Page 4 of Love vs The Ooze Monster!
“My mother married Lew when I was five, after my own father died.” Mabel went on, confirming his dark thoughts. “Then, she died, too, and he raised me. Sylvester’s father was Lew’s brother. So, technically Sly and I are not related by blood, although we’ve known each other since we were children.”
“Llewellyn Irving was yourstepfather.”Boyd wanted to be a thousand percent sure he was getting that convoluted explanation right. “Nevermore County’s most notorious gangster? The man who kidnapped that judge, and lost Wheeler’s Lost Pond, and ran the black market for years…?”
Mabel cut him off. “Lew didnotlose Wheeler’s Pond.” She said emphatically.
“Where did Wheeler’s Pond go, then? Why is it Wheeler’sLostPond, now?”
“There could be a hundred explanations for a missing pond! A sinkhole, for example. Or a very localized drought. Some people claimed the subnaturals stole it.”
Boyd wasn’t going to argue about the damn subnaturals. In Nevermore County, a lot of weird shit happened. The supposed “fairy folk” who dwelled in the area were a convenient supernatural catchall that no one ever technically saw. They were a quick, dismissive explanation for the unexplainable.
“Fact is: The Irving Syndicate is my biggest competition in bootlegging.” Boyd said.
Also a fact: Breaking dumb laws was a fantastic business.
Ever since the US government had banned the sale of alcohol, criminals everywhere had been rolling in dough. Americans weren’t going to stop drinking. They were just going to buy their booze illicitly. Sometimes Boyd thought Congress had set out to fund the underworld with the moronic Eighteenth Amendment. He couldn’t see any other explanation.
Syndicates like Boyd’s and the Irvings’ kept speakeasies supplied. People poured into the secret bars, liquor poured into glasses, and money poured into the pockets of the bootleggers. Because, in America, the customer wasalwaysright.
“Lew didn’t see you as just a competitor.” Mabel told Boyd in a sincere tone. “You had the docks and he had the railhead. He respected that. He respectedyou. I hope you know that.”
Hedidn’tknow that, actually. Not for certain. The news meant something to Boyd, though. Llewellyn Irving had been a massive force in the underworld. The biggest, richest, most successful gangster in town. The old man had done some deals with Boyd, but it would’ve made sense for Lew to view him as a nobody from the worst part of Volstead.
Instead, after Lew had died, some lawyer in a three-piece suit had shown up to deliver an “inheritance” for Boyd. Literally, he’d said the word “inheritance,” like Boyd was getting gold or something. In reality, it was an inscribed copy ofThe Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
Boyd had no damn idea why Lew Irving had left him a children’s book, but he knew there had to be a reason. The guy had been crafty. It had become something of an obsession with Boyd, trying to unravel the puzzle of that dog-eared novel. His hatred for Sylvester aside, he’d intended to go ask Lew’s loved ones about the book. He’d just been too distracted by staring at Mabel for ten hours a day to focus on that step, yet.
Little did he know, shewasone of Lew’s loved ones.
“Lew said you reminded him of himself, as a young man.” Mabel adjusted her adorable glasses, not looking anything like the liar she apparently was. “It’s why I felt confident about approaching you. I adored my stepfather, so I trust his judgment on people.”
Lew must have adored her, too. Reasoning it out, Boyd could see no other explanation. She’d apparently been raised by a mobster, but she was the very picture of confidence and feminine respectability. The pampered daughter of a proud and prosperous daddy.
She was also a goddamn spy.
Boyd’s anger tended to be cold and below the surface.A lotof him was below the surface, actually. He was used to violence in his profession, sure, but only as a tool. He didn’t act impetuously. He never went into a mindless rage. The army had taught him discipline.
Boyd was abusiness owner. A salesman. He’d learned at a young age to only show parts of what he was thinking. Usually, his mask of affable charm disguised his lightning-fast calculations and ability to inflict gruesome harm.
Right now, that amiable façade was missing, but it was still impossible to tell from his demeanor that his temper was at boiling point.Beyondboiling point. Even Boyd was shocked at the seething emotions that filled him. He wasn’t used to feeling anything so deeply. He wasn’t in complete control, and heknewit, but he didn’t slow down.
“There are quite a few bootleggers around town, you know.” Mabel continued, oblivious to his fury. “But Lew always said you were the one who’d make it farthest in this business. He said you were…” She paused, her eyes traveling all over his face. “Well, he said many complimentary things about you. It’s why I came here.”
Despite everything, Boyd liked hearing that the old man had maybe seen something in him. It made him think their last interaction hadn’t just been bullshit.
It had been lightly raining. Lew and Boyd were finishing up another deal, where Boyd brought in genuine whiskey from the harbor and Lew distributed it by train. The high-quality stuff sold to swells at a huge markup. Boyd would never have been able to cut the deals that Lew did, because he didn’t have the ritzy connections. He was a little dazzled by how much lettuce they’d gotten for the carefully disguised bottles.
Lew was more blasé about their influx of wealth. He was used to being loaded. He’d headed to his Rolls Royce Silver Ghost, silhouetted in the headlights and the misty rain. Lew collected vehicles. Boyd would’ve done the same, if he’d had the dough. The car was the best looking machine he’d ever seen. Glistening with power and money.
“You should come to my Valentine’s Day ball.” Lew had called back randomly. “I’m throwing it at my estate. I have something to give you. Something you’ll want.”
“Yeah?” Boyd had dragged his attention away from admiring the Rolls. “A job?”
“The biggest one of your life, if you’re up for it.”
“I’m up for it. Give it to me, now.”
“I’ll tell you at the party. Gotta get past the tornado, first, but I have a good feeling, boy-o.” Lew had strolled away, twirling his oversized umbrella. “Try to look presentable!” He’d ordered over his shoulder.
