“Yes, but I’ll recognize them as well.”
“That’s true. I just wouldn’t want to do anything to upset the count.”
“Forget the count.”
“If you think it will be all right,” I said, rubbing my partially healed cheek. “But don’t mention it to the wife. No sense tempting the gods.”
We’d just finished making arrangements when Emmie returned. While saying good-bye, she caught sight of the countess’s copy of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. She nudged me to make sure I saw it too.
“There’s a little boy here whose father feels he’s too old for it. He comes here and I read it with him. He calls me Glinda, on account of my red hair.”
She gave us her leave to go and a servant escorted us out of the embassy. We walked back to the hotel.
“Odd she didn’t bring up her battle with the flying monkeys over at the Easterlys’,” I said.
“You see, Harry? Everyone but you knows about the Wizard of Oz.”
As we went into the hotel, I glanced about. Sure enough, the same fellow was standing in the same place, clasping his hands in the same way.
10
The next morning, Emmie donned her now restored riding outfit and we went down to breakfast.
“I admire your willingness to get back in the saddle,” I told her.
“It’s the only sure way of meeting with the countess. At least it hasn’t rained in a couple days.”
“Yes, the ground will be nice and hard,” I said.
“I plan on finding a friendlier horse. What will you be doing?”
“I think I’ll try Richard Cole’s lawyer again. Maybe he has another address.”
“You don’t trust the fellow from Twine Alley to make good?”
“Oh, he will if he can. But what if Cole’s staying out of town?”
“Why aren’t you searching for the jewelry? If you find that, you’ve proven the fraud.”
“People committing fraud rarely allow insurance investigators to search their homes for the evidence.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Well, happy hunting.”
I took a car back to Patterson’s office and found it once again full of supplicants. I sent my card in and was summoned a short while later. Patterson was behind the desk, looking a little less grim than the day before. Across from him was a tall man with a neat little mustache.
“This is Mr. Chappelle, Mr. Reese. He has a hearing today.” We shook hands and then all sat down.
“I’m sorry to intrude on you, but I wasn’t able to locate Cole at the address you gave me.”
“Yes, Joseph told me. He also told me he didn’t think the woman was telling the truth about the address she gave you.”
“He was right about that,” I said. “ I thought you might know of another relative, maybe outside Washington?”
“No, he assured me I could find him at his sister’s. But he was never formally charged, and isn’t obligated to stay in contact. I wonder if Mr. Chappelle—I mean Julius Chappelle—might have another address. Perhaps from when Cole first came to him.”
“You know my brother then, Mr. Reese?” Chappelle interjected. “I’m Sam. Julius may have mentioned me.” Then he gave me a broad smile.
“No, but I believe Sergeant Lacy did.” Except for being just as tall, Sam Chappelle didn’t look much like his brother. He had to be at least twenty years younger, and where Julius had the look of a comfortable, well-fed businessman, Sam had the aspect of an athlete.
“Oh, yes. Sergeant Lacy and I have been acquainted for some time. A true servant of the people.”
“You speak more generously of him than he did of you.”
“He can afford to make enemies—he has the club. Whereas I must live by my wits.”
“Is it a good living?” I asked.
He laughed, as did Patterson. “Well, not as good as my brother’s perhaps, but better than Mr. Patterson’s.”
“I always thought lawyers did pretty well for themselves.”
“Normally. But you see, Mr. Patterson is a credit to his race.”
“And that doesn’t pay as well?”
“No, indeed not. It may be good for the soul, but not the stomach. Am I not correct, Brother Patterson?”
“You are all too correct, Brother Chappelle.”
“Of course, he might gain himself a place in the Pantheon of Negro Men of Note. But the image the sculptor strikes, if he is honest, will be one of an emaciated, exhausted soul. We all applaud the credit to his race, but no one among us—not even the negro shopkeeper—is willing to extend him the credit he needs to live. He is, alas, a poor risk.”
“As our new President learned just a little while back,” Patterson said.
“Mr. Roosevelt?” I asked.
“Oh, yes,” Chappelle answered. “Surely you heard of Mr. Booker T. Washington’s visit to the White House?”
“Yes, I read that that ruffled some feathers down south.”
“Ruffled some feathers? Mr. Roosevelt lost himself a million votes. Simply because he invited the supreme credit to his race over for a modest meal. You see, Mr. Roosevelt didn’t realize what a poor risk his guest was. But he’ll not make the mistake a second time. And you can be sure that message is understood all up and down the line. Indeed, the market for credits to their race has soured. Brother Patterson must content himself with a periodic laudatory profile in The Colored American, and the intermittent gratitude of the paupers you saw waiting outside. Is it enough, Brother Patterson?”
“No, decidedly not, Brother Chappelle. But you left off the fees from bandits like yourself. It’s you who keep food on my table.”
“You see, Mr. Reese,” Chappelle explained, “I must earn enough for my own keep, and also for that of the credit to his race. It’s my sole wish that I might thereby absorb some of his divine goodness.”
“Most unlikely, Brother Chappelle.”
“Alas, I wish in vain.” They shared another laugh. “But I’ve kept you from your quest for this man, Mr. Reese. Cole, was it?”
“Yes, Richard Cole. Lacy suspects him of having something to do with a burglary.”
“Then that is reason enough to think him innocent.”
“Yes, but there’s more to it. You see, I’m fairly certain there was no burglary, just insurance fraud.”
“And you represent the insurer?”
“Yes. I’m hoping Cole might know something about it. He lived in the house.”
“What makes you think he would confide in you if he does?”
“Well, he’s already lost his job. He has to be feeling a little wronged.”
“And you think for the sake of revenge, he’ll reveal the truth?”
“Yes, that and ten dollars.”
“You are paying too high, Mr. Reese. But you can console yourself that you are making a contribution to Brother Patterson.”
“How so?”
“You give this Cole his pieces of silver, he spends them playing policy with me, and I remit them to Brother Patterson for services rendered. But I have delayed you both. I should be going on my way. Until this afternoon, Brother Patterson. Mr. Reese.”
“I should be going, too,” I said.
We walked out together.
“You know, there was a little more to Lacy’s theory,” I told him.
“And what was that?”
“I’m actually looking into three different burglaries which all occurred within a few weeks of each other. Lacy mentioned that some of the servants in each of the houses were supplied by your brother’s agency.”
“All from his stable,” he laughed. “You can take my word, my brother is not using his minions for stealing the belongings of their employers.”
“Why do you refer to them as his minions?”
“Oh, pay no attention. A poor choice of words.”
“Would you rank your brother as a credit to his race?”
“No. My brother charts his own course. He is an enigma, even to m
e.”
“But like you, he lives by his wits?”
“Yes, even more so. Julius is a shrewd man. He doesn’t need to hire Mr. Patterson to keep himself out of jail. Good day, Mr. Reese.”
“Good day, Mr. Chappelle.”
I took his friendly advice and caught a car over to Julius Chappelle’s agency. I was told he was interviewing an applicant, but it wasn’t long until he was free and I was led into his office.
“I’m having some trouble locating Richard Cole,” I said. “Mr. Patterson gave me an address, but Cole seems to have moved on. He thought you might have an earlier address, from when he first came to you.”
He went out and came back with Cole’s file and read it over. “When he came here originally, this was some years back, he was staying with a brother. But he never left an address. He simply called back until I found him a position.”
“How did you check up on him without an address?”
“People with credentials don’t apply for positions paying ten dollars a month. Most of those I place have come up from the South with little but the clothes on their back. If they are hired, they will have the privilege to work sixteen hours a day, seven days a week, with every other Sunday off. After a few years, when they have some credentials, they can take a better job paying fourteen dollars a month, with Sundays and every other Thursday evening off. But there they have reached the top. It isn’t an attractive proposition to someone who isn’t hungry. There is always more demand than supply.”
“I don’t suppose you put that in your newspaper advertisements,” I said.
He chuckled. “No, I say as little as possible.”
“Is it a good business?”
“It’s profitable. But if you’re looking to buy it, Mr. Reese, I’m afraid you’re too late. I have a buyer.”
“Moving on to something else?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have Cole’s brother’s name there?”
“Yes, Albert. Albert Cole.”
“Thank you. Speaking of brothers, I met yours a little earlier.”
“Samuel? Oh, at Mr. Patterson’s, no doubt.”
“Yes. He’s quite the philosopher.”
“A very amusing conversationalist. Regrettably, the police department attracts men with little appreciation for the wag.”
“When I mentioned Cole, he referred to him as one of your stable.”
“Did he?”
“Yes, and he referred to your placements as your minions. What did he mean by that?”
“You’d have to ask him. Samuel is loquacious to a fault.”
Once it was clear he wouldn’t be revealing anything further, I went back to the hotel to meet Emmie for lunch.
“How did it go this morning?” I asked. “Did you satisfy the countess?”
“I told her why I came, if that’s what you mean.”
“Can I know?”
“It’s not important that you know. What did you learn this morning? Did you find Richard Cole?”
“No, hopefully our friend from Twine Alley will find something.”
“What will you be doing this afternoon?”
I had little enthusiasm for taking Emmie along to Mrs. Spinks’, so I lied. “I thought I’d check in with Lacy.”
“What on earth for?”
“To see if there have been any other developments, like that burglary the night before last. What will you be doing?”
“I’m performing a service for the countess.”
“What sort of service?”
“A confidential one.”
After lunch, Emmie departed and I stopped at the desk to look at their city directory. There was no Albert Cole listed.
“Harry, I forgot you were staying here.” It was my old classmate, the fellow from the Syracuse Herald. “How about a drink? It’ll be on me.”
I had a half hour until I needed to meet the countess, so I went into the barroom with him. Out of the ether, two of his comrades appeared—the Boston Globe and the Denver Rocky Mountain News. We talked some about baseball and what-not, but these fellows didn’t let much distract them from the work at hand. I’d been to college, so I knew something about drinking. But these boys were of a different class. In ten minutes, we’d been through about four rounds. Or rather, they had. I was still on my first. I wasn’t sure what a cocktail cost at the Normandie, only that it wasn’t going to be cheap. The Herald had called the check for himself, but I wasn’t going to take chances. I kept to the side nearest the exit and was ready to make a dash for the lobby at the least provocation. I was damned if I was going to be roped into filling the bottomless hollow leg of the fourth estate.
After about the fifth round, I saw the Rocky Mountain News make what looked like a furtive move toward the door. I took it as my cue. Unfortunately, in leaping back from the bar I tripped over an old fellow and knocked him to the floor. I had no choice but to stop and help him up. I was sure the fellows had taken the opportunity to evaporate, but there they were, standing firm. The Herald even invited the old fellow to the bar.
“Make way for the congressman,” the Globe shouted.
“I’m not a congressman.”
“Harry, you decked the chairman of the House Committee on Benevolent Appropriations!” the Rocky Mountain News told me.
“No, I’m the new Collector of Customs for Duluth.”
“A drink for the Collector of Boodle for Duluth!”
I began to relax a little. Partly from the liquor, but principally because the boys had found themselves a new sucker. Still, I didn’t take any chances. When it was time, I said not a word and was out the door and on the street in five seconds flat.
11
At the embassy, I asked for the countess and then waited at the door. In no time she came down and we got into a carriage. That first evening she’d been dressed like a shop girl, and the next both her manner and her gown were decidedly formal. Today she was somewhere in between, in a fashionable dress with the little Boucheron tiara atop a mound of red hair. She was like a chameleon, but with freckles and a title.
“Emmie mentioned you sent her on an errand,” I said.
“I thought that would be the best way to ensure she wouldn’t know about our outing. I sent her to Baltimore. To deliver a package. Do you think there’s a Holland Street in Baltimore?”
“I’m not sure, I’ve only been there once or twice. Why?”
“I told Emmie to deliver the package to a Frenchman living at 1524 Holland Street and await his reply.”
“But you’re unsure of the address? She can look the name up in the directory.”
“I suppose she could, had I given her a name.”
“You forgot to give her the man’s name?”
“What man?”
“The Frenchman who may, or may not, live on Holland Street.”
“Oh, I don’t know anyone living in Baltimore. Is it a nice city?”
“I doubt many of its inhabitants would describe it that way, but it has a certain charm—provided you like grimy industrial towns.”
“And you do?”
“Well, perhaps like is too strong a word. But I feel a kind of nostalgic comfort when I visit them,” I confided. “So Emmie’s mission is a futile one. I wish I could watch.”
“You two seem to be playing some sort of game all the time.”
“Isn’t that what marriage is all about?”
“Not my marriages.”
“How many have you had?”
“Just the two. Monsieur B____ and the count.”
“Whatever became of M. B____?”
“He died. Shortly after we were married.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Are you really? Whatever for?”
“Just politeness. What was in the package you gave Emmie?”
“A paradox.”
“That seems fitting. What form did it take?”
“I gave her strict instructions that under no circumstances should she open
it.”
“That was a mistake. There’s some chance she’ll obey your injunction on the way to Baltimore, but when she finds there’s no Frenchman at 1524 Holland Street, the wrapper will be off before you can say Jack Robinson.”
“Of course. That’s the essence of the plan. Inside is a piece of jewelry and a note. The note is addressed to the Frenchman, no name of course, simply Monsieur. In addition to telling him that his involvement in the burglaries has gone undetected, it asks him to give the brooch to Emmie as a reward for following my instructions.”
“That’s ingenious,” I said. “And it sounds foolproof. When I try this sort of thing on her, it usually ricochets back at me.”
“I assume she’ll try to wrap it back up, but I used a colorful paper and an overabundance of glue, so there’s little chance she can do that without it being obvious.”
“Oh, even if it could be done, Emmie would never resort to anything so simple. She’ll have an hour on the train coming back to think up an explanation. Give Emmie’s fecund imagination an hour and the results are unfathomable.”
“Will it be entertaining?”
“Undoubtedly, assuming you don’t mind giving up the brooch.”
“Oh, I genuinely meant it as a gift. Do you remember the Lalique peacock she admired so last night?”
“Yes, a very generous gift.”
“Not quite that generous. It was a second, more modest Lalique. This one a cameo on a rose background. It conflicted with my hair. What is the name of our host?”
“Hostess. Mrs. Spinks. She runs some sort of influence-peddling operation and uses the race results as a lure. I meant to ask, how shall I introduce you?”
“As the Countess von Schnurrenberger. You can leave off the ‘und Kesselheim’—everyone does.”
“You aren’t afraid of compromising your position by visiting a betting parlor?”
“I assume discretion is assured.”
“Yes, of course. I would just hate for some rumor to get back to the count. If you were seen escorted by me….”
“Why do keep bringing up the count? Are you afraid of him?”
“Well, Elizabeth made it sound as if he had a bit of a temper.”
“I will take care of the count.”
Kalorama Shakedown (A Harry Reese Mystery) Page 9
