Black Dynasty by Geoffrey Hindley

Author:Geoffrey Hindley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Matador, Black Dynasty, Geoffrey Hindley
ISBN: 9781780888743
Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Chandler and the Mogul

“PORTER’S CHANDLERY”: the name board over the shop front was elegant but distinctly eye-catching. Willard Stone, recently arrived in Chicago, studied the effect. Humph! Damn the man, Daniel Porter certainly had style. The young woman fixing a display of tackle blocks in the shop window noted the scowl on the face of the tall, lean, handsomely dressed stranger across the street. Harriet Church, twenty years old, part-time kitchen staff at the Chicago Bible Institute, part-time store clerk, part-time trainee bookkeeper at the chandlery and full-time admirer of its proprietor, stepped down from the display window into the body of the shop and thus missed the grim smile that had replaced the frown as the stranger crossed over the street.

Willard had just recalled the day he ordered Daniel off the store premises back on Main Street, Johnstoneville. Himself behind the counter, Daniel, canvas bag in hand with its assorted odds and ends – personal day book, cuff protectors, mob cap for use in the musty store room – lingering by the door, eyes like a mournful bloodhound. Between them, solemnly situated on the counter, “the evidence of your unreliability” as Willard had termed it, stood the half empty bottle of tepid beer.

He congratulated himself now that he had got rid of the fellow and the smile faded, Dan Porter clearly had reserves of determination and would have proved a troublemaker if he’d kept him on. Now Willard was in Chicago because he wanted an agency on South Side; he had been advised that the chandlery was the obvious choice. Pity about its proprietor, but he reckoned he could handle the situation and force him out of business if necessary. With a firm shove that clashed the shop bell, America’s 110th most prosperous black businessman entered the store as if he owned the place already.

More on his back than my father earned in a year, Harriet thought to herself, instinctively hostile before the newcomer spoke. For his part, Willard checked his stride as if brought up by some invisible partition dividing the shop. Give this girl a pair of eyeglasses and a scar on the forehead and she could have been Elsie Marre keeping store on Main Street fifteen years back. He shook himself, the illusion faded somewhat and he was once more able to function like a man of business.

‘Is Mr Daniel Porter on the premises this morning?’ he enquired.

‘Who shall I say is asking for him… Sir?’

‘Tell him it is Mr Willard Stone, come to talk business.’

‘THE HELL IT IS!’ The words exploded from the back of the shop as the glass paned door behind the counter crashed hazardously on its hinges. With his prematurely grizzled hair, the once familiar Dan looked older than his thirty-six years – he also looked dangerous.

‘YOU!!’

The monosyllable yelled contempt and a declaration of combat. Willard almost staggered under the emotional charge. This was a Daniel Porter he did not know.

In fact, it was a Daniel Porter he had helped create.

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