Quietly they laughed together over her calling the baby she carried “her” and Mike referring to it as a male.
Using what strength she had, Maxie pulled away from him. “Three more hours,” she said. “In just three more hours we’ll be off.” Suddenly she was frightened, for it seemed that every person in her life had abandoned her. “Mike, you aren’t—? I mean—”
Mike put his fingertips on her lips. “Am I playing with your affections? Have I impregnated you and now plan to abandon you to raise my kid on your own? The answer is yes, I want to spend the rest of my life waltzing brainless women around a floor, and I love spending my evenings with gangsters. Such stimulating conversation. ‘Hey, Big Nose,’ ” he mocked. “ ‘How many you kill today? Only three? I got me four. You owe me ten bucks.’ ”
Maxie giggled. “Mike, you’re awful. Now, go on and get out of here before someone sees us.”
After another lingering kiss, he left her to go back to the dance floor while Maxie went into the empty communal dressing room to check her hair and makeup before she went on stage again.
A lipstick tube in her hand, she glanced into the mirror and at first didn’t believe what she saw. A little boy about nine years old had silently pushed open the door and was standing there, tears slowly running down his cheeks.
Maxie turned to him. “What’s wrong?” There was concern in her voice, true, but there was also fear; there was always fear about a place that was peopled with men like Doc.
“Somebody shot my daddy,” he said softly.
Without another word, eyes wide, Maxie got up, went to the child, and offered him her hand. Taking it, the boy led her into Jubilee’s office.
At first Maxie didn’t see the man lying on the floor because he was partially hidden between the desk and a half-open closet door. It was Half Hand Joe, the man who followed Doc everywhere. At Maxie’s first horrified glance he looked to be dead, for there was a bullet hole in the side of his head, an almost bloodless, neat hole at the edge of a forehead that already had several scars on it. But then Joe’s eyelids fluttered.
Kneeling, Maxie went to him and gently pulled his head onto her lap.
“Joe,” she whispered, stroking his hair back from his forehead. Already she could feel the blood from the wound on the back of his head seeping into her dress.
Opening his eyes, Joe glanced at her, but then his eyes went to his son standing at his feet and silently crying. Maxie hadn’t thought of Joe as having children; in fact she hadn’t thought much of Joe one way or the other, as he was just a shadow that followed Doc, never saying anything, seeming to be content to be near his master.
“Take…care of him…for me,” Joe whispered, looking at his son.
“Be quiet,” Maxie said. “I’ll get a doctor.”
“No!” Joe said, then closed his eyes and for a moment she thought he was dead, but he opened them again. “Listen…” he said. “Must tell.”
“Yes,” Maxie whispered, leaning forward. Even she knew that with a wound like his he wasn’t going to need a doctor.
“Doc killed me.”
This statement was beyond the belief of Maxie, for if there was anyone Doc cared about it was this man. “No, he couldn’t have.”
Weakly, Joe held up his mutilated hand. “Useless to him. Bad shot. Stupid.”
Holding his head, feeling the warmth of his life’s blood seeping onto her dress, Maxie still couldn’t believe what he was saying. Joe started fumbling at his coat lapel and Maxie realized that he wanted something from his pocket. Reaching inside for him, she pulled out a zippered canvas bag, the kind the bank gives you to carry money.
“I knew…” Joe said. “I knew was coming. I took…money. Money marked. Don’t spend.”
Holding the bag, Maxie nodded. “No, of course I won’t spend it.”
“Help my boy.” For a moment, Joe tried to lift himself, and his eyes were brilliant with their intensity. “Swear.”
“Yes,” Maxie said, and she could feel the tears running down her face. “I swear I’ll take care of him.”
Joe lay back down, his strength almost gone. “Doc doesn’t know…about boy. Boy a secret. Money a secret.”
“I’ll keep your secrets,” Maxie said. “All of them.” In the next minute she knew that Joe was dead.
Tenderly, she lay him back on the floor, and turning to the little boy, she took him in her arms and held him for a moment while he cried, “I want my daddy.”
By some instinct, Maxie knew that she didn’t have time to comfort the child. Doc had said he wasn’t coming to the club tonight, that he had other business to attend to and couldn’t make it, and his absence was why she and Mike had chosen tonight to make their getaway. But now the hairs on the back of Maxie’s neck were rising because she sensed that something horrible was going to happen. Something had made Doc lie to her and made him kill a man who had been his friend and bodyguard.
Abruptly, she pulled away from the child and stood. Time was at a premium now; she knew that as well as she’d ever known anything in her life. She had to take care of this child, then get to Mike and both of them had to get out of this club. If she and Mike were going to get away, they weren’t going to be able to wait until after the last show, they were going to have to leave now.