“Yes, the national mythology has it he helped beat back the Fenians in ’66.”
“Why are you both looking at me?” Emmie asked.
“Well, Emmie, they were your people,” I pointed out.
“I hope it isn’t a sore point, Miss McGinnis,” the Inspector smiled.
“No, not for my people. That would be the occupation and famine that incited the Fenians.”
That effectively killed the conversation for a moment, but then the Inspector turned to less sensitive matters.
“Livingston and Rawlins have filled me in on the events of the last couple days, but I was hoping you two would go over with me all that you know.”
We did that and it took most of an hour. Unlike Livingston, Stark took the rather complicated tale in stride, making careful notes throughout. Then he recapitulated it to us just to make sure he had it all straight.
I was developing a very positive opinion of Stark. But when I poked fun at his city’s blue laws, he confessed he was all for them. In fact, he was an officer in a temperance league. I assumed this was a ruse of some sort. I knew for a fact that if liquor sales were ever eliminated in New York, the average cop’s income would fall by half. Their informal system of taxation was as well known as it was lucrative and I found it hard to believe the police in Toronto hadn’t taken it up too.
“Our train gets in to Buffalo at 11:40,” Stark said. “We should be able to catch the 11:50 to Rochester from the same station. I’m rather anxious to get there as soon as possible.”
“To have first claim on Mason?”
“Yes, something like that. From what you’ve told me, he’s wanted elsewhere in New York, but for nothing as serious as murder. I’m hoping I can convince the Rochester authorities that the simplest course would be for them to deport him back to Canada. Then I could have him in Toronto by tomorrow. I hope that won’t interfere with your objective?”
“I guess not. I was to see that he was taken into custody. The only problem might be if he were acquitted in Toronto.”
“Well, in that case he could be extradited back to New York.”
“Yes, I suppose so. Was Whitner seen leaving the boat in Rochester?”
“No, no mention was made of him. Do you think he’ll return to Buffalo?”
“No. If he was on the boat, he saw them take Mason and knows any opportunity for blackmail is gone. And by now, he’d know Elwell is dead. He’ll probably head back to New York and look for some new game.”
We arrived in Buffalo in time to catch the 11:50 local, but I convinced the Inspector it made more sense to take the one o’clock express and have a leisurely lunch in Buffalo. Emmie realized she had never wired her mother about staying away another night and rushed home.
The Inspector decided he’d rather spend the time looking in on Detective Donahy than at a restaurant, so I accompanied him to police headquarters and introduced him. Then I told Stark I’d meet him at the station at one and walked over to the Iroquois. I found Keegan in his room.
“How was your little trip?” I asked.
“My trip? Oh, fine, fine. I take it you have news?”
“Yes. They have Mason in Rochester.”
“In Rochester? Why did he come back to the states? That wasn’t very wise of him.”
“Because he’s wanted for murder in Canada.”
“Murder? Who’d he shoot?”
“Charles Elwell. You remember him—he was the secretary of the Eastern Elevator Company who had disappeared. He was hiding out in Toronto, with a new name, a new wife, and two little girls.”
“Yes. That was your other endeavor. I guess now those policies will be paying out.”
“Yes, he’s definitely dead now,” I said. “The terms of our agreement on Mason were that he be in the hands of the authorities. Does it matter if he’s sent back to Canada?”
“No, though Cowell might give you a hard time. That man hates to part with money, even if it isn’t his own.”
“Speaking of money, do you think I could get an advance on the $300?”
“I’m a little short right now, but meet me for dinner downstairs at eight and I’ll have something for you then. Will you be heading back to New York tomorrow?”
“No, I don’t think so. Why?”
“Just curious. I’ll be staying on a few days as well.”
I rushed back to McLeod’s and made the mistake of checking at the desk for messages. Not having seen me for two days, the clerk asked that I make my account current—requiring a further dip into Emmie’s cash reserves. After I paid him, he handed over a message from Carlotta saying she’d be in town until Thursday. I went up and put on a new shirt and collar and had just enough time to grab a bite at a lunch counter before heading to the station.
We all boarded the one o’clock express and the Inspector opened the conversation as soon as we were seated.
“There are some parts of your scenario that seem unresolved,” he said. “For instance, the idea that Mason left carrying two pistols and then disposed of them. I had some men comb the neighborhood last evening and they found nothing. And I can’t believe Mason would go very far carrying these guns, one of which was the murder weapon. I suppose it’s possible he hid them nearby and we just haven’t found them. Or someone else did find them and kept it to himself.”
“That was just an explanation that fit the facts,” I admitted. “I can’t say I like it either, but you have a witness who says Whitey Schuler arrived after the shots. And Whitner was observed at the hotel during the shooting. Who else is there?”
“If you’d spent time as a policeman, Mr. Reese, you’d know not to put too much faith in witnesses. For instance, the bartender and the waiter at the Queen’s had insisted that Whitner never left the hotel. Yet when I had them brought back in last evening, the waiter said he stepped outside at one point, just for a breath of air, and Whitner was outside apparently doing the same thing. But neither saw Whitner get up and leave. They saw Whitner at various times between six and ten and assumed he had never left.”
“Does that make Whitner a suspect?” Emmie asked.
“Well, certainly not a likely one, but a possibility,” he responded. “It’s not that I have a good alternative to Mason. I just can’t see a rational man acting in the way you describe. Think what you would do in that situation. You’ve just shot a man dead. You don’t know how much time you have before someone comes to investigate the shots. Wouldn’t you leave as quickly as possible?”
“But we know Mason didn’t leave immediately because he took the time to switch identities,” I reminded him.
“I know what I would have done,” Emmie said. “I’d have taken the gun I had used to shoot my uncle—I mean the victim—and placed it in his hand. Then left with his gun.”
“And then the simple-minded police would assume suicide?” the Inspector smiled.
“Why would it be so far-fetched?” Emmie asked. “What if he was being blackmailed and saw no way out?”
“For one thing, a shot fired like that would leave powder burns, and there were none,” the Inspector explained. “For another, the first bullet hit the window sill on the other side of the room. But I grant you, it would make better sense than the murderer taking both guns out of the room.”
“What were the other points that bothered you?” I asked.
“Well, one was that switching of identities you just brought up. Or rather, false identities. The only reason we linked this to Mason is because the papers of Joseph Sedley were found on Elwell. If he hadn’t placed them there himself, what clue would we have that he had fired the shot?”
“But Mason must have realized that that alias had been compromised,” I answered. “He needed a new identity, which is why he took Elwell’s papers in the name of Lester Redstone. And by linking the Sedley name to Elwell, he might give himself some more time to get away while the police tried to figure out who exactly Elwell was. You see, he wouldn’t have known I would be there.”
> “Yes, I suppose that’s true,” he conceded. “There is one other thing though. After the shooting, why did he risk going to Port Hope? How could he be sure Miss Parker hadn’t been followed there? My natural inclination would be to go in some other direction entirely, like to Chicago.”
“That’s easy,” Emmie chimed in. “They’re in love. You should have seen her last evening at the hotel, hoping to hear from Mason.”
“Yes,” the Inspector agreed. “She did allow herself to be used in his escape. Though it didn’t help him much.”
We arrived in Rochester and took a car to police headquarters, where the Inspector met with the chief of detectives. Then we were all led to a room and Mason was brought in to be questioned.
“We can, of course, place you at the scene with Elwell,” the Inspector started. “And we know you were shot there.”
“Yes, but I didn’t shoot Elwell,” Mason insisted. “I’ve never carried a gun. And why would I shoot him?”
“For the very good reason he shot you first,” the Inspector answered.
“Elwell didn’t shoot me. What made you think that?”
“Who else was there?”
“I don’t know who fired the shots.”
“What time did you meet Elwell?”
“He’d told me to be at his building at half past eight. I was waiting outside by then and he arrived a little later. He led me up to that office and lit a gas jet. It was still dark, so I went over and stood by the window, but we were just talking anyway. Then, all of a sudden, someone swung open the door and fired. The first shot was meant for me. I dropped to the floor and another shot went off. I just stayed on the floor for a time. When I rose, I was alone with Elwell, and he was dead.”
“Did you see the killer?”
“All I saw was a flash, then I was on the floor. Then another shot. I waited a good bit before getting up.”
“Then what happened?”
“Well, I went over to Elwell and saw he was dead. I started to leave, but then I got the idea to exchange wallets. I’d been traveling as Joseph Sedley—I imagine you know that.”
“Yes, we were aware of that.”
“That afternoon, I had seen a man asking about Joseph Sedley.”
“Where?”
“The Queen’s Hotel. There in Toronto. I was registered there under Carbury. I came in and asked at the desk for my key and here is this fellow asking if there’s a Joseph Sedley registered there. I could see this guy wasn’t a cop, he was dressed too well. And I imagine there are some real Joseph Sedleys out there. But this wasn’t someone looking for a friend. He even slipped the clerk some cash, and then he describes this Joseph Sedley: a sixty-year-old heavyset man not more than five foot seven. That sounded just like Elwell. Then later it occurred to me that someone must’ve read the cards I’d sent Sadie and assumed they were from Elwell. So when I was standing there with Elwell’s body, I thought I’d just play into that.”
“How did you find out Elwell was in Toronto?” I asked.
“I had known that for a while. He’d been setting up there since before I left Buffalo.”
“So you already knew he was using the name Lester Redstone?”
“Oh, yes. And that building he was killed in was bought years ago.”
“Did you ever stop by his home in Toronto?”
“No, but I’d met him at that same building a few times over the years.”
“Even before he staged his accident on the lake?”
“Yes. As I said, he’d been setting that up for quite a while. He traveled back and forth.”
“Why did you visit him Saturday? Didn’t you arrive in Toronto on Friday?”
“Yes, but Elwell insisted on Saturday. I sent him a letter earlier in the week asking to meet with him. I told him I’d be at the Queen’s Friday registered as Carbury. When I arrived at the Queen’s, there was a note from him telling me to meet him at his building Saturday evening.”
“What were you meeting him about?”
“He wanted to borrow some money. He liked being a landlord and had found another building he wanted to buy.”
“And you were going to lend it to him?”
“Yes. Not as much as he asked for, but a couple thousand.”
“Where did you get the money from?”
“Oh, here and there.”
“And when you switched wallets, you kept the money you had brought?”
“No, I left it in the wallet. I thought his widow, I mean Mrs. Redstone, might be in a tough spot. Did she get the money?”
“He had only twelve dollars on him when we arrived,” the Inspector said.
“Well, someone has that two thousand,” Mason insisted. “Will you check into it, Inspector?”
“Yes, you can be certain I will,” he replied.
We all got up to leave. But first Emmie leaned over and whispered something to Mason. He smiled and thanked her, then we left him.
“Do you mind my asking what you whispered, Miss McGinnis?” the Inspector asked.
“It was a personal message from Miss Parker.” That was all Emmie would say about that, but she did offer that she thought Mason was telling the truth.
“There did seem to be some sincerity to his confession,” the Inspector allowed. “But he’s an admitted swindler. Those people can put sincerity on and take it off the way you or I change hats. That’s how they make their living. And all that about leaving two thousand dollars on the dead man for the aid of his widow was really a bit much.”
“You don’t think that’s true?” Emmie asked.
“No, I do not,” he laughed. “But I will cable my men and have someone look into it, just to be sure.”
“Do you think you’ll have any luck having him deported?” I asked.
“No, unfortunately the warrants issued here will necessitate an extradition hearing. I’m staying on tonight to see if I can speed things along, but if he has a good lawyer, it could be weeks.”
We said good-bye and asked the Inspector to keep us abreast of developments.
18
Emmie and I caught the 5:30 mail train to Buffalo. It was a hot afternoon and inside the coach the air was stifling. It’s a situation where anyone with any sense simply succumbs to slumber. Emmie had other ideas.
“Do you think Mason was telling the truth?” she asked.
“I guess some of it was the truth. But as the Inspector pointed out, a man like Mason gets pretty accustomed to lying. For my purposes, it doesn’t really matter. He’s in the hands of the authorities, so I’ve earned three hundred dollars. And the Elevator Company will get their payment because your uncle is definitely dead and it had nothing to do with them.”
“But after spending all this time on the case, don’t you want to see it through?”
“Sure, I’m curious. But even assuming Mason is telling the truth, he can’t identify the murderer. And he’s the sole witness. The only way for Mason to convince the police he’s innocent is to provide them with another killer.”
“Let’s assume Mason didn’t kill Uncle Charles. Maybe we could identify the killer by reasoning it out. From what the Inspector said, Whitner may have had time to leave the Queen’s, shoot my uncle and Mason, and get back without anyone realizing he’d left.”
“I’ll grant you that’s a possibility, but it would mean Whitner must have come to Toronto with the purpose of killing your uncle. Remember, according to Mason, the killer fired without saying a word. Why would Whitner want to see your uncle dead?”
“Maybe he had some feud with Uncle Charles. Or maybe it was his intent to kill Mason, and he just shot my uncle as a witness.”
“If it wasn’t Mason, I think Whitey is a more likely suspect.”
“Even though the witness saw him arrive after the shots?”
“Look how that waiter at the hotel changed his story about Whitner. With Whitey, at least there’s a clear motive: Conners needed Elwell dead to collect on his loan.”
“Yes, t
hat’s true. But what if it wasn’t Whitner or Whitey?”
“Or Mason?”
“Yes, of course, or Mason.”
“You might not want to speculate about that.”
“You mean Charlie?”
“Sure. He left to take a train out of town Saturday morning. He could easily have been in Toronto. Maybe he knew your uncle was there all along. Now, with me poking around, he felt the secret would get out and his mother would never be able to collect on her policies.”
“That’s absurd. Charlie would never do anything like that. He was traveling on business.”
“Okay, Charlie would never do that.”
“What about the two thousand dollars Mason left in the wallet? If we could find that, we might have the murderer.”
“Mason wasn’t lending your uncle money. If I want to borrow two thousand dollars from a man, and he tells me to meet with him on Friday, I certainly don’t insist that he make it Saturday. And he said he left the money on your uncle after the shots were fired and the killer fled. Where is it?”
“Whitey must have taken it.”
“Well, I grant you Whitey would definitely have taken it if it was there to take. But the police must have searched him after finding him at the murder scene. There was no two thousand dollars.”
“You aren’t helping much.”
“Look, the most likely scenario is Mason came to blackmail your uncle. Sadie and he may have been planning on leaving for Europe, or South America, using the money Sadie expected to collect from the policy on your uncle. But it looked like that might never happen without a body. Maybe Mason had already been blackmailing Elwell for a while. But if he and Sadie went off to parts unknown, this would be his last chance to bleed him. So this time he asked for a large sum. He over-played his hand. Elwell had been willing to pay the smaller amounts, but to meet Mason’s new demand would mean selling the assets he had carefully amassed in Toronto. And he still couldn’t be sure Mason wouldn’t be back for more. He sets the meeting up for Saturday evening because he’s planning to kill Mason and he wants the building empty of witnesses. He shoots, and Mason shoots back. Mason even explained why he switched identities: he thought Whitner was looking for Elwell posing as Joseph Sedley.”
Always a Cold Deck (A Harry Reese Mystery Book 1) Page 15