Kurt was about to reply when there was a scream from the woods. A panicked gardener ran toward them. “Come quick! Mikey Corrigan has been shot!”
With a bit of deft maneuvering, Lucy fainted into Kurt’s arms.
And Josie was left with the guilt of knowing she’d been too late to save Mikey Corrigan.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, they were all standing in front of Mikey Corrigan, who was bandaging his arm which had a flesh wound and not the fatal gunshot of the newspaper articles. Josie was surprised, relieved, and more than a bit confused. She was also appalled by the lack of both antibiotic ointment and hand washing. “Are you sure we shouldn’t call a doctor?” Josie asked him.
“Trust me, I’ve been hurt worse.”
“What happened?” asked David Remington, as he approached the group. Josie didn’t see the direction he’d come from, but he hadn’t been there when they’d been told Corrigan had been shot.
The gangster nodded to his arm. “What does it look like? Somebody took a shot at me.”
“Who was it?”
Mikey snorted. “I didn’t get a look at him and he didn’t stick around long enough for us to get acquainted.”
“That ain’t like you,” said Lucy. “Getting’ shot and not gettin’ one off in return. You sick or somethin’?”
“You brought a firearm to the party, Mr. Corrigan?” asked Josie.
“I never go nowhere without one and now you know why.” He looked at Josie and frowned. “We never were formally introduced.”
“Oh, excuse me, I’m Josie Matthews,” she said to the curious stares of those around her, which included Lucy and Kurt. They were then joined by the man Josie had heard described as Kurt’s press agent.
“That was quite an entrance you made last night,” said Corrigan, in a manner which was midway between observation and accusation. “Care to explain it?”
Josie still didn’t have any idea how to explain. She looked toward David Remington, the man who’d probably just shot his friend, then doubled back around.
Remington cleared his throat. “I don’t think last night is nearly as important as what just happened in the woods. Where were you when you were shot?”
“Out in the trees.”
“Can you be more specific?” asked Remington.
“They were green.”
David laughed. Before he could question him further, they were joined by the rest of the guests. Josie turned to see two of her idols. “You’re Dora Barnes and Lawrence Henry!” she said to two of the most distinguished playwrights of the Twentieth Century. She’d seen no mention of them in the articles which was surprising, given how famous they were. “You’re a great writer,” Josie said to Dora.
“You know my work?” asked a puzzled Dora.
“Of course! I was even in a play you and Mr. Henry wrote. I mean, it was back in high school and I was terrible, but, wow!”
Dora looked at Lawrence in confusion. “But Lawrence and I have never written together.”
“And none of my plays have been seen beyond New York,” said Lawrence.
That’s why they hadn’t been mentioned in the articles. They weren’t famous yet. “You should think about working together,” said Josie lamely. “It could be fun.” It was also going to get them countless rave reviews, Tony Awards and even an Oscar nomination.
Dora and Lawrence looked at each other, while Josie could feel David staring at her.
“Lawrence’s play ‘Children at Dinner’ opened on Broadway five years ago,” said Constance, who had just joined them. “It’s a shame it closed so quickly.”
“It should have been shut down for indecency!”
Everyone turned to see a gruff man in his mid-thirties in an ill-fitting suit, with a flask in his pocket.
“Haven’t you heard, Agent Barker?” asked Lawrence. “There is no such thing as decency, anymore. After all, it is the Roaring Twenties. Or at least it will be until the end of this year.”
“Grant Barker is a federal agent,” said Constance. “He’s directly under J. Edgar Hoover.”
“And what a horrid position that must be,” said Lawrence.
“Enough with the chitter chatter!” said Barker. “Who shot you, Corrigan? Though I’m sure it was nothing more than you deserved.”
“I don’t know who shot me. But I’d sure as hell like to find out. What are you doin’ makin’ eyes at my girl?” Mikey asked Kurt, who had been staring at Lucy.
Kurt grinned. “Didn’t mean no harm, Mr. Corrigan. I guess I just like pretty girls.” He winked at Lucy, then went on his way.
Once he was out of earshot, Mikey snorted. “If you ask me, the biggest mystery is how a guy who sounds like that ever got into pictures.”
“They’re silent, you know,” said Dora.
“The least interesting thing a man can do with his mouth is talk,” added Lawrence.
“Yeah, talkin’ is highly overrated,” said Lucy as she looked over to where several maids were now gathered around Kurt.
David looked at his old friend’s wound, which was beginning to bleed anew. “Mikey, why don’t you go inside and get patched up for real? Barker, you might as well come along.”
“And the rest of us can have tea,” said Constance, desperate to get the party on track again, as she ushered everyone toward tables which had been set out on the lawn.
Josie pulled Remington aside. “Where were you when Mr. Corrigan was shot?”
“I don’t know exactly when he was shot, so I can’t tell you where I was.”
“I find that highly suspicious. Even I can tell you where I was and I’m the one with the head injury.”
Remington’s eyebrows vaulted upward. “Are you asking if I shot my friend?”
“Yes. Did you?”
“Might I remind you you’re an uninvited guest and you just asked your host if he’s a murderer?”
She had just done that, hadn’t she? But she might as well stay the course, since the insult had already been issued. “You didn’t answer my question.” It was a bold thing to say to a murderer, but perhaps if she let him know she was on to him he wouldn’t make another attempt on Mr. Corrigan’s life.
He was surprised, but not particularly displeased, by her honesty. “I was around the side of the house, and to answer your next question, no one saw me there, but I didn’t shoot my friend. I should probably point out that no one was shot until you arrived, Miss Matthews.”
“Yes, but I know I didn’t do it. I have my eye on you, Mr. Remington.”
He smiled. “And I, Miss Matthews, have my eye on you.”
CHAPTER NINE
“What happened out there?” asked David as he helped Mikey re-bandage his arm in the downstairs washroom off the kitchen, with Barker looking on. It had cost a great deal to add so much plumbing during the renovation of the house, but it had been worth it.
“What the hell is going on?” asked Barker.
As Mikey told him about receiving the blackmail notes, David collected clean bandages and a bottle of iodine.
“I’m the one he should be blackmailing about our connection,” said Barker. “Hoover would probably have me arrested if he knew.”
“I’ll be sure to pass that on to the jerk next time I see him,” said Corrigan.
“Which jerk?” asked David. “Hoover or the blackmailer?”
“Either,” said Mikey, who winced as David dabbed iodine on the wound. “I found a note in my room last night telling me to drop the money by an old tree near the road by noon.”
David stopped and stared. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wanted to take care of it my way.”
“You should have come to me, Corrigan,” said Barker. “It’s actually part of my job to arrest blackmailers.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t want him arrested,” said Mikey. “Like I said, I wanted to take care of it my way.”
“And it looks like that worked out just peachy,” said Barker.
“Wh
at happened?” asked David again.
Mikey held the bandage as David tied it, then recounted the story. “When we got back to the room last night, there was a letter on the dresser addressed to me. It was typed, but I knew exactly who it was from.”
“The letter was actually in your room?” asked David, frowning.
“Yeah.”
“And it hadn’t been there earlier in the day?”
“I didn’t see it if it was.”
“So someone at the party put it there,” said David.
“I can’t see any other explanation.”
“I’ll bet it’s that whack job who dropped into the party,” said Barker. “Who the hell is she, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” said David. “But I’m going to find out.”
Mikey grunted. “As much as I hate agreeing with Barker, who else could it be? You said yourself you couldn’t imagine anyone at the party doing something like that. And everyone else was in the ballroom all night.”
“Not all night,” said Barker. “Farnsworth stepped outside about midnight.”
“How do you know that?” asked David.
Barker shrugged. “I was keeping an eye on him.”
David felt bad for his friend. It must be terrible knowing the woman you loved was married to such a miserable excuse for a human being. “You’re not thinking of doing anything to Farnsworth, are you?”
“Like what?” said Barker.
“Having him arrested for one thing,” said David. “He’s already under investigation in the Senate. Plus, I have to imagine he’s broken any number of antiquities laws over the years.”
“I have to admit I’ve thought about it, but the scandal would ruin Lydia. I was suspicious when he ducked out last night. He seemed awfully concerned about not being seen as he left.”
“What did he go out to do?” asked David.
“As far as I could tell he just sat in a chair and smoked.”
“So he probably didn’t leave that note,” said Mikey.
“He could have paid someone else to do it, I guess.”
“Who else left the ballroom?” asked David.
“Well, you did,” said Barker. “I saw you walking around the side of the house while I was watching Farnsworth.”
“But I’m not the blackmailer.” David put away the supplies as he thought about the previous night. “Tanner was on the phone when I came back in and Dora was going upstairs.”
That got Mikey’s attention. “To do what?”
“I didn’t ask. I wasn’t aware I had to at the time.”
“How well do you know her?” asked Barker.
“I only just met her. She’s a friend of Lawrence Henry’s.”
Mikey considered it. “From my experience dames are every bit as capable as men when it comes to things like blackmail, though I can’t imagine she’d take a shot at me when I don’t even know her.”
“Yes,” said David. “Let’s get back to that portion of the story. What did the letter say?”
“That it was time for my reckoning and that I was supposed to leave the money at some old gnarled tree by the road at 5 p.m. today.”
David looked at his watch. “It’s only 4:30.”
“Yeah, I wanted to get there early then wait to see who picked it up.”
“And you didn’t think to tell either Barker or me?”
“Oh, I thought about it, then decided it was a bum idea. By the way, do you know how many gnarled trees you have out there? It took me an hour just to know I had the right one.”
“You can dispense your gardening tips later,” said Barker. “Then what happened?”
“I made the drop then doubled back and waited for him to show. I thought I was pretty well hidden, but apparently not well enough. I’d only been there about fifteen minutes when the bastard winged me. I couldn’t even shoot back since I couldn’t figure out where the shot had come from on account of all the damned trees.”
“Did you get a look at him?” asked David.
“No. It’s dark in there and he must have taken off while I was looking at my arm to see how bad the damage was.”
“Why would your blackmailer want to kill you?” asked Grant.
“I have enemies. And one of them just ruined my favorite shirt,” he said as he examined the tear in the cloth. “That’s another thing I’ll be sure to address when I finally get my hands on him.”
“I know you have enemies,” said Barker. “That’s an understatement if I ever heard one, but usually blackmailers like keeping their marks alive to bleed them dry financially. I can see trying to knock you off when he was done blackmailing you, but not on your very first drop.”
“Gee, thanks,” said Mikey.
David nodded. “Grant does make a good point.”
“I do that occasionally,” said Barker.
David took a moment to consider everything which had been said. “And you had no other indication that the blackmailer wanted you dead? There were no threats in the previous letters?”
“Nothing physical. All he said was that if I didn’t pay up he’d ruin me.”
“And you have no idea who it is? From what you said, the person blackmailing you knows about your friendship with Barker and that you don’t pay taxes. Those are two very different charges.”
“You don’t pay taxes?” asked Barker.
“Relax, Grant,” said David. “This conversation is just so you can figure out who’s blackmailing Mikey. You can’t go tell Treasury about his taxes.”
“I sure as hell can!” said Barker.
“But you won’t, right?” asked Mikey with a growl.
David couldn’t tell if that was an implied threat or not. It took a moment for Barker to respond. Finally, he did.
“Look, when you get arrested – and it’s really only a matter of time – it’s gonna be for what you’re famous for. Racketeering and the rest of it. If Treasury gets you on taxes it won’t come from me. God’s honest truth, I don’t always pay ‘em, myself.”
David shook his head. “So, I’m the only one who pays taxes?”
“With all your dough we need you to finance the government,” said Barker.
“Gee, thanks. So, to summarize, the person who’s blackmailing Mikey knows about his personal finances and his friendships.”
“It ain’t Lucy,” said Mikey.
David wasn’t so sure about that, but he nodded slowly. “Let’s assume it isn’t. Did this guy say he had any proof about any other criminal activity?”
“No and that’s the screwy part. I mean, I’m careful, so there’s not a lot of proof out there. But this guy ain’t said one word about my work. Just about taxes and my boyhood pal the fed.”
Barker nodded at David. “What about the heated conversation you had with that mysterious dame just now?”
“She seems to think I’m somehow behind this.” There was a moment of silence. “I think this is where you’re supposed to say that’s ridiculous.”
Mikey studied him. “I can’t imagine you’d do something like this, but if there’s something I’ve learned in my line of work, it’s you can never really know someone.”
“Funny thing,” said Grant. “I’m in a completely different line of work and I learned the same damned thing.”
There was a knock at the door, and they turned to see the butler there. “Excuse me, Mr. Remington, but you’re wanted in the foyer. It seems you have another guest.”
* * *
David arrived in the foyer to see Constance and the others standing around a woman who looked to be in her fifties, wearing a turban and a swirling caftan. Her hair was dyed a bright red and her fingers were all sporting rings. She was having an argument with Constance, who didn’t seem best pleased with the woman’s presence.
“What’s going on?” asked David taking in the scene, as two maids who were staring at the woman almost ran into each other.
“There is a great mystery,” said the woman with a vague eastern Europe
an accent.
“And you seem to be in the center of it,” said David. “I’m David Remington and you are...?”
Constance answered for her. “Her name is Madame Racine and she claims to be clairvoyant.”
“I do not ‘claim’ to be clairvoyant,” said Madame Racine in a huff. “That is what a charlatan does. I am clairvoyant and have come to help.”
“I wasn’t aware we needed any assistance,” said David.
“Oh, really?” asked Madame. “Is that not blood?” she said, pointing to Mikey’s bandaged arm.
“I don’t know how that’s any of your concern,” said Constance, still trying to nudge the woman out the door.
“I saw it happen!” declared Madame Racine.
“Who was it?” demanded Mikey as he approached the woman.
“I do not know the name.”
“Then tell me what he looked like.”
“I did not see the person exactly.”
“Can you tell us anything I don’t already know?” asked Mikey with some exasperation.
“Yes. I know he will strike again and again, until two people are dead!” Madame Racine opened her arms wide, then faced up to the heavens, swaying from side-to-side.
“And you know this from seeing Corrigan get shot?” asked Barker. “Or not seeing or whatever you did or didn’t do?”
She looked at him and narrowed her eyes. “I have a gift. I see things before they happen.”
“So did you or did you not see Corrigan get shot?” asked Barker.
“I did!”
“But you can’t tell us what the man looked like,” said Constance. “Goodness, we’re certainly fortunate you showed up when you did.”
Madame glared at her. “Do not mock my gift. The spirits will be angry. I saw this man get shot. I did not see who shot him.”
“Where were you when you saw him get shot?” asked Barker.
“I was on the train.”
“How the hell could that happen?” asked Barker. “The train doesn’t go anywhere near the road where Mikey was.”
“That is a detail for mortals! I saw it yesterday morning in my vision.”
“So, you’re saying you didn’t really see it?” asked Barker. “You only saw it in a vision? Because that’s just plain nuts.”
The Tycoon Murderer Page 8