by R. J. Koreto
O’Hara was still downstairs, talking with some other cops, but came over when he saw us.
“Anything else you need to tell me?” he asked.
“No, and do stop your silliness. Now, Captain, you must know about the gangs in this town. Did you ever hear of one called the XVII?”
“That doesn’t sound like a gang name. Where did you hear that?”
“Idle conversation. Good day.” She turned on her heels and left the room before a suspicious O’Hara could question us further.
CHAPTER 26
“Once again, this has been profitable,” said Alice. “Things are beginning to fall into place. Mrs. Brackton knows something, even if she isn’t aware of it. I’m sure of it.”
“Unless she’s lying,” I said. Alice considered that.
“About what? The package? The glass? You could be right. She may know something and is afraid to tell. Or maybe she’s just happy, in some way, that her husband is dead, even if she is mourning him. I’d wanted to think she killed Delilah, but I can’t see how, thanks to Miss Whatley. Again, we can’t assume there is just one murderer.” She stopped for a minute. “We can’t even be sure we’re getting the full story from Victoria. She said there was one glass, which she gave to her husband to drink. But she could be muddled, or lying again, because she’s still afraid and doesn’t want to admit what she knows. Maybe they each had a glass and only Lynley’s was poisoned. It sounds like a stretch, her having a glass and her husband drinking it for her while she had nothing. I would like to believe that only Lynley was the target—who would want to kill Victoria? It’s so frustrating. The more I think about it, the more complicated it gets. Also, even though the two labels are the same, that doesn’t mean Lynley Brackton’s death was related to either one. But right now, it seems someone is intent on threatening Victoria. When we know a little more, we can come back to her. Roth is tied in with Rutledge. The XVII is sharing funds—supporting Van Dijk. There’s a conspiracy here. Remember our last adventure, when we had to corner a mistress? We found out a great deal. Thank goodness men have such little self-control.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I remember her.”
“Stop smirking. She was cheap and vulgar. Let’s hope Mr. Roth’s mistress is a little more … elegant.”
“Why should she talk to you?”
She looked surprised. “I’m Alice Roosevelt. Everyone wants to talk with me.” I laughed once more. “But again, I thought better of him. I thought he was…” She seemed at a loss of words to describe how disappointed she was in Abraham.
* * *
We drove to the quiet, leafy street on the West Side where the Roth mistress supposedly lived, similar to but even nicer than where the midwife Miss Rushcroft lived. Like many Manhattan streets, this one was lined with handsome brownstone buildings, which I thought were actually more welcoming than the marble you found in the really elegant neighborhoods. Alice was looking at the street numbers.
“There it is, on the left,” she said. I saw it as well … and just kept going.
“Where are you going? There were plenty of places to park.” She was annoyed and confused, but I continued on for another block before pulling over.
“Didn’t you see the men hanging around out front? Two men in derbies?” I asked.
“More agents of the XVII?” asked Alice. “You can handle them.”
“I appreciate the show of confidence. But I’ll bet those two men are not with the XVII. I could see from the way they were looking, the way they held themselves, that they’re professionals. I’m a professional, and I know one when I see one. They know what they’re doing.”
“So you can still handle them, professional or not.”
“Miss Alice, there are three of them. With two outside, there is always one inside.”
“And you have six bullets in your gun. I don’t understand.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Miss Alice, I can’t just go in there shooting. What would I tell Mr. Harris about dead bodies falling down the front steps? We’re going to have to be a little more strategic. But I’ll tell you something. I don’t think Roth is hiring bodyguards just for a mistress. There’s a lot more to it than that.”
“I agree. The mistress was an assumption but probably a false one.” She paused. “Those guards—are they to keep someone in? Or someone out?”
“Now that, Miss Alice, is a very good question. I’d say that last one. If they were keeping someone prisoner, there would be no need for guards outside. It’s someone who wants to be protected. We have no cause to go bursting in there.”
“So what next? We have to get in. And since you don’t want to start shooting, what are our next steps? You’re the soldier.”
“We’re going to have to try something else. We can’t break into that house.”
She gave that a moment’s thought. “I have an idea. I don’t think you’ve been giving me enough credit. I did a splendid job on Houston Street, and I improvised marvelously at the Linde house.”
“We had no other option on Houston, and you surprised me at the Lindes’. At least there was no danger there. I’m not going out of my way to put you in danger.”
“But I won’t be in danger. You said they were professionals. They wouldn’t hurt a woman, not the president’s daughter.”
“Miss Alice—”
“Oh, for God’s sake, we’ve done worse than this. Just listen.” She outlined her plan briefly. “And I’m sure Peter Carlyle will help. He said he wanted to.”
“Miss Alice—” I said again.
“Look at it this way, Mr. St. Clair. We are already involved. We’re already in danger. Men are already after us. A simple operation like this will help end it. We’re worse off not doing it. And you’ll be right there.”
I sighed. “One thing I’ve learned: politicians always have a sneaky way of turning the argument around, even when you know they’re wrong. You’ll do just fine in Washington.” She laughed fully at that.
It wasn’t far uptown to the garage, and Peter was glad to see us. His eyes got wide when we started explaining what we would do. I needed those two men where we could grab them, and then I could handle the third.
“We’ll need a motorcar—I mean a big one, not just a runabout. Do you have a chauffeur’s uniform around here?” asked Alice
“Yes,” said Peter. “I sometimes work as a substitute driver in the evenings. And there are half a dozen motorcars here no one will miss if I borrow one for an hour or so.”
“I’ve been practicing my driving,” said Alice. “Mr. St. Clair, why don’t I drive the runabout, and you and Mr. Carlyle can follow in one of these cars, so you can explain the details?”
“Miss Alice, this is already so far beyond what we should be doing. We’ll plan it out now. You and I will drive as usual with Peter following, and we’ll meet a block away to set things up.” She pouted but accepted it. Peter seemed excited about being able to help and quickly changed into a driver’s uniform. I realized we could count on him—he was not only a sharp guy, but hauling engine parts around had given him strong muscles and quick reflexes. It would work. Probably.
Peter picked a very nice touring sedan in dark red. It was a beauty, and I made a note to ask him to let me take it around someday. We drove back to the block just beyond the townhouse and all got out. We went over our plan again. I’d have to leave Alice alone for a few minutes, which I didn’t like, but it was a safe neighborhood, and she’d be with Peter, who could take care of both of them.
Alice could barely contain her excitement, and Peter looked pretty happy, too. I wish I could’ve shared their enthusiasm. I made sure my Colt wasn’t easily visible, and then I rolled myself a cigarette and started walking toward the brownstone. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the two men in derbies giving me a look. Yes, they were professionals. My goal was to get them used to me so I wasn’t seen as threatening.
In front of the house, I started searching my pockets. “Say, either of you boy
s have a match?”
“No. Move on, pal,” said the older of the two.
“Hey, I’m just being friendly,” I said. I pulled out my flask. “Good bourbon. I’ll give you each a swallow if you light me up.”
“This is private property. Get out of here,” he repeated. I just shook my head and continued searching my pockets. It was then that Peter and Alice drove up. She looked great, sitting in the back seat like a queen. Peter pulled up front and ran around to let her out. The two guards headed down the stairs to the sidewalk. Their first mistake.
“Excuse me, this is private property,” said younger one, but respectfully, seeing this was a lady of means in a fine motorcar. Meanwhile, I tried to catch a match from Peter.
“Hey buddy, can you help a fellow working man with a light?”
Pete shuffled in his pocket while the older one addressed Alice. “Excuse me, miss, but I think you have the wrong address.”
“How on earth could you know which address I was looking for?” asked Alice in a voice full of contempt. “Don’t you have any idea who I am?”
He peered at her. “Oh yeah. You’re Miss Roosevelt. I’m sorry, miss, but we’re not expecting any visitors.”
“Clearly, or you would be better behaved. This conversation has grown tedious.” With that, she started to head past them. They turned their back on me and Peter to follow her. Their second mistake. I caught Peter’s eye, and he jumped the young one in a very neat tackle, considering the guy had a couple of inches and about thirty pounds on Peter.
“Hey—” said the older guy, but by that point, I had my Colt in his back. Alice did as she was told and hopped back into the motorcar to take her out of range of the front door. Then the third guard came through the door to see what the fuss was all about. He reached for his revolver but was too late.
“Don’t do that. You’ll hit your own men, and we just have a few questions. This is Alice Roosevelt, and she’s a little curious about who you’ve got inside,” I said.
“And who are you?” he asked. He still had his hand on his revolver but hadn’t pulled it out.
“I’m Secret Service. I know you guys are Pinkertons. You can always spot a Pinkerton. Now, how about you let me in? That way, your boss doesn’t find out how easily your men were fooled, and my boss doesn’t find out what I’ve done here today. Deal?”
He didn’t like it, but I knew he’d say yes. He was thinking about what his report would look like.
“Either way, could you get this guy off me?” said the guard Peter had tackled, only he used that unpleasant word for colored folk again, and that got Alice worked up.
“Do not use that word. I don’t like it. Mr. St. Clair loathes it. He may just shoot you.”
“All right. Everyone calm down,” said the man at the top. “You and Miss Roosevelt come in. And you two—” He looked at his men. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Everything wound down quickly. We released the two guards, who looked a little sheepish. Alice and I thanked Peter, who said he had to get the motorcar back to the shop and wished us luck.
Alice couldn’t have looked prouder of herself, and I was relieved the whole thing went off without a shot being fired. The man held the door open, and Alice and I walked inside.
CHAPTER 27
He led us into a little parlor off the front. It was pleasant enough inside but not as fancy as most of the places Alice and I visited. The furniture was good but plain, and there were some simple landscapes on the wall. I guessed no one lived here long-term; it was just a basic setup for someone to rent, someone who wanted anonymity and perhaps a sense of hominess you couldn’t get from a good hotel. But that didn’t explain the armed Pinkertons outside. That outfit had been around since the Civil War, and when you needed serious security, they were the ones you called.
“Jefferson,” the guard said, sticking out his hand. He was a little older than I was, with a solid build and a firm handshake. His accent said he was born and raised in New York. “And you’re right; we’re Pinkerton.”
“St. Clair.” I showed him my badge. “And this, as you probably know by now, is Miss Roosevelt.”
“Your father is a fine man. I’m a great admirer of his,” said Jefferson.
“Thank you,” she said with a slight nod, accepting the compliment as her due.
“To the matter at hand. You went through a lot of trouble to get in here. Can I ask why?” That was smart of him. He didn’t give away what was going on.
“I’m a friend of Abraham Roth,” Alice explained. “We know a company he runs owns this house. For reasons we can’t discuss, we have to speak to the person you’re guarding here. A brief discussion, and we’ll leave you alone.”
“That’ll be his decision, Miss Roosevelt. We provide security. We’re not jailers.”
“Then tell him that Alice Roosevelt wants to see him. Everyone always wants to see me.”
Jefferson shook his head and left the room. We heard him walk upstairs.
“Who is so important they need three armed guards?” asked Alice, looking around the nondescript room. “But the XVII are apparently after the Roths. That’s enough to want security.” I had to agree.
Jefferson came back down. “Follow me,” he said. We’d know soon enough. We proceeded upstairs and into a suite on the second floor. It was the same quality of furniture as downstairs, but quickly, our eyes went to an Oriental gentleman sitting in a comfortable chair. He looked to be in his sixties and was wearing a good black suit. He looked pleasantly curious and stood as we entered. He bowed to us, which is a big deal in the Orient, as we’d found out visiting Chinatown in our last adventure. Alice followed suit and solemnly bowed, too, as did I.
“This is Alice Roosevelt, daughter of President Theodore Roosevelt, and her bodyguard, Mr. St. Clair. And this is Baron Okada, a representative of the Japanese government,” said Jefferson. “I’ll leave you all to it.” He left, closing the door behind him.
“It is a great pleasure to meet the daughter of the famous American president. I am honored,” said Okada, and Alice again looked pleased. His English was accented but clear. I had met Chinese over the years; there were plenty of them in New York. But this was the first time I had met anyone from Japan, and what he was doing as a guest of the Roths was beyond me.
“I understand that you made a great effort to visit me here. I wonder why.”
“I wonder why a distinguished visitor from Japan stays here in exclusion, heavily guarded. All I know is that you have business dealings with the Roth family,” replied Alice.
“I must assume, Miss Roosevelt, that you are an official representative of your government? I have broken no laws of your country.”
“I am not here officially. And I imagine, Baron, that although you were introduced as a representative of the Japanese emperor, you are not official, either. If you were, you wouldn’t be hidden away here with visitors sneaking in and out. There is an American expression that describes this: we are in the same boat.”
He laughed at that. “‘In the same boat.’ I will remember that. I hear what you say, but I need to know what advantage it is to me to tell you.”
But before Alice could answer, the door opened, and a man came in. He seemed be one of the Baron’s countrymen. He was also wearing a suit, but not as fine as the baron’s. He was carrying a tray with three small china cups. The servant put the tray on a little table, and he and Okada spoke briefly in Japanese before he left.
The baron handed us each a cup.
“Allow me to be hospitable. This drink is known as sake, or nihonshu. It is made from rice and is traditionally served warm. Please join me.”
I have to say that as unusual as it was, I liked it, and if I were offered it again, I would take them up on it.
“It’s very good,” said Alice. “Thank you.” I nodded, too, and Okada seemed pleased.
“You asked me a question,” said Alice. “I am not really here about you. I am here about the Roths. Someone has
threatened both them and me. I think that is why you are so well guarded. My goal is to try to find out why. I want to know what the Roths’ business is with you. It may help me figure out how to safeguard my family and the Roths.”
“Do the Roths know about this?”
“About any threats? Yes, although they are reluctant to admit it. About who is attacking them? Probably not. I assume their business with you is too important to want to start an official investigation.”
Okada nodded. “Your explanation is excellent. So you want me to relate to you the nature of my business with the Roths?”
“With an understanding that I will keep it confidential, except as necessary to protect myself and the Roths, who may not even be aware of the full extent of the danger. And who might not even believe me. Remember, Baron, that their safety is to your advantage.”
“An interesting offer,” said Okada. He continued to sip his sake. Alice seemed annoyed. The Orientals looked at the world a little differently, I had found, and Okada was going to consider things for a while.
“Someday, Baron, you are going to want the good opinion of the American president. I can do that for you,” Alice prodded.
“Miss Roosevelt, I admire your … negotiating ability. I believe that if you thought a little more, you would realize what our business is, and I wouldn’t have to break my promise to the Roths to keep it secret. Try to think about what the Roths would have that I would want.”
“Money,” said Alice. “The Roths have lots of it. And they know plenty of other people with money. So you are borrowing money from the Roths, a great deal of money, on behalf of the Japanese government. That’s acceptable, but why do you need the armed guards? Why do you need to be hidden away?”
“Very good, Miss Roosevelt. As for your question, the Roths have said that such a deal as this, with a foreign government, might be subject to curiosity and even … harassment from other parties. They asked me to stay here while we concluded our business. The presence of a prominent Japanese citizen in New York could excite conversation. There are those, I am told, who take great exception to business deals of such an enormous size with a nation in the East.”