Alice and the Assassin

by R. J. Koreto

“It refers to an action, an important action, that not only accomplishes something itself but serves as a statement and beacon to others. A political assassination is an example. But not all of us believe in this method. Emma Goldman often does, but she does not speak for all of us. Or even most of us.”

  Alice quietly absorbed his explanation. “Do you think Czolgosz worked alone? Or did he have help? Miss Goldman said someone was pulling his strings.”

  “Perhaps,” said Nicky cautiously. “But no one here. To show my good faith in return, I will tell you one more thing. And then you will leave. Czolgosz was from an immigrant family, and you may not see it from where you live, but this city is more and more a city of immigrants. If you are interested in what has happened, I would think about that. I would talk to some immigrants.”

  The conversation was over, but we were now surrounded. Alice and I stood. A woman in the crowd fixed a look on me.

  “You. You work for a living. You should be joining us.”

  “I’m not an educated man. I had to look up ‘anarchy’ in the dictionary right after President McKinley was shot. It sounded a lot like Laramie on a Saturday night, so I think I’ll give it a miss. Now, can you all please move and let us out?”

  “And if we don’t? You’re going to shoot us?” taunted someone.

  “No. I can move you without shooting you. But my mother raised me to be polite. I said, ‘please.’” That got a laugh, and the crowd stepped back. Alice dropped some money on the table for our lunches, and a few moments later, we were back on the street.

  “That’s it,” I said. “We’re done with anarchists.”

  “But look what we found. Czolgosz was a man of mystery. He’s been disowned by the anarchists even though he said he was one and was clearly known to them.”

  “That doesn’t take us any farther forward. Dozens of investigators couldn’t find any important connection between Czolgosz’s actions and the anarchist movement. They held Emma Goldman for a few weeks but then let her go. He was a lone wolf. We knew that.”

  “Yes, but you’re forgetting two things,” said Alice, talking to me like I was an especially slow schoolboy. “Emma Goldman, although she defended him, still said he was incapable of acting alone. That must be her true opinion—why lie? So even his only public defender felt he was part of a larger conspiracy. And let’s not forget what got us here in the first place—someone is nervous about our interest.”

  “All right, that makes a certain amount of sense.”

  “It makes perfect sense. And finally, there’s Nicky’s comment about the immigrants. That’s where we have to look next.”

  “Immigrants? That’s one thing Nicky got right. This town is full of them. From every part of the world. They speak a dozen languages, and they’re organized into hundreds of groups. How are you going to look into all of them?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.”

  “But another day. We have to get all the way uptown, and your Aunt Anna warned you not to be late. So I guess we’ll take the el.” The elevated train was a pretty quick way of getting around Manhattan. Normally, I didn’t take Alice on it because the enclosed space and crowds made trying to protect her a difficult proposition. But after what we had done today, it seemed silly to think of the el as dangerous, and there were no cabs to be found in that neighborhood anyway.

  Alice practically jumped with delight at the novelty, and except for a few knowing glances from people who recognized her, we made it uptown without incident. Alice loved it, looking out the windows as the neighborhoods passed by us.

  She grinned at me. “You know how to show a girl a good time, Mr. St. Clair,” she said.

  We had reached our station and were heading down the stairs and toward the Caledonia before we knew it.

  When we reached her block, Alice raised an eyebrow at the sight of half a dozen police cars on the street. The Caledonia has service entrances at the back and side, and by each one was a pair of cops holding shotguns.

  “What’s going on?” asked Alice. I shrugged. There were more heavily armed cops by the front entrance as well as a pair of guys in suits. I recognized them from my time in Washington, and they gave me a quick smile and nod.

  Alice turned on me sharply when we entered the lobby. “You know them—more Secret Service? Did they decide I need more protection from anarchists?”

  “From your behavior today, I think the anarchists need protection from you.”

  “Very funny.”

  We made it up to the apartment, and the maid let us in.

  “There’s a visitor in the parlor, miss,” she said, but Alice still didn’t get it. She handed her coat to the maid and walked quickly to the parlor with me on her heels. An unmistakable figure was waiting in the room reading a newspaper.

  Alice shrieked and ran to him. Nothing filled her with more joy than seeing her father, and if she looked like an adult giving Emma Goldman a dressing down, here she looked like she was six. She threw her arms around him as she closed her eyes, and he picked her up with that hearty laugh I knew so well.

  “It’s wonderful to see you, Baby Lee,” he said, using his special pet name for her.

  “I’m so glad to see you again, too,” she said. Then he noticed me.

  “Sergeant St. Clair, come over and say hello,” he boomed.

  “It would be my pleasure, Mr. President,” I said.

  CHAPTER 4

  Mr. Roosevelt slapped me on the back and pumped my hand, and everyone was all smiles. But after her initial joy, Alice expressed her dissatisfaction with me.

  “You knew he was coming,” she said. “You knew and you didn’t tell me.”

  “As I’ve said before, Miss Alice, they call it the Secret Service.”

  “Don’t blame him,” said President Roosevelt. “No one was to be told, not even Anna, although I imagine she guessed. I’m only here tonight, meeting with a few influential men, then I’m off to Chicago. Washington may be this nation’s political capital, but great men are all over, and I want to meet them.”

  I spoke up before Alice could continue any argument. “You’re looking well, Mr. President. But I’m not Sergeant St. Clair anymore. I’m Special Agent St. Clair.”

  “Of course, of course. And I’m not Colonel Roosevelt anymore, either. We haven’t done too badly for ourselves, have we?” He laughed again. “My girl hasn’t been giving you too much trouble, has she?” We both gave Alice a look, and I had to admire the utter coolness with which she met our glances.

  “Not at all, sir,” I said.

  “Glad to hear it. You’re a good man, St. Clair.”

  “Thank you, sir. And now, with your permission, Mr. President, I’ll let you and Miss Alice get reacquainted.” I was planning to see if Dulcie had any more of her great coffee to wash out the taste of that stew, but Alice had something else on her mind.

  “If you don’t mind, Father, I have something to discuss with you, and I’d like Mr. St. Clair to stay while I do.” I don’t know if the president noticed, but her eyes slid up to me for a moment.

  “Indeed. What are you up to that requires Mr. St. Clair here before you tell me?” He seemed amused, and I just sat down on a chair, wondering which direction Alice was going with this.

  “I’ve found myself increasingly interested in politics. And although I do want to join you in Washington, I am finding a great deal of interest right here in New York. More than a third of this city is foreign-born. Did you know that? They’re quite a political force to be reckoned with, don’t you agree, Father?”

  Nicely done, Alice. The only question was how much Mr. Roosevelt would swallow.

  He nodded and considered that for a while before turning to me. “St. Clair—just what kind of background do you have, anyway?”

  “Well, sir, there’s some Cajun, German, Swedish, and my grandmother was a full-blooded Cheyenne.”

  “There you are,” said Mr. Roosevelt. “Mr. St. Clair is the face of America. A bit of everything.�
� Alice seemed a little dubious about my recitation. “Wave after wave came here—look how entrenched the Irish are, with that magnificent cathedral of theirs on Fifth Avenue. But all who arrive have to become Americans, speak our language, and give loyalty to our government and no other. Is that what you’re concerned about?”

  “Yes, I am,” she said, sitting tall on the couch. “It’s a place where I think I can help. We Roosevelts have always been New Yorkers, but you’re in Washington now. I’d like to continue the family political tradition here. Perhaps start conversations with leaders in the immigrant community, help them become good Americans.” She smiled. “And good Republicans.”

  And the president laughed at that. “Glad to hear it, and I couldn’t be more pleased that you’re giving yourself something good to do. Go forth, and keep me posted on what you’re doing. But—”

  Here it came. Mr. Roosevelt knew his daughter. “You will do this under the protection of Mr. St. Clair. You won’t go anywhere without him, and if he feels something is too dangerous, his authority is absolute. Is that understood?”

  Alice looked like she was going to argue the point but thought better of it. She glanced back and forth between me and her father, then decided she had won enough of a victory and should stand pat.

  “Yes, Father,” she said.

  “You can rely on me, Mr. President,” I said.

  “Very good, then. My brave girl is going out in the world. Keep your Aunt Anna informed, since she’s here on the ground, so to speak. Now, where were you going to start?”

  “You know New York better than Mr. St. Clair or I. You were police commissioner. Can you think of anyone in the police force who could point us in the right direction?”

  The president thought. “Yes—try Captain Michael O’Hara. He was invaluable to me when I was commissioner. He’s the man who knows what’s really happening in the city and can make some introductions.”

  “This is very exciting,” said Alice, and she gave her father a kiss on the cheek.

  “I’m looking forward to your reports. Now, St. Clair, what are you carrying nowadays?”

  I pulled out my revolver and handed it over. “The Colt New Service, sir. Takes a .45 caliber cartridge, and it’s a darn sight more powerful than the M1892 you had in Cuba.”

  “Mr. St. Clair won’t let me touch it,” complained Alice.

  “A soldier doesn’t let others handle his weapon,” said the president.

  “He’s letting you.”

  “Ah, my dear, but I’m the commander in chief.”

  Mr. Roosevelt snapped it open, looked it over, and then closed it and aimed it at the far wall, and I wondered if he’d try to do what I’d done in the office the day before. I didn’t see his sister being too pleased with that. And just as I thought about Mrs. Cowles, in she walked.

  “How delightful, to come home to see my brother the president brandishing firearms in front of his daughter. I figured you had arrived, from the army downstairs, but I didn’t think you needed your own weapon.”

  Mr. Roosevelt just grinned as we both stood, and he handed me back my revolver. Mrs. Cowles let her brother give her a dutiful kiss. “Just armory talk with Mr. St. Clair. Good to see you, Anna. You’re looking well. Keeping busy as always, I assume? I’m only staying overnight, gone in the early morning. We can have a quiet family dinner and talk over some new projects Alice has thought up.”

  Mrs. Cowles gave Alice a look. “Really?” she said dryly, but the girl didn’t blush a bit. Then Mrs. Cowles gave me a look as if this were somehow my fault, and I thought it was time to make an exit.

  “Seeing as it’s a family evening, I’ll take myself off, with your permission, Mr. President.”

  “Yes, of course. We’ll be staying in this evening anyway. Thanks again for all your work.”

  I made my good-byes and was almost out the front door when I heard Alice say, “I didn’t tell Mr. St. Clair when we’ll need to leave tomorrow morning,” and she came running up. Her eyes were as bright as the crystals in the chandelier over our heads, and her father’s visit had put some color into her cheeks.

  “What do you think? Father is supporting our investigations. Isn’t this exciting? We’ll visit Captain O’Hara first thing tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be here bright and early, Miss Alice, and ready to go with the motorcar.”

  She took my hand. “Tell me you’re as excited as I am. Tell me that.”

  “Oh, I am. This is going to be a thrill and a half, Miss Alice. As long as your father doesn’t find out what you’re really up to and your aunt doesn’t find out where we’ll be going, we’ll be just fine.”

  But Alice was undaunted. “Father has often praised your bravery to me. You can’t possibly be worried. And a man like you must find this a lot more exciting than taking me from store to store.”

  “I have to admit you’re right about that. We’ll drive down to the Tombs right after breakfast, I promise, and take it from there after we talk with Captain O’Hara.”

  “That’s the spirit!” She practically jumped as if she were a little girl again. Then I saw a crafty look. Alice’s intentions can change quickly, and you have to watch out. “Anyway, if you’re worried, you can get me my own Colt New Service Revolver.”

  “It’s not something typically carried by seventeen-year-old girls,” I said. “But if anyone can talk me into getting her one, it would be you.”

  “Mr. St. Clair, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” With that, she turned and headed back to the parlor but paused to look over her shoulder and give me a parting shot: “Are you visiting your sister, Mariah? Say hello. And I really want to meet her.” She made that last line sound like a royal command, and with that, I beat a retreat.

  I had some thoughts to order, so I walked through Central Park. Mariah had a nice little apartment in Yorkville, on the East Side, not far from the East River. I picked up a bottle of wine just across the street from where she lives. Mariah found a place in a building that’s better cared for than Emma Goldman’s. Her apartment is larger too, and Mariah is a good housekeeper, so the place has always felt comfortable to me.

  Mariah greeted me as she always does, with a kiss on the cheek and a light slap to my face. She was looking good. She had let her curly black hair down after work, tying it back simply so that it framed her olive-complexioned face.

  “Wine.” She looked at the bottle and shook her head. “Will you look at us? We didn’t even know what wine was when we were kids. Thanks—we’ll have it tonight. Now, set the table. I’m frying up some chicken. And collard greens. They’re not easy to find in this town.”

  “God bless you.” I poured us some wine. Mariah doesn’t have any stemware, but it tastes just as good in mugs. “As the family cook, have you ever heard of something called a ‘knish’?”

  “Can’t say I have. If it’s food, I haven’t heard of half the things people eat in this city. What’s it like?”

  “It’s a potato thing. Alice seems to like them a lot.”

  “She does, does she? How’s work with her?”

  “Taking a turn. She’s on some new venture, and we’ll be mixing with some different crowds, solving some damn mystery that’s in her own mind.”

  Mariah gave me a shrewd look, drank some more wine, and said, “You’re getting fat, lazy, and comfortable. You used to drive cattle, settle gunfights, and go to war, and now you’re whining about having to drive some girl around New York. Your biggest worry has become who you’re going to wheedle a free meal out of. So Alice Roosevelt wants an adventure? When you were her age, you used to want them, too.”

  “Maybe I’m done with adventure,” I said.

  “That’s great. You could live another fifty years. How do you plan on spending them? Playing poker and telling the same damn stories about Saturday nights in Laramie and charging up San Juan Hill? It’s going to be a long, long fifty years. Especially for those of us who have to listen.”

  We did
n’t talk for a while as she cut up the chicken and I brooded into my wine.

  “I think Alice is going to be good for you if you let her. She’ll help you find your way back.”

  “Alice doesn’t even know where she’s going. How is she going to help me?”

  “You’ll help each other. You followed her pa up San Juan Hill. Maybe you need to see where the daughter leads you, and you’ll find yourself where you need to be.”

  I nodded. “Perhaps. Or maybe it’s time for me to take my savings and head back home. Buy some stock, get married, have children.” I looked up at Mariah, but she just shook her head.

  “Honey, you’re not ready for that final adventure yet, I can tell you that much. Anyway, Special Agent St. Clair of the Secret Service, you have to get yourself something to do besides trying to impress young women with your shooting skills. That’s just sad.”

  “Who told you I did that?” I asked like an idiot.

  “You did. Just now. For God’s sake, I know you. Now I want to meet this Alice of yours.”

  “She’s not my Alice. She’s a kid, and I’m her armed nanny.”

  “If you say so. I’m off again tomorrow evening. Bring her around for dinner.”

  “She’d like that. She keeps asking after you and doesn’t believe you’re my sister.”

  “I know the feeling. Sometimes I’m like your mother. Now, don’t talk to me, I’m going to get busy frying.”

  We didn’t talk more about Alice that evening, but Mariah had given me a lot to think about. When it got late, I decided I didn’t want to head all the way back to the Caledonia, so Mariah gave me a blanket, and I fell asleep on the kitchen floor.

  CHAPTER 5

  I woke up early by habit. I let Mariah sleep and grabbed a couple of pieces of chicken to take with me. It was keen and cold and felt better than the damp weather that had been hanging over the city. The frost crackled under my boots as I walked through the park, and for a few moments, I forgot I was in New York.

  At the Caledonia, the maid said Miss Alice was still having breakfast, and I showed myself into the kitchen. Dulcie gave me some coffee and cream with bad grace.