The Winter of Her Discontent (33 page)

W
ITH
M
INNIE'S ARREST, THE COPPERS
didn't have a reason to continue holding Al at Rikers. He was released on the day the meat ration coupons went into effect, a fitting date for a guy who'd been locked up because of someone else's violation of the OPA's laws. I accompanied him on the ferry back to the city and let him know that Garvaggio was locked up and Jayne's relationship with him was nothing but fiction. I was expecting gratitude, or at least a return to the Al I knew, but he was as angry and solemn as ever.

“What's it going to take, Al? What do you want from us?”

He put his elbows on the railing and stared at the river. “It's not you—it's Tony. He's not going to be happy about this.”

“Garvaggio's locked up. His meat business is kaput. What more could he want?”

“I betrayed him.” I raised an eyebrow to express my confusion. “Tony wanted the stamps for himself, and the minute I refused to give them to him, I was dead to him.”

So that was why Tony kept Al in the bing. He was hoping to force Al's hand and keep his own illegal meat enterprise running past April 1. “Does it really matter so much?”

He tossed me a sidelong look. “Tony's moving up in the world. He's getting closer to the guys who hold the strings. When someone crosses him, it's all that matters. Just ask Johnny Levane.”

Johnny Levane, the body found in the Broadway alley the day after Al was arrested, wasn't just another random death. Tony had killed him or at least facilitated his murder. No wonder Al was scared.

I think he must've seen in my face that I understood his plight.

“Don't tell Jayne,” he said.

“I won't.”

“She doesn't need to know what's really going down.”

“I agree.” The river was cold and gray. I'd never seen anything quite so depressing. “She's not seeing Tony anymore.”

“You think she means it this time?”

I shrugged. Al lit a cigarette and cupped his hands around it to try to warm them.

“Why didn't you just give Tony the stamps?” I asked.

He was silent for a long while, so long I almost thought he hadn't heard me. “This other stuff we do,” he said. “It don't affect anybody except those who know what they're getting into. The meat, though…it ain't just charging people too much. You know that.”

I thought back to the horses, to the sad resignation I'd seen in their eyes. That was just half the problem. The other half was what might happen to someone if they ended up eating meat that hadn't been taken care of properly to begin with. That was a danger that didn't just plague those of us on the home front. It was another peril that could put our soldiers in jeopardy.

“You've got a conscience,” I said.

“I've had too much time to think not to.”

I set my hands beside his on the railing. “Maybe though…maybe you should just give Tony the stamps. If it would fix everything between you two, if it would keep you safe.”

Al took a puff off the ciggie. “I couldn't do that even if I wanted to.”

“Why not?”

“The stamps are gone.”

“How gone?”

He flicked his ash into the river. “They were in a Grand Central locker. I gave someone the key for safekeeping and they lost it for me.”

“Some friend.”

Al shrugged. “Maybe they were doing me a favor. Without the
key, I don't know the locker number. There ain't no way I can get 'em back.”

I guess it was easier having a difficult choice made for you. “What about you? What can we do to keep you safe?”

He tossed his cigarette into the water. “I got an idea. There's a place I can go that Vinnie and Tony ain't gonna find me.”

“When are you going to go there?”

A half smile lingered on his puss. “Soon, but don't worry—I'll let you know before I do.”

We were silent for a few minutes, as both of us watched Rikers Island disappear into the distance. I found myself getting emotional at the thought of Al leaving. We'd just gotten him back.

I looped my arm in his and leaned against him. It felt good to stand so close to someone large and warm. Maybe I was wrong about Izzie, Olive, and Zelda. Maybe it wasn't all for the money. Loneliness could make you do the strangest things. “Any chance I can get you to do me a favor before you go?” I asked.

“Depends. What's the favor?”

“I got some friends that could use a little intimidation. They've been doing some things that I'd like them to stop doing before someone gets hurt.”

Al cracked his knuckles. “It would be my pleasure.”

 

True to my word, I didn't tell Jayne about what Al feared Tony was going to do. Instead, I told her Al was thinking about going straight. She was thrilled at the idea, though something else was clearly on her mind.

“You sure look distracted,” I said. We were in our room killing some time after rehearsal.

“Oh, that.” She smiled into her lap. “I got a letter today. From Billy DeMille.”

“And what did he have to say?”

She produced the letter from under her pillow. “That he couldn't believe I wrote. He was starting to think the night he met me was all a dream.” She blushed a deep pink. “Would you help me write him back?”

“I can't think of a better way to spend the evening.”

Jayne started to hunt for a pen and paper and stopped mid-search. “Isn't tonight the night Peaches comes back into town?”

I'd forgotten about that. “I'm not going to meet him.”

“Why?”

“It doesn't feel right. If it weren't for Izzie and Zelda, I never would've met him to begin with. After learning what they've really been doing, I'm starting to question my own motives.”

Jayne frowned. “So you're just not going to show up?”

“It seems easier.”

“For you, sure, but what about him?” I didn't answer. She tapped my knee with her index finger. “Just go, Rosie. Tell him the truth. Tell him about Jack. Let him know you want to be his friend.”

“I'm sure friendship is the last thing he has in mind.” And I wasn't entirely sure if it was in the cards for me either.

“Even still, you owe it to him to be honest. Isn't that what you wish Izzie, Zelda, and Olive had been?”

Damn she was good. I fell backward on my bed and groaned. “All right, I'll go.”

A knock sounded at the door. I bounced to my feet as Jayne shoved Churchill into the closet.

“I got a bone to pick with you.” It was Belle, at least I think it was. It was hard to tell for certain since she now whistled when she spoke.

I swung the door open and found her with an ice bag clasped to her face.

“What happened to you?”

She bared her teeth and showed me that one of her fangs was missing. “Your steak is what happened to me.” She opened up her hand and showed me a red and white blob and a small gold object.

“What the deuce is that?”

She pointed to the blob first. “That was my tooth and this is the prize I found in the steak's gooey center.” She dropped both items onto Jayne's dresser. “Shall I add my dental bill to your rent, or would you prefer to pay for it now?”

“Let's do the installment plan.” I fought a grin. “I'm really sorry, Belle.”

“You and me both. You had a call by the way. You got a visitor coming over at three.”

“Who?”

“Said his name was Paul Ascot.”

It was 2:45. She left the room, and I frantically ran a comb through my hair.

“This is it,” said Jayne.

“This is it.” Everything was working out. Minnie was in jail, Al was free, and now I was finally going to learn what had happened to Jack.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I think I need to do this on my own.”

She plucked the tooth off the dresser and dumped it into the garbage. She was about to do the same with the gold object when I stopped her.

“Can I see that?” It was a brass locker key emblazoned with the number 2194. On the back were the initials G.C. “I think I want to keep this for a while.”

“Suit yourself.” Jayne took it back and examined it more carefully. “How does a key end up in steak?”

“Who knows? I guess this is why meat inspection is so important.”

She dropped it on my dresser with a tinkle. “I bet someone's upset they lost it.”

She was wrong about that. Someone was going to be thrilled when they found out I hadn't thrown it away after all.

I pocketed the key and decided to go downstairs to wait for Paul.
I'd made it to the landing when I saw someone was already down there waiting for me. He was early. My last link to Jack was sitting on the parlor sofa, waiting to spill.

As I rushed into the room, he stood and turned to me.

“Peaches? What are you doing here?” A lump rose in my throat. I hadn't resolved everything. I'd left this man hanging, and now here he was, expecting my decision.

“I'm actually here to see someone else.” Good. He'd met another gal, someone who could give him what he was looking for.

“Oh.” I struggled for something to say. “That's swell. What's her name?”

“Rosie Winter.”

My jaw hit the floor. “You're Paul Ascot?”

“The one and only.” He looked as confused as I felt. “Did Rosie mention me?”

I exhaled hard enough to muss my hair. “She kind of had to because I'm her.”

“Your Jack's…”

I nodded. “I'm Jack's.”

We let my ownership linger in the air for a moment.

“Why did you tell me your name was Delores?”

I forced a smile I didn't feel. “I wish I could tell you.”

“I wish I'd known.”

“You're not the only one.” The room was suddenly very warm. If I didn't do something soon, my head was going to catch on fire. “Should we go somewhere else, somewhere private?”

“That would be good,” he said.

We decided on a coffee shop two blocks away. I hadn't wanted to go someplace familiar. This encounter demanded fresh surroundings.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “For the fake name. For not being completely honest with you.”

“You don't need to explain.” His demeanor had changed. No longer was he the fun, flirty man who'd danced with me at the Canteen.
I felt like we'd already had our relationship and our breakup and now we'd met to divvy up the possessions.

The things I would normally say to right this kind of wrong seemed inappropriate under the circumstances. If I were to claim my feelings for him were genuine, I would be betraying Jack, and if I admitted that I didn't know why I was there or why I was so willing to kiss him good-bye, I would succeed in making myself look like even more of a louse.

Fortunately, Paul felt as awkward as I did and found it unnecessary to prolong either of our misery.

“I suppose I should cut to the chase,” he said.

“All right.”

The waitress delivered our twin cups of joe and retrieved the menus we were clearly not going to order from. “There was a…situation a few months back. Not long after we set out for the Solomons. A boat disappeared with twelve men on it, Jack among them. The ship was eventually recovered, but only two men had survived: Jack and his commanding officer. The story the C.O. told was that the men were lost at sea. Jack seemed to go along with this, but then one day he cracked.”

“Cracked?”

“Our C.O. was a tough guy, more so to anyone who didn't fit the mold. If you were black, brown, or yellow, or if there was a chance you were a nance, you became his target from that point on. Things were quiet after the men were lost; the C.O. seemed almost timid. Then one night he started screaming at this Mexican guy. Lopez was his name. Jack was there when it happened and got in the middle of the fight. Next thing you know, he was calling the commander a murderer. The C.O. pulled out his gun and fired a shot at Jack. He hit him in the leg. Jack was taken to the infirmary, and by morning he was missing.”

I was finding it hard to breathe. “How do you know all this? Were you there?”

“I wasn't; Charlie was.”

“Charlie?”

“Corporal Harrington.”

The late Corporal Harrington. So that was how he fit into this whole awful story.

“I thought his first initial was M?”

“He was from Charleston.”

“Right.” Learning he had a nickname made his loss feel all the more profound. Corporal Harrington had been a real person. “And then Charlie—”

“Committed suicide,” said Paul. “At least that's what the official record states. He took a bullet to the head. He lingered for a few days but never regained consciousness.”

My lower body began to shake. “And Jack?”

“We don't know. Either the C.O. took care of him later that night, or he had the wherewithal to get out of camp before he could.”

I stood up from the table. “We have to tell someone. We have to let everyone in the navy know what's going on. They have to find Jack.”

“It's not that easy. Politically, the situation is a little sticky. Our C.O. wasn't just anybody. He's the son of a general.”

I wound my scarf around my neck and pulled on my coat. “So? He's also a son of a bitch. Surely the military won't care who his pop is?”

“Unfortunately, they do.” He sighed and studied his cup of coffee. “I've been trying to get someone to do something, Rosie. But nobody will. As far they're concerned, Jack snapped, Charlie killed himself, and our C.O. did the right thing. There was no evidence to support Jack's claims that anything untoward happened to the men who were lost at sea.”

“So what are you going to do now?”

He looked surprised at the question. “Nothing.”

“Tell me I misheard you.”

“There's nothing I can do. Before my plane crashed, I was getting a reputation as a trouble boy, and I can't risk losing either my rank or my life.”