City of Promise (56 page)

“That’s a considerable amount of honey,” Josh said.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too. And the whole tenement’s fixed up like one house. Those places, usually they’re jammed full of people. You know how it is. But not number thirty-two,” Miller shook his head, “no sir. Only two people live in thirty-two. The woman and her son. He’s the one keeps the bees. Looked like he’d cleared out recently.”

“Where to?” Josh asked.

“I couldn’t get her to say. You and Mrs. Turner, no rough stuff you said.”

“And the money wasn’t effective?” He’d given Miller two hundred dollars. Said he was to buy the information they needed.

“It worked for everything except where her son was. Guy driving the wagon was Tony Lupo, just like we thought. We even found the DeAngelo Brothers sign down in the cellar. Just a board with the words painted on. Two hooks, so you could hang it anywhere you wanted. Story is, Lupo uses the house for when he wants to have meetings and such like. The woman cooks for him when he’s there. So maybe it’s Lupo as likes honey.”

“The voices my wife heard the day she escaped—”

“According to the woman, Lupo was in that room off the hall, like we thought. And the man with him sounds like it has to have been Sol Ganz the pawnbroker. She described him real exact. Ganz for sure. Thing is, Mr. Turner, the woman says she only ever seen Ganz that one time. Says she went in to bring ’em coffee—that black, bitter stuff the Eye-ties drink—and there was a big pile of money on the table. Stacks of greenbacks. She ain’t got no idea how many. Says there was an empty satchel as well. Said it seemed to her like the man, Ganz like I say, he brung the money to buy something.”

Close to sunset by the time Josh got to Avenue A. He’d been thinking of what he’d do if the pawnshop was closed, but the door opened as soon as he pushed it, and the customary bell tinkled over his head.

“So, Mr. Turner, I have been expecting you.”

“According to Mrs. Brannigan,” Josh said, “that’s what you said to her when she showed up here soon after my wife was abducted.”

Solomon Ganz shrugged. “That is probably correct. I don’t recall exactly, but certainly I did expect her.”

“Because,” Josh said, “Tess had already told you Mollie had disappeared.”

“That is definitely correct.”

“How long has Tess been spying on my household and reporting to you?”

“A long time, Mr. Turner. And before you tell me how angry that makes you, perhaps we should insure that we are not interrupted and go in the back where we will be more comfortable. I believe we have a good deal to discuss.”

Joshua nodded agreement. Ganz locked the door of the pawnshop, then turned and drew aside the curtain that shielded his small back room. “After you, sir.”

Nothing had changed since years before when Josh had come to reclaim Eileen Brannigan’s jewelry. The back room boasted the same two chairs, and what appeared to be the same oil lamp. A piece of velvet cloth and a jeweler’s loupe all sat atop the same ancient table. Nothing else. “Please, sit down,” Ganz said. Then, “Listening is my livelihood, Mr. Turner. It is foolish for you to reproach me for it.”

“It’s called spying,” Josh repeated. “And it’s detestable. And according to the three balls outside your place of business, you’re a licensed pawnbroker. I don’t see what that has to do with what you call listening.”

“A man can have more than one source of income, Mr. Ganz. You are a builder, a landlord, and sometimes a property seller and a mortgage broker. Why should I be any different?”

Josh gestured to the small dark and incommodious room. “What does it all get you? Mrs. Brannigan tells me she’s been paying you half of what she earns from my corporation. And like your arrangement with Tess, she’s been doing it for years. But look at this place. What are you doing with your money?”

Ganz shrugged. “I have grandchildren.”

“And will they someday be proud to see their grandfather in a court of law accused of gangland activity?”

“Gangland . . . Mr. Turner, I believe you know it was Tony Lupo who abducted your wife. Do you imagine he did so on my orders?”

“What else am I to think? Mollie saw you the day she escaped. Coming out of the house where she’d been held.”

“Of course. I remember it well. I had to walk for some blocks before I found another cab. And in that neighborhood.” Ganz produced an exaggerated shiver. “It was not pleasant I assure you. But I was glad the hansom I brought to Bayard Street, however unwittingly, helped Mrs. Mollie get away. I hope she is fully recovered from her ordeal.”

“How did you know who took her if Lupo doesn’t work for you?”

“New York City, Mr. Turner, is a strumpet who whispers her tales in the ears of whoever will listen. I have many sources. I have no intention of telling you who or what they are.”

“As it happens, Mr. Ganz, I have heard that before.” It’s what Trenton Clifford had said when Josh sat with him in the bar of the Grand Union Hotel, that first time he’d seen the bastard since Belle Isle. “Years ago,” he said.

“Yes. I know that as well. Captain Clifford gave you a useful tip on that occasion, no? Without him you’d never have found the dwarf, or been able to make steel to get you started on what has become the mighty St. Nicholas Corporation. It was all quite marvelous, wouldn’t you say?”

“Who in hell’s name are you? A magician with a crystal ball? How do you know about Clifford?”

Ganz shook his head. “If we keep going over the same thing we will still be sitting here tomorrow and nothing will be changed. You and yours will still be in danger. But not, I assure you, from me. I wish you no ill, Mr. Turner. I am quite satisfied with my share of your endeavors, and even without a crystal ball I will predict that as long as you act wisely now, you will be even more successful in the future.”

Josh forced down his frustration and tried a different approach. “If it’s true that Lupo does not work for you, what were you doing on Bayard Street?”

“That’s easy to answer. I went there to pay a ransom. Three hundred thousand dollars. It was all I could come up with on such relatively
short notice. I hoped it would be enough to get Lupo to back off his demand for your Fourth Avenue property. And before you ask, I knew about that demand because Mrs. Brannigan told me. Everything I know, Mr. Turner, eventually it turns out to be because someone told me. That’s not so mysterious, is it?”

“I’m not sure. But that aside, you’re asking me to believe you were going to pay such an extraordinary sum to secure my wife’s freedom?”

Ganz nodded. “I am because it’s true. After that, Mr. Turner, after I brought her back to you, I intended to produce a note of indebtedness. Half your profits every year until the sum was repaid. With interest, of course.”

“And you thought I would sign such a note?”

“I knew you would sign it, Mr. Turner.”

“How could you know that?”

“Because you are a man of honor. And despite how bad things have been between you and Mrs. Mollie since she had the misfortune of losing her child—don’t look so astonished, remember Tess o’ the Roses—you were devastated after her abduction. You are devoted to your wife, Mr. Turner, why else have you not taken what might be called a lover, simply allowed yourself the occasional company of a not-so-young lady on Bowling Green? For a man of means like yourself, a man in your prime notwithstanding your missing appendage, there are many more enticing prospects in this city. You, however, avoid them in favor of a . . . I mean no disrespect to the lady when I say a mere convenience.” Ganz stood up. “Now, you will sit here and I will excuse myself for a moment and go upstairs and get us some refreshment. Don’t leave, Mr. Turner. We have much more to discuss.”

Ten minutes later he returned, carrying a tray with two glasses of steaming tea and a pot of cherry jam. Ganz stirred a spoonful of the jam into both glasses and handed one to Josh. “Despite the incongruity, hot tea is cooling on a hot day, Mr. Turner. The natives of India and other tropical climes have known that for many years.”

“Have you been to such exotic places, Mr. Ganz? Or did someone tell you about them?”

Ganz chuckled. “You are being humorous, and even though it’s at my expense, I take it as a good sign, Mr. Turner. I believe it means we will be able to conclude our business without acrimony. As to your question, I have never been to India, but I read many books and journals and newspapers. They too provide some of my information. Some comforts, however, are better experienced than read about.” He opened a drawer and produced a small silver flask. “Schnapps, Mr. Turner. I have been in New York since I was five years old and I consider myself a proud American, but I learned about schnapps from my Austrian father and grandfather. I have found nothing better.” Ganz leaned forward and poured a generous splash of the potent spirit into Josh’s tea. “Your health, sir. And that of Mrs. Mollie.”

Josh hesitated.

“So,” Ganz said softly, “you still don’t wish to drink with me. Why is that?”

“Half my profit,” Josh said. “In return for your having righted a terrible and cruel injustice. Once you knew where Mollie could be found you didn’t come to me with the information, help me free her. You left her where she was and tried to make money out of her suffering. Is that supposed to make me admire you?”

“Admire is not the word I would choose.” Ganz produced another shrug and sipped his tea. “Will it change your opinion,” he asked, “if I tell you that after you signed the note I was going to tell you how you could pay me back in two years, perhaps less?”

“Two years. Three hundred thousand dollars plus whatever extortionate interest you assigned. I don’t believe that’s possible, Mr. Ganz.”

“Ah, but I do. And in this instance I am right and you are wrong. Fourth Avenue, Mr. Turner. Exactly what Lupo wanted. Though I don’t believe he would have had any idea of how to best capitalize that asset. Much less the means to do so. You, however, have both. Drink your tea, Mr. Turner. Then I will explain.”

Josh hesitated a moment more. Finally, he lifted the glass and took a long swallow. The mixture of fiery alcohol and sweet, cherry-flavored tea went down easily, then hit his stomach with a powerful jolt. “Schnapps,” he said. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had it before.”

“It is made with cherries. The French, I believe, make a similar drink they call
eau-de-vie.
But we are not considering the art of distilling, Mr. Turner. Rather the art of making large sums of money from land that is at present mostly a dumping ground for rubbish. Both material and human.” Ganz leaned forward. “Develop each of the eight Fourth Avenue blocks you own, young man. Put up more of your tall buildings in which people are stacked one on top of the other. What are they calling them these days? Apartment houses?” And when Josh nodded, “But do not make the mistake of thinking you will lease these particular apartments to the same sort of men who rent units in the other of your buildings. Indeed, you finally have competition for that segment of the market.”

“The Manhattan,” Josh said. “The Rhinelanders’ new building on Eighty-Sixth Street and Third Avenue.”

“Precisely. Six stories containing thirty-one small units meant for the common man. The Rhinelanders have a nose for making money,” Ganz added. “When Mr. William Rhinelander died a few years back his estate was worth fifty million dollars.” Then, seeing Josh’s expression, the pawnbroker leaned forward. “It took them nearly two centuries to become so wealthy. You, Mr. Turner are fortunate to have been born into our golden age. You can do the same and much more quickly. I assure you, upper Fourth Avenue is going to become one of the most sought after areas in the city. And thanks to your dear mother’s foresight, you own a good-sized piece of it.”

“It will be Park Avenue,” Josh said quietly. “As it’s called down in Murray Hill.”

Ganz nodded. “So you too have been listening to what the city tells us. Park Avenue. I agree. Just now, however, that avenue is poised to go in the same direction as Fifth and perhaps Madison, become a street where rich men build mansions and occupy them. Grander than your
own house, perhaps, but essentially the same, a residence for a single family. If, however, you put up your apartment houses, only this time designed to appeal to a clientele who can afford a luxurious home if perhaps not a millionaire’s mansion, I believe—no, I know—you will shape the character of the neighborhood. And become astonishingly rich by doing so. You will not sell eighty lots, Mr. Turner, as Lupo would have done, and walk away having pocketed an excellent onetime windfall. You will, in effect, lease eight hundred lots over that very same stretch of land, and continue to profit from them month after month, year after year. And you will, Mr. Turner, become as rich as Croesus as a result. May I offer you more schnapps?”

Joshua’s heart was thudding. Ganz had described exactly the idea that had been percolating in the back of his own mind; set aside after Mollie’s abduction, but not forgotten. He held out his glass and the pawnbroker dolloped in a splash of spirit, doctoring his own glass in the same fashion. “I have been thinking,” Josh said, “of something of the sort. But it will take more than two years, I assure you. Each building will finance the next. The real profits won’t come until after they are all completed.”