Harlem Hatchet

I left my apartment far too late in the morning to make it to work on time, so I picked up a newspaper on my way to the train platform.

I wish I hadn't.

"HARLEM HATCHET STRIKE AGAIN" in bold letters across the front page. Another murder in my proverbial back yard. I'd have to let Margot know that the fire escape may not be the safe escape route she believes it to be. I almost tossed the paper in a dumpster.

The morning light almost made the frost on the concrete bearable. Almost. The air was still and thick with the January chill, making every breath stab in my lungs like tiny devilish knives.

The only distraction I had from my train being predictably late is the satisfying crunch the snow, still un-melted in the shade of a shop awning, made beneath my three inch Louis Heels.

Margot called it childish but I very much liked small things like that. It was about the only thing snow was good for in my opinion.

The sound of heavy steps on the sidewalk behind me broke me from my reverie. I spun, careful to hold my dress as to not flash any passerby's, to see the detective from the night before.

He was watching me, clearly amused. I cursed my luck and bounded up to him, trying my best to project the energy most associated with dumb scrawny blondes.

"Fancy meeting you here Detective! Not following me are you?" I say it like a joke, playful and coy, but the dread of leading him straight to my work was more than set in.

"Nothing like that, Ms. Harlow. I was on my way to catch the train, but I am glad to see you. You'll be happy to know we caught the bootlegger we were looking for, red-handed. Trying to run through a fire escape I believe."

My heart dropped into my stomach, but I couldn't let my smile fall. "That's splendid! I'm so sorry, but I do need to get going now. Thank you for the update, Mr. Detective!"

I started speeding away, leaving him staring after me. I couldn't quite read his face from the reflection in the shop windows, but I could see the Stirling silver cigarette case he was tucking back into his coat pocket.

I didn't check if he was smoking. I should have but the abject terror that my sweet Margot was caught in her escape was killing me. I had to see her.

Good thing we both worked at the "Bar Without a Name" as the boss liked to call it. In reality it was a hole in the wall that the cops missed when they shut all of the bars down three years ago. The boss says it's because it was always meant to be a speakeasy, but Margot thinks it was that the boss was too cheap to buy a sign and he got lucky.

I'm partial to the getting lucky story. Either way it ended up that the Bianchi family frequents the joint now, and boy are they good for business. Usually good for business.

The boss made me put up a sign close to the entrance that read "No guns, knives, or outside food!" Just a week ago, after an unfortunate misfire. I had been conned into helping the shooter move the body to a nearby alley so when the cops came knocking we could point them somewhere else.

Ruined my favorite dress, it had pockets.

When I finally stepped up to the old oak door in the alley it was almost noon. I knocked on the heavy door, and it opened almost immediately.

"Password?" A gruff deep voice asked from the darkness inside.

"The password is let me the fuck in Craig, it's colder than death out here." I glowered at the man.

Craig Bianchi threw the door open and ushered me in, a playful smile on his lips as he picked me up in a soul crushing hug. The boss called him "The muscle" for a reason. Craig was built like a german tank, as wide as most doorways and about as clever.

"I was just teasin ya, no need to get all uppity." He put me down and let me catch my breath.

"Tease me when I'm not about to get shot for being tardy again." I adjusted my dress and flattened out its new wrinkles. "Say, you seen Margot in yet?"

"The Canary? Can't say I've seen her, but I just came with Bia and the Boss to talk distribution I think. They're downstairs."

"Thanks Craig I got lost last time I hit all one staircase in this building." I frowned at his pout and rolled my eyes. "Thanks. I'm a little high strung right now. Think Margot might've gotten snatched by the cops. Caught one tailing me this morning I think."

Craig's brows fell together and he made a gesture toward the stairs. "Bia will want to talk then. Had a detective round her apartment a few days ago. One of our cousins got nabbed and blabbed we think."

I nod curtly and begin my decent. "Thanks big guy."

I hoped as I entered the main room that the drama with the Bianchi's would distract the boss from my lateness. I knew it was just delaying the inevitable, but I was a girl who loved her small pleasures.