" 'However, early on the morning of Thursday, the sixteenth, he was noticed by a police constable as he was making his way toward the Hudson river docks.
" 'The constable sounded the alarm and Mr. Singleton took flight. The police officer gave chase.
" 'The pursuit was soon joined by dozens of other law enforcers and Irish rag pickers and workers, doing their civic duty to apprehend the felon (and encouraged by the promise of five dollars in gold to stop the villain). The attempted route of escape was through the warren of disreputable shanties close by the River.
" 'At the Twenty-third Street paint works, Mr. Singleton stumbled. A mounted officer approached and it appeared he would be ensnared. Yet he regained his footing and, rather than own up to his mischief, as a courageous man would do, continued his cowardly flight.
" 'For a time he evaded his pursuers. But his escape was merely temporary. A Negro tradesman on a porch saw the freedman and implored him to stop, in the name of justice, asserting that he had heard of Mr. Singleton's crime and recriminating him for bringing dishonor upon all colored people throughout the nation. The citizen, one Walker Loakes, thereupon flung a brick at Mr. Singleton with the intent of knocking him down. However, Mr. Singleton avoided the missile and, proclaiming his innocence, continued to flee.
" 'The freedman was strong of body from working an apple orchard, and ran as fast as greased lightning. But Mr. Loakes informed the constabulary of the freedman's presence and, at the piers near Twenty-eighth Street, near the tow boat office, his path was confounded by another contingent of diligent police. There he paused, exhausted, clinging to the Swiftsure Express Company sign. He was urged to surrender by the man who had led his pursuit for the past two days, Detective Captain William P. Simms, who leveled his pistol at the thief.
" 'Yet, either seeking a desperate means of escape, or convinced that his evil deeds had caught up with him and wishing to end his life, Mr. Singleton, by most accounts, hesitated for but a moment then leapt into the River, calling out words that none could hear.' "
Rhyme interrupted, "That's as far as Geneva got before she was attacked. Forget the Civil War, Sachs. This is the cliff-hanger. Keep going."
" 'He disappeared from view under the waves and witnesses were sure he had perished. Three constables commandeered a skiff from a nearby dock and rowed along the piers to ascertain the Negro's fate.
" 'They at last found him, half conscious from the fall, clutching a piece of driftwood to his breast and, with a pathos that many suggested was calculated, calling for his wife and son.' "
"At least he survived," Sachs said. "Geneva'll be glad about that."
" 'He was tended to by a surgeon, taken away and bound over for trial, which was held on Tuesday last. In court it was proven that he stole the unimaginable sum of greenbacks and gold coin worth thirty thousand dollars.' "
"That's what I was thinking," Rhyme said. "That the motive here's missing loot. Value today?"
Cooper minimized the window containing the article about Charles Singleton and did a web search, jotting numbers on a pad. He looked up from his calculations. "It'd be worth close to eight hundred thousand."
Rhyme grunted. " 'Unimaginable.' All right. Keep going."
Cooper continued, " 'A porter across the street from the Freedmen's Trust saw Mr. Singleton gain entry into the office by the back door and leave twenty minutes later, carrying two large satchels. When the manager of the Trust arrived soon after, summoned by the police, it was discovered that the Trust's Exeter Strongbow safe had been broken open with a hammer and crowbar, identical to those owned by the defendant, which were later located in proximity to the building.
" 'Further, evidence was presented that Mr. Singleton had ingratiated himself, at a number of meetings in the Gallows Heights neighborhood of the city, with such luminaries as the Hons. Charles Sumner, Thaddeus Stevens and Frederick Douglass, and his son Lewis Douglass, on the pretense of assisting those noble men in the furtherance of the rights of our people before Congress.' "
"Ah, the meetings Charles referred to in his letter. They were about civil rights. And those must be the colleagues he mentioned. Pretty heavy hitters, sounds like. What else?"
" 'His motive in assisting these famed personages, according to the able prosecutor, was not, however, to assist the cause of Negroes but to gain knowledge of the Trust and other repositories he might plunder.' "
"Was that the secret?" Sachs wondered.
" 'At his trial Mr. Singleton remained silent regarding these charges, except to make a general disclaimer and to say that he loved his wife and son.
" 'Captain Simms was able to recover most of the ill-gotten gains. It is speculated that the Negro secreted the remaining several thousand in a hiding place and refused to divulge its whereabouts. None of it was ever found, excepting a hundred dollars in gold coin discovered on Mr. Singleton's person when he was apprehended.' "
"There goes the buried treasure theory," Rhyme muttered. "Too bad. I liked it."
" 'The accused was convicted expeditiously. Upon sentencing, the judge exhorted the freedman to return the rest of the purloined funds, whose location he nonetheless refused to disclose, clinging still to his claim of innocence, and asserting the coin found on his person had been placed in his belongings after his apprehesion. Accordingly, the judge in his wisdom ordered that the felon's possessions be confiscated and sold to make such restitution as could be had, and the criminal himself was sentenced to five years' imprisonment.' "
Cooper looked up. "That's it."
"Why would somebody resort to murder just to keep the story under wraps?" Sachs asked.
"Yep, the big question . . . " Rhyme gazed at the ceiling. "So what do we know about Charles? He was a teacher and a Civil War veteran. He owned and worked a farm upstate. He was arrested and convicted for theft. He had a secret that would have tragic consequences if it was known. He went to hush-hush meetings in Gallows Heights. He was involved in the civil rights movement and hobnobbed with some of the big politicians and civil rights workers of the day."
Rhyme wheeled close to the computer screen, looking over the article. He could see no connection between the events then and the Unsub 109 case.
Sellitto's phone rang. He listened for a moment. His eyebrow lifted. "Okay, thanks." He disconnected and looked at Rhyme. "Bingo."
"What's 'bingo'?" Rhyme asked.
Sellitto said, "A canvass team in Little Italy--a half block from where they had the Columbus Day fair--just found a discount store on Mulberry Street. The clerk remembered a middle-aged white guy who bought everything in the unsub's rape pack a few days ago. She remembered him because of the hat."
"He wore a hat?"
"No, he bought a hat. A stocking cap. Only why she remembered him was because when he tried it on he pulled it down over his face. She saw him in a security mirror. She thought he was going to rob her. But then he took it off and put it in the basket with everything else and just paid and left."
The missing $5.95 item on the receipt probably. Trying it on to make sure it would work as a mask. "It's probably also what he rubbed his own prints off with. Does she know his name?"
"No. But she can describe him pretty good."
Sachs said, "We'll do a composite and hit the streets." Grabbing her purse, she was at the door before she realized the big detective wasn't with her. She stopped. Looked back. "Lon, you coming?"
Sellitto didn't seem to hear. She repeated the question and the detective blinked. He lowered his hand from his reddened cheek. And grinned. "Sorry. You bet. Let's go nail this bastard."
AFRICAN-AMERICAN MUSEUM SCENE
* * *
* Rape pack:
* Tarot card, twelfth card in deck, The Hanged Man, meaning spiritual searching.
* Smiley-face bag.
* Too generic to trace.
* Box cutter.
* Trojan condoms.
* Duct tape.
* Jasmine scent.
* Unknown
item bought for $5.95. Probably a stocking cap.
* Receipt, indicating store was in New York City, discount variety store or drugstore.
* Most likely purchased in a store on Mulberry Street, Little Italy. Unsub identified by clerk.
* Fingerprints:
* Unsub wore latex or vinyl gloves.
* Prints on items in rape pack belonged to person with small hands, no IAFIS hits. Possibly clerk's.
* Trace:
* Cotton rope fibers, some with traces of human blood. Garrotte?
* No manufacturer.
* Sent to CODIS.
* No DNA match in CODIS.
* Popcorn and cotton candy with traces of canine urine.
* Connection with carnival or street fair? Checking with Traffic about recent permits. Officers presently canvassing street fairs, per info from Traffic.
* Confirm festival was in Little Italy.
* Weapons:
* Billy club or martial arts weapon.
* Pistol is a North American Arms .22 rimfire magnum, Black Widow or Mini-Master.
* Makes own bullets, bored-out slugs filled with needles. No match in IBIS or DRUGFIRE.
* Motive:
* Uncertain. Rape was probably staged.
* True motive may have been to steal microfiche containing July 23, 1868, issue of Coloreds' Weekly Illustrated magazine and kill G. Settle because of her interest in an article for reasons unknown. Article was about her ancestor Charles Singleton (see accompanying chart).
* Librarian victim reported that someone else wished to see article.
* Requesting librarian's phone records to verify this.
* No leads.
* Requesting information from employees as to other person wishing to see story.
* No leads.
* Searching for copy of article.
* Several sources report man requested same article. No leads to identity. Most issues missing or destroyed. One located. (See accompanying chart.)
* Conclusion: G. Settle possibly still at risk.
* Profile of incident sent to VICAP and NCIC.
* Murder in Amarillo, TX, five years ago. Similar M.O.--staged crime scene (apparently ritual killing, but real motive unknown).
* Murder in Ohio, three years ago. Similar M.O.--staged crime scene (apparently sexual assault, but real motive probably hired killing). Files missing.
PROFILE OF UNSUB 109
* White male.
* 6 feet tall, 180 lbs.
* Average voice.
* Used cell phone to get close to victim.
* Wears three-year-old, or older, size-11 Bass walkers, light brown. Right foot slightly outturned.
* Additional jasmine scent.
* Dark pants.
* Ski mask, dark.
* Will target innocents to help in killing victims and escaping.
* Most likely is a for-hire killer.
PROFILE OF PERSON HIRING UNSUB 109
* No information at this time.
PROFILE OF CHARLES SINGLETON
* Former slave, ancestor of G. Settle. Married, one son. Given orchard in New York state by master. Worked as teacher, as well. Instrumental in early civil rights movement.
* Charles allegedly committed theft in 1868, the subject of the article in stolen microfiche.
* Reportedly had a secret that could bear on case. Worried that tragedy would result if his secret was revealed.
* Attended meetings in Gallows Heights neighborhood of New York.
* Involved in some risky activities?
* The crime, as reported in Coloreds' Weekly Illustrated:
* Charles arrested by Det. William Simms for stealing large sum from Freedmen's Trust in NY. Broke into the trust's safe, witnesses saw him leave shortly after. His tools were found nearby. Most money was recovered. He was sentenced to five years in prison. No information about him after sentencing. Believed to have used his connections with early civil rights leaders to gain access to the trust.
* Charles's correspondence:
* Letter 1, to wife: Re: Draft Riots in 1863, great anti-black sentiment throughout NY state, lynchings, arson. Risk to property owned by blacks.
* Letter 2, to wife: Charles at Battle of Appomattox at end of Civil War.
* Letter 3, to wife: Involved in civil rights movement. Threatened for this work. Troubled by his secret.
Chapter Ten
In the 1920s the New Negro Movement, later called the Harlem Renaissance, erupted in New York City.
It involved an astonishing group of thinkers, artists, musicians and--mostly--writers who approached their art by looking at black life not from the viewpoint of white America but from their own perspective. This groundbreaking movement included men and women like the intellectuals Marcus Garvey and W. E. B. DuBois, writers like Zora Neale Hurston, Claude McKay and Countee Cullen, painters like William H. Johnson and John T. Biggers, and, of course, the musicians who provided the timeless sound track to it all, people like Duke Ellington, Josephine Baker, W. C. Handy, Eubie Blake.
In such a pantheon of brilliance, it was hard for any single artist's voice to stand out, but if anyone's did, it would perhaps be that of poet and novelist Langston Hughes, whose voice and message were typified by his simple words: What happens to a dream deferred?/Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? . . . Or does it explode?
Many memorials to Hughes exist throughout the country, but certainly one of the biggest and most dynamic, and probably the one he'd have been most proud of, was an old, redbrick, four-story building in Harlem, located near Lennox Terrace on 135th Street.
Like all city schools, Langston Hughes High had its problems. It was continually overcrowded and underfunded and struggled desperately to get and retain good teachers--and to keep students in class as well. It suffered from low graduation rates, violence in the halls, drugs, gangs, teen pregnancy and truancy. Still, the school had produced graduates who'd gone on to become lawyers, successful businessmen and -women, doctors, scientists, writers, dancers and musicians, politicians, professors. It had winning varsity teams, dozens of scholastic societies and arts clubs.
But for Geneva Settle, Langston Hughes High was more than these stats. It was the hub of her salvation, an island of comfort. As she saw the dirty brick walls come into view now, the fear and anxiety that had swarmed around her since the terrible incident at the museum that morning diminished considerably.
Detective Bell parked his car and, after he'd looked around for threats, they climbed out. He nodded toward a street corner and said to that young officer, Mr. Pulaski, "You wait out here."
"Yes, sir."
Geneva added to the detective, "You can wait here too, you want."
He chuckled. "I'll just come hang out with you for a bit, you don't mind. Well, okay, I can see you do mind. But I think I'll come along anyway." He buttoned his jacket to hide his guns. "Nobody'll pay me any mind." He held up the social studies book.
Not answering, Geneva grimaced and they proceeded to the school. At the metal detector the girl showed her ID and Detective Bell subtly flashed his wallet and was let around the side of the device. It was just before fifth period, which started at 11:37, and the halls were crowded, kids milling around, heading for the cafeteria or out to the school yard or onto the street for fast food. There was joking, dissing, flirting, making out. A fight or two. Chaos reigned.
"It's my lunch period," she called over the din. "I'll go to the cafeteria and study. It's this way."
Three of her friends came up fast, Ramona, Challette, Janet. They fell into step beside her. They were smart girls, like her. Pleasant, never caused any trouble, on scholarship tracks. Yet--or maybe because of this--they weren't particularly tight; none of them really just hung out. They'd go home after class, practice Suzuki violin or piano, volunteer for literacy groups or work on the spelling bee or Westinghouse science competitions, and, of course, study. Academics meant solitude. (Part of Geneva actually envied the school's other cl
iques, like the gangsta girls, the blingstas, the jock-girls and the Angela Davis activist sistas.) But now these three were fluttering around her like best homegirls, huddling close, peppering her with questions. Did he touch you? You see his dick? Was he hard? D'you see the guy got capped? How close were you?
They'd all heard--from kids who came in late, or kids cutting class and watching TV. Even though the stories hadn't mentioned Geneva by name, everybody knew she was at the center of the incident, thanks probably to Keesh.
Marella--a track star and fellow junior--walked by, saying, "What up, girlfriend? You down?"
"Yeah, I'm cool."
The tall classmate squinted at Detective Bell and asked her, "Why's a cop carrying yo' book, Gen?"
"Ask him."
The policeman laughed uneasily.
Fronting you're a teacher. Hey, that's def . . . .
Keesha Scott, clustered with her sister and some of her blingsta homegirls, gave Geneva a theatrical double-take. "Girl, you wack bitch," she shouted. "Somebody give you a pass, you take a pass. Coulda kicked back, watched the soaps." Grinned, nodded at the lunchroom. "Catch you later."
Some of the students weren't as kind. Halfway to the lunchroom, she heard a boy's voice, "Yo, yo, it the Fox News bitch with the cracker over there. She still alive?"
"Thought somebody clip that 'ho."
"Fuck, that debbie be too skinny to hit with anything but a breakdown."
Raucous laughter erupted.
Detective Bell whirled around but the young men who'd called out those words disappeared in a sea of sweats and sports jerseys, baggy jeans and cargo pants and bare heads--hats being forbidden in the halls of Langston Hughes.
"It's okay," Geneva said, her jaw set, looking down. "Some of them, they don't like it when you take school seriously, you know. Raising the curve." She'd been student of the month a number of times and had a perfect attendance award for both of her prior years here. She was regularly on the principal's honor roll, with her 98 percent average, and had been inducted into the National Honor Society at the formal ceremony last spring. "Doesn't matter."
Even the vicious insult of "blondie" or "debbie"--a black girl aspiring to be white--didn't get to her. Since to some extent it was true.
At the lunchroom door a large, attractive black woman in a purple dress, with a board of education ID around her neck, came up to Mr. Bell. She identified herself as Mrs. Barton, a counselor. She'd heard about the incident and wanted to know if Geneva was all right and if she wanted to talk with somebody in her department about it.