The Tycoon Murderer

by Maureen Driscoll

  “A maid found Madame Racine dead,” said Remington.

  “It looks like poison, then suffocation,” said Barker. “Her lips are blue and her nose is broken. Someone really wanted to make sure she was dead.”

  Madame Racine looked to have regurgitated before she died, possibly choking on it. Josie tried to remember if this had been in the newspaper stories she’d read but couldn’t recall any mention of Madame Racine at all, alive or dead. She was more than a little confused. One man who was supposed to be dead had survived his attack, and a woman who wasn’t even supposed to be here was dead.

  What was going on?

  Josie became aware of Constance’s scrutiny. “What interesting sleepwear you have on, Miss Matthews. David has a pair just like them.”

  Remington cleared his throat. “I believe we have more important matters to discuss than Miss Matthews’s sleepwear.”

  “Yes, I forgot about your poor cousin’s wardrobe having been confiscated at the asylum,” purred Constance. “I’ll have someone wake the cook. I expect we’ll soon have a house full of lawmen and I’m certain they’ll want coffee.”

  “I suspect we all will,” said Remington. “I have a feeling no one will get any more sleep tonight.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  An hour later, the guests were assembled in the sitting room with the staff looking on. The town’s sheriff was in California visiting his sister, so his deputy, Marvin Irwin, had been the one to take the call. He’d already examined the body, only to give his findings that she was, indeed, dead, before having to sit down and place a cold towel on his head to combat queasiness.

  He looked to be in his late twenties and was about five feet, seven inches tall with a slight build. Josie would say he reminded her of Barney Fife, except no one would understand the reference. He was pacing in front of the guests and staff, then cleared his throat three times. “I’m Deputy Irwin and I’m going to get to the bottom of how this Madame Racine died. My men are going to question the staff and I intend to question every man in this room.”

  “What about me?” asked Agent Barker, who was standing off to the side. “I’m an agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Are you going to question me?”

  “Of course, I’m not going to question you, Agent Barker,” said Irwin, looking like he was about to call for the cold towel again.

  “Why the Sam Hill not!”

  “I can’t imagine J. Edgar Hoover ever hiring someone who isn’t beyond reproach.”

  “No one’s beyond reproach!”

  “Of course not!” said Deputy Irwin, stomping his foot for emphasis. “Wait. Does that mean I’m questioning you or not?”

  “You’re definitely questioning me or I’ll have your badge.”

  “Okey-doke. Did you kill Madame Racine?”

  “No!”

  “That’s good enough for me.” He turned to the guests. “You ladies can go take yourselves off to do whatever you do while I question the men. Some breakfast would not go amiss.”

  “Are you saying a woman couldn’t have committed this murder?” asked Josie.

  “What do you mean?” asked Deputy Irwin.

  “You’re not questioning the women, which means you don’t think we’re capable of murder.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply that.”

  “I would hope not,” said Dora. “Women can be especially vicious. It comes more naturally to some than others, but with enough practice, it can be achieved.”

  “She would know,” said Lawrence.

  “A woman could easily be the murderer,” said Constance. “Especially one who’d been committed to a lunatic asylum.”

  “I wasn’t committed! I checked myself in voluntarily!” Josie turned to Remington, who was beside her, and quietly asked, “Right?”

  “I believe the point my cousin is trying to make is that no one is above suspicion. I’ve told my staff to clear the library, Deputy Irwin. You may question the guests in there.”

  “I was just going to do it here.”

  “In front of everyone?” asked Agent Barker incredulously.

  “Of course not!” said Deputy Irwin quickly.

  “I know who you should start with,” said Kurt. “The bootlegger who brought a gun to the party.”

  Mikey turned on him. “Why don’t you make like the pictures and stop talking?”

  “And Madame Racine wasn’t shot,” said Josie. “So, I don’t know why it matters that Mr. Corrigan brought a gun to the party, though we should probably mention that someone shot him.”

  “Who got shot?” asked Deputy Irwin.

  “Mr. Corrigan.”

  “With his own gun?”

  “No! Not with my own gun!” said Corrigan. “Someone shot me in the woods.”

  “Why didn’t you report it?” asked Deputy Irwin.

  “Because if I told the coppers every time someone took a shot at me, there wouldn’t be a whole lot of time left in the day.”

  “You can say that, again,” said Lucy. “Mikey Corrigan is a busy man who gets shot at a lot.”

  Deputy Irwin studied Mikey. “Corrigan. Why does that name sound familiar?”

  “I’m Mikey Corrigan.”

  Deputy Irwin still looked confused.

  Mikey continued. “From Chicago? The alleged bootlegger?”

  That got Irwin’s attention, as he scrambled to draw his gun, only to find the holster was still buttoned shut. He finally pulled out his gun with shaking hands, which made most people in the room duck. “Mikey Corrigan, you’re under arrest!” yelled Deputy Irwin.

  Mikey looked unimpressed. “On what charge?”

  “You’re a bootlegger and a famous Chicago gangster.”

  “I’m an alleged bootlegger and a famous Chicago businessman.”

  “I’m still arresting you!” said Irwin, though he didn’t look quite as sure now.

  “Irwin!” said Agent Barker. “Put that gun away! You have no grounds to arrest Corrigan.”

  “Then you do it,” said Irwin, gesturing with his gun.

  Barker grabbed the gun out of his hand. “If there was sufficient evidence to arrest Corrigan, it would have been done already. He’s actually one of the victims here. You can’t arrest a man for getting shot.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yes!”

  “If you say so,” said Deputy Irwin, scribbling into a notebook. He looked around the room, before settling on Farnsworth. “You look familiar, too.”

  “I’m Matt Farnsworth, explorer and United States Senator, and this is my wife, Lydia.”

  “Golly!” said Irwin. “Did you really outrun headhunters in the Amazon?”

  “I did,” said Farnsworth. “But I gave as good as I got. In fact...”

  “Farnsworth!” snapped Barker. “No one wants to hear your craptastic adventures now!”

  “I kind of do,” said Irwin.

  Farnsworth smiled at the lawman. “Perhaps I can tell you the stories another time, Deputy Irwin. But for now, there’s no reason my wife and I have to stay here for this, is there?”

  “Of course, not,” said Irwin.

  “Of course, they’ll stay for questioning!” said Barker. “Now let’s get on with this. I feel a huge headache coming on and nothing about this is helping.”

  “Let’s see,” said Deputy Irwin, consulting his notepad, before turning to Barker and asking, “So, what do I do now?”

  A quarter of an hour and a breakfast tray later, Deputy Irwin was in the library questioning Mikey Corrigan, with Agent Barker looking on.

  “Mr. Corrigan,” said Deputy Irwin. “Do you or do you not know Al Capone?”

  “Al and I have had dinner a few times.”

  “Gee whiz!” said Deputy Irwin. “How tall is he? I’ll bet he’s a giant.”

  “Irwin!” said Agent Barker. “This is neither the time nor the place for you to ask Mikey Corrigan questions about Al Capone!”

  “Of course,” said Irwin, scribbling on his not
epad before turning to Barker. “Do you know Capone?”

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Get on with it!”

  Mikey flicked a piece of lint off his dressing gown. “I didn’t kill Madame Racine, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “I was curious about that,” said Irwin. “Do you know who did?”

  “Nope.”

  “Do you know who shot you?”

  “I don’t know that either, but I wish I did.”

  “Do you have any idea why someone would shoot you?”

  “Other than the fact I’m a Chicago businessman reputed to be a bootlegger?”

  “Yes, other than all of that.”

  “No.”

  “Is there a chance I can get a picture with you?”

  The only response to that was a groan by Agent Barker.

  * * *

  A few pink streaks colored the early morning sky, signaling that dawn was approaching. Josie had dressed in yet another one of the gowns on loan from David Remington’s collection of his girlfriends’ clothing. She was a bit cold but had wanted to step outside to see the sun rise. She also wondered when she’d return to her own time. She was beginning to fear it’d never happen.

  “When are you going to tell me who you really are?”

  Josie hadn’t heard David Remington approach, but he was now standing disarmingly near. And Josie’s unease had nothing to do with the fact he might be a murderer. “I really am Josie Matthews.”

  “But why are you here?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Hell, I can barely believe it.”

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  “I’ll make even less sense if I try to explain.”

  David nodded slowly. “All right, let’s try another one. You thought I shot Mikey and you tried to warn Constance away from me. Would you care to tell me why?”

  “That’s also not going to make any sense.”

  “Yet, I really think you should answer at least one of those questions.”

  Josie sighed, trying to decide which explanation was even slightly more plausible. “Let’s just say I had a dream that Mr. Corrigan and Kurt Franklin were killed and you had done it.”

  That surprised him. “Are you claiming to be clairvoyant now, too?”

  “No.”

  “And might I remind you that neither Mikey nor Kurt is dead?”

  “I know. Which is good, though I had no idea this would happen to Madame Racine and I have a horrible feeling it might be my fault.”

  He stilled. “You’re saying you killed her?”

  “Of course not! But I have to wonder if my coming here somehow changed things.”

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  “I said you weren’t going to believe me.”

  He was silent for a moment. “What if I said I had a dream about you?”

  “Did I kill anyone?”

  He shook his head. “That’s not what my dream was about at all.”

  * * *

  Deputy Irwin was interviewing Dora, with Agent Barker looking on. The cook had baked cinnamon buns, which Deputy Irwin was eating between questions.

  “Did you kill Madame Racine?”

  “Why would I do that? I planned to write at least three short stories about her.”

  “Maybe you killed her because you wanted to write a murder mystery.” Deputy Irwin licked icing off his finger.

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It really doesn’t,” said Agent Barker.

  “Where were you last night when she was murdered?” asked Deputy Irwin.

  “In bed,” said Dora.

  “Can you prove that?”

  “Yes.”

  “I mean, do you have any witnesses?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t mean to be indelicate, but is there someone who saw you there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not just saw you go into your room,” said Agent Irwin, blushing to his receding hairline. “I mean, is there someone who was with you at the actual time of the murder, which was sometime between shortly after midnight and three a.m.?”

  “Yes!” said Dora. “There was someone who saw all of me there.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I was with a man.”

  “But you’re unmarried! That’s scandalous!”

  “I like to think it was.”

  “Who was it?”

  Dora smiled. “Kurt Franklin.”

  “I’m such a fan of his! But he sure has a funny voice, doesn’t he?” asked Deputy Irwin.

  “We didn’t do a lot of talking.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Dora turned to Agent Barker. “May I go?”

  “Please do.”

  A quarter of an hour later, Deputy Irwin questioned Kurt Franklin. He consulted his notes before proceeding. “Is it true that you were in Miss Barnes’s bed last night?”

  The handsome actor sat a bit taller. “A gentleman never tells.”

  “I can throw you in jail if you don’t.”

  “I was there from ten minutes after everyone went to bed until we heard that scream. We made love twice the regular style, then once the way horses do it. Then she did this thing where...”

  “I think we’ve heard enough,” said Agent Barker.

  “I wouldn’t mind hearing more,” said Deputy Irwin.

  Agent Barker interrupted. “Did either you or Miss Barnes leave the room at any time?”

  “No, sir, though she did fall asleep for a bit.”

  Agent Barker frowned. “So you could have left without her knowing about it.”

  “I suppose I could have, but I didn’t.”

  “Were you awake the entire time?”

  “Except for when I dozed off a little toward the end.”

  Agent Barker frowned some more. “So there was a point where she could have left without you knowing, and a time you could have left without her knowing. Is that right?”

  “I guess it is,” said Kurt.

  “Did you hear anyone in the hall? Or do you know anything which might help us determine who killed Madame Racine?”

  “No, Agent Barker.”

  “What’s it like kissing Mabel Normand?” asked Deputy Irwin.

  “A gentleman never tells.”

  “Do we have to go through this again?” asked Deputy Irwin.

  “You’re excused, Franklin!” bellowed Agent Barker.

  Ten minutes later, Tanner was in the hot seat.

  “Where were you when Madame Racine was killed,” asked Deputy Irwin.

  “I was in my room.”

  “Sleeping?”

  “I was up late reading. I’m a bit of an insomniac. Then I went to bed around two. I hadn’t been asleep that long when I heard the commotion.”

  “Have you tried warm milk?” asked Deputy Irwin. “That always helps me sleep.”

  “Irwin!” bellowed Agent Barker. “Keep on track! Tanner, did you leave your room at all last night?”

  “I did. I went to Kurt Franklin’s room to discuss an upcoming project, but he wasn’t there.”

  Deputy Irwin leaned forward. “Did you know he and Miss Barnes were intimate last night?”

  “Stop gossiping, Irwin!” said Barker. “Tanner, when you ascertained Franklin wasn’t in his room, what did you do?”

  “I went back to my room, but I smelled cigarette smoke in the hall. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. But now it’s odd that someone was smoking in the hall that late at night. I wonder if it was the murderer.”

  Barker sat back in his chair and considered it.

  “Smoking’s not that unusual,” said Deputy Irwin. “I’m a smoker myself. Most men I know are smokers. It’s one of the healthiest habits I know of. I’ve been told it increases lung capacity. Why do you think that’s relevant?”

  Tanner shrugged. “It might not mean anything. But someone was in the hall and that someone might be your murderer. Do you have a
ny other questions for me?”

  “Yes,” said Deputy Irwin. “Did you kill Madame Racine?”

  “Of course not.”

  Deputy Irwin made a note of his response. “All righty. My other question is whether you could get me Lillian Gish’s autograph.”

  “Irwin!” yelled Barker.

  “Never mind,” said the deputy. “That’s all we have for now. Please send in Miss Matthews.”

  A few moments later, Josie Matthew took a seat.

  “So, Miss Matthews,” said Deputy Irwin. “You are David Remington’s lunatic cousin, are you not?”

  “First of all, many people seek out mental health services as part of an overall wellness strategy and should be applauded for doing so.”

  Deputy Irwin nodded. “You certainly sound crazy to me.”

  Agent Barker took the reins. “Miss Matthews, I’ve known David Remington most of my life. I have to wonder why he never mentioned you.”

  Deputy Irwin leaned in to Agent Barker. “I have an uncle who thinks he’s Abraham Lincoln. We don’t talk about him much, either.”

  “Does it matter why David didn’t talk about me? I didn’t kill Madame Racine.”

  Agent Barker continued. “I think Madame Racine said something last night that got her killed. She was talking about a woman who doesn’t belong here and I think that woman is you.”

  “She also claimed to be able to commune with the spirits. Surely the FBI doesn’t believe in that.”

  Agent Barker picked up his cup of coffee, not quite meeting her eyes. “You’d be surprised by what the FBI believes.”

  “I didn’t kill Madame Racine and my presence here is hardly threatening.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  Josie sighed. “I’m a time traveler from the Twenty-First Century.”

  Barker stared at her, then Deputy Irwin leaned in to say, “My uncle recites the Gettysburg Address in the middle of Christmas dinner every damned year. He looks exactly like that when he does it.”

  “Deputy Irwin, will you excuse us for a moment?” Barker said, making it much more of a command than a request.

  “Where should I go?”

  “Find Tanner and ask if he knows Buster Keaton, for all I care.”