The Double Vice: The 1st Hidden Gotham Novel by Chris Holcombe (ebook reader for laptop .TXT) 📗

was wondering how much it was worth for me not to tell him.”

“How did he find you?”

“Must’ve asked around for the flatfoot working this neighborhood, so he knows where you work. I’d be careful with him, if I were you.”

“Why do you say that?”

McElroy glanced off into the distance. “I checked him out. I figured with a name like his he was up in Germantown, so I spoke with a few coppers in that precinct, and whattaya know? He had a brother who was murdered last week.”

Karl.

“He did?”

“Yessir. Strangled in the Park. Robbed, too. Nothing left on him except his identification card. Messy business. Found him Tuesday morning, but he’d been dead for a while. Looked as if someone was trying to hide him under the bushes and such. A walker found him and reported it.”

“I see.”

McElroy turned his head back towards Dash. “Ya didn’t have nothin’ to do with it, did you?”

Dash gave an awkward laugh. “Me? Why would I be involved in anything like that?”

McElroy shrugged. “Seems odd the brother of a murder victim is asking about you, that’s all.”

Another rotten smile.

“Should I tell him to bugger off? Or give him your address?”

Goddamn men like you. The leeches of New York.

Dash reached into his pockets once again and handed over a few more dollars. “You’re a credit to the uniform, McElroy.”

Desperate and sleep deprived, Dash returned to the law firm Meyers, Powers & Napier. When he had spoken with her twice before, he didn’t know all the facts. Now he knew the story, or nearly all of it, and it was time to get confirmation. Confirmation and help.

It was time to stop being polite.

The secretary—this time wearing blue and gold, like the dress Paula wore in his club the night this fiasco began—smiled upon his entrance. That smile quickly frowned when he walked straight past her, saying over his shoulder, “Is Prudence Meyers in?”

“Sir,” called out the secretary. “Wait one moment, sir!”

Dash found the last door on the left, turned the knob, and pushed it open. Pru looked up, surprise framing her lavender eyes. She wore a tan suit with faint pinstripes, her white shirt faintly ruffled at the collar. The sleeve had been pulled up from her wrist to avoid the ink stains as she made notes on a stack of papers.

A gray-haired man in the client’s chair, dressed all in navy, swiveled his head around to face the interruption.

“Excuse me, sir, we’re in a meeting,” he said, his voice full of gravel and authority.

“Mr. Parker,” Pru said, “this is most inappropriate.”

“It’s Dash, and we need to talk now.”

The secretary caught up with him. “I’m so sorry, Pru, he just barged in here—”

“This is most outrageous,” the gray-haired man said. He swiveled his creaky head back towards Pru. “What kind of business are you running here?”

She held up a placating hand. “I apologize for this outburst, Mr. Williams. Frannie, can you show Mr. Parker out, please?”

Dash crossed his arms across his chest to prevent Frannie from attempting to grab his arm and pull him out. “I’m not leaving, Pru, until we talk.”

Her lavender eyes burned with anger. “I am speaking with a client, Mr. Parker.”

“Either we can speak in private or we can speak in front of him. He’s a client; it’s privileged, correct?” Dash then sat in the other client chair next to Mr. Williams. He held out a hand. “I’m Dash Parker. Nice to meet you, Mr. Williams.”

The man stiffened, his disapproval sounding like a cough caught in the base of his throat. “This is most absurd. Perhaps I should find another lawyer.”

Somehow Pru managed to calm him down. Even more testament to her negotiating skills, she got him to wait until after this conversation was completed. When she closed the door, shutting out the sight of Frannie patting Mr. Williams’s hand, she let out a hissed sigh.

“Alright, Mr. Parker, you have exactly one minute to state why you’re here before I call the police.”

She turned and resumed her place behind her desk.

Dash sat forward in the chair. “I know it all. Paula getting Walter fired. The Müller’s ensuing blackmail scheme. The clubs they raided and some of the people they targeted, one of whom is Zora Mae. Or rather, her moll. I know Tyler Smith was to get some evidence for you. I know that Walter Müller will do anything to get it back. What I don’t know, Pru, is whether Tyler gave that to you or if it’s still missing.”

They both sat silent.

The room seemed to tick, though Dash saw no evidence of a clock.

Finally, she said, “What is it that you want?”

“I’m not here to blackmail you! I’m here because I need your help. Walter is a very dangerous man, and he is threatening me. If you’re really trying to help people like us—people like me—then stop letting it be an esoteric legal argument and make it real.”

They locked eyes.

Another length of silence stretched to its breaking point.

Her nod was slightly imperceptible. “I will do what I can, though I fail to see how this information will help you.”

She paused, her hands coming up, her fingers forming a point against her chin while she gathered her words.

“A case like this, a blackmail case, depends upon evidence and the scope of the extortion. Because the letters were sent in the mail, it’s considered a federal offense. But even then, the FBI wouldn’t take much of an interest unless either the blackmailer was a person they despised anyway or the blackmail victims were high enough in society that their money and status would force the authorities into action.”

“While their money and status would keep their names out of the courts and the papers.”

“Correct. Karl had mentioned such people to us when he was detailing what he and his brother were doing. We needed that confirmation to know if we even have a shot of ending Walter’s extortion.”

Dash sat back in his chair. “What kinds of people?”

“Nephews of Astors. Cousins of Vanderbilts.