The Game of Love and Death(56)

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” Helen said. “It’s now or never. Decide.”

Too tired to think everything through, Flora agreed. “I have money for Henry at my club. So if you can take me there, I’ll come back for him.”

“Your plans fascinate me,” Helen said. “Thank you for sharing.”

Death in the key of B-flat. Her kingdom for a falling piano.

Henry’s cell was the last she passed on her way out. He rushed against the bars, but the officer elbowed her forward.

“I’ll be back for you,” she called over her shoulder. “I promise.”

But then that would be it. After that, it was good-bye. It didn’t matter what she felt about him, how tied to him she felt. Carrying on would only lead to ruin, if it hadn’t already.

As they left the building, Helen waved to the police officers as if this were a social call. “Catch you all later.”


The angle of the sun told Flora it was afternoon already. She’d missed her morning shift at the airfield. She didn’t feel herself when she wasn’t near a plane, even if Captain Girard had been understanding about her absence. What’s more, she hadn’t set up the Domino for that evening’s service, so she’d have to rush around in a lather. Things could not fall apart more.

“How much money do we need?” Flora asked.

Helen quoted a sum that made Flora blanch. That would clean out the safe, and explaining everything to Sherman … She dreaded the conversation more than anything.

“Short on funds?” Helen said.

Flora didn’t answer. “Where did you say you’d parked?”

“I didn’t. I also didn’t offer you a ride anywhere, but maybe, if you ask very nicely …” She gave Flora a wooden nickel of a smile.

“Please,” Flora said.

Helen looked back over her shoulder. “Follow me.”





HELEN sped toward the Domino as though she had a death wish: too fast, with no regard for other automobiles. At one point, as she fished for a cigarette in her purse, she swerved into oncoming traffic, laughing hysterically. Flora hoped Helen would never take an interest in flying planes. It wouldn’t last long.

When they arrived at the Domino, Helen uncapped a tube of crimson lipstick and applied it as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “Shall we?”

“Shall we what?” Flora reached for the door latch.

“Go inside to fetch the bail money, of course.” Helen pressed her lips together and examined herself in the rearview mirror.

“This is where we part ways,” Flora said. “Thank you for the ride.”

Helen wouldn’t hear of it. “I’d love to go inside the club I’ve heard so much about.”

Flora wanted to refuse her on principle, but she also wanted Helen to see the Domino was something special. Something her family had built. Something that had survived all sorts of hardships. Something Henry admired.

“Fine.” She found her keys.

They headed into the club, past the portrait of her parents, down the stairs, and then turned left into the kitchen, where Charlie was already hard at work on the evening’s food. The air smelled good, a mixture of slowly cooking meat and corn bread.

“I’d offer you something to eat,” Flora said, “but I know you have other places to be.”

Leaving Helen for a moment, Flora went into the storeroom, opened the safe, and removed all of the bills, hoping Charlie wouldn’t ask what she was doing. When she returned to the kitchen, Helen was seated at the table, and Charlie was leaning against the countertop, a hand to his forehead.

His knees buckled, and he caught himself on the counter. Flora rushed to his side. She put an arm around his back and held him steady.

“I don’t feel well, Miss Flora.”

“You should go home, Charlie,” she said. “I can take it from here.”

“But Sherman isn’t back yet. There ain’t enough hands to get the work done, and if you don’t mind my saying, you’re a bit behind in the dining room already.”

“Charlie, please. You get on home. I know all your recipes and I’ll be back soon. I’ll call in some of the girls. We’ll take care of it. You can’t cook if you’re ill. And setting the tables is no trouble.”

Charlie looked chalky around his edges, and Flora hoped whatever he had wasn’t contagious.

“It came on so sudden,” he said.

“It’s all right, Charlie. You go on. Rest.”

“I think I will,” he said. “I appreciate your understanding.” He shuffled out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He rented a room a half block away, or Flora would have escorted him.

“Well.” Helen turned her head slowly to look at Flora. “How unfortunate for you. He looked fine when we walked in.”

“These things happen,” Flora said. “We’ll manage.”

Helen had removed her gloves. Apparently she’d planned to make herself at home. Too bad for her. Flora led her up the stairs, remembering as she did her own pair of gloves, sitting on a table next to Henry’s hat. She made a note to retrieve them after she sent Helen on her way.

At the exit, Helen said, “What, no grand tour?”