Whistling in the Dark (30 page)

"What does he know about it? I don't need his money or his booze to stay in business. I've got a crackerjack pianist." Jack slung an arm around Sutton's shoulders. "When I boost the signal, everyone in the world will be listening in."

"You know, we got a little more going on here than bringing music to the masses," Harry said.

Sutton began to play again, something solemn and majestic that made Harry snort. Jack laughed. "Harry, honest to God, I'm thinking of the emporium. Time and money invested in the radio end of things will be worth it, don't you think?"

Harry gazed at him with the strangest smile, one Jack couldn't read. "Hell yes," he said after a moment. "It's worth it. You just be sure when that reporter shows up, you don't let him give all the credit to Gertie."

Jack grinned. "You want some, too?" He ducked just in time. Then he noticed the lulling plunk of piano keys had gone quiet.

"Reporter?" Sutton said. "Not for the Times?"

"It won't be much, really," Jack said. "A footnote. They'll stick it in the back somewhere, bottom of the page--"

"My father reads it from front page to back." Sutton looked as if he expected his dad to stalk in, seize him by the collar, and drag him away. "And even if he misses it, someone else will surely bring it to his attention."

"He's going to find out sooner or later," Harry said gently.

"Better later, then, when you're such a success, he can't make things difficult."

"When we're a success," Jack said. "And having a story in the Times, well, you've got to admit that's a good start."

"We like to think so," a cheerful voice cut in behind them. Three fellows in rain slickers, one carrying a camera wrapped in another slicker, stood shaking out their umbrellas and smoothing back damp hair as their attention swept around the shop. The one who'd spoken, a red-haired fellow with blue eyes behind round specs, dried his hands on a handkerchief and held out one hand to Jack. "Mr. Bailey?"

"That's right. You're--"

"Maurice Webb,
New York Times
. This is Peter McCloskey, he takes the snaps--and that's Charlie Holland. He knows more about your radio doohickey than I do, so I brought him along."

McCloskey nudged Webb and whispered, "Albright's kid."

Webb nodded, waving him back, and greeted Sutton with a vigorous shake. "Mr. Albright, it's a pleasure."

If Sutton was trying not to look anxious, he was failing miserably. "Thank you, Mr. Webb, it's a pleasure to meet you. If you've come to interview Jack, I'll just get out of your way--"

"We were hoping to interview you, too, Mr. Albright."

"You were?"

"Indeed yes." Webb took off his specs to dry them. "I was the fortunate reporter who talked with your father back in September, so my boss thought I'd have the best insight for this interview." He slipped his specs back on and tucked his kerchief in his pocket. "More than that, I just wanted to meet you, myself. I have a message to relay from my dad. He's been confined to bed since he came home from France and it's been hell for him, these past six months. But since he started listening in with my brother's set, he's been getting along better. Cheers him up." Webb's smile was warm with gratitude. "I guess there's something about music. It's like medicine, isn't it? He says he doesn't feel so confined--if that makes sense. Anyhow, he wanted me to ask if you'd play more waltzes like you've been recently. I didn't know if you considered requests, but I said I'd ask."

Sutton stared at him like a man who'd just been set free, himself. "Of course I will. I'll be glad to. If there's ever anything in particular he'd like to hear, perhaps he could ring us up--" He turned to Jack. "Would that be all right?"

Jack glanced at Harry, who nodded. Webb looked delighted. "Well, thank you, sir. That's very kind of you. Will it be all right if Peter sets up for photographs?"

Jack realized Sutton was lost in thought. "Sutton?"

"Photographs?" The smile tugging persistently at the corners of Sutton's mouth blossomed. "Yes, photographs." He beamed at Jack. "Why not?"

Jack traded grins with Harry. "Why not?"

Instead of closing at eight, Jack stayed open for the evening performance. Their best crowd ever filled the back of the shop and though Jack quit transmitting at nine to spare the tubes, Sutton played a while after. As the last customers left, Esther came in, looking as tired as Jack felt, but smiling.

"You're working late," she said as he hugged her.

"I'm working," Jack said. "Can't beat that. Too tired to come celebrate with us?"

She followed as he started for the back. "What are we celebrating?"

"Success," he said, throwing her a grin over his shoulder. "We're all beat, but it'll be fun."

"Oh, you've paid Chase. Jack, I'm so glad--" She suddenly giggled and Jack followed her gaze to the piano, where Sutton was giving Harry and Ox an impromptu lesson that, judging by their bemused faces, went decidedly over their heads.

Jack laughed. "What I wouldn't give to have that fellow with the camera back here."

"True blue, aren't they?"

"The truest and bluest. And they aren't the only ones." He kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Es."

"Oh, hush. I haven't done anything except feed you now and then."

"More than now and then. Besides, Sutton wouldn't have stayed but for you, and I wouldn't have made it without him."

"You like Sutton an awful lot."

"Ox tell you that?"

"Yeah. But he didn't have to."

Jack shrugged. "I've liked plenty of fellows. You know me."

She watched him with a serenely female kind of smile. "I know you," she said.

"Well, come help me drag him from the piano or we'll be here till dawn." Jack pulled her along. "Work's done for the day, you three."

"Sutton's giving us some pointers," Ox said, more to Esther than anyone else. "'Lo, Es."

"'Lo, Ox." She went to his side and he slipped an arm around her. "What kind of pointers?"

"For all the good it's going to do." Harry held the sheet music in front of his eyes and squinted furiously at it. "Who can read this stuff? Maybe Wilson's saving paper, but he ain't doing a thing for my eyesight."

Jack took the music and put it on top of the piano. "Kick about it later. I want some supper."

Harry stood and buttoned his coat. "What makes you think there's a restaurant left in the city that'll let you in?"

"Sure there is. As long as you'll vouch for me."

Harry snorted and went to the office for his hat.

"Well, Ox will," Jack said. "Right?"

"I think he's a little preoccupied," Sutton said, as Ox ignored Jack in favor of whispering in Esther's ear.

"Well, you'll vouch for me." Jack hooked a finger in Sutton's vest and pulled him closer. "Won't you?"

"If you'll vouch for me, certainly."

"Aw, damn. We'll have to eat at the automat."

"No automat." Harry sighed. "Guess I'll have to vouch for the lot of you. Let's go--" The bell rang at the front. "You didn't lock up?"

"I didn't think anyone would be wandering in at this hour..." Ned came around the end of the aisle and Jack checked a sigh, wishing devoutly that he had locked up. "If you're looking for Gertie, I think she's gone somewhere with Chase."

"I'm looking for you, Jack." Ned's smile grew a little stiff around the edges. "Just you. Got something for you."

"A little early for my birthday. Why don't you come back in November? Or just mail it?"

"I thought about mailing it. But then I really wanted to be here when you got the news."

"News? Tell me you're moving to Tibet."

Ned chuckled. "It's a whole lot better than that. For one of us, anyway." He eased an envelope out of his coat pocket. "I paid a little visit to our landlady this week."

"You mean my landlady."

"Yours no longer." Ned slipped a folded document from the envelope. "See, she's been having a tough time of it lately, what with so many buildings to manage all on her own. When I let her know I had an interest in this particular one and the means to look after it on her behalf, well, she thought that was the dandiest idea ever."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Mrs. Madigan gave me charge of this building, Jack. I'm the lessee. It's all authorized and notarized and finalized." He smoothed the papers and held them out for Jack's perusal. "I take care of the building. I collect the rents. And I evict, when necessary."

- Thirty-Four -

Harry yanked the paper from Ned's grasp and moved to the workbench to read it in better light. Jack felt Sutton standing close, no doubt to restrain him when he lunged for Ned's throat. "You're evicting me?"

"Well, can you blame me? You're making a lot of racket, banging on this piano day and night. The neighbors'll be complaining. Can't have that." He tossed the envelope onto the piano bench. "You have forty-eight hours to move your goods out of here. Take longer and I'll have them moved into the street. I'll give you another forty-eight to get your belongings out from upstairs."

Jack couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Harry?"

"It's legitimate." Harry's tone stayed quiet, but if his gaze flamed any fiercer, Jack thought he might burn a hole through Ned. "You're a real son of a bitch, Hennessy. Chase gave you the fee money, didn't he?"

"Just a little advance," Ned corrected coolly. "Mr. Chase, he understands the situation. Figures I'm smart enough to make a profit off this shack. Money in his pocket and mine. Could've been yours, Jackie, if you hadn't started thinking yourself so goddamned superior. Maybe you're the one running in the wrong crowd." He shifted the contempt to Sutton. "Vance thought sure your old man sent you to get his hooks into this place before we could grab it up..." Ned fixed again on Jack. "But I guess you and me, we know better, don't we?"

It wasn't Sutton but Harry who got tight hold of him first. "Ain't no time to get arrested," he hissed in Jack's ear.

Ned scrambled out of reach. "Forty-eight hours, Jack." He kept moving as Ox advanced. "This is the only warning you're going to get--"

Ox lunged at him and Ned flew for the door, escaping with a wild clanging of the bell. The door slammed and Ox returned alone, dejected. He put an arm around Esther, who was in tears.

"Ned can't really--can he?" she asked.

Harry shoved the papers back into the envelope. "I don't know what Ned told Mrs. Madigan or what she was thinking, but she's yanked it all away with this--" He waved the envelope, then tossed it down. "Ned can put us out--and the judge won't do a damned thing about it." Harry dropped onto the piano bench. He slumped forward, head in his hands. "I kept telling your dad we needed a lease. But that's not how he did business, so I didn't push it." He looked up at Jack with sorrowful eyes. "I'm sorry. You got no one to blame but me."

"Would you cut it out?" Jack sat beside him. "This place would be long gone if it wasn't for you, and don't think I don't know it. Mr. Madigan was always a good guy. I guess his wife's just a little more practical."

Harry snorted. "Ain't that always the way. Look, if we can't get any protection from the judge, you and Sutton, you'll come stay with me."

"Or me," Ox said. "And we can find another place for the shop."

Esther looked ready to jump in and volunteer the apartment she already shared with her folks. Jack smiled at them all fondly. "I don't suppose we'll find a place for the shop. We can barely make the rent here. Anyway, it's an opportunity, really," he said, as Sutton sat across from him. "You can snag that job with Dorrimer now, or something even better."

Sutton began to shake his head, but Harry cut in. "Your opportunity, too, Jackie. You can keep the radio program going and you don't need a shop for that. You can send out the show from my apartment. Maybe you'll figure out how to make some money off the damned thing," he said with a faint grin. "God knows you ought to. You're good at it. And it's where your heart's always been."

Jack looked around the dark shop, at the dusty bins and the shelves crowded with junk, most of it with no use in the world except to cheer the soul. He knew where floorboards creaked and the shelves needed repair. Knew where the tiny chip was in the plate glass, where it had been since he'd accidentally bounced a baseball against it--twelve years ago? He even knew the scientific names for the critters that guarded the aisles. And he knew how to keep the books when Harry was under the weather--no small accomplishment in more than one way, since Harry wouldn't let them out of his hands even if he were delirious with fever.

Jack knew where his heart was. Where it had always been. The emporium was his parents' pride, their last gift to him.

"We've got to talk to the judge. Tell him our side of things--"

"Sure, kid, but the law's on Ned's side. For once," Harry added in disgust. "And with the way evictions have been piling up the last few months, we'll be lucky to have five minutes with the judge before Ned comes 'round to force us out."

"We are going to talk to Mrs. Madigan?" Sutton asked.

The question took Jack by surprise--and Harry, it seemed. "I don't think that will do us any good," Harry said. "Landlords are a little squeamish about dealing with angry tenants face-to-face. She'll tell us to take it to the judge and you can count on that ending in eviction."

Sutton frowned. "She spoke with Ned. Surely you're entitled to the same consideration."

The shock had worn off just enough to let Jack think and he thought maybe Sutton had a point. "God knows what lies Ned told her." He turned to Harry. "Maybe she won't believe us. But we can't buckle without trying, can we?"

"Oh we can try," Harry said. "I know you want to think the best," he added gently. "But you've got to--"

"Be ready for the worst. Yeah, I know. So we'll sweet-talk her. God knows if Ned could charm her with that snake oil smirk, we've got all the hope in the world." He wanted to feel convinced of it, but his stomach was churning. They had to win Mrs. Madigan to their side. He didn't believe there was any chance of winning the judge. "You suppose she's home on a Saturday night?"