Chapter 51 - Bon Appétit
[Every Saturday afternoon.
Mrs. Hertz would dress herself in the brightest silks adorned with lace and cover herself in lavish jewelry, then sit on the large chair in her parlor.
At the appointed hour, the eight madams who managed the brothels would huddle in a small waiting room, each taking her turn to approach Mrs. Hertz.
They would bow low and hand over the money they had earned, packed into a chamois leather bag. Mrs. Hertz would count the money, check the account books, and, depending on the situation, either praise or scold them.
Then, she would lecture them about what adversities and hardships she had overcome to build her business from the ground up.
1913 New York Times article]
For several days, I circled around Rosie Hertz's house and the surrounding area, learning its structure.
A few members of my crew and I even broke in beforehand to do some reconnaissance for the crime.
So this wasn't my first time. I climbed over the wall and slipped past the servants' quarters.
At the back of the house, I left my shoes under a slightly open window and slipped inside. Rosie Hertz's room was down the hallway, past the living room, at the very end.
As I crept along—
Ding~ dong~.
The grandfather clock in the living room rang out. Right as it struck eleven times, I turned the knob to her door. Immediately, I dropped to a crouch. Wiping the floor with my stomach, I crept into the bedroom.
Ssss—
I raised myself up and stared at the sleeping face of Rosie Hertz. She wore a smile, as if she were having a happy dream.
Some girls come voluntarily, hoping to make money, but more often, they get caught up through deception, then raped, hooked on drugs, and forced into it through threats.
Tanner had said the main sites for these crimes were dance halls—which had exploded in number as the city grew more urbanized and industrialized—and Ellis Island, where all immigrants had to pass through.
The Jewish and Italian gangs each have guys who specialize in this. They're always well-dressed, good-looking, too. If a woman doesn't fall for their tricks, they'll show up at her house to threaten or kidnap her, ruin her body.
Rosie Hertz would buy up those women. One day, a woman would be kidnapped and erased from existence, and from then on she'd be reduced to a money-making machine, beaten and locked up. The ones who couldn't endure it would eventually take their own lives.
The most common method is disinfectant. You can find it in any bathroom or kitchen. I've heard there are hundreds of prostitutes who've killed themselves by drinking it. A lot of them were still teenagers.
I opened the bag that had held the money and took out a small brown bottle. It was phenol, the same stuff my mother used to clean the drains and garbage cans.
With the cap off, I gripped the bottle and moved in close. When I pinched Rosie Hertz's nose as she slept peacefully, her mouth fell open on its own.
Her eyelids began to flutter and just as they were about to open—
Plop.
I shoved the brown bottle into her mouth.
Rosie's eyes snapped open, instantly bloodshot and brimming with tears.
As I clamped her nose and mouth shut, the entire bed shook. I stared calmly into the face and eyes of Rosie Hertz, even as she writhed and thrashed.
This wasn't some act of justice.
All I could feel was the clammy wetness of my gloved hands, now soaked with her filthy bodily fluids and the phenol.
After a moment,
Rosie Hertz's body went limp.
Before her body stiffened, I pulled the phenol bottle out of her mouth and tossed it by her pillow.
The room was now filled with the nauseating, dizzying stench of phenol.
I drew the curtains aside a little and left the window half open.
Leaving the room, I knocked rhythmically on the door next to it.
The door creaked open, and a pair of eyes peeked out at me.
"Is it done?"
"Yeah. Hurry."
As I nodded, the door opened fully and a man stepped out. It was Cory—the one who disappeared after going outside during the building contract.
He'd apparently been stealing since he was ten.
This seasoned thief had only pretended to leave, then snuck back into the house to keep an eye on Rosie Hertz. The reason, of course, was obvious.
"The money are hidden the money in the room."
Cory took the lead.
We went back into Rosie Hertz's room, and it seemed his eyes locked with hers, still wide open.
Cory recoiled in shock, almost springing backwards.
"Damn, that scared me."
"We don't have time."
"Yeah, I got it."
Wiping his forehead, Cory opened the gothic wardrobe that took up one wall. He pulled out the dresser underneath, revealing a cleverly concealed metal safe.
"Think you can open it?"
"Come on, I'm Cory. I'm the best when it comes to cracking safes."
"Good luck."
Cory put his ear to the safe and spun the dial back and forth.
Rattle, rattle.
Click.
The safe door swung open.
"See that? I told you, I'm Cory."
"Bravo."
Inside the safe were cash, jewelry, securities documents, property contracts, and account books.
We didn't have time to check everything.
One thing was certain: there was more money here than what I'd originally given.
I swept everything from the safe into Rosie's plaid suitcase, which I'd found in another wardrobe.
Meanwhile, Cory squeezed his eyes shut and slipped the gold and diamond rings from Rosie Hertz's fingers.
Once we had everything, we shut the window and drew the curtains.
Retracing our steps, we exited the mansion the same way we'd come in, using the prearranged escape route.
We climbed over the wall, making sure to grab the bag of money that Cory had tossed over first.
But there was still one final step.
Cory slipped away first, and I pulled Jacob's hat low over my face.
At the mansion's entrance, I pounded on the iron gate and shouted.
"Rosie! Rosie Hertz! It's Jacob. Open the door while I'm asking nicely!"
The mansion was silent.
My shout echoed in all directions.
A light flicked on in one wing of Rosie Hertz's mansion, and two maids cautiously cracked open the door.
That was enough. As witnesses, all they could see was the silhouette of someone claiming to be Jacob.
"Bang!"
I kicked the iron gate, peered over the wall, then turned around. Blending into the darkness, I calmly disappeared and met up with Cory so we could head home.
***
At the same time, on the East River between Manhattan and Brooklyn—
Something weighed down with chains and a sinker was tossed from a sailboat.
Splash!
Captain River Gray bit down on his cigar and lit it. Then he watched the spot where he'd dropped the match, waiting as droplets of water rose up.
"But… who was it?"
River Gray exhaled smoke, then brushed aside his curiosity and plopped down on the deck.
He was still alone.
'Even now, you should try.'
'I'm sure there are crewmates out there you can trust and work with.'
So, I managed to find one. Tomorrow, I'll have to meet that kid and have a serious talk.
***
After the tense operation the day before,
Saturday morning was no different from usual.
I went to the office, clocked in, and after finishing work a little early, I prepared dinner with my family, enjoying the time together.
"Big Brother, what are all these?"
"They were here this morning too—are you just noticing them now?"
"Roa's always crazy busy in the mornings. Eat breakfast, clean my eyes, get dressed, head to Aunt Mary's place. I have to listen to the kids talk, and, um, what else…"
Roa rummaged through the brown bag in the kitchen corner with her short arms. Inside were boric acid and baking soda—safe disinfectants to use instead of phenol. And then—
"Wow!? Could this be Roa's?"
A pink headband with a ribbon. At the sight of it, Roa squealed with excitement and immediately put it on her head.
"How do I look? It suits me, right!?"
"Wow, my daughter looks so, so pretty."
"What's with the pink? So tacky."
"Little Brother, you're the one who's tacky. Just the way you are right now—yup, that's tacky."
"But what are all these things, anyway…"
As Mother was speaking, someone knocked on the front door.
"Is Mrs. Nora Graves home? Police."
Thud.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at the door.
Unlike before, Roa didn't run over and open the door right away.
Instead, following what I'd told her, she went into her room and peeked out with just the door slightly ajar, her eyes wide and alert.
Knock, knock.
"Mrs. Graves?"
When the police called again, Mother glanced at me, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
Two police officers were standing there.
One of them was the officer who had visited during the sewing machine warehouse murder case. I'd also seen him at the police station during the attempted anarchist assassination case.
"It's been a while, Ciaran."
"Have you been well."
"Oh, I'm always the same. And this here is the detective in charge of the Gramercy District."
The detective with sharp eyes looked at Mother, not me, as he spoke.
"I'm Detective Thomas Bearsford. Yesterday, you met a woman named Rosie Hertz about the building sale, correct?"
"That's right."
"She was found dead in her home last night."
Oh my!
Mother gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.
"Oh no… How did that happen?"
"We'll need to investigate to know for sure, but at this point, we believe the immediate cause of death was ingesting phenol. It could be suicide—taking poison."
Phenol… Mother, who looked like she was about to glance at me, shook her head firmly.
"Suicide, all of a sudden? When I met with her yesterday, I didn't sense anything like that at all. She was so particular about the building price, too!"
A woman obsessed with money suddenly killed herself that same night? It was hard to believe.
"Personally, I'm leaning more toward homicide. Specifically, the phenol found in the body wasn't a disinfectant Mrs. Hertz ever used in her home."
Phenol was something only used in slums like the Lower East Side—wealthy people used much safer, higher-end disinfectants.
"Yesterday, the four of you went to see Rosie Hertz. According to Morris, the real estate agent, you and your mother returned home together in a carriage, right?"
"That's correct."
The focus was on Cory and me.
The detective gave me a sharp look as he questioned me.
"Why didn't you two come home together afterward?"
"I needed to buy something, so I stopped by the department store."
"What did you buy?"
Just then, the door flew open and Roa burst in.
She proudly showed off her headband to the detective.
"Big Brother bought me this pink headband! Doesn't it look good on me?!"
"Joe, that must have been a nice surprise."
"My birthday's over, and Christmas is a long way off. Big Brother's surprise really was a surprise."
The detective scratched his forehead and turned back to me.
"Did you buy anything else besides that?"
I handed him a brown envelope.
The police officer checked the contents and then asked my mother,
"Don't you usually use phenol? It seems like everyone around here does."
As I was about to answer quickly, Roa cut in again. My palms were starting to sweat.
"Big Brother said absolutely not—he was worried phenol might be dangerous for me. I know all about what's dangerous. Even though it's annoying to be treated like a kid, what can I do? If I want to eat meat, I have to put up with it."
"So the little young lady likes meat?"
"Is there anyone who doesn't like meat?! Amazing!"
The detective's eyes drifted up to the ceiling for a moment.
Roa kept interrupting, making him lose his train of thought.
After pausing to think, he finally asked,
"Was your friend Cory with you too?"
"Of course. You can check if you like."
The brown envelope contained things Leo and Marcus had bought at Macy's the day before.
o cover my and Cory's alibi, the two of them made sure to mention our names everywhere.
The detective glanced at Roa, then called me out into the hallway.
"I'm asking because you said you managed the building for your mother. You knew what was in the basement of the building you purchased at 137th Address, didn't you?"
"I never went down there myself, but I heard there was a salon. The real estate agent said it would be a headache."
The detective seemed to latch onto that and pressed further.
"Why did you buy a troublesome building?"
"They had split what was originally one property into two. I bought it because it could be combined back into one. The price was good, too."
"So what were you planning to do about the underground salon?"
"I was going to talk it out with the boss."
"Talk it out?"
The detective scoffed and shook his head.
"You're pretty lucky. Right now, we're chasing Jacob Reich, the manager of that basement salon, as a suspect. Looks like it'll have to shut down soon."
Things were unfolding just as I expected.
The NYPD was searching for Jacob — alleging he had killed Rosie Hertz, robbed the safe, and fled.
"If you happen to see the culprit, contact us right away."
"Of course, I will."
I thought the questioning was finally over when the detective suddenly threw out another question.
"So where did you get the money to buy the building?"
"Do I really have to answer that?"
"Do you have any idea how much $14,000 is? It hasn't been long since you started your factory, and living here, saving up that kind of money would raise anyone's eyebrows, wouldn't it?"
"I'm more surprised you thought it was our own money."
"Hm?"
To clear up the source of the funds, I dropped two names.
WTUL's Anne Morgan, and Big Tom Foley.
In fact, Anne Morgan had invested in my mother's company, and Big Tom Foley had asked Tanner to lend us a few hundred dollars.
The detective stared at me in disbelief.
"Anne Morgan, maybe, but Big Tom Foley?"
"I think it really was Big Tom Foley of Tammany Hall."
A police officer who had been silently observing spoke up.
He whispered something to the detective, who then looked startled and nodded his head.
The assassination attempt by the Russian Anarchists—
They were probably talking about that.
Back then, supposedly to protect me, Big Tom Foley had pressured the press, so all that was printed was a single mention of the name 'Ciaran'.
If it's outside their jurisdiction, I guess they wouldn't know.
Even the family doesn't know.
"I've heard a lot about your achievements. It's an honor to meet you."
The detective reached out to shake my hand, and the questioning came to an end.
Feeling in good spirits, the detective even went out of his way to greet my family.
"Sorry for causing any trouble. And little young lady, here."
The detective offered some candy.
Roa hesitated and shook her head.
"Big Brother told us not to take anything from anyone outside the family."
"..."
"You've been taught well. But I'm a man who catches bad guys, so I think you can trust me, right? Besides, when someone offers you a treat for free, you should take it—you don't get many chances like this."
That's right, you have to grab it while you can.
Roa looked over at me.
When I nodded, she finally took the candy.
"Thank you very much!"
***
Three days after the incident.
On Monday morning, every newspaper featured the Rosie Hertz murder case as their headline.
The NYPD put out a wanted notice for the fugitive suspect, Jacob, and as a result, the underground brothel was shut down.
After breakfast, my family dispersed, and I sat alone in the living room, checking over the items I'd taken from Rosie Hertz's safe.
I recovered my $14,000 in full.
On top of that, I took an additional $20,000.
Who knew how much the jewelry would fetch if I tried to sell it, but it was the other two items that gave me pause.
Counterfeit bills, and Rosie Hertz's Bribery Ledger.