The next day she felt as though nothing could ever go wrong again. Frankie had asked her to marry him and even though he had not set a date, he had said that it would be immediately. She told Frankie that she had some shopping to do for the house and for her trousseau, kissed him firmly, deeply and walked out into the warm sunshine. Even though the wind was fairly strong, the weather was warm and pleasant, matching the good, complete feeling that she had inside her. She wasn't going to let anything that Gypsy had said bother her any longer. She knew that she was just a jealous woman who had been jilted and she was trying in every way she could to get Frankie back.
She grabbed a cab and headed for the downtown area when a car pulled up alongside her cab and someone was motioning to her from the driver's seat.
She looked over and saw that it was Al, so she asked the driver to stop and she hopped out. Al pulled the car over to the curb and helped her in.
"What a stroke of luck finding you like this," he said. "I was going to try the apartment, but I wasn't sure whether or not you had gone back and whether or not Frankie would be there."
"Oh yes, Frankie was there when I got back and everything is just fine. In fact, were getting married." Her face was radiant and she seemed to be glowing, almost ethereal.
"Well, that may not be a bad idea under the circumstances," he continued. "I hate to throw a monkey wrench into the whole thing, but I'm afraid that I've got some bad news."
Her face clouded and she was almost afraid to ask what had happened. Al had never bothered her with petty rumors and was not the type that delighted in making problems for other people.
"What's the matter? Is it something with Frankie," she implored.
"Well, you know what I told you the other day about Joe Flanagan's little investigation on Harris and how you may tie in with him. It seems that that little bastard has dug up some dirt or paid some people to say that you have been swinging not only with Frankie and Harris, but with just about anyone else who has the price."
She looked at him in disbelief, her eyes welling up with tears.
"I know that I've been far from perfect, but I've never been a working girl per se."
"I'm afraid that the local gendarmes aren't about to believe that especially since they have records of some of your recent purchases in the local stores and quite frankly, it is way over what you could possibly be making in a square job."
"Well, what can they do? Are they going to arrest me? What's going to happen, I've got to know!" she begged.
"Honey, I'm not sure what they're going to do, but if I were you I wouldn't be seen going into Harris' apartment for some time. They have a tail on him and unfortunately, it involves your tail."
She shook her head, not knowing what she should say, what she should do. Sure she had taken money from Harris, but that had been just to help Frankie out when he was short.
"You've been giving money to Frankie, right? The money you got from Harris, except for the little bit you stashed?" he asked.
She nodded, not able to speak, the words stuck in her throat and her tongue felt thick.
"Well, sweetheart, technically that makes him a pimp. They can bust you for prostitution and get him for living off the earnings of immorality. They are both felony counts and that adds up to a stretch in prison no matter how you cut it." He glanced over at her as he drove and he could see the tears were streaming down her face where there had been a cheery smile not a few minutes before.
"Well, there is one thing, honey, but it won't be of much help to you," he continued.
"What's that… anything," she asked.
"If they get to you first, and if they have the proof that Harris gave you money, they can arrest you, but you would have to be the one to point the finger at Frankie. You'd have to testify that you gave him money, that he was the one who introduced you to Harris and set the arrangement up."
"I'd never do that," she said, shocked at the thought that he would say such a thing.
"You may not have a choice, sweetheart. That's what I'm trying to tell you. The cops already have had their eye on Frankie for narcotics, you know that, so they'll get him one way or the other if this whole thing comes to a head. They can put a lot of pressure on a girl like you to get you to talk. So all I'm saying, is… be careful."
She kept her eyes down toward the floor of the car and said, "It doesn't look like I've got much of a chance, do I?"
"Well, just thought I'd warn you. Try not to let it prey on your mind and maybe this whole stinking mess will blow over. How 'bout a drink? I think you could use one."
She nodded and he pulled off onto a side street and toward a bar that she had been to several times before with Frankie.
They went to a booth in the back of the bar and sat down. The place was crowded, even though it was still early in the day.
"I brought you here for a reason," Al said. "A lot of the Evening Star reporters hang out in here and if Flanagan comes in I want you to know what he looks like so you can watch out for him."
He ordered martinis for both of them and she sat back and tried to relax. The day had started out so nicely, so beautifully, and now everything was falling apart right in front of her.
She sipped her drink, letting the sting of the alcohol warm her stomach, hoping that it would calm her quivering nerves. She knew that the police could exert pressure on people, but she had never thought that it would affect her. She couldn't believe that it could happen to her, where had she gone wrong? She wanted to call Harris and ask him what he would do, but she knew that even this was risky now as they may have wire-tapped his line. She didn't want to worry Frankie with this additional problem, but she wasn't sure that she could carry the burden all by herself. She would have to figure out something – something that she could do all by herself.
She finished her drink and Al ordered another round from the waiter. When the waiter returned with their order he told Al that there was a gentleman at the bar who wanted to see him. He strained his neck and looked toward the bar and saw Joe Flanagan!
"Well, well," he said, "looks like we're in luck. Flanagan's at the bar!"
He pointed to a young man wearing a wrinkled trench coat and carrying an expensive looking attache case.
"That, my dear girl, is Flanagan. Your wolf in sheep's clothing. Will you excuse me for a moment while I see what the dear boy wants. He doesn't know that I've been tipping you off, so maybe he'll have something of interest to tell me. Be right back. Order another drink if you want one before I return."
He patted her hand and winked at her and moved down the crowded bar to where Flanagan was standing.
"Afternoon, Joe," he said cheerily, "what brings you into a saloon so early in the day?"
"Not much, Al. I saw your car outside, so I thought that you were probably in here and I've got to ask your advice on something. Do you have a spare minute, it's really very important?"
"Sure, always glad to help a struggling young reporter," he answered, hoping that he had not seen Cynthia with him.
Flanagan looked peaked and troubled and his voice was shaking as he repeated his story to Al.
"I got this phone call the other day warning me to lay off of Harris or I'd be wearing cement shoes and dumped in the lake. I know this guy Harris can play rough, but I don't think he's so stupid as to have me wiped out, especially when he knows that my story will be printed, as is, if anything happens to me." His words came out sure enough, but it was obvious that he was just trying to convince himself and was looking for some reassurance.
"What do you think," he continued. "You've been in this game. Were you ever threatened?"
"Well, I never was very big on exposes, Joe, but it would seem to me that you're getting too close to Harris for comfort if he would threaten you like that."
"That's what I thought and I don't want to give up on this story. It will be the biggest break of my life if things go right and I can follow it through."
"I'm not trying to scare you, Joe," Al said, "but Harris owns a lot of this town, both inside and outside the law and there is no question that you're playing with fire, but from a newspaper standpoint, I think it would be a shame to quit. Have anything new on the case?" He hoped that he didn't sound too inquisitive or too anxious to get information, but Joe seemed eager to talk so he thought he'd take his best shot.
"There have been a few new developments actually. It seems that Frankie Mahoney, a young punk around town has been pretty tight with Harris, supplying him with girls, dope, the whole shot, and if we can get him first I think we'll have a better chance at Harris." Al listened intently, hoping that Joe would go into more detail so that he could be of more help to Cynthia.
"What do you plan to do with him," Al asked. "I've seen Mahoney around, but know him only slightly and it seems that he runs a pretty tight ship."
"It won't be easy, but Mahoney's girlfriend is Harris' shack-up and favorite pastime, so we hope that we can nail him that way. It's just a shot in the dark, but that's the way we plan on working it."
Al was afraid that this is what they would have in mind, but he tried not to let his concern show on his face as he excused himself.
"Good luck, Joe. I hope I was some help, but it's your neck, so do what you think best."
"Yeah, thanks a lot… for listening anyway, I guess you're right. I'll keep you posted," he replied.
Al walked back to the table and sat down.
"Well, what's the verdict," Cynthia asked. "You don't look so happy. What did you find out?"
"It doesn't look good, I've got to tell you that. They plan on getting to Frankie through you and through Frankie to Harris. Looks as though they'll be hounding you first, so be on the lookout."
"Well… that's charming. Now I'll be afraid to walk outside without the fear of someone stopping me and taking me right in. Can they do that?" she asked hesitantly.
"Technically, they can bold you on suspicion of anything at all without proof for seventy-two hours, and in that time they can get pretty persuasive."
"You're so encouraging, Al," she said, trying to laugh, but her insides were churning from fright.
"Well, sweetheart, try to forget it for the time being. I don't think it's something that they're going to do right away. They've got to have pretty strong evidence before they make a move like that. Just play it cool and ride with the punches."
"Well, in that case I think I'll have another drink. Okay?" she said.
"Sure, anything you want," he answered and motioned for the waiter to bring another round.
She finished her third martini and was beginning to feel a little more relaxed. The alcohol was dulling the realization that she could be in some serious trouble, and at least this would take her mind off the problem for the moment.
"Are you going to be all right if I leave you here," Al asked. "I don't think we'd better be seen talking together in view of what Joe just told me. If he sees us I doubt that I will get any more information from him and it could make things worse!"
"No… no… that's okay, I'll be just fine. You go ahead, I'm just going to sit here for a moment and finish my last drink and then head for home. I don't think that I'll say anything to Frankie about this just at the moment, it might make him more nervous and he doesn't need anymore problems at the moment."
"I think that that would be wise, sweetheart. Just keep what I've told you to yourself and wait and see what happens. Don't get depressed. If anything happens you can bet that I'll be right there to see what I can do."
"Thanks Al, thanks so much, you're a real friend. I don't know what I'd do without you."
She watched him leave and she wanted to cry, but she knew that she would have to face whatever came along. She didn't want to risk losing Frankie, especially now that they had just rediscovered each other again, she couldn't take that.
She finished her drink and sat there for a minute, smoking a cigarette and debating whether or not she would risk calling Harris. It seemed that he always had the answers and what could they possibly prove by a phone call.
She snuffed out her cigarette, put on her coat and walked outside into the chilling air of the Chicago Loop.