“The rest of us?”
“Yeah, Oppenheimer Arms. Joseph Oppenheimer was a philanthropist who died a few years ago. He outlived his descendants, and he had always loved the theater, so he gave money to Longworth to reopen the inn and bought a large home which was converted into a apartment building for local actors. If someone cannot afford to pay, they live there rent free. I can afford to pay, but some of the guys who haven’t found much work of late cannot afford to do so.”
“And what is the address of this home?”
“462 Linden Place.”
“Tell me, Mr. McArthur. How well do the actors in this area get along?”
“For the most part pretty well. Of course, some people get a little upset when someone else gets a part that he or she coveted, but it doesn’t usually last long. Everyone is back to being friends pretty quick.”
“And how many actors live at Oppenheimer Arms?”
“Let’s see, there are seven. There are eight apartments, four on each side of the hall, and I believe that everyone lives alone. Then, we have a manager, Mrs. Crouch, who takes care of the place. Mr. Oppenheimer made Longworth promise that if an actor ever needed a place to stay and there wasn’t a vacancy at Oppenheimer Arms, he or she could stay at the inn until an apartment was available.”
I dismissed McArthur and sent Lou to retrieve Longworth.
+++
“Mr. Longworth, it seems that you’ve been keeping something from me.”
“Such as?”
“Such as how you acquired this magnificent inn. It seems Mr. Oppenheimer was most gracious.”
“That he was. Mr. Oppenheimer was a fine gentleman.”
“And why didn’t you tell me about his generosity sooner?”
“It had no bearing on anything that has happened here this weekend.”
“Oh! Maybe it did. And it seems you were a little more eager to produce and direct your next play than you led me to believe.”
“Not at all, but it will be some time before that happens.”
“Is that because of Mr. Mycroft’s death?”
“Partially.”
“And Mr. Plankton’s death?”
“I did not know Mr. Plankton.”
“Could it be that you know Mr. Plankton by another name?”
“The gentleman did not look familiar to me.”
“Could it be that he was an actor in disguise?”
“You mean someone playing a character? Sure. But I didn’t recognize him.”
“Are you aware that someone relayed a message to local actors to come to the inn this weekend, and come in costume to audition for you?”
“Are you serious?”
“Quite serious.”
“Then, no, I didn’t know that. Is that how Tony McArthur came to be here this weekend?”
“So, you know McArthur to be an actor?”
“Oh, yes. I thought I’d told you that. He’s a distinguished actor, one of the better ones in this area. But he was not in costume.”
“No, I guess not. Well, thank you for you time, Mr. Longworth. I’ll not keep you from your duties any longer.”
“I appreciate that, Lieutenant.”
Longworth left. It was beginning to look like the murders had something to do with Longworth and the possibility of upcoming plays at the inn. But I still had no idea who our murderer was.
+++
All that detecting made Lou and me hungry. I took a Hershey Almond bar from my pocket and laid it on the table. Needing to lighten the moment, I removed a handkerchief from my pocket, took the tooth-marked candy bar from its wrapper, and laid it on the handkerchief. I’d mangled the candy enough so that only about one-half of it remained. Trying to be cute, I took a bite off the still intact bottom portion of the candy, eliminating its right angles. Lou proved two can be twice as cute as one. Lou saw no need for a napkin. He poured his package of M&Ms on the table. Then he sorted them, making lines and rows. He looked at me and smiled, then moved one row of M&Ms at a time, like he was trying to solve a Rubik Cube. I reached over and plucked an M&M from the center of his square. He smacked my hand. I picked up an M&M, licked it, and replaced it. He picked up the one I licked, put it in his mouth, and then clutched his hand to his throat as if he were poisoned. While he was gyrating, I chose a red M&M from his pile. I placed it in front of me, then flicked it toward the others like I did when I played marbles as a boy. Lou laughed, and selected a yellow M&M as his agate. He scattered a few, and ate the ones he’d scattered. After a few minutes play, Lou knocked the last M&M from the ring, and opened a new bag. Who knows how long our shenanigans would’ve lasted if there hadn’t been a knock at the door. Lou hurried to gather his M&Ms and poured them back into the bag, while I opened the door slightly. It seemed the lab boys had arrived. Play time was over. Maybe sometime soon I would lick all the chocolate from my candy, and we could play marbles with my almonds. Somehow, I envisioned M&Ms being better shooters.
+++
Lou and I accompanied the lab boys to the rooms we wanted dusted. I jotted down the numbers of the rooms, gave them the pass key I had yet to return, and told them to knock on the door to my room when they’d finished. All that exercise had made me tired. I needed a nap. I promised Lou I’d knock on his door when we had more to work with.
+++
I tried my best to comb my hair quickly after the lab boys knocked on my door. Their smiles told me I was not successful. That was okay. Those guys needed more opportunities to smile. I considered showing them our M&M game before they left, then decided against it.
Gordon, a fellow I’d known for quite a few years, spoke.
“Lieutenant, we matched these prints against ones we already have. We found duplicates in two of the rooms.”
“And which rooms were those?”
He told me the room numbers, and I checked them against my list. The rooms where there were duplicates were Mrs. Dukenfield’s and Mr. Williams’s rooms.
“Are you sure these are the same prints in each of these rooms? These two guests were not at the inn at the same time.”
“I’m certain of it, Lieutenant. See how the swirls are an exact match.”
“That sure is interesting.”
“Let me make it a little more interesting for you, Lieutenant. Other than an occasional print left by the maid, we found only one set of prints in each room.”
I looked up, saw Lou striding toward us.
“Come here, Lou. I’ve got a question. Try to think back. When we ate dinner Friday night, was Mrs. Dukenfield wearing gloves?”
“No, Cy. Remember how we talked about playing a game of connecting the age spots.”
I wished Lou had been a little more discreet around the lab boys. I smiled sheepishly. I saw they smiled for a second time. Probably a record for them. I thought, then asked Gordon a question.
“Are you saying that only one person was in each room?”
“Not necessarily. But a person would have to have been wearing gloves or been extremely careful not to leave any prints. As you know, it’s hard not to leave prints.”
“What about the doorknob on the inside of the room doors? Was there only one set on them?”
“Those prints were inconclusive. All we have are smudged prints. No way to identify them.”
I thanked them for their thoroughness, and told them I hoped I wouldn’t need them again. After they left, I mulled over what I’d learned. Was it possible that Isabel Dukenfield and Claude Williams were the same person? Manfred did say their trucks were similar, and both of them weren’t around at the same time. I decided to run this by Longworth to see what he thought. I found him at the front desk.
“More questions, Lieutenant?”
“Just one, Mr. Longworth, and this won’t take long. I just want your expert opinion about something.”
He raised his eyebrows, probably wondering whether I was buttering him up or setting him up.
“Mr. Longworth, you’ve been involved with a lot of pl
ays with a lot of actors. Am I right?”
“That I have, Lieutenant.”
“In all your experience, have you ever known a man to play a woman, or a woman to play a man?”
“You mean as a farce, or in a serious role?”
“In a serious role. Would a man play a woman, or a woman play a man?”
“It’s rare, but we’ve had cases where that has happened, only most of the time it was played for laughs.”
“But it could be done?”
“Sure, Lieutenant, if the actor or actress was gifted enough to pull it off. May I know why you ask?”
“I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Our fingerprint crew just left. They said they found a matching set of prints in Mrs. Dukenfield’s and Mr. Williams’s rooms.”
“Well, the maid was in both rooms. Maybe they were her prints.”
“No, we allowed for her prints, and there was only one set of fingerprints other than hers in both rooms. It’s rare that a person can stay in a room and not leave any prints. Even if Mr. Williams was here for only a short while.”
“A short while. Has he left?”
“He was seen leaving while you and I were having a previous conversation. I don’t know if he checked out, or not. Whoever was on the desk could probably tell us.”
Longworth scanned the register.
“There’s nothing here that says he checked out. I’ll look into it.”
+++
Lou and I turned away and went to my room to think it over. My room was more comfortable than the conference room. I took the bed. The sergeant took the couch. I tossed him a pillow. He tossed it back. The couch cushions were good enough for him.
Of course, Isabel Dukenfield and Claude Williams looked nothing alike. That goes without saying. One a woman. One a man. Even in the face, there was no resemblance. From what I could remember, even their eyes were different colors. But with tinted contact lenses and all that makeup men are able to do these days, I didn’t discount the fact that they could’ve been the same person. The woman did seem shorter, but was that merely our minds playing tricks on us, because everyone knows that women are usually shorter than men. Both seemed to have the same build. Of course, men and women are shaped differently, but with Mrs. Dukenfield’s bulky wool suit, it was hard for me to know what kind of shape she had. Did he or she wear this outfit for that reason? If the two were played by one person, could it be that the reason that the Mrs. Dukenfield character left was to change costumes?
As I thought, I remembered that both were scheduled to be at the inn at the same time, but was that something that someone disguised merely to throw someone else off? And if so, was that someone Longworth or me? Could it be that the costume changes were merely to gain points with Longworth? Could it be that this person was unaware that murders would take place at the inn? If so, why did our “new” guest hightail it out of here as soon as I questioned him? After both of us reflected for a few minutes, I turned to Lou.
“Okay, Lou, what do you make of all this?”
“You mean is the new guy a new guy?”
“Right, Lou. Are we looking for two different people, and if not, is our busy actor friend a victim of circumstances or a murderer?”
“You’d think he or she wouldn’t have left unless our actor friend is the murderer. But then there’s something else to look at, too.”
“What’s that, Lou?”
“What if this person is really innocent? What if what the second guy told us is true? Maybe he is some guy who was late getting here.”
“Thanks a lot, Lou. I can always thank you for making my job harder.”
“Well, you asked.”
“There’s one thing we know, Lou.”
“What’s that, Cy?”
“Whoever is claiming to be Claude Williams is a liar. There is no Claude Williams. At least not in Peoria, Illinois.”
“Well, he could have an unlisted phone number, or lived with a family member. Besides, that doesn’t make this guy our murderer, Cy. Remember, the victim claimed to be someone else, too. Among the guests, only Tony McArthur seems to have told the truth.”
“That’s settles it, Lou. McArthur is our murderer.”
The two of us enjoyed a good laugh before continuing.
“Cy, here’s something to think about. Maybe McArthur is the murderer. Maybe he sent all these people out with fake names to muddy the waters. Then, he shows up looking like himself and is who he says he is. Everyone knows a murderer should tell the truth as much as possible.”
“I’m still bummed out because we don’t know how many people we’re dealing with. Are Isabel Dukenfield and Claude Williams the same person, or two people?”
“Well, the fingerprints seem to say one person, except for one thing. That Williams fellow wasn’t here all that long. It could be possible that he didn’t touch anything in the room except the inside of the doorknob.”
“But you’re forgetting one thing, Lou.”
“What’s that, Cy?”
“I’ll grant you that he might not have been here long enough to leave fingerprints, but one person did leave fingerprints in both rooms. So, no matter what, one person, whoever that person was, was in both rooms.”
“Maybe neither of them left any prints and they were left by a third person.”
“A woman who spends two days in a hotel room will leave some fingerprints. Those prints belong to whoever Isabel Dukenfield really is. What we need to figure out is whether we have one or two actors. Was a woman in both rooms while a man didn’t stay long enough to leave any prints, or did the same person play both parts? I would go ask McArthur, but if he knows, he isn’t talking.”
12
After wasting most of the afternoon and getting nowhere, I realized it was time for afternoon snacks, or hors d’oeuvres, as the inn prefers to call them. I sent Lou to walk down enough steps so that he could crane his neck around the balustrade to see if they were serving pâté again. If so, I was on a chocolate diet. He came back and said he couldn’t tell what it was, but it wasn’t pâté. I decided to be brave, locked the door, and followed the big lemming down the stairs.
Reluctantly, I took a bite of something that looked like chitlins, or chitterlings, as they probably called them at the Overlook Inn. I never thought of them as a delicacy, but I couldn’t figure out what else it could be that I was munching on. Whatever they were, I wasn’t sure I wanted to eat them again, but I was hungry. The inn provided a dipping sauce, which wasn’t bad. I thought about dipping the chitlin, or should I say chitterling, in the dipping sauce, licking the sauce off, and then dipping again. I was considering it when Mrs. Longworth walked up.
”Well, Lieutenant, Sergeant, how do you like the calamari?”
So, it wasn’t chitlins. Now, all I had to do was find someone who knew what calamari was.
I smiled at Mrs. Longworth, and told her the truth.
“Without a doubt, this is the best calamari I’ve ever had.”
“Oh, that’s so good to hear. We love for our guests to enjoy their food while they’re here.”
I wasn’t going to lie and tell her I enjoyed the food, so I took another calamari and dipped it in the sauce. I plopped it into my mouth before she could ask me any more questions. As I chewed, she walked away.
Before I finished swallowing, her husband walked up. I hoped he wasn’t going to ask me how I was enjoying the calamari. He didn’t.
“Lieutenant, I’ve been thinking, and I might have a solution to one of your problems.”
I wasn’t prepared for what he said next.
“You know you were wondering whether Isabel Dukenfield and Claude Williams are the same person. I might have an answer to that question.”
“Oh?” was all that I could mutter.
“I know, Lieutenant, that you mentioned you do not have much occasion to frequent plays, but are you familiar with an early comedian by the name of W. C. Fields?”
“Oh, sure. I’ve even seen som
e of his movies.”
I could tell the man was pleased to see I had some culture.
“Do you have any idea what Mr. Fields real name was?”
I could see he planned to milk this for all that it was worth, so I humored him and said, “No.”
“William Claude Dukenfield. Understand? W. C. Fields was an actor. Our guest, who’s probably an actor, joined us twice, once as Isabel Dukenfield, and once as Claude Williams. Quite perceptive of him. Or her. But since W. C. Fields was a man, I assume that our actor friend is a man. As to who that man is, I will leave that up to you. I have no idea. And that bothers me, that a guest at the inn could fool me like that. Whoever he is, if he’s not your murderer, I might have some parts for him, when we start rehearsals.”
“I appreciate the help, Mr. Longworth. If you decide to get out of the inn and play business, we might have a job for you at the department.”
I was glad that Longworth had helped us. While I probably would’ve figured out sooner or later that we were dealing with only one person, instead of two, I didn’t have enough knowledge of W. C. Fields to make that connection. Was the W. C. Fields ruse for my benefit, or Longworth’s? The actor’s cat-and-mouse attitude fit in with the person who left footprints and a note for me, and this must’ve been the same person who made the tracks through the snow and over the edge of the cliff, but I would never have made the W. C. Fields connection. Could it be that our actor friend wanted to put one over on Longworth and the police at the same time?
+++
Lou and I sprawled out in a couple of the chairs in the sitting room and let our dinner settle. No one else was around, so we could sprawl to our heart’s content.
I looked out the window. There was a moon, and the snow glistened in the moonlight. In my younger days, I would’ve liked to have been out there in it. In my middle-age years, I knew better. I loved snow, as long as it was out there and I was in here. From what I could tell, the temperature had not risen enough for the snow to melt. Of course, people have always said that Precipice Point is the coldest place in the county. As long as I was at Precipice Point, I would agree with them.
2 Murder in the Winter Page 9