Broadway Bounty

Chapter Eleven

Rosewood stopped his cab and stepped down, and Decker stepped out.

“Where are we?”

“Printing House Square—This is where all of New York’s newspapers are located,” Rosewood explained. “We’re at the east side of City Hall Park and the north end of Park Row. See that statue over there?”

“I see it.”

“Ol’ Ben Franklin.” Rosewood turned to Decker and said with a conspiratorial smile, “This is also where all the best saloons are. Come on.”

They began walking, stopping into a saloon for a drink, then moving on to the next. Rosewood explained to Decker about the newspaper industry in New York.

There were approximately twelve morning newspapers, seven evening papers, ten semiweekly tabloids, two hundred weeklies and about twenty-five magazines.

“That’s the Herald,” Rosewood said, pointing to a magnificent white marble structure. It was easily the most conspicuous building in the square. It was owned by James Gordon Bennett and located on the corner of Broadway and Ann Streets.

Later they passed the Tribune, which had been founded by Horace Greeley. It was situated on the corners of Nassau and Spruce Streets.

When they were in a saloon, sitting at a table with a cold beer before them, Rosewood said, “Listen to the conversations.”

And so Decker listened for several minutes, eavesdropping on three of four different conversations. Each centered on the same thing.

“Money,” Billy Rosewood said. “That’s why every once in a while I come down here, park and saloon-hop. I can smell the money in the air.”

Decker had wondered why Rosewood, dressed as plainly as he was, had not drawn any curious glances whenever they entered one of the Printing House Square saloons. Now he knew.

“They’re used to you, aren’t they?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ve been doing this for a while,” Rosewood said. “They objected at first. I even got thrown out of one or two places, but they finally came to accept me, like I was one of the tables or chairs.”

“And me?”

Rosewood shrugged.

“I guess they accept you because you’re with me.”

“You ever take anyone else hopping with you?”

“No.”

“Why me?”

Rosewood shrugged again.

“Guess I never liked anyone well enough.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Would you like to tell me about last night?”

Decker thought a moment, then decided to go ahead and tell him about Boil and his brother. In fact, he told him everything he’d told Tally. He did not, however, tell Rosewood that he had told Bookman.

“And you don’t know why they wanted to kill you?”

“I have to assume that they just mistook me for someone else.”

“So what are you doing in New York?”

Decker shrugged.

“I’ve never been here before. I thought it was time.”

“Uh-huh, you’re just on vacation.”

“That’s right.”

“And I suppose you’re a peace-loving, churchgo-ing man who just got lucky last night against two killers.”

“I never said that.”

“Well, at least you don’t think I’m stupid.”

“I never said or thought that either.” Decker checked the time. “Any of these places serve decent food?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, this one serves real good steak and onion sandwiches, which go great with cold beer.”

“All right,” Decker said, “I’ll buy you lunch.”

“I thought you might,” Rosewood said, smiling, “so when I went to the bar for the beers, I ordered for both of us.”