CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Ava had no trouble catching a cab and, luckily for her, the cabbie did indeed know where Strand and Dowery was located. And though traffic was getting a little thick as the midday rush began to trickle out into the streets, she made it to the building a full seven minutes early. Inside, she found a place that looked just like every other financial institution she’d ever visited. There were tall, ornate walls and shining, wooden floors. Important-looking men stood behind large desks and counters, hard at work over papers and ledgers.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” an older gentleman asked from behind the desk closest to the front door. He looked very grumpy and it seemed as if he truly didn’t want to be of any help at all. And that was fine with Ava, as she wanted as little attention on her as possible as she waited for Albert Long to arrive.
While she waited, she wondered if Frank was getting anything new out of Carter. And, even if he was, if it would be information that would help them. True, she didn’t know Carter at all (outside of the small conversations they’d had since his arrest), but she did not get the impression that he would be difficult on purpose—especially if he knew that both she and Frank were doing everything they could to make sure he didn’t go to prison.
She sat in a small lounge chair, watching the front door. When Albert Long entered four minutes after she arrived, he stopped in the doorway, taking a moment to look at her. For a second, it appeared as if he was wondering if he’d somehow come to the wrong place. The look of confusion on his face was almost comical. He did a decent job of recovering, though; he marched into the building and approached with a completely fake smile.
“Detective Gold,” he said. “You have business here today?”
“Just to see you, Mr. Long.”
“How did you even know I’d be here?”
Ava offered a wry smile and showed him her badge. “Well, I am a detective. And a pretty good one, if I do say so myself.”
“Well, I don’t have time to speak with you right now, Detective Gold. I have an appointment with a client at the moment.”
“Yes, I understand. But I have some questions I need you to answer on this pressing case—you know, the case involving the murder of Monty Lincoln.” She got up from her chair and stepped close to him. She saw right away that he found the move intrusive but didn’t dare take a step back. She could only imagine the sort of demoralization he’d feel if he took a retreating step back away from her in the presence of all of these other men. “Now, if you want, I can make this very embarrassing for you,” she went on. “I can pull out my badge and get very loud and insist that you speak with me, a New York City detective, right here in front of all of these people. Or, you could just sit down with me for about five minutes and be done with it.”
“That sounds like a threat,” he said, hissing the words through his clenched teeth.
“Good, because it very much is. Now…you decide.”
She didn’t move as he stood in front of her, thinking it over. Shaking his head in frustration, he finally made his way over to the row of small lounge chairs against the front wall.
“We’ll sit,” he said. “But I can’t imagine what other questions you have on the case. You have that Epps fellow in custody.” He shot her a sour look and a rather crass smile. “I read the article in the paper, you know. I’m well aware of how you’re holding things up.”
“And with good reason,” Ava said. “I don’t work towards putting innocent men in jail. And, to that, I honestly just need to hear your account of what happened. As I’m sure you know by now, I’ve been assigned to the case with my partner, Detective Wimbly.”
“I do, and I already gave you my testimony.”
“Well, the case looks a bit different now, Mr. Long. So if you can just run through it once more and maybe answer some follow-up questions, you can get to your appointment.”
Some of the anger and resentment in his face dissolved at this bit of news. She saw relief there as well. “Oh, yes, I see.” Still, he shifted a bit uncomfortably in his chair while she eyed him.
“You okay, Mr. Long?”
“Yes, of course. I just wasn’t expecting to run into you or to have to go through all of this again.”
“So then let’s get to it and free you up as soon as possible.”
Still shifting a bit in his seat, Long finally began. “I was coming from a client’s business two blocks away from Candle’s Wick. I was in a bit of a hurry to get to my next appointment and, though I’m not comfortable in Harlem, I knew I could save myself a few minutes of walking by cutting through a few side streets. And it was there that I saw the black man attacking a white man I now know to have been Monty Lincoln.”
“And it was in the alleyway, right?” Ava asked. “The one behind the club?”
“That’s right.”
“Mr. Long, what appointment were you headed to when you decided to take the shortcut that took you by Candle’s Wick?”
“A gentleman who had just purchased a small apartment building just before the stock market crashed. He was seeking some counsel and I helped him figure out how to make sure he didn’t go broke.”
“And given the interruption you had there in Harlem, did you ever make that appointment?”
He started shifting again and his eyes flitted all around the room Ava had seen this before and it was one of the surefire tells that Clarence had always told her about. Whenever a man is about to lie, they tend to start fidgeting or looking closely to their surroundings—anything to keep from staring directly at the person they are about to lie to.
“I did not. I had to reschedule for the following day.”