Michael Murphy's Blog, page 4
September 19, 2014
The Yankee Club Reviewers
It’s always humbling when someone purchases one of my books and even more so when I see that someone’s taken the time to read and review my book on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Goodreads or various blogs. Here’s just a few snippets of reviews from The Yankee Club.
“Jump on the incredible page turner set in 1933 in the middle of the Great Depression – you won’t regret it.” Reviewer Bill Baker
“This is a highly entertaining novel, very skillfully written. Murphy has done a great job of creating a story that reads like it could have been written by one of the greats of noir fiction. I highly recommend it.” Goodreads reviewer Scott Parsons
“The Yankee Club was a fantastic mystery read!! Shady characters, corruption, romance, mystery and suspense and not once did any of these factors overthrow the plot.” Bookish Wanderlove Blog
“The Yankee Club by Michael Murphy is a hard-boiled historical romp that is inspired genius, peppered with great characters.” Looking for a Good Book Blog.
“The Yankee Club is a compelling mystery, meticulously crafted, and filled with humor and witty dialogue.” Author Peg Glover
“The Yankee Club is a fun read from start to finish.” Blogger Peter Faur
Thanks to everyone who’s read and reviewed The Yankee Club.
The post The Yankee Club Reviewers appeared first on Michael Murphy's Mystery and History.
September 14, 2014
Woodstock and Back
Sunday was a book signing at the Harvest Festival. Beautiful weather, fabulous venue and wonderful people.
Now I'm back working on the third Jake and Laura mystery. While I was gone several new reviews of the first, The Yankee Club, popped up. Hope you'll take a look. http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00I...
September 2, 2014
Woodstock
If you can't make that, I'll be signing copies of the book Sunday at the Harvest Festival. http://www.bethelwoodscenter.org/even...
See you there!
August 26, 2014
Incorporating humor into one's writing
Come join the discussion. http://dianneharman.com/blog
August 18, 2014
Thanks to Everyone for my book release
A book release is an exciting time for an author and it was for me when The Yankee Club was released Tuesday, August 12. I have so many people to thank for helping me launch the book. First off, thank you to my agent Dawn Dowdle and to my fellow authors at Blue Ridge Literary Agency, for offering support, encouragement, and suggestions to spread the word.
I’ll always be grateful to Dana, Kimberly, April, Heidi, Katie and so many others at Random House Alibi who helped edit, produce a dynamite cover and brought their expertise to the effort to release The Yankee Club and to offer such a terrific special price reduction.
And thanks to all of you who’ve downloaded the book at The Kindle Store, Barnes & Noble Nook Store, Google Play, which is a great place to download ebooks on any android devices, or any of the other sites where ebooks are sold.
Thanks to everyone who’s downloaded the book and a special thanks to those who’ve taken the time to post reviews on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc. Your time and effort to post a review is especially appreciated.
Inspired by The Thin Man movies
January 6, the second in the Jake and Laura series will be released. You’ll probably want to read The Yankee Club first so you can find out why Jake and Laura travel to Hollywood during Tinseltown’s naughtiest, bawdiest year to date.
Another Jake and Laura mystery
The post Thanks to Everyone for my book release appeared first on Michael Murphy's Mystery and History.
August 17, 2014
The Yankee Club Blog Tour
Here's some upcoming blog stops I think you'll enjoy visiting:
Monday August 18. Joyfully Retired http://joyfullyretired.com
Tuesday August 19. Life by Kristen. http://lifebykristen.wordpress.com
Tuesday August 19. Dwell in Possibility http://inpossibility.wordpress.com
Wednesday August 20. Nightly Reading http://nightlyreading.wordpress.com
Thursday, August 21. A Book Geek http://abookgeek-llm.blogspot.com
Friday, August 22. From the TBR Pile http://fromthetbrpile.blogspot.com
Special thanks to bloggers and their blogs to help inform readers of some terrific new books. If you like what you read about The Yankee Club, I hope you'll add it to your to read list. https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...
August 12, 2014
The Yankee Club is here!
Today marks the official release of The Yankee Club by Random House Alibi. I have so many people to thank for making this day possible; my agent, Dawn Dowdle, the editors at Alibi and my critique group, Toby Heathcotte, Beth Blake and Cherie Lee.
Now you can order the ebook for just $2.99!
Amazon Kindle Barnes & Noble Nook
Books-A-Million eBooks.com Google Play Store
The Yankee Club is already generating a buzz. Here’s what some of the best book bloggers around are saying:
The Bookbinder’s Daughter book blog.
Bibliotica book blog because books are portable magic.
Reading Reality blog by Marlene Harris.
The Incredible Librarian Book Blog
Michelle’s Bookshelf by Michelle Mallette
Brandon Sears’s Read Everything Blog
Savage Reads book blog
The Sweetest Place is Home book blog
Mustard Seeds blog
If you’re still not sure The Yankee Club is the book for you, here’s a brief synopsis:
In Michael Murphy’s action-packed Prohibition-era novel of suspense, a mystery writer returns to the bright lights and dark alleys of New York City—uncovering a criminal conspiracy of terrifying proportions.
In 1933, America is at a crossroads: Prohibition will soon be history, organized crime is rampant, and President Roosevelt promises to combat the Great Depression with a New Deal. In these uncertain times, former-Pinkerton-detective-turned-bestselling-author Jake Donovan is beckoned home to Manhattan. He has made good money as the creator of dashing gumshoe Blackie Doyle, but the price of success was Laura Wilson, the woman he left behind. Now a Broadway star, Laura is engaged to a millionaire banker—and waltzing into a dangerous trap.
Before Jake can win Laura back, he’s nearly killed—and his former partner is shot dead—after a visit to the Yankee Club, a speakeasy dive in their old Queens neighborhood. Suddenly Jake and Laura are plunged into a conspiracy that runs afoul of gangsters, sweeping from New York’s private clubs to the halls of corporate power and to the White House itself. Brushing shoulders with the likes of Dashiell Hammett, Cole Porter, and Babe Ruth, Jake struggles to expose an inconspicuous organization hidden in plain sight, one determined to undermine the president and change the country forever.
I hope you enjoy The Yankee Club. The best way to let me know what you think is to post a review of your own on Goodreads. Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or where ever you ordered the ebook.
Michael Murphy
Inspired by The Thin Man movies
The post The Yankee Club is here! appeared first on Michael Murphy's Mystery and History.
August 5, 2014
One more excerpt from The Yankee Club
The Yankee Club will be released on August 12, so here’s one more excerpt. Still in the hospital, Jake is visited by two cops, his editor, Mildred and the owner of The Yankee Club, Gino, who thinks it’s time for Jake to leave.
The Yankee Club
Chapter 3 (continued)
I made it back down the hallway on the crutches. I nodded to the cop outside my door and entered the room. The nurses had changed more than the sheets. The drab hospital room resembled a cheery hotel suite.
The new bed had a thick wide mattress with crisp ironed sheets whiter than snow and a soft-looking pillow. In the corner they’d placed a chair and desk with an Underwood typewriter, a stack of paper, and a crystal vase with yellow carnations. The nurse smiled and held out a thick blue robe.
Except for the typewriter, I hadn’t asked for any of this. “You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.”
“Any friend of Spencer Dalrymple’s—”
“He’s not my friend.”
The nurse smirked and laid the robe on the bed. “I see.”
Maybe she’d seen something between Laura and me. For Laura’s sake I had to do a better job of hiding my feelings about her.
I propped the crutches against the side of the bed. Balancing on one leg, I slipped into the robe and cinched it around my waist.
“Jake Donovan.” A broad-shouldered man in a three-piece suit and polished shoes entered and removed his hat. “Apparently you’re well enough . . . and comfortable enough to tell us what happened last night. I’m Detective Hawkins, and this is Inspector Stone.”
His partner stood behind him, and both men flashed NYPD badges. I recognized Stone’s hawklike nose and perpetual scowl. Officer Stone had walked a beat with Mickey for two years. He never liked me, and things got worse when Mickey quit the force and we opened our detective agency.
Stone shook his head in disgust and gestured toward the pillow. “Where’s the mint?”
When the nurse left, Stone looked me straight in the eye like I was a suspect, not a victim. “Four years ago I got plugged in the shoulder. I was in the hospital for two weeks. They stuck me in a ward with a dozen guys who had serious intestinal problems, if you know what I mean.”
I sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m quite well, Inspector. Thanks for asking.”
Hawkins gave his partner a look and set his hat on the coatrack. He took out a small notebook and pencil from his suit coat pocket. “Why don’t you start with when you left The Yankee Club.”
Stone dropped his hat beside the typewriter, plopped down at the desk, and drummed his fingers on the paper.
I told them about the visit to Mickey’s office with Frankie Malzone. I left out meeting Belle Starr. I didn’t want these guys to give her the business until I’d talked to her. In my gumshoe days streetwalkers often spilled information to me they kept from cops.
While Hawkins made notes, Stone grabbed a sheet of typing paper and rolled it into the Underwood. He began to type as I spoke.
The man needed a sock in the nose. I would’ve obliged if I wasn’t such a nice guy and hadn’t taken a bullet to the leg.
I described the black sedan, the shooting, and Frankie blasting out the car’s rear window. I left out Mickey’s last words about the key in the ashtray. For now, Belle and the key were mine.
Hawkins studied his notes. “How soon after Frankie lit the cigarette did the car approach through the fog?”
The question smacked me in the gut. Was there a connection? “You think Frankie sent some kind of signal?”
“Naah.” Hawkins stuffed the notebook into his pocket. “Seems pretty cut and dried to me. We find the black sedan with the windshield shot out, we find Jimmy Vales.”
“That’s your theory?”
“An hour after Vales threatened to kill you in The Yankee Club—we got a dozen witnesses—you and Mickey O’Brien were gunned down. You think that’s just a coincidence?”
Hawkins might have been right, but I intended to find out. “We’re finished.” I gestured toward the door.
“For now.”
Stone ripped the paper from the typewriter. “There once was a man from Nantucket—”
“That’s enough,” Hawkins shouted.
Stone laid the crude limerick beside the typewriter. He grabbed his hat and left the room.
Hawkins set his hat on his head. “I know you were a gumshoe and Mickey was a friend of yours, but I don’t want you nosing around like this is some chapter in one of your novels. You get in our way, you’ll be typing from a jail cell.” He turned on his heel and left the room.
I rubbed my throbbing leg and pictured Frankie lighting the cigarette and Belle Starr disappearing into the fog. I needed to discover why Mickey was hesitant to discuss the case he was working. I had to check every angle to see whether Mickey had been the target.
Inspector Stone returned and pointed a finger at me. “Mickey’s dead ’cause of you. He’d still be on the force if you hadn’t talked him into becoming a dick.”
“Mickey came to me about becoming a detective.”
Spit flew from his mouth. “You breeze into the city and three hours later Mickey shows up on a slab in the morgue with a tag on his toe. I hope you can sleep nights.”
I wasn’t going to take his crap any longer. I climbed out of bed to take a sock at the bum. A jolt of pain shot through my injured leg, and I crumpled to the floor.
Stone barked a satisfied chuckle and left.
I winced, pulled myself up, and leaned against the bed. I couldn’t imagine Hawkins and Stone finding Mickey’s killer. I just hoped they didn’t get in my way when I left the hospital to investigate.
I didn’t have bourbon to take my mind off Laura and Mickey, but I had my typewriter. Grabbing a crutch, I made it to the table. I dropped into the chair and rolled a sheet of paper into the Underwood and began to type the rewrite of my final chapter.
Halfway through the rewrite an aide delivered dinner—bland-looking rice and a slimy fish fillet. I ignored the meal and finished typing an hour later, satisfied Mildred would be pleased. Now I could focus on more important matters.
I left the chapter beside the typewriter and returned to the bed. It wasn’t long until the doctor entered and removed the bandage from my leg. He examined the wound and nodded approval. No infection. If I didn’t have any complications in the next twenty-four hours, he’d discharge me. Okay, he said a day or two, but I was a quick healer, especially when I had something important to do.
After he left, I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep. I dreamed about standing on a street corner in my old neighborhood. A white ambulance drove past, and the driver shot at me. I dropped to the sidewalk as he sped away. I checked myself over, but the shooter had missed. Sweat slid down my face as I lay on my back on the cement. I was all right but couldn’t escape the impression of someone watching me.
I awoke and stared into the green eyes of Mildred, less than a foot from my face.
“Holy crap!” My editor stumbled backward and fell into the chair beside the bed. She patted her chest. “I thought . . . I thought you were . . . never mind what I thought. I never should’ve hired that driver!”
“Frankie?”
“Don’t worry, I fired him.”
I had my doubts about Frankie, but I wouldn’t share them with Mildred. “Frankie Malzone probably saved my life when he tied his belt around my leg.”
“I should’ve met you at the train. Instead I hire some hoodlum and you end up drinking at a speakeasy and getting shot. I’ll never forgive myself.” She offered no condolences over the loss of a friend. Mildred paced the room and continued to rant as I’d seen her do dozens of times.
When she finally took a breath, I pointed to the twenty pages. “I finished the chapter.”
Mildred stopped pacing and grinned. “You’re the cat’s meow!” She picked up a sheet of paper beside the typewriter. “There once was a man from Nantucket. Jake Donovan!”
“No, the stack of papers on the other side of the typewriter.”
She grabbed the pages and plopped down in the chair. Ten minutes later, a smile swept across her face. “Perfect.”
“Unless you’re Blackie Doyle.”
She clutched the chapter to her chest and approached the bed. “Some people aren’t meant to be married.” Her face reddened, and she covered her mouth with one hand. “I’m so sorry. That was a terrible thing to say.”
“It’s okay.”
Mildred flashed a sheepish smile and grabbed her purse. “I’d like to stay and chat . . . ”
“You don’t chat. You talk. People listen.”
“Was that nice? You’ve got a few more days at the Carlyle Hotel to heal up before you head back to Tampa. You could use a vacation.”
I had no intention of holing up in a hotel. “That would be swell, especially since Empire Press is footing the bill.” I’d developed a knack of smiling with sincerity when I lied.
She kissed my cheek. “Call me when you get out of here. We can talk about your next book over lunch.”
After she left, the nurse came in with a sleeping pill. I welcomed the medication and soon fell asleep. This time: no dreams.
Early the next morning, a hand shook me awake. “Up and at ’em, sunshine. It’s Gino.”
I ran a hand over my face and checked the wall clock. “Seven. Visiting hours aren’t until—”
“I don’t pay attention to stuff like visiting hours.” He pointed to the empty chair outside the open door. “I figured they’d stick a cop outside your door.”
“Guess the detectives I talked to don’t think I need protecting now that they’re on the case.”
Gino checked out the room and nodded approval. “Very nice. Remind me if I get shot to come here.” He glanced around as if someone might be watching then handed me something wrapped in white paper. “Ma baked you a calzone.”
“Thanks.” I unwrapped the prize I remembered as a kid and offered Gino a bite.
“Too early for breakfast.” He slipped a flask from his suit coat and took a sip.
While I ate, Gino grew serious. “Too bad about, Mickey. Funeral is Monday at St. Tim’s.”
“What day is this?”
“You kidding me? It’s Friday . . . May fifth. Sheesh, we need to get you out of here before you go crazy. Anyways, I’m taking care of the arrangements. Mickey didn’t have nobody, except you and me.”
“And Laura.”
He cocked his head. “I don’t like that look on your mug when you said Laura. You’ll probably give me a sock in the jaw, but I gotta say it. You was always too protective of her.”
What? Of course I wanted to protect her. I’d started with keeping her safe from her old man. “You’re right. I should sock you in the jaw, but I still love her.”
“Let’s talk about something else besides feelings, okay, nancy?” He pulled up a chair. “Me and Danny done some snooping around. No one’s seen Jimmy Vales. The cops think he might’ve taken a crack at you, but I don’t know. Jimmy’s no brain surgeon, but he’s not so stupid as to threaten someone in front of a hundred witnesses then plug ’em an hour later. Am I right?”
“You’re preaching to the choir.” I finished the calzone and brushed crumbs from my gown.
“What do you say? Let’s spring you from this joint, choir boy.”
Now? “The doctor didn’t say when I could leave.”
Gino held out both hands. “You waiting for a permission slip? You’re old enough to not have to follow stupid rules. Come on. It’s your leg. You look good. How you feeling?”
“I’m a little stiff.”
“Happens to me every morning.” Gino snorted. “Let’s go. Unless you like the food and lying in bed watching your leg heal.” He set an overnight bag on the bed. “I took the liberty of stopping by your hotel and picking up some of your stuff. Frankie got you checked in.”
“How’d you get in the room?”
“I know the front desk girl . . . intimately.”
Most solved murders were cracked within forty-eight hours. After that, memories faded, clues vanished, and trails grew cold. “I wouldn’t want the hospital to think I skipped out of paying my bill.”
“So you leave ’em a note.” He held up a black lacquered cane with a silver handle in the shape of a bloodhound. “I got you something else. Check this out.” He twisted the handle and pulled. Attached to the handle was an eight-inch dagger that fit into the hollow opening of the cane. “I saw something like this in a movie once. I heard you got shot in the leg and thought you should be gimping around in style. Try it.”
I slid the dagger into the cane. I turned the handle and locked the blade inside. “Nice.”
“So we gonna do this or what?”
Before I could change my mind, I changed into slacks and a sweater. I left a note on the desk to send the bill to the Carlyle.
Gino poked his head out the door. “Coast is clear.”
I kept weight off my leg with the cane and followed him to the elevator, hoping we wouldn’t run into my doc.
Gino stabbed the down button and clapped me on the back. “Relax. You look like we just knocked off a bank.”
The elevator creaked to the lobby. In the morning haze, Gino hailed a cab while I leaned against the cane. I made a mental list of places to check and people to talk to.
Gino held the door open while I climbed into the back of the cab. Yesterday I was just a hack writer finishing a novel. To solve Mickey O’Brien’s murder I’d have to become what I’d been most of my so-called adult life. My fist tightened around the cane’s silver handle. Until I found Mickey’s killer, I was a detective.
Pre-order now and The Yankee Club will download August 12
Amazon Kindle Barnes & Nobel Nook
Books-A-Million eBooks.com Google Play
The post One more excerpt from The Yankee Club appeared first on Michael Murphy's Mystery and History.
August 3, 2014
All That Glitters
While the first Jake and Laura mystery is less than two weeks away, the cover for the second in the series, All That Glitters has just been revealed. Thought you might want to be one of the first to see it.
Another Jake and Laura mystery
Here’s what Random House Alibi says about the novel:
“In Michael Murphy’s rollicking new Jake & Laura mystery, the hard-boiled writer and the aspiring movie star head for sun-drenched Los Angeles, where a cold-blooded murderer lurks behind the scenes.
Just arrived from New York, Broadway actress Laura Wilson is slated to star in Hollywood’s newest screwball comedy. At her side, of course, is Jake Donovan, under pressure to write his next mystery novel. But peace and quiet are not to be had when an all-too-real murder plot intrudes: After a glitzy party, the son of a studio honcho is discovered dead from a gunshot wound. And since Jake exchanged words with the hothead just hours before his death, the bestselling author becomes the LAPD’s prime suspect.
In 1930s Tinseltown, anything goes. Proving his innocence won’t be easy in a town where sex, seduction, and naked power run rampant. With gossip columnist Louella Parsons dead-set on publicizing the charges against him, Jake has no choice but to do what everyone else does in the City of Angels: act like someone else. Blackie Doyle, the tough-talking, fist-swinging, womanizing hero from Jake’s novels wouldn’t pull any punches until he exposed the real killer—nor will Jake, to keep the role of a lifetime from being his last.”
All That Glitters will be released January 6. If you pre-order The Yankee Club now, it will download August 12. Pre-order from:
Amazon Kindle Barnes & Noble Nook
Books-A-Million eBooks.com Google Play
The post All That Glitters appeared first on Michael Murphy's Mystery and History.
July 29, 2014
The Yankee Club Excerpt Week 3
Less than 24 hours after arriving in Queens, Jake finds himself in a hospital bed with a bullet wound in his thigh and Laura in his arms.
The Yankee Club
Chapter 3
A Detective Again
Holding Laura in my arms again after two years, I set aside my guilt over Mickey’s death for a moment. To me we weren’t in some hospital bed. We were holding each other in our comfy Queens apartment, and I’d never left.
We gazed at each other like we always had, as if I never forced the issue about marriage and children. Her soft face and supple lips were inches from mine. I kissed her.
Laura welcomed the embrace then gently pushed me away. With a wistful expression, she sat on the edge of the bed and stared into the distance. The last two years had happened. I had forced the issue. I’d left. Laura was engaged to another man, and I had no one to blame but myself.
The cop rose from his chair outside the room. He closed the door and left us alone. Apparently he’d been in love before.
At least Laura had come alone. Maybe we could talk about things the way we should have before I left. Besides, I didn’t feel up to meeting the man who’d stolen her heart.
She touched the bandage on my forehead. Even with melancholy, tear-filled eyes she looked more beautiful than her billboard picture—short black hair, Grecian nose that hadn’t changed since we were kids, dark haunting eyes that always saw through me.
“I found out you were shot, and I . . . I pictured life without you.” She tilted her head, appearing to search for the right words or hoping to avoid the wrong ones that might make us both uncomfortable. “Then I realized you weren’t in my life, haven’t been for two years.”
The pain on her face made me accept I hadn’t moved to Florida to focus on my career. I’d run away from Laura. When had I become a full-time coward?
She held a handkerchief balled in her fist and dabbed her eyes. “Mickey’s dead?”
I nodded.
Laura retrieved a chair from the corner. She set it beside the bed and held my hand. Her fingers intertwined with mine, as soft and comfortable now as back in the day when she was Becky Thatcher and I was Tom Sawyer.
While I caressed her cheek with my hand, she pressed her face against my palm and closed her eyes. “I didn’t even know you’d come back.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat over what might have been and took my hand away. “I’m not back. I’m on . . . it started as a business trip.”
Laura stiffened in the chair. “Did you plan to see me, or were you going to take care of business and run back to Florida?”
“I just got in a few hours ago.”
She let go of my hand. “That’s not an answer.”
It was a better answer than the truth. I hadn’t gotten over the shock of her photo in the paper. “Congratulations on your engagement.” Immediately I regretted the words.
Guilt swept across her face. “Jake, I . . . I planned to write and explain. I didn’t want you to read about it in the papers. Who told you?”
I waited a beat. “The New York Times.”
She winced and stared at her hands a moment then gathered her composure. “Spencer’s waiting in the lobby. He wanted to give me time alone with you. That’s the kind of guy he is. I think you’d—”
“Don’t.” I clamped my eyes shut. “Don’t say you think I’d like him, that you could picture us as friends.”
“I wasn’t going to say those things. Honest I wasn’t.” Her eyes glistened. She blinked away the tears.
“But you’re going to marry him.”
She clamped her eyes shut a moment then held my hand again. “Jake, do you love me?”
Why did she ask that?
The door opened, and Laura dropped my hand. Spencer Dalrymple III entered the room like he owned the place. With his dough and influence, he probably did.
Laura’s loving expression vanished, replaced by nurselike concern. The transformation smooth and seamless. She was an actress after all, and a damn good one. I couldn’t tell whether the act was for him, or me.
The man wore a tailored double-breasted gray silk suit, matching fedora, and Italian shoes. He cast an adoring smile at Laura that would leave a permanent scar on my heart.
He hung his hat on a coatrack beside the door and shook my hand like I was a returning war hero. “Jake Donovan. Laura’s told me so much about you. I really should tackle one of your novels, but I rarely have time for fiction these days.”
I couldn’t look Laura in the eye. I’m sure she hadn’t told him everything about me, about us. “Ordinarily I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Dalrymple, but under the circumstances . . . ”
“Call me Spencer. I’m so sorry for the loss of your friend. What was his name, darling?” He turned to Laura.
“Mickey O’Brien.” Laura smiled, but her eyes failed to hide her discomfort in the presence of her fiancé.
Dalrymple smoothed his thin mustache and sat at the foot of the bed like we were family. “How morbidly ironic for a man who writes about murder to be shot a few hours after setting foot in my city. Perhaps President Roosevelt will put a stop to the organized crime that’s gotten completely out of hand.”
“It wasn’t an organized-crime hit, Spencer,” Laura said.
“Yes, darling, of course.” He gazed around the room as if conducting an inspection for his bank. “I’m on the board of this hospital. I’ll make sure you have everything you need during your stay. Hopefully your visit to our institution will be brief.”
“The wound isn’t serious. I hope to be out in a couple of days.”
“Splendid! Saturday is Laura’s closing of Night Whispers. Afterward, I’m hosting the cast party at the estate. We’d love for you to come, wouldn’t we, darling?”
One more darling and I’d grab the crutches from the corner and smack him upside the head.
Laura’s face brightened. “Oh, do come, Jake. Many of your writer friends will be at the party, Dashiell and Lillian.”
I’d enjoy seeing my two best writer friends. I chuckled. “Make sure you order plenty of booze.”
She laughed and rattled off several other names while I tried to understand the change in her. Although she liked Dash and Lillian, she hated society parties, at least she used to.
I couldn’t think of a gracious way out. “Of course I’ll be there.”
“Splendid.” Spencer clapped his hands together.
“Congratulations on your engagement.”
A proud smile swept across his face. “I’m a lucky man.”
“Yes you are.”
After an awkward silence, a nurse came in with a stern look. She started to speak; then her face blanched. “Mr. Dalrymple.”
He grabbed his hat. “I bet the nurse needs to stick you with a needle. Perhaps we should let her tend to her business.” Spencer held his hand toward Laura. “Darling, I’m sure your friend needs his rest.”
Friend. I’d become Laura’s friend,and she’d become Dalrymple’s darling.
Laura patted my hand like my sisters used to. “I look forward to seeing you again at the party so we can get caught up.”
Maybe it was the tone of her voice or the tilt of her head when she asked if I still loved her. Maybe I wanted to read something into what wasn’t there, but I suspected she wanted to talk about something important—alone.
Her fiancé didn’t appear to notice, or he chose to ignore it. He held out a ten-dollar bill to the nurse. “Make sure Mr. Donovan gets anything he needs.”
The nurse stared at the sawbuck. “We . . . I can’t . . . a tip?”
“Of course you can.” Displaying his power more than his generosity, he added another sawbuck and stuffed the bills into her hand.
Laura managed an uncomfortable smile at the gesture. At the door her fiancé placed a possessive hand in the center of her back. Then they were gone.
I blew out a long breath and tried to erase the vision of his hand on her back.
The nurse glanced at the wall clock and wrote in my chart. Beside me, she checked my pulse. “Your heart rate is a bit rapid.”
Imagine that.
She wrote in my chart. “Anything I can get you?”
I had a lot to accomplish in the next few days—finalize my chapter to Mildred’s approval, dig into what Mickey had uncovered in his investigation, and now I had a fancy society party to attend. Like my father taught me, one thing at a time. “A typewriter and a shot of bourbon.” We compromised. She’d find me a typewriter.
Sleep came in bits and pieces. In the morning, my mind raced between guilt over Mickey’s death and what I could do about it and images of Laura and her fiancé. Drugs dulled the ache from the wound in my leg. They couldn’t give me anything for the painful thoughts of seeing Laura again, meeting her fiancé, and my regret over running away from a problem instead of facing it like a man.
After breakfast, the nurse handed me the crutches. I staggered around the bed without falling. She led me outside the room and pointed down a long hallway and asked me to give her a half hour while she and another nurse changed the sheets.
The cop outside the door set the newspaper beside the chair and rose.
“Finish your paper.” I made sure I cinched the hospital gown in the back and took a few hesitant steps down the hall. Pain shot through my wounded leg with each step. The rubber crutch tips slipped across the tile, but I soon got the hang of it and made it to the end of the corridor.
I balanced on the crutches and peered through the second-story window at the busy morning rush below. A young couple sat on a bench in a park across the street, holding hands. The man brushed a shock of hair from the girl’s eyes like I’d done when Laura and I dated.
Laura came to school one early spring day with her hair brushed over half her face. She avoided me all morning. At lunch I sat across from her and tried to make her laugh by making a goofy face. She wouldn’t look at me.
I leaned over the table and brushed her hair aside, revealing a fist-sized bruise on the side of her cheek. “What happened?”
She still didn’t look me in the eye. “I tripped and fell.”
I didn’t believe her explanation for a minute. “Was that before or after your old man smacked you?”
Tears welled in her eyes. She brushed the hair over the bruise. “He was drunk.”
What an idiot I’d been. I thought about other bruises I’d seen in the four years I’d known her. Falls she’d laughed off, and I’d chalked up to her tomboy behavior.
The truth she’d kept from me couldn’t hide behind a wisp of hair. Laura’s father beat her, and he hit hard.
Anger stewed all afternoon. I wanted to kill her old man, but teaching him a lesson would be better for Laura. By the final bell, I had a plan.
Gino, Danny, and I waited until after dark, a block from Laura’s, in front of a house with a porch light on. Her old man turned the corner as he came home from work. I stepped forward and blocked his path.
The drunken bully outweighed me by a hundred pounds, but most of it was fat around his belly. I could take him. I learned to fight from boxing lessons my father gave me.
Laura’s old man’s face twisted into a sneer. “You got a problem, pretty boy?”
“You have the problem. I’m going to kick your ass.”
A bead of sweat trickled down his face. It wasn’t a hot night. He let out a ragged laugh. “If this is about Laura, she doesn’t listen when I’m talking, like her mama didn’t. She had it coming.”
“No woman has it coming.” He needed to feel pain like he inflicted on Laura. I clenched both fists.
“I want first crack at him,” Gino said behind me.
I shook my head. “Wait your turn.”
“You’re just kids.” Laura’s old man laughed but cast a wary eye at Danny who pounded his fist into his hand.
I faked a kick to the man’s crotch and threw a sharp left jab that cracked against his chin.
He rubbed his jaw. Anger turned his brown eyes even darker. “If that’s the way you want it.” He swung.
I took a slide step, slipped the punch, and smashed a left-right to his face. He stumbled backward, and I smacked him again.
Gino and Danny cheered me on as I circled to my left. I kept my distance and peppered his fleshy face with stiff jabs and bone-jarring hooks. He tired quickly. The few punches he threw missed.
The screen door squeaked open and a woman’s voice called, “What’s going on?”
Laura’s father swung and landed a lucky punch above my right eye, slicing my brow.
Gino stepped toward the house. “Go back inside, Mrs. Goldstein. This don’t concern you.”
The screen door shut. The porch light blinked off.
I wiped blood from my brow and regained my composure. I bloodied his nose with a left hook. Minutes later, I finished him off. He crumpled to the sidewalk, bleeding from his mouth, nose, and one eye. My buddies never got their turns.
My breathing returned to normal as I stood over him. Blood dripped from the cut above my eye and landed on the man’s shirt.
I waited until his eyes focused and I knew he could understand my words. I pointed my finger like the barrel of a gun, my voice calm. “If you ever touch Laura again, I’ll let my friends have their turn. They’re tougher than me. You understand?”
“And we don’t fight fair.” Gino pumped his fist while Danny grinned in silence.
When Laura’s old man didn’t answer, Gino kicked him in the ribs. “Answer the question, lard-ass.”
Laura’s father gulped and nodded.
Laura and I never spoke about what happened, but her life got better from that day forward. At lunch the next day I hid my bruised knuckles and wore a bandage over the cut on my eyebrow. I told her I’d received it playing football.
She never questioned the bandage or asked about the origin of the scar left from the lucky blow. She told me her father came home after getting into a barroom brawl and apologized for striking her. He even gave her money to see a movie.
Laura and I went on our first date a few days later to the Grand Theatre and watched The Birth of a Nation,courtesy of her old man’s dough. Through most of the movie she held my arm and rested her head on my shoulder. I walked her home. On her doorstep, we kissed for the first time since our Tom Sawyer play.
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