Read Online Five Points by J. R. Roberts - Free Book Online Page B

Ted.
    â€œHello.”
    The young man looked up. It was Ted, the one from earlier in the morning.
    â€œYou said if I needed anything,” Clint said. “Did you mean . . . anything?”
    Ted looked around, then leaned on the desk and lost the benign look he’d been wearing.
    â€œYes, sir . . . anything . Are you in need of . . . something special?”
    â€œNot as special as what you’re thinking,” Clint replied.
    â€œI didn’t think so,” Ted said. “I saw Angie leave a little while ago.”
    â€œYes, well, what I need is a message delivered to someone who lives in Brooklyn,” Clint said, “on Sackett Street. His name is Delvecchio.”
    â€œJust Delvecchio?”
    â€œThat’s all he goes by.”
    â€œWhat’s the message, sir?”
    â€œThat I’m here, and would like to see him.”
    â€œThat’s it?”
    â€œThat’s all.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t want him . . . brought here?”
    â€œNo,” Clint said. He took a couple dollars from his pocket and laid them on the desktop. “Just deliver the message today.”
    â€œYes, sir.” Ted slid the money from the desk into his pocket.
    â€œThank you.”
    â€œNot at all, sir,” Ted said, once again assuming that blank, benign look he and Owen shared when it suited them.
    Clint left the hotel and wondered what his next move should be. Delvecchio was a private detective who lived in Brooklyn. He and Clint had worked together the last time he’d been in New York. The detective had helped him with Teddy Roosevelt, Annie Oakley, and P. T. Barnum. No such names involved this time, but maybe the man would still be willing to help.
    He was going to be interested in Delvecchio’s opinion of Captain Tom Byrnes. He already knew that Delvecchio respected Talbot Roper’s reputation—a rep supported by Clint himself. Well, Clint respected the Brooklyn detective’s opinions, so a conversation about Byrnes would be very interesting.
    Clint decided to go down to Printers Row to spend some time in one of the newspaper morgues. He wanted to do some reading about the fencing and pickpocket situation in Manhattan.

TWENTY-TWO
    Captain Thomas Byrnes came into his office that morning, refreshed from a good night’s sleep. He called O’Halloran into his office immediately.
    â€œWhat have you got for me?” he asked.
    â€œSir?”
    â€œOn those fences.”
    â€œSir . . . I’ve only just come in.”
    â€œYou didn’t work on it last night?”
    â€œUh, no, sir.”
    â€œDid you give it any thought at all?”
    â€œUh, yes, sir.”
    â€œAnd what conclusions have you come up with?”
    â€œSir?”
    â€œSergeant,” Byrnes said patiently, “give me the names of three fences you think could handle as much merchandise as we are talking about.”
    â€œUh, yes, sir,” O’Halloran said, thinking fast. “Buzzy Rothstein, Declan Murphy, and . . . Ma Mandelbaum.
    â€œGood,” Byrnes said. He wrote down the three names. “Keep your ear to the ground, Sergeant.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    As O’Halloran left and closed his boss’s door behind him, Byrnes sat back. He’d thought of Fredericka Mandelbaum himself. This was the kind of thing she’d do to make a point that she was as good or better than the men in the business.
    Yes, he should probably have a talk with the Queen of Fences, but first a check to see how Clint Adams was doing.
    Bethany was still sitting on the front steps, worrying about Ben when Red came along and plopped himself right next to her.
    â€œHi, Bethany.”
    â€œHello, Red.”
    â€œYou look sad.”
    â€œI’ve got things on my mind, Red.”
    â€œWhat things?”
    â€œGrown-up things,” she said. “You wouldn’t understand. ”
    â€œWell, I got somethin’ I think might cheer ya