Manya shuddered. Irina wrapped her arm protectively around her friend.
“They found him standing in the middle of the road with a can of gasoline, watching his own restaurant burn to the ground. He had terrible bruises all over his body. He was confused, gone in his mind, like he did not know what he was doing. As if his body moved but his mind was empty. He was just standing there, alone, staring at the flames.”
The young woman was shaking. “The police arrested him for arson. They locked him up, Mrs. Jones. He is still in prison now.” She stopped for a moment. Took a breath and looked at the sky. When Manya continued, her voice was tremulous. “He doesn’t remember a single thing about that night. He doesn’t know how he was hurt. Where he found the gasoline, or where he was while we searched for him. Papa remembers nothing, and that night, we lost everything.”
Manya dissolved into tears on her friend’s shoulder. As Irina comforted her, she spoke over her shoulder to Betty. “The insurance company refused to pay them. They said her father was guilty of arson. Now, Manya supports her ill mother and two younger sisters. It has been difficult for her.”
Manya wiped away angry tears. “That evil man – The Tin Man – he did something to my father that night, I’m sure of it. All those bruises – Papa would never have burned it down unless –” Her voice cracked and she just breathed for a minute, her eyes hard on the ground. Finally, she looked up. “He is an evil man, Mrs. Jones. I hope you never find him.”
“Well, that’s it then. You’re finally free,” Jacob said as he slid into the driver’s seat of his car. “The court case is finally over. You did everything you could.”
Adina’s face was pale as she slid into the seat beside him. “I can’t believe they might let Donald Pinzolo out of jail, even after all that evidence against him. The man is a criminal, he was responsible for so many deaths. All those soldiers –”
“If they do, it will make my life exceedingly difficult. I’ve spent the best part of a decade trying to get that man behind bars,” Jacob growled. “But at least your part in this mess is over.”
“My guilt will never be over.”
Jacob sighed and looked at Adina. Beneath his worry lines and tired eyes was genuine concern. “We all make bad choices and have to live with them. You did the right thing in the end. Don’t torture yourself over it.”
They sat for a moment in silence, letting the city traffic pass them by.
Adina gave a soft laugh. “Do you remember when we first met, at your Aba and Ima’s house? My mother was so determined to throw me in your way.” She smoothed her woolen dress against her legs. “I was so embarrassed. I think they had us up and married in their minds before we even finished dinner. Imagine that.”
“She wasn’t the only one,” Jacob chuckled. “Ima was backing that horse to the hilt. She wouldn’t let me hear the end of it until I asked you out.”
The tension between their seats seemed to prickle.
“And what a complicated mess we ended up in.”
“Mmm.” Jacob gave a quick smile. He couldn’t quite meet her eyes. Beside the car, a pigeon was scavenging crumbs on the path. “Well,” he said, gathering his scruples, “Shall I drop you at home or at work?” He turned the key in the ignition.
“Oh, um,” Adina blinked, seemingly surprised the conversation had come to such an abrupt end. “The orphanage, please. I promised Teddy I’d be in.”
With a nod, Jacob checked his mirrors and merged into the busy city traffic, glad to have the courthouse behind him.
“You’re very close to him, aren’t you? Teddy, I mean.”
“It’s hard not to love all of those kids, some more than others of course,” Adina said. “They’re a little rough around the edges, but you understand why. No parents, no homes. No one to hug them when they’re sad. It breaks my heart. The sisters are kind enough, but it’s not the same.” Adina sat for a moment, considering. “But there’s something special about Teddy. It might sound silly, but for a five-year-old boy, he’s awfully clever. And he’s such a sensitive little soul – almost as if he knows what I’m feeling before I do. Sometimes he gets this faraway look in his eyes, as if he’s somewhere no one can find him. He comes to the library nearly every day. Helps me put books away or wants me to read to him. Don’t get me wrong, he’s got as much gusto as the others when he wants to play or ride bikes, but it’s… well, I can’t put my finger on it. There’s just something a little odd about him.”
“He obviously adores you.”
“I adore him too,” Adina smiled and settled her gaze out the window. City streets flew by as the bright morning led them toward the gates of St. Augustine’s Home for Unwanted Boys. “How did Betty go at the sub-assembly factory?”
“Not well, I’m afraid. There was one woman who knew of the Tin Man but doesn’t know where to find him. Apparently, her father was being extorted for protection money. He was tortured by Malinov’s thugs when he refused to pay. Now, the old man is in jail for the arson of his own restaurant and the daughter believes he was forced to do it, but we have no proof to overturn his sentence.” Jacob looked across at her with chagrin. “The search continues.”
Adina’s face fell.
“Well that’s it then,” she sighed. “I really thought they might be able to help.”
Jacob shrugged. “She confirmed what we suspected. That Malinov has been working the streets for longer than we thought, and that Pinzolo’s arrest has given him the chutzpah to step out of the shadows.”
“And if Pinzolo gets out of jail?”
“It’ll be an all-out war on the streets. We’re already at boiling point. Gangs fighting over the scraps of Pinzolo’s old turf and blaming each other for the Boudoir Butcher hits.” Jacob clenched his jaw and hit the steering wheel. “As if any of us need this baloney! There’s a real war on out there, Adina. Men like me putting their lives on the line every day, and here I am doing press statements and chasing criminals around the city every night, trying to stop them from killing each other. If it wasn’t for these poor call-girls getting in their way, I’d have half a mind to let them sort each other out.”
Adina looked shocked. “You would not, Jacob Lawrence!”
“Well, I –” he faltered. His shoulders sagged. “I’m just a bit frazzled, that’s all. Maybe I need a break from all this. Do something else.”
“You’d leave the police force?”
Jacob’s car pulled into the long driveway of the orphanage. They rolled past a grassy area, where a dozen boys were playing kick ball.
“No, I suppose not.”
Adina offered a bolstering smile. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll make dinner tomorrow night,” she declared. “And you can regale me with all your woes. You’ve had your fill of mine, that’s for sure. We’ll get you back on track, you’ll see.”
Jacob shot her a quick smile. “You’ll need to cook up a miracle for that.”
“You haven’t had my kreplach!”
They both laughed. Jacob pulled over to the edge of the driveway and turned off the engine.
“It’s good of you,” he said. His mood lightened. “I do think I need a laugh.”
“I think you need me,” Adina said. Her eyes turned serious. “We’ve lost our way a bit, haven’t we? And I blame myself. But you know all my terrible secrets now. I’ve got nothing left to hide.” The air in the car was heavy. “I still love you Jacob and I fully intend to throw myself in your way again – if you’ll have me.”
Jacob took a deep breath. The restlessness he’d been pushing down, was struggling back to the surface.
“Adina, I –”
“Teddy!”
But suddenly, Adina was out of the car, and running across the green grass toward the playing field. In the distance, a group of orphans were in a huddle. At Adina’s shout, they broke away, leaving a small pile of boy in the center. Jacob got out of the car and raced across after her as Adina scooped the child up
in her arms. He had scrapes on his face and was close to tears. The boy’s hair fell across his eyes in a mess and his clothes were covered in grass stains.
“What is the meaning of this?” Adina shouted. “I saw you push him, Joseph Gilbert! Teddy is half your size!”
The boy in question, Joseph, stood stiff-backed at Adina’s reprimand, his mouth shut tight.
“He hurt Joe first!” growled a third boy. “I saw him do it.”
“I wasn’t anywhere near him,” sniffed Teddy.
“You still did it!” The boy turned to Jacob. “He pushed him with his eyes!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, David,” Adina scoffed.
“Joe was ragging on him because he was talking to that pigeon –” David began.
“Again –” chimed in another boy and they all sniggered. Adina shot a glare at Joseph.
“Then when Joe kicked the ball,” David continued, “he kept running straight into the goal post and hit his head. Teddy was just staring at him, as if he made him do it!”
“He deserved it!” The little boy in Adina’s arms shouted, wriggling. Adina put him onto his feet. There was a sheen of satisfaction behind Teddy’s watery eyes.
“Does this happen a lot?” Adina asked. “The teasing?”
Teddy just stared, sullen faced, at Joseph. Teddy’s only friend, a small boy called Chester, stepped forward.
“Yes, Miss Sonberg. Joe told Teddy he’d give him a knuckle sandwich if he didn’t stop talking to the pigeons.”
“Because he does stuff like this, the little freak,” Joe spat back.
“That’s enough! Get inside all of you,” Adina said. “Joe, you’re coming to see Sister Bernadette with me.”
Teddy scoured the grass for a moment, finding the set of knucklebones he’d evidently been playing with when the incident began. The other boys scattered, and Joseph watched, scowling, as Adina turned to Jacob, apologetically.
“I’d better sort this out.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Jacob nodded. He gave the boys a stern look. “Behave yourselves for Miss. Sonberg, you two.”
As he wandered back to the car, his thoughts left Adina and the orphans, and turned to work. A feeling of apprehension settled in the pit of his stomach. Tonight, he and Parker were heading into the Bowery. Betty’s warning from Hell Cat Harry still rung in his ears. It was going to get ugly.
“Parker, move!”
Officer Malcolm Parker threw himself aside not a moment too soon. A flaming baton soaked with gasoline spun past his head. He rolled on the road, pulled himself up and ran, his head ducked against the swinging punches all around. Flickers of skin flared in the darkness, lit by those streetlamps not yet smashed. All around Jacob, men were fighting. Police batons and axe-handles brought down firing revolvers with a crunch. What had begun as a brawl between the Bowery Boys and the Micks only a few hours earlier, had now escalated into a full-scale riot. Gangs from all over the city had come looking for trouble and thrown into the fray. Their tensions finally snapped in an explosion of violence. Trouble spilled in from the darkness, cursing blame for the murders of their leaders, paranoid and terrified that the ones responsible for the Boudoir Butcher may be among them. A half dozen gangsters had been killed before the police had arrived in enough force to intervene. But police lines had been forced back as drunken scrappers had stumbled out of taverns forced to close early. Iced to the eyebrows, the boozehounds joined in, rearing for a fight. Opportunists and looters doubled in as well, sniffing the promise of plundered goods.
Word spread. Within an hour, the streets were thick with looting and vandalism. Streetlights were smashed, plunging the roads into darkness. Thousands had joined the fray, boxing their way through lower Manhattan as adrenaline pulsed through the city’s veins. Parked cars and dumpsters were set ablaze.
The Bowery was burning.
Crash! Jacob ducked a punch and hit back at his unknown assailant, as another shop window beside him was shattered. A dozen looters ran into the dark recesses to gather their spoils. A dive bar nearby had its doors flung open and a screech of dancers ran out, disappearing into the chaos in a flurry of feathers.
All unoccupied officers had been ordered into riot lines by the Mayor and traffic had been redirected around the danger zone. Sergeant Jacob Lawrence and Officer Malcolm Parker had found themselves in a police line of ten abreast, armed only with batons against their opponent’s guns and knives, as they fought to stop stores being looted and vandalized. Behind and ahead of them across Lower Manhattan, hundreds of other officers were attempting the same futility.
Jacob was exhausted. He’d already served hours in the riot lines, trying to stem the tide of gang violence. The seething undercurrent of criminals fighting for dominance on the streets had played out all night and as the hours crawled by, he’d been beaten solidly and had given as good as he got. He’d narrowly missed a glass bottle hurled at him by a Mick in a herringbone cap. He’d fought off a shiv to the gut, courtesy of one of the Bowery Boys out to make trouble.
Tonight, the Boys were in fine form, dishing revenge on the Irish gangsters known as The Micks. The Bowery Boys were an unpredictable troupe. By day they were printers, mechanics, shop-owners and tradesmen from the neighborhood. They were butchers and bakers with wives at home and children to feed. But at clock off, the same men moonlighted as roughnecks and criminals. They excelled in intimidation and the extortion of other businessmen to curry favor from local politicians. With Pinzolo’s empire dismantled, Jacob suspected that The Bowery Boys intended to spill enough blood to earn themselves a reputation as the new heavyweights in organized crime. Tonight, they were succeeding.
Something slipped by Jacob, a shape in the dark. He spun around in time to receive another blow, this time from a wooden chair, lifted from the barber shop he was defending. It cracked across his back. Jacob sprawled forward onto the concrete sidewalk in a shatter of broken glass.
Thud! A body landed beside him. Jacob pulled himself up, aching all over. The fallen man was unconscious and evidently the chair-thrower, as the empty space around them had grown too wide. A heavy sack lay beside the man, overflowing with looted goods. Groaning at the ache in his back, Jacob kicked it aside and slapped some cuffs on the dead weight. He dragged the looter into a sitting position against the brick wall of the barber shop as Officer Parker came running over.
“Thanks,” Jacob groaned.
“What for?” puffed Parker.
“Taking down this meatball.”
“Wasn’t me, Sir. I had my hands full.”
“Right,” Jacob looked around. In every direction, blows were being exchanged as officers fought to stem the tide of thuggery. It could have been anyone.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Shots rang out, too close. Jacob jumped. “You! Officer!” He grabbed the shirt of a young policeman that ran by. “Take care of this idiot, will you? Parker, let’s go.”
Jacob took off at pace. He squinted against the dark, trying to find the torpedo with the trigger finger. A shot shimmied past his neck and Jacob felt the sting of it scrape his skin. He dropped to the ground. “Damn it!” Jacob glared into the melee around him. “There!” A hood turned heel and ran. They both took chase.
Thump! Jacob barreled into him from behind, followed by Parker and they landed on the man in a heap.
Parker pulled himself up and helped Jacob roll him over.
“Well, if it isn’t Skidrow Sid,” growled Jacob, “trying to add police homicide to your rap sheet. Get on your feet!” Jacob dragged the skinny arm of Sid Eisenstaedt up to his full height, which was nothing to speak of, and spun the man around. Parker slapped on some bracelets.
“Thought you were someone else, didn’t I?” said Sid, with a devious grin. “It’s dark, ain’t it?”
“Sure you did,” muttered Jacob. Skidrow Sid had been a permanent fixture in the Bowery for as long as Jacob could remember. He was a derelict, flea-bitten co
n man who perfectly embodied the futility of the place. Jacob had arrested him more than once.
Ka-boom!
All three men threw themselves to the road as a huge explosion rent the air. So close. All around, brawlers and looters froze and dropped, as if self-preservation suddenly mattered. The blown-out windows of a liquor store were writhing with flames and swirling black smoke. Glass was shattered across the sidewalk from shop windows obliterated when something heavy had been lobbed into them. Inside, a series of explosions set off like firecrackers, each one combusting with greater zeal than the last. Molotov cocktails, Jacob realized, as the explosions got more and more violent. Fire raced through the shop, licking every bottle of alcohol into a bomb.
“Sir!”
Jacob looked up to find Parker already on his feet, dragging Sid up with him. He followed Parker’s gaze as he clambered up himself. High above, two old men hung out of the third-floor windows, waving their arms and shouting. “It’s a Flophouse, Sir!” yelled Officer Parker. “Above the liquor store!”
Jacob’s eye found a sign swinging from a broken chain above a narrow doorway between the liquor store and a hollowed-out bakery next door. The Moonshine Hotel.
He looked up, his heart pounding. The Moonshine Hotel was a crumbling four story building that rose above the street in urban despair.
It was like a pigeonhole in the wall of the Bowery, just one of dozens of Flophouses that played home to the deadbeats, dock wallopers and curbstone canaries that had lost their way. Each night, as many as seventy thousand men floated through the Bowery and found beds like those in the Moonshine Hotel. For thirty cents a night, boarders were offered a cramped, windowless cubicle with a filthy mattress to call their own. It was cheap shelter for the drifters that found themselves down on their luck. Camaraderie for the lonely who played solitaire in bed. A haven for the broken ones with hollow stares that hid from the sun. A stopover to the saloons and brothels down below. Tonight, the unlucky ones, were trapped there.
Jacob met Parker’s eyes, frantically.
Lady Vigilante (Episodes 16 – 18) (Lady Vigilante Crime Compilations) Page 10
