“Yes. But apparently it wasn’t the first time. Marian, I mean Mrs. Ocello says that they fight all the time about other men but always made up in the end.”
“Just because you apologize doesn’t make it right. From what I read in the Dailies, she was pretty rotten to him.”
Anna eyed the Inspector. “I guess that’s true, but . . . “
He waited for her to finish.
“. . . I think she did love him.”
“Interesting opinion. What makes you say that?”
“She told me, sir”
“Horace.”
“Sorry sir, I mean Horace.”
“She told you?”
She shrugged innocently.
“When?”
“Last night.”
“And you believed her? You think she was being genuine?”
“Yes. As twisted as it was, I think she loved him according to what her view of love is . . . was.”
“What about him?”
“Same story, different twist. Yes, he has a temper. He went section eight at the park yesterday and then again at dinner last night, but I think he would do anything for her, whether right or wrong. He was guided by her, even when his temper seemed out of control.”
Interesting. But that doesn’t mean Beltran didn’t snap. “You mentioned dinner. Let’s move on to that. From what I understand, Mr. Daniels and Mr. O’Connell were absent. Ms. Lorraine arrived late.”
“Yes.”
“What were your impressions of the meal? And don’t tell me some bull about how the crab was delicious. You know what I mean.” It worked. She smiled.
“She came late, dressed to the hilt, gloves and all.”
“Why do you think she did this?”
“I hate to speculate, but you asked for my impressions. I thought at first she might be trying to hide some bruises, but later I decided against it.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“The way she looked at him. There was no fear there,” she hesitated, not sure how to put it. “She was . . . happy.”
“Happy?”
“Happy.”
“Explain.”
“It wasn’t like she was relishing a victory, lording it over her conquest. She . . . I don’t know, she looked satisfied, content. If that makes any sense. I mean, it’s not the kind of relationship I would want for myself, but she looked . . . secure, like a weight had just been taken off her shoulders. I thought it was because their routine fight must be blowing itself out, on the mend, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Considering the events, I can understand why you would second guess yourself. What about after dinner? You said she looked troubled?”
“It was agreed upon at dinner that everyone would meet on the aft deck in an hour for . . .”
“Cocktails?”
She cringed, “Yes sir, I mean Inspector, Mr. Horace, sir.”
Back to this now? He smiled benevolently, “As far as I can make it, you were out passed the limit. Anyway, I’m not here for that right now. Please, go on.”
“I thought I would come down here and get a pad and pencil . . .”
“To this office?”
“Yes. It’s where I keep my notes on Mr. Beltran’s film ideas.” Her eyes flashed towards desk behind him and to the mysterious compartment in the wall beyond. “As I said, I saw Eva, I mean, Ms. Lorraine leaning against the railings as I passed through the dining saloon on my way towards the stairs in the cigar room. When I came back up, she was still there, but . . .”
He waited patiently for her to finish.
Her brow knitted as if trying to remember an important detail, “but she looked different.”
“Different?”
“When I left, her body was straight with her hands were propped against the rails holding herself up. She looked confident.”
“And when you came back?”
“She was completely altered. Her shoulders were slumped. Her arms were clasped tightly around her. She had a cigarette in her hand that she wasn’t smoking. When I walked up to her, she didn’t notice me at first. She was lost in her thoughts, and whatever those thoughts were, they weren’t pleasant.” She gave him a meaningful look. He nodded for her to continue.
“When I spoke to her, she tried to be her usual demeaning self, but eventually gave in.”
“Gave in?”
She sent him an arched brow, “I can be pretty persuasive when I want something.”
I bet you can.
“Anyway, I could see that she was in trouble, in trouble, not troubled. She was scared.”
“Did she tell you why?”
“No.”
“I thought you said you can be pretty persuasive.” She shot him a withering look. He did not wither. “You say she was scared, but you don’t think it was her husband that was making her so?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“While we were talking she looked at the men on the aft deck. Mr. Beltran was just joining them. When he looked her way, she dismissed him by turning her back on him. He looked like a whipped school boy.”
“That’s when she told you she loved him.”
“Yes.”
“But that’s not what was troubling her?”
“No. I am pretty sure it was something else.”
“What else did she say?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Well, she did tell me that I won’t always get what I want no matter how smart or pretty I think I am, but I don’t think she was really talking about me.”
His eyes crinkled behind his spectacles.
“What about the other men on deck? What were they doing?”
“They were playing cards.”
“Were they all there?”
“All of them I think. Mr. Beltran, Mr. Hess, Mr. Daniels, Mr. O’Connell, and Mr. Stuart were all playing cards. Mr. Smith and Mr. Ocello were talking. Yes, they were all there.”
“What about Flynn?”
She looked up, “Flynn? You mean Finn, I mean Mr. Finnegan, the bar . . . steward?”
He looked up. “The bartender,” he said deliberately. “Yes, Mr. Finnegan. Was he there?”
“No,” her brow furrowed as she looked down. Then she returned her gaze directly at Horace. “He usually helps Moreau clean up after dinner, but he may have been getting things ready for drinks. I think the others were in a hurry to start last night. The kind of day it was and all.”
“After you and Ms. Lorraine talked, did you two join the party?”
“No, I think she wanted to leave as soon as she saw Mr. Beltran. Shortly after he joined the party, she asked me to make her apologies to the group. She said she was turning in for the night.”
“She was going back to her cabin?”
“That’s what she said.”
Horace looked at the woman sitting across from him, pondering in what direction to take this interview. “Do you think that’s where she went?”
She looked at him, regarding the question. “I guess not. I hadn’t thought of that until now. Beltran said he went to bed and waited for her. If she was already there, he would have said so.”
“You believe him?”
Anna rolled the question around in her head. Then slowly, “Yes.”
“You realize Miss Kelly, if that’s true, you were the last to see her alive.” He paused, letting it sink in. The sudden realization and horror in her eyes when she finally decoded his words in her mind spoke volumes. “Is there anything else you wish to tell me?”
“No.”
Horace made a move to stand. “Well, if you remember anything else, feel free to come talk to me.” He turned towards the door, as if to leave her there alone, in that room.
“Sir? I mean Inspector Horace?” He stopped and looked at her as if he was surprised that she had anything else to say. “I, I don’t have anything to add, but, can I ask you something?”
I knew it. She knows something
. He walked back to his seat and sat down again, “Not sure I will be able to give you an answer, but go ahead.”
“Who is Finnegan?”
Horace coughed, “What?” Not a question he was expecting.
“Mr. Finnegan. You know him. You recognized him when we walked into the room just now. And now it looks as if you are taking him into custody. Who is he?”
“Just your typical low-life criminal. His picture’s been recently circulated among all the departments. He’s wanted for various things, mainly prohibition violations and gambling.”
Anna’s eyes narrowed.
“Look Miss Kelly. I don’t know what your interest is in him. But I advise you to stay away from him. He’s not the kind of guy a nice girl like you should be concerned about.” She looked at him as if he were holding out on her. He was of course. But there was no way in hell he was going to tell her any more. Instead he countered. “Actually, There’s something else you may be able to help me with.”
“Yes?”
“In any of the communications or dictations that Mr. Beltran had you take down or type up, was there anything that struck you as . . . unusual?” He saw her eyes flicker momentarily, but her expression did not change. That hit a mark.
“Unusual?”
“Unusual.”
She hesitated, as if trying to filter through the last couple of days. Then after a moment’s consideration, “No, I don’t think so.”
Liar.
The interview was over. They both knew it, but each held out the hope of gaining just one more piece of information from the other. She about Forster. He . . . hell, he didn’t even know what he was after; he just knew it was there. She wasn’t the sort of girl to be mixed up in anything like this, at least as far as he could tell. Suddenly visions of the war replayed in the back of his mind. Then again, one can never be absolutely sure. He eyed her again with this new consideration. I still don’t believe it. But I have to admit, I’ve been wrong before.
She looked at him. He looked down, knuckles combing his moustache as if thinking of something else. She could the see the wheels turning in his head. The question was: What was he thinking? Did it have to do with the Raven? What did he know about Forster? If his tensing at the sight of him earlier was any indication, he had some strong emotion against the man, and judging by his reaction to her mentioning cocktail hour, it wasn’t just because he was a prohibition violator. There’s a larger picture here. Problem was, she only had access to a few of the pieces.
If she only knew, those were the exact same words that were running through his mind.
30
Rags and Niches
* * *
When it was clear that he was going to get nothing more out of her, Horace stood and motioned for Anna to do the same. She got up reluctantly and walked towards the door. He followed her with that same reluctance.
He saw her back to the cigar room and, after indicating to Daniels that he would have to take the Allura into custody for a short time (news that was not received well), headed back to the speeder. He called up some of the crew and described how he wanted to bring in the yacht.
“Radio the D.A. White. Have them come out and see if they can dredge up a body. We’ll take the Allura to Pier 7 and meet up with them after they’re done. I’m not holding out any hope, but we may get lucky.” With the coast guard on board and in control of the yacht, he headed back to the cigar room wishing he’d had a cigar himself.
Pulling Grist aside, he explained in a low voice what he wanted done with Flynn. “Escort him back to the speeder and hold him there. When we get back, go ahead and take him to the station. We should have room enough at Harbor to hold him. From what I’ve heard he’s as slippery as an eel in an oil spill, so don’t let him get away from you. Send back Harrison. We’ll start conducting a search while on our way back to the pier. No sense wasting any time.”
From her seat across the room, Anna saw Grist nod and then watched as he walked towards Forster, motioning for him to get up. Forster looked as if he wasn’t going to comply. Grist gave him a little more incentive by placing a hand on his Colt. Forster thought the better of it and stood, allowing himself to be herded out of the room by the armed police dog. He glanced once in Anna’s direction, now in her seat again next to O’Connell.
He hated it. Hated the whole damn scene. Hated O’Connell for being there. Hated how she looked at him out on the starboard. Hated how close she sat to him now. But most of all, he hated himself. Hated who he was. How he felt. What he had to do. And that was to leave. Leave her thinking the worst of him. Never more in his life did he wish he was the better man.
A few minutes after Forster left with Grist in tow, Officer Harrison appeared in the doorway. Horace communicated to the rest still present that they were to remain in the two rooms. However, if they needed to use the restroom to let Officer Harrison know, and he would see to it that they were accommodated. They were asked to wait there even after the Allura had docked, until he had the chance to speak to them as a group one more time. The news was met with the expected gripes and complaints, but Horace, used to the abuse of witnesses, especially witnesses with money, was not deterred from his decision. The engines were felt coming back to life and the yacht started to make her way back to shore. Horace motioned for Pike to follow and the two disappeared once again through the door, leaving the others to speculate as to what they would find.
The first room that Horace wanted to take a look at was that office. It’d been a nerve wracking room to more than just one of his interviewees. He and Pike entered, and without hesitation, began going through the large rosewood desk, then Anna’s small one. From what he could tell by sifting through the notes scattered about on top, there was nothing here. Just a few scribbles about new screenplays. Some accounting notes. A couple of communiqués to L. A. from Beltran. Nothing that would give him any clue as to what she was hiding. He moved toward the wall behind the desk and starting knocking. As he expected, he came across a section where it sounded hollow. Fiddling with the panel, he finally came to the latch and the panel sprung open. Nothing. Though it looked as if a couple of bottles had been stored there recently. Rings on the hardwood testified to their former presence. Whatever they were, they weren’t here now. Frustrated, Horace abandoned the office, not bothering to close the secret hiding place. Let them stew over it.
One by one, the inspector and the lieutenant searched the staterooms, and then made their way down to the lower deck. They searched the galley, the chef’s quarters, even the ice-box. Finished with those, Horace opened the next room down the corridor. It was Anna’s.
He walked in and immediately knew whose cabin it was. The one personal item in view was a small square photograph on the dresser. It showed a man, a woman, and a young boy standing in a field with a farmhouse in the background. On the back were the words, Mom, Dad, and Henry ’29. Horace couldn’t imagine anyone else on the yacht having such a picture, and it fell in line with the type of girl he hoped she was. They looked through the dresser and through her luggage but found nothing else of worth amongst her things. Horace was beginning to grumble, a sign Pike knew would be best responded to with silence. So in silence, he followed him out the door, down the corridor, and in and out of the next several cabins. Nothing. They were now coming to the end of the corridor where Flynn’s was the last room on the left.
The bed was made. There were no personal items to speak of. Nothing in the dresser. Nothing to indicate that someone even slept here. Only one leather suitcase standing alone in the corner. Horace would be sure to have that taken back to the office after a cursory search, but for now, something else was bothering him. It was the smell. Something didn’t smell right. For a cabin that was immaculate, there was a lingering scent that didn’t correlate. It didn’t take him long to recognize what it was. It was a smell he had often come into contact with when he was a lowly officer, taking part in his share of raids, breaking open illegal casks in restaurants, and axing
barrels in basement speakeasies. It was a sweet fermented smell. Even so, this smell was slightly different. It had an extra layer. An added scent he also recognized due to his experience on the force. A layer he could do very well without. It bristled his moustache and sent the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.
“Tear this room apart. I don’t care if we have to take up the floorboards and rip out the walls. Something is here. We just have to find it.”
“Yes, sir,” Pike replied, grateful that the grumblings had ceased. The ‘Stache was on the scent, and he and Horace set to work. At first, mindful of the labor intensive craftsmanship of the yacht, they had begun with a gentle and superficial search, opening the suitcase, stripping the bed, and upending the mattresses. When that yielded no result, they reluctantly began the destruction of the cabin that would eventually yield up its secrets. Retrieving crowbars and hammers from the coast guard speeder, they began to pull apart the dresser and the berth. Daniels is going to have a fit. Then it was the floorboards and walls. Pike slid his crowbar into the side of a panel and to his surprise, the panel popped open with ease revealing another recess like the one in the office. Inside was what looked like a pile soiled rags.
Pike called his superior over. Horace reached inside and pulled out one of the rags. It was a shirt, stained red with what was obviously a great deal of wine. What was less obvious was that the wine had been mixed with a great deal of blood.
Gotcha.
*
Horace indicated to Pike that he wanted these bagged and tagged, and picking up the suitcase on his way out, started to head back to the cigar room. Darkness had fallen. The Allura had made its way back to the pier and had begun the docking process. He was impounding the boat, and he wanted to make his last requests as quickly as possible so that the guests and crew could find sleeping accommodations for the night. They would need to stay within the vicinity letting him know where they could be reached. The evening was shaping up to be a long one.
Using the back stairs instead of the ones that led directly into cigar room, he made his way around the starboard side. He was just passing the coast guard boat still alongside the Allura when shouts suddenly erupted from the deck of the speeder. There was a splash, followed by another. Horace broke into a run. Through the darkness, he could see a form emerge from the underneath the water and start swimming toward the shore end of the dock with another form emerging and following close behind. “Get him! Don’t you dare let him escape or I’ll have your heads!” Horace shouted. He rushed to where the gangplank was just being set in place. Impatiently he paced, grabbed the rail with his free hand and shook the suitcase in the air with the other. As soon as the gangway was fitted, he pushed past the guards that had been set to the task of docking the yacht. “After him. You idiots!” Running down the gangplank he supplemented his threats with obscenities and even more threats. His officers, knowing the validity of those threats, did not dilly-dally into action. The escaped form began speedily climbing out of the waters onto the boarded pier. Once out, he started to run, making his way into the city, with officers, pistols drawn, not far behind.
The Golden Gates Page 15