Julius Roach had no visible means of support. He was often consulted by borough presidents. He was often identified in newspapers as a City Hall regular. He sat frequently in the owners’ box at Ebbets Field, and the Polo Grounds, and Yankee Stadium. He was photographed with Branch Rickey. Toots Shor knew him, and Walter Winchell. When Mayor O’Dwyer spoke at a banquet, Roach was frequently at the head table, dressed very well.
“My daughter needs looking after,” Roach said to Burke. “Mr. Mastrangelo says you’d be just right for it.”
“Angelo told me it was you,” Burke said.
“I thought it seemly to mislead Mr. Mastrangelo,” Roach said. “Family matter, you know?”
“How old is your daughter?” Burke said.
“Lauren is twenty-five,” Roach said. “Lovely and accomplished, but foolish in her choice of men.”
“And you want me to help her with the choices?”
Roach was a tall man with too much weight on him and white hair that he wore long and brushed back. His clothes were expensive and cut to make him look slimmer.
“I want you to protect her from the consequences of her choices,” Roach said.
“Such as?”
“Lauren seems to have a proclivity for, ah, violence-prone men,” Roach said.
“Why me?”
“I am a man of some public reputation, and some political prominence, and I want this to be very discreet. The usual sources, private detectives, the police, that sort of thing, would seem to risk public disclosure.”
He always talks like he’s addressing a jury, Burke thought.
“What, you think I won’t blab?”
“Mr. Mastrangelo says you’re not a talker. He says you don’t care about publicity.”
“Did he say what I do care about?”
Roach smiled. He seemed to purse his lips when he smiled.
“Nothing.”
Burke nodded.
“How do you happen to know the Mastrangelos?” he said.
“Angelo and I have met in the course of our work.”
“I need a gun for this?” Burke said.
“You might. I can get you one.”
“I have one,” Burke said. “Your daughter want a bodyguard?”
“She hasn’t been consulted,” Roach said. “I have little control over her behavior. But I do control her income. She’ll do what she must.”
“Is there a mother?”
“My wife is not at issue here,” Roach said. “For a man who cares about nothing you ask a lot of questions.”
“I care about whether I want to do something or not,” Burke said.
“Do you want to do this?”
“Why not,” Burke said.