Hoch's Ladies

by Edward D. Hoch

  He nodded. “With the proviso it be limited to one year, with any additional periods to be negotiated. Here, they drew up this revised contract and faxed it to me. There are two copies.”

  This was where it got awkward. She skimmed through the words without really seeing them and finally said, “Mike Brentnor is the one who’d have to sign this for the store. I’m just along to handle the promotional aspects.”

  “That’s why I wanted to speak to you alone, Miss Holt, to discuss our joint interest in promotion, though I’ll tell you that in any case I always prefer dealing with an attractive young woman. You must realize that anything which reflects badly on the Tri-City Comets is certain to hurt sales of our merchandise, in Mayfield’s and every other store.”

  “Of course.”

  “I understand that when the police went to that bus driver’s trailer on the reservation yesterday, they found you with him.”

  “We were talking, yes.”

  “About what, may I ask?”

  “About the killing of your office manager. I’ve had some success helping the police in the past. I thought I might lend a hand.”

  “I believe Detective Cena is in charge of the investigation.”

  “He used some bad reasoning yesterday in casting suspicion on John Nez, the bus driver. Because the boxes of bats were stored inside the bus rather than in the baggage compartment, he thought it meant that Nez had wanted a weapon handy to kill Willa. But if he’d planned to kill her he certainly would have brought a weapon with him. He wouldn’t have found it necessary to load twelve heavy boxes of baseball bats into the bus so he could use one of them. When I asked Nez about it, he told me it was Willa who’d wanted the boxes inside the bus so she could check the order. He also told me the bats were cheap ones from across the border.”

  “What does that prove?”

  “Nothing in itself, but I’d like to examine them.”

  “Do you really think we’re smuggling cocaine or something inside baseball bats?”

  Susan smiled. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I do read occasional stories of players corking their bats to add distance to their hits. If a cylinder of cork can be inserted into a bat, I suppose something else could too.”

  “Need I remind you once again that anything hurting the Comets hurts Mayfield’s as well?”

  Susan folded the revised contract and put it in her purse. “I’ll show this to Mike. But there’s no way we can be part of a cover-up, especially since an innocent man could be charged with a crime he didn’t commit.”

  “Don’t be too certain of John Nez’s innocence,” Roitler said. “He may not have told you that he was having an extra-marital affair with the victim.”

  “With Willa Bright?” She knew the surprise showed on her face. “But the team just arrived here.”

  “Willa was part of the advance guard. She’d been here for three weeks, making arrangements for everything, including the team bus to run between the hotel and the stadium. She’s the one who hired Nez.”

  “And you think he killed her?”

  “It may have been a lovers’ quarrel. Let it go at that, Miss Holt.”

  She left the office not knowing what to think. The stadium roof was open to the morning sun and she paused for a few minutes, watching some players tossing a ball back and forth. Another was swinging a bat. On the plane out from New York she’d read newspaper accounts of the new expansion teams. She knew they liked to build their stadiums downtown rather than on the outskirts of a city, to make a trip to the game an event which could include dinner before and a drink after. It brought new business to the entire area. The expansion teams acquired their players by first hiring some free-agent amateurs and then picking from a special expansion-team pro draft. After a few trades with existing teams, they were ready for spring training, where the final choices would be made. Then it was on to opening day.

  She realized with a jolt that she had the power to change that scenario for the Tri-City Comets.

  Back at the hotel Susan found Mike Brentnor pacing the lobby waiting for her. “Where’ve you been, for God’s sake? When I saw the car was missing I figured you’d gone off someplace.”

  She told him where she’d been and what Hans Roitler had to say about her activities: “He really didn’t like me going out to the reservation to talk with that bus driver. I think he’s hiding something, Mike. He takes the position that what’s bad for the Comets is bad for Mayfield’s.”

  “Well, he’s right in a sense. The whole deal depends on the success of his new team.”

  She handed over the contract Roitler had signed. “Then you’d better sign this.”

  “You’ve got it! Good!” He started reading through it for the changes. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Now where are you going? We should get an afternoon plane back to New York.”

  “There’s something I have to do first.”

  She didn’t tell him that she was on her way to see Detective Cena. The Police and Public Safety Building was on South Third Street and she drove directly there.

  Cena didn’t seem surprised to see her. “You have something to add to yesterday’s statement, Miss Holt.”

  “I have. Are those bats still here?”

  “The bus was towed in as evidence, along with the bats. We’d planned on returning them to the team today, all but the murder weapon.”

  “You’d better look inside one of them. Cut it open, or whatever you have to do.”

  Cena allowed himself a slight smile. “We’ve already done that, miss. My men X-rayed one and it looked suspicious.”

  “Cocaine?”

  He shook his head. “Anabolic steroids, the sort sometimes used by athletes. Only this is a new stronger type being made in Latin America. They’re illegal in this country. I believe Mr. Roitler wanted to ensure a winning team in his first year. We’re checking to see what laws were violated. Now tell me what you know about all this.”

  Susan took a deep breath and told him.

  There was no rock music playing at John Nez’s mobile home this time. Though the Toyota was still in the driveway and Nez had been let out on bail, she knew he wasn’t home. His wife came to the door and confirmed it. “The police came for him a few minutes ago. They want to question him further. Something about those bats.”

  “Can I come in, Mrs. Nez.”

  “Sure!” She held open the screen door and Susan entered. “The place is a mess. I’ve got to get some cleaning done.”

  Susan took a seat. “Your husband is in trouble,” she began at once. “The police have found illegal steroids inside those bats, apparently smuggled across the border.”

  The news seemed to surprise her. “He wasn’t involved in anything like that, was he?”

  “They’re not sure. Since Willa Bright wanted the bats inside the bus so she could check them, it seems likely that she knew. One problem is that the way your husband tells it, only he could have killed her. He insists he was alone on the bus with her when it happened. That’s why he panicked and ran away.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  Susan looked into the woman’s eyes. “No, I don’t. They say he was having an affair with her, one that started some weeks back when she rented the team bus and got him as a driver.” Delores Nez’s expression never changed. “If he’d planned to kill her, he’d have had some other weapon with him. And I don’t see it as a spur-of-the-moment thing. I think someone else did it.”

  “Without John seeing or hearing them?”

  “He was driving the bus, playing loud rock music, and there is one place where the killer could have hidden.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “In the lavatory at the back of the bus. The killer emerged, picked up one of the bats, hit Willa Bright with it, and returned to the hiding place. When the police searched, it was empty. But of course the killer would have left the bus right after your husband.”

  Delores Nez smiled slightly. “You’re forgetting one thi
ng. The killer had no opportunity to board the bus in the first place. John would never have left his bus unguarded. And if he did, Willa would have been there.”

  “Exactly,” Susan agreed. “The killer had no opportunity aboard the bus and hide in the lavatory, once he began the trip. The killer had to hide there before the trip began.”

  “That shows how wrong you are! He didn’t pick up the bus at the garage.

  It was parked in our driveway overnight.”

  “I know that,” said Susan quietly. “He told me earlier.”

  “So no one could have hidden in it before he drove to the stadium to pick up that woman.”

  “You could have, Delores. You could have slipped onto the bus just before he left.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “To catch Willa and your husband together, to confirm what you already suspected. After you heard the talking, after John turned up the music, you came out of the lavatory, hit her while she checked them over. You killed her, Delores, and hid in the lavatory until John left the bus. Then made your own escape and took a cab right home, arriving here before he did.”

  “I’d have been a fool to do that,” she argued. “For all I know, he might have driven the bus to the police station instead of abandoning it.”

  “You were married to him. You knew about his past record. It was a good guess that he’d run. Besides, you hadn’t planned to kill her until you heard them talking. Isn’t that true?”

  There was a moment’s silence and then she spoke up angrily. “I hadn’t planned it but I’m glad I killed her! She came here for a few weeks and stole my husband away. John was a good man until she came to town. She didn’t care about him, not really. She’d be back home in April. He was only another conquest, and I couldn’t let that happen. We may live out here in a trailer, but I don’t let women like her treat me like dirt!”

  “You have to tell the police, Delores.”

  She snorted at that. “Police? You think they can prove anything? There’s no evidence against me.”

  “They’ll find the cab that picked you up and brought you back here.”

  “That proves nothing.”

  Then Susan told her. “You know why the police took your husband away just before I arrived, Delores? It was so he wouldn’t be playing his loud rock music. It was so this wire I’m wearing could pick up every word you said.”

  She dove for Susan in a sudden blind fury. If there’d been a baseball bat handy she’d have swung it before Detective Cena ever got through the door. As it was, he had to yank her off Susan and quickly handcuff her.

  The Mayfield’s contract was never signed. Hans Roitler was too busy trying to explain the smuggled steroids to the authorities, the baseball commissioner, and the press. Mike and Susan flew back to an unhappy Saul Marx.

  Six weeks later the Tri-City Comets lost their opening game.

  A CONVERGENCE OF CLERICS

  The first thing that struck her as odd was the number of Catholic priests who seemed to have booked passage on the maiden transatlantic voyage of the Dawn Neptune, one of the largest and most luxurious cruise ships afloat. Susan Holt stood on the upper deck watching them board and realized there must be fifty or more of them.

  Of course, for a ship carrying twenty-five hundred passengers, that wasn’t a large percentage, but it was still worth noting for Susan. She was on board as director of promotions for Manhattan’s largest and most prestigious department store, and her job was to gauge public reaction to the opening of the very first Mayfield’s branch on a cruise ship.

  She was one of those who’d pushed for the seagoing store at board meetings a year or more ago, when the ship was still being built. “Where else can you find a captive audience this large, in one place for seven days, or fourteen days if they do the round trip? Every one of those twenty-five hundred people is going to walk past our shop a couple of times a day, and chances are every one of them will come in to look around at least once during the voyage. The shops were arranged around an atrium three stories high that wouldn’t have seemed out of place in New York’s newest luxury hotel. The space allotted to Mayfield’s shop, some two thousand square feet, was almost as large as the ship’s casino. Following the customary life-jacket drill upon sailing, Susan was standing outside the shop, admiring the look of the place, when Sid Cromwell, the ship’s security officer, came along behind her. “Thinking of buying something?”

  “Hi, Sid. It’s impressive, isn’t it?” She’d known Sid when he worked security at Mayfield’s years ago.

  “This your first store on a cruise ship?”

  “The first, but maybe not the last. What are all the priests doing onboard?”

  “We’re sailing to Italy, remember? There’s a big papal conference scheduled for next week and we offered discounts to any clergy attending it. We have fifty-six, I believe. They were hoping for more, but even with the discounts I guess it’s cheaper to fly.”

  They were departing from New York and sailing across the Atlantic with stops at the Azores and Gibraltar before going on to Naples and then to Greece. The cruise line had chartered buses to take the clergymen from Naples to Rome, about a three-hour trip. “You taking the round trip with us?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Flying home from Italy. Just wanted to see how the shop managed on its maiden voyage and how we can improve it next time.” She left him and entered the shop. Lisa Mandrake, the manager, was ringing up a sale. “That your first one?” Susan asked as the customer departed

  with a familiar Mayfield’s shopping bag on her arm.

  Lisa was younger than Susan, a chipper girl in her twenties who’d come to New York to be an actress and ended up at Mayfield’s. She was a good choice to manage their first floating store. “Third so far, and we’re barely out of port.” She was all smiles, as were her two assistants.

  “I’ll check with you periodically, to get a fix on what’s selling best.”

  One of the priests had entered while they talked and he interrupted to ask if they had any men’s sport shirts. “Right over here, Father,” Lisa directed him.

  He glanced at Susan, somewhat embarrassed, apparently feeling an explanation was called for. “I knew we’d be wearing our black suits and collars in Rome. It didn’t occur to me that my fellow clergymen would wear more casual attire aboard ship.”

  Susan thought she should introduce herself. “I’m Susan Holt, Mayfield’s director of promotions. This is our first shipboard shop and we’re interested in customer reactions.”

  He beamed at her, looking younger than he probably was. “Father John Ullman from Omaha. This is a first for me, too, my first cruise. So far I’m enjoying it immensely.” She guessed him to be in his mid thirties, with a friendly, youthful face and dark hair showing the first strands of gray at the temples.

  “Is this your first trip to Rome?”

  “I flew over for the Holy Year Jubilee in 2000, and I’ve wanted to go back ever since. It’s a wonderful city, especially for Catholics.”

  Lisa helped him pick out a dark blue sport shirt with a pattern of small, subtle palm trees and he left quite pleased. “We should run a special on sportswear for priests,” she said with a chuckle.

  An older priest came in, introducing himself as Father Broderick. He already had a sport shirt, but was looking for some socks. “Any color but black,” he told Lisa. “I think I’m the eldest in our flock and I don’t want to look it.”

  Susan chatted with him for a few minutes and then went off.

  She was at the first seating for dinner, and she joined more than a thousand other passengers in a huge dining room that ran the width of the ship. Sid Cromwell had been assigned to the same table, and he arranged to sit next to her. “So what have you been doing with your life, Susan? Are you still living with Russell?’’

  “Not for nearly eight years. You’re really behind the times, Sid. I’m a fulltime career woman now, in charge of Mayfield promotions.”

  He reach
ed over and tucked in a loose strand of her hair. “You must do something besides work all the time.”

  “Sure. I lie awake nights thinking of more work I can take on.”

  “You won’t have much to do on this crossing, just check in at the shop a couple of times a day. We could relax and enjoy ourselves.’’

  “Aren’t you working security?”

  “I get time off. Are you sharing a cabin with someone?”

  She shook her head. “All to myself. It’s one of the perks of the job.”

  “Suppose I come by your stateroom tonight around ten when I’m off duty. We could go up to the Crow’s Nest on the top deck for a nightcap.”

  She considered the offer. “Ring my room when you’re off. If I’m free I’ll meet you up there. I’m in 556.”

  Father Ullman wasn’t the only priest who’d come aboard the Dawn Neptune without casual clothes. After dinner Susan saw a second one, about the same age as Father Ullman but with thinner hair and more of a paunch. She approached him as he was leaving the dining room. “Pardon me, Father.”

  He turned toward her with a smile. “Yes, my dear?”

  “I’m Susan Holt from the Mayfield’s shop here on board. We’ve had some priests stop in to look over our sport shirts. I thought I’d mention it in case you wanted to be a bit more casual on shipboard.”

  “Well, thank you, young lady. I’m Father Dempsey from Little Rock. I might take you up on that suggestion.”

  “You’ve got quite a group going to Rome.”

  “This is just a small contingent. We have another couple hundred flying over. I preferred this more leisurely method of travel, even if it is more expensive.”

  “The Dawn Neptune is quite a ship,” Susan said.

  “That it is! I already had the tour of the ship’s bridge and met the captain.”

  “Captain Mason. We had some meetings with him last month about opening our shop. You’ll see him again at tomorrow night’s dinner. It’s more of a dress-up affair and he’ll be greeting everyone at the door. They’ll even take your picture with him, if you like. That’s the way these things usually work.”