The Rum Runner Page 18

  For the third time, Trudy nodded, but this time she said, “If he’s not the man for you, you wouldn’t be trying so hard to convince yourself he wasn’t the man for you.”

  Damn it. She hated when Trudy was right.

  Chapter Eighteen

  He was going back to sea. Land held nothing for him. He thought Alice would prove a reason to stay, but clearly, he’d been wrong. As soon as he could get the Mary B provisioned, he’d be out on the waters where he belonged.

  He would have gone today if he hadn’t had to go to the funeral. The funeral and the pain on Irene’s face as she laid her husband to rest was another reason to get back out to sea as soon as possible.

  When Alice left last night, he fought with himself as to whether he should follow her or not, but she had been so clear that she didn’t want or need his advice or interference in her life that he thought it best to let her go.

  He’d closed himself up in the bridge and poured himself a few fingers of whiskey. He’d downed it quickly and poured himself some more. Why had he let himself feel anything for that lady cop? It was a mistake. He should have known that from the first time Douglas suggested going to the club. He didn’t need anyone. Life was much easier that way.

  He’d taken the bottle with him to his quarters. He’d thought he’d have Alice in here. He was a fool.

  He’d spent the night huddled in the trenches dodging bombs and woken in the morning to a raging headache, a sore hip, where he’d been lying on the bottle, and someone pounding on his door.

  He’d stumbled out of his berth and opened the door to see his brother standing there.

  “I was hoping to find you here. Mother is beside herself.”

  “I’m thirty years old. I don’t have a curfew.”

  “No, but you do have a mother who worries when you don’t come home at night.” Douglas peered past him into the small room. “I’m surprised to find you alone, though. I thought you’d have the lovely Miss Alice with you.”

  “The lovely Miss Alice wants nothing to do with me. And the feeling is mutual.” He wished his head would stop pounding.

  “You had to go and mess that up, did you?” Douglas scolded. “She was perfect for you. Why couldn’t you see that?”

  “I’m not perfect for her.” He clutched the door frame. “And keep your voice down, will you? There’s no need to shout.”

  “I’m not shouting.” Douglas grinned. “But you’re hung over.” Douglas grabbed his arm, but Hank shook him off. “Come on.” He lowered his voice to a more soothing tone. “Let’s get you home to some breakfast and coffee.”

  Hank let himself be led out to Doug’s car and driven home. His mother came out of the drawing room and shook her head and sighed. “There’s breakfast in the dining room.”

  Several cups of coffee and a few eggs later, Hank was beginning to feel human again. And then he went to the funeral and he felt worse than ever.

  In the afternoon he borrowed Doug’s car to get word to all his crew that they would be leaving at high tide on Friday.

  “I can’t,” Swede said. “My kid is turning three on Friday. I promised my wife I’d take them all down the shore for the day.”

  He didn’t want to wait. He wanted to get out on the water. “You good with cash if we go without you?”

  “No worries,” Swede answered. “I wouldn’t mind a small vacation.”

  If he stopped rum running, his men would have worries, but for now it was nice they didn’t.

  There were always men looking for a crewing gig hanging around the fishery, so he knew he would have a full crew.

  The rest of his crew was available, and he went to the market to stock the larder for what they would need for two weeks at sea. He placed his order with the butcher for fifty pounds of ground meat and another fifty pounds of a variety of steaks and chops, to be delivered to the Mary B. He called Cooper’s Dairy and ordered thirty gallons of milk. He filled the water jugs they kept on board so that each man would have plenty to drink. He ordered coffee and beans and rice and potatoes and forty tons of ice. He had the provisioning of the boat down to a science.

  Next stop was to the office to talk to his father.

  “I hear you are short a man,” Father said, shuffling some papers on his desk.

  “I’ll get someone.” That was really the least of his concerns these days.

  “Take Douglas.”

  Across the room, at his own desk, Douglas’s head shot up.

  “He’s not an experienced crewman.” Hank protested.

  “I want to set him up as captain of the Katinka. He’s got to get practice somewhere. Why not with you?”

  Why not? Because he didn’t want his little brother to know about his side business. That was why not. Not that he could exactly tell that to his father.

  “Mother will be lonely if we are both gone,” Hank said, knowing the protest was lame.

  “Your mother has me.” His father winked. “You don’t have to worry about her being lonely.”

  Douglas was up now, striding across the office. “I told you, Father, I don’t want to captain the Katinka. I’m happy working in the office.”

  “I put in my time as a fisherman before I started worrying about the paperwork side of it. If you want to take over for me, you need to put in your time as well.” Father looked over his glasses at him. He was not going to be put off.

  Douglas wasn’t ready to give up, though. “I’ve got a date with Marty this weekend. Maybe I can go out on the Mary B another time.”

  Father’s brows came together in a frown. “Hank is short a man now. Marty is going to have to learn that you won’t be available every day. Understood?”

  Douglas paled slightly, then stood taller and swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

  “Understood.”

  “It’s settled then,” Father said. “It will be good for the two of you to work together.” With that, Father walked back out of the office.

  Douglas snarled, “What am I supposed to tell Marty? She’s expecting me to take her out.”

  “Tell her you’ll see her in two weeks. It’s not that big a deal.” Hank picked up an anchor-shaped paperweight from the desk and turned it around his hands. “We leave at dawn day after tomorrow. Get your stuff on board tomorrow. It will be easier that way.” He put the paperweight down and left his brother alone.

  Whether Douglas ever skippered his own ship or not, it would be good for him to have a working knowledge of what went into it. Also, it would be nice to work with his brother. The only problem was the whole rum row thing. Douglas was going to find out about that side of the business too, and Hank would have greatly preferred to keep it from him.

  He could simply skip rum row, as he had originally planned. The problem then was keeping his loved ones safe when Jiggy found out. He rubbed his temples as a headache threatened to take over. Fishing, and even smuggling, used to be so simple. What had happened?

  The next day, Smitty came on board and together they went through the checklist of maintenance issues to make sure everything was seaworthy.

  By late afternoon he found himself alone once again, waiting for his deliveries. It was a sparkling clear spring day, as if the rain the night before had scrubbed the skies. He sat on the working deck, his feet up, his face tilted skyward, enjoying the afternoon sun and a few minutes to do nothing but relax.

  The problem with relaxing was it gave him time to think. And now that all the work had been done, his thoughts turned to Alice. He didn’t want to think about Alice. He wanted to forget her. But he kept seeing her bright, alert eyes, and the way her hair swung by her face and the smooth assurance she had when she walked. He liked that she was so helpful to the Nagy family, people she didn’t even know. He liked how she had struck right in to help find Sari. He liked the way they had moved together when they danced and how she had tasted when they kissed.

  From the road behind him came the sputtering of an engine and the whirr of tires on gravel.
He opened his eyes and stood to see which of his deliveries had arrived. But he was faced not with a truck but a long low Cadillac. His heart jumped when Vince Salerno, in a dapper pinstriped suit, stepped out.

  “I’m not even provisioned yet,” Hank called to him. “I’ve got nothing for you to steal.”

  Salerno put his hand to his heart as if the words had wounded him. “I’m afraid you misapprehend me. I’m not a thief,” he said as he boarded the Mary B with no more than a by-your-leave. “I’m here to make a deal with you.”

  “Not interested.” He folded his arms and glared at Salerno. He was not intimidated by this man, though he was wary.

  “You don’t even know what it is yet.” Salerno didn’t drop his avuncular persona.

  “Still not interested.”

  Salerno walked around the deck, stepping carefully over lines and nets. “I think you will be when you hear what it is.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “I want you to sell your next shipment to me.”

  “Didn’t know you needed a load of scallops,” Hank responded.

  “You know full well what I mean.” The jovial persona was starting to slip a bit.

  “I’m a fisherman. I sell scallops. It’s what I do. If you are not interested in buying scallops, I suggest you move along. I’ve got work to do.”

  “Listen, Hank, and listen carefully. I know you sell to Jiggy, and I know what you sell to Jiggy. He’s got a stranglehold on the business right now, but there is no reason he should. I can do better for you.” He paused to let that sink in. “And I’m a safer business partner.”

  Hank stared out into sparkling diamonds rippling on the water. He couldn’t argue that Jiggy was a dangerous business partner; the problem was that stopping doing business with him was even more dangerous. He couldn’t risk it. Not unless he knew there was a way to keep his family—and Alice—safe.

  For now, as intriguing as this possibility was, he’d have to let it go. Jiggy had too much of a hold on him.

  “I’d be happy to sell you as many scallops as you need,” Hank said with finality.

  Salerno nodded. “So that’s how it’s going to be, is it? You’ll regret it.”

  “Possibly,” he answered. “I have lots of regrets in my life. What’s one more?” If Jiggy hadn’t threatened his family—and Alice—he would have seriously considered Salerno’s offer, but while he was willing to take risks for himself, he wasn’t willing to risk others.

  Salerno started to head back over the gangway.

  “By the way,” Hank called after him, “why did you have someone sneak aboard the Mary B the other night?”

  Salerno froze mid-step but waited a beat too long before turning around. A beat that Hank was sure he used to compose his expression.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Luckily, I scared him off before he could steal anything, but I’m seriously thinking about filing a criminal trespass complaint against George Evans. You wouldn’t want that to come back and bite you. Rein in your goons.”

  “I’m not the one with goons around here,” Salerno answered and stepped off the boat.

  He watched as Salerno drove off in his fancy convertible. He couldn’t settle his mind down. Would he be sorry he had not reached an agreement? Was he a pirate, like rumor had it? If so, why would he offer to buy the shipment? Wouldn’t he just steal it?

  The thing was, he had no intention of having his shipment stolen. He had stockpiled enough rifles to arm the whole crew if it came to that. He was not going to be a passive victim of pirates. He had survived in the trenches against the German guns. He could survive Vince Salerno. The key was being prepared. Tomas had apparently been taken off guard. That would not happen to him.

  What he didn’t like was that Salerno had clearly pegged him as a target. He’d have to make sure some of the crew was always standing guard once they left rum row. He wasn’t taking chances with either his shipment or the lives of his men.

  Douglas arrived, with Marty in tow, laughing together as they stepped out of the car.

  “Can I give Marty a tour of the Mary B? Last time I tried I couldn’t bring her very far because you had just painted the steps.” He looked so young and eager that it was impossible to say no.

  “Of course.”

  They stepped on board.

  “This is the working deck,” Douglas said with an air of proprietary pride. “Those nets get dragged through the water and hauled up using the hoists. Then the scallops are dumped on the deck here and shelled.” Douglas led her away, narrating as he went.

  The sight of Marty had brought Alice back into his mind. He didn’t want to think about her. She complicated his life, and he wanted to be done with her. But yet, unlike other women he had danced with when he was on shore, there was something about Alice that intrigued him, that made him want to know more, that made him want to spend time with her. But it was impossible and a ridiculous idea. She’d made that very clear the other night. He had to forget her. Once they were out at sea, he’d be able to do that. He could hardly wait for the morning’s high tide to arrive, so they could cast off.

  Douglas and Marty came back to the working deck. “Did you have a fight with my sister?” Marty asked.

  “Not intentionally,” Hank said, putting his book aside.

  “She was pretty upset with you.”

  “She apparently doesn’t like it when people are protective of her.”

  Marty grimaced.

  “No, she doesn’t like that at all.” She paused, as if thinking that over. “Actually, I suspect she would really like someone to be protective of her, but she doesn’t want to admit that she could possibly be protected, if you know what I mean.”

  Strangely, he thought he did.

  “You should try again with her,” Marty said, in her clear, cheerful, optimistic voice. “I think after two weeks she’ll have cooled down and be ready to forgive you.”

  Hank shook his head. “I’m not good for her. She knows that. I know that.”

  “I think you’re wrong,” Marty said with a backward glance as Douglas led her off the boat.

  He wasn’t wrong. He only wished he was.

  The dairy truck pulled up then, followed closely by the butcher and the ice truck, and Hank had to put all his energy into getting the ship stocked.

  He went home for one last home-cooked meal and to collect his personal belongings before heading back to the Mary B. He’d spend the night on her, because he didn’t like to leave her unoccupied when she was stocked full of everything they would need for the next two weeks.

  His mother pressed a box of homemade cookies on him before he left the house. “So you don’t forget us while you are gone,” she said and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “I never forget you,” he assured her, patting her awkwardly on the back.

  “I wish you could find peace with your demons,” she said into his ear. He hadn’t realized she’d known about his demons.

  “They stay away when I’m at sea,” he answered.

  “I know.” With one final squeeze she let him go. “Have a safe journey and take care of Douglas.”

  “I will.”

  Back on the Mary B, he got the captain’s quarters in order and settled down on deck with a book. Usually when he was anticipating a fishing run, he had no hesitations at all. This time there were too many things pulling at him: Jiggy and Salerno’s threats, a reluctant Douglas, and Alice. Always it came back to Alice.

  He hoped that once he was at sea, the problems that had accumulated on land would all wash away like they usually did.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Thursday evening, after dinner, Alice and Marty headed back to the Nagy house. Marty had once again agreed to watch the children while Alice gave Irene a typing lesson. Alice was surprised to see the typewriter set up on the kitchen table when she got there, a piece of paper already inserted and half-filled with letters.

  There were rows of
fs and ds. Clearly Irene had started out with the book. After a few orderly rows, there was a row of random letters and symbols and it seemed that perhaps Sari had taken over. After that there was, in all capital letters “ERNST IS A GOFFBAL” which Alice suspected was supposed to say “goofball” and had been typed by his brother.

  “I get started,” Irene said proudly. “I want to learn.” She looked at the addition to her paper and blushed. “The children…they help.”

  “You’re off to a good start.”

  The children appeared as if from nowhere. The boys clearly remembered their time with Marty because the first thing they asked was if they could play cards again.

  “Not this time. We need to let your Mama have quiet, so she can learn to type.”

  “She learned already!” Sari tugged at Marty’s dress and pointed to the paper in the typewriter. “We helped.”

  “Well, she needs to be able to do it without your help.”

  Alice loved the way Marty was able to handle children. She would make a fantastic mother someday.

  “Have you all finished your homework?” Marty asked.

  When they promised they had, and Irene agreed, Marty took the three of them out for ice cream.

  Once in the quiet of the house, Alice sat beside Irene at the table and with a fresh piece of paper walked her through the first few typing lessons.

  “You really don’t need me,” she said when they had gotten through nearly half the book. “You’re quite good. You just need to practice so you can do it without looking.”

  Irene seemed skeptical. “I can’t look?”

  “You can, but it goes faster if you don’t have to.”

  “When can I get the job?”

  Alice appreciated her eagerness but didn’t want her to ruin her chances by not being ready.

  “I’d say practice for a week and then come into the station to meet with Chief Murphy.”

  Irene nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. “You have been so kind. I thank you. Much.”

  The front door swung open and the children burst through followed by Marty. Alice wasn’t in the least surprised to see Douglas with her.