The Case of the Ice Man

by Shannon D Wells

  9

  Start with what you know, I thought.

  I decided to see if the mysterious Mr. Marvin had made an appearance back at the house yet. I couldn’t understand why he had been able to call the lawyer and dispatch the doctor, but unable to come himself.

  “Mr. Prescott, do you have a telephone I might use?” I asked sweetly.

  “Oh! Yes, I suppose so, there’s one in the office, back over that way.” He gestured haphazardly toward the front, where we had entered.

  “Thank you kindly. It should be for only a moment.”

  I went into a darkened room that had a few desks with a respectable distance between them, then consulted my notebook for how to direct the operator. I gazed out the one window and hoped someone would pick up.

  The only thing I could really see was a small, poorly lit house with a white fence around it and the looming outline of a magnolia tree. The fence seemed to be for holding back the garden from attacking the surroundings. Even in the near dark, I could see the reaching branches.

  On the third ring, Persephone answered.

  “Hello, Eymann’s residence.” Her voice was crisp.

  “Persephone? It’s Detective Robertson calling to see if the lady of the house is… awake.” I settled on the closest fit I could think of for Mrs. Eymann’s desired state.

  “No, ma'am, she’s not yet. Whatever the doctor gave her knocked her for a loop.”

  “Has Mr. Marvin made it back to the house to take care of his mother?”

  “No, ma'am, he hasn’t. He hasn’t been around since the big blow up with Mr. Eymann last week. Well, not around so’s that I could see him,” she amended. My ears positively perked up.

  “What was the argument about?”

  “Money. Didn’t hear the whole thing, only a bit at the beginning when Mr. Marvin asked for more money. Then at the end they were shouting so, I ’spect the whole neighborhood could hear. Mr. Eymann told him he wasn’t going to give him any more money to fritter away gambling and drinking and whoring.” Persephone stopped, breathless at the last word. I wasn’t sure if it was from excitement of telling the story or because she remembered who she was speaking to.

  “That’s quite the argument.” And quite a quote. “Did they do that often?” I saw a blip of movement out of the corner of my eye, and then someone walked right in front of the window. Scared me to death.

  “Not since Mr. Marvin’s been at university. They used to blow up real regular when he lived at home. The missus didn’t like it; she would go cry in her room.”

  “Mmmm. Do you know where Mr. Marvin’s living at the university? I’m over that way. I might go see if I can roust him and bring him back. Whether he got along with his father or not, I’m sure he—” The bundled up figure in front of the window was going to the little house. Whoever the person was, they’d come through the graveyard. And they were carrying a little pail….

  “Oh, Mr. Eymann ain't his daddy. Was his stepdaddy. I think he wasn’t used to sharing his mother, and she’d always spoiled him. Mhmm. That’s what I think,” Persephone said. I wondered how long she’d been around all them, but the way she was spilling the beans I’d probably know before long.

  “Well, that does make some sense why he’s not home yet, I suppose. Is there an address anywhere for him or….” I let it hang to see if she would fill in the blanks. The person had gone through the front gate and disappeared into the little house. I watched the shadow move faintly through the shades.

  “No address I know of. He lives on campus in the big dorm near the dining hall. That’s all he ever talked about when he’d come back, the food at that dining hall. You’d think no one here could cook. He did complain about having to always climb the stairs to his room. You’d think he’d have something more to complain ’bout. And another thing.” She seemed to be warming on the subject. “I think he was here this morning, I’m almost sure.”

  “What makes you sure?” She would have made a good detective herself.

  “Well, someone made a mess of my kitchen for one. Some pots were messed, there were burnt leaves at the bottom, burnt leaves! Who ever heard of such? From the bushes outside! What kind of fool does that? And the mister and the missus don’t ever come ’round the kitchen.”

  I had to admit I couldn’t think of anyone who would do such a thing.

  “Why are you sure it was him?”

  “Who else would do such a fool thing? Some leftover biscuits were gone and so was the last of the peach jelly, and Mr. Marvin’s the only one who likes that peach jelly. That’s the only thing his mama ever does in the kitchen. She makes him that peach jelly every year. He’s the only one who eats it, why—” I interrupted to stay to the point.

  “Thank you, Persephone, I appreciate the information, really I do. I’m going to see if I can find Mr. Marvin to bring home. Maybe it will help out your missus.”

  “Maybe so, if she ever wakes up. That doctor man sure gives out a lot of pills and shots for nerves, if you ask me—”

  “Yes, yes, I’m getting that feeling too.”

  “Oh, and another thing, a man came looking for you.”

  “A man? For me?”

  “Yes, ma'am. Wanted to know what was going on here.” I wasn’t sure I had the answer to that right now.

  “What on earth did you tell him?”

  “That Mr. Gerald had passed away. He left a note for you, said it was real important. Said to tell you Barret is furious, and he’s on his way to work. Said to tell you if you don’t finish the job, you don’t have a job.” It had to be Tom. I had forgotten to call back into the office. Drat.

  “Oh my. Thank you for letting me know. You met my husband.”

  “Hmmmm.”

  “Yes. Well, thanks again,” I said, and rang off. I have never in my life met such a chatty maid. I was sure her employers didn’t know she would talk about them like that. She probably needed more opportunities for conversation than rattling around in that big house with an invalid all day would give her.

  It occurred to me as I rang the taxi company, she might have felt comfortable because we both were working for the same people. I hoped that I wouldn’t be working there for long.

  10

  The cab ride to the university was the way I like my car trips, short and blissfully silent. I read my notes back over and added to them as best I could. There still seemed to be too much that didn’t make sense, other than Mr. Marvin didn’t care for his stepfather.

  That might be motive for Mr. Eymann’s demise, but why on earth was the body missing? Who would take a body? I jotted down insurance, then shook my head. I’d need to come up with something soon, or I’d be out of a job, it sounded like.

  I puzzled, and puzzled more, and was surprised when I noticed we were in the middle of the university already. I hadn’t been on the campus before, but had been to dinner around the corner a few times. It had been a bit discomfiting to realize that most of the students were only a few years younger than me. Being twenty-five shouldn’t make you feel ancient.

  The whole area was usually buzzing with students. I’d been told that it had been even busier before the crash. There were still plenty of people with the capital to send their children to school here, though. You could almost smell the money coming from the impossibly green grass and grand buildings.

  The campus I was looking at right now, however, was empty. The Greek temple-fronted buildings were crouching in the cold, starving for young blood, their gods out of town.

  I felt a bit hopeless surveying them. There weren’t as many buildings as I expected, only six large ones it seemed, but they made me uneasy.

  The dining hall turned out to be on the north side, with two less impressively scaled buildings next to it. They were labeled, thankfully, as dorms. I went into the first building and found just one rogue boy, who pretended not to see me. I walked up three flights of stairs checking the rooms marked Resident Assistant on each floor.

  The first two such rooms I
checked were empty, or at least no one answered my knocks. I climbed to the top floor and went down the hall to the one room that had the door open. I could hear some music playing from a radio as I approached.

  I knocked on the open door, recognizing the music from Carnation's Contented Hour, an unusual choice for young turks I would have thought. The knock startled the young man inside who was sitting feet up, drinking something amber colored from a glass, and reading a thick book.

  “Hello, hello!” he called, sounding more friendly than I expected, as he dropped his feet to the floor. Possibly he was feeling the effects of his drink already. I couldn’t see the book title, but it was ridiculously fat.

  “Hello, sorry to startle you.” I smiled at him, hoping I didn’t sound as tired as I felt. It had been a long day on poor sleep. My energy was starting to wane.

  “No problem, how can I help you?” he asked, switching off the radio and stretching. He seemed a bit older than I expected, which meant he was close to my age.

  “I’m looking for Marvin, Marvin….” I realized I didn’t accurately know his last name. Had he taken his stepfather’s name? The young man jumped in and saved me.

  “Yes, I know Marvin. He’s on this floor, but he’s not here at the moment that I know of.” His manner seemed less friendly, but he continued solicitously, “I will say, if he’s stood you up for a date, you’re not the first….”

  “No, nothing like that!” I laughed and then rubbed my face.

  “No, there’s been a family emergency, and his mother asked if I could fetch him, that’s all. I’ve not met him before,” I ended, giving him a small smile. His face relaxed.

  “Oh, swell. No, he’s not around that I know. I saw him leaving this morning, pretty early too. I would have thought he was heading home, like everyone else.”

  “How early?” I hoped it didn’t sound rude. His eyebrows raised, then he answered.

  “Oh, I’d say before 6 a.m. I like to get to the library very early when studying, and I could’ve sworn that it was him I saw get in a car right in front of me. He had a bag with him, and he looked right at me. I’m pretty sure that was him.”

  “That is early. I didn’t realize college students got up before noon,” I said, noting the time that he mentioned to see if it would make sense later. I was writing everything in this notebook like it would tell me something later. I hoped this wasn’t another wild goose chase.

  “Well, not many do, and Marvin particularly doesn’t. That’s the only reason I wasn’t positive it was him.” The fellow chuckled.

  “Now, I have run into him returning to the dorm at that time. Had to write him up for it once too. House rules and all.”

  “I see. Do you mind telling me how well you know him? I’m finding it a problem that I’ve never met him, and his mother is not in a state to help me.” I couldn’t think of a better way to put it.

  “Are you his mother’s friend or…?” He let the question dangle.

  “In a manner of speaking. She hired me to look into some business for her, and that includes bringing him home to help out in her time of need. I don’t know her socially, if that’s what you’re asking, and professionally I’m bound to be discreet.” I felt good about that explanation. He perked up and started looking me over.

  “Are you saying you’re a detective? Or a lawyer? No wait, let me deduce,” he said, and sat up in the chair, leaning forward and eyeing my notebook. I tried to look patient while he examined my shoes, but when he started trying to read my clothing, I’d had enough.

  “Detective. As I said, I’m bound by discretion.” I hoped I sounded authoritative.

  “Of course, of course. I was going to guess detective, although I guess I’ve never heard of a lady lawyer or detective.” He laughed, then shook his head.

  “No, I take that back, there’s a few girls in my cohort, so they do exist. I’ve never met one in the wild though.” So he was a law student.

  “Well, there's a first time for everything. I apologize for my manners, I should have said earlier. I’m Detective Mrs. Robertson.”

  “Well, Detective Mrs. Robertson, I’m Buell Shepherd, third year law student. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “Yours as well. I must be going now.” I started to back out of the room. He was certainly a bright young man.

  Young man, I thought, he was probably my age.

  “Are you sure? You’re welcome to sit for a spell. I’d like to find out more about being a lady detective,” Buell Shepherd said, getting up and offering me his armchair.

  So would I, I thought. I hesitated, then looked at my lapel watch.

  “No, thank you. I’m quite sure. I need to find a better place to look. Do you know anywhere he might have gone? Places he liked to frequent?” He genuinely looked disappointed I couldn’t join him and thought for a moment before answering.

  “Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but he liked to frequent some places downtown. I heard rumors that he spent his money in… places that excel at not quite legal activities.” His delicacy was amazing.

  “Do you know the names of any of these places?”

  “Can't say that I do. Nothing in particular mentioned. I heard he got behind on paying back bets, drank too much, paid for… company.” His mouth twitched at the end and I did laugh. I knew it wasn’t the thing to do, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Thanks for sharing what you do know. I do believe I’m going to head downtown and see what I can shake out.” I began putting my notebook and pencil back into my little pocketbook. Buell stood to walk me to the door.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea? It’s a bit dark already, I’d hate for you to—”

  I laughed again.

  “You’re too kind, really. I can take care of myself,” I said firmly, although I was less sure than I sounded.

  “Well, have a good evening and a happy Thanksgiving,” he said, actually bowing.

  “Thank you so much for the help. Let me know if you ever need anything,” I offered, wondering what on earth I could ever help him out with. “I’m at the Pinkerton Detective Agency.” For now, I thought.

  He was the one who laughed this time and waved delightedly as he shut his door. I stood in the hallway for a second, then went down the flights of stairs to the waiting taxi, hoping the plan would reveal itself.

  11

  Once I was safely in the cab, I thought for a moment, so deeply I didn't hear the driver asking for the destination. I finally realized I was being spoken to.

  “Pardon?”

  “Where to, ma'am?” He had a very polite smile on his face, from what I could see in the low light.

  Where to, indeed. The answer came out without much thought.

  “The Apache Club, actually. Do you know where it is?”

  He frowned and examined me in the mirror.

  “I do know where it is, and it’s not somewhere a lady goes to alone.”

  “Nevertheless.”

  He didn’t move.

  “Sir, are you going to take me there, or do I need to hail another car?”

  He sat a moment longer, then put the car into gear without saying anything more. I settled back in my seat for what turned out to be a short ride. I was going to have to hope that the coat check girl was the same as the one who’d been there on Saturday, and further that she knew something about Gerald. That was a lot more hope than I typically carried with me.

  When we stopped in front of the Rosemont Hotel, I wrapped my coat tighter around myself and stepped out after paying the small cab fare from my pocket. The driver wouldn’t make eye contact and repeated the ominous, “A lady doesn’t go in there alone,” before speeding away.

  I shook my head and turned to the door. It was the front entrance, with porters and customers bustling in and out. If the Apache Club served whiskey, it surely had to be more discreet than a front entrance. The hotel fronted two streets, so I chose to look down the alley.

  It didn't look promising. There were
two doors that I could see, one at the very back of the building and one closer to the front. They both looked like the ideal places for maids and porters to loiter with cigarettes. The door nearer the front had a light that poured down on it from above, but it didn't illuminate anything that looked like a hotspot.

  A well-dressed couple, the woman drowning in an enormous fur, swept by and knocked on the door. It cracked open, and they stood for a moment before it was opened the rest of the way to admit them. Music flowed out the door, mixing with laughter, and then the door shut and it was dark again.

  I stepped up and rapped on the door twice, hoping I could get in before my hands got any colder. The door cracked once again, and I stared at the man who peeked out, examining me more closely than necessary. He started to close the door, but I caught the edge with my hand.

  “Can I come in?”

  “I don't know, sister, can you?” Wise guy.

  “I would like to.”

  “Don’t know if I should let you. Don’t look like our clientele.” The way he sneered at clientele was insulting.

  “What’s wrong with me?”

  “You don’t look the type.”

  “What type is that?”

  “Rich type. You look like you’re hungry, and rich people don’t get hungry.” He tried to shut the door again, but I kept my hand there and leaned in.

  “I’m rich enough, and I came here for a drink and a meal. I was told you had that. Was I told wrong?” I arched an eyebrow at him. He looked as though he was enjoying this little game we had going.

  “I don’t know that I believe you about the money, but you can come in, I guess. If you welsh on dinner though, I’ll make you wish you’d never heard of the place.” He glowered at the end. I tried to look haughty.

  Maybe I should have waited for Tom. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea I’d had in the last hour.

  The door swung open and I stepped through. It was a warm, dry, carpeted hallway, with dazzling electric lights that lit the high, gilded ceiling. The music was still playing, optimistic songs that mixed well with the cigarette smoke and the chatting. The band started a foxtrot. It’d been a long time since I’d heard one of those.