“As much as I hate to admit it, I think you’re right.”
Nathan stirred the chow mein with his chopsticks. “Nicky’s tangled up in this mess with Vittie. Do you think Chrissie is, too?”
“Not a prayer. Chrissie is as innocent as a babe. She has no clue; I guarantee it. She complains to me all the time about the hours she works and crap she puts up with from Nicky. She confides in me. I would know if she was involved in something illegal.”
“A shipping company doing business with a congressman?”
“It doesn’t have to be illegal. Vittie’s the chair of the Armed Services Committee. They’re responsible for supporting the troops. Someone has to ship the materials. Shipping companies get contracts.”
“With cash delivered in briefcases? C’mon, Meems. What would your friend Mr. Rosen say about that? Preston said he saw him sitting in a car on Kimball. He’s not doing that because he’s interested in busting a neighborhood bookie parlor. If he’s with the FBI, then he’s focusing on bigger fish, and Vittie’s the biggest fish on Kimball Avenue.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHICAGO
ALBANY PARK NEIGHBORHOOD
DECEMBER 1965
Christmastime in Chicago. Bows and wreaths and thousands of tiny white lights twinkled up and down Michigan Avenue. Red and green lit the sky from the tops of the Tribune Tower and the Palmolive Building. Mayor Daley ceremoniously lit Chicago’s official Christmas tree in the Civic Center Plaza. The holiday spirit was alive and well in the Windy City.
Ruth and Sarah were watching the Andy Williams Christmas Special Sunday night when Nathan and Mimi walked into the apartment.
“How was your dinner?” Ruth said.
“Fabulous,” Mimi said. “We ate at Twin Anchors.”
“Ooh, I love that place. Did you have the ribs?” Ruth asked.
“Of course, I did. But wait till you hear the best part. You’ll never guess who ate there yesterday. We missed him by one day!”
“Tell me.”
“Frank Sinatra.”
“Oh, my heart. I heard he was in town.”
“He was there last night with Joey Bishop.”
“Wouldn’t that have been a kick? I wonder if they let ordinary folks come in?”
“Marco said the restaurant was open. Business as usual. Sinatra and Bishop ate in the back in a closed-off area, but when they left, they walked through the restaurant and out the front door. Can you imagine? Marco said they stopped to shake a few hands, but no autographs.”
Just then the buzzer sounded, and Mimi rose to answer the intercom.
“It’s ten thirty,” Ruth said. “I wonder who that can be? Are you expecting anyone?” Mimi shook her head.
“Mimi? It’s Chris. Can I come up? Please?”
Mimi looked at her mother and Nathan and pressed the buzzer. “This cannot be good.” Mimi opened the door and waited on the landing. When Christine stepped into the light, a dark bruise on the side of her face became visible.
“Good God, Chrissie. What happened to you?”
“You have no idea. I’m sorry to barge in here, but I really didn’t know where else to go.” Her body slumped, and she broke into a hard cry. “I could really use a friend, Meems.” Mimi put her arms around her and brought her into the apartment.
Nathan grabbed his coat. “Why don’t I go and give you guys some privacy? Catch up with you later.”
“No, stay,” Christine said. “Please.”
Mimi went into the kitchen, poured a glass of water and brought it out to the dining room table. “What in the world happened?” Mimi said. “Where were you?”
“At work.”
“At ten thirty on Sunday night?”
She nodded, sniffled and took a drink. “Two nights ago, Nicky asked me to work late again. I told him that Preston and I had plans, but he kept pressuring me. He said he had a lot of business this weekend and that he and my dad were counting on me. I told him I would have to talk to Preston. Nicky put his hands on my shoulders and begged me. ‘You have to help me. You can’t believe the truckloads of materials we have to deal with. I’ll pay you triple time if you work Friday night, Saturday and Sunday afternoon.’ I told him I’d have to run it by Preston.”
“What did Preston say?”
“What do you think? He was furious. Pres and I already had plans for Saturday night, and we were going to shop for a Christmas tree on Sunday. Pres said we didn’t need Nicky’s money, that this was just Nicky’s ploy to get me to spend the weekend with him. I told him that Nicky was going to pay me triple time, and that’s almost eight hundred dollars, Mimi. But Preston put his foot down. I called Nicky and told him I couldn’t work.”
“That was the smart thing.”
“Well, it didn’t exactly work. Nicky called the house this morning. He begged me to come in. He said he was really, really busy, that he was overwhelmed, that there were twenty-two contracts going out today and he couldn’t do it alone. He sounded desperate. I told Pres I would have to go in for a little while. Just for a little while. Pres wasn’t happy, but my dad’s in town and Pres had to go into the office anyway. So I went in.”
“But, Chrissie, your face. What happened?”
“By the time I got to the office, Nicky had been drinking hard. He was loaded. It had been a bad few days for him. He had to give a deposition in his divorce case, and his wife’s lawyer gave him a lot of shit. And he wasn’t allowed to see his kids over the weekend. His wife accused him of being violent and drunk.”
“She’s not wrong.”
“I know, but today was worse than ever. He was blasted. He kept coming into my office and hanging around. Leaning on the door with a sickly smile on his slobbery face. Then he started coming on to me. How sexy I look and all that. Then he started trying to kiss me. I pushed him away, stood up and walked into the other room. I said, ‘You’re out of line, Nicky!’ It didn’t matter. He followed me around and told me how much he cared for me and that he’s been planning a life for us.”
“Oh my God, Christine, what a creep.”
“He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his office, where he opened his safe to show me stacks of cash—hundred-dollar bills all bound up. I don’t know how many thousands of dollars he has in there, but, believe me, it’s a lot. ‘This is what I put away for us,’ he said.
“I backed off. ‘Let’s stop the foolish talk,’ I said, ‘and get to work on the contracts. I have to get home.’ He said, ‘I can make you very happy, a lot happier than that bozo you’re married to. As soon as my divorce is over, I’m a free man. A free man with plenty of money. Every woman’s dream.’ He was totally smashed, Mimi, and he scared me.”
“Jesus,” Mimi said.
“‘I don’t want to hear any more of this,’ I said, ‘and I don’t want to see your money. Close that safe. Don’t you understand you’re going through a divorce? What if your wife’s lawyer subpoenas me and asks me about all your business dealings, your books and records, receipts and disbursements, about what I see here in the office? I would have to testify that you’re holding thousands of dollars in cash in a safe.’”