Chapter 8
Violet Wise had been born Violet Temple, once referred to by her mother as an excitable little scamp.
The smile that accompanied those words was the only memory she retained of her mother, who’d died in a fire that had also killed her father, but only on the inside.
He still breathed and walked and spoke, though rarely, but his eyes were dead, which left her with Aunt Esther.
She didn’t like to think about living with Aunt Esther, preferred to imagine her life had begun when the woman had thrown her out.
Violet spent a lot of time in Chicago nightspots, got to know all the bartenders and hostesses of the most famous clubs in the city.
She liked the glitz and the glamorous people, and she envied the attention commanded by the dancing girls.
But the singers, the chanteuses … those girls had the real power.
Or so a fifteen-year-old orphan had believed.
She’d married Elias Wise because he won a bet.
Violet would have married him anyway, but somehow, it had to be a game with him or he wouldn’t take it seriously.
So they’d bet, and she’d lost, and somehow that meant she had to marry him.
He’d taken her home to Elkhart, Indiana, like some kind of prize, and left her there to collect dust while he carried on with a life of gambling and nightclubs and pretty girls in baubles and gowns.
“Songbird” he’d called her when he’d been trying to seduce her.
But there were other Songbirds back in Chicago, and Elias found them a lot more interesting than the one he’d put in a cage back home.
It had been another life in Elkhart. A very different chapter.
Now that chapter had come to a close.
Violet laughed softly to herself, there in the baggage car. She’d built a sort of throne out of suitcases and duffels, and while no illusion could make it appear luxurious, she believed her makeshift chair was as comfortable as a seat in a first-class compartment.
“I guess I didn’t expect laughter,” Malcolm said.
“My mouth sometimes has a mind of its own.”
Malcolm gave her a look that she’d come to recognize, a quirk of the eye that suggested he’d just had an absolutely filthy thought about her but had been too well raised to speak it into the world.
Violet felt her cheeks flush pink and wondered what the hell had become of the songbird Elias brought home.
Back then, she’d been sultry on the surface and proper in private.
In the years since her wedding, those two parts of her had switched places.
She’d learned kindness and consideration while living with her mother-in-law and her husband’s brother, but she’d also learned an interior freedom she had never imagined possible.
“You going to tell me what’s funny?” Malcolm asked.
“Just that I’m here at all.” Violet decided on complete honesty. “I wouldn’t sit in the baggage car like a secondhand goat for just anyone.”
Malcolm gazed at her, so much unspoken. She wouldn’t have liked most men looking at her that way, but coming from Malcolm, it did something to her. Maybe it was because she knew he wouldn’t look at other women so boldly—the hunger he had was just for her.
The train rocked in a hard wind. Above the sound of the wheels on the tracks, she could hear a patter on the roof and windows. It had begun to rain. They were charging their way into a storm, the sky gone ominously gray.
“Maggie was always good to you,” Malcolm said.
Violet looked at him, then dropped her gaze. “She was. But I’m not here for Maggie, and I think you know that.”
“I know we’re long overdue for a conversation. Got some hard decisions to make.” Malcolm tapped out a cigarette and clicked a flame out of his lighter. He inhaled, firing the tip of the cigarette, then flipped the lighter shut. “But I made Maggie a promise, and that comes first.”
“Of course.”
It was more than they’d ever said to one another about the heat smoldering between them.
Both had acknowledged it in other ways, in lingering gazes and the gentle touch of a hand, in words that echoed with deeper meaning.
But Maggie’s death demanded they be more direct, and though Violet mourned her, she was eager to speak the words that had been waiting so long, and propriety be damned.
Elias had captured her like an enemy flag.
She’d grown to despise him. Malcolm was everything his brother was not.
“Are you going to tell me what’s in Maggie’s letter?”
He drew the envelope from his pocket. “You’d think there might be some wistful final words, but it’s not. Just instructions about the train route, what to do when we get to Shediak.”
“No heartfelt farewell message?”
“I guess that was too much to hope for,” he said. His tone was light, but she saw the pain it caused him.
“Stories train us to believe people have these incredible epiphanies at the end of their lives, try to make amends, see things in a new light,” Violet said. “I wish I believed that. I guess it must happen sometimes, but not in my experience.”
She reached over, throne of luggage creaking beneath her, and plucked Malcolm’s cigarette from his lips.
She took a long drag, then exhaled as she settled back again.
The cigarette had become hers, just as she had become his.
That easily. Despite what he’d said, there were no hard decisions to make—just fate to pursue.
With a clank, the latch turned at the end of the baggage car, and the door swung open.
Violet scrambled to her feet, cigarette pinched between her lips.
Malcolm shot up beside her, put himself between her and the door, and slid the Browning out of its holster.
She’d been glad when he’d taken it from his valise.
She hated guns, but the skirmish in front of the house that morning had given her fresh perspective.
The baggage car rocked as it rounded a curve and the big man who came through the door staggered against the frame. Violet stumbled into Maggie’s crate, but somehow Malcolm stayed upright, ready to fight.
Alfie Hannigan looked at the gun, then glanced at them almost with pity. “Aren’t you two adorable.”
“I’d say we are,” Violet replied. She sat on the edge of the crate and puffed on the cigarette, trying to act as if her heart weren’t pounding full speed.
“Mr. Hannigan,” Malcolm said, putting his gun away. “We’re grateful you didn’t miss the train.”
Alfie stepped farther into the car. The rush of air that swept through slammed the door behind him. Someone had blacked his left eye, turned it swollen and bloodshot. His hair and clothing were in disarray. The pocket of his coat had been torn and hung down like an elephant’s ear.
“A bit jumpy, aren’t you? Best be careful or you’ll end up putting a bullet into a porter coming through the door.”
Violet wanted to at least smile politely at this warning, but couldn’t make herself do it. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever have the heart for small talk again.
Malcolm put out a hand to introduce himself.
Alfie shook firmly. “I know who you are.” He glanced at Violet. “I should say I know who you both are, though I wasn’t told Mrs. Wise would be making the trip.”
“I have no idea who you are, aside from your name,” Malcolm said, “and I wasn’t told to expect any of this. Pax Keates said my mother hired you. Maybe you can elaborate on what that means.”
The train rocked, but Alfie and Malcolm kept their balance.
“It’s like it sounds,” Alfie said. “I only met Maggie the one time. Talked to her on the telephone twice after that. We were told Mr. Keates would call when the time came, that he’d be the one to pay us the second half of our fee when the job was done.”
“The job being?” Violet nudged.
Alfie gestured toward the crate. “To see that she got all the way home, and to make sure any of her family who were along for the trip made it, too.”
“Why you?” Violet asked.
“I assume someone gave us a referral—me and my brother, Joe—and she liked us when she met us. Or trusted us. I guess what matters is that I’m here now and she’s gone.” The big man’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry for your loss, both of you. She seemed like one hell of a lady.”
“She was,” Malcolm agreed.
“You want my credentials or something?” Alfie went on.
“I know you served in Korea. Me and Joe were over there, too, but before we went to war, we built up a little reputation for what I guess you’d call security.
Keeping people out of trouble— sometimes out of prison.
Never any real devils. Me and Joe got standards. ”
Malcolm smiled. Violet could see he liked Alfie, and despite the kinds of things she suspected he was alluding to, she liked him, too.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Violet said. “A man’s got to have standards.”
“Exactly what me and Joe always say.”
“Speaking of Joe, what happened there?” Malcolm asked.
“I’ll admit, I was pretty relieved when I saw you get out of that Oldsmobile.
But you left your Tucker behind, and then at the train station, you left Joe behind.
I’m sure you’re good at what you do, but I guess two Hannigan brothers are better than one. ”
“Can’t argue with that,” Alfie agreed, “but the asshole in the 88 put a hole in one of our tires and tried to keep us from getting to our car. Spur of the moment, we decided the best thing to do was borrow his. We were in kind of a hurry, since we were paid to be on this train with you.”
“But Joe’s not on the train,” Violet pointed out. “He stayed behind.”
“Any luck, he’ll catch up,” Alfie said. “But he figured the real job is making sure you get your mother’s body where it’s going, and that guy wanted to make sure that doesn’t happen. Joe went back to slow him down.”
Alfie gave them a shy smile that belied his age and the violence he’d alluded to in his life. “I guess I’d be lying if I didn’t add that he also went back to make sure nothing happened to the Tucker. Joe loves that car more than breathing.”
Violet took a calming puff on her cigarette, then dropped it to the floor and ground it out with her heel.
The movement caught Alfie’s eye, and he studied her a moment.
In her time as a nightclub performer, she had grown quite used to men’s eyes on her, but this felt different, almost as if he were trying to decide if he wanted her on his team.
She slid off the crate and stood, wanting to measure up, somehow.
“I feel like there’s an important question we haven’t asked,” she said.
Malcolm nodded. “I agree. Pretty sure it’s the same one in my head.”
“Maggie thought Malcolm would need help getting her remains safely to Shediak,” Violet went on. “Maybe she didn’t know it would be the man in the bird mask—”
“I think of him as the raven,” Malcolm interrupted.
“He wore a mask last night,” Violet explained to Alfie. “Maybe she didn’t know it would be him, but she knew there’d be trouble when we tried to move her remains. And she knew that wouldn’t be the end of it, or she wouldn’t have wanted you on this train.”
“Sounds about right,” Alfie said.
Malcolm put a hand on the edge of the crate. “Back to the question, then,” he said, more to his late mother, inside the crate, than to Alfie Hannigan. “Who is the raven? Why does he want to stop us? And what kind of trouble did Maggie think would catch up to us?”
“That’s three questions,” Alfie pointed out.
“Though I guess they’re all one big answer, which is, I don’t know.
All she told us was that they’d be strong, they weren’t afraid to get violent, and we had to be prepared to be just as violent.
I think she used the word vicious, because I remember my brother promising her we knew how to get vicious if necessary. ”
Violet shuddered a bit at the calm in his face and voice as he spoke of his capacity for violence.
Alfie gave an apologetic shrug. “That’s about it.
Now, Malcolm—I hope you don’t mind me calling you by your Christian name—I’ve got a lot of faith in you.
I’ve seen your war record. You’re no slouch when it comes to a fight.
Which means I guess we can all keep an eye out for trouble, and for my brother. ”
“We’re to stay with the crate,” Malcolm said. “This isn’t my idea of a good time, but I made a promise.”
Alfie smiled. “You do that. But I hope you don’t think I’m gonna spend the whole trip in here when I could be in a proper seat, drinking whiskey. I’ll check on you here and there. And I won’t be far … just a car or two away.”
“No one’s going to begrudge you a whiskey, Mr. Hannigan,” Violet said, “but you’ve just told us of your vaunted reputation. I trust you didn’t acquire that reputation by getting drunk while the people and things you’re meant to look after were in danger.”
Alfie’s smile faded. She thought she could see the violence in him, now.
“No, ma’am,” he said. “I take comfort when I can, but I don’t take foolish risks.”
“Whatever the raven wanted,” Malcolm said, “we’ve left him behind, and your brother was there to deal with him. I suspect you can get comfortable. I feel like a damn fool making our nest in the baggage car. If not for it being my mother’s final wish, I’d join you for that whiskey.”
“On the ride back,” Alfie suggested. “Fine meals, luxury compartments.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Violet said. “When the time comes, I’ll certainly drink to it.”