Here

by Sean Moynihan

  Penwill.

  Falconer walked more briskly towards the bed and, as he got close, Penwill turned and noticed him. “Ah, Falconer,” he said, “you’re up and at ‘em already. Good of you to come up. Miss Smith is doing just fine today, I can tell you.”

  Falconer moved over to an empty chair near the head of the bed and sat down, looking at Bly, who was smiling back. “Looks like you’re a little better off than I am, detective,” she said.

  “Well, I still hurt all over, if that’s any consolation,” he replied. “How are you?”

  “Oh, couldn’t be better,” she said. “A little of this, a little of that, according to my very young but impressive doctor.”

  “It appears that she has a sprained knee, bruised ribs, and suffered some exposure, Falconer,” Penwill explained. “But she should be fine to leave within the week.”

  “Well, that’s good news,” Falconer said. “I was a little worried when I saw you in the boat.”

  “Stop your worrying, detective,” Bly said. “This girl has seen far worse, I can assure you.”

  “Well, listen,” Penwill said, standing up. “I’m going to step out and have a smoke, if you don’t mind. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  “Sure, inspector,” she said. “I’m not running off anywhere.”

  “Oh—Falconer?” Penwill said, stopping suddenly.

  “Yes, inspector?” Falconer replied.

  “We sent some men up to the bridge after grabbing you and Miss Bly here,” he said, “and they retrieved your pistol. Just wanted you to know that it’s safe and sound.”

  “Why, thank you, inspector,” Falconer said. “That’s a relief.”

  Penwill then walked out of the room, leaving Falconer alone with Bly.

  “Did you catch him?” she asked.

  He shook his head slowly side to side.

  “Too bad,” she said. “That was a very bad man, Falconer. Let me tell you.”

  “I think I did wound him—in the shoulder.”

  “Really?” she asked. “And how would you have done that since you were jumping off the bridge with me?”

  “I took two shots as I moved to jump,” he replied, “and I believe I saw him flinch and clutch his arm. Plus, apparently they found blood at the scene, so chances are he’s dealing with a bullet wound, but probably not fatal.”

  “Why did you do it, Falconer?” she asked.

  “Why did I shoot him?” he said.

  “No,” she answered. “Why did you jump after me? You know those jumpers rarely live to tell their tale. I was a goner, Falconer.”

  He looked back at her silently, trying to figure out an answer that would suffice, but realized that he didn’t really know why he jumped. He knew the odds of living were slight, but he only remembered thinking, “Two shots, and then go after Bly.” And so, he jumped.

  “I don’t know,” he finally answered. “I figured that since you were Nellie Bly, you’d probably find some way of surviving. And it just bothered me that he stood there and tossed you over like a sack of potatoes. I didn’t want him to win like that.”

  “Well, I’m very glad you did what you did, obviously,” she said. “But if you had stayed up there on the bridge with him, you might have caught him, Falconer. You might have captured Jack the Ripper himself—if it was, in fact, him.”

  “Well, I tried to do both, as you know now,” he said. “Can’t blame a cop for trying.”

  “Do you think it was really him, Falconer?” she asked intently. “The Ripper, here on our shores?”

  “I don’t know, Bly,” he answered, “I—”

  “Be honest, Falconer,” she said, moving slightly closer to him. “No fimble-famble here. Do you think it was the Whitechapel killer who kidnapped me?”

  He looked at her for a few seconds and decided he did not want to lie to her merely to make her feel safer. “I do, Bly,” he said. “After all these months and deaths, I believe it was him, and I’m sorry I didn’t stop him here.”

  “And now you think that he will depart, having made his point?” she asked.

  “I think that he will move on, frankly,” he replied. “He’s done what he wanted to do here, and now it’s time to slip away quietly.”

  “I never got a good look at him, detective,” she said. “They blindfolded me very quickly, so I’m sorry, but I can’t confirm that it was the doctor from the Hoffman House.”

  “You say, ‘they,’ so there were others with him?” he asked.

  “Yes, a younger man who came to my door and led me into the carriage,” she said, “but I’m not sure if there was anyone else.”

  “Could we ask you to go through Byrnes’ rogues’ gallery just in case we have a photo of the younger man?” he asked.

  “Certainly,” she said. “When I’m better.”

  “Of course,” he said. “You need to rest.”

  “Falconer?” she asked.

  “Yes?”

  “I have to ask you at long last because it really is a mystery to us all,” she said. “Why aren’t you married?”

  He paused, taken aback by the odd question. “I don’t know,” he then said. “I’ve never really thought about it. I guess being a cop isn’t that conducive to married life.”

  “But still,” she said, “a man like you—accomplished, intelligent…handsome—must get interest from many young ladies.”

  He looked back at her as she lay in the bed, smiling at him. He realized that for all her disguises, stubbornness, and impetuosity, she really was an attractive young woman. He wondered why such a famous lady who looked like this was herself single. “Don’t know about that,” he said to her. “My life is kind of…complicated.”

  “I see, Falconer,” she said. “But don’t turn your back on them forever. It’s not good to be alone in this world.”

  “Says the young woman who bounces around the globe by herself and then lives with her mother when she returns,” he said.

  Bly chuckled. “You are so right, Falconer,” she said. “I really must find a husband—I am already too old and out to pasture, I think.”

  “Far from it, Bly,” he said, standing up and placing his bowler on his head. “From where I’m standing, you’re still a young girl. You take care now—I’ll check in later in the week.”

  “Falconer?” she asked.

  “Yes?” he said.

  “Remember when I told you I wanted my story?” she said. “Well, this is certainly a story. What if I wrote something for the papers? Would you object?”

  “I understand that it’s an interesting story,” he said, “but it’s still all based on speculation, and it would put the department in a bad light, of course. Byrnes, the Detective Bureau, me—all of us—we wouldn’t look that good, let’s face it. And it might throw the city into another scare. I suppose what I’m saying is that no one can stop you from writing something, Bly, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d ask that we don’t tell this story—yet.”

  He saw her looking back at him very intently, as if he had been an editor who had just told her that a woman couldn’t secretly enter an insane asylum, or travel the globe in eighty days, and then she smiled slightly, and softened her glare. “Thank you, Falconer. Thank you for giving me your position.”

  He raised his hand to his hat in a gesture of politeness and courtesy, and said, “Miss Bly,” and then turned and started walking slowly out of the ward. At the end of the room, he stopped and turned back again and looked at her. He saw that she was still looking at him from her bed, and she smiled again at him. He smiled slightly, too, and waved awkwardly, and she waved back, and then he turned again and made his way over to the staircase leading down to the first floor of the great hospital.

  83

  “Come on in, gentlemen.”

  Falconer looked up and saw McNaught poking his head outside of Byrnes’ office. He then turned to Penwill and Levine, who had been standing with him, and motioned for them to join him inside. The three walked inside the door
held open by McNaught. Inside, standing behind his desk, was the chief inspector, quietly smoking a cigar, as always, and Clubber Williams, Crowley, and McCloskey nearby. Falconer looked at Byrnes, who smiled warmly and motioned for him to come in and sit. “Come in, Falconer. I’m glad to see you. Please—have a seat, gentlemen.”

  “Thank you,” Falconer said, sitting down in front of the great oak desk along with his two companions.

  “Well, Falconer,” Byrnes said, taking a seat himself, “I see that you’re a little bruised there, but you do seem well enough considering that you fell off the Brooklyn Bridge.”

  “Yes, sir,” Falconer said. “Doing just fine.”

  “I still don’t know how you and Miss Bly survived that fall. What was it? A hundred, hundred-thirty-foot drop?”

  “Closer to a hundred, I’m told,” Falconer replied.

  “Well, regardless,” Byrnes said, chuckling, “you both dodged the bullet on that one, Falconer. Most of the jumpers don’t make it, as you well know. Who knows? Maybe you can now open your own saloon like Steve Brodie did.”

  The men standing near the desk laughed at this last remark, but Falconer only grinned slightly and with much effort.

  “I want you to know, gentlemen,” Byrnes continued, “that we’ve scoured the Hoffman House and essentially all other hotels in midtown, and there is no sign of this Austrian doctor anywhere—he’s gone, it seems.”

  “Yes, well, that would make sense for him,” Penwill chimed in. “Falconer here wounded him in the shoulder up on the bridge with his revolver, and I’d say that that was a little too close for comfort for the bastard.”

  “Actually, I can’t definitively say that it was him up there on that bridge,” Falconer said.

  “Really?” Byrnes said. “Why not?”

  “I never saw his face, and the voice…it….”

  “Yes, Falconer?” Byrnes said. “What about the voice?”

  “He spoke to me,” Falconer replied, “and it just didn’t sound like the doctor, frankly. It sounded like a completely different person.”

  “Well,” Penwill chimed in, “whoever it was, I’m sure he booked passage out of here this week, and in fact, I’ve got a lead on it right now.”

  “Oh?” Byrnes said, sitting up in his chair slightly. “And what’s that, inspector?”

  “I took a little time checking with all the lines shipping out the past several days, with special attention paid to any individual who matches our doctor and appeared to be injured in the arm or shoulder, and I actually found one passenger of interest: a foreign man, rather well-dressed and with money, who got on a ship bound for Buenos Aires just two days ago. Several witnesses described him as favoring his right arm, which appeared to be in a sling. I suppose it could be a great coincidence, but I’m betting that it’s our man, and I intend to go follow him, chief inspector.”

  “I see,” Byrnes said. “Very good, Penwill—very good, indeed. And you, professor? Is it back to the classroom for you, I suppose?”

  “Yes, chief inspector,” Levine said. “I do have my duties at the school, but I also may consider doing some writing, actually.”

  “Writing?” Byrnes asked. “What sort of writing?”

  “Oh, perhaps something like a diary, I think,” Levine answered, “dealing with all that I have seen working so close to Detective Falconer here. And then, perhaps I could turn it into a book one day.”

  “That’s very intriguing, professor,” Byrnes said, sitting back in his chair. “Well, in any event, I should thank you for assisting in the rescue of Falconer and the lady from the river. The department certainly appreciates your efforts in this case.”

  “It was my pleasure, sir,” Levine said.

  “Well, Falconer, where does that leave us with the ongoing killings?” Byrnes inquired. “If the inspector here is correct, this copy-cat killer appears to have left the jurisdiction once and for all.”

  “We’ll just have to see, sir,” Falconer replied. “If the doctor, or whoever I confronted up on the bridge, really did get on that ship, then that’s that. But if he didn’t, the killings could go on.”

  “Yes, you’re right,” Byrnes said. Falconer watched as the chief inspector took a pencil and started to scribble indiscriminately on a pad lying on his desk. It seemed that the man was suddenly lost in thought. Then, after a moment of silence while scribbling, he looked up at Falconer and spoke. “Well, I think you should keep the case active for a while, just in case, Falconer. Do you understand?”

  “Certainly, sir,” Falconer answered. “I’ll stay on it as part of my regular cases over at Oak Street.”

  “No, Falconer,” Byrnes said, taking a drag from his cigar and blowing the smoke off to the side. “Actually, I think I want you here with us now—in the Detective Bureau. We could use you, Falconer, and you clearly are a good man on a case. So, we’re going to make a change. Please report to Detective Sergeant Crowley here after you get your Oak Street cases transferred to someone else over there, and I’ll speak to Captain O’Connor about it myself.”

  Falconer sat back silently in his chair, feeling a little stunned. The chief’s Detective Bureau? He hadn’t expected this. “Yes, sir,” he finally said, not sure of what else to say. “Understood.”

  “And that means, of course, Falconer, that you’ll now be a detective sergeant,” Byrnes said. “We’ll get the paperwork going for the promotion and all that.”

  “Yes, sir,” Falconer said. “Thank you.”

  “Well, gentlemen,” Byrnes said, standing up behind his desk, “I think that that will do it for today. Inspector Penwill, I can’t tell you how grateful we all are here at the department for your assistance in this case, and it has been a memorable one, that’s certain. Please give my regards to your colleagues back in London, with my thanks, too, of course.”

  “Will do, chief inspector,” Penwill replied, shaking Byrnes’ hand. “And I thank you for allowing me to join your detectives on the case. It has been a rewarding experience for me.”

  “Certainly,” Byrnes said. “Anytime. And do please keep us apprised of your journey down to Buenos Aires, won’t you? I’d like to know what happens there.”

  “Yes, I will, thank you,” Penwill answered.

  “Professor, this has been rather unique, I must say,” Byrnes said, turning to Levine. “We don’t deal with law professors very much, if ever, in fact. But as I mentioned, we appreciate your efforts to perform your civic duty on behalf of the populace. And good luck with that writing.”

  “Thank you, chief inspector,” Levine said, shaking Byrnes’ hand and then holding his hat in his hands in front of his abdomen. “Thank you very much.”

  “All right, gentlemen,” Byrnes said, looking around the room. “I must be off for a meeting with the Telegraph Bureau. Thank you for attending this morning.”

  The men in the room began to file out of the office, but Falconer hung back and turned to Byrnes, who remained behind his desk, placing his jacket on. “Chief inspector?” Falconer said.

  “Yes, Falconer?” Byrnes said.

  “With all the events happening recently, I wanted to approach you again about the case against Ben Ali. I think that this places it in much greater doubt, sir, if I can be frank with you.”

  “Falconer,” Byrnes said, “the blood can’t lie. That man was up there on the night of the killing, was covered in the blood of the victim, and had his own blood on him, as well. As you know, he lied repeatedly to avoid responsibility, and it was apparent at the trial that he was clearly guilty of the offense. I’m sorry, but I just don’t see things your way. Thank you, nonetheless, though.”

  Byrnes moved out from behind his desk, grabbing the still-smoldering cigar in his hand and placing it in his mouth. He then started to walk out of the office with Clubber Williams by his side. Falconer looked out at them as they left, and then moved to follow. He walked slowly down the hallway and down the stairs to the lobby of the headquarters, and stepped outside onto the street
, where he saw Penwill and Levine waiting for him.

  “Well, that’s something, eh?” Penwill said, greeting him. “A promotion to detective sergeant right here in your department’s Detective Bureau? I suppose you didn’t see that one coming, eh?”

  “No, can’t say that I did,” Falconer replied tersely.

  “Is something wrong?” Penwill asked. “You don’t appear that thrilled with your promotion.”

  “No, it’s not that,” Falconer said. “I just approached Byrnes about Ali and his questionable conviction, and Byrnes gave me the brush-off. He wasn’t having any of it.”

  “I see,” Penwill said. “Is there anyone else you can go see? The superintendent, perhaps?”

  “No,” Falconer said, “Murray won’t budge on anything if Byrnes is backing it. I don’t know what else I can do, and I just feel like there’s an innocent man sitting up in Sing Sing and we can’t change that.”

  “What about the press?” Levine asked. “I believe Mister Riis was talking about all this just like you are.”

  “Yes, I think he was, professor,” Falconer said. “He said the same thing that I have: that he was up there in the hotel that morning and didn’t see any blood on the door to Ali’s room. I suppose I could sit down with him and speak to him about it.”

  “Indeed,” Penwill said. “If we stand for anything, Falconer, it’s justice, and clearly there may have been an injustice done here.”

  “Thank you, both,” Falconer said. “And now? How soon do you leave, inspector?”

  “Tomorrow, I’m afraid,” Penwill said. “I’ve booked passage on the Cienfuegos of the Ward Line, and it departs in the morning for Cuba, and thence to Brazil. I’m very sorry to have to close out this chapter with you so soon. It has been rather invigorating and…well, memorable. You chaps are a good bunch to get along with.”