Christmas in New York Page 4

  But that wouldn’t satisfy Elizabeth and, if he were honest with himself, it wouldn’t satisfy Simon either. He owed Charlie the life he had now. And that meant everything to him. There had to be some way they could help.

  Charlie picked up the last bit of rye bread crust from his sandwich. “Lester moved upstate to be with his family. They have a little farm up there. If you can picture Lester as a farmer,” Charlie added with a grin.

  Elizabeth smiled, remembering the enormous bouncer from the bar. “That is hard to imagine.”

  “Yeah, well—”

  “Blue.”

  A man in a dark suit and overcoat approached their table. He’d just come in and didn’t bother to take off his fedora. He looked down at Charlie over a crooked nose. And that, apparently, wasn’t the only crooked thing about him.

  “You’re late,” he said, his thick Brooklyn accent unmistakable.

  Alarm bells went off in Simon’s head. The man had only said two words, but he knew the type instantly. It was the type that nearly got Elizabeth killed the last time they were here.

  Charlie squirmed uncomfortably under the man’s watchful gaze. It wasn’t just the man’s appearance that made him uneasy but that Simon and Elizabeth were there to witness it.

  “Yeah,” Charlie said, quickly. “I know, but I was busy and—”

  The man, the thug, looked at the remnants of their meal and then briefly to Simon and Elizabeth. “You don’t look busy.”

  Under the table Simon reached for Elizabeth’s hand. A frightening feeling of déjà vu crept up his spine.

  “I was—” Charlie started but the man leaned down toward him.

  “You was what?”

  Sweat broke out on Charlie’s upper lip. “I’ll get it this afternoon. I swear.”

  Was Charlie paying protection money to the mob again? Why?

  The man lingered a little too closely and then stood up straight again. He eyed Charlie skeptically then nodded. “You better. Quinlan doesn’t like to be kept waitin’.”

  “I understand.”

  The man gave a small smile, then turned to Elizabeth and touched the brim of his hat before turning and walking out.

  Charlie’s face was pale as he watched the man go.

  “Charlie?” Elizabeth asked, concerned.

  He shook his head, putting off her question, and pushed out his chair. “I’m sorry.”

  He ducked his head down then looked at Simon. “Thanks for lunch, but I just remembered. I got a thing.”

  He started to leave but Elizabeth stood and moved into his way. “Let us help.”

  His eyes softened as he looked at her. He touched her arms lightly but shook his head and eased her aside. “Not this time, kid.”

  He moved past her. Elizabeth started to follow and would have if Simon hadn’t grabbed hold of her arm.

  “Simon,” she protested

  He knew what she was going to say. What she wanted and for once he couldn’t give it to her.

  He hated to admit it. He hated to be the one to say it.

  “Perhaps he’s right.”

  Elizabeth looked confused and sat down. “What do you mean?”

  She turned and watched Charlie leave, the door easing shut behind him, before turning back to Simon.

  If Charlie was involved with the mob again, and it certainly looked that way, this was dangerous. Too dangerous for them to be involved with. It had been too dangerous then and it was far too dangerous now. And with Charlotte along … impossible. As much as he cared for Charlie and wanted to help. He had too much to lose now.

  “Not this time.”

  Chapter Four

  ELIZABETH STARED AT SIMON like he’d grown two heads and, if he had, both of them were idiots.

  “What?” she said. How on earth could he not want to help Charlie?

  “It’s too—”

  “If you say dangerous …”

  It was clear from the look on his face that he was. “Elizabeth.”

  She could argue. She could make all of the arguments that were running through her head, but there wasn’t time. And they weren’t needed. Not for her.

  “It’s Charlie,” she said.

  She could see Simon silently warring with himself, his worry and decency at odds.

  “We’ll be careful,” she said, standing again. “I promise.”

  He didn’t look exactly enthusiastic about it, but he stood. She gave him a grateful smile and hurried toward the door. Simon caught up with her on the sidewalk.

  Elizabeth scanned the street and caught sight of Charlie on the other side of Houston Street, walking west.

  She took Simon’s arm and urged him on. “Come on.”

  They shadowed Charlie for several blocks until he came to a brownstone just off Bleeker. He went up the steps and knocked on the front door.

  Simon and Elizabeth watched from across the street. What was Charlie doing there?

  Charlie knocked again and the front door opened. A man in a t-shirt and ratty robe answered the door and immediately tried to slam it shut again, but Charlie’s big hand grabbed it before he could.

  The other man looked at him angrily and said something. Charlie never let go of the door. Elizabeth saw his free hand ball into a fist. What was going on?

  The man tried to close the door again and Charlie, dear sweet Charlie, grabbed the man and shoved him up against the door frame.

  “Simon,” Elizabeth said.

  Next to her Simon watched, as confused and riveted as she was.

  The man’s head bobbed in nervous agreement and he held up his hands in surrender. Charlie let him go and the man disappeared inside.

  Charlie looked around nervously. Elizabeth turned away, ducking under cover in the small doorway they were watching from. After a moment, she slowly turned back to look.

  The man returned and handed Charlie something. Charlie stuffed it into his breast pocket without even looking at it. Elizabeth didn’t need to look at it either to know what it was. Charlie wasn’t paying tribute to the mob; he was collecting it.

  “That’s impossible,” Elizabeth said.

  Charlie, her Charlie, would never be an enforcer.

  Simon’s expression was somber. “Life changes people.”

  “Not him. Not that much. There’s got to be more to it.”

  Charlie walked heavily down the steps and continued on his way.

  Elizabeth’s heart broke for him. Either something was wrong or something was very wrong. Either way, she was going to do something about it.

  They fell in behind him as he made his way west then north toward Washington Square. Eventually he stopped at a nice bar and went inside. Elizabeth could hardly blame him. She could use a drink right about now, too.

  They followed him inside. Luckily, the place was dark and rimmed with high-backed booths. They waited until Charlie sat down then took the empty booth behind his.

  Charlie ordered a beer and then the waitress moved to their booth.

  “What can I get ya?” she asked as she put down two coasters

  If they said anything, Charlie was sure to recognize their voices. Elizabeth looked anxiously at Simon. He thought for a moment then picked up one of the Ballantine beer coasters the waitress had just put down and raised two fingers.

  The waitress smiled and went to place the order. Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief, then turned her worry back to Charlie. If he’d just come for a drink, he probably would have sat at the bar. A booth meant he was waiting for someone.

  Simon’s eyes fixed on the door and Elizabeth turned to see what had caused his reaction. A police officer entered. He said something to the bartender and then came their way.

  Elizabeth hadn’t done anything wrong, at least nothing that she knew of anyway, but she still felt herself tense up as he approached. But then he passed right by. And sat with Charlie.

  Elizabeth was closest to his booth and leaned back against the tall divider to hear better.

  “You’re
late. Again,” the officer said.

  “I know. But I got it.”

  “This all of it?”

  Charlie sighed. “Yeah.”

  “Good. You know the boss doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Neither do I.”

  “I know.” Charlie’s voice was small.

  “Look, if you can’t handle the job …”

  There was an implicit threat in not just the words but the way they were said.

  “I can,” Charlie said.

  “Good.”

  The waitress came with Charlie’s beer. The officer stood as she put it down.

  “Tomorrow. Ten o’clock. Don’t be late this time.”

  The officer left as the waitress put down their Ballantines.

  Charlie remained seated and silent.

  Elizabeth slid out of her booth.

  “Elizabeth,” Simon whispered urgently, but she ignored him and sat down opposite Charlie.

  Charlie sat back in surprise. “Lizzy.” He looked around anxiously. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  Simon arrived at the edge of the table, their two beers in his hands. “That’s what I said.”

  He sat down next to Elizabeth.

  “What’s going on, Charlie?” she asked. “And don’t say nothing or that I should mind my own business. You know me well enough to know I’m incapable of that.”

  Charlie looked to Simon for help, but Simon merely arched his eyebrows in a shrug of defeat.

  Charlie started to say something but took a deep drink from his beer instead. “I appreciate it. I really do, but—”

  “Who was that?”

  “Captain Quinlan.”

  Elizabeth was surprised. “A police captain? Working for the …” She leaned in and added more quietly, “the mob?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then what exactly?” Simon asked.

  Charlie shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Why were you doing collection work?” Simon asked abruptly.

  Charlie looked surprised and then angry. “You followed me.”

  “We did. And what we saw,” Simon said, “that isn’t the Charlie we know.”

  Charlie laughed bitterly. “Yeah, well, things change.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No. Not you. Not like that. Why are you doing it?”

  “You think I would if I had a choice?”

  Simon sat back in his seat. “I see.”

  “Well that makes one of us,” Elizabeth said.

  Simon observed Charlie for a long moment. So long that Charlie squirmed in his seat.

  “They’re forcing you to do this. They have something on you, don’t they?”

  Charlie stared down at the table and heaved a sigh.

  “You know the only thing worse than being under the thumb of the mob? Being under the thumb of the law.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I don’t follow.”

  “I think I’m beginning to,” Simon said. “Does it have something to do with your bar? Prohibition? Blackmail perhaps?”

  “You always were the brains, weren’t you, Professor?”

  Elizabeth’s heart dropped. “Blackmail? For what?”

  Simon moved his beer aside. “Charlie’s bar was run illegally during Prohibition. Should someone know that and want to use knowledge of that as leverage now …”

  “The police are blackmailing you into doing their dirty work?” Elizabeth asked, incredulous.

  “Somethin’ like that.”

  Elizabeth refused to accept that this was how it was, and it definitely wasn’t how it was going to be if she had anything to say about it.

  “That’s …” She couldn’t find a word strong enough to express her anger.

  “The way life is,” Charlie said.

  “No. There’s got to be something we can do.”

  Charlie started to take a drink of beer but just looked into his glass and put it down again. “Ain’t nothin’ nobody can do. You can’t fight City Hall.”

  Elizabeth started to argue but Charlie reached across the table. He put his hand over hers and gave her a warm smile. “Even you, Lizzy.”

  ~~~

  Charlotte and Henry made their way north for a few blocks and came upon a long line of people. There must have been hundreds of them.

  “What are they waiting for?” Charlotte asked as they walked past the line.

  Henry gave her an odd look, like she’d grown another head. “You really aren’t from around here, are you?”

  She shook her head and looked at the people in line. Mostly men, but some families, too.

  “Food,” Henry said. “It’s a soup line.”

  Charlotte didn’t quite understand what he meant at first. But as she looked closer, she could see it in their faces. Maybe it was because she wasn’t with her parents or because she was with Henry, but New York seemed different now. The people were different. She could see it in their faces. Hunger. It was a shadow in their eyes.

  She’d never been hungry before, not like that.

  “All of them are waiting?” she asked, realizing it was a stupid question, but she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. There was nothing like it back home.

  “Yeah,” Henry said, then hurried the pace. “Come on.”

  They reached a corner. Charlotte was expecting Henry to lead her into one of the buildings but instead he disappeared down a stairwell that led beneath the street.

  He didn’t look back as he ran down the stairs. Charlotte hesitated then followed him down into the tunnel beneath the street.

  She caught up with him and he pulled her aside. People streamed through turnstiles into what she realized was a subway station. They put a nickel into a slot and a turnstile let them through. Charlotte patted her pocket.

  “I don’t have any money.”

  “Don’t need any,” Henry said as he watched the people. “Just do what I do. And stay close.”

  Charlotte wasn’t sure about this, but before she had time to argue with herself over it, Henry tugged on her arm.

  “Now,” he whispered. There was a break in the crowd and Henry jumped forward and slipped under the turnstile.

  “Come on,” he urged her from the other side.

  She knew it was wrong to do, but it felt like she couldn’t control her feet. They just followed Henry without her consent. The next thing she knew she was on the other side and Henry was smiling at her. He had a really nice smile. She quickly forgot about everything else.

  He took her hand. “Come on.”

  He led her onto a subway platform just as a train arrived. They fell in with the crowd as it flowed into the train car.

  Henry swung around on one of the metal poles before flopping into a seat and grinning at her.

  Charlotte felt a thrill shoot through her. She was being bad, but it couldn’t be that bad because it felt so good.

  When they got off the train and climbed back up to the street, the neighborhood had changed. The buildings were older and grayer. Everything seemed packed into a smaller space. The apartments, the people. Everything. Even the sky was crowded. A long, elevated train track stretched out overhead. A train roared past, the pillars holding it up shaking and vibrating loudly.

  A tiny old woman wrapped in a black shawl sat on an upside-down bucket polishing apples from the basket in front of her. She looked up and stared at Charlotte as she walked by.

  Charlotte felt the woman’s eyes watching her, and she pulled her coat uneasily around her.

  “Don’t worry,” Henry said. “You’re with me.”

  He walked through the streets like he owned them. Maybe he kind of did. Everyone knew him. People smiled at him and he waved back as they walked past the small open-air marketplace.

  She was glad when it ended. It smelled like fish.

  After a few more blocks they reached a three-story building. It was dark and a little scary looking. The entrance was tucked into a dark alcove like a giant mouth. Written in fancy letters over the fro
nt door was a sign that read, “The Eleanor Hellman Orphan Asylum for Destitute and Abandoned Children.”

  The main entrance hall was big and seemed nice, even if it was kind of dark. There was a Christmas tree with lights and ornaments and pretty packages sitting underneath.

  Henry saw her looking at them and smiled. “Empty. I looked. Guess they’re just for show.”

  Next to the tree there was a poster set up on an easel announcing a Fundraising Christmas Gala. A photograph of a man’s face was in a big circle in the upper right. Alderman Anthony Scarpetti Presents.

  Dining. Music. Dancing.

  “That sounds like fun.”

  Henry laughed. “Yeah. Come on.”

  He led her out of the main hall, through a back door and into a long hall.

  They walked to the far end of the hall and into a long room. Beds were lined up on each side of it. Maybe thirty beds or so. Kids sat on their beds, playing cards or reading or just talking.

  Most of them greeted Henry as he passed. All of them stared at Charlotte.

  Finally, they reached the far corner where a boy and a girl sat on the last bed talking.

  They both looked up and smiled as Henry arrived.

  “Everything okay?” Henry asked.

  The boy nodded but the girl, she was small, maybe five, shook her head so hard her little curls bounced from side to side.

  “What happened?” Henry asked, very serious.

  “Nothing,” the boy said and gave the girl a stern look.

  She didn’t care though and turned to Henry. “Benny shoved him again. Right outside,” she said, pointing to the wall. “He fell and everything.”

  “You hurt?” Henry asked.

  The boy shook his head.

  Henry leaned over the bed where the boy was sitting up and looked at his legs. It wasn’t until then that Charlotte realized he had big braces on his legs. Long metal rods and leather straps.

  Charlotte realized she was staring and looked away.

  “Tommy had polio,” Henry explained. “Ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of. The President had polio, too. He does okay.”