Ellison glared at the offender’s back then looked at Justine. “See that? And if that’s what they do to male detectives, imagine what they’d do to female detectives. The idea is preposterous.”
“That’s not what I asked. Tell me who to speak with. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Fine, you have time to waste? Go see Richard Croker.”
“The head of Tammany Hall?”
Ellison’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “Tammany makes nearly all of the recommendations for appointments and promotions. And the fact you don’t know that shows you are not ready to work in the police department.”
No, she hadn’t known. She assumed the police department worked on merit, which now sounded ridiculous. She really ought to have known better. Corruption ran through New York City faster than water. “Is that how you were appointed?”
“To detective, yes. I had been a roundsman for four years. Helped keep a ward boss safe during an election night altercation in ’90. He repaid me by having me promoted.”
Her stomach sank a bit—and it must have shown on her face. He said, “That’s how the city works, Miss Greene. You are kidding yourself if you believe otherwise.”
“I still have to try. Perhaps my father could help.”
“Or perhaps you could ask Mulligan.”
She frowned at his sarcastic tone. “That was unnecessary, Detective.”
“I apologize.” His mouth twisted with what seemed like honest regret, like he’d take the words back if he could. “I admit, I am a little bothered by your association with him. Here I thought I was helping you because you had no other option. Only, it turns out you’re cozy with one of the city’s biggest criminals.”
“It almost sounds like you’re jealous.”
“Maybe I am.”
Sweet Lord. She’d been joking but his response was utterly serious. Her jaw fell open and she took a step back, putting distance between them. Contrition washed over his features and he held up his hands. “No, not like that. Not in a romantic sense. But, in a professional sense. I thought you needed me.”
Confused, she tried to make sense of what he was saying. He wanted her to be dependent on him and only him? He wouldn’t assist her in getting a position in the department and he told her to stay away from Mulligan. Was this what men considered as professional “advancement” for women? She thought her gender had been gaining ground, with new jobs and new possibilities. Soon, women would get the vote. And yet.
Would there always be a man holding them back?
The idea was depressing.
“I’ll speak to Croker. Thank you for the advice. You know, I’ve changed my mind about the elevated. I feel like walking a bit. Take care, Detective.” She darted in front of an omnibus to cross the street and then kept heading west. On her own.
Without anyone telling her what to do.
The next afternoon, Justine was back downtown, staring at the front of the building. She’d loitered on the walk for a good twenty minutes now, waiting. Keeping a sharp eye on her surroundings.
It was the middle of the day, yet no matter the hour, the World Poolroom was one of the most dangerous places in the Bowery. Thieves, confidence men, smugglers . . . any manner of rough character might be found drinking and gambling in there. She decided to wait on the walk instead of risking life and limb by going inside. Someone would eventually leave and she could ask him or her about Mr. von Briesen out here.
Minutes later, she was rewarded when a red-haired woman stumbled out of the poolroom door and onto the walk. The woman squinted into the sun, wincing as if in pain. Her clothes were wrinkled and stained, her gait unsteady. Was she inebriated, or recovering from being inebriated earlier? Justine couldn’t tell.
“Excuse me,” she called. “Might I speak to you for a moment?”
The woman rocked on her feet then put her arms out to catch her balance. “Who wants to know?”
“My name is Justine. I would like to ask you a question or two.”
“I don’t have time for questions. Barkeep’s fixin’ to fight me about my tab.” She started off down the street, her steps wobbly but fast.
Just then, the door flew open again and a man emerged. He had a white apron tied around his waist, his mouth carved into a fierce scowl framed by bushy brown muttonchops. When he spotted the retreating redhead, he darted after her, catching up easily and forcibly dragging her back toward the poolroom. “You’re gonna work