The Fixer From Boston – Chapter Thirteen – Epilogue

The Fixer From Boston – Chapter Thirteen

Saturday 25th April 1925 – Epilogue:

06:00am – Wiseacre’s Estate

It was dawn on Saturday 25th April 1925. The unnatural, clammy, dank fog had lifted just as quickly as it had first manifested leaving a bright clear sky. There was no sign of strange Byakhee creatures upon which Velma Ickersen and Sloane had flown off into the sunrise and we  needed to get back to Boston.

Flown? Maybe not. Dematerialised maybe. At least that might have been what Ed would have said. Had they just flown off they would have had to travel faster than a bullet because there was absolutely no sign of them anywhere in the sky. Me? I was happy they were just gone. I didn’t really care how. The hows and whys I’d happily leave to Ed.

Strange days indeed.

In the downstairs parlour, Cherry had a word with the petrified Hispanic maid. As new owners we could promise her continued employment, however we wanted her ignorant silence in return. No need to tell the cops what went on. It would only confuse ‘em anyway.

We gave her a ride home to drive home the threat. Nothing specific, just implied. If we knew where she lived we could get her through her family, not just her. At least that’s how it would appear to her. Might seem cold but that’s the biz.

None of us were displeased to leave. The authorities were on the way. They would take care of poor broken Elizabeth Prendergast. We drove off in Wiseacre’s Bentley. A little showy perhaps, but it was far too good an auto to pass up. Not like he would be coming back to claim it after all.

Macnifey took the wheel with McGee riding shotgun.

Ed and Cherry followed up in the van, inside of which was the safe from Wiseacre’s. While Cherry was no safecracker, he knew guys that were back in Boston so he was keen to learn a new kill. The safe would be a great practice tool.

As we drove eastward back to the centre of town we heard several sirens heading in the opposite direction. We had been right not to hang around.

In addition to the safe we took with us some strange souvenirs: the coral necklace taken off Velma Ickersen and the wand found downstairs next to Wiseacres corpse.

Perhaps we hadn’t wrapped up the case completely but we all got away with our lives. We never had found out what the coral was doing to all the listeners of Ickersen’s siren song or how it drew life force into the coral idol. Nor did we really understand the connection with the sea creatures called Deep Ones. We also had no idea how to use the wand we had found. But certainly there were also pluses despite the crew’s reservations about giving up the noxious ‘Green Coral Idol’.

There wouldn’t be any more hypnotic song at “The Pink Feather”. The “drownings” had ceased.

It had been very lucrative too. We had a bag of gold dust from fake Maharajah’s suite at “The Gentleman Loser”. Sloane had also signed over the deeds to Wiseacre’s property at Longport and the Pink Feather Club in central Atlantic City. Lawyers might have to pore over that to sign seal and deliver it but it was nothing we couldn’t handle.

The main thing was that they had been stopped. Whatever it was they had been doing wasn’t going to be completed. Not now not in Atlantic City at any rate. We may even have put them off for good.

After stopping off for fuel and setting off the maid we drove straight out of town.

Making good use of all the daylight we headed all the way to New Jersey before we stopped.

We then kept driving on over the next few days finally arriving in Boston 3 days later on Tuesday 28th April 1925.

Obviously there had been loose ends to tie up but these were easily handled out of town. We didn’t want Mulholland feeling our collars after all.

Ed supervised the repairs of his boat “The Beauregard” via a shipping agent. In time it would be renamed but for now it could remain berthed in Atlantic City. No-one was looking for it. At least no-one outside Halifax.

Not like it was a particularly fine boat but it had one unique feature. One of those strange mystical Elder Signs had been etched on the hull by Father Jericho. This would seemingly stop attacks by Deep Ones. It was reckoned the tub would be dried out around 12th May so we could get it sailed back up to Boston then.

Father Jericho himself was to be transferred to a swankier nuthouse. The one where he was presently in residence was more a place of  incarceration than a place of treatment. However we were still not really sure how much could be done. Guys coming out of the forest all those years ago still had the shakes or got nightmares after all. If they couldn’t be fixed I didn’t see how Father Jericho could be. Still I felt it was right that he stayed someplace where he wasn’t in fear of the attendants or got shock therapy instead of medicine. Maybe I was getting sentimental in my old age. Better watch that. Couldn’t look weak to the rest of the crew.

Back in Boston Cherry got hold of an acquaintance to teach him the art of safecracking. In two weeks he had the basics. Maybe not a pro yet but it was a good start. If our normal biz dried up we could get into that.

The gold dust retrieved was sold to Macnifeys fence for 80¢ cents on the Dollar. A rate bid up by McGee. In the end we netted a cool $3600 in cash.

We hoped to use some of the cash to get Grenades. Solomon was most helpful in this regard. He promised to let us use his contact saying he would ensure that we weren’t sold duds or overcharged. We’d only find out later that he was keeping us sweet while he lined up another tricky job for us up country. What we didn’t know!

After our run-in with Benny G in Halifax we needed to make our peace with the Gustin Gang. After all we were still unaffiliated so we needed to be able to operate anywhere in Boston.

He ran a quite big part of Boston so we might get work from him.

Ed started pondering recent events. He even took himself to “Harvard University” to look at the library there. Not sure what the guy expected to find out but it was better than him garrotting people so we let him be.

At some point we would have to deal with “Lumpy” Lepke, the boss of Atlantic City if we wanted to operate both of Wiseacre’s joints but for now that could wait. Elizabeth Prendergast could continue to run the Gentleman Loser if she wished, maybe even the Pink Feather too but we would have to wait for her to heal up first. That would be a while. Weeks maybe months.

Only then would we restart the business there so no need to negotiate with Lumpy just yet.


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