Chapter Fifteen

Thursday arrived fast. Too fast for her to compute all that changed in her world recently. She was a carnal woman now, and that exhilarated her beyond belief. Her skin yearned for Henry. Even as she rode in the cab to the Daily, she thought of nothing else. Keeping discreet was a challenge. Remaining the Norma of a month ago was impossible, and she wondered if anyone noticed how invigorated she was? With Henry, that was inevitable.

Not only did she feel more in charge of her emotions, she also felt more confident about breaking the story of Elsie’s disappearance. She hadn’t been able to present her evidence to Henry, or formally ask him to assign her the beat. Always at the tip of her tongue, the timing never seemed right. She didn’t want to jeopardize their relationship by expecting him to make her a crime reporter. If she would be a crime reporter under him, it would be fair and square and not because she was his…lady…lover…something. Their title still hadn’t been determined. She knew one definite thing about their relationship, he didn’t want her to make love to anyone else and neither did she.

The day was cold as usual. Snow layered the ground like blankets, but that didn’t deter Norma from going undercover at the Jazzy Cat. Snow, blizzard, or ice storm, she wouldn’t let anything get in her way, especially since she was sitting pretty with Elsie’s friends. After mulling over her undercover plan, she decided to go undercover alone. She’d make better headway if she could mingle with Elsie’s social circle alone. Thinking of Julia Heinz and friends, she pulled a telegram from her pocket she received from Harold yesterday and reread the message:

To: Miss Norma Hill, Weather Reporter,

The Chicago Daily News

From: Harold Smith, Financial Officer,

Plainview Steel Corp

Norma,

It would be mighty fine if you joined me and the fellas for a gay time at the Jazzy Cat Thursday night. I haven’t found another girl who can dance The Black Bottom better than you.

Sincerely,

Harold Smith

P.S.—Bring the paper man if you must.

How would she interview patrons at the Jazzy Cat without drawing attention to her secret interrogation? Revisiting the idea to shadow Anton’s tactics, she turned toward his desk. Not there. How could she ease into interview mode without causing suspicion amongst Elsie’s friends and anyone she deemed shady? She’d have to be slick about it, not get sloppy and give someone something to think about.

The worst thing that could happen was Henry would find out. This was her story, and she didn’t need permission to break it. Anton dismissed the relevance of Elsie’s attack and stood by accounts she’d been spotted in the Hamptons with a new beau. She found his disinterest disheartening.

A firm rub on her shoulder brought her back to reality. She knew who it was without turning around. “Norma.”

Gosh, she loved his voice. She shoved the paper in her pocket. “Hen—err, Mr. Chapel, you frightened me.” Not really, but she was breathless anyway.

He leaned in closer. His musty, all-male scent floated around her, enveloping her. It took her back to his office…to her apartment…“Sorry, miss,” his voice was smooth.

She tingled.

“You shouldn’t be so close, Mr. Chapel. Someone might get the wrong idea,” Norma played back. Economic reporter James Dullen glanced in their direction, his eyebrows knit together at their closeness.

Henry smirked and stood to his full height. She gazed into his bright eyes; he was amused. “Well, we wouldn’t want that now would we, Miss Hill?”

She licked her lower lip. “No, sir.”

“You’ll have to stop doing that if you want me to act like a gentleman.” His gaze zeroed in on her mouth.

“And if I don’t want you to act like a gentleman?” The flutter in her stomach was bordering on unbearable.

He chuckled deep in his throat, his eyes telling what he’d rather be doing to her. “You might end up in a compromising position.”

They were silent for a moment, recovering from the intensely sexual exchange and the exhilaration of having it smack in the middle of the press room floor with reporters buzzing around, some taking notice and some not.

“I am glad you’re still here. I wanted to let you know I’ll be indisposed this evening with…a business meeting. It seems another rag is in need of my help. So, I shall hear the nonsense from the poor saps...” he finally said.

Norma’s smile faded. Is Henry leaving the Chicago Daily so soon? She didn’t like that one bit. “I see...” Her voice was as heavy as a piano. She didn’t do a great job at masking the despondency growing inside.

“No worries, doll face. Everything is copacetic.”

“Ahh, well then, good luck, sir. I’m sure the nonsense will be on both sides of the coin.”

Henry chuckled. James perked up again at their continued intimate exchange.

Henry nodded. “Miss Hill.” Then he turned on his heels and in an instant crossed the length of the room.

She didn’t exhale until the door to his office shut. The thought of Henry leaving the Chicago Daily made her insides ache. Where would he go? Would he stay in Chicago or go to another city? If he left, what did that mean for their budding relationship?

Her gaze shifted to James who still watched. “Weather business.” She shrugged.

****

The portly doorman at the Jazzy Cat recognized Norma. “Go in, doll.”

“Thank you, sir.” Her gloved hand tapped his arm on the way down the small, dark hallway.

She opened the same door as last Friday, and inside wiggled the same Shebas and sheiks uncontrollably on the dance floor, tossing back glasses of gin, puffing on the ends of long ivory and crystal cigarette holders, and necking without reticence. She rather liked the song the orchestra played, and as she shook in response, she made her way through the crowd. Her fringe dress swayed with every motion.

“Norma!” Harold sliced through the crowd, smile beaming.

She didn’t realize how full his lips were until then. She couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth. He was attractive, no doubt. But he was no Henry Chapel. “Harold!”

“Come have a mint julep with me,” he shouted over the orchestra.

Nodding, she followed him to a white cloth covered table. The table was empty, no Julie or the other debs. A flutter tickled the inside of her stomach. Did Harold intend to be alone with her?

“And Julia?” She clutched the satin pouch to her chest.

“The others will be along shortly,” he assured.

After a quick wave, a uniformed server appeared to take their order.

“Two mint juleps,” Harold said.

The server nodded and was gone just as quick as she appeared.

“I just love this band.” Her body continued to sway back and forth in her chair, feet tapping underneath the table.

She watched the crowd and became interested in two men in dark suits standing at the opposite end of the dance floor—same men from last Friday. They still looked suspicious and up to no good. “Do you know those gents?”

Harold strained his eyes to see where she pointed. “I’m not sure you want to know them.” He raised his eyebrows slightly.

She perked up. “Why?”

The orchestra hit a section of high notes, which made it hard to hear. Harold leaned over the table. “They’re mob associates.”

“Mob?” she croaked. Things just got sticky.

“The Chicago Outfit. Trust me when I say you don’t want to know those fellas.” Harold didn’t blink when he spoke. She couldn’t help but wonder if those fellas had anything to do with Elsie.

The drinks came on a shiny silver tray. With ease, the server placed each glass down on the white table cloth and disappeared. She was quick as a cat. Norma liked that. She needed to be quick as a cat, too if she was going to start a conversation with Harold’s “mob associates.”

“Drink up, Norma.” Harold lifted his glass and drew a hefty gulp.

Norma followed suit, eyes watered from the strong liquid.

He laughed, eyes shimmering in the dim club. “I figured you weren’t much of a drinker. It doesn’t suit you.”

What did he mean by that?

She took another sip to prove him wrong. She could be a drinker. She swore she’d never be Too Dry Two Shoes ever again. Though, the truth was the liquid burned her throat as it slid down to her stomach. It made her ill. She tried desperately not to let the venomous liquid choke her.

Harold chuckled at her ridiculous display.

“Why doesn’t it suit me?” She put down the drink.

He drew in his lips for a moment, head tilted to the side for a few moments. His gaze shifted to her face, drawing in every feature, her eyes, her mouth, her nose. “You are…untainted in every sense of the word. You radiate it.” His gaze delved deep into her pupils. “I see you and I see all that is still good about women. These days, there aren’t many at all like you. At least not in Chicago.”

Untainted?

Her mind struggled to wrap around his heartfelt words; she was rendered speechless.

In no way was she untainted. In fact, she was very tainted. She was birthed in a tainted home, and her views on men and women were tainted. Her mind reeled at the absurdity, but then it struck her like a slap in the face. Henry’s green eyes flashed in her mind. His touch, his lips took over her thoughts. Her heart pounded with her new revelation. The only thing untainted about her was…Henry. Her love for Henry was the simplest thing in her life. She loved him. Yes, she most certainly loved him.

“Norma?” Harold’s eyes were wide and glossy. His hand touched her fingers resting on the table.

“Y-yes?” She blinked away her thoughts. All she wanted to do was find the nearest exit. Find Henry.

“You’re not jazzed on two sips of gin, are you?” He chuckled. If only he were wrong.

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” She jumped up, dashing for the powder room before he could respond. She didn’t make it there. Her legs, weak as they were, traveled the length of the dance floor and stopped at the opposite end. Her chest heaved from the unexpected sprint, her eyes stung from unshed tears.

Hoofers swinging each other around the dance floor made her crazy. Why did the dull ache in her chest feel like the weight of a concrete block? Tossing her head back, a single tear broke through the barrier of her lower lid and slid down her cheek. She wiped it away in haste. She couldn’t cry there. She shouldn’t be crying at all.

So what if she loved Henry. Was that so terrible? Would it be the end of her life? No. Probably not. Her heart thumped painfully with the next thought. What if he didn’t feel the same? If he didn’t love her back, well…it might be the end of her then.

“Hey, doll. You’re one ripe tomato.” The voice echoed in her ear.

She snapped around, grabbing the slimy gaze of one of the two suspicious men standing with his hands in his pockets.

The leer on his face sent a shiver down her spine. His eyes were dark like coffee beans set far back on his face. She shuttered at how eerie they were. His thick eyebrows lifted in a suggestive way, and the nausea started.

Lord, she wished she had found the powder room and not that wise guy. She pulled herself together, because she had to. How else would she make some headway with breaking Elsie’s story? This was her chance.

She pushed all her apprehension to the farthest corner of the mind and turned on a gay smile. “And how!”

The man chuckled, belly shaking. “You’re a live one, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea.” Her smile was so forced, it hurt her face.

“You need to have a drink.” He lifted a thick caterpillar eyebrow.

She didn’t want a drink. “Ab-so-lute-ly!”

His grin showed small stained teeth. She felt sick.

“Come join me and my associate.” He took her waist, and she did her best not to jump back. His touch was like hot oil on her skin.

He led her to a table near the entrance. The other man sat, sipping on an old-fashioned glass filled with gin, probably, and smoking a cigarette. His pale blue eyes glossed over her, the smoke from his cigarette mushroomed over his face. Not losing her nerve was a miracle, especially because the men made her uneasy with their stares.

“This is John John, my associate. I’m Vito,” the large bellied man said.

She nodded to his friend. “I’m Norma.” Darn it! Why didn’t she use an alias?

“Norma.” Vito’s gaze shifted to John John. “I ain’t never seen you ’round here.”

“I guess you weren’t looking hard enough,” she shot back.

The men laughed.

“I’m sure I’d remember you.” Vito pulled out an empty chair from the white covered table.

Norma sat and crossed her legs. A potent feeling of impending doom washed over her. She surveyed the men and knew rather quickly she wasn’t going anywhere. “How about that drink, fellas?”

“She’s a bearcat!” John John pressed his cigarette out on the white cloth. The sap couldn’t even be bothered to use an ashtray. What would he do with her?

“I think we ought to get our bearcat a drink. Whatcha think, John John?” Vito put a cigarette in his mouth and lit the end, sucking in deep until the red tip turned to ashes.

“I think we’d better.” John John reached over and ran his calloused finger down Norma’s arm. She jumped in response but didn’t pull away. The situation was grave, and the point of no return had long passed.

Vito signaled to someone, and within moments, a servant brought three glasses of iced gin. He watched her like a hawk and so did John John as she lifted the glass to her lips. Their hungry gazes watched her mouth like it was steak as she sipped and smiled. Satisfied, they glanced at each other, taking their own sips.

“This is our gin,” John John said. “Do you like it?”

“This is your gin?” Norma nearly choked on it.

“Yeah,” Vito said, “we supply the gin here.”

Norma’s brain went in overdrive. Were they the men Elsie went to see about purchasing gin? “I shoulda known you’d have the best gin. It’s the berries!”

Vito nodded, pleased with himself. “A beautiful woman should have the best gin.”

“Where else do you supply the gin?” Norma took another sip that dulled her tongue, making the words flop from her mouth.

Vito and John John glanced at each other again. “You ask a lot of questions.”

Norma shrugged in the most nonchalant way she could, though inside she was afraid for her life. “I just thought if I ever had a party, I might want to buy some of your gin.”

“You havin’ a party?” John John asked, eyes intense and icy cold.

“Well…no…but if I—”

“If I was you, I wouldn’t go askin’ ’bout no gin,” Vito growled.

“You could get yourself in a pickle,” John John added.

Norma’s eyes grew wide; they had to have. To say she was scared was an understatement. How would she backtrack out of her sticky situation? The smile didn’t falter as she took another sip of the ghastly liquid. How did she not vomit right then and there? “Well, we wouldn’t want that.”

“Who are you, Norma?” Vito leaned forward, his gaze burning holes into her.

“Oh,” she began in between nervous laughter, “just your average Norma.” Please don’t ask my surname. She’d probably tell them her real one. So far, she didn’t seem to be cut out for undercover work. Luckily there were plenty of witnesses in the crowded club. No telling what the two goons had in mind. If only she’d heeded Harold’s warning.

The men glanced at each other again, eyeing each other. They could’ve been plotting her murder right then between those glances.

Her stomach flip-flopped as a drop of perspiration trickled between her breasts. If she was going to make a run for it, she had to do it then. The only problem was her head spun from the gin.

Did they slip something in when she wasn’t looking?

Oh dear.

Then, if the situation wasn’t grave enough, Anton Perugi strolled into the Jazzy Cat with a redhead pinned at his side. He looked different; he looked like a wise guy.

Norma jumped up in haste, ignoring the loopy haze that washed over her. “I’ve got to go to the powder room.”

It may have been a poor excuse, but she didn’t wait for the men to respond. Nearly tipping over the chair, she dashed for the crowd, praying she could get lost in the cluster of dancing Shebas on the polished dance floor. If she stayed, there was no telling what would become of her. And for all she knew, she could be the next victim in the alley.

One thing niggled at her. What was Anton doing there? And why did he look so…treacherous? He could easily be up to no good just like Vito and John John. Without looking back to feed her curiosity, she furthered into the mesh of wiggling dancers. In the midst of waving arms and kicking legs, she searched for Harold and found the rest of the gang had joined him. He didn’t seem interested in their conversation by the way he scanned the club. What was he looking for? Her?

“Harold!” Norma strained to control her breathing as she ran up on the table in a frenzy.

“Norma! I didn’t see where you went! Is everything okay?” Harold shouted over the orchestra. The girls squealed out a greeting and ran to the dance floor.

“Yes!” She looked back toward the dance floor. Thank the good Lord the hoofers moving about in choreographed fashion masked her whereabouts, though she could still see Anton standing. He’d made his way near Vito and John John’s table by then. Did he know those guys? “Can you take me home?”

“Now?” Harold’s eyebrows knit together.

“Yes! I’m in a pickle.” She looked back. Every moment grew riskier; she needed to get out of there.

“Are you okay?” His face twisted up.

“Yes. I just have…lady concerns.” She had to think fast. How could she tell him she’d angered a couple goons who quite possibly could be making plans to silence her permanently?

“Ahhh…all right then.” Harold stood, retrieving his coat from the back of the cloth covered chair. Norma’s coat was underneath his, though he held on to it until they were outside in the alley.

“You want me to take you home?” His eyes narrowed. Was he insinuating something?

Norma stepped back and thought he might be asking her to invite him to bed. Her gaze shifted to the gravel and then back to him. He looked hopeful for a moment and then his gaze dulled.

“Yes, just take me home.” She could never imagine any other man in her bed besides Henry.

Harold kicked the gravel but as a true gentleman placed her coat around her shoulders. The act was very dignified and to her surprise, she felt safe around him. “That paper man is a lucky man.”

She didn’t know what to say. Could he see it in her eyes that her heart belonged to another man… the paper man? Nothing could have been truer. She still didn’t speak while he laced her arm in his and led the way to his black motorcar parked near the club with other fancy motorcars. His fingers pressed open the smooth door, wide enough for her to slide in.

“Watch your step,” he said and closed the door once she was secure.

The ride was silent, though not a painful silence. She didn’t feel uncomfortable in the least. Harold turned and smiled when he stopped his car in front of her brownstone apartment. “This is your home?”

“Yes.” Norma gathered her belongings and pushed the door open. She turned to face him again. “Thank you for everything, Harold. Truly. You’re a real pal.”

“It’s my pleasure, Norma. And I meant what I said.” His eyes were soft and glowing in the lamp lighted street.

Norma’s lips curved into a smile not because he suggested she was untainted, but because he brought her to the realization she loved Henry. She nodded and lifted herself from the deep seats.

“Norma,” Harold called once she stood on the sidewalk. She lowered her face to see him through the open window. “I really hope the paper man knows what he has.” His voice was soft. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” She fought to smooth out the lump that formed in her throat.

He drove away.

Once she was in her apartment, she disassembled her outfit as she had the other nights she went to the Jazzy Cat. Her dress slung over the corner chair. Her T-strap shoes tossed near the fireplace. Her stockings flopped over the lampshade, and her garter belt slung over the bed. Once again she was in her robe wishing she had a fire to warm up to.

The knock at the door assaulted her ears. She panicked. Who could that be? She glanced over to the grandfather clock. Nearly midnight. Could Vito and John John have followed her home? Oh, dear.

She lightly padded to the door. The knocks battered the door again.

“Norma.”

Her heart fluttered; she knew who was on the other side.

Her clumsy hands turned the brass locks and ripped the door open.

Henry stood on her door step looking perfectly stunning in his evening suit and black top hat. His eyes were the color of April, and she could have sworn she was in heaven. “Henry.”

“I know it’s late, but I couldn’t stay away from you for one night,” his voice was low and sultry.

She stepped aside and let him in.