“Aw, we use them in our business,” he said. Then, with the confidence often bred in criminals by success, he told her he knew a gang that was planning to rob a taxicab that carried money uptown to a bank every week. Mrs. Sullivan questioned him as to details, and he assured her it would be an easy job.
“For we’ve got it all fixed with the chauffeur,” he said.
At that point, however, like many an honest person who might aid the police with information, Mrs. Sullivan let the matter drop out of her mind. It is a simple thing to mail a letter or telephone to Police Headquarters, giving such information, and the experience of the Detective Bureau is such that the information can be investigated without involving innocent persons. But perhaps Mrs. Sullivan concluded that, in a big city like New York, it is well for people to keep their mouths shut. Or maybe she decided that Collins was merely boasting.
On Friday, less than twenty-four hours after the robbery, a “network investigation” was begun.
Sixty detectives searched that part of the city where Collins and Annie had lived, seeking further information. Photograph galleries and other places were investigated on the chance of finding pictures. Denizens of the underworld were talked with casually. Professional criminals, prostitutes, dive-keepers, receivers of stolen goods and other shady characters were brought before Commissioner Dougherty in couples and half-dozens for quick cross-examination. By Saturday evening the police had some highly important information.
It was learned that Annie had been seen going away on the afternoon of the robbery in a taxicab, accompanied by two men, one of whom was Collins, and the other unknown. Good descriptions were secured of Annie and her sweetheart, especially of her hat, which was a cheap affair, but conspicuous by reason of a row of little red roses. It was also discovered that Collins had been a boxer, that he hailed from Boston, and that his real name was Eddie Kinsman. Finally, the police secured two photographs, one an indifferent picture of Kinsman, and the other an excellent portrait of Annie. These were quickly put through the department’s photograph gallery, where there are facilities for making duplicates in a hurry, and more than a hundred copies were soon ready for work which will be described in its proper place.
The trail now seemed to lead to Boston. At all events, further information was to be secured there. And here came in a little refinement imparted by Commissioner Dougherty’s experience with the Pinkerton forces. For where this private detective organization works unhampered over the whole country, the official police forces in most cities confine their searches to their own territory. When it is believed that criminals have left town, as in this case, a general description is telegraphed to other cities. Dougherty’s method, however, is always to send a man from his own staff, with detailed instructions. There are no local boundaries for him.
Late on Saturday night Inspector Hughes, of the Detective Bureau, slipped out of headquarters with Detective O’Connell, and took a train for Boston. Their departure was kept strictly secret. They bid good night to associates, saying that they expected to be up and at work again early next morning, and until their return on Monday everybody who asked for the Inspector was told that “he is usually around the building somewhere.”
Montani Points Out “King Dodo”
All through Friday and Saturday, while the network investigation was going on, Commissioner Dougherty continued his examination of Montani.