SONGBIRD (JAX DIAMOND MYSTERIES Book 1)

by Gail Meath

  As he absorbed every detail around him, he heard voices coming from the room on the opposite side. The butler opened the door to the library, told him to have a seat, and closed the door. Jax waited all of eight seconds before he opened the door again and peeked around. He could still hear people talking across the way. So, when he was assured that the path was clear, he quietly walked through the foyer until he stood just outside the other door. And he found himself staring at a portrait of old Missus Ashworth.

  But it was the voices inside the room that held his attention.

  “How many times do I have to tell you, Hoffman,” Robert yelled. “I don’t know anything about a manuscript! Even if I did, Sam’s death voids the contracts he signed with the Globe Theater and with us. So basically, it’s finders, keepers, as they say.”

  “I paid a thousand dollars up front for that manuscript,” another man shouted. “And I either want that or the money back to me by tomorrow. Otherwise, my lawyer will be contacting your lawyers since I have proof of that payment. Dead or not, your girlfriend is responsible for her husband’s debts, including this.”

  The door flew open, and Jax thanked his lucky stars that he was on the back side of it, hiding there like a thief. The other man stormed out and in his angry, determined stride towards the exit, he never noticed Jax standing there in plain sight.

  As soon as the man slammed the front door shut, Jax hightailed it back to the library as fast as he could. And he sat in the chair contemplating what had just passed and smiling because he’d gotten a good look at Robert’s adversary.

  Finally, the butler joined him again. “I am sorry, sir, but Mister Ashworth had another pressing matter to attend to. I could certainly have him telephone you when he is available.”

  Jax stood up, practically smirking. “Why don’t you tell him to call Lieutenant Simmons at the thirteenth precinct. It’s regarding a murder investigation, so let Mister Ashworth know that it is important.” And he strolled away.

  He climbed down the front steps and as expected, the fancy Pierce-Arrow vehicle had disappeared while Sanders’ Fiat was about a block down the road. He laughed out loud as he joined Ace. “Rich folks think they’re so smart, Ace, but they aren’t half as smart as us, that’s for sure.”

  He was still smiling when he arrived at the precinct and found Tim at his desk. “You had an easy day, didn’t you? I’m out there pounding the streets while you’re lounging behind your desk.”

  “Patricia Sanders wasn’t home, Jax,” Tim squawked. “What was I supposed to do, travel the city looking for her?”

  “Sit down, Murph. You’re not going to believe this. Conveniently, she was at the Ashworth’s mansion. And boy, let me tell you, that place is enormous! I’ve never seen...”

  “Okay, okay, what happened?”

  Jax pulled a chair over from another desk and sat down. “While I was waiting to talk to Ashworth, I heard people arguing, and I was able to get close enough to hear what they were saying. Patricia Sanders was in the room, too. Does the name Hoffman sound familiar? He has something to do with Broadway.”

  “Ben Hoffman, the owner of Globe Theater?”

  “You hit the nail on the head. I heard him tell Ashworth that he paid Sam Sanders a thousand bucks for a manuscript. That’s the exact amount of dough we found in Sanders’ desk drawer. So, it was in payment for the new manuscript he wrote, the one I couldn’t find any trace of that night. Hoffman said that he had a signed contract for the rights to that manuscript, and if he didn’t get the script or his money back by tomorrow, he was calling his lawyer.”

  “Hang on, Jax. You’re saying Hoffman threatened to get his lawyer involved over some music composition?”

  Jax was all fired up. He got out of his chair and started pacing. “I’m not done. At first, Ashworth claimed that he didn’t know about the manuscript. Then, he told Hoffman that with Sanders’ death, all contracts were null and void. So, it was a matter of finders, keepers. Those were his exact words, Murph. Finders, keepers.”

  “What did Ashworth say when you questioned him?”

  “I didn’t. The butler told me that he had another pressing matter and couldn’t see me, so I left.” Jax sat back down in the chair. “But Ashworth has that manuscript. I’d bet on it. And that puts him, or whoever he paid to do his dirty work, smack dab in Sanders’ apartment that night. We know someone took the original. Murph, that manuscript is Ashworth’s motive for murdering Sam Sanders.”

  Tim started laughing. “You’re crazy. Do you know how much the Ashworth’s are worth? They have more dough than we’ll ever see in a lifetime. A thousand dollars is like peanuts to them. How can some Broadway play be motive for murder?”

  “That was just a small down payment. If that play becomes a success, which it would with Laura singing the lead, then they would rake in well over a million dollars. Is that enough motive?”

  Tim’s eyes popped open. “A million?”

  “My guess is, Ashworth knew that Sanders had signed a contract with Hoffman, so he had no other choice but to kill him to get that play. It’s been driving me crazy trying to figure out what happened to the original.”

  “But how do we prove that he has it?”

  Jax leaned back. “If Hoffman gets his money back tomorrow, or the manuscript, we know Ashworth is guilty. I’ll have a little talk with Hoffman about it tomorrow afternoon. He shouldn’t have any qualms about opening up to me once he finds out that we have his money here at the station house. But until then, let’s get a court order started so we can search the Ashworth mansion and Patricia Sanders’ apartment in case that doesn’t get us anywhere.”

  “Didn’t you say Sanders wrote that play for Laura?”

  Jax smirked, remembering how she grew so flustered when he had asked her that question. “He wrote it with her in mind for the lead,” he corrected. But his smile suddenly left him. “Murph, there are two other people who have a copy of that manuscript. That shouldn’t matter, should it?”

  “Not if Ashworth has the original,” Tim told him.

  “But what if Ashworth knows there are two copies? What if he worries that Ben Hoffman will try to get his hands on those?”

  “Who has the copies?”

  “Laura, and some piano player at the Ambassador.”

  16

  The Piano Player

  On stage, Laura fumbled during rehearsal a few times, which rarely happened. It began to irritate the other performers, and even the director stopped to stare at her. But she couldn’t concentrate and kept glancing over at Charlie playing the piano. The rehearsal was nearly over, and their Wednesday night performance was going to begin in just over an hour. But still, Mister Beacham hadn’t shown up.

  She noticed the stage manager standing in the hallway. She kept her eyes on him while waiting for the director to dismiss the performers. Then, she hurried off the stage. “Mister Kratz, could I speak with you for a moment?” He turned around. “I’m sorry to trouble you, but do you know where Mister Beacham is? He missed practice the other day, and he isn’t here yet. I wondered if you’ve heard from him?”

  “He called the theater on Monday morning and said he needed to go out of town for a few days to visit his sister. He should be back for the next performance on Friday.”

  “His sister?” she asked. That didn’t make any sense. “He told me that he didn’t have any other family.”

  Mister Kratz shrugged. “I don’t know, that’s what he said. Maybe it’s a sister that he wished he didn’t have. I’ve got two of those.” And the man headed down the hallway.

  Laura stood there. Something was wrong. She knew for a fact that Mister Beacham didn’t have a sister. At least not living. He had told her that both his and his wife’s entire families were killed in Romania during the war, but the two of them had miraculously escaped, and they eventually found safe passage to America.

  Laura didn’t know what to do. “Mister Kratz, wait up!” she yelled as she ran after him. “Do you know w
here Mister Beacham lives? I’m probably overreacting. You know how melodramatic women can be.” She feigned a chuckle. “But I’d feel better if I could ask a friend of mine to check with Mister Beacham’s landlord to make sure everything is all right.” He obviously wasn’t very happy with her request, so she added, “It would really help me to relax so I don’t make any mistakes during our performance tonight.”

  “He lives at the brownstone on Lafayette Avenue,” he said abruptly before walking away.

  That was only a street over from where she lived. She rushed into her dressing room and found Annie there, waiting for her. “I need a big favor, Annie.” She sifted through her handbag and gave her Jax’s card. “Would you be a dear and call Jax for me?”

  “Of course,” she replied.

  “Tell him that I need him to check on someone. I’ll write down the name and address for you to give to him. I hate to trouble you or him, but I don’t know what else to do. If I didn’t have this performance, I would go there myself.”

  “What has you so upset, Miss Laura?”

  “I’m hoping it’s nothing,” she replied, but while she quickly wrote the information down, someone knocked on the door. Annie answered it, and Jax stood there. “Oh, Jax. I’m glad you’re here.” Laura grabbed the paper and gave it to him. “Mister Beacham, the piano player I told you about, hasn’t shown up this week, and that’s not like him at all.”

  “I wondered about him, too, Miss Laura,” Annie said. “He has been with the theater for six years now, and I do not believe that he has ever missed a practice or a performance.”

  “That’s what I thought, Annie. Mister Kratz, the stage manager, said that Mister Beacham had called him on Monday, and said that he was going to visit his sister out of town for a few days.” She looked up at him. “But he doesn’t have any family, Jax. I’m sure of it. I feel bad putting you out like this. Would you mind going to his apartment? He lives right around the corner from both of us. If he isn’t there, I don’t know what to make of it. But maybe the landlord can confirm that he went on a holiday or something. It would mean so much to me.”

  He smiled at her reassuringly. “Relax, Laura. I don’t mind check it out at all, but I’m sure everything is fine.” He left the dressing room, and Tim was waiting for him in the hallway. “Mister Beacham, the piano player hasn’t shown up at the theater. He may have gone out of town for a few days, but Laura is pretty worried about him.”

  “With good reason if he has a copy of that manuscript.”

  “Stay with Laura, Murph. I’m going to his apartment to see what I can find. And don’t upset Laura more by mentioning anything about the manuscript.”

  “Maybe I should go with you.”

  “I’ve got Ace. Just keep an eye on Laura.”

  Jax easily found the brownstone apartments on Layfette Avenue. He took Ace with him and climbed the front steps. He saw Horace Beacham’s name and apartment number, but the front door was locked. He pressed the corresponding buzzer to the man’s apartment several times. When that failed, he glanced down the list again, and luckily, the apartment manager’s buzzer was the last one.

  Within a few minutes, a man around Jax’s age, mid-twenties, came to the door. Jax explained who he was, and his reason for being there. The man noticed Ace sitting obediently beside Jax. Just then, Ace stood up and started wagging his tail.

  “Nice looking pooch,” the man said. “Friendly, too, it looks like.”

  “He sure is.”

  The manager reached down to pet him. He allowed them both to enter the building and walked them down the hallway. “I usually don’t pay attention to tenants’ comings and goings. But ever since Horace’s wife died, I’ve tried to keep an eye on him. He reminds me of my grandfather.” He stopped in front of the second last door and searched his keychain. “I realized that I didn’t see Horace yesterday, so I took a quick peek into his apartment when he didn’t answer the door. Everything looked in order, so I assumed he’d taken a trip somewhere.”

  “He very well may have,” Jax replied. “But he never mentioned going anywhere to his friend at the theater, which seemed strange to her. Thanks for letting us take a look around.”

  “Of course. Would you mind locking up when you’re finished? My wife and I are eating supper right now. And let me know if you hear from him.”

  Jax thanked him and went inside. As the manager said, everything looked in order. It was a small, one-bedroom apartment, neat and organized. “Well, let’s start looking, Ace.”

  They both wandered around the living area. Jax flipped through the books laying on the end table next to the sofa and checked inside the drawer. He lifted the sofa and chair cushions and got on his knees to search underneath both. Then, he scanned the few books stacked on the shelf in the corner. As he and Ace made their way into the adjoining room, Jax straightened the landscape painting hanging on the wall.

  In the kitchen, he opened the icebox. It was nearly empty with only a bottle of milk, a little basket of brown eggs, and something wrapped in a paper bag that smelled like cheese. He opened the two drawers just beneath the counter and inspected the four cupboards above it. The first cupboard contained two plates, two drinking glasses, and two coffee mugs. The second cupboard stored the non-perishables, a loaf of bread, a chunk of butter, and a few cans of beans. The remaining cupboards were empty.

  When he found nothing of importance, he noticed Ace had already gone into the bedroom, so he followed along. It was no bigger than the narrow kitchen. And it only consisted of a single bed and a small chest of drawers. He opened the first drawer and it was as sparse as the icebox, with only a few personal items of clothing. There were three folded shirts and two pairs of trousers in the second drawer. But it was the third and last drawer that he found interesting.

  This drawer was so jampacked with articles of clothing that he could barely get it open. And when he finally did, he pulled out each one and discovered that they were women’s blouses, full-length skirts, and house dresses. He assumed they belonged to the man’s wife.

  Ace was standing behind him, and he started barking at the bed. Jax stuffed the clothes back into the drawer. “What did you find, Ace?” He threw the bedcovers aside, but he didn’t see anything.

  Ace continued barking, then he jumped up on the bed, and using his snout, he tried to move the pillow away. Jax lifted it and saw an oval gold locket necklace underneath. He picked it by the chain to take a closer look. The initials KC were engraved on the front of the locket. “Good work, Ace.”

  After he closed and locked the door, he walked a few steps down the hall and knocked on the manager’s door. “I’m sorry to disturb you again. I wanted to let you know that I didn’t find anything that alerted me to Mister Beacham’s whereabouts. But I wondered. Would you happen to know what his wife’s name was? I’m thinking I might try to find out if they had any family who I could contact.”

  “It was Sarah. Sarah Winston Beacham.”

  “Was Winston her maiden name?” Jax asked.

  “Yes. I only know that because my wife was talking with her one day, and they found out they both had the same maiden name.”

  “Thank you again,” Jax said. “You’ve been very helpful. I hope you and your wife have a good evening.”

  As Jax followed Ace back to the car, he pulled the gold locket from his pocket. He got into the driver’s seat. “Guess who gets an extra helping of ice cream when we get home, Ace? I may be way off in left field right now, but there’s only one person who comes to my mind with the initials KC.” He started the car, and they drove back to the theater.

  Jax heard the orchestra as he climbed the stairs. Then, he saw Tim watching the musical offstage in the wings. He couldn’t help but laugh. Tim was obviously enjoying himself, smiling and swaying to the music. Then, Jax heard Laura singing, and he quickened his pace to watch her.

  Tim leaned over and whispered, “Did you find Beacham?”

  Jax pulled his eyes away from the stage and
motioned for them to move out of earshot. “He wasn’t there. Neither was his copy of the manuscript. But Ace found this under his pillow.” He handed Tim the necklace. “It didn’t belong to Beacham’s wife. Do you want to know what I think?”

  “No, but you’re going to tell me anyway.”

  “KC. Kitty Cooper. The men who broke into her house back in March killed her and stole her furs and jewelry, according to the maid. It’s in that file you let me borrow. There’s also a list of stolen items, everything that the maid could remember. There was a gold locket on that list. It didn’t say whether the locket was engraved or not, so we’ll need to talk to the maid again.”

  “If it does belong to Kitty Cooper, then Beacham was involved in her murder. But I thought you said he was an older man? And if his apartment is in our neighborhood, he certainly wasn’t living on easy street.”

  “I know. So, it boils down to this. If that is Kitty’s necklace, Beacham killed her or hired a couple of thugs to do the job. And he’s responsible for Sanders’ death, too. As far as we know, he disappeared with at least his copy of the manuscript.”

  “Or?” Tim asked.

  “Or someone went to a lot of trouble setting Beacham up, and his disappearance wasn’t by choice. Either way, Laura isn’t going to like this one bit.” He quieted when he heard her singing again, and he knew that he could listen to her for hours.

  Even Tim was engrossed. “She has a beautiful voice.” And they both stood there, quietly.

  When the chorus singers took the stage, Jax turned to Tim again. “Laura told me that Beacham had intended to give his copy of the manuscript to the theater director. We need to find out if he has it or not. I think the man’s name is Rosenberg, and he’s got to be here somewhere.”

  “I can ask around for him.”

  “No, I’ll do that later. I don’t want to distract anyone from the performance. It’s late, Murph. Why don’t you go home to your family? I’ll talk to Rosenberg when it’s over, and I’ll take Laura home. First thing in the morning, try to find out if there’s any connection between Horace Beacham and Robert Ashworth besides being an employee of the theater. If there is, we’ve got ourselves a handful of suspects. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”