Trueman Bradley - Aspie Detective (29 page)

“We sure are, Dick,” said Buckley.

Stokowski stared at us. He had an excited look in his eyes. He seemed ready to cry again and spoke in a whiny voice.

“Look, guys!” said Stokowski, “I’m not asking for sympathy. I’m not asking for you to believe anything I’ve said, okay? Just give me a little compassion! I made one mistake, and for that, I’m looking at life in prison! When the cops see that evidence, they’ll put me away for life! You can’t condemn me to life in prison, just because I got drunk one night and did one dumb thing! I’m begging with you, just let me go. Take these handcuffs off me and let me run. I’ll leave the country! You’ll never see me again! Just, please, have some compassion for me. Let me walk away from here and try to start my life over again, in some other country. What do you say, fellas?”

Stokowski looked like a pathetic, whining child and I was moved to sympathy again. Previously, he had been so commanding and powerful, and now he was a pitiful man, begging for mercy. I wanted to let him run away, but I remembered how Buckley had warned me about Stokowski’s tricks. I looked at Buckley, trying to guess his reactions. I couldn’t interpret his emotions.

“How about it, Trueman?” he asked. “Should we let him go?”

I thought about it for a minute.

“No,” I said.

“But why not?” asked Stokowski.

“Because I am like Dick Tracy,” I said. “And Dick Tracy exists to get the gangsters and stop the criminals. As Chester Gould, the creator of the Dick Tracy comics, said, ‘I decided that if the police couldn’t catch the gangsters, I’d create a fellow who could.’ So that is why I’m here, to get the gangsters. And you, Chief, are one of the police who couldn’t catch the gangsters. You did even worse. You helped them commit their crimes, so that makes you a gangster too. So, it’s my duty to catch you, too. It’s what Dick Tracy would do and so it’s what I’ll do. I sympathize with you. But you chose to help the gangsters. It was your decision and so it was your fault. I know you don’t like comic books, but maybe if you read Dick Tracy, like I did, then you would have learned that it’s not good to help gangsters and you wouldn’t have this trouble.”

Stokowski lowered his head onto his chest and sighed.

“There you go, Chief,” said Buckley. “Looks like you might’ve been wrong. Seems like maybe a police detective could learn a few things from reading comic books, after all.”

My SR started beeping and gave me another message.

“Unpleasant surprise is imminent,” I read. “To avoid unpleasant surprise: Put earphones in your ears and play relaxing music.”

I hastened to put my earphones into my ears and played Mozart’s Symphony #41 in C major. I also put on my special sunglasses, just to be sure I’d avoid the unpleasant surprise.

Only moments after I put on my sunglasses I could see police lights on the street below. I could vaguely hear the sound of sirens. Buckley walked towards the windows and looked down at the street. Following him, I looked down and saw a dozen police cars, ambulances and fire engines. There were also at least a dozen news vans on the street below. Reporters and journalists were everywhere. If I hadn’t been wearing my earphones, it would probably be very loud. I thanked my SR for saving me from some ear pain and gave it an appreciative kiss.

The sirens stopped and the lights stopped flashing, so I took off my sunglasses and stopped the music.

“Aha, I can see Gwen Tone down there,” said Buckley. “Looks like our friend, Gwen, brought the police with her, as well as a couple dozen of her media friends.”

Buckley walked to Stokowski and pulled him up by his arm. He stared at me as if expecting me to do something.

“Well, Trueman?” asked Buckley. “Go ahead and take his other arm. We’ll take Stokowski downstairs and introduce him to the media. Just grab that evidence out of the wall, will ya?”

I took the papers and put them in my trench coat. I then took Stokowski’s other arm and we took him into the elevator.

As the elevator went down to the ground floor, Buckley put on a pair of sunglasses. He looked at me and smiled.

“You might want to put your sunglasses back on,” said Buckley. “If you thought you were famous before, just wait and see how famous you’re gonna be after this story gets out!”

I put my sunglasses back on.

As the elevator door opened onto the street, I saw what seemed like a hundred faces staring at us. Reporters swarmed like bees and the cameras flashed like a lightning storm.

I closed my eyes and increased the volume of my portable music player, so I wouldn’t be disturbed by the noise and lights of the media. I could feel someone pulling my arm. I struggled against the pulling hand, but I couldn’t free myself from it. I recognized the scent of Nora’s lilac shampoo. I opened my eyes and saw that I was surrounded by three people.

“The triangle of friendship!” I said.

“Yes, Trueman,” said Nora, “we’ve come to take you home.”

Nora, Mrs. Levi and Sal were surrounding me, protecting me from the media and leading me towards the Lincoln car.

“What have you been doing?” asked Nora. “There must be a hundred reporters here! We’ve been waiting outside, in case you needed help. Journalists have been gathering here for an hour!”

“We arrested Stokowski,” I said.

“What?” asked Sal. “You arrested the chief of police?!”

I was about to answer him, but instead I was led into the Lincoln car and Mrs. Levi and Nora used their coats to block the windows and keep the flash of the media’s cameras from disturbing me. We drove through the crowds and onto a highway.

“Okay, Trueman,” said Nora. “What happened in there?”

“I think you’ll know soon, Mrs. Nora,” said Sal. “I think a lot of people will know! This will be all over the news!”

The Trueman Bradley Detective Agency was closed for the evening and it was very quiet. We had returned home, soon before sunset, and had spent all evening and most of the next day watching the news on TV. My friends heard the entire story of what happened to me at the casino. Now, it was evening and we were enjoying some relaxation after the excitement of the last few days.

Only a few dim light bulbs lit my office, making everything seem peaceful and calm. Sal had arranged for walls to be constructed around my desk, so I could have privacy when I was working and would never be unpleasantly surprised again. This was my new, private office. Nora and I were taking my boxes of possessions from my old room and moving them into my new office. I’d been so busy since my arrival in New York City that I hadn’t even unpacked most of my boxes. I was unpacking, placing my possessions on the desk and remembering the past.

Outside was dark and only the blinking lights of New York City and a full moon were visible. I could smell a blend of car fumes, garbage and mildewed drainage pipes; this was the smell of New York City. I had gradually begun to love this smell, because this city had been the site of my successes and the place where I’d found so many friends. I loved everything about this city, even that astringent smell.

I walked to the window and breathed deeply, savoring the scent of the city. I looked out at the large, pale moon and admired the sights and sounds of this big, fascinating city.

Nora came into the room, carrying my large mirror. She seemed to be struggling to carry it, so I ran to help her.

“Let me help you, Nora,” I said.

“Thanks, Trueman,” said Nora. “This is one really big mirror! And I like its ornate frame. Is it an antique?”

“I think so,” I said. “It belonged to my granddad.”

We carried the mirror to a place on the wall where Sal had hammered a nail. We hung the mirror on the nail and stepped back to look at it. I could see Nora’s reflection in the glass.

“Beautiful,” said Nora.

“Yes, you are,” I said.

Nora’s face turned red.

“No!” said Nora. “I meant, the mirror’s beautiful.”

“Oh,” I said. “Sorry, I was thinking of something else.”

Nora looked at me and smiled.

“Yes, I can see that,” said Nora. “But let’s concentrate on the mirror’s beauty for now, okay?”

“Okay,” I said.

I looked at the mirror and admired its beauty. I could see my reflection. I was lit by the moonlight that came through my office window. With my yellow trench coat and hat, my suit, my wrist TV, I really looked like a detective. But there was another reason I looked like a real detective.

I thought back to the day I had first arrived at Reade Street. I remembered how I had doubted myself. I had looked into this same mirror and I had asked myself if I could do it; I had asked myself if I could really succeed as a detective. I remembered how I could see the doubt in my eyes; I remembered how I looked like a frightened child, unsure of his own worth.

Looking into the mirror now, I saw something else in my eyes. I saw confidence; I saw bravery; I saw a man who had the support of his friends; I saw a man who could be a great detective, despite all of the challenges he faced. I looked like a different man. The Trueman I saw in the mirror answered the question I had asked him, a long time ago. He answered it with the confidence I saw on his face and the pride in his eyes.

“Yes, I can do it,” I said. “I did do it.”

“What did you say?” asked Nora.

“Oh…” I said, “I was just thinking about the past. When I first arrived here, in New York City, I wasn’t sure if I could be a detective. I thought my Asperger’s and my inexperience would mean that I could only fail as a detective. I looked into this mirror and asked my reflection if I could do it. Now that I see myself in the mirror, I see the answer.”

“How can you see the answer?” asked Nora, stepping closer and looking at my reflection.

“Because the Trueman I see in the mirror has changed,” I said. “Now he has confidence. My granddad always said, confidence makes anything possible. So I know I can do it now.”

Nora put her arm around my shoulders and embraced me.

“Now, he also has friends,” said Nora. “Friends who will defend and help him. With good friends, anything is possible.”

“I’m glad I have a friend like you,” I said.

Nora’s eyes became moist and I could recognize that my words had touched her. She moved closer and embraced me again.

“I’m glad too, Trueman,” said Nora.

I could smell the lilac shampoo she used and her hair was soft on my face. Her embrace was warm and filled me with joy.

“Does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?” I asked.

Nora’s arms became rigid and she moved away from me quickly. She laughed in a way I couldn’t interpret. She seemed embarrassed, by her red cheeks, but she was also smiling widely.

“Trueman!” said Nora. “Really. You say the most unexpected things sometimes!”

“Oh, sorry,” I said. “I know you said you weren’t in love. But I just wanted to check if maybe you had changed your mind.”

“It’s okay,” said Nora. “I’m just glad that reporter, Gwen Tone, wasn’t here to hear you say that. Or it just might’ve been on the front page of tomorrow’s newspapers.”

“Yes,” I said. “Maybe it would.”

Nora stood nearby, doing nothing. She stared at the moon through the window and I couldn’t guess what she was feeling. My confusion about the situation made me feel awkward, so I started opening boxes again. But before I could begin Nora interrupted me and started pulling me from the room.

“Let’s do that later, Trueman,” said Nora. “Okay? Sal and Mrs. Levi invited us to play poker with them. Let’s go play.”

Nora pulled me out of the room and I looked back at the boxes, not sure if I wanted to leave or finish my task.

“What?” I asked. “Poker? Well, okay. I guess we can unpack later. But wait, Nora! Wait!”

Nora let me go and I ran to my desk. I picked up my checklist of today’s activities.

“Just let me write that down,” I said. “Because I hadn’t planned to play poker tonight. I’ll just add it to the plan.”

I wrote “play poker” in my notebook and put it into my trench coat pocket.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Nora took my hand and we walked into the big front office, where Sal and Mrs. Levi were sitting.

Sal sat smoking his pipe near an open window and reading the evening newspaper by moonlight. Mrs. Levi sat at the table, arranging tea cups and cutting a freshly baked raspberry lemon cake. The sights and sounds of my good friends made me feel warm and cozy. I could smell the raspberry lemon cake, which always reminded me of Mrs. Levi. Even the smell of Sal’s pipe had become a pleasant aroma, because I associated it with him. Entering this familiar room, for another night-time poker game with my good friends, along with all these familiar sensations, made me feel safe and content. I felt a sudden desire to embrace my friends and tell them how much I loved them all.

“Hello, friends!” I said, with affection in my voice.

Mrs. Levi and Sal looked up at me and smiled.

“Hello, dear!” said Mrs. Levi. “I just finished baking a raspberry lemon cake for you. I know it’s your favourite! Please, have a seat, dears. Would you like a cup of tea?”

Nora and I sat down and took our tea cups.

“I’d love a cup of tea, Mrs. Levi,” I said.

Sal extinguished his pipe and moved to sit beside me. He embraced me and patted my shoulder with his hand.

“Trueman!” said Sal. “My famous friend! How are you?”

“I feel great, Sal,” I said.

“Did you see tonight’s newspaper?” asked Sal. “A lot of big news! All of it about you! Have a look at this!”

Sal passed me the newspaper and everyone gathered around me, reading over my shoulder. The front page had a picture of me, Buckley and Stokowski. Stokowski was in handcuffs.

“Chief Stokowski arrested,” I read. “The celebrated private detective, Trueman Bradley, along with ex-NYPD detective Samuel Buckley, recently teamed up to bust NYPD Chief of Police, Paul Stokowski, on charges of conspiring with gangsters to conceal criminal activities. Evidence was presented to the police, implicating Stokowski in conspiring to conceal the activities of an illegal alcohol production enterprise. The evidence also implicated Stokowski in attempting to conceal the criminal acts of more than fifty local gangsters. If the evidence is proven valid by a court of law, Stokowski is likely to serve life in prison for his crimes.”

Everyone was silent.

“Wow!” I said. “So Stokowski is going to jail.”

“Yeah,” said Nora. “If they can prove the evidence you found is valid.”

“Oh, I think they will,” said Sal.

“Really?” asked Nora. “Why do you think that?”

“You remember that hearing officer, Tritch?” asked Sal. “The one that really hated Chief Stokowski?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Well, then keep reading!” said Sal.

“Sidney Saul Tritch,” I read, “an officer of the State Department, has launched an independent government investigation into Stokowski’s activities. After thoroughly examining the evidence against Stokowski, Tritch was reported to say: ‘There is no doubt, based on this evidence, that Chief Stokowski will spend his retirement years in a New York State prison.’”

“So, he thinks the evidence is valid?” asked Nora.

“I would say so,” said Sal. “Definitely.”

Sal took a deck of playing cards out of his pocket and we started playing poker. He dealt me my cards and I sat staring at them. I tried to think of my poker strategy, but I was distracted by thoughts of Chief Stokowski.

I had always seen life’s villains as inherently evil, like the ugly caricatures in comic books. I had always seen people as good or evil. Life was full of good guys and bad guys, and people were from one group or the other. But for a few short minutes, I had pitied Chief Stokowski. This thought nagged at me, because it brought to my mind a realization I had never previously considered: that evil may not always be entirely evil and that even villains were human beings who could be pitied.

“Poor Stokowski,” I said.

“What?” asked Nora.

“Well, I know he’s a criminal,” I said. “But, he did have a problem with alcohol. That is what caused him to become a criminal. If someone had helped him to defeat his addictions, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten drunk and made that mistake of associating with Benvolio. Then his life would be better now.”

“Yes, dear,” said Mrs. Levi. “Alcoholism is a sad thing. It can really ruin lives. Stokowski’s an example of that.”

“Sure, it’s sad,” said Sal. “Of course. But don’t forgot, he was a police chief! That’s an important responsibility! If he can’t quit alcohol maybe he should’ve resigned, if it affected his job. Police are there to protect the citizens, and if he couldn’t do that, he was putting people at risk! Who’s going to protect us from the gangsters?”

“We will,” I said. “Dick Tracy will.”

“Ha!” said Sal. “Sure! But what I’m saying is, don’t waste your pity on Stokowski! We should be happy he’s gone! Because now we have a police chief that can protect the people.”

“Oh, really?” asked Nora. “Who?”

Sal’s eyes opened wide and I could interpret his shock.

“Are you kidding?” asked Sal. “Didn’t you hear?”

“Hear what?” asked Nora.

“Look at this story!” Sal gave the newspaper to Nora.

Nora looked at the story that Sal indicated and her eyes widened.

“Buckley’s the new chief of police!” she shouted. “Trueman! Buckley’s the chief! Did you know that?”

“Yes,” I said. “He told me.”

“He did?” asked Nora. “You saw him?”

“Yes,” I said. “I had lunch with him today at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I showed him some of my favourite paintings by George Bellows.”

“Oh my God!” said Nora. “I can’t believe it! It says here, ‘the citizens of New York City were so impressed by Buckley’s integrity and his ability to expose the corruption of Stokowski that they successfully lobbied the police commissioner to promote him to chief of police.’ That’s amazing! Buckley will be taking Stokowski’s old job!”

“And he’ll do a better job too!” said Sal. “Now New York City will have a real police chief! Not a criminal and a liar.”

“Yes,” I said.

Nora’s excited face soon became calmer and she frowned. I could see signs to indicate that she was suddenly worried.

“What’s wrong, Nora?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing,” said Nora. “I was just thinking… this means Buckley’s not working for us anymore, right? We probably won’t see him here much anymore. He’s back with the NYPD.”

“Yes,” I said.

“Well,” said Nora, “are you okay with that, Trueman? I know you two have become pretty close friends. I know I’ll miss him, so I can just imagine how sad you’d be about it.”

“I’m not sad,” I said. “In the Dick Tracy comics, Sam Catchem also exposed criminal acts of the chief of police. And Sam Catchem also became chief of police! So, do you understand? It’s perfect! Buckley is exactly like Sam Catchem. This is how it should be. This helps me to feel even more like Dick Tracy.”

“Oh,” said Nora.

We played poker for a minute, in silence.

“A pair of twos?” asked Sal. “Trueman has a pair of twos? That’s the worst hand in poker! You’re not fooling anyone, Mr. Bradley! You’re letting us win, aren’t you?”

“Oh, sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t thinking of what I was doing. Last time I played with Buckley I was letting him win.”

“Well, don’t do that with us!” said Sal. “I’m determined to beat you some day. Even just to win one game of poker against Trueman, the mathematical genius! If I could do that, then I could brag about it for the rest of my life!”

Nora and Mrs. Levi laughed.

“Ah, okay,” I said. “I’ll try to win again.”

“Trueman?” asked Mrs. Levi.

“Yes?” I asked.

“You explained this whole mystery to me,” said Mrs. Levi. “But there’s one thing I still don’t understand. If Eddie and Malcolm killed each other, then why did your crime-fighting equation identify that black-haired guy at the Marine Air Terminal as the murderer? Was your equation wrong?”