Whistling in the Dark (17 page)

Listening to Jack order for them both, Sutton guessed he intended to make up for a meager dinner with a surfeit of breakfast. After tea, apples, and oatmeal the night before, Sutton was glad for the steak and eggs.

Grinning from ear to ear, Jack paid a suspicious Ida, who stalked back to the kitchen without comment. "I think I just ruined her day." He divided the remainder of his cash and pushed two dollars into Sutton's hands. "And from now on, you're getting a percentage of the take. Harry may have a conniption but I don't care."

"You are keeping something aside to pay back those fellows?"

"Harry's keeping it. He's got this silly idea that money in my pocket tends to end up a little too quick in someone else's."

"Such as Keeler's."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Well, I've got an excuse to buy radio parts now."

"I'm your excuse?"

"You're my piano player," Jack said cheerfully.

Before Sutton had a chance to ponder how that simple declaration could warm him as much as it did, Jack hurried him out the door. They were at the curb, Jack rambling about the performance schedule, when Sutton noticed a familiar figure loitering in the alley. He slowed, uneasy, and beside him, Jack went quiet.

"Vance Fletcher?" Sutton whispered.

Jack nodded and gave him a little push in the direction of the emporium. "Go on inside."

Sutton had no intention of leaving him to face Vance alone. As Vance lumbered toward them, Sutton masked his uneasiness with what he hoped was convincing determination and, before Jack could stop him, confronted the man, himself. "It's my understanding you've given Jack until the end of the month to pay you. A gentleman would abide by that agreement as a common courtesy."

"Gentleman?" Jack snorted. "He barely passes for human--"

With a growl that only bolstered Jack's assertion, Vance started for him--until a voice spoke up from behind Sutton. "You really ought to stop riling him, Jackie boy. He might start breaking bones that ain't so easy to fix."

Sutton recognized the mock congenial voice and managed not to flinch as Ned Hennessy put an arm around his shoulders. Ned's broad smile stood at disturbing odds with the cold contempt in his gaze. "Look who we got here. Ida Carlisle's errand boy. Mr. Chase tells me you Albrights are in the clover. So how come you're slumming in this part of town?"

"Let him go." Jack stepped in front of Ned, and Sutton did flinch at the look in Jack's eyes. "Leave him alone. He's got nothing to do with this."

Ned's smile faded. "You see what happens when you throw in with society types," he said conversationally to Vance. "They put a little cash in your pocket and you ain't got a sense of what they call proportion no more. You get too high hat to remember the pals who looked out for you when you were nothing but a dumb little kid. And speaking of dumb--" He mussed Sutton's hair with a rough hand. "You wouldn't be the wisenheimer who moved our brougham, would you?"

Uneasiness gave way to sheer annoyance and Sutton pulled away from him--just in time, as Jack shoved Ned hard enough to send him crashing to the sidewalk. Vance grabbed a handful of Jack's coat and yanked him backward before he could take a swing at Ned. Jack swore and twisted around, swinging at Vance, instead.

The blow to Vance's substantial jaw hardly seemed to faze him. He raised a fist like an anvil and slammed it into Jack's ribs. Sutton threw himself against the massive shoulders and wrapped both arms around a neck thick as a bull's. Vance backed into the nearest wall and the air left Sutton's lungs with brutal suddenness, a nearly-forgotten pain shooting from shoulder to fingertips.

And yet it was nothing compared to the cold dread that washed through him at the uncompromising retort of a gun.

- Eighteen -

As Vance's hold loosened, Sutton fell against the wall and clutched at it to stay on his feet. Esther at the side door brandished a sawed-off shotgun nearly as big as she was. "Get out of here," she told Ned, her voice trembling. "Go on."

Ned started to retrieve the gun he'd dropped when Esther had fired hers, and she shook her head. He darkened but said nothing. Vance was likewise silent, but his hands were curled into fists as he left with Ned. They were no sooner out of sight than Harry appeared around the corner, clearing the space that separated him from Jack in a heartbeat. He dropped to his knees and tried to peel back the arm Jack held to his stomach. "Jack, for God's sake, let me look."

Jack leaned against him. "The son of a bitch just got a lucky punch. He caught me off-guard."

"Yeah?" The color didn't appear any too ready to return to Harry's face. He looked over at Sutton. "Albright? You okay?"

He was, but he sensed his nod didn't convince Harry. Esther, looking none too steady herself, helped Harry get them into the office and onto the sofa to catch their breaths. By then, Jack had expressed in vigorous terms just what he intended to do to Vance, Ned, and even Chase as soon as he had the chance. The talk might reassure Harry he was all right, but Sutton didn't find it comforting in the least.

When Esther came back minus the gun and bearing towels full of ice, Harry moved Jack's hand away from his ribs and pressed the towel in its place. Jack winced. Sutton realized the other towel was for him and he shook his head. "I'm all right, Harry, really--"

"Take it," Harry said, applying the damp bundle to Sutton's wrist. "And you ain't playing today. Let it heal up or you won't be able to play at all."

Sutton started to protest, but Jack nudged him to stay quiet. When Harry left the office, Jack leaned over and whispered, "Humor him, will you? He's kicking himself right now."

"If I can't play, let me help with your customers."

"Really?" Jack chewed on his lower lip. "I don't know."

"You must let me earn my keep. Maybe I've no experience, but I've watched you and Harry at it and I think I can do all right."

Jack got up and fished a receipt book and pencil from the desk drawer. "You're officially a junior clerk, if Harry asks. And your first task is to take these towels and ice and dump them in the storeroom sink."

When he'd done that, Jack took him up and down the aisles with dizzying speed, then left him on his own as the first customers straggled in out of the breezy morning. By lunch, he'd made his first sale, but when Jack led him out of the aisle, he sensed it was his last.

"How's the arm?"

Sutton laughed. "I take it my career as junior clerk is over."

"You're doing fine. But folks are asking if you're playing today. So I thought, if your arm isn't hurting--"

"Are they really? But Harry--"

"Don't worry about Harry. He gave me an earful and that calmed him down." Jack grinned. "Go ahead and warm up."

Reassured, Sutton gave up the receipt book and returned to the keyboard. He had only just started to warm up when the scent of lilacs and a light tap on the shoulder stole his attention--and the postcard-perfect vision before him kept it bound and secured. She stood draped in a white coat trimmed with snowy fur, her delicate ears and creamy throat dripping pearls, her hair a cap of pale, sleek waves that made her eyes seem all the bluer. Her crimson lips curled demurely. "Well, hello."

Sutton swallowed. "How do you do." She looked just the sort of woman one saw in the pictures and never believed could really exist. He realized he was staring, but she didn't seem uncomfortable with the attention.

"I heard you on the whatsit," she began.

"Radio," Jack muttered from the floor, where he sat untangling the wires that ran beneath the workbench.

She cleared her throat gently and continued with perfect aplomb. "As I was saying, I heard you, and I had to come by and meet the talented pianist--and my goodness, I didn't dare imagine he was handsome, to boot." From the wealth of fur, she extended a hand. "Gert Hennessy."

Sutton contained a smile at her pronunciation of pianist and took her hand. "Sutton Albright. I'm glad you enjoyed the program. It's good of you to stop in just to say so."

A snort came from under the workbench. "We know why you're here, Gertie. Beat it."

Sutton looked at Jack in surprise.

"She's Ned's sister," Jack said, as if that were all anyone needed to know.

"It's hardly fair to judge Miss Hennessy by her brother's behavior. Siblings can be extraordinarily different people."

Jack rolled his eyes and Sutton, sensing a rather hollow protest meant more to keep up appearances, turned back to Gert. "Please forgive him. You're certainly welcome to stay and listen as long as you like."

At that moment, Harry emerged from the office. "For the love of--what's she doing here? Could this day go any less swimmingly?"

With dogged aplomb of his own, Sutton removed the sheet music from the armchair and pushed the chair closer to the piano. "Please, won't you have a seat, Miss Hennessy?"

She fingered the lacy trim of her hat. "Albright, you said? As in Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe?"

Harry stopped in his tracks and plucked the cigar out of his mouth. "The cops could track bank robbers with that nose."

Jack choked, then crumbled, laughing until he fell helplessly behind the workbench skirting. Sutton looked at them both reproachfully as he took his seat at the piano. Gert lit gracefully on the cushion and let her coat slide off her shoulders. "You going to play a number on the whatsit? Maybe you could dedicate it to me."

Jack groaned, but didn't get the chance to disparage Gert further, as Ox came barreling past. "Ox, I need that braided wire in the--Ox? What's gotten into him?"

Jack jumped up to go after him and Sutton followed. They found him huddled forlornly on the bench in the storeroom. With the barest glance at Sutton, Ox bent his head, dark hair falling over his brow. "It ain't nothing."

Jack put an arm around his shoulders. "Sutton's all right. Come on, tell us."

Sutton was pleased to hear he was all right. Still, he didn't want to make Ox any more uncomfortable. "I'll go."

"No, it's okay," Ox said. "It's just--well, that fellow who's been coming into Ida's the past couple of weeks. You know. Frank Hollister?"

Jack rested his chin on Ox's shoulder. "The one who flirts with Es?"

"That's him." Ox looked even more dejected. "He was talking big when Es wasn't around. Saying he'd take her to supper. Maybe dancing."

"Want me and Sutton to beat him up?"

The trace of a smile pulled at Ox's mouth. He shook his head. "She don't like fellows flirting with her while she's working. But she laughed when he did it. What if she loves him?"

"Why don't you ask her to dinner before he does," Sutton said.

Jack nodded. "Ask her to go dancing--"

"I can't." All six feet four inches of Ox hunched into an even more pathetic heap on the bench. "I don't know how to dance."

"We can remedy that," Sutton said.

Jack brightened. "We'll teach you the Grizzly Bear. Just the dance for you, Viv."

That sparked a warning flash in Ox's eyes, but Jack only grinned. Leaping to his feet, he took off and Ox bounded after him. Sutton had to laugh. Harry surely felt as though he were running a home for wayward boys. But going back out, Sutton found that Ox and Jack had succumbed to good manners or perhaps a warning from Harry. They were engaged in a stilted fox-trot, Jack attempting to teach Ox his right foot from his left.

Customers caught up in the spectacle were smiling. Harry nodded toward the piano and Sutton obligingly played, at a tempo to suit Ox and Jack's uncertain pace. The dance lesson progressed until Ox accidentally stomped on Jack's foot. Amid giggles from their audience, Jack collapsed on the piano bench almost on top of Sutton and pressed fingers over the toe of his shoe.

Gert rolled her eyes. "Such a baby." Leaving her coat and hat in the chair, she hooked slim fingers around one of Jack's suspenders. "Come on. We'll show him how to do it."

Jack scowled at her. "Who asked you for help?"

"Jack, for heaven's sake." Sutton gave him a push. "Ox needs it."

"So she can dance with Ox."

"I ain't letting that lummox scuff my new shoes." Gert leaned over Sutton's shoulder. "Play what you was playing before, sweetie."

Sutton began again, smiling when Jack twisted around to glare at him. "I'll get you back for this," Jack vowed as Gert dragged him off the bench.

Sutton doubted the Castles themselves could have charmed a crowd as thoroughly as Jack in his shirtsleeves, unruly curls flying, and Gert in her chiffon, showing off ivory-stockinged calves with every bounce and hop. Jack's lead was energetic even for a trot and Gert kept up with ease. She was smiling at him, the same flirtatious smile of before, and when she leaned in to whisper something, Jack suddenly smiled back. The tempo dragged under Sutton's fingers and he picked it up before anyone else caught on. When the dance ended with a burst of applause, Jack dropped breathlessly onto the bench beside him. "I'm still getting you back for that."

"You seemed to enjoy yourself. I'm not sure how much Ox may have gained from it. Perhaps we'll find out," Sutton added as Esther slipped through the dispersing crowd, bearing lunch.

She wore a curious smile. "What have I missed?" Her glance went to Gert, who'd reclaimed the armchair and was fanning herself with her hat. "Was there a defection?"

Gert eyed her with pouting suspicion. "Gert Hennessy don't come with no defects, honey." She stood, smoothing clinging skirts over her hips. "So's you can see."

"Do you mind?" Harry said, passing behind her. "This is a respectable place."

Esther giggled. "Well, I've only packed lunch for four. You'll have to share." She put the basket on the workbench. "Ida made the coffee, so better add a little water to it."

"Or scotch," Harry suggested, opening the basket to look inside.

"Or gin," Sutton said, only loud enough for Jack's ears.