Page 69 of Fire and Bones
“The Warrings?” I prodded, hoping to get back on track. Whatever the track was.
“Right.”
Pause to pick more cherries.
“By the mid-1920s, Leo, Emmitt, and Charlie were in their twenties. For reasons not totally clear to me, around that time the trio began to take over Cady’s bootlegging businesses in Georgetown and Foggy Bottom.”
Doyle looked up again. “Interesting aside. Emmitt stood only five feet four and probably had scoliosis. Because he was so small the family called him Pudge. Still, he was unquestionably the brains of the outfit.”
“Never underestimate the little guy.”
“Here’s where the story gets good.” Gazing back on her notes, Doyle raised a “pay attention” finger. “With the help of family members, Cady modified his home by creating underground compartments for his illicit stash of inventory. One article in there”—the thumb again shot toward the satchel—“describes, and I quote, ‘a catacomb where more than five hundred one-gallon containers of alcohol were hidden.’ Other stories report secret passageways, panels, circuitous routes, blah, blah, blah.”
Doyle’s eyes again sought mine, burning with the fire of a hunter closing in on its prey.
“How did you think to look into the Warrings?” I asked.
“Those glass fragments you collected from the soil in the subcellar.”
I’d forgotten all about them.
“It took help from a geek buddy, but we figured out that Alk was probably part of Alky and the other phrase was probably Green Country. We did a Google search using those as key words along with ‘Foggy Bottom,’ ‘hidden passageways,’ and the address of the fire scene.”
“What were those shards?” I asked, reluctantly intrigued.
“Emmitt Warring was a huge player in the bootlegging world. At the height of his operation, he managed a distribution network out of ten warehouses in DC, selling over five thousand gallons of alcohol weekly. In bottles labeled Alky, Green Country, and High Noon.”
“I’m impressed.” I was.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
I thought about everything Doyle had said.
“The Cady home was on K Street, right?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s some distance from the house that burned down.”
“Good point. But stay with me.”
I resumed my listening face.
“Throughout the Warring brothers’ reign, from the twenties into the fifties, Foggy Bottom had several alley communities, basically courts with single entrance and exit points. A big chunk of their bootlegging operation took place in and around one called Snows Court, a close-knit community that dated back to the Civil War.”
“Where was it?”
“Snows Court was bounded by 24th and 25th Streets east and west, and K and I Streets north and south.”
I started to ask a question. Doyle cut me off.
“Is bounded, I should say. The court still exists, though today it’s one of the priciest areas in Foggy Bottom, all swanky town houses, boutiques, and coffee shops.”
I conjured a mental map of the district.
“That whole area is close to the fire scene.”
“It is. And listen to this. Emmitt Warring and Bill Cady invested their illegal earnings in dozens of properties.” The finger jumped a few lines. “Esther Cady owned a home at 39th and Mass Ave. Emmitt Warring owned one at 39th and Macomb.”