“Did the doorman come across?”
“He did, but I don’t think it was worth the price. I gave him ten dollars, and showed him the photo, and he assured me he’d seen Huber there. But I had a feeling that he would have told me anything he thought I wanted to hear.”
“Yes, that’s always a danger.”
“I had better luck with the maid.”
“So she was bribable, after all?”
“Well, in her defense, she hadn’t been paid in two weeks.”
“So you brought the account up-to-date?”
“Yes. She was quite grateful. I showed her the photograph and she also said he’d been by repeatedly. But I was more careful this time and didn’t mention his name, and she was able to provide it.”
“How many times had she seen him?”
“Oh, at least a dozen, she thought. Starting back before Christmas and until February sometime. But she wasn’t sure when the last visit occurred.”
“You know, Emmie, this explains Huber’s connection to Barclay’s wife, but it muddles up everything else.”
“How so? You mean, how did he meet the other women?”
“Yes, that. And also the story of Howell having an affair with Eliza.”
“I asked the maid if that story was true and she said it was. She hadn’t noticed anything between them, but Mrs. Howell herself told her about it. Harry, I think this also means you misread Huber’s character. He was in on it from the beginning.”
“I made a judgment about his character based on the fact he killed himself, apparently out of guilt. If he was ruthless enough to be behind the scheme, why would he feel guilty for it?”
“So you agree it wasn’t suicide,” she said.
“I didn’t say that.”
“But what about the head wound? What if it was on the back of the head?”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it was.”
“Well, then….”
“Well, then, what?” I asked.
“Oh, never mind.” Then she changed the subject. “What are your plans for the afternoon?”
“An outing. We’re celebrating the completion of our magnum opus. What will you be doing?”
“Trying to speak with Edward Howell.”
Then she was off and I went to join the boys for another trip out to Aqueduct. It was the first warm day of spring, so it was impossible not to have a good time. We didn’t arrive back at the Bureau until late in the day. There was a message from Emmie, so I telephoned her.
“Did Howell tell you anything?” I asked.
“He didn’t seem to be in at his firm. No one was sure if he was just working out of the office or was out of town. One gentleman suggested that if he wasn’t at home in the evening, I should check at the Harvard Club. I thought maybe you could do that this evening, Harry.”
“I’m afraid I’ve allowed my membership to lapse, Emmie.”
“Oh, you don’t need to be a member. Just tell them Edward Howell expects you and they’ll lead you right to him. I won’t be home until late—Elizabeth and I are going to an alumnae event.”
“What about Mrs. Warner?”
“Oh, we’ll bring her along. It’s a friendly crowd.”
The boys and I went out to a saloon, and then on to Sherry’s. The only thing that marred the event was Little getting all bleary-eyed. When we had said our good-byes, I went off to the Howells’ apartment. The maid told me Howell hadn’t arrived home and she had no idea when to expect him. So I went to the Harvard Club and did as Emmie instructed.
“I’m afraid Mr. Howell hasn’t arrived. Perhaps you’d like to wait in the guest parlor?”
“Yes, please.”
As it happened, some friend of Howell’s overheard this exchange and said he would escort me. He was an affable fellow and by the time we approached the room where guests were relegated we’d established a certain rapport.
“Oh, you don’t want to wait in here. Why not come upstairs and play a few hands of cards?” he suggested.
I agreed. He brought me up and introduced me to a couple of his friends and we sat down to play. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until we’d been playing for an hour that I learned we were playing for money. The subject had been spoken of in a sort of Cambridge cant, as gambling was strictly against the rules. Eventually, I managed to turn the conversation to Howell, but it was only the one fellow who knew him well.
“I’ve noticed he’s been sampling the cuisine while his wife’s away. I saw him with another blonde just last week. That makes two since his wife set sail.”
I alluded to Howell’s exile at the club and this fellow confirmed he had stayed there for a period earlier in the year. But then he was cautioned by his partner, an older fellow, that perhaps a little discretion was in order, and the subject was changed to the coming boating season. They all were avid yachters, as was Howell, I was told. It wasn’t a conversation I was able to contribute to with any firsthand knowledge, but I did tell the story of Emmie’s uncle. He had been a yachter who faked his death at sea—a lake, really. Once I assured them he wasn’t a Harvard man, they wanted to hear all about it. By the end of the evening, my partner and I had lost twenty-eight dollars each. And this was real money, since I was no longer on an expense account. Thankfully, my drinks were charged to Howell.
It was past midnight when I arrived home. Emmie and friends had gotten in just before me.
“Did you talk to Howell, Harry?”
“No, and his friends took me for twenty-eight dollars. But they were very pleasant about it.”
“Well, we learned something.”
“Some juicy gossip about those not in attendance?”
“Perhaps I didn’t mention it, but Mrs. Koestler is on the alumnae committee.”
“Did you say hello?” I asked.
“Emmie did much more than say hello,” Elizabeth explained.
“It was necessary to draw her into conversation for our little test,” Emmie said.
“And to draw her ire, apparently,” Elizabeth added.
“Well, we needed Mrs. Warner to hear her when she was somewhat irritated. It didn’t occur to me she would be that sensitive on the subject.”
“I see, you wanted Mrs. Warner to tell if she was the mystery woman,” I said. “And was she, Mrs. Warner?”
“No, she seemed a little too old, and even too angry. Is there something about college that makes girls angry?”
“It’s difficult to say,” I said. “Some believe it’s simply that angry girls are attracted to college. What was the subject that upset Mrs. Koestler?”
“I merely asked if there were many drawbacks to having an older husband,” Emmie said. “Her reply was rather intemperate.”
“Yes, but most amusing. The woman is a master at a certain form of rhetoric,” Elizabeth agreed. “But I managed to assuage her anger.”
“How was that achieved?” I asked.
“Well, I told her Emmie was a little soft in the head, of course.”
“And she accepted that explanation?”
“Oh, readily. But it was Mrs. Warner who genuinely saved the situation.”
“Dare I ask how?”
“By stating her views on a wife’s prerogative to murder her husband. Though there was no formal vote, I would say the motion was easily carried.”
“So a good time was had by all,” I said.
“Yes, even Mrs. Koestler had a smile by the end of the evening,” Elizabeth said. “And I was roundly thanked for bringing the night’s entertainment in the form of my two companions.”
Soon after, Emmie and I went in to bed.
“I’m sorry your test didn’t work, dear,” I said.
“Oh, I didn’t really think it was Mrs. Koestler, but I felt we had to find out.”
“Is Mrs. Warner returning to the farm tomorrow?”
“Of course not, Harry. We still haven’t found the mystery woman.”
“Well, given we now know Huber was involved with Mrs. Barclay, perhaps it
was her, or more likely her sister.”
“Why her sister? Mrs. Barclay is tall and blonde, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” I said. “But it’s rather difficult imagining someone of her mentality executing a plan like this. What did Mrs. Howell look like?”
“Not terribly tall, though taller than Mrs. Warner or myself. She had brown hair, almost chestnut. And she was pleasant enough, but I suppose I could picture her speaking crossly to Mrs. Warner.”
“Perhaps Mrs. Barclay presented herself, and her sister acted the ventriloquist?”
“Or perhaps they visited serially and Mrs. Warner conflated the two?”
“It’s too bad they’re in Europe,” I said.
“Oh, I expect they may be returning soon.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’d rather not say for now. Good night, Harry.”
20
The next morning at the Bureau, Little and I began packing up our research material. This was Wednesday, May 1st. Keegan sent for me about ten o’clock and told me Koestler wanted to see me right away. I walked over to Sovereign and found Koestler looking decidedly disturbed.
“Sally is missing,” he said.
“For how long?” I asked.
“She never came home Monday night. No one’s seen her since.”
“Have you called the police?”
“Yes, of course. Yesterday. But I want you to look into it, too. It must have something to do with this whole affair.”
“You don’t think she might have just eloped? Or maybe is having a fling?”
“She wouldn’t leave that way. She may be a little wild, but she’s a decent girl.”
“But what’s the connection to the scheme?”
“Maybe there isn’t one. Or maybe someone wants some leverage with me. Whoever was behind this scheme doesn’t know what my intentions are. Maybe he wants to make sure I don’t pursue it any further. You agree others must have been involved?”
“Yes, absolutely,” I said. “I just don’t know who exactly.”
“I think one of them wants to make sure I leave him alone.”
“So he abducted your daughter?”
“Yes, or had someone else do it.”
“Then it’s ironic. You dropped the investigation last week, and only are calling me back because Sally’s missing.”
“Yes, but he didn’t know that.”
“No, I guess not. Can I call in Newcome’s again?”
“Of course. If you need to hire someone, go somewhere, whatever, just do it. And keep me abreast.”
“Can you see if you can get Tibbitts assigned to it?”
“Remind me, who’s Tibbitts?”
“The police detective.”
“Who should I call?”
“Someone in the central office. I don’t know how these things work. But when you’re running a big company, the police are supposed to jump for you.”
“Yes, all right. I’ll do that right away.”
“There’s something else I learned last week. I hadn’t thought it worth mentioning before.” I told him about Osborne’s request for Huber’s files and John Huber relaying the request to Sally. “I assumed it was all about helping a dead friend who’d been foolish. But now it looks like Huber may have been more directly involved.”
“That doesn’t mean Sally knew anything about it.”
“No, certainly not. Still, since this involves her directly now, I thought I should tell you about it.”
I had him provide me a list of names of Sally’s friends and also suggested he contact his wife and let her know I’d be calling at some point. Then I left him and went up to see Ratigan.
“This is the third time you’ve opened this case,” he pointed out.
“Maybe the third time’s the charm,” I said. Then I told him about Sally’s disappearance and what else her father had told me.
“And Koestler thinks some big gambling interest has tempted away his daughter in order to convince him to drop the case? You don’t get to be a big gambling interest if you’re that much of an idiot.”
“Well, it’s a little hard to swallow. Maybe there’s some other connection he’s decided to keep to himself. But I do think that in finding her, we might solve the rest of it.”
“Does he care about that?”
“No, not really. The first thing is to find the girl.”
“Any ideas?”
“Yes, she’s been hanging out with a gambler named Charlie Sennett.” I described him, and related what Demming had said about him.
“Any idea where he lives?”
“No, but I’d guess over on that side of the river. I hadn’t really thought him important until now. All I really know is that he has an unsavory reputation and knows a lot about women’s fashions.”
“I guess that’s useful knowledge in some lines. All right, I’ll put some fellows on Sennett, and check with her friends.”
“The cops are supposedly working on this too, but I haven’t spoken with them yet.”
“Well, we won’t count on them for much.”
I used his telephone to call John Huber and he agreed to meet me for lunch at Delmonico’s. When I arrived, he was waiting for me.
“What’s so important? Is it about William?”
“No. Sally Koestler seems to be missing.”
“Sally? Since when?”
“She never came home Monday night.”
“Frankly, I’m surprised that’s a notable event.” His initial sound of concern had melted away.
“So you think she’s just having some little adventure.”
“If that’s the euphemism you want to use.”
“You don’t paint a very flattering picture of the girl. You seemed friendly the evening I spent with the two of you.”
“Yes, and the next evening she would have been just as friendly with someone else. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t speak ill of her.”
“But you don’t think this is something to worry about?”
“Well, you met her. Were you surprised to hear that one night she didn’t make it home?”
“It’s two nights now,” I said. “Look, even if it is just a lark, it would still be a good idea to find her, don’t you agree?”
“I might, but I very much doubt she would.”
“Let’s follow our own instincts. When was the last time you saw her?”
“That evening with you. I’ve telephoned her a few times, but she seems to have a full social calendar.”
“She did pick up those files.”
“Yes, but that was all arranged over the phone. We didn’t meet.”
“So I don’t suppose you’d have any idea where she might be, or who she might be with?”
“No, not really.”
“Do you know Charlie Sennett?”
“No. One of her dance partners?”
“Yes, it would seem so.” His denial seemed sincere. “There is one thing I’ve learned about William.”
“What’s that?”
“He was having an affair with Eliza Barclay, the wife of the first victim in the insurance scheme.”
“William saw a lot of women.”
“Well, it was during the time the policy on Barclay was written, and when he died. And that was before the other policies were written.”
“I see what you’re getting at,” he said. “I’m not sure I believe it.”
“But you’re not sure you don’t?”
“No, unfortunately, I’m not sure I don’t.”
“Last week, when I brought up the bruise on William’s head, you implied the final autopsy report was correct. You’re sure it was on his forehead?”
“Well, I wasn’t sure. I found him on the floor, dragged him to a window and called the hospital. I also called my father. The doctor and my father arrived about the same time. The doctor pronounced William dead. Then my father called the police. A sergeant came by just a little while later. I explained what I had found and then they to
ok William away. The next day, the police sergeant read my statement back to me. I had thought I had said the wound was on the back of the head, but he had it on the forehead. He said that’s how he remembered it, and my father also. Well, I’d been pretty upset, and I didn’t think it mattered much.”
“It’s quite a coincidence that both you and the coroner made the same mistake.”
“Yes. But that’s what happened.”
“When you mentioned the note William left, you said it was on a slip. As if it was torn from a larger piece of paper?”
“Perhaps. Yes.”
He looked at his watch and prepared to leave, but I stopped him. “There’s something else. Sally told me that on the night of your birthday, your father became upset when your mother asked why William hadn’t come home with him.”
“I don’t remember that. But it may just be I’m used to it. It doesn’t take much to upset him these days.”
I thanked him and went up to the Bureau. There was a telephone message from Tibbitts waiting for me. He had been directed to take over the investigation of Sally’s disappearance and asked me to meet him at his office. When I arrived, he told me all that had been done so far was to check with Sally’s friends. I asked if Charlie Sennett was on the list.
“No. So the first order of business is to find this Sennett?” he asked.
“Yes. I saw him with Sally Koestler on the other side of the river.”
“Where’d you see him?”
“Ah, do I need to be precise?”
“What?”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to get any friends in trouble. It was a gambling parlor, of sorts.”
“Look, we aren’t going to raid the place.”
“Do you know the Hotel Le Roy?”
“Minden’s place?”
“Yes, one of them. Well, beside it….”
“Yeah, I know. The German ladies’ clubhouse, what-do-you-call-it.”
“Yes, I saw Sennett in there a couple times with Sally Koestler.”
“Well, let’s start there.”
We took the cross-town horse trolley down to the Grand Street ferry and on the other side rode the L down Broadway to the Le Roy. We went up to the second floor. Tibbitts spoke to a man and then we waited. About five minute later, Bannon entered through what turned out to be a steel door. Apparently, another route to the Frauenverein next door.
Crossings (A Harry Reese Mystery Book 2) Page 19