LITMIR.BIZ

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Maude wanted to scream. She fended off the urge with an image of her Aunt Gertie dancing on a table at a speakeasy.

      “See? We got plenty to be happy about,” said Hazel.

      I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one day, thought Vera Maude. Time to end the discussion.

      “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

      “Now, about this bootlegger,” said Hazel.

      “Does he have a friend?” asked Lillian.

      “Lillian,” gasped Hazel, “what about Andy?”

      “A girl should keep her options open.”

      When the sisters stopped giggling Hazel asked Vera Maude if her bootlegger had reasonable terms.

      “Maybe we could come to some sort of an arrangement.”

      “Well, I’m not sure — I mean I’ve never actually —”

      Vera Maude glanced out the window at the people walking up and down the street. “Sure, I’ll talk to him,” she said.

      “Great. Let’s plan something for Friday night then. It’ll do you a world of good. And if your bootlegger doesn’t want to come along, then I’ll set you up with someone.”

      “Sure,” said Vera Maude. “It sounds like a plan.”

      “See, I knew we could sort this out,” said Lillian.

      “Say, you won’t…”

      “Don’t worry, Maudie. You’re secret’s safe with us.”

      “Girl stuff, Maudie, just girl stuff,” said Lillian.

      “Well, I have to get back to the library.”

      Vera Maude slipped out of the booth.

      “We’ll talk soon,” said Hazel.

      “Yeah,” said Lillian, “your boyfriend will probably want a deposit.”

      “Uh, right.”

      “See ya.”

      “Bye.”

      Vera Maude forced a smile and waved as she walked past the drugstore window. She prayed the earth would open up sometime real soon and swallow the Dreaded Sisters Short. A falling piano would be too good for them.

      The streets were quieter now. Anyone who wasn’t working was probably looking for a cool spot to while away the rest of the afternoon.

      She waited for a break in the traffic along Park Street. Engine exhaust sputtered out of automobile tail pipes and hung heavy in the air, mingling with the heat and humidity. She looked up and noticed that the sky was buried under a thick, colourless haze.

      Rain, rain come today.

      A little girl was perched at the top corner of the steps into the library, reading. She reminded Vera Maude of herself way back when the biggest decisions she had to make were which book to sign out and whether to have her ice cream straight up or in a float.

      — Chapter 23 —

      TWO COPS: ONE FAT, ONE THIN

      A shadow swept across the yard. McCloskey looked up in time to see a turkey vulture light upon a branch in the black oak. The sight of it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He picked up a charred piece of wood frame from the burned cabin and hurled it at the creature. It hissed and flew off, wobbling through the haze like a falling angel.

      The trap door in the floor was open and there were footprints everywhere. On top of the footprints were tracks where the coroner had pulled up his wagon to collect the bodies. The shadows were dull but McCloskey could still feel the sun beating down hard. He slowly made his way across the little radish field that divided the two properties.

      There were no signs of life outside Lesperance’s house and not a sound came from within. He opened the screen door and let it slam shut behind him.

      “Well, well, well,” said Jigsaw. “I knew if I stayed in one place long enough, et cetera, et cetera.”

      He was sitting at the kitchen table, tipping a bottle into a tumbler. Off to the side were two cops, one fat, one thin. They were standing shoulder to shoulder with stupid grins on their faces. The thin one looked drunk. The fat one was eating sliced peaches out of a jar.

      “If it ishn’t young McCloshkey,” said the thin one.

      “Spitting image, isn’t he?”

      “Na. His da was better lookin’.”

      McCloskey could feel his blood beginning to boil. “Where’s Lesperance?”

      Jigsaw gave the two cops a look and they each took a single step in opposite directions. Behind them in a chair was Lesperance, or what was left of him. With his beaten and bloodied head thrown back, McCloskey figured he had to be either dead or very nearly so. The two cops then took up strategic positions in the room, one back at the screen door and the other at the way to the front of the house.

      “Have a seat,” said Jigsaw and McCloskey parked himself. “I saw you at the track. You should have stopped by and said hello.”

      “I got a good look at the Lieutenant.”

      “So you did.”

      “And you’re trying to tell me he’s still running things? He couldn’t run a hot dog stand.”

      Jigsaw pushed the tumbler of whisky towards McCloskey. McCloskey ignored it.

      “Suit yourself.” Jigsaw downed the whisky and then refilled the tumbler. “Where’s your friend, Killer? You two make a cute couple.”

      “Let’s get to the point.”

      “All right, this is it: Jack McCloskey’s brother and their old man were spoiling his bootlegging career and making his bosses very angry, and so he came home and dealt with it. He iced them both and as compensation he helped himself to their working capital and liquor stash.”

      Jigsaw took a sip from his glass before he continued.

      “Then there’s Jack’s sister-in-law, a real hottie and awful lonely these days. Jack’s always been sweet on her but that pesky brother of his kept getting in the way. Now Jack can move right in.”

      Jigsaw filled the tumbler again and once more pushed it towards McCloskey. McCloskey took it this time and poured the amber liquid down his throat. It was homemade. It burned.

      “And here’s the topper: the shootout at the Elliott. Jack then assessed the situation in the Border Cities and felt things were in a state of flux. An opportunity for a power play comes up at the Elliott where he takes out a couple of pretenders, retires a few of cops, and sends a Yankee home with the message that Killer McCloskey is back in town.

      “The way I see it, you got three choices: spend the rest of your life behind bars, on the run, or dead. And no matter what you choose out of that hand, your sweetheart and her do-good brother are left, shall we say, vulnerable.”

      McCloskey pushed the tumbler back towards Jigsaw. Jigsaw refilled it and McCloskey drained it.

      “As bad as it looks, Killer, there are steps you can take.”

      “Like what?”

      “For starters you can off the Lieutenant.”

      McCloskey blinked. “What?”

      “He hasn’t got it anymore. He let the good life dull his edge. I shared my concerns with the boss. The incident at the track was the last straw. That pathetic display will cost him his life.”

      “Why don’t you do it?”

      “Two reasons. First: the Lieutenant still has allies and we don’t want to start a war. We’re trying to stay the course

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