Death on Hanover

by Lee Strauss

  Seth Rosenbaum turned and jumped.

  Samantha screamed, “Seth!”

  Officer Bell, who couldn’t get a fair shot out with Samantha in the way, now stood by her at the window. Samantha’s hand was over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

  “What is it?” Haley asked. Had Seth made it down the fire escape? Had he gotten away?

  Tom Bell shook his head. “He jumped to the ground. He’s dead.”

  25

  Haley had barely registered the seriousness of Officer Bell’s pronouncement, and even more astounding, Seth Rosenbaum’s confession, when she caught sight of Will Delaney inching his way across the Persian carpet like a well-fed centipede.

  She shouted, “Wait!”

  But that only spurred Mr. Delaney to his feet and straight to the elevator door. Officer Harris ran after him, but his movements looked oddly stunted. Haley waited for him to pull out his pistol, but the elevator door opened before he could engage it, and Delaney slipped inside.

  Officer Bell yelled, “Harris!” who jumped into action, belatedly, and disappeared into the elevator with Delaney.

  Haley had a good idea who the mole was now and by the scowl on Officer Bell’s face, she expected he had too. “Damn you, Harris!” Officer Bell shouted. He caught Haley’s eye and said, “I’m taking the stairs!”

  Samantha had crumpled to the floor, staring blankly ahead. Haley could only imagine all the conflicting emotions her friend felt and was uncertain what to do. Her instinct was to follow Officer Bell, but it would be heartless to leave Samantha.

  Samantha seemed to read the uncertainty on Haley’s face. With a faint nod of her head, she whispered, “Go.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes,” Strength of determination filled Samantha’s eyes. “Go get him.”

  “Go,” Mr. Milwaukee added. “I’ll stay with her.”

  Haley gripped her gun and sprinted like she was running for home base in the ninth inning. Thanks to her athleticism, Haley soon caught up with Officer Bell. He acknowledged her with a look of surprise but kept running down the stairs.

  They got to the lobby just as the elevator settled in from its descent.

  Haley and Officer Bell held back around the corner, out of sight, and waited for Delaney and Harris to step out. Harris made a lame attempt at appearing as if he had Delaney by the arm, but when he glanced around and assumed they were unwatched, he let go of his hold. They strolled out as if they were the best of friends without a care in the world.

  Officer Bell called out, “Harris. Stop!”

  Harris grabbed Delaney’s arm, but Delaney wasn’t having anything to do with that ruse and pushed Harris away. Harris, confirming Haley’s suspicions that he was in cahoots with Delaney, bolted too. Haley—thankful she’d worn sensible utilitarian pumps on her feet—ran, she and Officer Bell on their heels.

  Haley hadn’t had time to digest that Samantha’s husband had admitted to killing Joe, but Delaney was complicit, and she would not let him get away with murder.

  Delaney and Harris raced toward the Union Boat Club, and Haley worried that they planned to escape by motorboat. If she and Officer Bell failed to apprehend them in time, they might get away.

  Officer Bell heaved with heavy breaths, but Haley had to give him credit for keeping up—with his shorter, stockier physique, he didn’t appear like a runner at first glance.

  “Stop!” Officer Bell yelled, “Or I’ll shoot.”

  And in a moment, Harris stopped.

  Haley’s heart skipped a beat. She and Officer Bell weren’t the only ones with a gun. Harris raised his police weapon and fired.

  Haley flinched, but she wasn’t the target.

  Officer Bell yelped and grabbed his arm.

  Haley raised her weapon and aimed for Harris’ legs. All that rabbit hunting she had done as a youth paid off. Harris crumpled to the ground.

  Delaney, the only one without a gun, sprinted down the dock.

  “Let him go,” Officer Bell said, wincing through tight lips. “It’s too dangerous.”

  The photographs of Joe, dead and dumped like garbage, flashed through Haley’s mind. She couldn’t let Delaney go. Her legs were already ahead of her heart, and she raced down the dock.

  Will Delaney was many things, but a long-distance runner he was not. Haley suspected he hadn’t had to exert himself physically for some time and found him bent over and panting as he tried to untie his polished wooden Chris Craft vessel from its mooring. Haley pulled back on the hammer of her Harrington & Richardson, which sounded with a satisfying click.

  “It’s over, Mr. Delaney,” she said. “Put your hands up.”

  He straightened, ran a hand through his hair, and smirked. “What’s this? A citizen’s arrest?”

  “Call it what you like. I’m not letting you get in that boat.”

  “If you kill me, you’re no better than me.”

  “You’re a monster, Mr. Delaney. I’m just a good shot.”

  In the distance, Haley heard police sirens. Probably someone from the Boat Club had called in the disturbance. She had only to bide her time.

  Delaney had the same thought.

  He saluted Haley then dove into the Charles River.

  Haley couldn’t believe his arrogance. Did he think he could swim across the river? Had he no idea about the currents?

  Perhaps he thought it better to drown than to go to trial and hang.

  Haley wasn’t about to let justice not have its time in court. It was bad enough that Seth was dead.

  She quickly untied the boat from the mooring. The keys, hanging from the ignition, made the rest easy. Haley had had experience driving boats when she’d stopped a rumrunner mid-crime.

  As she suspected, Will Delaney struggled to stay afloat. Haley slowed the boat as she approached, brought it to a stop, then threw out the life preserver.

  “I’ve heard drowning is a terrible way to die.”

  Putting the ladder out, she waited for Delaney to climb aboard. Keeping her gun aimed, she waited for him to catch his breath.

  “You can drive us back,” she said.

  Drenched, his clothing clinging like an extra skin, he shivered. “And if I don’t?”

  “I’ll be forced to shoot you. How much do you value your knees?”

  26

  Except for at the trial, and then only from across the room, Samantha hadn’t seen Haley since the day Seth had jumped to his death.

  Since the day Seth died, Samantha’s losses had been significant: she’d lost her husband, her marriage, and the father of her child. Bina had been inconsolable, and Talia had grown sullen.

  And she was sure she’d lost Haley as a friend. She’d called the morgue a couple of times, but Haley had either been immersed in something and unable to come to the telephone or out. Since Samantha didn’t have a phone, Haley couldn’t call her back, though she could’ve tried the paper, if she’d been determined.

  Mr. August had let Samantha come back to work, and after a couple of awkward days with the guys in the pit, things returned to normal. She worked the ladies’ pages, Fred hounded the athletes, Max chased Johnny around taking photographs, and Archie August bellowed for more stories.

  Not everything returned to normal. Johnny hadn’t sauntered over to her desk, hadn’t flirted, or badgered her. He kept to himself, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, telephone to his ear.

  Samantha supposed she could add him to her list of losses, though she wasn’t sure what category to put him in.

  Officer Bell remained a steady force—he called her once a day to make sure she was okay, reassured her that over time, people would forget Seth Rosenbaum, and that with Will Delaney out of the way, a new crime spree would replace them in short order. She’d apologized for doubting him and treating him poorly, but he waved her off, saying it was in the past.

  Tom made her laugh, which was a difficult feat these days. Maybe, when this was all behind her, and her period of “mourning” was over,
she’d take him up on that long-standing offer to go on a date.

  Now, wearing a black day frock with a simple black lace collar, she stood at the door of the morgue. Her walk there had taken over an hour, and more than once, she’d almost talked herself into turning around. But she was here now—she just had to knock and get it over with. Hopefully, enough time had passed that Haley could hear her apology and receive it.

  On the other side of the door, Haley focused on the paperwork due to be submitted or filed. She had just completed an autopsy—not murder related—and the family awaited the results. Her mind often betrayed her by revisiting the death of Seth Rosenbaum, and his last-minute confession. The trial had been difficult, especially the testimony that proved that Haley’s brother Joe had been killed by Samantha’s husband. Haley knew it wasn’t fair of her, but she’d found it hard to face her friend after that.

  Since then, Haley had gone through each day feeling numb. She’d spent much of her existence over the last seven years mulling over Joe’s murder and brooding because the case had grown cold. Now that it’d been solved, she felt aimless. Joe’s death had been such a driving factor in her life she felt lost without it, and this truth was shameful. Had her only reason for being been Joe’s death?

  She could hear Joe’s voice in her head. Don’t be silly, Haley. Live a little.

  But how could she do that? Joe’s unsolved murder file had been a constant companion, a warped and morbid type of friend.

  She felt alone and friendless.

  There was Molly, but she was older, her housekeeper, more of a companion than a friend, and spent her free time with Dr. Guthrie. Dr. Mitchell, Gerald, was always there for her for comfort and support, but his wife was his priority and an invisible barrier.

  Jack Thompson had clarified that he’d like to renew their relationship, short and fiery as it had been, but that was an invitation to romance. She wasn’t ready to open her heart and mind.

  Sam Hawke—Samantha Rosenbaum—had been a surprising but unlikely friendship. Haley, wealthy, single, and educated, wouldn’t normally find friendship with someone who eked out a living to support a family, and a reporter at that.

  But Samantha’s husband had murdered Joe.

  Even though Haley knew it wasn’t Samantha’s doing, she found it hard to separate the two things. It was unfair. Not just to Samantha, but to Haley.

  She missed her friend.

  When Haley heard someone knocking, images of Samantha over the last few months doing the same thing flashed across her mind. She headed for the door. Wouldn’t it be something if it were—

  “Samantha?”

  “Hello, Haley. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Haley blinked at Samantha dressed in black, not used to the somber look, but right for new widowhood. “No, of course not. Come in. I was just thinking of you.”

  “Molly said you were working late.”

  Haley had been doing that a lot lately. It was the best way to keep her mind from wandering places she didn’t want it to go.

  “Come in.”

  Samantha reached into her oversized handbag. “I brought this.” She pulled out a bottle of Canadian whiskey. “Compliments of Mr. Delaney, actually. Turns out, in some regards, he was a man of his word.”

  William Delaney had been convicted on several counts of murder, running illegal gambling rings in street fighting, and money laundering. The date of his hanging was yet to be determined, but Haley found, in some small way, that she’d avenged her brother’s death by capturing the man who’d enticed him into the fight club and had sent Seth Rosenbaum after him.

  Testimony against Seth Rosenbaum hadn’t shed a good light on the man’s life. He accidentally killed Joe—now Father O’Hara’s story about Jesus and Judas made sense. It’s about betrayal. It was about betrayal.

  After that unfortunate event, Delaney had forced Seth into working as his hatchet man. It was either that or death whether at Delaney’s hand or by the noose. Perhaps that was why Seth had fled the city—he didn’t want to be Delaney’s assassin.

  Once Delaney had discovered Seth had returned to Boston, he put the man back to work. A threat against Seth’s family, against Samantha and Talia, had made him comply. First, Cormac Keating for challenging Delaney’s leadership—the note Samantha had found in his pocket had been a warning from Seth—then Mulryan who couldn’t pay his debts, and finally, the John Doe, a misfit fighter who apparently had a big mouth Delaney wanted silenced.

  Haley glanced at Samantha with sympathy. It couldn’t be easy to discover your husband was a repeat murderer.

  Haley produced two glasses and Samantha poured. Raising their glasses, they toasted.

  “Cheers,” Samantha said.

  “Cheers,” Haley echoed.

  After a moment, Samantha said, “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m the one who should apologize,” Haley said. “You didn’t kill Joe. I’m sorry for taking it out on you.”

  They shared silence as forgiveness was accepted.

  “I came to Seth’s funeral.” Haley felt she should make the disclosure. She’d hidden herself in the sea of black at the back of the small crowd, not wanting to be noticed. She wasn’t sure why she’d gone. Maybe just to see it for herself. A sense of closure. It had broken her heart to see Mrs. Rosenbaum, so frail and petite, curled up in her grief. Little Talia had worn an appropriate pout, more likely overwhelmed by the intensity of the funeral and her grandmother’s wailing than by sadness over a man she hadn’t really known. Samantha had been dry-eyed and stoic, keeping the small family together.

  “I know,” Samantha replied, to Haley’s surprise. “You’re rather tall, even when you slouch.”

  “Oh.”

  “They’ve set a date for Delaney’s hanging.”

  “They have?”

  “Yes. The telegraph came to the paper this afternoon.”

  “You’re back at work, then?”

  “I am. It’s good. I’ve discovered I like my job, and I’m glad to be back. Bina needs something to do, more than ever now, and Talia is a great comfort to her.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “I’m lying low,” Samantha motioned at her black dress, “but I just can’t sit around.”

  “It’s quite understandable,” Haley said. Work had been her lifeline after Joe had died.

  “Now that I’m back at the paper,” Samantha began, “we might run into each other again. On the job.”

  “Or off,” Haley offered.

  Samantha tipped her glass of whiskey. “Or off.”

  Haley clinked her glass against her friend’s. “I look forward to it.”

  27

  FOUR MONTHS LATER

  The last days of 1931 saw the end of many things that had become normal in Haley’s life. Her brother Benjamin, who worked their family farm along with his wife, Lorene, came into town with their adopted baby boy in tow, and even their wayward brother Harley-James traveled to Boston all the way from California, so they could celebrate and honor Joseph’s life.

  It was a bittersweet gathering, and the first time Haley had shed tears since first learning about Joe’s death. With the case solved and behind her, Haley knew it was time to let that burden go. Joe wouldn’t want her to continue the way she had, his death consuming her life.

  This wasn’t the only event to take place in October. Dr. Guthrie announced his retirement and had fought hard for the mayor to give Haley his position. That she was female had proven to be a high liability, but in the end, Dr. Guthrie had shown how Haley’s work should be judged on its own merits regardless of her gender. It was a great victory for feminism everywhere when she’d been granted the title of Chief Medical Examiner.

  But her gain at work was a loss at home. When Dr. Guthrie retired, he’d also proposed to Molly. They had a December wedding, and Molly moved in with her new husband right after their honeymoon in England and Ireland. She’d sent Haley a postcard filled with exclamation marks on how much she was enjo
ying an English Christmas on the arm of her new husband. Haley had enjoyed the solitude of her apartment for a while but now admitted to feeling rather lonely, especially coming home to an empty house. Particularly since Molly had taken Mr. Midnight with her.

  Besides Seth Rosenbaum, the fall had claimed two more lives in Haley’s circle. The first was Gerald Mitchell’s wife. She’d developed a cancerous tumor that had taken her quickly. Gerald was bereft, but had confessed to Haley he felt guilty for the sense of relief that had come with her passing.

  Another loss was Jack Thompson. Haley had been wise to keep an emotional distance. He’d proven once again to be a slave to his restless streak, and had announced suddenly, on a cold day in November, he was going to Peru.

  Adios.

  Not all was terrible, though. Out of loss, there is sometimes a newness of life, a new lease of sorts, a new perspective. Haley, having always put Gerald firmly in the category of friendship—propriety had demanded it—had found she’d formed feelings on a deeper level. It would never be the sizzle and spice she’d felt with Jack, but it was safe and secure. Gentle and kind. And Gerald made her laugh, not an easy feat these days, and something Jack could never do.

  When the new year had dawned, Haley got new roommates.

  Because of the second death.

  After her son died, Bina Rosenbaum had seemed to lose the will to live. She was old and tired, Haley thought, and sad with the weight of her hard life. Even little Talia could no longer ignite her joy.

  She’d succumbed to pneumonia during a cold, blizzard night. The snow had fallen thickly and wet, making it hard for it to be removed and vehicles to travel, especially down clogged, narrow lanes like Stillman Street. Haley had practically had to hike a mountain of snow to get to the front door of the tenements. Mrs. Rosenbaum was dead by then. Haley had been called in as the medical examiner.