Brooklyn Secrets Read Online Free PDF Page B

pop. And some of his union pals, that same night. After a while word was passed around that they should stop looking. I learned all that much later, after I was all grown up.”
    â€œBut I don’t understand. Didn’t your parents tell you anything? You must have been asking questions. And didn’t they go to the police?”
    She shook her head. “They sent me away, right after, to my uncle in south Jersey. He had a chicken farm, if you can believe that. I really did not want to go. I didn’t understand until years later that they were protecting me. And of course I asked questions! Of course I did, but family life was different then. Grown-ups would say, ‘Stop with the questions or you’ll get such a smack!’ And they meant it.” She smiled again, sadly. “It’s not an accident that I went into psychology, of course.”
    â€œBut what happened when you came home?”
    â€œThey never mentioned his name. They had taken down his only picture and they never mentioned his name. Believe me, I got the message to keep quiet about it.”
    â€œI don’t believe this. I don’t mean I doubt you. It’s just hard to accept that no one raised bloody hell about it. Pardon the expression.”
    â€œThey were afraid. Everyone who knew those guys was afraid.” She paused, considering. “This is how it worked—they ate in a diner and left big tips. Was the owner about to say no? They walked the streets like big shots. They’d ask a kid to watch the car or run an errand and give him generous money for it. Then, if the kid was eager, there would be other jobs.”
    â€œAnd the law?”
    â€œWell, a lot of the cops were in on it too, so where could you turn for help? And everyone knew not to talk about them. You couldn’t be called as a witness if you didn’t see or hear or know anything. And if you were called, you’d better swear you didn’t see or hear or know anything. Years later, when my parents were both gone—personally, I think they died of heartbreak—believe me, I asked everyone else and they were still afraid.”
    â€œAnd now?”
    â€œI don’t give a good goddamn. What can they do to me now that’s worse than the cancer? They’re all dead now anyway, and if there is an afterlife—which I doubt—they are most certainly not where my brother is.”
    She was quiet so long I thought she had drifted off but then she said, “Lately I feel like he’s with me. Strange, isn’t it, considering I’m an unbeliever? I feel like he wants me to know what happened, and I am ashamed I waited until now.”
    What could I say but yes? I tried to explain that my main responsibility was to my own work but she just hushed me.
    â€œYou’ll be looking around in all those old records. Maybe you’ll see something. Who knows? Maybe you’ll run across someone who’s an expert and might have answers? Or know where to look? Who knows? His name was Frank Kravitz. Write it down.”
    She tapped my arm, her polished nail surprisingly sharp. “Write it down. And come back if you see something.” She smiled, a bitter raw smile. “Pretty soon it won’t matter anymore.” Her eyes closed, opened, closed again and this time stayed that way.
    An aide with a wheelchair looked in, saying Mrs. Boyle had told her Ms. Kravitz was here. “I’ll just take her back to her room. It’s time for her pre-dinner meds.”
    She didn’t need my help and I left, carefully finding my way through the complex of parkways.
    Home and dinner. I had the television on, catching up on the news. When I heard the word Brownsville, I took a look. And then I couldn’t move away.
    A reporter on location, talking into a mike. “In the predawn hours a badly beaten young girl was found in this empty lot. She was spotted this morning by workers passing by on a sanitation