The Right Jack

by Margaret Maron

  She shrugged her slender shoulders and made a charmingly rueful face. "Never can I be tranquille when things are left undone. At last, I go and find some maids who are not very busy and I come myself to show them what must be done. The elevator stops, we get off, and there is Miss Baldwin with you and M'sieur Froelick. We speak and you know the rest, non?"

  ***

  By now, more police officers had trickled into the room. Sigrid saw that the medical examiner had finished with the boy's body and was waiting to speak to her. Elaine

  Albee and Jim Lowry had arrived together and Sigrid motioned them over as she finished with Lucienne Ronay.

  "We'll try to be as unobtrusive as possible," she promised. "The body can go down in the freight elevator and out the back if one of your people will show them the way. Again, you'll have to wait to begin clean-up on this room and we'll want to talk to everyone who worked this floor today."

  "I am resigned, Lieutenant," said Madame Ronay with a fatalistic sigh. As she stood, her eyes fell on Molly Baldwin and her face was stern. But the sight of so much misery seemed to soften her. "Poor Molly! Do not look so fearful, chérie. This time I forgive all your faults."

  "Thank you, Madame," murmured Molly, but she seemed only partially relieved as Lucienne Ronay left the room almost as if she expected the police to have harder questions. From the way Molly braced herself apprehensively, Sigrid knew that the waiting must be getting to the girl, but there was no help for it. Joined by Lowry and Albee, shea nd Knight walked back toward the body to hear what the assistant M. E. had to tell them.

  "Not much for now," said Cohen in his usual breezy manner. "The kid bought it between, oh, say ten and eleven, give or take a little. He was probably unconscious when the tie cut off his air supply."

  "Hit over the head first?" asked Sigrid.

  "Now, Lieutenant, it's too soon to tell. No obvious blow to the head, but no scratches around the throat as would've been if he was awake and fighting it. I'll let you know more tomorrow, okay." He unwrapped a stick of gum and cheerfully turned his back on them.

  The ambulance attendants had already lifted the slight body onto the gurney and strapped a covering over it, and a hotel employee appeared to escort them out through the basement garage.

  "Sorry to keep you waiting, Ms. Baldwin," Sigrid said as they passed the young assistant manager. "It won't be much longer now."

  She assigned a uniformed officer to keep an eye on the girl and motionedf or Vassily Ivanovich to accompany them to the Bontemps Room.

  "No, I wish to stay here," said the gray-haired Russian, who had seldom taken his eyes off Molly since entering the room.

  "You can speak to Ms. Baldwin later," Sigrid told him firmly. "Right now, I want all the players back at their tables."

  Reluctantly, the big man followed.

  Three reporters were waiting outside in the hall. Sigrid made a brief statement and continued toward the Bontemps Room. The lunch break was scheduled for twelve-thirty and already a few early finishers were pushing through the doors.

  Albee and Lowry had been joined by three other officers, who herded the players back inside while Sigrid and Alan Knight briefly apprised Ted Flythe of the current situation. The hotel grapevine had reached him a moment or two before, however, so they were deprived of his initial reaction. At the moment, he seemed totally exasperated.

  "That does it! There's no way we can finish now. You're going to questione verybody again, aren't you? Get 'em all stirred up-"

  Alan Knight began to bristle, and to stop him from alerting Flythe of their suspicions, Sigrid interrupted coldly. "I realize this tournament is important to you, Mr. Flythe, but we are investigating three murders here."

  Flythe immediately backed down and tried to repair the damage. "It's just that there're so many people and so much money involved, Lieutenant. Makes it complicated. But that's not your problem, of course. Don't worry. We'll work something out."

  "I'm sure you will," Sigrid said flatly. "Lowry, Albee, ask the staff to come in, please."

  ***

  The players listened in shocked silence as Sigrid spoke into the microphone and told them of the young busboy's death. "We know you've had a long morning and that you'll want lunch now. As you leave the room, please show some identification to the officers at the door.

  They'll check you off the list and we'll be talking to each of you after lunch."

  In an attempt to help the cardplayers remember, she asked the remaining busboys to come forward while she gave a brief description of the dead youth and then introduced Detectives Albee and Lowry, to whom most had already spoken.

  "If any of you recall seeing Pernell Johnson during the break or if you spoke to him then, please tell one of these officers before you leave for lunch. Thank you."

  A dismayed babble of comments and exclamations arose from the crowd and Ted Flythe took over the mike to promise that he would have a statement for them at two o'clock, after lunch. He stepped down from the podium and called, "Lieutenant?"

  He was too late. Sigrid had disappeared into the crowd to join Alan Knight and Mr. George with the busboys, who were having trouble believing that one of their own was so abruptly gone.

  "Man, he was right here!" one protestedi ncredulously. "We were jiving him about Terri Pratt."

  To Knight's questions, they all shook their heads. As with Mr. George earlier, they were ready to swear that Pernell had seen nothing Friday night.

  "We were tight, man," said another. He held up crossed fingers. "Like that. No way he wouldn't have told me. All he could talk about was how things were breaking right, how once Mr. George gave him a good report about putting out the fire, maybe he was gonna get to work the Emeraude Room like he'd been wanting ever since he got here."

  A different busboy said he'd seen Johnson enter the Bontemps Room after speaking with Miss Baldwin. That was immediately before the ten-thirty break, he thought. Once the break began and people were milling about, no one noticed Johnson again.

  "What about Ted Flythe?" Sigrid asked. "Where was he during the break?"

  More shrugs, this time punctuated with an undercurrent of knowing snickers.

  "Mr. George?"

  "Probably upstairs with one of hisg irls. Graphic Games has a suite on eighteen and the maids say he's been keeping the sheets hot, if you'll pardon the expression, Miss."

  "I thought Miss Baldwin was his current interest," said Knight.

  "The man's a Baskin-Robbins freak," quipped one of the busboys.

  "Ice cream?" asked Sigrid as they moved away.

  "Thirty-one different flavors," Knight told her.

  "Oh."

  ***

  To avoid the crush of people and reporters, they slipped out the rear service exit and walked along the deserted back corridors.

  "Any suggestions?" Sigrid asked Knight.

  "Nope. You seem to be covering all the bases. Want me to locate the girlfriends?"

  "Flythe's?"

  "And Johnson's."

  "Later. I'd rather you sat in on the interview with Molly Baldwin, if you don't mind. You can be the good copa nd keep your handkerchief handy. If all else fails," she added dryly, "I'll even tell her you aren't married."

  "She looks too scared to care," he grinned, pleased with this first sign of her letting down barriers. "I guess you got that about Miami?"

  "With you and our Russian friend practically waving flags, how could I not?"

  Inside the d'Aubigné Room, Sigrid paused by one of the technicians who was dusting the table where the body had been found, looking for usable prints. She gave him Flythe's card, explained what she wanted, and received his promise to develop any fingerprints on the card for comparison with Fred Hamilton's when the FBI passed them on.

  A photographer was dispatched to the Bontemps Room.

  "Make it look as if you're merely following the usual routine," Sigrid told her, "but try to get a clear profile and

  ***

  full frontal o
f Flythe without letting him know it.".

  "Gotcha," the girl grinned.

  "I mean it," Sigrid said seriously. "If he's who I think he is, he made J. Edgar Hoover's list fifteen years ago. I don't want him scared into bolting."

  "He won't feel a thing," the photographer promised. "Trust me, ma'am."

  While Sigrid heard progress reports and detailed an officer to locate Pernell Johnson's girlfriend among the maids, Alan Knight had gone ahead, ostensibly to put Miss Baldwin at ease.

  Molly tried to return the smile the naval officer gave her as he put his hat down on the table, smoothed his straw-colored hair, and opened the note pad. He was very friendly looking, she thought, and abruptly found herself wishing he was a police officer and not a Navy lieutenant, one of her cousin's colleagues.

  By now she knew that he hadn't known Teejy, but he couldn't have missed hearing that awful Russian bellowing about being T. J. Dixon's cousin; so the mere fact that he was in the Navy made things even more unsettling.

  "Do you want coffee or something?" he asked solicitously. "I could probably send for it, if you like."

  "No, nothing," she said. He seemed so nice. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad, after all. "Will it be much longer, do you think? There's so much-"

  "I'm sure it won't be. Lieutenant Harald's very thorough, but you don't have to worry. You just tell her what you did this morning and that'll be that. They say she can be pretty rough at times, but as long as you're telling the truth, you'll be fine. Okay?"

  Molly's heart sank. "Okay," she murmured faintly.

  Her small hands clenched into involuntary fists in her lap as she watched Lieutenant Harald's approach. The tall policewoman seated herself across the table. Her wide gray eyes were unsmiling and her voice was professionally cool as she said, "Now then, Ms. Baldwin."

  21

  EARLIER that day, Sigrid had spoken to Alan Knight of professionalism and objectivity, yet it was not objectivity but the experienced value of thoroughness that now made her question Molly Baldwin as carefully as any of the others. At this point, she truly believed that John Sutton was the intended target of Friday night's explosion; therefore she saw no point in shilly-shallying over minor points.

  "Why did you lie about your relationship with Commander Dixon?" she asked the girl baldly.

  "I didn't! I really wasn't sure at first it was her and then when I knew…" Her voice died away under Sigrid's openly skeptical gaze.

  "I-It's not what you think," Molly stammered.

  Alan Knight gave her an encouraging smile. "We're sure it's not, Miss Baldwin, but you have to admit it's a little odd."

  Molly turned to him gratefully. "You see, Teejy-that's what I've always called her-we had this awful fight last summer. I was really having trouble finding a decent job after college and she got really uptight and cut off my allowance just like that! It wasn't fair. So I got mad and we hadn't written or anything since. It was a totally unreal summer. I was so broke. Then I landed a job at one of the resort hotels and that led to this. My training probation's up next month. Everything was going pretty good and I thought Madame Ronay would probably offer me a permanent position but I didn't want to tell Teejay until I knew for sure."

  "So on Friday night you were still angry with Commander Dixon?" asked Sigrid.

  "Oh, that's not why I didn't say we were cousins."

  "Then why, Ms. Baldwin?"

  "Because of the tournament," she said, as if it were obvious. "When I saw her name on the pairing chart, I freaked. I didn't know what to do. She's crazy about cards and the tournament's nots upposed to be open to family members of the staff and Teejy's my family, see?"

  Clearly they did not.

  "Well, I couldn't pop up two days before the tournament started when it was too late for her to get her entry fee back and all and say 'Here I am and you can't play because I work here,' now could I?"

  Was the girl as naive as she appeared? wondered Sigrid. Did she really think the term 'immediate family' covered a cousin she hadn't spoken to in over a year?

  "I was petrified that Madame or Mr. Flythe would find out." H

  Evidently she was that naive.

  "Ms. Baldwin-"

  "Oh, I know it was wrong of me, but what else could I do? I left a message on Teejy's answering machine to pretend not to know me if we met unexpectedly and she did. And then when the bomb went off-It's been so horrible for me! I haven't known what to do."

  Her pretty blue eyes began to resemble rain-drenched forget-me-nots again.

  Sigrid glanced at Alan Knight. There was a faint expression of distaste on hisf ace and she gave him a nudge under the table. Immediately, he made soothing noises and proffered his handkerchief.

  "Please, you won't tell them, will you?" she asked, dabbing at her eyes.

  "Only if it becomes unavoidable," Sigrid assured her expressionlessly.

  "The hospital won't give me any details over the telephone," moaned Molly. "I guess I could have gone down, but if she was unconscious, that wouldn't do her any good, would it? And I was afraid you'd have someone there, you see, and then you'd know"

  She looked at Alan Knight timidly. "She's going to be okay, isn't she? I mean, she's not going to die or anything?"

  "No," Knight said tightly. "They expect her to live."

  "Oh great!" she said with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

  Hastily, Sigrid asked, "Lieutenant Knight, would you ask somebody to get us something to drink? I'd like coffee. Black. Ms. Baldwin?"

  "Ginger ale, please."

  Wordlessly, Knight went himself.

  So much for good cop/bad cop, thought Sigrid.

  By the time he returned, with their beverages on a tray and his distaste on hold, she had led Molly back over Friday night again. The girl still insisted that she hadn't particularly noticed Pernell Johnson's movements. She did, however, remember Ted Flythe's.

  "He rushed around and helped change the ashtrays with the rest of us. The cut-glass ones are so much prettier, but harder to clean and with cardplayers-Mr. George has to put out fresh ones every three hours. Those people smoke like chimneys."

  Alan Knight glanced at Sigrid, who acknowledged with a slight nod how easy Flythe might have found it to switch one cribbage board while everyone else was switching hundreds of ashtrays.

  "Let's move on to today," said Sigrid. "Several people say you spoke to Pernell Johnson at the service door shortly before the ten-thirty break."

  "That's right. I didn't know his name though. I was asking him to keep an eye on the ash stands on the landing.

  Madame Ronay has a thing about dirtys and. People can be so messy. They dropc hewing gum off there, or leave candyw rappers. So I asked him to tend themd uring the break."

  "And did he?"

  "I guess I forgot to look."

  "Madame Ronay stopped in at the

  Bontemps Room during the break tol ook for you. She says you weren't theret hen."

  "No, I'd gone down to my office."

  "But she'd just come from there andd idn't find you."

  "We must have just missed each other. Mr. Flythe had given me the copies you wanted of the pairings and after I spoke to the busboy, I went on down the back way. I put the sheets in a folder for you, took care of some things on my desk, and then returned by the grand staircase about forty-five minutes later."

  Knight had been following her story on his sketched floor plan. "It could have happened like that," he said. "As many exits and elevators and halls as this place has, you could play ring-around-the-rosy all day."

  "Madame Ronay spent some time in her office,.too," said Sigrid "is that near yours?"

  Molly gave a feminine hoot. "My office is in that warren back of the main desk. La R -I mean, Madame Ronay's is up on thirty, next to the boardroom. On thirty, even the broom closets are bigger than my office."

  "So from approximately ten-thirty till eleven-thirty, you were at your desk alone?"

  Molly Baldwin nodded her curly brown head.


  "Did you see anyone, speak to anyone along the way?"

  "Gee, I don't know. You know how it is: you just nod or wave; you don't stop to talk every time. There was the desk clerk, of course, and the bell captain. There're always people coming or going."

  "In your office, too?"

  "Well, no. Clerical staff don't have to work on Sundays. Just a skeleton crew down in the secretarial pool in case of emergencies. They mostly goof off or read or knit 'cause nothing ever happens on Sunday."

  "Now, Ms. Baldwin, you've told us that you did not know Pernell Johnson except by sight and only as a staff member employed here at the hotel. Is that correct?"

  As Sigrid's voice became more official, Molly tensed again. "That's right," she said anxiously.

  "We've heard that he recently moved here from Miami. That's where you're from, too, isn't it?"

  "But I didn't know him," Molly protested. " Miami 's huge. That's like saying I ought to know you because we both live in New York."

  "So, in fact, he gave no indication that he'd ever seen you around Miami either?"

  Molly Baldwin shook her head.

  "Very well, Ms. Baldwin," Sigrid concluded. "If you'll bring me those pairings sheets, I think that'll be all for now."

  The girl looked at Alan Knight entreatingly. "Would you tell them about me at the hospital?" she asked. "My name, I mean, and that I'm Commander Dixon's cousin so they won't give me ah ard time about letting me see her?"

  "Certainly, Ms. Baldwin," he said formally.

  "Oh, thank you," she breathed, and slipped away to fetch the papers.

  "Aren't you going to tell her?" Sigrid asked.

  "Let her find it out at the hospital," said Knight. "Did I apologize for thinking you were callous about Commander Dixon? And Dixon 's her only relative, for God's sake."

  One of the uniformed officers whom Sigrid had instructed earlier came over with a slender young black girl in tow.

  "Lieutenant Harald, this is Miss Terri Pratt, the victim's friend."