The Driver

by Steve Bartholomew

  Georg laughed and didn’t answer.

  “So that dagger is a fake,” Greek said. “Anybody else know this?”

  Georg shrugged. “No telling. I’m getting my fill of stories and lies. Anyway, I don’t know if that has anything to do with why Penworthy was killed. Unless maybe somebody found out he was being cheated.”

  Greek said, “I was you, I’d ship out before the Grand Jury meets. Take a trip around the world.”

  That brought a smile to Georg. “Was a time I would have jumped at the chance. I mean sail all the way around. Circumnavigate. I ended up working whalers because the money was better. Now I just want to drive a streetcar and settle down.”

  “Life’s full of surprises, ain’t it? I never thought I’d end up running a crimp house. It beats stapling a mains’l in the middle of a storm.”

  Georg stretched and got to his feet. “That was a great breakfast, Greek. I’m paying you, like it or not. First I’ll have to go back to Mrs. Costello’s to get some more cash. I have some money under a floorboard. You know how I feel about banks.”

  Greek stared at his coffee. “You can’t always trust a floorboard either. You be careful, mate.”

  Mrs. Costello was happy to see him as always. She offered him a meal, but he declined. Then she turned serious.

  “There were some men here, policemen. One of them wore blue, but the other two had regular suits. They said they were detectives. They searched your room. I’m afraid they made a mess.”

  “That’s all right, I may not be staying here much longer. I just came back to get some fresh clothes and a few things.”

  He went up to his room, to find total chaos, clothing strewn all over, closet and drawers emptied, covers torn from the bed. No doubt they would have checked for loose floorboards. He shrugged and rummaged in the mess till he found what he needed, a heavy clasp knife. Then he left the room and went to the end of the hall. A ladder led to the attic. In a back corner, he moved a trunk and used his knife to pry up a board. He took out all his money, both paper and gold, then returned downstairs. He had nearly five hundred dollars, enough to get him by for several months.

  He paid Mrs. Costello his back rent and gave her something extra to have the cleaning woman straighten out his room. But he told her he wasn’t sure when he’d be back. He thought, maybe never if they hang me. But he didn’t say it out loud.

  Instead of turning himself in, he made his way to Montgomery Street and Sutliff Printers. This was a week day, so he knew Genevieve might be too busy to see him. But he wasn’t sure when he’d get another chance.

  She wasn’t too busy. She got a couple of customers out the door and hung the closed sign in the window. She stood close to him, facing him and studying his face.

  “What have you been doing?”

  Suddenly he felt tired and drained, as if arriving at the end of a long, hard voyage. “Are you going to offer me coffee?”

  She gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Of course. Come on upstairs.”

  When they were settled at her kitchen table, with coffee poured, he said, “The Dragon’s Tooth. That knife. It’s not worth ten thousand dollars. It came from a dealer in Hong Kong, but it wasn’t taken from a Chinese museum.” He told her the story in a few words.

  For a minute she sat staring at her cup, then looked up. “So it was all for nothing. Mattias’ deal, I mean. He was to sell the Tooth to Penworthy’s father for a good profit. Then Alexander was to get it back, I don’t know how. He would hold it for ransom with Douvet as go-between. Penworthy’s father would pay, thinking the knife worth even more. Alexander went so far as to plant a made-up story in the Bulletin about how it was stolen from China. The museum was offering half a million to get it back, no questions asked.

  “I didn’t know the knife was a fake. I didn’t find out about Alexander’s scheme until it was too late. Mattias was dead. Then it didn’t seem to matter.”

  “It seems Alexander himself didn’t know it was a hoax. Or so Mr. Long claims.” Georg leaned back in his chair and looked across at her, meeting her eyes. “I don’t think you have yet told me everything. There’s something you’re holding back.”

  She nodded slowly. “I’m sorry. You’re right. There are some matters it’s hard to tell about. I will tell you at the right time. Will you stay here tonight? With me?”

  Looking at her, he had an overwhelming desire to hold her. She was his anchor in a tossing sea. He felt the blood flush his face. He said, “I would like to. But I had better not. I need to see my friend Greek about some important business. I may not be out free much longer.”

  She arose with him. “I shouldn’t worry overmuch about that. That lawyer was to see me. Mr. Heywood. He’s sure he can get you off. He asked me for a deposition. I shall see him tomorrow.”

  He moved toward the door. “A deposition about what? What do you plan to tell him?”

  “I’m not quite sure yet. But don’t worry.”

  Then he was down the stairs and out the door. She left the closed sign in place.

  He went first back to Greek’s house. He asked him to store his money in the safe. Greek was happy to do that. He said, “I can use your cash as security for a loan. The money stays in my safe, but it’s good collateral. I know how to invest it in a new shipping line. I can easy get you ten per cent interest, maybe more.”

  Georg shrugged. “As you like. It’s only cash. I may come back for it, or I may not. I have one more errand to run today, but I’ll be back for supper.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot. There was a message from that lawyer, Heywood. You’re to show up at the Court House day after tomorrow, Friday. Nine a.m. sharp. Also, Heywood says not to worry, he’ll have your case sewed up. Want to see the note?”

  “You know I can’t read it. I’ll be there.” He turned to leave.

  Georg guessed what Genevieve was going to say in her deposition. She had already told him she hadn’t seen the man who stabbed Alexander Penworthy. He believed her. But she might be willing to perjure herself to save his neck. She might be ready turn in Douvet, much as she had hated Penworthy.

  He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He wanted to see Douvet again.

  19

  A Book of Maps

  Douvet, as before, greeted him with a smile and led him back to the office. However Georg got a feeling the man was not happy to see him. Rocelyn was waiting on customers and paid them no attention.

  Georg glanced back over his shoulder. He could see four or five men and two women, all looking at books. He said, “Are you always this busy, sir?”

  “Not always, but clerks and shopkeepers get their pay around this time. They like to read. What may I do for you, m’sieu?” He sat down by his desk without inviting Georg to a chair.

  Georg remained standing. He clasped his hands behind his back. He said, “I am to appear in Court day after tomorrow. The District Attorney wants to close his books on the Penworthy murder case. If he has no evidence, I’m sure he can create some.”

  Douvet, hands on his own knees, watched him. “And how may this concern me, m’sieu?” He showed no sign of wanting to smoke his pipe.

  “I have been asking questions,” Georg said. “Alexander Penworthy was hated by everyone including his own parents. By the way, did you know the Dragon’s Tooth was a hoax? I’m not sure if Alexander knew.”

  Douvet shook his head. “A hoax? Do you mean the dagger was a fraud, not genuine? No, I did not know this. Not that I am surprised. Alexander was full of lies and deceptions. I ask again, how this concerns me?”

  Georg, restless, took a pace away, then back. He said, “Your step-daughter, Rocelyn. Was she ever in danger from Alexander?”

  At this Douvet looked more grim. “She was. I shall not go into details, but he made certain threats. M’sieu Penworthy had contacts in the world of criminals. He was capable of arranging for her abduction, or worse, unless I did as he told me. I was forced to act from time to time as his fence, disposing of stolen goods and
so on. He tried to pay me, but I refused. That would have made me from a victim into an accomplice. Now, will there be anything else, M’sieu Vintner?” He moved as if about to stand.

  “Only one more question, Douvet. Alexander, from all I hear, was a bad man in need of killing. Did you kill him?”

  Douvet shook his head slowly, as if weary, as if already tired of thinking about the question. He got to his feet. “No, m’sieu, I did not. I will admit to you in private that I did witness the one who stabbed him. For my own reasons, I will not tell this to the Police or the courts. One moment, I just remembered something.”

  Douvet went to a back corner of his office and retrieved a large leather-bound book from its shelf. He handed it to the Driver.

  “I thought you might like this. I recall that you say you do not read. This book may suit you. It has not many words. They are in French anyway, so you probably would not comprehend if you could read them.

  “It is a book of maps. There are maps of every known region of Earth, at the time it was printed. But it is an old book, and maps have changed. Still, the pictures are beautiful to look at.”

  Georg opened the book at random and studied the illustration. “But this is wrong. The West Indies are not like that. This island has been rotated by ninety degrees.”

  “Yes, you are correct. The mapmaker believed his own charts and information. But maps change.”

  He moved away and looked out a window at the street. “We make our own maps today, believing our charts and our knowledge and what others have reported to us. We think what we see and hear is the truth. And yet someday, men will look at our maps, the pictures we have drawn, and see that we were mistaken.”

  Douvet patted him once on the shoulder. “Take the book and study it, mon ami. You must work out your own charts. I will see you in Court on Friday.”

  He spent the next day, Thursday, in a restless mood. Greek had once again urged him to leave the country, to sign aboard any ship headed anywhere. Georg had no wish to be a fugitive. Among other things, he would likely never see Genevieve again.

  He could think of nothing else to do, so he went for a walk. He lingered in the dock area, watching ships and men, smelling the sea and rotting fish. Then he took a cable car from the beach over the hill to downtown. From there he walked to City Hall.

  There was another rabble rouser in the sandlot. Georg listened to his nonsense awhile, shrugged, and walked away. If the crowd grew any larger there would likely be another riot today. They were getting to be almost a regular weekly occurrence. But Georg could see the crowds were getting smaller.

  He wanted to see Genevieve. When he thought of her he ached. He hoped his own friendship would not bring her more grief than she had already seen. If somehow he survived his own troubles he prayed he might bring her some small happiness.

  Finding himself near the foot of Market Street, he noticed an approaching street car. The driver was a corpulent dutchman he knew only as Hans. He flagged him down in the middle of the block.

  “Let me take it from here, Hans. You can have a break. I’ll give the car back to you on my return.”

  Hans wiped sweat from his brow. He gave a shrug. “Sure, why not? There’s a nice pancake house on this block. You go ahead, Georg.”

  Georg climbed on and took the reins. He gave them a snap and the car began rumbling up Market.

  The journey was typical for Thursday afternoon. Some men and ladies were leaving work, headed home. He collected fares in the box. Three of the men appeared penniless beggars. He let them ride for free.

  Back at the barn Bob Mullins came out to empty the fare box. He gave him an odd look. “They didn’t tell me you were back at work yet.”

  “I’m not.” Georg grinned. “This is my vacation. Don’t worry. I stole your car, but I’m giving it back.” He waved, turned the horse around and left Mullins scratching his head.

  Down Market Street again, Hans waited at an intersection. He jumped on board and reclaimed his horse. “Did you steal all the fare money?”

  “Sure, I’m buying a yacht.” He jumped off while Hans was still laughing.

  At sunset he made his way back to the Barbary Coast. He would make sure his best suit looked decent for the next day.

  20

  Indictment

  On Friday morning Roger Heywood was waiting with a taxi when Georg emerged from Greek’s house. Georg admired the man’s dedication. There was no need for him to fetch Georg in person, unless he feared that Georg might choose to disappear.

  The previous night Georg had made sure to get a hot bath, because he wasn’t sure when he would get another one in prison. He was clean-shaved and in his best suit. He had chosen to skip breakfast since he had no appetite.

  In the cab, Heywood said, “I don’t know how much you understand of the legal system. This is a Grand Jury hearing. The inquest was only to determine the cause of death as homicide. Today they decide whether to issue an indictment, and if so to whom.”

  “And I seem to be the only whom in the room.”

  Heywood shifted a fat briefcase on his knees. “Don’t be so sure. We have new evidence. It will make a difference.” After that the lawyer shut his mouth and said nothing more until they arrived at the Courthouse.

  Georg felt surprise at the size of the crowd. There were maybe half a dozen reporters from different papers. Thaddeus Penworthy sat near the front of the room, looking grim. Douvet was also there, in back. They had already arrived before Georg. If Genevieve was coming, she wasn’t there yet. Georg and Heywood took a table at the front.

  While waiting for the fun to start, Georg noticed movement behind him. He turned to see Laughing Larry enter and take a seat near the middle of the room. Larry saw him, waved, and gave out a short giggle. Georg nodded in recognition. He wondered what the man was doing there and how he even had learned about this hearing. Larry didn’t strike him as a man who read newspapers.

  Eventually the usual legal mumbo jumbo got started and the jury foreman asked the District Attorney to present his case. The man arose, turned to survey the audience, coughed several times, shuffled papers, finally chose to address the jury.

  “Gentlemen of the Jury. We are asking for an indictment of second-degree homicide against one Georg Vintner. We believe he was the last person to see the victim alive. He had motive to commit murder, in that he sympathized with the Workingman’s Party and Mr. Denis Kearney, who we know regarded the deceased as an enemy.”

  At the front of the room Thaddeus Penworthy was heard to mutter rubbish. The D.A. chose to ignore the remark.

  “We know that despite his denials, Mr. Vintner sympathized with Kearney because of an incident during the riot of July 23. At that time, Mr. Vintner abandoned his street car in order to partake in the riot. We know this because of one witness who has courageously come forward. This is Mr. Larry Gibbons, known as Laughing Larry to his friends. Mr. Vintner placed him in charge of the horse car so that he, Vintner, could join the fray.”

  The Foreman interrupted. “Why are you asking only for second degree? Why not first? Have any other witnesses come forward?”

  At this the D.A. looked flustered, off course for a moment. He cleared his throat. “Mr. Foreman, we cannot at this time establish that the homicide was premeditated. We feel it was likely an impulse killing. Passengers on the car were distracted by the riot. Mr. Vintner saw his opportunity to ‘strike against the Ruling Class,’ as Kearney would put it. He chose to take advantage.

  “As for other witnesses, the only one we have been able to identify is a woman, a Mrs. Sutliff. She was interviewed and found to have no new information. Although she was the first to discover the body.”

  “Proceed,” the Foreman said.

  “Members of the jury, we believe there is enough circumstantial evidence to prove that Mr. Georg Vintner is the person who murdered Mr. Penworthy. We shall produce more evidence and testimony as the trial proceeds. Thank you, that is all for now.” And he took his seat.
/>   Georg whispered to Heywood, “I joined in the fray to defend the Chinese, not to beat them up.” Heywood merely shrugged. He opened his briefcase and drew forth a folder.

  Georg, glancing around the room again, wondered why Douvet was present. As far as he knew, notice of this hearing had not been published. How did Douvet hear about it? Either he had been ordered to attend, or someone had invited him.

  The Jury Foreman announced, “Since the District Attorney has completed, we will hear from Defense without taking a break. Mr. Heywood?”

  Heywood got to his feet and came forward, in no apparent hurry. He looked over the audience before turning back to the jury box. Georg wondered why the man showed so much confidence. It occurred to him he might have succeeded in bribing some jury members.

  “Gentlemen of the Jury. I am here at the request of the Order of Freemasons to defend the Accused, Mr. Vintner. The Order wishes to see justice done. In view of this fact, I shall present the testimony of a witness already mentioned. This witness was interviewed by the Police Commissioner and also by the District Attorney. The witness was asked only if she had seen the person who stabbed the victim. This she denied. It was the truth as far as that went.

  “I refer of course to Mrs. Genevieve Sutliff, of this city. She was not under subpoena today, and chose not to attend. However, she has submitted to my office a detailed, voluntary deposition. With your permission, I shall now proceed to read this deposition aloud.”

  Georg felt his mouth go dry. There was something wrong. Why wasn’t Genevieve here? Had she decided to perjure herself in order to save him? He could only sit up straight and listen.

  Heywood, still in no hurry, took a slow drink of water. He looked around at the jury and at the bystanders. He smiled briefly, then looked serious. He began to read aloud.