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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
TUESDAY, MAY 19 1925
Wells does come back just like he said he would.
Mr. Oliver won't be happy about the way he empties out the restaurant. Mr. Oliver is already upset with me, actually, about leaving him high and dry for one of the shifts I missed by accident. But he knows I'm good at my job. That's the only reason he keeps me around, anyhow.
Wells doesn't seem angry with me. But as I stare at him across the table of the booth all I can think about is the way the gun pressed to my temple.
I set the money on the table, and I swallow.
"Five hundred dollars," I say.
He doesn't count it. He just pockets it, then he asks for a coffee. I'm so surprised he repeats himself. So I go grab him a mug and fetch some cream, and sugar. He pours some cream in, but leaves the sugar where it's sitting in its gummy little jar.
"I never meant for things to get quite so ugly," Wells says, "But then again, I didn't expect you to be involved."
"I didn't have much choice but to get involved."
Wells eyes me above the rim of his mug. He always looks like he's hiding something. I wipe at the few drops of cream left on the table with my rag.
"You know," he says, "I might have some work for a clever girl like you."
"Oh yeah? What sort of work? The kind that involves spying on Lola Collins?"
Wells grins at me. It's the first time I've seen him with something that looks like a genuine smile. It makes him look handsome, and that thought alone is enough to make me squirm.
"Your friend won't be coming back for a while now. Not so long as Travers is running the show."
I shrug. "I don't know where he is. And I figured you and Travers are thick as thieves already, so long as you're sitting in front of me."
"Travers stays where he is because I let him."
"Is that so?" That was bold of me. Too bold, maybe. But I smell the barest whiff of bravado. There's no way Wells likes Travers hanging around this city.
"For the time being, we're at something of a draw."
"He didn't have enough clout to see you put behind bars." It's a guess but not a wild one. The Juniper Gang commands some amount of fear. They've probably got plenty of people in the right places on their payroll, but so must Travers. There's something else between Wells and Travers, but I don't know just what. He went through an awful lot of trouble to find the true identity of the Baron—did he suspect Travers all along?
Wells shrugs now. I wonder why he hasn't gotten angry with me. I almost wish he would, so that I felt less like I belonged around his sort.
"Stay close to Lola Collins," Wells says, "And I'll make sure it's safe for your friend to come back to the city."
"I don't believe you," I say, "That's impossible."
"Believe what you like," Wells says, tucking the envelope away into his coat, "But the offer stands. Come and find me when you've made the right decision."
He leaves after dropping fifteen cents on the table to pay for the coffee. I want to hurl his empty mug straight into the wall. Instead I calmly set it with the rest of the dirty dishes. Mr. Oliver emerges from the back. He slowly shakes his head at me. When a customer spills a plate of eggs on the floor I take my anger out on them. I think about the tickets that I dropped in Union Station when Lester arrested me. I think of them twisting in the breezes from the departing and arriving trains. I think of them crumpled up and forgotten, blown onto one of the tracks. Or maybe some lucky kid picked them up and shoved them in his mouth while he waited with his parents in the marble-tiled lobby.
* * *
"Are you even listening?" Lola crosses her arms. "Honestly," she says, "I know you're feeling in the dumps but now's the time to get your act together."
I'm sitting in Lola's living room. I've never been here before, but she insists it's all right. She assured me everybody was out for the evening—her nasty brother included. When I confessed to her that Tim Wells offered to keep Felix safe if I spied on her for him, all she did was laugh until she gasped for air.
"We could always rob a bank," Lola says, sipping her tea, "I think I'm halfway decent."
I shake my head. Everything's caught up with me. All that energy from Monday fled and left me sore and afraid. Afraid. Afraid for me, afraid for Felix. For Lola, and even for Lester, of all people.
"Didn't think you'd go for that one." Lola sighs.
The disgust I feel nags me like grit in the eyes. I can't take a breath or a shut my eyes without feeling it. I plead guilty to light bootlegging charges and paid a fine at the court room, but it's not over. So long as John Travers is out there, we're not safe.
"Why didn't I listen?"
Lola peers at me closely. "Listen?"
"Felix tried to warn me," I say, "And I didn't take him seriously. I thought he didn't know what he was talking about. I thought I knew everything there was to know and I barely knew everything. Now I've lost it all."
"We're still friends aren't we?" Lola says.
I nod.
"Then you haven't lost everything," she says, "And for all my past failings, I like to think I'm a good friend to have in a pinch."
"Aren't you afraid?" I ask, "Travers seems pretty powerful. And together with the Wells gang—"
"We'll be forced to sell or forced out of business, I know." Lola unscrews the lid from her flask and dumps an amber-colored liquor into her tea. "Bourbon?"
I shrug. She gives me a dollop. I'm grateful I didn't ask for cream in my tea.
"What does Travers want?"
"What do you mean?"
"Everybody wants something," I say, "It's how I figure people out. I guess what they want. Like back in the restaurant—I always knew what a customer wanted before he had to open his mouth. I knowwhat you want."
Lola grins at me. "Want? It's no great mystery. He's in it for the money, like everybody else. Treasury agents are lucky to bring home a few thousand dollars a year. That's one of the reasons why they're so easy to bribe."
Money. Just what I thought I always wanted. What I thought would make everything better. Just like magic.
"But right now," Lola goes on, tossing her flask onto the couch cushion, "What he wants is for this all to go away. It ended messy."
The beginning of an idea blooms like the bourbon in my throat. A crazy idea, but one that just might work.
"Lola," I start, "How well do you actually know Lester?"
"Pretty well," Lola says, and she isn't being coy, "He's not that hard to read. He's always on about doing what's right. He's just frustrated that nothing is as clear-cut as he wants it to be."
"Do you think he's angry about his boss just being another crook?"
"He sure is," Lola says, lifting a brow, "But just what have you got in mind?"
"I'm still working it out," I say, "But Lester will have to agree."
