Tom knew it was big trouble when the people elected men like Ed Smith, a self-righteous prick who messed up deals. Ed Smith wanted to clean out the police department and city hall, and that meant firing people. It meant taking benefits away from folks who were used to having them. Jobs, pensions, kickbacks. Arrangements everyone was used to. As far as Tom was concerned, Ed Smith and his cronies were the greedy ones. Greedy for laws. They wanted to take over the River Ward because they didn’t like what happened here—but already there were so many laws that a man was either a lawbreaker or a hypocrite. Tom hated the reformers. Any guy might do bad things, just as all males of the species did, but a real man owned up to his sin. That was the difference.
Almost overnight Mayor Smith had cops enforcing every little law to the extreme. Arresting the jobless for vagrancy, putting people in jail for traffic violations. His idea was to show how much control the police had over all crime in the city, but it didn’t work that way. Folks didn’t trust the police now. Nobody ever trusted them, but this was different. At least with a cop who worked for Tom, a guy knew where he stood. With one of Smith’s cops you had no clue what to expect. And still there was crime. There weren’t enough police west of the Mississippi to close all the speakeasies on the River Ward, because there was demand for them. If one closed, nine more opened before the kegs from the first were axed in the gutter. And there was still rape. Still murder. The stuff that really made folks worry. A cop might clip you for jaywalking and toss you behind bars. It was a little much for jaywalking, but you got caught. Fine. Then you read in the paper how four girls were attacked by blackies the week before and the police had no leads, no arrests had been made. That made folks think. What if the police didn’t worry so much about jaywalkers? What if they didn’t have fifteen men watching traffic and another forty shutting down neighborhood bartenders? Maybe then the cops could catch a rapist.
Tom had to save the city from its reformers. He’d ruin things for Ed Smith. For any and all of those damn reformers. Those damn hypocrites.
Joe Meinhof set it up with some boys who could cause trouble. Tom was going to turn them loose.
“I wouldn’t want to be Ed Smith, I’ll tell you that much,” Meinhof said. “There’s soldiers coming home from France, and already they’re not happy. Lots of folks ain’t happy. Their jobs been filled by blacks. We’re doing something about it. Ed Smith and his cronies won’t do shit.”
“I think you’re right,” Tom muttered. “Let the bastards have it their way for a while. Then they’ll be glad to see us back.”
Tom didn’t know if boys needed encouragement to do bad things in the first place. This might be their natural state. To go out and destroy property. To fight a cop. To paint their faces and stick it to a girl. The whole country was different after the war. They were all changed. In particular those boys who grew up knowing nothing but war, mustard gas, tanks, biplanes with machine guns strapped to the wings; boys who couldn’t remember anything else but bad feelings let loose and fighting like fighting was the only thing, and how blackies were around to mess things up for the people who were supposed to have the good life.
Maybe it was wrong to take advantage of the circumstances. Who’s to say?
Tom saw how it was different for these kids. Billy told him what was going on. What a success the dorming house was, how the boys Joe Meinhof kept there were abler than most lieutenants. Tom didn’t believe it at first but it was true. Those kids did what you told them. It was glorious and simple. A thing of beauty.
Evie had plenty of friends who did themselves in. Girls from the neighborhood who did what they felt they must once the party ended. Dried up. Lonely. States of affairs to be avoided at all costs. But a girl grew older. All folks did, the world over, forever, of course. There was a difference, though. If a girl had strange predilections, her habits led to darkness. If she was used to druggings, to self-abuse, to absorbing men’s cruelty in good humor. All this led to one thing.
Evie always swore she wouldn’t end up like that. She never worked a big palace, for instance, and had never seen the inside of an opium den. At her lowest she made herself attest to having self-respect, even if she didn’t believe she did, another of her habits. She’d never give any love away—she promised this too. She’d keep all the love she had for herself. She wouldn’t think like those girls who did away with themselves. Evie had other, greater talents besides the things her body could do. And Jake had left her a thousand-dollar bill whether he’d meant to or not.
She started in on business the summer of 1918, a series of small jobs for girls who owed her a favor, just enough to get by until she could figure out what to do with the thousand. It wasn’t that she didn’t want the money. Who wouldn’t? That much cash could take her anywhere, in theory. But, in reality, the thousand was invalid. Tom Dennison was watching. Jake was still in Omaha then, but they weren’t talking and it wouldn’t have been worth it to bring this up. Dennison was the only one who could change money like that, so Evie brought the thousand back to him.
He ordered her to sit once she was up in his office. “This won’t take a minute,” she said, refusing the chair. She plucked the thousand from her handbag and slapped it to the desk. Dennison stared back at her. “What do I want with this?”
“It’s yours,” she said. “Take it.”
“Who gave this to you? Did you steal it?”
“Say I found it. It’s yours, so what’s the difference? You got it back.”
“Don’t try to be smart. I know where you got it. Do you think you’ll get Jake out of trouble, bringing this to me?” Dennison turned to Billy Nesselhous. “I’m not sure who’s buying off who anymore.”
Evie looked down at the chair where he’d wanted her to sit. Tiny, low to the floor, a chair for a child. These men played such games, always picking at and belittling each other. No wonder they trusted no one. Thugs lined the walls. They made a point to stand behind her, to make her want to sit. Evie felt their eyes where her dress clung to her hips.
“What does Jake want you to do?” Dennison asked. “Are you going to marry him?”
“Not a chance. We’re through.”
Dennison and Billy looked to each other again. Billy shook his head, like he thought she was lying. “Say you don’t get married. Then what will you do?”
Evie said she sewed for the girls on her block, which was true. There wasn’t much business, but she made do.
“Hmph,” he said. That was the end. A man hmphing himself was all. She didn’t need to be there for that. Evie turned to walk away, but Dennison stopped her.
“You get ten percent,” he said. “A finder’s fee.”
On the table was a hundred dollars in small bills. “I’ll set you up with a woman. She makes dresses and she’s got a lot of business. More than she can handle. If you’re being straight with me, you’ll get the excess.”
Evie couldn’t figure why he was helping her. “Is it Jake?” she asked. “Is that why?”
“Don’t go around thinking I owe you anything, or you me. That’s all. Don’t talk to him again and we’ll be square. You understand?”
Evie didn’t care. “Why would I want to see that rube again?”