McMurray House

The house was dark and quiet when Freckle opened the front door. Rocky was close behind, needing to drop off his recently drenched clothes. It was later than usual for Freckle to be coming home, but odd hours were part of the job. The pair nearly jumped out of their skin though when the light suddenly came on and there she was, sitting in the dark waiting patiently. Her eyes were furious, and their gaze was directed right at the rascal who had been turning her son to a life of crime.

"Roark!"

Years of buried instinct came back in a flash, and Rocky found himself unable to move as the stout Irish woman rose from her chair, a note in her hand.

"Mind explaining this!?"

She held up the note and it was instantly recognizable to Rocky. He thought that Freckle would have thrown it away at least, though burning would have been preferable. Yet here it was, staring him in the face. At first glance it seemed innocent enough, a cartoon. A doodle. A "friendly" reminder of the consequences of certain people finding out. Well, certain people had found out. Calvin too froze in fear but attempted to explain.

"Mother, it's not—"

Mom shut it down fast, giving her son a share of her righteous fury. "You will go straight to your room, Calvin! And I best not see you until tomorrow morning or so help me God…" Nina was so furious she couldn't even think of something to say. "…just get to your room."

Calvin obeyed at once, immediately retreating for the relative safety of his bedroom. That just left Nina with one wayward son to deal with. The troublemaker, the bad influence, the bundle of disappointment and frustration that was every bit his father's son. "As for you, Roark. Explain."

He tried to think of something, anything at all to assuage her fear and anger, but there was nothing. He had been caught red-handed bringing her only son home late at night, both of them covered in mud. Rocky smelling of whiskey and river water. He had been found out, undone by the work of his own hand. The note did offer a silver lining though, it has no details. He didn't have to tell her about some of the more violent and dangerous things. Surely an Irish woman would understand the importance of liquor to a city full of fellow Irish? That was his best chance of getting out of this with his hide in one piece.

With a sigh, Rocky put his hands up in defeat. "He is an errand boy. But Freckle and I have some… odd hours."

Smack

The slap stung, and it was far harder than he remembered as a kid. Rocky couldn't help the tears that formed in the corners of his eyes. Standing up straight again, he took a half-step back as the woman threatened him with another. "No more lies, Roark! What are you doing with my son at such hours!"

Before he could be struck again, Rocky squeaked out the truth, as little of it as he could, but it was the truth. "Liquor!" He closed his eyes and waited, but nothing came of it. Slowly, he opened them only to see Nina with her hand over her face. She grunted in frustration. "So that's who your employer is then? Rumrunners?"

"Oh, no! He and I are the ones hauling the stuff. It's just that—"

Smack

Another landed right on his cheek, even harder than the last. Nina almost seemed to grow in size as her nephew made himself really low and submissive. She stood there, ready to hit him once more, but then stayed her hand unexpectedly. She stepped back, allowing Rocky to stand up to his usual height. "Wasn't she going to beat him senseless?" Nina looked at the boy she had raised, or attempted to raise, with equal parts anger and grief. She had only looked at him like that once before.

"Roark, you're a grown man now. You may not look like it, you may not act like it, but you are. However, I will not allow my son, my only child, to become a criminal. I warned you what would happen."

She then pulled out a small stack of clothes and shoved them into Rocky's arms before continuing. "Calvin is going to be stuck at home for quite some time, but you Roark. You've lost your home here. Just leave…" Though stern, there was sadness in her voice. Rocky hesitated. "Now!" She barked, pointing at the door. Rocky moved toward the door, ears low, tail curled around himself. He looked back at her as he crossed the threshold. She looked up and the anger was back. "And don't return, ever. If you do, I'll have you arrested."

With a slam of the door, Rocky was banished for good. Upstairs, Freckle heard the whole thing, but quickly got inside and shut the door to his room as quietly as possible. There was so much to think about, so much to regret. All he had to do was throw the damn note away, and he couldn't even do that! He added it to the pile, thinking his mother wouldn't bother to look at the dozens of correspondences from his cousin. But Rocky did have friends, he would be fine. At least that was Freckle's hope, and it was the only thing that would keep him from spiraling too far into his own guilt. His thoughts soon turned to Ivy. The girl he loved, and the girl that loved him. She was going to forever be out of his reach. Now he couldn't help but mourn the lost relationships, the lost chance at a free life. He was once again a boy under his mother's roof, and that's where he was going to remain until a suitable woman could be found.

Sitting in the idling truck, I rubbed my hands near the dashboard, trying to warm them up. The engine heat radiated through the fire wall, and it felt great, though the blanket was doing most of the work keeping me warm. Looking up, I saw Rocky approach. Something was wrong though. He wasn't cheery, but sullen. His ears were down, his tail was limp and lifeless. I recognized the look immediately. It was the same look Derrick gave me after our first battle. The situation had set in for him. It was also the look my brothers gave me when they heard one of our friends died in the mine, crushed by a cart that tipped its load on him by mistake. But no one to my knowledge had died here, so the reason must be different. As he got into the cab and put the truck into gear, he didn't even acknowledge my existence.

"Hey, what happened?"

"Aunt Nina."

My mind immediately feared the worst, especially for how Freckle would handle such a loss. "Is she okay? Did something happen when we were at work?"

"No." He said, looking out the window and away from me. I saw through the reflection of the glass that he was looking at the house as we passed it.

"She kicked me out… again. For good this time."

"Wait, why would she—"

"She figured out what the boy and I did for a living. To her credit, Aunt Nina took it better than I expected, but I just lost my family."

"Oh no… I'm. Ah shit, Rocky. I'm sorry." I thought about saying more, but it was clear such comforts wouldn't be completely wanted. "Let's just get back to the Lackadaisy. We need to fill Mitzi in."

After a while we glided to a stop in front of the garage and Rocky shut the truck off. I was finally regaining some strength after warming up sufficiently, and now the most critical job of the night was at hand. However, Rocky wasn't up to it. When he tried to get out of the cab his legs almost gave out. Coming around to his side of the truck, I helped him up. "Steady, Rocky. Get your legs under you. That's it now…"

Opening the door, I patted him on the shoulder and pointed toward the top of the stairs. "You look tired, Rocky. Go rest, I need to talk to Mitzi."

"Are you going to tell her about Freckle?"

"Yes, but that's not the most pressing issue right now. All of us are in danger being here."

I watched him make his way up the stairs before I turned around and headed down into the caverns below. Walking into the speakeasy, the warm, smoky air greeted me. The place was nearly dead, but Wick was still at it, talking to Mitzi who was doing her best to mix drinks from behind the counter. The band had packed up for the night and were laying around the couches and chairs of the empty room. Looking up at me, Mitzi's eyes brightened. My entrance caught Wick's attention too.

"Mr. Kelly! You're escapades tonight certainly gave us all a fright." Wick greeted as he raised a glass in my direction. Mitzi nearly jumped over the bar but stopped just short of embracing me. "Are you hurt, hon?"

"No, not beyond a couple of scratches. Listen, Miss M. We need to talk."

"Alright, come talk, I'll get you something warm to sip on."

Five minutes later, I was ready to start explaining. "Marigold knows what we've been up to."

Mitzi grew concerned. "Did Mordecai piece it together?"

"Not quite. His associates figured it out, which means whatever good will Heller may have still held toward Lackadaisy can't protect us."

"Okay. So I'll have to scrounge up cash for ammunition. Perhaps Wick could—"

"No!" I yelled. Everyone looked my way after the outburst. "I'm sorry Mitzi, but we have to run and hide. I can't fight a whole gang at once by myself."

"You won't have to fight by yourself, dear. Freckle can help. If I call Viktor, maybe he can get a train back into town."

"No, Mitzi. There is no Freckle. You should call Viktor, but only to help us close up shop. If we're out of here in a day or two, we can—"

Mitzi shook her head. "Ethan, I can't just close the speakeasy. Where would we go?"

Wick cleared his throat, directing our attention toward him. "You know, I do have ample room in the guest house of the estate."

"There you go, Mitzi. Room for everyone! Now, we need to start packing tomorrow morning. I get it will take a day or two, but the hammer is going to come down on us and—"

"No, Ethan, I can't close Lackadaisy."

"Why not? It's a bar! Let them ransack the place, we'll find a way to rebuild elsewhere."

"If I close, dear, I won't be able to reopen. The money just isn't there to take a long break. After the attack by those farmers I didn't have enough then to get us up and running. I stole from Wick just to keep us fed."

"Which I have forgiven, Miss M." Wick clarified.

"What's this about closing?" Zib asked as he stumbled up to the bar. He sat down and lit up a cigarette.

"Marigold knows, Zib. All of us are a target." I explained. This seemed to make Zib sober up.

"So the reckoning is finally upon us. How long do we have?"

"A day, maybe two."

Mitzi found yet another excuse. "Surely Asa wouldn't—"

I shook my head in frustration. "No, Asa isn't calling the shots here. Moreau is from Chicago. He and Drago have been partners in crime for years. It's no coincidence they are in the same city at the same time. I don't quite have Drago's connections figured out because he's a fed, but I've been doing a lot of digging on Moreau ever since I learned he resurfaced. As near as I can tell, the outfit in Chicago is handing out orders."

Mitzi looked at me in confusion. "Why would Chicago care about St. Louis?"

"I don't know. If I had more time then perhaps, I could figure out all the connections, but we have run out of time."

"Okay, I've heard enough." Zib said, rising from the bar stool. Pulling the cigarette from his mouth, Zib flicked the ashes onto the floor. "Good job, kid. I'm glad you're safe. The band and I will be out tomorrow night."

Mitzi tried to intervene. "Wait! Zib, you can't just leave."

"I have to, Mitzi. You are welcome to join us, but I'm not going to let Mordecai get his hands on my band."

Wick held Mitzi's hand. "Have the band come to my estate. They'll be able to hide out there. Heck, I may even find them a job or two if they can clean themselves up enough for a crowd of higher status. And you are welcome to my home anytime."

I had a slightly different plan for myself. "I may need to go underground for a while, but Riley will be safe with Isabella. Her roommates might not like having to babysit her, but no one can track her to their place.

"Then that leaves Rocky." Wick observed. "But I'm sure you'll figure out someplace safe for him. I had better go home for the evening. Or the morning, rather. If any of you need me, call the house phone."

That just left me and Mitzi. She looked at me for something, anything at all that I could do. It hurt to see her like this, but there was nothing left. I was out of ideas except for one, hide and wait for this whole thing to blow over. If we weren't a threat and I made myself scarce for a few weeks, then the hunt for the Lackadaisy crew would fade.

"Please, Ethan. There must be something—"

"I'm sorry, Mitzi. But you've got to let go of this place. Staying will get us all killed."

If that couldn't convince her, I'm not sure anything else would. I knew she was grieving the loss of Atlas, but while the cat held up this world, he did not hold up mine. I may have to start again, but a second start was far more preferable to being tortured and killed. Even worse would be letting Riley fall into the wrong hands.

Quincy, Illinois

The sun rose over Quincy, and with it came the ringing of a telephone. Alena was closest to the phone, making her own breakfast before going off to join summer school at high school. It wasn't fun, but the extra time dedicated to studying was keeping her grades up and would look good on a college application. Picking up the receiver, she heard a female voice that was tired.

"Hello? Is Viktor there?"

"My father? Yes, he's here. Just waking up, in fact."

"Very good. I was hoping it wouldn't be too early. Could you put him on the line, please?"

Alena went to retrieve her father. He was sitting on the back steps again, back not feeling very good after sleeping for several nights on the couch. He was not yet welcome back into the bedroom, but he was allowed to be in the house. Slowly but surely, he was mending broken relationships. It was almost to the point now where he could go back to St. Louis and clean out the apartment. Throw out everything he didn't need or give it to his former boss. Perhaps Ivy could use some furniture when she moves out of the dorm? The screen door alerted him to the presence of his daughter. Turning around with a grunt, he set the coffee down. "Vhat is it?"

"Someone on the phone, dad. It's for you."

"Ugh, I'll be there…"

Alena struggled to help him to his feet, but after a moment Viktor was up and mobile. She could hardly believe he was only forty-one! Stepping into the kitchen, Viktor picked up the receiver as it rested on the table.

"Ya? Is Viktor."

He recognized Mitzi's voice on the other end of the line. "Viktor! How is Quincy?"

"Quincy is good. How are you and Ivy?"

"We're both fine, for the moment. My boys did run into trouble though."

"Vhat kind of trouble?" He asked, irritated at the thought of what Rocky might stir up in his absence.

"Ethan told me last night that Marigold is going to shut us down. The band is leaving, so is Riley. Rocky and Ethan are going to disappear for a while, and when Ivy gets here, I'm going to tell her to close up the café then stay at the university."

"Vhat about you?"

"I—don't know yet. But regardless, we could use another driver. Plus all your tools are here."

"I'll be on next train. Clean apartment while in town."

"Thank you, Viktor! We're all excited to see you again, even if the circumstances are not ideal."

"Ya. I'll be there soon. See you in evening."

Hanging up the phone, Viktor grabbed his shillelagh. Alena was sitting at the kitchen table now. "Dad, who was that?"

"It vas Mitzi May. I need to go back to St. Louis."

"Please don't go! I love having you here!"

"And I love being here. I will be back in a few days. Need to clean apartment, get tools from garage, that stuff."

"Oh, so you aren't going back to work?"

Viktor shook his head. "Time for new chapter in life. Chapter with you. With your mother, too, maybe. I need to get coat."

"I'll drive you to the train station on my way to school."

"Thank you, daughter. This should not take long. Few days, maybe."

Marigold Room

It was now mid-morning, and everyone had gathered in Asa's office. While he'd usually smoke a cigar or two throughout the meeting, today he kept the air as clean as he could. Cats gathered all around his desk. There were at least a dozen agents there, all of them out for blood. Mordecai, as usual, was standing right over his shoulder. Anyone who got too close to Mr. Sweet found themselves being watched carefully. Sera and Nico were in their usual spots, sitting in the corner of the office while all the more proactive members of the gang put together a plan. Moreau hobbled in, now needing to only use a cane to move about. In the days since his recovery, the detective was regaining mobility. The wound was even healing, and tissue damage was now minimal.

Asa cleared his throat and instantly the agents parted, giving Moreau room to sit down right in the middle. They both looked at each other for a moment before Asa mustered up the courage to continue. "So, you are sure it was Lackadaisy?"

"Serafine and Nicodeme said so and Mordecai confirmed it. The ghost we've been chasing is none other than Ethan Kelly."

"He hardly seems the type…"

"I thought the same, but the weapons he's been using check out. He has a bayonet for a Springfield 1903, a gun which shoots the same casings as we found at one of the ambush sites. The blade matches the wound on one agent's body that Nico dredged up from the Mississippi. The pistol bullets riddling a couple of agents' bodies came from a Thomspon sub-machine gun."

"Yes, a gun we gave to those idiot pig farmers." Asa confirmed. "So, what to do about this problem?"

"Mr. Sweet. You may not like this, but the orders from Chicago are clear. Lackadaisy needs to be eliminated."

"You mean invade the speakeasy? With Ethan Kelly there?" The other lieutenants eyed each other and their boss with fear. This "ghost" already managed to kill several agents.

Moreau began to explain his plan. "Yes, we'll need to go in there and destroy the speakeasy. But walking in blindly is too dangerous, enough of you have already died. Ethan Kelly is good. Unbeknownst to me, he was drafted into the war. That's why he fights so well with that rifle of his. But we're going to have to draw him out."

"What is your proposition?" Mordecai asked, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"That will be the first phase of our plan. I want to send two of your agents out. Rough up our traitorous supplier, the Arbogast funeral home. Get out there this afternoon and Mitzi will have to send someone to deal with the problem."

"Y-yes. Of course we are." John replied, hesitating. This wasn't going to be easy, but they would have time to get the drop on their target.

"I'd send more with you, John, but we're a bit short-staffed thanks to Ethan." Asa explained to his men.

Moreau continued to explain his plans. "Kill him if you can, but if not then retreat and let us handle the rest. We'll have an insurance policy in place that ensures Ethan will surrender with minimal damage. Then we can make an example of him."

"Which leads me to a question of my own." Asa interrupted. "You're putting in a lot of work to get one man that you have some history with. Just how personal is it to you?"

"I'll admit, a lot of it is personal. The man nearly killed me in revenge for a man I murdered years ago. But so long as he is alive, Mr. Kelly is a threat to your operation. So after we sufficiently make our point clear by killing Ethan, then we can use the story to scare everyone else out of the liquor business. One swift victory to avoid a lengthy and bloody battle in the streets."

"I see, and what about the speakeasy? Mill Street brought us far too much attention. If Lackadaisy is destroyed, it will be all over the papers. Everyone will know it was us because we're the only operation in town that could launch such an assault."

"That, Mr. Sweet, is where my friend comes in." As if on cue, the office doors opened and in walked the handsome Texan with a suit that would be more at home on a card shark. Mordecai knew the face instantly and his blood ran cold. It was Domonic Drago.

McMurray House

Calvin did as he was told and stayed in his room. Though he tried reading, drawing, writing, even sleeping, nothing could shake his guilt and shame. He felt guilty for lying to his mother, but also for his role in getting Rocky kicked out… twice. Mom had come into his room that morning and explained the situation to him. Calvin was never to see or communicate with Rocky again, and he was to retry to get into the police academy as soon as the next round of applications opened up. Until then, he was to stay in the house except for church and to help his mother with her errands.

Knowing her boy wouldn't disobey her, Nina left in the car. Possibly to do errands, or to take time at church to pray for strength. He had tried praying as well but had yet to receive an answer. The guilt continued to eat at him as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. This was all his fault; Rocky didn't deserve to be disowned. Even if his cousin would eventually rebound like he always did, there was no way around it. Rocky was no longer family, nor did he have a family to go to. Well, no one except perhaps Ethan.

A knock at the front door alerted Freckle. Thinking that maybe his mother needed help getting into the house, he flew down the stairs and opened it only to see the familiar face of his love, Ivy.

"Freckle! Are you alright? Ethan told me what happened."

"I-I'm fine. How is Rocky?"

"Not good. Last time I saw him, he was trying to wrestle open a whiskey bottle."

"Rocky? Drunk? Has he done that before?"

"Once. It wasn't pleasant… A lot of crying and wailing."

"This is all my fault, Ivy. I never should have gotten involved—"

"Actually, that's why I came here. I need to tell you that the speakeasy might come under attack. I was wondering if you were going to show up and help."

"I-I can't."

"What do you mean?"

"Mom said I can't see any of you guys again. I'm housebound too. Besides, Miss M doesn't think a couple of us are going to ice a whole gang, does she?"

"No… but I was hoping you'd come with me and help us pack. I don't want to lose you, Freckle."

"I don't want to lose you either, but I can't disobey mom."

"Why not? You're old enough to make your own decisions."

"Except when they're the wrong decisions."

"Well fine, if you're just going to sulk in your mother's house, I suppose there's no sense in me arguing."

"Wait, Ivy! Please, I want to come with, but."

"Then come with. What, is your mother going to disown you for helping someone move?"

"If Rocky is involved, she might. That's what she did to him."

Ivy sighed. She knew the feeling. If her father gave her an order, she'd obey it too. Well, at least until she found a loophole. But Freckle wasn't obeying out of respect, he was fearful of what would happen. Ivy knew that her dad wouldn't disown her over something as trivial as rum running, he did the same thing.

"Well, at least let me leave you with this…" She kissed Freckle right on the lips, pulling away after a moment. "I hope to see you soon, torpedo boy. But if your mother is going to make all the decisions for you, then there's not much I can do."

The Lackadaisy

Back at the speakeasy, I was helping Zib move out all of the band's belongings into the truck. The plan was to drive to Wick's property that evening. Zib still couldn't convince Mitzi to leave, and she seemed bound and determined to stay down in the speakeasy and wait. Of course, neither of us planned to let that happen. We were going to try every avenue of diplomacy possible, but if she still hadn't come willingly by the time Viktor got there then we were going to have him pick her up, throw her over his shoulder, and carry her to the truck.

As for Rocky, he was spiraling. I tried consoling him, hugging him, pancakes, everything. Nothing worked on him. At some point he got hold of a liquor bottle and was now slumped over the bar, which was annoying because we could use his help holding doors if nothing else. At least I could drag him out unconscious when the time came. As for Riley, she knew the program. I was taking her to Isabella. It would be unannounced, but I reasoned it would be the first test of our relationship. At least Wick would take her in if nothing else. He didn't seem particularly accustomed to children but there wasn't a bad bone in his whole body. As we were loading instruments, Ivy rolled up in the farm truck and got out by herself.

"I don't suppose he's coming, is he?"

"No… He wants to do right by his mother."

"Every good son would do the same, Ivy. I don't want to say I told you so, but…"

"I know. But I had to try. How is Rocky?"

"We wrestled that damn bottle from him three times before he finally gulped down the whole thing. Considering his frame, I'm surprised that didn't kill him."

"And Miss M?"

"Still sulking around the speakeasy. She can't stop us from leaving, and we aren't leaving her behind. But for now just let her think that she's going to have some glorious last stand with that single-shot 410."

"This is terrible. I wish there was more we could do." Ivy said.

"If there was, then I'd be doing it right now. But for the moment, and given our present situation, we're going to be fish in a barrel if we hide out here."

Our conversation continued as we walked down the stairs. I explained the plan to her. "And as for Riley, she's going to stay with Isabella under the premise of being tutored. No one will track her there. I'll take Rocky and we'll go into hiding for a while. Perhaps to a spot along the river."

"Sounds like you thought this through."

"Yeah, well, I wish our strategist was sober right now. The one time I could really use some genius plan and he's… well, look at him!" I pointed over to Rocky, still slumped over the bar with an empty bottle of booze next to him. The poor kid needed time to grieve, and I wish we had some to give him.

Sighing, Ivy rolled up her sleeves. "I'll try to get him sobered up by tonight."

"By all means, Miss Pepper, give it a shot."

Just then the phone rang. We weren't expecting any calls. Cautious, Mitzi picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

A female voice on the phone spoke up. "Is this Mitzi May?"

"Yes, what can I help you with?"

"This is Elsa from the Arbogast funeral home."

"Oh, Elsa?! I didn't recognize your voice hon, its been far too long."

"I wish I could talk more, but there are a couple of friends of yours here. Marigolds. They're holding us hostage."

"What!?"

The phone then got wrestled away from Elsa and a rough male voice came on the line. "Listen, Mitzi May, right? We figured out who was selling you booze under the table and as it turns out you share a background with each other. As you can imagine, we aren't too keen on letting that slide. So, we want Ethan to turn himself in."

"Ethan? But he takes orders from me."

"Yeah, well, the big bosses want him gone."

"I'm not going to send my hired gun out to get—"

"Okay, put Ethan on the line then."

I was close enough to hear that last part, and the voice was recognizable. Walking up to Mitzi, I yanked it out of her hand and sat on the counter so I was high enough up that she couldn't wrestle it back from me. "Who is this?"

"Ah good, Ethan my boy. Listen, Moreau sent us out here looking for you. We figured you were stalking the forests out here but imagine our surprise when Mordecai and those Cajun hicks found you right outside town. Anyway, I have the Arbogasts at gun point and we want you to turn yourself in. The detective wants you bad."

"And what happens to everyone else if I comply?"

"They aren't a threat, and we leave them alone."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"You have two hours, better hurry."

The phone then went silent. Without a word, I went into the back and grabbed my rifle as well as my freshly polished bayonet. At the counter I started loading up magazines. Mitzi until now had resorted to glaring at me for being rude, but now she was starting to worry about what I was doing. "You aren't seriously going out there, are you?"

"Yes, I am."

"But—"

"Here, Ivy, load my revolver please."

"It must be a trap."

"It is a trap. An ambush is exactly the sort of plan Moreau would come up with. So I'm going to take the long way around and approach from the west. If they are all stuck in that farm house, then I can pick them off one by one as they try to flee. If nothing else, it will buy you guys time to get out of here."

Now it was Ivy's turn for questions. "Why are you doing this, Ethan? You have no support."

"I know. We could use McMurray right about now, but I'm all we've got. I'm not letting the Arbogasts get murdered due to our mistakes. Ivy, I need you to make sure Riley gets to Isabella. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, but surely you're going to come back?"

"Of course I will, but this could take a while depending on how many goons Moreau brought out there. They'll never catch me in the trees, not even Mordecai."

Finished with the loading process, I holstered the pistol and checked the rifle one last time before flying up the stairs. As I was getting in the truck, Zib tried to flag me down. "Hey, kid! What's happening?"

I leaned out the window as I backed up down the alley. "Get the band out like we planned, then come back and get the rest of the stuff. I'm buying us some time."