Innocence Lost

by Sherilyn Decter

  “I’m hoping I’m not intruding, Mrs. Barnes. May I join you?” Joe asks. Without waiting for an invitation, he plants himself on the couch across from Peggy. “So you’re a fan of Wendell Hall and the Eveready Hour? Me mam loves that program.” Joe nods in the direction of the radio.

  “Um, yes, it's a favorite of mine, too. I try and listen to it every night.” She looks over at Frank sitting in the chair beside her. He's staring fixedly at Joe. “May I help you, Constable? Is there something you need?”

  “Everything is fine, Ma’am. I was just checking to see if there was anything you need. I know that there have been lots of changes: new lodgers, the neighborhood upset, you're helping out at the Leszeks’, and before, with the search parties and all. Tommy and I were just heading into the kitchen for a late snack and we couldn’t help overhearing you talking to yourself. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

  Peggy glances nervously around the room. She spies one of Tommy's school scribblers on the edge of the desk. “Oh, that. I was just getting ready to write in my journal.” Getting up, she goes and sits in front of the desk. “I like to sit here every night and record my thoughts. I must have been composing aloud. Ha-ha, silly me.”

  “Ah, I see,” says Joe.

  “Mr. Smith’s comments about being interested in solving crime got me thinking about writing a mystery like the Sherlock Holmes kind. What do you think of that idea, Constable? Do you think that I could solve a mystery?” she asks.

  Peggy doesn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed when Frank chuckles.

  “Mysteries and crime are such unpleasant topics for a woman, Ma’am. Why don’t you write a good romance? Now, me sister loves to read those serials when they come out in the ladies’ magazines.”

  “Perhaps you’re right, Constable.” Peggy turns back to the desk. “Although I do like a good mystery. Maybe you could give me a few pointers? For my novel?” Peggy says, taking a bit of smug satisfaction from Frank’s glower.

  Joe smiles. “I’m flattered, Mrs. Barnes. I’m just new to policing.”

  “Harrumpf. You can say that again,” Frank says.

  “But I’ll help if I can. What were you wanting to know?” Joe asks.

  “Oh, maybe how the police would gather evidence, maybe look for clues? How do you solve a crime, Constable?”

  Frank stands and starts pacing, his hands behind his back.

  “That’s quite complicated, Mrs. Barnes, but I’ll do the best I can.”

  Joe goes on for some time about modern police methods. Frank punctuates Joe’s points with eye rolls and sarcastic comments. Peggy jots notes in Tommy’s scribbler.

  “Thank you, Constable. This has all been quite fascinating.” Peggy waves the small notebook in the air. “Now, I must get back to my book. The muse calls.”

  “Of course, good night then,” Joe says.

  “Really, Inspector.” Peggy says, indulging in a bit of eye rolling herself. “The young man has enthusiasm. You can’t fault that.”

  Chapter 17

  P eggy is grimy and frustrated from more fruitless trudging. When she had first started out, after the first-day jitters, it was exciting and challenging, a real adventure. She loved investigating at all the hotels and train stations; grilling the staff. She felt like she was doing something important to bring Oskar home.

  Two long weeks of hitting the streets of Philadelphia has worn away the shine. We’re doing the same thing every day. Learning nothing new, accomplishing nothing. This is just a waste of time, running in circles. I should think of a new approach. And while I’m at it, I should be home doing laundry. Tommy won’t have a clean shirt tomorrow for school. And him having his lunch alone at the kitchen table three days in a row this week; what would Mother say?

  Yesterday’s visits with the real estate agents had been unproductive. Most were disappointed when her interest turned out to be tracking her missing son rather than renting property. One had even offered to come by and do an appraisal on her house.

  Today, Peggy is back bothering hotel clerks. Frank has disappeared, off to follow another line of inquiry. It is the first time she’s alone. She misses his company and advice. She’s also a bit nervous on her own, especially travelling between spring Garden and Vine—the Tenderloin; silly, given the Inspector is a ghost that no one can see, and who couldn't help her anyway.

  Peggy’s seeing bootlegging activity everywhere. How had she missed it before? The ladies with their heavy coats weighted by bottles sewn into the lining. The doormen outside the hotels seem to have a steady flow of out-of-towners looking to buy liquor. And perhaps the most distressing evidence is the display of public drunkenness, even during the day. Peggy can’t remember seeing men staggering down the street before Prohibition. While she admits that she didn’t get out much then, she knows her mother would have mentioned it if it had been a real problem. Perhaps there’s something to be said for quality control. All this homemade hooch and moonshine sometimes carries more of a kick than intended.

  A hair tonic advertisement in a barbershop window reminds Peggy that she needs to take Tommy to Tony’s after school. While she does the trims at home, she takes him to a real barber every few months.

  Peggy’s aching feet and empty stomach remind her that she should head home soon. It’s been another long day. One more hotel and then a quick stop at the grocer. Going to Howard’s is a much more pleasant experience, now that her account is up to date. She is aware he still seems to be carrying a torch for her, despite her numerous dismissals of his advances. His tomatoes aren’t the only thing fresh in that store.

  Peggy approaches the Merchants’ Hotel. It could be one of any number of seedy joints along

  Callowhill or Vine, an area popular with swindlers, scoundrels, and gamblers. Not the place for a

  gal on her own, not looking for a good time.

  Merchants’ has a look of neglect: windows that need washing, a front door crying out for paint, a torn awning. It looks as tired and run down as Peggy feels right now.

  It takes a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the dark lobby and her nose to get used to the smell of stale beer, spoiled food, and cigarette smoke. A couple of men lean against the counter, their hands wrapped around heavy pottery mugs. Peggy sniffs disapprovingly. Idle at this time of day, and I bet that it’s not tea in those mugs. Say, did I go through the wrong door and wind up in the saloon instead of the hotel? As she turns to make a hasty retreat, she is grabbed from behind.

  “Whoa, there sweetheart. Don't run off so fast. Stay and have a drink with us.” It’s a raspy voice. Too close. Wet breath in her ear. Stubbly whiskers scratching her cheek. His arms wrap her tightly. Peggy struggles to free herself.

  “Hey! Let go of me.” Peggy tugs at the arms, looking around for help.

  “Oh, aren’t you the feisty one. Come ‘ere, sweetie, and give old Bill a kiss.” The boozy-smelling man tightens his arms around her waist and puckers up, lips smacking, spittle flying.

  “Get your hands off me. Let go of me, now.” Twisting and turning, trying to evade the groping hands, she spies a man standing behind the counter, polishing a glass. He’s watching it all with an amused grin. “Hey mister, how about a little help here?” she says loudly.

  “Oh, I don’t think Bill needs any help. He seems to be managing all right on his own.” His comment brings guffaws from the other men at the counter. Peggy tries to push the boozy man away, but he’s all hands.

  A short man appears at her side. “Come on now Bill, let go of the lady. This dame’s got way too much class for the likes of you.”

  Bill looks blearily at the new participant in the drama. “Oh, Mickey. Sorry, Mr. Duffy. I didn’t see you. Yes, sir. Sorry, ma’am.” Letting her go, Bill slinks back to the counter and his stool.

  “This dump’s no place for you, doll. Let’s get you back outside,” says her rescuer.

  “Thank you, sir.” Oh gosh, it’s Mickey Duffy.

  Mickey reaches for he
r elbow to steady her as she stumbles. “A bit of fresh air is what you need.”

  Out on the street, Mickey holds her by the shoulders, peering closely into her face. “Are you sure you’re all right, doll? You look white as a sheet. You want me to find somebody to take you home?”

  Peggy stands there, shaken. She’s relieved when she sees a uniformed policeman on the beat. The officer tips his hat. “Afternoon, Mr. Duffy. Ma’am,” and saunters on by. Now Peggy is doubly shocked. She shakes her head, trying to regain her composure. She isn’t sure which rattles her more: the scene in the hotel, the policeman so deferential to a bootlegger, or standing on the sidewalk with the notorious Mickey Duffy.

  “Thank you, but I can manage, Mr. Duffy.” Peggy adjusts her hat, tugs at her gloves.

  “Well, if you’re sure you’re okay, I’ll scram. I have business in that joint,” he says, indicating the Merchants’ Hotel with his thumb. Mickey tips his hat and disappears inside.

  Peggy hurries home, away from the perils of amateur detective work. She aches for the safety of her house and family. The Inspector is not going to believe this.

  Chapter 18

  P eggy taps the end of her pencil against her teeth. She’s been working on her ‘Things-to-Do’ list that might help with Oskar’s disappearance. Interviewing Oskar’s friends is at the top of the list, but for the life of her she can’t figure out how she’ll manage it. The boys may recognize her as Tommy’s mother. And even if they don’t, they’ll know she’s someone’s mother. And mothers rarely get easy answers out of little boys. What she needs is a man the boys wouldn’t recognize. But who?

  Peggy has been pacing for the better part of an hour. Waiting. As soon as Archie Mansfield comes in, she pounces. “Mr. Mansfield, I have a bizarre favor to ask you.”

  Archie flinches in surprise. “Mrs. Barnes? Whatever is the matter?”

  Peggy takes his arm and leads him into the living room, settling him on the couch. She looks around, and is relieved to see that she is alone.

  “Mr. Mansfield. I would like to tap into some of your expertise with school-age boys.”

  “Oh, are you having problems with Tommy? I was going to mention that I could be an ear…”

  Peggy waves that away. “No, Tommy is fine. What I was wondering if you’d help me with an inquiry I’d like to make.”

  Archie leans forward. A natural gossip, he’s intrigued. “Really. An inquiry? That sounds official. What would you need me to do?”

  “As you know, Tommy is upset about the disappearance of his friend Oskar Leszek. As you’ve pointed out, on several occasions, the police did a terrible job trying to find him. There’s a whole list of things they should have done, but didn’t, including they never interviewed any of Oskar Leszek’s friends. It’s a travesty. Those friends might know something about his disappearance. It just seemed to me that they should be questioned, and if the police aren’t interested, perhaps we could do it. They’d never open up to me because I’m Tommy’s mother, but I bet they’d talk to you. You have such a good way with children, given you’re a teacher.” She finishes in a rush. What had seemed like a perfectly reasonable approach now seems like a crazy, harebrained idea.

  Archie preens at the compliment. “I am a very popular teacher at school. So, a bit of amateur sleuthing, eh? I’ve always fancied myself a bit of a detective. Read all of Doyle, you know.”

  Maggie resists rolling her eyes. This idea better work. I have a feeling I’ll never hear the end of it, from either the Inspector or Archie.

  “Or maybe it’s not a good idea after all. I know how frustrated you are with Constable Kelly’s inaction on this case, but now that I think on it further, maybe we shouldn’t do it. It could upset him, having you uncover a piece of information rather than the police.”

  Archie chuckles. “You’re right, that would tweak his nose, wouldn’t it? No, I think it’s important to follow through, Mrs. Barnes. Of course, I’d be willing to help. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

  “Well, they have a drama department at Boys’ Central, right?”

  * * * *

  Peggy laughs when she sees Archie the next day. He’s changed out of his usual suit and tie and is wearing an old sweater and pair of dungarees. He’s glued a mustache under his nose, and added whiskers on his chin. He’s carrying an old sea captain’s greatcoat and hat, borrowed from the school’s wardrobe department.

  “Oh, excellent.” Peggy claps her hands.

  “Not bad for a math teacher, if I do say so myself. Have I told you I was in the major production of my college? I got great reviews. The idea for the disguise started with the moustache and kind of went from there. I thought about a peg-leg but couldn’t quite figure out how to do it. You don’t think it’s too much, do you?” Archie says, peering into the mirror.

  “Oh no, it’s perfect.”

  “So, you say that Jimmy and some other boys will be at their school?” Archie asks, pulling on the great coat.

  “Yes. At their school grounds. They have baseball practice this afternoon. I’ve told Tommy he has to come straight home. Your disguise is excellent, but I don’t know whether it will fool him. Up close, I mean.”

  “True. True. He’d probably recognize my voice. I’ll wait for him to head home and then I’ll go have a chat with his friends. And I’m asking them about the night that Oskar disappeared, right?”

  “Yes. We’re trying to establish a timeline.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Just follow their lead. Take note if something sounds useful.”

  Archie settles the hat. “All right then. I’m off.”

  “Oh, and Archie? Mum’s the word, especially to Constable Kelly. Let’s just keep this between ourselves until we know more. Okay?”

  Archie pantomimes zipping his mouth and locking it. He winks and heads out the door.

  * * * *

  Captain Archie loiters beside the fence, watching the school baseball team break up. Along the way, he’d spied a prop; a scruffy lab. A piece of rope attached to the mutt completes the look. The confused, but obedient dog sits by Archie.

  Archie spots Tommy talking with a few other boys. Tommy slaps one on the back and then heads home. The other boys break open a bag of marbles and start a game.

  Archie and the dog saunter past the schoolyard. He whistles a tune, hoping it’s a sea shanty. As he closes in on the boys, he releases the rope. The dog looks at him, then bolts toward the boys.

  “Rex! Rex, you bad dog. Come here.” Archie lunges after the dog, who has burst in on the marble game.

  “Hey! Watch it.”

  “Grab him,” Archie shouts.

  A boy grabs the rope and waits for Archie. “Here’s your dog, sir,” A blonde boy of about eight hands the rope to the sea captain.

  “Thanks, young fella. Rex, you are a bad dog.” Archie sits on the ground. “Say, that dash tuckered me out.”

  The boys look at each other and at the odd sea captain who has just plopped down beside them.

  “You okay, Mister?” asked one of the boys, his hands buried deeply in the ruff of ‘Rex’. Rex’s tail thumps.

  “Oh sure. Just need to catch my breath. Rex and I will just sit a spell, if that’s okay with you. You youngsters go on with your game.”

  The circle of boys look at one another. “Okay, but we’re not gonna be here long.” The cautious comment delivered in a nervous tone came from a taller boy.

  “Yeah, cuz you were winning all the marbles. I want a chance to get some back,” says a large boy.

  The smaller boy shrugs, and the game resumes.

  “I’m surprised you kids are out here at all. I would have thought your mamas would be telling you to come straight home. What with that young boy that went missing. Oskar something? Sad. Sad.” Archie shakes his head. “Do you know him?”

  “Yeah, we know Oskar.”

  “I heard he ran off and joined the circus. That true?”

  “Naw,” scoffs one of the boys. �
��Ain’t no circus in town. That’s just some story the police made up.”

  “So, what really happened then? He jump a train?”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know. Just something else I heard.”

  “Well, my Pa says that he’s probably running with one of the bootlegger gangs. His brother is part of one, you know.”

  Another boy cuts in. “That’s crazy. Tommy says that he went over to Oskar’s house and Oskar’s brother didn’t know where he was.”

  “Maybe he was playing by the river and fell in?” Archie asks, an innocent look on his face.