The Marshal's Pursuit Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Governor Odell appointed Cady special prosecutor to go after members of organized crime.” Frank’s favorite Times illustrator deemed him Clean ’er Up Cady. “He is a highly respected lawyer for his rigid sense of justice. Incorruptible. Perfect man for the job.”
    “Ever met him?”
    “Once. At a political fund-raiser my parents were hosting last year for Roosevelt.”
    Still looking at the folder, Henkel nodded. “Cady’s first target was midlevel boss James ‘Mad Dog’ Miller. Miller didn’t like the heat on him, so he put out a hit on the special prosecutor.”
    Frank found that hard to believe. “Sir, a mafiositenet forbids killing authorities for fear it will bring massive government retaliation.”
    “You expect criminals to always follow a code of ethics?”
    He had a point there. “I rather hope they would,” he said in a solemn tone. “It’d make our jobs easier.”
    Henkel glanced up. “You seem awfully serious today.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    Henkel’s lips twitched with amusement. He turned the page in the folder, occasionally underlining and writing.
    Frank absently picked at a piece of lint on the black trousers of his three-piece suit as he waited for his boss to speak. Henkel’s diligence and caution were well respected, especially by Frank, who prided himself on his own diligence and caution. But Frank would also be the first to admit he always struggled with impatience when waiting for Henkel to reach the point as to why he’d called a meeting.
    Frank shifted as much as possible in the unyielding chair. He flexed his left ankle. The oxford he wore on that foot was a size bigger to compensate for the space his splinted toe needed, and at his desk was a padded step stool for elevating his foot. If it were possible to make the wood-planked floor in the chief marshal’s office harder than that in the rest of the courthouse, he was sure Henkel had it done. The man didn’t want anyone comfortable in his presence. He’d make a passable Queen Victoria.
    Henkel stopped writing and abruptly met Frank’s gaze. There in his eyes was an excited glint that Frank hadn’t seen since the man announced he was in search of a replacement.
    “Yesterday afternoon,” Henkel said gleefully, “Mad Dog Miller was killed in a club on Bowery Street. In a stroke of luck, patrolmen happened to be in the area. They hauled in everyone at the scene, including a serving girl who identified the man she saw talking with Miller moments before the shooting. Another witness identified that man as Van ‘the Shadow’ Kelly.” Henkel closed the file and rested his pen atop it. “This morning both witnesses were found dead.”
    Not surprising. “So Kelly was released?”
    “He would have been, were it not for Malia Vaccarelli.”
    Frank gripped the armrests to keep from jumping to his feet. “What?”
    “She is the Shadow’s younger sister.”
    “Sister,” Frank muttered. “I would have never guessed that.”
    “What...don’t...I...know?”
    Frank opened his mouth to offer a quip back, but his good sense took over. Be serious. In less time than he took to tell Norma, he updated his boss on the morning’s events and finished with, “Miss Vaccarelli is the new lead I’m pursuing.” He couldn’t think of a time he’d wanted to find a woman more.
    “Good, good, good. Providence is favoring us today.” Henkel leaned back in his chair. “An hour ago, while Metropolitans, under the watchful eye of Van Wyck Cady’s associates, arrived to search Kelly’s Waldorf-Astoria suite, Miss Vaccarelli and her lawyer walked into the special prosecutor’s office and turned over two hundred and fifty-seven thousand dollars.” He paused. “In counterfeit bills. The sourdough came from a hidden family safe.”
    So his girl excelled more in looks than smarts.
    Frank waited until he was certain Henkel was finished. “She should have left it for the Metropolitans to confiscate.
    Henkel’s gray mustache twitched.