The Cinco de Mayo Murder

by Lee Harris

  “He said there was no murder.”

  “When did a killer say anything else?”

  “If he'd killed Heinz, I hardly think he would call me and talk about it. Something's going on there and he wants to clear his name.”

  “By using you.”

  “In a way, yes.”

  “So that leaves McHugh. Unless there was a real crowd on that mountain.”

  I smiled. “Three's enough of a crowd. Can you drink iced coffee tonight?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Mel mentioned how to make iced tea, so I brewed a bunch of coffee and froze coffee ice cubes.”

  “Sounds like a treat.”

  We drank it out of tall crystal glasses that I had inherited from my aunt. I still had some in my glass when the phone rang. It was right beside me so I pressed the button and said hello.

  “This is Steve.”

  “Yes, Steve.” I saw Jack perk up.

  “Do you know who was on the mountain that day?”

  “You, Heinz, and Marty McHugh.”

  “You knew Marty McHugh was there.”

  “I figured it out.”

  “You're short one man.”

  “There was a fourth man on the hike?”

  “Yes. There was one more.”

  I had a sudden terrible feeling that the fourth man was Herb Fallon. “Who was he?” I asked.

  “It's one of the people you've been talking to. I'm sure he won't admit it. But there were four of us who went up and three of us who came down.”

  “Tell me what happened to Heinz's suitcases,” I said, since he didn't seem to want to disclose the fourth name.

  “They were in my car because he had stayed at my house, and he wasn't coming back.”

  “Where was he going?”

  “I think he wanted to go down to Tombstone.”

  “How did he plan to get there?”

  “He had a ride.”

  “With Marty or the other man?”

  “With one of them.”

  #x201C;So there were two cars.”

  “My car and someone else's.”

  “I'd like to know who the fourth man was,” I said.

  “I'm not ready to tell you. I'm not sure I'll ever be ready.”

  “But Marty McHugh knows.”

  “He'll never even admit that he was there. And I told you: you say anything to him and that's the end of our conversations.”

  “I won't say anything,” I promised again. “But I want to know who the fourth man was.”

  The line went dead. I was left with a phone in my hand and an unanswered question hanging in the air.

  “You're up to four guys?” Jack asked after I turned the phone off.

  “That's what he says.”

  “You think he's making this up? It's getting to sound like a party, not a hike in the mountains.”

  I told him what Steve had said. “I'm afraid it's Herb Fallon. Some of the things he told me don't agree with what I learned myself. The more I learned on my own, the less often he called. He may be worried that I'm putting together a scenario that includes him. Of course he'll deny being there. And if these three men keep quiet, there's no one else alive who can tell me the truth.”

  “But Millman may talk.”

  “But why, Jack? If he was partly responsible for Heinz's death, what would motivate him to talk when the others won't?”

  “Think about what you just said and maybe you'll come up with an answer.”

  I picked up the coffee glasses and took them to the kitchen, where I washed and dried them and put them away. People talked about the blue wall of silence put up by the police department. I felt as though I had just run into a similar wall made of Rimson students. They were all protecting themselves, and in doing so they were protecting one another. Why would Steve Millman break the bond?

  I found myself thinking about it as I tried to fall asleep later that night. The three men were on the mountain when Heinz fell. They were horrified when it happened but the slope was too steep to negotiate, as it had been for Joseph and me. Heinz did not move, and the men feared he was dead or dying. Worse, they knew that if he survived, he would tell a tale that would implicate them in his accident. So they ran, leaving him to die. One of them picked up his backpack and took it along with no thought to whether he would keep it, throw it away, or return it to the site.

  In the parking lot they made a pact that none of them would ever tell the story of the accident. Steve Millman drove home in his mother's car. Herb and Marty, who had probably rented a car intending to drive to Tombstone with Heinz, returned the car and flew home. Steve's mother had not expected the guests to return so she asked no questions. Probably Heinz's suitcases were in the Millman car.

  It sounded like a good story. I just couldn't figure out why Steve was now speaking out. And I knew I could no longer call Herb Fallon because he would tell Steve or Marty that I knew there were four of them, and Steve might suffer repercussions.

  I was so close, but I wasn't there yet. And my lines of communication were now blocked. I was at the mercy of Steve Millman, who might never call back.

  The next morning, after my men left, I was trying to make sense of what I knew and what I wished I knew when the phone rang. Steve, I thought, hurrying to pick it up.

  “Chris, this is Herb Fallon.”

  I felt a moment of panic. “Herb, hi. What's up?”

  “Just wanted to tell you. My wife and I are on our way to New Yorkin a couple of hours for a few days of good food, theater, and music. I could meet you for cocktails tomorrow evening if you're available. My wife'll be shopping or recovering from shopping, so it'll just be you and me. We can talk.”

  I knew there was nothing on our calendar, but I felt uncomfortable meeting him alone. “Sure,” I said. “Where were you planning to be?”

  “I always like the lobby of the Waldorf-Astoria. I'll get us a table and keep an eye out for you. How's five?”

  “Five is fine.”

  “You have a cell?”

  “No. But I'll be there.”

  “Great. Just look for a bully.”

  I called Jack when I hung up.

  “I'll meet you there,” he said. “At the Lexington Avenue entrance. He'll be on the Park Avenue side. You can go on ahead and I'll keep watch. It's a public place and he's not going to do anything, but I'll feel better if I'm there.”

  So would I. “Great. I'll call Elsie.”

  “Why don't we make an evening of it? We haven't been out to dinner for a while.”

  “That sounds terrific.”

  His suggestion made me feel much better. Whatever happened during our meeting, I had dinner with Jack to look forward to. And despite the fact that Herb and I would meet in a very public place, knowing that Jack was nearby made me feel safer. I just had my fingers crossed that no emergency arose in Midtown South that would keep him from getting to the Waldorf by five.

  I guessed that this meeting was Herb's way of finding out what I knew and whether I had him on my suspect list. I would have to be careful what I said to keep him thinking he was my number one informant, and not suspect number three.

  While I was having lunch, Steve Millman called.

  “Sorry for these abrupt conversations,” he said, “but I'm using a phone card and it runs out without warning. You were asking me who the fourth man was when last night's card expired.”

  “Yes. I'd like to know.”

  “It's someone you've talked to.”

  “Did I tell you that?” The truth was, I couldn't remember what I'd told him.

  “I don't remember. Marty briefed me at some length before we spoke the first time. His name is in my notes.”

  “Will you give it to me?”

  “I'm still concerned about retribution.”

  “Steve, let's be honest,” I said. “You're calling me. You have something you want to get off your chest.”

  “That's true.”

  “You said there was no mu
rder.”

  “That's true, too. But there might have been.”

  “There might have been a murder if what?”

  “If things had gone as planned.”

  “There was a plan and it wasn't carried out?”

  “That's it.”

  I kept waiting each time he stopped talking to see if he would elaborate with something more than these brief comments, but he wasn't biting. “Tell me about the plagiarism.”

  “I don't want to talk about it.”

  “I talked to Professor Addison.”

  “How'd you find him?”

  “I've done a lot of work, Steve. His name came up.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That one of you plagiarized the other.”

  “He really said that?”

  “Steve, I need to know who the fourth man on the mountain was.”

  “I'm still thinking about that. There was someone who— let's just say there was someone I had a justifiable complaint against.”

  “And he was on the mountain with you?”

  “Yeah. Look, I've gotta go. I'll think about what else I want to tell you.”

  I was getting tired of this. If he was making these calls to have some fun at my expense, I would be very annoyed, but how would I know?

  When Eddie came home, the weather had turned hot and humid, and I decided we could give the town pool a try. The water might still be cool, but I was aching to do some laps. We changed our clothes and drove over, finding a couple of lounges in a shady place. And then we were off. Eddie was like a fish. He would take his deepend swimming test as soon as I felt he was ready, and from the way he was moving through the water, I thought that would be very soon. Over the weekend, I would get Jack's opinion.

  Finally Eddie left the pool and joined a game with other small children while I got my wish and swam several laps, enjoying stretching those muscles for the first time of the year.

  In the evening, Jack and I discussed our plans for the next afternoon. I would take the train to Manhattan so that we would have only one car to drive home. The WaldorfAstoria covered a full block between Forty-ninth and Fiftieth and between Park Avenue and Lex. The cocktail area was on the Park Avenue side so we would meet at the Lexington entrance and ride the escalator up to the lobby floor; while I walked through the entire lobby, Jack would hang back, eventually standing where he had a view of our table.

  “If he wants to walk you out, I'll be right behind you,” he said. “I just showed up to meet you for dinner.”

  “OK.”

  “I doubt whether he's staying there. It's a bit pricey for a college professor.”

  “I can always tell him I'm meeting my husband and he'll be on his way.”

  “So we'll meet at five to five on Lex.”

  “I'll be there.”

  Grand Central Station sits on top of what would be Park Avenue except that the divided avenue splits to pass alongside the east and west sides of the building. The avenue to the east of Park is Lexington and I got myself over there, walked up to the Waldorf, and waited at the north end of the entrance. In this new casual society of ours, I saw more people dressed in sporty attire than in cocktail clothes or business wear. I guess if you're spending your vacation shopping, you may as well be comfortable.

  I was early, but not by much. I scanned Lex in both directions but didn't see Jack. It got to be five of and then a minute before five. I became nervous. It was one of the times I would have liked to have a cell phone with me. Jack carries one because he has to be available virtually twentyfour hours a day. But I don't, and I tremble to think what our monthly bill would be.

  Five o'clock and no sign of my husband. It was too late to call the precinct; besides, he was surely on his way by now, probably backed up in rush-hour traffic or having trouble finding a garage. At three minutes past, I stepped into the middle of the sidewalk and looked in both directions. Jack wasn't visible, and I had no choice but to keep my appointment. I went inside, rode up the long escalator, and started through the lobby—past shops where I could afford nothing, elevators to the many floors, finally arriving at the Park Avenue end where a huge chandelier hung over a mosaic of the wheel of life. I glanced back but saw no familiar face.

  To my right were a couple of levels of tables and chairs with waiters dancing from one to another. I scanned the faces of the men, trying to find one big man sitting alone looking for me. Finally a short, round man with glasses and dark hair, wearing a brown suit, stood and looked directly at me. Could that possibly be my bully?

  I took a last look behind me for Jack, who wasn't there. Herb waved and I smiled and walked toward his table. He made his way in my direction and we met about halfway.

  “Chris?” He was five-four or -five, slightly shorter than I.

  “Herb,” I said, almost relieved at his size. “Nice to meet you.”

  “I've got a table. Let's sit.”

  Unfortunately, the chair he led me to faced Park Avenue, so I would have no way of seeing Jack without being obvious. I sat and gave my order of white wine to the waiter, who had materialized in seconds.

  “Well it's great to meet you,” Herb said, “after all our phone calls. You find this place all right?”

  I assured him I had.

  “So what've you learned since we last discussed Heinz's death?”

  “I can't even remember what I've told you,” I said. “I learn a little more every day, but I don't have it down yet. There were at least three men on the mountain. Did I tell you that?”

  “I'm not sure. Who was the third?”

  “It has to be Marty McHugh.”

  “Marty flew to Arizona?”

  “It looks that way. I told you I had a conference call with Steve Millman.”

  “Yeah. With Marty on the line.”

  “Marty wanted to make sure Steve didn't drop anything that would hurt him.”

  “Right. So you think they killed Heinz.”

  “I don't know what to think. And it's possible there was a fourth person there.”

  “Another one! Hey, you'll have the whole college on that trail pretty soon.”

  My wine came and I took a sip. It was cool and crisp. Herb was drinking Scotch on the rocks with a twist, something that would have appealed to Jack.

  “Not quite,” I said in response to his comment.

  “What makes you think there were more than three?”

  “Something I came across yesterday,” I said lamely.

  “Everyone's been lying to me, Herb. Well, not Dean Hershey.”

  “And not me.”

  “No, of course not. You've given me lots of good information. But Marty lied about some things. Steve told me things that were clearly not true. Andrew Franklin I'm not sure of. It depends on something that Steve said.”

  “But those may be details. What we need to know is who was on that mountain and who had it in for Heinz.”

  “Yes. I've also spoken to Heinz's oldest friend from high school. He read me some of Heinz's letters that were written that last semester. Your name is mentioned.”

  “What did he say about me?” Was it eagerness or concern that I heard in his voice?

  “Not a lot.”

  “He didn't say I was taking that trip, did he?”

  I felt a chill. “No, he didn't. He may have said that he asked you but you couldn't make it.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  So I had worked my way out of that. I wanted desperately to look over my shoulder and see if my husband's reassuring presence was there, but I didn't dare. I sipped my wine and waited for Herb to pick up the dialogue.

  “Well, I can say you've learned a lot in the last few days. How long are you giving this?”

  “I'm not sure. I may need to get back to Professor Addison again. I really appreciate that lead.”

  “No trouble.”

  I looked at my watch. It was almost twenty-five after and I was out of things to tell him.

  “Why don
't we hop a cab and go to my hotel? I'd like you to meet my wife. I'm sure she's there by now.”

  “I would love to, but I really can't. My husband's meeting me here soon. He said as long as I was in the city, why didn't we go out to dinner? So that's what we're doing.”

  “I wish we could join you, but we have tickets over on the west side. And I need a shower and a change of clothes before I go anywhere.”

  “Maybe another time.” I sipped more wine. He had finished his drink, so I assumed our meeting was coming to an end.

  “Where's your husband meeting you?”

  “Under that huge chandelier. I guess half of New York must meet there.”

  “It's really something.”

  I chanced a glance at that area, knowing Jack would not be standing in the middle of the lobby.

  “He there yet?”

  I shook my head. “Any minute.”

  “Well, I guess I'd better get going. It's been great meeting you, Chris.” He pulled out a wallet and put some bills on the table. The check had mysteriously appeared.

  “Same here.” I stood, and we started for the center of the lobby. “Thank you so much for the drink. I'm so glad to be able to put a person to the voice.”

  We shook hands and I watched him go down the stairs to the Park Avenue entrance. He turned and waved. I waved back, then pivoted.

  “I'm right here,” Jack said. He leaned over and kissed me. I felt like hugging him. “Sorry I was late. As usual, something came up and I was thirty seconds too late getting out of there. The desk officer grabbed me and I didn't get here till five fifteen.”

  “I'm just so relieved to see you, I've forgotten all about it.”

  “Let's go back to Lex. I've got a reservation a couple of blocks from here.”

  I grabbed his arm and hung on to it as we walked back the way I had come.

  “I don't know if he's the one, Jack,” I said when we were sitting at a table with a heavy white linen tablecloth and huge napkins. “I was so nervous, I hardly knew what I was saying. But I didn't disclose that I've been talking to Steve Millman. Did you see the size of him?”

  “Short and squat. That's your bully.”

  “I was looking for tall and powerful. What a surprise. He invited me to his hotel to meet his wife. I'm glad I had a legitimate excuse for not going.”