Page 6 of Working for the Mob

The lady had just lost her entire life’s savings, and was now stuck here in town. She had her sister Lucy with her, but I wasn’t sure if Lucy was aware of her sister’s predicament. She was currently asking a well-dressed lady on the platform where she bought her hat. That left me to pick up the pieces.

“Maybe it’s not so bad,” I began, and Genevieve rounded on me with a fire in her eyes.

“Not so bad? You think it’snot so bad? I hopped on the first train this morning because I needed a place to stay, only to get here to find out that my sister had just gotten dumped by her boyfriend, who I assume just kicked her out. And instead of looking for an apartment, she is currently trying to upgrade her wardrobe.

“Now I have no place to stay and no money for a train back to the city. If you can’t think of a reason why my position isn’t worse thannot so badthen don’t open your mouth for the rest of the morning!”

Even if I wanted to take a step back from the anger radiating off her, I couldn’t. I felt pulled to her. Like she had a magnetic field reeling me in.

People gave us space. Heads turned away from us, as people pointedly found other places to look. But they all paid attention. This’ll be the gossip of Lannington for the next three weeks. Not that I gave a shit. Right now it was just the two of us eyeballing the other.

Genevieve broke the spell first. She whirled around and paced the platform with her hands covering her face.

This was the last time that I’d ever help a damsel in distress. I hadn’t even received a ‘thank you’ for trying. But I couldn’t let her keep stomping beside the tracks like that. She might put her foot straight through the deck and that’d be one hell of a sprained ankle.

“Come on,” I said, and grabbed Lucy by the arm. I couldn’t let her distract Genevieve anymore.

As I dragged her away, she hastily threw the new hat back at its owner and asked where we were going.

“We’ve got to make a call,” I said, and returned inside to the lobby. The same undertaker sat in his booth, with an upset pout.

“You’re not allowed out there without a ticket,” he said, and crossed his arms.

“So you’ve said.” I walked up to the window and ignored his glare. “Can you make a call for us? We need to get in touch with the Turnersville station to let them know they’ve got a criminal on board.”

The little man put his hand over the phone and puffed himself out pompously. “And why should I help out another rule breaker, such as yourself?”

I looked to Lucy, who simply stared back at me bewildered. Genevieve continued to pace outside on the platform, muttering to herself. “You see that lady out there? The one we came in with?”

“Yes,” the man said.

“She has close ties with the Necci family. You know, the mob that runs half of Lannington.” The undertaker’s jaw dropped and his eyes flicked back to me in a nervous twitch. “She isn’t having the best morning. But I’m sure she’d be appreciative of anyone that helps her out.”

“Turnersville, was it?” the long-chinned man asked. He licked his lips and began dialing on his phone. I tapped my fingers on the counter while we waited for someone to pick up the other line. “Hello, Winston? I’ve got someone here who would like to speak with you.”

He handed me the phone. “Hello. Winston, is it?”

“This is Winston,” a flat voice said on the line.

“Winston, this is Art Necci from East Lannington. We had a stolen purse this morning with about eight hundred dollars in it.”

“Good Lord! Eight hundred dollars. That’s a hefty piece of change.”

“We think so too,” I said, and caught the undertaker’s eye to make sure he understood the gravity. “The suspect is on the eight a.m. train to Turnersville, wearing a patched coat, blonde mustache, and crooked nose. Could you call the police and have them apprehend the man there?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll do that now.”

“You can have them call the Lannington police station with their results,” I said, and he confirmed the request. “Thanks, Winston.”

I hung up the phone, nodded to the scowling undertaker, and made another call.

“East Lannington Police Department,” Officer Brighton’s sleepy voice rang over the line.

“Hey, George.”

“Hello, Mr. Necci.”

“We’ve got to file a police report. Some lady had eight-hundred dollars stolen at the train station.”

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