Chapter Two
When the bell over the shop tinkled just before closing time, Jessie looked up, half hoping the mouth-watering Mr. Solomon had decided to come back into her shop. Though she wasn’t sure what she’d do if it was him. The man twisted her into knots and she didn’t even know him. And she was pretty sure he’d been having a nice little chat with her best pal Jameson in a not-at-all suspicious alleyway. Which meant Jameson had put him up to asking about the fish…which annoyed her to no end.
She needn’t have worried though. Instead of the handsome but confusing Mr. Solomon entering, it was the man who aggravated her much more.
“Agent Jameson. What I can I do for you this evening?”
“Ah now, Jessica. You know you can call me Earl.”
“I know.”
Jameson squinted, a little taken aback, but pushed on. “We didn’t get to chat last time I stopped by.”
“Not to sound rude, but why do you keep stopping in? I’m just a butcher, trying to run my business. I have no idea why I warrant constant visits by a prohibition agent.”
“Maybe we just want to make sure butchering is all you are up to. After all, with your past associations…”
Jessie stiffened. Mario had ruined her life in more ways than one. She hadn’t known who he was when she’d met him. Hadn’t known he was part of Willie the Weasel’s organization. And even though she was no longer with him, she was now considered tainted. Guilty by association. The unfairness of it nearly choked her, but she took a deep, focused breath and forced some politeness to the surface. Aggravating the little twit wouldn’t make her life any easier, fun as it might be.
“As you said, Agent Jameson, those associations are in the past. I keep to myself now. I just want to run my business in peace.”
“And how is business going? That’s a nice new sign you’ve got above your window out there. Must have cost a pretty penny.”
Jessie kept the smile on her face despite his insinuation. “Business is great. I’ve got the best meat in town and my customers know it.”
“Well, that’s real good to hear. I was afraid things might have slowed down for you. I haven’t noticed too many customers coming in lately. The crowd when I stopped by the other day seems to be the exception now, rather than a regular occurrence.”
Her eyes narrowed and she breathed deeply before answering. “Things are going just fine. And a friend of mine did the sign for me. Gave me a great price on it. Would you like something? Pig’s ear? Beef tongue? I’ve got some nice chicken livers back here. I promise you won’t find better anywhere.”
“No thanks,” he said, wrinkling his nose and giving her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You sure that’s all you’re selling?”
“What are you implying, Agent Jameson?”
He shrugged and leaned against the counter. “A few days ago, the local coppers brought in a man who was trying to sell a case of hooch that was an awful lot like the stuff your daddy used to make. Any idea how he got ahold of that?”
Jessie leaned over the counter, right in Jameson’s face. “And how would you know his gin?”
“I ran it by a few of the other agents.”
Jessie snorted. “The only reason they’d know is because they used to be some of my father’s best customers.”
“Be that as it may…”
She backed up a little and put her hands on her hips. “If it is from my father’s stash then that man probably stole it. I had a break-in a few weeks ago and a couple cases went missing.”
“Did you report the theft?”
“It’s not illegal to own liquor, Agent Jameson. Just to sell it. But you and I both know that had I marched in to the police station to report the theft of a case of bathtub gin, I’d have been locked up faster than some flimflam man.”
She grabbed a rag and continued wiping the counter she’d been cleaning when he’d come in. “I doubt many of the good officers would believe that I inherited a whole cellar full of the stuff.”
Jameson smiled. “Well, you’ve probably got a point there. But if you don’t want any trouble, why don’t you just get rid of what you’ve got left? Remove the temptation, so to speak. From people who’d want to steal it, or sell it.”
“I’m saving it for a rainy day,” she said with a smile. Jameson didn’t return it.
“That gin is all I’ve got left of my father. And someday when this silly Prohibition stuff is over with, I might be able to do something useful with the stock I’ve got. Until then, I’m sitting on it nice and tight.”
Jameson studied her for a minute and then finally nodded. “I’ll let it go, for now. But if you are caught selling it…I won’t be able to protect you from the consequences.”
Jessie looked him right in the eye. “I give you my word that I’m not selling liquor, of any sort, out of my store.”
He nodded again. “Well then. You have a good night, Jessica.”
“Good night, Agent Jameson.”
Jessie waited until he’d exited the shop, then followed behind him and locked the door, flipping her sign to Closed. She sighed with relief and finished tidying up for the night. She hadn’t lied to Jameson. She wasn’t selling any liquor out of the store. Under the store was a different matter, altogether.
She’d taken as many precautions as she could to keep her secrets. And they’d paid off. The Feds had never been able to connect The Red Phoenix directly to her. A situation helped by the fact that while the speakeasy was technically located beneath her shop, the public entrance was not.
Jessie had lucked out when she’d stumbled upon the network of old tunnels under her father’s shop. While moving some stock in their cellar one night, she’d found a trapdoor. She’d taken the first opportunity to explore it. The narrow steps led to a tunnel that opened into a network of tunnels and a series of chambers. They must have been part of an old building that had been where her father’s shop now stood.
Jessie had been immediately enchanted. The old stone was beautiful, with arched doorways and odd nooks and crannies cropping up now and then. Several other tunnels led off the rooms. Two had been bricked off. But one led to the street above, opening into a wide alleyway a block away from the butcher shop and a few others led to various alleyways in the neighborhood.
It was the perfect setup. The main room was large enough for a decent sized club, and the stone walls and the fact that it was underground, created enough of a sound barrier that nothing could be heard on the streets above. A few smaller chambers were used for storage and an office. The tunnel that led to the cellar in her shop was located in her office and she was the only one who knew of its existence.
The Feds could sit and watch her butcher shop all night long if they chose. And they had, a few times. They’d never see anything untoward occurring on the premises. Her speakeasy clientele would never step foot inside, except perhaps to buy meat…and for a penny, discover when The Red Phoenix would be open for business. Her private entrance to the club also meant that she could come and go as she pleased without anyone seeing her. The fact that her apartment was located above the shop meant no one questioned if they didn’t see her leave. All of which allowed her to keep the identity of the Phoenix a secret.
When her father died, she’d tried to keep the butcher shop running, but she had lost a lot of clientele and she needed money to keep things going. Selling off a few cases of her father’s gin had brought in some funds, but it had been too dangerous to sell in such quantities. And it had limited her source of income.
With the presence of the tunnels, opening a speakeasy had been the natural decision to make. After all, what else could a girl do with a secret underground paradise and a storeroom full of liquor? The speakeasy brought in more than enough to keep the shop running. She didn’t have to even keep the shop open any longer. But closing it would spark too many questions and cost her the system of alerting speakeasy customers. Besides, it had been her father’s shop. She’d never get rid of it.
But it was nice not having to rely on its income to keep bread on the table. Jameson was right, though. Her clientele had dropped lately, and not just in the shop. She’d noticed fewer patrons in the club the last few weeks. She’d heard of another speakeasy nearby that was under new management and doing quite well for itself.
Which made her wary, and curious, about who was poaching on her territory.