“I never did figure them out myself.”
El gave a sardonic smile. “Yeah, well. Tomorrow night. Half a chime past midnight. Meet me here. We’ll go to her apartment. Flo and I usually have a cocktail and a ciggy there between our sets. If I can’t convince her, maybe you can.”
“What makes you think so?”
“You convinced me, didn’t you?”
The cab driver leaned towards his opened passenger window. “Hey, are you goin’ somewhere’s or not?”
El said, “Hold your damn horses, son!” She then crossed her arms and looked at Dash. “What are you going to do in the meantime?”
“Find this Tyler Smith,” Dash said, “and hope like hell he gives me all the answers.”
11
The following morning, Tuesday, August 17, the rising sun behind the Shelton Hotel flared like an explosion against the top right corner of the thirty-one-story skyscraper. Glittering golden sunspots rained down against the walls, with a few careless ambers floating towards the neighboring buildings. The sight took Dash’s breath away, and he marveled at how other worldly this city was—like nowhere else on earth.
When his vision cleared, the wonder didn’t cease. The Shelton Hotel was a four-million-dollar spectacle practically taking up the entire block of 49th Street and Lexington Avenue. He and Joe stood across the street from its westward entrance, staring up as each bricked story climbed higher and higher until it reached a barely visible central tower at the top. Dash knew from reading the Times during its proposal and construction how the architects designed three setbacks which not only got around the zoning laws, but also created this stunning vertical effect.
The crick in their necks finally caused Dash and Joe to look down and at each other.
“You don’t see that every day in the Village,” Dash remarked.
Joe’s response was more pertinent to their situation. “This Tyler lad most have a lot of sugar to afford this. Ya think Walter wants some of it?”
“El certainly thinks so. Finn says there’s a year-long waiting list for an apartment.”
“What’s so special about it?”
“Right now, it’s the site of Houdini’s latest demonstration. Didn’t you read about it? He was placed in a coffin and submerged in the hotel’s swimming pool for an ungodly amount of time. Trying to disprove the spiritual trance the Hindi Rahman Bey claimed he went into to accomplish the same thing.”
Joe arched a fiery eyebrow. “One of these days, Houdini is gonna do himself in trying to prove half the world wrong.” His forehead wrinkled. “Lassie, why didn’t Karl just come here? Why did he say he had nowhere to go?”
Dash sighed. “I don’t know. I asked about a lover, and he said he no longer had one. Perhaps that’s what Tyler Smith is. Or was.”
“Still, desperate times and all.”
“Depends on how badly they ended things.” Dash gestured towards the limestone entrance. “Let’s see what we can find out.”
They may have been doing what Walter demanded of them, but it wasn’t the only thing they were up to. Dash wasn’t about to sit by and let some hypocritical bluenose take away everything he’d worked for. He certainly wasn’t going to let his friends suffer neither.
Last night, when Dash returned to Pinstripes, he learned the mysterious man, the “baby grand” who tried to meet with him twice now, had disappeared. Joe had said the man would find another time.
“But he wasn’t the least bit happy about it, lassie,” Joe warned.
Given the news of Karl’s death, Dash didn’t care one way or the other if this baby grand was irritated with him. He had far bigger concerns.
For the rest of the evening, he sat at Pinstripe’s bar, sipping gin, wondering how he was going to tell his friends they were being blackmailed to become accessories to murder. Perhaps multiple murders.
When Pinstripes closed for the night and Dash finally told them what Walter wanted, they reacted in their usual ways. Joe cursed all bluenoses. Finn lamented how first, he was going to lose his precious Valentino, and now he was going to lose his precious freedom. And Atty said Dash should’ve let him blow the German’s brains out when he had the chance.
Once tempers finally crested, they set about creating a plan. Atty would be extra vigilant, making sure there weren’t federal uncover agents watching them. Finn would put his flair for the theatrical to good use by disguising himself and, with the address Walter gave Dash, would watch and follow the German during the day. He could borrow some of the makeup and props from the Playhouse. It turned out there was a benefit to living above a theatre after all.
“We need to get something on him,” Dash said to his friends. “I don’t believe for a moment he’s earning enough money from the Committee to afford his expensive suits. Or Karl’s, for that matter.”
“That divine wristwatch,” Finn purred.
“Exactly.”
“Maybe he’s collecting bribes like the rest of them,” Joe replied. “Just ’cause they say they’re moral don’t mean they are.”
“He was drunk as a skunk tonight,” Atty added.
Dash sipped more gin. “And he may have killed Karl himself and is looking to pin it on someone else."
Finn shuddered. “Killing your own brother. That would make me want to get zozzled. Keep in mind, I don’t even like my brother, but still, why be a Cain and risk being cursed for all eternity?”
Joe crossed his arms over his chest. “I bet his defense is the pansy made me do it. Ya know how these moralists like to blame their own actions on others.”
Atty scowled. “These bluenoses get me so sore, so sore, I tell ya!”
“Either way,” Dash said, “extortion or murder, if we can prove criminal actions, then we can get Walter put away.”
Joe’s face was serious as stone. “We need to be careful, lads. Those in charge of morality need to keep up appearances, and they may do anything to protect themselves.”
“Good point.” Dash looked at his friends. “We don’t trust anyone involved with the Müllers. Understood? Not until we know what the devil is going
