Friday Sept 1 evening to Saturday Sept 2 morning - Franky

[Gaffer]

It's about 4:30 pm when you get back to your cramped office. The wind has picked up a bit and is whistling down the alley from the northwest. The skies have cleared -- as much of them as you can see out your grimy window anyway. You get out your list of station house, hospital and morgue phone numbers. The first call you make is to Lum's restaurant on Prince Street for some take out chow mein and a couple bottles of beer. It's gonna be a long evening

[FrankyEsposito]

Just my luck to catch a stinker like this one on the holiday. Next year I gotta remember to take the whole day off. And that guy from City Hall? He's some piece of work. I'll lay 2:1 that Delores ends up smacking him a good one before this is over. She could probably clean his clock, too.

I look at my watch, trying to decide if I have time to make a couple calls before picking up dinner. "I'm probably going to regret this..."

I pick up the phone and start working my way through the list.

[Gaffer]

By 8:30, you've made your way through most of your list and are just starting to regret the chow mein.

Cop Talk (Hospitals, Morgues, Police Stations): Alphonse Hirt is not listed at any of the public hospitals, including the psychiatric ward at Bellevue; and none has a John Doe that seems to fit. The Manhattan morgue has two John Doe possibles; the Brooklyn morgue has one; the Bronx and Staten Island and Queens morgues don’t have any.

You're down to the last station house -- Butler Street in Brooklyn, not far from your apartment. So far, none of the stations has any record of Alphonse Hirt being arrested (during the past two weeks at least) and neither the Tombs central lockup nor any of the stations is holding him. “Midnight” Mike Boyle, desk sergeant at the Butler Street Station, says he doesn't even have to check the booking records to tell you he's not holding anyone by that name.

<Want to make a one-point Cop Talk spend to find out why?>

[FrankyEsposito]

<Want to make a one-point Cop Talk spend to find out why?>

<Yes, please.>

[Gaffer]

Cop Talk one-point spend: “Midnight” Mike Boyle, desk sergeant at the Butler Street Station, recalls an Alphonse Hirt (“Al-phonse, can you believe it?”) requesting the records of a 1924 investigation in Red Hook in which a number of cops and suspects were killed in a building collapse). He directed him to Central Records at Police Headquarters at 240 Centre Street (about a 15-minute walk from the Hudson Street station, but closed at this hour) and told him it was connected with the Suydam case.
[You remember working crowd control in the immediate aftermath of the disaster.]
Oral History: The Red Hook district has an evil reputation - as you know better than most.

[FrankyEsposito]

recalls an Alphonse Hirt (“Al-phonse, can you believe it?”) requesting the records of a 1924 investigation in Red Hook

Did he say when Hirt made the request?

[Gaffer]

You can hear Mike scratching his head as he thinks. "Musta been sometime inna Spring, right? 'Cause this dandy comes in wearin' a alpaca overcoat an' I remember thinkin' 'Geez! This mook's gonna have a heat-stroke.' So sometime in April? May?"

[FrankyEsposito]

"Thanks a million, Mike. I owe you one."

[Gaffer]

"Hey, you owe me more than one," Mike chuckles, "Why not come around and see old friends once in a while, Franky?"

You realize it's almost 9:00 and you have to decide if you'll go home to bed or just crash in the ready room.

[FrankyEsposito]

I mentally make a note to send Mike tickets to the next Dodgers game.

I debate for awhile and decide to head home. Maybe stop in and see if any of the regulars are at Rossi's.

[Gaffer]

I debate for awhile and decide to head home. Maybe stop in and see if any of the regulars are at Rossi's.

Rossi's has recently opened as a legitimate bar where 3.2 beer is sold (but bootleg hooch - gin or rye - is still available on the Q.T.). When you get there it looks like most Friday nights. In one booth, Phil and Big Augie are arguing about Sharkey and Schmeling, while Phil's wife Ann sleeps with her head on the table. Marky sits at one end of the bar and Drew at the other, both nursing boilermakers. Petey Griffin, the dwarf cabby, and the newsy, Mutt Hooper, are jawing in the back booth.

Siobahn is talking to the owner-bartender, Eddie Rossi. But when the door opens, she looks at you, saying. "Now look at what the cat's dragged in," and smiles that lazy grin of hers.

Eddie reaches down to add a shot to the beer he pulled as soon as he saw you.

[FrankyEsposito]

And just like that she breaks my heart all over again. I struggle to keep a stupid grin off of my face as I wink at her and nod at Eddie. Yeah, I'm dizzy with that dame. What's a Joe like me gonna do?

As I pass Phil and Big Augie I whisper "Max Baer" loud enough for both of them to hear. That should keep them going for a few more rounds.

I take my usual seat at the bar and take a long look at Siobhan before draining half my beer. I can't help but grin. This day is looking better all the time.

[Gaffer]

Siobahn grabs your pillow and pulls it over her head to block out the clanging of your alarm clock at six-thirty. The first rays of the sun slant through the tear in the window shade as you roll out of bed, a bit groggy from last night. You wash and shave in the dim light and get into a fresh shirt and the same old suit. As you tiptoe toward the door, Siobahn rolls over in bed, offering a drowsy kiss and showing you just how naked naked can be.

You walk through the crisp Saturday morning to Rossi’s for a cup of java with a shot of rye in it and a couple of day-old sinkers. Fortified, you head for the subway, reading in somebody’s paper that it will be 70° by the afternoon with clear skies and light breezes. At 9:30, you’re trotting up the limestone steps of NYPD headquarters and making your way downstairs to Central Records.

The guy in working the records room is Conrad Pfister, who was Vinny’s partner before you. After chatting for a bit, he gets you the records from the Suydam case: “I’ll getcha a cup of coffee, too. Ya look like ya need it.”

Library Use:
Suydam Case File
Most of it’s written by Detective Thomas F. Malone, shortly after the 1924 raid in Red Hook. Malone was the police detective assigned to work on the case of Robert Suydam, a rich New Yorker whose relatives believed he had gone mad. You knew Malone a bit at Butler Street Station.

Suydam owned a flat in Parker Place in the Red Hook district, in addition to his old mansion on Martense Street in Flatbush, and was spending increasing amounts of time there in the company of known criminals and mysterious foreigners. He claimed to be studying the folklore of the Kurdish immigrants in the neighborhood.

Many of Suydam’s new associates were involved with bootlegging and smuggling; there were rumors of concealed tunnels and wharfs where illegal goods were brought ashore by rowboat from tramp steamers. Police investigations led to a semi-abandoned church in Pioneer Street, also used as a dance hall, which seemed to be a meeting place for the Red Hook gangs.

The case grew in importance when several children went missing, believed kidnapped by devil-worshipers among the immigrants. [You and Vinny were investigating these disappearances when he disappeared.] Police raids on several buildings, including the dance hall and Suydam’s flat, failed to find the missing children, but did turn up considerable evidence of strange occult beliefs.

Meanwhile, Suydam’s behavior changed. The former recluse suddenly became much more social, culminating in his engagement to Miss Cornelia Gerritsen of Bayside. He seemingly severed all of his ties to Red Hook.

In June, Suydam married Ms. Gerritsen and departed on board a Cunard Line ship. That night, both Mr. Suydam and his wife died in mysterious circumstances – they were found in a locked stateroom, wounded as if torn apart by a ferocious beast. Minutes later, a tramp steamer came alongside, and her crew demanded that Suydam’s body be handed over to them. They bore a note from the newly-late Suydam authorizing this transfer.

At almost the same time, a second raid in Red Hook again failed to recover the missing children, but they did find a secret underground canal used by the smugglers. Regrettably, several buildings in Parker Place collapsed, killing several officers and the majority of the strange immigrants suspected of the kidnapping.[You had just recently returned to duty when you were called out to help work crowd control following the collapse; you were transferred to Hudson Street the following week.] Detective Malone, who led the raid, survived only because he was in the basement at the time. Near where he was found, unconscious, was a body later identified as Robert Suydam through dental records.

<more to come in another post - do you want to make a one-point cop Talk spend?>

[FrankyEsposito]

<more to come in another post - do you want to make a one-point cop Talk spend?>

<maybe. Can you give me a hint as to who/what it might pertain to?>

It was bad enough when Midnight Mike mentioned the Suydam case. Reading these files brings it all back into the light. It's like a talking picture playing in my mind, only the talking is mostly screaming and whimpering. Though the whimpering might just be me.

I plow on, making some notes on the case. If Hirt was digging into this he might have wanted to see those locations first-hand. The thought of going back to Red Hook -- even in daylight -- fills me with dread. My palms are sweating like a dope fiend. I need a drink -- a bottle -- in the worst way.

It's hard to not flee back to the warmth of my bed. It's even harder knowing what's waiting for me there.

[Gaffer]

Conrad brings the related files and slips you a pint bottle of brownish liquid: “Looks like you could use this, Franky-boy. I know how tough Red Hook is on ya. If ya wanta talk to Malone, come see me after. I keep in touch with him some.” <That's what your one point will buy.>

These are various other reports from officers who were involved in various aspects of the case, mostly corroborating Malone’s more complete account. Other files include copies of federal agency reports, notably Customs and Immigration, regarding the smuggling activities and Coast Guard regarding the tramp steamer that took Suydam’s body from the Cunard Lines RMS Laconia. The tramp steamer remained unidentified.

There are also copies of the arrest records from both raids, listing almost 50 names and court records from the several trials and two convictions. According to later notes appended to these files, one of the convicted, Sivan Diyarnig served out his sentence and was deported to Turkey in 1932. The other, Hinderin Azaff, died in prison in 1930.

Finally, there is the coroner’s report on Cornelia Gerritsen Suydam. It indicates that she was killed by a massive laceration to her throat, severing both jugulars and the trachea, inflicted by an undetermined implement. It also notes that the ship’s doctor had apparently drained all the blood from the body, but notes that he denied doing so.

[FrankyEsposito]

Conrad brings the related files and slips you a pint bottle of brownish liquid: “Looks like you could use this, Franky-boy. I know how tough Red Hook is on ya. If ya wanta talk to Malone, come see me after. I keep in touch with him some.” <That's what your one point will buy.>

<That's what I was hoping for. I'll buy it.>

I take notes until my hand cramps up completely. Then I take a swig from the bottle and take some more notes.

Suydam. Gerritsen. Azaff. Diyarnig. The names are attached to memories, to buried things best left that way. They fall around me like the leaves in Central Park but the colors are dark and foreboding instead of bright oranges and warm, mellow browns.

By the time I'm done it's late in the afternoon morning [ed.]. I go look up Conrad and ask him to set up a meet with Malone.

[Gaffer]

Cop Talk one-point spend: Conrad tells you that Thomas Malone went on leave of absence and later retired to Chepachet, Rhode Island. “He lives on Davy Harley’s farm up there. I guess Davy was before your time, but he went up to be police chief in Chepachet and bought a farm – a cow farm fer Crissake! Malone’s got no ‘phone, but a telegram'll reach him. Oh! Ah... he don’t come into the city, you’d havta go see him.”

Conrad starts gathering up the files you looked through and putting them away. You realize he’s getting ready to close up (even though it’s only 11:30). Time to head uptown to meet the others at Carnegie Deli.

{There’s a Western Union office across Centre Street from the NYPD entrance, if you want to see if Malone will talk to you. You’ve been to Providence on the train and Chepachet is closer – probably a 5-hour train ride.]

[We'll be moving to a new thread, but you can post any last thoughts here.]

[FrankyEsposito]

I'll stop at the W.U. office and dash of a quick one to Malone.

It'll probably make me late for the rendezvous at the Deli. So be it. Priorities.

[Gaffer]

You get ten words delivered today for a quarter and it's a penny a word after that (ed.). Don't forget your address (14 Albany Ave Brooklyn), if you want a response.

[FrankyEsposito]

Telegram: