In Sunshine or in Shadow, page 23
“Why would she have gotten blood on her hand if she was the killer?” I said, arguing. “Think about it, Detective. The person who shot Mr. Levin was standing at a distance. He fired the shot. Mr. Levin fell. No need to go near and touch him at all.”
I watched the detective’s face as he considered this, then went on, “She went to Mr. Levin’s aid. That’s when she got blood on her hands. She already told you what happened. She found the rifle, picked it up, and then saw him lying there. She touched him to see if he was dead, and that’s when she got the blood on her hands.”
“Why would she pick up the rifle at all?” Detective Jones asked. “These are points for a jury, Mrs. Sullivan. I’m tired of rattling my bones driving up here and back. You can help this young lady get a lawyer in Kingston.” This was going nowhere, and he was becoming impatient. And clearly he wasn’t going to listen to me.
“Bubbe, could you ask my husband to come out here?” I turned to her. She nodded and almost ran back into the lodge.
“It’s stressful for a young girl to encounter a murder, Detective.” I decided to keep Detective Jones talking as long as I could. I didn’t want him to put Mira in the automobile and drive off. “I’m sure she was in shock. Many people do strange things when they encounter a dead body.”
“So you are an expert now, Mrs. Sullivan?” Detective Jones took a step toward Mira, aware of what I was doing. She shrank back farther behind me. He nodded to Constable Whittier, who walked around behind her and took her by the arms. “Mira Friedman, you are under arrest for the murder of Simon Levin.”
“I do have some evidence I would like you to see,” I tried again, but Detective Jones was no longer listening to me.
Then the lodge door opened and Daniel came out, followed by Zayde and both Mira’s parents. Her parents rushed over to her, startling the constable, who stepped back. They put their arms around her protectively.
“Look, I can come back up here with more men and a rifle of my own,” Detective Jones snarled. “She is under arrest, and I’m going to take her.”
“Jones!” Daniel called a friendly greeting, walked up, and clapped a startled Detective Jones on the back. “Good to see you. I haven’t seen you since the Sixth Precinct.”
“Sullivan,” Detective Jones turned, a look of surprise on his face, and reluctantly shook Daniel’s hand. “You’re the Captain Sullivan this persistent lady has been talking about?”
“That persistent lady is my wife.” Daniel’s face remained pleasant, but a note of steel crept into his voice. He pulled the detective off to one side and lowered his voice. “I don’t want you to get in trouble on this case, Jones. Some pretty important people have already been calling the commissioner about it.”
“I’m aware of that.” Detective Jones nodded. “There was an article in The New York Times about the murder, and now I’m getting pressure to solve it.”
“I think the commissioner may be asking some of us from the city to investigate since Mr. Levin was a New York businessman,” Daniel said. “And whoever wrote that article would certainly make a spectacle of a young girl killing her bridegroom if you arrest her now. That would be the talk of the town.” A look of doubt crept across Detective Jones’s face. “You know we’ve had another tragedy up here,” Daniel went on. “That university professor named Rosen who disappeared, probably dead.”
“Yes, I heard about that too. But that was an accident. He shouldn’t have been standing on a ridge behind an active quarry,” Detective Jones said dismissively.
“Yes, but you know what these reporters are like,” Daniel said. “They will put two and two together and get five. We’ll have a headline about a bridegroom killer in the Catskills. We have to stop that in its tracks.” Daniel’s smile was friendly. “Not good for tourism. Why don’t you come and have a drink with me, and I’ll share with you a few more facts we uncovered about Mr. Levin.” He turned to Zayde. “Mr. Friedman, could I trouble you for a drop more whiskey?”
Zayde was not slow on the uptake. “Of course, Captain Sullivan. Please come in, Detective Jones.” Daniel slung a friendly arm around Detective Jones’s shoulder and kept it there as they walked into the lodge. I noted that Daniel was taller and broader than the other man. Height is definitely an advantage among policemen. The young constable stood outside uncertainly, not included in the offer of a whiskey.
“Let me get you a cool drink of water, young man,” Bubbe said sweetly. “It’s ice-cold from our own spring.” The constable was covered in dust from the road.
“Thank you, ma’am. My throat is parched.” And he allowed Bubbe to walk him to the porch. Mira and I were left alone with her parents in the middle of the compound. She threw her arms around her mother and burst into tears.
“Don’t let them take me to jail, Mama,” she sobbed. “I didn’t do anything.”
Aunt Pearl gave me a look of entreaty. “What can we do, Mrs. Sullivan?”
“We will do all we can,” I offered, feeling it was inadequate. “My husband is trying to talk Detective Jones out of it right now.”
“Perhaps we should escape to the train and disappear.” Uncle Nachum seemed out of his mind with worry. “I have friends in the city. We can hide her.”
“That will make her look guilty,” I said, trying to be reasonable. “And she could never come out of hiding. What sort of life would that be for her? Let’s see what Daniel can do first.” I watched the door to the lodge anxiously. “But perhaps you should take her inside to lie down.” Mira had stopped crying, but her head was still resting on her mother’s shoulder. Aunt Pearl nodded at my suggestion. She and Uncle Nachum gently guided Mira in the direction of their bungalow.
I heard horses’ hooves clopping up the lane and frowned in their direction. What now? I thought. I recognized the wagon that Ranger Grant had offered me a ride in on my first day in the Catskills. It pulled up in front of the entrance to the Friedmans’. Ranger Grant and Jacob both swung down, and the ranger tied the horses’ reins to the post.
“I caught the last train and Ranger Grant offered me a ride,” he said by way of explanation as they walked up to me.
“I hoped I would find the police here,” Ranger Grant said, nodding in the direction of the police automobile. “I came to tell them the news on Mr. Rosen.”
“Which is?” I asked, without much hope. Ranger Grant’s words confirmed my doubts.
“There is no sign of him.” He shook his head. “The mine owner has moved as much of the rock as is possible, but I’m afraid he may be beyond reach. I need to tell the detective.”
“You might want to give them a minute, Ranger,” I said. “They are about to arrest Mira, I’m afraid,” I said. “Daniel is trying to talk them out of it. He’s inside with Mr. Friedman.”
“I won’t bother them, then,” Ranger Grant said. “Can you tell them I’m here with a message for them?” He walked to the nearest tree and sat in the shade.
“I suppose I shall need to go back into Tannersville tomorrow with Ranger Grant’s news.” Jacob sighed as we walked toward the lodge. “I was able to make contact with his family today, poor man,” he said solemnly. “Of course they were worried and made me promise to telephone them the minute we had any news. I felt strange keeping their hopes alive when he is almost certainly dead.”
“It seems as if there is very little hope now,” I said with sympathy. “You mentioned he lived with his aunt and uncle; are his parents already dead, then?”
“No, that’s the strange thing. He never mentioned his parents to me, but it turns out they are still alive and living in New York.”
“How strange,” I echoed. “I wonder if he had a falling out with them?”
“His aunt said they wanted him out of New York City as a young man, which was why he came to live with them. She said we should contact the parents if he is really dead. It seems he went by another name as well when he was younger. David is his middle name, and Rosen is his uncle’s. He was born…” He took a slip of paper out of his pocket and read, “Mordecai Weissman.”
I stared at him; then I pulled the telegram I had received from Miss Audrey out of my own pocket. By now it was quite crumpled. I smoothed it out to read. I knew what was written there, but somehow I didn’t want to believe it. The accomplice who had gotten away, who had left Mr. Levin’s cousin to die in jail, was also Mordecai Weissman.
“That’s what he was trying to tell me,” I blurted out. “He was trying to tell me that story.” Jacob looked at me curiously. I didn’t know what to say. Professor Rosen—or Weissman, I corrected myself—had been a friend of his. My instincts about people could usually be trusted, and everything I had seen of the professor told me he was a good man. But was he also a murderer? How far would someone go to protect the life they had built from a secret that could send them to jail? I remembered then that I had first heard the name Mordecai from Mr. Levin. Had he been he taunting Professor Rosen with it? I knew Simon Levin was a blackmailer. Had he tried to blackmail Professor Rosen and been killed for it?
Jacob was still staring at me. I realized I had been muttering to myself. “I’m sorry, Jacob,” I said. “I just need to think.” I turned away and started to walk across the grass, conscious of his eyes on me. Professor Rosen had tried to confess to me. Then he had died within the hour.
“Do you think it is possible that Professor Rosen knew that the quarry was setting explosions that day?” I asked Jacob.
“Molly, what are you talking about? If he knew, why would he not have warned us and saved himself?”
“What if he didn’t want to be saved?” I ventured. “Although, I don’t think he would do anything to hurt you. It was just luck that you followed me down the quarry side.”
“You mean he wanted to die?” Jacob looked scandalized. “Why? A bridegroom on the brink of his greatest happiness. And he was the reason I was not killed. He told me to follow you and make sure you weren’t hurt, and that kindly impulse saved my life.”
I tried to remember the exact sequence of events that day. Had the warning flags been set, as the mine owner insisted? And had Professor Rosen removed them and sent us down the quarry side? Had he wanted to die?
Thirty-Two
Whatever the answer to my question, I had a duty now to make sure that Mira was not arrested. I had to tell Daniel what I knew and make sure he convinced Detective Jones not to take her. I realized that I couldn’t hide the truth from Jacob, either, as much as it would hurt him. If Mira was going to be saved, everyone would have to know the truth about Professor Rosen.
“Jacob,” I began. Just then, the door to the lodge opened, and Detective Jones came out, followed by Daniel and Zayde. I looked anxiously at their faces to see if they were angry or jovial. Zayde took his seat on the porch—a good sign. Surely he would be protesting if Mira was about to be arrested. The detective and Daniel walked toward me and Jacob, still standing in the middle of the compound. While Jacob passed on the message that Ranger Grant wished to speak to them, I took a deep breath and tried to think clearly. The way I shared this news might make all the difference for Mira’s freedom.
“Detective Jones,” I began before they could walk off, “did my husband share with you the information that Mr. Levin may have been a blackmailer?”
“Yes, he did, Mrs. Sullivan.” By his tone, I could tell that the drink and Daniel’s friendly manner must be working in our favor. “But it seems that he was unsuccessful with Mr. Fitch at the mine. I’ll be going back to the quarry tomorrow to take an official statement from Mr. Fitch about Mr. Levin’s attempted blackmail.” I was sure that the mine owner would love that.
“And did he also share that he found out the name of a young man who got away with murder while Mr. Levin’s cousin died in jail for that crime?” I decided to leave out my part in getting that information. Detective Jones would give the information more credence if it came from a man and a captain. He nodded and took a breath to speak, but I interrupted him. “What if I told you that man was here when Mr. Levin was murdered?” That caught his attention.
“Molly, are you saying that…” Daniel paused to remember the name. “Mordecai Weissman is here in the Catskills?”
“He was,” I said. “And Mr. Levin blackmailed him for four hundred dollars.” Daniel gave me a meaningful look as he took in the significance of the money I had found.
“What do you mean he was here?” Detective Jones asked. “Do you know where he is now?’
“He’s dead,” I said. “Mr. Singer”—I nodded toward Jacob—“has just spoken to Professor Rosen’s family and found that his real name was Mordecai Weissman.”
Daniel, Jacob, and the police detective all stared at me, unable to take in this piece of news. I tried again. “Professor Rosen was the young man who got away.”
“David?” Jacob gave a nervous laugh. “David wouldn’t have been mixed up in any crime.”
I turned to him and held out the telegram from Miss Audrey. “Professor Rosen tried to tell me this story himself just before you caught up to us in the woods. He told me about two young men who got involved with the Eastmans and in a robbery that went wrong. One of the young men died in jail, and the other got away. This is what my journalist friend, Miss Audrey, found out about the young men.” As Jacob read the telegram, the color drained from his face. I went on, “I see now that he was talking about himself. Perhaps he wanted to confess to someone.”
Detective Jones looked unconvinced. “Miss Friedman’s fingerprints were the only ones found on the rifle,” he said stubbornly. “She should at least come with me to answer some questions.” He looked around the compound and yelled, “Whittier?”
“Coming, sir.” The young policeman rose from the lodge porch and went to his detective’s side.
“Find the girl,” Detective Jones ordered curtly.
“Wait,” I held out a hand to stop him going. “She’s not hiding, just resting.” I forced myself to keep a pleasant look on my face. “Detective,” I went on, “can I give you this evidence?” I held out the telegram. He looked at the by-now crumpled and sweaty piece of paper and took it reluctantly. “My friend who is a reporter sent it. It shows that Professor Rosen had a motive for this murder.” My voice hardened. “And if you take Miss Friedman, I am sure this reporter will be asking her readers why a young girl is being harassed when a known criminal with a motive was staying at the same house as the victim.”
“A lady reporter sent this?” Detective Jones looked skeptical. “What does she write for, Ladies’ Home Journal?” He smirked as if he had made a joke.
“Well, yes,” I admitted. “But she got this information from her colleagues at The New York Times. They are the ones who would print the story.” At least, I hoped they would. Detective Jones was not the type of man one should show any weakness or nuance.
“Captain Sullivan,” Detective Jones said, turning to Daniel, “I don’t want to be rude to your wife, but you see I have to do my duty here.”
“Absolutely,” Daniel said, and gave me a stern look. “Molly, don’t interfere with matters you don’t understand.” I glared at him. He turned his head to look at me, gave an almost imperceptible wink, then turned back to Detective Jones. “Our wives want to help us so much that they like to pretend they are on the police force as well.” He gave a hearty, masculine laugh, and Detective Jones laughed with him. Even though I knew he was pretending, this rankled. I resisted the urge to hit him. Instead, I put on what I hoped was a meek expression. “But in this case,” he went on, “as I was saying earlier, those men at The New York Times might give you some trouble. I’m going back into the city tomorrow. Let me run this case by the commissioner. I can take that evidence to him, if you like.” Daniel held out his hand, and Detective Jones hesitated and then put the telegram into it.
“Right,” Jones said briskly, clearly having made up his mind to be free of the lot of us and get back for his dinner before dark. “I will put in my report that you are taking charge, Captain Sullivan.” And on your head, be it, were the unspoken words of threat. “Let’s go, Whittier,” he said, and turned and stomped off toward the automobile. Ranger Grant intercepted him, presumably giving him the news about Professor Rosen. I couldn’t hear what they said. The two men shook hands, and Ranger Grant climbed into his wagon and drove off.
Detective Jones stood looking back at the lodge, considering. I feared he was about to change his mind, but he turned and climbed into the automobile, giving a sharp order to the constable, who moved rapidly around to the front and turned the crank. The dust had choked the engine, and the constable had to crank it several times before it roared to life. He jumped in and the auto took off, leaving a cloud of dust behind it.
Daniel and I stood looking after them. I breathed a sigh of relief. Jacob walked away without a word. I didn’t blame him. Just this past year, I had learned that a person I considered a friend was not who she’d said she was. It was a disturbing revelation that had unbalanced my sense of security. So I knew exactly what he must have been feeling.
“Were you making that up to keep Jones from taking Miss Friedman?” Daniel asked, his voice strained. “Because I will have to talk to the commissioner now that I told Jones I would.”
I turned to him in surprise. “Of course it’s true,” I said. “I wouldn’t have put you in a bad position.” I grimaced. “Even if I am just a police wife pretending to investigate.”
He laughed. “I thought you might strike me when I said that.”
“I came very close,” I said, smiling. “But thank you for covering for me.”
As the sound of the automobile died away, Mira came out of her bungalow, followed by her parents. “Are they gone?”
“Yes, and I don’t think they’ll be back,” I said. I was suddenly very tired and wanted to be alone. “Daniel has taken over the case, and he has another suspect.”
I was not in the habit of resting in the day, but the heat, my condition, and the emotion of the day had drained me. I allowed Daniel to lead me back to the bungalow and Mira to bring me yet another glass of lemonade. The window was open, and the scent of roses wafted in. I lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to take in the revelation about Professor Rosen.
