Sugar House (9780991192519) (40 page)

Most still operators feared the Purples, and
an argument wouldn't even arise when Joe paid them a visit. With
the ones who resisted, Joe tried different tactics. With the men
he'd bring a bottle of whisky and sit with them in their backyards
or basements, pouring glass after glass while he sipped his. After
several drinks and multiple explanations, observations, examples,
and not so subtle inferences, the still owner would concede and
part with the obligatory ten percent. Joe remained friendly during
even heated altercations, never allowing the men to ruffle his
feathers or showing any signs of anger or frustration. If the still
owner remained obstinate at the end of the conversation, Joe would
leave the bottle as a sign of good will, shake the man's hand, and
take his leave.

The following morning, when the obstinate
farmer or factory worker awoke, he would find a stick of dynamite
with a half burned fuse at his door. When Joe returned a few days
later to "discuss the matter again," the operator would have the
money ready for him. After all, it was for the owner's protection:
fires, thefts, and beatings were commonplace in Detroit, and the
Purples only wanted to help protect him.

With the few women Joe was assigned to, he
took a different approach. Unbeknownst to his bosses, he'd bring
toys for their children or a box of food for their pantries. He'd
sit in their kitchens and eat their pastries and play marbles or
cards with their youngsters. These women were a poor and lonely
lot, making small amounts of gin in their bathtubs and selling it
to their neighbors. It was a small price to pay to fork over ten
dollars in exchange for a visit by a handsome young man who
flattered their tired egos, played with their dirty children, and
brought gifts. Joe lost money on his female customers, but his
conscience was clean.

"Hiya Joe." Marya greeted him as he pulled the
Packard into the backyard one evening after a long day of
collecting. A snow white crocheted shawl was draped over one
shoulder of her crimson dress, as she walked over to his car. "How
about a ride, cousin?"

"No dice, Marya. I'm beat, and the family is
coming over for supper. Aren't you gonna visit with Uncle Feliks
and the girls?" Joe took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his
brow.

"And sit here all night absolutely
bo-o-o-ored to death? Not on your life! Come on, just drop me at
the Kibitzer Club, will ya sweetie pie? Marya flashed her eyes at
Joe and smiled demurely.

"Now you're flirting with your cousin, Marya?
Can you crawl any lower?" Joe asked disgustedly. "Besides, that's
one of the Purples' juice joints, and I told you not to hang out
near the gang." Marya let the shawl drop off her other shoulder
revealing much cleavage. "Geez, Marya, the sun's still out! Cover
up. Are you looking for trouble?"

"Always Joey boy," she replied.

A shiny Cadillac Victoria pulled into the
alley as Marya started heading back toward the house. She stopped
on the steps to see the visitor's identity. Cappie stepped out of
the elegant car and waved at Joe. Joe sprinted over and shook his
hand. "Cappie! It's been months since I've seen your ugly mug."

"Got a weekend pass ,and I thought I'd stop
in and see how you're faring in our fair city."

"Arent ya gonna introduce me to your friend,
Joey?" Marya called, descending from the stairs.

"Well, I would but you've already had the
pleasure, Marya. Cappie carried your spifflicated ass home the
night I pulled you out of the Powhatan." Marya blushed slightly and
held her hand out for Cappie to take.

"My apologies, Mr. Cappie. I must thank you
for helping me home then. It seems I'd forgotten to eat that
evening, and the champagne went to my little ole head. It was kind
of you to assist me home." She batting her eyelashes. "Won't you
join us for supper?"

"I thought you were leaving, Marya."

"Why I never said such a thing, Joe. I just
wanted to have a quick cocktail before supper is all. How about
you, Mr. Cappie? Are you thirsty?"

"It's just Cappie, Miss Marya, and sure I'd
be happy to take you for a drink if Joe here don't mind. You are as
pretty as a little baby dove, Miss Marya, if you don't mind me
saying. Whadda ya say, Joe?"

"Oh, I don't care—but it's your funeral,
Cappie. Have fun."

Cappie helped Marya into the Cadillac and
darted to the other side. "I won't have her out late, Joe. I'll
keep a good eye on her."

"That had better be all you keep on her."

But Cappie had already shut the door and was
pulling away. What could Joe do? Marya was a grown woman, and if
she was going to go out with anybody, Joe couldn't be too upset it
was Cappie. He was a good man and had always treated Joe like a son
or at least a brother. And Marya was going to do what Marya was
going to do anyhow.

Uncle Feliks made raspberry fizzes after
supper for Matka and Jenney, and he and Joe drank beer as they sat
on the front porch shooting the breeze. Katalina had learned
English remarkably fast and she could chant the sing-song rhymes as
well as her stepsisters as they jumped rope on the sidewalk. Emma
twirled the rope with one of Jenney's daughters on the other end,
as Katalina skipped and hopped merrily through the twirling
line.

"She's adjusted well, Uncle Feliks."

"We all have, Joe. Seems like this is the
life I was meant to live. Jenney is a wonderful woman, and the
girls are a joy. Katalina still cries for her mother at night, but
not as often as she used to. And Jenney just pulls her into bed
with us and cuddles her till she falls asleep. She's going to start
school in the fall."

"I hope she doesn't get Sister Mary Monica
for a teacher. She used to scare the living hell out of me."

"We're not sending her to St. Josaphat, Joe.
We want to send all three of the girls to the same school, and
Jenney's girls don't know Polish."

"Oh, of course… well, I'm sure she'll do
great. Maybe she'll go to Marygrove College someday, like
Pauline."

Pauline was living at Marygrove College,
studying to become a teacher—an education partially financed by
Joe. Joe hadn't thought of Katalina attending another school
besides St. Josaphat, but his uncle's rationale made sense. He
waved to his old neighbor Sam as he exited his house across the
street and got in his Model T.

"Sam's doing well, I hear—got himself a job
at the Chrysler plant in Hamtramck. I wonder if he's ever gonna
leave his mama's house and get married?"

"I've heard he's a bit of a gambler…" Feliks
looked uncomfortable bringing up a reference to his not so distant
past.

"Really? Hope he's a better one than you
were!" Joe laughed and hit his uncle in the arm. Feliks chuckled in
spite of himself.

"Me too."

Joe looked at his uncle, and a slight pang of
jealousy struck him; envious of his quiet, simple life and loving
family.

"Katalina! Emma! Josie and Julie! Come
inside. I have a treat for you girls," Matka called out the kitchen
window. Joe's mother adored spoiling her nieces and would bake for
days before the family got together so she could dole out sugary
sweets to her heart's content.

"Where'd your brothers take off to after
dinner, by the way?" Feliks asked.

"I'm sure Stephan is at the baseball diamond,
and Matka told me Frank has a little girlfriend he meets at Sanders
on Saturday evenings. She says they sit at a table for hours and
share one milkshake."

"How about you, Joe? You gotta girl you
haven't let on about?"

"Oh, I've been seeing this one kinda steady.
She's a real firecracker, but we're just having fun." Joe had been
dating the mulatto girl he had met at the Powhatan for a few months
but didn't want anything serious. Adelaide was a transplant from
New Orleans. Each of her parents was half black and half white. She
passed for white in the north and held a job as a salesgirl in an
upscale women's boutique. Joe took her out dancing a couple nights
a week, but they mostly wrestled around in the back of his car.

"Well, be careful Joe. When you play with
firecrackers there's a chance you'll get burned," Uncle Feliks
said.

Just then Joe and his uncle heard the sound
of sirens a few streets over. Uncle Alexy and Aunt Hattie came out
onto the porch to investigate.

"That's an awful lot of fire engines," Alexy
said. "Hope it's not a big fire."

"No. I think its police sirens," Joe said. He
knew it was the police but didn't want to let on how many times
he'd heard that sound coming in his direction. The sirens died
down, and Matka brought out three more beers for the men. Aunt
Hattie went in after her to gossip in the kitchen, and the men sat
companionably on the porch. Joe sat on the top step leaning against
the brick pillar, sipping his beer and listening to his uncles. He
tried not to think how much he wished his father was there. Of
course, if Ojciec was here, Joe probably wouldn't have started
running for the Sugar House, and his uncle might not have gambled
all his money away and slept with married women, and Joe wouldn't
have sent him to Poland, and Katalina would still be there living
as an orphan. But maybe not… only God knew what was meant to
be.

A fly buzzed near Joe's ear and he swatted at
it, spilling his beer in the process. His uncles laughed, and he
got up to grab another from inside the house. A long sedan sped
down the street, and Joe turned to yell. "Slow down! There's kids
playing here. " The car screeched to a stop in front of the walk. A
driver opened the door, and Charlie Leiter got out of the back
seat. Joe could tell by Charlie's eyes he was there with bad
news.

Leiter walked up to the porch and stopped at
the foot of the stairs. "Joey, its Cappie. Those dagos hit the
Kibitzer. Shot it all to hell. Didn't hit no one inside, but Cappie
had just walked out the front door when they started shooting. I'm
sorry, Joe. I know he was a good friend to you."

Cappie. It couldn't be Cappie.
"It
can't be Cappie," Joe said in disbelief. "He's too big. He's an ox.
No bullet could take him down. Not Cappie."

"They used Tommy guns, Joey. He didn't stand
a chance. Threw himself in front of some dame trying to protect
her." Charlie looked up apologetically at Joe's uncles, who were
standing uncomfortably on the porch, not wanting to leave Joe yet
not wanting to be part of the gangster underworld. Joe looked
frantically at his Uncle Alexy and back at Charlie.

"Some dame?" Joe dropped the empty bottle
onto the porch. Marya! "Where's the girl?" he demanded. Charlie
looked confused. "Where's the dame Cappie stood in front of,
Charlie?" Joe yelled bounding down the steps.

"She's in the car. We're taking her to the
hospital now… I wanted to get her out of there before the cops
showed up." Joe pushed past Charlie and flung the back door of the
car open. Marya was cowered in the corner of the backseat covered
in blood.
Cappie's blood? Her blood?
Joe scooped her up and
started toward the house. Uncle Alexy's eyes grew wild with fury,
and he bellowed a raw, animal-like growl and jumped off the stoop.
He stormed toward Joe but stopped short as he reached Charlie;
bringing his arm back, he slugged the gangster, knocking him down.
The driver and Charlie's bodyguard were on Alexy in a second,
holding his arms behind his back as he hung his head and
wailed.

Charlie picked himself off the ground and
pulled his gun on Alexy. He looked at Joe holding Marya. "You know
this dame?" he asked, trying to put it all together, never taking
his gun off of Joe's uncle.

"Marya's my cousin, and this is her father,"
Joe replied, nodding at his Uncle Alexy.

"Let him go, boys," Charlie said to his
thugs. He lowered his weapon. "It's just a flesh wound, Joey.
She'll be all right. She's just in shock." Alexy walked over to
Joe, who transferred Marya to her father's arms. A weeping Aunt
Hattie opened the door for him, and he carried her inside.

"Thanks for not leaving her on the street,
Charlie," Joe said.

"Sure. I didn't know she was your cousin,
Joey. If I had I would've…"

"You couldn't have known, Charlie, Sorry
about your mouth. I think my Uncle thought she was dead when I
pulled her out of the car."

Charlie wiped some blood from the corner of
his mouth with his handkerchief. "Understandable. Well, I'll see
you later. Glad your cousin's gonna be all right." Charlie's driver
opened the car door and he got in. Joe sat down on the steps as the
long sedan drove slowly away. He looked down at his white shirt
covered with blood.
Cappie
, he thought. A large tear raced
down his cheek.

Cappie's funeral was attended by only a dozen men, on
a hot August morning on Grosse Ile. Joe insisted that he be buried
on the island he loved.

Joe's thoughts drifted to when he first met
Cappie—Vic Starboli—on the
Columbia
, when Vic had pointed
out the sights along the river to a young Joe. He remembered Vic's
wistful look as he gazed at the mansions on the island. "The good
life must be really good" he had said.

Charlie Leiter paid for a nice plot beneath a
willow tree near the river. Joe had located Cappie's father and
driven him to the cemetery behind the hearse.

Four dark cars pulled into the graveyard,
each carrying an enormous wreath of flowers on the roof to place on
Cappie's grave. A timid minister gave a short eulogy at the
graveside, and Cappie's father threw in the first handful of dirt
on his casket. The old man seemed unsure of himself, and Joe
grabbed his arm to steady him as he leaned over the grave. Joe
threw a clump of earth, crossed himself, and said a prayer asking
for God to forgive Cappie for any sins he committed and allow him
into heaven.