Murder on Amsterdam Avenue by Victoria Thompson Page A

choice, did they?”
    â€œI guess they didn’t, and maybe they put on a good show for outsiders, but did they really accept her as one of their own after they got over the shock of having a Johnny Reb for a daughter-in-law?”
    â€œJohnny Reb?”
Sarah teased. “Where did you hear that expression?”
    â€œWe learned about the War between the States in school,”he defended himself. “The question is, do they still think of her like that?”
    â€œI’m sure her husband doesn’t.”
    â€œWhat about her in-laws? Isn’t the old mother still alive at least?”
    â€œI think so. We’ll find out tomorrow at the funeral. I guess she could have made life difficult for Jenny, couldn’t she? But she would have had to at least tolerate her.”
    â€œBeing tolerated is almost worse than being hated outright,” Gino said. “At least when someone hates you, you know where you stand.”
    â€œYou sound like you know this from personal experience.”
    Gino smiled mirthlessly. “When Colonel Roosevelt insisted on hiring men for the police force who weren’t Irish, he thought he was doing a good thing. Nobody else did, though. The old-timers on the force never wanted us, but they had to accept us and work with us, at least as long as the colonel was there. That didn’t stop them from assigning us the worst duties or treating us like we didn’t belong, though, and sometimes they pretended not to hear when one of us sent out a call for help. They complain that you don’t do a good job, and they get jealous if you do the job better than they do.”
    â€œI think I understand why you’re not happy about returning to the police.”
    Gino shrugged. “It’s the same most places for the Italians.”
    â€œJust as it’s that way for the Irish in other occupations.”
    â€œThat’s kind of funny, isn’t it?”
    â€œI’m not sure it’s funny at all, but I know what you mean. You’d think the Irish would be kind to others since they’ve suffered so much discrimination themselves.”
    â€œNot many people are kind at all,” Gino said. “Which is why we need men like Mr. Malloy to set things right again.”
    â€œWhy, Gino, I think that’s the nicest compliment anyone could receive.”
    â€œIt’s not a compliment. It’s why I want to work with him.”
    â€œI can see that.” And Sarah was starting to see more than that, too. She understood that Gino saw this case as the beginning of something for him. Had Malloy said something to make Gino think he’d be continuing this habit he had recently developed of stepping in when people didn’t trust the police to handle something? And would that be such a bad thing if he decided to fill his days helping other people find justice?
    No, it would not be a bad thing at all. She wouldn’t let on that she’d figured this out however. Malloy might not have figured it out himself yet, but when he did, he would have to tell her himself. She could hardly wait.
    â€œYou still haven’t answered my question, Mrs. Brandt. Can you think of anybody who would’ve wanted to kill Charles Oakes?”
    â€œNot yet, Gino, but I have every confidence that we will figure it out.”
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    M r. Oakes received Frank in his library again. He had poured a whiskey for Frank, and he handed it to him the moment he sat down. Oakes had already started on his, Frank noticed.
    â€œThank you for giving the coroner permission to examine your son’s body,” Frank said.
    â€œI didn’t tell his wife or his mother. I saw no need to distress them, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it either.”
    Frank couldn’t make a promise like that. If they eventually had to prove Charles had been murdered, the truth would come out. “I can understand