bad road to the dead river - 18. an old friend

by nick nelson

part eighteen of thirty-two

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although capone was, as he wished, “treated like just another customer” at heinie’s, he always got a table, and no one except the staff was allowed to approach him. the presidential party was usually waited on by fritz, a bent backed and silent old timer who had been with the establishment since old heinie’s day. he took the orders and never spoke an extra word unless spoken to. on this particular night, on capone’s return from the conference in the south pacific, the party of five, capone and four secret service men, were seated at one large table in the corner, away from the bar and the kitchen. and they were waited on not by fritz, but by a gray haired woman. “hello, al.” the waitress greeted the president. “it’s been a while.” capone looked up, startled, and the four secret service men stiffened. one of them, an energetic and ambitious young fellow named dalton, jumped up and stood at the waitress’s back, waiting for a signal from capone. but capone recovered quickly, looked directly at the woman, and laughed. “rebel roussel,” he said. “you never forget a face, al. even under the most unexpected circumstances.” “it’s a gift from my grandmother. sit down, dalton, everything is under control here.” dalton sat down. “same old reb,” capone continued. “go to any lengths to get the story. you could have just called me, you know. i always like to hear from old friends.” “but al, i really am the waitress here.” “yeah, right. and i am just pretending to be president, and i escaped from devil’s island this morning. boys, this is the famous rebel roussel, of the chicago flame-oracle, the last of the red-hot reporters.” the secret service men just nodded. rebel held up her waitress pad. “i do have to take your orders. we can’t gab - here. much as we would like to.” “sure. i’ll have what i always have. the grilled brockwurst with red cabbage. these bums will have the same, unless they want to waste the empire’s time.” “anything to drink?’ “black coffee.” “for everyone?’ “bring some cream and sugar, they can use it if they want.” rebel departed. nobody at the table spoke. the restaurant had a mural on its wall depicting scenes from wagner’s operas. capone stared at it. rebel roussel! seeing her brought back memories of the old days in chicago… the great snow and ice storms… 19. never!