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PART II
ELEVATOR TO THE GALLOWS

60

FATHER AND MOTHER’S house was no shanty, but it wasn’t nearly as fine as the modest parsonage and only half the size of Marina and Trey’s home. It was on the east side of town, an unincorporated strip of Jackson County between Kansas City and Independence, on top of a limestone bluff. The neighborhood was Blue Summit, but everyone called it Dogpatch. The Scarritt house was the best one in the neighborhood. That wasn’t saying much.

“Oh my goodness,” she whispered as they drove up the hill, craning her neck and gawking. “I never knew places like this existed. It’s awful.”

“Half the girls at Paseo High live in neighborhoods like this. It’s one reason you and Dot caught so much grief.”

“Our families aren’t—weren’t—rich.”

“The Albrights are, although you don’t see it because they don’t live like rich folk. He made his money bootlegging. He doesn’t make that much as a vet, I’ll guarantee it, and they’ve got seventeen kids.”

“Six,” Marina corrected absently.

“Cats like him. Me. My granddaddy. We bide our time, saving for the day we can get out.”

“I know you do, which is why I wonder what hope Gladys had that went away.” She paused. “Is … the speakeasy. What’s it like?” She really didn’t want to go to the speak, but every day she did his laundry or smelled the perfume on him, the more upset she got.

“Middlin’-upscale. Like, say, Correggio’s with sin. I’m not going to run a trashy place. I want respectability, or at least dignity, what my family had before they all died. The least I can do is make my place look respectable and it’s no speakeasy like what the rest of the country thinks of it, but I’m also not going to invest in high society standards. That’s what gentlemen’s and country clubs are for. Waste of money, and I cater to a specific class of people.”

“Oh,” was all she had to say to that.

“Hopefully,” he muttered, looking at his paper, then the house, “they’ll come out of the house so I can take care of business in full view of the car.”

“This is wrong,” she blurted.

Trey slowed and rolled onto the lawn—what there was of it—then parked and looked at Marina, who was wringing her hands and biting her lip. “Marina,” he said tenderly. “I really, really like you.”

She blushed.

“I want to make you happy. If it would make you happy for me to keep my hands to myself, I’ll do it. Oh, now I see you scratching that gash again, picking at it. That’s your tell, for when you’re hurting.”

She snatched her hand away from her arm, but it still itched.

“Tell me it’d make you happy to leave here without an apology and if you can’t get that, pure vengeance.”

She couldn’t. Her newly discovered temper wouldn’t let her. He waited. Finally, she shook her head, just a bit.

He got out and went around to her door to hand her out. He’d learned his lesson, she supposed, one he would likely never forget. “You look nice. Meant to tell you before we left.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, embarrassed by the compliment as usual.

They were halfway to the door, Trey holding Marina’s hand, when Mother came out wiping her hands on a dish towel and scowling.

“Get off my property,” she snarled.

“Oh, we will,” Trey said cheerfully, loudly enough for the gathering neighbors to hear, “as soon as we get what we came for.”

“You already took everything,” she snapped.

“Marina would like to request her birth certificate.”

Mother’s glance flicked to Marina, who quailed and released Trey’s hand to step behind him. She peeked around his arm.

“Aw, now, see what you made Marina do?” His tone was amiable, but no longer cheerful.

“I don’t have it. She was left on our doorstep with nothing but a note.”

“Do you have that?”

“No!”

“I don’t believe you,” Trey murmured in a tone that gave Marina shivers. “Get it.” Marina was still peering at Mother from behind Trey, for the first time seeing her as her grandmother. It was so clear, once she had all the information. The “miracle baby” story was plausible enough people would accept it but not believe it if they thought about it at all.

“Are you all right, Sugar?” he asked low when he turned back to her.

“I’m scared,” she blurted, then wished she hadn’t.

His eyes narrowed. “She won’t hurt you again,” he said gruffly. “I promise.” He turned back to Mother. “I want everything. If it’s Marina’s or has to do with Marina, get it.”

“I am not going to do anything for that little whore. Just like her mother.”

Before Marina could cry, Mother!, the old woman was on the ground, Trey standing over her, his hands on his hips. Mother made not one sound. She simply glared up at him.

“Trey,” Marina hissed. “Not in public.”

“Why not?” he tossed over his shoulder.

“It’s trashy, you thug,” Mother muttered venomously.

With that, he grabbed Mother by the arm and hauled her up the stairs, banging her body all the way, jerked the screen door open so hard it broke off its hinges, and disappeared.

With dread, Marina headed to the door. She heard low male voices. Trey’s was commanding. Father’s was meek and subservient.

“ … expect you wanna watch?”

“Whatever you want, Mr. Dunham.”

Marina stepped inside and looked around. It wasn’t filthy, but it wasn’t as clean as the way Marina liked things to be. She would have to think about why that was more important than Mother trying to stand only to be backhanded to the floor while Trey cheerfully chatted at Father.

Father was speaking. Then he was not. Marina looked up at him and saw how haggard he looked. Certainly he wasn’t attracting any more women.

“Marina?” he croaked. “You look … ”

“Yes,” she said, quietly gloating. It was small and petty, but Trey had brought her here so she could be small and petty. It wasn’t proper or ladylike. It felt good.

“Sugar, take loverboy here and get whatever papers you can. He’ll sign an affidavit as to your identity.”

Marina nodded. “Thank you, Trey.”

“Whatever you need. Go on now.”

As Marina passed Trey, he caught her gently and drew her close. “You’re in charge here,” he whispered in her ear. “Keep your head high, like Dot. They can’t hurt you and if he says anything that hurts your feelings, you tell me.”

She blushed and ducked her head to hide her smile, which made him chuckle, and followed Father, who was meekly waiting for her. Once alone in his tiny bedroom, he got on the floor to pull out a small battered suitcase. Marina stepped back warily, out into the hallway to get out of striking range in case he was reaching for a weapon.

She was not, however, out of earshot of the thuds of flesh on flesh that came from the parlor. Mother did not make a peep, but Trey was growling.

“ … say such things to my wife … her mother out in the cold … Scarritt!” he roared. “Bring me your goddamned belt! The one she used on Marina!”

Father hopped to his feet, threw the suitcase on the bed, and scurried to a bureau. He darted out of the room and was back again. Marina, shocked by his subservience, decided this must be the true Gil Truesdell and that his preaching made him feel important.

He opened the suitcase, which was full of files and papers.

THWAP! came the sounds from the other room. Mother still did not cry out or plead for mercy. Marina couldn’t find it in her heart to be horrified, which made her as bad as Trey, but she didn’t believe in God anymore, and even if she did, she liked the idea of no hell, and even if there was a hell and God did exist, she was saved, so she wouldn’t go there.

He cleared his throat. “You look, um, well,” he muttered as he sorted through them, the sounds of the beating and Trey’s litany of Mother’s offenses against Marina and Gladys overlying the conversation.

“You mean I’m not really ugly as a rotten scarecrow?”

He flushed. “That is what I mean, yes.”

“This is what Trey saw,” she said quietly.

“You were a bet,” he said tightly.

“It was the king’s arena, Boss Tom was the king, and there were tigers behind both doors.”

He cast her a confused glance. “What?”

“You don’t read, so you wouldn’t know,” she said gently. “Trey had to choose between me and fifty people’s lives. He wanted me. He couldn’t sacrifice them.”

Father blinked at her. “You’re here with him and a wedding ring, though.” He glanced at the ring with what Marina thought might be lust. “Expensive, too.”

Definitely lust. “Bishop Albright and Boss Tom got it all worked out.”

“Albright’s on speaking terms with Boss Tom?” he asked, shocked.

“They’re friends. Have been for years, I understand.”

“You do understand you’re married to a gangster, do you not?”

“I like the gangster I’m married to,” she said quietly. “He’s honest about what he does and he wants me to be happy with him.” When Father gave her a skeptical look, she said, “My life with him is more wonderful than I could have imagined for myself, never mind that I never imagined getting married at all.”

Father said nothing further, but Marina had to know. “What was she like? My mother?”

“She was a wild, willful, beautiful, stupid brat,” he said flatly. “Much like Dorothy, but with no common sense at all, much less Dorothy’s smarts. She was also not my daughter.”

Marina’s jaw dropped.

“Gladys was some other man’s get, which happened right before I married your moth—grandmother. In haste, I might add. I should have suspected, but I was young.”

“You did well with your leisure,” she said quietly.

He found the file, which was thick, and handed it to her. She flipped through it and saw he had kept records of every penny he’d spent on her, which made her hurt.

“Is this padded?” she asked quietly.

The question seemed to surprise him. “What would you know about—”

“I’m married to a gangster, remember? I know you falsified your records. I have your radio, all your books and the cash that was in them, which Trey used to buy me a house and a car. Boss Tom has your desk and horses and other valuables. John Lazia’s men tore up your sofa—” He blanched. “—but not soon enough to find the cash you hid there.

“I’m part of the Machine now, no longer a sheltered, naïve servant. Moreover, Boss Tom apologized to me and his wife likes me. I could probably ask him for anything and he’d give it to me, and he hates you.” Father made a tiny gurgling sound in his throat. Marina went back to the ledger sheets. The amount might have staggered her, but she was now accustomed to seeing large numbers and lots of cash.

“The only reason Trey isn’t going to do to you what he is doing to Mother is because you took me in, you were kind to me, and you were generous in your treatment of me.” She flapped the file. “He also believes that stripping you of your stolen wealth, including the church building, which Boss Tom also has, humbled you more than a beating. So what you said to me at the last, and that you let Mother beat me, I can forgive.” Again she looked around at the shabbiness, and he was filthy, but Marina had always known that. “She’s not a good housekeeper,” Marina muttered. “No wonder you didn’t mind having me around. And my pin money was to keep me from getting resentful. You were afraid I’d do what my mother did if I were resentful enough.”

“Yes, but you are a lot smarter than—she was.”

“You were going to say a lot smarter than you thought I was.”

He didn’t answer.

“Trey knew that, too,” she murmured, continuing to peruse the papers, looking for the note left with her. It wasn’t much. In a man’s hand, just the date, Marina’s name and birth date, Gladys’s name, and I’m not raising this brat. He hadn’t signed his name.

Marina blinked back tears when she realized that from the time she was a tiny baby, nobody had wanted her, not her real parents, not her grandparents. She had had exactly one friend in the world until a gangster had popped into her life and made her feel wanted and worth something more.

You’d make a crackerjack lawyer.

And he was, right this very minute, punishing these awful people on her behalf.

Finally, from the other room, Marina heard Mother begin to beg. “Do you know why we need these?”

“No.”

“Gladys killed herself.” No reaction. “She had three hundred dollars in the bank.”

“Good Lord,” he whispered. “Was she whoring?”

Marina’s temper flared. “Do you want Trey in here with that belt?”

His face dropped all color.

“She was a laundress. I have to prove I am her daughter to get that money.”

“Is Dunham going to steal it from you?” he asked acidly.

“Trey gives me a hundred dollars a month to spend on anything I want.”

That genuinely shocked and confused him.

The THWAPs and begging had stopped, and now there was only weeping.

“That is why we also need a sworn statement from you and Mother affirming that I am Gladys’s daughter. Trey will send his men to fetch you to our lawyer some time next week, and now you know what will happen to you if you try to refuse. After all, it is the truth and you owe me at least that.”

Father looked away and muttered, “Fine. Is that all?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Marina decided it was time to confront the damage Trey had done to Mother. She took a deep breath and went to the parlor, Father tagging along behind. Mother was on the floor half naked, curled up to hide her torso, her clothes in shreds, her body a bloody, welted mess. She was bleeding from the exact same spot on the back of her upper arm as Marina’s wound, and it was dripping blood onto the rough floorboards.

Trey was twirling a bloody knife in his fingers.

“She’ll live,” he said cheerfully. “Didn’t break any bones or hit any vital organs or major blood vessels.”

Marina turned away, so nauseated she wanted to be sick on the floor, but Mother’s voice was still in her head, screaming vile names at her for doing something she didn’t remember.

“I was drugged,” she blurted, ashamed she felt the need to defend herself, and worse, that she couldn’t look in Mother’s eyes or hold her head high. “Someone—not Trey—drugged me. I don’t remember any of it.”

Mother cackled bitterly.

“It doesn’t matter to you, does it?” she asked weakly, hurt. “I could have been raped and you would have blamed me. You’d have beaten me anyway. I always knew, somehow, that you had that in you. Did you do this to my mother too? She’s why you tolerated Father’s women. Because Gladys wasn’t his.”

“Good God!” Trey burst out.

Marina looked at Trey and nodded, then in Mother’s direction, she said softly, “I would rather be married to a gangster than serve you one more second. I made all those pretty clothes for you and—” Her eyes started to sting, surprising her. She didn’t know how deep that hurt went. “I resent that the most.” She couldn’t explain why.

“Take a kick at her, Marina,” Trey offered.

Marina shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Take the clothes you made, then.”

“I can’t bear to touch them.”

“Suit yourself, Sugar.”

Marina looked up and smiled at him. “Thank you.”

His jaw dropped. “For this?”

“No. For ‘suit yourself.’ May we go home now, before I upchuck?”

60

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