Goodnight Irene

by James Scott Byrnside

His smug smile reappeared. “Ahh yes, Bernice Lasciva. It was her duty to lock the case after Robert positioned himself inside. It would not occur to me that he would be in the armor if the glass case were locked. Tellum or Daniels could free him later. Unfortunately for our gangster friend, his aunt had a radically different interpretation of the plan. After he put on the body of the suit, she knocked him down. He lay on the floor, helpless in a heavy suit of armor. With a whack of the ax, she then severed his head and placed it in the helmet for good measure.”

  Willie shook his head. “No, sir. She couldn’t do that. That woman could barely make it down the stairs.”

  “And yet she did.”

  Ruth took her thumb out of her mouth. “Where did she go?”

  Manory seemed puzzled by the question. “She left the room.”

  The library erupted in vehement protest and Manory patted his hands down to quiet them.

  “Patience. I will get there. I promise. So, we know that Paul Daniels poisoned Tellum. Using antifreeze as his agent of choice, Paul made it a point to drink the poisoned panther piss in front of Charles and Margaret. This would naturally divert suspicion. What poisoner would drink his own concoction? By partaking in the drinking of vodka, he effectively tempered the properties that eventually turned Tellum’s insides to bloody mush.”

  Manory was gaining steam. He twirled and continued talking.

  “Why? Why would Daniels do such a thing to his friend? It was because he was working with Bernice Lasciva. When we burst through the door, the key was not inside.”

  Ruth objected. “But you saw it through the keyhole.”

  “No. I assumed. There is that terrible word. Our eyes and ears tell us things that we expect to see and hear. I assumed I saw the key, but it was not there. I saw something else. When we broke in the office, our eyes naturally focused on the decapitated, armored corpse. Paul Daniels took this moment to slip in the door key. He then turned and,” Manory paused for effect, “he was shocked. He did not know the savage fury that Bernice had in store for Robert. Twice he exclaimed his surprise. ‘His head is cut off!’ I imagine for him, the deaths of Robert and Jack were business. For Bernice, they were personal. Daniels had expected to see Lasciva’s throat slit or perhaps some other knife wound. That crazy old woman cut off his head and put it in a helmet.”

  Walter spoke up. “Did Bernice hide in the secret passage?”

  Manory only smiled. “While you and I made our excursion into the woods, Daniels and Bernice met in the passage. Once again, different plans had been made, very different plans.”

  “Did he kill her?” Ruth leaned forward.

  Manory froze. The implications hit him. This presentation was for him, a triumph of his prowess. The cost, however, had not occurred to him.

  Steady, old man.

  “One of the most baffling elements of this case was the note to Lasciva. Chip chop, chip chop. These were the very words of Irene Roberts, quoted from her favorite nursery rhyme. I thought a lot about Irene as we drove here. I thought about the terrible wrong that had been done to her. She disappeared years ago. A local child murderer had confessed to killing her, but the body was never found. I did not believe for a second that this man had killed her. All I could imagine was that poor girl being murdered by the most monstrous wretch anyone could imagine, a man whose appetite could only be whetted by the most Sadean acts. But now here she was, directly referenced in the threat. Was she speaking from beyond the grave? Or was she waiting in the night, ready to strike?” Manory circled the room, his heart beating confidently. He stopped in front of Ruth.

  “Mowshen.”

  She looked up with steely features. All the kindness dropped from her face.

  “I should have known when I heard Bernice’s accent. You see, I went to visit Alice Schmidt before I came here. It was Alice’s voice you used. She misses you terribly. She thinks about you every day. I have seen The Bat. Cornelia Van Gorder is a wonderful character. You and I both know she is an old woman. I imagine the role taught you quite a bit about make-up, wigs, and the way old women walk. You convinced Robert you could take on the role of Bernice Lasciva. It was a bravura performance, Irene. While I toured the house, you went upstairs and got into character. Why would I not believe Bernice existed? Everyone vouched for her.”

  Willie Aikes rose from the sofa and stood, leaving Irene alone. “The two of you were never together.”

  An awful feeling came over Walter. “We heard them arguing.”

  Manory said, “You argued with yourself while slipping out of costume and putting on the black dress. Robert played along, still unaware of the danger. I tried to warn him. I told him about the nursery rhyme. But no, he could not imagine it. In the doorway of the office, he asked you who had added the nursery rhyme to the letters. You told him that Tellum had done it. It must have been quite a rush to know you would kill Lasciva after all these years, hence the very real emotion you displayed.”

  Irene’s dug-up fury twitched the muscles of her face.

  “It was you arguing with Daniels on the porch. There was no one in the window when I saw the silhouettes. Perhaps he was getting cold feet. He needed a slap in the face. I noticed how red his face was when I arrived, but putting two and two together is getting harder and harder for me these days. You never had an affair with Lasciva. You did not even know where the scar was on his body. But you did have an affair with a fellow in Clarksdale. While Daniels was showing Walter the painting, you slipped through the passage just as Lasciva had planned. Paul made sure to keep Walter’s eyes on the painting and away from the other side of the hall. Robert unlocked the door for you after he put on the armor. You killed him for what he had done to you and what he had done to your mother. You even placed your gum on the keyhole. Later, you made sure to tell me to look through it so I would know the key was in place. After the deed had been done, you took Bernice’s clothes, walked out the door, locked it and went back through the passage and rushed to the library doorway. It was just in time to be seen by Williams. You slipped Daniels the key while no one was looking. Tellum realized something was wrong. It was far too late, but he tried to tell me the evening had been a joke. Once again, my ears assumed. You removed the gun for Paul to retrieve and you helpfully reminded me that Tellum was choking and not joking. Paul dutifully removed the gum and stuck it under the table like a jackass.”

  Four of the mouths in the room were open in stunned silence.

  “Two down and one to go, chip chop, chip chop. When you had a chance to kill Daniels, you took it. You stabbed him in the passageway with the missing knife from the kitchen. Then you chopped him into pieces and sought to wash his body away in order to deflect any suspicion. A forever-missing Daniels would naturally cause him to be the prime suspect.”

  Walter stood. “Now wait a minute. I saw Paul Daniels in the forest. I am positive.”

  Manory’s voice rose. “I have no doubt, my friend. You did see Paul Daniels. How did you describe him, with a look of shock and disorientation? It is the same shock and disorientation that is now permanently etched on the face of Robert Lasciva!” He plucked Lasciva’s head from the sack and held it in front of his own.

  The day turned absolutely dark and lightning controlled the sky. Manory threw the head on the ground. “In the dark, in the distance, you saw Daniels’s severed head in front of the raincoat and you assumed it was him.” The detective turned back to Irene. “If the last sack had been taken by the river no one would ever know, but I recovered it. I knew there was another dead man. Now you were desperate and you had to make a distraction. Oh yes, there was lots of bravery on display last night. You grazed your own arm with a bullet and then, when we got close, you threw yourself into the river to be saved.”

  Irene gave a joyless smile.

  “The same girl who bit Jack Tellum’s thumb in defense all those years ago has finally struck back, your dermatophagia a permanent reminder of that helpless battle. You planned it. How long? You did not kill Las
civa right away, no. Tellum was always near. You began an affair with Paul Daniels and convinced him to betray his friends for control of the business. The serendipity of this party must have been amusing for you. The murdered man would provide proof of Bernice’s existence and give his own murderer an alibi. And of course, you worded the notes. The secretary created the threat and the clues. Tellum dutifully wrote them out. Your signature is on every paper in this house, so it would not do to have your handwriting on the notes. Chip chop, chip chop. The sign was right in front of his goddamned face. Alas, you did not know our connection. The same woman who tried to help you twenty years ago, her son would show up on your night of vengeance. He would show up, thinking of you in the back of his mind. My gut told me you would be here. It was right.”

  Irene slowly stood and walked graceless and bowlegged to the center of the library. Everyone in the room stared at her. Rowan looked into the eyes that had once been familiar, but were now those of a stranger.

  “Would you be surprised to know that I can’t even remember your mother?”

  “She never forgot you.”

  “I ran away because I wanted to forget my past. Every winter brought me nightmares and fits of rage the likes of which you can’t begin to imagine. You’re wrong about one thing. None of it was planned. One day I got on a bus. I didn’t even know where it was going. I thought someone would surely come looking for me. But then a funny thing happened, Rowan. No one did. I didn’t know why that man confessed to my murder and I didn’t care. It’s just one of life’s funny coincidences. The bus took me to Urbana. There’s a little art commune there. They don’t ask many questions. I did theatre, wrote, painted, anything not to think about the past. I came here to help with the flood, just like I told you. My past followed me, though. It knew. It knew I would come here. Paul said Lasciva’s name once, and all my anger came back. I congratulate you, Mr. Manory. I’m happy for you, I truly am. It must be a great relief to know that you are still a brilliant detective. But a question arises. What now?”

  Manory was still breathing heavily from his speech. “Now? Now we will wait until rescue arrives, and then you will be turned over to the authorities to face the consequences of your crimes.”

  Walter mouthed the word no.

  “You will turn me in? For killing that man? You will seek to avenge his death? I could have killed you in the passageway. I could have killed Walter by the river. I could have killed these liars. I didn’t. I saved your life. I killed the men who destroyed mine! My mother—” Tears ran down her face, but her cold expression remained. “If I go to jail for killing them, they win again. Don’t you see that?”

  “Irene, I promise you I will do everything in my power to aid in your defense. Your situation will be seen as extraordinary. You have suffered so much. Any jury would take it into consideration.”

  “Take it into consideration? I can’t believe this!” Her large eyes beaded with tears. “The law failed me twenty years ago and now it will punish me! Rowan, do you believe in justice?”

  Manory defiantly stared down Irene. He grimaced.

  chapter 17

  chicago 1928

  Walter stared at the number with grim determination. His gaze switched to the new device on his desk. A large, built-up breath came out of his body.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Reynolds. You’ll have to explain this one more time. What does this number do?”

  The portly Reynolds beamed with assuredness. “Mr. Williams, this is your number.”

  “Michigan 6-5216 is my number?”

  “Yes, but you notice how the first two letters are capitalized. People only need to dial MI and then the numbers. I explained all of this to Mr. Manory.”

  “I can appreciate that, but as Mr. Manory’s assistant, I’ll be using the phone far more often than he will. I need to understand it.” He counted the numbers in his head. “That’s seven numbers. Do people have to tell the switchboard operator all seven numbers?”

  “That’s the beauty of it, Mr. Williams. They don’t have to connect through an operator. They can call you directly. It’s called an automatic exchange. If you dial someone with their own number, you can skip the operator too.”

  “But I like the switchboard operators. Some of the best conversations I’ve ever had were with those women. I’m good friends with some of them.”

  Aaron Reynolds had been busting his hump all day and the willful ignorance of this curious fellow was trying his patience. “If you want, you can still go through the operator. All you have to do is dial zero.”

  “I dial zero for the operator?”

  “Now you’re on the trolley.”

  “Why don’t I dial ‘O’ for operator? Wouldn’t that make more sense? Zero doesn’t stand for anything.”

  Reynolds looked at Walter quizzically.

  “All right, never mind. How do I work the telephone?”

  “It’s the same principle as the candlestick phone, except the receiver and the transmitter are connected. It’s so much more comfortable.”

  Walter picked up the phone and held it to his ear. “There’s some ghastly noise.”

  “I already explained that. That’s called a dial tone. It means the phone is ready for you to dial the number.”

  Walter stood up and walked a few steps. “It feels odd. I don’t know what to do with my other hand.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be able to figure something out.” Reynolds checked his pocket watch. “I have to get down to the firehouse. We’ve installed a new line there as well. If you have any other questions, you can call me.”

  “Maybe I will. I can dial zero for operator and she’ll still connect us, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  Walter saw Reynolds to the door and sat with his new technology again.

  Everything changes.

  Rowan came into the office and kicked the snow off his boots. He laid a box of chocolates on the desk. “You look troubled, Williams.”

  “Everything changes but nothing gets any better. Have you ever noticed that?”

  “Yes. I believe people call it, ‘the future.’” Rowan pointed to the new device. “Is this it?”

  “Yes, this is our new telephone along with our new number.”

  “Magnificent.” Rowan picked up the phone and put the handset next to his ear. He jerked it away, looking startled.

  Walter pushed down the hook switch. “Dial tone.”

  “Hmmm.” Rowan put it back against his ear and balanced it with his shoulder. He paced in front of the desk with contentment. “Look, Walter. I can talk on the phone while I use both hands. Think of how much more we can get done.”

  Manory Investigations had slowly picked up business since the August weekend at Lasciva Manor. A high-profile case in November had brought good publicity and a newly rediscovered trust from the public. Now it was January and the company’s change in fortune had made the Chicago snowstorms more picturesque and less threatening.

  Rowan settled into his chair. He flipped open the front page of the newspaper. The top story was the execution of Charles Shader along with the trendy debate about capital punishment. Rowan brooded over the negativity of the news.

  Surely there are positive things to report in a city of three million people.

  The detective sensed the expectant stare of Walter Williams and folded down a corner of the paper. “Do you want something, Williams?”

  “Yeah, I want to know what the doctor said.”

  Rowan smirked. “I am as fit as a fiddle, just as I had predicted. Doctor Paulson was very complimentary. He said my blood pressure was so good he could sell it. The man is quite witty.”

  “Well you have to keep going for regular check-ups. Don’t simply assume you’re in good health after one visit.”

  “Once I re-established my prowess as a detective, my mind was healed. The body obeys the mind, Williams.”

  “So you’ve finally put the Tommy—”

  “Ahh ahh ahh! We do not say
his name anymore.”

  “You’ve put that awful case that we will never mention again behind you?”

  “Absolutely.” Rowan opened the newspaper again. “Did you know the Thames flooded last week? Fourteen are dead. According to journalists the world is a terrible place to live.”

  “England doesn’t even know what a flood is. How many died in our flood?”

  “Five hundred is the estimate.”

  “That’s all?”

  “You wanted more?”

  “No, of course not. It just seemed so much worse. We were there. You do remember, don’t you? Or have you chosen to erase that case from your mind too?”

  “If it makes you feel any better, hundreds of thousands lost their homes.”

  “Come now, Manory.”

  “There was one billion dollars in damage. I would bet England cannot even fathom the concept of a billion.”

  “I liked you more when you were ill and serious.”

  Rowan smiled and lifted the paper.

  Walter forced a cough. “Is there any news about Irene Roberts?”

  The paper came down once more. “Her trial is in March. I have hired the best lawyer I can find and I will testify on her behalf. There is nothing more I can do.”

  Walter popped a chocolate in his mouth. “I think you could have saved yourself a lot of time and money.”

  “I am aware of your opinion, Williams.”

  “I think about her a lot, Manory. I dream about Irene. She’s always in the river. I reach for her—”

  “But she goes under.”

  “Yes, but before she does, she begs me for help. Do you have the same dream?”

  “No.” Rowan put his finger on the front headline. “Yesterday, this Shader fellow was hanged. According to the prison psychologist, he had an awful childhood. His father tortured him daily. Perhaps the law should not have applied to him.”

  “He killed a warden. Irene killed a murdering, pedophilic gangster. There’s really no comparison.”

  “We will have to agree to disagree, my friend. These dreams will end when you discover a new obsession.”