Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original Newsies characters mentioned in this piece; I do, however, stake claim to Jess Kelly, Frankie Kelly, Reagan Malloy and a whole mess of other characters (such as Johnny Conlon and the Finn brothers) that will most likely pop up throughout this work.
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Part Three
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Jack crumpled up the white piece of paper at once, refusing to acknowledge the meaning of that simple threat; it was enough to know that Spot's territorial actions had led to Crutchy—Crutchy!—being killed.
Crutchy had not been just one of his lackeys; he had been his friend and now… now he was gone. And Jack knew that, as the head of the Manhattan Mob, he shouldn't let his emotions get to him; after all, this wasn't the first comrade he had seen go. First it was Snitch who got shot in the gut and died, then little Snipes and even Pie Eater… but this one was different. This one was personal.
"What is Spot playing at?" he growled, his brown eyes wide with obvious anger. "Crutchy was never a threat and now he's fucking dead. Damn it!" He threw the crumpled paper down as he distractedly paced the front foyer, back and forth, back and forth, in frustration.
Jess hiked up the skirt of her long, tan dress before stepping over the discarded paper and approaching her husband. She reached out a slender hand, settling it reassuringly on the shoulder of his suit jacket. "Jack," she began, adopting a sweet and soothing tone that Jack responded to immediately; he stopped pacing, though his skin had paled considerable, "what are you going to do about Jo?"
Jack slumped his shoulders then, Jess's hand falling to her side. He sighed; she could tell that the thought had already occurred to him but he'd been doing his best not to think on it. "I'm gonna have to tell her, won't I? Just like I had to tell Rae and the other girls when their husbands bit it." He shook his head, his leadership qualities taking over as he focused on other orders of business. "Itey, where's Crutchy? Please tell me you didn't leave him there…"
Itey shook his head. "No, boss. His body's in the car right downstairs. I kind of figured it would be best to bring him back with me."
Jack looked relieved as he clapped a strong hand on Itey's diminutive shoulder. "Good man. Now, Itey, I want you to begin to make the funeral arrangements," he told Itey as he turned his back on the two of them and walked in to the kitchen. He returned a moment later, his twenty-year-old faded cowboy hat in hand, "and Jess, you're going to come with me."
Jess sighed to herself when she saw the hat; she knew where they were going. Jack only took out his most trusted cowboy hat, the one he bought to replace the one he gave to Les when the Newsies Strike of '99 had ended, when he had to do something he didn't want to do.
Like telling one of his friends that her husband had been murdered…
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"Hey, Jack?" Blink asked, hanging back and away from Jack's desk. Truth be told, there was a worried quality to his voice as his one good eye looked over his old friend. Cowboy was sitting, leaning forward in his chair, his hands clasped before him—but he was not saying a word. He was, quite obviously, lost in thought. "You alright, Boss?"
He didn't get an answer. Jack ignored him.
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With a grim expression on his face and his body set in a determined stance Jack knocked on the Younger's apartment door. Knock, knock, knock.
"Gimme a second, I'm coming," called a voice in response. There's a mild hopping sound, followed by a clunk before the door was opened. On the opposite side of the door stood a woman with long, brown hair pulled back into a bun, dark blue eyes and a white heel's strap clamped between her teeth. She removed her shoe from her mouth and dropped it on the floor before waving happily—and distractedly—at the couple standing outside of her apartment.
"Jack, Jess, how nice of you two to stop by." Jo stepped aside, kicking her shoe out of their way with her stocking-covered foot, in order to let them into the front room of her apartment. Jo was not the only woman caught between getting ready; there was a second woman—tiny and prim with her short, curly red hair cut in a stylish bob—sitting at the table, putting the finishing touches on her make-up. "Me and Lorelei here were just getting ourselves all dolled up so Hayden and Danny can take us out after they get off of work."
Lorelei smiled at the Kelly's. "Hi," she greeted the pair, setting her compact and mascara down on the table. She gestured for them to join her around the oblong, wooden structure. "Take a seat, guys, we've got a bit until the boys return."
Jack offered Blink's wife a half-hearted wave before jerking his head in Josephine's direction. "That's okay but, Jo? Can I… can I talk to you alone? It's important."
Before Jo had the opportunity to answer, Jess jumped in, drawing Lorelei's attention over to her. "Hey Lor, do you think you could, uh, you could come with into the bathroom." She lifted her hands up and pulled at a loose curl. "I could use some help with my hair." It was a lame excuse at best but Jess knew from past experience that when Jack had to deliver such news, it was best if he did it without an audience.
Jack opened his mouth to thank his wife before remembering what he had come here to do. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the curious expression—curious with a hint of nerves; it was never good to receive a serious visit from Jack Kelly—on Jo's face and he felt his stomach drop. You never got used to this part of the job.
Once Jess had led Lorelei out of the parlor and into the bathroom on the other end of the apartment, Jack led Jo, still wearing only one shoe, over to the couch. "Jo, I think you should sit down."
Maybe it was the serious way he looked at her, or the grave tone of his voice, but all of a sudden, she knew. "Where's Danny?" she whispered, one hand covering her mouth as her dark blue eyes narrowed on Jack. He could see that it was trembling but her voice was strong. "Where's my husband, Jack?" She did not sit down.
Jack gulped, his hands folded behind his back as he stood his ground. "I'm sorry, Jo, but he's gone."
"Gone?"
Despite having had to tell various other comrades about the deaths of Mob members, it never got any easier—and it was always so very difficult for those closest to the deceased to understand. It always came down to spelling it out. "Yes. Gone. Dead." He hated to be so brash but, sometimes, that was all he could do. "Crutchy was making a run over in Brooklyn tonight when he was shot."
She sat down. Taking in a deep breath, trying not to show too much emotion, Jo looked up at Jack, "Where is he?"
"Itey got his body and brought it back. I had one of the boys bring it over to Stan, down at the funeral parlor. The service will be in two days."
Jo listened to his words, all the while nodding slowly. The words washed over her like the waves at high-tide and, when they seemed to finally make their meaning known to her, the tears began to flow. Through them, she asked, "Why, Jack? Why Danny? He never hurt anyone…"
Jack just leaned over and wrapped his arms around her as she cried. The silent tears changed seamlessly into wracking sobs but he kept his hold. She was still asking him why. He swallowed back the large lump that was growing in his throat. "Why? I can't answer that question for you, Jo, but I can take care of the scum who did this. And I will," he murmured, stroking her hair.
I will, he vowed to himself.
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"Jack? There's someone at the door. Should we answer it? They know the knock," Race announced, interrupting Jack's thoughts by gentling shaking his shoulder. His touch was more of a stimulant than Blink's voice and they could see the cloudiness fade from Jack's eyes as he straightened in his seat.
Jack shook the thoughts of Crutchy's death and Jo's heartache from his head as he listened intently at the back door. Race was right. Rap, rap, tap, rap, tap, tap, rap. Whoever was standing outside the hide-out's door, they knew the secret knock. "See who it is, Blink," he ordered, jerking his head at his second associate.
Blink reached around Race and picked his gun up from Jack's desk before walking to the door. "Who is it?" he asked menacingly, raising his gun just in case. "Gimme your name."
A female voice called back; she sounded exasperated. "It's me, Mr. Blink. Frankie. I got Mr. Mush with me and I gotta get inside to see my daddy. It's important."
Jack stood up suddenly, pushing his chair away from his desk. Guilt turned to anger as he heard his teenaged daughter's words filter in through the reinforced door. He had given Mush specific orders to watch Jess tonight until he had made it back to the speak-easy that night. If it was just Mush and Frankie, where the hell was Jess? "Let them in, Blink."
Blink nodded, stuck his handgun in the waist of his trousers and opened the door. He shut it swiftly behind Mush and Frankie once they entered Jack's office.
Frankie ran to her father's desk and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "Hiya, Daddy."
Jack ruffled Frankie's curls and smiled. "Hey there, Precious. Where's your mother?" He addressed the last question to his daughter while eyeing Mush, who began to teeter on his heels nervously.
"Uh, Jack?"
"Where's Jess, Mush?"
"She, um, she…" Mush stammered. He really didn't want to let Jack know.
But Frankie was more than happy to fill her father in. "She got arrested, Daddy. These two coppers came to the bakery tonight and asked to see Ma. I told them to get lost, but they threatened me with the Refuge. I made them wait to see if Ma would talk to them and she went to see them. You know how stubborn she gets. Anyway, she said to shut the operation up over there and tell you what happened and to meet her down at the Station."
Jack smacked his hand against his desk, startling Mush and causing Race to shake his head. "Damn it, Jess, why can't that woman just listen to me for once!" he roared, letting some of his frustration out, knowing that his words meant nothing. She hadn't listened to him once in all the years they had known each other so why would she start now?
He grimaced as pain shot through his hand; he shook it once and shoved it into his pocket as he grabbed his own gun and placed it inside the lining of his jacket. "Okay, boys. We're going to have to work on our plans later, I've got a wife to save."
Author's Note: 07.29.07; Once again, I'm trying my best to finish this sucker up. First, though, I'm redoing the first couple of chapters and tightening it up. Not much, fixing details and such, but it'll be a bit cleaner now.