The carriage continued on down Broome Streetto Hudson Street, where they took several more abrupt turns.
“This is the Greenwich area,” Brodiesaid.
What they saw on either side of them was madeeven more disturbing by the ghostly, gray haze of the dying day.Here before them, in the charred remains of tenements and workers’homes, were the visible effects of the “great fire.” On a Sundayevening, with church bells tolling in the air all around them,these streets seemed to be possessed by the wandering and the lost.Men and women draped in rags drifted along the broken walkways,while others poked at nearby mounds of rubble for anything theycould sell or pawn. Filthy children, bone-thin and hobbled byrickets, romped about them with the random glee of childreneverywhere – oblivious for a few fleeting moments of their hungeror those horrors that might lie ahead. A block farther up, thetenements unscarred by fire looked as forlorn and uninhabitable asthey did in central London.
“Has it always been like this?” Marcsaid.
“Not really. This was a boomtown once.Workers flocked here to help build ships or man the factories orconstruct the houses required to meet the needs of three hundredthousand people.”
“So the bank panic and the subsequent firehave done this?”
“Yes. But the Council did their share aswell. They had refused to build a safe water supply or keep thestreets properly paved, and the fire brigades they enlisted werebusy undercutting their rivals. So, when the fire struck, theinferno it unleashed had to be fought with buckets.”
“But the wealth that must have been generated- ”
“Siphoned off by Tammany, and when they gotkicked out, by the Whigs.”
“Will the city be revived?”
Brodie smiled. “Oh, yes. America is an ideathat cannot be stopped – by others or by its own folly.”
The cab pulled up in front of a small,discreet hotel, The Houston.
“We’re here,” Brodie said.
***
Brenner and Tallman, Attorneys-at-Law, waslocated on Mulberry Street, not far from the infamous Five Pointsdistrict. Here the three-storey brick edifices of Broadway and itscross-streets gave way to single-storey frame-and-brick buildingsset haphazardly along the poorly-paved and narrow street. Most wereshops and businesses – not all of them of a legitimate or savourycharacter. Saloons, liquor outlets, and pawnbrokers were wedged inamongst greengrocers, dubious eateries, and ramshackle cottageswhere gaudily draped “ladies” rocked listlessly after a busynight’s trade. At Cross Street, Marc was nearly bowled over by anabsconding pig and the urchins pursuing it. The roadway andboardwalks were teeming with ordinary, bustling, hustling NewYorkers. Hawkers, barrow-men, carters, early-morning shoppers,liberated children, spooked horses, loose chickens – the din oftheir cries shook the foul, urban air and proclaimed to anydoubting stranger: we are here and here we are!
“This is an odd place to hang out a lawyer’sshingle,” Marc said as they stepped onto the wooden stoop beforeBrenner and Tallman.
“Close to your clientele,” Brodie said,tugging the bell-pull.
They were immediately shown into the innerchamber by a stout secretary with an eye for a paying customer.Both lawyers, sharing a single office with twin desks facing eachother, rose as one to greet them. They were smiling.
“I am Joseph Brenner,” said the taller,clean-shaven fellow, “and this is my partner, Lawrence Tallman. Howmay we be of service?”
“Good morning,” Marc said. “I am MarcusEdwards and this is – ”
“Little Brodie Langford,” Tallman said,turning his pleasant, open, moustachioed face to his partner insurprise.
“My word, so it is,” Brenner said, beaming.“We haven’t laid eyes on you, young man, since you went off to thatdreadful prep school.”
Brodie hesitated, scrutinizing the lawyers.Then he put out his hand. “I am he, sirs. But I’m afraid – ”
“Oh, you have no reason to remember us,”Brenner said. “We mostly saw you and Celia running about in theyard outside. But your dad and uncle weren’t shy when it came toboasting about you.” Suddenly the smile on his face faded.
“Please, excuse us,” Tallman said, motioningfor the visitors to sit down. “We were so happy to see you that weforgot . . .” He stared at the blotting instrument on his desk.
“Larry is trying to say how sorry we were tohear about what happened to Dick,” Brenner said. “We were inToronto when it happened.”
“Horrible . . . horrible, it was,” Tallmansaid.
“Please accept our sincere condolences,”Brenner said.
“Thank you, sir.”
Looking somewhat puzzled, Brenner said, “Butyou must have left there yourself, since you’re now here and -”
At this point Marc intervened to explain whohe was and how they had got here so soon. Then he informed thelawyers that he had been chosen to lead the official investigationinto Dick’s murder. He sat back and waited for their reaction.
Again, Brenner and Tallman looked perplexed,exchanging unhelpful glances. Finally Brenner said, “And you’vetrailed the assassin to New York?”
“We hope to find information here that willhelp us determine who the killer was,” Marc said craftily, notwishing to give anything away just yet.
“Then we will do anything we can to assistyou, won’t we, Larry?” Brenner said.
“You could start by telling me how you cameto hear about Dick’s death,” Marc said evenly.
“Of course,” Brenner said. “Larry and Iarrived in Toronto on Saturday evening. We had been asked to appearbefore the Law Society there to give testimony regarding Dick’srequest for admission to the Bar.”
“I see,” Marc said, nicely feigning ignoranceof their motives.
“We were supposed to meet the Benchers atOsgoode Hall on Monday afternoon,” Tallman said.
“But at nine-thirty or so that morning, afellow comes rushing into the hotel foyer,” Brenner said, his facetensing at the memory, “shouting loud enough for everyone to hearthat the . . . ‘fat Yankee lawyer’ had been stabbed to death in analley by some madman.”
“With the dagger still in his back and a notestuck to it – with the most dreadful word written in blood on it,”Tallman said, faltering. “Oh, Brodie, I’m sorry, I – ”
“It’s all right, sir,” Brodie said bravely,though Marc was becoming accustomed to the young man’s innerstrength and determination.
“We were shocked beyond speech,” Brennersaid.
Marc decided it was time to up the ante. “Butnot too shocked to pack your bags and scuttle down to the wharf,where you caught a steamer for Burlington.”
Again, the lawyers appeared more puzzled thanupset by the charge and its implicit reproach of theirbehaviour.
“We left, sir, because our remaining inToronto could only have done Dick’s memory and his wards’ futuremore harm than good,” Brenner said.
“Dick Dougherty was our friend,” Tallmansaid.
“Then why did you tell Archdeacon Strachan onSunday afternoon that you had come to testify about the scandalthat had driven him out of New York?” Marc said quietly.
“You have been well briefed,” Brenner said,unsmiling. “We told Dr. Strachan that we were there to swear toDick’s character as we had known it for over thirty years. We toldhim that Dick was scrupulously honest, had never been accused -despite a tumultuous career in our courts – of a financialmisdemeanour or breach of ethics or shady property dealing orpolitical shenanigans. Not once. And that in a city where themayors routinely rake in thirty thousand dollars per annum ingraft, where aldermen award each other building contracts andbusiness monopolies, and where councillors buy up, at fire-saleprices, the property of men they have ruined.”