He leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her face to the side.
“I’m sorry, Ernie. It’s too soon.”
His forehead creased, but he released her hand. “Of course. You’re tired.”
“Thank you again,” she said, retreating into the car.
“Goodnight, Adele.”
She smiled and waved at Ernie until he disappeared from sight, then she wrapped her arms around herself and sank into the leather seat, wishing she could stop trembling. The fireworks had really knocked her for a loop. A gift, he’d called them, like the necklace. The thought, however extravagant, had been sweet, hadn’t it? Just wasted on her.
As the car rolled onto the highway, the dwindling smoke from the fireworks gave way to a velvet sky, twinkling with stars. The peace helped her breathe normally once more. The music and colours and razzle-dazzle were like nothing she’d ever seen before. Exciting, like the fireworks should have been. He’d done all he could to ensure she enjoyed herself, and yet the sense of claustrophobia still squeezed her. She touched the diamond hanging from her neck, thinking about the way he had lookedat her, then how he’d shown her off to the others. What was she to him? Was he genuine in his interest, or was she just another pretty thing to add to his collection?
She reached behind her neck and unclasped the necklace, wondering why the weight of it around her neck made her so uncomfortable. She dropped the beautiful piece of jewellery into her bag and immediately felt better. More like herself. It just didn’t suit her. He wouldn’t be happy to hear it, but she didn’t want to keep his gift. Then she thought again about everything she had seen in him tonight, and it dawned on her that she wasn’t sure she wanted to keep him, either.
fifteenJERRY
Thirty feet beneath the ground, Jerry sank his shovel into the dirt floor and swept his forearm across his sweaty brow. It hadn’t taken Jerry and John long to fall into the rhythm of digging, nor for their hands to develop the familiar calluses that turned the skin of their palms and fingers to sandpaper. They’d made good progress over the past couple weeks, as evidenced by the twenty-foot tunnel they’d dug. From there, they had begun to dig a room.
As much as the brothers hated being back underground, at least it was less terrifying this time. No one was actively trying to kill them here, though they never went into the tunnel without a gun. The entrance through the barn was camouflaged beneath a cabinet when no one was in the underground space, but if anyone were to somehow discover it, the brothers had to be prepared to defend themselves. They were also slightly reassured by the general construction of the tunnel. Unlike the dicey, splintering wood they had been forced to use back in Europe to keep those tunnels solid, here they had strong posts of oak. Still, their safety wasn’t guaranteed, and Jerry couldn’t help but regard those overhead beams with trepidation. Regardless of the condition of the wood,they supported hundreds of tons of dirt, all of which loomed over the brothers’ heads.
But overall, it was easier work. They even had a wheelbarrow, so they shovelled the discarded dirt into it rather than filling hundreds of sacks, then dumping them in the field behind the barn.
John returned with the empty wheelbarrow now. “I heard Sammy McDonald was beaten pretty bad in that fight,” he said, picking up their conversation. “Walter says Sammy owed Willoughby money. He must have been in big trouble, turning to Willoughby.”
“I wouldn’t call it a fight,” Jerry muttered. He knew of Sammy only from a distance. Just a regular man with a wife and three kids and a tiny bootleg operation, but he’d been beaten to within an inch of his life on his way home last night. “Willoughby’s men held him down while he taught him a lesson. I’d put money on that.”
“Pretty rough lesson.”
“It’s more than rough, John. It’s a reminder to you and me. The violence is getting worse. Right now, it’s like we’re stuck in a tunnel with men who care even less about the law than we do. We gotta listen to the walls, or they’re all coming down.” He scratched his head. “I gotta tell you, the way things are building these days, I have a bad feeling we might not get out this time.”
Yesterday, they’d invited Tuck over to their place for supper. He’d looked tired but determined, and Jerry could see his frustration as he listed off all the cops, lawyers, and judges he knew were on the take. He kept shaking his head, naming men he’d worked with for a long time before this.Goodmen, he kept saying.
“Speaking of which.” John slid an envelope of cash across the table to Tuck. “We want you to have this.”
Tuck pushed it back, looking disappointed in John. “Don’t want it. That’s Willoughby’s way, not yours.”
“If Willoughby’s cops hear about you helping us…” John said.
He shook his head. “They won’t. Besides. Money won’t stop them if it comes to that.”
“You’ll have us at your back if anything happens,” Jerry assured him. “And this envelope will be ready for you if you change your mind.”
Tuck had left without the cash, and though Jerry admired him for his tough moral code, he was sure Tuck could use the money. A constable who might usually take home $600 a month could now earn ten times that, just for looking the other way.
“I’m hungry,” John said now. “Let’s go for lunch.”
“I don’t know. We have a lot to do here. We’re running low on time.”
“All this will still be here when we get back.”
Jerry set his shovel aside. “All right. But we’re coming back to do more later.”
The Chappell House was a brick hotel and tavern standing three storeys tall on Sandwich Street West. Mr. Howard, the manager, spotted the brothers coming in and gave them a wave.
“Here for lunch?”
“Please,” John said. “A couple of plates of ham, please.”
