Read Brooklyn Secrets for Free Online Page B

doughnut and I didn’t even care, that morning.
    What was on my calendar for today? Not a day at my job. I knew that much. I hoped it would be a nice, quiet day of hiding in a library, doing my research, reading very old books in silence and taking notes. With many coffee breaks.
    That’s how it turned out and I was able not to speak to any human being except the librarian for three hours. My brain knew what to select from the research, my hands know how to type it into the laptop, and I didn’t have to think very hard.
    By the end of the day I would have all I needed to write this chapter and move on. That was my plan.
    It was almost lunchtime, and I must have been feeling better, because a new name caught my eye. It not only caught my eye, it registered.
    Frank Kravitz. I skimmed through my notes from the visit to the home on the Hudson. Was that Lil’s brother, the one who disappeared? Though her story was interesting, I hadn’t taken the request very seriously. I could not make it my project; I just had too much else to do. And what were the chances I would find it by accident?
    Apparently pretty good. That was my first surprise.
    I read the page again. He was only mentioned in passing, but not as a Brownsville hero. He’s one of a list of “sometime associates of organized crime figures”. That was my second surprise.
    I flipped to the index. Was he mentioned anywhere else? No. I keyed his name into my computer screen? No. Dummy, I thought to myself. There I was sitting in the Brooklyn collection of the Brooklyn Public library system. And I did know the old Brooklyn Eagle newspaper was online. So, duh, as Chris would have said to me.
    There it was, just a face in the crowd in a handful of photos with captions. One was a meat cutters union meeting where he spoke; another, Frank in the background, behind some very questionable characters. And just one final photo, with the boxer Bernie Rosenblatt, celebrating.
    Who the heck was Frank Kravitz? Clearly he was not an important public figure. But was he the hero Lillian remembered? Certainly didn’t look like it now. Where could I look further?
    Courthouse archives? Maybe, if he was in fact hanging around with some of these notorious names. And then I had to think about where I’d have to go, and who I’d have to apply to, to get a look at them. I could not accept that he had entirely vanished. I could plow through a dozen other books, looking for traces.
    Or I could take a little ride up to the other end of New York and speak with Lillian Kravitz again. My early morning, bad-dreams-induced lethargy was gone. I was ready for action.
    I made copies of the photos I had found. They were not very good. Better, I bookmarked the Brooklyn Eagle site. I would show her those on my laptop.
    I kept the radio on for the whole drive, wondering if I might hear anything more about Savanna, but no. I listened so hard I missed my exit and had to navigate through some back streets to find my way.
    A desk attendant called her and she said she’d come down soon. It wasn’t soon. When she finally got there, holding tight to her walker, she looked different. Makeup could not conceal the pallor of her skin, and the deeper shadows around her eyes. Today her track suit was canary yellow.
    â€œI didn’t expect you, my dear.” A shadow seemed to cross those blue eyes. “Did we have a date?”
    â€œOh, no. I am sorry. I found some things, and had time…it was an impulse…” I felt like an idiot. “I should have called.”
    â€œNo matter.” She patted my hand. “I am a little unwell, fatigued, today and had no plans. Come. We will have lunch. I can order an extra plate for you.”
    So that is how I found myself choosing between vegetarian lasagna and tomato soup plus grilled cheese sandwich, in a room full of people old enough to be my grandparents. Even my great-grandparents.
    She hesitated, looking