CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

 

 

Luna, Winston, and Sylvia stood in the hall as Henry locked the office door. The idea that the District Attorney was on the take hadn't fully sunk in. His fall from grace was just the start, and they all knew it. Sylvia broke the silence, "I could use a drink." Luna nodded in agreement.

Winston chimed in, "I could go for a spot of brandy and perhaps a bite to eat. I am feeling a bit peckish."

"Charlie's is just down the block. It is quiet, and I know the owner. He will be happy to fire up the grill," Henry said. He turned around and led everyone down the hall.

They came out onto the street. An ambulance rushed past them and headed towards the alley. The lights of half a dozen patrol cars painted the sides of the building with frantic movement. People were starting to gather around to see what had happened. Henry and the others walked in the opposite direction towards Charlie's, a stiff drink, and the start of the next chapter in their lives.

The preceding days had been especially trying: the fire at his old office, getting jumped by Tommy's thugs, seeing Big Mike all broken and bruised. It all had taken its toll on Henry. Bad as it had been, it was nothing compared to what Sylvia and Luna were going through, not knowing what had become of their fathers and living each day in fear. Henry was glad Winston was around. Though he was older, he had assured Henry that he could keep an eye on her as he had been a crack shot in the war.

The room smelled of cheap cigars and loneliness and was mostly empty. A pool table in the back had two sticks lying across it and looked like it had seen better days. The bartender, Charlie, was wiping a dirty glass with a dirtier dishtowel. He looked up, shifted the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other, and nodded at Henry.

"Hey, Charlie, can you fire up the grill for my friends? We've had a long day."

"How about some steaks?"

Henry looked at Luna. She said quietly, "Sounds good to me," and she looked at the others. Sylvia and Winston didn't put forth any objection and slid into the booth by the jukebox.

As Winston took a sip of brandy, which Charlie had begrudgingly served him, Harry, Luna and Sylvia drank their ice-cold beers in silence. Luna said it first, but they were all thinking the same thing, "What do we do now?"

Henry took a pull from his beer. He had known that this moment would come. He had to tell them about the closet and what his gut was telling him. "I have something to tell you and your inclination to think I am crazy is, well, to be expected."

Sylvia smiled and said with her sultry voice, "Oh, Henry, we would never think you are crazy." She reached across the table and took his hand. Luna took a pull of her beer and looked off into space.

Henry continued, "I had been drinking a lot a few months back. Business had been slow, so I spent my days down in my shop and my nights, well, mostly here." He gestured toward the bar. "One night when I went home, I passed out on the couch in the basement. I thought I was dreaming when I heard sounds coming from the closet. I woke up and just stared at it. There was a brief flash, and the sound stopped. I was sure I had been dreaming, but I decided to look anyway. All of the old boxes were gone. The interior was spotless and on the shelf sat a magazine."

"A magazine, sir?" Winston said, raising one eyebrow as he swirled the brandy in its snifter.

"Yes, it was a copy of Sport magazine." Henry paused and took a sip from his beer, "The November...1955 issue to be exact." He paused to let this sink in.

Winston seemed to be a bit skeptical of his claim, "November of this year, eleven months from now?" He took a sip of his brandy.

Sylvia and Luna looked at each other, then back to Henry. Charlie brought over their dinners and set them on the table. Nobody started eating.

Henry continued, "I didn't believe it myself. It said the Brooklyn Dodgers win the World Series, and Johnny Podres wins something called the MVP."

Sylvia smiled, "The Dodgers beat the Yankees? Now I know you are kidding."

Henry reached up and pulled the magazine from the inside pocket of his overcoat, which was draped over the back of the booth. He dropped it on the table. Nobody touched the magazine; they just looked at the cover and the date. Henry took a few bites of his steak. Slowly, each of them started to eat. Charlie hollered from behind the bar, "How's the grub?" Everyone raised their drinks in a toast to the chef. Charlie went back to fiddling with the glasses.

Henry continued, "There's more. The magazine wasn't the only thing that showed up from the future. Over the next few weeks, there would periodically be all sorts of interesting things, mostly tools. It was as if the future knew what I needed. After a while, I just accepted that I had a benefactor, but I didn't know who it was or why I had been chosen. That is, until I started receiving clues regarding your fathers' cases."

They all listened and ate and theorized about how it might work. Henry felt better having shared his secret. Luna reasoned that it was their fathers who had been sending the clues. Henry wasn't sure, but he felt the theory gave her hope, so he kept his opinion to himself. The rest of the evening was spent drinking and even laughing. By the time Charlie was ready to close up for the night, they were all pretty liquored up, so Charlie called a cab for Sylvia and Winston while Henry and Luna went back to the room at the hotel.

Henry opened the door. Luna walked in, spun around, and flung her arms around Henry. "You have been wonderful. I can't thank you enough." She gave him a big kiss, and Henry let her. Luna looked into Henry's eyes, then excused herself and went into the bathroom. Henry walked over and looked out the window. The police were still milling about. There were a few photographers trying to talk their way into the alley. The police kept everyone at bay. Henry heard Luna come out of the bathroom but didn't turn around. Playing the whole evening over again in his head, he wondered how much the thugs had roughed up the DA. He was sure that it was likely just a few good pokes for show, but he hoped it had stung. The papers would be all over this, and, if Henry was right, the balance of power would be restored. Tommy's gang, with the journal in hand, wouldn't feel threatened; thus, their strangle hold on the Big Apple crime scene would be secure. This meant the other gangs would stop trying to take over, and Tommy wouldn't have any reason to go after Luna or her father.

But it wasn't over, not by a long shot. He turned around and, on the bed, splayed out, was a very much passed-out Luna. He put a blanket over her and returned to the window. As he watched the city, the sky started to sprinkle a fresh coat of snow over the filth below. He pulled the worn November issue of Sport magazine out of his pocket as he laid his coat over the back of the chair. As Luna slept, he read again how his beloved Dodgers were going to put it to the Yankees.