Sirens (10 page)

Aunt Mary stormed into the dining room, stopping short when she saw us. “Oh!” She brushed back her hair and straightened her shoulders. “I didn’t know anyone else was here.” She gestured toward the foyer. “That switchboard operator must have crossed the lines.”

Chester tossed his napkin onto the table in a heap. “Well, I’m off. Career beckons. Miles to go and all that. Later, Mumsie. See you, cuz. I’m sure we’ll talk more when I get home. Dying to finish this conversation. Wall Street. Such a blast.” He winked at me and kissed his mother’s cheek as he blew by.

I rose to follow, but my aunt took my arm. “Jo, I need to ask you a favor.”

“Sure, Aunt Mary.” I gave my aunt my full attention, trying to put on a smile, my stomach lurching with uneasiness. “What can I do for you?”

She lifted her eyes to mine. “I’d like you to keep an eye on Melody.”

I had to stop myself from revealing my shock, so I bit my lip. “Um, Aunt Mary, I don’t see how—”

Aunt Mary waved her hand in the air. “I know she appears to be grown up, but I can assure you, she’s made some very bad choices. You’re a steady, smart girl, Josephine. You know right from wrong. If you go out on the town with her, you can be a good influence.”

“Really, Auntie, I’m not sure I can influence Melody at all.”

“Nonsense.” Aunt Mary pushed her hair back in what was becoming a familiar gesture. “I know all about the flapper doings. I know all about the…boys. She drinks too much alcohol—they all drink.”
She paused, her eyes troubled. “Do you drink, Josephine?”

“No.”

“There you are! You’re sensible and smart. Not likely to get into trouble with boys and the law and such.”

I shook my head. “Aunt Mary, Melody is pretty strong-willed. If she gets it in her head to do something, I don’t think I can stop her.”

Tears popped into my aunt’s eyes, and her voice trembled. “Just be there, Jo. Please?”

I put my hand on my aunt’s arm. Whenever I’d seen my aunt in the past, she’d seemed breezy and free, not like this, shaken. “I’ll do what I can.”

If Teddy was here, he could keep Melody in check. But me? She’d blow me away like yesterday’s cigarette ash.

“Where is Melody now?” I asked. I had the feeling that my aunt was worried about more than she was letting on.

“She’s still asleep. She’s rarely up before noon.” My aunt shook her head. “I just don’t understand. When I was her age, I wouldn’t have even considered behaving so. Bertram would never have given me a second glance if I’d acted out like you all do today. Dancing all night, smoking cigarettes, pulling silly stunts like sitting atop poles, dressing with no regard to decency…” Aunt Mary looked me up and down. “At least you’re wearing something that isn’t see-through.”

I blushed; there were a few dresses in my closet that I’d considered and rejected for that very reason, and because they’d expose my ugly scar. But maybe that made me old-fashioned. Old-fashioned enough that I was being asked to play nursemaid to my reckless cousin.

“I’ll be in my room,” I said. I would have the chance to read
more of Teddy’s journal, if I could steel myself to it. “I’ll find her when she wakes up.”

My aunt nodded, her eyes drifting to the floor.

But my room was being cleaned by talkative Adela, the maid, and it was clear she wouldn’t be finished for a time; there was no way I would fetch Teddy’s journal under anyone’s curious gaze. After shuffling around impatiently, I decided to go for a walk to clear my head.

The weather had turned from warm to downright hot, and now the air had that ominous feel of threat that preceded thunderstorms. The sun baked the streets through a humid haze. The city was in its morning rush, and businessmen in their hats and suits with umbrellas looped over their arms marched forward, chins thrust out like the prows of steamships. I stood under the awning watching the ebb and flow for so long that Ed, the doorman, asked if I’d like a taxi.

“No, thanks. I’m just standing here watching the city go by.” And trying to let my unsettled emotions calm.

Ed nodded, and I felt bad. I wondered at how he must be suffering in that heavy coat and those pristine white gloves that were part of his uniform. His whistle hung across his chest on a long brass chain.

“I’m sorry about that suitcase the other day,” I said to him.

“Excuse me, miss?”

“That it was so heavy. I should have warned you.”

He shrugged. “It’s my job, miss.” He glanced up and down the busy street, always at the ready. “But if you don’t mind my asking…”

“Books.” I smiled. “Just books.”

“Ah, no gold bricks then. Or,” he dropped his voice, “bottles of you know what.” He shook his head. “Not that you’d need to hide that in a suitcase. Everyone looks the other way. Why, there was a delivery right to this door last week, cases of the stuff, broad daylight, and nobody blinked.” He bounced on the balls of his feet. He lowered his voice further, talked out of the corner of his mouth. “Not that I forgo the stuff myself, mind you.” Then he stepped back. “Sorry, miss. Don’t know why I’d say something like that, speak to you like that. My apologies.”

He was a decent guy. “Ed, I assure you I can keep a secret.”

“Thank you, miss. Much obliged. Our secret.” A woman pushed out the door, and Ed moved off to help her to a taxi.

I could keep a secret, couldn’t I? I could keep the deepest of secrets.

The air was heavy and my heart was heavy and my mind full of doubts. Spying on Melody, and my aunt’s deep worry, and Teddy having something to do with bombings.

Teddy, war hero, my hero, would never, could never…

Cars rushed by honking and weaving, and people threaded the sidewalks in the shimmering heat, and I thought about the last time I had seen Teddy, in similar shimmering heat, and about that promise that I had made to him, that I kept even as it haunted me, wormed through me, tortured me, and showed the crack in my fastidious belief in all things right.

CHAPTER 13

Lou

I think, if I’d known, I would’ve told Charlie, don’t do it. Don’t take that job. I don’t like you mixed up in this stuff. But then, where would we be?

Danny was always doing stuff like that, stuff that drove me crazy.
He
drove me crazy. Yeah, I knew about the others. I knew what he did for a living. I knew there was a part of him that was dangerous.

You boys getting the picture?

‘Cause, if not, here’s a clue. That time in ’23. We were in the mansion on Long Island by then. Business was really picking up as Danny had taken over most of Big Al’s operations. I walked in on something I shouldn’t have. How was I to know?

Danny and his brother Pat, they were out in the greenhouse. I went out there, ’cause they’d been at it so long and Cook had prepared a nice dinner, quail, for pete’s sake, and when I knocked, they didn’t answer, so I opened the door.

“Danny?”

Up they popped like a couple of rabbits, covered in dirt. I couldn’t help it; I started to giggle.

But Danny, he didn’t think it was funny. He came at me so fast it was like watching a bull charge down a field, horns first. He shoved me back out the door and slammed it so hard one of the glass panes cracked.

“Don’t you ever surprise me again,” he said, right through his teeth.

I didn’t say a word, just nodded.

He took a deep breath. “Patrick was helping me unload some fresh soil. That’s what you saw. You understand?”

I nodded again. I wasn’t a dummy; I saw his clenched fist.

“Get back to the house.”

I did. Danny, he didn’t talk to me for almost a week, and he went out every evening, which was worse than anything else he could’ve done. It was downright hurtful. Oh, I could’ve left him, sure, since I knew he was up to no good.

But I didn’t. I was stuck on Danny, like lint on wool. I was goofy over him. Danny was my one and only, even if I wasn’t his.

So maybe it was a good thing I didn’t know about Charlie’s little job until after. ’Cause if I’d stopped Charlie, asked him not to do it—and I would have, thinking the wrong thing altogether—then none of it would’ve happened with Charlie and Jo, and me. And you boys probably wouldn’t be talking to me. No, the story would’ve had a different ending.

So there’s your proof. Nothing happens by chance.

CHAPTER 14

MAY 22, 1925

Body of King Tut Is Found in Sarcophagus

—Headline from
The Washington Reporter
, February 12, 1924

Jo

I walked over to Fifth, intending to head uptown through Central Park toward the Metropolitan Museum. The new Egyptian discoveries were all the rage, but that wasn’t what I had in mind. It had to do with Teddy. I went to the Met to revisit a series of paintings.

Between receiving Teddy’s journal out of the blue, Rushton’s peculiar interest in Teddy, and Chester’s insinuations, I was feeling my way through a labyrinth. All I could do was try to follow the thread as I waited for Teddy’s return.

After the war Teddy hadn’t taken me to see shows so much. It was as if he couldn’t laugh or let his hair down or even sit still that long. Instead, we’d go see other, quieter sights in the city, one of which was the Met. There was one particular set of paintings that he liked. It was clear that they meant something to him. If I could
figure out what, maybe I’d know enough so I could find the thread that would lead me to him.

Because I believed in Teddy’s promise to me. I believed he’d be back, and would be here any day now.

I struck out up Fifth Avenue. Buses, cabs, and automobiles hurtled along, past the tony brownstones that rose imperiously above the sidewalk. A few horse-drawn wagons stood waiting or sidled into alleys; deliverymen carried baskets of flowers, stacks of boxes, crates of food into service entries. Polished limousines in bright colors—a fern-green Packard, a maroon Daimler—lined the curb, waiting, while doormen in stiff coats surveyed their domains. One matron emerged from her building, her tiny dog on a gem-encrusted leash, her silk dress shimmering, her diamond necklace glittering, her eyes sharp and focused, the door to her limousine held for her by a Negro driver who was outfitted in an immaculate uniform complete with gloves, his eyes tracing the ground. It even smelled rich here: swept, damp sidewalks and the scent of car wax and jardinieres overflowing with petunias glittering with moisture. This was the upperest crust of New York society, and it made my aunt and uncle’s lavish lifestyle look plain.

The day grew ever more sultry. I walked at a slow pace, taking in New York, trying not to work up a sweat. I was close to the intersection at Sixty-fifth, where I’d cross the avenue to the park, when I stopped, midstride and midsidewalk, the other pedestrians streaming around me.

A silky black limo had pulled alongside the curb. The driver was at the wheel, his eyes fixed on the space in front of him. Stepping out the door of the limo, his gray pinstripe immaculate, was Daniel Connor. And he was looking right at me.

He nodded. “Miss Winter,” he said. “I’ve been following you. I was hoping to catch up with you.”

My tongue was a clunky thing, unable to form words.

“May we speak?” He stepped aside, and held the car door open, gesturing.

I found my words now, although my voice shook. “You may speak to me right here. In the open.”

He smiled. “I understand your concern, but for your family’s sake, you should get inside.” He spread his hands. “You have my word I won’t spirit you away.” His smile sharpened.

I had no choice. I slid into the backseat, my palms sweaty, tacky on the leather, as Connor closed the door behind him. As I sat back, facing him, the skin of the scar on my back prickled.

“Your father,” he began, “I think he’s hiding something. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

I shook my head. A bead of sweat formed on my forehead.

“It’s not important. Suffice to say I don’t tolerate secrecy in my employees.”

I couldn’t move.

“Now, under certain conditions, I’m a forgiving man.”

My mouth went dry as a desert as I said, “Conditions?”

“I’ll be blunt. I’m looking for your brother, Miss Winter.” He paused, held out a cigarette case. I shook my head again, eyeing the lighter in his other hand. He put both away. “Do you know anything about Teddy? Where he might be? Because we both know he isn’t really dead, don’t we?”

I tried not to betray my surprise, tried not to show my terror. He waited.

He said, “I think you know where he is.”

“No, I don’t.” This, at least, was the truth.

“But you do know something. It will be better for your family if I can speak with Teddy. Better for everyone. Do you know anything about him?” He paused. “Anything he might have left behind?”

I sat as still as I could.

He leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “I don’t tolerate deception or betrayal. Information about Teddy would make me…hesitate to punish your father.” He leaned back. “Here’s my card. That’s my phone number. I’m always available to you.” He took out a cigarette, tamping it on the case. “But I’m not terribly patient. I will give your father two weeks. That’s two weeks for you to think about my question, Miss Winter.” He reached past me and opened the limo door to let me out. But before I could slip past him, he stopped me, his arm barring my way. “You’re an attractive young woman. Perhaps there’s something I can do for you. To sweeten the deal. I can help you, you know.”

My thighs stuck to the leather. My dress clung to my back, to the skin of my scar. “I don’t think so,” I said.

“No? Not thinking of becoming an actress?” He paused. “Or perhaps a writer? I know lots of people in the publishing business. Someone who could give you a job tomorrow. Here, in the city. A nice high income.”

Sweat streamed down my back. How could he know? I shook my head.

He removed his arm. “You have two weeks.”