The Fate of a Flapper by Susanna Calkins

Author:Susanna Calkins [Calkins, Susanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781250190864
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

As Gina hurried back to the women’s salon to don her other dress, she could hear Billy shouting from behind the door of the Signora’s private quarters. “Who says we’re selling bad liquor!”

Gina stopped to listen. The Signora said something that Gina couldn’t hear, but it sounded like she was trying to calm the bartender down. She pressed her ear to the door.

Then she heard Nancy, sounding more authoritative than Gina had ever heard her be before. “Two deaths were discovered Saturday. Both confirmed poisonings. Both individuals were confirmed by witnesses to have been drinking here, together, several hours prior to their deaths on Friday evening. There are accounts of other individuals who took violently ill as well.” Nancy paused. “Seems fairly conclusive that it was due to the alcohol that was served here.”

“I’ve heard enough of this!” Billy replied, and before Gina could jump out of the way, he’d burst out of the salon, striding past.

“Billy?” Gina asked, faltering at the fury of his movements. “Are you okay?”

Ignoring her, he grumbled the rest of the way down the short corridor. “Not my fault,” he said. “Can’t believe they’re blaming me!”

Oh, dear, Gina thought, watching him kick the wall. That’s gonna hurt.

She expected that he would turn down the long tunnel intended for rolling in barrels of beer and providing a quick exit for patrons in case of a raid. Instead he stalked back onto the speakeasy floor. Gina followed him.

“Keep serving, would ya?” he growled at Lulu, who happily agreed. “I’ll be back in twenty. There’s something I gotta do.”

Gina glanced around the speakeasy. No one seemed to have noticed anything amiss, and their drinks all seemed well attended to. She sidled after the bartender, mindful of the fact that the front of her dress was still sporting a noticeable stain from the dousing from the Gin Blossom.

Moving off the main floor, Billy slipped into the secret stockroom behind the bar, where most spirits were kept. Gina followed him, fearful he might do something more to hurt himself. His foot had to be hurting from the wall he’d just kicked.

Gina pressed lightly on the stockroom door, half expecting that Billy would have locked it behind him. Yet it opened easily, and she slipped inside, surveying the space. Unlike the rest of the speakeasy, this place was dark and quiet, with just a few bare electric lights hanging from an untiled ceiling. There were rows of bottles, all resting horizontally. One section had wine; the other sections seemed to have bourbons, whiskeys, and gin. Probably the finer stuff was laid out neatly on the shelves. She’d rarely been in here, and she wasn’t sure that she was welcome now.

Billy had his back to her, his arms crossed. He was staring at several crates that had been stacked in the corner. She coughed to alert him to her presence. “Billy,” she said, “what gives?”

“That cousin of yours claims we put out a bad batch of alcohol. A few people died after drinking here last Friday night.

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