be clear with Jason. “Look, I just got out of something serious and it’s complicated.” She hated how much her words sounded like everyone else’s. She’d never get away with writing that kind of cliché. “I think we work well together, and I’d hate to fuck that up.”
“We do work well together, I’ll give you that.”
God, he was distracting. Before he could say anything else, she reached into her bag and pulled out several sheets of paper. “Here’s the reason I was late this morning.”
“What’s this?”
“I went to the library, going through every issue of every city newspaper printed around Halloween of 1952, when Stella said Esme fell.”
“The library? Serious old-school research.”
“I looked for anything in the local news that might be related to our story, and not only was the Flatted Fifth mentioned, but Benny Kalai’s name showed up as well.” She pointed to the top page. “This was in the October 31st issue of the New York Herald Tribune. ‘Harrowing Tales of Heroin.’”
She read aloud from the article, which included a transcript of a conversation between the police and an informant:
Q: How old would you say the buyers are?
A: Sixteen, maybe. I know one couple who give drugs to their young baby.
Q: How old is this baby?
A: Less than a year old. When the baby cries, they give him a shot of heroin to shut him up.
“My God.” Jason looked ill.
“I know. Awful. But here’s the juicy part.”
Informant conference with Esme C., Puerto Rican hatcheck girl at the Flatted Fifth, interviewed by Det. Quigley.
Q: What about where you work?
A: Should I mention names?
Q: Yes.
A: Charlie Parker and Stan Getz always buy heroin. Same when Gene Adams’s group comes. Sonny Stitt when they’re there, and when the Machito band is there, there’s a lot of cocaine.
Q: Where is it sold, right in the Flatted Fifth?
A: Yes. And at Hector’s Cafeteria on 50 Street and Broadway. The addicts come in, put their money down, pick up the drugs, and leave.
Q: Where does it come from?
A: A guy named Benny Kalai.
Jason whooped. “This is huge. Esme was involved in heroin.”
“Looks like it. No mention of Sam in there, just Esme. And Kalai.”
“I wonder if Darby knew what was going on.”
“We’ll have to ask her that when we see her.”
“I can’t wait. Speaking of which, any news as to when she’ll be back? Tyler wants a rough cut and the first draft by the end of next week.”
“It’ll be close,” said Rose. The discussion of deadlines ignited a fizz of nerves deep in her belly.
He leafed through the pages. “I wonder what happened to Kalai after this came out?”
“I had the same question. Turns out Kalai ended up in Sing Sing in 1954. Looks like it took some time to indict him. He died there ten years later.”
Jason beamed at her. “Tyler will love this.”
“Maids and heroin deals in the fifties? You bet.”
“Right up his alley, twisted fuck.”
“Makes the story more interesting, rather than the reminiscences of a bunch of old ladies.”
“That’s harsh. Their stories are fantastic. You know that as well as I do.”
She tried not to gloat at the reversal. Jason was championing the cause. “Yup.”
Her phone vibrated. The ID read ASTOR ASSISTED LIVING. She answered immediately.
“Is this Ms. Lewin?”
“Yes.”
“This is Brenda from Astor. I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m afraid your father’s had a fall.”
Rose closed her eyes and swayed ever so slightly, trying not to panic. “Is he okay?”
The woman’s answer was not reassuring. “You should meet us at Mount Sinai West.”
“I’m on my way.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
New York City, 1952
Darby sat down to write a letter to Mother as soon as she got back to the Barbizon. Strange how now that she’d been expelled from Gibbs, her room took on an unexpected, nostalgic hue. She’d miss the view from the window. Even the garish curtains and bedspread seemed endearing.
The door opened with a bang and Maureen rushed in.
“Darby, I heard the news.”
“Right. I guess everyone at the school knows by now.”
Maureen leaned over and gave her an awkward hug, then sat on the bed. “I can’t believe they’d do this to you.”
“It’s so unfair. I explained to Mrs. Tibbett that I was really trying, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m writing a letter to Mother explaining everything, saying that I’m sorry to disappoint her but that I’ll go back to Defiance and work hard, pay her back in full.” Esme came to mind, working one job during the day and another at night, all while