Sweet Mercy (12 page)

She gazed at Jimmy and didn't respond.

“Can you walk home from here?” I asked.

“Yes, it's not far.”

“You'd better go.”

“What if I leave and he dies in the night?”

“He won't die. Like I said, he'll sleep it off.”

“But what about Jimmy's folks? If he stays here, they won't know where he is either.”

“Even if he could walk,” I said, “do you really think he should go home like this?”

Marlene sighed. She wiped at her face with the palms of both hands. “I hate the old man for what he's done to Jimmy.”

I didn't respond, though I had to agree. I'd never met Calvin Fludd, but his signature was written all over Jimmy's face. He was an evil man.

“You can come by in the morning and see for yourself that Jimmy's all right,” I said. “Bet you anything Mr. Fludd will be acting like nothing happened.”

“All right, Eve.” She looked at me, tried to smile. “Listen, thanks for coming over.”

I was about to burst at the seams. If I broke into a thousand pieces, every one of them would scream in anger over what I had just learned about the station. And about Marcus.

“You're welcome,” I said quietly. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

I turned to go. Marlene called me back. “You won't tell, will you?”

I swallowed the bile in my throat. My fists were two tight balls of fury. “I'll see you tomorrow, Marlene,” I said again. As I turned and fled, I couldn't know that I would never see Marlene again.

I
had to tell. I had no choice. It was the Jones Five and Ten Law, passed a couple of years earlier. I was well aware of what it said. Anyone who knew of the sale of illicit liquor but didn't report it was just as guilty of the crime, punishable by five years in prison and a $10,000 fine.

I stood in the hallway outside Mother and Daddy's room, lifted my hand to the door, hesitated.

Calvin Fludd deserved to be arrested. He had to be punished both for bootlegging and for beating up his own son. Now that I knew what was happening, how could I let it go on? How could I not turn him in?

Then again, if I told, what would happen to Jimmy? Wouldn't Old Man Fludd notice the missing bottles, the ones Jimmy had pilfered tonight, and from there figure out where the leak was? Surely he would come to realize Jimmy knew about the stash. Not only knew about it but had helped himself to it. If the place was raided and Fludd arrested, no doubt he'd figure Jimmy had turned him in.

And Marcus. What about Marcus? I leaned my forehead
against the door and broke into tears. I had a feeling I was somehow going to lose him over this, and I couldn't bear the thought of it. The cords of my heart were all tied up around him, and I didn't want to have to disentangle myself and step away. He'd made me happy, really happy, in a way I'd never been. And yet, I couldn't deny what was true. At the tip of my anger, the hottest part of the flame, was a sense of betrayal. Marcus wasn't who I thought he was. And he was never going to be who I wanted him to be. He knew the liquor was being sold at the station, and he wasn't willing to do anything about it.

I took one step back from the door just as it opened. Daddy stood there, staring at me with puzzled eyes. “Eve? Darling, what's the matter?”

I fell into his arms and cried even more loudly, burying my face in his shoulder, dripping tears onto his shirt and the strap of his suspenders. He shut the door behind us and ushered me into the room.

“Sweetheart,” Mother cried. “What on earth is wrong?”

I sat down on one of the chairs and took several deep breaths, trying to compose myself. Mother handed me one of Daddy's handkerchiefs, then sat on the footstool and put her hands on my shoulders. She was already in her robe and slippers and had been brushing out her hair, readying for bed.

“Sweetheart,” she said again, “can you tell us what's wrong?”

Daddy sat in the opposite chair and waited.

My face burned and my head felt heavy, like it had turned to stone. I wiped at my tears and looked at Mother and Daddy's expectant, fearful faces. “It's Calvin Fludd,” I began, and by the time I finished my story their faces had run the
gamut from concern to disbelief to horror almost equal to my own.

Mother turned to Daddy. “Do you suppose Cyrus knows they're selling liquor right across the street?”

Daddy took a deep breath. “I don't know,” he said, “but I'm going to find out.”

Mother stayed behind while Daddy and I went off to find Uncle Cy. Thomas, the night clerk, was behind the front desk looking at the guest register. He smiled wanly as we approached him.

“Evening, Thomas,” Daddy said.

“Evening, Mr. Marryat.”

“Would you happen to know where Cyrus is?”

“I believe he's retired for the night, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Thomas responded with a slight lift of his chin; his glasses flashed as the lenses caught the overhead light.

Daddy and I moved through the sitting room where the clock on the mantel showed the time to be almost midnight. As we made our way down the hall into the ballroom, I said, “Do you suppose Uncle Cy's asleep?”

“If he is, we'll wake him up,” Daddy said. “I don't intend to wait till morning.”

Uncle Cy answered our knock right away. He was wearing a sleeveless undershirt and a pair of slacks, and he held a glass of iced tea in one hand. He stared at us a moment, his brows raised, as though he didn't quite know who we were.

“Sorry to bother you at this hour of the night, Cy,” Daddy said.

“That's all right,” Uncle Cy said, opening the door wider and stepping aside. “Come in.”

One of Jones's radios was on, tuned to a comedy show of some kind. Two men talking, a drum roll, people laughing, and then abrupt silence as Uncle Cy turned it off.

“Have a seat,” he said.

Daddy and I sat in the two wing chairs while Uncle Cy pulled a straight-back chair over from the table. He set his glass of tea on the floor beside him.

“Jones here?” Daddy asked.

“He's asleep,” Uncle Cy answered. “So what's this about? There a problem?”

Daddy leaned forward and squeezed his hands together. “With the lodge, no. Listen, Cy, it's the station across the street.”

Uncle Cy's face was passive, though somewhere in the center of his eyes I thought I saw a flash of alarm. He picked up his tea, took a sip, set it back down.

“Calvin's selling bootleg liquor from that place,” Daddy said. “Eve saw it tonight, the whole stash. All folks have got to do is pull around back to the car wash, and apparently Calvin loads them up there.”

Uncle Cy's eyes slid over to me. “This true, Eve?”

I nodded. I didn't want to tell the whole story again. I was exhausted, my head was pounding, and I wanted nothing other than to crawl into bed and weep myself into a merciful sleep.

Uncle Cy sniffed. He lifted an index finger to his lips and frowned in thought. Finally, he dropped his hand and said evenly, “Listen to me, Drew. We've got nothing to do with Calvin and his station. What he does is his own business. It doesn't concern us.”

Daddy sat motionless, a sickish pallor sliding over his face. His Adam's apple moved up and down his throat a couple of times, as though he was finding Uncle Cy's words hard to swallow. Then he said, “Are you telling me to turn a blind eye?”

Uncle Cy nodded. “That's exactly what I'm telling you to do. I'm telling you for your own good. This county is full of bootleggers, and they don't take kindly to snitches.”

“That may be so, Cy, but you can't expect me to just sit by and do nothing. This isn't homebrew they're selling over there. It's real liquor, no doubt being smuggled across the border from Canada. We got criminals working right across the street, and you're telling me to leave it alone?”

Uncle Cy sidled forward to the edge of the chair till he was almost face-to-face with Daddy. His eyes grew small, his skin ruddy. “You have no idea what you're getting yourself in the middle of,” he said slowly, as though Daddy was a dull-witted child. “I'm telling you to keep your nose out of other people's business.”

Daddy was undeterred. When he spoke, a small chill moved up and down my spine. “What Calvin Fludd is doing,” Daddy said, “is not a business, it's a crime. And if we sit idly by and say nothing, we're just as guilty.”

“So be it, Drew. The laws of Prohibition have made everyone a criminal in one way or another—”

“Not everyone, Cy—”

“And so we run the lodge and keep our noses clean, and we don't worry about what people are doing across the street or up the river or anywhere else for that matter. Do you understand me, Drew?”

The two brothers stared at each other with such intensity
I thought one or the other of them might simply explode. Finally, Daddy stood, reached for my hand, and pulled me up out of the chair.

“Drew?” Uncle Cy said again.

“I thought you would do the right thing, Cy.”

“I
am
doing the right thing, Drew. You've got to believe me. I know this town in ways you don't. So we're all going to keep our mouths shut and go on doing what we were doing before this happened tonight.”

A small muscle worked in Daddy's jaw. Uncle Cy sighed.

Daddy tugged at my hand and we left without saying another word.

A
re you absolutely sure about this, Eve?”

I looked across the desk at the pock-faced man with the sagging jowls and closely cropped auburn hair. As his blue eyes settled on my face, a ticklish drop of sweat slid down my back between my shoulder blades. I rested my elbows on the arms of the stiff wooden chair and took a deep breath. “I saw it with my own eyes, Captain Macnish,” I said.

With that, his small black pupils cut into me like a surgeon's knife, trying to find any indication of falsehood inside. I shivered in spite of the heat. In the single window of his cluttered office, a steel fan worked hard to blow a ceaseless stream of hot air in our direction.

“These are serious charges, you know.” Captain Macnish leaned over the desk and clasped his hands together. He was a large man, and his bulky chest threatened to pop the buttons of his shirt.

“We know that, Neal,” Daddy said. “You can trust Eve. She wouldn't lie.”

I nodded my head in agreement. The penetrating cobalt irises rolled from Daddy to me and back again.

“Who knows you're here, Drew?”

“No one, other than the three of us and Rose.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Cyrus doesn't know?”

“I didn't tell him we were coming.”

“But you told him about Fludd?”

“Yes. He said to keep our mouths shut and our noses clean. In other words, stay out of it.”

“Where does he think you are at this moment?”

“At the drugstore getting Rose some headache medicine.”

Now the intrepid eyes bore into Daddy. After a long moment, Daddy reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the packet of headache powder. “I didn't lie, Neal, if that's what you're thinking.”

“That wasn't what I was thinking.”

“Then what
are
you thinking?”

Captain Macnish glanced at the closed door of his office. His ancient swivel chair creaked in protest as he leaned back and laid his hands across his ample stomach, fingers still entwined. Somewhere out of my field of vision, a fly buzzed loudly.

“The Prohibition laws have been an albatross around my neck for these past five years I've been the chief, Drew. Soon as Prohibition took effect, stills started popping up around here like mushrooms on a manure pile. We've always had moonshiners, of course, but nothing like what we got now. The former chief of police turned a blind eye.”

“What about you, Neal? You try to find the stills, close them down?”

“I did. In the beginning. The thing is, there are too many folks willing to wag a tongue to protect the bad guy. By the time my men could reach the moonshiners' camp, the whole kit-and-caboodle had been taken apart and the place deserted. I didn't make many arrests. Some, but not many. I finally decided my men's time and the taxpayers' money could better be spent on other pursuits. Nobody really wanted the moonshiners arrested anyway.”

“Are you saying Cy is right, that we should just mind our own business?”

The chair moaned loudly as Captain Macnish pushed himself away from the desk. He stood and began to pace the room. I followed him with my eyes, waiting.

“What Fludd's got at the station isn't moonshine, though, is it?” He turned abruptly and looked at me.

“No, sir,” I said. “I saw bottles of Scotch. Jimmy said it's the real stuff. He thinks it's brought to Cincinnati all the way from Canada.”

“I always figured somebody was bringing real liquor into Mercy. Never had any proof, though.”

“Well, Neal,” Daddy said, “now you do. So what are you going to do about it?”

“What do you want me to do, Drew?”

“Raid the place, of course.”

“It's not that easy.”

“Why not?”

The captain sat down heavily in his chair. His face gleamed with sweat. He placed both arms on the desk and leaned forward. He glanced toward the door again before saying in a low voice, “Because I don't know who I can trust. That's why.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, of my own men, I don't know who I can trust.”

Daddy and I looked at each other. I felt light-headed.

Captain Macnish said, “You shouldn't be so surprised, Drew. There are few men out there who don't want a drink now and again. Even a law officer is only human.”

I wasn't quite sure what he was getting at, but Daddy seemed to piece it together. “So you could plan a raid, and one of your men who's buying from Fludd could tip him off.”

“That's right.” Captain Macnish nodded and rubbed one side of his sagging face with an open palm. “Could and would in the time it takes to say Jack Daniel's.”

“I see,” Daddy said. “Which reminds me, Eve tells me she thinks Sheriff Wiant maybe knows about what Fludd's doing.”

If Daddy expected a look of surprise to flash across his old friend's face, he was disappointed. The captain shrugged. “Sure,” he said, “and he's probably getting paid a sizeable cut to put the blinders on.”

“That seems to be the case,” Daddy agreed. “You know the sheriff's son works at the station.”

“Marcus.” The captain nodded. “Yes, I know.”

“He knows about the liquor, but he's not saying a word.”

Captain Macnish looked at me. I nodded. The nausea I'd awakened with that morning rose up and rolled in small waves across my stomach. I never felt well after a night of crying, and Sunday night had been one of those nights.

“Marcus is a good boy,” the captain went on. “He's just found himself between a rock and a hard place. I don't envy the kid.”

I dropped my eyes and didn't respond.

Daddy said, “So anyway, there's probably no use you taking this to the sheriff.”

“No, I can see that. Which pretty much proves my point, Drew. If I can't trust the top lawman in the county, who can I trust?”

“Surely there must be some among your own men.”

Captain Macnish nodded thoughtfully but said nothing.

Daddy fidgeted in the chair beside me. He picked up the cap he'd laid across his knee and squeezed it in both hands. “What about the feds, Neal? You don't have any revenuers around here you can turn to for help?”

“Prohibition agents here in Mercy?” Captain Macnish laughed out loud. “You're kidding, right? There are only a few hundred of those in the whole country, Drew. They're stretched as thin as your last dollar just trying to keep up with things in the cities. They're not going to waste their time in a small town like this.”

I looked at Daddy. “That's what Jones told me. Remember?”

One side of Daddy's mouth drew back as he nodded. “Yeah, I remember.”

Captain Macnish leaned back again in his chair and put both hands behind his head, an unfortunate move as it revealed the two dark moons of sweat under each arm. “Besides,” he said, “those revenuers . . .” He clicked his tongue and sniffed loudly. “Their pay is so poor that half of them are taking bribes from bootleggers just to keep bread on the table.”

Daddy swallowed hard. He stopped kneading his cap and stared at Captain Macnish. “What's this country come to, Neal?” he said quietly.

The captain sniffed again as he settled his arms on the desk. “I'm telling you, Drew, you try to use a law like Prohibition to put the squeeze on people, and a whole bunch of no-good is going to come out. That's just the way it is.” He picked up some loose papers on his desk and tapped them into a neat pile, as though we were finished. He slipped them into a file folder and laid it aside. Then he sighed heavily. “Some days I hate this job, Drew.”

“But it's still your job, Neal.”

Captain Macnish let out such a long sigh I thought he might shrivel up and blow away. He swatted at the fly that was now buzzing around his head. He looked toward the window, then at Daddy. “You're right, of course,” he said quietly. “I'm not arguing with you there. I hate to see the law broken as much as you do.” He paused, shook his head. “I knew this badge would show me the ugly side of life, even in a small town like Mercy, but I never thought so much of the ugly would come from otherwise good men. Do you know what I mean, Drew?”

“I think I do, yes.”

“Most of my men are honest cops and solid citizens, except when it comes to drink. When it comes to that, I don't know who's in and who's out. Without Prohibition, my job would be a whole lot easier.” Under his breath, he cursed the albatross around his neck. Then, sheepishly, he said, “Begging your pardon, Eve.”

I nodded and offered him a tiny smile.

“But you'll do something about Fludd, won't you, Neal?” Daddy asked.

“Yes, yes. I'll do something about Fludd.” He laid a finger across his lips and looked aside.

Daddy leaned forward in his chair. “You know about those two agents a few years back—Izzy and Moe, right?”

“Yeah.” The captain nodded. “What about them?”

“Well, they were always pretending to be someone they weren't. Baseball players. Construction workers. Traveling salesmen. They'd go into a speakeasy, order a drink, and once the liquor came they revealed their badges and arrested everybody in the place.”

“Yeah, I know all about it, but if you're saying I should send someone undercover to Fludd's, it won't work. Fludd knows all my men. Everyone knows everyone in Mercy.”

Daddy sat back, deflated. After a moment, he said, “There must be one or two revenuers in Cincy who'd come over and make the raid. It's a sure thing, Neal. We already know the liquor's there.”

“Maybe. I—” The captain was interrupted when the intercom buzzed. He pressed a button on his desk. “Yes, Miss Dearborn?”

A disembodied feminine voice rose up from the machine. “You're late for your meeting in the briefing room, sir.”

“Tell Haskins I'll be right there.”

“Yes, sir.”

The captain stood. “Drew, don't worry. I'll take care of it.”

He held out a hand. Daddy stood and shook it. “Thank you for your time, Neal.”

“Of course. Listen, thanks for coming in. And I mean it when I say don't worry. I'm going to take care of this one way or the other.”

Outside the tiny police station, as we walked along the sidewalk to our car, I said, “Daddy, do you think you can trust Captain Macnish?”

Daddy thought a moment. We were already in the car by the time he responded. “I've known Neal a long time,” he said. “We went all the way through school together.”

“I know, Daddy. But do you think you can trust him?”

Daddy stared straight ahead as he started the car. “I surely hope so, darling,” he said. He shifted into reverse, looked at me, and tried to smile. “I guess we'll find out.”