There was one place he might check, however. The ride took only twenty minutes. Once again, Maribeth refused to wait in the carriage.
“Is Dolph here?”
The man behind the bar stopped wiping the countertop, but his left hand remained leaning on the bar towel. He was thin and coiled to Dolph’s hulking menace—a snake for a bear. After an exaggerated pause, he shook his head.
“Will he be in?” There were three patrons in Arthur’s, each of whom Noah recognized from his previous visit. None so much as looked up.
The bartender shook his head once more. Could none of them speak?
“I’m a friend of Miriam Herzberg. I’d like to get a message to her.”
“I know who you are. And I ain’t Western Union.”
“But this is important.”
The man began to methodically wipe the bar, creating little curlicues of moisture that evaporated and then were replaced in the next cycle. He raised his head to stare back at them, now more bird of prey than snake. Noah took Maribeth’s arm and led her outside.
“We appear to be on our own.”
“Then we must make do with our own resources. Where does this McCluskey fellow work?”
“In Manhattan, but as I said, that’s the last place he’d be if he has taken Alan.”
“Someone will know. I can be quite charming.”
“McCluskey is a killer, Maribeth.”
“How can I be in danger in a police station?”
But Maribeth emerged from the precinct house looking defeated, the first time Noah had ever seen her so. Noah assumed no one would talk to her, but just the opposite turned out to be the case.
“McCluskey has been suspended from duty. Two other police detectives as well. Evidently the suspensions were ordered by the police commissioner himself on instructions from Governor Roosevelt. That’s all anyone in there is talking about. And I heard the phrase, ‘That son of a bitch of a doctor,’ more than once.”
“But where is he? Someone must know.”
“No one seems to. McCluskey was pretty secretive. No one is even certain where he lives.”
“They just weren’t telling you.”
“No, they would have. Especially after I told them why I wanted to see him.”
Noah’s eyebrows shot up. Maribeth and Miriam were becoming more alike by the hour.
“Well you did want to know, didn’t you? But it made no difference. I’m at wit’s end.”
“We shouldn’t lose hope. If McCluskey is holding Alan for some reason, perhaps he’ll make contact with us.”
“You mean, don’t you, that he’s using Alan as bait for that son of a bitch of a doctor.”
“It’s possible.”
“So I’m to lose a brother or a husband. Perhaps both.”
“And perhaps neither. Speculating has gotten us nowhere.”
“Not yet. But speculating allows you to prepare.”
FORTY
DAY 10. FRIDAY, 9/29—8 A.M.
With no way of locating McCluskey, Maribeth and Noah had little choice but to go about their business as normal in the hope that McCluskey wished to locate them. That meant meeting at the pier at 8 a.m., from whence the De Kuypers’ sixty-foot yacht, Excalibur, would sail into the harbor to join Dewey, the Olympia, and the rest of the fleet making its way up the Hudson.
When Noah arrived, the family had divided along the De Kuyper fault line. Maribeth stood next to her father, looking ravishing in an eggshell-colored boating dress and parasol. Jamie and Rosa had taken their places next to Adelaide, Jamie in full glower, quite clearly standing as far from his sister as he could manage. Jamie may have told his mother of the caper at First Mercantile, because Adelaide shot Noah a frosty glare as he emerged from his carriage. Or perhaps she was simply expressing an ongoing opinion. It wasn’t about Alan, because Maribeth and Noah had agreed that they should pretend to be surprised when he failed to make an appearance.
The Excalibur herself was decorated, as would be all of the thousands of yachts that joined the procession, with American flags and red, white, and blue bunting. The flag Oscar had purchased for the mast was immense, and even the strong harbor wind could not lift it more than a few degrees from the vertical.
Why the family didn’t simply go aboard and wait for Alan, Noah could not discern, but stand on the dock they did, gazing at the carriages scurrying to deliver passengers to the many other boats along the slip. Oscar complimented Maribeth on her dress two or three times, and Adelaide told Jamie to stop fidgeting, but otherwise they waited in silence. Drumbeats punctuated by the occasional blast from a cannon followed by cheering drifted in from the harbor.
“We can’t wait any longer,” Jamie protested finally. “We’ll be stuck at the back of the flotilla.” Adelaide looked to Oscar, who coughed and then moved to toward the metal stairs that would take them aboard. A jacketed seaman stood at the bottom, waiting to extend a hand to aid the De Kuypers in mounting the first step. Maribeth once more looked up and down the pier, then, with resignation, she nodded and followed the others.
“Hello! Aren’t you missing someone?”
A carriage had clattered to a halt and Alan De Kuyper had emerged, wearing a wide grin and waving a small American flag. He came up short at the six gaping people before him.
“Why the shock? I can wave the flag as well as anyone. We are here to celebrate a great American hero, are we not?”
“Where have you been?” Adelaide, Maribeth, and Oscar asked the question at once.
The grin shot off Alan’s face. “I had business to attend to. I left word at the hospital.”
“I know,” Maribeth said. “I went there looking for you.”
“Why would you do that?”
“We were concerned for your welfare . . . with all that’s occurred.”
“As you see, there was no need.”
Noah had never before seen Alan belligerent. “In any event, we are very pleased to see you.”
Alan’s demeanor returned as quickly as it had left. “And I you. Well, let’s be on board then. I hope the decks have been polished, so we don’t dirty our trousers when we kneel.”
Oscar harrumphed and stood aside to allow the family to board. As they moved to the stairs, a face appeared in the carriage window. It was a man in his late teens or early twenties with blond hair, a full face, and large eyes. He smiled at Alan, more of a smirk, and quickly leaned back, pulling out of view. His appearance returned the scowl to Alan’s face.
“Who is that?” Oscar asked.
“Francis Contreve. He’s a medical student. I was at his parents’ house in Ossining, if you must know. His mother suffers from cardiac arrhythmia.”
Adelaide’s cheeks sucked in as if she had downed a glass of wine turned to vinegar. She turned away, grabbed Jamie by the arm, and dragged him up the stairs.
“Shouldn’t you have just brought her to the hospital?” Jamie asked before Adelaide hissed at him to just get aboard.
The carriage in which Alan had arrived rode off, neither Alan nor Francis Contreve saying good-bye to the other. Alan stood facing his family, challenging any of them to speak. Maribeth moved in and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You can hardly be upset that people love you enough to worry about you.”
Alan looked tentatively at his sister. He started to form an aggressive reply, then stopped. “No,” he said, “I suppose not.”
Noah clapped Alan on the back, although his arm felt stiff in doing so. “Most certainly not.”
“Very well.” Alan sighed. “Let’s go and be patriotic.”
Before Noah could move to the stairs, however, he felt a tug at the back of his sleeve. “Not so fast, doc.”
Noah turned his head. It was the swarthy detective from the precinct. “McCluskey wants to see you.”
Noah pulled his arm away. “I have neither the time nor the inclination to ever see Sergeant McCluskey again.”
“Too bad, because he’s playing host to a friend of yours, and I
’m not sure how long his spirit of hospitality will last.”
“What friend?” Noah asked, although he already knew the answer.
The detective smiled. His teeth were a dull shade of yellow. “The kind of friend we’re happy to entertain.”
“You’re lying.”
The man shrugged. “Mebbe so. Willing to take that chance? Just think how you’ll feel when you read the newspaper tomorrow and find out I wasn’t.”
“And what if it’s a trap?”
“What if it ain’t?”
Maribeth had moved to Noah’s side. “Go, Noah. You’ve got to.”
“Best listen to the lady, doc.”
“All right.”
FORTY-ONE
DAY 10. FRIDAY, 9/29—8:45 A.M.
The detective, whose name was Radovic, was annoyingly chipper during the ride. He did everything but offer Noah a beer. And why not? He held all the cards, and Noah was hardly likely to leap to the street when he was going of his own volition.
“You shoulda really come in with us, doc. Woulda been definitely worth your while. Big mistake going over our heads instead, even to TR. Not that it’ll make a difference. We’ll all be at the precinct in a week or two. McCluskey has a lot of friends. Soon as nobody’s looking, everything will go back the way it was. But he is pretty peeved with you. No getting around that. Wish he wasn’t. I kinda like you, doc.”
“Where are we headed?” Noah asked during one of the infrequent lulls in Radovic’s conversation.
“No need to worry yourself about that, doc. Someplace where we can all transact our business undisturbed. You ’n’ me ’n’ Boyle ’n’ McCluskey . . . ’n’ the Red Lady. Hey, that’s going to be a good name for her . . . Red Lady.” Radovic snickered at his wit.
They had driven north, the Hudson on their left awaiting Dewey. The sound of cheers and explosions wafted over the buildings. South of Fourteenth Street, Radovic paid the driver, and he and Noah got out. The streets were deserted. A few blocks away, they would be packed.
They walked north a bit more, then turned into a narrow alley. Another carriage was tied to a post, and at Radovic’s instruction, Noah got in. “Sorry, doc,” Radovic said, as if with genuine regret. “Gotta do this.” Seconds later, Noah was blindfolded. “Don’t touch it, doc. If you do, the deal’s off ’n’ the Red Lady will have to take her chances with us.”
“I won’t touch it.”
They didn’t travel far, but the carriage made almost constant turns. Noah tried to time the distance and note the direction of the turns in order to have a sense of their destination. The booming cheers from the river helped with orientation. He thought he had done a good job until the carriage stopped. If he was correct, they were back virtually where they had started.
Radovic helped him out and into a building. He could tell when he was indoors by the change in temperature. A door creaked, then a second. He was led down a set of stairs. At the bottom was another door, which when opened let in a surprising amount of noise from the parade. They must be very near the river.
A hand on his shoulder pushed him into a chair. Then the blindfold was whipped off and he was face-to-face with McCluskey. Radovic stood on one side and the red-haired copper with the handlebar, Boyle, on the other. It was a replay of his encounter with the soldiers. He had merely traded Anschutz and his cronies for McCluskey and his. If he’d been asked three days ago, he’d have sworn that with McCluskey he’d drawn the easier hand. He knew now that just the opposite was true.
The room was about twenty feet square and smelled of mildew and urine, probably animal, possibly human. Four small windows sat just below the ceiling on the left. Filthy drapes were stretched across each. Light came from bare windows on the right that seemed to open onto the walkway of an alley, so they were indeed below street level. Noah looked around, but they were the only four in the room.
“Where’s Miriam?”
“Close, doc. Very close.” McCluskey lacked Radovic’s affability.
“I want to see her.”
“You’re not in a position to be making demands, doc. Or haven’t you noticed that yet?”
“Then why did you bring me here?”
“That’s a pretty stupid question, coming from someone who’s supposed to be as smart as you. But what if I told you I brought you here to offer you a choice? Your life for hers? Would you do it?”
Noah didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
McCluskey pursed his lips and nodded. “Well, you got moxie, doc. I’ll give you that. But why do I need to give you a choice when I’ve got both of you?”
“So we add liar to your list of virtues.”
“Oh, doc. Name calling? Is that all you’ve got? Well, doesn’t much matter. I don’t blush.” He nodded to Boyle. “So you want to see your lady friend?”
“Yes.”
“Then come along.”
McCluskey led Noah to a door at the back of the room. Boyle came along, but Radovic stayed where he was. McCluskey took the knob but didn’t turn it.
“Ready?”
Noah nodded.
McCluskey turned the knob and threw open the door.
Noah felt a choking sound come out of him as he looked across the room. Tied to a chair, her head dropped to her chest was Miriam. She wore only a slip, on which one of the shoulder straps was torn. It was also torn down the center to below her breasts. Her hair was disheveled and hung forward.
“We’ve taken a little of the sass out of her since you two had your romp.”
Noah whirled and lunged for McCluskey. As he reached for the vile copper’s throat, he was aware of being surprised that McCluskey hadn’t moved. As he saw his fingers almost find their mark, there was an explosion inside his head. His next awareness was staring at McCluskey’s shoes.
“You got to be more careful, doc,” the voice came down to him. “Seeing as you just got out of the hospital.”
Noah looked up to see Boyle drop the blackjack back into his jacket pocket. As Noah blinked and pushed himself to his feet, he tried to banish the ache at the base of neck.
Then he heard a soft moan. McCluskey had moved to the chair and lifted Miriam’s head by grabbing her by the hair. A large bruise was under her left eye, and her lips were swollen and red. A dried trickle of blood was at her nostril. When Miriam realized it was Noah, she tried to form words but couldn’t.
“You filthy detestable coward.” Noah felt himself start to move to McCluskey again, but Boyle had him by the arm.
“Uh-uh, doc. Next one you won’t be getting up.”
McCluskey let Miriam’s head fall again to her chest. “Well, doc, you’ll be happy to know that we dumb cops finally found out what free love is all about. And, I gotta say, we can see the appeal. Miriam here does it all sorts of ways, sometimes with two or three at once. Bet you don’t believe that, but it’s true. Know what? We’ll prove it to you. As they say, seeing’s believing.”
McCluskey reached down and stroked Miriam’s shoulder. She emitted a small, gurgled wail. McCluskey withdrew a revolver, then nodded to Boyle, who produced a pair of handcuffs from another pocket.
Noah was not going to be party to the spectacle. He’d rather die. Daring McCluskey to shoot, he spun and launched a right at Boyle’s jaw. Ordinarily, the copper would have parried it with ease, but he was so surprised at Noah’s move that he remained still long enough for Noah’s fist to reach its mark. Boyle staggered backward—Noah lacked the force to knock him off his feet—but he dropped the handcuffs before starting back at his adversary.
Then the gunshot Noah expected came. One sharp retort. He waited for the stunned sensation of being hit to overwhelm him, but it didn’t happen. Instead, it was Boyle who dropped to the floor. At the same time, McCluskey fired as well, but not at Noah.
Noah turned. There were two men in the door, both with revolvers leveled at McCluskey. Behind them, just past the doorway, was Alan De Kuyper.
Maribeth had done it—speculating allows you to plan. Of cou
rse, it was her brother and not Miriam Herzberg she’d thought the Pinkertons would be saving, but she’d been bull’s-eye in assuming that McCluskey had intended to establish bait to lure Noah.
Boyle was bleeding from the shoulder but had rolled behind a packing crate. A pistol was in his hand aimed at the invaders. The two Pinkerton men retreated into the doorway for cover as Boyle fired. McCluskey eyed the door at the far end of the room, then hunched down behind Miriam. He hesitated only for a second before leaping for the door while Boyle’s fire covered him.
McCluskey swung the door open and was about to duck through when one of the Pinkertons, risking being hit by one of Boyle’s bullets, leaned into the room and took aim. McCluskey saw him, then grabbed the chair that held Miriam and pulled it in front of him just as the Pinkerton fired. The center of Miriam’s chest exploded in a gush of blood. Radovic had been correct. The Red Lady.
The chair toppled backward, McCluskey dashing in a crouch through the doorway behind. The Pinkertons would not be able to give chase; Boyle was between them and the door. But Noah could. And he did.
As he passed Miriam, he glanced down and confirmed what he already knew. She was dead. He whispered a farewell and swore McCluskey would pay if it took him the rest of his life.
A stairway lay just past the door. Noah could hear the clatter of McCluskey’s footsteps and followed. After a left-hand bend, another doorway became visible, this one leading to a small pier. Sounds of revelry grew louder with every step closer to the river. When he reached the entrance, a small white launch was just pulling away, belching steam from the stack. A police boat. McCluskey certainly did have friends.
McCluskey himself was at the helm, so Noah assumed he was alone on the boat. Neither Boyle nor Radovic would be joining him. Noah ran and leapt from the end of pier, falling into the launch as he landed. McCluskey spun about at the sound, but he couldn’t leave the helm. He leveled his revolver and fired, but with the pitch in the river, the shots didn’t come close.
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