Chapter Fifty

FIFTY

JUNE 1926

After starving herself for months, Lois Diamond must have been ravenous. Irving did not know the extent of her hunger or what she had eaten to break her fast. All he knew was that first thing in the morning, he was told to make an emergency delivery of Pepto-Bismol, Papoid Digestive Tablets, and aspirin to the house on Glenmore Avenue.

Sammy Diamond answered the door.

“Hey there, Sammy,” Irving said, holding out the white paper bag. “I brought these for your sister.”

“Thanks,” Sammy said. “Are you coming over tonight to sit with my dad?”

“I’ve got tonight off,” Irving said. “I’ve got a big evening planned, actually.”

He did not mention the ring he’d been carrying in his jacket pocket every day that week—a slim gold band with a pearl at the center. It was a modest ring, nowhere near as splendid as the woman who would wear it. But at least the pearl and the gold were real, and nothing would fall off or tarnish. Irving promised himself that one day, he would buy Augusta a jewel that was worthy of her.

Back at the store, Solomon Stern was a wreck. Irving had been planning to tell him about the proposal and to ask him for his blessing. But Hank was sitting at the soda counter—supposedly nursing a chocolate malted, but really to serve as a reminder of Mitzi Diamond’s quiet omnipotence. Irving wanted to reassure Mr. Stern and offer some words of support, but he did not want to confess that he’d eavesdropped on the conversation with Mitzi.

Irving didn’t like keeping secrets—not from Mr. Stern and not from Goldie. He promised himself that once they were engaged, he would tell her everything—Lois’s pregnancy, Mrs. Diamond’s threats, everything she deserved to know. Meanwhile, Mr. Stern was in no state to hear about their plans for the future. They would have to secure his blessing after they were engaged.

The rest of the day sped by in a blur. Every so often, Irving’s fingers would grip the pearl in his pocket. He ran his thumb along the rounded edges and tried to imagine how Augusta would react when he asked her to marry him. Would she whisper her answer or shout it loudly for everyone at Arcadia Gardens to hear? He did not care—all he wanted was for Augusta to say yes.

Before the restaurant, he and Nathaniel brought the girls to a popular speakeasy where the four of them shared a bottle of champagne. Irving was glad to leave the place—it was darker and grittier than he expected, and he had the feeling that nothing good would come of staying there for too long. Nathaniel didn’t notice the danger—after his first glass of champagne, he became oblivious to the seedy men lurking in the darkened corners and the hard, overly rouged faces of the women sitting near them.

“It’s time to go,” Irving said when one of the men stared at Augusta for too long.

“But why?” said Nathaniel. “We’re having fun.”

“It’s time for dinner,” Irving told him. “The girls are hungry, and we need to go.” He took Augusta by the hand, guiding the four of them up the steps and out of the subterranean room, and leading them all out to the street in search of a cab. Nathaniel was still protesting their departure, but after Irving pulled him aside and told him his proposal plans, he promised to be more cooperative.

Dinner and dancing at the restaurant followed. Everyone in Brooklyn knew Arcadia Gardens. For twenty years it had been the most elegant establishment in the borough. The dance floor was sunken in the center of the room so that diners could watch their fellow patrons gliding across the parquet. Brass table lamps added a golden glow and Tiffany-style windows in blues and greens adorned the wall behind the orchestra, dappling the room with rainbows of light.

Arcadia Gardens, like all its competitors, had suffered during Prohibition. Because it was not allowed to sell wine and cocktails, profits declined, and crowds fell off. At the time of Augusta and Irving’s visit, the restaurant had lost some of its former glory. The table linens were threadbare in places; the once-polished floors were scuffed and dull. Still, to Augusta’s and Irving’s eyes, it was as lavish and sophisticated as a restaurant could be.

Although alcohol was not officially served, several of the patrons were under its influence. Everywhere Irving turned, he saw men pulling flasks out of their jackets and passing them under the table to their friends. Irving hadn’t thought to bring any, so he was surprised when Augusta opened her purse and showed him the silver monogrammed flask. She handed it to him on the dance floor, where he tucked it into his pocket. “I brought you some of my father’s best whiskey,” she said. “It’s only for you, though, not for sharing. I couldn’t take much without him noticing.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” said Irving.

“But you went to so much trouble to arrange tonight,” she said. “I wanted to do something nice for you. Why don’t you wait for me at our table—Evie is waving at me, and I think she wants company in the ladies’ room.”

At the table, when Irving showed Nathaniel the flask, the latter plucked it from his hands. Irving couldn’t understand how two glasses of champagne had had such an effect on his friend, but Nathaniel definitely wasn’t himself. He unscrewed the tiny cap on the flask and swallowed down every last drop. As he handed the flask back to Irving, he offered a sheepish apology. “Don’t say anything to Augusta,” Irving said. “She brought that whiskey for me.”

When Evie and Augusta returned, the four of them ordered their dinner. Tuxedoed waiters served oysters, lamb chops, and lyonnaise potatoes from silver platters. They were in the middle of their meal when Nathaniel suddenly put down his napkin and asked Evie to dance with him.

Irving didn’t think anything of it at first—in fact, he was glad to see them go. He was happy to be alone with Augusta, happy to have her undivided attention. He contemplated whether he should propose right then, while they had the table to themselves.

His thoughts were interrupted, however, when the entire restaurant began to applaud. There, in the center of the dance floor, was Nathaniel Birnbaum, down on one knee, asking Evie to marry him. She was wrapping her arms around his waist, and he was kissing her in front of everyone. The applause swelled and all the dancers cheered. The ma?tre d’ presented Evie with a single red rose.

Irving felt a crush of anger beating at him from inside his chest. I told him I was going to propose. How could Nathaniel do this to me?

Augusta sat up in her chair to see what all the fuss was about. “Is that… is that Nathaniel and Evie in the middle of the dance floor? Did he… did Nathaniel propose ?”

Augusta flung her napkin on the table and ran down the steps to congratulate her friend. Irving watched the girls embrace, but he could not bring himself to join them. He could not congratulate Nathaniel in the wake of such betrayal. There was no way he could ask Augusta to marry him tonight. All his planning had been for nothing. His proposal would have to wait.

I need some air, Irving thought. I need to calm myself down before I punch Birnbaum in the face. He tried to push through the crowd of diners, all straining to see the couple on the dance floor, all trying to inhale some of the joy that filled the space like expensive perfume. The main entrance was blocked by the crowd, so Irving ducked out a side door that led directly into the alley.

When he got outside, the first breath he took was one of palpable relief. The air was warm, the sky was clear, and the June moon was as round and lustrous as the pearl waiting inside his pocket. It was a perfect summer evening.

Except for the body on the pavement.

There in the alley, lying faceup, was a man with a knife stuck into his throat. The man did not move, but his eyes were open, and his head rested in a pool of blood that expanded even as Irving watched. Irving’s initial reaction was disbelief—he could not process what he was seeing. He bent down to get a closer look and felt the sharp barrel of a gun being pressed into the small of his back. Slowly he lifted both hands in the air.

“Irving?” said a smooth, familiar voice coming somewhere from his left. “Irving Rivkin, is that you ?”

He was too stunned to answer out loud, but the voice continued. “It is you! Hank, put the gun away.”

“Mrs. Diamond?” said Irving, afraid to move. He felt the bulky presence of the massive bodyguard behind him.

“Hank, I told you. Put the gun away. ”

Mitzi Diamond emerged from the shadows into Irving’s line of vision. The streetlamp lit her up from above as if she were a Broadway star and the alley was the sordid stage that had been built for her alone. Despite the temperature, a black fur stole was wrapped loosely around her shoulders. She was still holding the white lace handkerchief she’d been using to wipe the blood from her manicured fingers. Blood has never bothered me, young man.

“You can put your hands down now, Irving,” she said. “Tell me, what brings you here tonight? This is quite a swanky place—it must have been a special occasion.”

“I was…” He tried not to stare at the body, but the face of the dead man was strangely familiar. “I was having dinner with my girlfriend. I was going to propose.”

“Charming,” said Mrs. Diamond gruffly. “But you didn’t manage to ask her?”

“Excuse me?”

“You said that you were going to propose, implying that you hadn’t yet. So what prevented you? What happened?”

“Oh that… there was another proposal. Another couple got engaged. Everyone in the restaurant was clapping for them and I felt like the timing wasn’t right.”

Mitzi Diamond began to pace back and forth in the narrow alley. “So much of life really is timing, isn’t it? For instance, take a beautiful girl like my Lois. She goes to a party and meets this fellow, here.” She pointed to the man on the ground by her feet. “ This is Freddie Schechter, by the way. You might not recognize him, Irving, but he was also the boy who took your bicycle when you stood up for my Sammy all those years ago. That was the day I met you, remember?”

Irving nodded, but he did not speak. He couldn’t believe that Freddie was dead. That Freddie would never speak again. Would never laugh. Would never breathe. Irving felt his legs weaken beneath him. He choked back the bile rising up in his throat.

“Now,” Mitzi continued, “if Lois’s timing had been different—if she’d gone to her friend’s party a little bit later or skipped the gathering altogether—she might not have met Freddie Schechter and none of us might be here right now. But Lois did go to the party and she did meet Freddie, and they dated in secret because she knew how her father and I felt about him.”

Mitzi Diamond’s voice was low and hypnotic, the kind of voice that could keep a man frozen in place for as long as she wanted. “And then poor Lois’s timing got worse. You’re old enough to know about such things, Irving—women’s cycles and all of that. My point is that if Lois’s timing had been different, if she had been a tiny bit luckier, perhaps, Freddie might never have gotten her pregnant. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Irving nodded again and Mrs. Diamond resumed her pacing.

“You know, that’s something you and Lois have in common. You both have terrible timing. Look at what happened with your proposal. And then?” She gestured toward the ground. “Then you walked straight into all of this. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.” She chuckled. “Honestly, your timing couldn’t be worse.”

As she rambled, Irving’s thoughts were racing. A trickle of sweat slid down his neck. What was Mrs. Diamond going to do now? Was she going to kill him, too? Rough him up so he wouldn’t talk? All of Solomon Stern’s past warnings echoed like gunfire in his head.

Meanwhile Mrs. Diamond was mumbling under her breath, talking herself through her next move. Hank looked as if he were growing restless. He shifted his weight from side to side, stared up at the moon, and sighed.

“Am I boring you, Hank?” Mrs. Diamond growled.

Hank straightened his shoulders and planted his feet like a soldier at attention. “No, Mrs. Diamond. Absolutely not.”

“Good,” she said. “Because I’m thinking. ” The pacing continued for a few minutes more until finally Mrs. Diamond stood at ease. “How perfect,” she said, sounding pleased with herself. “Honestly, I couldn’t have come up with a better solution if I’d planned it this way from the beginning.” She moved closer to Irving and patted his shoulder. Her smile sent a chill through his entire body.

“I take back everything I said about you, Irving. As it turns out, your timing is absolutely impeccable. What’s more, you’re one hell of a mensch. I knew it from the day I met you. I always told Zip you were one of the good ones.”

“Thank you, ma’am. That’s very nice, but—”

“We’ve known each other a long time, Irving. Zip and I have always been good to you, haven’t we? Zip got you that bicycle. I helped you pick a new coat for your mother. And since you’ve started acting as Zip’s companion, we’ve all become thick as thieves, haven’t we?”

“I’m very grateful to you both for everything you’ve done—”

“In fact,” said Mrs. Diamond, “it’s almost like fate, the way that all of this worked out. Zip is going to be so pleased.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Diamond, but I’m not following.”

“No? Then let me try to explain. Lois is four months pregnant, Irving. Four months pregnant and unmarried.” Mrs. Diamond kicked absent-mindedly at the tip of Freddie’s shoe. “The father is in no position to marry her now—not since I got a bit carried away when he refused my suggestion. It was lucky I had my knife on me—Hank’s gun would have caused too much of a ruckus in a neighborhood like this. In any event, my beautiful girl is now in need of a husband. And who better than you for the job? You’re practically one of the family already.”

Irving’s arms and legs went numb. When he blinked, all he could see was darkness. He bit his lip until he tasted blood. “And what if… what if I say no?”

Mitzi Diamond’s laugh was as lifeless as Freddie Schechter’s open eyes. When she spoke, she used the same matter-of-fact tone most people used to discuss the weather. She counted off the gruesome possibilities on her still slightly bloodstained fingers. “Someone might break into your mother’s apartment. Or your girlfriend might have some sort of accident—drivers these days never look where they’re going, and people get run over all the time. Of course, there’s always your boss’s store. I know how much you love Stern’s Pharmacy. It would be such a shame if it burned down—did you hear about Finkel’s, by the way?”