The Case of the Ice Man

by Shannon D Wells

  “Yes, we socialize with Max a lot. We… we go way back, and he hasn’t found a suitable lady to marry, so he takes dinner with us on Saturdays frequently.”

  “That’s kind of you.” I wondered what going way back meant, and why the mysterious Max’s marital status was so important. She shrugged, eyes glassy.

  “Did anything unusual happen?”

  “Gerald talked to some coat check girl. When we dropped our coats off, he looked like he’d seen a ghost, after dinner I saw him talking to her. He came back to our table and acted like nothing had happened.” I saw a tear slip out.

  “Have you ever seen the girl before?”

  “No. Just saw her that one time.”

  I shifted in my seat, underlining Coat Check Girl at Apache Club in my little notebook.

  “Was there any reason to think your husband had enemies?” I hated to flounder around like this, but there you go. I hoped this would not end with me finding Gerald and the coat check girl someplace cozy.

  She shook her head and fidgeted.

  “Everyone loved him. Maybe even the coat check girl.” I let that answer sit there.

  “So this was on Saturday. Tell me what happened on Sunday.”

  “We went to church. Gerald was a bit quiet. He spends Sunday getting ready for the week, so I didn’t think anything of it. He did go out for coffee in the afternoon.”

  “Did he make business calls himself?” I would have thought ice would sell itself in Dallas. It was blazing hot for five months of the year, and warm to middling another three. Not exactly selling ice to Eskimos.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you remember anything else that happened this week?”

  She sighed deeply, her lap robe falling down a bit further. She looked in danger of tipping over.

  “He went to see his lawyer on Monday. I remember because I was going to a Ladies’ Auxiliary luncheon and he said he was going to see Fitz.” Her hands started clutching at each other, and the photograph knocked to the floor.

  I reached over and got a look at it as I handed it back to her. It was not, as I had assumed, a picture of anyone old enough to be her husband. Instead, it was a picture of a boy in a college sweater, who seemed to think frowning at the camera would make him look less baby-faced.

  “Who is this, ma’am?” I asked. She blinked at the picture.

  “Marvin. He's my baby. S'posed to be on his way home from university. He said… he said… he said—” The words looped and she started to cry, not bothering to cover her face.

  “Where is he usually?”

  “He’s at the university, just up on Mockingbird. I thought when he called me back he'd be right here.” The crying had stopped. Just when I was going to ask more about Marvin, she started talking again.

  “Yesterday, Gerald said that we were going to have dinner with someone today, and he wanted me to meet them.”

  “Did you usually meet people for his business? Is that unusual?”

  “A bit. Can I go to bed? I want him found, but it’s been such a trying day….” She put her hands up to her face and started to tremble. I felt a twinge of guilt for questioning her so closely, but she was the client and the only person who could tell her story.

  “I’m so sorry, one more question.” That wasn't true, I had infinite questions, but picked the first one.

  “Did you call anyone besides Marvin? Do you remember seeing anyone here today who wasn't supposed to be here?” She shook her head and pushed a button. I heard a bell ring, and Persephone appeared.

  “I don’t know. Persephone, did anyone come by today?”

  Persephone pursed her lips and looked down at her feet.

  “Not really, ma’am. Dr. Max was here, left, and just now came back again. The Prescott people were here before that. This lady.” She nodded in my direction. “That’s ’bout it. Oh, and a boy came by trying to sell us flowers when the Prescott people were here. I sent him away though. That’s all I seen.”

  Mrs. Eymann waved helplessly.

  “It’s a lost cause isn’t it?”

  “I’m not sure, ma’am. It’s going to be difficult. But there’s hope. I will find Gerald.”

  She didn't look like she shared my very low-grade optimism. I wasn’t feeling very confident myself. I hadn't been able to turn up hide nor hair of Tom when he'd gone missing in September, and he wasn't even trying to hide. Still, he'd turned back up. Persephone turned and walked out of the room, and I heard some low voices.

  An older man in a suit walked into the room, hefting a medical bag.

  “There you are, Eugenia, I’ve been looking for you! You must get to bed.” He ignored me and walked over to grab her by the arm.

  “Don’t want to. Talking to the detective….”

  “Yes, of course she’s a detective, dear. You’ve had a nasty shock, and you need to get to bed.” He was very firm. She pouted and looked at her hands, then at me.

  “You must find him. He can’t be missing. We had it all planned out—,” she called over her shoulder as the good doctor hustled her through the doorway and to a waiting Persephone.

  I was left alone in the gorgeous room. I stood and studied the pictures in the frames, and wondered who was who. Eugenia, with an older man who looked to be her husband; a young man who was a little boy in some of the other pictures. At the back of one shelf was a picture of a very young Eugenia, a baby, and a man—who was not the husband I was supposed to be looking for.

  It was nice to have a moment to hear my thoughts whir along with the mantel clock keeping time.

  4

  I decided that as long as Mrs. Eymann was otherwise occupied, I might as well check out the last place she had seen her husband. The entry hall remained empty. After looking both directions, I clacked across the tile to the door she had pointed at.

  It was unlocked and proved to be the man-in-question’s bedroom. A windowless and masculine, undecorated affair that had no real feeling. There was a sparseness of furnishings and an overabundance of books and newspapers.

  Several neat stacks of newspapers, at least a week’s worth, including titles from out of state, next to an old, ratty armchair that crouched in the back corner with a chiffarobe sulking nearby.

  A stack of books nearest the bed went from the floor to well above the bed, about four feet high. The bed was made, but disturbed. It looked as though someone had been laying on top of the covers. I wondered if it had been that way since the night before or if it happened today. I made note to ask Persephone about that.

  Other than that, I took down the names of books, an almost full bottle of what was labeled cough syrup, and an empty water glass. There were a pair of pince-nez on top of the bed, nearest the water glass.

  I heard what I took to be Persephone’s step in the hall and stuck my head outside.

  “Persephone, when did you last make this bed?” She jumped, then stopped dead in her tracks.

  “This morning, ma’am.”

  “Does this always look like… this?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Mr. Eymann certainly reads a lot.”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s why he had his own room, he liked to read at night. The missus couldn’t sleep with all the lights he would turn on.” She kept her eyes on the ground, a pile of blankets in her hands. I was keeping her from her work.

  “Does anything look wrong or out of place to you?”

  She peered into the room from the doorway, but made no move to go inside.

  “No, ma’am, everything looks ’bout the way I expect it to.” She was watching the end of the hallway, not wanting to be near the room. I couldn’t tell if my questions were making her uneasy, or that was her general demeanor.

  “Thank you, Persephone, just a few more questions.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “When did you last see him?”

  “Before lunch time, after Mrs. Eymann went to get him.”

  “Did he look well? Flustered?” She looked at me
peculiarly, then remembered to answer.

  “I didn’t see his face, ma’am. Last I saw him, he was with the Prescott people going out the front door.” The “Prescott people” must have had something to do with his business. She was determined to be of no use, but I had more to ask.

  “Well, how has he been in the past week or so? Any big arguments, anyone you can think of who he was having problems with?”

  She shook her head no, then gave the appropriate, “No, ma’am. He did seem a bit… excitable I guess you'd say on Sunday, went out for a lunch that was unexpected, but that was about it. He’s always been the quieter one, you might say.”

  “I've been keeping you. Go about your business, I'll probably ask more questions later.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she said as she double-timed it to the stairs and up them.

  I thought for a minute. Sunday was the only anomaly as far as she was concerned; that meant something had to have happened on Saturday. I turned back to the room and sighed. So far, I had little to go on and even smaller hope of helping find this Gerald. I hadn’t even gotten to talk terms with Mrs. Eymann, Eugenia, I corrected myself. This was not going as well as one could have hoped.

  I opened the book on the top of the stack again, hoping to find anything that could give me —

  “Who are you? What are you doing here?” A male voice behind me demanded.

  I whirled to see a stout man barely taller than myself, hat and overcoat still on, cigar hanging out of his mouth. He looked for all the world like a bulldog with a decidedly unfriendly expression. He must have let himself in, or been lurking somewhere in the house. I hadn’t heard the door at all.

  “Who are you?” I’d about had it with being the one in the dark.

  “Little lady, I’m Fitz Mayhew, Esquire, of Mayhew and Sons, and you have exactly thirty seconds to explain what you are doing in my client’s personal bedroom.” He patted his vest as though he was going to pull a pocket watch out to actually time me.

  I counted to twenty before I answered, enjoying the way his face reddened when he realized I wasn’t hopping to.

  “I’m Mrs. Laurel Robertson of the Pinkerton Detective Agency. I was contacted by Mrs. Eymann to find her husband Gerald. Is he the client you’re referring to?” He took the cigar out and pushed his hat back at the mention of the detective agency, but offered no further concessions to being in polite society.

  “Look here, I don’t see what rummaging around in his personal things will accomplish. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “And I’m going to have to say that I don’t work for you or your client, but for Mrs. Eymann, and I refuse to leave.” I crossed my arms and hoped I sounded more confident about my right to be there than I felt. I wasn’t afraid of bulldogs, the ones I’d known were too lazy to do more than bark. As to his claim of being a lawyer, well, his lack of manners illustrated what kind he was—the two-bit kind.

  “Now look here—”

  “When was the last time you saw Mr. Eymann?” I interrupted. He blinked at me, so surprised that he responded.

  “Monday morning he stopped by and said he needed a list of his assets and accounts.”

  “Wouldn’t that be his accountant’s job?”

  “I employ an accountant who does that. I handle almost all of Mr. Eymann’s financial affairs.” He smirked at me as though I couldn’t conceive of the accounting wizardry he managed.

  “So he stopped by on Monday. Did he say when he wanted that?”

  “Nope.” He had overcome his shock and remembered that I was the unpleasant one. I forged on.

  “And did he receive that before he went missing?” He frowned at me.

  “He was to pick it up today. Marvin called and said something had happened, so I figured I’d stop by.”

  “And come into his room?” I asked. He didn’t say anything, just chewed on the cigar again.

  “So Marvin sent you?” I tried again, trying to shake anything else loose. Mayhew and Sons finally rang a bell; it was down the street from the office.

  “Gerald's heir.” He smirked at me again. How tiresome.

  “Where’s he at now?” I would have thought a son would have rushed home to care for his nervous mother. Especially because she had been looking for him.

  “Beats me. He left a message with my phone girl. Must be busy at university.”

  “What’s going on in here?” A third voice interrupted. It was the doctor walking into the already crowded room as he wiped his hands on a towel. “Keep it down, you’ll wake Eugenia. What’s all this nonsense?” He was going to sort it out, his tone said. I looked from him to the honorable esquire’s face and then about lost my temper.

  “What nonsense is this? Why don’t you tell me? I was hired by Mrs. Eymann to deal with her husband’s disappearance. Nothing anyone has said has made a lick of sense, and you drugged her?”

  “Well yes, of course I did. She was hysterical. She’s had a very trying day.”

  “And your name is?”

  “Dr. Max Auger. Who the devil are you?”

  “I’m Detective Laurel Robertson of the Pinkerton Detective Agency.” The men both looked at each other sidelong, then back at me, then both started talking at the same time.

  “See here—”

  “I don’t see why—”

  “Let’s start over. I’m Detective Laurel Robertson of the Pinkerton Detective Agency. It’s lovely to meet you, Dr. Auger, Mr. Mayhew.” I nodded and breathed deeply to calm myself, and hopefully them.

  They frowned at me, Auger by the door, Mayhew from the armchair. Can’t win them all.

  “Dr. Auger, when was the last time you saw Mr. Eymann?”

  “Saturday night, I had dinner with him and Eugenia downtown.”

  “Where?”

  “The Apache Club. It’s really a silly place, but the food is decent and they have some halfway acceptable whiskeys.”

  “Did you notice anything unusual about Gerald?”

  “Not particularly. Gerald was always worried about his business, of course. With the cold weather coming on, it’s his slow time. Other than that, he seemed normal. He did get a little flustered by the coat check girl, which I found in poor taste.”

  “What do you mean flustered?”

  “He jumped when he saw her. I walked up on him talking to her later, when he had excused himself from the table for some flimsy reason. Eugenia was upset, so I went to retrieve him. I heard something about Sunday coffee.” He looked sour saying that, but had no problem airing Gerald’s dirty laundry.

  “Did you say anything to Eugenia about that?”

  “No, of course not. I wanted to say something to him, but we aren’t particularly close.”

  “Not like you are with Eugenia, then.”

  The doctor’s face turned red.

  “I can’t think of what you would be trying to accuse me of, but she and I have known each other since we were children.”

  Fitz Mayhew, Esquire, looked spectacularly bored, and turned to fiddling with the stacks nearest him.

  “So do you think this coat check girl might have something to do with his disappearance?”

  “I doubt it.” That was an interesting answer.

  “And what makes you so sure?”

  “I’m not saying his exact whereabouts are known, but it’s not like he could have gotten far.” Even more interesting.

  “And what makes you so sure of that?” He glared at me but didn’t answer. I changed tactics. “Mrs. Eymann told me Gerald missed a meeting with you today with some Prescott people, and that’s how his disappearance was discovered. Where was the meeting to be at?”

  Dr. Auger answered very slowly.

  “I was called to the funeral home to examine Gerald’s body, and he hasn’t arrived there. He passed away sometime this morning.”

  Persephone’s entrance saved me from making any more a fool of myself.

  5

  “Mr. Prescott’s on the phone. He says they�
��ve found the truck. He wants to talk to you,” Persephone said to the doctor.

  I pretended to study my notes while Dr. Auger went to the telephone. Mr. Mayhew pretended to be absorbed in the newspaper he picked up from the stack nearest the door, but he was chuckling.

  I couldn’t believe no one had mentioned that Mr. Eymann was dead before now. My future as a detective was not seeming particularly promising at this point. I’d been in the house an hour and had just now found out the most important bit of information.

  I took a deep breath. It couldn’t be helped now. I had to get on with it. Dr. Auger’s voice carried into the room from the grand foyer.

  “Yes, I see… Of course… Yes. Right.” He hung up the phone and turned to Persephone, who was waiting outside the sitting room. “Bring me my hat and coat.” She nodded and walked off.

  FLL

  “Any news?” I didn’t care if he liked me anymore.

  “The orderlies sent to pick him up and their truck have been located, but Gerald’s body is still missing,” he said, looking at Mr. Mayhew, who had asked no questions, instead of me. Mayhew nodded.

  “I’m going to attend to the workers; they’ve been assaulted.”

  “Let me know if there’s any news. I’m heading back to the office,” Mr. Mayhew said, a folded newspaper under his arm.

  “Of course.”

  “Would you mind terribly if I hitched a ride?” I asked the good doctor. Dr. Auger looked as though he’d rather take a skunk than me in his car.

  “If I have to get a cab, Eugenia will cover the expenses at some point.”

  “See here—,” Mayhew started, but Dr. Auger cut him off.

  “When you put it that way, I suppose so. However, young lady,” his lips were twisted up tight, “I do believe this will be resolved without any help from you, so don’t get any ideas in your head. You’re most likely not going to be of any help and will be paid minimally.”

  “We’ll see.” I had thought bringing Eugenia into it would help my cause. She seemed to be his weak point, and I wondered how deep the friendship went on her side.

  The doctor gave Persephone thorough instructions on how to care for Mrs. Eymann, should she awaken before we returned. The three of us stepped out into the cold and surprising early twilight. I hated winter, no matter where I’d lived it had always been too cold and too dark.