16
The next morning, Monday, the twenty-first, Mary awoke to a knock on her door. She had already fed Josie and put her back to bed, hoping that she, too, could get some more sleep. But it was not to be.
Sean had heard about Dottie’s arrest and had come over to see how his sister was doing.
“I’m fine, Sean. I mean, I think I am.”
“From personal experience, I can tell you it doesn’t happen overnight. It takes time to heal, but at least you can start, sis. You caught the bastards.”
“Then why do I have this uneasy feeling?”
“It’ll go away eventually. You know, ‘time heals’ and all that.”
“You’re spouting quotes? I think I need to sit down.” She did just that.
“I’ll do you a favor and give you something else to focus on. I finally acquiesced to Linda’s parents and agreed to invite Mom to dinner, probably a Sunday afternoon, where there’s less chance of arguments.”
“How is that better?”
“Sunday, you know: church, a day of prayer and forgiveness.”
“We are discussing Mom?”
“You’re right. I’m going to try to delay it as much as possible, but I can’t avoid it. Whenever it happens, you’re invited, too.”
“That’s a favor? It’s more like an invitation to a bombing.”
“Please come, Mary. You can bring Josie. I desperately need your support.”
Mary laughed. “And if I say no?”
“That would be the perfect thing to say if you want to see your brother’s life ruined.”
“Hmm, my brother’s life ruined or spending a Sunday with Mom—”
“Mary.”
“I’ll come, Sean, whenever it is. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“It should be quite a show, on the level of Shakespeare.”
“I assume you’re referring to his tragedies.”
The telephone rang and Mary answered it. “Hello….I’m fine, Mr. Roosevelt, and thank you again for yesterday….Yes, I can be there at noon….Sure, look forward to it.” She hung up.
“My sister gets telephone calls from Theodore Roosevelt. He doesn’t even know I exist.”
“He wants me to come down to his office. Some more details about the case.”
“Go ahead. I’ll watch Josie. I don’t go into work until later today.”
“Thanks, Sean.”
“On the condition that when you see Roosevelt, you put in a word for your brother who’s a brilliant detective?”
“I have another brother? I thought I only had you.” At his annoyed look, she continued. “He’s New York and you’re Brooklyn. How can he help?”
“I’m more than willing to commute to New York for a promotion. Besides, New York and Brooklyn will probably be one city soon.”
“Makes sense. I’ll try, Sean…when the time is right.”
Sean watched as Mary’s expression grew serious. “Don’t worry, sis. He probably just wants to keep you in the loop.”
Mary had clearly heard his tone and doubted it was something as simple as that. It had to be important, but was it good or bad?
It all became clear when Mary entered Roosevelt’s office. The look on his face told her she was about to hear something that, at the very least, would not be pleasant. She was right.
“Mary,” said Roosevelt in his most congenial manner. “So glad you could make it.”
“The only thing that could stop me would be a bullet, and I think I’ve had my quota of those for a while.”
“You’re always so serious. You should try to—”
“What’s wrong, Mr. Roosevelt?”
Her question stopped him momentarily, then he said, “First, let’s talk about what’s right. Please have a seat.” Mary obliged. “Due to your brilliant efforts, Dorothy Davies confessed to extortion and the murder of Harvey Iglehart.”
“But?”
“She emphatically maintains she had nothing to do with Harper’s death.”
“Of course she does. It’s rare to find a murderer who will confess without clever prodding or irrefutable evidence.”
“She’s already facing life in prison and perhaps the electric chair. Why lie now?”
“She has a chance of living with one murder. With two, her chances are significantly worse.”
“That’s true, but we still had to investigate further. With the help of the Brooklyn police, we examined the bullets. The ones that grazed your head and killed Harvey Iglehart came from the same pistol, the same type that we took from Davies last night. The one that killed Harper came from a completely different pistol. So—”
“Unless Dottie was carrying two completely different guns with her that day, which is highly unlikely, someone else killed Harper.” The uneasy feeling Mary had experienced earlier had turned into one of dread. She was back to square one.
“I know this isn’t easy for you to hear, but I assure you, I’m bullheaded. I won’t stop until we find Harper’s killer.”
Mary sat there in silence, reeling from the information she had just heard. The overwhelming feeling of sadness she had felt when Harper was killed returned. Instead of her sobbing, her body shut down. She was numb. Roosevelt noticed, and he tried to reassure her.
“I’m putting my men on the case. Brooklyn isn’t my territory yet,” he said, “but I don’t care whose toes I step on. By golly, if the Brooklyn police can’t find this Prospect Park killer, I will!”
“Near Prospect Park,” Mary corrected him before she felt tears prick her eyes. She shook her head to clear them. “Near Prospect Park, in Prospect Park, damn it! What difference does it make? He’s dead! Gone!”
Roosevelt wasn’t sure what to do. He rose to comfort her. “Mary, I—”
She put her hands up. “Thank you, Mr. Roosevelt, but no. I have to learn to live with this.” She took a moment to regain control.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Because I need to ask you something, a favor.”
She nodded. “I’m fine. What is it, sir?”
“Have you heard of the Susie Johnson case?”
“The girl who was raped by Stanford White.”
“She says she was, but we haven’t been able to prove it yet. White has a lot of influential friends who have tainted the girl with unflattering names.”
“You mean like ‘whore,’ ‘slut,’ and ‘Jezebel’?”
Roosevelt flinched. “My God, you constantly surprise me.”
“No need to hide those words from me, Mr. Roosevelt. I’ve heard them all and spoken them quite a bit, too.”
“Well then, you’re the perfect person for this assignment. I doubt whether name-calling will deter you.”
“It might inspire me.”
“Bully for you, Mary. You’re a genuine pistol,” said Roosevelt as he chuckled. Then he continued, “My boys are not doing a thorough job. Whether it’s loyalty to White and his cronies or just male prejudice, it’s been a year and a half now, and whenever I ask them to investigate, they all come back with the same hogwash. Why would a rich, talented, and handsome man have any need to drug a woman in order to have sex? And they accuse her of just wanting some publicity to promote her modeling career.”
“It’s a man’s world. I’ve been fighting that my whole life.”
“I want this girl to get justice, and I think you would be perfect for this case. How much for your services?”
“I’m happy to take the case. Please, no remuneration. I owe you for yesterday.”
“But we didn’t apprehend Harper’s killer, and I am the one who owes you for saving my bacon the other night.”
“It doesn’t matter. You were there when I needed you. What’s Susie Johnson’s address?”
“My secretary will give it to you. Thank you, Mary.”
“Thank you, sir.” Mary rose but on her way out she stopped at the door. “Don’t think I’m unaware of what you’re doing.”
He looked up. “And what is that?”
“You’re trying to keep me busy in order to distract me from thinking about Harper.”
“Why would I do that?” he said, playing innocent.
“Because behind your public image—the bluster, the hard line, the take-no-prisoners persona—you’re a pussycat.”
Roosevelt acknowledged her perception with one of his toothy laughs as Mary left.