Flynn cleared his throat. “We won’t have the benefit of the mayor’s charm, Charlie. Not this time. Mayor Walker just informed me that he is resigning at the end of the month.”
For the second time that day, my gut felt like it folded in on itself. The news made the pain in the back of my head hurt all the more. “He’s… what?”
“Governor Roosevelt is forcing him to resign,” Flynn said. “It appears our Franklin has decided he’s got a decent chance at being elected president, and believes Jimmy’s flamboyant ways would be a drag on the ticket. And we all know how practical a man our mayor is, so he cut a deal. He’ll resign, make Roosevelt look like the Reformer he claims to be.”
“And what does Jimmy get in return?” I asked.
“Roosevelt promises not to prosecute Jimmy for his offenses, as long as he disappears, and disappears right now.”
Suddenly, my bright idea didn’t seem so bright anymore — and Jack Van Dorn’s chances just got a little dimmer. I’d never really appreciated the expression “wind going out of my sails” until that moment.
I looked at Carmichael, who looked more taken aback by the news than I was. He’d been Walker’s boy from the beginning. Lil’ Jimsy had promoted him to Chief of Police. Now that he was taking a powder, Carmichael’s position wasn’t as solid as it had been even five minutes before. I decided to enjoy his agony a little. “Looks like the cause of Reform has another scalp. Good thing you’ve been feathering your nest on the Good Government side of the wire, eh, Andy?”
Carmichael shot his cuffs as he looked away from me “Fuck you, Charlie.”
Flynn went on. “Looks like I’ll be running things for a while until the Board of Aldermen appoints an interim mayor. Until then, I’m afraid I’ll have to side with the Chief on this one, Charlie. The city is in no position to handle the potential negative repercussions of the tragic outcome, which is likely in this case. I’m going to recommend to Mr. Van Dorn that the Bureau of Investigation takes the lead.”
Carmichael talked to me in the same tone I used on my girls when they did something wrong. “See what happens when you do things on your own, smart guy? I’ve got all of this hanging over my head, and just when I didn’t think things could get any worse, you do your damnedest to stick this department with a loser of a case we’ve got no business running in the first place.”
Carmichael shook that big head of his at me. “You were never much of a detective, Charlie, but you used to be smarter than that.”
I didn’t like getting preached at, especially by him. “At least I’m smart enough to see how good we’ll look when we bring Jack Van Dorn home alive. Because he is alive.”
“Is that so?” Carmichael threw his head back and laughed. Really laughed. “Since when did you start playing detective?”
“Right after the graft dried up,” I said. “Right around the time you started playing chief.”
Carmichael brought his hand up to belt me again as I reached for the beaver-tail sap tucked in the back of my pants. If that hand came down, I’d break the bastard’s knee. Chief or no chief, I wouldn’t take another beating.
A voice from the back of the room froze Carmichael in mid-swing.
“I fail to see how that will help find my son, Chief Carmichael.” Mr. Van Dorn stood in the doorway.
He was in a gray, double-breasted suit, white shirt and gray tie. He still looked as tired and drawn as he had earlier that morning, but different somehow. Sharper, and maybe even relaxed.
Carmichael stepped away from me and straightened down his uniform. He went from scarlet to a deep blush. “Just admonishing Detective Doherty for a lack of professionalism in how he’s handled your son’s case, sir.”
“Really? I’ve been impressed by his zeal, and his disregard for the bureaucracy that seems to plague cases like this. My attorney agrees with me.” Mr. Van Dorn beckoned a neat, little bald man with glasses and a bow tie into the parlor. Carmichael and Flynn both sagged at the same time. They had good reason.
Mr. Van Dorn said, “I believe you all know my attorney, Mr. Gottheim.”
Arthur Gottheim and I had never been formally introduced, but we certainly knew each other by reputation. He was the man the blue-blood set turned to when they had a legal problem. Uncle Artie always knew just what to do to make it all go away. Half the people in the Social Registry were clients of his. The other half couldn’t afford him.
Gottheim gave Flynn and Carmichael a smile that was anything but friendly. “Gentlemen, I was hoping you might join me in the library for a few moments. I’d like to clarify some things as we begin our search for young Jack.”
“We’d be happy to,” Flynn said on his way out the door. When Gottheim talked, politicians jumped.
Carmichael was right behind him. “Just give me a moment to bring in my two best detectives to explain our strategy. Davis and Jones have worked with the Bureau of Investigation in Washington before, and…”
“And I’m sure they’re capable men,” Gottheim said, “whose contribution will be invaluable to Detective Doherty’s investigation. Detective Loomis, too, if he doesn’t mind.”
For the third time that day, my gut ached. And Loomis didn’t look like he could move, even if he’d wanted to.
Carmichael stopped in mid-stride. “Doherty’s investigation?” He went from a deep blush to pale. “But he’s not qualified to lead this kind of investigation.”
“Is that so?” Mr. Van Dorn asked. “How many kidnapping cases have this Davis and Jones solved?”
“None, but—”
“Then I’d say that makes Detective Doherty at least as qualified as they are. In fact, he’s probably the most qualified man in the department for something like this.” Mr. Van Dorn looked over at me. “After all, he knows what it’s like to lose his family.”
The Chief sighed. “Mr. Van Dorn, I’m not sure if you’re aware that kidnapping’s a federal matter now, and…”
Mr. Van Dorn put his hands in his pockets and looked down at the floor. The conversation appeared to be over, at least as far as he was concerned, and Gottheim took over.
“And that’s exactly what I’d like to talk to both of you about,” the lawyer said. “In the library.” He stepped back and motioned toward the hall. “Chief? Mr. Flynn? If you please.”
Flynn paddled out in the hall like he’d been told. Carmichael looked down at me one final time before joining him.
Mr. Van Dorn closed the pocket doors behind them.
ACE IN THE HOLE
MR. VAN Dorn dropped some ice cubes into a towel at the bar and handed it to me. “This will help keep the swelling down.”
I put it against my jaw. The cold helped the pain, but the shock of what I’d just watched him do to Carmichael hadn’t worn off yet. “You didn’t have to do that, sir. I mean, going up against the Chief like that and all.”
“Nonsense,” he said, hitching his pants at the knee as he took a seat on the couch next to Loomis. There was something strange in the gesture — elegant and masculine at the same time. “After all, you were kind enough to tend to my wounds earlier. It’s only right that I return the favor.” I hadn’t thought of it that way. Mr. Van Dorn said, “I gather that Chief Carmichael doesn’t like you very much.”
I moved the towel higher on my aching jaw. “What tipped you off?”
“Before I decided to entrust my son’s fate to you gentlemen, I had Mr. Gottheim do some checking, but to my surprise, he already knew a great deal about both of you.” He turned to Loomis. “Detective Loomis, you have a reputation for being quite thorough and paying attention to detail, which is a very good reputation to have.”
Loomis somehow managed to squeeze out, “Thank you, sir.”
Then Mr. Van Dorn spoke to me, “I understand you and the Chief were good friends at one point, Detective Doherty. Mr. Gottheim tells me you were even his right hand man for a while, until you had something of a falling out. The nature of the disagreement isn’t very clear.”
/> Kicking around my past in my own mind and talking about it with someone else were two different things. But since Mr. Van Dorn brought it up, I figured I should explain. “I used to do a lot of the Chief’s dirty work for him. When Roosevelt’s Good Government types put him in their crosshairs, he got in good with them by cutting his losses and becoming a Reformer. I was one of the losses.”
Mr. Van Dorn nodded. “That’s what Arthur said. He also learned that you’re certainly no angel, but I have a feeling we’ll be needing more than angels to help find my boy.”
“You will.”
I should’ve been able to say more, to tell him I was the right man for the job, that I’d do everything I could to find his son. After all, I’d been gunning for this moment all morning. But now that it was here, I couldn’t do it.
I saw how sharp and polished Mr. Van Dorn looked now, and remembered how he’d looked when I left — heartbroken and lost over what had happened to his family. I wouldn’t have believed that this proud, polished man sitting across from me could’ve been brought so low if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.
And there was a part of me that didn’t want to be responsible for making him look like that again. “Look, sir, the Chief’s right about my not being much of a detective, and…”
Mr. Van Dorn held up a hand. “Detective, when I joined my family’s firm, the company was running out of money and the future looked grim. I’ve since tripled the size of the company, giving us significant holdings in every major industry in the country. I wouldn’t have been able to do that if I couldn’t recognize talent when I saw it. I am confident you’re the right man for the job.”
Then his face darkened, giving me a glimpse of the true man beneath it. “The Lindbergh incident turned into a fiasco because there were too many people elbowing for the limelight, trying to get their pictures in the papers and their names mentioned in newsreels.” He shook his head. “That will not happen here. The bastards who killed my girl, and took my boy, will be found and brought to justice.”
He sat further back on the couch. “I’m just not particularly concerned about what kind of justice. And from what I’ve learned, neither are you.”
The look in his eyes made my mouth dry. “Okay,” was all I could manage to say.
“I did not get to where I am today by allowing others to decide my fate,” Mr. Van Dorn said. “So, here is how things will go from here on in. You work for me. You are in complete charge of this investigation. Not the mayor, not the Chief and not the Bureau of Investigation in Washington, either. I’ve made some phone calls to see to that, and Arthur is making that fact perfectly clear to Chief Carmichael and Mr. Flynn right now. I will go directly to you for answers, not them. Understood?”
I understood, but I wasn’t so sure that Mr. Van Dorn did. “Chief Carmichael’s not going to let that happen, sir. Not just like that.”
Mr. Van Dorn smiled. “Then you don’t know Arthur Gottheim.” The smile faded. “Now, I overheard you tell the Chief that you were investigating leads on where my son might be. Soames has already told me all about the apartment on Perry Street. What did you find there?”
I decided not to tell him about the notebook, since I hadn’t had the chance to read it yet. I didn’t know what might be in it, and I didn’t want to open it for the first time in front of him. But everything else I’d found there was fair game.
“I found his girlfriend Rachel inside, crying on the floor. She was too upset to make much sense, and I didn’t have time to look around much before Carmichael’s men grabbed me. Some clown came along and attacked me in the hallway, but…”
Mr. Van Dorn moved to the edge of his seat. “Do you think he could be one of the kidnappers left behind to keep an eye on things?”
He looked so hopeful, I hated to let him down. “I doubt it, but Carmichael’s men grabbed me before I could talk to him or Rachel. I’ll know more once I get a chance to speak to them.” I dug one of the VL matchbooks I’d found in the apartment out of my pocket and handed it to him. “Jack did have a lot of these around the apartment. Any idea where it came from?”
Mr. Van Dorn looked at it and handed it back to me. “I’m afraid not. Do you think this Rachel might know where Jack is?”
“I hope so, because right now, she and the goon that hit me are the only leads we’ve got. I’ll know more once I get the chance to talk to them.”
Mr. Van Dorn had the look of a man who has made up his mind. “We’ll need to move quickly, won’t we?”
Loomis surprised me by actually speaking up. “Quicker… is better, sir. After what happened to Jessica this morning, the kidnappers are probably in a panic. I don’t think they’ll hurt Jack, because now that they’re looking at a murder rap, they’ll most likely need even more money to make a clean getaway. They know we’ll demand more proof that he’s alive now. So, the faster we move on them, the more likely we are to catch them making a mistake.”
Mr. Van Dorn stood up. “Then you’d better get going. I’ll keep the Bureau of Investigation away from the case, and I’ll make sure Chief Carmichael gives you all the tools you need. In exchange, I want your solemn oath that you’ll do everything in your power to bring my son home where he belongs. Whether he’s alive or… not. The reward will be considerable if you do.” He looked at Loomis. “For both of you.”
I didn’t know much about the kind of man Mr. Van Dorn was. But after listening to him in those few minutes, he seemed like a man who could put weight behind whatever he said. A lot of weight.
I stood up, even though I couldn’t feel my legs. Loomis surprised me by doing the same.
“I’ll let you know what the girl tells me.”
Mr. Van Dorn stood as well and shook my hand. The strength in his grip, and the clarity in his eyes, were almost startling. “Bring my son home to us, Detective. Whatever it takes. From what I’ve been told, you’re used to doing what needs to be done. I’m counting on that skill now.”
That made one of us. “I’ll let you know what the girl tells me,” I repeated. I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
O’HARA POPPED out of the car like a puppy when Loomis and I got outside. “What happened in there?”
My gut told me O’Hara’s resourcefulness might come in handy before all this was over, so I pushed him toward the back seat. “Shut up and get in the goddamned car.”
He did what I told him while Loomis slid in the passenger side. I climbed in behind the wheel, fired up the siren and hit the gas. Buses and cars skidded around me as I pulled the Ford out into traffic and barreled down Fifth Avenue. I wanted to put as much distance as possible between us and the mansion before somebody changed their mind and took me off the case. Van Dorn said he was a man who knew how to get his way. But so was Carmichael.
After a couple blocks Loomis finally remembered how to talk. “Jesus, Charlie. What the hell just happened in there?”
I wasn’t too sure myself. “All I know is that, for the moment, we’re still in business.” I kept one hand on the wheel and dug the notebook out of my pocket with the other. I tossed the notebook into Floyd’s lap. “I need you to read through that and tell me if you find anything worthwhile. I found it in Jack’s dresser drawer, along with the matchbooks I showed Van Dorn.”
“What’s in it?” Loomis asked as he opened it.
“I didn’t have the chance to read it.” I looked at O’Hara’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “Carmichael’s goon squad grabbed me before I had the chance.”
“Don’t be like that Charlie, darlin’,” O’Hara protested from the back seat. “I was just followin’ orders, and…”
I ignored him and spoke to Loomis. “I didn’t want to read it in front of this goddamned tattletale, and I refused to just hand it over to Carmichael in case it was valuable. I didn’t think it was a good idea to show it to Mr. Van Dorn, either. What does it say?”
Loomis damned near dropped the book. “Slow down. I just started reading it, for Christ’s sake.�
��
I drove close behind a milk truck before darting over to the left lane. It was clear sailing for five blocks after that, and I gunned it. Loomis and O’Hara held on.
O’Hara pulled himself upright in the back seat. “What the hell is the big rush? And where are we going, anyway?”
“Your boys brought Rachel over to the Twelfth Precinct, so that’s where we’re going. I want to lean on her now while she’s still shook up about Jack’s kidnapping. I want to question her before she snaps out of it.”
I was driving too fast to take my eyes off the road, but I felt a change in Loomis. “What is it? What did you find?”
“This kid’s written all sorts of stuff in here,” Loomis told me. “Poems, notes for stories, quotes. And an entry from July thirty-first of this year that looks like it talks about his own kidnapping.”
I pulled over to west side of Fifth Avenue and killed the engine before I crashed the damned car.
Loomis handed me the notebook so I could read it for myself. O’Hara looked over my shoulder from the back seat.
It took me a few passes to make sense of all of Jack’s cross-outs and scribbles and arrows. But when I was able to finally make sense of it all, it hit home and hit hard. It read: 7/31.
1. Rachel calls father and gives instructions.
2. Hole up on Perry Street until Jessica brings the money.
3. Give Jessica the note and put her in a cab.
4. Take car and head out. Philly first, then out West.
O’Hara reached over and took the book from me. I let him. I was too numb to stop him, anyway. “That little son of a bitch,” was all I could manage to say. “That miserable little son of a bitch. He planned his own goddamned kidnapping.”
“Planned it,” Loomis noted, “but I don’t think he carried it out. What’s written in the notebook is similar to what happened, but the details are different. Remember, Mr. Van Dorn said a man called in the ransom demand, not Rachel. And the ransom drop happened at The Chauncey Arms, not at Jack’s apartment.”
Slow Burn Page 9
