by R. J. Koreto
“But Preston tells me he’s hardly involved in the family business—he just gets busywork from his uncle. He says he wants his share, but he doesn’t want to run it. He wants to travel and do things.”
“I’m sure,” said the president. “But when the Justice Department starts moving, it’s going to get a little ugly.” He reached over the table and took his daughter’s hand. “I don’t believe that Preston is directly involved. He may be as much of a victim here as anyone. But I just want you to be careful about becoming too involved with the family. And of course, you can’t mention to anyone what I’ve told you.”
“Of course, Father. Thank you for trusting me. I will be careful and won’t let you down.” But I could tell that her mind was a thousand miles away, reviewing what we knew and where we’d go next. She’d want to move quickly. Once the Justice Department came in, we’d be pushed out, and there would be no chance to finish the investigation Alice had started. She’d hate that, if all she did was for nothing, if some Washington lawyers moved in and tied everything up.
Worse, the Justice Department would probably just look at the company’s illegal activities and not make the connection to the assassination and anarchists, since the McKinley case was officially closed. We needed to act now, before Washington got more involved, or we’d lose any leads to the assassination conspiracy.
“Well and good,” said the president heartily. “Just wanted to make sure you knew what was happening. Now tell me, what have you two been up to since we last met?”
Alice smoothed over that pretty neatly, with some light touches on Chinatown and Little Italy, and soon we heard Mrs. Cowles come home. That was as good a sign as any that it was time for me to head downstairs.
“Breakfast as usual, to go over my schedule,” Alice said to me, and I nodded and bid her and the president a good night.
“Good evening, Mr. St. Clair,” said Mrs. Cowles as we met in the foyer.
“Good evening, ma’am. The president is with Miss Alice in the breakfast room.”
“So I gathered from the police presence downstairs.”
“Dulcie baked an apple pie. There’s some left,” I said.
“How kind of you. Do have a good evening,” she said, giving me a cool smile and proceeding to the breakfast room.
No card game for me, I thought. It was going to be a busy day tomorrow, and I needed to get a full night’s sleep.
CHAPTER 25
Alice was already into her bacon and eggs when I arrived the next morning. She even had paper and pen on the table, a sign this was going to be a working breakfast.
“Tuck in, Mr. St. Clair. My father and Aunt Anna are having a private breakfast this morning—political advice—and are dining in my aunt’s study. But our morning will be no less busy. We’re going to watch a ship get launched.”
“That sounds interesting. I assume you mean the new Van Schuyler ship?”
“Yes.” Alice held up a card. “This came by messenger from Preston this morning. Just a brief note saying he wants to speak at the ship launching. They seem to understand my father won’t show, so they want to get it going so they can start making money. And we’ll get a chance to see if he’s managed to get the ledgers yet. I imagine he will. He does want to do what I ask.”
“Let’s assume he does.” But we still needed to go over the nuts and bolts of how we were going to do that.
“There’s a lot of paper in a company that size, and I’m guessing we could find some others who’d be willing to help for the right incentives, if we could meet them.”
But I was shaking my head even as I was eating my eggs. “Miss Alice, no more bribery and blackmail. For God’s sake, Mrs. Cowles is in the next room.”
“You put things in such a bad light. We are merely going to host a political meeting. I’m still assembling the details, but it’s not that difficult. Things like this happen in politics all the time. Now, have you ever been to a ship launching?”
“Wyoming is landlocked,” I reminded her.
“Of course. Well, ship launchings can be rather fun, although considering the state of the Van Schuyler family and what we’ve done, it may not be as entertaining as these events usually are. I’m sure Shaw Brantley knows by now that we’re the ones who smuggled his mistress out of town.” And she sounded rather proud of that.
“He isn’t going to forget what we did to him.”
“Who cares? They set someone on us at the Rathskeller, and we sent them running with their tails between their legs. Now, let’s plan our political meeting. We need to reach workingmen. This is what I want to do: I want to find some other Van Schuyler employees to give us the same information Compton has. Here’s how you can help. What paper do workingmen read?”
“The porters here read the Herald—the paper you threatened to give an interview to, to frighten that lawyer.” There’s no denying that it’s a lively read.
“Right. We could place a notice for a meeting there. Many read it, and even those who don’t will pass on the word. We can stop at the Herald offices this morning and get it into tomorrow’s paper. People will come. We’ll take a reception room at the Stokely Hotel downtown.”
I knew it well. It was a second-rate hotel used for traveling salesmen and other visitors of modest means passing through. It wasn’t disreputable, but it made a good simple headquarters for meeting and greeting workingmen, and operatives of both parties used it.
“They’ll probably give us a room cheap just to curry favor with my father,” said Alice. “We’ll make the gathering tomorrow evening, which will give everyone time to see the notice in the Herald, but not enough time for the Van Schuylers to organize opposition—at least not an effective opposition. We’ll have to move quickly.”
I was getting dizzy at that. If nothing else, she was being too optimistic, I thought. If Van Schuyler and Brantley thought their freedom was in danger, they’d lash out at anyone. Out West, I once saw a dog corner a deer, which is probably the mildest creature in the world, and the deer lashed out with its hooves and killed it.
Meanwhile, Alice took a fresh piece of paper and began writing quickly, then handed it to me: “There will be a political meeting tonight at the Stokely Hotel, 7:00. Members of the Roosevelt family will be present. We will talk about major upcoming changes to shipping in both New York City and Buffalo and are seeking those who would like to discuss their experiences.”
“I see. You made it look like a political event. But your Aunt Anna is going to see that advertisement, and there will be hell to pay.”
“Oh, she doesn’t even take the Herald. No one she knows takes the Herald.”
“The local Republican Party men will hear about it—”
“And assume that it was something that came out of Washington. Are you going to just sit there and make objections?” She laughed lightly as I just shook my head. “Finish your coffee. We ought to get going.”
We drove to the Herald offices, and I was just glad that it was only to place an advertisement and not give an interview. We were directed to the advertising suite, which was really just a long room with a wooden counter that separated the public from the printing rooms. It was mostly messenger boys, and Alice was the only woman there, so we got a few looks.
We waited for our turn, and then a young clerk with a dirty shirt and stained hands looked at Alice’s copy.
“A political meeting, miss? Really?” He looked her up and down.
“Is there a law against women organizing political meetings?” asked Alice.
“None that I know of. But we have certain standards.”
“Junior, I know your paper, and you don’t have any standards that I or anyone else in this town knows of,” I said. “Now take the lady’s copy and her money. We’d like to be on our way.”
He looked like he was going to argue the point, then changed his mind. He quoted a price, Alice paid, and we were off.
Then we drove to the Stokely, where they treated Alice like royalty
, which she loved. It was a lot less elegant than the Wellman, but clean enough and a lot friendlier. When Alice made her name known at the front desk, we were quickly ushered into the manager’s office.
“It’s our great pleasure to serve the Roosevelt family,” he said. “How may we assist you?”
“We are having a small event. We’ll need a receiving area and an adjoining . . . interview room. For tomorrow evening. Is that possible?”
If the manager was surprised that the president’s daughter was doing this on her own, he kept his opinions to himself.
“Of course we can help. And because of your illustrious father, we’ll charge you half price.”
They shook on the deal, and we headed back to our motorcar.
“South Street, Mr. St. Clair.” I briefly wondered if she was nervous, but no. She looked like a kid expecting she’d get a pony on Christmas morning.
We drove down as far as we could. Police had set up barriers around the pier, and there was a reviewing stand.
“I’m sure we’d be welcome up there, but Father clearly doesn’t want me to show public support for the Van Schuylers.”
Well how about that, I thought. Alice was listening to her father. When it was important, she stood up and did the right thing. I had to remember that.
The event hadn’t drawn a large crowd. Maybe feeling under pressure, the family hadn’t publicized it. Some were clearly workingmen, and others looked like clerks from downtown firms who were curious enough to put up with the cold wind to see what was happening.
The whole family was on the reviewing stand, bundled up nicely. Henry van Schuyler and Shaw Brantley were dressed perfectly in top hats. Preston sat behind them, among other well-dressed men who I assumed were local politicians and Van Schuyler associates. Next to him sat Julia Brantley, looking pale and wrapped in elaborate furs.
We didn’t have long to wait. One of the black-coated men—some sort of alderman, I figured—stood and said a few words about what a great occasion it was: the launching of a new ship from a prominent family in New York City, “the greatest port in America.”
Then it was Van Schuyler’s turn. “We announce today the launching of the Sophronia, named after my late sister-in-law, mother to my nephew, Preston.” He turned to look briefly at Preston. I watched Preston but couldn’t tell what he was thinking from where we were. Alice’s face was interesting. She had a sly smile, then looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
“That’s very interesting,” she said. “Why that name? Was it to make Preston happy, naming it after his mother? Are they afraid of him?” She seemed to take some pride in that. Was it because Henry and Shaw were getting a poke in the eye? Or because Preston had stood up for himself?
Henry seemed to punctuate this by producing a bottle of champagne and handing it to Preston to break over the prow.
“Don’t women usually do that?” I asked.
“I don’t think Julia is up for that,” said Alice.
“Maybe Shaw was going to give the job to Elsie, and that’s why he was so upset we got her away.”
“Very amusing. Don’t make me sorry I brought you here.”
Preston did a fine job breaking the bottle. There was polite applause, and sailors lowered a gangplank for visitors. Clearly, only the gentlemen on the stand would be invited, so the crowd started to disperse. I’d seen a few reporters up front, but now they were leaving, too, so it would be safe for us to approach. Alice grabbed my arm, and we walked quickly just behind the stairway that led down from the stand, near the gangplank.
Alice peered from behind the stand until she caught Preston’s eye, and he waved us past a sailor standing guard and onto the ship.
It wasn’t very big, as ships go, but apparently it was just for local coastal shipping from the mouth of the Hudson. Still, there was enough room to spread out on the deck, and I saw an officer leading a tour for those on the reviewing stand, including Van Schuyler and Brantley. I didn’t think they’d seen us.
Without speaking, Preston ushered us into a small but well-fitted dining room. “This is the officer’s dining room. We should be fine here for a few moments. The captain and chief mate are the only deck officers on board right now. But Alice, I got the financial ledgers from last summer that you were looking for. We’ll have to compare them with the reports you have to see if there are any major discrepancies. They’re not with me but are locked in a safe deposit box at the club. It wasn’t easy, and I think Shaw may suspect, but I have them. I wanted to let you know as soon as possible.”
“Oh, Preston, that’s marvelous. I’m so proud of you.” As his reward, he got a hug from Alice and a kiss on his cheek.
“It wasn’t much,” he said modestly, milking it for all it was worth.
“Yes, it is. As soon as we match it with the information we’re going to get from our source, we’ll have your uncle.” She paused. “I’m sorry. I know he’s family, and this will damage the company. I realize this, but I admire you for doing it anyway.”
“I never wanted the company anyway, not really, and even after we’ve brought them down, I imagine there will still be enough money left for me to take a trip. And then . . . I’ll come back to New York. Or Washington, if you’re there.” And he looked into her eyes. I coughed. “Oh, ah, yes,” he said. “So how are you going to get the information?”
“We have a splendid plan. We took an advertisement in tomorrow’s paper saying we’re planning a shipping-related announcement of a political nature. I suspect we’ll meet with someone who is willing to give us what we want. There can’t be only one source.”
“That’s wonderful. Can I join you?”
Alice looked thoughtful but then shook her head. “I’m sorry, but as a Van Schuyler, you may be recognized, and it might scare some people off. But I’ll tell you right away, I promise.”
I was thinking it might be wise to leave before we got stuck in the dining room. It was enclosed, we weren’t around friends, and I was unhappy about protecting Alice in this space.
“Wasn’t it a risk bringing us here?” I asked. “Couldn’t we have just met you at the club?”
He grimaced. “I’m sorry, but I was afraid Shaw was having me watched there, and it would give it all away if Alice was seen visiting me at the club again. But if she is seen here, it’s just because she’s curious about ships and informally representing her father. But maybe—”
And at that point, Shaw Brantley walked in, and even under the beard, I could tell he was smiling like a tiger. Shaw’s eyes roamed over all of us, landing on Alice.
“Miss Roosevelt, I’m so glad you could make it. We were disappointed, of course, that your father was unable to attend due to other duties, as his private secretary said. But it seems you inherited his interest in naval events. You could’ve joined us more comfortably on the reviewing stand.”
“Thank you, but I’m here unofficially, not as a representative.” Shaw nodded at that.
“But that suits you nicely, doesn’t it? You like acting unofficially, Miss Roosevelt? I admit that there are many official duties and positions that are closed to women, but clever women find ways to be influential despite restrictions, and even at your young age, you’ve found many of them.”
Alice raised an eyebrow. “Thank you for your kind words. And I’d like to thank your family for inviting me onboard. It’s an impressive ship. I will give a glowing report to my father. It was kind of you to name it after Preston’s mother. Don’t you think, Preston?”
“It was my uncle’s idea, and I was very pleased,” said Preston, looking right at Shaw.
“Is there a ship named for Mrs. Brantley?” asked Alice.
“Yes, on Lake Erie,” said Shaw, his eyes narrowing as if he knew what was coming. I certainly knew. I wished she wouldn’t, but she enjoyed goading him, perhaps to find things out. Or just as an end it itself.
“How about Elsie de Maine? Is there one named after her?”
Christ, I thought. Was that really
necessary? I figured he’d lose his temper at that one, and I started thinking about the best way to get us off the ship. Preston shifted, and his eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. Shaw looked furious—but just for a second, before mastering himself.
“Miss Roosevelt, I’m going to give you some advice. You probably won’t take it, but I’ll give it to you anyway, for free. Why? You probably won’t believe it, but I admire you. Things aren’t always what they seem. Influence without wisdom can be dangerous, even self-destructive. Don’t you agree, Preston?”
Preston didn’t bother answering.
Shaw stepped out again. I gave him a few seconds and then looked outside myself before turning back. He may have put it into language that sounded like advice, but I heard threats. By now, he had no doubt heard what had happened to the man who was sent to threaten us in Yorkville, and he was no doubt thinking what to do next.
“Miss Alice, I think we ought to go.”
Alice turned to Preston, and in a voice a little too loud, she said, “Mr. St. Clair doesn’t like boats. He was raised in Wyoming, which, as you know, is landlocked.”
I gave her a sour look. “If we’re done with the narration, we’ll be going.”
“Dear Preston, we’ll find a suitable place to meet with your documents and mine. Keep yourself safe, and we’ll speak soon.” She gave him another kiss on his cheek. “Very well, Special Agent St. Clair, you can take me back to dry land.”
CHAPTER 26
“Is something bothering you?” asked Alice. We were back in the motorcar, heading uptown to the Caledonia.
“Why should anything be bothering me?” I said.
Alice gave me a quizzical look. “You just seemed a little odd. Is this about Preston? I still don’t understand why you dislike him so much. He came through for us.”
“I guess he did. So far we have a lot of nothing. We have the ledgers Preston has—stuck in the University Club. And the matching reports are still with Compton. Also, we can’t be sure we’ll find someone else to give us any reports.”