Whistling in the Dark Page 6

  "Glass of milk help then?" Jack asked.

  Harry pointedly ignored the change of subject. "What the hell did you see, Jack?"

  Jack started to sit up, but Ox's hand on his shoulder held him still. "Come on, you can tell us."

  Jack lay back and rubbed eyes that felt as achy as his head. "Pair of tough guys. When I go bugs up, think you'll be tough enough to put me away?"

  He heard Ox's startled breath and saw Harry scowl. They ganged up on him and all but carried him upstairs, to imprison him in his apartment without any chance of parole.

  "What makes you two think I want to get any more shut-eye?"

  Harry pushed him toward the sofa. "Who says you have to sleep? I'll keep you company to make sure you don't."

  "I'll stay, too." Ox started to take off his coat.

  Harry looked at him. "Go on, get some supper and don't worry about Jack. I'll look after him."

  Listening from his sprawl on the sofa, Jack wanted to tell them both to beat it. He felt like a goddamned invalid, too dependent on his friends just to live through each day. Ox had nightmares, yeah, but they didn't knock him flat. Even Albright had come back from France looking in no way scathed or brutalized by the experience. No, he was the weak one, the one who'd fallen apart. Hell, maybe the time had come to put himself away. He could move into that cozy asylum upstate with doctors trained in the latest voodoo. No longer did they chain lunatics to the walls in dark lonely cells. At least he was pretty sure they didn't. Sooner or later he'd find out.

  Harry shut the door after Ox and came to sit beside him. "Got anything to drink here?"

  Jack leaned over the arm of the sofa and opened the bookcase door to wriggle loose the bottles squeezed in with the books and magazines. One bottle had been a trade for repairing Mrs. Valmeer's music box. The second one he'd wheedled from the boys at the club. "Here you go."

  "That's it?"

  Jack had to smile at the sarcasm. "Well, no, there's--"

  "Never mind. Speaking of gin, want to play some?"

  Harry won five games in a row, until Jack roused himself to pay closer attention. Then the wins went back and forth until well after dark when a yawning Harry started slipping and Jack won every game. Jack drained another glass and Harry grimaced. "Your liver's going down without a whimper, Jackie." Harry studied him as Jack lit a cigarette. "You've got to be tired. You ain't tired?"

  "It's only ten. Why don't you go on home? You're not a nanny."

  Harry's gaze narrowed on him. "You're in no kind of shape to be out carousing. Anyway, I ain't all that beat. You got anything else to do around here?"

  Jack shrugged. "I'm never here. I think I've still got that box of checkers Ox gave me for Christmas."

  "Mind if we--" Harry tried to stifle another yawn. "Take it and the gin to the bedroom?"

  Jack broke into a grin. "Trying to seduce me?"

  "Christ, do you have to say shit like that? I'm not that desperate to get you to go to bed."

  "Yeah, you're just hoping once we get there, I'll drop off." Jack followed him down the hall. "You ought to know better."

  Harry pushed a pile of magazines off the mattress and sat with a pillow propped at his back. "Yeah, sometimes I forget how goddamned obstinate you can be."

  Jack went fishing under the bed for the checkers. "Jesus, Harry. You'd think I was swearing off sleep on purpose." He popped back up and overturned the box, spilling game pieces everywhere. "You know, we could skip the game and go for a ramble--"

  "You ain't been arrested enough this week?" Harry snorted. "What you need is a pal who won't get you in trouble. Like for example that kid next door."

  "Nah, not Albright." The checkers in orderly formation, Jack turned the red pieces toward Harry. "He's a little too buttoned down."

  "Well, I'm sure you'd unbutton him." Harry bit off the last word with a groan. "Forget I said that. Too much gin and--gin."

  Jack couldn't resist. "Unbutton him. There's an idea. Think of the hush money I could get out of Albright senior."

  "Good God, don't even joke about that." Harry captured a checker and slumped back, yawning. "He'd have you arrested."

  "Or shoot me. But I'm sure Sutton's got a girl back home, pining for him in the cotton fields."

  "Corn. Around Topeka, anyway, I think."

  "Yeah? You suppose he knows how to build a still?"

  Harry blinked at him in disbelief and Jack fell to studying the board, mostly to hide a grin. He saw his chance--three checkers, his for the taking. But a soft snore from the other side of the bed made the victory short-lived.

  "I guess we'll call it a draw." He covered Harry with a blanket before getting up to peer into the street. The corner was quiet, the restaurant closed, but a light still shone--Esther and Sutton, probably sweeping up. Jack rested his head against the foggy glass and traced the curve of a smile and a pair of eyes closed in peaceful slumber.

  Behind him, Harry woke with a start. "Jack?"

  "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere. Not to sleep, for sure."

  "Well, yeah, unless you're a horse."

  "I'd lie down if I thought it would do any good." He turned from the window. "You still have that chloral?"

  Harry pushed away the blanket and sat up, sharp-eyed despite his weariness. "You're sure you want it?"

  "Unless you want to just knock me out with a good right to the jaw." Did he sound desperate? Judging by the way Harry's face softened, he must have.

  "I've got the bottle in my coat." Harry climbed out of bed and Jack trailed after.

  "Are they great big pills? I hate great big pills."

  "You can break them up small, I suppose."

  "And mix them with gin?"

  "I wouldn't recommend that. Say, when did you last eat?" Harry switched on the kitchen light and opened the icebox, to sigh at the bare shelf. "You know you can keep things besides ice and booze in here, right?"

  Jack produced a tin of crackers from the cupboard. "Between this and the gin, I'll keep the pills down."

  "For God's sake, Jackie. Come on, let's go to Ida's--"

  "She's already closed. Esther's just finishing up."

  "So she'll give you a sandwich or something."

  Jack doubted they'd even make it downstairs before Esther left, but what the hell. He obediently pulled on his shoes and coat and trudged after Harry. Light still shone in the restaurant window, but Sutton, mop in hand, was the only one inside. "We can find some other place to eat," Jack said with a tug at Harry's sleeve.

  "Wander around in the cold at this time of night? Let's just ask Albright. The kid seems all right."

  "He won't open the door. He's too afraid of losing his job."

  "I say we give him a try." Harry tapped on the glass, taking Sutton's attention from his steady back and forth with the mop. Sutton came to the door and unlocking it, leaned out, only to hastily retreat at the wind. His gaze rested with the usual suspicion on Jack before shifting to Harry.

  "Is everything all right?"

  "We know you're closing up," Harry said, "but--look, can we come in for a minute? It's damned cold out here."

  "Of course."

  "Thanks, kid. Esther gone home?"

  "Yes, I've asked Ida to let her go earlier since I'm here to close."

  "Yeah?" Harry gave Jack an I-told-you-so look and Jack rolled his eyes. He wished he'd just eaten the crackers. He wouldn't ordinarily have minded bothering Esther or even Albright after hours, but he was tired of playing the invalid.

  "Since Esther's gone, we'd better let you get back to work--right, Harry?"

  Harry got hold of him as he started out the door. "Would you wait? I'm just going to ask. Say, Albright, I know it's late, but any chance we could get a couple of sandwiches? Anything you got, that'd be fine. Jack's a little under the weather--" He paused at Jack's warning look and discreetly rephrased. "We were busier than usual today and never got around to digging up some supper. I'll pay you something extra for it," he said, taking out his walle
t.

  Sutton looked at Jack, too curious for comfort. Jack plucked at Harry's coat again. "Let's just skip it, all right? It's late. We shouldn't have come over. I'm sure Sutton's beat--"

  "Sandwiches, you said?" Sutton pulled out a chair. "You're in luck. I've gotten very good at sandwiches." He vanished into the kitchen and Harry pushed Jack toward the chair.

  "Saved from a trip to that noisy dive you call a club, thank God." Harry dropped into another chair. "I didn't intend to mention the pills, you know."

  "I know. I just don't want a fuss. Especially from a guy I don't know. I've been enough of a charity case already."

  The sandwiches were good and even better was the cocoa Sutton brought instead of coffee. Jack wrapped a pill in a corner of the bread and swallowed it down with a warm mouthful. He still didn't believe he'd sleep, but he felt steadier than he had all evening. Harry left Sutton the extra he'd promised and as they went out, reminded him to lock up after them. Sutton joined them at the door and smiled at Jack with unexpected warmth. "I hope you feel better tomorrow."

  "Yeah, thanks." Jack managed something of a smile in return. Leaving Harry to say good night, he hopped down the steps to the curb and waited there. When they reached the apartment, Jack checked at the window, to see the light still on below.

  Harry peered over his shoulder. "Conscientious kid."

  "To say the least."

  Throwing off his clothes, Jack pulled on a nightshirt and crawled into bed. Harry had dropped into a chair with a magazine. "You staying?"

  Harry shrugged. "Ain't walking home at this hour."

  Jack patted the mattress. "You can sleep over here. I promise to keep my hands to myself."

  Harry picked up his hat and put it on top of the lampshade, dimming the room, then deliberately settled further back into the chair cushions.

  Jack smiled. "Thanks, Harry."

  "Go to sleep already, will you?"

  - Nine -

  Jack woke to the sight of Harry, still in shirt and trousers, drooling peacefully on a pillow. Tempted to take a snap for posterity, Jack decided to fetch up some breakfast instead.

  Dressing, he went down to find that Ox had opened and was bashfully assisting two ladies with the assortment of Japanese wraps. Despite his shyness, Ox always had as much fun showing folks around as they had exploring the place. Jack knew why. The emporium was still as magical to Ox as it had been when they were kids. Jack felt a certain gladness over that, doubly so because he didn't believe the shop would ever regain its magic for him.

  And it didn't help to walk out the door and find Ned Hennessy leaning on a sparkling new brougham at the curb. The brilliant shine of his black hair couldn't match the harder shine in his eyes.

  "Well, if it ain't Chase's favorite trained monkey--" His gaze slid to Vance Fletcher, who was probably putting a permanent dent in the running board as he sat there, smoking a cigarette. "Oh, sorry. Second favorite," Jack said, turning down the temperature in Ned's gaze even further. "You boys waiting on Chase?"

  Vance heaved himself to his feet and stood in the middle of the sidewalk, an impassable mountain of muscle that reminded Jack of stickball days and the way Vance always left the other kids, Jack included, lying in the road groaning. He did not impress as handily with the weedy brown moustache, the eyes dull as dirt--and the brain behind them that Jack figured hadn't seen half the use his fists did.

  "We ain't waiting on Mr. Chase." Ned unbuttoned his coat just enough to let the Colt .32 automatic catch the sun. "We're waiting on you."

  Ned had never been much of a fighter, unless cornered. The lethal weapon he liked to keep under his carcoat--that, Jack recalled vividly. "Trade in your Luger?"

  Ned smiled and opened his coat further to show off the piece tucked in the holster. Jack snorted. "Swell. Why don't you lend one of them to Brainless Bates here?"

  "He's a lousy shot." Ned seemed to notice the irritated jut of Vance's jaw and went on hastily. "Of course, who ain't, compared to me?"

  "You're really coming up in the world, Ned. Breaks my heart I'm not in your set anymore."

  "I'll bet." The smile didn't waver. Ned had to keep up appearances, after all. "Speaking of breaking..."

  He nodded at Vance, who laid a heavy hand on Jack's chest and pushed him in the direction of the alley. Jack's disgust shifted into uneasiness. "Now hold on a minute. I told Mr. Chase I'd pay him back." He sidled toward the shop door. "You're breaking bones a little prematurely."

  Ned slipped an arm over Jack's shoulders. "Slow up a minute. Give me a chance to explain Mr. Chase's policy." He moved into the alley, dragging Jack along. "It's like this. Your other bill collectors, they send you a friendly little notice hinting you should pay up before they shut off your gas or quit sending over your groceries, right? Mr. Chase gave you till the end of the month but he still likes to send out a notice, you might say--a reminder your payment's coming due."

  "You couldn't just drop me a note in the mail?"

  Ned chuckled. "Same old Jackie. Always trying to be funny. You know, it's a mean shame you had to borrow from Mr. Chase in the first place. You should've listened to me when you had the chance."

  Vance wrapped a hand the size of a Delmonico's porterhouse around Jack's arm while Ned rambled. "Don't you worry we're putting you in the hospital, not when you got to work to pay us back. Sure, Vance has cracked some ribs in the past, accidental-like--but who goes to the doc over a couple of busted ribs?"

  Jack glanced up to his bedroom window, and wished he hadn't kept Harry awake so late. "Chase didn't send you. You came up with this idea on your own because you think a little roughing up's going to get me to sign over the shop--" He stifled a gasp as Vance's grip threatened more than just his circulation.

  "A little roughing up?" Vance twisted his arm. "Maybe I'll crack your head open--"

  "Shut up," Ned told him. "We ain't cracking heads. Yet." He leaned in, lip curled as he studied Jack's face. "You were a tough little kid, Jackie--till your folks knocked you in line. Still running 'round with them fairies down 42nd? I figured for sure France would've toughened you back up. Guess a stint in the army didn't change nothing."

  "What would you know about it?"

  Ned's jaw tightened and he flexed black-gloved fingers. Across the alley, the side door to Ida's creaked and Jack hoped rescue was near. He would have welcomed either Ida or Esther with Ida's shotgun in hand. Naturally it had to be Albright, come to get the morning papers. Jack expected him to scramble indoors at the sight of Vance and Ned, but Sutton only scooped up the bundled newspapers, pausing long enough to smile inquisitively at the three of them. "Good morning, gentlemen. And Jack," he said, wry humor shading the polite tone. "Do any of you by chance own that brougham parked at the curb?"

  Ned fixed on Sutton with over-ripe suspicion. "If we do? What about it?"

  Sutton brightened. "Of course. I thought that boy looked a little young to be driving a motorcar."

  The off-hand comment sucked the color from Vance's ruddy cheeks and shot Ned's spidery eyebrows nearly to his hairline.

  "Son of a bitch," Vance said. "Mr. Chase'll skin us."

  "You," Ned choked out. "You idiot." He turned on his heel and sped off, overcoat flapping behind him.

  Vance swore again. He pushed Jack against the bricks. "We ain't done," he said, but let go to catch up with Ned.

  Jack ran to the side door and trailed Sutton down the narrow hall to the stairs and up to the landing. From there, Sutton led him into a bedroom hardly bigger than a broom closet and pushed up the window sash. Jack squeezed in beside him and immediately spotted Ned and Vance skidding and stumbling through the traffic in their panicked hunt for the missing brougham.

  Jack sucked a breath into aching lungs. "What the hell did you do with it?"

  "Dan drove it around the block and parked it. There he is."

  Dan strode along the sidewalk, whistling. When Vance and Ned lumbered past him, he looked after them and laughed. Sutton laughed too as he sat on
the cot in the corner. "Esther and I came up with the idea and Dan was quite willing to be our accomplice. I think he felt he owed you something."

  Jack dropped into the chair. "That was goddamned brilliant."

  Sutton beamed. "It did come off well, didn't it? You're all right?"

  "As rain. How did you know?"

  "They came in asking for you and not in a friendly sort of way. I guess you weren't in the emporium this morning? Esther wanted to run for Ox, but then we agreed moving the car would be quicker." Sutton tilted his head. "You owe them money."

  "There's more to it than that. I don't suppose Chase'll leave me alone even after I pay him, but you bought me some time." Jack summoned his best carefree grin and held out a hand. "Thanks."

  Sutton cautiously shook hands. "If you spoke to the police about it--"

  "Trust me, that would only make it worse."

  "Perhaps you parted with your knife too quickly, then."

  That sense of humor again. Jack liked it, even if Albright was as upright as a stalk of Kansas corn. "Maybe you could lend me yours."

  "I lost mine somewhere in France."

  "Tough luck." Jack noticed the suit lying folded neatly at the foot of the cot. "Don't tell me you sleep in this closet?"

  "It's not so bad. I've pawned nearly everything I brought to New York, so I'm not lacking for space to keep things. And there are certainly places where a fellow would feel much more closed in," he said, more to himself than Jack.

  Having a good idea what Sutton referred to, Jack changed the subject. "You go out much? After Ida sets you free, I mean."

  "I've explored a little, while making deliveries, but I can't wander far. Ida seems to know precisely how long a delivery should take."

  "I'm sure she's timed Esther at most of them." Jack leaned the chair back on two legs and took in the rest of the room. The white walls and wood floor were bare. The bed, army neat with a couple of frayed blue blankets, and the pile of clothes were just about the only signs of habitation. From the stack of library books on the table, Jack picked up a fragile copy of the latest Maugham novel, its boards loose, pages dog-eared. It was the one he'd lent Esther a few weeks back. "Spend your free time reading?"