Brooklyn on Fire by Lawrence H. Levy Page B

it.”
    “And Mary Todd pleasured me before they fit her for a straitjacket. Now get him the fuck out of here!”
    McLaughlin glared at Huntington, who glared right back at him. Once again, the two cocks in the barnyard were at it, neither one willing to give an inch to the other. However, McLaughlin sensed that this was different from the last time they’d met. He needed to know what was on Huntington’s mind and was willing to cede a small concession to find that out.
    “Go, Liam. I’ll fill ya in later.” When Liam was gone, McLaughlin calmly turned to Huntington. “Yer obviously in a tizzy over something. Let’s hear it.”
    “You two have made the fatal mistake of fucking with my family. Did you think I was going to just take that lying down? You have incurred my wrath, and you’re about to find out exactly what that means. I will—”
    Chapin cut in shakily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Collis. We—”
    “Shut the hell up…
Your Honor
.” And Chapin did just that as Huntington continued. “I know you’re not calling all the shots around here, if any at all, so that leaves Hugh.” Huntington turned to face McLaughlin. “I’m going to give you one chance. Call off that Handley woman.”
    “Handley woman?” McLaughlin asked with a crinkled brow. “I have no idea what yer talking about.”
    “See, Collis?” Chapin interjected. “I told you we—”
    But Huntington rode right over Chapin’s words and continued addressing McLaughlin. “Claiming ignorance, eh? You had absolutely nothing to do with hiring Mary Handley to soil my family’s reputation?”
    “Absolutely nothing.”
    “Okay, Hugh, if that’s the way you want it. I’ll put an end to the Handley woman’s snooping myself, and it won’t be pretty. And one other thing. It was abundantly clear from our little meeting the other night by the bridge that you two have something, how shall I say…clandestine going on.”
    “No, we don’t!” a rattled Chapin protested. “Honestly, Collis, I don’t know where—”
    “Shut up!” Huntington and McLaughlin simultaneously shouted, and Chapin immediately followed orders. Then Huntington looked at McLaughlin.
    “How do you like that, Hugh? We finally found common ground, and soon we’ll be getting a lot closer. I’m going to investigate every aspect of both your lives. If I don’t uncover what naughty little thing His Honor was so concerned about the other night, I’m sure I’ll dig up something. Your Brooklyn Ring isn’t composed of choirboys. And don’t make the mistake of doubting me. That would be tragic.”
    As Huntington headed for the door, McLaughlin stopped him.
    “What is tragic, Collis, is yer comin’ to Brooklyn and thinkin’ ya can order us around. So, get in yer fine carriage, get yer ass across the bridge, and don’t come back. Next time I won’t be so nice.”
    “Excellent. Now that we’ve both put our proverbial cards on the table, you have no excuse. You can’t say you didn’t see it coming when the train hits you.” With that, Huntington was gone. Chapin looked at McLaughlin with a panicked look.
    “Not a word, Alfred.” McLaughlin took out a handkerchief and tossed it on Chapin’s desk. “Use that to clean yerself up. I’m sure you’ve soiled yer pants a couple of times over.”
    McLaughlin left and was met instantly in the outer office by Liam, who was eager to know what had transpired. McLaughlin leaned toward him and whispered, “The cobra’s snappin’, hissin’, and makin’ a fuss, but our mongoose has its teeth in deep and won’t let go.”
    They both smiled and left.

    N ORMALLY, T UESDAY NIGHT would have no significance for the artistic director of the Thalia Theatre, but this one was different. It was opening night for
A Doll’s House
and he was beyond thrilled. He had called in every family chip he had and found a second cousin who indeed knew Louise Carnegie and was willing to approach her about the play. All he