“You didn’t fail them, sir,” Mike said. “All the information is right there on your desk.”
“I am responsible for every man in my office,” the Old Man said. “I will pay for Millersen, I will pay for you. Being District Attorney is more than just going before a Grand Jury and getting indictments, it’s more than getting a conviction in criminal court. It’s pride. Pride in doing your job without fear, without favour. When you quit, it’s just as if I quit. The whole world will know it.”
Mike didn’t speak.
“All right,” the Old Man said. “Quit if you want to, but at least have the decency to tell me why. I know you’re not a coward.”
Mike took a deep breath. Suddenly he realised his hands were trembling.
“Tell me, Mike,” the Old Man said gently. “You were a good cop and you were a good assistant. Why are you quitting?”
Mike met the Old Man’s eyes. “She was my girl, sir.” His voice was dull.
“She?” The Old Man’s voice was puzzled. “Who?”
“Marja,” Mike said. “Maryann Flood, I mean.”
“This Maryann Flood?”
Mike nodded.
“But how—what?” The Old Man was confused.
“I didn’t know she was in it when I called Alec for the check on Park Avenue Models three weeks ago, sir.” Mike paused to light a cigarette. “If I had known, I might not have begun.”
The District Attorney looked up at him. There was a new understanding in his eyes. “I was right,” he half whispered. “I was right about you.”
Mike went on as if he hadn’t heard the Old Man. “Then when I got the report, I had to continue. I sent up and got permission to continue. We got a wiretap and began to check. Everything began to fall into place—things we hadn’t even thought about. How so many of our raids missed. Lots of things. Especially when we checked back on her first arrest and found that Frank Millersen was the arresting officer. It was even more convincing when we found out that he had banked close to twenty thousand a year. Isn’t a cop in the world that can do that on his pay. From there to the businessmen who kept her in business, to the politicians she paid off, to the cops and detectives the girls took care of. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the investigation was over. Everything was ready to go before the Grand Jury for an indictment. It was then I knew I couldn’t do it. I asked Joel Rader to take it for me.”
The Old Man looked up at him. “You called in sick.”
Mike nodded. “I was sick. Sick inside.”
“But you’ve come up here while Joel is still in the courtroom.”
“Yes,” Mike answered. “I want to get out before I know how much damage I’ve done to her.”
“You can’t run away from that, Mike,” the Old Man said gently.
Mike dragged deeply on the cigarette. “I can try, John.”
“You’re still in love with her.” It was more statement than question.
Mike looked down at him. He didn’t speak.
The door behind him opened, and Joel Rader came in, an excited expression on his face.
“You’ve done it, Mike!” he cried. “We’ve got an indictment against every one of them. Flood, Millersen. It’ll be the biggest thing ever to hit this town!” He turned to the District Attorney, still seated behind the desk. “I’ve got warrants with me for their arrest. We’re going downstairs to pick up Millersen now.”
The D.A. got to his feet. “I’ll go with you.” He looked at Mike. “Coming, copper?”
Frank Millersen stuck a pipe in his mouth and lit it carefully. When it was burning easily, he began to skim through the papers on his desk. Nothing special. He could look forward to a relaxing weekend with Betty and the kids. It would be the first in a long while.
There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” he called.
The shuffle of several men’s footsteps made him look up. The D.A. was standing in front of his desk, and behind him were Keyes and Rader. Beyond the door he could see the blue uniform of a patrolman. He felt an unaccustomed tightness in his chest, but he forced a smile to his lips and got to his feet, holding out his hand. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been down here, Chief,” he said.
His hand hung in space between them. The District Attorney made no move to take it. Awkwardly Millersen raised his hand to remove the pipe from between his lips, trying to make it seem one unbroken gesture.
The D.A.’s voice was low. “We have a warrant for your arrest, Frank.”
He could feel his face whiten. “What are the charges, sir?” he asked. But he could read them in Mike’s face.
“Do I have to tell you, Frank?” the Old Man asked gently.
Millersen’s shoulders drooped, and he slumped into his chair. He was suddenly an old man. He looked down at his desk. Aimlessly his hand shuffled the papers on it. He shook his head. “No.”
Without looking up, he knew that the District Attorney had turned and walked out of the office. Rader’s voice beat down at his head. “You better come with us, Frank.”
He looked up, agony in his eyes. “Give me a minute to get myself together,” he said heavily. “I’ll be right out.”
Joel looked at Mike, who nodded. “Okay,” Joel said. “We’ll wait for you.”
They started out the door. Millersen’s voice stopped them. “Mike.”
Mike turned to face him.
Millersen forced a smile to his lips. “I should have remembered you were a damn good cop before you joined the D.A. I couldn’t have done better myself.”
Mike’s lips were stiff. “I’m sorry, Frank.”
“It was your job, Mike,” Frank said quietly.
Mike nodded and followed Joel through the door. Millersen watched it close behind them. He picked up the pipe and stuck it in his mouth and drew on it. He could feel the heavy smoke deep in his lungs.
There was no regret for himself when he opened his desk drawer and took out the blue-grey revolver. There was only a vast sorrow in him for Betty and the kids as he substituted the cold metal of the revolver’s muzzle for the warm bit of the pipe in his mouth.
Chapter Fifteen
AS HE WEARILY OPENED the door, he could hear his mother talking to someone in the kitchen. He walked through the parlour to his room slowly. He could not remember ever having been so tired, so completely exhausted.
His mother’s voice called from the kitchen. “That you, Mike?”
It was an effort for him to raise his voice. “Yes, Ma.” He went into his room and closed the door. He took off his jacket and sank into the easy chair near the window. He lit a cigarette and stared out with unseeing eyes.
The door opened behind him. He didn’t turn. “Are you all right, son?”
“I’m okay, Ma,” he answered.
She came around his chair and looked down at him. “You’re home early. Is there anything wrong?”
He looked up at her. Concern was written on her face. “There’s nothing wrong, Ma.”
“You look poorly,” she said. “I’ll make you some tea.”
A note of annoyance crept into his voice. “Leave me alone, Ma,” he said sharply. “I’m okay.”
He saw the hurt creeping into her eyes, and he reached for her hand. “I’m sorry, Ma,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be harsh.”
“That’s all right, son,” she said. “I understand.”
“No, Ma,” he said. No one could really understand. Only he knew how he felt.
His mother stood there hesitantly, “I know the look on your face, son.”
“What look, Ma?” he asked absently, looking out the window again.
“That girl,” his mother said. “She’s back. I can tell by your eyes.”
He looked up quickly. He didn’t speak.
“It’s the same look you had that time you went up to the Bronx to bring her home and she didn’t come with you.” His mother’s voice was tinged with pain for him. “You can’t get her out of your mind, can you, son?”
He dro
pped her hand. “I tried, Ma. I don’t know what it is. It’s like she’s a part of me.”
“You saw her?” his mother asked.
He shook his head. “No, Ma.”
“What is it, then?”
“The police are on their way to arrest her now. I prepared a case against her that will send her to gaol.”
His mother didn’t speak for a moment. “It’s your job, son.”
“Don’t you tell me that, Ma,” he said with a flash of anger. Millersen had said that too. Now Millersen was dead. “You know better!”
“I told you a long time ago that she’s no good for you,” she said, starting for the door. “Maybe you’ll believe me now.”
“But what do you do when you know there’s no one else for you?” he said in an agonised voice.
Maryann looked up from the desk. Tom was standing in front of her. He was smiling. “I got the cab waiting, Miz Maryann,” he said. “We got just an hour to get to the airport.”
She smiled back at him. “I’ll be just a few minutes, Tom.”
“I’ll wait outside,” he said. “I just cain’t wait to see my li’l blonde baby.”
“I can’t wait either,” she said.
Tom went out of the office and the door closed behind him. She looked for a moment at the photograph of Michelle on the desk, then picked up a few papers and scanned them quickly: bills that could wait until she returned in two weeks. She put them in a folder and placed it in the basket on the desk. She locked the desk drawer and got to her feet.
Picking up her coat from a chair, she cast a last glance around the room. The telephone began to ring. She hesitated and then, making a face, started toward the door. If it was Joker, let him find out tomorrow that she had gone. To hell with him! She would be back soon enough. This time she was going to keep her promise to Michelle.
As she reached for the doorknob, the door opened and a tall man confronted her. Automatically her eyes dropped to his feet. She felt the hair on the base of her neck begin to rise. Copper!
“Did you ever hear of knocking before you enter a room?” she asked coldly.
He came into the office, and she saw that there were several men behind him. The first man smiled. “Going someplace baby?” he asked.
“None of your business.” she snapped.
A short, dark man pushed his way through the group. “Cut the comedy, George,” he said sharply. He turned to her. “Are you Maryann Flood?”
She nodded.
“I’m Joel Rader of the District Attorney’s office. These men are police. We would like you to come with us,” he said.
She stepped back against her desk. “Is this an arrest?”
“It sure is, baby,” the tall man said coarsely.
She ignored him and spoke to the short, dark man. “What am I charged with, Mr. Rader?” she asked.
“This warrant will spell it out, Miss Flood,” Rader said, handing her a folded sheet of paper.
She took it from him and scanned it quickly. When she looked up, her face was impassive. “May I call my attorney?” she asked calmly.
Joel nodded. He watched her admiringly as she walked behind the desk and picked up the telephone. She dialled quickly. No wonder the woman could do what she did. She had nerves of ice.
He could hear a man’s voice answer the ’phone. “Hank,” she said quietly, “I’ve just been arrested … No, I’m still at the office … Yes … I’ll see you down there.”
She put down the telephone and looked at Joel. “I’m ready now,” she said.
He stepped aside to let her pass. She walked through the door to the outer office. The old coloured man stood there, his face greyish. She stopped to speak to him. “Don’t worry, Tom,” she said. “Go home and fix dinner. And wire the baby that we were held up on business.”
Tom looked across Vito’s office at Joker with a worried expression. “Is Miz Maryann in big trouble?”
Joker looked at Hank Vito, then turned back to Tom. “She’s in big trouble.”
“All on ’count of that there lawyer? That one they mention in the papers who done prepared the case? That Mr. Keyes? That one that gone on a vacation while Miz Maryann is in all that trouble?” Tom’s voice was indignant.
“That’s the boy.” Joker’s voice was quiet.
“He’s a mean man, Mr. Joker,” Tom said seriously, “to do that to Miz Maryann jus’ because she won’ marry up with him.”
“What?” Joker leaned forward. “What do you mean?” A vague, torturing memory began to bother him. That friend of Ross’s, the boy who used to pick her up after work at the dance hall. His name had been Mike. He stared at Tom. “What do you mean?” he repeated.
“He Michelle’s father,” Tom said.
“How do you know?” Vito asked. “Did she tell you?”
Tom shook his head. “She never do that.”
“Then how do you know?” Vito asked. “If we could prove that, I could get her off easy. No jury in the world would believe it was anything but a frame-up.”
“She keep Michelle’s birth certificate in the dresser at home. It says his name next to Father. I see it many times when I clean,” Tom said.
Vito got to his feet excitedly. “You go right home and get it. Then bring it right down here. Don’t give it to anybody but me. Understand?”
Tom was already on his way to the door. He looked back at them with a happy grin. “Yes suh, Mr. Hank. understand.”
The door closed behind him and Vito turned to Joker. “Well, what do you make of that?” he asked.
“I’ll be damned!” Joker said in wonder. “And all the time she never said a thing to us.”
“You think she still goes for the guy?” Vito asked.
Joker shrugged. “I’ve stopped trying to figure her a long time ago.”
“I won’t spring it until the trial,” Vito said. “I wouldn’t want the D.A. to bring it out before we do.” He paused, interrupted by a thought. “You think Keyes knows?”
Joker shook his head. “Uh-uh. I don’t think she ever told anyone. Except maybe Ross. And he can’t tell nobody.”
Vito walked behind his desk. “I don’t understand that woman,” he said in a puzzled voice. “I saw her in gaol this morning. It’s her third day there, and she never said a word to me. I wonder if she knows that this could spring her.”
“Even if she does, I doubt she would say anything,” Joker smiled. “Remember what you said to me a long time ago, Hank? When you first told me about her?”
Vito shook his head. “No.”
“She’s a special kind of broad,” Joker quoted. “A whore with a code of ethics.”
The State vs. Maryann Flood.
JOEL LOOKED UP from his desk as I walked into the office. There was a worried expression on his face. “The Old Man has been yelling like hell for yuh,” he said. “You better jump upstairs on the double.”
“What’s he want?” I asked, throwing my hat and coat onto a chair.
“I don’t know,” Joel said. “I heard Vito was with him. I don’t like it.”
“Vito?” I questioned.
Joel nodded. “You better snap it up.”
The Old Man’s secretary waved me right into his office. The Old Man was seated behind his desk, his eyes cold. Vito sat in a chair opposite him. He turned around when I came in.
I walked past him to the desk. “You sent for me, sir?”
The Old Man nodded, his eyes still cold. “You didn’t tell me everything about yourself and Miss Flood.” His voice was as cold as his eyes.
I felt anger creeping up in me. This was one thing I hadn’t bargained for. I had told the Old Man everything that was pertinent. It was he who had asked to stay on when I wanted to quit. I made my voice as cold as his. “I’m afraid I don’t understand you.”
“One Frank Millersen is enough for any man in one lifetime!” the Old Man shouted, his fist pounding the desk.
I kept my voice calm, though my temper was going through the
roof. I had been through enough hell without having him yell at me. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Maybe you don’t know about this?” the Old Man asked sarcastically, pushing a piece of paper at me.
I picked it up and looked at it. It was a birth certificate. Michelle Keyes. I read farther, feeling the blood leave my face. Mother—Maryann Flood. Father—Michael Keyes. I looked at the date. I could feel my heart pounding. It had to be right. It matched the time we had been together.
Now I understood a lot of things. That strange look she had given me last night when I asked about her daughter. I hadn’t suspected that the child was mine.
The Old Man’s voice rasped at my ears. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”
I looked up at him and kept my voice as steady as I could “How could I?” I asked. “This is the first I ever knew of it.”
The Old Man snorted. “You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”
My temper finally blew the roof. “I don’t give a damn what you believe!” I shouted.
“You know what this will do to our case?” the Old Man asked. “It will kick it into a cocked hat!”
I glared at him. He was the guy who said the only way to win was to go with the truth. “Why should it?” I asked coldly. “Vito hasn’t been able to disprove any of the charges.”
For the first time since I had come into the room, he spoke. “Why should I bother?” he asked. “What jury is going to believe your charges when they see this? It’ll make everything seem like a frame. A personal vendetta.”
I looked down at him and sneered. “I heard you were a good lawyer, Vito. One of the best. I didn’t know you included blackmail in your arsenal.”
Vito started out of his chair toward me. I pushed him back with one hand. He sat there glaring at me.
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