by Tom Bradby
He heard himself humming the lullaby his mother used to sing to Martha on the stoop of the Coney Island guesthouse.
Mama’s going to buy you a brand-new toy, It’s going to give you hours of joy.
He switched on the engine and turned south. He barely registered the passing street-lights until he drew up outside the front entrance to the apartment. He went through to the courtyard and climbed the stairs to the roof, then walked to the edge and looked down. An accordion was playing close by. Windows were opened and closed. Snatches of conversation and argument carried on the night air. Dogs barked. A few old men sat out front on the stoops. They smoked cigars and talked in hushed voices.
‘Sarah?’
He checked her den and found only a hunk of bread.
‘Sarah?’
He climbed over the brick divide and walked through line after line of washing. ‘You’re not in trouble. I just need to talk to you.’
He looked behind the roof-light and the makeshift store. He climbed over the next divide. ‘C’mon, Sarah, it’s important. We need to talk.’
He moved around the roof again, quicker this time. He tried the door of the store. It was locked. ‘Open up, Sarah. I know you’re in there.’
Nothing stirred.
‘Open the door. Please …’
He waited.
‘Sarah … Sarah!’ He slapped the outside wall of the store. ‘I don’t know why in hell we ever picked you off that street.’
Quinn reached down and ripped off a piece of wood cladding. He tried to jemmy the door open. It broke. He forced the tips of his fingers into the gap. The door was old and rotten, and gave way easily.
She sat on the floor, knees pulled up to her chest. Her eyes glittered and her cheeks were damp with tears. ‘Did you mean that?’
‘What?’
‘The thing you just said.’
‘Of course I didn’t.’
‘Then why did you say it?’
‘You were with her at the Plaza, weren’t you?’
‘Did she tell you that?’
‘I asked you if you’d followed her and you said no. It was important.’
‘She told me not to tell anyone, especially not you.’
Quinn sighed and stepped back. ‘Come on, out of there.’ He lit a cigarette, went to the lip of the roof and sat with his legs over the edge.
She joined him.
‘You look cold,’ he said.
‘I’m used to it. You don’t look real well.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You look kind of crazy.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment. Thank you. Now tell me what happened. From the beginning. Leave nothing out.’
‘What happened where?’
‘At the Plaza.’
‘She went for a drink with that man.’
‘Why did you follow her?’
‘I was bored. They make you drink milk at the orphanage in the evenings and sing stupid songs.’
‘What happened?’
‘She sat there, talking to him. She didn’t look like she was having a good time. I couldn’t understand it, because she told me he was a horrible man.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘She got up to go to the bathroom. I saw him put something in her cocktail. I tried to stop her, but she came back and drank from it, and he carried her to his room. He made it look like he was being a real gentleman.’
‘Did anyone else help him?’
‘No,’ Sarah said. ‘I didn’t like that man. When she was away from the table, he stared right at me.’
‘So you followed them?’
‘I watched which floor the elevator rode to. Then I went up the back stairs.’ She looked at him sheepishly. ‘Sometimes, if I’m hungry, I go to the kitchen in the Plaza and take food from the room-service trolleys in the corridor or outside the rooms. Nobody ever uses the back stairs. You could walk up and down there for a month and no one would see you.’
‘How did you find out which suite she was in?’
‘I crept along the corridor. Behind one door I could hear men laughing.’
‘Which door?’
Sarah shook her head. ‘I – I didn’t know what to do. I listened at the keyhole. The men were still laughing, but then their voices grew fainter so I tried scratching on the door. She didn’t answer. I called. I thought she might be …I was frightened. I called her name, but I guess she couldn’t hear me, what with the drugs and all. I thought the door must be locked, but I tried the handle and it opened.’
‘What did you see?’
‘She was … I …’
‘She was on the bed?’
‘Yes.’
‘They had stripped her? ’
Sarah hesitated. ‘Yes.’
Quinn cleared his throat. ‘Where were they sitting, the men?’
‘In the next room. The door was open. I could hear them talking. There was a whole lot of smoke. I crawled to the bed and tried to wake her. I was scared – I didn’t know what they’d do if they found me. I tried to pull her off the bed, but I wasn’t strong enough. I spilt some water in her face, but she still didn’t wake up. She made a noise and that frightened me more. So then I tried to hurt her. I put my hand over her mouth and I pulled her hair. She woke up and I whispered to her.’ Sarah was talking faster now. ‘I found a coat – there was a pile of coats, so I took one for her and put it around her and we ran. She kept falling over. We went down the back stairs and out by the kitchen. I helped her and we escaped. She was sick in the back of the taxi – sick again and again – but I was glad I helped her. She helped me and now I’ve helped her.’
‘You did so well, Sarah. Without you, she’d be dead now.’
Sarah’s face went white. ‘Do you think so?’
‘I’m sure of it.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t see the men. I know that’s what you want. I heard voices but—’
‘It’s okay. Can you remember which floor the suite was on?’
‘The fifteenth. It took us a long time to get down the stairs. Martha was sick and she had to stop so many times. I was frightened that when we got to the bottom, they’d be waiting for us.’
‘You can’t recall the number of the suite?’
‘I – I wasn’t looking at the numbers.’
‘Did you see anyone else on that floor? A bellman, maybe, a waiter?’
She shook her head again.
Quinn took a last drag of his cigarette, flicked it high in the air and watched it spin down and fizzle out on the street. ‘Close your eyes a minute, Sarah, and think yourself back to that room. Try to tell me what you can see.’
She squeezed her eyes tight shut.
He put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Don’t try too hard. Walk along that corridor. Now ease yourself through the door and tell me what’s there.’
‘I can see smoke from the next room, like fog. I can see a suitcase, open, and there’s money inside … a lot.’
‘What else?’
‘I don’t remember. There were pictures on the wall.’
‘Take a look at the pile of coats. How many were there?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Was it a big pile? Were they spread around the room?’
‘They were … spread.’
‘Were there many of them?’
A couple of tears trickled out between her eyelids. ‘I don’t know. I can’t remember.’
Quinn stared into the darkness. ‘You know the coat my father wears – old and blue, with a black leather collar? Did you see that there?’
‘No.’ She opened her eyes. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘You didn’t see it?’
‘No, but—’
‘Has he talked to you about this?’
She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her sweater. ‘Yes.’
Quinn’s heart was beating fast. ‘What did he ask you?’
‘He asked if I’d ever followed her.’
‘What did you sa
y?’
‘I told him no.’
Quinn took her hands. ‘Sarah, don’t talk about this – not to anyone, you understand?’
‘Will you take me to Coney Island tomorrow?’
‘Probably not tomorrow, but soon.’
‘We haven’t been for an awful long time.’
‘A week.’
‘I know, but … Martha must come, too.’
‘When have you ever known her turn down a trip along the boardwalk?’
‘She likes it, doesn’t she?’
‘She feels safe there.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘I’d sure like to hear it.’
‘My mother took us there for a whole month the summer Martha came to us. We hired a couple of rooms in an old guesthouse and we went on the beach and swam. At night, she would wake up and my mother would sing lullabies on the porch to comfort her.’ Quinn thought about what Moe had told him. Martha wasn’t why she got sick. Martha was because she got sick. ‘It’s okay to be afraid, Sarah. We’re all afraid sometimes.’
‘She’s never taken me … to that place. That guesthouse place. She talks about it all the time, but she’s never taken me there.’
‘She wanted to buy it a few years ago. It was a crazy idea. It went to some realty developer for ten times the money we had.’ He stood up and dusted himself down.
A couple strolled along the street below. The girl slipped a hand into the crook of her lover’s arm and laid her head on his shoulder. Quinn could hear their laughter as they skipped up the steps to the apartment building.
Sarah took his hand. ‘Poor Joe,’ she said.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
THE WINDOW TO THE MAIN BEDROOM IN HIS PARENTS’ APARTMENT was closed, so Quinn walked down to the courtyard and climbed back up the stairs. On the top landing, he caught his breath. No light seeped from beneath the door. He turned into the apartment and stood outside the box-room. Gerry’s bed was empty.
‘Dad?’
He knocked softly on the door of his parents’ room and turned the handle. It wouldn’t open, so he fumbled above the lintel for a key, turned the lock and stepped inside. He lit a candle on the dressing-table and sat in an iron chair by the bed. He picked up a studio portrait of his mother and Martha. Their smiles were fixed for the photographer.
Quinn dropped it on the white bedspread. As a very young child he would sometimes sit here in the afternoons and watch his mother sleep. He could see her beautiful face now.
The door creaked and his brother came in. Aidan closed the door behind him and sat on the bed.
‘Don’t,’ Quinn said. ‘You know how Mom hates to have the place messed up.’
Aidan rubbed his hands uneasily. ‘You shouldn’t joke about it.’
‘Why not? It’s the only thing we have left. Where’s Dad?’
‘Out late, I guess.’
‘Did you sell him the new model?’
‘No.’
Quinn picked up the photograph of Martha and his mother and put it back on the dressing-table. ‘Do you miss her, Ade?’
‘I miss how she was a long time ago.’
‘Like I said, we never talk about it.’
‘No, we don’t.’
Quinn looked out of the window at the shadows on the courtyard wall. ‘You remember how it was when we were kids – I mean just little kids – when we used to come home from school after stopping off for a fight and she was mad at us for doing that, but she was always smiling and there were crackers, cheese and cookies on the table.’
Aidan didn’t answer.
‘Do you remember that, Ade?’
‘Sure.’
‘Did you ever wonder what Mom really thought about taking Martha in?’
‘Joe …’
‘You ever ask yourself why Dad took her up to New Haven and down to Washington, not us?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Aidan sighed heavily. ‘Do we have to talk about the past?’
‘It never goes away, Ade. We just try to bury our ghosts.’
‘But I ask myself why you always have to imagine a dark side to everything. Mom was sick. She died. We all knew she was sick. Why do you want to make something more of it?’
‘Why did Mom get sick, though? You never answer that question.’
‘No, and I don’t understand why you have to either. What does it achieve?’
Quinn gave a rueful smile. ‘Maybe I ask too many questions.’
‘No one wants you to be a cop at home.’
The candle flame flickered. ‘Do you remember when we used to talk about everything, you and me and Dad, all of us?’
‘We used to talk about ball games, Joe. It just seemed like everything.’
‘Maybe, but now we don’t talk about anything. We can talk about going up to see Booth run out against Army or taking a trip up to see the game at New Haven, but everywhere else the ghosts get in the way.’
‘Only because you insist on seeing them.’
A clock on the mantelpiece marked the long silence that followed.
‘Don’t let her go to that office again, Ade. She’ll listen to you. In fact, you should persuade her to stay at home until all this blows over.’
‘Why?’
‘Just tell her.’
‘That doesn’t sound like much of an explanation.’
‘The men she worked for are dangerous – more dangerous than Lucky, Meyer and their friends. One of them may be the most influential man in this city. La Guardia put her into that job to spy on them but they chewed her up and spat her out. She’s lucky to be alive.’
‘Are we talking about the mayor here, Joe?’ Aidan’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. ‘You figure you’ve finally hit the big-time?’
‘Do as I ask, Ade.’
Aidan stood. ‘I’ll talk to her.’ He paused. ‘This is from Aunt Margaret.’ He dropped a postal card onto the bed. ‘She wants us to go up and see them before the wedding.’ Aunt Margaret was their mother’s only sister.
‘What did he do with her things?’
‘Who?’
‘Dad. What did he do with Mom’s letters and photographs? Did he burn them all?’
‘I don’t know. I doubt it.’
‘Did he ever ask us if there was anything we’d like to keep?’
‘He’s been in a lot of pain, Joe. Don’t blame him for that. I’m going to bed. I hope you wake up in a better mood.’
Quinn blew out the candle. Pools of moonlight splashed across the ceiling. He stared at the silhouetted picture of his mother and the crucifix beside it.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
HE DROVE UPTOWN AND PARKED THE GARDNER OUTSIDE THE FRONT entrance to the Plaza. The doorman was about to instruct him to move it when he caught Quinn’s expression and rapidly changed his mind.
A pretty blonde girl stood behind the reception desk. He opened his wallet. ‘Detective Quinn from Police Headquarters. I need to speak to the manager.’
‘Sir, may I help?’
‘I talked to him the day before yesterday about a homicide. An English guy.’
‘Mr Templeton?’
‘Sure. Could you have him come down?’
‘Sir, Mr Templeton is not here.’
‘Then ask him to come in.’
‘He no longer works at the hotel. He left town yesterday.’
‘For where?’
‘He didn’t say.’
A man with a broad forehead and receding grey hair appeared behind her. He had evidently been listening to the conversation. ‘I’m the duty manager, sir. Perhaps I can help?’
‘Where’s Templeton?’
‘He’s left our employment.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m not sure I know, sir.’
‘Where is he?’
‘I’m afraid I have no idea. He didn’t leave a forwarding address. Perhaps he intends to return to London. I know he has family there.’
‘You’re kidding me.’
‘No, sir.’
Quinn took the man’s arm and marched him into the room behind the desk. He closed the door. ‘You mean to tell me that the manager of this hotel has been allowed to walk out in the middle of a homicide investigation?’
‘Yes, sir. I mean, he’s left. That’s all I can say.’
‘Was he fired?’
‘I understand that the management board has been shocked by the abrupt nature of his departure.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘O’Grady, sir. Michael O’Grady.’
‘From the North, right? Belfast?’
‘Armagh. But we’ve been here twenty years.’
Quinn took a step closer. ‘You know what went on up there in Charlie Matsell’s suite, Michael?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Quinn’s eyes narrowed. ‘How do you know?’
‘I overheard part of the conversation your colleague had with Mr Templeton last week.’
‘Which colleague?’
O’Grady frowned. ‘I couldn’t say.’
‘Was he in uniform?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was he from Headquarters?’
‘I don’t believe Mr Templeton asked him which department he represented.’
‘What did he want?’
‘To know who had been in Mr Matsell’s suite on the Wednesday night prior to his visit. He asked whether anyone had delivered food to the room.’
‘And had they?’
‘Yes, sir. Room Service had delivered a tray of sandwiches early in the evening.’
‘Is the waiter here tonight?’
‘He left for California at the end of last week.’
‘Had he planned to leave?’
‘I don’t believe so.’
‘Didn’t that strike you as odd?’
‘Yes, sir, it did. The staff …’
‘Go on.’
‘The word among the staff is that he was given some money. He certainly seemed in a hurry to leave.’
‘Do you know what actually went on in Mr Matsell’s suite, Michael?’
‘Not precisely, sir. I understood there to have been an incident.’
‘Did the officer tell you that?’
