Brooklyn on Fire (10 page)

A
RABELLA
H
UNTINGTON SAT
in her Park Avenue garden staring off into the distance with a faraway look on her face. After what had happened three weeks earlier in the cemetery, her upset had transitioned to sad resign, which she couldn’t seem to shake. Her eating was now intermittent at best, and she had lost a good amount of weight. Arabella had always loved going out and socializing, but lately her “going out” had been limited to these solitary visits to her garden.

Collis Huntington watched his wife from his office. He was a man of action. He had always met problems straight on and solved them. That’s how he had made his fortune, and people marveled at his ability to remove seemingly insurmountable obstacles in order to get his way. But this was different. He was at a loss as to how to help Arabella. His hands were tied, because he was hopelessly in love and had to make sure that whatever he did wouldn’t ruffle a hair on her head.

Huntington rose from his desk and opened the French doors that led directly outside. The garden was enclosed by the mansion on three sides, and several rooms had doors facing it. His office was on the northeast end, and Arabella was so lost in her reverie she wasn’t aware of his approach.

“Lovely day, isn’t it, dear?”

Arabella looked up, acknowledging him. “I guess it is. I hadn’t really noticed.”

Then, once again, she turned to gaze blankly out into what was a magnificent backyard, filled with exotic flowers, lush bushes and trees, and even a small vegetable patch. But she wasn’t looking at anything. Hers was the stare of someone either emotionally drained or trying hard to avoid feeling anything at all. Huntington was upset, too. The recent gossip and social snubs they had begun to suffer meant little to him, but they mattered greatly to his family, and that disturbed him. However, he had learned that men like him could not show weakness. Besides, he had to be an absolute rock for Arabella’s sake, especially now.

“You need to eat, darling. Let me have the cook prepare something for you.”

She turned to him, this time her eyes filled with desperation. “They’re going to find out, Collis. They’re going to uncover what we did.”

He knelt down next to her and took her hand. “Don’t worry, dear. No one’s going to uncover anything.”

“They will,” she said as her panic built. “And then we’ll be destroyed and all will be lost!”

“Arabella—”

“I can somehow cope with whatever may happen to us, but what will all this do to Archer? He’s an innocent. What will become of him?”

She laid her head on his shoulder and started crying. In no time, she was sobbing. He put his right arm around her and with his left hand he gently patted the back of her head. In a way he was relieved she was finally letting out all of that emotion. It might allow them to return to some semblance of normalcy.

“It’s all going to be okay, Arabella. It’ll be just fine. I’ll take care of everything, darling.”

Somewhere in the unspoken code that couples share, Huntington knew Arabella had just given him permission to act. And he could do what he did best: go after what he wanted and destroy anyone who got in his way. That included Hugh McLaughlin, Mayor Chapin, and now Mary Handley.

C
HIEF
M
C
K
ELLAR, WHO
had replaced Superintendent Campbell at Second Street Station, didn’t think Sean’s “button theory” had any merit. In fact, he scoffed at it.

“In all that junk, you really think that silly little button means something? We should send you to Governors Island and have you pore over the garbage. Maybe you can piece together the killer’s whole coat.”

Chief McKellar laughed, but that didn’t lessen Sean’s resolve. It just made his job more difficult. He’d have to investigate the button on his own time. So he spent his one day off a week on Fulton Street and other shopping streets, going into clothing stores and questioning salesclerks and store owners. After a while he caught a break. One of the owners recognized the button and remembered seeing it on the coats of a particular clothing manufacturer. He rambled on about how he hated the owner of that line and how he overcharged for cheaply made clothes. Sean patiently listened and got an address from him.

He wrote to the manufacturer, who had a factory in Lowell, Massachusetts, and enclosed in the letter a drawing of the button. The owner wrote back, confirming that he had indeed used that button on one of the jackets he manufactured, and was kind enough to enclose a sketch of the jacket. The jacket was similar to the peacoat the navy used for its seamen except for a few adjustments, the most dramatic being that it came only in a brown color, whereas the navy’s peacoat was dark blue. Most importantly, the owner enclosed a list of half a dozen stores that carried his jacket in the New York area. Sean decided to visit the ones in Brooklyn first.

This was the third week in a row Sean had spent his one day off working, and he invited Patti to join him. He missed seeing her, and he saw no harm in her accompanying him to clothing stores. At each store he’d ask the salesclerks about the men who had bought that particular jacket. Since there were no exact records, he’d have to rely on their memories, some good, some bordering on awful. Still, after visiting the third store, Sean had a list of about twelve men. He was eager to continue on to the stores in Manhattan.

By this time, Patti was bored and began to complain. Sean, growing weary of the constant jabber, especially since he had also started getting it at work from Chief McKellar, decided on something highly unusual: he followed his sister’s advice. Instead of challenging Patti and letting their little tiff blossom into a full-blown argument, he conceded that he might have been a bit selfish. After all, this was also her only day off. So Sean put off the rest of his search until the next week. He suggested they visit some women’s clothing stores and then, knowing Patti’s love of nature, have a late afternoon picnic in the park.

At first puzzled by his quick acquiescence, Patti was thrilled that this new Sean existed and hoped it signaled a turn in their relationship. And Sean was surprised how one small concession could make Patti so pleasant and amenable. As the happy couple left the store, they were too wrapped up in each other to notice a man with a leg brace quickly scurrying into a nearby storefront doorway.

S
HORTY HAD BEEN
keeping an eye on Sean Handley, and now he had found the store where Shorty had bought his jacket. He was sure the salesman would remember him. How many men with leg braces could have bought clothes from him?
I have to do something soon,
he thought,
but what?
He needed to speak with his employer about what type of action to take, but he didn’t know who his employer was. If he couldn’t contact him, he’d have to find a solution. And whatever that solution was, it had to stop Sean Handley.

H
UGH
M
C
L
AUGHLIN IMPLORED
his driver to go faster. He had gotten a frantic call from Alfred Chapin demanding to see him immediately. Chapin had seemed completely panicked. McLaughlin leaned back in his seat and vented to Liam.

“Our mayor should be wearin’ short pants, Liam. He doesn’t have the balls to be dressin’ in full-length trousers.”

“Maybe it really is something serious.”

“Yer right, lad. It is possible. It’s also possible that he shit his pants!” McLaughlin burst out with a hearty laugh and Liam joined in. Then McLaughlin added, “Again!” The laughter got even louder as McLaughlin’s carriage thundered through the streets.

When they arrived at Chapin’s office, they were immediately shown in, and sitting there with a wry smile on his face was Collis Huntington. As for Chapin, he did have the deeply uncomfortable look of a man whose sphincter muscles had just given way.

Huntington pointed to Liam and said, “Who’s he?”

“He’s my associate,” McLaughlin answered.

“Let him
associate
with Mayor Chapin’s secretary in the outer office.”

“Liam’s my right-hand man. He’s no slouch, and he’s got a letter from Abraham Lincoln to prove it.”

“And Mary Todd pleasured me before they fit her for a straitjacket. Now get him the fuck out of here!”

McLaughlin glared at Huntington, who glared right back at him. Once again, the two cocks in the barnyard were at it, neither one willing to give an inch to the other. However, McLaughlin sensed that this was different from the last time they’d met. He needed to know what was on Huntington’s mind and was willing to cede a small concession to find that out.

“Go, Liam. I’ll fill ya in later.” When Liam was gone, McLaughlin calmly turned to Huntington. “Yer obviously in a tizzy over something. Let’s hear it.”

“You two have made the fatal mistake of fucking with my family. Did you think I was going to just take that lying down? You have incurred my wrath, and you’re about to find out exactly what that means. I will—”

Chapin cut in shakily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Collis. We—”

“Shut the hell up…
Your Honor
.” And Chapin did just that as Huntington continued. “I know you’re not calling all the shots around here, if any at all, so that leaves Hugh.” Huntington turned to face McLaughlin. “I’m going to give you one chance. Call off that Handley woman.”

“Handley woman?” McLaughlin asked with a crinkled brow. “I have no idea what yer talking about.”

“See, Collis?” Chapin interjected. “I told you we—”

But Huntington rode right over Chapin’s words and continued addressing McLaughlin. “Claiming ignorance, eh? You had absolutely nothing to do with hiring Mary Handley to soil my family’s reputation?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Okay, Hugh, if that’s the way you want it. I’ll put an end to the Handley woman’s snooping myself, and it won’t be pretty. And one other thing. It was abundantly clear from our little meeting the other night by the bridge that you two have something, how shall I say…clandestine going on.”