Before we’d even gotten to the perfunctory hugs and how-wonderful-to-see-you-agains, she leaned right into Emmie and told her, “You’re not going to meet her, Emmie. And that’s the last we will say on the matter.”
“Hello, Elizabeth,” I said. “How lovely you’re looking this evening.”
And with Elizabeth there was no need to perjure oneself on this score. She was a striking blonde, a good five inches taller than Emmie, with a sense of fashion even I could appreciate. She looked like one of the girls in Life, or Judge, who cut men to the knees with their biting remarks. And she was no slouch when it came to the biting remarks either. When she wanted to be, she was amusingly witty. But when her mood had swung the other way, as it often did, it was best to give her a very wide berth.
“Hello, Harrison. I hope you can keep your wife out of trouble.”
“Harry,” I pleaded.
“I’m sorry, Harry. I know you probably aren’t involved in this. Why are you here, anyway?”
“Elizabeth, dear,” Emmie cooed. “We’ve just come down to see the sights, and you, of course.”
“Is that true, Harry?” She looked at me closely. “No, I can see it’s not.”
You know how some people can look you right in the eye and tell the most bald-faced lie without blinking? Well, I’m not one of those people. Interestingly, others usually mistake an inability to lie with integrity, so I suppose some good does come from it.
“Shall we go in to dinner?” I suggested. It took some effort to herd them into the dining room, but eventually we were seated.
“You know Emmie’s come to meet my employer, don’t you, Harry?” Elizabeth asked.
“The Countess von Such-and-such?”
“The Countess von Schnurrenberger. Yes.”
“No, I didn’t realize she took much interest in European aristocracy.”
Elizabeth shot a look Emmie’s way. “You mean he doesn’t know?”
“Know what, dear?” she replied.
“All right then, I’ll tell him.” Elizabeth turned to me. “Harry, do you remember that little book you were working on when I stayed with you last spring?”
“A Treatise on the Prevention and Detection of Fraud for the Underwriters of Burglary Insurance. I have an extra copy with me if you’d like one.”
“That’s terribly thoughtful of you, but that’s not why I bring it up. Do you remember bringing home one notably engaging chapter to share with Emmie and me?”
“Yes.” This was a chapter that concerned Madame B____, a master jewel thief who operated throughout Europe. Or, rather, I should say suspected master jewel thief, as she’d never been convicted, or even come to trial. Suddenly, my Allium cepa was shedding layers like Salome on a hot day. Perhaps you remember from Chapter One of the present tome Emmie having referred to the culprit in our case with the very phrase “master jewel thief”? Well, take it from me, she did. And she also referred to the thief as “she.” Which had led me to believe she suspected Elizabeth. However, what if it wasn’t Elizabeth’s arrival in Washington that had sparked Emmie’s curiosity, but the arrival of the countess? This warranted probing.
“Am I to understand that the countess and Madame B____ are one and the same?” I addressed this to Elizabeth, but she just stared at Emmie, so I turned the question to her. “Emmie?”
“Oh, all right,” Emmie relented. “Yes, they are one and the same. Mme. Veblynde, the captain’s wife, told me so while we were on L’Aquitaine.”
“And now you expect me to give you an introduction to the countess?” Elizabeth asked her.
“Well, you should prepare her for some sort of interview,” Emmie answered. “You see, Harry is here to investigate a series of jewel thefts. All of which occurred after the arrival of the countess, and her entourage.”
“And you think the countess is behind them?” Elizabeth addressed this question to me, but then answered it herself. “No, your scheming wife hadn’t confided in you. How much were these jewels worth, Harry?”
“Individually, a few hundred to a couple thousand. Perhaps not of Madame B____’s usual standards….”
“At least you have some sense.”
“…except for one brooch, valued at over $10,000.”
“For God’s sake. The woman is wealthy beyond our comprehension,” Elizabeth informed us. “You should also know what happened to the last man who repeated the rumor that the count’s new wife was a jewel thief. You see, the count is of the old school. This ill-mannered second secretary had to be sent back to Bucharest with a scar very similar to your own.”
“Hat pin,” I explained.
“And while we are revealing secrets, has Emmie ever confessed the truth about your little sojourn to France?”
“Which aspect particularly?”
“Its brevity.”
“Elizabeth, don’t go too far,” Emmie warned her.
“Me go too far? That’s rich, coming from you. Do you know why you were asked along on Koestler’s yacht?”
“You told me you wanted us there as an example of a happy couple for the purposes of your match-making,” Emmie said.
“Yes, that is what I told you. But the truth is I wanted Sally Koestler to see just how unencumbered a scheming wife might be in the right marriage. I’m sorry, Harry.”
“That’s quite all right, Elizabeth. I’ve tried to encumber her, but it just won’t take.”
“Why is it that no matter what absurd situation she creates for you, your only response is amusement?”
“I think they call it the survival instinct.”
“Are you through, Elizabeth, dear?” Emmie asked her.
“Oh, I haven’t gotten to the best part. Do you know what happened to the money you brought to France, Harry?”
“It was all Emmie’s money. And I have a pretty good idea.”
“She lost the bulk of it to Koestler in a poker game, just two nights before we landed in Trouville. The little fool tried to cheat him, but he out-cheated her. Then, after we landed, she borrowed from me to try her luck in the casino. She lost, and was forced to sell me your ticket home simply to pay her debts.”
“What you didn’t tell me,” Emmie countered, “was that you wanted our ticket on La Savoie so you could hound the countess into giving you a position.”
“I didn’t hound anyone!” Elizabeth had become heated. “And what I do is no concern of yours!”
The waiter had reached around her to remove a plate just as she spoke and her tone seemed to have shocked the old fellow. So I thought I’d ease his mind some.
“Isn’t it nice when old friends get together?” I asked him.
He gave me a wary smile and retreated. During dessert, my two companions carried on a lively conversation in French. I caught a word here and there, but the gist of it was lost on me. Which no doubt was the intent.
Elizabeth’s revelations didn’t come as much of a shock. I had suspected something of the sort, just the details were fresh. But I was surprised to hear Emmie had been foolhardy enough to enter a game of chance with Koestler. You can be sure he’s been fleecing people since he was in diapers. Of course, it was my own fault for agreeing to travel on Emmie’s purse. Not that I have any qualms about spending her money. I have as much pride as the next fellow, but it doesn’t get between me and a fine meal, or comfortable accommodations. No, that’s not the problem. It’s just that Emmie’s associations with wealth tend toward the erratic. And the turns for the worse are generally the sharpest. One moment, you’re anticipating a pleasant tour of Europe. The next, you find yourself broke in an expensive resort town. How we would have gotten back to Brooklyn if the job on L’Aquitaine hadn’t turned up is best left unpondered. But it probably would have involved me shoveling coal in the bowels of some steamship while Emmie toiled in the boat’s laundry.
When we’d finished and gone out to the lobby, I offered to hire a cab for Elizabeth.
“I believe I’d prefer to walk—it’s only a few blocks back
. But perhaps you’d give me an escort, Harry?”
“We’ll both come,” Emmie suggested.
“No, you stay here, Emmie,” her friend insisted.
“All right. Well, good-night, dear.”
They exchanged pecks and we went out to the street.
“How do you put up with her, Harry?”
“You dwell on the unpleasant side of it, Elizabeth.”
“Oh? What is the pleasant side?”
“Well, life is never dull.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s true. Now she’s turning her hand to extortion. Your wife is a common blackmailer, Harry.”
“You see? It’s always something new. Just whom is she blackmailing?”
“Oh, never mind. Do you honestly suspect the countess? I mean, now that you know about….”
“It is a strange coincidence that these burglaries started just after you arrived.”
“Yes, but the idea that she’d risk everything for some pieces of factory-made Tiffany….”
“Tiffany is unworthy?”
“Some of it, anyway. She says the cattiest things about the jewelry the women here wear.”
“There is another possibility,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“Suppose some other party was aware of the countess’s true identity. Someone inclined toward criminal behavior. They might make use of her past, hoping to throw suspicion on her.”
“You aren’t suggesting me, I hope.”
“No, but I thought you might know who else is privy to the secret.”
“Oh, I’m afraid that would include the entire diplomatic corps, and a good portion of the natives. It’s not much of a secret at all.”
“I thought the count was handy at squelching the rumor?”
“That poor Romanian was foolish enough to repeat what he’d heard at a reception the count was also attending.”
We’d arrived at the German Embassy on Massachusetts Avenue. It was a big, grey stone building, having a kind of Gothic look about it. There was a lightning strike some distance away that heightened the effect.
“If you’re so convinced that Madame B____ has retired to the staid life of a diplomat’s wife, why’d you pursue the position as her secretary?”
“I wasn’t aware of the extent of the transformation until I’d taken the job. She won’t even speak of her past. Not the interesting part of it. Of course, it was never my intention to take up burglary, just to gain new experiences. But there’s really little for me to do, except provide some diversion for the countess. And the count is continually making unwelcome advances in my direction. By the way, does Emmie know how to ride?”
“A horse? I’ve no idea, why?”
“I’m hoping for some fun tomorrow. Good-night, Harry.”
Back at the hotel, I found Emmie taking a bath. I sat down beside her.
“So this was all about suspecting Madame B____ was behind the burglaries?” I asked. “You were so sure she would take it up again when she arrived here?”
“I had no idea, but I was curious.”
“Will you be disappointed if she turns out to be innocent?”
“Oh, I didn’t come here to catch her.” She revealed nothing more until she rose. I handed her a towel. “Harry, what do you know about riding? I mean riding properly.”
“Little. But I’ll barter what information I have for due consideration.”
4
When we’d been seated for breakfast, Emmie asked what I’d be doing that morning.
“I thought I’d look up the other two victims, Senator Merrill and that Easterly fellow. Will you be accompanying me?”
“No, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll do some shopping.”
“I don’t mind. I suppose I can take my own notes. But it will be a blow to my prestige.”
When we finished, I went off to telephone the senator’s home. The maid told me he’d gone to his office at the Capitol and gave me instructions on finding it. After I hung up, I saw Emmie speaking to one of the desk clerks. Advancing stealthily, I distinctly heard her ask where she could hire a horse and purchase the proper attire of an equestrienne. I let him answer before joining her.
“Oh, there you are, Harry. I was just getting some directions. Shall we go out together?”
“Yes, I thought maybe I’d accompany you. Help carry packages.”
“Don’t you think you should attend to business? Look, there’s Sergeant Lacy. Hiding behind that newspaper.”
As we approached, Lacy gave up his blind and rose to greet us.
“Good morning, Mr. Reese. And Miss McGinnis.”
“I’ll leave you gentlemen to your work. See you at lunch, Harry.” And she was off.
“I was passing by and thought I’d let you know I plan to interview Julius Chappelle this afternoon at his office. You may join me if you wish.”
“The fellow who runs the employment agency?”
“Yes, that’s the one. Care to come along?”
“I would, yes.”
“I’ll pick you up here about two. By the way, Mr. Reese, when I asked at the desk, I was told you were registered as man and wife.”
“Well, you see….”
“Oh, it’s no business of mine. I just want you to realize it’s fruitless to hide things from me. I suspected you brought the girl along as something other than a stenographer when I saw the cheap ring she was wearing.”
“Cheap ring?”
“Yes, plate, isn’t it? Why does a man travel with a stenographer who doesn’t know shorthand and place a two-dollar wedding band on her finger? To fool a hotel clerk, I said to myself.”
“What if I told you she really was my wife?”
“Then I would ask myself, would a man prosperous enough to travel with a stenographer buy his wife a plate wedding band?” Smiling triumphantly, he went off.
The sergeant seemed to be pioneering a new branch of logic. But his assessment of the family jewels made me curious enough to remove my own ring and examine it. Although I couldn’t decipher their meaning, I found the hieroglyphs on the back vaguely reassuring. The truth is that we bought the rings in something of a hurry on our wedding day. If my memory served, they cost more than two dollars, but it was Emmie who’d paid for them—with her winnings from the track.
It had been raining most of the night, but the sky was clearing when I left the hotel and took a car up to Capitol Hill. At the senator’s office, I found two young women typing away. One greeted me without looking up and advised me that the senator had left for a meeting of the committee he chaired. She suggested I had a good chance of catching him before it got under way if I hurried. Her directions seemed overly complex, but I soon learned it was just the opposite. Half an hour later, I found the Transportation Committee room. Except for a fellow sweeping the floor, it was empty.
“I was told the committee was meeting this morning.”
“The committee’s done met and adjourned. The man from the Pennsylvania’s taken ill.”
“I’m sorry to hear about the senator from Pennsylvania, but I….”
“Oh, he’s not the senator from Pennsylvania. You might call him the senator from the Pennsylvania. You know, the railroad company. They don’t like to meet less he’s here. Else he gets angry with them.”
“I see. I was hoping to find Senator Merrill,” I told him.
“New Hampshire or Indiana?”
“Indiana.”
“I think he might of said he wanted to get his hair cut. But that could of been New Hampshire.”
He gave me directions to the Senate barber shop, where I found a half dozen men shaving a half dozen faces, but none of them belonging to Senator Merrill. A disapproving barber informed me the man from Indiana took his locks to an establishment a few blocks away on Pennsylvania Avenue, Southeast. Outside, I was trying to figure out where exactly Pennsylvania Avenue took up again when I heard someone calling my name. It was a fellow I’d been at high school with who’d gone off
to work for the Syracuse Herald.
“I didn’t know you were down here,” I said.
“I’m the Washington bureau, for four years now.”
I told him my story since we’d last met, and why I was in town. “Right now, I’m trying to find Senator Merrill’s barber.”
“New Hampshire or Indiana?”
“Indiana.” I gave him the address.
“Ah, right down here.”
He led me along yet another oblique avenue. This stretch was made up of low buildings—shops mostly—with a saloon or two on each block. It had a small-town feel. He told me about his adventures as a journalist, first in New York and then in Washington. As required in that profession, he’d become a determined cynic. At the barber’s, there were two chairs. In the first a youngster was having a trim. In the other was an older gent with a towel over his face, and three fellows simultaneously chattering at him.
“That must be him. With the flies buzzing about.”
Before he left, he invited me for a drink later. I accepted, and then went over to the fellow wearing the mask.
“Senator Merrill?” I asked.
He pulled down the towel. “No, Hutchinson.”
“Pardon me, I was told I’d find Senator Merrill here.”
“New Hampshire or Indiana?”
“Indiana.”
“We’ll be going into session shortly—he’ll be busy until afternoon. What do you want to bother the man about?”
“It’s an insurance matter.”
“Insurance? That’s my committee. What is it you need?”
“It’s of a personal nature.”
“Personal? All right. But remember to mention my name to your employer. Senator Hutchinson, the underwriter’s friend in Washington. Don’t forget, son.”
Setting Senator Merrill aside, I went off to find George Easterly. He was a lawyer of some sort with an office on the third floor of a building not far from Capitol Hill. The elevator opened onto a large room with typewriters clanking and clerks rushing about. I was told Easterly was just finishing a meeting. A clerk took in my card and returned a minute later to lead me into a smaller, sunny office that had an uninterrupted view of the Capitol. The well-tanned fellow behind the desk greeted me with a smile that seemed only moderately amphibian. He was about forty, still trim, with neat brown hair, a small mustache, and a good tailor.
Kalorama Shakedown (A Harry Reese Mystery) Page 3
