Innocence Lost

by Sherilyn Decter

  “Blame?” she throws her hands in the air. “I’m not sure whom I’m angrier at, Inspector: me for saying something to Joe, Joe for saying something to his captain, a bunch of cops who are profiting from the illegal booze business arresting a desperate woman with hungry mouths to feed, or the police for having time for this and not for finding out who murdered Oskar. Oh, there’s a lot of blame to go around,” Maggie punches a cushion.

  “Well, keep spreading that blame around, my dear. Some of it belongs at the door of the politicians who brought in Prohibition in the first place. But that doesn’t help Mrs. Dorn.”

  “What will happen to her, Inspector?”

  “Judges are usually pretty lenient on women, especially mothers. She might get a warning. What she does after that is anyone’s guess. She’ll still need to feed those children.”

  Maggie smooths the injured cushion. “Life’s not very fair,” says Maggie.

  The clock ticks and ticks and ticks. “No, Maggie, life is not fair.”

  “All right then, what do we do next?”

  “Next?” he asks.

  “Yes, next. Obviously, the police are too busy or too dishonest to look into real crime. If we’re going to get to the bottom of Oskar’s murder, and that involves bringing Mickey Duffy to justice, we’re going to have to have a plan. We’ve been doing a lot of talking, but now I think it’s time to move forward. We need a plan, Inspector. And the first part of the plan is going to have to be to keep Joe Kelly out of it. I can’t have any more struggling mothers on my conscience.”

  Frank looks at Maggie, a slow smile peeking out from beneath his walrus mustache. “That’s excellent news, Maggie. Just excellent.”

  “How certain are we that Oskar was killed at the warehouse and then put into the river? And how certain are we that the place is Mickey Duffy’s warehouse?” Maggie asks.

  “Pretty certain, on the first. And absolutely certain, on the second,” Frank says, nodding.

  “All right, then here’s what I think we should do…” The two heads bend together, generals plotting the next advance on the battlefield.

  Chapter 31

  S pirits are higher that night at dinner; a special guest adds to the energy. On his way home from work, Joe had picked up Fanny so she could join them for dinner. Joe is flush from a triumphant day for Enforcement Unit Number One. He is regaling all with tales from the five raids that day, one of which was Mrs. Dorn.

  Everyone has something to share, something that adds to the celebration. Tommy bounces in his chair, peppering Joe with questions and acting out the exciting parts of Joe’s day. Archie's baseball team, the Phillies, is just starting spring training and there is a pitcher on the team that shows early promise. Eugene's fighter is in line for a title fight, having just won a major bout the night before.

  While the rest of the table jabbers and laughs, Maggie continues to fume. She bangs down the bowl of potatoes, and puts the gravy jug on the table with such force it slops over the side. She snaps open her napkin and gives everyone at the table a look, daring them to say something. Napkin on lap, Maggie squeezes her hands into tight fists under the table. She can’t get the image out of her mind: Ula Dorn, in her apron, being dragged down the steps. Broken people just trying to hold the pieces together. She stabs at her meat. Corrupt, corpulent cops!

  Several times, Maggie opens her mouth to comment on what Joe is saying, but then clamps it shut, biting her tongue. Eventually, she pushes back her chair and stomps to the kitchen to get more bread. When she gets back to the table, he’s just finishing his tale. “Yes, it was a grand day! A dozen arrests and an impressive haul of illegal booze. Colonel Butler was pleased. And there may even be a promotion in it for me.” He winks at Fanny.

  “Oh, a promotion. That’s wonderful, Joe,” Fanny squeals, clapping her hands with delight.

  “A Sergeant Kelly can certainly afford to look after a wife,” he says to a blushing Fanny across the table.

  Archie raises his glass. “To the future Sergeant Kelly.”

  Amidst the verbal backslapping and cheers, Maggie raises an eyebrow to Fanny. Fanny shakes her head. Fanny needs to get this over with before things go any further.

  “Why don't you take Fanny into the front room, Joe? Tommy can help me clean up tonight.” Joe leaps up and pulls out Fanny's chair. “Yes, and thanks, ma’am.”

  “Mother?” Tommy asks while they are cleaning the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry, Tommy. I missed that. What did you say, love?”

  “I asked if Jimmy can come over for supper tomorrow. We’re working on a project for school.”

  “Yes, I suppose that would be all right.” He’s the taller, outspoken boy, out front of the Leszeks’ after the funeral. Not someone I’d pick for Tommy, but I guess he deserves a second chance.

  Maggie keeps Tommy out of the living room with a promise of another piece of cake and glass of milk to eat in his room while he does his homework. She wants to give the couple as much privacy as possible in a house full of people.

  Joe and Fanny are still talking in the living room when Maggie goes to bed.

  * * * *

  “Good morning, Maggie.” Joe is already in the kitchen when Maggie comes downstairs. Her nose tells her the coffee is almost ready.

  “Good morning, Joe. You’re up early. Everything go okay last night with Fanny?”

  “Ah Maggie, I don’t know.” Joe rubs his hand through his hair, sitting at the kitchen table. “Fanny and I had a long talk. She came clean about a lot of stuff. And I’m glad she told me because I don’t want any secrets. Which is easy for me to say, I guess. Not having any.”

  “And how do you feel about it, Joe?” Maggie puts a coffee in front of him.

  “Of course I'm put out. Who wouldn't be? But Fanny says that she won’t do it again. That it didn’t mean anything, and I believe her. I guess.”

  Maggie busies herself at the counter. Give him some space. Don’t be like Mother.

  “I’ve known Fanny my whole life, Maggie. That’s not the girl she is. She’d never betray a friend. I love her, and she says she loves me, too.”

  “You know, Joe. You and Fanny are just starting out and have lots of time. It’s tough, being a young girl in a big city. You see all the pretty things, temptation dangling in every store window. It’s easy to lose yourself in sequins and feathers and fancy T-strap shoes, especially when you have money in your handbag for the first time ever.”

  “I want to be able to give her all those things. When we’re married, I’ll look after her. Maybe we’ll even move back to Ardmore. Settle down, raise some kids. They have police in Ardmore. Maybe I’d even be chief someday.”

  “That’s a rosy picture you paint, Joe Kelly. I hope it all comes true.” Maggie gives him a hug. “I wish you and Fanny all the happiness in the world.”

  Chapter 32

  M aggie sinks into the chair beside the Inspector. “There are days when I would love to have the house to myself. It would be wonderful not have to pretend to write in a journal, Inspector.”

  “You’re a busy woman, Maggie, with a busy household. When the case is over, you’ll be able to enjoy having some peaceful time to yourself,” says Frank.

  “Until then, if there ever is a ‘then’, where shall we start?”

  “We need some evidence we can turn over to the police. Something that puts Duffy squarely in the center of the crime.”

  “Because we’re confident it has to do with Mickey?” Maggie asks.

  “We are. For a couple of reasons: Oskar was last seen in Mickey’s warehouse. We know that for certain. The boy was there, and never seen again. Importantly, who else has the power to interfere in an investigation? We can also surmise Mickey’s involved because of police behavior: a bribe or a word in the right ear and suddenly they’re conducting a shoddy investigation and calling off the search prematurely.”

  “How will we find anything to do with Oskar’s murder at this late date? The trail’s gone cold, a
nd certainly no witnesses will be prepared to come forward and testify against Mickey.”

  “And there’s the rub, Maggie. I’ve also learned that Mickey wasn’t in Philadelphia the night Oskar was killed. So it wasn’t him that actually pulled the trigger. He was responsible, of that I have no doubt, but he’s not actually the shooter.”

  “Oh, this is hopeless. Oskar’s killer will never have to pay for his crime. What a giant waste of time this has been.”

  “Victory is not winning the battle, my dear, but rising every time you fall. Don’t lose hope yet, Maggie. Here’s my thinking on the matter, and I admit, it’s a bit unorthodox, so hear me out. We should consider the question of why I’m still here. Oskar’s been found, but I remain here with you. Therefore, I believe that my purpose remains, as of yet, unfulfilled.”

  “Your purpose? Unfulfilled?” says Maggie.

  “Yes. My purpose. The reason why I’m here with you and not in heaven with my dear wife. I have to believe that it’s not random, or God being capricious.”

  “I think I understand. So what do you think your purpose is?”

  “Here’s my reasoning so far. Your being able to see me gave us the opportunity to investigate Oskar’s death, which I initially thought was the reason I was here. But with his death sounding more and more like misadventure, I’m not so sure that finding justice for Oskar was, indeed, my purpose.”

  “I’m both puzzled and fascinated,” says Maggie.

  “There’s more. You’ve read the headlines. You see what’s happening in our city. The barber, those innocent people caught in the crossfire last week, Mrs. Dorn’s children. They are all trapped in the middle of this lawlessness. There’s so much corruption amongst the police. There is considerable suffering because of the anarchy. Philadelphia herself may have been mortally wounded by the venal actions of the bootleggers and the corruption they grow fat on.”

  Maggie sits straighter. “An eloquent speech. And I say this with no disrespect intended, Inspector, but so what?”

  “Maggie, you’re an intelligent woman. Think this through. We can continue to flail away at symptoms, at branches, if you will, but until we attack the root, the tree will continue to grow.”

  “We should be gardeners? I’m sorry, Inspector, I’m not following. How does trimming branches relate to discovering your purpose?”

  “We need to go to the source of this evil. We need to take out the bootleggers. I think that’s the reason why I’m still here. I had surmised, originally, that it was to protect one small boy. But now, I think it is to protect the entire city. Maggie, I confused the battle for the war.”

  “Goodness, I see where you’re going with this. We may not ever discover who shot Oskar, but by taking down the entire lot of them, we can make sure no one else is harmed. But Inspector, how does a woman and a ghost take on the entire network of bootleggers and gangsters? That’s just crazy.”

  “No, it’s not. We can do it by going after the head. The organization. The drive. The brains. We need to go to the source, Mickey Duffy. And then Boo-Boo Hoff. Then the Lanzettas. All of them.”

  “You’re talking crusade. There are bootleggers in every corner of the country. There’s no way we can get rid of them all. Someone else will just move in.”

  “So we shouldn’t try? Remember what Napoleon had said about rising every time you fall. Every war is just a series of battles, Maggie. We’ll take on one battle at a time. Pick one adversary.”

  “Mickey Duffy. You’re saying we should try and take down Mickey Duffy first? After he’s already gotten away with murder?”

  “He is the one we know the most about. The one we’re closest to. The one with the close connection to Oskar. We need a plan, of course. But I know we can do this, Maggie.” Frank punches his fist into his open palm. “And even more importantly, I know we need to do this.”

  Hands behind his back, Frank begins pacing in front of the fireplace. His focus reminds Maggie that he must have been a formidable police officer in his day.

  “Mickey Duffy is the head of a violent gang that causes a lot of harm in Philadelphia. He’s virtually unchallenged and is growing bolder and stronger. He’s at the center of all this, I’m certain. I suggest we focus on getting Mickey off the streets and behind bars. To do that, we might have to delay our quest into finding Oskar’s actual murderer.”

  “I don’t know, Inspector. I think about poor Alicja and her family, and Tommy, and I just get angry. I don’t want to leave off looking for Oskar’s killer. I agree that Mickey should be behind bars, as should the rest of the bootleggers in the city, but that little boy needs some justice, too.”

  Frank strokes his beard. “It’s likely that getting the information we need to bring Mickey down will uncover who killed Oskar. We’ve got enough circumstantial evidence to see a clear connection. Perhaps we can pursue parallel lines of inquiry here. We’ll keep turning over rocks. Oskar’s killer will be under one of them, and evidence against Mickey will be under another. They’ve taken the bullet from Oskar’s body, but the police have only just started doing interesting things with ballistic forensics. I don’t even know if it would stand up in court. And that’s if someone doesn’t try to get rid of it first.”

  “What if it’s a police bullet? Or maybe a ricochet?”

  “What if it is? We still need to know.” says Frank. “Although, I believe at the end of the day, it’s the kind of world we live in now that ultimately killed Oskar. The crossfire of lawlessness, bootleggers, police raids, random violence. We can’t recover what has been lost, Maggie, but we can create a new future. One of civility and justice.”

  Maggie snorts. “Enough of your fine talk, Inspector. It wasn’t injustice that pulled the trigger that killed Oskar. It was a flesh and blood man.”

  “As you say. Which is why, at the end of the day, we will need to rid ourselves of these bootleggers, and we do that one battle at a time. It would serve us well to find out information about Mickey’s bootlegging business. Something the police can use in court to send him away.”

  “What about his office or headquarters? I could search there,” Maggie says.

  “Most of his business is staged out of that warehouse where the boys were. Near the tracks. There’s always somebody around in the evening. That’s when most of the work is done. Why don’t I find out when the warehouse is usually empty. Then we’ll know the best time for you to go in and look around. And while I’m staking out the warehouse, I can eavesdrop on Mickey and his men. Hopefully, I’ll find something we can take advantage of.”

  “While you’re doing that, I need something to do, too. You know, Inspector, maybe I can get to know Edith Duffy better. I met her at the gathering they had after Oskar’s funeral. She seems to know a lot about Mickey’s business.”

  “That’s an interesting idea. She’s not likely to suspect you,” Frank says. “Yes, let’s see what she knows.”

  Chapter 33

  F rank takes a seat in the corner of Mickey’s warehouse. It’s just after sunset, and the place is busy with Mickey’s crew getting ready for a delivery run.

  He’s been surveying the warehouse at various times throughout the day for the past week, trying to determine a pattern to the gang’s movements.

  The place is relatively quiet until noon. That might be a good time for Maggie to get in and look around. The earlier the better.

  Frank has begun to recognize a routine in the gang's activities. Tonight, like most weeknights, a pair of men head off in specially outfitted cars and trucks to collect the illegal alcohol from the moonshiners and breweries in the countryside. They usually complete the run by the wee hours of the morning, bringing it back to the warehouse before heading home. During the day, the hard alcohol is watered down and repackaged into bottles labeled with fake authorization stamps.

  With the many hours that the Inspector has been spending casing the warehouse, he’s gotten to know Mickey’s crew. Out of all of the bootleggers, he’s formed a grudging re
spect for Alfred, the crew’s mechanic. Alfred and Mickey spend a lot of time discussing the vehicles, debating modifications, sourcing parts, and kicking tires. Maggie had told Frank that Mickey had been a mechanic and it’s obviously still a passion of his.

  Frank is particularly intrigued with the cars and trucks. Despite Alfred and his mechanical genius being on the wrong side of the law, Frank would love to have a discussion about motor vehicles with him—the man’s created the finest hooch haulers in all of Philly.

  There have been dramatic improvements since Frank was a young man. Back then, cars were just horseless carriages, temperamental to start and unreliable to drive. Most folks were still using horse and carriages. Cars were considered a dangerous novelty, not a mode of transportation. Even at top speed, it was easy to outwalk them.