you?” the man said with a thick German accent—Mama’s accent—coloring his words.
“There’s no one else, just us,” said Benny. He was remarkably calm, as though he encountered men with guns all the time. He still held my hand. As he spoke, he put his other arm around my waist and pulled me close to him.
“Today is not your lucky day. My friend across the street sees you break in and he calls me. I’m tired of you people coming into my building and thinking you can walk away with whatever you want. Empty your pockets,” said the man. I produced a subway token and my house key. Benny uncovered an identical token and the wallet he connected to his waist with a chain. “What have you stolen?”
“Nothing,” said Benny.
“So I stopped you in time?”
“We’re not here to steal,” said Benny.
“A likely story. Then why have you come?”
Standing in the room my mother died in, with a gun pointed at us by the man who could’ve been her killer, I felt no urge to come clean about our true purpose for being there. I tried to think of a reasonable lie, but the combined forces of his gun and Mama’s blood (it was hers, wasn’t it?) rendered me completely mute.
Fortunately, Benny hadn’t lost the gift of gab. “Promise me you won’t tell her old man,” he said.
Pop? Was he really going to bring Pop into this?
“I don’t believe you’re in the position to make demands of me,” said the man.
Benny squeezed my hand reassuringly, silently asking me to trust him. “I know. It’s just … look, if he finds out we were together, that’s it. I’ll never see her again.”
The man lowered the gun, but he didn’t speak.
“We shouldn’t have broken in. That was dumb. But we needed someplace to be alone.”
The man’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Some place with a lot of beds, eh?”
Benny looked down, doing a bang-up job of being bashful.
“And what do you have to say for yourself, Juliet?” the man said to me.
Nuts, I thought this was Benny’s scene. I didn’t realize I was going to have to act in it, too. “Please don’t tell,” I whispered. “Pop will send me away. He’s already said as much.”
He slid the gun into his jacket and I finally felt like I could breathe again. He was going to let us go. The danger was past. “This is no place for young lovers. It’s dangerous here, eh? Your girlfriend deserves better than rats in the walls and stained mattresses.”
At the mention of the mattress I went woozy.
“Your girlfriend doesn’t look so good.”
Benny attempted to steady me. “It’s that bed. She thinks it looks like blood on it. We heard a rumor that someone was murdered here.”
He smiled, showing us a mouth missing half of its teeth. “Murdered? No. Killed themselves. My girl is the one who found her.”
Anna Mueller. He was talking about Anna. “Your wife?” I asked.
“Not anymore. When business gets bad, she gets out, says she’d rather wait tables at the Biergarten than clean rooms for me. Her loss, eh? Now get out and don’t come back. Next time maybe I’m not so nice about it.”
Benny led me from the room and back down the stairs. “You okay?” he asked as we reached the window through which we’d entered the building.
“I think so.”
He flashed that brilliant smile of his. “Good, then we’re off to the Biergarten, whatever that is.”
CHAPTER
9
IT TURNED OUT THAT THE BIERGARTEN was a combined social hall and restaurant in the heart of Yorkville. I vaguely remembered Mama telling me about it, or places just like it. It was the kind of joint Pop and she used to go to in the early days of their courtship, sharing each other’s life story over mugs of warm beer and plates of fried potatoes and pickles.
As we entered the building, I thought of the two of them huddled together at one of the picnic-style tables while a band played music from the stage, forcing them to yell above the music to be heard. “The music was so
“There’s no one else, just us,” said Benny. He was remarkably calm, as though he encountered men with guns all the time. He still held my hand. As he spoke, he put his other arm around my waist and pulled me close to him.
“Today is not your lucky day. My friend across the street sees you break in and he calls me. I’m tired of you people coming into my building and thinking you can walk away with whatever you want. Empty your pockets,” said the man. I produced a subway token and my house key. Benny uncovered an identical token and the wallet he connected to his waist with a chain. “What have you stolen?”
“Nothing,” said Benny.
“So I stopped you in time?”
“We’re not here to steal,” said Benny.
“A likely story. Then why have you come?”
Standing in the room my mother died in, with a gun pointed at us by the man who could’ve been her killer, I felt no urge to come clean about our true purpose for being there. I tried to think of a reasonable lie, but the combined forces of his gun and Mama’s blood (it was hers, wasn’t it?) rendered me completely mute.
Fortunately, Benny hadn’t lost the gift of gab. “Promise me you won’t tell her old man,” he said.
Pop? Was he really going to bring Pop into this?
“I don’t believe you’re in the position to make demands of me,” said the man.
Benny squeezed my hand reassuringly, silently asking me to trust him. “I know. It’s just … look, if he finds out we were together, that’s it. I’ll never see her again.”
The man lowered the gun, but he didn’t speak.
“We shouldn’t have broken in. That was dumb. But we needed someplace to be alone.”
The man’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Some place with a lot of beds, eh?”
Benny looked down, doing a bang-up job of being bashful.
“And what do you have to say for yourself, Juliet?” the man said to me.
Nuts, I thought this was Benny’s scene. I didn’t realize I was going to have to act in it, too. “Please don’t tell,” I whispered. “Pop will send me away. He’s already said as much.”
He slid the gun into his jacket and I finally felt like I could breathe again. He was going to let us go. The danger was past. “This is no place for young lovers. It’s dangerous here, eh? Your girlfriend deserves better than rats in the walls and stained mattresses.”
At the mention of the mattress I went woozy.
“Your girlfriend doesn’t look so good.”
Benny attempted to steady me. “It’s that bed. She thinks it looks like blood on it. We heard a rumor that someone was murdered here.”
He smiled, showing us a mouth missing half of its teeth. “Murdered? No. Killed themselves. My girl is the one who found her.”
Anna Mueller. He was talking about Anna. “Your wife?” I asked.
“Not anymore. When business gets bad, she gets out, says she’d rather wait tables at the Biergarten than clean rooms for me. Her loss, eh? Now get out and don’t come back. Next time maybe I’m not so nice about it.”
Benny led me from the room and back down the stairs. “You okay?” he asked as we reached the window through which we’d entered the building.
“I think so.”
He flashed that brilliant smile of his. “Good, then we’re off to the Biergarten, whatever that is.”
CHAPTER
9
IT TURNED OUT THAT THE BIERGARTEN was a combined social hall and restaurant in the heart of Yorkville. I vaguely remembered Mama telling me about it, or places just like it. It was the kind of joint Pop and she used to go to in the early days of their courtship, sharing each other’s life story over mugs of warm beer and plates of fried potatoes and pickles.
As we entered the building, I thought of the two of them huddled together at one of the picnic-style tables while a band played music from the stage, forcing them to yell above the music to be heard. “The music was so
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