sign it?” Dorothy offered the book to me. “I see you still wear the white rose in your lapel.”

I checked my pockets. “I don’t appear to have anything to write with.”

Laura grabbed her purse and slapped a pen into my hand.

Turning to the title page, I tried to come up with words that would reflect my gratitude toward the role Dorothy played in getting Laura and me out of such a tight jam. When my eyes met Laura’s, I hurriedly signed,
Dorothy, thanks for all you’ve done. Wishing you the best of success in everything you do, Jake
.

Dorothy read the inscription then glanced at Laura. “Would you mind if I kissed Jake good-bye?”

“Go ahead.” Laura’s eyes twinkled. “I must warn you, kissing Jake can be a tough habit to break.”

Dorothy’s lips lingered much longer than I expected. She stepped back and patted her hair then headed to the door. “Keep in touch.”

Laura held the door open for her. “Oh, we will.”

I followed Laura into the bedroom where she hefted a half-full suitcase onto the bed. Apparently our earlier attempt at romance was a mere memory. She emptied the top drawer of the dresser and stuffed her clothes into the suitcase. She tried without success to close the latches.

Just how angry about Dorothy was she? “Can I help?”

She ignored the offer. Pretty mad.

One of her stockings poked out of the side of the suitcase. “There’s a stocking peeking out.”

“A glimpse of stocking …” She broke into song, “was looked on as something shocking, but now God knows. Anything goes.” She clamped her eyes shut. “Damn it, Jake.”

What did I say? “I didn’t mean—”

“
Anything Goes
, opening the fall of 1934 at the Alvin Theatre, staring Ethel Merman.” Laura sounded like a radio commercial. “That girl can belt out a song, but I’m a better actress.”

“Of course you are.” I sat beside her and wrapped both arms around her.

“I should’ve landed that role. She’d never met Cole before someone introduced them at the cast party!”

I kept her close to my chest, trying to conceal my guilt, but I’d promised never again to keep secrets from her. “I introduced her to Cole Porter.”

Laura pushed me away. “You what?”

“I didn’t know you were interested in a role.”

“You shouldn’t have told me!”

Why did women keep changing the rules? “You’ll do swell in Hollywood.”

“That’s not the point. It’s a Cole Porter musical, and I’d have been perfect.” She gave the suitcase a final push and snapped the latches closed.

I offered to carry the heavy bag, but Laura ignored me and tugged it off the bed. She struggled to carry the suitcase to the next room. She set it by the door beside a trunk the size of an icebox and two more bags she’d brought from her apartment.

Laura grabbed her hankie and wiped Dorothy’s lipstick from my mouth, rubbing far less gently than before. “We’d better leave before I run out of hankies. What did you write?”

“On the book I gave to Dorothy?”

“No, on our grocery list.” She crossed her arms. “Yes, the book. You certainly took long enough to write something special.”

Before I could answer, another knock sounded. “I should hang a D
O
N
OT
D
ISTURB
sign on the door.”

“Don’t bother.”

“Get your clothes on you two,” Gino called from the corridor.

“We got something to show you.” A woman’s familiar voice, Stella, the Yankee Club cigarette girl.

I let them in. Stella danced a little jig. She squealed like a little girl in a room full of ice-cream cones as she showed her left hand to Laura.

Laura took her hand and examined the diamond on the third finger. “It’s gorgeous.”

I couldn’t believe this news. “You’re engaged?”

Gino clapped me on the back. “It must be terrific being a detective. You can figure things out so quick. He’s a real gumshoe, this one.”

I shook his hand. “Congratulations.”

Gino’s eyes darted between Laura and me. “Everything okay, ’cause it feels like you been defrosting a refrigerator in here.”

Laura stared into the distance.

“Dorothy Greenwoody just left,” I said.

“That kid?” Gino chuckled. “Dorothy don’t mean nothing to Jake.”

Laura shot him a look. Calling Dorothy a kid didn’t do me any favors.

“I’m serious. Even when she invited him into her hotel room …” Gino looked at me and shrugged. He wasn’t helping at all.

Stella dismissed Laura’s concern with a wave. “So Jake sowed a few wild oats—”

“I haven’t sowed any oats.”

Stella cocked her head. “Never?”

I had no intention of getting into intimate details, especially about my time in Florida.

“What Gino did before he gave me this ring is his business,” Stella said. “From now on it’s just me until death do us part.”

Gino’s eyes widened as if this was the first time he realized he was expected to be faithful the rest of his life. “That could be fifty years! Ain’t there some kind of statute of limitations or something?”

Stella kissed his cheek. “He spent all morning going through his little black book, calling dames, telling ’em he’s off the market.”

“I’m up to the D’s.” Gino grinned.

Stella laughed. “How ’bout this guy, deciding to make an honest woman out of me.”

“No more cigarette girl,” Gino said.

“Gino, ya mean it?” Stella put both hands to her cheeks.

“Sure.” He winked at me. “I’m promoting you to cocktail waitress.”

Stella’s face reddened. In a brief moment, she caught on and grinned. “Wise guy.”

Gino smiled at Laura. “That picture of you splattered all over the papers. How’s your hand?”

“Still good enough for a couple more punches.” She made a fist and shook it in my direction. Laura led Stella toward the balcony and admired the diamond in the morning light. Girl talk.

Gino lowered his voice. “She really sore about Dorothy?”

“It’s more than that. She missed out on Cole Porter’s next play, thanks to me. She’s hesitant about appearing in a movie.”

“She’s making a movie?”

“In Hollywood.”

“California?” Gino held up both palms. “You were serious about that?”

I pulled two train tickets from my pocket. “Just for six months.”

“Son of a bitch. You sure you’re coming back?”

“Absolutely.” Or at least I was fairly sure. “What caused you to pop the question? You love her?”

“Sure I do … and the little fella she’s carrying around inside her. Don’t say nothin’. Ma don’t know.”

Gino, a father and a husband? I had trouble picturing him in either role.

He held up both palms. “What?”

“You’ll make a swell dad, a terrific husband.”

“Which is it?”

The women rejoined us as I pulled the envelope from my pocket. “Here’s the grand I owe you.”

Like a cat spearing a goldfish, Stella snatched the envelope before Gino held out a hand. “He ain’t gonna carry around all that dough now that he has … responsibilities.” She handed him a fifty and stuffed the rest of the money down the front of her dress.

We heard a knock, and I let a bellhop in. He loaded the bags onto a brass cart.

Laura followed as I gave the suite a final walk-through. When we returned, I studied her tentative expression. “You ready?”

For the first time since Mildred entered, Laura’s face softened. She gave me a warm slow kiss. “I’m sorry about earlier. I love you, Jake Donovan.”

“Ah,” Gino slipped his arm around Stella. “Ain’t they adorable?”

We followed the bellhop to the elevator and rode down to the lobby.

I checked out at the front desk and learned Empire Press had paid the entire tab. An advance on my advance, knowing Mildred. I turned and nearly collided with Gino.

He wiped moist eyes with a handkerchief then blew his nose, sounding like a foghorn. “You did a good thing, Jake. I ain’t talking about the mess with the Golden Legion. You took care of the two bums who plugged Mickey. You did good, real good.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” Or Danny and Frankie. Without them, Laura would be wearing black.

Outside, I tugged on my hat as wind swirled in front of the hotel. Laura and Stella stood in the shade of an awning talking to Danny. Astride a blue Schwinn with chrome handlebars, his huge frame dwarfed the bicycle. Not many bicyclists wore a gray suit and fedora. “I came by to thank you for the bike you and Gino bought me.”

This was the first I’d heard about it.

“I forgot to tell you.” Gino squeezed the horn on the handlebars, making a noise like a Canadian goose. “Just like the one we stole.”

“And gave back,” I added. “Can you ride it?”

“How you think I got here? It all came back to me. You know the old saying, it’s like …” confusion swept over his face, “riding a bike.” Danny pushed off and began to pedal. The front wheel wobbled as he struggled to keep the wheels stable. The bike veered toward a large woman, with ostrich feathers on her hat, standing at the front entrance. He overcorrected and slammed into a fern in the lobby, shattering the pot. Danny fell on his side, slicing a hole in his trousers on one of the pedals.

Gino and I helped him up.

Danny brushed himself off and handed the doorman a twenty for the damages. “Starting is kind of rough, but once I get going …” He wheeled the bike from the lobby and pedaled off. “See ya, Jake.”