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Chapter One

Friday, July 13th, 1923

The wo her eyes low “A quart of maple syrup,” she said, her voice hushed

I didn’t recognize her “What kind?”

“Canadian” Clutching her purse to her stomach, she peeked at me from beneath the brim of her hat

“What are you ?”

“Griddlecakes”

I nodded If she’d answered waffles, or even pancakes, I’d have directed her to the east wall of the store, where tin cans of actual h on a shelf But since she knew the password, I naet her whisky in a day or so

Bootlegging was that simple for a shborhood grocery store was a legiti Detroit from Canada and its distilleries, our whisky supply seemed endless Timely payoffs assured us of little trouble from city officials, and the local cops were some of our best custoled again that afternoon, I greeted the custoht gray fedora and walked toward e, and gooseflesh rippled across my skin

It was him The sheik

He’d been in twice in the last week Each tiht one pack of Fatiht of him as the sheik because he reminded hted-villain sort of way, as if he’d just tied a girl to the train tracks and noas time for a cocktail and a smoke

“Good afternoon” His voice was deep and sined a screen idol’s should be “Are you Miss O’Mara?”

I blinked He knows my name “Yes Can I help you?”

“Give this to your father” He pulled an envelope froister When I reached for it, he placed his hand overit to the cool marble A buzz swept up my arm as our eyes met His were so dark they appeared black, and a small scar rested at the top of one cheekbone “Tell hiht”

It took ht”

Replacing his hat on top of his slick dark hair, he walked out without looking back The bell jangled onceon the counter for support I jumped when I heard a voice behind me

“Tiny?” My older sister Bridget poked her head in fro loose from its knot at her nape “Daddy’s ready for you to make deliveries”

Quickly I swiped the envelope into the front pocket of o now?”

“Just letinto the stockrooain She and her children lived in the apartment over the store At almost twenty-one, I was et my own aparthters after et ith three young boys, I wasn’t going anywhere soon

While I waited, I fingered the envelope in ht, but as the question? Was he a bootlegger too? He looked a little older thanwas any indication He wore exquisite three-piece suits First black, then blue, and today, gray I looked at the back of ht it to my lips

“What are you doing?” Bridget’s voice startled hed

Cheeks burning, I tucked o?”

She nodded “I’ll bring the grocery sacks out to you in the alley”

I exited through the stock rooan summer afternoon In the alley, I pulled the envelope from my pocket and looked at it Jack O’Mara ritten on its ivory face in black ink, the cursive letters sht No way to tell what its contents were, no clue as to who the sheik ht be or whom he worked for

Not that I much cared about his occupation