“Oh, the story gets even better. Turns out he transferred all his money into his wife’s name and she ran off with his business partner.” Eddie hoots.
“Why’d he trust his wife like that? I’d never let that happen.”
What am I going to do about that? Gawd, I’m tired of it all. Now this. I’ll do the job for Capone, no way I can get out of it. But then maybe I need to start thinking of other options. So Mickey’s okay with the idea I may not come back from Chicago. That’s low. Mickey and I have been together since, well, always. What a kid he was back in Grays Ferry days. Such a scrapper. And at Eastern State, too. You had to sleep with a shiv under your pillow. Back then, he always had my back and I had his. What a team. Look what we built. And look at us now. I don’t know what’s going on in his head these days, but I can’t trust him anymore. I guess it’s true what they say, that sometimes the guy you’d take a bullet for is standing behind the trigger. I never wanted to believe it. Not of Mick. Everything was okay until Eddie Regan showed up.
A burst of laughter from the living room. Henry’s lost track of the conversation, deep in his own thoughts.
Maybe it’s time for Mickey and I to go our separate ways? For the good of my health? The saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies.
Henry leans over and butts out his cigarette. Not come back, eh?
Chapter 49
W ith her heavy winter coat and scarf draped across the chair next to her, Maggie is working on her ‘little project’ at the Public Library. In her head, echoing Colonel Butler’s fondness for naming things like the police job she worked on called Operation Minnow, she’s decided to call it Operation Breadcrumb. It makes her smile when she thinks about it.
Sneaking a sandwich at her desk gives her a chance to slip out at lunch and spend time in the library. She can’t work on Operation Breadcrumb at home; she doesn’t want the Inspector peering over her shoulder. A bit of privacy from a ghost. Is that even possible? This is not one of her usual haunts, so maybe it will work.
Spread out on the large wooden table are address directories, back issues of the Philadelphia Inquirer, and piles of notes. She had started with the Inspector’s funeral notice in the Philadelphia Inquirer. She also used Joe’s name with the records clerk down at the police station to dig up Frank’s old personnel file. They had to blow the dust off it when they finally did locate it, and it had forwarding addresses for his widow’s pension. Mary Geyer. Funny, I don’t think that I’ve ever heard the Inspector mention her by name.
The funeral notice listed his family. A daughter, Edna Camilla. Notes from her birth certificate located in Public Records. The census and the directories from years past gave her the trail to follow. Mary had opened a boarding house after the Inspector’s death. Something we have in common. Widows needing income. Edna’s betrothal announcement. That had taken some digging. Maggie pats her file folder fondly. It’s getting thicker.
Poor Mary’s funeral notice. Although maybe not poor. She lived to a ripe old age, and died surrounded by grandchildren. You can’t ask for more than that. Now, where did those grandchildren go?
Maggie has drawn a family tree for the Inspector. Each addition researched, with last known address. She wasn’t sure how to follow the names that had moved out of the Philadelphia area. Someone in those other cities and towns would have to do the same leg work she was doing now. She had access to newspapers, but directories were always hard copied and localized, shelved in libraries.
Such an interesting life he had. Commendations for bravery. Many clippings and citations for the Holmes case. He’d even patented a safety clasp for women’s purses. A renaissance man.
After he had retired from the Philadelphia Police, he’d opened his own detective agency, continuing to solve crimes and bring criminals to justice. The firm seems to have specialized in running personnel background checks. No wonder he’s so patient. It would drive me crazy. Maggie looks at her scraps of paper and thick file folder. It IS driving me crazy.
Poking around in Frank’s life and tracking down the long-lost relatives has got her wondering about why he is still here. What is it about this trail of names that has such a powerful draw for him? Many of the recent additions he would be unaware of. He had admitted himself that he lost track of the family at the granddaughter generation. Maybe it was sadness over the fraying connection, or maybe he decided to untether and drift? No one from that point remembered him. He was merely a name, if they even remembered that. He was forgotten. How sad.
Funny how none of the family she’s located has gone into law enforcement. His father had been a business man, and that seemed to be the direction most pursued. Of course, a daughter as an only child would certainly have broken that chain. Women in those days didn’t pursue careers. Not like now.
Maggie gives a self-satisfied smile. The work we’re doing with the police and on our own is beginning to make a difference. Small victories maybe, compared to Grand Jury trials. And work with Father is going well. Surprisingly well. It’s been a busy month. Lots of changes. I enjoy the clients that we share. And Ron is amusing. He’s not the ‘woman hater’ I thought he was. In fact, he’s really rather sweet. I really do have to get a handle on meals though. They’ve been less than inspiring lately. I wish I had more room in the freezer on top of the refrigerator.
Maggie pulls a stack of old newspapers toward her.
Father’s not looking good these days, getting run down. Mother is worried. Maybe I should suggest that he not come in every day? Could I cover his days? Gosh, he’s stubborn. I doubt I could pry him out of his office.
Maggie looks back at the newspapers in front of her. What would keep me here? Old Mrs. Kelly had said it had to be personal. That pursuing justice wasn’t strong enough to draw someone away from the power of heaven’s call. I guess that means it won’t have anything to do with an old case.
Maggie sneezes with the dust from the papers.
She said it had to be stronger than Heaven’s pull. A tug of war. An interesting way of looking at it. Balance. Good versus evil. I wonder? If the Inspector is the good, what is the evil? A threat? A calamity? It must be focused here in Philly. He has a few family left here. I wonder what happened to the great-greats? It would be so much easier if girls could keep their own birth names. They submerge and disappear once they marry. Now, where did I put that family tree?
Maggie pushes the newspapers aside and roots through the papers. Finding the genealogy chart, she studies it and consults her directory. Three in Pennsylvania. Two out west in California. Let’s work those odds and start close to home. Maybe I’ll get lucky.
Chapter 50
S aturday, and the suite at the Ritz is hopping. Darkening days mean the party starts sooner. Tommy comes in with a couple of laundered suits for Mickey. He’s like a family pet for the gangsters in the room. Around their own kids they have to be circumspect, or catch it from their wives. ‘You don’t bring work home’ is the rule in most mobsters’ families. But Tom’s one of them. But not. Mickey’s careful to keep him out of the messy side of the business. In fact, he tidies the stories around the card table as much as Maggie would.
What started out as a lark has turned into something gratifying. Mickey doesn’t dwell on it, but it’s satisfying to see the hero worship in young eyes. To be part of shaping a life. It’s different than the loyalty he expects from his men, or hanging out with the fellas. There’s always a bit of a power struggle going on with them. You can’t ever relax when you’re the alpha-dog. But with Tom, now, well, he’s grown fond of the boy.
He squints at his cards and the faces around the table. “You cheating again, Gus?”
“Nah, just lucky. Lady luck is sitting on my lap tonight.”
“That’s one desperate dame to be perched on your lap.” An offhand comment evoking guffaws from the other card players.
Eddie’s been winning, too. Not too much to draw attention, but enough to swell his ego.
&n
bsp; “Raise you fifty bucks. Hey Mercer, can you bring me and Mickey a beer?” Eddie says, not taking his eyes off his cards.
Eyes peer over the tops of their cards. Henry, who had been sitting talking to Tommy, gets up and, without comment, uncaps two cold ones, setting them down in front of Eddie and Mickey. Eyes follow his movements; glances swivel between Eddie, Henry, and Mickey. Tommy, looking at the men at the table, senses the rising tension in the room as well.
“Hey, Mr. Mercer, wanna go grab a malted milkshake? It’s getting awfully smoky in here. You need me for anything else, Mr. Duffy? I figure I’ll head home soon.”
“Sure kid. I can give you a lift,” Henry says, putting on his hat and coat. “Let’s go see what trouble we can get into in the malt shop.”
“About your speed,” Eddie says under his breath.
Mickey looks up. “Night kid. And thanks, Henry.” He turns his attention back to his cards. I see your fifty bucks Eddie, and raise you another fifty. No, make that one hundred. Looks like I’ve coaxed Lady Luck to sit with me this hand.”
Henry and Tommy slip out the door.
Sitting in front of a couple of chocolate malts, Henry feels content. He’s also grown fond of Tommy. Maybe not like a son; he doesn’t want to crowd Mickey’s claim on that relationship, but certainly a favored nephew or kid brother.
“You tell your mother yet where you’re at on Saturdays?”
“No. After my paper route, I tell her I’m going to the library to study. Or sometimes that I’m meeting Jimmy. As long as I’m home for supper, she doesn’t care. Say, Mr. Mercer, do you have a grandfather?”
“Sure kid, everybody’s got a grandfather.”
“No, I mean one that you see. I just got to meet my grandfather for the first time, and it’s kinda neat. He has a great library and lets me borrow books whenever we go over there.”
“That sounds great. No, my grandpa died when I was very young. I didn’t have much family left when I was your age. Just Mickey, a couple of sisters, and my ma.”
“You and Mickey are family?”
“Just like. Not by blood or nuthin. Remember kid, family isn’t always ‘bout the blood you share. It’s ‘bout those willing to bleed for you. That’s what Mickey and I got. I figure blood only makes you related. It’s loyalty that makes you family. And speaking of family, I’d better get you home or you’ll miss dinner. Drop you at the corner, right?”
“Yeah, and thanks for the shake, Mr. Mercer.” Tommy sucks up the last of the malted shake noisily. “I just love these chocolate shakes.”
Chapter 51
W hile Tommy and Henry are down in Center City enjoying their time together, Joe and Fanny are sitting in their living room, across town, enjoying a few minutes of peace before baby Joseph needs to be fed again. For parents of young children, Saturday night is just another night: diapers, feedings, toys, bone weary tiredness.
“This is nice, Fanny. Just sitting here, listening to the radio.”
“Shh, you’ll wake the baby.”
Joe lowers his voice. “Did you ever think it would be like this?”
“What? Exhausting? Smelling of spit-up? Wearing the same clothes as yesterday? The kitchen a disaster? No, I didn’t see married life quite like this.” Fanny snuggles into the corner of Joe’s arm, and Joe gives her a squeeze. She wasn’t the stylish devil-may-care flapper that he’d married, but he loved her more: this slightly rounder, slightly calmer beauty sitting beside him.
“How’s work? Still pushing the string uphill?” she asks.
“Yeah. We’re so short staffed we’ve had to pull patrols. I tell you, now’s a good time to commit almost any crime but murder, ‘cause you’d get away with it.”
“That’s gotta be rough. Going into work every day and not being able to get the job done.”
Joe kisses the top of her head. “It’s all just slipping away, Fanny. The work. The city. We can’t even pretend to be in control anymore. This Grand Jury is killing the department. It’s flushing out the crooked cops, and the few left standing have had all the passion for the job just sucked right out of them.”
“It’ll get better. It has to.”
“Heck, I’m slipping away, too. I didn’t join up to sit at a desk and push paper. Remember when Colonel Butler was here? Enforcement Unit Number One was making a difference. The raids we pulled on the speaks and clubs. Padlocking the doors. Seizing the booze. Those days are long gone now. Heck, even Captain Beckman’s siting in a jail cell somewhere. I thought making detective would mean bigger cases, more control. Ah, that’s a joke. Writing reports. Sitting around. Drinking coffee. Some days I don’t get out of the precinct building. That’s not the life for a copper.”
“Well, I think it sounds like a perfectly lovely life. I’d love to be able to sit and drink coffee instead of chasing after a toddler like Hazel, with a baby on my hip.”
“You’re a marvel and I love you. Aw, it’s not just the job, sweetheart. It’s everything. The people are slipping away, too. Maggie came to see me and needed a favor, and I couldn’t do a darn thing to help. In fact, I may have made it worse.”
“Is it that thing with Tommy you were telling me about? I’ve been so caught up with Baby Joe-Joe and Hazel that I haven’t had a chance to even call her.”
“I’m sure she understands. Maybe we should have her and Tommy over for supper some time. She’s not even seen the baby, yet.”
Fanny looks around the chaos that is her living room: toys everywhere; the jolly-jumper hanging from the doorway; the playpen in one corner; the odor of soiled diapers. And then there’s the kitchen. She sighs. “That would be a great idea, Joe, but let’s hold off on it for a bit. Just until the baby’s sleeping through the night. I think, by then, I’ll have my feet under me again, and we can have company.”
“Sure, doll. Whatever works for you,” Joe says, kissing her on the top of the head again.
“If you can’t give her what she‘s asking for, is there something else you can do for her?” Fanny asks.
From the front room they hear the baby stir in the bedroom. “Maybe he’ll fall back to sleep?” Baby Joe-Joe wails.
“Nope. I guess that’s that. Nice talking to you. I’ll see you in the morning.” And Fanny trundles off down the hall to feed the baby, leaving Joe on the couch.
I suppose there is something I can give her, although it may be more benefit to me than her.
Chapter 52
I t doesn’t matter if the sun is shining or the birds are singing, cemeteries are somber, bleak places. The overcast November day only adds to the atmosphere.
Howard Gifford has snuck out of the office early. Working with Maggie is fulfilling, the rift between them bridged, if not healed over. He’d tried a few times to broach the subject of Jack, but it was never the right time. Or he couldn’t find the words. How do you tell someone you love how sorry you are? Admit, after all these years, that you were wrong?
Instead, he’d decided to go to the source and talk to Jack directly. He wandered between the headstones, peering at the inscriptions. The grounds keeper had checked his ledger and given him directions to Jack’s gravesite, but he fears he may be lost. There’s no one else in sight as he makes his way.
“Here it is.” Howard takes in the chiseled words on the headstone: John Thomas Barnes. Beloved husband and father. 1892 – 1919 ‘Solidarity Forever’. Twenty seven years old. Tommy would have been what? Two? Three? How hard it must have been for Maggie. I really did let her down. Let them all down.
Howard removes his hat and bows his head.
“Hello, Jack. Long time, no see. Although I may be seeing you soon enough.” Howard looks up at the gray sky, and then back to the headstone. “I wanted to stop by and tell you, man to man, that I’ll do right by your family. You’d be proud of the way our girl is managing. She went back to school and started a business. And she’s doing a marvelous job with Tommy. We both knew what a loving girl she was, and she has become quite a special young woman.
And Tommy, he’s as smart as a whip. He’s a son you can be proud of, Jack.”
Howard hears a bird song. “You must like it here, all things considered. Cemeteries are peaceful places. Thoughtful places. Maybe it won’t be so bad when it’s my time.”
He looks around for a bench, but sees none. Maybe I’ll donate one so he’ll have a place to sit next time.
“What else is new? Let’s see. I made her a partner. When I’m gone, she’ll not want for anything. I figured it was the right thing to do. She’s a heck of a business woman. Gets that from me, I think.”
Howard looks off in the distance. “I’ll be here soon enough, Jack. I wonder how Cordelia will manage. Maybe I should put on the storm windows soon. That will be one job she won’t need to worry about.”
Howard sees the caretaker and lowers his voice. “Jack, I wanted you to know the remorse I feel. Sending in the mounted troops to break up the demonstration was wrong. I didn’t think it through. And I have paid for that tragic mistake every day for the last ten years. My loyalty should have been to Maggie. She’s calling herself that now. I didn’t think that you were good enough for her, but does any father? It is a hard life she’s led, but that’s on me, not you.”
Watch Your Back Page 21