“Have you learned anything?” he asked.
“I was hoping to learn something from you,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“How did you meet Sanford Osborne?”
“I knew there was something odd about that.”
“About what?”
“He telephoned me, about a week ago. We met for lunch. He said the people at Sovereign felt this ‘problem’—that’s the word he used—this problem could be dealt with quietly. And he suspected my family probably felt the same way. I told him that of course we didn’t want William’s name to be stained. Then he suggested that I go to William’s office and pull any of the recent Sovereign policies I saw.”
“How recent?”
“Beginning last December. I told him I would, but it might be a couple days before I got out there. He said it needed to be sooner. So I told him I might have a friend who could get them. I asked what we were to do with the files and he said he’d pick them up. And that I should have my friend call him when he had them. Then I went up to the office and telephoned Sally. She agreed to go over right away and get them and then to call Osborne.”
“Did she get them?” I asked.
“It was a couple days before I got ahold of her again. She told me she had gotten the files, and phoned Osborne, but he never showed up to get them. She asked me what she should do with them and I told her to burn them.”
“Burn them?”
“Well, I assumed the purpose in taking them was to destroy them. And by then, I’d read of Osborne’s death. Was he really involved in some scheme?”
“Osborne? It looks like it,” I said.
“Actually, I meant William.”
“Well, I can’t think of another explanation. He seems to have written policies he knew were fraudulent. What he thought would transpire later, I don’t know. Maybe he just thought they were for people who couldn’t get insurance otherwise.”
“Yes, I’m sure it was something like that. Even so, it would look bad.”
“There’s something else I wanted to ask you. How well do you know the Marquisees?”
“I know about Mrs. Marquisee, if that’s what you mean.”
“But both William and your father had dealings with her husband.”
“We knew them in the past. I remember the two of them visiting the house long ago. Since then, I’m sure father has done some business with him, and that’s probably how William got him as a client.”
“But you wouldn’t know why Mrs. Marquisee would kill herself?”
“No. Though I remember hearing they didn’t get on well. Mr. and Mrs. Marquisee, I mean. But I don’t know if there’s really anything to that.”
“I don’t suppose you’d know if she gambled.”
“No, I’d have no idea,” he said. “Is that all? I should be going.”
“There is one other thing. It seems there was some mix up with the report on William’s autopsy. The first one indicated the wound was on the back of the head.”
“Did it? But then it was corrected.” He stood up and looked at his watch. “I really need to be going. You can call me if there’s anything else.”
Then he left for his parents’ and I telephoned the Koestlers and asked for Sally. She was out. I decided to see if I could get into the Frauenverein on the chance she was there. Mrs. Demming was downstairs and greeted me.
“Did you come to pick up Emmie?” she asked.
“Emmie?”
“Oh, dear. Did I let the cat out of the bag?”
“That’s all right, I’m used to Emmie’s surprises.”
We went upstairs and I saw Sally at a table with some other girls. Mrs. Demming led me up to a room off the mezzanine that looked like a bookkeeping department. Emmie was there working an adding machine.
“Oh, hello, Harry. I won’t be finished here until eight.”
“Shall I await you downstairs?”
“Yes, all right.”
As I left her, I saw the “bartender” who had identified Demming as meeting with Osborne at the saloon on First Avenue manning the faro bank. I went down and pried Sally away from her friends and we sat at another table.
“I was just speaking to John,” I said.
“Yes? About what?”
“About your visit to William’s office.”
“I was afraid that’s why you were at the house last night.”
“Did you destroy the files?”
“Yes. John said I should.”
“How is it the girl at Huber’s office didn’t recognize you?”
“Why would she? I just waited until I saw Mr. Huber go off somewhere. I told her I was from the insurance company.”
“And then you called Osborne?”
“Yes. He seemed relieved and told me to keep them until he came to meet me.”
“Meet you where?”
“At a friend’s house,” she said.
“Where was this friend’s house?”
“Here in Williamsburg,” she said. When it was obvious that hadn’t satisfied me, she added, “On Rush Street. But it had nothing to do with them. It was just a convenient place to meet.”
“Is it a green house?”
“Yes, how did you know that?”
“Just a guess,” I said. “But Osborne never came?”
“No. Then John told me that Osborne was dead and that I should burn the files. But that would have taken forever, so I just put them in the trash.”
“Did you look at them first?”
“Yes, when I took them. John had said to take anything with Sovereign after last December first.”
“But you didn’t notice the names on the policies?”
“No, I was doing it as quickly as possible.”
“How many do you think there were?”
“I don’t know, eight or nine—less than a dozen.”
Emmie came down and joined us. She mentioned she had seen a Koestler on a list of Smith alumnae. Sally confirmed it was her stepmother.
“She’s disappointed in me for not wanting to go off to school. But I really can’t see the use.”
On the way home, I told Emmie all about the autopsy report and Sally being the one who picked up the files in Huber’s office. Just before we went up to the apartment Emmie asked if I had told Elizabeth I’d be late.
“No, I didn’t think to. Why?”
“Well, I think she may have had dinner waiting for you. I told her how much you enjoyed her cooking. I hope she isn’t upset.”
Emmie’s hope was in vain. I tried apologizing for my faux pas. But it was not in Elizabeth’s nature to forgive freely.
“Oh, you can eat it cold,” she snapped.
“Elizabeth, Harry didn’t mean to offend you,” Emmie tried consoling her.
“You aren’t any better. You both are treating me like a pariah. You think I’ve done something, and you haven’t even told me what it is. I can understand him not trusting me, but you’ve known me for years. You really are unfair, Emmie.”
Emmie began leading me toward the door.
“Maybe you should go for a walk, Harry.”
“Will you be all right, Emmie?”
“She gets this way. Catamenia,” she whispered.
“Catamenia?” I asked.
“The curse, you yap,” Elizabeth clarified.
I went for a walk. I found my way to a saloon on Atlantic Avenue I’d visited before, but it lacked the camaraderie of the Carleton. After about an hour of listening to fellows complain about their jobs, their wives, and Roosevelt’s mess in the Philippines, I went home to see if the storm had subsided. Emmie and Elizabeth were sitting on the settee speaking in whispers.
“I’m sorry I called you a yap, Harry.”
“Oh, that’s all right.”
Then I went off to the bedroom. Emmie came in about half an hour later.
“Tomorrow Elizabeth will go with you to see Mrs. Warner,” Emmie announced.
“Tomorrow?”
/> “I told her what happened. She insists on showing us she wasn’t involved in this.”
“Why can’t you take her up there?”
“I have my job, Harry.”
“Have you learned anything yet?”
“Yes. I’ve learned I never want to be a bookkeeper. But I think I may know how to find out our mystery gentleman’s name.”
“How?”
“I’m not at liberty to say just yet.”
“Be careful, Emmie.”
“Don’t worry, Harry,” she assured me. “You’d better get to sleep dear, you’re catching an early train tomorrow.”
“I hate early trains.”
“But this way you’ll be back Thursday morning. I telephoned and checked the times. You can catch the early train tomorrow morning, meet with Mrs. Warner in the afternoon, and then catch the night train home.”
“Travel by two unpleasant trains with a severely sarcastic woman suffering from catamenia. Just to meet with an eccentric who dreams about homicide. If you don’t mind, Emmie, I’ll plan my next excursion myself.”
“All right, Harry.”
The next morning, I called Ratigan from the station and told him about the autopsy report and Sally’s taking the files. Then Elizabeth and I boarded the Empire State Express. We spent the morning alternately dozing and reading and Elizabeth proved herself a reasonably pleasant traveling companion. About one, when the rush was over, we went to the café car for lunch.
“You know, if you had any questions about my doings,” Elizabeth began, “all you had to do was ask.”
“Tibbitts hadn’t painted a very flattering picture. And I found it odd that you were living out in Williamsburg. Whose idea was it for you to move out there?”
“Tibbitts’s, of course. He wanted to give you the illusion I had some connection to this case you’re investigating.”
“Why?”
“He wanted me to keep an eye on you. And I suppose he assumed the more you suspected me, the more I would see of you. Something like that.”
“Did he tell you why he wanted you to keep an eye on me?”
“No, our relationship is purely for his convenience. He did me a favor, as I suspect you know. But had I known the price of it, I wouldn’t have accepted. He’s a man devoid of human emotion.”
I took that to mean he was a man Elizabeth wasn’t able to manipulate. It was about three when we got off the train in Fulton. We hired a carriage and arrived at the Warners’ sometime before five. Old Mr. Warner greeted us, this time offering a choice of weaponry to do in his son with. When I declined, he directed us to the house.
“What a peculiar sense of humor,” Elizabeth commented.
“And he’s just the prologue,” I told her.
Mrs. Warner was at her station in the kitchen, and welcomed us in her usual friendly manner. At first, she mistook Elizabeth for Emmie. A natural mistake, excepting that Elizabeth was several inches taller, and very blonde. She served us some tea and biscuits.
“I’m so glad you stopped in—we don’t get many visitors here. Certainly not like New York.”
We agreed it wasn’t. Then we all prattled on a bit, until Elizabeth cleared her throat. I brought the conversation back around to Mrs. Warner’s homicidal plans for her husband, and her various visitors.
“You see, what we wanted to ascertain, Mrs. Warner…,” I tried.
“He wants to ask you if I am the woman who visited you with this plan,” Elizabeth said.
“Oh, you are much like her,” Mrs. Warner said. “Let me see.” Then she went and got her eyeglasses. “Yes, I suppose you are. Aren’t you?”
“No, I am not, you silly fool!” Elizabeth explained.
“But Mrs. Warner, you weren’t wearing your eyeglasses when you met this woman, were you?” I asked.
“No, why would I be?”
“Yes, exactly,” I said. “Perhaps we might try another approach. Suppose you sit facing the other direction, while Miss Custis speaks to you. Then you only have her voice to go by.”
After several minutes of this, I asked Mrs. Warner the verdict.
“No, I would say it’s not the same lady. But she sounds very like her. And she does have that temper. You really shouldn’t let things upset you so, dear.”
Elizabeth apologized and we had another round of tea and biscuits.
“Do you have plans to return to New York, Mrs. Warner?” I asked.
“If we’re sure it’s safe. At least, I want to. Dickie would rather stay here and tinker. But I worry about his father.”
With good reason. Elizabeth and I went back to Fulton and had dinner.
“Should I be relieved that that bedlamite has cleared me?”
“That bedlamite is the only person who seems able to identify the mystery lady. So I would say yes.”
“Then you no longer suspect me?”
“No, we can forget about that,” I said. “But I do need to ask you one question. When I alluded to the takeover at Sovereign Monday evening, you realized what I was talking about immediately, didn’t you?”
“Of course, wasn’t I meant to?” she asked.
“Well, yes. But who was it you telephoned with the news later that evening?”
“It suddenly occurred to me we would want to cover our short position. I called our stock broker.”
“Who exactly is ‘we’ in this context?”
“Emmie and I, and I presume you. Don’t you ever talk to your wife?”
“Frequently, I just rarely learn anything. I wonder how we did.”
“Quite well, I imagine.”
“I didn’t even know we had the resources to make such a wager.”
“I suppose that’s why Emmie wished to keep it from you.”
“She’s really a wealthy heiress?”
“Frankly, I have not been made privy to the source of her funds. But I would guess she came by it through her own efforts.”
“Yes, no doubt,” I agreed. “That’s what worries me.”
17
Thursday morning, April the 25th, Elizabeth and I arrived home in time to have breakfast with Emmie. We told her Mrs. Warner’s verdict and ours was a happy home. Emmie and I arranged to meet for lunch and then I went in to see Ratigan. He was on the telephone when I arrived, but motioned me into his office a little while later. I told him about my meeting with the Koestlers and the second trip to the Warners’.
“Koestler was the name I came up with,” he said. “He was shorting heavily, then last week he started covering. And then went long in a big way. He timed it perfectly.”
He handed me a sheet that had various dates and the number of shares in each transaction.
“That’s probably not complete. He was using several brokers.”
“Were there any other notable names on the list?”
“The fellows who always have their ears to the ground. But there were dozens in on it. Probably everyone who knew. Except you, of course,” he smiled.
“Well, I was mistaken on that point. It turns out we had shorted it, or rather, my wife had.”
“Your wife? She takes care of the finances?”
I didn’t like his tone. First I was a sap for not having shorted the stock, now I was because my wife had.
“Have you found out anything about John Huber?” I asked.
“Nothing worth bringing up. Do you really think he’s mixed up in this?”
“I can’t figure that out. Maybe the doctor did just make a mistake.”
“But then there’s the episode with the girl picking up the files,” he said. “That’s quite a coincidence. George Koestler is making a big play for Sovereign while his daughter is involved in a scheme to defraud it.”
“I think she and Huber were just naïve, trying to protect the memory of William.”
“But you can’t be sure they’ve told you the truth.”
“No, I can’t,” I agreed. “Have you learned anything else about Osborne?”
“He left t
he office abruptly on Friday morning—that was the 12th. He didn’t return until after one o’clock. Then a while later he left again, his brother-in-law, Donigan, going with him.”
“I was there, in the Claims Department, Friday afternoon and didn’t see either of them. When did Donigan and Mrs. Osborne leave for Cincinnati?”
“That evening,” Ratigan said. “And Mrs. Barclay and her sister left the next day for Europe, and Anna Farrell disappeared about the same time. Maybe Osborne was warning them Friday morning?”
“That seems reasonable. Maybe all your sniffing around spooked him.”
“You didn’t call us about Osborne until Saturday afternoon. Maybe it was just your own sniffing around.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But I really hadn’t done that much sniffing around Sovereign’s offices before then. And why did he send his own wife out of town?”
“Could the warning have come the other way around? Maybe one of the widows warned him. Had you been sniffing around them?”
“No, but my wife had.” I explained about Emmie’s work with the Widows Aid Society.
“Sounds like you’re married to a loose cannon,” he observed.
“It feels that way.”
I then told him what John Huber had said about the Marquisees’ marital problems.
“That fits with what we learned from the neighbors. But if it was like that, why’d she kill herself?”
“You mean, why not just do him in? Maybe she thought she’d get caught.”
“Still not a reason to kill herself.”
I had to admit he was right, but I didn’t have a better explanation. I walked down to the Bureau and handed Keegan the list of Koestler’s trades.
“I suppose you already knew about it,” I said.
“Not in this detail. How’d you get this?”
“Ratigan, over at Newcome’s. Koestler seems to have timed things particularly well.”
I went into our office and found a telephone message from Koestler marked urgent. I phoned him and he instructed me to report to his office at Sovereign. When I arrived, he kept me waiting for twenty minutes.
“I thought you were going to stay in contact,” he said.
“I needed to check something out of town.”
“What did you learn?”
Crossings (A Harry Reese Mystery Book 2) Page 16
