In the Shadow of Gotham - By Stefanie Pintoff Page 0,68

bring the city police into the case. I could do so in an instant if I shared what Alistair told me,” I said. “But the drawback would be the political infighting that would result. And the press would be all over it, the way they cover any story with a hint of scandal or impropriety. Taken together, those are two complications that could potentially hinder the investigation more, on balance, than additional city resources would help. So much attention would send Fromley permanently underground.” I sighed deeply. “I also know the scrutiny could well destroy Alistair’s reputation.”

“And why do you care about that?” was Joe’s rejoinder.

I was unsure, and I admitted as much to Joe. The press would seize upon Alistair’s currying of personal favor and disregard for police authority; they would sensationalize it into the sort of scandal that sells newspapers. And while in my angrier moments I thought that was exactly what he deserved, I knew that to punish him would not help me solve this case any faster.

“Alistair’s admission underscores the danger Fromley poses,” I said. “We need to find him. That’s really the only priority, but chasing him is like chasing a ghost. Wherever I look, I discover places he has been and people he has hurt. But I cannot find him.”

“Then maybe you need to think more like a ghost,” Joe suggested, only partly tongue-in-cheek. “In other words, where does a man like him go when he needs to disappear? If you can figure that out, then you might better your odds of finding him. And you, of all people, should know the places a man can disappear in the city.”

It was the first time Joe had alluded to knowing anything about my personal history; but then again, this night had been full of surprises. And while most of them had been unpleasant, Joe’s company had been unexpectedly good-natured and helpful. In the aftermath of his stroke, the petty awkwardness between us was gone. After I bid him good night, I returned to my own bed and a fitful sleep in which I dreamed of my own father and his innate ability to disappear into the fabric of the city whenever he fell deeply in debt. I thought of all the hiding places I had known him to choose. Which of them would appeal to someone who wanted to disappear permanently? If I could answer that, then perhaps I would be much closer to tracking down the elusive Michael Fromley.

Saturday, November 11, 1905

CHAPTER 17

Joe and I had reached an agreement last night: He would continue to manage the Dobson end of the investigation from home, and I would focus on whatever was required in the city. Unsurprisingly, Alistair was not in his office when I looked for him the next morning. I had come here, however, in hopes of consulting with Tom Baxter. Earlier, he had impressed me as level-headed and pragmatic; I could not imagine he would have countenanced Alistair’s decisions about Fromley had he known of them, and I was interested to hear what he would say now. I found him at his desk, almost buried among several piles of papers.

He greeted me with some surprise. “Good morning, Ziele. I didn’t expect to see anyone else here so early this morning.” He waved his hand over his desk, explaining, “Just trying to get some midterm exams graded. I’d hoped to return them to my students this week, but I’m making such slow progress, I fear they will be disappointed.”

I returned his greeting and then waited a moment as Tom paused uncertainly, looking at me as though trying to divine what I wanted before I told him.

“Sit down,” he said finally; “you look as though you’ve got something on your mind.”

“You might say that,” I said with an ease I did not feel. I claimed the chair across from him. “Actually, I need to speak with you about a matter that occurred two years ago in October 1903. While I believe that is before you came here, Alistair may have told you something about it.”

I explained the relevant details I’d learned the previous evening, leaving out nothing of importance. As I suspected, he had known nothing of Fromley’s purported confession, and seemed only slightly less appalled than I had been to learn of the cavalier way Alistair and Fred had chosen to conceal this information. As his brow furrowed in concentration, I allowed him to digest the problem for a few moments before I