“It said—never mind, I have it someplace.”
He put the vodka and glass on a side table and went into another room, where we heard him opening drawers and rustling through papers. He came back with a tattered, yellowed page. At the top, someone had written in a tidy hand: FYI, Law and Order Man. The text was also handwritten, by a different person:
Thanks for the $7500 to our Widows & Orphans Fund. You know by now that your boys have been released—the SA agrees that youthful high spirits aren’t grounds for arrest. Our overzealous officer will be moving to the Seventh, where you can count on the unit’s hostility to snitches to keep him from bothering you again.
“Whose writing is this?” My voice came out in a croak: I was sure I knew who the overzealous officer had been.
“Don’t know. Someone in the police, I guess. I asked Annie and she said some of the boys from Say, Yes! had been picked up on assault or extortion. She said she was working late and overheard Scanlon talking to Sol Mandel about how to get the charges dropped. She wasn’t sure what the boys had done, but she guessed it had to do with ‘persuading’ local businesses to buy their insurance from Scanlon.”
“When did you talk to her about this?” I demanded.
“The night she died.” He poured vodka into the glass, but stared at it, not drinking, seeing a past that made him twist his mouth into a grimace of self-loathing.
“I tried figuring out what was so important about the things she’d hidden up at Wrigley. All I had was that one page of a bank statement, but it was from Continental Illinois, not Ferrite, where Mandel and Scanlon’s insurance agency and all of us banked—neighborhood solidarity, you know. It showed the balance from Say, Yes! but it was before the Internet, back when you still got your canceled checks sent to you in the mail. The page I found showed the closing balance, which was big for such a small neighborhood organization, I think it was ninety-three thousand.”
“You didn’t keep it?” I asked.
“No, I left it at Annie’s.”
“What? The night she died?”
He swallowed half the vodka in the glass, winced as the alcohol jolted his body.
“Yes, the night she died,” he mumbled. “I tried to figure out what the deal was with the Say, Yes! bank statement, why she thought it was worth hanging on to, and I thought it had to do with the fact that Scanlon kept the funds downtown, in the biggest bank in the state. I started working late—Ira was so pleased, he thought I was finding a vocation for the law. He didn’t know all I had was a vocation for Annie. One night, Scanlon came over to see Mandel. I don’t know if I’m such a negligible part of the landscape he couldn’t see me, but he told Mandel they had the fund up to where they could flex some serious muscle. ‘Get your boy Hurlihey ready for the front line, Sol,’ Scanlon said. ‘I think we’re going to get us a friend in Springfield.’”
“So they were using the Say, Yes! foundation funds to bankroll elections, or at least Hurlihey’s election?” I asked.
Joel shrugged. “Maybe, I suppose.”
“Why didn’t you turn them in?” Mr. Contreras asked. “They sound like a room full of crooks!”
“Turn them in to who? Rory and Sol’s cronies?” Joel jeered. “They were players, the SA was a player, they probably all played together. Anyway, what evidence did I have? A piece of a bank statement and an ambiguous conversation. I went to Annie, instead.”
Mr. Contreras was watching the clock in agony. He tugged on my arm, but I needed to get as much as I could from Joel if we were going to construct any kind of file that would persuade the thugs to release Bernie.
“I knew what nights her mother played bingo over at Saint Eloy’s. I waited across the street until Stella had taken off, then I went to the door. Stella had beaten her: Annie’s lip was bloody and swollen, she had a black eye and a cut on her forehead.
“I was so upset at seeing her all messed up that I forgot at first why I’d come. She laughed off her injuries, she wouldn’t let me take her to the hospital: she said she was going to be rid of all of us soon. I put my arms around her, I said something stupid, like, you don’t want to be rid of me, I’m the one who understands you, I helped you with your music composition that got you into Bryn Mawr. I even tried to kiss her. She put my face aside. She tried to cover up what she was feeling, but I could see the disgust in her face.” He rubbed his cheek, the spot where he could still feel her hand on him.