Kalorama Shakedown (A Harry Reese Mystery)

by Robert Bruce Stewart

  It seemed a safe bet that every trace of the old fellow would be gone in a week. We all sat down at the big table.

  “We’ve been talking with the doctor here,” Tibbitts told her.

  “Yes?”

  “Yes. You see, your father was poisoned, Miss Sachs.”

  “Poisoned?”

  “Yes. An overdose of aconite. But it wasn’t an accident. The doctor found this in your father’s room.”

  He handed her the bottle.

  “It was filled with aconite so strong a regular dose would kill a man.”

  “What? Why would he have that?”

  “You think it was your father’s?”

  “It’s his handwriting.”

  “Yeah, I thought maybe it was,” Tibbitts said.

  “He intentionally killed himself?” She looked at each of us in turn.

  “That I don’t know,” Tibbitts told her.

  “But why would he have this in the first place?”

  “Well, you might not want to hear that,” Tibbitts said.

  “Why not?”

  “I think the sergeant is reluctant to malign your father in your presence,” I said.

  “He was a greedy war profiteer. Nothing you say could lower my opinion of the man.”

  “Okay, since you asked. I think he got hold of this to kill that jeweler in New York, M. Pomerleau.”

  “Yes, I was afraid that might be the case,” she said.

  “You have reason to think your father killed Pomerleau?” Tibbitts asked her.

  “If you’ll wait here a moment, I have something to show you.”

  She went off and returned a few moments later. She placed a letter on the table before Tibbitts, and the doctor and I stood over him to read it. It was written on the stationery of M. Pomerleau & Son and dated November 6th.

  General Sachs,

  I happened to have been in Washington last week and read about the robbery at your home. You have my condolences. I also read the loss will be covered by your insurance. How very fortunate.

  I will not be so crude as to suggest that your insurer might be interested in the details of my recent work on your behalf. But let me remind you, I am still awaiting payment of the $500 owed me.

  Georges Pomerleau

  “Well, he gets his meaning across, all right,” Tibbitts said. “But why didn’t your father just pay him the five hundred dollars?”

  “He didn’t have it. At least, not then.”

  “Where’d you find this letter?” I asked her.

  “It was in his hand when I found him,” she said. “Then he must have killed himself. I suppose even he had some conscience.”

  “You think he took it deliberately?” Tibbitts asked.

  “What else?”

  “Maybe he mixed up the bottles. Maybe it was just an accident.”

  “Yes, you’re probably right. The old fool.” Alice seemed kind of happy at the thought. Then she jumped up. “What time is it?”

  “Just before two,” I told her.

  “I must hurry and dress. I’m sure you gentlemen can find your own way out. And thank you for coming by.”

  She flew out of the room. Tibbitts looked over at me, and then at the doctor. But he seemed as puzzled as we were. The sergeant put the letter in his pocket and we all went downstairs and out of the house.

  “That was easy,” Tibbitts said.

  “Are you heading back to New York now?” I asked him. “It would mean missing Elizabeth. And I think Emmie has something planned as well.”

  “I suppose I can catch a late train.”

  “Gentlemen,” the doctor interjected, “I’m glad you’re satisfied with things as they are. But what about Sergeant Lacy?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ll go with you and we can explain it to him.”

  “Then you can bring Sergeant Tibbitts along to Mrs. Spinks’ house, Doctor.”

  “Yes. Gladly. If I’m available.”

  24

  Back at the hotel, I took out the three bundles of jewelry and put them in my pocket. Then I took a cab up to Mrs. Spinks’. In spite of Chappelle’s assurances, I suspected my negotiations with the conspirators might prove contentious. I needed to make them believe I was willing to reveal their fraud. But it wouldn’t be easy. The only proof I had was in the three bundles, and I could only use it by exposing Emmie and myself to charges of breaking and entering. Of course, they couldn’t very well accuse us without admitting that the first burglaries were fictitious.

  I assumed Easterly would be amenable to a deal. That was his nature. Mrs. Merrill, on the other hand, would pose a problem. I’d set back her business by taking that packet of letters and I imagined she might be a little cross about it. That left Alice Sachs. I had a feeling she wouldn’t be too concerned with the arithmetic of the deal. Perhaps a little divide and conquer was in order. When I arrived at the door, I asked the butler if Miss Sachs had arrived. She hadn’t, so I decided to wait outside. There was a constant stream of carriages and cabs dropping off guests. One brought Emmie.

  “Hello, Harry. Waiting for me?”

  “I pine for you every moment we’re apart, Emmie. But in this instance I’m waiting for Alice Sachs.”

  “Has Mrs. Merrill arrived?”

  “I can’t say, but I expect she’ll be here.”

  She went in and a few minutes later a carriage arrived with Dr. Gillette and Alice Sachs.

  “Everything go all right with Lacy?” I asked.

  “Yes, thank you,” he told me. “Sergeant Tibbitts was most helpful.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” I said. “What happened to the sergeant?”

  “He went to change hotels. But he’ll be along.”

  Then I turned to his companion and held out her bundle. “Miss Sachs, I thought I’d return these. My business sometimes requires methods which are….”

  “Distasteful?” she supplied.

  “Yes, exactly. But I have to play the hand I’m dealt.”

  “I understand. And you are hoping for my support when terms are arranged?”

  “Frankly, yes.”

  “Rest assured, Mr. Reese, the two of us want nothing more than to put this behind us.”

  “There’s one other thing. I told Richard Cole I’d try to get him reinstated.”

  “That’s already been taken care of.”

  They went inside and I followed. As soon as I entered the hall, I heard a familiar voice upstairs, then another. Sesbania, Easterly’s little girl, was up there with the countess. I went up and found Emmie and Mrs. Easterly watching as the countess—in her guise as Glinda—and Sesbania—wearing the golden hat I’d seen at Chappelle’s office—went from room to room, making up stories to go with each of them. Emmie drew me aside.

  “The countess is giving a tour of her new palace,” she whispered.

  “Her palace?”

  “Yes. The most curious thing has happened, Harry. The countess and Mrs. Spinks have made an exchange of some sort and the countess has taken over this house.”

  That explained the catalogue of furnishings the two of them had been making the previous Friday. But not the timing.

  “Where’s that leave the count?” I asked.

  “Sadly, the count passed away last evening. Apparently, he choked to death on a chicken bone.”

  “That sounds somehow familiar.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. But in the future, let’s send our regrets to any meals hosted by the countess.”

  “What a silly suggestion, Harry. Besides, I don’t think we’ll be in town long enough to receive any more invitations.”

  “Have you cracked the case, Emmie?”

  “If you mean the two murders, yes, I have. But you’ll have to wait.”

  She and I went downstairs to the room where the races were posted. We were handed our wager sheets and learned there would be three racing events that afternoon. The first coming from Charleston, then one from New Orleans, and finally one from Oak
land. They were half-way through the Charleston card. Emmie perused the sheet and then handed it back.

  “You aren’t tempted, Emmie?”

  “Not in the least,” she said. “Look, there’s Elizabeth.”

  We went over to the corner where she was standing by herself.

  “You’ve come in time to see Emmie’s triumph,” I said.

  “I came to say good-bye. What triumph is he talking about, Emmie?”

  “The two murders. I’ve identified the killer.”

  “What two murders?”

  Emmie gave her a brief synopsis of recent events. Only one point seemed to impress her.

  “Tibbitts is here in Washington?”

  “Yes,” I said. “And he should be arriving momentarily.”

  “Then I shall be going. Good-bye, Harry. Good-bye, Emmie. I may never see either of you again.”

  “Why the drama?” Emmie asked. “Where are you off to?”

  “Bangkok. I’ve taken a position with the family of the new Siamese ambassador here. He wants an American governess to teach the children he left behind.”

  “So you are chasing after this Cox fellow?” I asked.

  “I’m not chasing after anybody.”

  “Good. I didn’t like the fellow at all.”

  “I never had the impression you cared for me much either, Harry.”

  “I take a certain proprietary interest. As I would in a sister.” That didn’t sound very believable, so I thought I’d elaborate. “Say an older sister. One who tormented me throughout our childhood. I remember one summer when I was six….”

  “Does he ever make any sense?” she asked Emmie.

  “Occasionally. Not often.”

  Just then, the Merrills entered the hall behind us. Then they disappeared upstairs. Emmie became impatient. She didn’t relax until Tibbitts arrived about five minutes later.

  “Thank goodness you’re here, Sergeant,” Emmie told him.

  Tibbitts greeted us, but his attention seemed fixed on Elizabeth. He found the encounter amusing, and the more uncomfortable he made her, the more he seemed to enjoy it. Never having had the ability to make Elizabeth uncomfortable, I took a vicarious satisfaction from it. They were both tall, blond, and handsome and seeing them together you might mistake them for a couple. But not if you’d heard them speak of each other as I had. Before I met her, Tibbitts had described Elizabeth in the most unflattering terms. None of it was untrue, but a friend might have allowed some of the details to remain unsaid. For her part, Elizabeth had made Tibbitts out to be a cop of the worst type, who abused misunderstood souls like herself to achieve his diabolical and selfish ends. That was a bit of an exaggeration. As cops go, Tibbitts was about as honest as any I’d come across. That wasn’t saying much, of course. For instance, I had little doubt he’d received some sort of remuneration from Dr. Gillette for disentangling him from Lacy’s clutches. But he probably couldn’t have been bought off if he thought Gillette was guilty. At least, I think not.

  Emmie pulled me away from the little reunion.

  “Harry, we need to persuade Sergeant Tibbitts to help us.”

  “Help us what?”

  “Arrest the culprit, of course.”

  “Oh, yes. I forgot about that.”

  We went back over just in time to hear Elizabeth announce she needed to go catch her train. We walked her out to the hall.

  “How long a voyage is it?” I asked.

  “Quite long. Weeks. I need to catch a boat in San Francisco which takes me to Hong Kong, then another boat, and I can’t remember what else.”

  “Make sure you write us,” Emmie said.

  “Oh, I will.”

  We exchanged the perfunctory hugs. All except Tibbitts, of course. Then she went off. When I turned, I saw Julius Chappelle approaching.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Reese.”

  “Good afternoon. Has the syndicate arrived?”

  “Yes, they’re assembled upstairs, finalizing various details. But the parties in question should be free to discuss matters with you shortly.”

  He led me upstairs. Emmie followed, pushing Tibbitts before her. Off in one of the bedrooms, we could hear Sesbania still at it with the countess. After I introduced Emmie and Tibbitts to Chappelle, the four of us stood outside the study making small talk.

  “Where exactly are you going in France?” I asked.

  “A town called Étaples. Have you heard of it?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Nor had I. It’s a sort of artists’ colony. A number of Americans reside there.”

  “I’ve read about it,” Emmie said. “I’d love to live someplace like that.”

  “You must come and visit us. My fiancée has taken possession of a hostelry.”

  Very suddenly, Alice Sachs came out of the room, followed by Dr. Gillette. She charged downstairs, but I managed to stop him.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Everything went as planned,” he said. “But Mrs. Merrill had some sort of contract the general had given her the night of his death. Turning his profits over to her.”

  “So Alice got nothing?” Emmie asked.

  “No, no. It turned out all right. Mrs. Spinks objected. And then Mr. Easterly said it would be legally unenforceable. He suggested that Mrs. Merrill destroy it. Eventually, she conceded, and a match was put to it.”

  “What?” Emmie shouted. “That was evidence.”

  “Evidence?” the doctor inquired.

  Mrs. Spinks came out with two fellows I hadn’t seen before. But I guessed one was the Frenchman and the other Davidson, the real-estate agent who had been listed as the seller of the property. The two men went downstairs and Mrs. Spinks put her arm in Chappelle’s and gave him a peck.

  “Everything’s done,” she told him. “Hello, Mr. Reese. I believe the others are ready for you now.”

  Then they left us.

  “I hope Miss Sachs hasn’t left, Doctor. There’s still the resolution of the matter of the insurance claims.”

  “If you don’t mind, I will represent her.”

  “Oh, that’s fine with me,” I told him. “You’ll need to wait out here, Emmie.”

  “All right, Harry. You finish what you have to, but then the Sergeant and I will see to our business.”

  “Our business?” Tibbitts asked her.

  The doctor and I went in and found Easterly and Mrs. Merrill seated at a table. The senator himself was asleep in an easy chair off in a corner. Easterly rose and shook my hand warmly.

  “Glad to see you, Reese. Sit down, please.”

  I did and then he continued.

  “You know Mrs. Merrill, of course.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I feel on intimate terms with her.”

  I suppose alluding to the fact I’d recently pawed through her lingerie wasn’t the best approach with someone like Amanda Merrill. But that sort of reasoning is always easier in hindsight.

  “Well, let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we?” Easterly suggested. “I understand you have a proposition for us.”

  “Yes, I think we can straighten the whole thing out quite equitably.”

  “Myself as well. What do you suggest?”

  “I’ll tell the insurers the jewelry has been found and that the claim payments will be returned.”

  “Will that satisfy them?”

  “I think I can make it believable, with the right story. But for me to receive my compensation, I’d need to show that I had brought about the resolution. Which would have the unfortunate consequences of exposing you all to charges of fraud.”

  “And you to charges of burglary,” Mrs. Merrill helpfully pointed out.

  “Yes, there’s that, too.”

  “So it would make things more comfortable for all of us if you could receive your compensation in some other way,” Easterly said.

  “Yes. Suppose you all return the claim money, leaving the explanation to me. Then I return the jewelry in return for a payment of
, say, ten percent of the claim amounts.”

  “I was thinking of a figure closer to five percent.”

  “That would be impossible for me to accept. I’ve incurred a large number of expenses while here.”

  “Yes, I’m sure that’s true,” he agreed. “Well, let’s split the difference and make it seven and a half.”

  “Eight.”

  “Done,” he said. “Assuming that’s agreeable?”

  “That sounds perfectly reasonable,” Gillette said.

  “You’ll return all that you took?” Mrs. Merrill asked.

  “Are you missing something other than jewelry?” I asked.

  “You know exactly what I’m speaking of.”

  “Mrs. Merrill, do you really think you are in a position to make a demand like that? Perhaps we should consult the senator?”

  Ultimately, she agreed and the senator remained undisturbed—until it was necessary for him to write me out a check. Dr. Gillette wrote another, on behalf of Alice Sachs. And then Easterly handed me one he’d already filled out. The amount had been calculated to exactly eight percent of his claim. While I was handing Easterly and Mrs. Merrill their jewelry, the doctor left the room and the countess entered. She was accompanied by her man, Thomas, who closed the door behind them. The countess stood before Mrs. Merrill and addressed her.

  “I suggest you leave down the back stairs and through the rear entrance, my dear. Thomas will show you the way.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “There is a New York detective out in the hall with some questions about the death of a jeweler.”

  “I had nothing to do with that.”

  “But you knew about it?” I asked.

  “What crime is that? I was in New York, and it was in the newspapers.”

  “Unfortunately, Mrs. Reese is of the opinion you are guilty of murder,” the countess explained. “Regardless of the outcome, the confrontation would spoil my party and I simply won’t have that.”

  “Your party?”

  “This is my home now, my dear, and I must insist you do as I request. If you use the door on the right, you can leave unseen.”

  Mrs. Merrill rose and tried to wake her husband.

  “I’ll see that the senator is sent home. But you must go now.”