Fio put his elbows on the table, his fingers steepled together. “Well, I think she hasn’t been feeling well lately. She took a couple of days off right after Peter was killed, which was completely expected. But since then, she’s just not herself. Frankly, I’m a little worried, Lane. She’s been in most days to work, but she’s taken the odd day off here and there.”
“She never misses work,” I said. “Maybe her dad hasn’t been doing well. He’s never been the same since he lost his job when the stock market crashed in ’29. Well, hopefully she’ll be in tomorrow. I can find out what’s going on.”
Finn said to the group, “Can you fill us in on what’s been happening with the pinball crew? What’s going on with Eugene Murk? Daphne made a cryptic remark at the end of the trip that made us think she knows about or is involved in it all. Said she had some business ventures that needed handling . . . and a funeral to attend.”
Aunt Evelyn whispered, “Peter.”
Peter had helped us a lot with our last cases. He and Finn had a difficult past to overcome, but they’d come out as allies. His death had seemed surreal when we were in England. Now, the reality of it was hitting us hard all over again.
Fio declared, “Well. Murk is still being watched carefully. We are gathering evidence to make a thorough case. But, ah, well . . .” He looked shifty and kept adjusting one sleeve. I narrowed my eyes at him.
“What did you do, Fio?” I asked. I darted my eyes to Roarke. He wore his usual wry grin accented with dimples.
Fio was apparently having trouble finding his words, so I prompted him, “Did you antagonize your opponents? Again?”
Fio managed to look guilty and pleased with himself at the same time.
“Well, it’s like this. We only had so much evidence, and no one was coming forward. So I made a statement.”
“And I got it!” said Roarke. “Really, it wasn’t that bad, Lane. Quit looking at me like that. But what it did do is give us a clear direction.”
Finn said rather menacingly, “What happened?”
Fio’s eyebrows shot up; he seemed slightly unnerved by Finn’s tone. He said, “I just gave a press release.”
“That . . .” Finn prompted.
“That said we would not be threatened by a group of thugs,” said Fio.
Roarke added, “Then two days ago, we received a message from an anonymous source. They said that the next time we interfered, they wouldn’t take out just one police officer.”
“So we got confirmation that they did shoot Pete on purpose, like you and Roarke overheard about getting the mitney, Lane. It wasn’t that he got caught in the crossfire,” said Mr. Kirkland. “People like that always escalate. Pinball and slots are money. Good money.”
It was a particularly insidious threat to target the very people who were supposed to bring order and protection. Fio didn’t like that one bit, by the look of his thunderous expression. None of us did.
“Yeah,” said Finn, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “Now we know we don’t have an isolated incident on our hands. There’s a cop killer on the loose who’s promising more to come.”
After our illuminating debrief, my sleuthing partner and I pulled to the side while the rest of our group refilled coffee cups.
“Fiorello and Finn have the police department covered and will get the message out to be extra careful and to keep on the lookout for Murk and his crew. But I want to cover all the bases,” I said in a low voice.
“Sounds good,” said Roarke. “I’ll get on my sources, too.”
“Great. I want to have a meeting tomorrow morning with the other branch of our investigative effort,” I said with a knowing look. “I’ll get word to Morgan to meet at our usual spot. You can get in on our weekly appointment at our secret rendezvous.”
“Ooh! I like the sound of that.”
“You’ll love it.”
CHAPTER 37
“I can see why you two like meeting here,” said Roarke, swallowing a big spoonful of vanilla ice cream topped with hot butterscotch.
We were at our usual meeting place, where Morgan and I had a standing weekly appointment: the Lexington Luncheonette and soda shop.
Morgan looked good. I was searching her eyes, her countenance, for how she was really doing. I heard she’d gotten back “to work” from Evelyn. She was probably like me; getting work done always cleared my mind. I noticed her hair had been washed and brushed neatly. I think she’d even gotten it trimmed. Her clothes, usually nondescript from trying to blend in on the street, were clean and even a bit professional. She wore trousers and a nice pair of navy low-heeled shoes with a small brass band near the toes. She looked more like my office mates at City Hall than the street urchin I used to know. Maybe she was closer to eighteen now. I still wasn’t exactly sure how old she was.
“Why are you looking at me like that, Lane? Cut it out,” she said, a light blush hitting her cheeks.
“Sorry,” I chuckled. I knew not to bring up her looks; she’d kill me. “You know . . . I have a friend I want you to meet. Think you can come down to City Hall later today? It’s a professional contact.”
“Who is it?” she asked.
“Nope. Not telling. Just come down, you won’t be disappointed,” I said with a sad look at my diminishing ice cream. I scraped the bottom of my bowl, getting every last drop of chocolate.
“Sure,” agreed Morgan. “I’ll head down this afternoon.”
“You going to lick that?” asked Roarke with an eyebrow cocked at the clinking of my spoon against the bowl.
“I might,” I said, scraping the bowl three more times just to irritate Roarke. “All right, let’s get the meeting started. The police are on the lookout for that anonymous threat. We can’t back down on the whole pinball and slots issue. It will make every criminal out there just shoot a cop and think they can get away with anything they want.”
“I agree,” said Roarke. “So the NYPD have their avenues covered. What can we do that they can’t?”
“I can get my crew on the street to see what they can find out. No one notices if a kid is listening,” said Morgan. I wanted their considerable help, but I was also torn, wanting to tell her not to poke around anything too dangerous. But it would be pointless. She’d just argue with me and besides, she really was a valuable partner and she knew it.
Reading my face, she said with a roll to her eyes, “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. Besides, Finn and I have an arrangement where I notify him if I hear anything interesting.”
On our last case, Finn had indeed figured out a working arrangement with her. She had her cohorts tailing me and even managed to procure a wild escape when I’d gotten in a jam. Despite my feeling a bit chagrined about it, it had to be one of my favorite moments and rescues of all time.
“Why are you grinning?” asked Morgan.
I cleared my throat. “No reason, just remembering something. Okay, have your crew focus on the area around Eugene Murk’s store. He’s part of this, I just know it.”
As she gave it some thought, Morgan looked at me. A small shudder ran through her as she said, “And, um, so you really think Daphne isn’t at the helm of all this?”
“Well, until she’s locked up, I don’t think we can ever rule her out completely.” I watched Morgan’s face carefully. Good. She didn’t look too scared. More annoyed, actually. That’s my girl. “But, as Miles in London surmised, I believe that her trip to London was not to start up business, but to shore up her credibility as Rex’s chosen leader. America is more lucrative than Europe these days, so we do need to watch for anything she might be working on here.”
“So, your trip wasn’t all for nothing?” she asked hopefully. Sometimes she looked so mature, and others, like right now, she looked like a little kid.
“No, we had a few important reasons to go to London. The most important of them was to be sure Daphne wasn’t back in business there. We couldn’t allow that to happen to our friends in England. Since we knew
from your account that she was headed there, we knew for certain that we’d hear about activity if she’d been drumming up business. By the lack of anything stirring, it became clear that she wasn’t starting anything.”
“Good. I hate to think I’d sent you on a wild-goose chase,” she said.
“Oh, it was a very useful trip. We definitely accomplished a lot while we were there.” Which was massively understated. “Not a waste of time at all. So, back to business. How about you, Roarke?”
“I’ve had my contacts on the lookout. Also, the inspector’s funeral for Peter is in three days. I’m sure they’ll have special coverage over that. And you, Lane? I can hear you thinking.”
“Well,” I said, holding my coffee in both hands as I took a thoughtful sip. “I need to get with Fiorello. This all goes back to the day he stormed up to the West 100th Street police station and he charged Eugene Murk. Something happened that day that tipped the first domino.”
Roarke nodded. “Okay, and we need to look at our first pinball escapade when we were following the aptly named villains through Grand Central.”
“Ah yes,” I said. “When Punchy helped confirm that Crusher, the known slots and pinball runner, was behind the threats to Fio.”
Morgan interrupted, “And why do the gangsters all have those kind of silly descriptive names that end up making them even more creepy because the silly name masks the dangerous part?”
I raised my eyebrows. She’d actually nailed the exact reason why.
“Oh,” said Morgan, appreciable understanding dawning on her face.
Roarke declared, “So let’s you and me talk with Fiorello tomorrow, Lane.”
“Great,” I said. “Morgan, get with your crew and let’s all report back at our place tomorrow night. But don’t forget, meet me at my City Hall office today at three.”
“Perfect,” said Morgan.
Roarke sealed the deal by buying a black and white cookie for each of us.
CHAPTER 38
My office was like a second home in a way. I spent so much time there and was devoted to my job. Good jobs could be hard to come by, and to have one that I not only enjoyed, but made me feel that I was making a difference in the world, was something that consistently brought me satisfaction.
I climbed the long set of stairs beneath that incredible rotunda for the thousandth time. And felt solace that it never got old.
“Lane!” exclaimed two dear voices.
I looked up and was delighted to be greeted by my two closest friends, both looking cheerful and expectant.
“Roxy, Val! It’s so good to be back!” We all hugged and the length of my trip to London really hit me. It felt like I’d been gone for so long. “We need to catch up. Lunch?”
“Wouldn’t miss it!” exclaimed Val as she turned and went to her desk.
Roxy smiled at me and I caught her eye. I asked in a low voice, “So, ah, has Val been feeling okay?”
She casually turned so that Val, back at her desk, wouldn’t see her face. Roxy whispered, “Yeah. She’s okay, but she did miss work and not just the couple days after Peter died. It’s not that big of a deal, but it’s Val. She never misses work. Fio and I were both a little surprised.”
“Has there been anything else going on?” I asked.
“No, just the normal routine. I mean, without you here, we usually hang out just at lunch. But after work we go our separate ways. Come to think of it, the whole time you were gone we didn’t go out dancing or to the theater. Maybe she did with other friends, but we didn’t together.”
“Huh. Yeah, I guess that is odd. Or it might be nothing, maybe she’s just dealing with the grief from Pete’s death.” We made our way to the coffee room after I dropped off my coat at my desk.
Before I could ask her anything else, a blur of activity ran into the coffee room. Ralph, the office flirt, started his onslaught of information at the pace of a racehorse. I winked at Roxy.
“Hiya, gals! How’s it going? Boy, you’ve been gone a while, great to see you, Lane, what . . . what are you doing?” he sputtered.
Roxy and I started our handshake that was a smattering of hand claps and snaps in sync with each other and ended with jazz hands and a clink of our coffee mugs. We both turned to him at the same time to see the look on his face.
“Well, I want in on that!” he exclaimed. Roxy and I were laughing and I pulled her in for a one-armed hug, enjoying our ongoing teasing games with Ralph in the coffee room. She started to teach Ralph the moves. I saluted them, then headed to my desk to dive into the great abundance of work left for me.
I had a busy day and lunch with the gals, and at three o’clock on the dot Morgan arrived. Not only was she wearing her nifty little outfit from this morning, but she’d topped it off with a nice navy-blue three-quarter-length-sleeve jacket. She instantly looked like she was in her twenties. Except for the fact that she looked uncomfortable in the new clothes, pulling at her jacket a bit here and there.
“Hello, Morgan! Come on in.” I took her overcoat that she’d had in her hands and motioned to the chair near my desk. “Thanks for coming in. Do you want a coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’m a little nervous. I don’t want to spill anything.”
“Don’t worry, you’re going to really, hmm . . . like isn’t quite right, you’ll appreciate the friend I want you to meet.”
Just then, in walked a middle-aged housewife, with sensible shoes, short dark hair neatly tucked into her hat, wearing a floral dress with a narrow belt around her considerable waist. I shot my eyes to Morgan, whose countenance barely registered the new arrival.
“Hello, Miss Shanley. Thank you so much for coming,” I said as I took her coat and added it to the coat rack along with Morgan’s, hiding my smirk.
“Morgan, this is my friend Mary Shanley.” Morgan was polite and stood to shake her hand, her eyes still not showing any glimmer of recognition.
“Miss Shanley is a wiresplit.” I waited for her to figure it out.
Morgan thought a moment. Mary, waiting in expectation, watched her possible new protégée with squinted eyes.
“Wait . . .” said Morgan, eyes wide. “Is she . . . ?”
She got it. I nodded. “Yeah. Mary . . . is one of our first women to make detective in the NYPD. She’s part of the pickpocket squad.”
“Wait a minute. Mary . . . are you Dead Shot Mary?” she asked incredulously.
Mary lit up and lifted an eyebrow. “You bet your boots I am.”
“Wow. I’ve always wanted to meet you.” Her face said that Mary didn’t quite look like she’d expected. That, in fact, was one of Mary’s best assets.
“You know, Mary here is one of our leading detectives handling pickpockets,” I said by way of introduction. Morgan managed to look both interested and sheepish, being an accomplished pickpocket herself.
Mary’s eyes narrowed and one corner of her mouth curved upward. “You might be pretty interested in what I do. You wouldn’t know much about pickpocketing yourself, now, would you?”
Morgan turned red and said, “Uhhh . . .”
Mary laughed. “Don’t worry. Lane says you’re reformed. I could tell, though. You carry yourself like a good pickpocket.”
Morgan said lowly, almost to herself, “I carry myself . . . but you just walked in.” Then she said more loudly, “You were following me?”
“Yep! And here’s your wallet back.” She handed Morgan a thin brown wallet.
Morgan grasped her purse, pawing through it to be certain. “How’d you do that?” she exclaimed, a bit chagrined yet impressed, since she was usually on the other side of this sort of situation.
Mary tilted her chin upward, considering. “You don’t usually carry a purse, do you? You looked a bit awkward with it, so I thought it would be a weak link. Because you weren’t accustomed to holding it, what it feels like, how to make sure the opening is secure. . . I just used an Oh Shit and then an Easy Dip.”
“Oh my God. The bird doo. I was so co
ncerned about my nice clothes, I didn’t even think twice about what else was going on,” said Morgan, shaking her head with abundant appreciation for Mary’s tactics.
“What’s an Oh Shit and an Easy Dip?” I asked.
Morgan replied, “You put something on someone’s shoulder that looks like bird doo. Then they’re nice and distracted and you can slip your hand into an open pocket or purse and snap, easy money. It makes for a good Easy Dip.” She snapped her fingers. “Right, Mary?”
“That’s the ticket!”
“Okay, you two. I’ll leave you to it. Morgan, I think you’ll really love Mary’s techniques. She blends in, she’s patient and cunning, and knows what to look for and how to follow someone while remaining invisible. I’ll never forget the time you brought your niece along to Macy’s, Mary! Talk about looking harmless. You’re a hoot.”
“Thank you. My goal is a thousand arrests before I retire.”
“And you’ll do just that, I have no doubt.”
The two new friends decided to talk in an open conference room. I got back to work. A lot had piled up while I was gone, but that morning I’d accomplished quite a bit.
After a while, I looked outside and saw that puffy white clumps of snow were falling from the sky. I had no idea when it started as I’d had my head down, working hard all day. I walked over to Fiorello’s door and leaned up on the doorframe, knocking lightly. The Tammany tiger rug grinned up from the floor at me.
“Mr. La Guardia, it’s snowing pretty hard out there. You might want to quit a little early tonight,” I suggested.
“I never quit!” he said with a smirk.
“You know what I mean. Want me to call Marie for you?”
“Nope! I got it. I’ll call her.” He looked out the frosty white window. “You’re right. It’s really coming down. Say, Lane, we need to talk about the pinball case.”
“Great. Be right back,” I said, trotting to my desk and grabbing the little chair next to it to bring in with me. Recently, in an effort to minimize the length of meetings, Fio arranged to have his office chairs (though not his) enhanced. I stayed late one night only to find a handyman in the building sawing off an inch from the front legs of the chairs. So when anyone sat in them, they would constantly be tipping forward just a bit, making it very uncomfortable. Thus shorter meetings. I think Fio knew I’d found out, but we just kept that little secret to ourselves.
The Pearl Dagger Page 18
