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

by Brian Meeks

  Celine looked up. “Yes, may I help you?”

  “Da, my name is Svetlana. I clean. Day one. Sorry so late.”

  “It’s nice to meet you Svetlana. Where are you from?”

  “I come from Russia. No speak much English. Sorry.”

  “I think your English is just fine,” Celine said and pulled the trash can out for her. Buttons hopped up on the desk and watched the new person empty the trash. Brenda dumped the trash, then patted Buttons on the head. “Nice kitty.”

  Buttons seemed indifferent.

  Brenda knocked lightly on Henry’s door and dumped his can as well, “You need dusting or windows cleaned, boss?”

  Henry smiled. “No, it’s fine.”

  She took her cart and left, feeling pleased with herself.

  * * *

  Associate 3 was still in some pain but not enough to keep him from helping. He took a cab to Long Island and made the cabbie wait outside the bank as he emptied the contents of his safety deposit box. The box was one of several he had around the city, and he had a handful more in Europe. He had a half dozen of brilliantly forged passports, several thick stacks of bills, mostly U.S. currency, but some pounds and francs, as well. He returned to the cab and said, “Take me to Grand Central Station. There is a train leaving for DC in an hour, and I’m in a hurry.”

  Associate 2 had several stashes in the city, but he didn’t use banks. The easiest for him to get to was a hotel that catered to the dregs of society. He had found the place a year ago and thought it would be perfect. It was old with hardwood floors and had 5 stories. He had rented room 508 for an hour, taken a woman with him for appearances, and told her to wait outside. She thought he was nuts, but he paid her and threw in a pack of smokes. Just as he suspected, it was easy to pry up a floorboard and stash his bundle of cash and documents.

  He greeted the soulless man at the desk, slid a twenty through the barred window, and said, “Room 508.”

  “We’ve got ones on a lower floor...elevator’s broke.”

  “508’s my lucky number.”

  “Suit yourself but don’t go asking for no room service.”

  “Do you have room service?”

  “Well, no...buzz off...I’m working here,” he said. He went back to the racing form.

  As Associate 2 suspected, most people stayed in the rooms on the lower floors. The hallway was dusty and he wasn’t sure if anyone had even been up here in months. He closed the door and looked out of the grimy window. He didn’t see anybody on the street. He had been careful, but if someone had followed him, they would be too good to be standing on the corner waving a flag. Still, it was his habit to check. He slid the bed away from the wall and pulled a knife out of his boot. 2 pried the board up and the bundle was just where he left it.

  When he hit the street again, not bothering to drop the key at the desk, he turned left and walked to a pay phone. Associate 2 had a hobby that 3 had mocked since they started working together. It was common for people in their line of work to have half a dozen numbers from phone booths memorized. Associate 2 had over 400 committed to memory. This morning, he told 3 he would call him at the booth near the ticket window of Grand Central Station. They had been together when 2 made him wait while he checked it. 3 just shook his head, but this morning he laughed and admitted it had been useful. 2 admitted it was the first time he had ever taken advantage of the memorized numbers. He popped a dime in and dialed. It only rang once.

  “Hello.”

  “How was Long Island?”

  “Peachy.”

  “Did you buy a ticket?”

  “Yes, and I mentioned needing to catch a train to DC.”

  “Good, I’ll grab a cab and do the same, then I’ll take a bus or something to meet you across from Henry’s office on 23rd.”

  “I’ll be in the deli.”

  CHAPTER 55

  Mr. Wood,

  We’re going to play a game called KILL OR SEE you LUES. It’s like Scrabble only more deadly. I’ll give you a little hint at where there will be a murder. You will have 24 hours to find the first tile, and, if you do, an innocent life will be saved. If you don’t succeed, then I will generously send you the first tile along with a letter to the family letting them know how you let them down.

  “Patience and Fortitude conquer all things.”

  -Ralph Waldo Emerson

  Mike looked at the letter and asked, “When did this arrive?”

  “It was left outside the office door some time since lunch. The cleaning lady brought it to our attention.”

  “The cleaning lady?”

  “She brought it in asking if I had dropped it and then I gave it to Henry,” Celine said.

  Mike looked worried. “Henry, you think you could come down to the station with me? I’m sure the darkroom boys have that photo from Bellevue. We still haven’t had any luck identifying the guy. We know one thing: he didn’t write this letter.”

  “We do?” Henry asked.

  “Yep, the Palmeroy shooter has been in a straitjacket and a typewriter-less padded cell. Plus, he hasn’t had any visitors besides the guy we sent over to grab a snapshot.”

  Henry took the letter and handed it to Celine by the edges. “Could you type up a copy exactly as it is here? See the misspelling of ‘lose’? Make sure you do it letter for letter as it is on the original.”

  Celine took the letter and returned to her desk. She said, “No, Buttons, you can’t see it. I’ll let you look at the copy...now get off the typewriter.”

  Mike and Henry heard a displeased meow and subsequent thud as she dropped the cat on the floor.

  Mike asked, “Henry, do you think he will send a clue or was the clue the Emerson quote?”

  “That’s a great question. He might be saying we need to have patience and the clue will arrive or that might be what he wants us to think. It would be my guess that the clock has already started.”

  “Well, if you are right, then we better get going ourselves.”

  The sound of keys hammering suddenly stopped and the zip of paper being pulled from the typewriter let them know that Celine was done. Henry grabbed his notebook and the envelope that the letter arrived in and followed Mike into the outer office.

  “Just a second, boss, I want to double check it,” Celine said while slowly running her finger along each line of the copy as she looked back and forth between the two. “There, the copy is done.” She handed the original to Henry. He returned it to the envelope and put it in a larger envelope.

  Mike opened the door. “We should find the cleaning lady. We’ll need to get her fingerprints since they’ll be on the envelope.”

  Celine said, “Mike, she was wearing her cleaning gloves when she handed it to me.”

  Mike stopped for a moment, then said, “Okay, thanks Celine.”

  Henry and Mike walked down the hall both lost in deep thought while Celine got some kitty treats out of the filing cabinet. Buttons forgot about being angry and went into best behavior mode, which lasted exactly as long as the treats were out.

  * * *

  Associate 2 and 3 had a table in the window of the deli. They ate their sandwiches in relative silence until a nervous looking man came in and ordered a pastrami on rye. 3 stood up and walked out and across the street. 2 kept an eye on his partner to see if anyone was paying attention or following. It seemed clear, so he walked up to the counter and ordered an extra bottle of coke.

  The nervous man waited for his sandwich and barely made eye contact. “Hey, nice run of weather were having here.”

  “Sure is,” 2 said as he slid a nickel across to the kid behind the counter. 2 took the bottle opener, popped the top, thanked the guy who made the sandwiches, and walked out. He grabbed a paper at the vendor and stood reading it while pastrami sandwich walked out. 2 started walking down Broadway towards the Flatiron building. The man pulled his sandwich out of the bag, took a bite, and followed.

  “I heard you,” the nervous man started saying then swallowed,
“Sorry, need someone to keep an eye on somebody.”

  “Yes, I want to know when he arrives, leaves, and if he is with anyone. I may need you for a couple of days.”

  “How much?”

  “Five hundred. I’ll give you a hundred now and another tomorrow when we meet.”

  “That’s a lot of money to watch a building all day,” he said sounding suspicious.

  “I need accurate and detailed information. I want to know exactly when and where he goes. I’ve been told you’re good with facts and numbers.”

  “I’ve got a good memory for that sort of stuff. I can tell you every horse that ran at Aqueduct for the last three years. That’s every race, every horse.”

  “You any good at picking the winners?”

  “If I were, you think I’d be watching some guy for you?”

  2 nodded. They stopped across the street from the Flatiron building. He took out an envelope and handed it to the man. “The office number is in there, not that I want you getting that close. There is a picture of the guy from the newspaper. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you, and let’s keep it that way. You know the guy who was with me at the deli?”

  “No, I didn’t notice you were with anyone.”

  “Well, he has been following us and will keep an eye on you for a little while. If you try to sneak off to call your bookie, I’ll be very disappointed. I’m not the sort to hand out pink slips, if you get my meaning, Mr. Pastrami.”

  Mr. Pastrami looked nervous again. “No problem, boss, I got nowhere to be but watching your guy.”

  “In the envelope is the address of where I want you to be tomorrow at 7am.”

  “Got it.”

  Just as 2 was about to leave, he looked across the street and saw Henry with Mike. He whispered, “That’s him now. He’s the shorter one.”

  Mr. Pastrami looked across the street and turned to say something to his new employer, but 2 was gone. It didn’t help calm his nerves.

  CHAPTER 56

  The coffee at the station set a new low. Henry drank it anyway. Mike went in search of the photo of the alleged killer in the Palmeroy case. A few of the other detectives stopped over to chat, and Henry asked them about their cases. It was all very polite, but he really just wanted to get down to the business of solving the case and hopefully putting an end to the ‘game’ before it got out of hand.

  Henry didn’t know anything about Ralph Waldo Emerson, but he knew people who did. Still, it was a big city and the man who sent the letter seemed intent on crawling into Henry’s head and stirring up trouble. The little trinkets left at the other crime scenes had forced Henry to take a brief glimpse into his brief military service. He had done such a good job of editing out the past that all but the most graphic images were gone. The biggest fear he had now was seeing the photo of the man who shot Mr. Palmeroy.

  Mike returned with an 8 x 10 glossy image of the man in the straitjacket. Henry braced for the worst. He set his coffee down and reached for the photo. He turned it over and asked, “This is the guy?”

  “Yep.”

  “He looks like he’s mid 40’s, maybe 50, and wholly unremarkable,” Henry said. “I half expected it to be someone I knew, but this just isn’t ringing a bell.”

  Mike was surprised as he expected the same, and said, “Are you sure? Take a long look.” Mike took a magnifying glass out of his desk and handed it to his friend.

  Henry smiled wryly. “A magnifying glass? Is this part of your junior detective kit?”

  “Very funny. It was in the desk when I got promoted. I just figured that you’re getting older, my friend, and your tired eyes could use the help.”

  Henry looked at the photo and sensed there was something there. “You know, there is something about his face that’s familiar, but for the life of me, I just can’t place it.”

  “You can keep the photo. They said they’d print me another one. We better go see the captain and let him know about your letters.”

  The captain was on the phone with the mayor, so they had to wait. Henry sat and tried to pull something from the depths of his memory. The man in the photo hadn’t been part of his squad, that he was sure of, but maybe he had been there that day.

  Then again, Henry had made more than a few enemies this year; maybe it was as simple as someone trying to kill him and missing. Was it possible that the first two attacks were unrelated to the Palmeroy murder? He didn’t know, but if it were a coincidence, it was the strangest one he had ever known.

  “Come on in, boys,” the captain said.

  “I’ve got some bad news,” Mike said.

  The captain returned to his desk and closed the file he had been looking through. “Let’s have it.”

  Mike glanced at Henry. “Henry received a disturbing letter today. It looks like the sort of crack pot threats we get here all the time, but this one, I fear, is related to the other three cases.”

  The captain shook his head. “So you don’t think we have the killer on ice at Bellevue?”

  Henry took out the letter and set it on the captain’s desk. “It seems someone has a grudge with yours truly.”

  “Mike, have you gotten the photo from the darkroom guys yet?”

  Henry answered, “He has, and I can’t place the guy. Maybe I’ve seen him somewhere, but I honestly don’t know what he has against me.” Henry handed the black and white to the captain.

  “He looks like every other nutter out there. Has he had any visitors since we brought him in?”

  Mike shook his head no. “Other than the doctor and our photographer, nobody has been in to see him.”

  “Then I guess the next question is when did the clock start ticking?”

  Henry shrugged. “Somebody left it outside my door after lunch, so no more than two hours have passed.”

  The captain reread the letter and asked, “Any idea what this first clue means?”

  “No, I’m not at all familiar with Ralph Waldo Emerson, but I thought I’d go see Miriam and ask.”

  “Who’s Miriam?”

  “She’s a librarian over at the main branch of...” Henry leapt out of his chair. “I got it!”

  The captain and Mike were both startled by the outburst. Henry knocked over his chair as he ran out of the room. The captain looked at Mike and said, “Well, don’t just sit there. Grab some guys and follow him. Let’s get this bastard before things get any worse.”

  CHAPTER 57

  “Henry! Wait up!,” Mike yelled, but Henry was already in the stairwell. Mike caught up with him on the street and grabbed his arm as he was trying to hail a cab. “Slow down, buddy. We’ve got time.”

  “I should have realized it the moment I read the letter.”

  “So how about sharing?”

  “The lion statues at New York Public Library are called Patience and Fortitude. We need to hurry.”

  “Why?”

  Mike had a look of calm that put Henry at ease. Also, he couldn’t exactly answer the question. “I guess I’ve seen enough death in the last week.”

  “Listen, why don’t you come back upstairs. We’ve got until tomorrow, which means we may be able to catch him at his game.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Mike had assembled every detective and the captain. He read the letter and brought everyone up to date on the case. “...and finally Henry here, who we believe the killer has some sort of grudge against, solved the clue...and with almost a day to spare. So we’ve got some time to catch the bastard at his own game.”

  The room erupted and people started yelling out ideas. Mike raised his hand. “Calm down, one at a time.”

  Nobody listened until the captain stood up and said, “Settle down everyone. We’ve all done operations like this before, but rarely do we have the time to prepare. I want five teams of two on-site starting tonight, three more checking out all the sight lines, and three more inside the library. I’ll make the arrangements with the library, and, please, remember we need to keep everything quiet. If we tip off the
guy who sent the letter, we’ll lose our one chance.”

  Henry was barely listening. The photo still nagged at him. He had his notebook out and was writing down the name of everyone he could remember from his old unit. It was a short list. The problem wasn’t that he didn’t remember the men he fought with; it was that he was limiting it to those who made it out alive. When Henry started paying attention again, the captain was sending a detective to see if he could find but not remove the tile.

  Someone else yelled, “Hey, Henry, your secretary is on the phone.”

  Henry picked up and said, “Hey, Celine, what’s going on?”

  “Bobby is here, and he needs to talk to you.”

  “Put him on.”

  “He says you should come back here.”

  “Okay, I’ll head back now.”

  That’s strange, Henry thought, as he walked down the hallway towards his office. Mrs. Palmeroy was standing at the door and Ivan, the building maintenance guy, was kneeling before the door with his toolbox.

  Ivan stood up when he noticed Henry. “Ah, Mr. Wood. New lock is going to take a little time.”

  “New lock?”

  “Das, I got call that your lock was broken, so I come to fix.”

  “Where are Celine and Bobby?”

  “No idea. I just got here, and pretty woman was waiting.”

  Henry turned to Catherine. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Palmeroy, I don’t know why the office is closed. I was just returning from working on your husband’s case...I thought Celine was here.”

  Catherine looked upset. She clutched a metal box to her chest and said, “It’s fine. I just got here two minutes ago. Here.” She handed the box to Henry.

  “What’s this?”

  Before she could answer there was a loud thwack and Ivan had popped the lock out of the door. “Here, you go inside while I work on door.” Ivan opened the door and held it.