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October 4th, 1921 Midtown South Precinct House
MATT grinned as he waved his manacled hands at Page to let her know he’d be alright. She remained standing in the police station lobby, watching stoically as the two cops, each having a firm grip on either arm, dragged him across the floor and over to the duty desk at the far end of the vast room. She’d tried to insist on their letting her stay by his side the whole way, which he would’ve found satisfying if it were because she just wanted to be with him rather than not thinking he could take care of himself, but she’d been balked. Either she hadn’t offered them a big enough bribe, or there were limits to what they thought they could get away with.
When the two cops had insisted she stay in the lobby and wait, and suggested she’d do better to go home, Page had told Matt that if they dared to actually charge him, she’d get him a high-priced lawyer. Probably she would’ve gone on to threaten the cops and the city with a suit, but he’d told her not to worry. He had this.
Page had seemed to believe that even less than he did himself, but at least her mentioning the lawyer might keep them from roughing him up. So he relaxed and let them lug him up in front of the sergeant who’d been watching and hopefully listening from behind the duty desk. The big man swept his baleful glare over the three of them, including both cops in his disapproving gaze. And Matt wondered why.
Short Sid, who seemed to be the leader between the two, tried to sound confident as he spoke to the sergeant. “We nabbed this guy fleeing a speakeasy in the middle of a raid. Thought maybe we can get him to spill who’s supplying the booze. Lady insisted on coming along for the ride.” There was a fleeting look of astonishment on his face at that last, but then Page was rather stunning. In a number of different ways.
The desk sergeant stared speechless at the pair of beat cops for a long moment. It was clear he had a lot he’d like to say, but presumably he was inhibited by Matt’s presence, which was a shame since it would be helpful to understand what the dynamics at play here were. But whatever he might’ve said to those two, it went unsaid, and instead he turned to Matt with a resigned sigh. “Name, address, and occupation?”
“Matt Walker. The Hotel Ngaio.”
All three cops ran their eyes over Matt in a speculative manner. His clothes might be wrinkled and smoke-stained, but they were obviously expensive. Still, the sergeant seemed skeptical. “Independent means?”
Matt attempted to adopt an air of nonchalance as he answered. “I’m both a resident and part owner of the Ngaio.” They’d find that out soon enough if they investigated, and better they should find out now, since his having property might improve their attitude toward him.
Even though they’d used a holding company to purchase the hotel, he and Page had made sure the management knew who owned the Ngaio, so suites would be set aside for their use. Meaning it wasn’t much of a secret. But the point of doing it that way was to keep the fact that they owned the hotel from their future selves. Something which must’ve been successful, since neither had known when they first visited the place in two thousand. And now he was giving himself a headache.
The cop called Liam, who’d been silent up until then, had another question to ask. “Are you related to Jimmy Walker?”
Not having any idea who that was or if it would be good to be related to ‘Jimmy’ or not, Matt didn’t respond directly. “Look, could we move this along a bit?” He gave short Sid a good glare. “I think you said something about giving me the opportunity to make my explanations to ‘the judge’, and I’m eager to do just that.” He could feel undercurrents swirling about his feet, and though he didn’t know what they were he might still be able to work them to his advantage. He’d just have to play it by ear. Trying for a tone of haughty disdain, he gave the desk sergeant a steady gaze. “I think your men have made a mistake. Maybe you should let me talk to whoever is in charge here.” Thankfully he managed to keep from adding ‘take me to your leader’. Occasionally his sense of humor was a liability.
The three cops all exchanged looks full of questions at each other, but it was obvious whose call it would have to be, and after a moment the desk sergeant nodded and sighed and picked up the phone. But before he called anyone, he squinted at the two beat cops. “I’ll let the lieutenant sort this out.” And it sounded like a threat.
As he listened to the sergeant summarizing the situation to his superior, Matt rued not having studied more history. Perhaps if he had he’d have been better able to pick up on the subtleties. But here in the past he couldn’t read up on what would now be in his future. And he couldn’t ask Page because she knew even less about this period of history than he. Which was also a sort of silver lining in its way.
Then a door down a hall going back into the interior of the building banged shut. Soon a tall, thin man in a brown suit came striding out into the lobby, quickly taking in the entire tableau with a stony expression. And Matt recognized the severe angular planes of a familiar face. Still a lieutenant after three years, but the man’s sandy hair had thinned. And Cross clearly remembered Matt as well.
“I had hoped I’d never see you in here again.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong this time either.”
“We’ll see. But—” Lt. Cross looked pointedly at the handcuffs on Matt’s wrists. “You didn’t get into those by accident.” He turned to the desk sergeant. “I’ll interrogate him myself.”
The sergeant swiveled his crew-cut head to the two beat cops. “Take him to interview two, then get back out there.”
Sid seized Matt by one arm while Liam took the other, and they were none too gentle dragging him past the duty desk and down the corridor or thrusting him into a small, bare room and onto a scarred wooden chair that was none too stable. There was a tiny, rickety table in front of him and another chair in the same shabby condition, but no two-way mirror to be secretly observed through. The bulb shining overhead was bare, but there was no lamp they could shine straight into his eyes as they asked him questions. Overall, rather disappointing.
The biggest bright spot for Matt was the immediate withdrawal of the two cops whose company he had developed a distaste for from the first. Several minutes passed, however, with no one else coming in, and he had to wonder what was delaying Cross. Was the man trying to make him sweat by waiting? Or worse, was the lieutenant taking the time to talk to Page? Matt shuddered to think what she’d have to say to the man.
Finally Cross came in. Closing and locking the door behind him, he lowered himself into the other chair with a heavy sigh. “I don’t know how you get yourself into these things.”
Matt held his handcuffs up in the air. “Not my fault this time, those cops slapped them on. You’re going to take them off?”
The lieutenant nodded, then leaned forward as he took a set of keys from his pocket. “But I’m not letting you go just yet. We need to have a little chat first.” He unlocked and removed the cuffs, shaking his head as he did, then jerked his head toward the lobby. “Is she the one?”
Matt wasn’t surprised Cross had noticed Page, or that the man had put two and two together. But he played dumb. “The one what?”
The lieutenant’s expression made it clear Cross wasn’t deceived. “That girl you got in a fight over—the one that landed you in here three years ago.”
“Oh, her.” Though it wasn’t that scuffle, which had really taken place six years ago, that had taken Matt to this police station in nineteen eighteen, but simply the need to get out of the handcuffs the riot police had put him in in nineteen fifteen. Matt had led Lt. Cross to believe he’d gotten himself into the cuffs—which in a sense he had—by leaving out a lot of details and letting the man draw the wrong conclusions. A regrettable deception, but preferable to trying to explain he was a time-traveler. He leaned back and grinned. “Yeah, that was Page. And after that, she didn’t speak to me for three years.” True, technically speaking, though it had only been three days from Matt’s point-of-view.
The lieutenant just nodded. “I can see you getting into trouble over a girl like her.”
Even though Matt thought the same, he had no choice but to defend Page against the implied criticism. “It’s not her fault, it’s just that—” Only, how could he explain how she managed to land them in the soup so often when he didn’t even comprehend it himself? “She’s a redhead.”
Lt. Cross didn’t seem satisfied with the stereotype as an explanation, especially for the current dilemma Matt had found himself in. “She wasn’t the one who got arrested. And I’d like to know how you got yourself into this situation.”
Matt could only shake his head. “I don’t understand it.” Though the past couple of days he’d gotten the feeling he was being followed, that wouldn’t explain why those two cops had hauled him in. “If you’ll ask the sergeant who was conducting the raid on the Chestnut Club, I’m sure you’ll find he’s convinced the place is clean.”
The lieutenant’s smile was wry. “No doubt. I’ll check when we’re through here, but I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the club got a clean bill of health. It always has before, and you’re the only one who was brought in. And I’d still like to know why.”
“So would I, but—” Matt shrugged. “It’s not as if I’d ever met either of those two cops before as far as I’m aware, for one of them to hold a grudge. But maybe I don’t remember. They certainly didn’t arrest me for the reason stated though, or as you say, they would’ve had a wagon full of us. So why me?”
“That’s a very good question. As it is, it’s difficult enough to enforce Prohibition. Aside from the people actually breaking the law—the ones making bathtub gin or running speakeasies, the smugglers and the bootleggers—there are so many ways to get around the law legally. Almost any doctor will prescribe ‘whisky for what ails you’ which you can then go buy at any of the thousands of pharmacies in the city. Guys in every neighborhood have started making communion wine in their basements, while new ‘rabbis’ with names like O’Leary have popped up to provide people with spirits for ‘religious purposes’. Then there’s booze bought before Prohibition went into effect. I hear the Yale Club here in Manhattan stockpiled fourteen years worth of wine and spirits for their members.”
Fourteen? Some simple arithmetic made Matt wonder if somebody there knew something they really shouldn’t. He shook his head. “With so many ways to get around the law without breaking it, why are so many engaging in clearly illegal activity, and why aren’t you arresting those people, if you’ve got to arrest anyone?”
Cross sighed. “We can’t, not really. Most of the men on the force are Wets—well, most are Irish, so I suppose that’s to be expected. The majority of people in the city are too. And none of them think that the Volstead Act is fair. So the only ones obeying it are the Drys.”
“Wets and Drys?”
The lieutenant frowned. “I don’t know how you can’t have heard. The country is divided in two, only now it isn’t North and South, it’s Wets and Drys. The two sides don’t—can’t—see eye to eye, and you have to have pretty broad support for a law. Otherwise enforcing it becomes problematic.”
“But the movement had enough people behind it to amend the Constitution. Even if some did disagree, that seems pretty broad to me.”
“There was plenty of political activism, enough to get most state legislatures to ratify it, but not the general consensus you need for people to follow the law. You need that, or a concerted effort at enforcing the law—so everyone knows they can’t get away with breaking it—or everybody just does what they want. And applying the law properly would require the politicians to allocate sufficient resources to do that, when most of their constituents would rather their tax money be spent on other things. Take the Prohibition Division of the Revenue Bureau—what have they got? About a couple dozen agents. What can they do? Certainly not pose a threat to the supply of illegal booze to our elected representatives.”
Matt grinned. “I didn’t know you were a philosopher, Lieutenant.”
The man snorted. “Sitting here talking to a college student is probably what’s bringing it out. Although I suppose you’ve graduated now.”
“I’m not a student anymore, no.” Though Matt hoped to get back to his studies someday. “But I’m not going to claim to have matured much.”
Cross shook his head. “You don’t look any older than the last time I saw you, or act it.”
“Well, at least I try to obey the law. Though as I don’t drink, it’s not exactly a hardship. From your tone, I take it you’re a Dry?”
The lieutenant shrugged. “I’m a teetotaler myself, but I think the Volstead Act goes too far. A lot of people enjoy beer or wine in moderation without any problems, and they shouldn’t have to decide between forgoing such simple pleasures and breaking the law. If it wasn’t so strict about banning the sale of anything with the least bit of alcohol content, the act might have more support. And it didn’t need to be draconian to be beneficial, either.”
“What do you mean?”
“Even without real enforcement, plenty of good has come from shutting down the saloons and making people more circumspect about their drinking. A lot less public intoxication and far fewer drunken brawls. Not as many men getting soused and beating their spouses. Of course, some of that is due to the improving economy, but the result is still pretty pleasing, so I’m not sure there would be that much to gain by stricter policing anyway.”
Matt grinned at the thought of trying to get the cops to really enforce the law, but his smile slipped as he thought of what still lay in store. It would get really unpleasant once organized crime entered the picture, bringing so much violence. Apparently that hadn’t happened yet. “But then why the raids?”
Lt. Cross sighed. “Prohibition has created plenty of problems too, and one is the number of police who see it as a great opportunity to line their pockets by looking the other way. Which requires making an effort to enforce the law in the first place, or at least giving that appearance.” Shaking his head, the man dismissed the subject of corrupt cops. For the moment. “Then there are all these young women who now go out and get wasted for a ‘good time’ and mark my words, no good will come of that.” A glint of suspicion emerged in his eye. “If you don’t drink, what were you doing at the Chestnut Club?”
“Dancing, Detective. Page and I have gone out tripping the light fantastic every night since we arrived.” In the twenties, but the lieutenant would assume Matt meant since they’d been back in town.
The man snorted. “Nice, if you’ve got that kind of free time.” The plain wedding band on the man’s third finger spoke of a wife at home—undoubtedly a long-suffering one, since Cross was a cop.
“Any more questions?”
“Do you have any enemies?”
Startled, Matt almost toppled over as the chair teetered. “Enemies? Everybody loves me.”
The lieutenant snorted again—the third time, if Matt was keeping proper count. “I find that hard to believe. What about the guy you got in a fight with three years ago? Could he still be mad at you?”
“He could, but he’s long gone.” That protestor from six years ago wouldn’t even know where to begin looking for Matt. And he’d been way too drunk to have any real memories of that day. Except, perhaps, of watching Matt disappear into thin air, and he likely wouldn’t forget that. “I don’t understand. Why are you even asking me about enemies? Question those two cops if you want to find out why they picked on me.”
“Unfortunately, I wouldn’t get any answers out of them. I told you my men won’t enforce Prohibition—to them it’s only an opportunity. Sometimes to make money, and other times they use the law to harass certain sorts of people. But not your sort of citizen, not without good reason.”
Matt nodded. He could guess what sort of folk corrupt cops would bully. “That raises an interesting point. Those two didn’t try to shake me down.” He wasn’t going to mention Page’s bribe. “And I’d never met them, so what incentive did they have to annoy me?”
Cross gave him a steady look. “I hate to say it, but I can only think somebody paid them to go after you.”
Riggleston. For all that it had been three years ago, Matt had made the man stalk off shaking with impotent rage. Defending Page’s honor, even if she didn’t need it. But that slimy fellow was the type to hold a grudge—he must’ve heard Matt was back in town, hired someone to follow him and look for an opportunity. One that came with the phony police raid on the club. And Riggleston had enough money to bribe a couple of cops to harass Matt and maybe tune him up a bit. Well, it hadn’t worked.
“There was a guy I made look a bit foolish once about three years ago—a different one from the guy you were talking about. Named Riggleston, ‘the second’.” Matt shook his head. “But it’s ridiculous to think that anybody—even somebody with plenty of money—might be able to pay the police to do something like this to me.”
The lieutenant looked grim. “We’ve cleaned up the force quite a lot compared to how it used to be, but there’s still much to be done.”
“We?”
“I’m one of the reformers. And I’m also a Protestant with English ancestors instead of Irish. So I can’t accomplish much, but I do the little I can, and I do the job right.”
Matt nodded. It made it all the more remarkable the man had made it to lieutenant, managed to keep that precarious position in a town run by Irish Catholics, not to mention corrupt politicians out of Tammany Hall. “More than just the police need to be reformed in this city.” Which reminded him. “I say, who’s this Jimmy Walker those cops thought I might be related to? Should I be?”
Cross shook his head. “I wouldn’t claim him if you aren’t really related. He’s a state senator. And very tight with Boss Murphy. I wouldn’t get entangled with them if you want to stay out of trouble.”
“Hopefully if we meet again it will be under better, more pleasant circumstances. Does that mean I can go now? After all, I was arrested.”
“Yes, you were taken into custody—and the two who brought you in had a pretext for doing so—but while the desk sergeant did put your particulars in the log, we haven’t charged you with anything. And we won’t. Though I’m tempted to toss you in a cell for the night and would if I thought it would do any good.” Cross rose heavily to his feet. “As for meeting under more pleasant circumstances, I won’t be holding my breath.”
Matt breathed a sigh of relief. “It won’t get you into any trouble, will it? Letting me go?”
The lieutenant moved toward the door and put his hand on the knob. “No. I already told the desk sergeant we wouldn’t be able to charge someone of your status unless Sgt. O’Reilly and his men were to arrest more than just you from that raid, and that I knew that wouldn’t happen. So I said I’d be in here trying to convince you not to sue for false arrest.”
Matt raised his eyebrows. “And will you be successful, Lieutenant?”
Cross frowned. “Don’t get the wrong idea. Two police officers would be willing to swear out a complaint, so I could charge you if I wanted. Then you would be held over for arraignment and likely have to pay a fine rather than get a payout from the city. But I won’t do that.”
“Because you believe in doing what’s right, and that’s why I like you, Lieutenant. I trust the day will come when you and the other reformers succeed in cleaning up the city and the force.” Even though it wouldn’t be anytime soon. “And don’t worry, I have no interest in suing anybody—and I’m pretty sure I can persuade Page not to either.” He grinned.
Half-closing his eyes, Cross emitted a short, indistinct sound that might’ve been an aborted chuckle. Opening his eyes again, the man shook his head. “At least after this, you probably won’t have to worry about an officer harassing you without provocation. But I’d advise against hanging around places that aren’t perfectly reputable. Because someone’s clearly got it out for you, and you don’t want to put yourself in a vulnerable position.”
The lieutenant didn’t sound convinced the culprit was Riggleston, but Matt knew it had to be the coward—it couldn’t be anyone else. “Thanks. I appreciate your concern.” And he’d watch his back.
Cross nodded and glanced at his watch. “Those two who arrested you move slow, but they ought to be well away by now.” He opened the door and gestured Matt out. “And you surely won’t want to keep your girl waiting.”
Matt stood with alacrity and passed out into the hall, thinking it was good Page hadn’t been there to hear her called ‘his girl’. And that he definitely had kept her waiting long enough already. Behind him he heard the lieutenant deliver a few parting words in a low but carrying voice. “Remember you’ve got good reason to stay safe.”
Then Matt saw Page standing in the lobby, red hair shining in the sickly yellow light of the station, and dismissed the cop from his thoughts. The only thing he could think of was how fortunate he was to have Page as his...whatever she was.
Even at a distance he could see her set jaw and piercing eyes proclaiming her anger, but she didn’t say a word when he approached. He grinned in return and walked with her out of the station down to the street, and though he would’ve liked to have witnesses to delay the tongue-lashing she’d be preparing, this wasn’t exactly the best place to catch a cab. “Why don’t we walk back to the hotel? It’s not that far, and I don’t feel like dining out after all that.”
Standing there on the sidewalk, she nodded. “I would like to know what ‘all that’ was about, and it probably isn’t something we’d want a taxi driver to overhear.”
Matt started off slow, so they could talk as they walked without a problem. “Someone bribed those two cops to give me a hard time. Must’ve been Riggleston.”
Page shook her head. “You’ve been in nineteen twenty-one a whole week—who knows what trouble you’ve managed to get yourself into already?”
Matt kept his face blank and refrained from saying anything. Admittedly he had gotten himself into various difficulties in the past—and the future—but Page had landed him in more and direr predicaments. “We’ve been together too much of the time for you to really believe that. Riggleston is the only person who’d hate me enough to do this.”
Page took a deep breath. “Because of me?”
He shook his head. “I doubt his ego would permit the man to think he’d been bested by a woman. But I humiliated him in public, and he wouldn’t get over that.”
“Even after three years?”
“Apparently. He must’ve heard I’d returned to town and hired someone to tail me.”
Page seemed skeptical. “And chose this way to get back at you? Why?”
While they waited for a car to zoom past before crossing an intersection, Matt turned and smiled at her. “Because he’s a physical coward and afraid of me, but he’s got plenty of money to hire other people to do his dirty work for him.”
“Will he cause more trouble?”
Matt shrugged. “I doubt he’d attempt the trick of bribing cops again, thanks to Lt. Cross.” Briefly he described what the man had done for him. “And Riggleston may not find out how ineffective it was.” Matt doubted Sid and Liam would volunteer an account of how badly they’d bungled whatever they’d been supposed to do.
“If he discovers it didn’t work, he may try something more dangerous. We need to do something.”
Matt wondered if she meant they ought to take preemptive action, but even if that was a good idea, he wouldn’t want to sink to Riggleston’s level. Unless the man threatened Page. “I agree, and we can brainstorm while we’re eating.” The Ngaio’s dining room would be closed now, but the kitchen was always open and the room service was excellent. “Or maybe we should skip to nineteen twenty-four. He would probably have given up by then.”
Page pursed her lips. “I’m not going to let that man run us off. We planned to stay here at least two weeks, and there are still lots of things I want to do with you. Research, I mean.” Beautiful and brassy—she was worth any amount of trouble she got him in, directly or indirectly. And she was smart.
“Well, we own the Ngaio now, which proved to be helpful in establishing us as solid citizens.” And also in other ways. Three years ago he’d asked for a shower to be installed in his suite’s bathroom, and now he could take a hot shower any time he wished. “And we have hefty bank accounts if we need to use them.” Most of the money had come through accumulating compound interest, which was unheard of in the twenty-first century when saving didn’t earn you anything.
Page nodded. “One of the things we should do is find a good lawyer to put on retainer for the next time you get into trouble.”
Matt just grinned. “It might be a good idea. If we can find a lawyer as talented and trustworthy as Hollingsworth. Which won’t be easy.” They might as well hope their banker would come through in a pinch.