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Cymbeline
We’d all heard the gunshot just as Fiona was about to sit down at the piano. For a moment, no one had moved. By then, Mr. and Mrs. Olofsson had already departed since they had to open the shop early but the rest of the women in our merry group were still gathered enjoying the evening. Mama had asked Jasper to pour a glass of sherry for whomever wanted one. Except for Shannon, the younger generation had all accepted one, including even Jo and Louisa, who usually refrained. I suppose we were all in a festive mood. We’d played cards and become giggly as though we were back in school. I didn’t even mind that Nora had continued to win. Mama, Mrs. Cassidy, and Shannon had sat in one corner chatting. Only Jo was missing having gone upstairs to check on the kids, who were with the nanny.
We’d sat in stunned silence for a moment. Mama asked if it were a gunshot she’d heard. I’d nodded and thought—had the boys gone outside for fresh air and seen a creature? A bear? Why else would a gunshot ring out on Thanksgiving evening?
Fiona had caught my eye and mouthed the word Flynn.
Flynn? Why had she said that?
Now, as if waking from a dream, Fiona went to the French doors that led out to our covered porch and turned the lock.
Fear struck me dumb. I shivered, remembering the men from the club the other night. Was it possible the unsavory men had come here to our home? What was it that they wanted? What did they want with Flynn?
Was it possible that Flynn was involved in something illegal? The way he'd been acting lately, anything was possible. Don’t lie to yourself, I thought. You know what this is about. I knew in my gut this had something to do with illegal gin. I'd suspected the booze he so readily had his staff pour at the club was too easy to get. His vague explanation about moonshiners had not satisfied me.
“I’ll go find out what it is,” I said.
“No, let’s wait for your father to come back and tell us everything’s all right,” Mama said.
“Yes, stay put,” Mrs. Cassidy said.
We waited for at least five minutes until finally I couldn't stand it any longer. “I'm going to see what's happening. This is stupid.”
“No, Cym, please,” Mama said. “If it's something dangerous, I don’t want you out there.”
Footsteps running down the hall drew our attention. Seconds later, Viktor appeared. He had not an iota of color in his face. His eyes were wild and frantic. I stood, limbs tingling with fright.
“Viktor, what is it?” Mama clutched the collar of her dress.
Viktor’s voice shook. “Some men came by and wanted to talk to Flynn. He's gone outside with them.”
“What? Was it Flynn? Is he hurt?” Shannon rose from the rocking chair where she’d been working on a needlepoint.
Viktor held on to the back of a chair as if his legs were about to crumble. “Yes, they shot Flynn.”
Shannon cried out and ran toward the door. Viktor stopped her. “He’s being looked after by Theo. You don’t want to go in there.”
“Is he dead?” Shannon asked, trembling.
“No, but the bullet is in his…actually I don’t know where it was. There was so much blood. But it was somewhere on his upper torso.”
Mama, who had been staring at Viktor stupefied, started for the door.
“Mrs. Barnes, please, I’m begging you. Stay here.” Viktor went to her. “Theo asked specifically for you and Shannon to remain here. They’re going to take him to the surgery room at the office.”
“Lord have mercy,” Shannon said. “Who would do this? Why would they shoot Flynn?”
Mrs. Cassidy got up and put her arms around her daughter, then led her back to sit on the sofa. However, Shannon didn't stay put for long. She got to her feet as fast as she could, which wasn't very because of her large pregnant belly. “I should get the baby from upstairs.” She waved her hands as if she were trying to dry them.
“What good will that do?” Mrs. Cassidy asked. “She's asleep by now. The governess is looking after all of the children.”
For the first time, I looked over at my baby sisters. They were sitting together on a love seat clutching each other. I'd forgotten they were even in the room. Good Lord, they must be scared out of their minds.
I went to sit next to them, pulling a trembling Delphia onto my lap.
“Were they the men from the other night?” I asked Viktor.
He nodded. “Yeah. They barged in and insisted that Flynn come outside with him.”
“Shannon, do you know anything about these men?” Mama's voice remained sharp as a razor's edge. “Who are they?”
“I have no idea what anyone’s talking about. What men? I have no idea why anyone would want to hurt Flynn.” Shannon started to cry. “Everyone loves him.”
Not everyone, I thought.
“Viktor, what do you know?” Mama asked.
Viktor looked a bit like a trapped animal. “Isak thinks Flynn’s been running a distillery and these are criminals who want to take it from him. He’s said no and they didn’t like that answer.”
“But why?” Shannon asked. “Why would anyone but the police care about an illegal distillery?”
“Because they're mobsters.” Mama's voice had gone eerily calm. “They've shot him because he wouldn't cooperate. Is that it?”
“We believe so,” Viktor said.
“Mobsters?” Shannon asked. “How would he get involved with gangsters?”
“He didn't get involved with them,” Viktor said. “They came to him. They want control of all the illegal liquor market. That's how it works now. I've read about it in the Chicago papers. The entire city is run by mobsters now. Apparently they're widening their territory.”
“Why would they care about our little town?” Mama asked.
“They don't,” I said, as everything started to make sense. “They care about the gin. They want Flynn and Phillip and whoever to have to buy from them, not make their own.”
“And whoever Flynn’s been selling it to,” Viktor said.
“My God, why would he do such a thing?” Mama asked. “He’s put his family in danger.”
“How could I not know?” Shannon asked. “He's never said a word about a distillery.”
“Where is it?” Mama asked.
“We’re not sure,” Viktor said. “No one knew, Shannon. Not Theo or Isak. Or Phillip.”
As if hearing her husband’s name conjured her, Josephine appeared in the doorway. Tears stained her rouged cheeks. Her dress was covered with blood.
Mama rushed to her. “Jo, are you hurt?”
“No, it’s not my blood. I saw it happen. I saw Flynn get shot.”
“No, Jo,” I whispered. “Not that.” I balled my fists at my side.
