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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MONDAY, JUNE 1 1925
The Captain was really happy about the story. Lola told me Rudy took the tip straight to his father, who made sure the CHICAGO DAILY NEWS made the story front-page. The trial isn't for another two weeks, and it's already a sensation—though Travers has someone else besides himself to thank. Timothy Wells paid him a visit just before the time of the arrest and got a bullet to the shin for the trouble. People have plenty of questions about that, but I tell them that I wasn't there, I know just as much as they do.
Lola didn't give me any details about how she stole Wells' goods. I asked her one night, even going so far as to imply that maybe Wells let her get away with it to cause trouble for Travers but she just said, "wouldn't you like to know" and I left it at that.
It's best I don't know, anyhow.
She's had to lay low for a little while, just in case something goes wrong. There's still the trial to worry about. We can't see each other as often as I'd like. I haven't been to a speak in weeks. It's best to be cautious. So I'm extra careful, but when I'm out on patrol one day near the Collins' garage, I do wander just a little too close.
Joey's sitting on the office doorstep, smoking a cigarette. We eye each other another few moments. I dare to walk closer, so we can have a proper conversation.
"You looking for Lola?"
"That's right," I say, "She here?"
"She should be soon," Joey says. He upends a cloth napkin filled with crumbs and birds go wild in the dirt for them. With all the rain these past few days there have been weeds galore popping up everywhere. Now there's a tiny green carpet growing under several cars cramped in this tiny lot.
"You're awfully keen on her, aren't you?" Joey gives me one of his devilish smiles.
"You could say that." I keep my hands in my pockets. I peer at him closely, trying to stoke any remnants of the anger that I felt before.
"My brother took the fall for you," I say, evenly, "I just want to know if you have anything to say for yourself."
Joey sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was my idea," he says, "The scheme. But I was too scared to do it. Frankie insisted. He said he really needed the money, that we'd get away with it. And when it all went up in smoke he took the blame for it."
It's not exactly the story I've told myself, but I don't think Joey's lying.
"He's my friend," Joey says, "I still feel guilty about it."
I still don't like Joey. And there's no law that says I have to, but when I visit Frankie, maybe I'll get the truth out of him.
"Aren't you on the clock?"
I check my watch. It's been five minutes; I shouldn't linger much longer.
"Anyway," Joey says, "You surprised me, going after Travers like that. I'm glad to see the last of the Baron." Joey's eyes skip my face all over to something further away. He points, I turn to watch Lola walk up, doing her best to avoid the puddles of mud.
"Can you get my car ready, Joey?"
Joey snorts. But he gets up anyhow. Lola hands him a cigarette from her pack and he disappears.
"You shouldn't have shown up here," Lola says.
"You're hard to keep away from," I say, and she flushes even though she arranges her face to look haughty.
"When everything's all settled, we can see each other as much as we like."
"I know," I say. Joey's got the car started. The regular drone of the engine says all that needs to be said. Lola can't linger here, and neither can I. But when everything's cleared up, we can linger where we please. She leans across the short distance between us to plant a small kiss on my cheek.
"Stay out of trouble."
"That goes for you, too," I say. She winks at me, then turns to get into her car. Joey opens the gate a little wider so she can take the Ford into the street. I wait until all the little puddles she drove through go still.
