Chapter Nineteen: Basin Street

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FIRST DRAFT



“Damn it,” Michael muttered staring across the street. Margaret’s Manor was surrounded by police and on lookers that were curious to see the ransacked building. Michael ducked back into the alley, trying not to breathe in the stench that was coming from the piles of garbage and sewage that surrounded them. “They’re everywhere.”

“I told you,” Jeremy said flatly. Michael hadn’t noticed last night, but Jeremy’s voice had developed a slight whine after receiving a broken nose. Michael tried to move it back into place the night before, but for all Jeremy’s cursing and shouting, he didn’t know if he had succeeded. Now Jeremy was sitting on a broken crate rolling tobacco into a small piece of paper. Michael had long lost count of how many cigarettes his friend had gone through. “They’re watching the place. Hoping Riley will come back.” Jeremy laughed mirthlessly. “If Riley was that stupid they wouldn’t be having a man-hunt for him.”

“But where do you think he is?” Michael asked, trying to keep the worry from his voice. He didn’t like being out here in the open. Not when the police were scouring the city for Riley and anyone who looked like they might have met him once. After a few hours sleep at the cottage, Michael and Jeremy came back to the French Quarter in hopes that they would find Riley pretty quickly. They’d spent the entire day avoiding police and searching all the places that Riley usually stayed in with no luck to show for it. Finally they’d gone back to Chartres Street as a last resort. But as they’d expected Margaret’s Manor was being closely watched by police, even though it was obviously completely empty.

Jeremy ran the tip of his tongue along the edge of the paper and deftly rolled the tobacco up into a tight tube. He held onto it with his teeth while he fished for his matches. “No idea,” he said before striking the match and holding it to the cigarette’s end.

Michael groaned and dropped down to the ground, too tired to care what he might be sitting on. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

“Ah! At last. I’ve been searching for you men all day.”

Michael’s eyes flew open and he jumped to his feet again quickly. The young man standing at the entrance of the alley was short, and a little too small to be a threat, but both Michael and Jeremy took a fighting stance and held their hands near their guns anyway.

“No need to be alarmed, my friends,” the man said, taking a step into the alley. “I’m one of you. Riley sent me to fetch the members that were scattered during the raid. He’s waiting for you both to return.”

Michael eyed the new arrival warily. The sun shone bright outside the alley and the man’s silhouette was about all he could make out of him; though Michael didn’t much like the slightly feminine French accent the stranger had.

“Riley who? We don’t know no Riley,” Jeremy said, giving his voice an Irish accent that would have fooled his own mother.

The man took another step into the alley and both Michael and Jeremy took a step back. The shadows enveloped the man and Michael’s eyes were adjusted enough to the dimness to realize that it wasn’t a man at all. It was a woman in a man’s suit. And not just any woman; it was Maggie.

It was obvious by the wide-eyed look Jeremy was giving the disguised Madame that he recognized her too. However, neither one of them relaxed.

“What are you doing out here?” Michael asked, his eyes narrowing at the woman.

Maggie took a few more steps into the alley and, with a sigh of annoyance, dropped her act. “Just what I told you. Riley’s hiding out and I’m helping him get the Clan back together.”

Michael glanced at Jeremy to see if he was buying this. As far as they knew, Maggie could be in league with the police herself; it definitely wasn’t a time for trust.

“Prove it,” Jeremy said.

Maggie sighed again and came closer to them. From this distance Michael had to wonder how he’d thought she was a man for even a moment. Maggie was nothing if not a woman. Even at forty she retained the full figure that was amply strapped down to hide under the large jacket she was wearing. Her long hair was shoved up under her hat, and she was without any of the makeup that usually enhanced her appearance. Michael noticed the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth for the first time. He had never seen her in the clean light of day before and the new picture didn’t improve his opinion of her. The woman never did anything unless she was getting something out of it.

“Fine,” Maggie said, a sharp note of irritation in her voice. “Riley promised that if I brought everyone to him he would find me a new place for the Manor, after what the police did in the raid it would cost more then I make in a year to restore the place. But, as of this moment any female within a mile of this place is going to be thrown in prison for aiding criminals. I had to search for everyone somehow so I disguised myself. Now either come with me or wait for the police to find you.”

With a great humph, Maggie pushed past them and strode further into the alley, her hips swinging in a way that was clearly not male. Michael glanced at Jeremy and he gave a hesitant nod. Together they followed Maggie deeper into the alley.

She didn’t have much trouble figuring out where they were going, though where that was Michael had no idea. They trekked down the alley until they arrived on Bourbon. There, Maggie pulled her hat down and easily blended into the crowd, Michael and Jeremy following a few paces behind her. It was a long walk, but seeing as they had left their horses in the hands of a stable boy back on Royal Street, and Maggie didn’t have one at all, there was little choice. Past saloons, shops, and expensive mansions they went, cutting through side streets to avoid the curious stares of strangers when possible. By the time they stopped at Rampart Street, the very back of the French Quarter, they were all sweating. And though the sun was steadily slipping away to the west, the humid air was thick and claustrophobic.

“Where are we going, Maggie?” Jeremy demanded, using his shirt sleeve to sop up the sweat the trickled down his forehead.

“It’s not much farther,” Maggie said. “And don’t call me that when I’m dressed like this.” She shielded her eyes with her hand and looked back down the street they’d just emerged from.

“What are you looking for?” Michael asked, raising his own hand to block the sinking sun. He followed her gaze down St. Peter Street.

“I’m making certain we’re not being followed. Riley would kill me if I led the police to his hideout.

Michael nodded and continued to stare down the street. However, he didn’t know what to look for. There were hundreds of people walking down the banquettes and crossing the road; how was he to know if they’d been pursued?

“Come along,” Maggie said after another moment of searching. She resumed their walk, striding across Rampart without a backwards glance. Michael wondered how Riley could stand the woman, he was already at his wit’s end with her and she’d barely spoken.

Jeremy shrugged at him and hurried to catch up with the Madame, Michael, on the other hand, was perfectly continent to follow from a safe distance behind.

Maggie wasn’t lying when she said they were nearly there. After exiting the boundaries of the French Quarter they continued a few blokes up St. Peter Street until they reached the street just above the Place des Negres.

Basin Street was lined with three story mansions of brick and brownstone. Giant oak trees offered shade in every well clipped yard; azalea bushes and magnolia trees surrounded each house and filled the air with the calming scent of summer. The street was quiet, something Michael was not used to after the busy lanes of the Vieux Carre, only a few women strolled along the road, all of which were followed by slave girls carrying bulky packages under their arms. Michael couldn’t fathom why Riley would be here, in what was considered the finest residential district in the city. But then maybe that was exactly where Riley needed to be.

The threesome walked with more ease now, and Michael tried not to gawk at every home they passed. As they walked, he noticed more and more the curious amount of young ladies that came to boldly stare out the window at them from their third floor perch, some even going so far as to wave. There was something strange about it all, and slowly it dawned on Michael. They were not homes at all, not all of them at least. They were brothels, and not the kind that Michael was used to; these were the upscale harlots that cost more than what a man made in a week. No wonder Riley was hiding here.

They finally stopped before a giant white brick mansion and again Michael noticed the girls pulling back the drapes to have a look at the new arrivals. Michael glanced at Jeremy and saw that he was completely ignoring these women, his eyes darted up and down the street as if he still suspected they may have been followed. Maggie was doing neither; with a purposeful stride she ascended the neatly swept front steps and rapped the silver knocker against the front door.

Michael and Jeremy climbed the porch steps as well and waited for someone to answer. There was the sharp sound of a bolt released and then the door eased open without a sound. A small Negro girl peeked her head out and glanced over them before quickly stepping back to allow them entrance. The foyer of the house was as grand as the outside suggested. A mahogany staircase beckoned them to climb up, quiet giggles floating down to them in the quiet house. Above them a crystal chandelier sparkled candlelight across the paintings that hung on every wall, and Michael felt dirty just standing on the Oriental rug.

“Where is your mistress?” Maggie asked in her usual sharp manner before the girl had even shut the door.

“She has been expecting you,” the maid said, her tone calm and unconcerned by Maggie’s irritation. “If you will wait here, I’ll announce your arrival.”

Without haste, the maid exited through a door to their left and they waited in silence. Though by the look on Maggie’s red and sweaty face, she wouldn’t be silent for long. Thankfully the maid returned quickly and directed them through the door she came from and into the parlor. A regal blonde woman, who looked to be in her mid fifties, dressed in bottle green satin, stood before the carved marble fireplace with her hands clasped serenely in front of her. Her sharp eyes swept them over as they entered and she cringed ever so slightly as if she’d smelled something foul. The expression disappeared before Michael was sure he saw it and was replaced by a mocking smile.

“Ah, Margaret, you’ve returned. I hope the sun did not cause you too much irritation.” The woman spoke in a high-pitched tone that suggested she thought she was better than all of them. “Though I’m sure your skin is used to it by now. Why, you used to live in the streets, did you not? It was most likely a lovely walk down Memory Lane, sneaking through allies and such, no?”

Michael felt the anger radiating off of Maggie like heat, and for once, he couldn’t blame her. Whoever this woman was, she was possibly more of a hateful slut then Maggie. But to Maggie’s credit, she did not start screaming curses at the woman. She gave a forced smile that brought to light the wrinkles around her mouth, and addressed the mistress of the house, “Yes, it was quite lovely, Julia. Thank you for asking. Now if you will please escort us to Riley, I would be most grateful” Maggie’s voice was like honey as she raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. “He did request that his men be brought to him immediately upon arrival, didn’t he? You wouldn’t want him to think you were trying to delay us, would you?”

Julia’s pale skin became, if possible, even paler at the accusation. “Of– of course not, Margaret. I was going to escort you to him myself.”

Julia headed for a door in the far corner of the room, but Maggie beat her there. “Not at all, Julia darling, I’m certain I can recall the way.” She glanced sharply at Michael and Jeremy, and, taking the hint, they hurried after her as she left the room, leaving Julia looking deeply resentful.

Michael wondered at the odd exchange as they made their way through the dining room and into the kitchen, but found that he was too tired to speak at this point and figured he’d best save his energy for Riley. Jeremy, however, seemed curious.

“Who was that?” he asked offhandedly.

Maggie– who was muttering to herself about high and mighty whores who thought they were better than others just because they were expensive – jumped in surprise at the question, and threw a nasty look at Jeremy as if he had snuck up on her. “She was Riley’s mistress nearly a decade ago,” Maggie said scathingly, as they descended a narrow staircase in the dark cellar. “When he grew tired of her, he gave her enough money to buy her own establishment. She actually thinks that Riley might want her again now that he needs to hide out here for a while. Quite pitiful if you ask me.”

Michael heard Maggie laugh with forced mirth, though he couldn’t see a thing in the black cellar. There was a switching sound to his right, and then the room was lit by a single match as Maggie touched the flame to a candle. She was still laughing, though now soundlessly, the look on her face was half mad with glee and Michael wondered how much about Maggie’s mission was about Riley’s promise to give her a new brothel.

Maggie set the candle down on a barrel, moved to the center of the small room, and knelt down in the hay that, oddly enough, covered the ground. Her hands searched around her until she grasped a short chain that was connected to the floor. She hammered her fist against the ground once, twice, three times, before getting to her feet and heaving the chain with all of her might. There was no denying that Maggie was strong, with just her small weight she managed to move, what Michael now realized was a trap door, a few inches from it’s snug home. Jeremy, who, as usual was a step ahead of Michael, was already beside Maggie pulling the chain as well. Before he could even think to step in, the door was slamming against the floor; hay and dirt flew everywhere. The opening was a four foot square and about three feet deep before it spread out into what Michael assumed was a small room. A ladder rested on the edge and without hesitation Jeremy climbed down it, followed shortly by Maggie. By the time Michael got in the dark hole with them, he barely had time to realize he was in a space hardly large enough for the three of them, surrounded be actual brick walls, before Maggie opened the rough wooden door directly in front of them. Inside was a near duplicate of the parlor upstairs, with three exceptions. There was no fireplace; no windows, and Riley had not been upstairs.

*******

The room was stuffy and filled with the heat from the dozens of candles that blazed around them. Riley was seated at a large black walnut desk, calmly smoking a cigar as he regarded the men that crowded about the room. Michael recognized only a few of them himself. Sam was dutifully standing near Riley eyeing those around like a bodyguard. Seth was lounging on a sofa that looked unsteady under his considerable bulk. In the chair next to him, Howard sat, his eyes fixed on a candle flame as if it were talking to him. Five other men were scattered about the room, none of which Michael knew.

Red and Joseph were noticeably absent.

Maggie left after a short, whispered conversation between her and Riley. Michael threw himself into a chair opposite Seth as soon as Riley bid them enter. Michael was feeling calm and safe for the first time that day. They’d made it back to Riley and now everything would be all right. Jeremy didn’t have the same reaction Michael did. He stood silently, his body so tense Michael wondered if his spine would snap should he decide to sit. He eyed Riley cautiously, his hand clenching and unclenching at his side as if ready for a fight. Riley didn’t glance at him.

There was a hushed quiet in the room. Only a few spoke and even then it was only in whispers. Eventually the quiet became silence, and after a moment the soundless room was deafening.

“I’m very disappointed in you men,” Riley finally said, his voice unnerving and low. “After all the planning and caution that was put into that hit job I would have expected little mess. It was a double hit. Not a triple, not quadruple; double. Yet here I am, blamed for the murders of a handful of people that I didn’t permit.”

The room stayed quiet, no one breathed. Michael was feeling sick to his stomach, though he’d barely had anything to do with the job. He glanced around and saw that everyone looked as sick as he felt, there was nothing worse then letting down the Boss.

Riley scanned the room slowly before continuing. “Not only that, but I lost a valuable member of my group. Never in my career have I lost a member so uselessly, and should any such folly happen again,” Riley shot a hard glance at Sam, “there will be consequences. The other, more important matter is the betrayal of or latest customer.” Shifting positions in his chair, Riley stubbed out his cigar and began to fill himself a glass of whiskey. “Not only did Mr. de Mandeville reveal to the police our whereabouts, but he had the nerve to announce in the paper that he did so. I suppose he assumed he would be safe once I was arrested.” Riley gave a rare, wicked grin over his glass before taking a drink.

Michael laughed quietly with the others in the room at the thought of Riley being caught; half the police force were afraid of Riley and if he were arrested he wouldn’t be in jail long. Hoping to share this amusing thought with Jeremy, Michael glanced up at his friend and noticed that he and Sam were still stiff and silent.

“Since Mandeville likes to play games,” Riley went on, “I figure why not indulge him? So, Jeremy.” Jeremy’s posture became, if possible, even more taut as he met Riley’s gaze. “I need you to keep an eye on him for me. Let me know what he’s up to and keep him on his toes. Sam,” without shifting his gaze Riley addressed the man at his side. “I need you to deliver a message to Mr. Dreaux for me. A simple warning should suffice.” Riley swirled the liquid around in his glass, a small, cruel smile playing on his lips. “Mandeville is going to find out what happens when you mess with Theodore Riley. He took my men, now I take something from him. Something precious, something irreplaceable. Can anybody guess what that would be?”

Michael tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry. He waited, hoping it wasn’t what he feared, whom he feared, but no one spoke. Again Michael looked at Jeremy and saw the muscles in his jaw working double time, trying to speak or not to speak, Michael didn’t know.

When he could handle the silence no longer, Michael spoke, his voice lifeless, “His fiancee.”

“Right you are, boy,” Riley said proudly. Though for once in his life, Michael wished he wasn’t proud of him. “And since you’re the only one who managed to accomplish your part of the job without fault at the bank, I’m giving you a chance to prove yourself. I want you to watch her, watch her and wait for the right time. When you can get her without witnesses, I want you to bring her to me. Understood?”

Michael stared at Riley with wide eyes. Finally he was being included; finally he got the important job, and it was this one. The one that was the hardest to do. Slowly Michael turned his head and found Jeremy staring at him, searching him, trying to see what he planned to do. Michael didn’t even know the answer to that question. There was only one thing he could do right now though. He turned and tried not to show doubt under Riley’s unblinking gaze. Nodding, he said, “Understood.”

*******

"Chapter Twenty: Afraid"