Brooklyn Secrets

by Triss Stein

  “I don’t have to tell you.” Not that it was a secret, but he was annoying me. “I was scared and almost assaulted by those so-called boys of yours. And how did you hook up with those gangbangers anyway? What game are you playing? You look like a homeless drunk one day and a regular citizen type the next.”

  I looked him up and down, slowly and not with approval. “I don’t think you’re an undercover cop.” I ticked off the possibilities on my fingers. “And I’m pretty sure you aren’t an academic, which is what I am.” A crazy thought struck. “Don’t tell me you’re an actor looking for ‘authenticity’ for a part.”

  “Ha. That’s funny. Nope, that’s not it, but I do have a real good reason for what I’m doing. Real good and real personal. I want to know what you’re doing. You following me? Seems like you turn up every time I turn around.”

  “Following you? Me, following you? Hell no. Why would I do that?”

  “Don’t you know who I am?” He preened. “You should. I’m not a nobody, especially if you are looking at the boys from Brooklyn.”

  “All I know is that you seem to have an unhealthy interest in the Brownsville mob, a bunch of psychopaths if ever there was one.” Now his attitude was really, seriously annoying me.

  “Hey! One of those guys was my grandfather.” He posed again. “They say I look a lot like him.”

  “Say that again.”

  “A lot like him.”

  “No! The rest…”

  “Yeah. ‘Liv’ Nathan was my granddad. I got a legacy.”

  Liv was a boss, someone they all worked for, a sort of big name. I’d never seen anything about descendents.

  “How could I possibly know you? I don’t even know your name. And you seem young to be his grandson.”

  “My real name is Gersh Nathan, like him. I use James. His nickname, Liv, came from Livonia Avenue. And I’m young because my dad had me when he was old.” He paused. “Young wife of course, my mom was.”

  I was still annoyed, but I was also cautiously, reluctantly, somewhat intrigued. He was a direct connection to a vanished past, like the reason people spend a fortune on a baseball Babe Ruth signed or Princess Diana’s clothes.

  “You are? Really? Did you ever know him?” If he had, how could I download his memories into my computer? And do it without having to deal with him?

  “Nope. Long gone when I was born but my dad used to talk about him. And there are home movies, too. Plus I have older half-brothers who remember him.”

  He stopped and shrugged. “The mothers hate each other but we boys get along okay.” He stopped again. “What I got from them is that the old man was a pretty good guy.”

  Not much leaves me speechless. That did.

  “You don’t believe it? He always behaved like a gent, didn’t curse, had good manners. Respected his wife and his parents. Voted Republican!” He saw my face. “For real. You don’t know everything even if you are some kind of student. Ya know what I’m saying?”

  “Okay.” I said it cautiously. It crossed my mind that he was not merely eccentric but delusional. I was glad to be in an open, public space surrounded by other people.

  “They had reasons, those guys, they had good reasons to make money any way they could. And they only killed other crooks, you know.”

  “We only kill each other.”

  “Yes!” He nodded vigorously. “That is it in a nutshell. You get it.”

  He did not seem to recognize that it was a quote from Benjamin ‘Bugsy’ Siegel, another delusional crook. And that it was not exactly the truth.

  “Now let’s get down to business.” He squared his shoulders and his jaw. “I need to know what you are after. You are getting in my way and I can’t allow that to happen.”

  I still didn’t like his attitude, but what I was doing was so innocuous, boring even—a doctoral dissertation!—that I told him.

  “Yeah? Ha-ha. Very funny. You hang around a tough neighborhood, lots of gangs, just to do research? For grad school? Now how about telling me the truth.”

  “You haven’t told me what you are doing either.” At this point I really wanted to know. And I really wanted him to stop asking me questions.

  “Grandpa Liv died poor.” His expression became sly, the face I remembered from our encounter in a Brownsville alley. “So they said. But he made a fortune in his life. What happened to it?” He paused dramatically, as if he expected a response from me.

  “Lost it all on slow horses and fast women?”

  “Hey, watch it. That’s my grandpop you’re badmouthing.”

  Sure. Cause none of the mob had gambling habits or girls on the side.

  “Spent it on lawyers? His associates stole it when he died? I never thought about it, but I’m guessing you have some of your own ideas.”

  “You bet I do.” His chest went out and his spine straightened with pride. “He hid it. He hid it and I am going to find it.”

  After all these years? Right. But I stopped myself from saying that, just in time, because he had more to say.

  “My brothers said no way, but I found something. Cleaning out my mom’s old place I found a locked box, way up on a high closet shelf. Never saw it before, ever.” He leaned toward me and I moved back a few more inches. He whispered. “It was my dad’s. They were grandpa’s papers. The real things. He had a notebook. And letters.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  He leaned in again more aggressively, and I added quickly, “I mean, I’m surprised, not that I think you are not telling the truth.”

  I took a deep breath. “You know, material like that, original sources, might have great historical value. Huge value. And maybe other kinds of value too. People collect these things. A library, or a museum, or…”

  “Oh, they are valuable all right. They are. And for a lot more than a dusty library.”

  “Like the archives you were using today?” I half hoped he would hear the sarcasm but he took me seriously.

  “Yeah, yeah, that place is useful but what I found isn’t going there. It’s the pot at the end of the rainbow. Yeah, you won’t believe it.”

  “So don’t tell me.” I had had enough. “Or do tell me, but don’t take forever.” I tapped my watch.

  “I know where my grandpop’s fortune is hidden.”

  “What?”

  “I do. His papers told me. They were in code but I cracked it. Of course everything looks different around there now, so it’s a little hard to figure out. That’s why I hooked up with that little posse. They are working for me. I hung around for awhile, disguised, until I found some guys who wanted to make some money and knew the ins and outs of the old neighborhood. My granddad didn’t have no fools for grandchildren.”

  Now I knew he was a few aces short of a deck. Today, here, normally dressed, he had the façade of a normal person, but no one in his right mind would trust those thugs. However, saying, “Are you out of your freaking mind?” would probably not be the smart move.

  Instead I said, carefully, carefully, “Has anyone else seen these papers? Someone who could, like, evaluate them to see if they are real? Or if they really do mean what you think?”

  “No one sees them. Not even my own guys who work for me. That’s how I make sure they don’t go looking without me.” His face lit up. “Now I get it. You’d like to be the one to do that, wouldn’t you? Look for it? And get a cut, when we find it? Or even get there first?” He stood up and leaned in close to me. “Not a chance, lady. Not a freaking chance.”

  He gripped my arm and continued in a stage whisper, darting his eyes around to make sure no one was watching us. “Stay away from where we are working, near Min’s, and stay away from the whole freakin’ subject. I’ll know what you’re doing. And you will be sorry if you don’t stop. I promise that.”

  He punctuated his tirade with a painful punch to my arm and
walked away. In no time he had disappeared again into a crowd of tourists and I was too stunned to try to follow. And punch him back. Or at least, yell at him.

  I didn’t know if my arm hurt more, or my brain, because most of what he said made no sense. I didn’t believe there was a treasure. And I didn’t care if there was. And I was no threat to him. Or anybody.

  Breathe, I told myself. Breathe. And then find coffee and gulp a few ibuprofen for what I was sure would soon be a dramatic bruise on my upper arm. And go back to finding some lunch.

  Or maybe sit here for a bit. Breathe, and enjoy the normal spring sunshine and the normal tulips; the normal people walking around taking photos in front of quaint old City Hall; even the normal pigeons softly cooing and the normal garlic smell from the hot dog truck.

  My phone rang. Oh, crap. Which pocket? Jacket or pack? I thought, oh, crap again when I saw it was my dad. And then I saw it was a text. My dad knows how to text?

  It said: Downtown too meet me?

  I called him back.

  “Hi, Dad. What’s up?’

  “I am near City Hall today, taking care of some business, and heard you were in the same neighborhood?”

  “What?” This was not making sense. Or maybe my mind was still on the previous encounter. “You heard about me?”

  “Chris, honey. Chris. I do talk to my grandkid from time to time.”

  “Oh.”

  “So where are you? Thought I’d take you to lunch if we’re nearby.”

  “Ah. City Hall Park. On a bench. Getting ready to head home.”

  “Eat yet?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll be there in two minutes. Don’t move.”

  And there he was, all smiles, before I’d even had time to see what the market offered.

  “Chris said you’d be at the Municipal Archives, so I thought I’d surprise you. I walked right in, but you already left.”

  I just looked at him, questioning. “You learned that…how?”

  “Cause I recognized your old friend Jennifer, of course. We had a nice visit. She said I hadn’t changed a bit.”

  “Come on. She didn’t.”

  “Sure she did. She was at our house plenty of times when you were in school together.”

  I had two people stalking me today? But this one was buying lunch.

  “You all right? You look a little weird.” He quickly added, “Not weird. Fine. Pretty. But…”

  “I’ll tell you all about it. But lunch first.” I pointed to the market and we wandered over.

  It was too early in the season for much produce, but there was a booth with hand pies of different flavors, bland but hearty Cornish and spicy West Indian. A truck making waffles with a choice of sweet or savory toppings. The bakery booth had giant cookies and pie by the slice and tarts with vegetables and cheese. Lunch for me. Dad came back with two waffles in a box, one with maple syrup and one with thick, dark Dutch chocolate sauce.

  “I see you went straight to dessert.”

  “Yeah. Life is short.”

  He had some struggles with his delicious but messy meal. I know it was delicious because he encouraged me to have a few bites.

  So it took us awhile before I could tell him about my way beyond strange encounter.

  “He threatened you?” I didn’t like Dad’s tone of voice. Even his body stance changed. The former Brooklyn scrapper was ready to go again.

  “No, not really, dad.” I wasn’t encouraging that, not at his age. “He told me to stop following him around. Which I wasn’t doing anyway.”

  “Or else.” He sounded grim.

  “Dad! Try to follow along here. One, I. Am. Not. Following. Him. Around. He is, um, somewhat delusional, I think. And two, if I don’t show up where he is he will think I have stopped.”

  “Stopped what?”

  “Following him and spying. Which I am not doing anyway. I am working on something completely different.”

  “And you are going to stop?”

  “Hell, no. Are you kidding?” I saw his expression and quickly added, “Don’t say one word. It’s research I need to do. I don’t care about his grandfather. And his legendary lost millions. As if.”

  His eyes lit up. “Liv Nathan, he said? There were stories. Let me rephrase. More like rumors than stories. He was big.” He stopped. “Big locally. Not as big as the real big guys. But there should have been money and there wasn’t. His girl friend found a new sugar daddy pretty fast but his widow was on welfare for a while. That’s the way I heard it, anyway.”

  “Details, Dad. I need more.”

  He shrugged. “It was, like, a legend when I was a kid. Ya know? Liv’s lost fortune. Way before my time. And I can tell you truthfully, I haven’t thought of it in maybe fifty years.” He was busy mopping up the last of the syrup. “Seems like there might have been a public screaming fight between his widow and his floozy about the money. Too bad your grandparents aren’t around. They might have remembered more.” He stopped and considered. “If they would talk about it. Which I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t, ever.”

  It wasn’t until we were walking to Dad’s car that I thought to ask him about what he was doing there, far from his usual turf. I suddenly remembered that the marriage license office was around here. Had he gotten back with that woman? Heart beating hard and mouth dry, I asked him what his business was today.

  “I went in to the Taxi Commission to see about reactivating my license.”

  “What? Why? I don’t think that’s a great idea, Dad. You were sick…”

  “I’m better. I feel fine. I’m bored. I could use the money.”

  “You’re not serious. You’re not.” Would saying it make it true?

  “I am. Why not?” I gave him the parental look he gives me. “And you can simmer down. I have to have health clearance before. So there’s that.”

  “Okay.” Of course he would do what he wanted no matter what I said. He has, from time to time, had the same complaint about me. Pretty often, actually.

  At his car, I quickly created a reason I was not going home yet. I knew if I rode with him we would get into an argument about his going back to work. I knew that because there was a lot I wanted to say about it. Or we would fight about something else, as a proxy for that one. Idiotic but true. But not today.

  The truth, the real truth, was that it felt awfully good to have my dad watching my back today.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  That night, I went back to the information my little home-grown spy had found for me. I needed to send the films and pictures to Zora, or at the very least, tell her about them. Phone, text, e-mail? Her blog? Facebook? Do I feel over-connected? Sometimes.

  I went old school and e-mailed her. If she was catching a nap, I did not want to wake her. A few hours of rest are hard to come by in a hospital room, and this was too complicated to put in a text. At least it was for me.

  My phone was ringing almost instantly.

  “I don’t sleep much. Yes, send them to me. You should have known I’d want them.”

  “And good evening to you, too. And how is everyone?”

  She didn’t take offense. In fact she made a sound that was halfway to laughter.

  “Yes, I’m so excited I forgot my manners. Savanna is maybe—maybe!—having an improvement. Maybe. Something to take my mind off while I’m waiting to see would be a miracle. And how are you this fine night?”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll send it right out. I don’t know if you will be disappointed.” Suddenly I was unsure. “The little videos are fascinating to watch, yes, but they aren’t very clear and the sound is bad. I don’t know. Maybe you’ll recognize people that I don’t?”

  “I have a better idea. How about we meet up tomorrow and watch them together? You bring your computer here or maybe I come over to you? I mean…” Her voice droppe
d a little. “I don’t like to leave Savvie but they tell me, the doctors and nurses tell me, I need a change of scene once in a while.”

  “I have a crazier idea. Do you want to do this right now?” I was wide-awake and didn’t know who that was, that wimp nodding out on the sofa a few minutes ago. “I’m just a few minutes from the hospital.”

  “I’ll come to you. Like I said, change of scene.”

  Quickly, I picked up random papers in the living room, stacked books, folded the afghan on the sofa. I scrambled for the makings of a snack

  She was at the door in no time. Long legs will do that.

  “Would you like anything? Bad wine? Sorry, it’s all I have. Or good coffee? I scrounged up some cookies.”

  “Don’t be silly. I am not here for a party.”

  We settled the laptop on the kitchen table and we looked, together, at everything Chris had done.

  “Lord, lord, lord. I know some of those kids. Oh, that one there? I know him all right. But I never allow Savvie to spend time with that bunch.” She turned to me. “I don’t want you to think she never had fun. She had some very nice girls from the ’hood, ones she grew up with, and some decent boys too. And a ton of friends from school. She is on debate team and track and chorus. All those kids.”

  She stopped the tiny movie. “Wait, I missed something.” She ran it again. It included a few seconds on a group of girls. “Ha. I know that one there. I do.” She pointed to a girl who was gesturing fiercely. “She and Savvie were little girl friends, playing with dolls, but then they drifted, Savvie being all into school, and this one not at all. She dropped out entirely somewhere along the way.” She sighed. “Damn. Can’t quite get her name. Used to see her hanging around outside with some of those lay-about boys. That name will come to me in a minute.” She shook her head hard. “Now, let me see that boy Jackie’s messages again.”

  “Here it is. He is related to the boxer after all, I believe.”

  She stared at the screen. “Then, liar and stupid, both. I’m not making a mistake here, am I? He’s as much as said he was involved somehow, right? Oh! If only I had him here, right now.” Her fingers clenched. If Jackie were here, I wouldn’t bet ten cents on him leaving in one piece. And I won’t lie. I’d be tempted to help.