Prohibition is the law of the land, but Nellie needs cash - after socking a gangster in the face, she's got ten days to make it right. Frightened and caught empty-handed, Nellie turns bootlegger.
She accepts a job from her sly friend Lola to pick up...
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SATURDAY, MAY 16 1925
I don't make a habit out of eavesdropping. But Felix is hiding something—or has been hiding something—and I need to know what it is.
"I was hoping you could help me, Sam. I need to speak with somebody."
"So you are interested in coming back, after all? You've got a lot of nerve coming back here."
"I'm wondering where I can find Carver."
"Carver? He's down at the river front. You should be able to find him easy enough during daylight hours. If he's not at his favorite blind pig you can find him checking on things at the slips. What business do you have with a character like that?"
"It's certainly no business of yours."
Sam laughs. I step away from the door and hurriedly make my way over to the sitting room to inspect some family photographs. Detroit's known as a haven for rumrunners, with more Prohibition Agents than they could dream of. Rumor was that the biggest outfit in this city rivaled the Big Fellow in Chicago for their ruthlessness.
I hunt for Felix in the dozen or so photographs until he and Sam appear. Felix nods towards the door. Back in the car Felix looks like he means to say something, but I beat him to it.
"Why didn't you ever tell me you spent some time here?"
"I'm not proud of it," he says, "I should have gone straight to my family. But I stopped here first. I made excuses until I ran completely out."
"Did you learn anything from your old pal Sam?"
"I know where Carver can be found," he says. "He likes a small speak near the river called Windsor Heights."
"Lola said to be discreet. Maybe I should go in there on my own."
"Nellie," Felix says, stopping rather suddenly due to the car in front of ours, "I don't think that's a good idea. I've seen the likes of these—it wouldn't feel right."
"Because I'm just a little girl?"
"No," he says, "Because you are my friend. These sorts. They might shoot first and ask questions later. They say bodies float like pack ice down the river in winter."
"They say?What's gotten into you, Felix?"
"Please don't go in there alone. We can go in separately if we must."
"Fine," I say, "Separately it is." It isn't a terrible idea. I'd read similar rumors from the newspapers. And now that Felix has brought it up I'm beginning to feel just a bit anxious myself.
The closer we get to the river the shadier the buildings become. We see a few fellas stumbling around on the sidewalk—publically drunk in the middle of the day.
