June 21, 1939
Their operation was more than half over, and they had almost nothing to show for it. They'd gotten a handful of low-level mafia and Murder Inc. goons on tape discussing gambling and vague references to racketeering, but not much more than that. The connections to bigger crimes, to drugs and gun running and murder contracts, all of that was still out in the world of speculation. The FBI was getting antsy, and there wasn't much Jennifer and Nick could do about it. They were just stuck in their roles as Trish and Wesley Claybourne, rubbing elbows with the same scum in their backroom.
Jen sat out on the landing with her embroidery and watching the comings and goings. She was bored, really. Tonight's craps game wasn't with anyone too interesting, no one they were really interested in getting close to. Nick knew she was getting increasingly frustrated with dealing with the gangsters, so he told her not to bother with the usual schmoozing. She brought down the snacks at the beginning of the night and said her hellos and then left them to their own devices to sit in her usual chair on the landing.
"Anything?"
She didn't turn at the sound of Nick's voice through the open window behind her. "Nope," she responded. "You?"
"Just the usual. Guys are having a good time. There's a new guy I don't like the look of, but I haven't seen or heard anything to make me think we need to pay attention to him," he responded. "Hey, that's looking really nice," he added, looking over her shoulder to the embroidery she was working on.
In three months, she'd gotten pretty good at this kind of thing. This particular project was a pair of doves, based on a picture she saw in a magazine she'd flipped through while working in the shop a few weeks ago. "Thanks," she said. "I thought I'd use this for a throw pillow on the sofa." It was silly, doing little projects to adorn the apartment that they'd only be living in temporarily. This place wasn't home. She wouldn't get to take anything with her when she left here and returned to her real life.
"That sounds real good, honey," Nick said softly. He leaned over through the window and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Jen could feel herself blush. "I gotta get back down there," he whispered.
"I'll see you later," she answered.
A moment later, she felt the absence of him. Jen had to take a few deep breaths to calm herself down. Her hand was shaking too much for her to pick up a needle right now.
It was stupid, really, this feeling she had for Nick. She knew it was no good, wanting to be close to him, getting confused about the lines between them. They'd been a little too affectionate in front of others recently. And that was only because they wanted to be. They weren't playing as husband and wife. They were letting that excuse cover up the fact that they, as Nick and Jen, wanted each other. There was no good denying it anymore. Thankfully no one could see them when they were alone in the apartment, so long as they weren't overheard doing anything they shouldn't. But Nick was always kissing her on the cheek like this, and Jen did the same to him.
It was just that it felt so damn good to be with him. To have that feeling of comfort and affection for another person. It had been a hell of a long time since Jen had this with any man. Her boyfriends, if she could even pretend to call them that, were usually good for dinner and drinks and a night in bed and not much else. The last guy she'd thought she wanted to share a life with was Brian Van Der Bergh, and that turned out to be a goddamn mess, once she'd seen his picture splashed over the newspaper when he was arrested for killing his wife. Jen hadn't known he was already married. The bastard.
"Get a move on, Geigerman, for Christ's sake!"
The voice grew louder as a couple guys came down the back alley right in front of where Jen sat above, watching over everything. She sat up, keeping her eyes peeled for trouble. It was a little late for people to be joining the game but not unheard of.
The one in front was big and moving quickly. Looked Italian. Behind him was a smaller one, probably the lollygagging Geigerman, was struggling to keep up. "You're sure the Kid Twist is in there?"
"Yeah, Billy said he'd get him there. We gotta go talk to him before your uncle talks to Meyer Lansky and gets us bumped off," the bigger man said.
To Jen's mind, both these men sounded dumb and scared. A terrible combination. She had to warn Nick.
June 23, 1939
Nick practically fell into bed that night. The last two days had been killer. To think that he and Jen had started getting bored. He suddenly longed for those weeks where they weren't getting anything off anyone and just keeping up their Claybourne act.
The two guys Jen saw coming down the alley—Maxie Geigerman and Jerry DeSapio—turned out to be a huge break in the case. Geigerman was an in-law of Frank Costello himself, current boss of the Luciano Family. He and DeSapio were looking for Kid Twist, who turned out to be the unfamiliar guy in the game that Nick didn't like the look of. Jen had hurried through the apartment and down through the store to get Nick's attention that these goons were on their way in.
It turned out to be a blessing that Nick and Jen were out of the room when Geigerman and DeSapio came in. They started shouting some of the best incriminating things that the FBI could have ever hoped for. And even they wouldn't have been stupid enough to do that in front of the Claybournes.
There wasn't any violence that night, thankfully. Kid Twist left with Geigerman and DeSapio. The game broke up shortly after. Nick immediately called Supomo directly.
Within an hour, Jones was playing back tapes in the apartment with O'Toole and Supomo sitting around the kitchen table with Nick and Jen.
"We gotta start nailin' these guys," Supomo announced. "Kid Twist is what they call Abe Reles. He's a Murder Inc. enforcer. He got the Shapiros back in the day, didn't he?"
O'Toole nodded. Nick's blood went cold. He said nothing. He could feel Jen tense up beside him. She, too, said nothing.
"And we know Geigerman has close connections to the Prime Minister. And with what we've already got on a lead to Leptke, we've got enough to start making some arrests."
"What does that mean for us?" Nick asked.
"Nothing," Supomo assured him. "You guys keep doing what you're doing. We wanna keep getting the recordings. We'll start picking people up as we can, now that we've got enough to start making some arrests, but we don't wanna tip off where we're getting our information. The Claybournes can't be seen to be a part of any of it."
"So who are you going after first?" Jen asked.
"We start with the smaller guys. No one too big to make Costello nervous. We'll work up to it. In the meantime, if we can get anything more on where Lepke's hiding out, that's the big fish we wanna fry. Ever since Lucky Luciano got nailed on that prostitution ring and fled to Italy, the Family's been pretty good about keeping invisible in plain sight. We all know they're out there doing shady stuff, but they haven't done anything big in a while."
And so they had their instructions. The Claybournes would keep going, keep collecting evidence, keep their operation under wraps. And the FBI would start making arrests. When or how that would happen wasn't divulged to Nick and Jen.
But the mobsters seemed to know that something was happening. Last night had been filled with tension. Joey Ferrante's poker game wasn't full of laughs like always. Jen was charming and lovely as always, and Pauly Anastasia didn't even try to cop a feel. A disagreement turning into accusations of cheating and a shouting match. Nick had to end the night early, threatening that the neighbors would call the cops if they didn't keep it down.
Tonight wasn't much better. A fight broke out. A table got smashed when a guy got thrown into it. Things got ugly, fast. Nick held Jen back, away from the fray. And then someone pulled out a gun.
The sound of the shot made everyone freeze. Thankfully it was a shot up into the ceiling to get everyone's attention. They all scattered after that, leaving the Claybournes alone in the wreckage of their backroom. Splintered wood from the table and a couple chairs, shattered bottles and glasses, sprinklings of drywall from the damage caused by the bullet in the ceiling.
Both Nick and Jen were silent as they started cleaning everything up. They had another game here tomorrow, and they couldn't leave it like this; they had to run the shop during the day. The tension was palpable as they waited to see if any of the neighbors had called the cops. But no one came. No sirens, no officers knocking on doors asking what happened.
By the time they went back upstairs to the apartment, it was nearly one in the morning. Nick stripped off his clothes and got into bed while Jen was still brushing her teeth.
She joined in him bed soon enough. The lights were out, but the microphones were still listening. By now, they'd gotten used to speaking softly enough to evade them.
Jen immediately scooted over and rested her head on Nick's shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. He did the same to her. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"You don't have anything to be sorry for," Nick responded, just as quietly. And that was the truth. She was the best part of this whole thing. Sometimes the only good part. He turned his head to brush his lips against her forehead. The smell of her hair filled his lungs and calmed him almost instantly.
"I'm sorry for the both of us," she said, snuggling further into his embrace. "For all this bullshit. It's only gonna get worse, and there's not a damn thing we can do about it."
It struck Nick, not for the first time, that maybe some men might find it unladylike for a woman to have a mouth on her like Jen did. But Nick had grown up in the streets and he'd been a cop for a long time. The way Jen spoke let him know that she was like him. She understood his world. She was a part of it in her way. They were equals as partners in every way that mattered, to his mind.
Jen continued, "I'm glad we're together, though, if we have to go through it."
"Me too," he whispered. He kissed her forehead again. "Let's try and get some sleep, honey."
She didn't speak again, but Nick could swear her could feel her smile against his neck.