Innocence Lost

by Sherilyn Decter

  “What kind of project?” Tommy leans over the map, curious.

  “She’s taking photographs.” Playing up her role, Maggie puts down her pencil with an exaggerated sigh. “Here, I’ll show you.” She opens one of the books to a section of photographs of the warehouse district along the river. “See here, these photographs are of Philadelphia. Some of the buildings are from the Revolutionary War and Ben Franklin’s time. And some just look like interesting places.”

  Tommy looks at the pictures in the book. “But what’s the map for?”

  “Well, she wants to take pictures of warehouses. Not ones being used a lot, ones that are kind of empty. So I’m looking at the map and marking the ones that she might want to check out.”

  Maggie leans over and frowns, then makes another X.

  “Oh, that one is too busy, Mother. The ones down by the markets are used all the time.”

  “Oh? Well, right you are. I remember that now. Which ones would you think would work better? For my friend.”

  Tommy climbs on the dining room chair so he can lean closely over the map. “I’d tell her to go here,” Maggie makes a blue X, “and here”, and another X, “and here.” Tommy looks over his shoulder at her and smiles, delighted to be helping.

  Frank has also wandered over and peers at the map. “What are you doing, Maggie?”

  “That’s wonderful, Tommy. I never would have thought of those. Just excellent. She’ll be so pleased. Do you know any bootlegger warehouses? Maybe she’d like to take pictures of those, too.”

  Tommy leans over the map. “Try this one, and that one there,” he says, pointing to the locations. “And maybe that one.”

  “Really?”

  Tommy catches himself. “My friends say that’s where they are.”

  Maggie looks at the Inspector and winks over Tommy’s head. Frank’s eyes widen. “Excellent idea, Maggie. Ask Tommy why there are no exes further along the river.”

  Maggie pauses, considering the top of Tommy’s head as he looks over the map. “Tommy, how much money do you have in your pocket right now?”

  Puzzled, Tommy reaches in and pulls out some string, a dog-eared baseball card, and five cents. “A nickel, Mother.”

  “And how much is in your tobacco tin upstairs?”

  Tommy thinks, head tipped to one side. “I think there might be more than a dollar. Want me to check?”

  “No that’s all right. Say, if you wanted to go somewhere further along the river, maybe out near the stockyards or maybe even Hog Island, how would you get there?”

  “By myself?”

  “Well, you and your friends.”

  “We’d walk, I guess. I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”

  “But it would take hours. Why not take a trolley?”

  Tommy laughed at his mother’s joke. “We don’t have money for trolley rides. If I had that kind of money, I’d be buying candy at the store.”

  “Well, I have a treat for you.” Maggie walks over to her desk and opens the top drawer, pulling out the copy of Boys Own she’d bought earlier.

  “Oh, wow. This is the new one. Thanks, Mother.”

  “And thanks for your help here, Tommy. Now, why don’t you head upstairs and get ready for bed. You can read until I come to tuck you in.”

  Tommy needs no further coaxing, but rushes up the stairs to his room, clutching the prized magazine.

  “That was an interesting exercise, Maggie.”

  Maggie smiles a self-satisfied smile. “Yes, that went better than I thought.”

  “But why the subterfuge? Why not just ask Tommy?”

  “Oh, Inspector. Little boys never tell their mothers anything directly. If I’d asked, he would have clammed up.”

  “Interesting. I must admit, my interrogation skills on children are somewhat rusty. So, what’s the point of all this?” Frank asks, gesturing to the map on the table.

  “I got thinking today that we’ve been approaching this the wrong way. We’re trying to think like a criminal, an adult. Maybe we should be thinking about it like a little boy?”

  Frank nods, his forehead creased in concentration. “Yes, I see what you mean.”

  “Exactly. Where would Oskar go? To know that, you need to think like a seven-year-old. Fortunately, I have one of those right here.”

  “So, we should look at the warehouses where the blue Xs are?”

  “The boys are told not to play there, that it’s dangerous. So naturally, that’s where they’ll play. Tommy has told us where the likely ones are in the area. The lure of the bootleggers’ operations are a magnet for small boys.”

  “And the money in his pocket? What was that about?”

  “The boys all play together, but have to be home for supper. So the distance they could go would be limited. I needed to know how likely it would be for them to jump on a trolley and travel further. I’m glad to hear that Tommy isn’t doing that. And a smaller search radius will make our work easier.”

  Frank beams at Maggie. “Listen to you. Search radius. Well done, my dear. I like your reasoning. You have the makings of a fine detective. We’ll start searching the warehouse areas on Sunday, when there’s less likely to be workers about. I recognize a couple of them myself.”

  Chapter 24

  A t dinner, Maggie thinks about warehouses while Joe regales everyone with tales of the new ‘Soup and Fish Squad’ set up within the Enforcement Unit. “A bunch of the lads, all dressed in tux and tails, sit in swank restaurants and try and get the waiters to serve them drinks, all on the Department’s tab. And some of the guys take their girlfriends or wives along.”

  “Are you going to sign up, Constable Kelly?” Tommy asks between mouthfuls.

  Maggie shoots her son a disapproving look. He chews, swallows, and then grins at her. I’m never going to be able to teach that boy table manners.

  “I don’t think so, Tommy,” says Joe. “Me manners aren't near as fine as they need to be, and I don't have one of them penguin suits to wear, either. Although I know that Fanny would love to go. It might be the only chance I get to take her someplace swell like that. Maybe I should borrow a tux and join up for the night?”

  Everyone is laughing as Joe mimics the over-the-top table manners he would use in a fancy restaurant, when there is a pounding at the back door. Maggie hurries from the room, and opens the door to her next door neighbor, Clara Fitzgerald. Clara is sobbing, and clutches at Maggie. “Oh Lord, it’s awful. They’ve found poor Oskar. He’s dead.”

  Maggie puts her fist to her mouth to hold in her own startled sob. “Clara, no. Where? What happened? Come in, come in. Oh, poor, poor Alicja.”

  Maggie settles Clara at the kitchen table. Coffee is poured in seconds. “Just a moment, Clara, I’ll be right back.”

  Though she intends to tell everyone to keep eating, emotions get the best of her; she blurts out who the visitor is and Clara’s news. The men follow her into the kitchen with Tommy trailing behind. Joe kneels before Clara and takes her hand gently. “I am so very sorry to hear about Oskar, Mrs. Fitzgerald. Can you tell us what you know?”

  Slowly, the story comes out. Oskar’s body has been found floating in the Delaware River, near the construction of the new bridge. It appeared he had floated quite a ways downriver, eventually getting tangled in debris around the footings they were pouring for the new bridge. Even though the body was badly decomposed from a month in the water, the police could see that he had been shot.

  At that news, Maggie looks at Tommy’s white face. She goes to her son, gives him a powerful hug and leads him from the room. She catches Archie’s eye on the way out of the kitchen. “Why don’t you go and wait with Mr. Mansfield? As soon as we learn more, I’ll come and tell you.”

  Maggie turns to Joe and Eugene. “I don’t think that Clara has any more information. Why don’t you two go back into the dining room and finish your supper? And Joe, could you make sure that Tommy is all right? I don’t want to leave Clara, and this news has shaken him
badly.”

  “You bet, Mrs. Barnes… Maggie. But as soon as I’ve checked on Tommy, I think I’ll head down to the precinct to see if they know anything.” Joe pulls his coat off the hook by the door.

  Eugene is also reaching for his own coat. “I think I’ll head out as well, Mrs. Barnes. I’ll be back in a bit,” he says.

  Maggie hugs her neighbor, then sits beside her at the table. “Poor Oskar. Clara, this is just terrible.”

  * * * *

  Later that night, Maggie looks in on Tommy to tuck him in for the night. His small face is the color of the pillow case, and his eyes are red from crying. She scoops him into her arms. “Oh Tommy, I’m so sorry about your friend. Oskar was a good lad. I know that the two of you were close, sweetheart, and you’ll miss him.”

  “Oh, Mother,” Tommy wails into her shoulder. “How’d it happen? When did it happen? Who would shoot Oskar? He’s just a kid like me.” Tommy shudders against his mother. “Poor guy. Floating down the river. He can’t even swim.”

  “Look, son.” Maggie holds Tommy by the shoulders. “There are evil people in the world. Oskar was obviously in the wrong place at the wrong time. You need to be safe, Tommy. I don’t want whatever happened to Oskar to happen to you.”

  Tommy starts crying again, and Maggie holds him tight. “They better catch who did this. They should pay for hurting Oskar,” he says, choking on his tears.

  “I hope so, Tommy. I know Constable Kelly will work very hard to find out who did this, and then arrest them. But Philadelphia is a strange place these days, sweetheart. Not all the bad men get caught and go to jail.”

  Tommy snuggles under the covers, in close to Maggie where he feels safe. She strokes his hair.

  “What are you thinking, Tommy?” Maggie asks quietly.

  “I think he was still okay the night he didn’t come home. I think he got hurt after.”

  “After what?” Maggie asks. She’s puzzled by what Tommy has said but lets it lie. He’s upset and not making much sense. It’s too much for a small boy to take in. Heck, too much for her to take in. She keeps stroking his hair.

  “It’s like he’s still here, Mother. I keep trying to think about him being dead, but it’s like he’s just away.”

  Maggie kisses the top of his head. “I think I know how you feel, Tommy. When your father died, I kept listening for him to come through the front door. Or I’d forget that he wasn’t just at work, and go ahead and set the table for all three of us.”

  Maggie keeps her arm around Tommy. She rests her cheek against his hair, breathing in the smell of him. “Saying goodbye is hard, Tommy. Especially when we don’t know what happened, or understand why.”

  “Oh, Ma.” whispers Tommy. “Why would somebody hurt Oskar? He never did nothing wrong.”

  Nothing wrong. Wrong time and wrong place.

  “We don’t know yet, but we will. And when we do, it will be easier to say goodbye. If you want, you can come with me to his funeral. There will be lots of your friends and his family there as well. It might help to be with them. What do you think of that idea?”

  “Would I have to see him put in the ground?” Tommy asks quietly.

  “No sweetheart. We don’t have to see that.” Maggie kisses the top of his head.

  “Although it’s hard right now to see beyond how sad you feel, Tommy, you have wonderful memories of all your times with Oskar. Those will help get you through tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.”

  Wrong time and wrong place.

  She shifts a bit so that she can look him in the eye again. “Right now we must focus on Oskar’s mother and his family. His brothers and sisters will be grieving. We can let Constable Kelly look after finding the bad men, and making sure they can’t hurt anyone else.”

  Maggie waits until Tommy has drifted off. Then she heads downstairs to her desk and picks up her journal, her fingers clenched around its cover. “Inspector Geyer… Frank, are you there? Have you heard?”

  Frank answers from behind, “Yes, it’s a terrible thing.”

  Maggie whirls on him, eyes blazing, and hisses, “I’ll tell you what’s a terrible thing, Inspector Frank Geyer; that we’ve been wasting all our time looking at hotels and rental properties when Oskar had already been shot. We were looking in the wrong place. We didn’t start thinking about warehouses soon enough. I told you it had to be bootleggers, Inspector. They did this evil thing. It wasn’t just Oskar in the wrong time and place. So were we. We were in the wrong place, Inspector.”

  “I know Maggie, I know,” says Frank. “Since I heard, I’ve been thinking of nothing else: what I could have done differently, clues that I missed. I’m ashamed to admit that I was probably at Mickey’s warehouse the night that Oskar disappeared.”

  Maggie looks at him, stunned.

  “There was a raid. Bullets were flying. I saw three boys there, but that wasn’t unheard of. It was dark and I didn’t really look at them closely. They were with a policeman. I was watching the bootleggers and Philadelphia’s finest battle it out.”

  Maggie gasps. “Oh no, Frank.”

  “When I heard that a young boy had gone missing, I didn’t put two and two together. Me, the supposedly trained police inspector. I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts, I guess. It has only just occurred to me that young Oskar could have been one of those boys.”

  "You left them there? In the middle of a gun fight? What were you thinking?” Maggie says, raging.

  “Maggie, no one hears me or sees me, except you. And there was a policeman there with them when I left.”

  Frank hangs his head, his shoulders bowed with guilt.

  “Well, it should have occurred to you. It’s a good thing that Tommy wasn’t there that night.”

  Maggie is furious: at Frank, at the police, at the bootleggers, at a random criminal if it wasn’t the bootleggers, and at herself. A friend of her son, a young innocent boy, has died horribly, and she has been spending valuable time traipsing around to hotels playing at being a detective. She slams her journal on the desk.

  "Maggie," Frank speaks softly, slowly sitting down in a chair close by. "Maggie, I am so sorry. I am an old man. I have not been a policeman for a very long time. You are right, this is my fault. If I hadn't been so obstinate, I would have been listening more to what Joe Kelly was saying. I let my ego lead me into thinking I was the better policeman. I shouldn’t have been blind to what others were saying about the bootleggers. It probably was them. You’re right, this isn’t the city I lived in. I know that now. “

  Maggie sits silently, hearing Frank’s remorse, thinking her own dark thoughts.

  “I’m an old fossil, Maggie. And a young boy died because of it.”

  Maggie looks at him, a defeated old gentleman, sitting slumped in the chair. A gentle man. She takes a deep breath and raises her chin. “So, what are we going to do now? Let the police stumble through a sham of an investigation?”

  He lifts his head.

  “And even if they manage to find out who did this, crooked lawyers and a crooked judge will make sure that the guilty get off. I had to tell my son tonight that there is no justice in Philadelphia. Little boys can be killed and dumped into the river, and nobody will do anything. Nobody cares.”

  Frank shakes his head. “Well, I care,” Frank says, forcefully. “And so do you.”

  “And if we do nothing? What does that get us, Inspector? Except for a guilty conscience and lost hope?”

  “I’ll tell you what it gets. It gets us looking in a different direction, maybe this time the right direction. We know where we need to start over.” Frank leans forward and clasps his hands together. “Maggie, together we can find out who did this to Oskar. And we can make sure that Constable Kelly brings them to justice. We must have faith, Maggie. We must make it right.”

  “You say faith, Inspector. Well, I need to have faith that the police, for once, will do their job. I have to have faith in the rule of law. I have to have faith in justice. I'm no vigilante, takin
g the law into my own hands.”

  “All right, but if not us, then who?” Frank says. “This is our city. It could have been your son, young Tommy, in harm’s way. You mustn't surrender and let evil triumph.” He grabs the arms of the chair. “I guess I AM asking you to be a vigilante. I want to take justice out of the greedy, corrupt hands of judges, lawyers, and police, and put it into your hands, Maggie. A mother's hands.”

  His grip continues, and his stare is penetrating. “It's a matter of faith,” Frank says. " ‘We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed.’ ”