Big Bangs, Prohibition, and a Sugar Daddy

At The Hospital

At the hospital we arrived before the other victims. Phillip was taken straight into surgery. As other victims began to come in, I asked for a bowl of water, tweezers, and bandages. As the other nurses and doctors were busy with the other victims of the bombing I went to work on Carol's face.

Pulling out the splinters glass. There were only three minute pieces. Cuts on Carol's face were not deep. Carol had been lucky that none of the splinters had gone into her eyes. I used the water to clean away the blood from the cuts, then applied alcohol.

"I've never had a more difficult patient." I commented as Carol yelled when I applied the alcohol.

"It burns." Carol kept flinching away as I dabbed her cuts.

"Would you rather they get infected. All of that dust has gotten into your wounds, we need to clean them." I might have taken some pleasure watching Carol flinch.

I applied the bandages. Poor Carol looked much worse than she was. Half of her face covered with gauze, a bandage wrapped around her forehead. It is possible I was a little more liberal with the bandages then I needed to be. Carol was a difficult patient. I may have also paid her back a little for her own little torments she inflicted on me.

Before I could work on Carol, I had to drink some water. I was given some cough syrup to help my cough. Now that I was done I obtained some more water. My cough was almost gone. My throat somewhat soothed by the syrup that the nurses in the hospital had given to me.

Luke had been curiously absent. I hadn't noticed before. I had been busy with Carol. Now, I noticed. Carol had stopped crying. I looked around the hospital lobby. I spotted Luke at the front desk. Where I saw him talking to a doctor in a white coat. I saw him reach into his pocket and pull out a wad of bills. A large one. Luke handed a few to the doctor.

It was busy in the hospital. People were in and out. Police, detectives, doctors, nurses, patients, bombing victims who were considered 'walking injured'. There were reporters. Some of the reporters had approached Carol and me while I was working. Carol wasn't in the mood to talk for once, I never was in the mood to talk to a stranger. We ignored them. Unable to engage us the reporters went away after a while.

"What are your names?" Asked a man in a wool suit, somewhat worn, disheveled. His sleeves had dust on them. He was built like a bull. Broad shoulders and thick neck. Muscular arms. His voice sounded like he was chewing rocks. He wore a police badge on his suit jacket.

"Ellen and Carol Cross." I said.

"You were in the vicinity of the blast?" This man was abrupt.

"We were going down Broad Street, heading to the J. P. Morgan Building to drop off a friend, we were down the street when the blast hit." By being honest, concise, I hoped to be rid of the man.

"Who was this friend?"

"I am." Luke was standing next to the man.

"Luke Mason." I was surprised that this hardened police man knew Luke. "Why were you heading to the J. P. Morgan Building?"

"It's my bank. I was to meet someone to do some financial business." Luke said.

"Who was that?"

"Does it matter?" Luke shrugged his shoulders. "Shane Donelle."

"Why would you be doing business with a mobster like Shane Donelle at a place like the J. P. Morgan Bank?" I noticed that the man took out a notebook from his pocket. He started writing.

"Shane Donelle works at my new restaurant. Worthington House." Luke used that smooth voice, flashed his warmest smile. "My manager is not a mobster, I assure you."

"Shane Donelle was in the J. P. Morgan Building when the bomb exploded outside the building. He is dead."

Luke's face fell. He lost his smile. When he did speak, there was something dangerous about the sound of his voice. "Are you sure about this?"

"If Shane Donelle wasn't such a nobody, I'd suspect the bomb was meant for him." The man looked hard at Luke. "Now I'm wondering if you weren't the target."

Luke? Why would he be the target of a bomber? It had been hard to try to ignore the conversation that was taking place in front of me. Now, I paid close attention.

"I don't know why I would be. I'm a simple restaurant owner." Luke looked up again. "If a bomber was going to target someone, I'd think it would be J. P. Morgan. From the size of the explosion I have to wonder if the bomb wasn't meant to take out all of the financial district."

"It was most likely anarchists." I had heard of the anarchists sending bombs in the mail, last year. "You should be looking at those foreigners who hate our country. Sending bombs in the mail."

"Oh, you are a detective?" There was a flash of humor that snaked into this man's face. "Do you work for the Bureau of Investigation. Or the New York Police Department. I didn't know we started hiring female detectives."

"As Luke said, the bomb wasn't meant to target a single person. It was meant to shut down the financial district. I was there. I saw it explode. Why blow up a entire building just to kill one man." I didn't know at the time that most of the damage had been superficial. Although the bomb had blown out most of the lower floors of the Morgan Building.

"I know my onions, Miss Cross." With that the man walked away.

"Not about this." I shouted after him. Why would someone explode a bomb just to kill Luke. He was simply a business man.

"If Luke Mason is a simple restaurant owner, why is he wearing such an expensive suit?" The man said without looking back.

I hadn't thought about it before. Luke had been wearing a silk suit. I thought it was because he had a meeting at J. P. Morgan's. I also began to realize that having a account at J. P. Morgan's bank might indicate that Luke had some financial wealth beyond that of a common restaurant owner.

Luke disappeared again. Carol and I sat on a bench waiting. A nurse had taken the bowl of bloody water, tweezers, and extra bandages. I wanted to help, but my lungs were still congested. So, I waited with Carol, giving what comfort I could. I'm not very good at that sort of thing.

"I just talked to the doctor." Luke had walked up from the front desk. "Phillip was seriously injured, but he will recover. He is still asleep after the operation, but Carol can come by and see him tomorrow."

There was nothing else we could do. We all needed to clean up, change clothes, and get some rest. We piled into the old Model T. Now worse, with dust from the explosion, the windshield broken.

Despite one expensive suit, which was now ruined. I knew that Luke wasn't very rich. After all, he was riding in his friend's Model T. Which Phillip had often said he had since college. If Luke was rich he could afford to ride in a more expensive car.

Carol rode in the back. Holding her bandaged face. I knew she was miserable. There wasn't much I could do about it. I rode in the front next to Luke, who was the only one who could drive the Model T. At some point I must have fallen asleep. I woke up leaning against Luke. He had stopped in front of my Mother's apartment building. Embarrassed I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes.