Chapter Four
Jessie looked out over the crowded club with a sense of satisfaction and pride. There was no electricity in the tunnels, and she liked it that way. The flickering candles and gas lamps she used created an air of sensuous mystery while helping to keep everyone safe from the Feds at the same time.
The Red Phoenix had never actually been raided, but it had come close a time or two. Close enough that Jessie had cleared the place out, just to be safe. Instead of clanging alarms or flashing lights, the lamps at The Red Phoenix were quickly extinguished until only the large mining lantern set on a pole near the entrance and the candles on the tables were left. Patrons were encouraged to take the candles with them to help light the way while one of the band members would grab the lantern and lead them out through the tunnels.
Those who quit flapping their lips and followed quickly and quietly were led to safety, through the tunnels and out one of the many exits. Those who panicked and tried to flee back through the entrance were the ones who got pinched. After the first time this happened, word had spread that if you wanted to get out, you shut up and followed the big light.
The rest of the band members and crew would stash the “bar”—old doors set on casks of gin—back against the wall, and the remaining casks that served as tables were left where they sat strewn haphazardly about the room. If the Feds arrived, they’d find nothing but an empty storage room. One that, thanks to the winding tunnels, they had no idea sat just below Jessie’s shop.
The stage where the band played had proved the only problem until Joe had come up with the ingenious solution of putting it on rolling castors that could be locked into place when they played. The stage was positioned near the entrance to one of the bricked-up tunnels that was closed off with a metal gate. The lock on the gate had been easy enough to pick and during business hours it was left open. Afterward, or during a raid, the entire stage could be shoved into the tunnel, covered with old tarps, and locked back up behind the metal gate, appearing, for all the world, like another heap of forgotten junk.
It was a good setup. Primitive but utterly suitable for those looking for a clandestine drink. Besides, the medieval surroundings gave The Red Phoenix a certain nostalgic romance that people seemed to love. And the sultry tones coming from Jessie’s top-billed songstress lent the speakeasy a hearty helping of sex appeal. The makeshift tables were full of laughing patrons perched on overturned buckets and reinforced boxes, drinking her father’s best home gin, and since she never watered down what she served and she didn’t have a drink limit, her club was very popular.
She’d be able to stay open longer if she rationed out the gin, but the business’s longevity wasn’t her goal. She wanted to make as much money as fast as she could so she could get out of the racket before either the Feds or Willie the Weasel got wise to her game. Both wanted to shut her down, but for entirely different reasons. She wasn’t going to let either of them ruin what she’d worked so hard to build. Not until she could get out from under the ax hanging over her head.
Jessie’s father had been a good man and had worked hard every day of his life, but business hadn’t been going so great in the months before his death, and he’d had to take out a few loans from men he didn’t realize were part of Willie the Weasel’s crew. Willie wanted his money paid back in full, with interest, and the butcher shop just didn’t bring in enough. With the speakeasy, she was well on her way to paying off the debt.
She’d even been able to start a little nest egg, something she’d heavily debated doing. Paying off Willie as soon as possible was something she absolutely needed to do. But getting that debt squared away would do her no good if she didn’t have the funds necessary to keep the butcher shop up and running. In the end, she’d decided to bank on her future needs, even if it meant delaying getting Willie out of her life by a few months.
Besides, paying him off too quickly might make him more curious than he already was about The Red Phoenix and how well it was doing. He’d been somewhat lenient about her speakeasy rivaling his own joints because he was getting a nice cut of the action. Too much dough rolling in might hurt her more than help.
Things were going well. An end was finally in sight. She just needed a little more time.
Time she wasn’t sure she had, thanks to her sadistic ex. Yes, she’d owed Willie money before ever meeting Mario, but he was the one who’d brought The Red Phoenix, and her association with it, to Willie’s attention. And Willie had noticed that the club was supplied with liquor that didn’t come from him. His growing interest in the matter was a constant gnawing fear Jessie couldn’t shake. Thank you, Mario, she thought snidely.
“Hey, boss. Pour me one, will you?”
Jessie frowned at Maude, tonight’s entertainment and her best friend, but poured her a drink.
“Oh don’t be such a flat tire,” Maude said. “I need my giggle water. Singin’s hard work.”
“This stuff’ll ruin your voice if you keep downing it like that.”
“Naw. It’ll keep it nice and raspy, just the way the boys like it.” She winked at Jessie, who couldn’t help but smile at the vivacious blonde.
Maude had curves in all the right places and a voice that left men, and a few women, quivering in their seats. Jessie thanked her lucky stars for the day that Maude had walked into her joint looking for work. They’d known each other as children, but it had been years since she’d seen her. Jessie had been on the hunt for a good voice and had been ready to take the stage herself until Maude had sauntered in. Jessie had been thrilled to see her old friend again and even more thrilled to offer her a job. Maude had been solid gold dynamite, and between her singing and Jessie’s father’s booze, The Red Phoenix stayed packed. And profitable.
“So, you hear about The Corkscrew?” Maude rolled her eyes. “Supposedly under new management after their last raid. Been pretty busy since then. I hear the mook who runs the place now is a real looker.”
Jessie laughed. “Folks are probably going just to get a look at his pretty mug.”
“Maybe. Wouldn’t mind getting a gander at him myself. Hey Joe,” she said, leaning across the bar to flag him down. “Butt me, will ya?”
Joe chuckled and handed her a ciggy, pushing a candle in her direction so she could light it. She turned back to Jessie, blowing out a ring of smoke. “If I were you, I’d drop in on him and see what all the fuss is about. The crowd is looking a little thin tonight.”
Jessie looked back over the patrons. Maude was right. The place was still hopping, but normally at this time of night, it should be standing room only.
“Maybe I will. Wouldn’t hurt to see what the competition is offering.”
“And what we can do to make sure what we’re offering is better,” Maude said, stubbing out her cigarette and smoothing her hands over her voluptuous hips.
Jessie laughed. “No worries, Maudey, my dear, no one can offer what you’ve got going.”
“Well, of course not.”
Maude winked at Jessie and sauntered back to the stage.
…
Tony sat beside his mother’s bed, watching her as she slept. He frowned, trying to push back the worry that clutched at his heart like a vise. She seemed frailer than last week. Tiny against the pillows, the hand that lay on the blankets looked wrinkled and tinged with gray. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and took her hand in his own. The hand that had so often soothed him when he’d needed it as a boy. Or more often had wielded a wooden spoon, threatening his hide. He hadn’t been the best behaved kid in the world.
The memories brought a small smile to his face. She was small, but she was fierce. She was all he had left in the world. His pa had died years ago and Tony was an only child. A surprise to his parents after twenty childless years. When she was gone, he’d be alone.
Her hand tightened on his and he looked up to find her watching him.
“Hi, Ma.”
She gave his hand another squeeze and he was encouraged by the strength he still felt in it.
“I’m not gone yet, my boy. I’ve still got a few good years left in me, so stop looking at me like that.”
Tony laughed and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “Yes, ma’am.”
“What are you doing here? You were just here to see me yesterday. Everything all right?”
Tony smiled and patted her hand. “Sure, Ma. Everything’s aces.”
“Hmm. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to visit, that’s all.”
Her quizzical gaze pierced him straight through. His ma could see through anyone and anything. He laughed. “Never could pull anything over on you.”
“No, you couldn’t. Don’t know why you still bother trying. Now tell me what’s going on in that head of yours that has you coming up here in the middle of the week when you should be working.”
Tony sighed and leaned forward a little more, placing his other hand over the top of hers. “Jameson stopped by my office yesterday.”
His mother’s eyebrows rose at that. “I’m guessing he didn’t come in to offer you a job.”
Tony shook his head. “Not full time, no. But they do want me to do something for them.”
“And you don’t want to do it?”
“I’m not sure.” He let go of her hands, sat back, and rubbed at his face. “They offered me more than I make in a year doing P.I. work.”
Mrs. Solomon’s wrinkled eyes widened. “They must want you pretty bad.”
“I don’t think they have any other options. They want me to get some information about a man.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard for you.”
“No,” Tony said, frowning.
“But?”
“But…they want me to get close to this man’s girl, get the information out of her.”
Mrs. Solomon patted her son’s hand. “And you don’t feel right using a woman like that.”
“If she’s part of his organization, she’s just as much of a criminal as he is and deserves to be locked up.”
“But you don’t think she is?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only met her once. She’s a bit cagey, could definitely be hiding something. She’s been mixed up with some shady characters in the past. But, there’s something about her…”
“Really?” Mrs. Solomon smiled faintly and Tony groaned.
“It’s not like that.”
She shrugged. “So you say.”
“Ma,” he warned, and she held up her hands.
“I’m not saying anything about anything.” She reached over and took his hand again. “You are a good man. I’ve never known you to do anything you didn’t feel was right.”
Tony opened his mouth to argue but she stopped him. “Everyone makes mistakes, my boy. You need to let the past lie in the past. You’ve more than made up for what happened, more than you needed to. Accidents happen; you were no more responsible than anyone else.”
“That’s not the way the department or the Bureau saw it.”
“Idiots. Every last one of them. You were the only one with any brains in that place. And the fact that they are coming to you now just proves it.”
Tony smiled. She always had his back.
“You worry too much,” she said, squeezing his hand. “You’ve got a good heart and a good head on your shoulders. Trust in those.”
Tony stood and gathered her to him, surprised as always at how small and light she felt in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and patted his head, just like she’d done since he was a little boy.
“I love you, Ma.”
She pulled back and held his face in her hands, then pulled him down to kiss his forehead. “Love you, too. Now,” she said, patting his cheeks. “Go catch those criminals.”
Tony smiled and left his mother with a lighter heart. She always helped him put things in perspective.