I believe neither account is entirely true. I think it likely that Mrs. Mulvihill acted alone in the murder of her husband, perhaps in the mistaken belief there was more of an estate than there turned out to be. It was at that time she learned of the tontine and that there were just three subscribers left. It seemed out of her reach at the time, but the size of the fortune gave rise to a plan.
She managed to kill Whitley without being detected and then moved on to Coombs. Perhaps her plan was to marry Coombs and then induce him to murder Brayton. But greater familiarity with Coombs’s character made her realize that this was unlikely. So she came up with the plan of killing Coombs and either blackmailing, or conspiring with, Brayton. She rented the cottage in Cornwall simply to give credence to her original, false, confession. I believe she was unaware Brayton had put Mrs. Reese’s article in his pocket when he visited her cottage, for the article points most to her. She was living near Bacup, whereas Brayton would have been unlikely to come across it. Worthy as it is, the Bacup Times has a limited distribution.
While Brayton may not have been involved in the first two murders, I believe his version of recent events to be false. For one, his alibi for the time of the murder is of the sort that invites suspicion. He was attending a function at his college, in Cambridge, an event he had never attended in the previous forty years. And since he had such a sound alibi, why would Mrs. Brinker’s planting of his coat on Coombs’s body implicate him in the murder? He could simply say Coombs had visited him and on leaving took the wrong coat.
I asked young Mr. Coombs, the solicitor, if he would apply for the tontine to be awarded to his father’s heirs. He said he would, but merely as a matter of principle. He said Brayton has two nephews who are pressing the case that their uncle won it, on the grounds that the tontine makes no provision for situations such as this. Mr. Coombs says their position is nonsense, but that most of the fortune will probably be spent by the trustees during the protracted time the case is argued in Chancery.
Please tell Mrs. Reese that if she ever visits Britain to be sure to stop by Lancashire.
With regards,
Inspector Reginald Cropsey, Lancs. Constabulary
That night we went out as a sort of celebration. Harry was quite generous in his praise, and I reciprocated by pointing out it was the tontine that proved the crux of the matter.
“But what was your question, Emmie?”
“I asked the Inspector what became of Mr. Brinker. I thought that if he had in fact existed, he might have been a member of the tontine. And if he were imaginary, the reason for his invention might provide a solution.”
That spring, I was called on to help with the case in which Harry was then involved. And M.E. Meegs took a well-deserved holiday.
Emmie’s Newspaper Stories
These are the articles authored by Emmie and mentioned in the preceding story which appeared in English newspapers of varying prestige. The copy was taken from what appears to be Emmie’s own scrapbook of clippings. You will find photos of it at:
MeegsMorgue.blogspot.com
From the Bacup Times:
GRUESOME MURDER IN BUFFALO
The severely deteriorated body of a prominent lawyer of this city was recently found submerged in the Erie Canal. Charles Weigand, Esq., had gone missing in the Spring of this year. Weigand was an avid yachtsman and when his vessel was found disabled and abandoned, it had been presumed by police that he had drowned in a Lake Erie squall. Private investigators, however, had uncovered Weigand’s links to a ring of opium smugglers. As a base of operations, the smugglers used one of the towering grain elevators for which Buffalo is noted. The ringleader was the notorious David Lantry, a cunning criminal well known in New York.
Weigand had been brutally murdered in the Spring, after arousing the displeasure of Lantry and the other confederates. His corpse was then submerged for safekeeping in the canal, at the rear of a concert saloon. Their plan was to allow the body to be disfigured by its long bath, enough so that the cause of Weigand’s death could no longer be determined. Then the body would be placed along the lake shore, giving the impression Weigand had died in the wreck of his yacht and that the body had spent the intervening months adrift.
The facts were uncovered when Lantry and his band attempted to collect on an insurance policy taken on Weigand’s life not long before the murder.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
From the Leek Times and Cheadle News:
WHITE SLAVERS ROUTED.
SOUGHT IMMIGRANT GIRLS.
NEW YORK, Thursday.—The crew of the white slave ship Hippolyta, a schooner of unknown registry, has been driven from the shores of Long Island. Detective Leverton, an operative of the Pinkerton Agency, led members of the Sag Harbor Vigilance Committee in a fierce and prolonged battle against the ruthless slavers.
What made the affair most singular was that the slavers were, just like their captives, all women. They were of dark complexion and spoke in a tongue unrecognizable by their pursuers. All of the rogues escaped capture, but were forced to swim for their maleficent vessel. They left behind many of their weapons and much of their meager attire. Leverton was awarded the slave captain’s corset by way of a trophy.
For the moment, the fate of 147 immigrant girls, tempted from the docks and tenements of New York by the slavers, remained a mystery. But while the vigilantes returned to their domiciles, content with having secured their coast, Leverton maintained the search. It wasn’t until early the next evening that he heard a chorus of cries from the cliffs above the shore. Scaling the wall of stone, he came to a large cave and in it found the missing maidens.
So exhausted was he, that he spent the night with the grateful gross of girls. The next morning, he carried each down in her turn. A special train brought the freed captives back to their families. One of their number, an orphan by the name of Lele Losinzky, was wedded to Leverton the next day.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
[Ed. note: Where the remaining stories were printed is not known.]
WAKEFUL PINKERTON OFFERS BELATED HELP.
The great detective, Robert Pinkerton, heir to the firm of insomniacs that bears his name, was caught unaware when his companion, Jacob Worth, had his watch stolen during an outing at Brighton Beach race track. The watch was of great sentimental and monetary value to Mr. Worth, a prominent politician of the Borough of Brooklyn. Though cognizant the turf is most congenial to pickpockets, Mr. Worth no doubt thought he was secure in the detective’s company. The discomfited Mr. Pinkerton has vowed to apprehend the culprit, even if it necessitates another fifty years of sleeplessness.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
VIRTUOSA PICKPOCKET IS ITALIAN COUNTESS.
A pickpocket of unusual skill has been operating in the precincts of Brooklyn for some time and it is only now that police believe they have identified the culprit. The Countess Consuelo Maria de la Salsiccia, well-known at the gaming tables of French resorts, has chosen the City of Churches as her new home.
Police have known of the woman for some time but it was only when she made the mistake of relieving Mr. Edwin Vanderheim of $1800 that she was identified. Mr. Vanderheim is himself a frequent visitor to the casinos of Europe and recognized the Countess at once. However, he did not realize his large bank roll was missing until the next morning and police have been unable to locate the courtly lady as of this report.
This ability to retrieve, empty, and return a man’s wallet unnoticed is the hallmark of the Countess’s nimble work. A few months past, she deftly made off with the watch and jeweled chain of Jacob Worth, yet left behind in his vest pocket the keepsake photograph that had resided in a locket attached to the chain.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
CONFESSIONS OF A CO-RESPONDENT.
NEW YORK. —The recent exposure of a divorce mill in this city has yielded the following lurid account by one of the participants, who has given to calling herself Miss Letitia Dare.
“I was born into one of the fine families of Boston, so you will un
derstand my need to remain concealed behind this false appellation. It was through a youthful indiscretion several years back that I was forced to leave my family’s protection and learn to fend for myself, in a world much crueler than I had ever imagined.
“Since that time, necessity has forced me to perform many tasks, and make numerous acquaintances, which I would have joyfully avoided had circumstances allowed me. I will leave it to your readers’ no doubt able imaginations as to the details of my trials.
“It was through some legal difficulties that I first became acquainted with the lawyer Henry Zeimer. He offered to help me even though I lacked the means to pay for his services. And he did so admirably.
“I soon learned that he did, in fact, expect payment, but through an unconventional means. He explained that he had a woman client who had been much abused by her husband. She wished to divorce him, to save her children as well as herself, but the husband had had no trouble in making this impossible.
“Mr. Zeimer proposed that if I were to make the acquaintance of this husband, and be seen with him publicly, I could free this anguished woman from her prison-like marriage. The plan required that I appear before a judge and give certain testimony that, while not altogether true, was neither complete fabrication. When I met this woman, and saw the genuine tears she shed, and the spiritual bruises she bore, I agreed most willingly to aid her as best I could.
“I played my part with such proficiency that Mr. Zeimer soon brought to me other women, similarly bound to despicable men, that I might free them as well. Then he introduced me to a gentleman who told a tale at least as harrowing as any of the women. He, quite literally, brought tears to my eyes. There was little question that I was anxious to help the poor soul, but I didn’t see how I could.
“As was so often the case, Mr. Zeimer came upon a solution. This man would hire me as a private detective. In that role, I would testify to having seen his wife in various liaisons with men of unknown identity. In this way, no one innocent of cruelty would be harmed.”
It should be noted that Miss Dare was given a suspended sentence by the judge in the case, while Henry Zeimer was sentenced to ten years in State Prison.
Hidden Booty
by
Robert Bruce Stewart
I
I was delighted, though not surprised, when things ended just as I had told Harry they would. The renown he secured through solving the case of the missing gold would have been capital enough to launch his own agency. But the two thousand dollars the insurers provided him—however indirectly—certainly helped.
In fact, I had done as much to solve the case as Harry. He had found the gold, but I identified the culprits. What’s ironic is that I had a difficult time convincing Harry to take the case in the first place. We had arrived in Trouville just a few days before, having made the crossing on the steam yacht Spoils of the Sovereign. Harry, with a good deal of help from me, had solved a case of insurance fraud for a man named Koestler. In appreciation, we were invited to join his party for the trip to France.
On landing, Harry and I had expected to leave the Koestler party and go on to Paris. But before we could leave Trouville, I heard about a consignment of gold having been stolen on a French ship that had recently arrived from New York. As luck would have it, one evening at the casino I was introduced to a representative of the insurance company involved in the case. Monsieur Trepanier was quite loquacious on the matter and I wasted no time in suggesting that Harry might be willing to offer some assistance in locating the gold. You see, Harry had recently completed an important treatise on the subject of burglary insurance. However, he hadn’t had much practical experience in the pursuit of thieves, so I took the liberty of embellishing his résumé.
M. Trepanier was impressed with my depiction of Harry’s career and wasted no time in making an offer. Since Harry’s grasp of French wasn’t quite up to the task, I accepted on his behalf. It meant arriving back in New York five weeks earlier than we had planned, which of course was disappointing. But due to some unfortunate financial entanglements, our tour was unlikely to be as comfortable as we might have preferred. The fault for that lies with Mr. Koestler. The man was a common card cheat. I suppose I should have expected as much from a man who made his living manipulating share prices. But I should hardly think it naïve for a guest to expect a little honesty at the table of her host. Our troubles were compounded when we discovered that the French casinos are nothing more than shady schemes bent on swindling their patrons. So there was a certain fortuitousness in our learning of the case of the missing gold.
On the 15th of August, Harry, M. Trepanier, and I took the ferry from Trouville to Le Havre, where the steamship L’Aquitaine was docked. This was the summer of 1901, just two days before the boat was scheduled to leave on its return trip. On boarding, we were greeted by the first officer, M. Houyvet, a tall, dour man, who escorted us to the captain’s stateroom. There we were introduced to Captain Veblynde, an older gentleman with a neatly trimmed grey beard; M. Rollin, the much younger second officer; M. Guenard, the purser; and Mr. Finn, who represented National City Bank, the New York firm that had shipped the gold on L’Aquitaine’s previous voyage.
M. Trepanier began explaining the situation, but Harry had a difficult time following, so it was decided Mr. Finn would do so in English. He was a young man who had the assured manner that comes with money and position. He was actually quite handsome, and spoke French with a near-perfect accent. He told us about the precautions taken with the delivery and storage of the gold on L’Aquitaine. There had been five iron-bound oak kegs, each holding nine bars of gold. The total shipment was valued at more than $350,000. The kegs were small, not even two feet tall, yet weighed more than 250 pounds each. A length of red tape was wrapped around each keg so that it crossed itself at both the top and the bottom. Then wax seals were applied at the top where the two ends met. The second officer, M. Rollin, had been sent with a representative of the bank to observe the packing of the gold and its subsequent transport from the Assay Office to L’Aquitaine. The kegs were then placed in the vault room, to which Captain Veblynde, First Officer Houyvet, and the purser, M. Guenard, each held a key. All this went without incident, as did the voyage to Le Havre.
Once the ship had docked, Mr. Finn came aboard to take control of the gold. He was led to the vault room, where he checked the seals at the top of the kegs, and all seemed in order. Then a most curious thing happened. M. Houyvet came to the room and reported that three gold bars had fallen through the bottom of the trunk of one of the disembarking passengers. Mr. Finn examined the five kegs again, this time checking the seals more closely. He determined that one had indeed been tampered with. A circular hole had been cut into the top, just big enough to allow a gold bar to pass through. Then the hole was blocked back up with a new piece of wood and the area covered by a wax seal nearly identical to that used by the Assay Office. He had that keg broken open and found that it was packed with lead ingots. He then had the other four kegs broken open. Two were likewise packed with lead, while two still held the gold.
“But even lead weighs appreciably less than gold,” Harry pointed out. “Wouldn’t the difference in weight be obvious to anyone moving the kegs?”
“The gold bars are well cushioned with sawdust, to prevent abrasions,” Mr. Finn told us. “By packing the lead tightly, the weight was nearly identical.”
“Who was the owner of the trunk?” I asked.
“Mme. Charlotte Yvard,” M. Trepanier answered. “She’s the wife of a minister in the current government.”
Then Mr. Finn added, “The French consider her above reproach.”
He told us the theory was that the thieves had randomly chosen her trunk to put some part of the gold in and had had a confederate dockside who would remove it before she reached customs. But wasn’t it more likely that her trunk was chosen deliberately? And for the obvious reason that no customs inspector could afford to offend the wife of a minister by rifling throu
gh her belongings. I was puzzled why there had been just three bars, as they were really rather small, just seven or eight inches long. But I hadn’t appreciated how much the gold weighed. One little bar, we were told, weighed twenty-seven pounds. And as it was, even three bars proved too much for the trunk. Since none of the passengers had gone through customs when the gold was discovered, instructions were given that all their baggage be searched thoroughly. Likewise the cargo, and any of the crew leaving the ship. But no more of the gold was found.
When the captain inquired how he had solved similar cases, Harry hesitated, either because he didn’t understand the question or, perhaps more likely, because none of his cases had been even remotely similar. So I took it upon myself to answer, in French. That way Harry wouldn’t be tempted to interrupt.
I had great fun inventing several intriguing episodes, and giving myself a prominent role in each. The first involved a similar theft of gold bullion and necessitated our navigating the catacombs beneath Manhattan. Mr. Finn made the unhelpful remark that he had lived most of his life in New York and was unaware of any catacombs. But I didn’t see any reason for his ignorance to inhibit me.
“Oh, it’s a closely held secret,” I told him. “They were created by red Indians, in the distant past, when the isle of Manhatta was ruled by Princess Wali-lanka. Each night she took a new lover, and in the morning slew him. Vultures were allowed to feast on the corpse, and then, when the bones had been picked clean, they were removed to the royal catacombs.”
“Did you see many bones?” M. Rollin asked.
“Easily ten thousand skulls,” I told him.
“What a bloodthirsty woman,” M. Trepanier observed.
First Blush: A Meegs Miscellany (A Harry Reese Mystery) Page 4
