Murder Under a Full Moon

by Abigail Keam

  “Did the subject of copper ever come up?”

  Martin thought for a moment. “You know there have been so many men and so many conversations to remember.”

  Irritated, Mona nodded to Hunt, who produced another fifty-dollar bill.

  “No more hustling, Miss Martin, or that record producer won’t get a call.”

  Seeing she couldn’t push Mona further, Martin said, “All right. I’ll drop a dime, but you can’t breathe a word to Scott that I talked to you. You gotta promise me.”

  “He’ll never know.”

  “Well, then,” Martin said cautiously, “I was a hostess at a card game with some Germans, and they were talking about needing certain minerals for mass manufacturing. They didn’t know I have a German boyfriend, and that I knew a little German, so I played dumb.”

  “What did the men say?”

  “They were having trouble getting access to copper and tin. Companies were hesitant to sell to them, but they had struck a deal with Sweden.”

  “Was my name or Moon Enterprises mentioned?”

  “No, but they said they were going to put pressure on American owners to sell them copper.”

  “You said you have a German boyfriend. Is this boyfriend, Otto Mueller?”

  Martin looked surprised. “Yeah, but I haven’t seen him for a while. I’m getting kind of worried.”

  Mona resisted an urge to glance at Hunt. Martin didn’t know that Otto Mueller was dead. Mona forged ahead. “What does Mr. Mueller tell you?”

  “Not much. He always wants to talk about the music. He is a real lover of jazz. Says I have talent.” Martin took a sip of old gin from one of the dirty glasses. “Only person to really believe in me.” Martin’s voice turned soft when speaking of Mueller.

  “He tells you nothing of Germany’s plans for the future?”

  “Doesn’t like to talk about it except that he feels the country is going in the wrong direction. Otto was forced to join the Nazi party. He needs his job as he had a family to support.”

  “You know he is married?”

  “He told me, but I don’t hold that against him. Says his wife is a wonderful woman, but they just don’t have common interests. His relationship with me has nothing to do with her.” Looking wistful, Martin added, “His family still lives in Germany. Otto will only be here for another year before he retires and goes back home.”

  “Is he ever joined by a man named Lars Dardel—a Swede—young, blond hair with handsome features?”

  “Yeah. On occasion.”

  “What’s his connection to Otto Mueller?”

  “They both come to the club to hear me sing. Dardel also loves music, though I think he is more of a classical music fan. I think he comes to please Otto.”

  “What is Mr. Mueller’s job and where does he work?”

  “At the German Embassy. He transcribes foreign letters and cables—summarizing the information for upper management. Otto speaks Swedish, English, and Italian.”

  “So he has access to high level information.”

  Martin laughed, “Oh heavens no. Nothing of real importance. He doesn’t have the security clearance.”

  “Does he talk about copper or ever mention me by name?” Mona asked again.

  “Not that I recall. Otto doesn’t like to talk shop when he is with me. He likes to discuss music and my list of songs for the night. That type of thing. The conversation is usually about me.”

  “Does he carry an attaché case with him? Bring it here?”

  Martin shook her head. “I never saw a case.”

  “Does he meet Lars Dardel away from the club or your apartment?”

  “I don’t know. Ask Otto.” Miss Martin looked disgruntled. “I’ll tell you one thing about Lars Dardel. He can’t keep his hands off the ladies. Know what I mean?”

  “Explain it to me.”

  “The waitresses at the club hate him. He’s always grabbing them or trying to play kissy face. He even tried to lure me away from Otto.”

  “Did you tell Scott about Dardel’s behavior?”

  “Yeah, but he didn’t seem too interested.”

  “What about Otto? Did you tell him?”

  “Why are you asking all these questions about Otto? I thought you wanted to know about Abraham Scott.”

  “Is Otto Mueller your friend’s real name?”

  “Hey, what goes on here?” Martin asked, looking back and forth between Mona and Hunt.

  “Curious, that’s all. One more thing.”

  “What?”

  “Does Otto Mueller know that you work for Abraham Scott?”

  “Are you crazy? Of course, he doesn’t, and you’re not gonna spill the beans and mess up a good thing!”

  Mona rose. “Thank you for your time, Miss Martin. Mr. Hunt will be in touch when the record deal is set.”

  “You won’t forget?”

  “I’ll keep my end of the bargain. You keep yours. Not a word to anyone that I was here.”

  Martin nodded.

  Mona motioned to Hunt to leave with her.

  As soon as they had exited the building from the back entrance, Hunt stopped Mona. “Why didn’t you tell Martin about Otto’s death? She doesn’t even know that Dardel is dead as well.”

  “That’s Scott’s job. If he hasn’t told her already, it’s because he’s waiting for something. Perhaps he doesn’t want to frighten her. It’s not my job to bust his chops.”

  “She’s lying, you know.”

  “On some things, yes, but not all. I think she was rather fond of Otto Mueller even though she was spying on him for Abraham Scott. One thing is for sure, Otto Mueller was not some low-level bureaucrat. He was high up in the German command.”

  “It’s for sure that Otto Mueller was not this man’s real name. If he was a member of the Nazi party and caught with a black woman . . .” Hunt drew a line across his throat with his index finger. “Goodbye, Herr Mueller.”

  “The British got to him first. I kind of feel sorry for the man. He was caught in a trap.”

  “I think the girl was just a cover. I think old Otto was there to meet up with people and pass on information.”

  “You think Mueller was a spy? Spying for whom?”

  Hunt shrugged. “Maybe the Russians. Perhaps if you gave me all the facts, I can come up with a reasonable hypothesis.”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss everything with you, but I’ll give you an A for effort for trying to catch me off guard.”

  Hunt grinned. “Just thought I might glean a little tidbit.”

  “Let’s just stick with the facts as you know them. There has been no mention of Russians in any of this mess.”

  “Okay, just thinking out loud.” Hunt switched to another topic. “Are you serious about this record deal?”

  “I will keep my word unless Martin double crosses me.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Have Miss Martin followed. I want to know whom she sees and where she goes.”

  “That means more men.”

  “So hire them.”

  “You’re the boss lady, but it’s going to cost a pretty penny.”

  “Don’t worry, Rupert. I’ve got the penny, copper at that, and more to spare,” Mona said, pulling down her veil.

  Rupert Hunt laughed as they walked down an alleyway. Once they came to the main thoroughfare, he went one way and Mona the other.

  16

  “What are you looking at?” Violet asked.

  Mona was sitting at a table marking off names from a list. “Rupert got the passenger manifests from all the outgoing ocean liners from five to three days ago. I’m looking for German sounding names.”

  “And then what?”

  Mona pointed to a stack of Portsmouth and London newspapers. “Go through those and look for any articles about a passenger dying or falling overboard on one of these passenger ships.”

  “Looking for anyone specifically?”

  “There can’t be too many death
s on a ship. Pull them all out.”

  “Are you sure about Portsmouth papers? Why there?”

  “Because most intercontinental sea voyages begin in New York and end in Portsmouth, Great Britain.”

  Violet said, “German ships sometimes dock in Portugal or Spain.”

  “If you can’t find anything in these papers, we will widen our search.”

  “Are you sure you have the right time frame? Any kind of news about a death would only be reported after the ship landed.”

  “I think this death will be reported earlier.”

  “Why?”

  “Just have my suspicions, that’s all.” Mona couldn’t tell Violet that the body, smuggled out of the Willard Hotel in a steamer trunk, was placed aboard an ocean liner, and unceremoniously dumped in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

  “I don’t see what ocean liner passenger lists have to do with anything.”

  Mona didn’t repeat what Abraham Scott confided in her about what his men did with Otto Mueller’s corpse. The less Violet knew, the better.

  “If I were you, I’d look in the Washington obituaries,” Violet suggested.

  Mona looked up from her list with a pencil poised in her hand. “Will you do that as well, Violet?”

  “Sure.”

  Violet spent the next twenty-five minutes going through New York, Baltimore, and Washington newspapers until she came to a small article only two paragraphs long. “Miss Mona, I think I found something in the New York Herald Tribune.”

  Mona pushed back in her chair. “Great. Read it out loud, please.”

  Mr. Alburn Bower, 54, died on the SS Cathay, presumably by drowning. Witnesses say Mr. Bower slipped, lost his balance, and fell overboard. His body was not recovered. Mr. Bower is survived by his wife, Anna Schafer Bower, 51, and three children, Thomas, 21, Jorg, 15, and Jakob, 10. Mr. Bower worked for the German Embassy in Washington, D.C. as an interpreter. His colleagues express their condolences to his family and friends at his passing.

  “Is that what you were looking for?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “May I be excused then? Hilda and I are going to the Smithsonian Museum this afternoon.”

  “Take one of the Pinkertons with you.”

  Violet sighed. “Do I have to? I don’t want some man following us. Hilda will spot him and that will blow my cover with her.”

  Mona chuckled. “You have a cover now, do you?”

  Violet grinned. “You know what I mean.”

  “Sorry, but no one can leave the hotel without someone accompanying them. It’s for your own protection, especially you. Tell him not to follow too closely. Hilda won’t even notice. Besides, with all the kidnapping going on in the world, she probably expects the companion of a rich woman to have some sort of bodyguard.”

  “Okay. I’ll inform the Pinkertons that I’m going out. What about you?”

  “I’m going to bed with a good mystery. A new Dorothy L. Sayers mystery just came out titled The Nine Tailors. I can’t wait to read it.”

  Violet hesitated a second before stating, “Hilda and I might go to a movie after the museum.”

  “That’s fine, Violet. You deserve a break. I shan’t need you tonight.”

  “Thank you. I won’t be too late.”

  “Don’t forget your new hat and gloves,” Mona said as she went back to her list.

  “I think I might take an umbrella too. It looks like rain.”

  “Un huh,” Mona mumbled, distracted.

  Seeing that Mona was not paying attention, Violet saw her chance to escape.

  “Have fun,” Mona murmured as Violet grabbed her things, slipped out the door, and scooted past the Pinkertons to downstairs where Hilda waited.

  Giggling, Violet sneaked out through the employee’s entrance with Hilda without thinking anyone would notice her leaving the hotel.

  Violet thought wrong.

  As soon as Violet and Hilda left the hotel, they were followed by two hired thugs with orders to harm the girls.

  17

  The butler opened the door of the British Embassy.

  “I would like to see Ambassador Lindsay, please.” A furious Mona handed the butler her card. “Tell him Miss Mona Moon is here.”

  The butler looked at the card and handed it back to Mona. “I’m afraid His Lordship is not at home, miss.”

  “Then I’ll wait.” Mona pushed past the small-statured butler, as did Jamison and Samuel.

  Flabbergasted, the butler sputtered, “This, this is most unseemly, miss. I will have to call the staff and have you forcibly removed.”

  “You can try, sir, but this man right here . . .” Mona said, pointing to Samuel.

  The butler gazed at Samuel’s tall stature and imposing physique.

  Teasing, Samuel leaned in and gave the butler the evil eye.

  Alarmed, the butler drew back.

  Samuel tried not to laugh at the butler’s confused expression. He guessed many people didn’t try to break into the British Embassy. Only his boss would have the moxie to do so.

  Mona said, “He is a noted boxing champion where I come from. He’ll give your lads a bloody nose for sure.”

  “And I’ll help him,” Jamison chimed in.

  “JOHN! What the devil is going on? What’s all this racket?”

  Mona looked up to see Sir Lindsay, wearing a smoking jacket, peering over the second floor banister. Her angry gaze returned to the butler, she said, “So the Ambassador is not home, huh?”

  “Miss Moon and her henchmen are threatening to throttle me, sir,” the butler whined.

  Lindsay chuckled. “No one is going to lay a hand on you, John.”

  “I tried my best, sir, to shoo them away, but they won’t leave. Miss Moon insists upon seeing you.”

  “I want to see you, Ambassador! Right now!” Mona yelled at Lindsay.

  Lindsay showed surprise. People usually did not shout at him and make demands, especially at this time of night, but then this was America where there was a lack of respect for authority. “It’s late, Miss Moon. Can you come back tomorrow?”

  Mona noticed some of the household staff had meandered into the foyer. Several of them were wearing their nightclothes. “Shall I accuse you of a dastardly act in front of everyone or would you like to hear me out in private?”

  “I have no idea what you are sputtering!”

  “Sure you do.” Mona glared up at Lindsay.

  “Very well, then. John, show Miss Moon to my library. I’ll be down in a moment.”

  “Shall I have tea made, sir?”

  “How about a sedative for Miss Moon?” Lindsay said, before heading off to change.

  Fearful at how Mona would react, the butler immediately tried to distract her. “This way, miss.”

  Mona did not move.

  The butler begged, “Please, miss. It’s been a very long day.”

  Realizing she was putting the butler through some discomfort, she acquiesced. “Show me the way, John.”

  The butler’s face brightened. “Follow me, miss.”

  Mona turned to Samuel and Jamison. “You two can cool your heels right here.”

  Happy to do so, they both nodded.

  Mona followed John to the library and poured herself a bourbon.

  “Would you like tea, miss?”

  “No, thank you. I shan’t be long.”

  “Thank God,” the butler muttered on his way out.

  Overhearing him, Mona chuckled. She knew she was a hellion when angry. Mona sank into an overstuffed chair and took a big swig of her drink. Her nerves were raw, but this matter couldn’t wait.

  Moments later, Lindsay entered the library wearing a dark gray suit with a blue and gold tie. Seeing that Mona was imbibing bourbon, Lindsay poured himself a sherry. “Cheers,” he said, before taking a drink. Noting that Mona’s face was still flush, he was curious as to her intention. “Miss Moon, to what do I owe this honor?”

  Mona put her drink down. “I’ve had enough, Si
r Lindsay.”

  “Enough of what?”

  “You’re to leave my people alone.”

  Lindsay set his glass down. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I just collected my companion, Miss Violet Tate, and her friend from the police station. They had been brutally attacked by some thugs who ripped their frocks, stockings, and said lewd things to them. These girls were punched in the face, Sir Lindsay. PUNCHED! If you want to get into a pissing contest with me, fine, but don’t take your anger and frustration out on two innocent girls or any of my employees. You deal with me directly.”

  Lindsay said, “I have no idea what you are talking about, Miss Moon. I am truly sorry for this unfortunate incident, but why lay this at my door?”

  “Because Miss Tate and the other girl said the men spoke with British accents.”

  Lindsay’s eyes widened.

  “I bet that if they could see a lineup of your male staff, they could identify these miscreants.”

  “Miss Moon, I know that you are upset, but I will not be accused of orchestrating an assault on vulnerable young women. How dare you!”

  “I’m not finished. My suite at the Willard was ransacked several days ago. A little bird told me that it was your men who did the dirty deed. Apparently they were looking for something.”

  Lindsay shot up from his chair. “I will not stand for this!”

  Mona stood up as well. “You stay away from my people and me, or I’ll go to the papers with this.”

  “They wouldn’t print a word of it. It’s too fantastic.”

  “No? All I have to do is have Lord Farley make a few disparaging remarks to the British press about your competency and see what happens then. Once the papers get a whiff of something, they are like bloodhounds. They’ll keep digging until they come up with something.” She handed Lindsay her empty glass. “And don’t even think to plant drugs or a hot gun on me and then tip off the police. I am wise to those tricks.”

  Mona moved to the library door. “I’ll see myself out.” She quietly closed the door and left the embassy with Jamison and Samuel shadowing her.

  Lindsay sat down and finished his sherry. All he could utter was, “My word, how extraordinary!”