The Rum Runner Page 20

  He came back out of the cabin with two drinks. She took a first, careful sip, but it tasted only like fruit punch. If he had added anything it was tasteless. She took a bigger sip.

  “This hits the spot.” She wasn’t just being polite. The afternoon had been warm, and she hadn’t stopped for refreshment. He sat down across from her and stretched his arm across the polished wood on the side of the boat. “Do you go out often? On your boat?”

  “As often as I can.” He looked dreamily out to the open sea. “Nothing quite like being out on the water.”

  “I suppose your day job gets in the way,” she said, trying to be coy and conversational.

  “Not too much. I’m not exactly a desk jockey, tied to an office. I can come and go as I please.”

  “A man of leisure.” She tried to sound approving instead of censorious.

  “Indeed.” He looked quite proud of that designation. She would almost say he preened, the way he brushed his fingers alongside his lapel.

  “If you like, I can take you out for your first boat ride. How about tomorrow? Say ten? We can have a picnic on the high seas.”

  She laughed. “So very tempting. But my father taught me to have a little more sense than to go out on the ocean with a man I just met.”

  “Smart man, your daddy, and he raised a smart daughter.”

  “Is this your only boat?” She had to approach questions carefully. After all, he hadn’t introduced himself with his full name, so it would be awkward to say she knew anything about him.

  “Oh yes. It’s all I need.”

  She frowned. How was George Evans working for him as a fisherman if he didn’t own a fishing boat?

  Was she wrong about who this was? She’d only seen the man once, after all; perhaps it wasn’t him. There was only one way to find out. It was time for a little judicious flirting.

  “So, Sal…that’s short for Salvatore?”

  “No, no. Just a nickname. Name’s Vince. Vince Salerno.” He held out his hand in the manner of a formal introduction and she really had no choice but to give her full name as well.

  “Alice Grady,” she said as she shook his hand.

  “Sean’s daughter.”

  Why was she surprised he knew her father? Everyone else seemed to.

  “Yes. You knew him?”

  “Never met him, but I have all his case notes.”

  She put down her drink as the gears in her mind tried to process this new information. And if this were true, he didn’t have all the notes. He didn’t have the little notebook. But maybe those notes were transferred to something else. And maybe he was lying. Her gut wasn’t giving her any clues.

  “Rum runners.” She leaned forward, elbows on knees. Her suspicions were being confirmed, she needed to find out more.

  “That’s right. He was on the trail of the local boss but got killed before he could bring him down.”

  So it hadn’t been an arrest gone wrong. That’s what that notebook had proved.

  “Jiggy Malone,” Alice found herself saying.

  Sal nodded. “He’s a hard man to track down. Even harder to pin anything on.”

  “He says you’re responsible for Tomas Nagy’s death.”

  Sal’s head shot up, his eyebrows raised. “All I did was buy Tomas’s shipment.”

  “Why?” Alice took another sip of her juice, rather wishing it had been spiked with something.

  Sal sighed and stood up, pacing back and forth on the small deck before answering. “To get the alcohol out of the system. If we buy it, it doesn’t get distributed to the sellers. Keeps it out of the hands of the people.”

  That was one way to deal with the problem of illegal booze.

  “Isn’t it easier to just confiscate it?”

  “Sure.” He sat back down opposite her and leaned his elbows on his knees. “We confiscate one shipment and that guy warns all his buddies about us and we’re out of business.”

  It made a certain amount of sense. Except it didn’t answer all her questions.

  “What about George Evans? He says he works for you as a fisherman.”

  Caught in a lie about having only the one boat, Sal rubbed his hand through his hair before continuing. “Ah. Yes. Easier to get into the inner workings of the ring if I’ve got people on the inside, so we leased a boat.”

  It was a much bigger operation than she would have imagined.

  “Are you working with the department on this?” She’d feel like quite a fool for thinking he was some criminal when all the time he was working with Mark and the others.

  Sal shook his head. “The police department? No. They don’t know about me. This is a federal thing. Can’t let the locals know or they’ll blow my cover.”

  “But yet you told me.”

  “Out of respect for your father. Besides, if I didn’t fill you in, you’d end up having me arrested. That wouldn’t work, now would it?”

  Alice picked up her glass. If he were telling her the truth, he’d be a wonderful ally in trying to stop Jiggy and his whole network, but if he weren’t telling the truth…then what?

  “How did you get his notes?”

  “The department handed them over to the feds years ago.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather wallet. He opened it so she could see the federal badge there.

  “I’m on your side.”

  Her father was killed because of the rum running. Tomas Nagy was killed because of the rum running. Hank was involved in rum running. She didn’t want to see him killed. She wanted to stop it. To stop all of it, and here was someone who was trying to do just that. She breathed a sigh of relief. It felt so good to have allies. “What can I do to help?”

  He shook his head.

  “Nothing. Just stay out of my way and let me work.”

  “You think because I’m a woman—”

  He held up his hand to interrupt her. “It has nothing to do with you being a woman. It’s because you’re involved with Hank Chapman. You wouldn’t be able to be impartial.”

  She wanted to say she wasn’t involved with him any longer, but she supposed it was true that she wouldn’t be able to be impartial with something regarding Hank.

  “Why? What do you have planned?”

  “We’re trying to buy his next shipment, that’s all. Nothing sinister.”

  “Except if he does business with you, Jiggy will have him killed, like Tomas?” It was a shot in the dark, but it was where things logically led.

  “That would be unfortunate.”

  “Unfortunate?” She jumped up from the seat, but there really wasn’t any place to go. “You can’t just play with people’s lives like that. Not even for the greater good!” Hank was not just some incidental point on the way to a larger goal. It would be much more than unfortunate. It would be tragic. It would be unimaginable. Unfortunate didn’t even begin to describe it.

  Sal stood too and reached out his hand to placate her. “Of course, we’ll do our best to make sure nothing happens to him. What happened with Nagy…That never should have happened. I’m doing everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself, not really caring about Sal’s attempt to assure her. She really did care about Hank. Who cared if he was a rum runner? Who cared if he was overprotective of her? She wanted to protect him, so they were even in that regard.

  Steady footsteps sounded on the wooden dock, approaching the boat. Alice looked up to see George Evans. He looked as surprised to see her as she was to see him. He stopped short, and although it looked like he’d been about to say something, he kept silent.

  Sal turned to face him. “Well, man, what is it?”

  Evans shifted his eyes back and forth.

  “You can speak in front of Miss Grady.”

  “She’s a lady cop.”

  “I’m aware,” Sal answered.

  “It’s Jiggy. He’s going after the Mary B. He says he’s got to protect his investment.”

&nb
sp; Sal turned to Alice. “You armed?”

  Her service revolver was in a shoulder holster under her jacket. Even off duty, she hadn’t wanted to go into the lion’s den unprotected.

  “I am,” she admitted, bracing for whatever was going to come next.

  “Good. Get in, Evans.” Sal turned back to Alice. “Looks like you’re going to get your first boat ride.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To stop Jiggy, and rescue Chapman.”

  Yes. That was all right, then.

  “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Behind the wheel of the Mary B, Hank was more relaxed than he’d been in a week. There was only water in all directions, and he could breathe again. All the anxiety that had been building up inside of him over the past few days washed away. He was out on the water, where he belonged, where nothing could touch him, nothing could hurt him.

  From the working deck he could hear the purr of the motors and the grind of the winches as the dredges were lowered into the sea. He could feel the boat’s motors strain as they worked to pull the rapidly filling nets through the water. He slowed the boat to a crawl, letting the dredges hit bottom, to allow them to scoop up any scallops in the area.

  Douglas came onto the bridge.

  “Things under control?” Hank asked, glancing at his brother before bringing his attention back to the controls in front of him.

  “Seem to be. They lowered the dredge again. The last haul brought up an octopus. Ugly thing.”

  “They got it back overboard safely?”

  “There was some talk about keeping it for dinner, but that was vetoed.”

  “Good.” Hank didn’t mind keeping the lobsters or some of the other fish that got caught in his dredge net, but the octopus and starfish he preferred to return to the sea.

  Douglas shut the door to the bridge with a firm click. “Now,” he said. “Tell me about the false bottoms in the storage deck.”

  Hank sighed. He knew this moment would come. Anyone on the crew was going to be involved in the rum running one way or another. It could not be kept secret.

  “They are for my side business.”

  “So you are running rum.”

  There was no point in denying it anymore. “Yes.”

  “I knew it!” Douglas flashed him a triumphant grin. “This makes having to be out at sea worth it!” He leaned against the control panel and peppered Hank with questions. “How long have you been doing it? Do you make a lot of money at it? Is the Katinka outfitted the same way? What do I have to do to get started? Just head out to rum row? Is it like going to the market? Tell me everything!”

  Hank sighed and sank into his captain’s chair.

  “I don’t want you involved in it.”

  “Why?” Douglas crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at his brother.

  “It’s too dangerous.” Hank turned to look at the bright expanse of ocean in front of him. He hadn’t minded the dangers when it was just him, but to have his family and Alice threatened? That he didn’t go for. And if Douglas got involved, who would Jiggy threaten then? Marty? Where would it end?

  “You think you’re the only one who can handle danger? Just because you were in France? I’m not a baby anymore!”

  No, you’re a petulant, spoiled brat. He slammed his palm on the control panel. “Don’t talk about France.”

  “Why not? You never do. Maybe you should!”

  “You don’t want to hear about it.”

  Douglas came and stood by him, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder. “I do. And I think, more importantly, you need to talk about it.”

  He shrugged off his brother’s hand and got up, walking to the other side of the bridge before turning to glare at him. “What do you want to hear about? The rat-infested trenches? The body parts strewn about after a bombing? The look in the enemy’s eyes when he realizes the bullet from your gun is going to kill him? Which of those things do you want to hear about?”

  “Whatever you want to tell me,” Douglas said, though his face had paled, and his bravado was gone. “You’ve been trying to kill yourself, one way or another, ever since you got home from the war. I want my brother back again.”

  “The brother you remember died in the trenches of France. I’m who you’ve got, and you have to live with it.”

  “But you didn’t die.” Douglas looked so young and earnest Hank had to look away. He couldn’t stand the sadness on his brother’s face. “You came back. You were one of the lucky ones.”

  “Lucky?” The word exploded out of him. “No. The lucky ones were the ones who took a direct hit and never knew what hit them. I watched my friends get blown to pieces. I was not one of the lucky ones.”

  “Hank…Henry…” Douglas faltered, as if unsure how to proceed. “Don’t let the bombs kill you now. For your friends’ sake you need to let yourself live.”

  “Don’t lecture me. You weren’t there. You don’t know.”

  “I realize that,” Douglas admitted humbly. “I can’t know. But I want to help.”

  “You can’t.” Hank turned back to his controls, looking out at the bright expanse of the sea.

  “Let me take some of the danger.”

  “You don’t understand.” It was time to explain. “I want to stop. I told my buyer I was done, but he threatened me.” He cleared his throat. “More specifically, he threatened Mother, and you, and Alice.”

  Douglas crossed his arms and frowned. “What kind of threats?”

  “Death. To be blunt about it.”

  “And you think this guy can follow through?”

  “I think he ordered Nagy killed.”

  There was silence while Douglas absorbed that information. Hank waited him out. Waited for him to panic or insist he didn’t care and wanted to get involved in this stupid business anyway. Instead Douglas straightened up, put his hands on the control panel and said, “So what are we going to do about it?”

  “We?”

  “Of course, ‘we.’ You’re not in the trenches anymore, brother. You don’t have to go it alone.”

  A weight lifted off his heart. Maybe things would be okay.

  Smitty came up to take his turn at the wheel.

  “Got a good load. Feel like going down to help them sort?”

  “Yeah, actually.” Right now, he wanted the mind-numbing job of sorting the scallops from the other sea creatures that got caught in the dredge. He left Smitty in charge of the bridge, and he and Douglas went down to the working deck, where the crew was ankle deep in scallops, throwing back starfish and other incidental creatures caught in the netting. Ahab was struggling with a bass that was as long as his arm.

  “This will make a good dinner tonight, Captain, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely. Cook it up.”

  The scallops were scooped into buckets and brought into the shelling room, where Junior and Curly got to work opening them and discarding the shells. The shells were dumped back into the sea; the scallops were rinsed and bagged. Fifty pounds of scallops to a bag. Then the bags were put on ice in the storage area.

  “Everything happens so quickly,” Douglas commented as he watched the activity.

  “It does, and your extra pair of hands would make it go even faster,” Hank pointed out. “Go help Junior and Curly. A little scallop shelling will do you good.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” Douglas gave him a friendly salute.

  Maybe it wasn’t so bad having Douglas on board.

  ****

  Hours later, back up on the bridge with Douglas, he poured them both a dram of his hidden whiskey.

  “Guess I’ll have to give up my secret stash.” With a sigh he returned the bottle to its hiding place.

  “Why did you get involved in the first place?” his brother asked him.

  “I liked the thrill of it. The danger. It made me feel alive.”

  Douglas clapped a hand on his shoulder.

  “Maybe there’s another way to feel alive.�
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  Hank shifted to remove his brother’s hand from his shoulder. “There is no other way. Even this isn’t working anymore.”

  Another pause, long enough that Hank finally turned to face his brother.

  “Being with Marty makes me feel alive,” Douglas said, a faraway, wistful look in his eyes.

  “That’s nice for you,” Hank responded shortly and stared back out at the sea.

  “I had the impression the same thing happened when you were with Alice.”

  His shoulders tensed. Yes, he felt alive when he was with Alice, but it didn’t matter. She deserved better than him, and besides, she wasn’t speaking to him anymore.

  “No.” He boosted the power to the engine as he felt the boat slow with the increasingly full dredges. Soon they’d be winching them back up again and dumping their contents on the working deck. “Listen, I’m happy for you that you and Marty get along so well. I wish you many years of happiness. I’ll play the doting uncle when I’m on shore. But that’s not the life I want for myself. It’s not the life I get to have.”

  “Why not?” Douglas asked bluntly. “You deserve happiness as much as anyone else. If not Alice, then maybe someone else. Let yourself be happy.”

  “I do not deserve happiness,” Hank spit out the words. “You did not see what I did during the war. You did not do what I did. You don’t know. Just leave me alone.”

  Douglas moved to the other side of the bridge and sat down but didn’t leave.

  The thoughts Hank was always trying to push out of his mind refused to leave as well. He stared into the open space. He could breathe when he concentrated on the open space. But in his mind the walls of the trenches were closing in.

  He could see clearly the face of McGuire sitting next to him in the mud as shelling went on all around them and dirt and pebbles rained down on them. They were joking. Gallows humor, he supposed. They were being deliberately crude, something about he’d rather be buried in a woman than in a damn hole in the ground.

  It was the last thing McGuire said before the shell landed damn near on top of him. When Hank looked again, there was nothing left of his friend and the walls were collapsing around him. He was afraid he’d never see open sky again.

  He looked out at it now and breathed deeply.