Toronto, Summer of 1926
Six o’clock on a Tuesday evening, in the front bedroom - her room - of her boyfriend’s house, Gloria Winters sat on the settee. Legs crossed, top one jiggling with nerves, the stylish girl with straight brown hair and sparkling brown eyes clapped her hands together with a nod. She’d had enough of waiting around while Frankie conducted business.
That’s it. I’ve had enough. Frankie’s not hiding from me anymore. Gloria slipped off her pumps and crept down the hallway to the study, pressing her ear to the dark mahogany door. Inside, Frank Tortelli, her mobster boyfriend, wanted in three provinces for bootlegging, and his right-hand man, six-foot-two Tony ‘The Mangler’ Riccardi, talked in hushed tones. Frank never talked business in front of her. He froze her out of everything but his bed. And, even then, he held back.
Gloria was not a stupid woman. Her parents owned a successful dress shop in the most stylish city in Canada. She’d learned to sew at her mama’s knee and take care of a business at her daddy’s elbow. She knew when something wasn’t right. Her instinct was usually bang on. And right now, her gut was telling her something was off.
Curiosity gripped her as she stood at the door. Desperate to hear what they were saying, hands splayed against the rich wood, the young woman swallowed a gasp as she listened to their illicit conversation. Fingers of foreboding tickled her spine. Her eyes narrowed, chin lifted....