Walter was getting wound up. “You fucking hand-hippers. You caused him to die!”
“Why should we believe you?” Dash said.
Atty jumped in. “Yeah, how do we know youse telling the truth?”
A look of disdain flashed across Walter’s face. “Why would I lie?”
“I don’t know,” Dash replied. “To trick us into doing something we don’t want to do.”
“Why would you think that?”
Dash leaned forward, his face inches away from Walter’s. “Why else are you here? You could’ve called the cops to shut us down. You could’ve alerted the Feds. You didn’t. Why? Because you want something, that’s why.”
Walter smiled that jack-o-lantern grin. “You are a very clever man, for a degenerate. This will come in handy.”
“I do not believe your brother is dead.”
“You want details?” Walter licked his dry, cracked lips. “I shall give you details. The cops when they came to visit Mother and I this morning said he was strangled in Central Park. Someone choked the life out of him and left him there like garbage. I had to go to Bellevue and identify his body. Do you want to know what he looked like?”
“No,” Dash said, meaning it.
Walter, however, wanted to maximize Dash’s horror. “The blood vessels in his eyes had burst. His cheeks were swollen. There was frothy blood in his mouth where he bit his tongue while he struggled. His nails were broken, and there were scratches at his neck where he clawed at the ligature around his neck—”
“That’s ENOUGH!”
Dash stepped away.
Walter’s bloody grin widened. “Have I convinced you I’m telling the truth?”
Now it was Dash’s turn to say, “You bastard.”
Karl could not be dead. No matter what Walter told him, Dash could not believe the words coming out of this foul man’s mouth. How the hell did Karl get to the Park? And why? Dash began pacing the floor on the other side of the shop.
Atty cleared his throat. “He was found in Central Park, you say?”
Walter nodded.
A trick gone bad.
A man entering the Park out of curiosity, then panicking when he realizes how much he enjoyed the illicit touch of another man. But if Karl was planning to run away, terrified of an unnamed threat, then why leave the safety of the Oyster House to go cruising in the Park? Libido makes many a man stupid, yet this seemed entirely out of character for the blushing, nervous kid.
Atty continued asking questions. “Was he robbed?”
“That’s what they said.”
“Money? Didn’t he have a wristwatch?”
“All gone. Nothing in his pockets.”
Odd. Robbers in this city didn’t choke their victims. Their weapons of choice were more efficient, guns and knives being their favorites.
“How did they know he was your brother?” Dash asked.
Walter’s eyes were full of disdain. “The robbers left his identification card. Apparently, no one in New York wants to be a German.”
Dash stopped pacing and returned to the changing area. “If what you say is true,” he said, “then your brother was a victim of rampant crime, not us.”
Atty crossed his arms over his chest. “Rampant crime thanks to you bluenoses. If youse just have left well enough alone, we wouldn’t have these mob bosses shooting up the city.”
Walter’s eyes burned bright. He stared down Atty. “I don’t believe you’re in a position to speak to me in this manner. As I see it, the police will be very interested in the speak behind Hartford & Sons. And if they don’t care, if you’ve managed to buy them as most speak owners have done, then the Committee of Fourteen and the Anti-Saloon League would be abhorred to learn of an inverted club promoting degeneracy and dancing without a license, which I’m sure you’re aware is against the Cabaret Act.”
He returned his gaze to Dash.
“Either way, your club will be shut down and you all will be arrested. And then, of course, there’s the matter of my brother who is in the morgue. My brother, who was last seen walking into this place.”
Oh, hell.
Dash flicked a look to Atty. “Watch him.”
“Yes, sir!”
Dash pushed against the mirror in the back wall and entered the club. The jubilant music felt otherworldly, bright and disconnected from the harsh darkness which had come over the tailor shop. He closed the hidden door behind him and walked towards the end of the bar.
When Joe looked up from his drink orders, he came over.
“Lassie! Not bad for a Monday night,” he said, nodding towards the modest but lively crowd.
“Joe, there’s—”
“Someone’s looking for ya.”
Dash was momentarily distracted from the Müller situation. “What was that?”
“Aye, a big man’s here to see ya. Sitting over there by the band.”
This must be the baby grand Finn mentioned this morning. Dash shook his head. “I don’t have time to see him.”
“He said it was very important.”
“Be that as it may—”
“Said it had to be tonight or—”
“Joe!”
Joe finally registered the look on Dash’s face. “What’s the matter, lassie? You look like your mother just died.”
The band finished their song to loud applause.
When there was a gap in noise, Dash forced a smile and said, “Not quite. Remember the little German kid we snuck out of here last night?”
Joe’s brow furrowed. “Ya?”
“His brother Walter is out front. According to him, Karl’s been murdered.”
Joe’s face went white. “Bloody hell!”
Dash put a finger to his own lips, indicating they keep quiet about it. He didn’t want any of the club patrons to overhear them.
Joe lowered his voice. “He’s supposed to be up in Harlem with that Leslie bloke.”
“He is. Or was.” Dash drummed the wood bar with his fingers, agitated. “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know if Walter is lying to me or—or if he’s telling the truth. Oh God, I hope he’s not telling the truth.”
I tried to help Karl. I tried to save him.
“What does he bloody want?” Joe asked.
“He’s about to tell me.”
Joe gave Dash a long look. “We can’t afford to pay him. Not him and McElroy.”
“I know, I know.”
Dash ran a frustrated hand through his hair and glanced back towards the hidden door, as if he
