* * *
Chief Campbell’s wife met Mary outside his hospital room. “They’re releasing him shortly.”
“That’s wonderful news.”
“Most definitely, but before you go in there, Mary, I need to warn you that he’s in a foul mood.”
“Not surprising. This is his second reminder that he’s a mere mortal.”
“It’s not the heart attack. He’s been miserable for quite a while now.”
“Knowing the chief, that’s usually a sign he’s happy.”
Campbell’s wife got serious. “This is different. I’m at my wits’ end, Mary.”
“I think I know what’s troubling him, and I may have an answer.”
She entered Campbell’s hospital room. He was standing next to his bed bare chested with just his pants and shoes on. A nurse was holding out his shirt so he could slip into it. He grabbed it away from her.
“I can dress myself. I’m not a child.”
“That most certainly is debatable,” said Mary.
Excited, Campbell turned toward her. “Mary!” Then he quickly reversed attitude. “That’s right. Just barge in here when I’m getting dressed. No respect for my privacy.”
“How else would I get to see you bare chested, Chief? You cut quite an impressive figure.”
As he buttoned his shirt he looked at the nurse. “You can go. You’re no longer needed.” The nurse was more than happy to leave Campbell in the hands of someone else, anyone besides herself, and she left.
“So you finally found time to visit your old chief when he was deathly ill.”
“I doubt that. You seem as ornery as ever.”
“How did it go?”
“I don’t know. The jury’s out.”
“Don’t worry, Mary. It’s Brooklyn.”
Mary nodded, shrugging it off. “I have a proposition for you, Chief.”
* * *
There was a flurry of activity at Lazlo’s Books. Though there was a decent amount of customers browsing, it had nothing to do with the business. Gerta was manning the cash register and Lazlo kept nervously glancing at the stairs to his second-floor apartment as moving men moved furniture up and down.
When Mary entered, Lazlo had just spied one of the moving men carrying a huge club chair downstairs, and he pointed at him. “You.” The moving man turned to him. “Yes, you. That chair stays in the apartment. I’ve had it for decades. It’s like an old friend.”
Gerta came out from behind the register and on her way to Lazlo, she said, “Lazlo dear, you’re right. You have had it for decades and it most definitely shows. There’s just so much room and we have to make some difficult decisions. Mine is newer and much more comfy. Trust me, darling.”
Lazlo melted and waved at the man to continue. “All right.”
Mary’s curiosity was piqued. “What is going on?”
“What does it look like?” asked Lazlo. “Gerta is moving in.”
“Really?” said a surprised Mary. She had never thought Gerta was the type of woman who would ignore society and cohabitate out of wedlock.
“That is the custom when one gets married.”
Mary was taken completely by surprise but was also very happy. “You’re married?” Gerta smiled and flashed her wedding ring for Mary to see. “That’s wonderful! Congratulations!” She hugged both of them, Lazlo a little resistant to any open display of affection while Gerta was fully accepting. “When did this happen?”
“Two days ago, at city hall. It was just the two of us, Mary. You know me. I deplore ostentatious displays of affection. Besides, you’ve been preoccupied and I wanted to respect that.”
“Still,” said Gerta, “it was very romantic.” She and Lazlo shared a loving glance, then she spotted a man in front of the cash register. “Excuse me. It looks like we have a customer. We must have dinner and celebrate, Mary.”
“I’d love to,” Mary responded as Gerta returned to her job. She had an impish grin as she whispered to Lazlo, “What happened to your philosophical opposition to marriage?”
“Philosophies can change. I decided to follow Socrates, who stated that when faced with a choice, people usually choose the one where the benefits outweigh the costs.”
“So Gerta’s company outweighs your desire for bachelor solitude.”
“She’s pleasant, agreeable, and smart, infinitely better than my first wife, who only had the last quality, matched with the pugnacity of John L. Sullivan.”
“You know I wish you the best, Lazlo, but I also have to report a change in my life. I’m taking on a partner, and since my office is here, I wanted to inform you as soon as possible.”
“Who is it?”
“Patrick Campbell, formerly Police Superintendent Campbell, and before that Chief Campbell. I need to spend more time with Josie and Chief Campbell misses the action of detective work. This way we can handle any workload that comes in.”
“I’ve always admired Chief Campbell. He’s welcome here anytime. It’s not a guarantee but I might be able to find extra office space for the two of you.”
“That would be wonderful, Lazlo, but only if it’s easy for you.”
“My life as of late has consisted of an infinite procession of changes. One more is of little consequence.”
Gerta called from the cash register, where a man was facing her. “Sorry to interrupt, Lazlo, but this gentleman would like to purchase a copy of Madame Bovary and there’s no price on the book.”
“I’ll be right there.” He smiled at Mary. “She’s so incredibly sweet. I hope it lasts.”
“It will.”
Lazlo walked to the register. Mary knew for her answer to be completely truthful it would have had to be less definitive, but she had considerable influence on Lazlo and didn’t want to cast any doubts at such a happy time for him.
As she pondered this thought, the phone rang.
32
The jury was in, and the courtroom was packed. The trial had been a journalist’s dream, and curiosity-seekers had stormed the courthouse on the off chance they might score a seat. Sarah and Walter had come to support Mary, and surprisingly so had Diamond Jim Brady and Lillian Russell. Of course Sean was there, and so was Harper’s father, Chuck. Even Gilbert had made an appearance. A witness at the trial, he was curious to see how the American justice system worked. Gilbert was there with Ivy Lee, the young college student who was the son of a friend of a friend with whom he’d had a meeting in December. Elizabeth couldn’t make it. She was closing a deal that day on a new butcher shop. She had apologized to Mary and wished her the best, though she had little faith that the court system would convict a wealthy man.
With all her family and friends occupied, Mary had hired a nanny for the day to watch Josie. Just as the bailiff was telling everyone to rise for the judge, Theodore Roosevelt entered the room and stood in the back. Mary noticed him and he nodded to her.
After all the courtroom rituals, it was time for the verdict. The judge addressed the jury. He started with the lesser count, the one involving Mary.
“Mr. Chairman, on the first count of attempted murder, how do you find?”
“We find the defendant, Lance Fuller, guilty.”
There was a collective gasp from the gallery. Sarah grabbed Mary’s hand, giving her a supportive smile. Lance’s parents, who had been sitting behind him, immediately rose, shaking their heads disapprovingly at their son, then left the courtroom as quickly as they could. Lance was now completely on his own. For one odd moment, Mary felt sorry for him, but she soon shook it off.
“Mr. Chairman, on the second count of murder in the first degree, how do you find?”
“We find the defendant, Lance Fuller, guilty.”
The courtroom erupted. Reporters ran out to call their newspapers. Sarah instinctively hugged Mary and they squeez
ed each other tightly. Sean interrupted so he could also hug his sister. Her friends, all in a congratulatory mood, gathered around her. People she didn’t know, strangers, were patting her on the back as Fuller was being escorted out on his way to prison. After a few minutes, Mary glanced behind her and saw Chuck at the end of the next row. He was silently crying. She turned to her friends.
“Please give me a few minutes. I’ll meet all of you in the hall shortly.”
They obeyed her wishes and left. The courtroom was now empty except for Mary and Chuck. She rose, went to Chuck’s row, walked all the way to the end of the bench, and sat next to him. Chuck was normally one of those stoic working-class men who never showed his emotions. This was different.
He looked at Mary with tears in his eyes. “I miss him,” he said. “I miss him so much.”
“So do I,” she said as she hugged him tightly. “So do I.” And they stayed that way for a while.
* * *
When Mary entered the hall from the courtroom, she was set upon by a throng of reporters firing questions at her. They were the usual dumb reporter questions, like “How do you feel about the verdict?” Mary patiently answered them, although sometimes she felt like she was repeating what so many other victims had said over the years. It wasn’t really her fault. The questions were made for certain standard answers. Unless she answered them in an unusual way, such as I was disappointed. I wanted to see my husband’s killer get off scot-free, most of the answers, no matter what words were used, sounded almost cliché. She was not in the mood to play mind games with the reporters, so she answered them earnestly, even though it bothered her that she sounded so unoriginal. In the crowd, she did spot the reporter who had misreported Harper’s murder and couldn’t resist pointing him out.
“Do you now know that my husband was not murdered in Prospect Park but rather near it?”
The reporter nodded, shrugging at his mistake. “Yes, Miss Handley.”
Mary shot back proudly, “The name is Mrs. Lloyd.”
After the reporters had filed out, Gilbert and Ivy Lee approached Mary.
“Mary, my heartiest congratulations,” said Gilbert.
“Thank you. It hasn’t been easy.”
“Well, as we all know, murder and the theater never are.” Mary didn’t react. “That was supposed to be a joke. I guess I’m losing my touch.”
“No, no, sorry. I’ve been out of sorts lately.”
“Perfectly understandable, my dear. Mary, I’d like you to meet Ivy Lee. He’s the son of a friend of a friend, a Princeton boy.”
Son of a friend of a friend sounded very much like it could be the title of a song in a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta, but Mary decided not to point that out.
She and Ivy Lee shook hands. “It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Lloyd. Your bravery and intelligence have inspired us all.”
“Thank you, but I doubt I’ve had a wide-sweeping influence on the world.”
“Then let me rephrase that. You have most decidedly influenced and impressed me.”
“Hopefully in a positive way.”
“If it weren’t, I never would have mentioned it. Well, it’s been a pleasure meeting you. My heartiest thanks to you, Mr. Gilbert, for introducing me. When you’re finished speaking with Mrs. Lloyd, I’ll be outside, sir.” He nodded to Mary and smiled, then left.
“Well, he seems like a very bright, personable young man. Has he taken over for Miss Davies?”
“Oh, heavens no. He came to me with some insane ideas about how to promote The Fortune Hunter. He suggested inserting a few songs so it would be an easy transition for my fans. Can you imagine that: songs in a drama? The boy’s an idiot.”
Mary didn’t think it was a bad idea, but again, she wasn’t a theater person and would never tell an icon of the theater what to do. “I wish you the best with your new play, Mr. Gilbert.”
“And I to you in life and anything you choose to do. It’s been a pleasure.” They shook hands. “And now, back to the moron.”
He went to meet Ivy Lee as Mary joined Sarah, Walter, Diamond Jim, and Russell, who were waiting for her.
Mary sighed. “Finally, I get to be with people whose company I enjoy.”
“Now you know what I have to contend with every day of my life,” stated Russell.
“Are you okay, Mary?” asked Sarah.
Mary paused to make an assessment. “I think I am….I mean, considering all that’s happened.”
“I apologize,” said Diamond Jim. “I should have canceled my trip to Philadelphia and stayed with you that night.”
“No need for that, Jim. It’s truly a double-edged sword. If you had stopped White and Breese, I never would have found out the identity of Harper’s killer.”
Russell said, “I admire you, Mary, but what you experienced was an appalling breach of your womanhood. It will most likely come back to haunt you for some time.”
“It already has. Maybe I can convince Dr. Freud to visit Brooklyn and give me the talking cure for my female hysteria. At the very least it could accomplish irritating my mother, who hates him.”
“Not necessary,” said Sarah. “It’s far too easy to irritate Elizabeth without him.”
“I don’t care how brilliant he is,” said Walter. “ ‘Female hysteria’ is undoubtedly a poor choice of words.”
“Mary,” said Sarah excitedly, “I was waiting for the trial to end so I could tell you some wonderful news.” Sarah paused as she gushed.
“What, Sarah? I could really use it now.”
The words burst out of Sarah’s mouth. “Lillian is going to do Walter’s play.”
“Oh my God, that’s wonderful! Congratulations, Walter!”
“It was all your doing, Mary,” he said. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“Not exactly all my doing. You did write it.” Mary turned to Russell. “So Junior liked the play. She has good taste.”
“Actually,” said Lillian, “Junior never read it. To be honest, neither of us was going to because it wasn’t submitted with an offer attached. Then the other day, a rare day in which I had nothing to do, I saw Walter’s script and wondered what kind of playwright Mary’s friend was. Well, to answer that briefly, we have financing and a theater, and casting will commence shortly.”
Sarah hugged Walter. “My Walter’s a playwright!”
“And a darn good one, too,” said Lillian.
Sarah took Mary’s hand. “We’re going out to celebrate. Please join us. Now we have two things to toast.”
Mary suddenly became solemn. “Sorry, but I can’t. I’ll have to take a rain check.”
“Are you a baseball fan, Mary?” asked Diamond Jim.
“A little bit, but more a fan of the ever-evolving English language.”
“Are you sure you won’t reconsider?” said Sarah. Mary shook her head no. Sarah whispered to her, “Are you okay?”
Mary replied, “I’m fine.”
There’s a shorthand between two good friends. Sarah immediately knew that Mary was indeed not fine. She also knew that now was not the time to discuss it.
“We have to go, everyone,” said Walter. “We have just enough time to make our reservation at Sherry’s.”
“When we get there,” said Diamond Jim, “I’ll break the news to Roger that we’ll be four instead of five.”
“Tell him that number five was me,” Mary suggested. “I’m sure he’ll be pleased.”
Russell approached Mary and placed her hand on the side of her shoulder. “You’re a strong, vibrant woman. Don’t you dare let anyone change that.”
Mary smiled, albeit weakly considering her mood. “Thank you, Lillian.”
The four of them left and Mary was alone in the hall. She had never felt more alone in her life.
33
The Joh
nsons didn’t seem to be home. Mary knocked for the third time and was about to leave when Mr. Johnson opened the door with his wife standing at his side.
“Oh, you’re home.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Johnson. “What can we do for you?”
“Hello, I’m Mary Handley. You may not remember, but we met a couple of months ago.”
“We remember you, Mary.”
“Good. Well, I have some positive news for Susie.”
“Really?”
“Yes, one of the men that raped her was just convicted.”
“Was it for her rape?”
“No, but he will be in prison for a very long time. He might even get the electric chair. May I speak with Susie?”
“She doesn’t live here anymore.”
“Would you be so kind as to furnish me with her new address?”
Mrs. Johnson interrupted. “Stop the nonsense, Bill. Tell her or I will.” He couldn’t. “Susie doesn’t live here anymore because she doesn’t live anywhere. She’s dead.”
Mary stumbled back a step. “What? But how?”
“She killed herself.”
Mary’s mind was whirling. “No, no, that couldn’t be. She’s only seventeen.”
“Was. She got married, but then her husband found out about her rape and he filed for divorce. The poor girl was destroyed. Felt her life could never be normal again.”
“That’s not true. I wish I could’ve—”
“Wish whatever you like. She’s dead and she’s not coming back.” Mrs. Johnson was fighting tears as she turned and walked back into the house.
Mr. Johnson watched his wife go, then said, “Please just leave us alone. It brings back too many painful memories.”
He closed the door. Mary slowly turned around and started walking down the street, searching her mind, wondering if there was anything she could have said or done to prevent this tragedy. Despairingly, she found that there was nothing. As long as the world was controlled by a small group of rich men, she couldn’t foresee any change. The only possible hope was if someday women could snag some of that power and money. Maybe that would establish some sort of balance and fairness. Maybe. But that would be a very long process, and she doubted she would still be alive to see it.
Near Prospect Park Page 21
