Steeplechase, page 6
Katie blinked the water out of her eyes and found herself staring into a pair of sparkling blue ones.
“It’s you!” she gasped.
He took her in his arms and guided her out of the water. Katie pushed away and looked at his face. It was him. There was no doubt about it. He was in period dress as he was in her dreams: a coat with long tails and a starched shirt with a high collar. She looked down at her own sopping wet clothes and was astonished to see a frilly silk blouse and a long pleated skirt.
“What is happening?” she sobbed. “Where am I?”
The man pulled her in tightly. “Don’t cry. Jake’s here.”
Though more confused and disoriented than she’d ever been, Katie emptied her mind of all questions and fears and simply let him embrace her. She hoped he would never let go.
Chapter 19
Coney Island, 1907
The dazzling outside of the ballroom had clearly been built to invoke the moneyed exteriors of Fifth Avenue. One side looked like the granite facade of a gilded mansion. The entrance featured marble columns that suggested the grandeur of a public library or museum. Gleaming hired cars fought for spaces against frilly horse-drawn carriages while elegantly clad couples milled about the front of the building. Katie thought it all looked like something out of a dream—and then reminded herself that she actually was dreaming.
Corrigan noted her awed expression. “Stauch’s Ballroom—the only place on Coney where ya can’t be overdressed.”
Katie smiled wanly. She couldn’t get used to seeing Corrigan in a topcoat—she had always seen him in casual tweeds. For that matter, she couldn’t get used to the elaborate up-do or the formal gown she was wearing: a high-necked lacy top with elaborately puffed sleeves that tapered along her forearms. Pearl beads dotted the skirt. She felt like an actress in a Charlie Chaplin film.
After the scare from the thug on the beach, Corrigan had escorted Katie back to her room and insisted that a night out was the only thing that would lift her spirits. She agreed in a muted daze.
Katie was certain she had lost her mind. She couldn’t understand how all this could be so familiar to her. The period dresses, the park with its charmingly low-tech attractions, and, somehow strangest of all, Corrigan himself. Yet part of her could offer no resistance and even welcomed this flight of fancy she seemed to be living. She thought she might as well enjoy it for now, knowing that soon enough she would wake up in her dismal room.
The ballroom interior was dripping with opulence: carved ceilings, glistening chandeliers, and a balcony that ran above the perimeter of the dance floor. The venue even had its own tobacco department.
“The floor can hold three thousand couples,” Corrigan raved as they looked out at the overflowing crowd. “Let’s make it three thousand and one.”
“Sure, one dance,” Katie murmured. “To remember me by.”
“You goin’ somewhere?” Corrigan asked quizzically.
Katie smiled and shrugged, so he deftly cupped her waist and maneuvered her into the crush of dancers who were moving to an upbeat number. Almost instantly, the orchestra switched gears and started to play a slow song. Katie thought that Corrigan had noticed her distracted mood, because he pulled her closer.
“The ballroom was filled with fashion’s throng,” he crooned softly in her ear. “It shone with a thousand lights. And there was a woman who passed along, the fairest of all the sights.”
Katie smiled at him. “That’s lovely.”
“‘A Bird in a Gilded Cage.’ A sad song. Sort of like you tonight.” Corrigan looked more closely at her. “Hey, your nose. You’d never know it was bleeding like a beer tap not twenty-four hours ago!”
“Yeah,” Katie murmured. “That’s strange.…”
“So you heal quickly,” he said. “Your heart, too? Been in love, Katie?”
She sighed and looked over his shoulder at the splendor of their surroundings.
“Oh, how do I answer that?” she said ruefully. “Let’s say I’ve always been in love with Coney Island. The carousel, the Steeplechase, the Tickler. And now Stauch’s Ballroom. The idea that people find happiness and joy here—I love that.”
“Most of this is because of you. You and your imagination.”
“Oh, yeah,” she agreed. “I’ve got imagination, all right.…”
The full moon was shining through one of the terrace doors, and Katie let Corrigan glide her across the floor toward the exit. As they passed the orchestra shell, Katie saw Mouse standing there, swaying to the music. Towering over him was a huge, rawboned lout who was trying—and failing—to keep time with the music by snapping his fingers. Squinting with uncertainty, Mouse nodded toward them, and Corrigan danced Katie over to the mismatched pair.
“Don’t you two make a nice couple,” Corrigan said to the tiny ex-jockey and his mammoth companion. “Katie, you remember—”
“Mr. Mouse—heavenly to see you again,” she said with mock graciousness.
“You too, sis,” he said. “Nice to see ya can dress like a lady oughta.”
He gestured up to the big man, who was gazing at Katie like a lovesick puppy. Mouse whacked him in the midsection to get his attention.
“This is Tiny Lemans,” he said. “Tiny used to box at the club. See, he put all the dirty towels in boxes for the laundry!” Mouse exploded into guffaws.
“You’re a regular Lew Bloom, Mouse,” Corrigan said. As he began to dance Katie away, he added, “You should see if Stauch will let ya open for the band sometime.”
“Wait, Jake!” Mouse and Tiny trotted after the couple. “I got some news you gonna wanna hear.”
“For a small fee, eh, Mousie?”
“Even a little guy like me’s gotta eat,” Mouse protested.
Corrigan sighed and fished out a bill. He tucked it into Mouse’s coat pocket. “That’s ten dollars there—you can trust me.”
“I don’t trust my own mother,” Mouse grumbled as he pulled out the bill and held it up against his face. Satisfied, he stepped closer to Corrigan and kept his voice low.
“Tiny here was working near the Parachute Jump the other night when the man went splat. See, Tiny was moonlightin’ as one of them Kewpie dolls ya knock down with a baseball!” Again Mouse exploded with laughter.
“I take it back: you’re headliner material, Mouse,” Corrigan said. “Now cut the gags. You’re about as funny as Teddy Roosevelt, the stiff.”
Katie leaned in. “He may not be funny, but I can assure you that history will look upon Mr. Roosevelt favorably. Trust me.”
“Another reason you skirts ain’t never gettin’ the vote,” Mouse sneered. “Tell ’em what you saw, Tiny.”
Still gazing with lovesick eyes at Katie, the big man bent down.
“It was that feller Marinacci I seen,” Tiny said. “He come waltzin’ outta the Jump right after the man fell. Looked real nervous, like. And he beat it real quick.”
“Marinacci?” Corrigan said. “He’s a jockey over at Belmont Park. Why’s he workin’ a Steeplechase ride?”
“He wasn’t workin’ no ride,” Mouse said. “And he ain’t been a jock for a while.” Mouse paused for dramatic effect. “He gave up the horses and moved on to engines. He’s a personal chauffeur these days.”
Mouse then stepped back and, preening, gave his big news: “And now he works for the owner of this fine park…Mr. George Tilyou.”
Chapter 20
When Corrigan didn’t alter his movements to the tempo change in “Meet Me in St. Louis,” Katie knew that she was now the one stuck with a distracted dancing partner. She looked him straight in the eye.
“I either come from the future,” she said gravely, “or you’re just a very realistic figment of my overactive imagination.”
“Mm-hmm…” Corrigan said, nodding slowly. Then, startled, he shook his head. “Sorry. I was a thousand miles away.”
“I know the place,” Katie said ruefully. “Sometimes it feels like I live there.”
“I’d like to step on that Mouse for killin’ the mood,” he sighed. “Let’s go for a walk.…”
Twenty minutes later, they were holding hands and casually strolling down the boardwalk, ignoring the people staring at their out-of-place formal attire. The various food stalls they passed assaulted them with competing aromas.
“Chop suey. Corn on the cob. More hot dogs…” Corrigan surveyed the offerings. “Money is no object, though to get service I’ll probably have to ditch my jacket and tie, and you might have to spring open a button or two.…”
“I’m not hungry and neither are you,” Katie said with a pointed look. “We both have something on our minds.”
Nodding, Corrigan led her over to a boardwalk railing, where they could see and hear the soothing nighttime tide.
“All right. I’ll go first,” Corrigan said. “You’ve known him a long time. What do you think your boss, Mr. Tilyou, has got to do with all this?”
“I really don’t know.” Katie shrugged. “Maybe we should talk to Mr. Caps. He might have some answers.”
“He might. But what are the chances Caps is going to want to ruffle feathers by helping us snoop into his boss’s affairs?” Corrigan wondered aloud. “He’s just as likely to tell us to fuc— Oh, sorry again.”
“To fuck off,” Katie piped in. “Where I come from, women are familiar with the phrase.”
Corrigan gave her a startled look and then pulled out a cigarette and thought for a moment. “Aw, the hell with it. Maybe I’ll see him in the mornin’. Let’s get back to you and me. What’s on your mind, Katie?”
Katie took a moment to enjoy the warm breeze and collect her words.
“There is something…odd I need to tell you about myself,” she ventured.
“Your knowledge of unladylike language?” Corrigan asked. “Or maybe it’s about your shady past?”
“More like my shady future,” Katie replied.
“Ah. Woman of mystery…” Corrigan pulled her in for an embrace, giving Katie a view over his shoulder—a view of the other man from her dream walking up to them!
“Not again!” she cried in exasperation.
“Sorry.” Corrigan stepped back. “Thought you needed a hug.”
Before Katie could respond, the pale man with the reddish beard grasped Corrigan’s shoulder and spun him around.
“Well, now. It’s the couple of the year,” the man said, snickering. “Apologies fer breakin’ up the tender scene.”
Corrigan reached into his jacket for his gun, but the other man quickly put the tip of a knife to his side. Katie went to knock it out of his hand, but someone grabbed her shoulder and spun her around: a short but powerfully built man with severe acne scars all over his face. Corrigan stared at him.
“Katie,” he said, “I’d like ya to meet Marco ‘Pizza Face’ Marinacci.”
“Stuff it, Corrigan,” Marinacci barked with a self-conscious brush of his hand against his pitted skin. He took out his own blade and lightly stroked Katie’s cheek with it. “Or I’ll give your girlfriend here some of the same. Might make her want to switch partners.”
Katie smacked his hand away in disgust. “I’d rather have my neck slit.”
“Shut up, slut!” he snarled. “Or you’ll get your wish.”
“You sure have a way with the ladies, Pizza Face,” Corrigan said. “Maybe someday you won’t even have to pay.”
“I never liked you, Corrigan. I don’t need much of a reason to stiff you.” He gestured to his pal. “Move ’em out, Eddie.”
Marinacci shoved Katie in front of him while Eddie used his knife to force Corrigan away from the deck rail. Katie and Corrigan exchanged a look as they were maneuvered toward a dark alley. Crossing the crowded boardwalk, they passed a garishly lit attraction with the words STRENGTH TEST painted on it in giant red letters.
A bald, sweaty-faced barker shouted at passersby, trying to interest them in pounding a large wooden hammer onto a low platform that sent a ball up a column marked with “strength” measurements.
“Test yer masculine prowess, gents!” he bellowed. “Show yer ladies what a brute ya can be!”
Corrigan gave the barker a wink and gestured with his head toward Eddie. The barker answered with a barely perceptible nod and quickly reached out and grabbed Corrigan’s arm.
“You, sir! Why not impress your friends here—and the little lady? Take a swing!” the barker enthused as he thrust the hammer into Corrigan’s hand.
“Hey, what the he—?” Marinacci started to protest but was cut short when Corrigan swung the hammer directly into the side of his head. As Marinacci dropped like a brick, Corrigan flung the weapon the other way—a direct hit to Eddie’s solar plexus. Eddie went flying into the strength measurement column, and a bell clanged loudly as the ball hit the top level.
“‘World-class strongman’! An excellent show of power, sir!” The barker grinned. “Though yer accuracy needs a little work.”
“Thanks, O’Brien. Saved my neck!” Corrigan said. “Might even look the other way next time I hear about your scales being fixed.”
As the enraged Eddie struggled to his feet, Corrigan tossed the hammer back to the barker. He then grabbed Katie’s hand and the two took off down the alley. O’Brien casually swung the hammer into Eddie’s kneecap, stopping his attempt to chase the couple.
Katie looked back at the sight of Eddie trying to limp after them. “You never cease to amaze me, Jake.”
“That was pretty good, huh? Now where to?”
“Someplace safe,” she said as she pulled him down another darkened alleyway.
Chapter 21
Corrigan was mystified as they moved through a series of narrow passageways. Katie was mystified herself because she knew exactly where they were headed and how to get there. Every alley and every turn was instantly recognizable to her. Finally, they came upon a large, darkened structure. Katie beckoned to Corrigan to follow her through a small side door and they slipped inside. As they entered, a low animal roar pierced the air. Katie held up her hand.
“It’s okay, Africa. We come in peace.”
The tall man stepped forward and looked warily at Corrigan.
“Jake, meet Africa. He cares for the animals,” Katie said. To Africa she said, “This is Jake Corrigan. He’s with park security.”
Frowning, Africa studied Corrigan from head to toe.
“You are in charge of keeping the park ‘secure’?”
“That I am!” Corrigan said boastfully.
“Then why isn’t it? Why aren’t you doing your job?” Africa asked with arms folded. “If people are being hurt, how can I know my animals will not be harmed?”
Corrigan shot Katie a look. “Something tells me I’d be better off with Marinacci and Eddie.”
“His bark is worse than his bite,” Katie said. “Unlike with his roommates,” she added with a wink. “Africa, we need a hideout. Just for the night.”
Africa lit a torch, illuminating the area. Corrigan was startled at the sight of lions and tigers crouched in nearby cages.
“This is your idea of safety?” Corrigan asked incredulously.
“We’ve got protection here,” Katie said as she went over to pet King Lee. “Or would you rather sleep on the beach?”
“Yes! Hermit crabs and sandpipers aren’t carnivores!” Corrigan protested.
As the two bickered, Africa smiled to himself and backed away. Before leaving the space, he blew out the torch, plunging the couple into darkness.
“Hey, that’s unfair,” Corrigan protested as he reached for Katie in the shadows. “You’ve got inside pull in this place.”
“Better believe I do!” she said as she lightly thwacked his hand away. “King Lee!”
The lion let out a piercing—and threatening—roar.
“Point proven,” Corrigan said warily. “Look, Katie, I haven’t pressed you about your deep, dark secret. But we can’t talk in here. Walk with me on the beach.”
Still unsure of what she was going to tell Corrigan, and even less sure of how she would say it, Katie started to balk. But she realized that she owed him some kind of explanation about what was going on in her head. She relented by taking his hand and guiding him back over to the door. They stepped out onto the boardwalk and crossed it to the vast expanse of moonlit beach. It was unpopulated and, except for the rhythmic ebb and flow of the tide, silent.
They walked hand in hand for a stretch without saying a word. Finally, Katie stopped and turned to Corrigan.
“I don’t mean to be so mysterious, Jake. I just don’t know how to tell you what’s going on with me,” she confessed. “I don’t understand it myself. And it’s driving me crazy. If I’m not already there…”
Corrigan stopped and took her gently by the shoulders.
“Just tell me this,” he said. “You got another fella?”
Katie laughed softly to herself at this suggestion. “No. That’s not it at all. It’s about…well, where I come from. And who I really am.”
Corrigan snorted. “Lady, I come from a boys’ reformatory in Saratoga and I’ve been known to rip off the very crooks I’m arresting. You really think I care where you come from?”
“Oh, you don’t understand at all,” Katie sighed, and started walking again. Corrigan stopped her and, not at all gently this time, took her in his arms and kissed her deeply. He then removed the pins from her hair and pressed his body to hers.
“Let’s settle this,” he murmured. “You said you’ve been in love with Coney Island and the park. But those are things. Bein’ in love with a person is a whole new world. Like being someplace that’s familiar but still totally unknown. It’s scary and confusing. ‘Why this person, not that person?’ you ask yourself. ‘Why now instead of next year or ten years from now?’ Isn’t that what you’re thinking?”
