Authors: Michael Murphy
“That’s the first good news I’ve heard.” Kennedy slid the bankbook to Stoddard.
“It’s not good news,” Laura said.
I tried not to sound like some conspiracy fanatic. “Assassinating Roosevelt would still leave the members of the Golden Legion lacking the power and influence they lost in the election.”
“Makes sense.” Kennedy nodded. “Go on.”
“Dalrymple cultivated a relationship with Oliver Greenwoody, who appears to be the leader of the Blackshirts.” I described his painting on the white horse.
Leaning back in his chair, Kennedy gazed out the window. “I can’t believe a war hero like Greenwoody would plot against the president.”
I had the same reaction when I discovered the painting. “Greenwoody’s a pawn. The real threat is Spencer Dalrymple.”
“Mr. Donovan, are you …” Kennedy’s eyes darted between Laura and me, “objective when it comes to Dalrymple?”
I glanced toward Laura. “My personal feelings aren’t an issue here.”
“Perhaps they are. Maybe Dalrymple wants you out of town because you’re still in love with his fiancée.”
Laura blushed.
Kennedy added, “And she’s in love with you.”
“Dalrymple wants me to leave town not out of jealousy, but because I am getting close to the truth like Mickey O’Brien was. I guess gunning me down would arouse too many suspicions, so he froze my bank account and purchased my publisher to get me to drop the investigation and return to Florida. Dalrymple … the Golden Legion isn’t motivated by romance.”
“Spencer Dalrymple isn’t in love with me,” Laura said. “A woman can tell. He needs someone … presentable to accompany him to social and political events.”
“If you’re right, that means he has bigger plans ahead.” Kennedy cleared his throat. “So, Mr. Donovan, if Dalrymple and his coconspirators aren’t plotting an assassination, what are they planning?”
I ignored how outrageous my words might sound. “I believe the Golden Legion is planning a coup to remove Roosevelt and place Oliver Greenwoody in charge of a fascist dictatorship.”
The silence in the room made it hard for me to breathe. I couldn’t read Kennedy’s expression. “I know how crazy this sounds.”
“What do you think?” Kennedy asked Stoddard.
“I hope Jake’s wrong, but I’m convinced the crazy bastards plotted to assassinate Roosevelt in February. Sons of bitches that desperate are capable of anything, including
overthrowing the government.”
“What about you, Miss Wilson?”
“I’ve known Jake since we were kids. I trust his judgment more than my own.”
Kennedy removed his glasses and cleaned them again. “Mussolini and Hitler wouldn’t have risen to power without the backing of their country’s powerful bankers.”
Maybe my theory wasn’t as crazy as it sounded.
“It’s always about the almighty dollar.” Stoddard banged his fist on the table.
Kennedy shook his head. “The bankers in the Golden Legion aren’t motivated by losing millions. They’re motivated by a loss of power.”
Now the plot made sense.
“Let me get this straight.” Kennedy rubbed his forehead. “Three men have been murdered in the past week. You uncovered a link between the Golden Legion and the Blackshirts and perhaps a foreign government, Germany. The evidence might not hold up in a court of law, but it’s enough for me to take the next train to Washington.”
I squeezed Laura’s hand.
Kennedy drummed his fingers on the table. “Mr. Stoddard here probably didn’t mention he was Roosevelt’s choice to head the Secret Service. I managed to put that on hold and send him off on the thankless task of investigating rumors that just wouldn’t go away. Powerful individuals wanted to remove Roosevelt. Thanks to you, we know the situation is worse than we could have imagined.”
Laura cocked her head. “Will you be able to convince the government?”
“The Golden Legion wouldn’t plan such a thing if they didn’t have support within the government. The president and I have been friends since the Great War when he was at the Department of the Navy and I was with Bethlehem Steel. Mr. Stoddard and I’ll brief Roosevelt and one or two congressmen I can trust. The detective’s bank account, Greenwoody’s association with the Blackshirts, this German Nazi … should be enough to convince them. Mr. Donovan, Miss Wilson, I can’t thank you enough. You’ve risked your careers … your lives, repeatedly. We’re not out of the woods, but the country owes you a debt of gratitude.” He slid his chair back. Stoddard and Laura rose, but I remained seated.
“Is there something else?” Kennedy asked.
I couldn’t just walk away from this. “There’s too much at stake to just turn things over to the feds.”
Laura sat beside me. “You got involved to find Mickey’s killer and gather enough evidence to get the federal government to act. You’ve done all that.”
“You’re to be commended,” Kennedy added.
“Laura, I want you safe, but I just can’t let this go. This is no longer about finding
Mickey’s killer. If the Golden Legion is successful, what kind of a future would you and I have?”
Laura nodded.
Kennedy gazed through the window at the Manhattan skyline. “My grandparents came to America with just the clothes on their backs, and look at me, the Presidential Suite at the Waldorf Astoria. The president’s speech on Friday will announce my appointment to head a new government agency, the Securities and Exchange Commission. The SEC was created to keep Wall Street from taking advantage of the public. “He pulled out a pocket watch on a gold chain and checked the time. “I love this country, Mr. Donovan. Like any other parent, I want my sons to enjoy the fruits of my labors and have a better life than me. I want … I expect my son, Joe, to be president someday.”
All parents wanted the best for their children, but Kennedy’s wealth and power suggested he might live to see his dream fulfilled. I thought back to Joe and his two brothers. Maybe I’d met a future president.
Chapter 16
A Man with a Conscience
Laura and I left Stoddard with Kennedy and rode the elevator to the first floor. On the way out of the hotel, she stopped next to a phone booth in the lobby. “I have to call Spencer before he discovers our photo in the papers.”
“What will you say?”
She winked. “You write the script. I’ll deliver the lines.”
I pictured the reporter who snapped the photo at Penn Station, and an idea came to mind. I handed her several coins. “Tell him you took me to the station to say good-bye, and I’m probably in Florida by now.”
“Brilliant.” Laura held out her hand. “I’ll need a handkerchief.”
I had no idea why she needed a handkerchief. I gave her the one inside my suit coat.
Balling it in her fist, Laura left the booth door ajar and made the call. A moment later her face changed. She resembled the nurse in
Night Whispers
more than the Laura I’d known for years. Tears welled into her eyes as she spoke into the phone. “Oh, darling, the most awful thing happened. I took Jake Donovan to catch his train back to Florida. As we said good-bye, a photographer snapped our picture.” Her voice trembled, and she sniffled into the handkerchief. “I … I didn’t think much of it until I saw the paper …”
Laura’s acting ability continued to amaze me. Immersed in the role, she avoided looking at me as she listened a moment. “Yes, he’s no doubt back in Tampa as we speak … apparently something he had to attend to with his apartment … I know, you’re sweet, but society pages love to paint public figures in the worst possible light. For an actress there’s no such thing as bad publicity, but I don’t think that applies to bankers.” More sniffles. “I didn’t want the paper to embarrass you … You’re wonderful. Hurry back, darling.”
Laura hung up. Her face softened. “Did I do okay?”
“A little too heavy on the
darlings
, but other than that, I almost believed the story myself. The real question is did
he
believe you?”
She stepped from the phone booth and took my arm in hers. “I’ll share a little secret. Most men believe what we want them to believe.”
I suspected Laura was still playing a role. “Does it work on me?”
“If it had, you’d never have left for Florida.” Laura laughed. “You know, that’s the first
time I’ve been able to laugh about that?”
“You’re pretty when you laugh.”
We crossed the lobby toward the front doors. “I’m glad you suggested telling him I’d come to see you off. There’s a difference between acting and being a skillful liar. Men are so much better at that sort of thing … present company excepted, of course.”
“Of course.”
She dropped my arm as the doorman held the door open for us. We stood on the curb outside the Waldorf Astoria a moment, avoiding the dangerous work ahead. The wind blew her soft curls.
An elderly couple shuffled up and asked for her autograph. She signed the lady’s book like they were long-lost relatives. How did she act so carefree when the world might collapse and destroy our future?
After the couple thanked her and left, Laura pointed across the street. “Can we take a few moments to relax before charging into the abyss?”
We crossed the street and entered the park. Repeating the habit I’d picked up since my return to the city, I kept my eyes peeled to see if we’d picked up a tail.
A warm sun almost burned through the early morning haze. As we walked along the gravel path, a worker speared a snow-cone wrapper with a stick and stuffed the trash into an overflowing bag on his back. I pointed to a weathered bench. I sat beside Laura, wishing I could take her hand.
We spent high school summers at Coney Island and Central Park when we could get away. We held hands and stole kisses, something we dared not do now. With powerful, arrogant men plotting the government’s destruction, I couldn’t shake the impression this might be our last moment of tranquility for quite a while.
A faraway gaze in Laura’s eyes told me she wasn’t thinking about the threat to the government. “Six months ago, my mother came to see me at the Longacre.”
As long as I’d known her, Laura had only talked a handful of times about the mother who abandoned her before she moved into my neighborhood. “You were only six when she left. How did you know it was her?”
“This.” She showed me a silver brooch of a unicorn pinned to her dress. “It’s funny, I couldn’t picture her face, but I could always see the unicorn. Before she left, she gave me a kiss and this brooch.”
“The visit must have been painful.”
“It was wonderful.”
I didn’t believe that for a minute. Pain from more than two decades of abandonment couldn’t be healed in a single meeting.
Laura stared across the Great Lawn at a score of people gathered in front of a man who had stepped atop a wooden box. “She’s living in Canada with a man who treats her well. I told her about you.”
“How I ran away?”
“How you’ve loved me since we were kids.” Her eyes misted. “I bear some responsibility for us being apart the past two years. You ran away, sure, but I let you go.”
“Don’t blame yourself for my frailties. I could have returned, could have written or called. I—”
“Don’t.” Laura reached for my hand. As two beat cops walked by, she pulled her hand back. “Jake, when this is over …”
I tried to reassure her with a smile. “When this is over.”
Across the lawn the man stood atop the box waving a pamphlet like a sword as he spoke. His shrill voice reminded me of the danger the country faced: the crowd listened as if he had all the answers to their problems.
I couldn’t make out his message, but he was a fanatic selling some kind of solution to those who’d lost so much. As the Depression spread, people grew desperate. Communists and fascists offered hope to the hopeless. Millions would follow Greenwoody in the hope he’d bring them a better life.
Laura’s eyes left the speaker and followed a yellow butterfly flitting from bush to bush, searching for a flower no doubt, seeking a speck of beauty in a drab landscape. Ignoring the threat that someone might notice, she held my hand. She rested her head on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. This is bigger than just two silly people who grew up in Queens.”
My vision blurred as I struggled to see through welling tears. I’d never survive if I lost Laura for good.
“Enough about us.” She kissed my hand. “Let’s do this, Jake.”
I blinked away the tears and squeezed her hand. I wished I had her courage.
“You still have those newspaper clippings in your cane?”
Nodding, I twisted the handle and set the dagger beside me. I covered it with my hat.
Laura tugged the articles from the shaft. She sifted through the clippings and studied the photo of the Golden Legion, Dalrymple, and the other ten bankers. She handed the rest of the articles to me then rose and stuffed the Golden Legion photo inside her bodice. “Think you can still pick a lock?”
Well-manicured lawns framed mansions of the well-to-do, or luckier-than-most, as we left the city. I drove us toward the Dalrymple Estate, trying not to let Laura realize how worried I was for her. I didn’t mind sneaking into the estate and breaking into Dalrymple’s desk, but her idea to
walk through the front door like we belonged seemed fraught with danger. She was a fabulous actress. If anyone could pull this off surrounded by Dalrymple’s staff, it was Laura.
On the bench in Central Park Laura talked me into breaking into Dalrymple’s desk to retrieve his appointment book. She wanted to check whether all of the men in the newspaper photo had agreed to attend the Golden Legion meeting. If anyone in the photo stayed away from Dalrymple’s hunting lodge, perhaps they didn’t want to go along with the planned coup. A long shot for sure, but we had to do something.
I slowed as we entered the tree-lined driveway.
“Jake, look out!”
I slammed on the brakes. I twisted the handle of my cane and held the dagger, searching for the source of Laura’s concern. “What is it?”
From Laura’s side, a deer bounded across the drive and disappeared into the trees.
Laura giggled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you saw the deer.”
“Why are you laughing? That wasn’t funny.”