Ten Days in August Read Online Free Page B

hadn’t been poor, not like the immigrants in the tenements in his precinct, but they hadn’t been rich, either. Both of their fathers had worked in factories off Washington Square Park before and after the War, and both had lost their jobs as factories moved to Brooklyn and other places outside of the city. Hank’s mother had been a seamstress, and she’d worked her fingers to the bone to support them while his father had struggled to find work. Amelia’s family hadn’t fared much better.
    That Amelia had caught the eye of Jonathan Cooper while out for a walk in Central Park one day would probably never cease to amaze Hank. That Jonathan Cooper, who had made his fortune in steel and dabbled in architecture, had fallen for a girl like Amelia would never cease to amaze New York’s elite, who had been reluctant to adopt her as one of their own at first. Some rationalized Cooper’s actions as being those of a New Money man unused to having to conform to society’s rules and so allowed a few eccentricities. By all accounts, Amelia had charmed the stockings off nearly everyone she met, though, so society quickly forgot the scandal. And now Amelia was this finely appointed creature who no longer had to worry about money and instead worried about whether or not she’d be invited to Mrs. Astor’s next ball.
    â€œWhat is really troubling you?” she asked. “You would not have come uptown just to put forward the idea your murderer might move in one of my circles.”
    Hank met her gaze. “Honestly, this case is getting to me.”
    â€œHow so?”
    â€œI’m not sure. Perhaps because the body was discovered at . . .” He trailed off, wondering if he should elaborate.
    But, of course, Amelia was his oldest friend and she knew him better than he knew himself sometimes. “Do not be concerned with my delicate sensibilities. Tell me plain. What concerns you about the case?”
    He let out a breath. “The victim was a working boy at a resort where men go to find the companionship of other men.”
    â€œAh,” she said. She lifted her skirts slightly and walked across the room to a side table where a bottle of whiskey sat proudly. She picked up a snifter and filled it with two fingers before handing it to Hank. Then she did the same for herself. Hank watched her take a sip and savor it on her tongue before swallowing. He mirrored her, letting the rich flavor fill his nostrils before he swallowed. It burned nicely on the way down. “So you’re worried men of a certain type are being targeted? Has there been more than one murder?”
    â€œI spent the afternoon studying the file for another murder committed a couple of months ago. I do believe the crimes are related.”
    â€œDead working boys both?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œCould be a coincidence.”
    â€œWhich occurred to me.” Hank sipped his whiskey.
    â€œBut you don’t think it is.”
    â€œNo. But I can’t prove it yet. I will, but I don’t have enough evidence. There’s something else, though.”
    Amelia took a step toward him. “What is it?”
    â€œCommissioner Roosevelt has been stamping out corruption, as you know.” Hank used a mocking tone, hoping to convey what he thought of this endeavor. Amelia smiled faintly. Hank went on, “There are too many unknown outcomes. Perhaps I’ll be left to find the murderer and be hailed a hero, but I doubt there is much heroism in finding the killer of a prostitute, particularly a male one. If anything, the murderer will be praised. Roosevelt may decide this resort is too depraved to be allowed to continue its existence and will shut it down, giving men like the victim one less place to go.”
    â€œMen like yourself, too.”
    Hank’s heart pounded as he contemplated this possibility. “Yes, although I have not indulged in quite some time.”
    â€œSince Roosevelt