By Rosemarie DiCristo
“Ethel! It’s me! I’m at the Capri-Whitestone.”
No one stayed at the Capri-Whitestone for pleasure. The motel was the city’s most notorious site for drugs, prostitution, and public intoxication. With Hilary Cotton it could be any of the three. Or maybe all of them at once.
“What now?” Ethel asked.
“I can’t say on the phone. But I’m in trouble. I need you to come. Alone. Now.”
Ethel sighed from the bottom of her toes. “Be there in fifteen.”
***
Johnny Luster didn’t like hits on girls. But the Family paid good for the work you did for them, plus they were good to him.
He sat in his car, cell phone in his lap, and waited for the when and where.
***
Ethel rap-rap-rapped on the door to room eleven. “Hilary, it’s me.”
No answer.
A prickle edged up Ethel’s spine. “Hils?”
“Who’s with you?”
“Who’s with…? Who do you think? You said come alone. I’m alone.”
The curtain flicked enough for a flea to see out, then Hilary opened the door enough for that flea to slide through.
Ethel pushed it open and charged inside. “Well?”
“You’re a crook.” Hilary stared at her stone-faced.
Ethel had to laugh. “So are you.”
“So, you know that when you steal thousands from other crooks… no trial, no apology, no paying back allowed. I’m dead. It’s their code.”
Ethel chewed her lip. “I’ll drive you to Kennedy.”
“No! They’ll be watching local airports. Drive me to Hartford. Bradley.”
“Fine. But we should wait until dark.”
“Here? No!”
“The Wicked Wolf. A public place is safe, yes? I’ll treat you to your last beer.”
***
“Sit alone?” Hilary’s voice wobbled. “Why?”
“For a sec. Let me scout for trouble; they may have followed us.”
A look of panic. “But…!”
“Or not. I got it under control.”
***
“The Wicked Wolf?” Johnny silently cursed. “I don’t like it. There’s no parking lot, it’s too open, it’s a freaking sports bar smack on East Tremont and Bruckner, for cripes’ sake… No, I’ll do it, miss; you know I never fail.”
***
As Ethel joined Hilary at her table, Hilary demanded, “What took so long?”
It was so dark and noisy in the bar, Ethel nearly had to shout. “I called Ma. You know she worries when I’m late.”
“Prove it.”
“What?”
“Prove it.”
Ethel smirked. “You want me to hit redial?”
“Yeah.”
“Girlfriend, you better find someone you can trust.”
Hilary hung her head. “There’s no one but you.”
“Serial boyfriend-stealing will do that.” Ethel took her glasses off, wiped them. “You betray me, why wouldn’t I forgive you? We were in diapers together. You do it to your other girlfriends…”
“I like men, okay.”
Ethel slid the glasses back on but avoided Hilary’s eyes. “And I liked Tommy. And where is he now? Oh, right—dumped the second you tired of him.”
“I’ll stop doing that. To any of my gal-pals.” Hilary made the sign of the cross. “Promise.”
Ethel’s lips twitched. “I know you will.”
***
Do it yourself, I say. I don’t do those hits, she says.
Women!
He’d have to get creative on this one.
***
“Why do you keep looking at the clock?”
“It’s not that many times, Hils.”
“Why…?”
“Just wondering how soon it’ll be dark. How about another beer? It tames the tummy. C’mon; no one expects you to knock back beers when you’re on the run.”
“Okay, but I’ll have to tinkle.”
“You always do.” And then Ethel’s phone rang. She got up to go outside.
“Take it here,” Hilary said. “Please.”
“No. That’d be rude.”
***
Johnny barked into his phone, “No, listen, the traffic’s murder.” He laughed sharply. “Yeah, okay, miss, not funny. But sometimes the routine of it all gets me.”
He listened while she droned on.
“She’ll be where? You sure? It’ll be awkward, but I’ll get inside. I’m a pro. Be there in ten, tops.”
He hung up, then swore a blue streak. “I don’t get paid enough for the aggro.”
***
Ethel still had her phone to her ear when Hilary burst out of the bar.
“Yes. I’m checking in with Ma again. What, you still don’t believe it’s her instead of some thug named, oh, I dunno, ‘Joe Gunnerdowni?” Ethel thrust the phone at her.
“Hello?” Hilary let out her breath. “Mrs. G!… No, yeah, I know Ethel’s got it under control. I’m just scared, you know? No, you’re right; it won’t be long now. One more drink—one!—and Ethel’s driving me to Bradley.”
They headed back to their table.
“Two more drinks, Hils. Okay?”
She nodded at Ethel. “Cheers!”
***
“Finally,” Johnny muttered, and went straight to the restroom.
A man in the ladies’ loo? That’s not the worst thing they’ll see.
***
“Okay, I really gotta tinkle,” Hilary snickered as she headed to the ladies’ room.
Yep. You always do.
***
Hilary stopped short when she saw the man there. “What…?”
Then she knew.
***
Crushing a windpipe was quiet. No airflow, so, no gasping, no gurgle. A minute or so to unconsciousness. A bit longer to die.
Johnny was a pro.
***
Ethel, dancing like she really had to go, was waiting outside the door when Johnny exited.
“Closed for cleaning, miss,” he said. “Come back in a bit.”
Their eyes met, barely, then Ethel headed toward the front door.
Go slow and easy, girl.
The limp made that part simple.
Don’t attract attention.
The limp made that part harder.
But barely anyone had seen Ethel with Hilary. Who would know they’d been together?
As he passed her, Johnny murmured, “The best friend always lures them in.”
And Ethel Grieves whispered, “Funny how no one remembers that.”
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