by M Murphy
It was obvious that the husband would be looked at first because he definitely had motive, but I had a hunch he was the wrong person. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted Hannah just as my food arrived. She hadn’t known about Jason’s
death when I first met her so I figured she hadn’t seen the paper yet this morning. I was wrong.
Within minutes, I had my food down and the check paid. I was out the door and down the street heading towards campus faster than I ever thought I could. Hannah had apparently seen the paper, and her first thought was that the husband was innocent as well. I made it to her office so fast that my head was beginning to dampen with sweat as I sat down in front of her desk partly out of breath.
“Whatcha got?” I asked.
“It may be nothing…did you run here?” She asked.
“Fast walk after wolfing down breakfast and very hot coffee in record time.”
“Oh, you look terrible.”
“Thanks, so what do you have?”
“It may be nothing,” She started again, “but we may have a connection between today’s murder and Jason.”
“Really?”
“I’ll need to look into it further, and I’ll have to wait for the police to confirm the victim, but Jason was related to today’s victim.”
“I’d say that’s something.”
“Could be, but in this town all the old money is related somehow.”
“My thought was that these two murders were related, but I’m not sure why…just a hunch. Jason’s was made to look like a mugging gone bad, but apparently the killer spent more time with this victim.”
Hannah thought for a moment. “Do you think it was done that way so the police wouldn’t connect the two?”
Possibly, or maybe Jason wasn’t supposed to die in that alley or like that.
“What do you mean?”
“What if the killer wanted to kidnap Jason, interrogate him, and then take him somewhere else to leave the body? What if the plan went awry somehow?
Once again Hannah was silent for a moment as she thought everything through. “That could make sense. The killer could have wanted to interrogate Jason in order to learn the location of the letter, which someone is obviously after because of the break in at the Trenholm house.”
“Exactly. There’s a lot of maybe in this theory, but it definitely has some traction. We will definitely need to confirm the name of the victim in White Point this morning before we can look into it further. Once we do, how much history do you have on the Trenholms outside of Jason’s direct line?”
“Just about everything that has been made public over the years.”
“Okay, I’ll leave the research to you then. If we are going with the connection between the Trenholms and the lost
Confederate Treasury gold then we will need to know how our newest victim plays into it.”
“I can handle that.” Hannah said. “What’s your next move?”
“I have the inevitable task of speaking to my cousin’s new wife about her gambling habits.”
“That should go over well,” Hannah said with a smile.
Chapter 21
Sarah was a frail woman to begin with, but she had a resilient set of baby blue eyes that told a person she was stronger than she appeared. When I met her and Bryce for lunch at SNOB, a go-to lunch spot for the locals and tourists, she was dressed in jeans with a pair of knee-high brown leather boots and sporting a Barbour vest on top of her shirt. Bryce pulled out the chair for his young bride as they sat. Sarah’s face told that the news of the morning’s murder blocks from her family home was taking its toll.
We started lunch off with some small talk desperately trying to avoid any type of upsetting conversation. I think everyone knew that this wasn’t a typical lunch call, but I wanted to wait until the food was down before I started to ask any awkward questions. The restaurant was known for its local fare and Bryce ordered shrimp and grits accordingly. Sarah settled for the beef carpaccio and a bowl of crab bisque, and I stayed small with the charcuterie plate and a generous helping of Kentucky rye.
I didn’t know quite how to start a conversation with my cousin’s new bride, so I jumped right into the big question hoping I wouldn’t have to apologize too much later.
“Sarah,” I began, “Do you know a man by the name of Tommy Makem here in town?”
Bryce sat calm and unresponsive as Sarah gave me a small smile. “Tommy is a bookie my friends and I have used over the years.”
Originally I thought that this line of questioning would set off some embarrassment but the girl was unapologetic. “How did you come to meet Tommy?” I asked.
“I met him through Daddy. He would come by every Saturday morning before the Gamecocks played to let Daddy place his bets. Over the years, we would also see him during poker nights the men in the neighborhood would have in our carriage house, so he became a familiar face to me.”
“Did you place any wagers with him?”
“Occasionally when we would be planning for a big event like the Kentucky Derby, just so I would have a stake in the race but nothing serious. Most of the time I would simply point my guy friends at school towards Tommy when they were looking for a little action.”
“So that’s how Jason got involved with him?”
“Yes.” Sarah answered. A little sadness came to her blue eyes at the mention of Jason’s name. “Jason was wasting his money betting online. Had I known earlier that he was such the gambler I would have introduced the two sooner. I was really surprised when he didn’t already know Tommy, but his father wasn’t one to gamble or even attend the neighborhood card game.”
“You’re saying Mr. Trenholm didn’t socialize much with the rest of the neighborhood?”
“Not unless he had to. There are certain gatherings you cannot say no to.” Sarah informed me as if this was obvious.
“You said Jason was a big gambler…”
“I believe I said he was such a gambler.” Sarah pointed out.
“Sorry. What did you mean by that?”
“He was wagering serious money when I found out he was using internet sites to lay down bets.”
“What type of money do you consider serious?”
“Well,” Sarah thought for a moment, “he had one account credited with ten-grand and another with five, but that’s all I was aware of.”
“That is some serious money for a kid his age. Did he still use those accounts after you introduced him to Tommy?”
“Not as far as I know of.” Sarah said.
“No he didn’t.” Bryce interjected for the first time. “He told me that he cashed those out and moved all of his credit back into his checking account. He had a special checking account set up for any frivolous activities he wanted to partake in.”
“I see.” It was nice that Bryce was helping and not upset with my line of questioning. Apparently, they both must have known it was coming since Bryce pointed me to Tommy Makem in the first place. “Can either of you tell me what Tommy is like when you owe him money? Have you heard of anything violent ever happening to someone?”
They both shook their heads no before Sarah finally spoke.
“He’s been known to show up at places that might
embarrass you, like sitting behind you at church or during a business lunch, but I’ve never heard of him getting violent. Most of his clientele has money to cover their debts. And if they don’t someone in their family does.”
“So neither of you would suspect Tommy Makem might come after Jason for a gambling debt?
“I don’t think so.” Sarah said. “Jason’s dad had plenty of money to cover any debts, but then again so did Jason.”
Bryce sat quietly staring at his plate.
“What do you think Bryce?” I asked.
“Probably not, but Jason’s dad hated gambling and would have been furious if he knew his son enjoyed it, let alone had a bookie. I could see Mr. Trenholm refusing to pay any gambling debts out of principle.
I don’t think Tommy has had anyone refuse him before, so I’m not sure what he would do.”
And there it was, the moment of doubt. I was almost able to check Tommy Makem off my list of suspects and Bryce hands me a shred of doubt. Mr. Trenholm did seem to be the man Bryce had described, one who would refuse to pay off a bookie. He would refuse to pay out of principle, but also because he felt a man like Tommy Makem was below him. I, on the other hand, knew men like Tommy from the Cleveland FBI, and my experience with the history of the Italian and Irish mafias in that town’s East and West sides. Men like Tommy go after debts owed to them, whether the fish is big or small. I needed to look into Tommy a bit further if I was going to clear him and focus my time on other leads.
Chapter 22
The peacefulness of the Charleston nights are a welcome relief from the chaotic tourist infested days, and as I walked home from dinner under the shadows cast by the gas-lit street lamps I could only feel relaxed. I was happy, full, and content even with all that was happening in my life. But the moment I turned up Church Street it was all shattered in an instant.
The lights from the police cars flickered and ricocheted off of the windows on the skinny street. I picked up my pace and as I made my way closer I knew they were coming from Mrs. Legare’s house. Between the FBI and being a private investigator, I had been around enough to know that police late at night in a normally safe neighborhood was never good, and right now I feared the worse. The only spot of hope was the fact that there was no sign of an ambulance anywhere, or was that because the coroner was called instead?
It took me a few minutes to get through to one of the local cops that I was staying in Mrs. Legare’s carriage house. My Ohio ID hadn’t helped my argument either, but once I was able to get my point across to the young black and white I was able to
go on towards the home. When I hit the drive, I could see Mrs. Legare speaking with a pair of officers on her piazza and I was instantly relieved. But what could have happened to bring on this much attention from the Charleston Police Department?
I stood in the drive for a few moments and took in the scene while I waited to approach my temporary landlord. She eventually waved me over. The officers turned to look as I approached.
“Jack,” Mrs. Legare started, “this is Officers Jackson and Smythe.
“What happened?” I asked.
“The carriage house was broken into.”
“Really?” I was honestly surprised knowing I had nothing of value in there, and also knowing that the main house was filled with valuable antiques. “Do we know who it was?”
“Not yet.” Officer Jackson stated. “Mrs. Legare came to let her dog out one last time before bed when she saw the man coming out.”
“I tried to stop him.” She interjected. “But he pushed me to the ground. Can you believe that? Who pushes an old woman like myself?”
“Anyway,” Officer Jackson continued, “Mrs. Legare was lucky he didn’t hurt her. Her screaming and yelling alerted the neighbors and the man took off.”
“What did he look like?” I asked Mrs. Legare directly.
“Like a tour guide.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know he was dressed like a tour guide. He wore Confederate garb, but not very well and he was unkempt.”
“Unkempt?” I asked looking for more details.
“He was unshaven and just seemed dirty.”
“Did you get a good look at his face?” Officer Jackson asked.
“No. It was dark and he wore an old Confederate hat, just like the tour guides. Besides it happened so fast and my eyesight is not what it used to be.”
“Why would anyone be dressed in an old Confederate outfit to break into a house?” Officer Jackson wondered out loud.
“I told you he looked like one of those tour guides. They are always around here late at night on those ghost tours. He was probably on a tour earlier and thought no one was home, so he came back to break into the house.”
It wasn’t a bad theory and I’m sure Mrs. Legare had been working on it ever since the break in. For a city that survived on tourism the locals, like Mrs. Legare, didn’t care a whole lot for outsiders’ intrusion, which is why her mind went there first. But my mind instantly went somewhere else. The Old Confederacy appeared too often for me lately and I couldn’t take this as a simple burglary. The first reason was because it was obvious that I was targeted and not the antiquated wealth of Mrs. Legare’s house. Second, when I’m on a case and I or someone I know gets unwanted attention it’s never a coincidence. And third, the Confederate garb on the intruder was simply too odd…even in Charleston.
Chapter 23
“The letter,” I said into the phone hurriedly. “Is it safe?”
“I have it right here,” Hannah responded. “I’ve been working on it all night trying to figure out whatever message it may have hidden. Why?”
“Someone broke into the carriage house I’m staying in. I could only assume they were after the letter.”
“The same person that broke into Mr. Trenholm’s study.”
“That’s what I was thinking too. It appears that you weren’t the only one that was able to grasp onto the importance of that piece of paper.”
“I haven’t grasped anything yet.” Hannah exclaimed. “This piece of paper still hasn’t given up its mystery to me. I do have something else for you though.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?”
“Eliza Dunn was confirmed as the victim in the White Point Garden murder, just as the neighborhood gossip told us. It was on the local news tonight.”
“And how was she related to Jason again?” I asked.
“They were distant cousins, but I don’t believe that’s really as important as something else I found.”
“I can’t imagine. Go on then.”
“Eliza may have been a distant cousin to Jason, but she was a direct descendent to Charles Fraser, who was the final member of his family to sit on the board of Fraser, Trenholm & Company.”
“So both Jason and Eliza are connected because their ancestors were in a position to profit from the disappearance of the Confederate Treasury?”
“Exactly, Jason is a direct descendent of George A. Trenholm through his eldest son James, who eventually took over the business, and Eliza through Charles Fraser. Both James Trenholm and Charles Fraser appeared to have been in England during the Fall of Richmond, and had control of the company’s assets there with protection from the crown.”
“Why haven’t the cops put all of this together yet?” I asked.
“Simple, it’s because they are not following a conspiracy theory about lost Confederate gold to solve their murders. They still believe Jason’s death was a mugging gone badly, and right now Eliza’s ex-husband is being questioned in her death.”
I thought about everything for a moment; the letter, the two killings, and how they all may be connected. “Have you ever heard of the old trick to uncover invisible ink using iodine vapors?”
“No, why?”
“It’s an old spy method we learned at Quantico. It shows where fibers on paper have been previously dampened and reveals any hidden messages, as long as the whole piece of paper hasn’t been exposed to too much moisture.”
“Okay,” Hannah said. “What’s your point?”
“I was thinking why not try it with the letter. If invisible ink was used once, why not to conceal a whole communication? The visible message may simply be a decoy, instead of a coded dispatch.”
“Jack, you may be part genius. Different types of invisible ink are exposed through different types of agents. It’s possible the hooked x and the message were written in two different types of ink. Having a universal agent would really make sense for code cracking but not for code writing.”
“Of course if that doesn’t work you’ll have to go back to the beginning.”
“I’ll get some iodine tomorrow and cross my fingers. Good night Jack.”
“Goodnight,
I’ll get in touch with you in the morning.”