Chapter 25

The day seemed to drag while we waited for dusk. Every strange noise caused our hearts to race, expecting the worst. Finally it was getting closer to dusk when I felt it would be safe to move. Sarah and I cleaned up and got dressed for the evening. Paul had a spare suit that I could borrow and Roxy loaned Sarah one of her tamer flapper outfits. Moxy even lent her a large pearl necklace that went aces with the outfit. I handed Paul a satchel. He took it, but was confused. I said, "Use it to open your club again. Put Roxy back on the stage, make her an honest woman.

We pulled out of the secret garage Paul had and drove north to Harlem. There were additional police blanketing the city, but we were not stopped. Once we entered Harlem the police presence disappeared. We knew that although our worries about the police were over, they had been replaced with concern about the so called Negro Mafia. We were listening to the radio Berrigan's orchestra and a couple of comedians, Tim and Irene, but we were in no laughing mood.

We pulled up in front of the Onyx club. I didn't even bother to park it or turn it off. We entered the club and did not get gunned down right away, things were looking up. I wasn't wearing a flogger so I just checked my hat. If Sarah had checked even one piece of her outfit, except the strand of pearls, we would have been arrested.

I walked up to the host and said that we would like to see Mr. Blue. The host said, "Yessir, yousa may get to meet the boss, but yous forgot to check sumthin, Mister Charlie. A bouncer pointed us to the check room and the door was opened so we could enter. We passed through so the paying customers wouldn't get curious. The bouncer pointed at a small table and I took my .45 out of the shoulder holster, the .38 out of my pocket and then emptied my pockets onto the table. Sarah just shrugged when the gee pointed at her. There was no way to hide anything in that dress she was wearing. The bouncer patted us both down anyway, seeming to take extra time with Sarah. When the papers under her skirt rustled, he just pulled them out and set them on the table.

We were led down different corridors, through somebody's dining room and more corridors until we were left in a dimly lit room. Mr. Blue's voice boomed out of the darkness at us, "Now why don't I just drill y'all right here? Or call copper and throw you out to them? Of course I'll give you back your gats first, never let it be said that Mr. Blue is not good to his guests."

This was not jake at all, I had to get him thinking. "Mr. Blue you are a twit." I heard a gasp from the darkness behind me and Mr. Blue started to growl. I continued, "Marks is boncoing you! Everytime he thinks about you up here in Harlem doing him favors, he starts laughing."

"Don't you think it's a little late to be trying to save yourself by telling tales about my partner Mr. Marks? He asked me for your skirt's rod, so I could frame you both. Well, you didn't need me to put the finger on you for the box job." He laughed. "Hey, where is that dough?"

"Don't worry about the dough, just take a look at those papers my doll had. They are plans for Marks and the Nazis to take over Long Island. Haven't you ever heard the Nazi propaganda? They don't like your people or hers." I pointed to Sarah. I could hear Mr. Blue's unspoken question. "They don't like her because she is a mocky." Sarah gasped when I said that, but times were tough and I couldn't pull any punches.

"Well that man is wacky. There is nothing wrong with this dame that a right jar head could not fix. Well, let me get the slant on what you say. Until I do you can be guests of Mr. Blue.