“Oh, that.” Gerritt shrugged. “After waiting in vain all night for you, I happened to recall that Harley lived down in the Pastures on Green Street, which as everyone knows is prone to flooding. I grew worried. He’d left with you the night before from a dinner party at our home. He is my most valuable employee—a friend—so I wanted to see whether he was all right. I went down there—”
“Where exactly?”
“Franklin Street.”
“And?”
“What does this have to do with anything?” Hotaling said from his seat.
The judge pivoted on Hotaling. “If you have an objection, you must state what the objection is.”
“He needn’t bother,” Jakob said. “I’ll explain what I’m after. This questioning will speak to the close nature of the relationship between Mr. Harley and my father, and to Mr. Van der Veer’s own character and trustworthiness as a character witness.”
Hotaling sighed and Thayer waved Jakob on.
Jakob resumed, “And what did you do when you reached Franklin Street?”
“I waded into the water. I wanted to get to Harley’s house, to see whether or not he was all right. But the current grabbed me and pulled me off my feet. It was a near thing. I only saved myself by catching a streetlamp. I smashed my head against it. I only just crawled out of there.”
“You did all that for Mr. Harley?”
“I did.”
“That is a risk few people would take.”
“I suppose. But I was worried about him.”
“And where was I that morning?”
“Still at the Lumber District as far as I knew.”
“And was the district at that time flooded?”
Gerritt eyed him through narrow slits, suddenly cognizant of where Jakob was going. “It was.”
“I see. So, let me clarify for the jury. Your first thought that morning was not for whether or not your son had survived the breakup, but instead for your head stevedore’s well-being?”
Gerritt shot him a sullen look.
“Answer, please,” Jakob said.
“I fail to see—”
“Tell the court, how did you know where Mr. Harley lived? Had you been to his house before?”
A flicker of hesitation crossed Gerritt’s face. “No.”
“In all your years of friendship, you didn’t once share a meal there?”
“No. I can’t remember.”
“Is it No, or I can’t remember?”
“No.”
“But you knew his address well enough to know that he was in danger of the floodwaters?”
“I remembered Harley mentioning once that he lived close to the river in the Pastures.”
“And what was your plan? To wander around the Pastures shoulder-deep in floodwaters and hope that you happened on the right house?”
“Something like that, yes.” Gerritt’s voice had gone steely.
“That seems rather complicated. More complicated than alerting the police that your son was trapped in the Lumber District.”
“It was an extraordinary day.”
“Did you check on other employees that day?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’d nearly drowned down in the Pastures.”
“You called for a doctor, didn’t you?”
“I object.” Hotaling’s features had gone slack with boredom. “I fail to see how any of this reflects on the case at all. Why does it matter that the witness saw a physician for an injury?”
“Does it?” Thayer said to Jakob.
“The extent of his injuries speaks to the lengths Mr. Van der Veer executed in an effort to reach Mr. Harley’s house, which speaks again to the close nature of their relationship.”
The judge nodded. “Overruled.”
“So, while I—your son—was fighting my way across the frozen river, you went down to the Pastures to wander around in river water looking for a house whose address you didn’t know in order to save James Harley whom you did not even know was truly in danger, thereby nearly drowning yourself and requiring stitches?”
“Yes,” Gerritt said, drawing his lips into a tight grimace.
“I’m still curious about something. Why didn’t you think Harley would be with me in the district? We both left the dinner at the same time with what I thought was the intention of saving as much Van der Veer lumber as we could. I had the additional charge of retrieving the books. Why did you even think Mr. Harley would be at home if I had not returned?”
“I didn’t know where either of you were. For all Viola and I knew, you could have gone home another way and been asleep in your bed. Harley’s house was nearby.”
“Interesting assumption on your part. And then the next thing you did was what?”
“I read about Harley’s heroism in the paper, so I went straight to the hospital to see him.”
“Because you had read that he had saved two boys in the flood?”
“Yes.”
“What happened at the hospital?”
“The place was in an uproar, no place for a man to get well. So I told a nurse that I would take care of him.”
“How did you take care of him?”
“Harley asked to go to his sister’s, so I ordered my driver to take him there.”
“And is this driver still in your employ?”
“I had to fire him. I’d learned he’d not taken Harley to his sister’s, but to some brothel somewhere.”
“So he is unavailable to testify to this action on his part?”
“I don’t know where he is.”
“Are you responsible for taking Harley out of the hospital to a brothel?”
“No. My fired driver is.”
“You didn’t want to get him out of the hospital for another reason?”
“No.”
“Not to keep him from being questioned, for instance?”
Gerritt’s gaze locked on Jakob. “No.”
“I see. Now, can you please describe to the court the nature of your financial dealings?”
Hotaling heaved a sigh and climbed to his feet. “Objection.”
“What is this about, Mr. Van der Veer?” the judge said, his chin now propped wearily on his hand.
“As we have heard, Mr. Harley is third in command of Van der Veer Lumber. The inner financial workings of the company are relevant since it will also speak to his standing in the community.”
“Be brief,” Thayer said.
“Father?”
“I own Van der Veer Lumber and Son, along with you, I might add,” Gerritt said. “And I want to make clear, despite what some might believe, that Van der Veer Lumber suffered very little financial devastation as a result of the flood.”
“You have had no financial difficulties of late?”
“None.”
“Is this because you have other business interests entwined with the company?”
“No.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“Are you not the owner of ten brothels in Albany?”
“Objection!” Hotaling thundered over the resulting tumult. The judge banged his gavel several times before the shouts faded into a restless silence. “The defense attorney is sensationalizing. What does any of this have to do with Mr. Harley?”
“Your Honor,” Jakob said, “if Mr. Harley and Mr. Van der Veer are as close as Mr. Van der Veer attests, it is possible that Mr. Van der Veer trusted Mr. Harley in all his ventures, not just his lumber interests. This may give us some insight into Mr. Harley’s guilt or innocence. And again, his character.”
Thayer narrowed his gaze at Jakob, ignoring the fury directed his way from Gerritt. “Overruled.”
“Mr. Van der Veer,” Jakob s
aid. “Do you own ten brothels in Albany?”
Gerritt’s smug sneer became a rictus of contempt.
“Your Honor,” Jakob said, “I’d like to introduce into evidence the property ledgers of the city of Albany.” Jakob hauled from his table three large leather-bound ledgers. “These range from 1865 to this current year, 1879.”
Thayer took them, turned them over in his hands, then handed them back. “I’ll allow.” They were unwieldy things, and Jakob had flagged several pages with bookmarks. He returned to the defense table with them and Harley fingered their bindings, curious.
Jakob opened one and read: “787 Quay Street, owner Gerritt Van der Veer. 795 Montgomery Street, owner Gerritt Van der Veer. 976 Broadway, owner Gerritt Van der Veer.” He replaced one ledger and picked up another and read four more listings. “The last is the most recent. 289 New Scotland Plank Road, near Ontario Street. Are you aware, Father, that at each of those addresses resides a brothel?”
“Objection,” Hotaling said, his suspicious demeanor now warped into attentive interest. “Counsel has not proven that statement.”
“Sustained.”
“I’ll focus on the New Scotland Plank Road property, where Officer Farrell arrested Mr. Harley. Mr. Farrell has already testified that it was a bawdy house. The property ledgers state that you own this property, Father. Will you please verify that it is yours?”
Gerritt eased one elbow over the back of his chair. “Fine. I own brothels.” He talked on over the explosion of astonishment and the hammering of Thayer, brazening it out with a sneer of disdain. “So what? For years, I’ve provided a necessary service to the city of Albany. Some of my best customers are in this room. What does this have to do with anything?”
The room turned suddenly, oppressively quiet as a dozen men in the audience squared their shoulders and stared straight ahead, and the women with them pressed their lips together and planned questions of their own.
“Can you explain to us, Father, why it is that you own both brothels and a reformation house for prostitutes? Isn’t that a contradiction?”
“I’m a practical man. The city needs both.” He was spitting out his words now.
“Isn’t it true that the court cannot rely on anything you say to be true?”
“What the hell is this?”
“Wouldn’t Van der Veer Lumber be bankrupt now if it wasn’t propped up by money made in your brothels? Hasn’t it been for years? Are you not more pimp than lumber baron?”
Gerritt exploded. “Why am I being subjected to questions about my life, when it’s Harley who’s on trial?” He twisted in his seat to rail at the judge. “I am an upstanding citizen. Yes, I give the city whores, but I also give the whores a way out if they want it. That’s just fair footing. And what do I get for it? Treachery. From my own son.” He turned on Jakob. “My affairs are my affairs. So take your self-righteous condemnation and ask me a question that matters.”
No one in the courtroom moved, except the reporters scratching furiously in their notebooks.
“I have a second set of books, Your Honor,” Jakob said. “These are from the safe at Van der Veer Lumber. I personally removed them this morning.” Gerritt watched with black suspicion as Jakob made the rounds of prosecution, jury, and judge, showing off the set of ledgers. Then he held open a page for his father. “Can you verify, Father, that these books are yours, and that this is your handwriting?”
His father’s face turned to stone. “Yes.”
Jakob said, “On page eighty-five of the latest volume, on a page dated the day after the sisters’ disappearance, is a line item with the notation, ‘Payable to James Harley, two thousand one hundred dollars. Cash.’ What is this payment for?”
“I don’t know.”
“A month later, there was another payment made for two hundred dollars, this one to a ‘G.’ Was it for Mr. Harley at Green Street?”
“Sometimes our accounting is wrong and I have to make up for errors.”
“But did you not just say that you are meticulous in your books? Shall I have the court recorder read your statement back to you?”
Gerritt opened and shut his mouth like a fish. He looked toward Jakob for help, but Jakob’s impenetrable mask remained as blank as the surface of a still lake.
“No need,” Gerritt said.
“To clarify, you did say that you are meticulous, did you not?”
“I did.”
“Thank you.” Jakob squared his shoulders. “Now, there are other entries, payable to other people. Can you tell me who ‘M’ is?”
“That is Captain Arthur Mantel.”
Hotaling snapped his head up and looked to the judge, who said to the bailiff, “Can you please ascertain whether or not Captain Mantel is still in the building?”
The bailiff, who had already received far too much exercise that day for his tastes, waved an order at another officer, who slipped out a side door.
“For what were those payments made?”
“I can’t recall,” Gerritt said.
“Bribes, perhaps?”
Gerritt merely glared in reply.
Jakob said, “Fine. That might be a question for another trial. Tell me, Father, did you go to Franklin Street on the day of the flood not to rescue Mr. Harley, but instead to divine whether or not Claire and Emma O’Donnell were still in Mr. Harley’s house?”
“Absolutely not. They were dead! We’d just seen their memorial in the cemetery.”
“Had you not visited Harley’s home many times in the past, for the purposes of visiting Emma?”
“Never!” Gerritt roared.
“Aren’t you the man who picked up the O’Donnell girls in the blizzard and brought them to Mr. Harley’s house?”
“What a ridiculous notion.”
“Aren’t you the man who sent Emma and Claire those dolls?”
“No! It was Mantel!”
A hush fell over the courtroom. During Gerritt’s testimony, Jakob had not mentioned the dolls, nor the receipt, either. How could Gerritt have known about them unless he was the man who had sent them? Still, nothing had been proved, but by now an inference had been made. The dolls had something to do with what had happened, and the meaning of the note had taken on a much more sinister aspect for everyone. Coupled with the suggestion of bribes, the whole picture was widening. Now, no one moved, except Jakob, who approached the witness stand as his father glared at him.
Jakob leaned in and hissed, “Do you miss me?”
Gerritt reared back, the smear of guilt on his face unmistakable. Instantly, he checked his reaction, but everyone in the courtroom saw it. Gerritt gripped the railing, his face gone white, a vein at his temple throbbing wildly.
“One more question. Tell me, what is the color of your sleigh?”
Gerritt gaped at Jakob with the icy furor of a man who knew he was trapped. He could not lie. Everyone in Albany knew the singular color of the Van der Veer sleigh—the only cutter in Albany that the James Goold Company had ever painted a solid cherry red, on Gerritt’s orders, forgoing the firm’s trademark gilt scrolling and black trim. Gerritt had paid handsomely so that the plain design would be exclusive.
Through clenched teeth, Gerritt said, “Cherry red.”
“Cherry red?” Jakob said. “Did I hear you correctly? Did you say cherry red?”
“You heard me.”
“Actually, I didn’t. Can you say it louder?”
“You heard me, goddamnit,” Gerritt shouted.
“That will be all for now,” Jakob said. “Mr. Hotaling, your witness.”
From across the courtroom, Hotaling said, “I have no questions for now.”
“You are excused, Mr. Van der Veer,” Thayer said. “But you are to remain in the courthouse, do you understand?”
Gerritt snatched his hat and crushed it to his chest as h
e strode toward the exit, his chin jutting, his face and scalp beet red, ignoring the excited rustling and murmuring as he pushed through the door and into the corridor. James Harley watched him go with mouth agape. He rose slightly, as if to follow him, but Jakob raised a finger at him in warning, and he collapsed into his chair with a groan.
Jakob took some time to shut the open ledger, his hands trembling. He walked all of them across to Hotaling’s desk. He seemed to be buying time. The bailiff returned and nodded at Thayer.
“Your Honor,” Jakob finally said. “I recall Emma O’Donnell to the stand.”
The side door opened. William Stipp stood there with a wary Emma, who was led in by a second bailiff. She was dressed much the same as the previous day, though this time she lacked the jaunty bow and her face had gone completely pale. All eyes followed her halting progress across the room to the witness chair.
Jakob waited until she had settled in before he said, “Good morning, Emma. I need to remind you that you’re still under oath, which means that you have to tell us the truth. I have only two questions for you, Emma.
“I asked you the first once before, at your house. It’s about that day when you were picked up by the stranger and taken to Mr. Harley’s. Can you tell me what color sleigh the man drove? Do you remember?”
“Red. Like a cherry.”
A collective gasp filled the courtroom, but Thayer hammered that down.
“And one more, and then you are done, Emma. Just now, a man made a rather noisy exit from the courtroom. Could you hear his voice?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“To whom did that voice belong?”
“The Other Man.”
The room ignited. Jakob returned to his seat as Thayer attempted in vain to gavel the room to order and failed. He began to shout. The other officer had yet to return with Captain Mantel. “Bailiff, please return both Captain Mantel and Gerritt Van der Veer to the courtroom.”
The bailiff fled as fast as his limp allowed. William rushed to take Emma in his arms and lead her away before Thayer could dismiss her.
“Mr. Hotaling,” Thayer said, shouting through the din, “do you wish to ask further questions of Emma?”
Hotaling shook his head. It took the bailiff just half a minute to return with the news that neither Gerritt Van der Veer nor Captain Mantel was anywhere to be found.
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