“We’re looking for a fellow named Charlie Sennett,” Tibbitts said. “Know him?”
“Yeah, he’s a small-time bookmaker.”
“Seen him today?”
“No, I see him in the evenings sometimes.”
“Any idea where he lives?”
“He’s local, Brooklyn somewhere.”
“Will you check around? This is important. People are squawking.”
“About what?” Bannon asked.
“Do you want to tell him?” Tibbitts asked me.
I couldn’t see why not, so I told him about Sally Koestler. He agreed to telephone if he learned anything and we left the Le Roy.
“Where to next?” I asked.
“We’ll see what they know at the Lee Avenue station. This is their beat.”
We walked a half dozen blocks to the precinct house and Tibbitts stopped outside.
“Listen, they aren’t going to like us in their territory. Just go along with whatever they say.”
We went in and Tibbitts spoke to a sergeant.
“I need to speak with the captain,” was his only response. He came back with his superior.
“What were you doing at the Le Roy?” the captain asked Tibbitts.
“Sorry, just trying to save time. I’ve got people breathing down my neck.”
“From now on, when you cross into the 59th, you check with me.”
“All right, I will,” Tibbitts assured him.
“Tell him what you know,” the captain told his sergeant and then left us.
“Not much,” the sergeant said. “Sennett is a bookie. He circulates around these parts.”
“Where’s he live?”
“Grand, past Union. Check with Stagg Street.”
We left and I remembered the green house on Rush Street, all of a block and a half from the precinct station. I told Tibbitts about it and we walked over. He knocked and a woman opened the door and looked us over.
“Police,” Tibbitts said.
“We’re paid up.”
“Not with me. We’re looking for a girl, Sally Koestler. Short, blonde.”
“Never seen her.”
“We’ll see for ourselves.”
We went upstairs and Tibbitts roused the occupants in a manner that can only be described as abrupt. There were a lot of high-pitched protests and we found three girls and two men. But Sally wasn’t there.
“That wasn’t what I expected,” I said as we left. “She seemed a little wild, but….”
“You never know with people,” Tibbitts said. “But it doesn’t mean she was working there. She may have met someone there. You can be sure they’d rent a room to anyone needing a place.”
It seemed odd it could operate so close to the police station, but I kept that observation to myself. We walked over to Stagg Street.
“I should tell you, I’m persona non grata at the Stagg Street station. Sergeant Corwin suggested it might be better if I avoided his precinct.”
“I know Corwin. We’ll be okay,” he reassured me.
When we arrived, Tibbitts asked for Corwin and was told he was out. Then we spoke with another sergeant named McNamara. We explained Sennett’s connection and he agreed the expedient thing to do was to go up to his house on Grand Street.
“Do you know much about him?” Tibbitts asked as we walked.
“Sure, he’s been around for a few years,” McNamara said. “He’s smarter than most, knows how to keep his nose clean.”
“Did you ever see him with a little blonde?”
“No. But that doesn’t mean much.”
Sennett was out. The landlady was against letting us in but eventually she had to relent and led us into Sennett’s sitting room. There were some drawers open in the bedroom, but nothing made it clear if he had skipped or just happened to be out.
“When was the last time you saw him?” McNamara asked the landlady.
“Just a while ago.”
“Did he leave with anything?”
She thought for a bit and then said, “No.”
“Did he ever bring a young blonde girl around?” Tibbitts asked.
“Mr. Sennett never brought any girl around.”
McNamara grunted and we walked back to the station.
“Do you think she really saw him today?” I asked.
“Who knows? We can find out when he was last around,” McNamara said. “But if he heard you’re looking for him, we won’t be seeing much of Sennett for a while.”
“If he isn’t with the girl, why bother hiding?” I asked.
“All he knows is some cops want to find him. He can probably think of a dozen reasons why.”
“Would he be out at Aqueduct this afternoon?”
“No, he works the street. Makes the rounds of the saloons, has all his regulars.”
As we neared the precinct house, I saw Corwin and a patrolman lead Jacob Marquisee inside.
“That was Marquisee they just took inside,” I said.
“You know Marquisee?” McNamara asked.
“I was looking into his wife’s suicide,” I said.
“Or murder,” McNamara corrected. “The daughter came in this morning and swore out a complaint against her father.”
We went in and McNamara led us to Corwin. He eyed me warily, but greeted Tibbitts with a slight bit of warmth.
“What’s the story?” Tibbitts asked.
“The daughter came in this morning. Marquisee was living with her. Last night he said something about his wife getting her due. I already had my eye on him.”
“You suspected he had killed her?” I asked.
“I suspected something. There were marks on her neck.”
“That didn’t come out at the hearing,” I observed.
“It wasn’t what killed her. The doctor thought she might have made them herself, when the arsenic took hold of her,” he clarified. “You still think this is connected to the Huber kid?”
“I’m sure of it. Huber wrote a policy on Marquisee that Marquisee never knew about.”
“So the wife had a big policy put on her husband, then planned to kill him,” Corwin said. “Only he found out and killed her first. Nice match, those two.”
“She gambled, and I think the money from the policy was meant to cover a debt she had. Huber had something to do with setting up that scheme. I don’t suppose you ever had any question his death was a suicide?”
“It looked like it, even had the note. I don’t see how anyone else could have arranged it. Not many people would sit still waiting for the gas to kill them.”
“But wasn’t there a head wound?” I asked.
“Just a bump on the head. The doctor said it looked like his head hit the desk when the gas rendered him unconscious.”
“Both John Huber and the doctor remembered it differently. They both noted it was on the back of the head. At least until you convinced them otherwise.”
“His father swore it was on his forehead.”
“What did you see?”
“I left it to the doctor.”
“But then told him he was wrong.”
“Conrad Huber carries a lot of weight. I’ve known him a long time.”
There didn’t seem to be much point in pursuing it further, so I dropped the matter. Tibbitts told him about Sally being missing and her association with Sennett. And I told him of the connection between Sally and Huber. Then I gave them my number at the apartment and went on home. From there I telephoned Ratigan and told him what I’d learned about Sennett.
“I have a couple fellows looking into him. They’ve basically found out what you know, but no sign of him yet. And I have a couple others looking into who else the girl might be with. Did Huber tell you anything?”
“He said he hadn’t seen her in weeks and I believed him. He’s soft on the girl, but I think he runs a little slow for her.”
“That’s what we heard. Frankly, some of her ‘friends’ didn’t speak too highly of her conduct.”
/> “Did any of them know about Sennett?”
“At least one girl mentioned him. But it sounds like he might have been one among many.”
I told him I’d check again after visiting Mrs. Koestler. While I was cleaning up and putting on a new collar Emmie came in. I told her about Sally, the search for Sennett, and Marquisee’s arrest. She was especially attentive during my description of the house of assignation.
“It’s a relief that you’ve been put back on the case, Harry. But you don’t think Sally’s disappearance has anything to do with the scheme, do you?”
“It probably does. But you sound disappointed. Doesn’t it fit into your solution?”
“No, it doesn’t. How did you know I had a solution in mind?”
“Just an educated guess.” Then I told her about my conversations with John Huber and Sergeant Corwin about William’s head wound. She smiled. “I take it that fits in with your scenario?”
“Yes,” she confessed. “What are you getting duded up for?”
“I’m to pay a visit to Mrs. Koestler.”
“Perhaps I should go with you?”
“After your performance the other evening? That would seem ill advised. I’m hoping she hasn’t connected the two of us.”
“Oh, she knows you’re my husband.”
“Well, I’d rather not remind her of it.”
I made it to the Koestlers’ at about 4:30. The girl showed me into the study, where Mrs. Koestler was attending to some correspondence. All she had to do was look at me and I was ready to head back out the door. A dog rushed in and began sniffing me enthusiastically.
“You must have stepped in something,” my hostess conjectured. She led the dog out of the room and then we both sat down.
“I imagine you’re here about Sally,” she said.
“Yes, Mr. Koestler has asked me to look into it. He seems to think she may have gone off with a man.”
“Have you narrowed it down yet?”
“Narrowed it down?”
“Well, I believe she had quite a number of… let’s say, ‘admirers.’”
“You don’t think much of her conduct, I take it.”
“Do you?”
“That’s not really my place.”
“No, I suppose not. What was it you wanted to know?”
“Well, you already told me some. I had the impression your husband was somewhat blind to Sally’s behavior.”
“Yes, he was. I hope now it’s clear to him. And you assumed I would have a better sense of where the truth lies?”
“Yes, exactly. But I also hoped you might have some idea who she could be with, and perhaps weren’t comfortable making the supposition to your husband.”
“That’s very astute of you. But I’m afraid I have no idea,” she said. “When her father and I first married, Sally and I were fairly close. But in the past two or three years I seem to have made her all the more rebellious. I suppose it’s my fault, for wanting her to be someone she isn’t. So she felt she had to make a point of asserting herself. Now I try not to intrude. She’s still very close to her father.”
“Do you think it’s likely she’s with a man?”
“Yes. She’s a simple girl, and it would be easy for someone to turn her head.”
“I had gotten that idea. Is there someplace she might have wanted to go to? Someplace she vacationed?”
“She’s fond of the ocean, and actually a good sailor. But I don’t know if that helps much.”
“Do you own a boat?”
“No, but many of her friends’ families do.”
“Do you think she could have had much money with her?”
“No, not much. Her father doesn’t spoil her, and she’s not a greedy child.”
I thanked her and she wished me luck. The girl led me back out and on the stoop I encountered Elizabeth. I imagine I looked a little shocked to see her. As she walked by she whispered that she’d been invited to tea.
21
When I arrived home, I told Emmie about my conference with Mrs. Koestler.
“Do you think Sally would elope with Sennett?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t have thought so. She just seems out for a bit of fun.”
“But he’d have a motive to persuade her,” Emmie said. “Her father’s money.”
“I doubt Sennett’s foolish enough to think Koestler is going to welcome him to the family. If he’s with Sally, I’d imagine he just sees it as a bit of fun, too. Maybe not realizing how seriously her father would take it.”
“Or maybe she isn’t with Sennett at all.”
“Yes, there’s a good chance of that,” I agreed.
“You don’t suppose Sally could be the mystery woman?”
“She’s blonde enough, but nothing like tall.”
“But maybe Mrs. Warner just didn’t realize where she was standing. If someone is standing closer to you, they look taller.”
“Assuming Mrs. Warner’s eyesight is particularly poor.”
“Well, she mistook Elizabeth for me when she arrived.”
“And at the farm,” I said. “But Sally also lacks the cultured tone and the caustic tongue.”
“Yes, but I’ll wager you she can do a pretty convincing imitation of her stepmother.”
“Probably a safe bet,” I agreed. “What was Elizabeth doing over at the Koestlers’?”
“I have no idea.”
That evening, Emmie treated the household to dinner and the theatre. Mrs. Warner wanted to see Clyde Fitch’s Sapho, which had received much notoriety the year before because of the insinuated infidelities of its heroine. But Elizabeth, who’d seen the play, explained it was exceedingly dull and not half as scandalous as the Old Testament. So we went instead to the vaudeville at the Orpheum, where Rose Coghlan was headlining. It was a diverse lineup. Mrs. Warner particularly enjoyed the elephant act.
At seven the next morning, Koestler phoned and told me to get over to his house immediately. That was Thursday, May 2nd. I hurried over and was told the maid had found a satchel on the porch that morning. It was empty, but for a letter addressed to Koestler. It was written in clumsy block printing and it said:
Koestler,
We have your daughter. No harm will come to her provided you follow our instructions precisely.
You are to put $25,000 in this bag. It must be in ten and twenty dollar bills, and you must use this bag. The money must be delivered by a woman. And she must not be accompanied or followed. Any interference will mean the worst for your daughter.
At 10 a.m. you will receive a telephone call with further instructions.
Remember, you are being watched.
“Have you called the police?” I asked.
“No, I didn’t want to take the chance.”
“Will you pay it?”
“Of course—I have no choice.”
“Do you have someone to deliver it?”
He looked over at his wife.
“Of course I will, dear,” she said. But there was a decided lack of enthusiasm.
“Can you think of anyone else?” he asked.
“Well, I have a houseguest who might be willing. I believe Mrs. Koestler knows her. Elizabeth Custis.”
She nodded and her husband asked me to summon her. I telephoned the apartment and Emmie answered. She refused to wake Elizabeth until I told her what it was about. But, of course, that was that.
“I’ll be right over, Harry.”
I hung up and turned to the others. “Miss Custis was unavailable, but my wife is willing to take on the task. In the meantime, I should at least call in Newcome’s.”
“All right,” Koestler agreed. “But don’t have them come to the house. In case it is being watched.”
I phoned Ratigan and he agreed to round up half a dozen operatives. But until we knew where the meeting would be, he would keep them near him.
“You’ll need to call the cops, too,” Ratigan said. “We may need them.”
I hung up and told th
is to Koestler and he agreed to let me call Tibbitts.
“Call me as soon as you hear,” he said. “We can’t depend on the local precincts not to muck it up, but I can have a few boys ready.”
Then Emmie was shown into the room, with the dog nipping at her heels.
“Alfred’s attracted to scents,” Mrs. Koestler said. “He’s particularly fond of Violettes Russes.”
“Alfred?” Emmie asked, looking at Mr. Koestler.
“The dog—he’s named for Lord Tennyson.”
I gave Emmie the ransom note to read and Koestler began making arrangements with his bank.
“I’ll go and get it myself,” he said. “At least I’ll be doing something.”
“All right,” I agreed. “I’ll go along, too.”
He had a carriage waiting. We arrived at the bank well before opening time, but were immediately ushered into an office. The cash was assembled and placed in the bag and we got back to the house about half past nine.
“I have an idea, Harry,” Emmie said. “We can use Alfred.”
“Use him for what?” Koestler asked.
“Well, as Mrs. Koestler mentioned, he is very fond of a particular perfume. We did a little test while you were out. Not even raw meat distracted him from it.”
“You’re suggesting wearing this perfume and having the dog follow you?” I asked.
“No, what good would that do? There’s only one reason they supplied the bag. Think of the green goods game, Harry.”
“The green goods game?” Mrs. Koestler asked.
“Yes, where the gang is selling counterfeit money, but it really isn’t counterfeit,” Emmie explained. “They put the real bills into a bag like this one, and then, when the mark’s attention is diverted, switch it with an identical bag that contains nothing but old newspapers. That’s why they sent this brightly colored red bag—so it would be conspicuous.”
“I see what you have in mind, Emmie. If we scent the bag, the dog won’t be misled by a duplicate.”
“Yes, but it’s the money we want to follow. We should scent that. You could lead Alfred, Harry.”
Emmie opened the bag and doused the cash. The phone rang at exactly ten and I answered it.
“Do you have the money?”
“Yes, here in your bag.”
Crossings (A Harry Reese Mystery Book 2) Page 20