The Yankee Club

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The Yankee Club Page 21

by Michael Murphy


  The silence in the room made it hard for me to breathe. I couldn’t read Kennedy’s expression. “I know how crazy this sounds.”

  “What do you think?” Kennedy asked Stoddard.

  “I hope Jake’s wrong, but I’m convinced the crazy bastards plotted to assassinate Roosevelt in February. Sons of bitches that desperate are capable of anything, including overthrowing the government.”

  “What about you, Miss Wilson?”

  “I’ve known Jake since we were kids. I trust his judgment more than my own.”

  Kennedy removed his glasses and cleaned them again. “Mussolini and Hitler wouldn’t have risen to power without the backing of their country’s powerful bankers.”

  Maybe my theory wasn’t as crazy as it sounded.

  “It’s always about the almighty dollar.” Stoddard banged his fist on the table.

  Kennedy shook his head. “The bankers in the Golden Legion aren’t motivated by losing millions. They’re motivated by a loss of power.”

  Now the plot made sense.

  “Let me get this straight.” Kennedy rubbed his forehead. “Three men have been murdered in the past week. You uncovered a link between the Golden Legion and the Blackshirts and perhaps a foreign government, Germany. The evidence might not hold up in a court of law, but it’s enough for me to take the next train to Washington.”

  I squeezed Laura’s hand.

  Kennedy drummed his fingers on the table. “Mr. Stoddard here probably didn’t mention he was Roosevelt’s choice to head the Secret Service. I managed to put that on hold and send him off on the thankless task of investigating rumors that just wouldn’t go away. Powerful individuals wanted to remove Roosevelt. Thanks to you, we know the situation is worse than we could have imagined.”

  Laura cocked her head. “Will you be able to convince the government?”

  “The Golden Legion wouldn’t plan such a thing if they didn’t have support within the government. The president and I have been friends since the Great War when he was at the Department of the Navy and I was with Bethlehem Steel. Mr. Stoddard and I’ll brief Roosevelt and one or two congressmen I can trust. The detective’s bank account, Greenwoody’s association with the Blackshirts, this German Nazi … should be enough to convince them. Mr. Donovan, Miss Wilson, I can’t thank you enough. You’ve risked your careers … your lives, repeatedly. We’re not out of the woods, but the country owes you a debt of gratitude.” He slid his chair back. Stoddard and Laura rose, but I remained seated.

  “Is there something else?” Kennedy asked.

  I couldn’t just walk away from this. “There’s too much at stake to just turn things over to the feds.”

  Laura sat beside me. “You got involved to find Mickey’s killer and gather enough evidence to get the federal government to act. You’ve done all that.”

  “You’re to be commended,” Kennedy added.

  “Laura, I want you safe, but I just can’t let this go. This is no longer about finding Mickey’s killer. If the Golden Legion is successful, what kind of a future would you and I have?”

  Laura nodded.

  Kennedy gazed through the window at the Manhattan skyline. “My grandparents came to America with just the clothes on their backs, and look at me, the Presidential Suite at the Waldorf Astoria. The president’s speech on Friday will announce my appointment to head a new government agency, the Securities and Exchange Commission. The SEC was created to keep Wall Street from taking advantage of the public. “He pulled out a pocket watch on a gold chain and checked the time. “I love this country, Mr. Donovan. Like any other parent, I want my sons to enjoy the fruits of my labors and have a better life than me. I want … I expect my son, Joe, to be president someday.”

  All parents wanted the best for their children, but Kennedy’s wealth and power suggested he might live to see his dream fulfilled. I thought back to Joe and his two brothers. Maybe I’d met a future president.

  Chapter 16

  A Man with a Conscience

  Laura and I left Stoddard with Kennedy and rode the elevator to the first floor. On the way out of the hotel, she stopped next to a phone booth in the lobby. “I have to call Spencer before he discovers our photo in the papers.”

  “What will you say?”

  She winked. “You write the script. I’ll deliver the lines.”

  I pictured the reporter who snapped the photo at Penn Station, and an idea came to mind. I handed her several coins. “Tell him you took me to the station to say good-bye, and I’m probably in Florida by now.”

  “Brilliant.” Laura held out her hand. “I’ll need a handkerchief.”

  I had no idea why she needed a handkerchief. I gave her the one inside my suit coat.

  Balling it in her fist, Laura left the booth door ajar and made the call. A moment later her face changed. She resembled the nurse in Night Whispers more than the Laura I’d known for years. Tears welled into her eyes as she spoke into the phone. “Oh, darling, the most awful thing happened. I took Jake Donovan to catch his train back to Florida. As we said good-bye, a photographer snapped our picture.” Her voice trembled, and she sniffled into the handkerchief. “I … I didn’t think much of it until I saw the paper …”

  Laura’s acting ability continued to amaze me. Immersed in the role, she avoided looking at me as she listened a moment. “Yes, he’s no doubt back in Tampa as we speak … apparently something he had to attend to with his apartment … I know, you’re sweet, but society pages love to paint public figures in the worst possible light. For an actress there’s no such thing as bad publicity, but I don’t think that applies to bankers.” More sniffles. “I didn’t want the paper to embarrass you … You’re wonderful. Hurry back, darling.”

  Laura hung up. Her face softened. “Did I do okay?”

  “A little too heavy on the darlings, but other than that, I almost believed the story myself. The real question is did he believe you?”

  She stepped from the phone booth and took my arm in hers. “I’ll share a little secret. Most men believe what we want them to believe.”

  I suspected Laura was still playing a role. “Does it work on me?”

  “If it had, you’d never have left for Florida.” Laura laughed. “You know, that’s the first time I’ve been able to laugh about that?”

  “You’re pretty when you laugh.”

  We crossed the lobby toward the front doors. “I’m glad you suggested telling him I’d come to see you off. There’s a difference between acting and being a skillful liar. Men are so much better at that sort of thing … present company excepted, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  She dropped my arm as the doorman held the door open for us. We stood on the curb outside the Waldorf Astoria a moment, avoiding the dangerous work ahead. The wind blew her soft curls.

  An elderly couple shuffled up and asked for her autograph. She signed the lady’s book like they were long-lost relatives. How did she act so carefree when the world might collapse and destroy our future?

  After the couple thanked her and left, Laura pointed across the street. “Can we take a few moments to relax before charging into the abyss?”

  We crossed the street and entered the park. Repeating the habit I’d picked up since my return to the city, I kept my eyes peeled to see if we’d picked up a tail.

  A warm sun almost burned through the early morning haze. As we walked along the gravel path, a worker speared a snow-cone wrapper with a stick and stuffed the trash into an overflowing bag on his back. I pointed to a weathered bench. I sat beside Laura, wishing I could take her hand.

  We spent high school summers at Coney Island and Central Park when we could get away. We held hands and stole kisses, something we dared not do now. With powerful, arrogant men plotting the government’s destruction, I couldn’t shake the impression this might be our last moment of tranquility for quite a while.

  A faraway gaze in Laura’s eyes told me she wasn’t thinking about the threat to the governme
nt. “Six months ago, my mother came to see me at the Longacre.”

  As long as I’d known her, Laura had only talked a handful of times about the mother who abandoned her before she moved into my neighborhood. “You were only six when she left. How did you know it was her?”

  “This.” She showed me a silver brooch of a unicorn pinned to her dress. “It’s funny, I couldn’t picture her face, but I could always see the unicorn. Before she left, she gave me a kiss and this brooch.”

  “The visit must have been painful.”

  “It was wonderful.”

  I didn’t believe that for a minute. Pain from more than two decades of abandonment couldn’t be healed in a single meeting.

  Laura stared across the Great Lawn at a score of people gathered in front of a man who had stepped atop a wooden box. “She’s living in Canada with a man who treats her well. I told her about you.”

  “How I ran away?”

  “How you’ve loved me since we were kids.” Her eyes misted. “I bear some responsibility for us being apart the past two years. You ran away, sure, but I let you go.”

  “Don’t blame yourself for my frailties. I could have returned, could have written or called. I—”

  “Don’t.” Laura reached for my hand. As two beat cops walked by, she pulled her hand back. “Jake, when this is over …”

  I tried to reassure her with a smile. “When this is over.”

  Across the lawn the man stood atop the box waving a pamphlet like a sword as he spoke. His shrill voice reminded me of the danger the country faced: the crowd listened as if he had all the answers to their problems.

  I couldn’t make out his message, but he was a fanatic selling some kind of solution to those who’d lost so much. As the Depression spread, people grew desperate. Communists and fascists offered hope to the hopeless. Millions would follow Greenwoody in the hope he’d bring them a better life.

  Laura’s eyes left the speaker and followed a yellow butterfly flitting from bush to bush, searching for a flower no doubt, seeking a speck of beauty in a drab landscape. Ignoring the threat that someone might notice, she held my hand. She rested her head on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. This is bigger than just two silly people who grew up in Queens.”

  My vision blurred as I struggled to see through welling tears. I’d never survive if I lost Laura for good.

  “Enough about us.” She kissed my hand. “Let’s do this, Jake.”

  I blinked away the tears and squeezed her hand. I wished I had her courage.

  “You still have those newspaper clippings in your cane?”

  Nodding, I twisted the handle and set the dagger beside me. I covered it with my hat.

  Laura tugged the articles from the shaft. She sifted through the clippings and studied the photo of the Golden Legion, Dalrymple, and the other ten bankers. She handed the rest of the articles to me then rose and stuffed the Golden Legion photo inside her bodice. “Think you can still pick a lock?”

  Well-manicured lawns framed mansions of the well-to-do, or luckier-than-most, as we left the city. I drove us toward the Dalrymple Estate, trying not to let Laura realize how worried I was for her. I didn’t mind sneaking into the estate and breaking into Dalrymple’s desk, but her idea to walk through the front door like we belonged seemed fraught with danger. She was a fabulous actress. If anyone could pull this off surrounded by Dalrymple’s staff, it was Laura.

  On the bench in Central Park Laura talked me into breaking into Dalrymple’s desk to retrieve his appointment book. She wanted to check whether all of the men in the newspaper photo had agreed to attend the Golden Legion meeting. If anyone in the photo stayed away from Dalrymple’s hunting lodge, perhaps they didn’t want to go along with the planned coup. A long shot for sure, but we had to do something.

  I slowed as we entered the tree-lined driveway.

  “Jake, look out!”

  I slammed on the brakes. I twisted the handle of my cane and held the dagger, searching for the source of Laura’s concern. “What is it?”

  From Laura’s side, a deer bounded across the drive and disappeared into the trees.

  Laura giggled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you saw the deer.”

  “Why are you laughing? That wasn’t funny.”

  “It was from where I’m sitting.”

  I reassembled the cane and drove toward the front gate. “Dalrymple’s scheduled to return when?”

  “This afternoon.”

  I checked my watch. Ten a.m. “That’s cutting it close.”

  “Don’t worry, darling. He’s always late.”

  “The late Spencer Dalrymple. I like the sound of that. What about guards?”

  “Usually a half dozen or more during the day.” Laura smiled. “Don’t concern yourself. I’m always welcome. You’ll be a bigger challenge, but if all goes well, I won’t have to worry about whether the staff tells my fiancé I’ve been seen with another man.”

  “If all goes well, you’ll never see Dalrymple again … unless you want to pay him a visit in prison.” I stopped alongside the security hut.

  A uniformed guard tipped his cap to Laura. In spite of his thick jaw, broad shoulders, and the crisp starched uniform of a dedicated professional, he couldn’t quite hide a longing for the woman in the passenger seat. “Good morning, Miss Wilson. What a pleasant surprise.”

  A nod and a pat of her dark curly hair changed her from my detective partner to Dalrymple’s dutiful fiancée.

  Like a jealous suitor, he checked me over then tipped his cap to Laura. A moment later the gate swung open.

  I parked in the circular drive in front of the house, determined not to reveal my apprehension. I grabbed my cane and escorted Laura up the steps to the front door.

  She straightened my tie. “You look like you’re about to rob the place. Act like you did when you played Tom Sawyer.”

  “I was a teenager.”

  “Exactly. Happy and carefree.” She opened the door without knocking and greeted the butler with a bold wave. “Reggie, have you come across a gold watch with the letters JD engraved on the back? Mr. Donovan may have lost it at the party.”

  The butler’s eyes widened, as if he expected me to be in Florida. “No, ma’am.”

  Like a thirty-four-year-old Tom Sawyer, I clapped him on the back and held out a five. “You sure?”

  He ignored the bill. “Quite sure.”

  I stuffed the bill into his suit coat and patted his pocket. “Well, in case you find anything of mine, let’s just keep it between you and me, okay, Ronald?”

  “Reggie, sir.”

  Laura smiled. “We’ll just have a quick look around.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” With a flicker of disapproval, he took my hat, gave us a quick bow, and disappeared through a door off the lobby.

  We hurriedly climbed the stairs. I glanced behind me as an armed guard entered from the deck outside. The same one who’d tracked Stoddard and me through the woods the night of the party. With a holstered gun visible through his unbuttoned jacket, he presented far more of a threat than the suspicious butler.

  At the top of the stairs we slipped inside Spencer’s study. I resented nearly everything about Dalrymple, including his office being far more organized than mine had ever been. The desk was old, and the lock looked easy to pick.

  I set the cane on the desk and took a pin from Laura’s hat.

  “You used to have a special case for situations like this.”

  “I could use it now.”

  Before I could begin, footsteps approached outside the door.

  Laura’s face blanched. I grabbed the cane, took her hand, and rushed us through the door behind the desk. As the door to the office opened, I held my breath and listened. I pictured the guard looking around to see if anything had been disturbed. Getting caught pilfering Dalrymple’s office couldn’t be answered with bluster or acting ability. The guard, most likely, stepped back into the corridor.

  The minute the door closed, La
ura and I reentered the office. She squeezed my hand as doors opened then closed in the corridor. She relaxed her grip only after footsteps passed Dalrymple’s office and hurried down the stairway.

  I went to work on the desk lock with Laura’s pin. “How do you know Dalrymple didn’t take the appointment book with him?”

  “I don’t. But isn’t this fun?”

  I shot her a look to make sure she was kidding. A moment later the lock tumbler clicked. I slid open the drawer.

  “Bingo.” Laura grabbed the appointment book, unsnapped the latch, and flipped through the pages. She pointed to a list of names. “All but one member of the Golden Legion confirmed they’d attend the gathering at the hunting lodge.”

  “One man with a conscience.”

  She pulled the article from her bodice and compared it to the appointment book. “Averill Cornwell. Hardly a man of conscience.” With a nervous glance toward the door, she snapped the book closed.

  “Wait. Look for a meeting before the assassination attempt against Roosevelt. Perhaps they held a similar gathering before going through with the plan.”

  Laura flipped through the book. A smile swept over her face. “You should be a detective. Averill wasn’t at that meeting either.” She snapped the clasp closed, set the book into the drawer, and slid the drawer closed.

  Relocking the desk with a hat pin would prove much more difficult than unlocking it. As I struggled, the butler’s voice came from down the stairs. “Miss Wilson.”

  “Go.” I waved her toward the door.

  She slipped into the corridor. Her footsteps casually sounded down the steps. I worked the lock with the pin but couldn’t get it closed. I wiped sweat from my brow and tried again. Maybe I’d lost my touch. Time slipped away. I couldn’t wait any longer. I stuck the pin in my lapel and left the room, hoping Dalrymple would think he’d left the desk unlocked.

  Laura sat waiting on the terrace, as I’d assumed she would. Reggie stood beside her.

  I rolled up my sleeve and displayed my watch. “Found it in the upstairs john. Must have dropped off when I was puking Dalrymple’s cheap booze.”

  Laura rose and grabbed her purse. “Splendid.”

 

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