The Rum Runner Read online

  “That’s all you ever do,” Marty whined. “But that’s not what you are doing tonight. Tonight, we are going to the club.”

  “No, we’re not.” She headed to her bedroom, but Marty simply followed her and started going through her closet.

  “Yes. Trudy and Mark invited us. They’ll pick us up in half an hour. That isn’t much time to get ready.” Marty took two dresses out of the closet and studied them, then put them back.

  “Mark did not have anything to do with this,” Alice said, arms crossed. “He would have mentioned it when we walked home from work.”

  “Okay, so it was my idea, but Trudy agreed. She says they never get a break from the children and she wants a night out. She convinced Mama to babysit her littles.” Marty pulled another dress from the closet, an elegant shift dress of pink silk with delicate bead work all along the skirt. “You don’t wear this dress nearly enough. It’s gorgeous on you. You must wear it tonight.”

  “Wait.” She took the dress from Marty, but she was still sorting through what she’d told her. “Mama agreed to babysit for the Piccolos’ children? That means she knew about this when she drew my bath. You are all so sneaky.”

  “It will be so fun.” Marty flashed her that irrepressible smile. “Besides, there’s this man I’ve been flirting with at Christensen’s and I told him I’d be there. I don’t want to disappoint him. And I certainly don’t want to be the third wheel with Trudy and Mark. You simply have to come.”

  Alice fingered the dress. It would be nice to get dressed up and go out. Marty was right, she didn’t do that very often, and there was no reason she shouldn’t have some fun. It might be a nice way to get her mind off what had happened today. Her mother was always saying she was too old too soon, not letting herself enjoy her girlhood. She was twenty-seven, well out of girlhood as far as she was concerned, but perhaps too young to put herself out to pasture yet.

  “Half an hour you say?” There was no chance to set her hair; at least the bob held its shape fairly well. She’d have time to get dressed and do up her face; that was about it.

  “Yes, and I need to go get dressed.” Marty started to leave the room and then came back in and gave her an impulsive hug. “Thank you! We’ll have fun!” Then she was gone leaving behind her trademark scent of Chanel.

  Alice spread the dress out on her chenille bedspread and pulled on a fresh pair of stockings, making sure the seams up the backs of her legs were straight. Then she put on a slip and sat at the dressing table to apply a bit of rouge. Not too much, wouldn’t want people getting the wrong idea. Just enough so it looked like she’d been active and energetic all day, not sitting behind a desk in a gloomy office. A little blue shadow on her eyes to make her appear ever so slightly more exotic than she was, and a touch of red on her lips. Then she used her diffuser to spray on a bit of perfume. Like her sister, when she went out, she favored Chanel.

  She slipped on the dress and enjoyed the way the skirt swished against her legs. She studied herself in the mirror. Not bad. She actually cleaned up nicely when she wanted to. And lucky for her, the current styles really favored the tall angular woman. She was made for this era, though Marty was much more a flapper than she’d ever be.

  She pulled her black pumps out of her closet. Her dancing shoes. Maybe she’d get a chance to dance tonight. To her surprise she was looking forward to going out.

  A commotion of children’s voices and running feet from downstairs indicated that the Piccolos had arrived. Alice hurried down the steps to meet her best friend. She and Trudy were almost closer than sisters and had been ever since they both stepped foot in the sturdy brick building in the middle of School Street to start their education all those years ago. Trudy, short and round, couldn’t pull off the popular flapper look as well as some other people, but it didn’t matter. Her cheerful smile made her look good in whatever she wore.

  “You are a vision!” Trudy extended her hands to Alice and they air-kissed.

  “Is this the buttoned-up woman I saw at the office all day?” Mark gave her a wink.

  He cleaned up nicely too, looking quite dapper in his tuxedo, complete with white tie and tails.

  Trudy turned her attention to their three children, who were still dashing about the house like miniature whirlwinds. “Now Paul, Dotty, Jack, I want you to behave yourself for Mama Grady. You understand?”

  “Yes, Mama. We’ll be good,” six-year-old Paul answered.

  Alice’s heart squeezed a little as she thought of the three little Nagy children, now without a father. Life could be so unfair.

  With hugs all around they finally managed to get out the door. Mark’s Model T was parked out front on Green Street, and he opened the door and guided the sisters into the back seat. Then he helped Trudy to the front passenger seat before he gave the engine a crank, and they were on their way.

  It was not a long trip over the Causeway and into Sewaren where the Land and Water Club was. Alice had walked the mile or so plenty of times, but it was nice to travel in style in Mark’s car. Maybe someday she’d get a car of her own. She had some money saved up. She could drive her mother and sister into Perth Amboy for shopping or even into Newark. More convenient than taking the train or bus. She could get Mark to teach her to drive. It would be fun.

  They got out of the car at the Land and Water Club. The low rambling building on the water didn’t look like much from the outside. It mainly functioned as a club house during yacht races, but their dances were considered local high society.

  There was a fresh breeze blowing in off the Arthur Kill and Alice pulled her wrap a little tighter around her shoulders. Spring was such an iffy time for weather. Not that she preferred the cold and snow of winter or the sweltering humidity of summer.

  Inside they checked their wraps and were led to a table by the maitre d’. An orchestra was already playing light dinner music.

  The special for the evening was fresh scallops, and once again she thought of poor Tomas Nagy unloading his boat at the fishery and then being gunned down for reasons unknown. It almost made her not want the scallops. But what good that would do anyone, she didn’t know. Besides it was a Friday, and as a Catholic, steak was not an option. There of course was no wine, but the club did offer a variety of sparkling fruit juices to make up for it.

  Marty, sitting next to her at the table, was swiveling her head this way and that, even as their meal was set in front of them.

  “Who on earth are you looking for?” Trudy finally asked, unable to keep a hint of laughter out of her voice.

  “She met a man at Christensen’s,” Alice said with an indulgent smile toward her little sister. “She’s hoping he’ll be here.”

  “Oh, he’ll be here.” Marty picked up her knife and fork. “I’m sure of it.”

  “Well, eat your food.” Alice stepped into big-sister mode. “That way you’ll be all ready to dance when he shows up.”

  A few minutes later, Marty exclaimed, “Oh! There he is! I knew he’d come.” And with that she studiously set to work on her food, not paying any attention at all to the man who had just entered the room.

  Alice looked up to see who had Marty in such a tizzy. Two men were standing by the door. They were of similar build and coloring, possibly brothers, and they both looked smashing in white tie. She could understand why the man had turned Marty’s head. She wouldn’t mind spending an evening with either one of them.

  “Which one?” Trudy whispered across the table.

  Marty gave a quick glance and said, “The one on the right.”

  He was slim and handsome and had a pleasant open face. The other, a bit older, looked slightly more glowering. Alice stared. She knew him. The one on the left. It was Hank. The man who had come to the Nagys’ house while she was there. Well, she really didn’t want to get involved in a conversation with him. Especially not here, where she had come to relax and get her mind off her day. She turned her attention back to her food.

  “Who is that he’s with?”
Trudy asked.

  “I have no idea,” Marty said, still not looking up, as if she didn’t want to catch the man’s eyes. Alice couldn’t figure her out. She spent all that time looking for him, but when he got here, she pretended not to notice.

  The dishes were cleared away, and the music jumped up a notch to more danceable tunes. Mark stood up and held his hand out to his wife. “You dragged me out here, so we might as well dance.” His words weren’t terribly gracious, but there was a glimmer in his eye and Trudy took his hand and they joined other couples on the dance floor.

  A waiter came around with coffee and Alice gratefully accepted some. She was eager to dance, and a quick look around the room showed several likely partners. There was Mark, of course, who could always be counted on to give her a turn, and at the next table over, Dexter Smith was deep in conversation with Elliot Walton. Both of them were old classmates, who, once they realized dance music was playing, were sure to ask her. In the meantime, she was content to sit and watch.

  Next to her, Marty was tapping her feet in time to the music, her whole body nearly taut with tension as she waited for her man to notice her and ask her to dance. She looked everywhere but in the direction of the table where the two men sat. Alice surreptitiously glanced over from time to time. She saw the man notice them, put down his napkin and stand up.

  “I think he’s coming,” she whispered to Marty.

  Marty’s eyes flashed, and a grin flitted across her face. “Hush. Don’t let them know we were watching.”

  Marty would make a good spy. Alice would have sworn she’d never glanced in the direction of the two men once.

  Would Hank come to the table with his friend? What would she say to him if he did? Should she bring up Nagy first, or wait until he did? She wouldn’t mind engaging in simple small talk about the weather, but it would seem odd to ignore the obvious elephant in the room.

  But when she looked up, it was only one man standing by their table, Marty’s man. Hank was still seated, staring into his cup of coffee. She felt a little jolt of regret but then reminded herself that she didn’t particularly want to talk to him anyway.

  The man in front of them bowed graciously. “Miss Grady, is it not? Douglas Chapman at your service. I believe we’ve encountered each other once or twice around town.”

  Alice wondered how long the two of them had been building up their flirtatious relationship.

  Marty for her part, was playing it coy.

  “Oh, yes! I do recall. How lovely to see you here tonight. The orchestra is simply divine, don’t you agree?”

  “Quite.” He held one hand out to her. “Would you care to dance?”

  Marty didn’t even bother to say yes. In a flash she was out of her seat and the two were on the dance floor. They looked good together. Almost like a high society couple. She could picture their likeness in the society pages, that is if anyone from the society pages ever bothered to come to the Land and Water Club to take pictures, which they didn’t. You’d have to go to Newark for that.

  Alice nursed her cup of coffee, accepting a refill when the waiter came around, enjoying the music and the atmosphere and not really minding that she wasn’t home in her dressing gown, curled up on the sofa, reading.

  She glanced back at the table where Marty’s Douglas had been eating. The man she knew as Hank still sat there, watching her. Heat flooded to her cheeks, and she concentrated on the dance floor once again, trying to maintain an attitude of complete nonchalance. She was as bad as Marty, playing coy, except she really didn’t care if he came over to her table or not.

  When, moments later, he was standing beside her, her heart gave a little pitter-pat. Maybe she wasn’t quite as nonchalant about this as she wanted to be.

  “I’m afraid we’ve not been introduced,” the man said, his manner impeccable. Could he really have been the gruff fisherman she had seen earlier? She was usually pretty good at recognizing people, but she could be wrong. It happened. “I’m Henry Chapman.” He bowed formally.

  “Alice Grady.”

  “I believe my brother has absconded with your companion for the evening.”

  “My sister.” She waved to a chair, inviting him to sit. He did.

  “I know you.” His eyes lit up with confused recognition, and she knew he was unable to place her.

  She grinned despite herself. She had been right.

  “I believe we met this afternoon at the Nagys’ house.”

  His face cleared as he remembered. “Yes. Of course. You look different, dressed.”

  He had the decency to blush as he realized what he had said.

  “So do you.” She raised her coffee cup in a mock toast.

  “Touché.” He held up Marty’s empty cup to return the salute.

  “The children called you Uncle Hank.” He’d introduced himself as Henry, and maybe that name fit the tuxedo-wearing man in front of her, but Hank was definitely a more appropriate moniker for the fisherman she saw this afternoon. Who was he really? Society man or fisherman? If she had to guess, based on the way he tugged at his collar, she’d say fisherman.

  “An honorary title only.” A shadow crossed his face and his eyes glistened. She watched as he squared his jaw and took a steadying breath. “Damn shame about Tomas.” The tip of his ears turned pink and he added quickly, “Pardon my language, ma’am.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. Suddenly even the pink dress felt dowdy. “Ma’am? You make me feel old enough to be your mother.”

  “My apologies,” he muttered, dropping his gaze.

  “Besides, I’m a police officer. I’ve heard far worse.”

  He looked at her again and she liked the warmth she saw in his eyes.

  “I suppose that’s true, but I’ve just spent two weeks on my boat with nothing but men. I may be a little rough around the edges tonight.”

  “I won’t be offended,” she promised him. “And it is a damn shame about Mr. Nagy. Those poor children. I can’t get them out of my mind.”

  “She might go back to her family in Hungary.” Hank tapped his fingers on the white tablecloth. “But I don’t know if she could scrape together the fare. She’d be better off staying here, if you ask me.”

  “I was thinking about seeing if the department would hire her as a typist. Do you know if she types?”

  “I have no idea, but I’m sure she could learn.” He fiddled with a butter knife on the table, as if not sure what else to do with his hands. “That would be very kind of you.”

  She didn’t say anything; the conversation felt impossibly awkward. Maybe she should excuse herself and get up to go to the powder room, give him an easy out.

  He tugged once again at his collar as if it were too tight as one song ended and another, a Charleston, began.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  Her smile as she answered was completely genuine. “I’d love to.”

  Chapter Six

  He wasn’t even sure why he’d asked her to dance. He hadn’t been planning on it. He’d been quite content to sit and listen to the music. Let Douglas dance and flirt. But something about that young lady, sitting at the table by herself, kept drawing his eye. She was tall and lean, with glossy hair and a fresh face, and she kept tapping her feet to the music, as if maybe she’d like to dance, if someone would bother to ask her.

  And then he found himself walking to the table and introducing himself. He certainly wouldn’t have gone up to her if he’d known she was the fuzz. But yet instead of going away he asked her to dance. So here he was, dead tired and unfortunately sober, dancing the Charleston with a lady cop. Who would have thought?

  He had been right about her being tall. She could nearly look him in the eye. And she was angular. But it worked for her. He’d always thought he rather preferred curvy girls, but maybe he hadn’t really given the matter enough thought. The current fashions certainly worked on her. She had a body made for the straight slim dresses women were wearing these days. And she was a surprisingly good dancer. W
hen he had seen her at Nagy’s house, he’d taken her for an uptight, dried-up specimen of a woman. From her stiff attitude in her starched uniform he never would have expected this graceful, fun-loving individual. Maybe he was reading too much into it. One really couldn’t do the Charleston properly and not appear to be having fun. But then, someone who was averse to fun would probably not have agreed to dance the Charleston with him.

  The dance ended, and the orchestra segued into a foxtrot, and neither of them made any move to return to their seats. They danced the foxtrot and a tango and finally a waltz, never speaking, just enjoying the music and the activity. That’s all it was, on his side anyway. He had no intention of getting romantically involved, even short term, with anyone. He was damaged goods. He didn’t need to hurt someone else. But a night of dancing, there was no harm in that.

  Finally, the orchestra announced they were taking a break and that dessert would be served momentarily. “Shall we?” Hank asked, putting his hand loosely on her elbow to guide her. It was the first thing he’d said to her since asking her to dance.

  He had every intention of returning her to her table, but his brother had absconded with her seat, and gave him a glance which Hank interpreted to mean, “Take her someplace else, I’m making progress.”

  “Perhaps my table, if you don’t mind having dessert with me instead of your friends.”

  “That’s fine,” Alice answered. “He’s your brother you say? I think Marty is rather falling for him.”

  “Marty?” He held out the chair for her and she seated herself.

  “Martha.” She glanced over at her former table. “I must say, I’ll be glad when she finally settles down. It will be a load off my mind, and my mother’s.”

  “No father?” It was a terribly forward question, and he wasn’t even sure why he asked it. Had he been at a speakeasy and drinking smuggled booze then there would have been an excuse. Can you get drunk dancing?

  “He passed away a number of years ago. That’s why I work for the police department. His fellow officers felt sorry for us and wanted to help us out.”