Henry Wood Detective: Boxed Set (Books 1 - 4)

by Brian Meeks

  For a moment he allowed himself the delicious fantasy of walking out of his building the day after it was done. He imagined sunshine, song, and an end to the pain. It would be bliss...and wasn't that something worth fighting for, he asked himself.

  CHAPTER 28

  Mr. Palmeroy liked to be in control and hated to ask for help. All afternoon he had considered how he might handle the little wrinkle of the detective’s assistant being along for the ride. He had come to one conclusion. He would need to make one more call to that strange group, The Enclave.

  He didn’t understand who they were or why they had reached out to him back in 1939. It seemed like such a simple request, putting two senators in the same room with a third man, that he was happy to help. The world of business ran on favors, and he liked the idea of them owing him. A few months later he received a package with some helpful information in it. The note simply read, “Thanks – The Enclave.”

  Mr. Palmeroy rarely made a miscalculation, when it came to business, in part, because he seemed to always know which way the wind was blowing. He thought of The Enclave as his personal meteorologist. He had never asked for their help with personal matters, that is, until that night earlier this year. It had been a mistake.

  He had been terrified of asking the favor. When the words finally left his mouth, it had sounded like someone else talking. The associate didn’t bat an eye. He nodded softly, stuck out his hand, and promised that the matter would be taken care of within 48 hours. The way he said the next part had sent a chill down Dwight’s spine. As the associate was leaving, he turned and said, “This cannot be undone,” and walked out the door. No matter how many times Dwight told himself that it was the only way, those words cast a pall on his being.

  Now he sat with his hand over the phone. He picked it up and dialed. A voice, somewhat familiar, answered with a simple, “Yes.”

  Dwight cleared his throat and summoned his courage. “Could you please have Associate 2 call me? This is…”

  “We know who this is. You don’t need to say your name, sir. He will call you within the hour.”

  Dwight hung up the phone and thought, This, too, cannot be undone.

  A hesitant knock at the door startled Dwight. “Come in.”

  Catherine came in and said, “I’m really sorry.”

  “It’s okay, my dear. I made much too big a deal out of it. I’m sure his assistant will be a welcome addition to our weekend. Now, I’m expecting a call, so I will get ready to greet our guests and then come find you.”

  Catherine was relieved. She left her husband to his phone call.

  The door closed, and almost immediately the phone rang. Dwight let it ring twice before picking up. “Hello, this is...”

  “You asked me to call,” Associate 2 interrupted before he could say his name over the line. The Enclave liked to avoid using names during phone calls.

  “I need one more favor.”

  “I thought you said you were going to take care of things.”

  “There has been an unforeseen complication.”

  “We will need to meet in person.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Then I guess you are on your own.”

  “Wait...wait, what I meant was that I can’t right now. I have guests coming. I can sneak away after dinner for a few minutes, but you will need to come here. We can meet by the south gate. Do you know where that is?”

  Associate Two didn’t want to say he had been there a few hours before and said casually, “That will be fine. What time?”

  “9:00 p.m.”

  The line went dead. Mr. Dwight Palmeroy should have felt relieved, but he only felt tired and old.

  * * *

  Associate 2 turned and faced his young partner. “It seems Mr. Palmeroy is going to ask us to tie up his loose ends for him.”

  “That’s interesting and more than a little ironic, considering.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. We have a few hours to consider how we’re going to proceed, but I want to hear what he has in mind.”

  “What should I put in the car?”

  “We better take a full kit to cover all our bases.”

  “You going to call the director?”

  “No. Regardless of what happens, we will be done with it by morning. That’s all the director cares about.”

  “So the only question I have is Chinese or pizza?”

  Associate 2 considered this last question for a moment. “Pizza...a really big one.”

  Associate 3 took a heavy bag with him to drop off at the car. While he was gone, 2 would study the layout of the Palmeroy estate. Knowing every ingress and egress would be crucial.

  CHAPTER 29

  The lieutenant felt strange about killing. He understood the plan and the first three victims didn’t cross his mind once since yesterday.

  The streets were packed with cars as people rushed home to their families. Henry’s building looked like a hundred others in the city.

  The plumber uniform and red toolbox helped him feel like he belonged. He shouldn’t have done it, but he checked the name on the mailbox. Mrs. Alice Olsen lived in the apartment across from Henry, or she did for the next half hour or so. She would be the fourth, and he would leave a worn copy of the army training manual on her chest. This would be the most dangerous of the kill. He had to time it perfectly so as not to create a ruckus and get down the stairs to the street unseen.

  He wondered if Henry would recognize him if they were to pass in the hall. What would he say if Henry did? Perhaps, Hello, old buddy, how you been? Or maybe he would just shoot him in the chest. It was hard to imagine keeping his years of rage in the bottle. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper with the number of the apartment directly above Henry’s neighbor.

  He knocked on the door and heard the soft steps of someone’s grandmother approaching. The door, with the chain still on, opened an eyeball’s worth. “Yes?”

  “Hello, ma’am, I’m the plumber. You called with the leak in the tub.”

  “I think you must have the wrong address, young man.”

  It was going as planned. He set his toolbox down, took off his hat, and opened the crumpled paper. “It says right here that...oh...wait...I’m so sorry.” He turned the paper around so that she could see the number clearly written in red and continued, “ I’m off by one floor. I’m really sorry I bothered you.” He put his hat back on and smiled.

  “Oh, it’s okay, young man. I was just reading a book and trying to stay cool.”

  He smiled again. “The weather has been brutally hot. I guess that’s why I stopped climbing the stairs a floor early...wishful thinking.”

  “I don’t blame you at all.”

  He tipped his hat one more time and gave her a nod as he picked up his tool box. “You have a nice evening, ma’am, and again, I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

  She smiled through the crack and closed the door when he turned to leave. He walked through the door to the back stairway, set his toolbox down, took out a pack of Lucky’s, and lit one up. It wouldn’t be long now. He just had to wait until Henry got home and then he would knock on her door and ask to use the phone. She would let him in. Old women found him charming. He had several options; the least objectionable was chloroform.

  He tried to think of anything else, but half-way through the cigarette, her tiny, trusting eyes were looking into his soul. The lieutenant imagined her looking down on him from heaven, disappointed. Worse, she would haunt him for the rest of his life. The others didn’t know him. Even the patrolman only saw him for a moment This is what made war hell.

  His head started to hurt. This wasn’t war, though, or was it? He couldn’t tell. The time seemed to crawl. He started to wonder if he had missed Henry. He hadn’t considered what he would do if Henry didn’t come right home after work. The major never told him if he was to proceed or not. Or maybe he did. He tried to remember what he had for lunch but couldn’t.

  His
ears started to play tricks on him. He heard gun shots and mortar rounds falling. They weren’t real, but his faltering lucidity might not be able to take it for much longer. He didn’t notice the man walking towards him.

  The patrolman opened the door and scared the shit out of him. He dropped his cigarette.

  “There’s no loitering in this building, buddy.”

  He saw that the patrolman had his night stick out. Though his reality was shifting on him, he managed to say, “Sorry, I was supposed to do a job, and she wasn’t home. I just stopped to have a quick smoke and give her a chance to get home from work.”

  “Which apartment?”

  The lieutenant couldn’t remember the number. His heart was about to burst out of his chest, but the soldier in him took over. He saw his hand, with the piece of paper in it, move towards the patrolman.

  The patrolman took the piece of paper and gave it a look. “If she called you, why isn’t she home?”

  “She called yesterday, and I said I’d come by today. Maybe she forgot.”

  The patrolman couldn’t see the storms raging in his head.”Well, I think you should move along. Maybe you can reschedule.”

  “Sure thing, officer.” He started down the stairs.

  “Hey!”

  He wanted to run but turned around instead.

  “You forgetting something?”

  His mind raced. What did he want, a bribe? The sound of the patrolman’s boot tapping the toolbox answered his question. “Oh, yes. I’ll need that.”

  He tipped his hat, grabbed the box, and walked as casually as he could down the stairs. The voice in his head screamed that he should kill the cop and leave the manual on his chest, but his military brain spoke up: He is above you. It would never work. Plus, the major would not approve of killing another cop.

  He walked out the back door, down the alley, and to the front of the building. He still didn’t know if Henry had come home.

  CHAPTER 30

  Henry fumbled with his cuff links. A young Latina woman had been recruited to help Celine get ready. For an hour there had been some shrieks, a few giggles, and more shrieking, which Henry suspected were signs that Celine approved of the dresses. Cuff links aside, Henry had needed only fifteen minutes to ease into the tuxedo and had taken his time. An hour seemed unreasonable. He was getting anxious. Suddenly it got quiet, much too quiet.

  Henry, cuff links and all, turned from the mirror and looked at the dressing room door. It opened and someone resembling Celine, but attractive in a way that made Henry very uncomfortable, drifted into the room.

  “You look nice, Celine.”

  “That is a bold-faced lie…It’s a Jacques Fath!...and I look fabulous.”

  “I don’t know who that is…and yes…you do.”

  “You’ve never heard of Jacques Fath?” she gasped. A gratuitous spin followed.

  Rita stood in the doorway smiling. “Will there be anything else, miss?”

  Celine stopped her spin and put her hands on her hips. “I told you to call me Celine.”

  “Will there be anything else, Celine?” Rita asked again and stuck her tongue out.

  They both giggled.

  Henry was able to tolerate many things but their unbridled joy needed to be bridled. He said, “Okay, the fashion show is over. Let’s get down there and start rubbing elbows.”

  Celine stuck her tongue out at Henry and whispered as she hooked her arm in his, “You look very handsome, boss.”

  Henry grunted.

  The walk towards the music surprised Henry. In a few steps Celine had changed from the giddy girl playing dress up into a woman of considerable presence. Her poise was reflected in the expression on Catherine’s face when she introduced them to her husband.

  “I’m delighted to meet you both.”

  The dubious circumstances that had brought them there no longer bothered Henry. It was a job, and he would be professional. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Mr. Palmeroy. You have a lovely home.”

  “Thank you, we do love it here.”

  Celine and Catherine watched the men size each other up. The chatter went on for another minute. Eventually, they broke. It was a draw.

  Henry felt Celine steer him towards another couple. Judging by their age, they were friends of Mr. Palmeroy. She made a comment about the woman’s shoes that Henry didn’t understand.

  Lillian Witherspoon answered, “Why, thank you, dear. My name is Lillian and this curmudgeon eying the humidor of cigars is my husband, Peter.”

  “My name is Celine and this is Henry.”

  “You are a very handsome couple.”

  Celine wasn’t sure how to respond. She smiled. Before it became too uncomfortable, Peter said to Henry, “Do you like cigars, Henry?”

  “I do.”

  “Well then, let’s leave these two to talk shoes, dresses, and all that nonsense while you and I see what Dwight has for us tonight. He knows people in Havana.”

  “After you,” Henry said with a genuine smile.

  Henry took a couple puffs and finally was won over to the idea of getting paid to be there. Mr. Palmeroy and a new guest joined them. “What do you think of the cigars, Mr. Wood?”

  “I have to say you have excellent taste,” Henry said, and meant it.

  “Let me introduce Edward Harriman. When he isn’t hanging out with old Harry Truman, he’s a pretty good guy to get out on the golf course.”

  Edward laughed. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Wood, and Dwight is right about that. If I had a dollar for every putt I’d missed, well, I might be able to afford to settle up.”

  Dwight smacked him on the back. “You do still owe me five bucks from last week.”

  Edward got his cigar and asked, “Do you golf, Mr. Wood?”

  “Please, call me Henry and, yes, though it has been a few years. My short irons are fair, but the rest of the game leaves a lot to be desired.”

  The conversation stayed on golf for a long while, which suited Henry just fine. He mostly listened to the stories but did tell a few of his own. When Henry wasn’t talking, he was watching. These were powerful men and seeing them relaxed and enjoying themselves gave Henry a feel for who they were. Sometimes a detective’s best weapon was his gut. His mentor, Mickey, used to say, “Get to know a man over a drink when he has no reason to lie and learn his face. When he tries to pull the wool over your eyes, you’ll see it coming.”

  Celine was listening to Catherine tell a delightful story to the other wives. A tray of h’orderves floated past the guests who helped themselves. Celine gave Rita a smile when she took one. The others paid no attention to the server and continued on with the story. When the final couple arrived and was introduced, everyone was directed to the dining room.

  Henry, seated at the end with Catherine and next to Peter Witherspoon, gave a quick look at Celine. She looked right at home charming Edward, sipping her wine, and laughing at his jokes. Henry decided he wasn’t paying her enough.

  Dwight tapped his glass three times, stood, and welcomed the guests. “I want to say how honored and pleased Catherine and I are to have you all joining us for this weekend.”

  Henry smiled and listened to him drone on but was really thinking about the first course, when Dwight paused and said, “…so let me tell you about my special reason for asking you here this weekend. You all have a part to play.”

  It was the last bit that got Henry’s attention. Finally, he was about to find out what all of this nonsense was about.

  CHAPTER 31

  Randolph didn’t know what to do. He’d failed in his mission and needed to report to the major. The alarm clock on his bed saw it differently. He was supposed to have reported in over an hour ago. It was time to face up to what had happened. The lieutenant sat up on his bed and reached for the phone, but it rang before he could pick it up.

  He didn’t like to be surprised or startled though it seemed to happen daily and with more frequency lately. There was only one person who could be calling. It wo
uld have been better if he had made the call. This made it much worse.

  After four rings he picked up. “Hello?”

  “I was beginning to get worried. Did everything go as planned?”

  “I’m sorry to report that it did not. I did just as you said with the woman across the hall. That was fine. But then he never came home. I waited an hour and had just about decided to continue when a cop showed up. I had to retreat. I have failed you, sir.”

  “You have done nothing of the sort. In battle, there are always unforeseen obstacles. You did exactly as I would have wanted. I’m surprised that he didn’t come home, but I may have an idea where he is based on some reconnaissance work I had done.”

  “Thank you, sir. Where is he now and what do I do next?”

  “It seems he has a new client. A rather wealthy woman named Palmeroy. I believe he visited her today to begin working on her behalf. I don’t know why he would still be there, but that’s where I would look for him.” The major read the address.

  While scrawling across an old envelope, Randolph asked, “And if he is there?”

  “You will need to think on your feet. If an opportunity and a suitable target provides itself, then you make the call. Judging by the address, it will likely be a secure residence. You will need to breech the perimeter and get eyes on our subject before you decide the best plan of attack.”

  “What if I’m unable to leave the manual but there is a suitable target?”

  It was an excellent question. The major could tell his lieutenant was more lucid than usual. He played out both moves in his head. The best move was to leave the training manual, but was it better to wait or go ahead with a less valuable move? “Lieutenant, that’s an excellent point you make and why I so value your service in this matter. Consider the leaving of the training manual a secondary objective.”

  The lieutenant’s response was not what the major expected. “Get down Johnson,” he heard lieutenant Randolph Vance scream. “Somebody find the medic. McNulty has been hit...Sorry Major, we’re taking heavy fire...understood, training manual is secondary target...over and out.”