The Lunatic Fringe: A Novel Wherein Theodore Roosevelt Meets the Pink Angel

by William L. DeAndrea

  “I—I realize I have known her only the shortest of times ...”

  “I didn’t ask you that. Do you love her? Will you take care of her?”

  Listerdale stood straight. “I have told you I am not a rich man, Muldoon. I believe I can make a go of the Emporium. Your sister would not want for—”

  “I ain’t talkin’ about money, dammit!” Muldoon snapped. The sudden explosion turned the heads of a few passersby. “Wait, come here. We can talk better.” Muldoon and Listerdale stepped into the alley behind the mercer’s shop, where a low-hanging fire escape threw stripes across the littered ground.

  Across the street, where he had been paralleling their progress, Tommy Alb gave a satisfied smile to his henchmen—his henchmen, now. He had known Muldoon would come home eventually; the Irish were like that. And now Muldoon had obligingly bottled himself up in the alley. It was too bad for the other mug he happened to be along. Slowly, the three started across the street.

  Muldoon continued his point. “I ain’t talkin’ about money, Listerdale,” he said. “Did you hear me sayin’ a word about money? In all me life, and Katie’s as well, we’ve hardly known the feelin’ of gold or a paper dollar. We’ve been gettin’ along all right without them.

  “But Katie acts tough about life, though she’s pure bread puddin’ inside, and she knows it. The only reason she’s here single for you to meet is she’s been afraid of gettin’ a drinker or a hitter or a wencher, like some of the mugs we grew up with. Are you any of those things?”

  “I have ... I have done things I now wish I hadn’t.”

  “Will you for cryin’ out loud answer the question I’m askin’ you for once? Are you a drinker, or a hitter, or a wencher?”

  “No. No I’m not.”

  “All right” Muldoon said. Lord, but Listerdale was making it tough for him to do his brotherly duty. “Do you love Katie? Will you take care of her? Will you, and this is what I’ve been drivin’ at, Listerdale, take care that her cantankerous, soft, lovin’ Irish heart don’t get broken?”

  Listerdale looked directly into Muldoon’s eyes, and grasped him tightly around the upper arm with a strength that surprised the younger man.

  “You must believe this, Muldoon. I would sooner die than see your sister hurt. I would end my life before I would cause her pain. Yes, Muldoon, I do love her, and it is a miracle in my life. I will take care of her. I swear to this, on my love for Kathleen, on all I hold dear, on—on anything you care to name.”

  “I think you’ve named enough. Here, seal it with a handshake, and that’s good enough for me.” Listerdale took Muldoon’s hand and pressed it warmly. Muldoon could see the suggestion of a tear at the corner of the bookseller’s eye.

  “Well, don’t be lookin’ so miserable over it, will you? If it’s askin’ Katie you’re worried about, I don’t mind tellin’ you it’s a piece of cake. She’ll make noises about not knowin’ you long enough, but that’s just for form’s sake. I’ve been hopin’ for her to find a good man for some time. Welcome to the family, Hiram.”

  They shook hands again. If Listerdale had a reply, he never made it.

  “My, my,” said Tommy Alb, standing in the mouth of the alley. “How utterly charming.” Tommy had forgotten his intention of striking without warning. Muldoon was trapped, and it was too tempting to taunt him before the end.

  Muldoon sized up the situation. Tommy Alb, and three Missing Links, interchangeable except that one had the brightest red hair Muldoon had ever seen. They all carried heavy shillelaghs.

  Four against two, then. Muldoon laughed at himself. Four professional bully-boys against a fellow who had spent the last week, it seemed, getting beaten up, and one schoolmaster turned bookseller. This was going to be less like a fight than it would be like steak-tenderizing time at Tony Pastor’s.

  Still, there was one hope. Tommy Alb was the only one of these mugs who could put one foot in front of the other without thinking about it. He was the key to the situation.

  “Hiram,” Muldoon said softly as the four toughs advanced slowly on them. “Get behind me.”

  “Muldoon, I’m—” Listerdale sounded worried. Muldoon didn’t know how he looked. He was keeping an eye on the approaching men, and at the same time, jockeying for position. It would be fatal for him to look at the fire escape; he had to position himself by its shadow on the ground. Luckily, it was only a few minutes past noon—the shadow should give him an accurate idea of its location.

  “No arguin’,” Muldoon hissed at his companion. “As soon as I’ve got their attention, I want you to run for it. Do you think you can get over the fence at the back of the alley? Try. Get a copper, then come runnin’ with him back here. Got that?”

  “I hear you,” Listerdale said. His voice was hard. Well, he was sorry if he’d hurt the man’s feelings, but Muldoon couldn’t allow his sister’s suitor to get hurt.

  “This time, you die, Muldoon,” Tommy Alb said through his bandage. The red-headed troglodyte pounded his club into his open hand with a meaty whack.

  Muldoon stood with his feet on the edge of the striped shadow of the fire escape. He could only hope Alb wanted to see to him personally.

  He did. “No more backing up, Muldoon? There’s still plenty of alley before your back is absolutely pressed against the wall.”

  “I’ve done enough backin’ up,” he said. It was the truth.

  “Smart, Dennis,” Alb said, still advancing. “At the very end, you’re smart. And just because you’re making it easy, I’ll do this with one blow. Be over before you—Aaaah!”

  The shadow hadn’t lied, and the first part of Muldoon’s plan worked almost to perfection. Alb started raising the club about five paces away from Muldoon. At that moment, Muldoon leapt from his position at the edge of the shadow, grabbed the edge of the fire escape with both hands, and swung with all his might at his attacker. He kicked Alb full in the face with his big broganed feet, but he misjudged the distance just enough so that when Alb instinctively ducked backward most of the force of the swing was spent before the feet made contact.

  They did, however, land with respectable impact on the point of the blond man’s tender nose, pushing it back into the once handsome face. Tommy Alb collapsed in agony, covering his face with both hands. He was out of the fray.

  That was the first part of Muldoon’s plan. The second went a little differently. Listerdale ran when Muldoon moved, all right, but he ran right toward the three toughs. Muldoon picked himself off the floor of the alley ready to wade in and help the foolhardy idiot, but instead he just stood in amazement.

  He’d never seen anything like it. The hoodlums were flying through the air, bouncing off the grimy alley walls. They’d rush at the schoolmaster, he’d catch an arm and bend at the waist, and the hoodlums would collide like billiard balls.

  Tommy Alb saw this, too, when the haze lifted from before his eyes, and didn’t stay for the finish. He got to his feet and ran from the alley. Muldoon never noticed. He was hypnotized.

  The whole thing couldn’t have lasted for more than a minute. It ended with the redhead, evidently the smartest of them, joining Tommy Alb in flight, and the other two unconscious on the alley floor. Listerdale slapped his hands together and grinned at the incredulous Muldoon. “I tried to tell you, you know.”

  “Yeah, I guess you did.” They left the two men in the alley, and made the best speed they could back to the flat. Muldoon was still wanted by the police, or at least not trusted by them. He didn’t want to have to explain this donnybrook. Let them assume the two bruisers had knocked each other unconscious.

  “How did you do that?” Muldoon demanded of the bookseller.

  “On a tour I took, I spent time in Japan. I saw a small Japanese man handle five toughs, nearly twice his size. Some time later, I did him a service which he claimed put him in my debt. To repay me, he taught me some of his art.”

  “Japanese, huh?” Muldoon shook his head. He didn’t like to think so, but maybe the world wa
s a bit bigger than New York City.

  “Yes,” Listerdale went on. “It is known as jiu-jitsu judo, which means ‘knowledge of the gentle art’.”

  Muldoon gave a snort that fluttered his moustache. “It may be artistic, but it ain’t gentle.”

  “The name comes from the fact that one uses the attacker’s own strength against him.”

  “Think you could teach it to me?” If people insisted on trying to kill Muldoon, he’d better learn something to stave them off.

  “Oh, I hardly know anything. Just a few tricks—” Listerdale cut himself off suddenly. “I’m sorry, I was lecturing. School-mastering is a difficult habit to break.”

  “You’ve a right to be lecturin’ me, Hiram. Thanks for payin’ me orders the attention they deserved, which is to say, none. And the few tricks would be plenty for me. Once again, welcome to the family.”

  VIII.

  “Astounding, Muldoon. Do you think this is more of the Rabbi’s work?” Commissioner Roosevelt polished his spectacles as he waited for a reply.

  “No, I think this was Tommy Alb workin’ alone. He’s had a chance to build up quite a bit of a grudge against me. He would have taken care of it, too, if Listerdale hadn’t been with me.”

  “I’m sure you would have given a good account of yourself. You have yet to face even odds in this affair. Still, I am sorry Listerdale has gone back to work at his store.”

  “He’s comin’ back to sit with Katie later on. He’s fixin’ to ask her to marry him, you know.” Though the two men were speaking in the hallway of Muldoon’s building, the officer still dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. Katie was more than likely in the kitchen, and she had good ears.

  “Bully!” Mr. Roosevelt said. His whisper carried as well as some men’s shouts. “I have respect and admiration for them both, though I doubt your sister reciprocates.”

  “Now, sir ...”

  “I am not offended, Muldoon. I have hardly been a cause of easy times for your family. Give her, and Mr. Listerdale when he arrives, my regards. What was that Chinese boxing called again?”

  “Japanese, sir. Jiu-jitsu judo. It’s somethin’ to see.”

  “I’m sure it is. The Orientals have chosen a different path to civilization than we, and have discovered many things along their path we have missed following ours.”

  “They get some funny notions, too,” Muldoon said, remembering his trip to the beach with Blue Jade and its aftermath.

  “That’s true,” the Commissioner conceded. “Well, Muldoon, I must be getting back to Headquarters and make sure our plan is in effect. I doubt Hand will do anything at least until dark, perhaps nothing until after the tradesmen leave, but I expect to have men in position for surveillance by then.”

  “Yes, sir,” Muldoon said. “Please don’t be forgettin’ to send the patrolman here to watch the women.”

  “I shall attend to that first thing, Muldoon. And I want you to join me at Headquarters immediately he arrives. Not only because I have promised you will be there at the end of this affair, but because there is no one I would rather have by my side.” He clapped Muldoon on the shoulder. “You have done good work, Muldoon.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Muldoon said. Tears came to his eyes, which the Commissioner ignored. He knew how sentimental the Irish were. What he didn’t know was that he had clapped Muldoon on his injured shoulder.

  IX.

  “You are sure now, Peter, that you will have sufficient time to get clear of the explosion and flood once you have lit the fuse?”

  Baxter had taken advantage of his employer’s confusion over Roosevelt’s visit to slip out for a few minutes to get some air, or so he said. It was actually a prearranged last meeting with the “Rabbi,” though Baxter’s companion would never be recognized as the white-haired figure.

  A few days ago, Baxter would have chafed at the question he’d just been asked, seen it as a slur on his competence. Now, however, he had a note (in code, of course) from Franklyn and Libstein telling him to proceed on his own and disregard any instructions from his superior that jeopardized the outcome of the mission. Henceforth, that note would be one of his cherished possessions; Baxter’s long bony finger touched it lightly as it rested safe in his pocket. It was somewhat greasy from the scrapple it had arrived hidden in, but it was his badge of promotion. He didn’t mind the grease.

  “I will have plenty of time,” Baxter said. “I have used slow fuse for this job, and I have found the slowest-burning underwater fuse for the sunken charge. I will have, I estimate, forty-five minutes to get away. Certainly a half hour. I might even hear the explosion as my train pulls out.”

  “Yes,” his companion said. “You are going to join Franklyn and Libstein in Chicago, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am. Aren’t you?”

  The Rabbi caught a note of mockery in Baxter’s voice, but chose to ignore it. “No, I’m not.”

  Then it was certain, Baxter thought. The position on the Central Council is to go to me.

  “It’s been decided,” the Rabbi went on, “that I will be of more use in the position I have established here in New York.”

  “Oh,” Baxter said.

  “I think this is goodbye, Peter,” Baxter’s companion said. “We’ve known each other a long time. I’ll miss you.” It was true. During the course of this project, the Rabbi had come to learn things about Baxter that hadn’t been nice to hear. But Baxter was still a devoted worker for the people. The Cause needed him.

  “Goodbye,” Baxter said. “I am grateful for all you have taught me.”

  The men parted. Baxter returned to Hand’s mansion.

  X.

  It felt good to be back in Police Headquarters again, to be in a private conference with Mr. Theodore Roosevelt in that man’s own private office. It would have been perfect, except for the rankling memory of having to sneak past all his brother officers with the aid of Ed Bourke.

  There was a bright side. Bourke had met Muldoon outside, telling him, “I don’t know what’s going on, but Mr. Roosevelt vouches for you, and that’s good enough for me. I won’t apologize for what I said or did last night, but I will say this: I’m glad to hear you’re not on the bent. I’ll shake your hand, if you still want to shake mine.”

  Muldoon took it with pleasure. He hoped to see the rest of the Force doing that, and soon.

  “Sun’s down, now,” Muldoon said. “Full dark in no time. If Hand’s goin’ to receive visitors or go visitin’ somebody himself, we ought to be hearin’ about it soon.”

  “Yes, I’m sure we will. We’ll wrap this case up tonight, Muldoon. You watch.”

  “Yes, sir,” Muldoon said.

  “What’s the matter, man?” the Commissioner demanded. “You look as if there were bad news ahead. And don’t slouch in your chair that way; if you aspire to the Broadway Squad, your posture must be much better.”

  Muldoon straightened up, but his handsome face was still twisted in a scowl.

  “Blast it, what’s the matter?”

  “I can’t say, sir, specifically. But there’s somethin’ wrong; somethin’ we ought to be doin’ but aren’t.”

  “What? I ask you. Hand’s house is watched by sixteen men. Anyone leaving from this time on will be followed. If anyone arrives, I will be informed immediately. A telegraph line and a telephone line here at Headquarters are being kept open just so there will be no delay in informing me of future developments.”

  The news just served to make Muldoon feel glummer. After a long silence, he said, “Mr. Roosevelt, are you absolutely for sure this Mr. Meister we saw and the Rabbi fellow are one and the same?”

  “Yes, Muldoon. I thought you were, too.”

  “Well, I was, until I got to thinkin’. If we hadn’t seen this guy, wouldn’t Captain Herkimer have made a corker of a suspect?”

  “Herkimer is a short, stocky man, Muldoon.” There seemed to be a sly look on the Commissioner’s face. “Are you sure you aren’t saying these things simply
because you dislike the man.”

  Muldoon thought it over. “Maybe so,” he admitted. “But I can’t help noticin’—Hey, he didn’t get the promotion, did he?”

  “No, Muldoon. That’s why that cursed meeting took so long.”

  “Good. But as I was sayin’, certain things have been jumpin’ to me mind.”

  “For example?” Mr. Roosevelt was leaning forward over his desk, as though to pull details from Muldoon’s mouth by main force.

  “For example, last Friday, when I found Crandall and Cleo in the flat, Captain Herkimer from the very beginnin’ was tryin’ to sweep it all under the rug. Now, that could have been laziness. You said that yourself, sir. But you also said, it could be somethin’ worse.

  “And another thing. The way Baxter was there at Cleo’s hotel, waitin’ for her, practically. Who were the first three people to know she was ever there? Me, Mrs. Sturdevant, and Captain Herkimer, that’s who.”

  “Sloppy, Muldoon. Shoddy thinking. You’ve left two persons out.”

  “I have? Oh, yes. Well there’s Mr. Harvey, now that I think of it. Cleo was hidin’ in his room when the captain arrived. But who else?”

  “The murderer himself, Muldoon.”

  “No, sir.” Muldoon set his chin. “It’s not established at all that the murderer knew Cleo was there. Cleo thinks he didn’t, and she should know. No, if the murderer knew right off Cleo was there, Baxter would have shown up a lot sooner than he did. I said he was practically waitin’ for her, but that was hasty on me own part. He didn’t get there, accordin’ to Cleo’s statement, until after she’d arrived, and that wasn’t for a couple of hours after the murder of Evan Crandall.”

  “Ha!” the Commissioner exclaimed. “Excellent, Muldoon. You continually surprise me.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Roosevelt. I’ll wager you were just testin’ me out, to see if I could spot your little slip, weren’t you?”

  The Commissioner harumphed. “Go on with your theory, Muldoon.”