The Bootlegger's Legacy
Book Three
Moonshine Madness Series

The Bootlegger's Legacy - Book 3 - Moonshine Madness Series

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Chapter One

St. Paul, Minnesota – Early-June 1926

CHAR

My Coco Chanel dress rustled softly in the warm, balmy evening as I slid out of the limousine, clutching the hand of my beau. Will stood patiently as he assisted me, looking extraordinarily dashing in a black tuxedo with a long-tailed cutaway coat.

Will had purchased tickets to a glamorous charity ball sponsored by the St. Paul Women’s Friendship Club to celebrate his birthday. The annual event had been a family tradition, dating back to his youth when his late mother had served on the club’s executive board. I’d never attended a black-tie ball before, but I’d read articles in the society section of the newspaper about fundraising galas. For days, I had looked forward to a wonderful evening of dining and dancing with Will and my friends.

As we stepped onto the sidewalk, Will paused and smiled at me. He stood well over six feet tall with broad shoulders and muscular arms. His thick black hair glistened in the bright June sun. His deep blue eyes gazed into mine. “You look wonderful tonight, Char.”

“Thank you.” My heart fluttered at the tenderness in his deep, throaty voice. I’d purchased a shimmering black dress with cap sleeves purposely for this occasion. The skirt’s hem brushed my ankles with an overlay that sloped upward toward my right side. The two-tiered, draping bodice slanted toward the opposite side. I’d finished my outfit with matching T-strap shoes, elbow-length gloves, my favorite black beaded shawl, and a platinum and diamond necklace set.

“Ahem,” Will’s sister, Madeline, said loudly.

Glancing past my shoulder, I caught Madeline prodding Will’s back with the tip of her red-lacquered fingernail to make him stop flirting and get moving.

“Peter, tell your girlfriend to stop poking me,” Will said with mock irritation to the fellow at her side.

“Tell her yourself,” Peter replied with a wry chuckle. “She won’t listen to me.”

Laughing, Will offered me his arm and escorted me to the canopied front entrance of the elegant Saint Paul Hotel.

Will had convinced Madeline and his best friend, Peter Garrett, to accompany us using the excuse that the couple he’d originally purchased the tickets for had canceled at the last minute and he couldn’t find anyone else. Madeline and Peter accepted his story, but he hadn’t fooled me.

Once upon a time, Madeline and Peter had been the talk of the town. Back then, she’d found the handsome, eligible bachelor with a Harvard law degree and impeccable manners irresistibly attractive. She eventually became bored with him, however, and though they’d parted friends, nowadays their paths rarely crossed. I suspected Will hoped his sister and his best friend would renew their romance. I couldn’t fault Will for trying, but I worried his good intentions were doomed to fail.

Peter, a successful attorney, wanted to settle down and raise a family. Maddie, as she preferred to be called, considered herself a “free spirit” who drank bootlegged whiskey and danced the night away. Whenever they were together, Maddie and Peter fought like cats and dogs. I hoped they were too distracted by all the gaiety tonight to disagree on anything, but I had a feeling this little reunion was a huge miscalculation on Will’s part.

We walked through a spacious, European-style lobby furnished with leather furniture, marble columns, and palm trees. Waterford crystal chandeliers showered the room with sparkling light. The room held such an enchanting atmosphere, I couldn’t wait to see what the ballroom looked like.

We approached the elevator, operated by a young man wearing a red bellhop uniform and a round, brimless cap with a leather chin strap. His cropped coat narrowed at the waist, embellished with three vertical rows of gold buttons. A matching gold stripe accentuated the sides of his trousers.

He nodded solemnly at Will. “To the ballroom, sir?”

“Yes,” Will replied as he ushered us into the elevator car.

I stood quietly by Will’s side, our fingers tightly entwined as the bellhop extended his gloved hand, pulled the glass door and metal scissor gate closed then pressed the lever on the manual control. We slowly glided up to the ballroom floor. Once there, we stepped out of the car and walked to the wide-open doors of the Promenade Ballroom where a silver-haired gentleman in a tuxedo stood behind a wooden podium. The man perused Will’s tickets and slipped them inside a flat leather pouch. “Your name, sir?”

Will smiled. “William Van Elsberg.”

The man uncapped his fountain pen and crossed Will’s name off his list. “Very good, sir. I’ll show you to your table. Right this way please.”

Laughter and lively banter echoed through the softly lit ballroom as we followed our host to a round table covered with peach linen, gold-rimmed dishes, and crystal stemware. The gentleman wished us all an enjoyable evening before departing.

Peter pulled out Maddie’s chair to seat her. Will stood patiently as he assisted me. I sat down and promptly moved my chair closer to his before slipping my shawl off my shoulders.

Maddie ignored Peter as she sat down and instead glanced around, waving at a young woman she knew across the room. “Don’t look now, but, the old biddies of the Friendship Club are on their high horses tonight,” she announced with a droll smile as she turned back to us, placing her black sequined clutch on the table. “Faye Delacorte and her friends on the board must be on fashion guard duty. Not that I care, mind you, but she’s apparently taken issue with my outfit. She’s gossiping about it with the other fossils—I mean, board members—right now.”

I had been too focused on following Will to our table to notice anyone watching us. Still, the name Delacorte sounded familiar. Where had I heard that before? “Perhaps they were merely curious,” I replied, unconcerned.

“Not these ladies.” Maddie’s kohl-lined eyes flashed. “The Friendship Club disapproves of anyone who dares to be fashionable.” She snorted. “It violates their ancient dress code.”

Maddie’s taste in evening couture was a dazzling black shift in fine silk, hand-embroidered with glass bugle beads and shimmering sequins. The sleeveless, body-baring fashion had a knee-length hemline to show off her curvy legs when she danced. She wore a matching cloche hat over her black, chin-length bob, adorned with a satin ribbon above the brim and accented with an ostrich feather. And of course, she wore her signature rope of pearls. The outfit looked terrific on her, but a flapper dress was unconventional and a bit risqué for a formal dress ball.

“Pipe down, Maddie,” Peter whispered as he sat down and glared at her, unimpressed with her opinions. “The people around us hear your criticism of our hosts. It’s rude and embarrassing.”

“I’m a modernist,” she responded matter-of-factly as if the proclamation alone was sufficient to counter his rebuke. “I’m not afraid to speak my mind.”

My gaze swept the ballroom, noting a sea of gray-haired attendees. Some of them were looking our way, especially that small crowd of ladies huddled together by the dance floor. A few women scattered about the room reflected our age group—Maddie was twenty-eight and I was twenty-six—but this event overwhelmingly favored a mature crowd. Older women tended to be traditionalists who believed in long-held cultural and religious values. Simply put, their view maintained that a woman’s place was in the home raising children, not exercising her independence with loose morals. And that included exposing her knees.

“I don’t understand why you paid a sack full of money for tickets to this yawner to celebrate your birthday, Will,” Maddie continued as she raised one finely penciled brow. “We could be having more fun at a gin mill, kicking up some dust! This was fine entertainment for our parents when they were alive, but we don’t have anything in common with such a stuffy crowd.”

Will gave his sister a stern look. “You’re right, I did spend a lot of dough on the tickets so behave yourself. We’re not leaving early to get sozzled at your favorite gin mill.”

He plucked a small cluster of miniature peach roses from a round glass vase in the center of the table and tucked the stem behind my ear. “I thought it would be nice to donate to a worthy cause, Char, and at the same time, introduce you to some of the members of the club. Many of them live near you.”

“I love that idea, Will,” I replied, anxious to change the subject and ultimately the mood around the table.

My late husband, Gus LeDoux, had built a palatial mansion for me on Summit Avenue in St. Paul but in the three years I’d owned it, I’d never had the occasion to meet any of my neighbors. Gus and I had been so busy establishing our nightclub, La Coquette, that we never had time for socializing outside of our business clientele. After he died, I’d had my hands full raising my infant son, Julien, and overseeing Gus’ business empire.

Except for La Coquette. The nightclub had been problematic since the day it opened, and the Feds shut it down before Gus passed. Since then, I had reopened the building as a shelter for homeless and abused women. I’d renamed it “Anna’s House” to honor the memory of my late mother.

Thinking about La Coquette suddenly jogged my memory, reminding me why the name Delacorte sounded so familiar…

A waiter appeared, interrupting my thoughts as he filled a stemmed glass with ice water. “Would you like coffee or perhaps an iced tea?”

I looked up. “I’ll take an iced tea, please.”

“I’d like a ginger ale,” Maddie said as he filled her water glass.

The men ordered coffee.

The waiter returned quickly with our beverages. After he left, Maddie slipped her fingers into her handbag and retrieved a small silver flask, the one she always carried with her.

Peter’s jaw clenched. Behind his wire-rimmed glasses, his brown eyes pierced hers. “Really, Maddie,” he complained under his breath, “must you do that here?”

“Don’t be such a flat tire, Peter. I’m thirsty.” She rolled her eyes and quickly poured a generous amount of whiskey into her glass then buried the flask back inside her clutch. “Besides, I doubt I’m the only person in this room spiking my soda with a little giggle water.”

I took a sip of iced tea to conceal my amusement as I wondered about that. It was no secret that prohibition hadn’t stopped the illegal manufacture, sale, or distribution of bootlegged liquor in St. Paul. Gus once told me that there were tunnels below the hotels in St. Paul where bootleggers transported booze to the kitchens for guests to consume discreetly in the privacy of their rooms. I didn’t know if that was true at this hotel, but I didn’t think it would be difficult to obtain liquor if a guest wanted some.

Will held up his water glass. “Cheers.”

Everyone followed suit, clinking their glasses together in agreement.

Our waiter appeared with our first course of tomato bisque soup with a side dish of cheese straws. He also set a dish filled with celery, salted nuts, and olives on the table.

The previous discussion fizzled in favor of enjoying our meal. I dismissed all curious thoughts from my mind and began to relax as my apprehension over Maddie and Peter subsided, giving way to the merriment of dining with dear friends.

We were enjoying our soup when Maddie glanced up. Her smile faded. “Oh-oh. Here they come,” she said wryly.

The conversation abruptly ceased as a small army of footsteps approached the table.

A stately woman wearing a black, floor-length gown, wire-rimmed glasses, and heirloom diamonds suddenly stood next to my chair, looking down at me with a grim frown. Her stone-gray hair was twisted into a bun on the crown of her head and accentuated with a tortoiseshell comb. Her three companions stood behind her. “Are you Charlotte LeDoux?” she demanded with an official, duty-first tone in her voice.

Everyone at the table froze.

“Yes,” I said, tense with uncertainty as I encountered the woman’s stern gaze. “What can I do for you?”

“You must leave,” she announced then glanced sternly at her companions for reinforcement. At their nod, her expression grew cold. “Immediately.”

I stared at her in shock. My spoon clattered into my bowl. “I—I don’t understand.”

“What’s going on?” Will slid his arm around me. “What’s the meaning of this, Faye?”

“I’m sorry, William,” Faye Delacorte replied stiffly, “but only members and their families are allowed to attend this event. You know the rules. It’s a private affair.”

“This is ridiculous!” Maddie slammed her glass on the table. “Both Peter’s mother and mine were board members of this club. I’m a lifetime member. Char is my guest.”

Faye ignored Maddie’s protest, focusing on me. “Let me be frank, Mrs. LeDoux, so there is no misunderstanding on your part. We are a Christian organization of law-abiding citizens,” she stated crisply. “We don’t approve of people like you and your husband.”

Suddenly, Faye’s reason for expelling me became crystal clear. It never dawned on me that Gus’ reputation as a notorious bootlegger was still alive—even though he wasn’t. About a year ago, he had been killed during a shootout with federal agents.

“You mean my late husband, Gus,” I replied defiantly.

“Yes.” Her lips formed a tight line as though the mere mention of my husband’s name in public was so scandalous—gasp—she could barely acknowledge it.

“With all due respect, Faye, you’re wrong.” Will’s lean face darkened with anger. “Her husband was involved in that business. She is not. You have no excuse to insult my guest like this and I’d like you to apologize immediately.”

Faye stood her ground, holding her head high. “I disagree.” She glanced over her shoulder at the rest of her posse. Once again, they nodded in support. She turned back to us. “Her status in the community has been tainted by his criminal activities. Allowing her to be here damages your mother’s legacy and the good name of The Women’s Friendship Club. Now, if you please—”

“Fine.” Will pulled his napkin off his lap and tossed it on the table. “Have it your way. We’ll leave.” He stood up, glaring with disgust as he pulled out my chair.

Peter followed suit. Maddie gulped the rest of her ginger ale and stood. “I’ve been kicked out of better places than this.” She grabbed her clutch. “Let’s go!”

Well, that was that. I had been foolishly naive to think the notoriety surrounding Gus’ life and death wouldn’t affect my future. This painful encounter, however, made me realize it would always be a curse upon me. Worse yet, I had embarrassed my friends. I didn’t care what anyone thought of me, but I cared deeply that my friends had been subjected to public humiliation because of me. I rose from the table, clutching my shawl. The sooner we left, the better.

It was so quiet in the ballroom you could hear a pin drop. I turned away from my sanctimonious accusers, wishing I had some way to wipe that triumphant sneer off Faye Delacorte’s wrinkled face.

A man’s deep chuckle prompted me to look up. Across the room, I saw a familiar face staring back at me. He appeared just as I remembered him—florid, stout, balding. And as arrogant as ever. A slight curve at the corner of his bluish lips indicated he was reveling in my misfortune. Was this his way of getting revenge for the small fortune he’d lost gambling at La Coquette? Whatever the cause, the glare in his eyes indicated he thought he was better than me. Him and his nasty wife…

Something inside me instantly changed. I couldn’t stop them from ordering me to leave, but I didn’t have to go quietly. Or with my tail between my legs.

I whirled around, confronting Faye Delacorte with a renewed surge of energy and a clear sense of purpose. “You know, if I were you, I wouldn’t look down my nose at people who didn’t measure up to my rigid standards,” I said loudly. “You never know, someone in your family might get caught with his pants down and embarrass you, knocking you off your self-righteous throne.”

Will slid his fingers around my arm. “Come on, Char. Let’s go.”

I shrugged off his hand. I wasn’t finished yet…

“Oh, and just so there is no misunderstanding on your part,” I continued, raising my voice, “many of the so-called upstanding, pillar-of-the-society husbands in this room were regular customers at my husband’s nightclub. They drank, they gambled, and at the end of the evening, they left with glamorous young chorus girls hanging on their arms.”

Faye’s eyes widened with shock as a collection of gasps echoed around the room. Her face blanched. “How dare you…”

“Char—”

I treated her to a triumphant smile as Will grabbed my arm again and pulled me toward the door. “Every weekend, rain or shine,” I shouted, “drinking, dancing, and cheating on their wives like there was no tomorrow.” My gaze swept the room, catching more familiar faces. “The Bible says that your sin will find you out. Right, fellas?” I cut a sideways glance at Faye’s husband, Charles, enjoying watching him sweat. “Right, Charles?”

The gasps turned to snickers.

“Get out,” Faye screeched, her face now flaming with anger. “Get out, now! Or I’ll have you thrown out!”

Will managed to pull me out of the room and into the hallway just as the doors to the elevator opened. He pushed me inside and pressed me toward the back of the car. Maddie and Peter stood in front of me, presumably to keep me from charging back out to have another go-around with our imperious host.

As the doors closed, a rush of conflicting emotions washed over me. On one hand, the Delacortes—Faye and her odious husband, Charles—deserved to have their dirty secrets made public after the despicable way they’d behaved toward me. On the other hand, I regretted embarrassing my friends by reacting like an impetuous schoolgirl who’d been picked on one too many times by the class bully. Regardless of who was at fault, the glaring fact remained that because of my husband’s notorious legacy, I would never be accepted by my wealthy peers.

The realization that I’d been unfairly judged angered me, but it also made me see the indisputable truth. Even in death, Gus’s reputation overshadowed me, controlling my life. I knew of only one way to change that. Go my own way, create my own legacy, one that upheld the person I was, not the person I’d married. It sounded impossible, but I had to try.

But first, I had to make things right with my companions. I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I lost my temper. I embarrassed you all.”

Maddie burst out laughing. “Don’t be—she deserved it, Char. I’m glad you put that old hag in her place.” She looked back at me. “That was the best show I’ve seen in a long time!”

Will didn’t answer me or acknowledge my heartfelt apology. He stared at the floor, frowning.

I couldn’t tell what was going through his mind. Was he rethinking our relationship?

His silence worried me. A lot.

~*~

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! The rest of the story is available on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited.

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