Sally Spencer - Blackstone and the Wolf of Wall Street

‘Your father couldn’t pay the bribe because he was already dead,’ Blackstone said. ‘And you didn’t want to pay it, because if the case ever went to court, Big Bill would have to appear as a witness — and, of course, he couldn’t.’

‘Why should we have killed him that night?’ George demanded.

‘Fool!’ Harold spat angrily.

‘What your brother means is that you’ve just given the game away, because I never said he was killed on that night,’ Blackstone told George. ‘But if you want me to give a reason why it happened then, I will.’ He paused for a moment. ‘According to the police report, filed by our old friend Inspector Flynn, your father wasn’t alone when Knox tried to kill him. He had a woman with him.’

‘He always had women with him,’ George said with disgust.

‘Knox thought that the woman was a common whore — but I’m guessing she wasn’t. Your father — monster that he was — was known for seducing any woman he could, including the wives of close associates. And I think this time he got even closer than that — I think that this time the woman was Virginia.’

‘That’s a disgusting suggestion,’ George said.

‘Seducing your son’s wife,’ Blackstone mused. ‘That’s the supreme act of bullying, isn’t it? But it was also a big mistake. When George came to his father’s aid that night, and saw the two of them together, he must have been so shocked he hardly knew what he was doing. Certainly, his first act was to protect your father by disabling Knox — but that was no more than a reflex action. But later, when the shock had worn off, he found that he was in a blinding anger, because this really was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I would guess — and again, I am guessing, though you have pretty much confirmed it — that you confronted your father that very same night, George, after the police had had taken Knox away, and then, in a towering rage, you killed him.’

‘Of course, you’ll never be able to prove any of this,’ George said.

‘Oh, George, why are you such a fool?’ Harold asked, exasperatedly.

‘Your brother’s right,’ Blackstone agreed. ‘If you think we can’t prove it, you are a fool. Even as we speak, your father’s body is being disinterred from the grave that bears Rudge’s headstone.’

‘It’s only bones,’ George said.

‘Indeed it is,’ Blackstone agreed. ‘And one of those bones, the scapula, will have a chip out of it which will be a perfect match with the wound your father received when Knox shot him.’

‘You’ve no idea what it was like to have a father like ours — to go through the miserable childhood we went through,’ Harold said, with unexpected vehemence. ‘We’d earned a better life when we grew up. We were entitled to it. And if we had to kill our father to get it, who can blame us?’

‘You may have a point,’ Blackstone conceded. ‘But how do you justify killing the two Pinkerton men?’

‘If we were to have what we deserved, they were necessary sacrifices,’ Harold said, with an indifference which was even more shocking than his sudden anger.

‘There’s a lot of your father in you,’ Blackstone said thoughtfully. ‘Probably much more of him than there is in George.’

‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ Harold demanded. ‘Do you think I don’t have that brought home to me every single day, when I see just how weak my big strong brother really is?’

‘Please, Harold, don’t. .’ George begged, as tears began to run down his cheeks.

‘I love you, George,’ Harold said, and he began crying, too. ‘You’re the most important thing in the world to me. But you have to see that none of this would have happened if only you’d been a different man.’

‘Now haven’t you just gone and made me look like some kind of prize idjit?’ Inspector Flynn asked, gazing up from his hospital bed at his visitor.

‘You made a valuable contribution to the investigation,’ Blackstone told him.

‘Sure, and what could be more valuable than chasing after a man who’s already been under the sod for seven years?’ Flynn countered, with just a flicker of a smile appearing at the corners of his mouth.

‘Without the work you put in, there’d have been no investigation at all,’ Blackstone pointed out.

‘And I’m not sure that would have been such a bad thing,’ Flynn said, growing more serious. ‘If I’d have kept my nose out of it, Harold and George would have got away with doing the world a favour — and the two Pinkerton men would still be alive.’ He paused. ‘It could be argued that those two men’s deaths are on my head.’

‘You can’t think about it like that,’ Blackstone told him. ‘You just have to do what you believe is right, and hope that people don’t get hurt in the process.’

Flynn’s amused grin returned for a moment. ‘You’re wasted in Scotland Yard, Mr Blackstone,’ he said. ‘You’d have made a damn fine priest.’

‘Which, given your opinion of priests, is not necessarily a compliment,’ Blackstone said.

‘That’s right enough,’ Flynn agreed.

‘So what are your plans when you’re discharged from hospital?’ Blackstone wondered. ‘Will you stay on Coney Island? Or now that your reason for being there has gone, will you ask for a transfer back to Manhattan?’

‘Maybe neither,’ Flynn said reflectively. ‘Maybe, now I’ve got my own personal monkey off my back, I’ll go back to the old country and help my compatriots get the monkey off theirs.’ He paused again. ‘It’s you English I’m talking about,’ he amplified.

‘I know it is,’ Blackstone said. He flicked open his pocket watch. ‘I have to go.’

‘And what might you be rushing off to?’ Flynn asked. ‘Is Wall Street so grateful that you’ve proved Bill Holt is finally dead that it’s throwing you a victory parade?’

‘Nothing like that,’ Blackstone answered. ‘I have to say goodbye to a friend.’

‘Goodbye? Or au revoir ?’ Flynn asked, detecting something in the other man’s tone.

‘I don’t know,’ Blackstone admitted. ‘Only time will tell.’ He walked over to the door, then turned on the threshold. ‘You know what you said about returning to Ireland?’

‘Yes?’

‘I wouldn’t, if I were you.’

‘And why might that be?’

‘There’s been a lot of blood spilled there in the past — and there’ll be more spilled in the future. And I wouldn’t like to think that some of it might end up sticking to your hands.’

‘You can’t think about it like that,’ Flynn said, mockingly throwing Blackstone’s own words back at him. ‘You just have to do what you believe is right, and hope that people don’t get hurt in the process.’

The train was almost ready to leave the station, but Ellie Carr still seemed reluctant to board it.

‘Don’t worry, you’ll charm Chicago just like you’ve charmed New York,’ Blackstone said.

‘Yeah, I’m a real little charmer, ain’t I?’ Ellie said. ‘A bleedin’ world champion!’ She paused. ‘It don’t seem to ’ave much effect on you, though, does it, Sam?’

‘You do charm me,’ Blackstone said awkwardly.

‘But not enough to make you get on the train with me?’

‘No, not enough for that. I can’t just follow you around for the rest of my life. I have to work , Ellie. I have to do the job I was born to do — because if I don’t, I’m nothing.’

A serious — almost sorrowful — expression came to Ellie’s face, as if she were about to say something of great significance. Then, slowly, the expression drained away, and was replaced by a cheeky grin.