Gwen had set the stage nicely for Billy’s interrogation of Bobby Mildrake. Still, it took a few hours before the boy had regained enough composure to sit down with the detective and re-visit his confessional scene with Gwen.
When Bobby’s statement was completed, Meacham got the go ahead to pick up Mildred Wattle. While Meacham was certain that the husband and wife worked as a team, nothing that Bobby Mildrake had said so far directly implicated the ex-Mayor. Meacham was starting to form a new opinion of Mildred Wattle as the power behind the throne. Was it possible that she had been pulling the Mayor’s strings for years, he wondered?
Fogarty was parked near the Wattle’s lake cottage when he got the call from Meacham. Someone had already checked their house in town and it was empty. Fogarty was at the cottage door within minutes and, after knocking repeatedly and getting no response, looked through the windows to a darkened house. Fogarty felt his emotions getting the best of him when he returned to his car to call Meacham with the news that the Wattles were gone.
***
Gov. Traber was not happy. The Wattles were coming to stay with him and the Mayor had preempted any complaint by saying in an unusually stern voice that it was not open to discussion. Traber grumbled under his breath but said nothing.
Traber hated to be without female companionship, even for short intervals, and had picked up an aging cigarette girl at the Casa Loma Supper Club the night before. After several drinks, her blonde bouffant under the tilted monkey grinder hat looked attractive in the dimly-lit restaurant. She had been tightly packed into her skimpy blood red outfit which, along with black net stockings, was standard attire for a girl relying of tips to compensate for the pinching and the pawing from slobbering drunks that only increased as the evening wore on. She strolled the premises with her tray of cigarettes, making frequent stops at the bar where she eyed the distinguished-looking Traber who was leaning against the rail, surveying the scene after finishing his dinner.
The McGuire Sisters were in town and had just finished their performance. Traber would love to have seduced any one of them but the note with the flourishing signature of “Governor Stewart Traber” that he had sent to their dressing room went unanswered. Traber had been trading on the governor appellation ever since the voters booted him from office and it usually worked nicely for him. In a group, he was hesitant to use it, calculating that someone else would. But, it was all false modesty and he was always ready to say to uninitiated ingénues and middle-aged women alike, “Well, yes, when I was Governor……..”
But now the evening was getting late and a certain inevitable desperation was setting in. He had once again, this time without success, played his best card with the McGuire Sisters. As he continued to sip his cocktail and survey the room through glassy eyes, the cigarette girl started to look younger and more enticing.
***
Before Traber rolled to his side the next morning, he heard the gentle, female snoring and knew there was a body next to him as he tried desperately to remember the events of the night before. He instinctively reached over to the nightstand and took his uppers that were soaking in the glass and slid them into his mouth, thankful that he had awoken first and hadn’t been seen without his false teeth in place. Daylight was peeping in through a slit in the curtains and revealed a face on the pillow next to him with smeared red lips and a tangle of hair with a silvery orange tincture. Traber cringed. Somehow, the cigarette girl had aged ten years overnight and Traber was mortified. For one crazy moment, he thought he had brought home the wrong lady. While he was desperate for affection, he still had his pride as he envisioned the ridicule he would face if the Wattles saw his latest conquest. Well, he had better wake her up and get it over with, he grumbled to himself.
Traber had acquiesced on the plan to kill Braun but was happy to leave the details to the Wattles. However, he had not been consulted on and, in fact, had no knowledge of the ill-fated decision to scare Meacham off by tampering with his wife’s car. As he hurriedly drove the cigarette girl home, he started to daydream about Havana and how pleasant it would be to go back there for an extended stay once the deal with Devereux was consummated.
“You will call me, Governor?” she asked as Traber pulled the car up to her house. “Of course, dear” said Traber, clearly distracted. “Myrna” she said, trying to look happy. “What?” he stammered. “Myrna Strong” she replied icily. “You never asked my name” she said with a glare before slamming the car door and walking away.
***
When Traber heard the full story about Bobby Mildrake from the Wattles that evening, he was panic-stricken. “Fortunately, your name is not connected to Braun or Mildrake yet, as far as we know, so we should all be safe here for a few days. If Mildrake confesses - and we have to plan as if he will - Meacham has probably already been at our cottage. It is time for all of us to disappear as soon as we complete the transaction with Devereux.” Mayor Wattle spoke calmly and slowly as his wife sat sphinx-like in the background. But even Wattle’s matter of fact tone did nothing to quell Traber’s growing, paralytic fear.
“But where will we go, Wattle?” Traber finally blurted out, no longer able to contain his sense of utter desperation. “We won’t be going anywhere, Stewart” Mrs. Wattle interjected. “Traveling together would be unwise. Even Adelbert and I will be splitting up for a period of time. You might consider returning to Havana.” Traber was not normally the discerning type but even he could not mistake the contempt in her voice. It was that palpable.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Swap
Moe Bargani called Pinky the day that the Wattles were moving in with Traber. After a few minutes, he asked to speak with Siebert and informed him that the caper in Parlor City was taking too long and Pinky’s assistance was urgently required back in Miami. Bargani had arranged for one of his henchmen to fly to Parlor City and drive Pinky’s Chrysler back to Florida. Pinky would be getting on a plane, his “fear of flying be damned”, as Bargani put it.
The Nose’s recent dictatorial approach was getting on Siebert’s nerves and he decided right then that the bond caper would be his last partnership with the Miami mobster. Instead of revealing his irritation, Siebert calmly informed Bargani that his timing was fortuitous. They would, in fact, secure the bonds the next morning and everyone could depart the same day. Stella and he would take a circuitous train route South, by way of Chicago. When Bargani suggested that Pinky bring the German bearer bonds back on the plane, Siebert thanked him but declined the offer. “If the plane goes down, we all lose our investment, partner” Siebert said, straining to sound casual and light-hearted. “You are always thinking one step ahead, my friend” said Bargani, adding “It is best that we take no chances. I will see you, then, in about a week and we can conclude our business. Now, let me say a few comforting words to the little man. I trust you will not make any jokes about plane crashes with him in the room.”
***
The next morning, everything was packed into both cars and Siebert went to the office to pay the final room bill. It had been worked out that Pinky’s Chrysler would be parked on a side road near the airport and Stella would remain with it while Siebert and Pinky drove in the rental car to Traber’s horse farm. If everything went “according to Hoyle”, the transaction would be completed before lunch and everyone could depart on schedule. They had rehearsed their lines the night before for what Pinky referred to as “the final session with the dupes” and both men felt comfortable with their roles.
***
Traber was too nervous to walk out to greet his guests upon their arrival and sent Wattle to usher them in. Once inside, Siebert announced that Pinky would make a final inspection of the bonds to complete the authentication process. “I am happy to announce, gentlemen, that I have another cashier’s check here in the amount of $775,000 to conclude our transaction”, Siebert said pleasantly while patting the breast pocket of his suit.
Mrs. Wattle had busied herself in the kitchen and e
ntered the room with a coffee tray. She was not happy to be relegated to domestic duties but agreed that, under the circumstances, it was expedient. Her mood improved when she noticed that the girl was not there. Pleasantries and small talk ensued as everyone fussed with their coffee cups.
Pinky coughed and then cleared his throat. The Wattles and Traber turned to him with anticipation as if he were about to say something momentous. “If I might complete my examination in some quiet place with good lighting, that would be very much appreciated. You will all sit here, please, and enjoy your coffee but will not disturb me, please?” Pinky looked stern and the room went silent while his question hung in the air. Finally, Mrs. Wattle spoke up. “I believe you have a room in the back with a large table, Stewart, that would be suitable for Mr. Benjamin’s purposes. And, of course, we will not disturb you Mr. Benjamin while you complete your review.” Traber stood up abruptly and spilled coffee on his trousers while pointing to the left. Siebert looked bemused but everyone else in the room ignored Traber’s discomfiture.
“Dear,” Mrs. Wattle said deferentially, turning to her husband, “If you will retrieve the documents, I will escort Mr. Benjamin to the back room.” Traber sat back down and busied himself tamping his soggy pant leg with a napkin, relieved that the dark fabric made the results of his clumsiness less evident.
After about fifteen minutes of awkward chatter mixed with silent intervals, Pinky came to the door and everyone looked to him with eager anticipation. “Mr. Devereux, can you join me, please?” Pinky’s voice was soft and low but had the effect of instantly inducing fear in the Wattles and Traber. Siebert smiled reassuringly and followed Pinky out of the room, only to quickly return with a grimace on his face. “It appears that we may have a problem, folks, a very serious problem, in fact. Please come with me and Mr. Benjamin will explain.”
Marching into the room behind Siebert, the Wattles and Traber could see that Pinky had taken off his suit jacket and was bent over a long table with the German bearer bonds spread out in neat rows. He was peering through a small magnifying hand lens positioned a fraction of an inch above one of the documents, scowling as he examined it closely. He then moved rapidly back and forth between the documents, inspecting one after the other with an increasingly dark visage.
Finally, he looked up and exclaimed sharply, “They’re forgeries. Very good ones, mind you, but forgeries nonetheless. Look here, at the blurry image on the seal. And the paper, it’s from an offset press instead of engraved plates.
“I am sorry, Mr. Devereux, but I cannot certify the authenticity of these bonds. Your clients here have been swindled” concluded Pinky, dropping the small glass magnifier on the table in exasperation and gesturing at the Wattles and Traber in the process, as if they might somehow be complicit in the apparent fraud.
“How can this be?” Traber blurted out, unable to contain himself. “My partner, recently deceased I am sorry to say, acquired these bonds from a very reputable source in Germany, a major bank I believe. This is preposterous, it just can’t be.” The Wattles winced but would not forget Traber’s allusion to the deceased Woodrow Braun as his partner.
“I am sorry to tell you, sir, that there are con artists creating fake documents in every country – including Germany - and I have no doubt that your partner did not know that he was being defrauded. Here, take a closer look at the flaws. I am embarrassed, quite frankly, not to have caught them on my first inspection.”
Everyone except Siebert gathered closely around Pinky, desperate for any hint that he might reverse his opinion. “So there it is. Again, I’m not sure how I missed these flaws earlier but that’s why we conduct a final review. Well, that’s that, Mr. Devereux, my work is done here”, said Pinky sharply, seemingly indifferent to the looks of amazement on the faces of Traber and the Wattles.
Siebert drew them out of their silent reverie. “Well, this is indeed a shocking turn. A major disappointment to us all. I don’t have to tell you that I have absorbed considerable expense on this engagement but, of course, have no way to recoup my costs since my fee was contingent upon completing the transaction.” Siebert lowered his head and shook it back and forth as the Wattles and Traber looked on, hoping that what they had just heard was somehow just a scene out of a movie.
“I really must be going, Mr. Devereux”, Pinky said, breaking the silence. “You will recall that I have a flight this afternoon?” Siebert nodded and Pinky started to pack items in his valise as the Wattles and Traber stared at the array or worthless bonds spread across the table. “Forgeries” Pinky murmured, “completely worthless but nicely done – well, almost” he concluded, driving the stake just a little deeper into the hearts of the victims. Siebert listened in admiration as Pinky delivered this final plunge of the dagger. It was “fiscal theater” worthy of encomium and Stella would have loved to be in the audience.
Wattle was the first to recover as Siebert and Pinky started walking into the main room. “I guess I should say thank you for your efforts, Mr. Devereux, but somehow I think I would choke on the words. This is a bitter pill to swallow for all of us” Wattle said, looking off in the distance and not prepared to meet Siebert’s steady gaze.
“About the cashier’s check, Mr. Wattle?” Siebert said sympathetically. “Oh, I know we won’t be getting that now, Mr. Devereux. Don’t take me for a foolish man” said Wattle, gesturing with a slight movement of his head to Traber.
“Of course, I don’t” said Siebert. “But I was referring to the cashier’s check given to you earlier as a deposit when we took one of the bonds for inspection.”
“Yes, indeed. I’m sorry. It has been a very disconcerting morning. That check is in my safe at our cottage. Would it be convenient to meet there in the morning? We had a gas leak there yesterday, as you know, and had to vacate rather abruptly but I have been told we can return tomorrow. In any event, I am not sure any of us are up to going anywhere today. You understand?” Wattle said almost beseechingly.
Siebert agreed to call Wattle later that day to arrange a time to meet at the cottage. It was all part of the game now, these final torments, but Siebert enjoyed playing out the drama right to the end. The cashier’s check was worthless and Siebert would be on a train to Chicago before the sun set. If Wattle tried to cash the check, he would experience even greater misery when he discovered that it was worthless – just like the bonds lying on the table in the next room. Most likely, at that very moment, he would know that he had been swindled out of a very valuable cache of bonds. He might never figure out how it had been done. As for Traber, well he was a hopeless clown.
For Wattle’s part, he was already thinking of a hasty retreat to the gambling tables of Tampa, where he was sure his luck would change, as much as a return visit would displease his wife. Despite what he had told Siebert, the cashier’s check was actually in his coat pocket and would be a welcome addition to their travel fund. By tomorrow, there was nothing that Devereux could do about it, he said to himself.
Traber followed closely behind Pinky, gesticulating widely and beseeching him to return and take another look at the bonds. Pinky said nothing but waved the Governor off as he followed Siebert out the front door.
***
As Siebert and Pinky were leaving Traber’s horse farm to rendezvous with Stella near the airport, an anonymous tip was received at the Parlor City Police Department. Meacham was in Chief Braddock’s office, frustrated by the failure to find the Wattles and fearful that they had left town, when “Wacky” Donohue rushed in from the front desk with an urgent message.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The Departures
Stella was sitting in Pinky’s Chrysler flipping through the latest sensational issue of Confidential Magazine, smiling at a picture of Errol Flynn when she heard the sound of a car. She looked to her right as Siebert pulled up next to her and looked over with a smug grin creasing his face. They met between the cars and hugged as Pinky looked on.
Pinky went to the trunk of his car to re
trieve his luggage and move it to the rental car. When he looked up, Siebert and Stella were talking softly and exchanging smiles. Was this romantic lover boy standing in front of him really the cold, sinister con man that Bargani had described, Pinky wondered? “We better get going, Mr. Devereux. Here’s the valise with the bonds. Sure you don’t want me to take them on the plane?”
“That detail has already been resolved with your boss, Pinky” said Siebert. He was in an excellent mood at the moment but was still annoyed by Pinky’s impertinence.
“Nicely done, Pinky” Siebert said when they pulled into the airport, turning to face his diminutive cohort in the back seat. “You are a skilled artist. The flaws you inserted into the fake bonds were a priceless touch. Now, that does sound a bit ironic, doesn’t it? But I must add that your dramatic talents were worthy of the stage. I wish Lily here could have witnessed your performance. Well, safe travels and no doubt we will see each other again soon.”
“I am not sure we will ever meet again, Mr. Devereux, but if we do it will be at the behest of the High Pillow. And as for you, Miss Sanswhite, may I say that it has been a distinct pleasure having you as my daughter the last few weeks? Before I commit another faux pas by kissing your hand, I will just bid you adieu.” Pinky bowed his head slightly, grabbed his suitcase and quickly exited the car before walking jauntily into the airport without looking back.
Stella had been charmed by Pinky and marveled at his talents as well as his refined, self-possessed style. In a way, he had mesmerized her just as Siebert had done. When she turned to Siebert, he was clearly annoyed and she looked surprised, certain that he couldn’t be jealous. “He did that in the car on the ride north, all that pretentious French talk. He knew I didn’t like it then and yet he chose to irritate me right at the end. I believe he was mocking me, Stella.”
Return To Parlor City Page 12