Chapter 2
Phillip made his way down the dim hallway, glancing in the mostly empty cells, smelling soap laced with the scent of vomit and soiled clothing and bedding.
The last cell, closest to the interior stairs to the station house, was straight ahead.
There was a uniformed officer at a desk near the steps, looking down at a stack of papers. He never looked up.
Captain Murphy waited by the door of the last cell.
He opened it, closed it, and locked it behind Phillip, who did his best not to jump or flinch when the key turned in the lock with a squeal.
Timothy sat on the bed, his head in his hands.
At least they’d allowed him to wash and change clothes, although the loose pants and shirt were clearly borrowed. He looked up at Phillip.
“What happened?” Phillip said softly and sat down on the stool he’d dragged over to the bed.
Their knees were nearly touching, which was fine with Phillip as he wanted no one to hear the conversation.
He pulled a notebook and pencil out of his pocket.
“I have no idea how long they’ll let me be here, so we shouldn’t dawdle. ”
“I don’t know. I really don’t know. I don’t remember anything other than waking up in that bed,” Timothy whispered.
“You didn’t know the woman?”
Timothy shook his head. “Don’t believe I ever saw her before in my life.”
“But you might have?”
“I don’t think so, but she looks like someone I’ve met. But I can’t remember who.”
“Tell me about your day yesterday.”
“Not much to say.”
“But I want to know everything. I have to have a place to start.”
“I didn’t kill that woman.”
“I know that. Tell me about your day.”
“Was up the whole night before watching a house down near the tracks. We were waiting for a thief to go on a job.”
“Anybody with you?”
“Simmons.”
“First name?”
“Rory.”
“Who was the thief?”
“Jimmy Jenkins.”
“Then what?”
“Ate something at that little restaurant on Bond Street. Millie’s.”
“Anybody there you know? Did Simmons go with you?”
“No. He went straight home. The only people I remember being there is Millie and that girl who brings the food.”
“Then where?”
“Home. I went home and slept until noon or so. Washed, changed clothes, came here to write up my report and check in with the captain.”
“Then what?”
Timothy just stared at him.
“Where? Where did you go?”
“To see Wilma.”
Phillip took a deep breath. “Wilma. Wilma Selensky?”
Timothy nodded and looked away. “Yeah.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Tim. What the hell?”
“Five minutes,” they heard the captain shout from the top of the steps.
“How long were you at Wilma’s?” Phillip asked.
“An hour, maybe a little more.”
“What time was it?”
“Going on six or so. I was heading to see my mother but ended up stopping at Red’s for a brew.”
“How long were you there?”
“A good bit. Started playing cards, I think.”
“You think?”
“Everything’s fuzzy after that. I had twenty-five dollars in bills in my pants pocket, intended to give it to Mom.”
“Where are your clothes?”
“No idea. Woke up, started yelling when I realized there was a dead woman in bed with me and that I had blood all over me. Had no idea where I was,” Timothy said and shivered.
“Somebody found an officer pretty quick because I don’t think I had climbed out of bed before Youngman busted through the door.
Wouldn’t you think I would have jumped up right away? Nothing’s real clear.”
“So the door was locked if Youngman busted it open.”’
“Yeah. I guess so.”
“You don’t remember locking it?”
Timothy shook his head, and they both glanced at the steps as Captain Murphy began making his way down. He grabbed Phillip’s arm. “You have to find out what happened.”
“I will.”
Timothy stood and watched the captain unlock the door. He leaned toward Phillip. “And don’t tell your sister anything. I don’t want her . . . Just don’t.”
Phillip looked at Timothy. “Don’t worry about Sarah. Concentrate on remembering any detail.”
Phillip went out the door and glanced back once as he started down the hallway, following the captain. Timothy was staring at him with a solemn and hopeless look on his face. Phillip nodded and hurried to catch up to where the captain held the door.
“Did you find anything out?” he asked Phillip.
“Plenty for me to look into, but Sweitzinger doesn’t remember much of anything past eight in the evening last night.”
“Do you think he was drugged?”
“Good possibility.”
“Find out what in the hell happened.”
“I intend to.”
Virginia sat with Colleen at the Brown home on Wolfe Street and made stilted conversation with Sarah, as she was unable to focus on any subject and frequently stood to look out the window and see if her brother was on his way home yet.
They’d been invited to have dinner with her and had accepted as the hour grew late, and Virginia’s stomach rumbled.
The simple meal was as delicious as she’d anticipated. Oyster stew and bread hot from the oven, a plate of cheeses and olives, and apple turnovers for dessert, still warm. They were just finishing up when they heard the front door open. Sarah jumped from her seat.
“Phillip? Phillip? We’re eating,” Sarah called from the doorway of their small dining room.
Phillip Brown walked in and took up all the space available, at least that was how it appeared to Virginia. He was looking tired and handsome and worried.
“Sit,” Sarah said. “I’ll get you stew and more bread.”
“I’ve got to wash my hands first,” he said.
Sarah was back with a large bowl of stew and another loaf of bread, Phillip following her sans his jacket.
“Ladies,” he said as he sat down. “Forgive my less than formal attire. We don’t have guests at our table all that often.”
“It makes no difference. I’m guessing you had a long and trying day,” Virginia said.
He glanced at her and nodded. “Very trying.”
“Tell us, please,” Sarah said. “What is going on? They have him out of jail by now, don’t they?”
“He is still in jail and is being transferred to Station Ten.”
“Why? Why will he be transferred? Surely this is just a mix-up.”
Phillip shook his head and laid down his spoon. “There’s no mix-up. He was found with a dead woman and covered in her blood. No mix-up.”
Sarah’s face drained of its color, leaving her pale and wide-eyed.
Virginia was disturbed herself, and Colleen covered her mouth with her hand.
It was a terrible picture he’d painted, but she could not shake the feeling there was more to the story, much more, perhaps worse, if that was possible.
Virginia reached for Sarah’s hand where it lay on the table and squeezed, offering whatever reassurance she could.
“I don’t understand,” Sarah whispered.
“There’s nothing to understand. There are just facts. Timothy was found with a dead woman, covered in blood.”
“Found where?”
Phillip shook his head. “Don’t get into it, Sarah. I’m going to do everything necessary to prove his innocence. But it will take time. I’ll have to talk to Mr. Everly tomorrow.”
“I’m seeing my father for lunch tomorrow. I’ll tell him you need more leave and what is going on. He’ll remember the times Mr. Sweitzinger helped rescue me. He’ll make some arrangements, I’m certain.”
“I appreciate it, but I still have to see Mr. Everly. He’s my boss, and I don’t think it’s fair to ignore him, even though he can be, well, who he is.”
“You don’t believe Timothy killed this woman, though?” Sarah asked.
Phillip looked directly at his sister. “No. No, I don’t.”
Sarah stood slowly and walked to the door. “I’m sorry. I have to lie down. I’m not . . . feeling well.”
Virginia watched her go, and Colleen stood and gathered the dirty plates from the table. “I’ll just get these to the kitchen.”
“How bad is it, Phillip?” Virginia asked and reached across the table to touch his hands.
He squeezed her fingers and took a deep breath. “Bad. I promised Timothy I wouldn’t tell Sarah the details, and I’m not sure why he even cares that she knows, but I won’t break the promise. I didn’t promise anything about telling you what happened.”
“Tell me if you want. Whatever you’re comfortable with. Or don’t tell me anything at all.”
Phillip looked up at her, his eyes grim. “He was in a bed with a woman with a knife in her chest, covered in her blood.”
“Oh my God. That is what the police told you?”
He shook his head. “No. I saw it with my own eyes.”
Virginia sat back in her chair. “You saw him in a bed with a dead woman.”
“He was standing beside the bed. The police were already there. He was covered in blood. It was gruesome.”
“Can you talk to him?”
“I did. His captain snuck me into his cell. He’s getting transferred to another precinct tonight, and I may not get any more chances now.”
“But they may allow his fiancée some time with him.”
“His fiancée? What are you talking about?”
“Well,” Virginia said and patted her hair. “I always thought Mr. Sweitzinger was a very special gentleman.”
Phillip huffed a laugh. “You are incorrigible. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”
“Oh? What are your other favorite things?”
Phillip stood and came around to her side of the table. He offered his hand to help her stand and put his other at her waist. “This is a favorite thing of mine, even more than when you’re incorrigible.”
He closed the distance between them, pulling her flush against him, bending his head until his lips were inches from hers.
She could see his beard growing dark after the long day and felt his arms tighten around her.
Virginia tilted her head up and met his lips softly.
He moaned against her mouth and deepened the kiss.