Fight at the French Fort

We wuz sitting at a table near the window watching the rain run down the side of old Vladislav’s Pub.  There wuz a leak in his rain spout and it wuz making the water run in twirling little streams, kinda reminded us of a spiral Christmas decoration.  It wuz hypnotizin’. 

Not much had gone on in Misty Harbor since Eddie Treacle’s demise.  The Dons and their thugs had kept a low profile while the crooked cops rousted anyone and everyone on the street.  I wuz held in stir for two days before they admitted I had nothing to do with the whole thing.  They grilled me good and threatened to tear out my finger nails if I didn’t talk.  I had nothing to say and told them so.  They even took ol’ Vlad in for a day.  They grilled him pretty good til I busted inta their interrogating room and says Vlad wuz with me the whole time.  Vlad kept mum about the whole thing with Timmy Colt anyway.  He just kept repeating in his broken English, “We wuz watching.  We wuz watching.”

So now nearly a month had gone by and he wuz sitting next to me at the table.  On Vlad’s left wuz Finn McNiel.  He wuz half finish and half Irish and he towered over the both of us.  Big bushy red beard made him seem even bigger.  I’m no slouch in the height and girth department but ol’ Finn made me look small.  Across from Finn sat a sad sot, he wuz one of them water creatures what find life in Lake Mackinac too cold.  He come to Misty Harbor looking for work but not many would hire him on the docks.  Thick fleshy lips and large staring eyes made him kinda spooky looking.  Union bosses are pretty superstitious and one a his kind wuz bad luck on the waterfront.  Vlad’s a good sort though and put him to work in the kitchen.  Old Spiney we called him and he didn’t seem to mind.  Vlad musta paid him enough to keep his aquarium fulla water.  He only needed to dip in every three hours or so.

“Why’s everything you cook taste like fish?” Finn wuz teasing him.  “Spiney, anything you get your fins on turns to fish!  You could make pork and beans taste like sushi!”

Spiney gave what wuz a grin in his peoples’ expressions, took a good swig of beer and answered, “Could be you don’t know what good cooking tastes like.”  His voice had a distant quality to it like he wuz talking through a tube or something.  I wuz the only one what looked away from the water spout.  Finn’s plate wuz licked clean.  As Spiney set his beer bottle back on the table we resumed our watching in silence.  We all knowed Finn only came here for the food.  He loved Spiney’s cooking.

The door chimed as someone new came in.

“Serving people today or what?” a gruff voice asked.  I glanced over as did Vlad.  It wuz Talbot St. Lawrence.  He wuz a half breed Ojibwa Indian that could change into a werewolf when he wanted to.  He wuz peaceful enough in a bar but when he got into the Ring he wuz your best bet.  I’d made a bundle on him now and that at the Cross Fights.  “How’s logging, Finn?” he asked McNiel.  “Road restrictions on yet?”

“Naw, ‘nother month or two.  Ground’s still frozen,” the Fin answered back.  Vlad rose to take Tally’s order and Spiney moved to the kitchen to start cooking.

“What you watching?” St. Lawrence asked.

“Come look, Tally” I replied.  “Water’s making like Christmas ornaments.”  The creak of the floor boards told me he wuz moving to our table.

“Sunnuva bitch!  Look at that!” he exclaimed.  I glanced up to catch his eye but noticed he wuzn’t looking at the drain spout.  He wuz looking higher up.  I shot my gaze to where he looked.  A dark form crouched over the top of the building across the way.  Wind whipping a loose coat, wide-brimmed straw hat beading off the rain, scarf flapping like wings.  It moved once it saw it wuz discovered but there wuz no mistaking that form.  It wuz the Scarecrow.

“Shit! That wuz the Scarecrow!” Tally barked.

“Wonder what it wants?” Finn added.

“Well, since it offed Eddie right across the street from here he’s probably watching the Machiavelli Restaurant,” Vlad says across the bar.  “That place needs closing!”  It’s funny how his English improves when he’s with his friends.  “I heard he wuz seen hunting up in Deus Romana last week.  Wonder what it’s looking for.”

Deus Romana wuz just across the Seven Sister Bridges from Malenkaya Moskva and there wuz a bitter rivalry between the gangsters that tried to run the places.  The citizens of both suburbs got along very well though.  Vlad wuz god father to a couple Italian kids across the way and Giuseppe Grimaldi wuz even his business partner.  Still, you couldn’t talk about the other burbs without a little sneer creeping into your voice cuz a the mobs that tried to run things.

“Weather ever clears up I’m gonna spend an afternoon on Park Island,” I says to no one in particular. “You’d think this lousy rain would end sometime!”  I wuzn’t trying to change the subject.  But thinking about Timmy Colt and that there Scarecrow had started giving me the shivers.  There wuz something going on with Timmy.  We hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him in over a month now.  Matilda Waddick had sent a telegram for him oncest but he never showed to pick it up.  It wuz tucked into the frame of Vlad’s mirror behind the bar.  I could see it now, upper right corner, conspicuous little piece of paper without an owner.

“Yessir.  Weather ever clears up I’m making up a picnic basket and heading to Park Island.  Ferry at Chinatown has started running out there already.  Maybe I’ll invite one a them celestial virgins to come along.”  It wuz wistful thinking and no one wuz picking up the bait.

Tally sat heavily at my table as Vlad thunked down a bottle of ale in front of him.  “What you going on about, McGuiness?  We wuz talking about the Scarecrow.  He’s only been haunting this side of the River, ‘s what I hear.  He ain’t been seen near City Hall or Midtown.  You’d think he’d wanna haunt the piers and dock yards for all the shenanigans that go on over there.”

“Them’s just the soldiers; what you call them, the prawns,” Finn countered.  “If he’s after the big bosses he don’t wanna hang out by the lake.”

“Pawns” Spiney called out.  “Big fish this side of the River,” came from the kitchen.  “Don’t wanna go after no minnows!”

I had had enough.  I didn’t wanna sit and listen to no gangster gossip.  “Shit!  I’m outta here.  How much I owe, Vlad?”

“You paid too much last time.  Get out!” he shot back, a grin wrinkling up his face making him look like an old chimpanzee.  “Don’t catch a chill,” he admonished as I grabbed my mack and fedora.  The rain had picked up again and blew in gusts.  Disgusted with the topic of conversation I stepped out into the elements.

I had to wait another week before the weather finally turned warmer.  I stayed away from Vlad’s.  Makes me feel funny when he won’t let me pay for a meal and some beer now and then.  Plus those mugs just wanted to talk about Timmy as if he wuz dead and that didn’t sit well with me.  I walked the ten blocks south to Chinatown and finagled a ride on the ferry over to Park Island. 

The ferry wuz packed.  Plenty musta had the same I idea I did.  The zombie at the tiller started at nothing.  The damp of Misty Harbor wuz starting to wear on him and the little Chinee what run the ferry, Sung Lim, would hafta replace him pretty soon.  From his oriental duds I figgered he wuz probably the wizard what magicked the zombie.  I didn’t cause any guff.  I’d seen zombies before anyway and wusn’t spooked by them none.  We landed on Park Island without any ruckus.  The weather wuz calm and the lake didn’t have any waves on today.

So I wuzn’t the only mug about.  Some were sparking their girls, some were exercising, showing off their physiques as the sun warmed the skin.  I kept away from mosta them slobs.  I wuzn’t really in the mood for company.  I missed my friend Timmy and hoped he wuzn’t coming to no harm.

I walked south on the island away from the trees and the people.  It wuz a nice day and I wuz enjoying the good weather.  It’d be raining again soon enough.  It always did.  The sun didn’t shine often in Misty Harbor.  I followed the half moon of the island until I reached the break between it and Light House Key. 

For all the rain we got the river wuz low and there wuz a sand bar that ran between the two islands.  It wuz firm and dry beneath my flat feet so I crossed it until I stood beneath the towering light house.  There were men inside working on the light works and even they were too much company for me today.  I knocked on the door.

“Oh, hey, Dunphy!” I says as Dunphy O’Toole opened the door.

“What’s up, Murph?”

“Can I borrer your boat?  I wanna get away from people for an afternoon.”

“Heading to French Fort Island?”

“If you’ll lend me your boat.”

“Go ahead.  I know I can trust you, McGuiness.  Have it back before dark?”

“Of course,” I replied heatedly.  “I ain’t staying out in that haunted fort at night!”

Dunphy laughed and pointed down the beach.  “Boat’s over there,” he says nodding in the direction he had pointed.

The French Fort wuz supposed to be as haunted as Blood Tower.  There wuz some nastiness went on before the Revolutionary War in those places that made them haunted even to this day.  City Hall never tore them down.  Wuzn’t worth the effort.  Sides they made good look-outs for the Harbor during tough times.  We had Fresh Water Pirates attack Misty Harbor now and then even in this day and age!  Bastards were vicious thugs!  Only time the gangster bosses got together and worked on a common problem.  I think them pirates come from somewhere down state.  Jealous low-lives too lazy for an honest day’s work. 

The oars clicked in their locks as I paddled the boat and I found them annoying.  My sunny day wuz being ruint the more I wuz out and about.  I wuz starting to sink into a funk.  Still, I rowed across the lake til I finally reached French Fort Island.  The beach wuz clear of debris and I wuz able to land the boat no problem.  Sometimes the driftwood coming down the river would clutter up the beach so much you couldn’t even land a matchstick.  This wuz a kindness in my favor today.  I left the boat up on the beach and headed for the fort.  The entrance to the fort wuz on the far side from me but the day wuz nice and I needed a stroll to clear my head.  I wuzn’t having a good day for alla me wantin a picnic and all.

The sun showed down on the fort and made it nice and warm and cozy.  The trees on the opposite side were quiet and it looked like all the ghosts were resting.  I walked into the fort and took the stairs to the floor above.  The place wuz swept clean.  Either the wind had done the janitors work or someone wuz just here.  That could be why the beach wuz clear of drift wood.  I wuzn’t feeling too safe about now. 

I sat down on a bench and opened the parcel that wuz my picnic.  I don’t have no fancy basket or anything like that.  I just had me a lunch wrapped up in butcher’s paper.  Corned beef, sauerkraut, and mustard on rye.  Slice of pickle on the side and fer dessert I had some of Gretchen Kildridge’s famous brownies.  Mmm mmm!

A cough made me drop my sandwich and I turned quick like.  There wuz Timothy Colt standing before me! 

“Murphy McGuiness!  How you doing?”

“Timmy!  What the Hell?!” I yelled.  I stooped and picked up my sandwich and then set everything down on the bench.  I leapt up and gave that palooka a bear hug.  I had missed my pal.  “What the Hell,” I shouted again.

“Murph, you’re breaking my ribs!” Timmy groaned out.  I let him go and sat back on the bench next to my lunch.  My hand rested on my pickle.

“You hungry, Tim?” I asked.

“Starving!” he answered so I offered him my sandwich and brownies.  He took the sandwich but nodded at my dessert, “You go ahead and eat that.  I wuz never one for sweets.”

I knew he wuz lying but didn’t wanna push him.  I waited until he had eaten most of the corned beef before I asked him, “Tim, what’s with this scarecrow stuff?  Is that you?  Did you kill Eddie Treacle?”

Between a mouthful he answered me.  “Tell you the truth, Murph, I don’t really know.  I’m not sure where I been or what I been doing the last few weeks.  I woke up here this morning and searched the whole island for a clue why I wuz here.  I just don’t know.”

“Hows about we tell you!” a voice sneered from behind us.  We both turned quick.  There wuz Oily Olivetti standing with a tommy gun on us.  He had four other mugs with him each carrying heaters.  We wuz covered.

“We knew if we followed ol’ Murph here he’d lead us to you,” Oily says.

“But I didn’t know he wuz here!” I says.  I felt bad for finding Timmy only to have the Mob Boys show up.  “Honest, Timmy, I didn’t know.” I apologized.

“’s all right, Murph.” Tim says to me.  “I didn’t know I wuz here either.”

“That’s enough o’ that!” Oily says and he and his pals move forward threatening us.

Now I says before how Tim Colt wuz in good shape, what with him spending all them years at the docks.  But he still surprised me.  I ain’t never seen anyone move that fast.

Tim spun around and kicked the one closest to us then reached out in a flash and had the tommy gun.  He didn’t aim it at Oily or his crew.  He smashed it against the wall and the gun flew into little pieces.  Then he dove down the stairs head first while the Mob Boys stood still, struck dumb.

Olivetti cussed and grabbed a heater from his pocket.  “Watch him!” he says to a couple of his lugs, pointing at me, and then he wuz down the stairs after Tim.  The four toughs didn’t look to follow their leader at all.  They just stood watching me.  I wuzn’t gonna move at all.  We heard some shouting down the lower part of the fort but no one moved.  There wuz more shouting and then Oily’s pistol rang out.  Once, twice, three times it fired and then quiet.  I shifted my feet nervous like and the mugs looked pleased with themselves. 

Then we heard a chuckle that wuz high pitched and ended in a cackle.  I broke out in a cold shivers.  A sweat broke out beneath my hair.  I’d heard that laugh before. 

Something came flying up the stairs, tossed into the middle of us.  It wuz Oily’s head.  A look of confused horror wuz on his face.  It rolled until it hit the foot of the man Tim kicked.  He jumped back like he wuz bit by a snake. 

“Shit!” he says, and then the cackle rang out again.  They turned to race across the upper floor of the fort but standing behind them wuz Scarecrow.  Green coat blowing in the breeze, straw hat pulled low on one side, scarf hanging limp.  Straw stuck out of his pants where there wuz patches sewed on.  His gloved hand shot forward and the bloody sickle it held wuz buried deep in kicked man’s forehead. 

The other three Mob Boys jumped and screamed like girls.  They turned to flee but the Scarecrow wuz too quick.  He grabbed two collars and swept their owners off their feet.  As they fell he pulled on their shirts guiding their fall so that with a skull breaking crunch their heads met and I knew they wuz done for.

The last one pulled a rod from his coat and fired back in our direction.   A bullet zinged past my ear and I dropped to the floor.  Two hit the Scarecrow but only bursts of straw and hay dust wuz the result.  The man ran down the stairs and the Scarecrow went over the wall.  I leapt to my feet to watch. 

The Scarecrow landed lightly on the ground below before the thug even cleared the stairs.  Either it wuz cuz he wuz scared or desperate or he wuz braver than he first appeared, but this last Mob Boy decided he wuz gonna tackle this creature before him.  He looked like he didn’t care if it wuz someone in costume or if it wuz real.  He dove at the Scarecrow and grappled him around the legs catching his coat on the way.  The Scarecrow didn’t fall like we both expected him to.  The mug hit the ground, still hanging onto his coat and the frightful Halloween clown just lifted his head and screamed his cackle to the skies.  Then he punched down at the man and I couldn’t see what happened next.  But as the Scarecrow raised up I could see he wuz holding something.  It wuz a beating heart.  My legs went weak and I fell to my knees.  I’m afraid I did something kinda sissy then.  I passed out.  This wuz more than I expected to find at French Fort Island.

I come to before the sun set, which wuz lucky for me.  I didn’t need to spend a night there after what I just saw.  The three still forms of the Mob Boys lying next to me rattled me.  I jumped up and hurried down the stairs and found the body of the thug.  A bloody hole wuz in his chest.  He still held the Scarecrow’s coat.  I grabbed it and hurried back to the boat I borrered.  I tossed it in and followed it, grabbing the oars.  I put my back to the task of getting back to Light House Key.  As I rowed I glanced at the coat.  I could see where the bullets had passed through.  Hay and straw wuz sticking through, and something else.  I paused, letting the oars rest in their locks.  I grabbed the coat and looked closely at it.  It wuz blood.  BLOOD!  What the Hell?  Wuz Timmy Colt the Scarecrow after all?