Last Stop in Brooklyn

by Lawrence H. Levy

  “And you think I’m the man to do this?”

  “I can’t think of anyone better. As a New York assemblyman, you put Jay Gould in his place when he tried to lower his taxes, and by doing so, exposed the corruption in Albany. New York City needs a man like you.”

  “That was back in ’82. How old were you then, twelve?”

  “I was eighteen, but I had been reading about politics and civic matters since I was ten.”

  Roosevelt emitted a bellowing laugh. “So when other little girls were playing with dolls you were weighing the world’s problems.”

  “Dolls never interested me, much to my mother’s chagrin.”

  “I admire your spunk. Keep at it, never let it die.” He turned to the others. “You’ve got the wrong person, boys. Miss Handley should be your choice for police commissioner.”

  “I’m flattered, Mr. Roosevelt, but unfortunately that option is not available.”

  Roosevelt looked Mary in the eye. “If I have anything to do with it, it will be someday.”

  “Thank you, but for now I’m dealing with the present realities. I have a client in jail for life merely because Inspector Byrnes needed a scapegoat to protect his ego. I’m working on another case in which he literally acted as an agent for Russell Sage. How can the ordinary man have faith that the police are on his side when the department stinks from the top down?”

  “You present a very persuasive argument.”

  “She most definitely does,” Lodge said. “And you are the only man for the job.”

  “It’s time to stop selling, Henry. You’re beginning to sound like a Western medicine man peddling his bottle of cure-all.”

  Lodge began to laugh. “Oh no, was I that bad?” Off Roosevelt’s definitive nod, Lodge continued, “Well, it’s for a good cause, and you know it comes from the heart, TR.”

  “I do know that. Anyhow, gentlemen and lady, I appreciate your advice. After we get back to Washington, Edith and I will mull it over.”

  “Whatever happened to the TR who when asked to solve a problem would jump in willy-nilly?”

  “Five children are what happened, Henry.”

  Lodge chuckled. “Good answer. There’s no need to rush. As they informed us yesterday, the job won’t be available for months. First, Strong has to win.”

  Roosevelt shook hands with all of them before they left, then went into the next room, where Edith was nursing the baby.

  “How’s Archie?” he asked.

  “He’s a hungry little fellow.” She looked down at the baby. “Aren’t you, Archibald?”

  “Good. He’ll grow up big and strong.”

  “I couldn’t help hearing some of the conversation. Henry’s urging you to back up the wagon and take out the trash.”

  “Human trash. And one wagon would hardly be enough. This job would involve a very long wagon train.”

  “Sounds like something you’d enjoy.”

  “I also enjoy our life in D.C.”

  “Don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes, darling. You’re a fighter. You like to get in there and mix it up, and the Civil Service Commission is annoyingly quiet.”

  “Those meetings can get tedious. Sometimes I have to kick myself to stay awake.”

  “I feel terrible. When they came to you last year to run for mayor again, I selfishly thought of my own happiness. It was a mistake to talk you out of it.”

  “That’s never a mistake. Your happiness is important to me.”

  “It’s no fun watching you mope around the house waiting for a mountain to magically appear for you to climb. I do know that’s not going to happen on the Civil Service Commission.”

  “Hardly.” Roosevelt chuckled, then became pensive. “Still, of all the jobs in the world, me…a policeman. I’m not sure.”

  “Whatever you decide, I’m behind you ninety-nine percent.”

  “What about the remaining one percent?”

  “Please, Teddy, a woman must have some mystery about her.”

  Roosevelt gave her a loving peck on the cheek and patted little Archie. He then returned to the living room, sat in a cushy club chair, and resumed reading his copy of Moby-Dick. He was plowing through it for a second time. An avid reader, Roosevelt didn’t expect to find the answer to his dilemma in the tortured soul of Captain Ahab, but it was a good diversion, and when the mind is being entertained, one never knows what ideas might pop in. Roosevelt hoped for one that was decisive. He despised being wishy-washy.

  29

  It was exciting to imagine Theodore Roosevelt cleaning house, but Mary couldn’t count on his decision to help solve her cases. Harper had told her that Choate was upset but had no helpful suggestion about Walter’s situation. Choate did find out in a quick visit to Laidlaw that he had fallen in love with his nurse Emily and had trusted her with Colleen’s name. He was upset that Emily might have betrayed him, but even more distraught that she had been transferred to another nursing facility. It didn’t take long for Choate to discover that Byrnes had orchestrated the transfer, thus making Emily the obvious source of the leak. His case was made significantly weaker by the loss of Colleen, but he still thought he had a good chance of winning.

  It was Monday morning, and Mary felt it was time to give Basem an update on his brother’s case. She had hoped to tell him by now that they had the real killer in custody and Ameer would soon go free. Unfortunately, Dr. Lawrence was no longer a suspect, and after all this time, she essentially had nothing except for a vague description that fit many men.

  When Mary entered Leo’s Meats, she didn’t see Basem. A person she had never seen before, a round man, fortyish, with gray hair, was behind the counter.

  “How may I help you, miss?”

  “I’m looking for Basem Ben Ali. Is he in the back?”

  “Basem isn’t here today. I’m filling in for him. I’m sure I—”

  “I don’t want to buy meat. I need to speak with Basem.”

  “Basem had a family emergency.”

  “A family emergency? Did something happen to his brother Ameer?”

  The round man was hesitant to give out information. “Do you know Ameer?”

  “Ameer’s my client. What happened?”

  “I don’t know if I should tell you. It’s personal.”

  “Basem told you. Are you close with him?”

  “I’ve never met Basem. Leo told me when he asked me to fill in.”

  “You know, Leo knows, God knows how many others. It’s not a big secret. Tell me, please.”

  He considered her words. “Okay, but you didn’t hear it from me. Ameer was stabbed by another inmate. His chances of living are not good.”

  Mary froze, momentarily in shock. Though she logically knew there was always a chance of being attacked in a place like Matteawan, she’d never really considered the possibility. She had to call and find out how Ameer was, and she couldn’t wait.

  “Can I use your phone?”

  “Gee, I don’t know—”

  “It’s urgent. I need to call Matteawan.”

  “Long distance is expensive. Leo could fire me.”

  Mary took several bills out of her pocketbook and threw them at him. “This ought to cover it and more.”

  She ran to the phone and got the operator to connect her to Matteawan. It didn’t do her any good. Mary was not a relative, and the officious receptionist refused to give her personal information. Her frustration was tangible.

  “Can you at least tell me if he’s alive?” an exasperated Mary asked.

  The receptionist was hesitant to answer and spoke very slowly, drawing out the word: “Ye-e-e-e-s-s-s.”

  “Thank goodness he’s alive!”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Mary tensed. “You mean he’s dead?”

  “I didn’t say that either.”

  Mary was flustered. “I don’t understand.”

  “You asked if I could tell you if he was alive. If you had waited for me to finish and not rudely cut me o
ff, you would have heard me reply, ‘Yes, I can tell you that.’ ”

  Mary gathered what little patience she had left in order to extract the information she needed. “Thank you. So, is he alive?”

  “Yes. I can’t tell you any more than that. There are procedures I—”

  Mary hung up. She had gotten the information she needed and didn’t feel like staying for a lecture on Matteawan bureaucratic procedure. Besides, the round man was eyeing her very closely to make sure she didn’t exceed the amount of money she had given him.

  She waved to him and shouted, “Thank you,” as she rushed out of the butcher shop on her way to Grand Central Depot.

  On the train up to Matteawan, Mary reviewed the events of the weekend: the Dr. Lawrence fiasco, Harper’s being drugged, Edgar’s getting framed for murder, Colleen’s refusing to testify, Walter’s law practice being destroyed, and now Ameer. How could so many things go wrong in such a short period of time? She felt like she was a curse to everyone she had come in contact with.

  She hired a carriage at the Fishkill Landing train station, and just a few hours after hearing the news about Ameer, she found herself standing in the entrance lobby at Matteawan. Luckily, Wendy, the nurse Mary had met on her last visit, the one with whom she had discussed Lizzie, recognized her.

  “I thought you might come,” she said.

  “I was on the first train the second I heard,” said Mary.

  “It’s been hard. No one has shown up, not even her mother.”

  “Her?”

  “Your friend Lizzie. I don’t know what possessed her to do a thing like that.”

  “I’m here to see my client, Ameer Ben Ali.”

  “Then you don’t know. Lizzie is the one who stabbed Ameer. It may not be too awful for her. It looks like Ameer is going to pull through, thank God.”

  Mary had trouble processing the information. She was happy Ameer was going to be okay, but Lizzie had stabbed him. Could it be that Mary was responsible for this? Did Lizzie find out that Ameer was her client and stab him out of some sick attempt to hurt Mary? Mary was beginning to think she really was cursed.

  “I’d like to visit with Lizzie. Would that be okay?”

  “Of course. I’m sure she would love to see you.”

  Lizzie was in solitary confinement, locked in a padded cell and restrained with a straitjacket. Wendy told Mary that Lizzie had stabbed Ameer with her knitting needles, which she had been slowly sharpening for days. The Matteawan brass were taking no more chances with her until they were absolutely sure she wouldn’t hurt anyone else. Of course, how they could determine that with someone so far gone was beyond Mary. Wendy saw no harm in letting Mary into her cell. Between Lizzie’s straitjacket and the sedatives they had given her, she saw little risk of danger. Lizzie was lying on her right side, her back pressed against the padded wall. Groggy but conscious and somewhat giddy, she often talked in a singsong way, her voice rising and lowering within one word.

  “Ma-a-a-r-y-y-y-y.”

  “Hello, Lizzie. How are you?”

  “Terrible, just te-e-er-i-i-i-ble. Never getting out. Never.”

  “What did you expect? You’ve got to stop hurting people.”

  Lizzie burst into insane laughter as she sat up, her back still against the wall. “You think…oh no, not them. You think they were going to let me out?” Lizzie’s laughter continued.

  “How were you going to get out?”

  “All I had to do was kill him. Simple. And I’m free.”

  “How is that? Who would free you?”

  “I never had a trial, Mary. I can go to another state and they can’t bring me back. Free. Completely free. But he’s alive, damn it! I messed up!” Lizzie’s laughter quickly turned to tears. She was sobbing uncontrollably.

  Lizzie may have been completely unstable but Mary knew she was right. There was a prevailing policy in most states where if a person never had a trial and was sent straight to an institution like Lizzie had been, they couldn’t be extradited. The possibility of that happening for Lizzie at that point was remote. Someone had promised to help Lizzie escape if she killed Ameer, and Mary needed to find out who that person was.

  “That’s terrible, Lizzie.” Mary spoke gently as she inched closer to her. “Maybe I can talk to him, tell him how hard you tried. I’ll make him understand, and you can be free.”

  Lizzie stopped bawling, lifted her head up, and stared at Mary. “You think I’m stupid.”

  “Of course not, Lizzie, I’m your friend. I want to help.”

  “Well, you can’t, ’cause she hates you more than I do.”

  “She does? It must be a misunderstanding. What’s her name?”

  Lizzie got up on her knees and started screaming, “I hate you, Mary Handley! I want you dead! Dead!” Wendy opened the cell. A couple of attendants rushed in to calm Lizzie down. She struggled, but one of them already had a syringe in hand, and she was soon asleep.

  Mary was shaken, in part by Lizzie’s outburst but mostly because there was an unknown woman out there who hated her and wanted Ameer dead. As she and Wendy walked to the hospital ward, she tried to piece it together.

  “I thought she’d be happy to see you,” Wendy said. “I don’t know what got into her.”

  “Do you by any chance keep the mail Lizzie gets?”

  “We often keep patients’ mail, especially the violent ones, but I’ve been here ever since Lizzie was transferred and she hasn’t gotten any to my knowledge.”

  “You had told me that her mother visits her. Who else has?”

  “Just her mother. Lovely woman, always dressed well, with the most beautiful red hair.”

  Mary had met Lizzie’s mother. She was plain and simple country, and her hair was a mousy brown. In short, she wasn’t anything like Wendy’s description. The redheaded woman at the luncheon where Dr. Lawrence had spoken popped into Mary’s head. It was a hunch, but what else did she have?

  “Did she by any chance wear a necklace with a large diamond and gold heart locket?”

  “Why, yes, it’s beautiful. It must be very expensive.”

  “Wendy, that isn’t Lizzie’s mother. If that woman ever shows up again, have her held and call the police. She was the one who convinced Lizzie to stab Ameer.”

  “No!”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Oh my goodness!”

  “What?”

  “There were times she’d ask me about Ameer. I never thought anything of it then, but now…” Wendy was aghast that she had been so fooled by this woman. Mary questioned her further, and she really knew nothing else about her. She was at the Dr. Lawrence luncheon, so he might know something, if he would speak to her.

  Wendy gave Mary directions to the hospital wing. Mary thanked her and Wendy left, still shaken by Lizzie’s explosion and all the deception. The wing was a long, large room with rows of beds on opposing walls, twenty in all, with a spacious pathway between the two rows. Five of the beds were empty. As Mary entered, she saw a doctor and nurse loading a man onto a gurney. When she realized it was Ameer, she rushed over.

  “I thought he was okay. What happened?”

  “A collapsed lung,” said the doctor. “It often happens in these cases.”

  “Mary,” Ameer said, his voice weak and raspy.

  “Save your strength, Ameer.”

  “You have to stop Basem.”

  “Basem? Why?”

  “Wants revenge. Going to kill Byrnes and Carnegie.”

  “Carnegie? Andrew Carnegie?”

  Ameer nodded. “My fault. I brought him back to America.”

  The doctor interrupted. “No more. We have to get him to surgery or he will die.” Mary quickly handed the doctor her card and asked him to call her after the surgery. As they wheeled him out of the room, she called out, “Was his brother here?”

  The nurse replied, “He left two hours ago.” And they were gone.

  Mary took a moment to process what had just occurred. It could hav
e been the delirious rant of a sick man, but with Byrnes in the mix, it certainly sounded real. She couldn’t afford not to act. She had two murders to stop.

  30

  The next train heading to New York would arrive in twenty minutes. Mary needed to warn Carnegie and Byrnes. Seeing a telephone at the receptionist desk, she asked if she could use it, quickly adding she was willing to pay. It turned out the receptionist was the same officious bureaucrat to whom Mary had spoken on the phone earlier. As she was being denied access and Matteawan procedural policy was being recited to her, Mary remembered having seen a coin telephone at the train station. Rather than waste time arguing with the receptionist, she left. The carriage she hired arrived at the station with ten minutes to spare. Unfortunately, the coin telephone was broken.

  Her ride back to New York was filled with anxiety, but it did give her a chance to review the information, which was getting worse with each new piece. Who was this redheaded woman and why did she want Ameer dead? Did it have anything to do with the Immigration Restriction League luncheon or was it just a coincidence? She concluded that it would have been too random for her presence at the luncheon to be a coincidence. The woman was either following her or was acting as an agent for someone there. But who was that person and why would he or she want to kill Ameer? Mary kept on coming back to herself. It must somehow be related to her, but she didn’t know how.

  Frustrated in her thinking about the redheaded woman, she turned her attention to Basem, Byrnes, and Carnegie. As much as she liked Basem and was sympathetic to his circumstances, she had to warn Byrnes and Carnegie. She couldn’t idly stand by when she knew murders were about to be committed. She hoped to somehow stop Basem, maybe talk him out of it, but warning the victims was paramount.

  When she arrived at Grand Central, she went straight to a coin telephone. This one was working. She got some change and called Leo’s Meats. Basem wasn’t there. Then she called Byrnes’s office. He wasn’t there either, and they had no idea where he was. Carnegie’s office was next. He also wasn’t in. She asked where he was, and his secretary refused to give his whereabouts.