“I like to think we have frustrated their operations,” our guest replied stiffly.
“Can you cite specific accomplishments?”
Marchbank shifted in his chair. “Several of the newspapers have praised our efforts.”
“But have mob activities been substantially curtailed or hampered?”
“I would have to say no.”
“That also has been my impression,” Wolfe said, “which makes me wonder what the crime syndicate would have to gain by killing Mr. Pierce.”
“That thought had also occurred to me,” Marchbank said, “although the shooting sure as hell had all the earmarks of a mob hit.”
“You were Mr. Pierce’s right-hand man. Have you been anointed his successor?”
“No, that will be up to Weldon Dunagan, and he is probably waiting to make an announcement until after Lester’s memorial service.”
“Do you have any doubt that you will be the individual selected to run the organization?”
“How much do you know about the inner workings of Three-G?”
“Very little,” Wolfe said. “Please enlighten me.”
Marchbank leaned back in the chair and stretched his arms over his head. The drink had begun to mellow the man. “Well, for starters, Dunagan really underwrites the whole operation, as you probably are aware.” Wolfe dipped his chin, which Marchbank took as a signal to continue.
“Anyway, Dunagan pretty much gave Lester carte blanche in the running of Three-G. And it is important to remember that we don’t just go after organized crime, we also investigate corrupt behavior in local governmental agencies, and in at least two instances, we have been instrumental in getting city department heads removed from their jobs. Also, in one case a crooked building inspector was sent to jail because of our diligence.”
“Does the Good Government Group have a staff of investigators?” Wolfe asked.
“If three people constitute a staff, we do,” Marchbank said, allowing himself the hint of a smile. “But then I shouldn’t demean them; they’re damned hardworking. And we do have a team of highly motivated and idealistic recent college graduates who also help in the investigations as interns.”
“Other than you, are there others at the management level of the organization?”
“Of course there’s Laura Cordwell, whose title was assistant to Lester. Have you talked to her?”
“I have not met the lady,” Wolfe said, neglecting to mention my session with her.
“She is quite ambitious, to say the least.”
“Would she be a candidate to succeed Mr. Pierce?”
Marchbank made a derisive sound. “I am sure she feels that she would be an ideal candidate. At the risk of sounding petty, I have found her to be more than a little duplicitous. She had seemed to take delight in trying to block my access to Lester.”
“Was she successful?”
“Sometimes, not always. She enjoyed what you might call a ‘special relationship’ with him, if you get my drift.”
“Was this relationship common knowledge?” Wolfe asked.
“It was hardly secret. I was very disappointed with Lester, but then, he had had other … liaisons in the past, or so I had been led to believe.”
“Was Mr. Dunagan aware of the presumed amour between two of the staff?”
“I honestly don’t know, but I doubt it. This much I can tell you: He would not have learned about it from me. I refuse to deal in office gossip,” Marchbank said, his voice assuming a self-righteous tone. “My only concern has been the success of Three-G.”
“If for some reason you are not selected as Mr. Pierce’s successor, would you remain in the organization?”
“I would have to think about it,” he said after taking a deep breath. “Although I don’t see how that is pertinent in a discussion of Lester’s murder.”
“Perhaps it is not,” Wolfe conceded, “although I pose the question to gauge your commitment to the Good Government Group.”
“I could choose to be insulted by that, but I won’t. Whether or not I stay with Three-G, I will always be supportive of their work.”
“How would you describe your relationship with Mr. Dunagan?”
“We’ve always gotten along well, although he and I did not have a lot of direct contact with Lester in charge. I believe he feels that I am good at my job, though. I have gotten regular raises.”
“Have the two of you had any conversations since Mr. Pierce’s death?”
“We have not,” Marchbank said. “Again, everything will be pretty much on hold until after the memorial service, including any investigations that we’ve been undertaking.”
“Speaking of investigations, do you have an opinion as to how the police are handling theirs with regard to the Pierce murder?”
“Huh! They seem to be getting nowhere, which is why I agreed to see you. Twice, I’ve talked to this captain—what’s his name … Rowcliff—and I have been underwhelmed, if that’s even a word. I don’t have any idea how he got put in charge of the investigation.”
“He is the acting head of the Homicide Squad, replacing Inspector Cramer,” Wolfe said.
“Cramer, yes, I’ve heard of him, of course, but I’ve never worked with him during my time at Three-G. I always got the impression that he was a good man.”
“There are many who believe that to be so.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I am planning to complain about Rowcliff to Commissioner O’Hara, whom I’ve come to know through our work with the police at Three-G,” Marchbank said.
“It will be instructive to get the commissioner’s reaction,” Wolfe said. “My understanding is that others have been critical of Mr. Rowcliff as well.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, sir, and a column item ran in one of the daily newspapers recently suggesting that many within the police department also are unhappy with the man and would like to see Mr. Cramer reinstated.”
“I must have missed that, although I don’t usually read the columns, I find them a waste of time. I have never had any direct dealings with Cramer, but as I just said, what I’ve heard about him has been generally positive. For some reason, though, Dunagan doesn’t seem to like him. And, yes, I am definitely going to speak to O’Hara about Rowcliff. Now, if you have no further need of me, I must be going.”
“Good evening, sir,” Wolfe said. “Mr. Goodwin will show you out.”
When I returned to the office after watching Marchbank descend the front steps and climb into his sedan at the curb, Wolfe’s nose was buried in his book once again. I liked what he was doing, but I couldn’t resist tweaking him nonetheless. “If I didn’t know better, I might think you’ve been trying to foment trouble for Captain George Rowcliff. After all, Saul already had interviewed Marchbank, and it seemed that your main thrust tonight was to turn him against Rowcliff.”
He looked up, his face expressionless, then returned to the book as if I had not spoken. I grinned, went to the kitchen for a glass of milk, and climbed the stairs to my room.
Chapter 20
I spent much of the next morning catching up on Wolfe’s correspondence and the orchid germination records. At a quarter to eleven, I went out to the front stoop and picked up the Gazette. It’s an afternoon paper, but they put out an early edition that gets delivered to the brownstone late each weekday morning. As had been my habit the last few days, I turned first to Chad Preston’s chatty and acerbic East Side, West Side, All Around the Town column.
Saul, likely urged on by Wolfe, apparently had fed Preston another item:
Police Headquarters on Centre Street must have been rocking yesterday with the ranting of Captain George Rowcliff, who, according to sources on the force, is far out of his depth as interim head of the Homicide Squad. The cause of Rowcliff’s tantrum, we are told, was the failure of an underling to show
him the proper respect. This was just the latest in a series of outbursts by the captain. One member of the force tells us that “Mr. Rowcliff is in desperate need of psychiatric help.” Word is that a group of senior officers plans to approach Commissioner O’Hara, urging him to reinstate the highly respected Inspector Lionel T. Cramer as head of Homicide. Cramer has been placed on administrative leave for unspecified reasons.
I folded the Gazette with Preston’s column face-up and placed it on Wolfe’s desk blotter. The only newspaper that he sees before coming down from the plant rooms in the morning is the Times, a copy of which Fritz takes up with his breakfast tray.
I was back at my desk working when Wolfe strode into the office and settled in at his desk. I watched over my shoulder as he picked up the Gazette and began reading. He did not smile, but he didn’t frown either.
“Intriguing item,” I said as he put the paper down and rang for beer.
“Yes, but I doubt very much that Mr. Rowcliff is intrigued by it.”
“It will be particularly interesting to see how our evening visitor reacts to the Preston column.”
“Mr. O’Hara will not be pleased, but that should not be of concern to us.”
“You have never much liked O’Hara.”
“I was not enthused about his predecessor either, Archie, but Mr. Skinner at least was possessed of a modicum of intelligence as commissioner, which is more than I can say for the man who has taken over.”
“Is there a plan for this evening?”
Wolfe drank beer and set his glass down, licking his lips. “We will try our best to educate Mr. O’Hara regarding certain realities.”
“Would one of these realities by chance concern Captain George Rowcliff?”
“It would,” he replied, taking out his pen and signing the correspondence I had stacked on his desk. He had said all he was going to about tonight’s visit from the police commissioner.
Like Marchbank had been the previous night, Daniel J. O’Hara was prompt, ringing our bell at three minutes to nine. I gave him a smile as I opened the front door and was rewarded with a frown. I took his homburg and overcoat and hung them on the rack, then directed him down the hall to the office.
“Mr. O’Hara,” Wolfe said as our guest slid into the red leather chair and ran a hand over a full head of white hair that contrasted with the tan he had developed on his recent Caribbean trip.
“All right, Wolfe, I’m here, since you refuse to budge from this bunker of yours.”
“Hardly a bunker, sir. Will you have something to drink?”
O’Hara screwed up his face and then relaxed it. “Oh, since I am indulging you by coming here, you can indulge me with a really good scotch, if you happen to have one.”
Wolfe nodded at me and I went to the serving cart, coming back with three different bottles, which I showed to the commissioner.
“A poverty of riches,” he said with the hint of a smile. “I’ll take that one,” he said, pointing at the most expensive label—“on the rocks.”
Once O’Hara had sampled his drink, he turned to Wolfe with a frown. “Well?”
“Well what, sir?” Wolfe responded. “You requested this meeting.”
“You’re damned right I did. As I said on the telephone, you are getting in the way of a murder investigation.”
“And as I responded during that call, neither I nor anyone in my employ has impeded the police investigation into the death of Lester Pierce.”
“So you say. Captain Rowcliff has complained to me about you.”
“Is that so?” Wolfe said. “What was the nature of the complaint?”
“He did not get specific, but he clearly was upset.”
“Apparently, that is not an unusual state for Mr. Rowcliff.”
“Look, the man is doing his best in a difficult situation,” O’Hara said in a defensive tone.
“His best clearly does not appear to be sufficient. Have you considered that he is out of his depth in the position?”
“Don’t tell me how to run my department!”
“I would not think of it,” Wolfe said. “Are you satisfied with the progress being made in the Pierce investigation?”
“I am not here to discuss our progress. The subject is your meddling, which should not surprise anyone, given your track record in police work over the years.”
“Again, sir, I ask you to point out examples of my meddling in police business.”
“That article the other day in the Gazette, for example, where you said there had been, and I quote, ‘a marked lack of progress in the official investigation into the death of Mr. Pierce.’ That was a slap in the face to the police department.”
“As I recall, the Gazette gave you the opportunity to respond to my comment, and you declined.”
“I chose not to dignify your statement,” O’Hara said stiffly.
“Or was it that you did not want to concede that little or no progress has been made in the investigation?”
“I find that to be offensive, Wolfe.”
“I did not mean to give offense, only to pose an obvious question. Mr. O’Hara, both you and the department are in a bind, and—no, hear me out,” Wolfe said as the commissioner started to interrupt.
“I have hardly been alone in criticizing the department in this instance. At least two newspapers have written editorials decrying your progress. I do not feel the blame, however, should be lain at your feet, at least not directly.”
O’Hara gave a start, almost spilling some of the drink from the glass in his hand. “Then just where do you see the blame lain?”
“We are being candid with each other, sir. Anything less would be a waste of our time. It has become patently clear that Mr. Rowcliff is an inadequate leader of the Homicide Squad.”
“You just don’t like him; I am all too aware of that.”
“It is not a case of like or dislike, but of leadership, and Mr. Rowcliff does not possess that quality.”
“Are you saying this because of what that disreputable Gazette columnist Preston has been writing about him?”
“No, sir, I am not. I have had numerous occasions over the years to observe Mr. Rowcliff at work, and although I have never doubted his bravery, I have found him to be impulsive, erratic, temperamental, and quick to anger. Have you seen him inspire loyalty and respect among his troops?”
O’Hara was silent for several seconds before speaking. “I suppose you have a better idea?”
“Are you soliciting my opinion?” Wolfe asked.
More silence from the commissioner, then: “All right, yes, tell me what you think. You are going to anyway.”
“I believe you, the department, and the city would be far better served if Inspector Cramer were reinstated.”
“I can’t do that!” O’Hara barked.
“Why not, sir?”
Our guest slumped in his chair and glanced at his empty glass, which I took from him and refilled. “This conversation must be off the record,” he said in a voice just above a whisper, as if someone were eavesdropping.
“I am not known to be loose-tongued, nor is Mr. Goodwin,” Wolfe replied.
“All right, I know Cramer has done a good job over the years—hell, a very good job on balance. I inherited him from Skinner, as you know, and although my original goal was to replace all the department heads, I hesitated getting rid of Cramer because of his reputation. But I was getting pressure …”
“From whom?”
O’Hara shifted and took a swallow of scotch, presumably to fortify himself. “Of course you know who Weldon Dunagan is,” he said to Wolfe.
“I do, although I have yet to meet the man.”
“You may not have met him, but you won’t be surprised to learn that he wields a lot of power in town, and not just with that Good Government Group he underwrites. He jus
t got a seat on the Police Review Board, and he does not like Cramer.”
“Does he give a reason for his animus?”
“This is very hard to talk about,” the commissioner said. “Some years ago, Dunagan’s son got into trouble—I don’t know all the details as I was just a lieutenant at the time—and Cramer had something to do with the boy’s being found guilty of a felony in court and serving prison time.”
“So Mr. Cramer has in effect become the victim of a vendetta undertaken by Weldon Dunagan,” Wolfe stated.
“I would not put it that way.”
“How would you put it?”
O’Hara was getting increasingly uncomfortable, and I felt some sympathy for him. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke in a hoarse voice: “You can’t possibly appreciate the pressure that I am under as commissioner.”
“Perhaps that is so,” Wolfe said, “but is it not a position that you actively aspired to?”
“That’s true, and I am determined to do a good job of it, despite what you might think.”
“Mr. O’Hara, I am not your enemy, nor do I intend to be. However, it stands to reason that the longer Mr. Rowcliff remains in his present position, the more difficult your own role will be. You may not like what has been written about the captain in that Gazette column, but I have yet to hear or read any denials coming from the department regarding the veracity of those reports.”
“I can’t just fire Rowcliff.”
“Come, sir, you know very well that there are other ways of handling a personnel change, ways that can be face-saving for the individual being demoted. You certainly have had to make decisions like this in the past in your various management positions within the department.”
“What if Cramer does not want to return? I am sure he’s bitter over what has happened.”
“There is but one way to find out,” Wolfe told him. “You may well have to eat crow, but its taste will be short-lived, while the long-range benefits to you and to the department in general figure to be palatable.”
O’Hara ran a hand over his forehead and stood. “All right, I cannot honestly say that this has been the most pleasant evening I have ever had, but at least the scotch was first-rate,” he said, giving a grim nod in my direction. “Good night. I will see myself out.”
The Battered Badge Page 13