Brooklyn on Fire (18 page)

S
EAN WAS IN
a holding cell at Second Street Station. As fate would have it, it was the same cell in which they had put the Goodrich killer after Mary’s famous arrest.

George hired a carriage and they dropped a distraught Elizabeth off at her house. She had been so consumed with her tragedy that it hadn’t seemed to faze her at all that she was in a carriage with a Vanderbilt. Given the circumstances, Mary decided not to tell her about their engagement just yet. Instead, she would wait until her mother could fully enjoy it. She and George then proceeded on to Second Street Station, where she stopped George from following her out of the carriage.

“It’s better that I go in alone. Sean could reveal certain things to me that he might be hesitant to say in front of you.”

“You’re right, Mary. I’m just concerned. When will I see you again?”

Mary’s mind was on Sean. “I don’t know. How about dinner tonight?”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

George scooted back into his seat and closed the carriage door. Mary had already started ascending the very familiar steps of Second Street Station when she abruptly did an about-face, returned to the carriage, and stuck her head in the window.

“George, you need to know something. Sean was a bit of an ass growing up, but there is one thing of which I am certain. My brother is not a murderer.”

“How could he be? Look who he has for a sister.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

They kissed, George’s carriage took off, and Mary entered Second Street Station.

Billy O’Brien escorted Mary to the holding cell area. He had known Mary and Sean since they were little and had been on the police force even longer. That didn’t matter. The two of them walked in silence. The shock of Sean’s being arrested hadn’t worn off, but that wasn’t why Mary was silent. The horror of her friend Patti, a woman whose love of life was evident in every breath she took, being brutally killed began to also affect her. She knew that she had to suppress that feeling and never let it show if she was to be of any use to Sean.

Billy ushered her into the anteroom before the holding cells where the guard would take over.

“Watch out after the lad, Mary. I’ve never seen him so depressed.”

“Wouldn’t you be? The love of his life was murdered, and they’re blaming him for it.”

Billy shrugged. He looked as if he wanted to tell her something but decided not to. The guard escorted her to Sean’s cell. He was sitting on a cot. The second he saw her he jumped up.

“Mary!”

“Well, well, Sean Handley, fancy meeting you here.” Mary was purposely being flip. She wanted to cool down as much emotion as possible so she could glean the facts. She turned to the guard.

“Open the door, please.”

The guard looked at her with incredulity. “The man’s a murderer.”

“I’m a private detective, he’s my client, and he also happens to be my brother. So like I said, open the door.”

The guard reluctantly obeyed Mary’s wishes, and as he closed it with her inside, she turned to him once more.

“By the way, we’re innocent until proven guilty in this country. Until a jury of his peers convicts him, I suggest you exhibit your poor judgment elsewhere.”

Having received this verbal lashing, the guard moped off, muttering to himself. Sean looked at his sister in awe.

“God, it’s good to see you!”

“I bet those are words you never expected to utter in this lifetime.”

Sean smiled wistfully. “Yeah, probably not.” Then adrenaline shot through his body and took over as he started pacing. “Mary, I didn’t do this! I would never harm Patti! Never!”

“I know that, Sean. You need to calm down.”

“Easy for you to say!”

“No, it’s not easy. My big brother is in jail for murder, my good friend is dead, and it’s all killing me. But I need the facts as you know them, and the only way I’m going to get them, all of them, is if you’re thinking properly. For God’s sake, Sean, you’re a policeman. You know what I’m talking about.”

Mary’s words accomplished what she wanted. Sean took a few deep breaths and slowly gained his composure. He was far from calm, but this was as good as he was going to get.

“Thanks, sis, you’re right. I’m ready.”

The problem was that Sean didn’t have much to tell. Two nights before, he and Patti had gone to dinner and then he had walked her back to her apartment. Unfortunately, they had gotten into one of those silly squabbles they had recently been avoiding.

“It was stupid. She had fixed her hair differently. My mind was somewhere else, on my case, and I hadn’t mentioned her hair all evening. She called me on it, and instead of just apologizing, which I should have done, I told her I had more important things to think about.”

Mary didn’t have to speak, her incredulity apparent.

“I know, stupid. Anyhow, we wound up yelling at each other for a few seconds, maybe as much as a minute, and I stormed off, down the stairs and out of the building. One of her neighbors found her about thirty minutes later. She had been strangled.”

Sean sat on his cot, upset. “If I hadn’t started that dumb argument, I’d have stayed with her and she’d still be here. It’s my fault she’s dead!” He buried his head in his hands.

Mary wanted to comfort Sean, but she needed information. “Did any of the neighbors hear your argument?”

“You know how we were, Mary. When we got that way, we were pretty loud.”

“What about later? Did anyone see you leave?”

“I doubt that, or I wouldn’t be here.”

“Did you note the time?”

“When I left? Exactly eight oh two 
P.M.
I don’t know why, but I glanced at the pocket watch Patti had given me for my birthday…so I’d always be on time.”

Sadness was once again beginning to consume Sean. But Mary wanted to focus on the facts, the most important one being that she now knew Patti had been killed between 8:02 
P.M.
and 8:32 
P.M.

Sean looked up, pained, full of remorse. “The last words I said to her were ‘I hate you.’ ”

“Patti and I were close. Believe me, Sean. She knew you didn’t mean that.”

He stared at her, helpless, tears dripping down his cheeks. “I loved her, Mary.”

“So did I. We’re going to find out who did this to her.”

Mary patted her brother on the shoulder, then called for the guard. She had a case to solve.

S
UPERINTENDENT
C
AMPBELL WAS
actually working when Mary burst into his office. It was paperwork, drudgery as far as he was concerned, but he had to do it.

“Sean? Are you insane?” she screamed. “You know he’s not a murderer.”

Superintendent Campbell didn’t take Mary’s bait. He calmly rose and gestured toward a chair, “Have a seat, Mary.” As she reluctantly sat, crossing her legs indignantly, he slowly closed his office door. “What happened? I was expecting you a couple of days ago.”

“I was out of town,” Mary responded quickly in short, clipped tones.

“So that explains it,” he said as he sat back down at his desk.

“Chief—”

“The answer to your questions are, no, I’m not insane, and also no, I don’t think Sean’s a murderer.”

“Good, then release him.”

“Unfortunately, even I don’t have that kind of power.”

“Of course you do. The evidence you have against him is completely circumstantial.”

“People are convicted on circumstantial evidence every day, and what they have against Sean is…well, it’s not good.”

By now, Mary had abandoned her attack and was beginning to really listen and observe. She remembered the look on Billy’s face, and Superintendent Campbell now had the same look.

“Okay, Chief, tell me about it.”

His story was similar to Sean’s in that it included Sean and Patti’s long history of very loud and antagonistic arguments. This particular spat was the same. He mentioned the name of the next-door neighbor, a Mrs. Schmidt, who heard the argument and found Patti’s body.

“Sean’s told me all of that already, and though it’s suspicious, it’s hardly damning.”

“I agree with you, but I’m not finished. It doesn’t help that Sean announced to the world that he was going to kill her.”

Mary was taken aback but still skeptical. “Sean really said that?”

“Indeed.”

“When? It wasn’t that night, was it?”

“No, but that doesn’t make a difference.”

“How could it not? Are you trying to tell me Sean, in the heat of an argument, screamed that he was going to commit murder, then, over the next month or two, proceeded to date his potential victim, even get engaged to her, while all the time he was plotting to kill her? That’s absurd! It sounds like a bizarre concoction devised by Edgar Allan Poe.”

“That’s not how James Ridgeway feels.”

“Ridgeway, the chief prosecutor? Why in God’s name would he—”

“Mary, it’s Brooklyn and it’s murder. He jumps at the big ones, not at some kid who steals from a pushcart.”

“Still, these types of murders happen in Brooklyn every day. Sean is a relative nobody.”

“I take it you haven’t seen the newspapers yet. Here’s today’s. Yesterday’s was worse.”

He handed Mary a copy of the
Brooklyn Daily Eagle;
on the front page was a huge headline that read,
MARY HANDLEY’S BROTHER ARRESTED FOR MURDER
.

All of Mary’s cockiness was knocked out of her. She sat motionless as the realization sunk in that her notoriety could send her brother to the electric chair.

L
AZLO’S
B
OOKS WAS
swarming with newspaper reporters and curiosity seekers. Mary turned the corner, spotted a group milling about outside the bookstore, and immediately knew what was waiting for her. Running as far from them as possible seemed like a good idea at first. Nevertheless, she decided to press on. Her reasoning was that she would have to deal with them sooner or later, and she might as well do it at Lazlo’s, where possibly some good would come from the free publicity he would get.

As Mary braced herself for the onslaught of reporters, she couldn’t help being reminded of her first day on the Goodrich case, when she was swarmed by the press. Except there was a noteworthy difference. Before, it was a fun event where they were probing to see who this lady detective might be, hoping to discover a new media darling. Now they were hoping for Mary to get testy, deny her brother or implicate him. She was determined to avoid all of that.

Lazlo watched from the doorway as the reporters surrounded Mary and tossed questions at her rapid-fire.

“Miss Handley, what is your reaction to your brother’s arrest?”

“Clear and simple, it’s a miscarriage of justice that will soon be rectified. Sean is innocent.”

“But he threatened to kill her, and she was murdered,” another reporter chimed in.

“
She
was Patricia Cassidy. Please give her the dignity of remembering her name. Patti was a wonderful person and a good friend. Sean and Patti were very much in love.”

“Then how do you explain what happened?”

“We’ve all had experiences with someone close to us where we’ve gotten into arguments and said things we didn’t mean. The difference in Sean’s situation is that sadly Patti was murdered. But that doesn’t mean that he acted on those words any more than any of you have.”

More questions were thrown at her, and she chose the first one she could ascertain. “How is your brother holding up under all this pressure?”

“Sean’s a brilliant police officer and a Handley, which makes him sturdy and resilient.”

“So he’s okay?”

“About as okay as anyone could be who’s been accused of killing the one true love of his life. He’s feeling a whole range of emotions from sadness to anger to guilt. It’s only natural. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me—”

Mary began to make her way through the throng of reporters. Lazlo saw it, and he tried to burrow a path from him to her. She didn’t see him until they met in the middle, and the look in her eyes screamed,
Get me out of here!
Lazlo immediately turned around and helped her tunnel her way into the store as he shouted to the reporters.

“Thank you, everyone. Miss Handley has much work to do.”

He closed the door on the reporters. Lazlo shielded Mary from any curiosity seekers inside as he led her to her office, where she sat down with a deep sigh.

“Thank you, Lazlo.” She took a moment to collect herself.

“How is Sean really doing?”

A serious concern crept into her voice. “He’s scared, Lazlo, really scared, and I don’t blame him.”

Mary wasn’t even sure why she had shown up at her office. There was nothing there that she needed to do. But Lazlo knew why. She needed a safe haven in which to rest and a friendly shoulder on which to lean. Lazlo was more than happy to provide that shoulder for this young lady who was the epitome of what he would have wished for in a daughter if he had ever wanted children.

W
HEN
G
EORGE PICKED
Mary up for dinner that night, he informed her that they would be having a surprise guest at their table: William Jay Gaynor.

“The name sounds familiar,” she said, “but I can’t place it.”

“He’s a lawyer. I’ve asked him to take a look at Sean’s case.”

“Sean doesn’t need a lawyer yet. Hopefully, his case will never go to trial.”

“Trust me, Mary. He should have had one two days ago when he was arrested.”

“I do trust you, George, but honestly, none of us have the money for a lawyer, and especially not a good one.”

“I’ve already taken care of it.”

“No, I can’t allow you to pay for our problems.”

“I’m only going to say this once, Mary. I love you….Well, I’m going to say it many times again and again over eternity.”

“Good, because I love you, too, but—”

“No buts. We’re going to be married and your family is going to be my family. And the Vanderbilts have not had a jailbird in the family yet…at least, I don’t think so.” He stopped and looked at her. “Ah, Mary, don’t make it so hard. I want to help.”

“I wouldn’t take on my family so quickly. You’re bound to regret it.”

“And along those lines…”

George took a ring box out of his coat and opened it to reveal a magnificent diamond engagement ring. It had a simple platinum band with a five-carat round diamond resting on it. It was perfect. Suddenly, Mary couldn’t breathe.

“Oh, George…I don’t know much about jewelry, but I do know that is…simply beautiful.”

“You like it then?”

“
Like
it? I…I…I can’t speak.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. We’ll have it sized to your finger as soon as you have time.”

“Time? Are there any jewelers open tonight?”

They both laughed as they began traveling over the Brooklyn Bridge into Manhattan.

William Jay Gaynor was not a typical lawyer. In fact, there was nothing typical about him. He was a devout Roman Catholic who had studied to be a priest but decided on the law instead. Unlike most lawyers, he believed in always speaking the truth. He repeatedly attacked politicians and journalists, labeling them a shady lot who didn’t hesitate to use lies to forward their causes and line their wallets. Surprisingly enough, he was also very successful and one of the top lawyers in Brooklyn. Mary and George were on their way to the Lower East Side of Manhattan to meet him at a place owned by the Iceland brothers on Ludlow Street. Following his unconventional style, Gaynor was an Irish Catholic who simply loved kosher deli food.

The Iceland Brothers Deli was a small restaurant with limited table space. There was a long counter on the right side of the entrance with meats like corned beef, pastrami, and roast beef clearly in view but with glass shielding them from the customers’ touch. Large kosher salamis and bolognas hung on the walls, and there was a counterman making sandwiches in plain sight with doors to a kitchen behind him. As Mary and George entered, they were greeted by the counterman, who smiled broadly.

“Velcome to Iceland Brothers Deli,” he said, betraying his Russian Jewish origins.

They smiled back and thanked him, then looked around for Gaynor. The dining room was about three-quarters full, and George spotted Gaynor sitting alone at a table for four, eating a large bowl of matzo ball soup. Gaynor was heavyset, and at only forty-one, he already had a gray beard and had lost a great deal of hair.

“Good evening, Mr. Gaynor. May I present to you my fiancée, Mary Handley.”

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Handley,” said Gaynor, rising briefly and nodding to Mary.

As they all sat, Gaynor indicated his soup. “I apologize for ordering before you, but I can’t resist the smells.” He took a deep breath through his nose, inhaling the atmosphere.

A waiter arrived to take their order.

“I’ll have lean corned beef on rye bread with a glass of seltzer,” Mary said.

“That was awfully fast, Mary,” George said. “Have you eaten in a kosher deli before?”

“Not here, but my first boyfriend was Jewish.”

“Really? Should I be jealous?”

“We were fourteen, and I was attracted to him because he appeared to be deep and moody, one of those mysterious, tortured souls. Then I found out the source of his torture was that he was orthodox and loved pork. That ended the magic.”

They all laughed then ordered three lean corned beef sandwiches.

“So,” said Gaynor, “here we are, three Christians, soon to be eating kosher food. I wonder what Jesus would have to say about that.”

“I don’t pretend to have had the seminary education that you’ve had, Mr. Gaynor,” Mary responded. “But I do remember that Jesus was Jewish. So, I don’t believe he would object.”

Gaynor looked at George and pointed to Mary. “I like her, George. Excellent choice.”

“I’m a very lucky man.” George looked at Mary, they exchanged loving glances, and then he turned back to Gaynor. “So, William, will you take Sean’s case?”

“Before I do, you must tell me everything you know. I don’t believe what I read in the newspapers.”

Mary divulged every detail she could remember, including her brief interaction with Billy and her visit to Superintendent Campbell. Every once in a while, George would add a comment, but mostly she spoke. She stressed that even though Sean and Patti had a history of loud, sometimes explosive arguments, not once did it ever get physical between them.

“Even if the jury believes that,” Gaynor responded, “you realize what they might be thinking and what the prosecutor, especially one like Ridgeway, will no doubt verbalize.”

Mary reluctantly responded, “There’s always a first time.”

An agonizing silence filled the atmosphere around the table as Mary processed yet another piece of information that confirmed just how much trouble Sean was in.

“I like you, Miss Handley,” Gaynor started.

“Please, call me Mary.”

“I believe you to be an honest person, Mary. I have no reason to think that anything you’ve told me is incorrect. More facts may surface later, but that’s to be expected.”

“Does that mean you’ll defend Sean?”

“Yes, but with one condition: you may not under any circumstance speak with the press.”

Mary was taken aback by this request. She had always handled the press quite well during the Goodrich case, and she told Gaynor so.

“That was the Goodrich case. This is the Handley case.” And Gaynor lifted a newspaper that he had kept folded on the floor next to his chair. It was the late edition of the
Brooklyn Daily Eagle
. He opened it, revealing the headline:
HANDLEY SAYS BROTHER IS GUILTY
.

“I never said that!”

“In your conversation with the press earlier today, did you ever use the word ‘guilt’?”

“Not in that context. I was referring to the wide range of emotions Sean was feeling—”

“It doesn’t matter. From now on, all you say is ‘no comment.’ Are we agreed?”

“Agreed.” But all Mary had in her mind was that she had just put a nail in Sean’s coffin.

“Good. Since I left the seminary, I’ve latched on to Ben Franklin as a guiding light for my behavior,” he said, then pointed to the headline. “You need to keep in mind one of his sayings—‘A slip of the foot you may soon recover, but a slip of the tongue you may never get over.’ ”

It wasn’t lost on Mary that possibly Gaynor and Lazlo had something in common and should meet. But she was in no mood to make introductions. All she could think of was how the reporters had twisted her words and used them against Sean. Gaynor was right. She was no longer the darling of the press. Rather, like Sean, she had a target on her back.