“He couldn’t have been in too many fights, then.”
“He picked and chose his fights, and he was small and fast. He dodged the sluggers and knocked them out. Some say he only fought with drunks. Be that as it may, Dapper Dan fought enough to win some influential friends, who bet his way and won.” Cook pronounced it “in-flu-en-tee-al.”
“How influential?”
“Let’s just say Mr. Daniel Connor is no stranger to all sorts of shenanigans. He made himself important to Mr. Alphonse Capone, I’ll tell you that. He was one of Al’s boys. He’d learned to keep his facepretty and his hands clean, even when his hands were deep in the muck. From running the booze to getting people out of his way, your man there knows how to take care of business.”
“Getting people out of his way?” I put my sandwich down, no longer hungry.
Cook looked at me. “Here, now. How do you think an Irish lad—I don’t care if he hears me say it—how do you think a lad off the boat gets all this?” She waved her hands around the kitchen before fisting them on her hips. “What do you think he does all day out in that greenhouse of his, and why do you think them plants grows so big?” She pointed one large finger at my plate. “I thought you liked the lamb.”
The kitchen door swung open with a thud so hard I jumped near out of my skin. “Danny!” I said.
He stared at me, his eyes like diamond points. “What are you doing in the kitchen, Louise?”
I sucked in air. I pointed to my sandwich.
In two strides Danny was at my side and swept the sandwich off the table and onto the floor. He took my wrist. “You will never eat in the kitchen again.”
I wanted to tell him he was hurting me, but I knew better by then. “Okay. I won’t. I promise.”
He dragged me from the room, and just before the door swung shut he turned to Cook. “Clean that up. Then pack your bags.”
His next cook wasn’t near so nice, nor could she make such a lamb.
CHAPTER 16
MAY 22, 1925
Clara Bow, Paramount star, is the flapper turned “moll”‘ and the title of this drama of the underworld, which bristles with action and suspense, is Ladies of the Mob .
—From “Clara Bow, ‘It,’ Stars at State,” Reading Eagle , July 24, 1928
Jo
On the way up in the elevator I considered my options. I could pretend I didn’t know he was there and slip into my room; or I could ask him to leave; or I could engage him in meaningless conversation. Whatever I did, I wasn’t about to tell him anything about Teddy.
The elevator doors opened, and I stepped into the foyer. Light from the library told me that Rushton was in there. I decided to face him.
He had his back to me when I entered, but he turned at once, and when he saw me he shut the book he was holding and nodded a terse greeting.
“Mr. Rushton,” I said, uneasy.
“Miss Winter.”
“Is there something I can do for you?”
“Yes, you can.” He returned the book to the shelf. “You know already that I’m here to see you.”
We stood in silence. He scrutinized me. Again, I felt some awkward combination of disdain and desperation in him. He wanted something from me, but he didn’t want to ask.
“So?” I asked, not even trying to hide my frustration now. “What is it you want?”
“I knew your brother.”
This was a shock. “You knew Teddy!” I took a step back.
“Yes. We met during the war. We served together. We spent the better part of a year in the same unit. We became quite close. You could say we were friends.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. Teddy had never mentioned him. Nothing of Teddy’s life over there came up in conversation after he’d returned home. But then, Teddy wasn’t very well after he came back. He didn’t talk about his war experience, whether pleasant or not. If a friendship with John Rushton during the war was, in fact, pleasant. How could Teddy make a friend of this obnoxious man? I thought of Teddy’s journal, whether Rushton would appear in its
“He picked and chose his fights, and he was small and fast. He dodged the sluggers and knocked them out. Some say he only fought with drunks. Be that as it may, Dapper Dan fought enough to win some influential friends, who bet his way and won.” Cook pronounced it “in-flu-en-tee-al.”
“How influential?”
“Let’s just say Mr. Daniel Connor is no stranger to all sorts of shenanigans. He made himself important to Mr. Alphonse Capone, I’ll tell you that. He was one of Al’s boys. He’d learned to keep his facepretty and his hands clean, even when his hands were deep in the muck. From running the booze to getting people out of his way, your man there knows how to take care of business.”
“Getting people out of his way?” I put my sandwich down, no longer hungry.
Cook looked at me. “Here, now. How do you think an Irish lad—I don’t care if he hears me say it—how do you think a lad off the boat gets all this?” She waved her hands around the kitchen before fisting them on her hips. “What do you think he does all day out in that greenhouse of his, and why do you think them plants grows so big?” She pointed one large finger at my plate. “I thought you liked the lamb.”
The kitchen door swung open with a thud so hard I jumped near out of my skin. “Danny!” I said.
He stared at me, his eyes like diamond points. “What are you doing in the kitchen, Louise?”
I sucked in air. I pointed to my sandwich.
In two strides Danny was at my side and swept the sandwich off the table and onto the floor. He took my wrist. “You will never eat in the kitchen again.”
I wanted to tell him he was hurting me, but I knew better by then. “Okay. I won’t. I promise.”
He dragged me from the room, and just before the door swung shut he turned to Cook. “Clean that up. Then pack your bags.”
His next cook wasn’t near so nice, nor could she make such a lamb.
CHAPTER 16
MAY 22, 1925
Clara Bow, Paramount star, is the flapper turned “moll”‘ and the title of this drama of the underworld, which bristles with action and suspense, is Ladies of the Mob .
—From “Clara Bow, ‘It,’ Stars at State,” Reading Eagle , July 24, 1928
Jo
On the way up in the elevator I considered my options. I could pretend I didn’t know he was there and slip into my room; or I could ask him to leave; or I could engage him in meaningless conversation. Whatever I did, I wasn’t about to tell him anything about Teddy.
The elevator doors opened, and I stepped into the foyer. Light from the library told me that Rushton was in there. I decided to face him.
He had his back to me when I entered, but he turned at once, and when he saw me he shut the book he was holding and nodded a terse greeting.
“Mr. Rushton,” I said, uneasy.
“Miss Winter.”
“Is there something I can do for you?”
“Yes, you can.” He returned the book to the shelf. “You know already that I’m here to see you.”
We stood in silence. He scrutinized me. Again, I felt some awkward combination of disdain and desperation in him. He wanted something from me, but he didn’t want to ask.
“So?” I asked, not even trying to hide my frustration now. “What is it you want?”
“I knew your brother.”
This was a shock. “You knew Teddy!” I took a step back.
“Yes. We met during the war. We served together. We spent the better part of a year in the same unit. We became quite close. You could say we were friends.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. Teddy had never mentioned him. Nothing of Teddy’s life over there came up in conversation after he’d returned home. But then, Teddy wasn’t very well after he came back. He didn’t talk about his war experience, whether pleasant or not. If a friendship with John Rushton during the war was, in fact, pleasant. How could Teddy make a friend of this obnoxious man? I thought of Teddy’s journal, whether Rushton would appear in its
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