Misdirection

The clock was ticking in its usual rhythm above Asa's desk. Mordecai, usually standing over his boss' shoulder, was positioned between the two savoy siblings. The only thing thicker than the smoke in the office air was anger. Asa, of course, was more frustrated than angry. After years of managing the Marigold hotel, he'd seen just about everything. Staged ambushes like this were just part of doing business in a competitive market.

Nico was outwardly relaxed, but everyone knew the former boxer was never happy to be on the losing end of things, especially when his own sister could have easily taken a bullet in the process. But he did trust Sera to perform the proper rituals, to cleanse themselves of any sins they may have committed, and to reaffirm their loyalty and devotion to their God of the swamps. Sera herself was frustrated that someone, anyone, could get the best of her in a firefight. She did have the biggest gun around, known worldwide as one of Mr. Browning's best! Yet the Mormon's genius couldn't make up for every flaw, and last night she got the lesson of a lifetime. Don't get into a prolonged firefight with someone who could afford to be patient.

But that anger, the one filling the air, it was all coming from Mordecai. He prided himself on being the best, yet last night was sloppy. At least, that's what he was wanting everyone else to know. Internally, things were going according to plan. Moreau was out of the way, and if this gamble paid off then Mordecai would be getting access to Drago sooner rather than later. In any case, the most important thing he could do now was feign frustration at being "bested". It was out of character for him to be outmaneuvered by amateurs, and there was the distinct possibility that his colleagues would catch on, so it was important to portray one of the few emotions he is capable of with enough intensity that no one would question Mordecai's loyalty.

Asa then took a deep breath after finishing his latest cigar before proceeding to pour himself a glass of the finest scotch an American could get their hands on. Looking his employees each in the eyes, he read their emotions and mental state. "I'm just going to say it. This was a fuck-up of not-insignificant proportions. The outfit up in Chicago is furious. Moreau may not be a made man but he is basically untouchable, and you allowed him to be touched by a bullet."

Mordecai lowered his glasses before replying slowly and deliberately. "Then perhaps we should return the favor. Mill Street must have set us up."

"Yes, I figured you'd say as much, Mr. Heller. But our revenge cannot start with the Mill Street crew themselves. We need to send a message to our spies and contacts about what happens to a turncoat."

"I've already taken care of that personally, sir." Mordecai replied as he pulled out a bloody knife from the cloth towel, he was holding. It was a switchblade, covered in dark crimson and sprinkled with fur. "I left him for others to find."

Asa smiled as he inspected the knife. "From your personal collection, no less. Very good, Mr. Heller. Moreau will surely thank you when the painkillers have worn off."

Sera then cleared her throat, wondering about the disposition of their wounded colleague. "And how is the detective doin'?"

Asa then leaned back in his chair, lighting up another cigar. "Oh, he'll be alright, Sera. If it weren't for you and Nico, I doubt he would be alive right now. All the same, this kind of attack on our members cannot go unanswered. That's why we've arranged for you three and another car full of associates to send a clear message. Mordecai here personally planned out our retribution, and you have one goal, don't let anyone with a miller badge walk out of the Mill Street alive.

The Savoys smiled. "So we's can have some fun den." Nico surmised.

"Have as much fun as you like. Make sure the others on the outskirts of the city understand that we control St. Louis."

Two hours later, Mordecai was checking his watch. Two minutes until it was time. Thankfully it was the middle of the week, so witnesses would be at a minimum. Any civilian was to be left alone. They were, after all, potential customers. Their orders though were clear, possibly coming from Capone himself. The Mill Steet gang's leadership was to be completely eliminated, and it just so happened that the bosses were at the establishment now. Luckily, some digging around led Mordecai to a less-guarded entrance around the back. Of course, this wasn't something that Mordecai enjoyed. The people in Mill Street were about to be thrown under the bus, but someone had to die for last night's transgressions and he had a vested interest in keeping the Lackadaisy around. Besides, if it came down to eliminating people in his past such as Miss Pepper or complete strangers, the decision was an easy one to make.

Checking his watch again, the two minutes were almost up. Right on schedule, their associates rolled up on the opposite side of the street, ready for the next phase. "You ready, cher?" Sera asked, readying her choice of weapon for the night, a Thompson with 200 rounds ready to go. Learning her lesson from earlier, she also packed a pistol, her personalized dagger, and two extra 30 round magazines for her submachine gun.

Nico finished loading up his Winchester shotgun, one that Mordecai had swiped from Lackadaisy months ago. And Mordecai? He had all his tools tonight, but kept his trusty 1911 in a holster close to his heart. He rarely took pleasure in these tasks, but they had to be done and when it was necessary, Mordecai was as ruthless as they come. Getting out of the car, Mordecai flashed a signal to their partners to be ready.

The back door, much like the Lackadaisy, wasn't guarded. It relied on camouflage to remain hidden and untouched, but it was the perfect door to sneak people in and out of Mill Street. Arriving at the door, Mordecai made quick work of the lock before silently opening the back entrance. Slipping down the stairs into the old basement of the gin joint, their path was dark. The cobwebs gave Mordecai pause, but with flattened ears he pushed through, doing everything in his power to not let a single strand of silk touch his fur. The Savoys cared a lot less, with Nico swiping at the cobwebs as they moved behind their leader.

Cigarette smoke led the trio out of the shadows and into the corner of the sleepy speakeasy. On the wall behind the bartender there was certainly the right kind of stock. It was all the sort of stuff that could be dredged up out of the Mississippi. Low grade but serviceable. Just then, the bartender caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of his eye. He didn't have time to react though as three members of the Marigold gang burst from the darkness. Nico blasted the bartender while Sera dusted tables full of lieutenants and thugs for hire. Mordecai made straight for the front door while Nico covered the rear, preventing escape.

The doorman, in a panic, desperately undid the deadbolts and flung open the door only to run right into one of four Marigold agents, all dressed in black. Sera found her targets in the back around a poker table. Five men, all with miller badges, looking like someone just walked on their graves. "Get up, we's got business." She said with a wicked smile. Pushed out of their hole single-file, the Mill Street leaders were suddenly faced with six more rival gangsters. One in the middle was a little shorter than the rest but dressed as sharp as a scalpel. The glare of the lights reflected of his glasses, hiding the windows to the dark, dark soul that dwelled within the tuxedo cat. Afraid, the men could only put their hands up and await what came next.

Mordecai then spoke up after clearing his throat. "Which one of you is Joe?"

The leader of Mill Street stepped forward. "That would be me. Now what's this about?"

"Asa Sweet sends his regards." Mordecai spoke plainly, but his draw was quick as lightning. In one smooth motion he pulled his colt from its holster, placed the barrel right on the boss' forehead, and let a 45-caliber bullet fly. The other Mill Street bosses were astonished by what they just witnessed. Only then did they realize that their intruders were all wearing two things. A Marigold flower over their hearts, and a pair of black leather gloves.

Mordecai stepped out of the way as the four agents, boosted by Sera, emptied dozens of rounds into the men. In 10 seconds it was all over, save for Sera who finished off each dying man with a burst from her tommy. The sweet woody cigarette smoke gave way to the smell of sulfur and hot lead. Adjusting his glasses, Mordecai gave the signal and without a word, all the agents got into their vehicles and fled the scene. Police were only minutes away, but with two possible cars to chase going in opposite directions and down alleyways even the most veteran officers had a hard time keeping track of, any efforts to run down the suspects was cut short.

Mill Street Massacre

The Little Daisy Café was quiet. Mid-week business was slow as usual, and with the exception of Rocky devouring his morning breakfast of pancakes and eggs, the booths were empty. Mitzi was sitting at the counter, settling in to read the morning paper when the headline caught her attention:

"Ten Dead in Massacre"

Immediately going down the page to the article, she read the first few sentences to herself:

"Last night, at approximately 9:30 pm, ten members of the Mill Street gang in south St. Louis were ambushed and ripped apart by gunfire from unknown assailants. Police have closed the 600 block on Itaska Street for investigations. Mill Street, a local speakeasy and the namesake of the gang, lay in ruins. Officers have recovered several barrels of illicit alcohol, though a lot more is said to be lost due to the gunfire. According to the sergeant in charge of handling the scene, it is his opinion that this event may be the opening salvo in a gang war between the remnants of various Irish street gangs and the growing Italian factions in the city. One former gang leader who now works in local politics, Edward Hogan, had this to say…"

Setting down the paper, Mitzi could hardly believe what she was reading. Ivy was quick to notice the concern and shock on her godmother's face. "Miss M, what's wrong? Did someone you know find their way into the obituaries?"

"No dear, it's worse than that. The Mill Street gang, they were wiped out last night."

Rocky stopped eating on the spot and I stopped mopping the moment the words entered my ears. "Mill Street is gone?" Rocky asked.

"So it would seem, hon. No doubt this is revenge for the ambush you and Ethan laid the other night."

While everyone else was shocked, I wasn't. In fact, it sounded like Mr. Heller was behind the whole thing. That or possibly someone higher up the ladder. "Well, Miss M, that just means our ruse has worked. Marigold is satisfied that they've exacted revenge for the killing of one of their own. Now we can take advantage of this brewing war and offer suppliers a quieter, more reasonable customer."

"This may very well be the break Lackadaisy has been needing Ethan, but all the same I'm going to call Asa. Perhaps he'll reveal whether Marigold is done with their rampage or not."

"Even if they aren't, just be careful not to tip our hand, Miss M." I cautioned. Yes, checking in on what used to be the friendly competition in town was a good idea. I got the suspicion that no one in the Marigold takes the current Lackadaisy crew very seriously, and it would be good to ensure that remains the case.

"In any case, this would be the perfect time for you boys to get out to Defiance. Go seek out our old supplier and see if you can't squeeze out another shipment. No doubt Bobby has some extra stock he'd like to unload."

Rocky smiled at the prospect. "Oh, this will be so fun! Hopefully there won't be any mad hatters in cars to run us down! Or, more specifically, angry pastors with black hearses!"

"We'll take Freckle with as well. We can get some target practice done out in the woods where no one will be looking."

"And I'll come too!" Ivy declared, clearly wanting to spend more time with her sweetheart. Though Mitzi didn't like involving Ivy in these things, it wasn't like she had the power to stop the young woman. Besides, she was a young cat once too. At least Ivy had something Mitzi didn't have back in the day, an escort of young gangsters who were surprisingly effective despite all evidence to the contrary.

In a hospital bed, Moreau folded up the paper. He could move, though the doctor told him to stay put. The pain was horrible, but at least it was numbed by some concoction that tasted like rat poison. Mordecai was standing watch over him, helping the older cat drink his coffee.

"Sounds like your handywork, Mr. Heller. Ten dead is an impressive number."

"We could hardly afford to let such an attack on our guest go unpunished. Even the most witless of the Marigold crew understands the basic principle of revenge."

"And you are, apparently, a master at it. Truly, Mordecai, I am grateful to see such loyalty. You know, up in Chicago the big bosses admire the qualities you possess in spades."

"Big bosses?" Mordecai asked with raised eyebrows.

"The biggest of bosses, Mordecai. Capone himself would see to it a man like you is made untouchable. That is, if you ever care to climb that high on the ladder. I'll admit you are sitting in a pretty good position now."

"There are certain… things, which require my attention in St. Louis, Mr. Moreau. Going to Chicago would almost certainly get in the way."

"Oh, trust me, Mr. Heller. I understand more than you know. There was a time, back when I was about your age, or perhaps a little older, when I was the big fish in a small pond. Back then I was just starting as a detective, but I tell you, I had talent! It was raw talent though, unfocused. Climbing higher, accepting more responsibilities, it made me ruthless and efficient. A good friend served as my mentor. We still talk, he and I. His name is Dom Drago."

Mordecai was surprised that the detective would be giving out such personal stories so freely, but one look at the bottle he had been drinking from made it pretty clear that he was looser than usual.

"Now, now, Mr. Heller, I know what you're going to say. "Mr. Moreau must be on a different planet talking like this." I can see it in your face, and even on my worst day I know what people are thinking. But this you can trust, Mordecai. If you ever want a mentor, one who values intellect and cunning, then here I am. I am, after all, starting to show my age. Soon it will be time for retirement. But if you stick with me, I can take you from a master hitman to one of the greatest mob agents this world has ever known. All you must do is say the word."

"I… will consider this offer, Mr. Moreau. But you should get rest, and I do have other errands to run today. So, if there is anything else…"

"Go on, Mr. Heller. Don't let me keep you from your job. I do have a nurse, after all. Quite the pretty one too." Moreau winked at his younger partner as the tuxedo cat calmly and quietly left the room.

The clock struck one now and the café was as dull as ever for Ivy. Of course, the minute she went away from the register to wipe down a countertop the bell above the door jingled. Turning around while forcing a smile, she was surprised to see a woman about her age looking around. "Good afternoon! What can I help you with, miss?"

Isabella returned the smile, though got the feeling that she wasn't completely wanted at that moment. In fact, no one seemed to be around at all. "Oh, I'm sorry. Were you just closing up?"

"No, we close at two, it's just been… slow. The cook has the kitchen pretty well cleaned up. But we can certainly fire it all up if you'd like something to eat."

"I am here to see Ethan, actually. Is he here?"

The Tutor

Cleaning the stove took a lot of elbow grease, but it was worth it to see the black top shine with it's seasoned coating. Cooking was just as hard, but there was a certain amount of peace to it, being in a kitchen mostly to myself. Still, I had to admit that the element of danger doing my other job gave it a thrill all its own. But the more logical side of me knew better than to give into such delusions. Rumrunning was dangerous, and I was now partially responsible for the deaths of several people. True, they weren't exactly innocent, but blood on my hands was still blood. Maybe trying a little harder in church would help in case some gangster finally gets lucky—

"Hey, are you working or daydreaming back here?" Ivy asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Oh, I was just… thinking about our next steps. What, does someone want a hot sandwich or something?"

"No, there's someone here to see you. She's an improvement over your last guest, that's for sure."

As I hung up my apron, I came around to the front of the store only to see Isabella sitting at a booth, sipping iced tea. "Isabella! I'm glad you found the place."

Turning to face me, she teased. "No thanks to you. I thought you were going to call?"

"I'm sorry, we've been… busy the last couple of days. Besides, I thought you'd like to enjoy at least one weekend of summer to yourself before getting involved in teaching a child."

"To the contrary, Ethan, I was rather hoping to spend more time with you—I mean, you're sister." Bella stumbled over her mistake, now feeling slightly embarrassed.

I was surprised by the response, and was that a Freudian slip? Yep, the cheeks confirmed it, not that I minded. Pretending not to notice, I kept to the "business" side of our visit. "I suppose you'd like to meet your pupil in that case?"

"Oh, yes, please! I'd love to meet Riley."

"Great! I'll be back in a moment."

Quickly climbing the stairs, I skipped every other step to launch myself up to the second floor just a hair quicker. Opening the apartment door, I entered the living room to see my sister reading on the couch. "Hey Riley. How'd you like a teacher this summer?"

She raised an eyebrow as the book came to a rest against her chest. "Teacher? I thought school started in September."

"Oh, it does! But I found someone who could teach you, and watch you, and give you someone to talk to besides just us boys."

"I don't know…"

"Oh come on, you like hanging out with Ivy. Well, Isabella is close to Ivy in age, and she's studying to become a teacher so having someone to teach would be good experience for her."

"Alright…"

Not the enthusiastic response that I was hoping for, but with a ten-year-old you work with what you got.

Bringing her downstairs, I opened the door to the café, letting Riley go in first. Isabella and Ivy were talking but both stopped to greet us as we came in.

"Riley! You've come down to join us." Ivy commented.

"I thought there was going to be more people, Ivy." Riley said as she looked around.

"Just a slow day. I'm going to be out helping Ethan and Rocky a little later, but it sounds to me like you've got a tutor this summer."

Naturally, Riley's eyes focused on Isabella. The girl was naturally both curious and cautious, but this stranger seemed nice enough.

"And you must be Miss Riley." Isabella said. "I ran into your brother—"

"Literally" I added.

"—Literally ran into your brother at Forest Park the other day. He said you could use someone to help you get up to standard with us city folk."

"Actually, I just wanted to go outside more. Ethan doesn't let me join in on their work for the—"

"—The café!" Ivy interrupted. "Yes, so much work to do for the café!"

Isabella was slightly confused, but more concerned that a young girl hasn't been able to go out much. "Wait, Ethan, do you just keep your sister inside the whole day?"

"Well, I'd like to let her out more, but I'm not always around to watch her."

"Then it's settled. Riley, how would you like to go out on the town today? Just you and me?"

"What about studying?"

"That is important, but no one should have to spend such a nice summer inside reading books the whole time. So, what do you say?"

"Yes! I've wanted to see more of St. Louis."

"With your brother's permission, of course." Isabella said while looking back at me.

"Hey, she could certainly use some time away from us at the café. I've been feeling awful guilty about not being around more."

"Then Miss Riley, you've got yourself a teacher. But we can save the learning for tomorrow. I've got the afternoon free, and it sounds like your brother has work to do."

"Yay! I'll go get my sketchbook!" Riley said while running back upstairs to get her things.

"You certainly know how to get a kid excited, that's got to be useful." I mentioned. "I'd pay you now, but at the moment we're trying to save what we ca—"

Isabella leaned in close to speak softly. "Oh, don't worry about money. But how about a date?"

"That, I think I can arrange."

A Call Between Rivals

Asa was on this sixth cigar of the day, sorting through a mountain of paperwork. Never did he imagine that managing organized crime would require so much paperwork. Hotels? Of course, that was part of the job, but here he was authorizing different things, going over monthly expenses, and now figuring out medical bills for Moreau. Just after taking another long puff the phone rang. Giving it a couple of rings, Asa finally answered.

"This is Mr. Sweet."

"Asa, I heard about what happened last night." A familiar female voice came through.

"Ah, Mitzi, how ya holding up doll?"

"Better than Mill Street I suppose."

"Yes, Mill Street. I certainly hope last night's events didn't scare you. Now, how'd you hear about that?"

"The paper, Asa, it's a magical thing." Mitzi replied. "By the description I guessed that it was Mordecai's handywork."

"Very much so. My agents, Mordecai included, ran into an ambush the other night. We were just returning the favors. Though I must say, I'd rather not talk about this over the phone."

"Then I'll make my call brief. I just wanted to know if there was anything my boys needed to fear from the latest, let's say arguments."

"Oh, no, no. I'm surprised you haven't given up yet, in fact. Those three you brought with didn't exactly strike me as competent. Even the new one didn't seem all that experienced in our line of work."

"Well, we had a decent Decoration Day—"

"Look, Mitzi, not that I want to cut you off, but as long as I've got you on the phone, I've got an offer you might want to consider. Atlas was a good friend, truly, and I'd hate to see the whole crew get put out onto the street. It is a bit of a stretch, but when you're ready I'd be happy to fold the joint into our larger operations."

"Asa—"

"No, I'm serious! Marigold would set you up nicely, make sure your crew stays employed, even the band. Things are starting to get crowded over here at the hotel, so having another location to work with would be, I think, mutually beneficial."

"Well, I—"

"Hey, doll, you just think on that for a while. Otherwise, in a business like this, eventually stuff like last night happens. I don't like it, but we're dealing with dragons, and sometimes we have to play rough. Anyways, I hope your boys stay out of trouble."

And with that, Asa hung up. He hated having to discuss these matters over the phone, but unless Mitzi was going to meet him somewhere else it was his best opportunity to try and convince her to give up. Maybe dangling a carrot would convince the stubborn mule to move before someone got hurt? After the last fiasco, the outfit in Chicago would be willing to drop the hammer on any rival in the city no matter how small.