The young woman stared at Falconer for a moment, and then, with a curt, “Certainly,” she turned and exited the room again.
Falconer turned to face Waidler and Halloran and smiled a little. “Well, that one wasn’t too friendly for some reason.”
The young woman with the eyeglasses then reappeared suddenly from behind the door and stood before the men again. “Yes?” she said. “How can I help you?”
“I don’t understand, miss,” Falconer said. “Again, we’re looking for Doctor Albright.”
“Yes, I know that,” she said, smiling this time. “So, again—how can I help you?”
“I’m not following you, miss,” Falconer said.
“Uh, boss,” Waidler said, stepping forward, “I think you’re speaking to the doctor right now.”
“What?” Falconer said. “Oh, right. Sorry, doctor—I was just a confused for a moment there.”
“Yes, I know, detective sergeant,” the doctor said. “It happens quite often, actually. I can’t tell why.”
“Yes, well...we appreciate you meeting us today without an appointment,” Falconer said. “We just had a few questions concerning your comments on the autopsy report of the decedent found at 55 West 37th Street on September 16.”
“Yes, the young Caucasian male who has not yet been identified,” she said.
“Correct,” Falconer said.
“What would you like to know?” she asked.
“Well, the coroner concluded that this was simply a case of congenital heart failure,” Falconer said. “No external cause.”
“Yes, that’s true,” she said.
“But you disagreed. You reported that there was some evidence of poisoning.”
“Correct, detective sergeant.”
“Would you mind explaining what you meant? I will be frank—we are investigating this as a murder.”
“Yes, I figured as much. Here—come into this side office with me so that we’re alone.”
She turned and led the three men into an anteroom with a large table and several chairs, and several bookshelves stocked full of thick medical treatises.
“This is better,” she said, taking a seat along with the men. “So, why do you think it was a murder, if I may ask?”
“Because we found the decedent in his apartment right after he expired,” Falconer replied. “And I chased a suspect from rooftop to rooftop just minutes after.”
“I see,” the doctor said. “Then I believe my suspicions were correct. With your circumstantial evidence, it’s very evident to me that this man was poisoned just moments before you arrived at his apartment.”
“But what is the evidence that you found? And why do these other doctors disagree?”
“Well, as to the other doctors, I cannot answer that. But sometimes these physicians can be very…well…set in their ways.”
“And as to the evidence of poisoning?”
“It’s not overwhelming, but it is there. In examining the man’s body with my colleagues, and hearing of the scene of the crime, it became apparent to me that this man was killed quickly and probably without his awareness.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because there were no signs of convulsions, physical injuries, diarrhea, vomiting—that sort of thing. So, there clearly was no struggle, and if a poisoning did occur, it was not a long lasting one.”
“What about arsenic? I know that it’s a popular choice for would-be killers because one can’t taste it, and it’s difficult to detect in the body later.”
“Yes, but arsenic takes time to work, and it results in those very symptoms that I just mentioned, retching and vomiting, falling into terrible convulsions. This victim appeared peacefully at rest in his chair, as you well know. So, it wasn’t arsenic.”
“Then what?”
“Well, after my colleagues had finished their work, I lingered a bit and looked over the body some more. I, in fact, bent down closely to the man’s skin, and smelled it.”
“You smelled his skin?” Falconer asked.
“Yes.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Have you ever tasted a batch of bitter almonds, detective sergeant?” she asked.
“No,” he replied. “Can’t say that I have. I don’t like almonds.”
“Um, pardon me, miss,” Halloran said from across the table. “I like almonds, and I’ve smelled those sort—the bitter ones. I hate them.”
“Yes, well, some almonds do have that bitter smell, unlike the typical batch that smells and tastes rather sweet,” she said.
“So, what of this?” Falconer inquired.
“There is something else that smells just like those bitter almonds, detective sergeant,” the doctor answered. “Cyanide.”
“Cyanide?” Falconer said. “I’ve heard of it—another very toxic poison, and very quick acting.”
“True,” she said. “It’s not necessarily easy to detect in an autopsy, and it also results in tissue and organ breakdowns that are often seen in naturally occurring events, like heart attacks and heart or pulmonary failures.”
“And I take it you detected this bitter almond smell on his skin?” Falconer asked.
“Yes, and on his urine sample that was taken from his pants. And I also would like to add that his skin had a rather pink, almost cherry-colored glow to it, which is another indication of potential cyanide poisoning.”
“So, why didn’t your colleagues detect all of this, doctor?” Falconer asked.
“We were wearing masks, detective sergeant, and the smell on the skin is not strong. As I said, I had to lean down closely to the body to detect it. The other doctors simply never thought to look. They were convinced that the medical evidence all pointed to sudden congenital heart failure, which of course is a common cause of death.”
“So, the question is, how did our suspect on the roof give the poison to our victim?” Falconer asked. “Perhaps mixed it in a drink?”
“Doubtful,” the doctor replied. “Inhaling cyanide in gaseous form is much more potent and lethal than ingesting it.”
“But how would this victim not be aware of some cyanide gas? And how would the suspect manage to get him to inhale it?”
“Did any of you see any signs of cigarettes, cigars, pipes, that sort of thing?”
“I don’t recall seeing anything,” Falconer said.
“Me neither,” Waidler said.
“There was a pipe, actually, sir,” Halloran said, sitting up straighter in his chair.
“Really, Jimmy?” Falconer said.
“Yes, sir,” Halloran said. “I saw it over in the corner of the room, lying under a small table. I didn’t think anything of it at the time—sorry.”
“That’s okay,” Falconer said. “Doctor, could this pipe be the source of a cyanide gas?”
“If your suspect convinced the victim to smoke a tobacco that was subtly flavored with almonds,” she replied. “Does anyone know if almond-flavored tobacco exists?”
Falconer looked at Halloran and Waidler, and Waidler spoke: “Sure. I’ve seen it marketed.”
“Well, then, there’s your answer, detective sergeant,” the doctor said. “This victim sat down with the suspect and likely smoked a pipe filled with tobacco that was laced with cyanide. It’s not too far-fetched a scenario.”
“No, it isn’t,” Falconer said. “In fact, it makes perfect sense. But one thing: if our victim was smoking tobacco with cyanide in it, how come our suspect wasn’t affected?”
“I would imagine that he simply made sure to be well-distanced from the smoke when your victim lit up,” the doctor opined. “Perhaps even standing by an open window. One would have to be quite close to it to suffer any ill effects.”
“Well, thank you for your opinions, doctor,” Falconer said. “Again, we appreciate you
speaking with us today, and I can assure you that next time, I’ll know who you are.”
The doctor finally smiled again. “Are you saying that there’s definitely going to be a next time, detective sergeant?”
“Well, unfortunately, we deal with dead bodies quite a lot, doctor,” he replied. “I’m sure that if you continue working for the coroner, you’ll be seeing us again. Thank you again—we’ll show ourselves out now.”
“Yes, certainly, detective sergeant,” she said, standing up with the men. “Please keep me apprised of this situation if you don’t mind. That man suffered a terrible death. A quick death, but terrible nonetheless.”
“Agreed, doctor,” Falconer said, doffing his bowler. “Have a good day.”
He then walked out of the room and headed for the stairwell, joined by Waidler and Halloran.
85
“So, this Doctor Albright believes that your unidentified informant was poisoned by cyanide?” Byrnes asked from behind his desk.
“That’s correct, sir,” Falconer answered, as he stood with Penwill, Houllier, and Waidler. “She dissents from the other doctors’ opinions, but she did provide these compelling reasons.”
“Yes, yes, I can’t argue with you there, Falconer,” Byrnes said, scratching his chin. “And it makes sense, actually. This group that you’ve been investigating would want this informant eliminated, obviously, and poison appears to have done the trick. So, what are we doing now?”
“Well, Officers Halloran, Winter, and Kramer are tailing Bliss’ son, hoping that it’ll lead somewhere,” Falconer said. “We think the son is high up in the group’s hierarchy.”
“Well, tread lightly, Falconer. Bliss is, as you know, a powerful man in this town, and his son is equally well-connected. I don’t need any bad press coming to us by having one of your men rough up the son.”
“Understood, sir. We’re just trying to shadow him and see where he leads us.”
“Yes, of course. And I agree that you don’t have enough evidence at this point to charge anyone, even after discovering this mysterious lair under the church.”
“Yes, not yet, but soon, we hope.”
“Well, keep at it,” Byrnes said, looking at the men, “but this stays in this office, understand.”
“Yes, sir,” Falconer replied. “Thank you.”
“And by the way,” Byrnes said, “any news about Meunier’s trail, inspectors?”
“Well, perhaps it’s good news for you, superintendent,” Penwill said. “We aren’t sure, but we have indications that perhaps he made his way back to England or France. The Special Branch is investigating this now.”
“Understood, gentlemen. Then, I suppose that means we’ll be losing the both of you shortly.”
“Yes,” Penwill said. “I believe that soon, Inspector Houllier and myself will have to head back to London or Paris. But in the meantime, we are happy to help Detective Sergeant Falconer here with this band of assassins that he’s been tracking.”
“Good, good,” Byrnes said. “The city certainly appreciates your assistance in this matter.”
“Certainly,” Penwill said.
“But of course, superintendent,” Houllier chimed in.
“All right then, men,” Byrnes said. “Good luck.”
“Thank you, sir,” Falconer said.
He then pointed to the door and led the men out into the hallway.
86
Winter stood alone in the shadows on the corner of 5th Avenue and 36th Street and looked over at the front entrance to the swanky Millennium Club that stood like a great, marble symbol of American extravagance and wealth. He had been standing vigil over the exclusive gentlemen’s club for the rich and powerful for a couple of hours as Halloran lingered on the other side of the avenue, away from the glare of the gaslights and the constant activity at the grand building’s entrance.
Winter glanced over at the younger officer, and then looked farther back on the street to where Kramer was sitting atop a parked hansom cab, playing the part of a simple cab driver working the city streets at night. The three of them had been on the trail of George Bliss, 42-year-old heir to the Bliss fortune and favorite son of his vainglorious, provocateur father, and had tracked the younger man to the opulent Millennium Club, which was headed by the father and included some of the wealthiest people in town as members.
He turned back to look at the entrance of the club again, reached down, took out a flask, and took a quick drink of some whisky.
No harm. To hell with ‘em.
He then stuffed the flask back in his pocket and suddenly stood still: the tuxedo-clad younger Bliss had finally appeared at the entrance to the clubhouse across the street and appeared to be instructing some men to bring up a carriage. Winter watched as the young financier spoke with a young paramour hanging onto his arm for several minutes, and then a fancy black carriage headed by a small team of elegant horses rode up and came to a stop curbside in front of the couple. Winter watched as the club’s doormen helped the two up into the carriage and then sent it off down the avenue.
Stepping out slightly into the street, he waved at Halloran, and then did the same to Kramer back with the cab. Within seconds, Kramer had guided his horse up to the two officers, and they jumped in and sat back as the cab roared off away from the curb.
“You sure that’s him?” Kramer yelled down from his seat above and behind the cab’s small passenger compartment.
“As sure as I’m sitting here on my big Irish arse!” Winter yelled back. “He’s with some lady-friend, too.”
“Well, he’s probably just going back to his joint,” Kramer said.
“Nah, he’s headed west,” Winter said. “His place is over on the East Side. Let’s just keep an eye on him.”
Kramer guided his horse slowly behind the fancy carriage at a distance as it wound itself west to Broadway, then south into the heart of the noisy Tenderloin. Approaching the intersection of 31st Street, the carriage suddenly turned west again and ambled past numerous gin joints, bordellos, and dirty dance halls.
“Now, where the hell is this swell going?” Winter asked loudly. “Why would such a rich guy like him come over to this pigsty?”
“Somethin’ must be up, my friend,” Kramer said from above.
“I agree,” Winter said. “When he stops, leave us off at a distance. All right?”
“Sure thing, pal,” Kramer said.
“You think he’s meeting someone over here?” Halloran asked Winter.
“Why else would this fancy dude be coming over to these parts, Jimmy?” Winter responded. “Let’s just see who he meets.”
Winter watched outside his window as the large carriage kept rolling west until it finally came to a stop next to the curb at a slightly quieter section of midtown.
“He’s getting out,” Halloran said.
“Yup,” Winter said. “Jimmy, let’s get out here and see where he goes. Keep at a distance, boy, you hear?”
“Got it,” Halloran replied.
“All right, Kramer, you okay parking here for a bit?” Winter asked, looking up at the officer sitting high up on his driver’s seat.
“Sure thing,” Kramer answered. “But if I hear anything bad, I’m coming fast with my two guns.”
“Sounds good to me, pardner,” Winter said. “All right, Jimmy, you take the other side of the street and I’ll go down on this side. It looks like he’s moving down a bit towards Eighth. Remember—Falconer just wanted us to see what he’s up to, not try to take the guy down.”
“Understood,” Halloran said.
The two men then split up and walked slowly down the street on opposite sides. Winter could see Bliss walking westward along the sidewalk by himself, and the carriage remained parked along the street. Coming alongside it, he pulled his hat down low over his brow and looked away, and then, when he was f
inally past it, he kept moving slowly behind his quarry, perhaps thirty yards distant. After several more seconds, he saw Bliss suddenly turn left and disappear into an alleyway. Slowing up, he looked over at Halloran, who was watching intently, and nodded subtly at the young officer. Halloran then quietly walked across the street and started walking with Winter.
“Did you see that, Jimmy?” Winter asked him. “He went down this alley here.”
“I did see it, Mister Winter.”
“Well, make sure your gun is handy, if need be. I’ll go in on this closer side, and then you follow on the other side of the alley a few seconds later, okay?”
“Yes, got it.”
“All right, here goes,” Winter said, and then he walked several paces forward and turned left into the alley. Peering down the slim space between the two buildings that rose on either side of him, he saw no sign of Bliss, so he ventured a little farther into the alley. He looked back and could see Halloran doing the same: gliding slowly along the opposite wall, pistol ready in his hand.
Walking several more steps, Winter gazed forward into the dim light and saw two men standing together and talking in the distance near a large barrel.
Bliss and some other mope. Interesting…
He watched as they spoke for several seconds, and then he signaled for Halloran to quickly join him alongside the wall where he stood in the darkness. Halloran nodded and soon was standing right behind him, pressed up against the dirty, brick wall.
“Is that Bliss right there?” Halloran whispered.
“Sure is,” Winter said quietly. “All dressed up in his finery that costs more than our salaries and meeting some pin-head in a back alley. Kind of odd, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, I would agree. Should we grab them?”
“Nah. Falconer didn’t want that, as I mentioned, so we’ll just follow him afterwards.”
“Bliss?” Halloran asked.
“Nope,” Winter replied. “The other guy. We follow him back to wherever he goes and then eventually we take him down and get him to talk. Know what I mean?”
The Fall Page 27