“You’re lying. I’ll find out where this brothel is, whether you tell me or not.”
He growled. “You’re the most stubborn person I know.” He put his hands on my shoulders and turned me toward the west. “Walk for about five minutes this way, take a left onto Washington Street, go two doors down on the left, and you’ll be at her front door.”
I turned to him. “You’re joking with me.”
“I’m dead serious.” And he looked it, too.
“Her brothel is practically right outside the police station?”
“Until last year, it was literally outside our front door. Nina built her brothel across the street from the old Central Police Station.”
“On purpose?”
He started to walk west along Kellogg Boulevard with me. The street sat high above the Mississippi River, and the traffic was thick. Exhaust made the heat feel more suffocating as I waited for him to continue.
“Yes, on purpose.”
“Why is the Saint Paul Police Department so corrupt?” I walked fast to keep up with him.
“Because of the O’Connor System.”
When I didn’t respond, he continued.
“The system started as a way to discourage criminal activity, but it has backfired since Prohibition. And with a new police chief, more corrupt than the last, it’s worse than ever.”
“What is the O’Connor System?”
“When a criminal comes into Saint Paul, they check in with Dapper Dan Hogan at the Green Lantern saloon on Wabasha Street, pay him a fee, and promise not to commit a crime while they’re in the city. Some of the most notorious criminals in the country have had asylum here over the past seven years.”
“What if they’re being chased by federal agents? Don’t the feds have jurisdiction over the local police?”
He shrugged. “The police tip off the criminals. It’s part of the fee they pay for protection.”
“They have time to get away?”
“That’s how it works.”
“And the police are getting rich off this system?”
“Exactly. It makes Saint Paul one of the safest cities in America, but Minneapolis has become one of the most dangerous places. The criminals can commit a crime there and then come into Saint Paul for asylum.”
I glanced at him and saw he was serious. Of course I heard about all the crime in Minneapolis, but I’d never wondered why I didn’t hear about as much in Saint Paul.
“And what about Nina?” I asked. “Or the other brothels and speakeasies?”
“We’re told to turn a blind eye to them.”
I paused. “How can you sleep at night?”
“Because—” He paused, as if he’d said too much. “Don’t worry about it, Carrie. I find a way.”
It was a strange answer, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know more. I’d already learned my brother was more corrupt than I’d realized. I didn’t want to discover that Lewis was, too. Maybethat’s why Mother didn’t ask questions. She didn’t want to know.
Perhaps I liked being naïve and innocent. Maybe my parents had been kind to shelter me from the harsh reality around me. Grandfather, too, had protected me from the worst of the world. Had it been so bad to be unaware?
We took a left onto Washington Street, and I was surprised to find it was pleasant and respectable. Many of the houses were made of dark stone exteriors with pretty embellishments and manicured lawns.
“One of these is a brothel?” I asked, incredulous.
