Page 124 of Fire and Bones
WTF?
Was someone threatening me? Ordering me to back off from my investigation? My investigation of what? The Foggy Bottom property? The four fire victims? The subcellar lady in the burlap bag?
This time I vowed to let Deery know.
Somewhat unnerved, my brain would have nothing to do with sleep.
Twenty minutes of sheet-twisting and pillow-punching, then I sat up and turned on the light.
As always, the house was absolutely still.
My book lay on the bedside table. Opening to the page I’d dog-eared—yeah, shoot me—I tried to focus on the story.
My brain would have nothing to do with fiction, either.
My eyes roved the room.
Ivy’s triaged photocopies still lined one wall.
Why not? Reading about gangsters beat agitated staring into the dark.
Throwing off the covers, I crossed and sat down on the zebra carpet. As with the novel, I began where I’d left off.
Further perusal of the articles gave me a better sense of how the Warrings shifted from illegal booze to illegal numbers, which they called the commission brokerage business. And of the scale of their success. According to many reports, the brothers were earning millions annually and, as early as 1936, were employing more than fifty people.
Gun battles were a favorite topic of several publications. One colorful series described how six members of the Warring operation, including Rags, were convicted of assault with intent to kill in the shooting of a rival bootlegger.
Most coverage made it clear that, as it was for Al Capone, the IRS was the Warrings’ biggest problem. In 1938, the brothers were indicted for conspiring to hide a big chunk of change on their tax returns. Based on the sample of coverage that Ivy had printed, it seemed their trial filled the front pages of every DC paper for almost a year. The proceedings ended in a hung jury.
In 1939, five days into a second trial, Emmitt was accused of bribing both a juror and a US marshal and ended up serving twenty-six months for criminal contempt. Finally, well into a third trial, all three brothers pled guilty.
Did the Warrings’ legal woes negatively impact business? Not a chance. By the late forties the boys were raking in at least seven mil annually.
Though of moderate historic interest, accounts of the Warrings’ battles with the IRS hardly set my heart racing. One more story, I told myself. Then I’d have another go at sleep.
Hoping for variety, I shifted to a different stack.
The item I pulled had appeared in the society section of a paper whose name was deleted in the photocopy process. A wedding announcement comprising seven column inches and a small photo, it was headlined LIPSEY-STOLL.
Coincidence?
Maybe one. But both names?
I read the piece with growing excitement.
The marriage had taken place on August 15, 1982, in Silver Spring, Maryland. Listed were the bride and groom, along with the parents and grandparents on both sides.
Pulse high-stepping, I dialed Lizzie Griesser.
Despite the late hour she was happy to provide a quick tutorial.
I reached for my laptop.
CHAPTER 28
The Durango rolled up precisely at seven.
“Good morning, detective.” The day promised to be sunny. I vowed that I would be, too.