Innocence Lost

by Sherilyn Decter

  Maggie lets the words hang in the air. She manages a smile. “Are those more of your wise words from General Bonaparte?”

  “No, Maggie. A much higher authority than even Napoleon. Its 2 Corinthians 4:8-9. We can’t give up, Maggie, we have to have faith,” Frank says gently.

  “I don’t know Inspector. Maybe the best way for me to keep Tommy safe is to move home and live with my parents.”

  “That sounds like Peggy. Worse, it sounds like Margaret. Come on, Maggie. Maggie would never give in to the rule of gangsters. Too many people have just been sitting back, waiting for Prohibition to be repealed. They're waiting for other people to make their homes and neighborhoods safe again.”

  “You’re asking me to go chasing after men so evil that they shoot innocent children? You’re saying that you and I, a ghost and a woman, can do what Colonel Butler and the rest of the Philadelphia police have been unable or unwilling to do?”

  “Sometimes it’s not the size of the choir that matters. ‘Ten people who speak make more noise than ten thousand who are silent.' ”

  “Now, that must be your Napoleon. And that's exactly what I'm afraid of. To be a noisy person. Fate has a way of shutting noisy people up. And when I say fate, I mean Mickey Duffy and his ilk, the corrupt police, and all the forces of greed and self-interest that would be organized against us. We are a weak team, Inspector: a woman and a ghost. Not exactly the thing that would strike fear into our enemies’ hearts.”

  Maggie looks at Frank, and then at the floor. She too feels remorse for her part of their investigation. She wants to make things right, for her own sake as well as Oskar’s. And for Tommy, especially Tommy. It is a hard decision she must make. There will be no turning back once the journey has started.

  Maggie imagines Alicja’s grief. She feels Tommy’s helplessness and confusion. She feels the Inspector’s guilt.

  “You’re asking a lot, Inspector. Let me sleep on this. My first responsibility is to Tommy. I’m afraid. I can’t risk losing him, or him losing me. But one thing I’m sure of: you didn’t cause Oskar’s death. You didn’t. Those children couldn’t see or hear you. Please don’t blame yourself. Wrong place, wrong time.”

  Chapter 25

  M aggie checks on Tommy several times during the night. She has no idea what time Eugene comes in, nor Joe, even though she has been awake much of the time.

  After breakfast, she corners Joe in the hallway by the front door before he leaves for the police station. She glances toward the kitchen, where Tommy is eating his breakfast and speaks softly. “What have you heard, Joe? What did you learn last night? Is there any news about what happened to Oskar?”

  “It’s not for me to say, Maggie,” Joe whispers. “If anyone saw anything, they’re not telling us. There are a lot of warehouses upstream from where they found him. Many of them are used by bootleggers like Boo-Boo Hoff, the Lanzettas, Mickey Duffy. It could have been any one of them that shot the boy. More likely bootleggers than some random criminal looking to kill a kid.”

  Maggie flinches at the harsh tone. She’s not the only one upset. “What would Oskar be doing at a bootlegger's warehouse? When you said he'd been shot, I was thinking he was out on a street somewhere, another innocent bystander caught in the crossfire, shot by accident.”

  “That may be true, but most bodies don’t end up in the river when that happens. We’ll keep looking. But there’s also a good chance he was with the bootleggers. His older brother works for Duffy. Oskar was too young to be part of the crew, but he may have been at the warehouse. There are always young boys hanging around, hoping for a bit of work, fascinated by the glamour and excitement of the life. If Oskar had been hanging around, he may have been involved in something. You know, in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Joe places his hand on Maggie’s shoulder. “We’re doing the best we can to find out who did this. What you want to do is talk to Tommy about how dangerous those warehouses are, and both of you stay away from bootleggers.”

  Tommy is still eating his oatmeal. Maggie takes a pie out of the oven that she has baked for the Leszek family.

  “You look half asleep, Tommy,” she says.

  “I’m still tired. Something kept waking me up last night.”

  “Did you have bad dreams? That’s understandable with everything that happened yesterday.”

  “No, it wasn’t dreams. It was like it was windy in my room. Or something like that. But my window was closed, and the curtains weren’t moving.” Tommy shrugs and continues to eat his breakfast. He yawns. “Weird, huh?”

  Maggie studies her son. Tommy’s a sweet boy. This is hard on him, harder than I thought. Maybe I’ll ask Joe to have a quiet chat with him. Maybe he needs a man to talk to?

  “Are you sure you want to go to school this morning? I can let them know you’re not up to it, if you like.”

  Tommy shrugs. “Jimmy will be there. And some of the other guys.”

  “Well, if you’re sure. It will help to be with your friends.” She pats his arm. “Finish your breakfast, son. If you’re going, it’s best not to be late.”

  Maggie sees him to the door, then spies an envelope on the hallway floor. She picks it up and kisses Tommy goodbye.

  Once he’s out the door, she checks the envelope and rolls her eyes. From Mother. A card? Condolences already? Inside, a kitten in a basket offers birthday greetings. My birthday. Between the investigation, Oskar’s death, worry over Tommy, I’ve completely forgotten. I don’t think there’ll be much celebrating this year. She carries it upstairs, setting it on her bedside table. Another year older. But not wiser, that’s for sure. Next year, I’ll celebrate. Today I’ll just put an extra spoonful of sugar in my coffee.

  Not long after Tommy leaves for school, Maggie’s finds herself in Alicja’s kitchen. The sorrow in the room is overwhelming. She adds her pie to the rows of casseroles and baking that are accumulating on the counter.

  The kitchen is full of women, and Maggie is surprised she knows most of them. The women she has been working with for the past weeks are as devastated as she is. Together, they had stood shoulder to shoulder; making sandwiches for the searchers, making meals for Alicja and her family while they waited for news. Where once they had been united in hope, they are now united in grief.

  They are all fearing the worst; that the violence that is commonplace in Philadelphia will now somehow find a path to their door. The compassion they feel for Alicja and her loss is mixed with personal anxiety for the safety of their own sons, husbands, and brothers.

  Alicja is upstairs, resting. Oskar's brothers have gone to the mortuary to collect the body and deliver it to the church. There will be a funeral service on Saturday. Oskar's father is still in prison and will not be there. The women in the kitchen say that he went wild when he heard, believing it to be related to bootleggers, and calling out for revenge.

  “Do you think that one of the bootlegger gangs did it? Could it have involved Mickey Duffy?” Maggie quietly asks Clara. They two of them are standing in the corner by the counter, unpacking yet another box of food. “Or someone who has it in for him?”

  “Shh, don’t be saying that. Half the families in this room, including Alicja’s own, have boys and men working for Mickey. There will be trouble, no doubt about it. Mickey’s men will go after Boo-Boo. That’s who my Bert says is to blame. They’ve been at each other’s throats over territory for the past month or so. Since Christmas. That’s when Butler shut down all the speaks and blind pigs. The police are useless, but our men—Mickey’s men—will hunt down the bastard that did this and make it right.”

  Berta, another neighbor, drifts over and chimes in. “There be more guns and there be more trouble. And at end of the day, more men be killed. More families crying. Is that how you think to solve this?” Berta shakes her head sadly. “You crazy if you think revenge is answer. What about your boy, Mrs. Barnes? More shooting keep him safe? What about your own man, Clara. What you do if he die?”

  �
�We can run and hide, Berta, or we can stand up,” Maggie says through gritted teeth. She knows what Jack would do.

  Berta shakes her head and scowls at Maggie. “That’s easy for you to say. You not know. You not part of this. You sit in nice, safe kitchen, away from guns, late nights, and booze. You no worry if there knock at door, or lie awake wait for husband to get home. Hope he does get home. This not your life.”

  Maggie is taken aback by Berta’s intensity. “But it is my life, Berta. That worry was my life once before when Jack was alive, and it could easily be my son’s life now. It’s already claimed his friend. It’s happening just outside my front door and, like you, I hope to heaven that it doesn’t cross the threshold. But it could.”

  Maggie turns to Clara, who has been standing silently beside her. “Tony and his wife, at the barbershop, got hurt. Tommy and I were almost there when it happened. We would have been had it not been for Tommy’s dawdling. And what about those people who were shot on Market. They were just out shopping. Oh, Clara, this is happening everywhere, and no one is safe.”

  Clara shakes her head and turns away to talk with someone else.

  What are we going to do about it? And what am I going to do about it?

  * * * *

  Tommy sits on the edge of his bed, waiting for Constable Kelly to get home for supper. He needs to talk to him about something. Something private. When the front door opens and closes, and he hears his mother and Constable Kelly talking in the kitchen, Tommy knows it won’t be long before Joe comes upstairs to change out of his uniform.

  As the stairs creak, Tommy goes to Joe’s bedroom door. “Constable Kelly? Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, Tommy. What’s up?”

  “And you won’t tell Mother?”

  “Well, that depends, lad. Why don’t you tell me and then we can decide if she needs to know?”

  “Constable Kelly, do you believe in ghosts?”

  Joe sits on the bed. He studies his hands and then pats the bed beside him, inviting Tommy to sit. “That’s a strange question, Tommy. Where did that come from? Is it Oskar?”

  “Well, weird stuff has been happening around here. Sometimes I get this feeling. Like I’m not alone. And sometimes there’s this wind in my room, for no reason.” He studies his shoes, an embarrassed grin on his face. “It’s silly, isn’t it? There’s no such things as ghosts. I know that.”

  “There are lots of things in the world that we can’t explain, Tommy. That’s what me gran says. When I was a wee lad, I worried about stuff like that, too. Things that go bump in the night. Weird happenings. But, usually there’s a reason if you think about it hard enough. Maybe the window in the room across the hall was open. Maybe you’re worried about something else and that’s what you’re feeling. I know that it’s been hard on you to learn about what happened to your friend. You’ve got a good imagination. Maybe too good.”

  “But have you ever seen a ghost, Constable Kelly?”

  “No, Tommy. I’ve seen a lot of strange things but I’ve never seen a ghost. I don’t believe in ghosts, and I don’t think you need to worry about it. Okay?”

  Tommy nods, looking relieved.

  “Right then. Let me get changed and we’ll go down for supper. And no more talk of ghosts, okay?”

  Chapter 26

  S aturday, the day of the funeral, is a cold, grim day.

  Tommy has been anxious and withdrawn since he heard of his friend’s death. Maggie decided they’ll skip the church service and cemetery because the intensity of the Polish Catholic service would be more than Tommy could bear.

  Now, bundled in coats and mittens, the pair walk over to Oskar's house where his family, friends, and neighbors have gathered following the service.

  Maggie hovers in the doorway of Alicja’s kitchen. For the past month, she has been here often, stopping in on her way home from sleuthing, to check in on Alicja.

  Maggie remembers how reluctant she had been to become involved. Her friendship with Alicja had started when she had helped with the lunches for the searchers, and grown as she and Alicja sat together at the kitchen table over a cup of coffee. Now that kitchen is full of strangers; women with heavily accented English or speaking Polish. The ladies from Alicja’s church, her family, and almost everyone in the Polish community, Maggie guesses, are squeezed into the tiny house.

  The men hold court in Alicja’s front room. It isn’t coffee in the mugs they’re holding. There’s frequent digging into the pockets of nearby overcoats, and subsequent ‘clinks’ from flasks. Mickey Duffy sits in the best chair. Gathered around him are men from his crew and the men in Oskar’s family. In Oskar’s father absence, they have all taken on the role of head of the family, at least for the afternoon.

  Also part of that group is Eugene Smith. Surprised, Maggie nods in his direction when their eyes meet, but continues her vigilance from the kitchen doorway.

  “Skurwysyn. Skurwysyn. I’ll kill them with my own bare hands,” seethes one of the men. Maggie has come to learn Skurwysyn is Polish for bastard. There are general murmurings of agreement.

  “Mickey, whaddya say we take a little jaunt over to Boo-Boo’s place and give them some what-for?” A man slaps his own fist into his own palm. The comment generates nodding heads and low murmurings.

  Violence brews in the room. The afternoon is full of hard feelings and braggadocio, with many mugs of liquor stoking the fire.

  From Maggie's vantage point in the doorway, she can see out the front window where the children are gathered. They are a somber tribe. The boys are huddled together around Oskar's brothers, the neighborhood girls and cousins forming a similar protective circle around his sisters.

  It saddens her to see the light dimmed in these normally bright, mischievous faces. Today, there are no skipping songs. No games of tag. No filling of pockets with string and marbles and other treasures. Just shoulders hunched against a cool wind and a harsh reality. The girls are red-eyed from weeping, but the boys don't have that option in front of their friends. No, they gotta be tough; boys don’t cry, although there are a few sniffles with the excuse ‘I gotta cold’ coming from the group.

  Maggie returns her gaze to the men in the living room. Heavy, ill-fitting suit jackets are off, and shirt sleeves are rolled up. Everyone seems to be smoking heavily, drinking steadily, and the moody nastiness continues to grow.

  From the hubbub in the kitchen, one of her neighbors hands her a tray of sandwiches, giving a quick nod in the direction of the living room. “See if you can get them to eat some of these. Maybe it will help soak up the booze and, hopefully, settle things down in there.”

  She passes the plate to Eugene, who grabs a sandwich. He raises his coffee mug in thanks.

  “Such a sad day, Mr. Smith,” Maggie says.

  Eugene nods solemnly. “Yes, indeed, Mrs. Barnes. I know the Leszeks through work. Stan, mostly. But I thought I’d come today, you know, to make sure Mrs. Leszek or them kids don’t need anything.”

  “Very kind, and I know Alicja appreciates it. Tommy’s real shook by it all. I’ll see you at supper?”

  “Not sure, Mrs. Barnes. I may have to go back to the office after this.”

  Maggie nods and offers the plate again. “Then you’d better have another sandwich.”

  She moves along among the men and stops in front of the small, dapper man sitting in the chair, and offers him the now half-full plate. “Something to eat, Mr. Duffy?”

  Mickey’s eyes never stop scanning the room. He is vigilant, on the lookout for trouble. “Nah, thanks though,” he says, waving her away. Maggie moves on to the next man, strangely disappointed, yet somewhat relieved, he hasn’t recognized her from the hotel.

  Maggie looks at the remaining sandwiches and then glances out the window to the children clustered on the sidewalk. With the plate, she goes over to the front door, and opens it. “Come inside children, and get something to eat.” She shows them the food. The small cluster of girls immediately troops inside, their s
ad faces making a mockery of the bouncing Sunday-best hair bows.

  The boys haven’t heard, and seem deep in conversation. Planning something. Mothers’ intuition leads her to investigate. One of the boys notices her coming and nudges Tommy. The boys stop talking and stand silently, nervously. What are they up to? “Why don’t you boys come inside and have something to eat. There are sandwiches, and pies, and all kinds of sweet things.”

  The tallest boy, Jimmy, says, “Um, thanks, but we'll stay outside here.”

  “No, I think that you should come in.”

  Jimmy juts out his chin and sneers back, “No, we wanna stay outside.”

  Maggie grits her teeth, growing more frustrated and concerned. She looks at Tommy, who is looking at Jimmy.

  “Maybe we can have our sandwiches out here, Mother? The house is crowded, and me and the fellas are just hanging out.”