The Tycoon Murderer

by Maureen Driscoll

  She had slowly come to the realization that this wasn’t a dream. Somehow, she had been transported back to 1929. She hoped there was a way to go back to her own time, but had to admit she was intrigued by the mystery. She knew David Remington was the most likely suspect in his friend’s shooting, but he hadn’t seemed guilty when they were in the woods. There appeared to be a genuine bond of friendship among the three men, though that didn’t mean it was impossible that murder could still be the end result.

  As she’d researched her movies, she’d read about plenty of cases where best friends had turned on each other. Perhaps that would be the case here. Corrigan might have been the one who instigated the fight which ended in his death in her timeline. There was also the possibility that it was a crime of passion, like jealousy. But, somehow, she couldn’t picture David Remington in love with Lucy. For that matter, she couldn’t see Mikey Corrigan with Constance Andrews, either.

  Constance. She still had to find a way to warn Constance that Remington wasn’t good boyfriend material. And she definitely had to find a way to keep Kurt Franklin from being killed. That brought up another issue. How had Madame Racine known he was in danger? Josie didn’t buy her claim that she was clairvoyant for even a moment. That meant the woman was either the best guesser in history or somehow involved with whomever killed Corrigan and Franklin.

  Josie had been very surprised to learn about the blackmail. That hadn’t been in any of the stories, nor had it ever been mentioned that Mikey Corrigan had been wounded before being killed. She didn’t want to stay in 1929, but she hoped she’d be there long enough to find out what really happened.

  * * *

  David took another look in the mirror as he straightened his tie and thought about what they’d found in the woods, or, rather, not found. There’d been no indication of who had shot Mikey. He’d hoped to find signs that someone had camped out in his woods waiting for an opportunity to shoot the gangster from Chicago. At the very least, he’d hoped to find tire tracks indicating the assailant had driven off after the unsuccessful attack. It had rained hard the previous night and the ground was still wet. But there were no tracks whatsoever, no signs of an interloper. No, if anything, it looked more likely that the person who’d shot his friend was a guest at the party.

  There was a knock at his open door, then Constance entered. “Look at your tie,” she said as she crossed to him and untied it before fixing it for him.

  They were only inches apart and David could see how beautiful she was. He’d always assumed he would marry one day but had given little thought to actually finding a wife. In many ways Constance would be the perfect choice. She was independent in her own right – but not too independent. He liked being needed and found it hard to believe a woman like Miss Matthews would ever need a man. In that regard, Constance was the much better choice.

  Constance always dressed exquisitely, with her hair done just right. Miss Matthews tended to throw her hair back simply to get it out of the way. In the woods today, he’d noticed that a few tendrils kept falling down her neck and he’d had to fight the urge to touch one of them to see if it felt as silky as it looked. If he’d done that to Constance, she would have leaned into him. He had a feeling Miss Matthews would have batted his hand away.

  Why was he thinking about Miss Matthews when Constance was right there in front of him? He should lean down and kiss her. It wouldn’t matter if they were late to cocktails. After all, it was his party. He should kiss her.

  But he didn’t.

  “Did you find what you were looking for in the woods?” she asked.

  “We didn’t find any sign of the assailant, but it’s looking more and more likely that the person who shot Mikey is here at the estate.”

  “You can’t believe one of your guests would do such a thing.”

  David didn’t want to think so, but the evidence was pointing that way. “There’s always the possibility it’s one of the servants, or someone who’s been helping with the party. As you know, we’ve had a lot of workers at the house as of late. Perhaps the man who shot Mikey found his way onto the estate because of it.”

  Constance’s eyes widened. “You’re not saying we should fire the servants, are you? I don’t know how we’d continue the party without them.”

  David had to laugh at her priorities. “No, we won’t fire the servants, especially since many of them have been with the house for years and I don’t want anyone losing their job because of a mere theory. But I’ll have some of the more trusted staff keep an eye on the others.”

  “If you ask me, the most likely suspect is Miss Matthews,” said Constance, as she ran her hands around his neck, ensuring the tie was straight. “I still don’t understand how she appeared in the ballroom last night.”

  David shrugged, in part to dislodge Constance’s hands, which were drawing him closer. “Everyone was drinking last night. I’m sure it wouldn’t have been nearly as mysterious if we’d all been sober.”

  “I knew every name on the guest list and she most assuredly wasn’t on it.”

  “Neither was Farnsworth. I’ve had my share of party crashers through the years.”

  “Why are you making excuses for her?”

  That was a very good question. And David wasn’t sure of the answer. He had his own questions for Miss Matthews, but he didn’t think she was the one who’d attacked Mikey, though, admittedly, that was based more on the silky nature of those escaping tendrils than on any factual basis.

  “If not her, then who?” Constance smiled at him. Her teeth were almost shockingly white. He vaguely wondered which tooth powder she used.

  David shrugged. “I suppose Farnsworth is a possibility.”

  “You cannot think a United States Senator would try to kill a man at this party.”

  “Probably not. But he did invite himself and he could use the money.”

  “What does money have to do with it?”

  David hesitated, wondering just what he should disclose to Constance. It’s not that he didn’t trust her, but he didn’t want her to see Mikey in a bad light. “Mikey is being blackmailed. He was dropping off a case of money when he was shot.”

  Constance paled a bit and David reached out so she wouldn’t faint. “Blackmail! Here? That’s terrible. But Farnsworth is wealthy, isn’t he? He certainly doesn’t need the money.”

  “No one really knows for sure. The Senate has been investigating him for the source of his income. No matter where it comes from, I suspect much of it hasn’t been declared.”

  “Where did you hear that?” asked Constance.

  “You can’t get very far on Wall Street without at least a few sources in Washington. And God knows most of the governments in Central and South America would like to charge him with graverobbing, so he does have some criminal instincts, not to mention a need to pay off his lawyers.”

  “That’s a far cry from shooting a man in your woods.”

  “Not as far as you think. Several men have died on his expeditions through the years. The official explanation was always bandits. But that would imply exceptionally bad luck with bandits. I don’t know that Farnsworth had anything to do with today’s shooting, but I can’t rule it out, either. Be careful when you’re with him.”

  “What about that Madame Racine character? I already told the servants to watch her around the silver.”

  “That’s another one I have questions about. But she wasn’t here when Mikey was shot.”

  “You don’t really believe she saw it in a vision, do you?”

  “No. But until I can figure out what her game is, I’d rather keep her here than wonder what she’s up to elsewhere. And, yes, we should probably watch the silver and any other valuables.”

  She leaned in to kiss him, just as he turned away to check his watch. He’d purposely avoided her kiss and he wasn’t altogether certain why.

  Unfortunately, he had a feeling it concerned Miss Josie Matthews.

  * * *

  The party
was already in full swing as Josie entered the ballroom. Lucy and Corrigan were at the bar, entertaining the others with stories about Chicago speakeasys, while Grant Barker looked on grumpily with a drink in his hand.

  Kurt Franklin was gazing at Lucy and it was pretty evident the Hollywood star was in the midst of a major crush. Dora and Lawrence were dancing in the corner to a song on the Victrola while sipping their drinks.

  “Miss Matthews!”

  Josie looked over to where Tanner had called her name. He was nursing a drink, while looking in the direction of Kurt Franklin. “Yes, Mr. Tanner?”

  “I was just wondering if I could get your assistance with something,” he said. “Do you know whether or not Mikey Corrigan is a jealous man? I think Kurt is smitten with his gal and I don’t want him to wind up getting his face rearranged.”

  “I can imagine Mr. Franklin would find that most unpleasant.”

  “And not just Kurt. The studio sent me to keep an eye on him. He has a habit of getting involved with the wrong dames. So, what can you tell me about Corrigan? Is he as dangerous as they say?”

  “I just met him yesterday and while he’s been nice enough to me, he does have a reputation in Chicago from what I hear. It would probably be safest for Mr. Franklin to turn his attention elsewhere.”

  Tanner looked her up and down, nodding. “You might just be his type. A bit older than he usually likes, but if I can get him out of the pathway of a murderer, you’ll do.”

  “You do know how to flatter a girl,” said Josie. Then it occurred to her. Had Mikey Corrigan killed Kurt in a jealous rage, then Remington had to kill Corrigan? It could explain how one friend could turn on another. Then she realized Tanner was still talking.

  “Does that sound good to you?”

  “I’m sorry. I missed what you were saying.”

  “Can you leave your door open so Kurt can come see you tonight? It’s easier when he doesn’t have to knock. I’ll need you to sign release papers, of course, to make sure you won’t sue him for paternity if something should happen.”

  It was a definite sign that things in Hollywood really hadn’t changed in ninety years. “No, Mr. Tanner, I have no interest in any type of relationship with Kurt Franklin.”

  He looked alarmed. “I wasn’t talking about a relationship. It would only be for the one night.”

  “I’m even less interested in that, but thanks.”

  Tanner looked disappointed. “I guess I’ll just have to keep an eye on Corrigan to make sure he doesn’t do anything to Kurt.”

  “That’s a good idea,” said Josie. “In fact, I’d stay close to Mr. Franklin the entire time you’re here.” That would be a good way to ensure Franklin was at least partially protected.

  “I’ll definitely do that,” said Tanner. “I might as well start now.” With that, he made a beeline to where Franklin looked perilously close to getting hit by Mikey Corrigan.

  Josie looked around the room as the other guests assembled. Madame Racine was roaming the room with drink in hand, as if in some sort of trance. Senator and Mrs. Farnsworth were in the corner as the senator repeatedly picked up various vases and looked for the seal of authenticity on the bottom.

  Tanner was bravely trying to put himself between his client and Mikey Corrigan, though the look on his face denoted that it was the last place he truly wished to be. Dora Barnes looked unusually subdued as she conferred with Lawrence Henry on the other side of the room.

  The one person she didn’t see was David Remington.

  Constance floated into the room and clapped her hands. “All right, everyone! I see that you’re making full use of David’s well-stocked bar.”

  Perhaps this was the time to have a word with Constance about her boyfriend. While it was getting harder and harder to believe Remington was a murderer, Josie had to at least try to warn Constance not to get too close to him, despite the fact she was kind of a bitch. But no woman should end up with a murdering boyfriend. So, Josie pulled Constance aside, determined to be nice.

  Constance looked her up and down. “That dress makes you look a bit sallow, Josephine.”

  Or, maybe Josie didn’t have to warn her. “Mr. Remington was kind enough to lend it to me and I’m grateful to him.”

  “Yes, why is it you don’t have luggage? I still find that most odd.”

  “I find life odd much of the time. How well do you know Mr. Remington?”

  Constance looked surprised by the question, but then smiled coyly. “Very well, indeed. In fact, there may be wedding bells in the future.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, at all.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I just have a...feeling about him.” Josie didn’t have any idea how to explain what she knew to Constance. “Just be careful with him. Promise me.”

  Constance looked at her as if she were a bit crazy. Or maybe she was just thinking about how sallow Josie looked in the dress. Whatever the reason, she muttered some excuse about having to look after the guests, then scurried away.

  Josie turned to find David Remington directly in front of her. “Would you care to explain that?” he asked.

  No. “I just didn’t want her to be in too much of a rush about marrying.”

  “She’s past the age where she needs her parents’ consent to marry – as are you.”

  That was certainly unnecessary. “Are you calling me old?”

  “Not in the least. I was simply pointing out that she’s able to make her own decisions, as are you.”

  “So, you’re planning on marrying her.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment and it looked like he was weighing his response very carefully. Finally, he said, “I can’t see how this is any of your business. I’d also like to know more about this feeling you have about me.”

  “It sounds like you were eavesdropping, which is rude.”

  “It’s no more rude than trying to warn Constance away from me.”

  True. Josie sighed. “If I told you why I felt this way, you wouldn’t believe me.”

  “Try me.”

  She looked at him and sensed a mixture of curiosity, irritation and, if she wasn’t mistaken, flirtation. That “try me” could be taken a variety of ways. Maybe instead of warning Constance, she should warn herself.

  They looked at each other for a good long moment without speaking until they were interrupted by Senator Farnsworth.

  “Remington! Where did you get this Mexican silver?” he asked.

  “Mexico,” replied Remington, then he sighed as Farnsworth headed his way.

  * * *

  A few feet away, Lawrence and Dora were talking to Kurt with Lucy and Tanner looking on.

  “So you write plays, Mr. Henry?” asked Kurt.

  “Guilty as charged.”

  “And that’s where the actors have to memorize all the lines all at once?”

  “Well,” said Dora, “if they only had to memorize the good lines, most plays would be much shorter.”

  “Ouch,” said Lawrence, who then took a drink.

  “I tried out for the Ziegfeld Follies once,” said Lucy.

  “How was it?” asked Kurt.

  “Up against a wall. And I still didn’t get the part.”

  Josie passed by them to find Agent Barnes. “What are you doing to find the man who shot Mr. Corrigan?”

  “I’m an agent with the Justice Department, Miss Matthews. An ordinary shooting isn’t in my jurisdiction.”

  “But, you went to the site with us.”

  “That was mostly to prevent Corrigan from shooting whoever shot him, if the poor dumb sap was still out there.”

  “Even if you don’t want to investigate the shooting yourself, you could always turn your findings over to the local authorities.”

  “It’s not my concern.”

  Josie moved closer to him, whispering, “What if I told you I thought other crimes would be committed here?”

  “Why are you whispering, Miss Matthews?” Agent B
arker asked loudly enough to get David Remington’s attention. “And what do you know about additional crimes?”

  David joined them. “Additional crimes? I must say, Miss Matthews, you are a most unusual guest.”

  They were interrupted by Lucy getting everyone’s attention from across the room. “I ain’t heard this much yakkin’ since the time Calvin Coolidge was on the radio and I couldn’t find the off switch. This party needs some music!”

  She put a record on the Victrola, wound it up, then the Charleston began to play. Lucy pulled Kurt Franklin onto the dance floor, while Mikey Corrigan glowered from the side of the room, with Tanner beside him. Corrigan took two steps toward them when a maid handed him a note. He read it, glowered even more, then left the room.

  Dora and Lawrence began dancing and even Agent Barker asked Constance to dance, leaving Josie alone with David Remington.

  “Would you care to dance?” he asked her.

  “I don’t really know this one.”

  “You don’t know the most popular dance in America, possibly the world?”

  Josie winced. She had to do a better job of pretending she was from here. Just as she was about to give the Charleston a try, the music changed to the Argentine tango.

  “Do you know how to tango?” he asked her.

  As a matter of fact, she did. Something inside her said it probably wasn’t wise to dance with him, but she really did love to tango. “All right, I’ll dance with you,” she sighed.

  “You sound like you’d rather be doing anything else,” said Remington with a wry smile.

  “It’ll be fine.” But as he took her hand and she felt the spark between them, she realized it’d be a good deal more than fine. She could feel his muscled shoulder and his hand fairly burned a hole in her lower back and they hadn’t even begun to move. She looked at him and realized her mistake when she found his eyes focused on hers. She looked away as they began the dance. After too long of an intimate silence, she cleared her throat. “I think Mr. Corrigan got a note which upset him. Do you know anything about that?”