Maggie crouches, wrapping her arms around her. Edith cries into Maggie’s shoulder. Through her tears, Edith confesses how lonely and unhappy she is. Maggie rocks her, murmuring comforting words into the top of her head, just like she used to do when Tommy was younger.
Edith winds down and relaxes. She’s feeling the effects of the earlier injection, or Maggie’s comforting, or both. She helps Edith into bed and pulls the covers over her shoulders.
“Maggie, don’ go, don’ leave me. Everybody always leaves me. You’re the only fren’ I have.” Edith grasps at Maggie’s hand.
Maggie sits on the side of the bed, one hand holding Edith's hand, the other stroking the bangs away from Edith's fevered forehead. “Don’t worry, Edith. I’ll sit right here until you fall asleep, and then I’ll come in the morning, after I get Tommy off to school.”
Less than a half-hour later, Maggie turns her head to the opening door. Mickey pokes his head into the room. He gazes at his sleeping wife, then gestures Maggie to join him in the hallway.
Maggie releases Edith’s hand, and snugs the sheet around it.
“Thanks for coming, Mrs. Barnes. And thanks for being such a good pal to Edith.” He takes Maggie’s hands into his own. “It means a lot to me that you came tonight. It’s swell Edith has a friend she can count on. One of my men will take you and the constable home. It’s been a heck of a night, for all of us.”
Maggie gently withdraws her hands. “Edith’s an unhappy woman, Mr. Duffy. Please be kind to her. And remind her that I’ll be around in the morning to see how she’s feeling.”
She notices his reluctance to move; he seems to have forgotten he was going to summon his men. “Don’t worry, Mickey, I’m sure that it will all work out. Go sit with her. I’ll find the driver,” she says, giving his arm a squeeze.
“Thank you for that. Gus and Fingers are waiting downstairs. If you could see yourself out? I want to stay with her for a bit.”
Maggie finds Joe sitting on the sofa, an empty coffee cup in front of him, the two meaty bodyguards sitting in chairs watching him. “We can go now, Joe.”
They’re dropped at the curb of Maggie’s house and barely get through the front door when Joe grabs Maggie by the arm.
“Excuse me?” Maggie stares at his hand and then straight into his eyes. Joe drops his hand.
“That was one crazy night. Tell me what’s going on. And how did I get to be sitting in Mickey Duffy’s living room, drinking coffee?”
“It’s been a long night, Joe. Can’t it wait until morning?”
“Frankly, no it can’t. I spent the night waiting to get shot by a couple of gangsters. You owe me an explanation, Maggie.”
“I’d told you before that I met Edith at Oskar’s funeral. Since then we’ve met up a few times for coffee and a bit of shopping. Nothing serious. She’s lonely. And so am I. We have a lot of fun together, if you must know. It has nothing to do with Mickey. We’re just a couple of gal pals having fun, Joe. Nothing more.”
“You know her husband, that man you went upstairs with, is one of Philly’s most dangerous criminals. I told you this before. I don’t understand why you would get involved.”
“Well, you don’t need to. I like Edith. I like spending time with her. Now I’m tired and I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” Maggie stops halfway up the stairs and looks back at Joe, who is still in the front hallway. Her shoulders relax. “Thanks for coming tonight, Joe. I mean it.”
Chapter 47
J oe sits at a conference table with his commanding officer, Captain Copeland, and the District Attorney, Samuel Rotan. At the head of the table, Colonel Butler’s hands are steepled. Joe makes eye contact with the colonel, then looks sharply at Captain Copeland. The colonel catches Joe’s attention with a cough. Their progress review on the ’Duffy list’ is underway.
To date, only one or two of the moonshiners have rolled on Duffy, when presented with dates and payment amounts. Most remain silent, amnesia always being the lesser of two evils when caught between a copper and a vengeful bootlegger. They’ve had even less success with the hoteliers and saloon owners who see no upside by ratting on one of the more powerful and connected men in Philadelphia. Solidarity amongst thieves.
“Do we have enough to bring him in, Sam?” Colonel Butler asks the District Attorney.
“Frankly, I’m not sure, Smedley. We have some evidence, if it sticks. And if it were anyone but Mickey Duffy, I’d say yes. But you know that he’s going to fight this. He has the judge in his pocket, and a team of sharp lawyers working on his behalf.”
“Surely you’re not afraid of losing, Sam?”
“No, just realistic on our chances. We don’t want to be hasty or premature. We’ll not have too many opportunities at this. With one shot, I’d like a stronger case.”
“Captain Copeland.” The colonel’s words crack through the captain’s reverie. “Is it possible to build a stronger case?”
“No,” says the captain. But at the same time Joe answers in the affirmative. Joe bows his head, self-conscious for having spoken out of turn.
“Captain? Which is it? Yes? No?”
“Those moonshiners aren’t reliable. They probably sell to a bunch of different bootleggers, for all we know.” Captain Copeland rubs his hands together. “For that matter, maybe they’re supplying the speaks and blind pigs directly. There isn’t anything that directly connects Duffy to the list, or to the stills, or the saloons.”
“If we could get someone inside Mickey’s gang to come forward?” The District Attorney offers his suggestion.
“Not bloody likely,” says Copeland.
“Constable? What do you have to say?” Colonel Butler’s right eyebrow is raised.
“Yes, Kelly, what do you have to say?” Captain Copeland’s lip curls as he questions Joe.
“Sirs, I think that this is the strongest link we’ve had yet to Mickey and his gang. The information we’ve gathered has been good. This could be our best chance to bring him in. Once the operators and owners see we have him behind bars, their memories may improve.”
“I appreciate your frankness, Constable,” says Butler.
Joe can feel the heat of Captain Copeland’s glare.
“Captain, let's bring Mr. Duffy in. Sam, we'll keep investigating and build you a stronger case. I'm loathe to turn this over to the Feds. At this point, there's no evidence that Mickey's transporting alcohol across state lines, so the FBI doesn't have to be involved. The Governor himself has confidence in me and this force to clean up Philadelphia,” says Butler. “And we should let those reporters know we have him. I want the good people of Philadelphia to see we’re making progress with these criminals.”
The captain nods reluctantly.
“And, Captain, when you bring in Mr. Duffy, don’t be too hasty to let his lawyers find him. What’s the phrase you police use? ‘Take him round the horn?’” The District Attorney closes his file folder.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Colonel Butler says. “Constable, walk with me back to the office, as I have another matter to discuss with you.”
Captain Copeland’s attention is drawn to his junior and senior officers. Joe grimaces at the thought of repercussions.
In the privacy of his office, Colonel Butler takes his place behind his desk. “You have some concerns about the Duffy case, Constable Kelly?”
Joe stands at attention.
“Sir, I believe that everyone here wants to bring the strongest case forward. And the District Attorney is right when he says it will be a difficult charge to make stick, given the circumstances, and…well… Mr. Duffy has a certain, uhm, standing in the community at large. The legal community especially.”
“You suspect that Duffy has ‘special standing’ with the officers in this precinct?”
“It’s like he’s a step or two ahead of us, sir. Like he knows what we’re going to do next. Anybody we bring in, his lawyers can spring that same day. The judges won’t give us search warrants. He’s either got a
lot of cops on his payroll, or he’s got the luck of the Irish. And we know it’s not that. Before he changed his name to Duffy, it was Cusiak.” Joe manages a grin.
“Duffy’s Polish?”
“He is, sir. So, I think we can eliminate Irish luck.”
There is a shared smile.
“Sit down, Constable. We’re completely out of view here. It’s just us.”
Joe follows orders.
“Do you have any thoughts about how we can get someone from inside the Duffy gang to come forward with information we can use in court?” Colonel Butler asks.
Joe clasps his hands tightly in his lap. He weighs how much danger he can put Maggie in, the risk of Eugene in the house, and his desire to please the colonel. “I think I know where the list came from, sir. I might be able to get that person to come forward.”
“Good work, son. I knew I could count on you. It would be monumental if we could do more than just bring Duffy in. It would silence the mayor and other critics, and really give Philadelphia a reason to be hopeful. They always say it’s darkest before the dawn. Now that we have to the goods on Duffy, maybe this long, dark night is coming to an end.”
Joe sits even straighter.
“Constable, I’ve been impressed with your dedication to duty. I want you to be directly involved in bringing Duffy in, and in his questioning. If you have any concerns that ‘his standing in the legal community’ is going to get in the way of a conviction, I want you to discuss it with me personally. And keep a sharp eye on Copeland. He may be your superior officer, but I am his. Am I clear, Constable Kelly?”
“Yes, sir.”
Once the colonel’s door is closed behind him, his shoulders slump. Joe needs to clear his mind. Heading out the front door of the precinct, he walks briskly. With every step he attempts to figure out a way to get all the players to cooperate. And, most importantly, how to keep Maggie safe.
He does a second lap around the station and reaffirms his loyalty to the colonel, and his dedication to serving in his war against the bootleggers. To get caught in the middle of the colonel’s other battle with the mayor and the republican political machine is dangerous. He comes face to face with the precinct’s entrance, squares his shoulders, and strides with decidedly forceful steps along the hallway.
Chapter 48
M ickey and Eugene had been behind closed doors for most of the morning in the small corner office upstairs, until about half an hour ago when Eugene had left clutching his briefcase and armfuls of papers.
The crew are having a quiet day at the warehouse. There is not as much back and forth to do since their suppliers have dried up. They are stacking crates of liquor from Max Hassel's warehouse that had arrived earlier. They’ll deliver them to speakeasies and hotels later.
Alfred’s changing the tires on one of the Packards. Next to him, a radio plays. Henry Mercer and John Bricker are deeply immersed in a card game, bottles of beer at their elbows. Fingers is also there, cleaning his gun. Gus leans on the two back legs of his chair, feet on the table. His hat is pushed back, and he chews on a match while he reads the sports section.
And at the head of the table, Mickey sighs at the legal documents that lie in front of him.
“Everything okay, Mick?” Henry puts down his cards.
“It’s just this hotel deal.” Mickey holds a stack of papers sent over by his lawyer. “Eugene and I were supposed to go to the bank tomorrow, but I’m going to cancel. I hate the thought, but we’ll have to put it on the backburner until we get that inventory moved. Until then, cash is gonna be tight.”
“We’re okay though, right Boss?” asks Porter, one of the bootleggers sorting orders. The guys helping him pause.
“We’re fine. This is short term, boys.” Mickey addresses the entire workforce. “Only short term changes. Then we climb back aboard the gravy train again.”
Porter smiles. “Toot-toot.”
“Why don’t you and me go grab some lunch?” Henry asks. “Give all this hotel stuff a rest.”
“Hands up. Stay where you are. ” An officer charges through the warehouse door. Joe and a dozen armed police with guns drawn follow him in. Gus tips over in his chair, landing on the dirt floor, newspaper pages fluttering around him. Henry and John stand and reach for their guns.
Captain Copeland moves to the front of the group and barks, “You heard him, hands up, gentlemen. Hands up.”
Mickey looks at Copeland calmly. “Good afternoon, Captain Copeland. What brings you to our neck of the woods on this beautiful day?”
Captain Copeland pulls a paper from his pocket. His hands trembled slightly. “Michael Joseph Cusiak, also known as Mickey Duffy, I have a warrant for your arrest for violations to the Volstead Act: the manufacture of illegal alcohol, the sale of illegal alcohol, and the distribution of illegal alcohol.” Captain Copeland folds the paper and puts it back into his pocket. “Cuff him, boys. Mr. Duffy, you’re coming with us.”
“Oh, I don’t think so, Captain Copeland.” Mickey’s smile is almost charming.
“Oh, I do think so.” Colonel Butler strides into the warehouse, his scarlet cape swirling. “We’re taking you to the precinct for a chat. Right now, Mickey.”
Two officers spring forward and pull Mickey from his chair. Henry moves toward him, but Mickey gives him a warning look. “It’s okay, Henry. I won’t be long. Obviously, a small misunderstanding. While I’m gone, give my attorney, Arthur Werblun, a call. Have him meet me at the station.”
“You can tell Mr. Werblun not to hurry. We’re going to be taking Mickey around the horn so to speak. It could be a while,” Colonel Butler says.
“Sure thing, Mickey. I’ll call Art right away,” Henry says.
“Oh, and Henry. Call Edith, too. Let her know I might be late for dinner.”
* * * *
Maggie has given the bathroom a good scrub. With Tommy and three gentlemen lodgers, it’s a regular chore. Her foot is barely on the last stair when Frank is suddenly there.
“Grab your hat and coat, Maggie. Edith needs you,” says Frank.
“Inspector? Has she had a relapse? She seemed fine yesterday when I called ‘round.”
“No, it’s not that. The police have just arrested Mickey and taken him in.”
“Already? Poor Edith, this will be hard for her to take, maybe even cause a setback.” Maggie slips on her coat and settles her hat in place.
“There’s more. I saw Eugene earlier this morning. At the warehouse. He’s working for Mickey, just like we thought.”
“Inspector, no. That’s terrible. I was holding out hope that there was a reasonable explanation.” Maggie frowns. “I can’t have him here. Not with Tommy. A gangster under my roof. No way.”
“I agree. But let’s make sure Edith’s okay first, and then we’ll figure out how to deal with Mr. Smith.”
* * * *
It’s much later when Maggie enjoys an after-dinner cup of coffee in the living room with the Inspector. “It was a very quiet dinner table tonight, Inspector, just Archie, Tommy, and I. At least Joe had the courtesy of letting me know he wouldn’t make it, but I’ve not heard anything from Eugene since he left early this morning.”
“I imagine Joe will be busy with questioning Mickey now that he’s been arrested. How is Edith?”
“She’s stronger than we think. Edith’s familiar enough with Mickey’s legal troubles, and it’s giving her something to focus on. When I left her, she was heading to the precinct with bail money.” says Maggie.
“It will be interesting how it plays out. I hope we’ve got some luck on our side and bail is refused.” says Frank.
“Given the amount of bribe money changing hands, luck may have little to do with it. Although, given the notoriety of the case, surely the judges and lawyers will have to at least pay lip service to the law?”
“It’s hard to say. Never underestimate the enemy.”
“You’re right. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. I’m glad that at least
our part of it is done and things can get back to normal around here,” Maggie says.
“Normal? I’m not so sure,” says Frank. “The case against him is not as strong as I’d like. And I have a bad feeling about how confident he is. They may have got Mickey on bootlegging charges, but we still don’t know who killed Oskar. There’s still more work to do.”
“That’s true, but it’s a huge step in the right direction. And maybe information will come out during his questioning about what happened to that poor boy the night at the warehouse.”
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