by Brian Meeks
“Not terribly interesting. Actually, it is a little, but it’s not helpful.”
“No, and the next entry is on Dec 8, 1941. It makes no mention of investments or anything. It just goes on about his personal outrage at the attack on Pearl Harbor. What does the third letter say?”
“I haven’t read it yet.”
Mike came in and asked, “So the captain had a talk with you?”
“Yep. What do you think?”
“I can’t believe it, but he’s the boss and being careful is never a bad idea. Let’s go.”
“We taking a squad car?”
“I’ve got my car. We can take it.”
“I’d like to make a stop.”
Luna looked up from the journal, closed it, and said, “Oh? I think the captain wanted us to head straight to your place.”
Mike nodded.
“We don’t have a lot of time on this one. The drive to Brooklyn will eat up a bunch. My gut tells me that wherever he has hidden the tile, it’s here in Manhattan. I’ve been thinking about the next clue and I am, for lack of a better word, clueless. I want to let someone I know give it a read.”
Mike didn’t look sold. “It isn’t just about a possible leak. There are real concerns for your safety.”
Luna asked, “Who is this mystery puzzle solver?”
“Miriam. She is a librarian and very well read.”
Mike nodded. “Okay, why don’t I take Luna to your place while you go talk to the librarian?”
Luna was about to object when Henry shot that idea down.
“No, I really need Luna, too. She sees things differently than you or I would, and this is too important to have her on the bench.”
“Okay, to the library then. Meet me in the lobby. I’m going to let the captain know about our detour. Oh, and one more thing. Just to be safe, no more discussing the case until we’re out of the building.”
The door closed behind Mike. Henry stood up and put the journal and letters back into his briefcase. He waited at the door, prepared to hold it open for Luna. She walked around the table and at the moment he started to pull it open, she put a hand up and stopped him. The door closed with a light woody thud. Luna gave a look through the glass window and then gave Henry a long kiss. Henry didn’t see it coming but didn’t mind.
“What was that all about?”
“The fact that you don’t know means you’ll be getting another one later.”
CHAPTER 65
Henry and Luna got out of the car, and Mike drove off to find a parking spot. The lobby was busy, but Miriam was there helping people check out their books. Luna looped an arm through Henry’s as they stood in line. “She’s cute.”
Henry was too busy thinking about the case to properly calculate his response and answered, “I hadn’t noticed. I guess I’ve always been too busy trying to figure something out. I’m hoping she’ll see something in the letter that we’ve missed.”
Miriam saw the two of them, smiled, and said, “Henry Wood, so nice to see you.”
Henry set his briefcase on the desk and pulled out the letter. He whispered, “I’ve got something rather serious here. I’d like you to give it a read. Is there any place we can go that is private?”
Miriam held up a single finger and disappeared for a moment. She returned with another lady and said, “Follow me. She will cover while I’m gone. I’m all yours.”
Luna could have done without the “all yours” but followed the librarian and Henry without comment.
They passed table after table of people studying, researching, and reading. All they could hear were the hushed tones of paper being turned and chair legs occasionally moving on the floor. They took a few turns and went up a staircase before arriving at a door to a tiny room. “We can talk freely in here,” Miriam said.
She stuck out her hand to Luna and continued, “I’m Miriam. I’m pleased to meet another friend of Henry’s.”
“I’m Luna, pleased to meet you.”
Henry explained again how sensitive the matter was and gave Miriam some more background. He left out the part about the first clue involving the library and let her read the copy.
She read it, then read it again. “Do you mind if I go look something up? I’ll be back shortly. If you’d like to wait here, nobody will bother you.”
As soon as the door closed, Henry went back to work. He opened the briefcase and pulled out the letter on top. It was the one with the wax seal. “Might as well see what this is about,” he said
Luna was curious and sat down next to him.
Mr. Wood,
I’m not prone to correspondence. In the last 20 years, I’ve only felt compelled to dip the pen in the inkwell once before. It’s an interesting story but will need to wait.
I’ve been following your successes this year. Not many could have tangled with Tommy “The Knife” and come out on the winning end. I applaud your efforts. It seems you’re rather resourceful. This, however, is causing some problems.
Through no fault of your own, destiny has deemed it necessary for our paths to cross. I’d like an opportunity to speak with you and discuss Cynthia Pollard. I’ll expect you to be at the corner of Worth and W. Broadway at 5pm tomorrow. I’ll send a car. It will be in your best interest to accept my invitation.
Sincerely,
The Director
“This isn’t the tile guy, is it?”
“It can’t be. This arrived yesterday. If it were the same guy, why would he send a clue with a deadline tonight?”
“Maybe it’s part of his game. He sends a car for you, you can’t solve the clue, and he kills someone.”
Henry looked at Luna. He considered her theory and smiled before saying, “I don’t think it’s the same guy, but that would be a good way to throw me off the trail. I’m glad we’re not chasing you...we wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“So what do we do? If you get in this car that’s being sent for you, how will we find the tile in time?”
Henry flipped the letter over and looked at the broken wax seal. “Bobby was telling me something about a secret society. He called it The Enclave.”
“I’ve never heard of them.”
“Maybe they know you can’t keep a secret.”
Luna giggled. “I really can’t.
Miriam returned empty-handed. “I couldn’t find the article though I could keep looking. It was something I read a long time ago, at least 10 years, about Bogart and Bacall’s first date.”
Luna was impressed. “You remember a newspaper article you read ten years ago?”
Miriam blushed a little. “I’ve had a bit of a crush on him since Casablanca.”
“Oh, I know! Rick and Ilsa should have ended up together, such a sad ending.”
“Listen, I don’t want to break up the start of a beautiful friendship, but we’re a little short on time.”
The ladies exchanged one of those looks that’s indecipherable by men and then Marian continued, “I believe, if I remember correctly, Bogart and Bacall went to Club 21 on their first date.”
Luna became excited. “I think I remember that, too! They met when filming To Have and Have Not and started dating.” Luna pointed at the copy of the letter that Henry was rereading. “See how he went to great lengths to include the ‘2’ and ‘1’ in there. It’s an awkward sentence and doesn’t seem to serve any purpose. That and the quote from the movie must mean the next tile is hidden at Club 21.”
Henry stuffed everything back in his briefcase. “I can’t think of a better theory. You two nailed it. Thanks, Miriam. Come on, Luna; we need to find Mike.”
They hustled out of the room and back to the lobby. Mike, not knowing where they had gone, was standing by the front door. As Henry brushed past him, he said, “Mike, we’ve got a lead.”
They hurried out to find Mike’s car double-parked directly in front of the library. It was causing considerable consternation among the New Yorkers who were trying to get around it. Two beat cops, feeling equall
y aggrieved by Mike’s parking, were doing as they had been told. One kept saying as people drove past, “It’s official police business. Please stop yelling.”
Mike didn’t like breaking the rules but two trips around the block was his limit. Once they were moving with the flow of traffic again, Henry said, “Get us to Club 21. I think Luna and Miriam have solved the second letter.”
CHAPTER 66
Traffic was at a standstill. Mike had the car pointed in the direction of Club 21, but a fire and the responding trucks had made a direct route impossible. His knuckles turning white on the steering wheel, Mike asked, “So, you need to get to Club 21, find the tile, and still make it to your 5pm rendezvous with the wax seal letter guy?”
“Rendezvous? When did you start slipping French into your vocabulary?” Henry asked, trying to lighten the mood, and bring Mike’s stress level down a notch or three.
It worked. Mike loosened his grip on the wheel and stopped the pointless honking. “I guess I’ve been hanging out with Francis too much lately.”
Henry turned and said to Luna who was reading the journal in the back seat. “You’re right about one thing. By the time we get to the restaurant, we won’t have much time. With traffic as messed up as it is now, it will be worse after 4 pm, and my gut tells me that...” Henry searched for the right words. “My gut says that this guy, whoever he is, shouldn’t be stood up.”
“Listen to this,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the disgruntled sounds of the traffic, “‘I’m overwrought with guilt. I love Catherine and know that each moment with Cynthia is wrong. Nobody knows, not even the guys at the club. Indiscretions such as these are more common than cigars but, unlike most of the other gentlemen, I feel dreadful. I don’t even know why I’m bothering to write this down. Maybe it’s my way of leaving a confession for after I’m gone. So why am I doing it? It’s Cynthia’s soul that has ensnared me. She has a power of which I suspect she is well aware. It transcends her beauty and haunts me. When I’m with her, I feel as if I’m Ponce de Leon searching for the fountain of youth. She makes me young. It’s only when I’m writing here that my head is clear. I have no delusions about my appeal to her; it can be summed up by looking at my bank statement. And yet, I continue to see her. I’m such a fool.”
Mike asked, “Who is this Cynthia?”
Henry hesitated, then said, “He’s talking about Cynthia Pollard. You remember, from the Kupton case.”
“So Dwight Palmeroy was seeing her, too?”
“It looks like it.”
Luna continued flipping through the book, though it seemed, to Henry, with a bit more force than before.
They were about eight blocks from the restaurant. Henry checked his watch again. At this rate, he would have to leave for the meeting as soon as they arrived. He doubted the tile would be easy to find. “Luna, let’s go. Mike, we’re going on ahead.”
He hopped out of the car and opened the door for Luna. “It’s a nice day for a walk anyway.” She left the journal on the back seat but grabbed the copy of the letter.
Luna read it again as they walked. “We should be able to find the tile even if you have to leave. How tough could it be?’
“That’s assuming we’ve got the right place.”
Henry stopped at a street vendor and bought a couple of hot dogs and coffees. They hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and Henry always worked better when chewing on something with mustard and ketchup on it. Luna folded the letter, put it in her purse, and ate her lunch as they walked. They were soon at Club 21.
Henry asked to see the manager. It was a simple request, but the sentinel at the door seemed to take great pride in keeping people at bay. The internal clock in Henry’s mind ticked like a time-bomb, which made him less than affable towards the man at the door. Luna stepped forward and gave the man a coy, but sexy smile. “We’d like a table. Could you help us, please?”
“Certainly, right this way.”
Henry wished Mike would get there . His badge would have gone a long way towards getting cooperation, but, as it was, he was impressed by Luna’s quick thinking. They were seated, a waiter shortly appeared and presented them with the day’s specials. Luna thanked him and asked, “Is it true that Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall had their first date here?”
“Yes, it is. They sat at table 30, this one here.”
“Oh, look, honey, we’re right next to their table.”
Henry didn’t feel much like being on a date nor did he care for pet names, but since Luna was the only one making progress on the case, he went along. “I know it sounds silly, but is there any way we could move to that table?”
The waiter smiled. “Certainly, sir,” he said. He held out the chair for Luna.
The waiter left them alone. Henry looked at Luna. They both picked up their menus, opened them, and used their other hands to search the underside of the table. Henry felt an envelope. He pulled it out as he checked his watch. It was 4:15. He shouldn’t have any trouble getting to the meeting. “Found it.”
Luna set down her menu. “Is the tile inside?”
Henry opened the tiny envelope and pulled out a card. “No, just this,” he said and read it aloud, “‘I give you credit for making it this far, but, alas, you still haven’t found the tile.’”
Luna held out her hand, and Henry passed her the card. They turned their heads toward the exchange at the front. Mike had walked in and was putting his badge away.
Henry saw him and stood up, “Mike, I’m going to grab a cab. I need to go. It’s up to you and Luna.”
“We’ll find it. I promise.”
With that, Henry started to leave, then looked back at Luna, and mouthed ‘Thanks’.
CHAPTER 67
Mike sat down across from Luna. She handed him the card. He read it, then asked, “Any ideas where it might be?”
Luna pulled out the letter and passed it to him. “If I were to guess, I’d say it’s in the wine cellar. See the reference to Chateau LaTour, 1865?” she asked.
“That’s some old grapes.”
“Well, it’ll be sour grapes if we don’t find the tile.”
The waiter returned to take their order and then looked around. Unsure if he was at the right table, he got his bearings and then asked hesitantly, “Are you ready to order?”
Luna, understanding his confusion said, “I decided to trade up to a bigger fella.”
Mike flashed his badge. “I’d like to speak with the manager.”
“Right away, sir.”
Luna returned to her menu as Mike tried to get a good look at the other diners. The manager returned with the waiter and asked, “Is there a problem?”
Mike kept his voice low and said. “I need to see your wine cellar.”
“You’ll need a warrant.”
“What?”
“One of the charms of Club 21 is that the wine cellar is hidden. You couldn’t find it during prohibition, and it’s not our policy to let the police or anyone, for that matter, see it now.”
“Listen, buddy, this is an emergency.”
“You’re having a wine emergency?”
“We need to search it to find something that will stop a murder.”
“That’s ridiculous. What could you expect to find in our cellar?”
Mike’s restrained whispering faltered. His voice was getting louder. “I can’t talk about it. This is a police matter and...”
“And you’ll need a warrant.”
“If someone gets killed because of this, you’ll regret it.”
The threat had no effect on the manager. He calmly replied, “If you don’t intend to dine, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
Luna asked, “What is your special?”
The waiter was about to answer when Mike stood up and growled, “Fine, I’ll just go find it myself.”
The threat brought a smile to the manager’s face. “You are welcome to try.”
“Luna, stay here.” Mike got up and headed off in a huff
.
The waiter looked at her. “Could I bring you a starter salad?”
“That would be nice, thanks.”
He leaned down and whispered, “I’ve been working here six months, and I still don’t know where it’s hidden.”
Luna gave a casual shrug. She knew Mike was a smart guy, but she had heard stories about the hidden wine cellar. She didn’t see anyone famous, but there were definitely some interesting looking characters. Luna wondered if one of them was their killer.
A large man was shoveling steak into his mouth and talking. His companion, a rail-thin woman, was trying to eat but kept stopping to jot down notes on a legal pad. Luna guessed he was a divorce lawyer. She felt sorry for the woman.
There was a group of eight men at a larger table who seemed to be discussing baseball or women, possibly both. They had Wall Street written all over them. Judging by their exuberance, it had been a good day.
An elderly couple was holding hands in a ”wedding anniversary” sort of way. She guessed their 50th.
By the time her salad arrived, Luna was able to guess the story of almost everyone in the restaurant. None of them ended with “serial killer on a date enjoying bottle of red.” There were a few tables that she couldn’t see, so it was possible he was at one of those.
Mike returned and sat down. He didn’t look happy. Luna didn’t ask, because the answer was obvious. The waiter placed the salad in front of Luna but sensed it was a bad time to ask if the gentleman would like to order. He scurried away.
“I have no idea where to find the damn wine cellar,” Mike said, looking at his watch. “There is no way we can find a judge and get a warrant here in time. I may have to call in the cavalry and shut this place down. If we don’t, who knows what might happen.”