Read Online The Yankee Club by Michael Murphy - Free Book Online Page A

I’d taught Mickey plenty of tricks. I felt along the top of the locker and retrieved a single item, a thin manila envelope.
    “Don’t gloat. It’s not becoming.” Laura helped me up.
    I lifted the back of my suit coat and stuffed the envelope in the hip pocket of my trousers.
    Laura followed me toward the door. “At least your detective skills have improved in the past hour since you thought you caught me trashing Mickey’s office.”
    “Like riding a bicycle, my dear.”
    As we passed the rows of chairs for departing passengers, Laura stopped behind the woman and her children. She took a deep breath, reached into her purse, and pulled out several bills. She held her palm to me. “You have any extra cash?”
    I pulled out my wallet. “Define extra .”
    “Booze and dames money.”
    I chuckled. “I don’t spend dough on dames.”
    “I only meant buying a woman dinner from time to time.” She cocked her head and grinned. “What did you think I meant?”
    I opened my wallet and gave her half my cash, a twenty and a Lincoln.
    She counted the money. “Ninety, darling.” She batted her eyes, rested her hand against my arm, and smiled.
    I handed her a sawbuck. “A few bucks won’t make a difference in this depression.”
    “It might to her and those kids.”
    Laura sat beside the woman. Careful not to display the dough in front of the other passengers, she stuffed the bills into the woman’s hand.
    The woman’s eyes widened and teared up. “Why would you do this?”
    “Because I’ve been where you are.”
    The woman squeezed Laura’s hand. “Must have been a long time ago.”
    The ten-year-old girl peeked around her mother and stared at Laura. “Are you a princess?”
    “No I’m not.” Laura hugged the girl. “You are, sweetie.”
    Laura’s smile reminded me of the sweet innocence she had in high school. Her eyes glistened as we headed for the exit. Her generosity and compassion toward the little girl and her mother reminded me why I always thought she’d make a wonderful mother.
    Outside, I got a good look at the man in the black Model T. Tall, wearing a gray suit, he leaned against the car reading the newspaper. Must be either a cop or someone working with Jimmy Vales.
    As we drove away, the Model T followed. Who was this guy?
    Laura checked her watch. “I need to get ready for the theater. Can I drop you somewhere? Like the train station back to Florida maybe?”
    “The Diamond House.”
    She peered at me over the top of her glasses. “A little early for booze, isn’t it?”
    “Scotch has well-known medicinal properties.” I grabbed the envelope and opened it. Nearly two dozen newspaper clippings were inside. One name in the articles stopped me cold. “Giuseppe Zangara.”
    “Isn’t that the guy in Miami who shot and killed the mayor of Chicago a few months ago?” She reached over and squeezed my hand. “Jake, what’s wrong?”
    Mickey had been in over his head. Hell, I’d have been in over my head. “A lot of people think his real target was Roosevelt, who was delivering a speech at the time.”
    “What do you think?”
    “I think Mickey was investigating the attempted assassination of Roosevelt.”
    “Assassination? Even more reason to walk away from this.” Laura gripped the wheel and gritted her teeth. We drove several blocks in silence.
    I unlocked the handle of the cane and removed the dagger.
    Laura managed a smile. “I’m guessing Gino gave you that.”
    I rolled each article tightly and slipped the cylinders inside the hollow cane. A blank sheet from a notepad sat behind the last of the articles. I stuffed the paper into my suit coat pocket.
    While Laura drove through the busy mid-morning traffic, I kept an eye on our tail. “What do you know about Oliver Greenwoody?”
    “He’s a war hero.” She smiled. “Like you.”
    “I wasn’t a hero.”
    “You were mine.”
    The minute the words left her mouth, her face showed regret at talking about her past feelings