GEORGE WAS WATCHING Lester Hackel Jr.’s office from across the street. He stood a few buildings down, where he had sought shelter under a tree. It had started raining hard, with lightning and thunder, and he cursed himself for not bringing an umbrella. The danger of standing next to a tree during a lightning storm was obvious, but he ignored it in favor of staying dry. Earlier, when it wasn’t raining, he had let his driver wander off with the carriage to the closest saloon, which was a few blocks away. Since George had already been there for several hours, he figured his driver was feeling no pain by now.
George was contemplating going for a cup of tea or anywhere that he could attain proper shelter when he finally saw some activity across the street. A tall, comely Nordic woman, Scandinavian or German in origin, approached the law office carrying a big box. Having no hands free, she kicked the door a couple of times and Lester Hackel Jr. opened it, beckoning her inside. Not long after that he saw a man pull up in a carriage and get out. He was wearing a trench coat, another item George regretted leaving at home, and quickly opened an umbrella before George could see his face. In true cloak-and-dagger fashion, George stayed low as he stealthily made his way across the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man. He planted himself behind a milk wagon and carefully moved around it to get a better view.
The man knocked on the door and waited impatiently for Lester Hackel Jr. to answer. He was fidgety. He pulled out his pocket watch and started to turn to the left in order to read the watch in a better light. This was it. The man was about to show his face, and though George was tense, he was excited and ready. It felt odd that even without Mary, he was enjoying himself. I’m beginning to really like this sleuthing business, he thought.
That’s when he was struck on the side of his head with what felt like a sledgehammer. It wasn’t. It was Shorty’s fist.
THE RAIN MADE the journey to the Raymond Street Jail seem longer and far more miserable. Once she arrived, it took a while but Mary talked her way in to see Sean after invoking Warden Wilson’s name no less than a dozen times. The guards finally checked with him, and she was given clear passage.
When Mary entered the infirmary, out of breath from rushing to get there, she saw a guard bent over Sean’s bed. She prayed she was in time.
“Stand away from my brother’s bed! Stand away now!”
The guard slowly straightened and raised his hands, then turned around.
“Billy! What in blazes are you doing here?”
As Billy put his hands down he said, “I’m the one who should be askin’ that question, lass. The way you were screamin’ I thought you had a shotgun in your hands.”
“I didn’t know it was you, and it was scary the way you were hunched over Sean.”
“Well, chess is a scary game.” He stepped away, revealing Sean lying in the bed, his head propped up with pillows, with a chessboard and pieces next to him on the bed.
“Relax, sis,” Sean said. “Billy’s just trying to teach me a few moves so that I can give you tougher competition.”
After what had seemed like an eternity, Mary exhaled, smiling as she walked toward them. “You should have started years ago. I’m already eons ahead of you.”
“That’s our plan. Make you feel cocky and then blindside you.”
“How’s the leg?”
“It hurts. I don’t know how useful it’ll be, but the doc said it’ll take time to find that out.” Sean didn’t want to talk about his leg. He pointed to Billy. “How do you like my poor excuse for a bodyguard?”
“You’re guarding him, Billy?”
“I asked Chief McKellar if I could watch the lad until he got on his feet.”
“And Chief McKellar approved it?”
“Ya still don’t understand us, do ya, lass?” Billy turned toward Sean. “He may be a filthy, low-down murderer, but he’s our murderer and we look after our own.”
“Thanks, Billy,” Sean responded sarcastically. “You make me feel really special.”
“The guard at the station certainly didn’t share your sentiments,” Mary remarked.
“He’s a bit dim-witted,” replied Billy, “but most guards are. That’s why I told the one that was here to scram, and I took over.”
“You’re wonderful, Billy. Thank you.”
Mary hugged him, and Billy raised his hands in the air again.
“Careful, girl, or you’ll anger the missus, and she’s handier with a firearm than I am.”
Mary told them she was just there to check on Sean and had to go. She didn’t mention the Long Island Water Supply Company and what she had discovered about Superintendent Campbell. She was still formulating what she was going to do. If she let others know, it might get back to him, and he could have time to prepare an excuse or, worse, take action.
When Mary left the Raymond Street Jail, she still hadn’t decided where she was going. Should she go directly to Superintendent Campbell’s office and confront him, or relieve George and discuss the situation with him? That question was soon answered, because as she stepped out into the pouring rain, Superintendent Campbell’s carriage was parked in front.
“Mary, what are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“And I can answer it. I was in a meeting when I was interrupted with a telephone call from Warden Wilson informing me you were demanding entry.”
“And you allowed it? I’m surprised.” Mary regretted those words the second they came out of her mouth. She knew Superintendent Campbell wouldn’t let them go unchallenged and she wasn’t ready to reveal her suspicions yet. She started walking, hoping she could avoid the inevitable. At best, it was wishful thinking.
“Come back here, Mary.”
She kept walking. “I hate to disappoint you, but I have a brother in this jail whose innocence I still have to prove.”
Superintendent Campbell told his driver to follow Mary, and the carriage started moving. “Get in the carriage. I’ll take you where you need to go.”
Mary stiffened. “No, thank you. I can find it on my own.”
“Mary Handley, get in this carriage now, and explain to me why you’re acting so incredibly bizarre. Now, Mary!”
She stopped. Mary was soaking wet, still mourning Patti’s death, devastated over Sean’s arrest, and heartbroken over Superintendent Campbell’s betrayal. She wouldn’t have chosen this time as the moment to confront Campbell, but it was as good as any. She got in the carriage.
Superintendent Campbell offered her a towel. “I keep this in my carriage for emergencies. Dry yourself.”
She shook her head. “It’s not necessary.”
“It’s not a choice. You’re dripping all over my carriage. Now dry yourself.”
Mary took the towel and started wiping her face and hands, then proceeded to her hair. She didn’t want to admit it, but it felt good.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Why do you want to know?”
“So I can tell my driver. Do you want him to guess?”
Mary told Superintendent Campbell Lester Hackel Jr.’s address. She figured that was the most logical place to go. Maybe George had found something out, and besides, she desperately needed his support at that moment. When Superintendent Campbell gave the address to the driver, she asked, “Do you know who Lester Hackel Jr. is?”
“He’s handling Gabrielle Evans’s estate.” Mary looked surprised, and he continued. “Don’t you think I follow the crimes being committed in my city?”
“Then you must know about the Long Island Water Supply Company.”
“I’ve heard of it. Why?”
She had to let him know. She informed him of everything she had found out as Superintendent Campbell listened intently. By the time she finished, her voice and temperament had risen to a very intense level.
“Imagine my disappointment, my anger, my complete outrage to discover the man I admired, my mentor, my friend, was not only involved in murder for profit but committ
ed crimes against my family. How could you have become so completely depraved?! Have you no shame?!”
Superintendent Campbell didn’t so much as flinch at the news. He slowly sat back and scratched under his chin, a habit he had while thinking, and calmly responded.
“I’m proud of you, Mary. You’ve done some very fine detective work.”
“Thank you. I had a good teacher,” she said pointedly.
“What’s your next step? Are you going to arrest me?”
“You know I can’t do that. I have to inform the proper authorities.” Suddenly, Mary’s emotions took over. Her outrage exploded out of her body. “Damn it, Chief! I don’t understand any of this. I thought you cared about us. Why the hell did you do it?”
Superintendent Campbell remained calm. “I said you’ve done some fine detective work. I didn’t say it was correct.”
“Prove me wrong, Chief. I’d love you to prove me wrong.”
“First of all, I don’t and never have owned stock in the Long Island Water Supply Company.”
“Then how come your name is on the list?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I have some suspicions. I do know this. I have been an honest policeman my whole career, and there is no possible way I could have made enough money to buy that amount of stock, even at twenty-five dollars a share.”
“And I should just take your word for it.”
“No, but there are other facts to consider. Do you know who just bought the Long Island Water Supply Company?”
“Yes, the city of Brooklyn.”
“Mayor Chapin orchestrated the sale.”
“So?”
“He doesn’t need to steal. He has family money. But he does want to be governor, and he needs Hugh McLaughlin for that.”
“That still doesn’t explain—”
“Hold your horses, Mary. I’m getting to it. I’ve been trying to bring down McLaughlin and his damn Brooklyn Ring for years now, and he knows it.”
“So he buys stock using your name, he has Chapin buy the company for an outrageous profit, and in case anyone investigates, you’re the one who will look crooked.”
“By the time I proved I never bought the stock and didn’t have the money, I would have been forced to resign and been out of his hair.”
“But in all probability no one investigates, and the money is his. I only stumbled upon it because of Sean being framed.” She paused, nodding. It all made sense. “I’m sorry, Chief.”
“I’d have thought the same thing if it were you. Except, you’d be locked up by now.”
Mary smiled as Superintendent Campbell called to his driver and changed their destination to Hugh McLaughlin’s office. Her reunion with George would have to wait. She was happy that she might be wrong but would reserve final judgment until they spoke with McLaughlin. The way things were going, anything was possible. She had to watch Superintendent Campbell carefully. She hadn’t crossed him off her list yet, and she had no doubt that he knew it.
35
IT WAS LATE afternoon and Hugh McLaughlin had just decided where to build the swimming pool at his North Shore house when a drop of water splashed onto the architect’s plans that were spread out on the desk in his office. He looked up at the origin of the leak, a wet spot on the ceiling. Damn it! Not again! He ripped the plans off the desk, then folded them and shoved them into a drawer. He grabbed the wastepaper basket to the right of his chair and placed it on the desk under the drip. He then went to his door, swung it open, and roared to his secretary.
“Helen, tell Liam ta get that moron roofer he hired back in here and—” He stopped when he saw the two people standing next to Helen’s desk.
“I’ll inform Liam about the roofer, Mr. McLaughlin, and I was just going to inquire about your availability.” She gestured toward their visitors. “Superintendent Campbell and Miss Handley would like to speak with you.”
Helen answered the ringing phone as McLaughlin instantly turned on his charm, an ability he had no matter how annoyed he might have been. He went over and shook their hands.
“Why, Patrick, it’s good to see ya. You should stop by more often. And, Mary, a beautiful Irish lass is always welcome. Please, come in.”
He waved for them to follow him into his office. He closed the door and pointed to the wastepaper basket sitting on his desk.
“The Brooklyn Daily Eagle calls me a kingmaker, and I can’t even get a leak fixed.”
Mary responded with pointed words. “The Brooklyn Daily Eagle gets many things wrong. They call my brother a murderer, and now I have proof that he’s not.”
If McLaughlin was concerned, he didn’t show it. “Well, that must be a great relief for ya and yer family.” He gestured. “Please sit down, both of ya. Make yerselves comfortable.”
They both did, Superintendent Campbell on a couch and Mary on a chair facing McLaughlin, who sat at his desk.
“So, what can I do for ya?”
Superintendent Campbell started. “I wonder if you can tell us something about the Long Island Water Supply Company.”
“Ah yes, the water supply. I can tell ya buying it was a masterstroke by Mayor Chapin. Those damn New Yorkers—excuse my language, Mary—”
“It’s okay. I’ve heard and spoken much worse.”
“All right. Those damn New Yorkers wanted to take over Brooklyn and ruin our fine way of livin’. They could have, too. We needed water, but the good mayor’s takin’ care of that.”
“You left out the part where I become a major stockholder in the company, having never invested a nickel.”
“You caught that, Patrick. Good for you. Well, no gall, no glory.”
Mary was surprised to see Superintendent Campbell, who usually stayed cool in any number of tense situations, lose his temper and pound his fist on McLaughlin’s desk. “No gall, no glory! That’s your excuse for framing me for stock manipulation?”
McLaughlin looked at Superintendent Campbell’s fist, which was still on his desk, and responded, completely unruffled, “I apologize if I caused ya any consternation. I changed my name on that list ’cause that company was gonna save Brooklyn. People are suspicious, and I didn’t want a whole hullabaloo croppin’ up over my good investment, holdin’ up the progress of our great city. If it makes ya feel any better, Patrick, I’ve written a letter to the water company explainin’ the mistake and askin’ ’em to change the name back.”
“And I should just believe you?”
“Ya want proof? The letter’s sitting on Liam’s desk for him to personally take over to ’em when he gets in tomorrow. Helen!”
“Don’t bother her, Mr. McLaughlin,” said Mary. “The poor woman is swamped with work. I’ll get it for you.”
“Thank ya, lass. It’s right across the hall. Yer such a lovely, considerate girl. Yer parents must be very proud.”
Mary wanted to tell him where he could stick his Irish malarkey, but that would cause a row that would defeat their purpose for being there. Instead, she went across the hall to Liam Riley’s office. It was tiny with just enough room for a small desk and one thin filing cabinet. McLaughlin wasn’t lying. She saw the letter addressed to the Long Island Water Supply Company sitting on Liam’s desk. She picked it up and was on her way back when a framed letter on the wall caught her attention. It was from Abraham Lincoln.
When Mary returned to McLaughlin’s office, he was laughing.
“I committed murder? Not just one but three? Ya have got to be jokin’, Patrick!”
“I couldn’t be more serious.”
Mary interrupted. “I found the letter. Here it is, Mr. McLaughlin.” And she handed it to him.
He held up the letter. “See, Patrick? I wasn’t lyin’. I don’t have to.”
“Well, I guess that settles it,” said Mary. “We should be going, Superintendent Campbell.” He looked at Mary as if she were from another planet, and she continued. “Mr. McLaughlin has answered our questions satisfactorily, and I just realized it’s my mother’s bi
rthday today. Her celebration will start any minute now.”
Superintendent Campbell didn’t move or say anything. He just stared at Mary, trying to figure out what was going on. She looked at him, her eyes telling him to hurry up.
“Please, Superintendent Campbell. I’m already late.”
“What a thoughtful daughter,” oozed McLaughlin. “Yer a rare breed, Mary Handley. There aren’t many of ya left.”
“Thank you, sir. Superintendent?”
Superintendent Campbell was still dumbfounded, but he rose, they all said their good-byes, and he and Mary left. When they were outside the office in the elevator, he turned to Mary.
“Okay, what was that all about?”
“McLaughlin didn’t do it. Commit the murders, that is.”
“That’s an interesting conclusion. I suppose there’s some reasoning that comes behind it. At least, I pray there is.”
“McLaughlin wouldn’t kill for profit and take the chance of it getting messy, like this one has. He’s too powerful. Why risk it when he can just move on to another scheme?”
“That’s it? You pulled me out of there because of your analysis of his personality!” Superintendent Campbell was about to explode when Mary spoke.
“That, and I know who hired Shorty. It was Liam Riley.”
36
“SHE LEFT IT all to the cats?!” screamed Liam Riley. “Fuck, no, that can’t be right!”
Gabrielle Evans’s cats, Vicky and Albert, had been carried to Lester Hackel Jr.’s office in a box by the tall, comely Nordic woman, Miss Amundsen, who had been asked to be their new caretaker. They were busy investigating the room, and upon Liam’s outburst, they turned toward him. Vicky jumped up onto the desk to get a better look.
Lester Hackel Jr. was mortified by Liam’s behavior. “Mr. Riley, there’s no need—”
“That was my uncle’s money! He promised my mother. She can’t do that!”
“I’m afraid she can. He left it all to your aunt, and she had the right to do with it whatever she wished.”
Brooklyn on Fire Page 23
