The Double Vice: The 1st Hidden Gotham Novel

by Chris Holcombe

  One woman was in an argument and, in a thick Brooklyn accent, said, “Listen, wise guy, I don’t care what you think was in the agreement. I’m looking at the contract as we speak and we did not promise a twenty percent bonus if you deliver on time . . . Why would we reward you for simply doing your job . . . ? Do I sound like I’m joking?”

  Three closed doors sat at the far end of the room. One of them opened and out stepped Paul Avery, dressed in a light blue suit.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, his voice purposefully low in pitch.

  Knowing his secret, Dash found the voice to be strained, an unconvincing disguise for a man who preferred Chantilly lace and face paint.

  Paul gestured for Dash and Joe to join him in his office. As Dash passed the argumentative Brooklyn girl, she said into the receiver, “Ya talk to ya mother with that mouth . . . ? Just ’cause you can’t read doesn’t mean my company is gonna shell out some dollars . . . Oh yeah? I got some words for you too!”

  And then she slammed the receiver down, ending the call. The Brooklyn girl leaned over to her desk mate, a woman whose eyes never left the fast-moving typewriter. “Can you believe that jerk? What a cad!”

  They stepped into Paul’s office, which was moderately big. A large mahogany wood desk covered with stacked papers sat on one end. On the opposite side, two chairs for guests. Two filing cabinets hugged the wall to Dash’s right. To Dash’s left, a coatrack where Paul hung his matching blue fedora.

  Paul closed the door and return to his place behind the desk. He folded his hands in front of him and said, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Dash didn’t beat around the bush. “You can tell us why you killed Tyler Smith.”

  28

  The silence that followed was profound.

  All three men stared at one another. Dash didn’t move nor blink. Neither did Joe.

  Paul broke first. “What do you want?” His voice was drenched in fear.

  Joe replied, “We want answers, Paula.”

  Paul flinched at the voice of his female namesake. “Please,” he said, “not so loud.”

  Dash leaned forward in his chair. “I’ll keep quiet as long as you tell me the truth. The moment you lie to me, I tell the police everything I know. Do we have an understanding?”

  Paul took a deep breath. “Don’t make me do this.”

  Joe said, his voice gruff, “It’s happenin’, lad, so just accept it.”

  Dash tapped the arms of his chair. “I know the plan for that night. Pru told it to me. The Müllers went out for dinner. Karl gave Tyler a key to their apartment. Tyler broke in and found the ledger.”

  Paul flicked him a look. “Of course, you know about the ledger. You want it back. To give it to him.”

  He looked off to the side, his expression darkening.

  Joe scoffed, “We’re not workin’ for that bloody bluenose. We’re victims of him, for chrissakes!”

  Dash continued. “Tyler was to bring the ledger to my club.”

  Paul nodded. “We figured it was safe because it was still relatively new. Walter would’ve never heard of it. Except Dumb Dora Karl led him straight to it.”

  Dash nodded. “When the Müllers returned home, Walter noticed something was amiss. No offense, but Tyler was an amateur thief. Despite his best efforts, he wouldn’t have been able to leave everything the exact same way it was. Walter put two and two together and when Karl left with whatever excuse he gave—get some air, meet a friend, go to church for Sunday evening prayer—Walter followed his brother downtown. Walter asked me to find a female impersonator in Pinstripes, so he must’ve seen you two together at some point.”

  Paul replied, “Perhaps when we met up in front of your club.”

  “Did you have the ledger with you then?”

  “I didn’t! I never met up with Tyler that night!”

  “Then how come Pru has it now?”

  “We knew something went wrong with Walter’s appearance at your club. We were hoping Tyler saw Walter and ran. When we didn’t hear from him, I went back to the Shelton the next day, and didn’t find him there. I went back the day after that and he still wasn’t answering, so I . . . snuck into his apartment.”

  He took a moment to compose himself.

  “The apartment was empty. And I thought, while I’m here, let’s see if the blasted ledger is, too. I was in the middle of searching for it, actually, when you two showed up. I swear, I was not there Sunday night. Only that Tuesday morning.”

  Dash watched his face, which was still half-turned away from them. “That’s not all of it.”

  “Why are you doing this? I tell you, that is exactly what happened.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not. You did go to the Shelton Sunday night.”

  “That’s a lie. Who said that?”

  Dash looked over to Joe. “Should we show him?”

  Joe shrugged. “I suppose we have to.”

  Dash reached into his pocket and brought out a piece of paper. He handed it to Paul, who regarded it with suspicion, then with trembling fingers, opened it. Dash watched his eyes as Paul read the forged note he had spent all of last night writing and rewriting. Dash tried his best to copy Walter’s handwriting from the piece of paper on which he’d written his address the night he first blackmailed them. Walter claimed earlier he had taught Karl how to write. Dash hoped their writing styles would be similar.

  Paul’s face whitened as he read the words:

  Dearest Pru,

  I am writing this in haste as I don’t know how much time I have before I must leave. I witnessed something terrible tonight. Unspeakable. I went to Tyler’s apartment before we met at the club, and I found him dead!!! Struck in the head. And Paula was in the apartment. She must have killed him for reasons we all know. I ran out of there, and now I don’t know what to do or where to turn. I couldn’t say anything at the club for fear of my life. I hope one day I can return to you, but now I must go into hiding.

  Sincerely, Karl

  Paul looked up at him. “You wouldn’t. Betray your own kind?”

  Dash kept his face stony. “When my own kind is a killer, yes. I have no qualms about doing that.”

  “Why would I kill him? I loved him.”

  Joe replied, “Precisely why, lad. Ya loved him too much to let him go.”

  Dash went on. “Tyler must’ve told you about his escape to Paris. With Karl.”

  “Leaving ya. For good.”

  “Forever.”

  “I’m sure ya didn’t mean to kill him, lad. Sure it was an accident.”

  “You couldn’t persuade him to stay. It was too much.”

  “Ya picked up the ashtray and hit him.”

  “All right!” Paul shouted.

  Dash could hear a silence on the other side of the door. His coworkers had heard the shout and were no doubt murmuring What is going on in there?

  Paul didn’t seem to notice or care. His face was withdrawn, his mouth trembling. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted him here. He had to stay here. As long as he’s here, I could convince him one day that I was—”

  He stopped and took a deep breath.

  “I loved him. So. Much. I didn’t understand why he couldn’t love me back in the same way.”

  He sniffed back more tears.

  “It was before we went to your club. I was to meet him there to make sure he got back from the Müllers’ safe and sound. Instead of handing over the ledger, I found him packing. I wanted to know where he was going. That’s when he told me about Paris, about him and Karl going together. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Him and Karl? In Paris? As a couple? I begged him. Begged him.”

  Paul dropped his head and lowered his voice.

  “He wouldn’t listen. He said he loved that, that boy. Loved him! Can you imagine? After all we’d been through together. After all the times I . . .” He swallowed hard. “The next thing I knew, the ashtray was in my hand.”

  There it was. The confession. In front of two witnesses
. Dash looked to Joe, whose face was locked in a grimace.

  After a moment, Dash said, “And then you moved the body to the alleyway using the room service cart. That’s how you truly lost your keys. Not in leaving my club but while moving him.”

  Paul was silently weeping now. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted him—I just wanted him to stay. Why didn’t he? Why didn’t he want to stay? With me?”

  The unspoken answer hung above the room like a cigarette cloud.

  “After that, I didn’t have time to get the ledger. I ran to the club and pretended everything was fine. When Walter showed up and started fighting you, I hid in the bathroom with Karl.”

  “That’s where you told him Tyler no longer wanted to see him.” Dash turned to Joe. “That’s why he was so upset and panicked.”

  Paul snorted. “Please. He didn’t deserve Tyler’s love. Given what he’d done with his despicable brother—”

  Joe interrupted, “He was helping ya put his own flesh and blood in jail. That should count for something.”

  “Not enough! It wasn’t enough. He hadn’t earned redemption in my eyes.”

  Dash said, “So you decided to break his heart.”

  “No,” Paul replied. “That was just a happy accident. I didn’t want him going to the Shelton and starting trouble by asking about a dead man.”

  “Why not? Seems to me, you could’ve easily framed him for murder.” As soon as Dash said the words, he understood. “The ledger. You didn’t get it the first time, being too distracted by Tyler’s packing. You needed to search his room once more.”

  Paul nodded. “I couldn’t have them looking for a tenant. Not yet, at any rate. If they found his body, they’d seal off the room. I got called away Monday to a job site and couldn’t break away. I was a nervous wreck, hoping they wouldn’t find him. That Tuesday, I told them I was ill and ran to his apartment.” He scoffed lightly. “Imagine my surprise when the two of you walked in on me.”

  “Hence the pistol.”

  “It was Tyler’s. I was telling the truth about not knowing how to use the blasted thing.”

  Joe said, “We thank ya’s for not accidentally shooting us.”

  Dave flashed a warning glance to his friend and said to Paul, “And Karl?”

  Paul sniffed again. “What about Karl?”

  “I want to know what happened to Karl.”

  The mere mention of the kid’s name irritated the man. “I don’t know a damn thing about what happened to Karl. I didn’t even know he was dead until you told me!”

  “Stop lying, Paul.” Dash’s voice was hard now, anger building up inside him. “What happened? Did Karl not listen to you and go to Tyler’s? He was trying to reach somebody that night. I think it was his lover. Did he not buy your lie about Tyler breaking things off?”

  “This is preposterous! I was not at the Shelton on Sunday night. Ask Pru.”

  “She went to sleep, didn’t she?” Dash was gathering fury, his face flush, his cheeks hot. “You could’ve snuck out of her apartment, gone to the Shelton, found Karl, and did what you’ve always wanted to do.”

  “No!”

  “You strangled that kid and threw him away like the garbage you believed he was.”

  Paul was bewildered. “I did no such thing!”

  “Liar!”

  “Lassie,” Joe murmured.

  Paul’s mouth gaped open. “You’re insane. You know that? I, I admit, I accidentally hit Tyler, but I didn’t go on a, a murderous rampage. I am not a violent man, I swear. I just lost my temper that one time . . . that one time I wish I could . . .” The tears came back. “. . . wish I could change. Oh God, Tyler, I’m so sorry.”

  Paul began to quietly weep.

  Dash’s surge of anger began to subside, replaced with a growing confusion. He was so sure Paul Avery killed them both. But this pathetic man mewling grief in front of him had seemed so . . . what was the word? . . . sincere in his denials of killing Karl. Could Dash be wrong?

  There was a knock at the door. One of the secretaries opened it and poked her head in. “Mr. Avery? Is everything alright?”

  Paul averted his face so she wouldn’t see the pink cheeks and the trail marks of his tears. “Yes, Gladys.”

  She looked doubtfully from Paul to Dash and Joe. “All right,” she said slowly. “There’s a package for you. You need to sign for it.”

  “Thanks, Gladys.” He wiped his face with a handkerchief and stood up. “Would you gentlemen excuse me?”

  Dash replied, “We’re not quite finished here, Mr. Avery.”

  Gladys leapt to her boss’s defense. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but you can wait one moment while he gets some air and gets his package. I don’t know what could be so important.”

  Joe said, “It’s very important, miss—”

  She cut him off with a single raised finger. “Not now, gentlemen. You can wait.” Her voice softened. “Right this way, Mr. Avery.”

  She gave them a withering, warning look as Paul left the office.

  As soon as he cleared the threshold, she said, “You two don’t mind, I need to find a file. Last I saw it, it was in here somewhere.”

  Gladys walked into the office and closed the door behind her, effectively trapping Dash and Joe inside. She sat down behind Paul’s desk and began opening the drawers, keeping one eye on them as she searched. Dash mentally tipped his hat to her. She was clever. And fiercely loyal. He hoped Paul paid her well.

  Joe murmured to Dash, “Will he try to run?”

  Gladys paused, staring at them. Joe forced a smile and stared back. The seconds stretched into what felt like half a minute before Gladys broke away her gaze and concentrated on the bottom drawer of Paul’s desk.

  Dash murmured back, “Most assuredly.”

  “What do we do?”

  Gladys said, “What are you two muttering about?”

  She shut the bottom drawer with a slam, her head coming up. She folded her hands and leaned forward on the desk. Her expression said she expected an answer.

  Fiercely loyal, indeed.

  Joe replied, “With all due respect, ma’am, it’s none of your business.”

  “I see. If it has anything to do with Mr. Avery, then it is my business. Why are you here? And why have you made that dear man so upset?”

  Dash said, “It was unintentional, ma’am.”

  She sniffed. “Don’t seem to matter if it was intended or not, the effect is just the same. He’s about to leave on the trip of a lifetime, and you two barge in here—”

  Dash held up a finger. “Excuse me, what did you say? About the trip?”

  Gladys stiffened. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Mr. Avery was leaving for Paris. He’s always wanted to go, and now he gets that chance. And you two are just ruining—”

  “Joe.” Dash looked at his friend, who nodded. “Thank you, Gladys, but I believe we’ll be going.”

  He and Joe both stood up. The movement startled Gladys, who said, “What are you two doing?”

  Joe said, “Apologies, ma’am.”

  He jerked open the office door and the two of them ran through the office at a fast clip with Gladys yelling from behind. The women at the desks gave them concerned looks as they excused their way out. The elevator was going to take too long, so they took the stairs, two at a time, until they hit the lobby. No sign of Paul Avery.

  “Hell!” Dash said.

  He went to the doorman.

  “Excuse me, sir. There was a gentleman in a light blue suit who came down here. Do you know where he went?”

  “Certainly. He signed for this package, then said he had an emergency and took off. He gave me the package to hold.”

  “Which way did he go?”

  “Lemme see. He took a left out of here and not too long ago, too. You might be able to catch him. Say, is it the same emergency as his?”

  Dash didn’t give a response. He and Joe took off in pursuit, bursting through the lobby doors and out into the open air. On
ce on the street, Dash searched the blocks ahead. In the late morning foot traffic, Dash saw flashes of Paul’s blue suit a block and a half uptown.

  “There!”

  Running up Madison, the two men dodged oncoming pedestrians, some of whom raised their voices and yelled, “Slow down, ya maniacs!” The intersections weren’t timed for their benefit, but they ran into traffic anyway. Dash hoped the oncoming taxis and delivery trucks would stop. Miraculously, they did, though they honked their horns and shouted out curses.

  They were soon only a block behind Paul, who gave a nervous look behind him. They were gaining ground, the distance between them shortening.

  We’re going to catch him. By God, we’re going to catch him.

  Their good luck ended right there, for a thick crowd of people suddenly loomed into view. Thousands—maybe even tens of thousands—clogged the streets and the sidewalks.

  “What the hell is that?” Joe called.

  Paul’s blue suit disappeared into the throng.

  Dash said, “Oh no, no, no!”

  They followed him into the mass of people, most of them women and young girls crying. Many were saying, “Oh Rudy! My dear sweet Rudy!”

  The Valentino viewing.

  The papers had publicized that Rudolph Valentino’s body would be lying in state at Campbell’s Funeral Parlor on Madison and 81st. Only the crowd was so massive, Dash and Joe hadn’t yet reached 81st; they were only at 79th. It looked like half the city had shown up to get a glimpse at the famous actor.

  Dash and Joe tried to push their way through, stepping around and, in some cases, shoving aside the grievers. Every once and a while, Dash caught sight of Paul’s blue coattails ahead of them.

  A young woman yelled in Dash’s ear, “I need to see him! I need to see him one last time!”

  Dash gripped his throbbing ear and looked over the crowd. Where the hell was Paul? There was shouting ahead, then a scream. Suddenly, the crowd surged forward, knocking Dash off balance. He almost fell but regained his footing. What was happening?