Crossings (A Harry Reese Mystery Book 2)

by Robert Bruce Stewart

  “Nothing, really. Just eliminated a suspect.”

  “Well, try to have this wrapped up before the 30th. That’s next Tuesday. There’ll be another board meeting and we need to lay out all the facts then.”

  I assured him I would make every effort to do so. Then I went down to see the fellow who’d replaced Osborne. He hadn’t been able to find the policies on Marquisee and Warner.

  “Any idea where they could be?”

  “Not really, unless they were simply misfiled. I have a girl looking for them.”

  “What about those two agents, on the cards for Warner and Marquisee?”

  “You were right, they knew nothing about those policies.”

  I went out and saw Donigan at his desk.

  “I was wondering, just when was it Osborne asked you to take your sister out of town?”

  “That Friday we left.”

  “But what time of day?”

  He looked at me as if he were waiting for me to answer for him. I could see why he depended on nepotism for his employment.

  “It was Friday evening,” he finally answered.

  “But you were both out Friday afternoon.”

  “Yes, that’s right. After lunch sometime, he said to me, ‘We need to go.’ I figured he had something he didn’t want to tell me here. We both went out to Brooklyn to his place, and that’s when he told Ellen and me.”

  “And then you left on an evening train?”

  “Yeah, me and her and the two kids.”

  I went off to meet Emmie for lunch and recounted the morning’s events, and the various theories.

  “I don’t think the scenario whereby one of the widows warned Osborne is plausible, Harry.”

  “No, it does seem unlikely,” I agreed. “Anna Farrell is too callous to bother warning anyone else, and Mrs. Barclay too dimwitted. Osborne must have gone off to warn them, and then had his wife leave town. Possibly it only occurred to him later she might be in danger.”

  “But why did he wait until the following Tuesday to notify Mrs. Warner?”

  We puzzled over that while we ate.

  “There seems only one likely explanation, Emmie. Osborne didn’t know about Mrs. Warner on Friday.”

  “Which means he wasn’t one of the conspirators,” she said. “But perhaps was protecting someone?”

  “His brother-in-law. Why else did he leave town as well? Mrs. Osborne could have taken the train herself.”

  “Then, after they had left, Osborne spotted the cards that had been changed. He realized there were more people involved than Donigan had told him.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Osborne must not have found them until the next Monday. He hid them under his blotter, then met with John Huber and arranged to have the Sovereign files removed from William’s office. And on Tuesday went off to warn Mrs. Warner and Mrs. Marquisee, not knowing the latter was already dead. I’d better call Tibbitts.”

  “I suppose I won’t be able to come along this time.”

  “I’m afraid not, Emmie.”

  I phoned Tibbitts and he started to thank me for the stock tip.

  “There’s something else. I think we may finally have someone worth arresting.” I told him about Donigan and we arranged to meet in the lobby of the Sovereign building.

  He arrived with another fellow and the three of us went upstairs. Donigan wasn’t in.

  “I’m afraid I may have tipped him,” I admitted.

  “You think he left town?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Where’s he live?” Tibbitts asked.

  I got his address from the department head and then Tibbitts and I went off, leaving his colleague behind in case Donigan returned. When we came upon his boarding house on West 24th Street, there was a fellow on the stoop.

  “Have you seen Mr. Donigan recently?” I asked.

  “Just left.”

  “You wouldn’t know where?”

  “Maybe to catch a train.”

  “Did he say so?”

  “No, but he was carrying a bag, and headed to the river.”

  “The North River?”

  “That’s right.”

  “How long ago?” Tibbitts asked.

  “Ten minutes maybe.”

  “The ferries, at 23rd Street,” Tibbitts said.

  Tibbitts found a cab and about five minutes later we were at the 23rd Street terminal. The boats left there for the Erie and Pennsylvania depots in Jersey City. A boat for the Erie was just pulling out into the river. Tibbitts suggested we get on the next boat—bound for the Pennsylvania—which was leaving just a few minutes later. We looked over the boat but Donigan wasn’t on it. When our boat landed we ran up to the Erie depot, about a half mile up from the Pennsylvania’s. But the train that the Erie boat had met was gone. It was the 2:45 express to points west, including Cincinnati.

  “I guess this is my fault,” I said.

  “You never know when a bird will fly,” Tibbitts said. “Besides, that train’s an express—he can’t get off before Binghamton. Let’s go over to the office and call someone up there.”

  We went back across the river and Tibbitts took me to the detective bureau. We composed a long cable to the police in Binghamton and Tibbitts sent it off. The train wouldn’t reach Binghamton until almost nine that evening.

  “Not much else we can do but wait,” Tibbitts said. “I can call you when we find out something.”

  “There is one other thing,” I said. “Remember you said you owed me one?”

  “Sure.”

  “How about releasing Elizabeth Custis?”

  “She’s free, isn’t she?”

  “Come on, you know what I mean.”

  “All right. I can’t say she was much use anyway,” he said. “Now we’re even.”

  From there I went back to Sovereign to report to Koestler. I told him about Donigan’s flight.

  “So there were two people here involved?” he asked.

  “I don’t think Osborne was in on it. He just came upon something that made him realize Donigan had been. Then, out of familial duty, Osborne covered up for him.”

  “And you’re waiting to see if the police in Binghamton can apprehend him?”

  “Yes, I’m hoping he’ll be able to give us some names.”

  “Well, remember—it needs to be cleared up by Tuesday.”

  Back at the Bureau, I gave Keegan the same report. He seemed distracted and barely interested. Then I went back out to the Osbornes’ house in Brooklyn. Mrs. Osborne answered the door and led me into her parlor.

  “I’m afraid your brother has fled, Mrs. Osborne.”

  “I see.”

  “Your husband was covering up for him, wasn’t he?”

  “I don’t see much point in talking about it now.”

  “Don’t you think you owe it to your husband to clear his name?”

  “Would that clear his name?”

  “I think it would make his actions more understandable.”

  She didn’t see it that way. Evidently, she was more concerned with protecting her brother. I went on back to the apartment, where Elizabeth was once more preparing dinner, and took a nap.

  The two of us ate alone again and I told her of my conversation with Tibbitts. She thanked me, but the topic of her subjugation obviously embarrassed her so I recounted the rest of the day’s events. It was only then that I realized how little she really knew about the case.

  “It seems far too complex,” she observed.

  “I think the reason is that we aren’t simply seeing the unfolding of a single conspiracy. However it started, it evolved by new players acting on it, and exploiting it. Now there are so many intertwined threads unraveling it’s almost impossible to follow them.”

  “Especially since most of your witnesses are dead or gone—or insane.”

  Emmie came in just before nine and I told her about Donigan. Then we waited. It wasn’t until ten o’clock that Tibbitts finally telephoned.

  “Donigan’s d
ead. They shot him,” he said.

  “Who shot him?”

  “One of those cops in Binghamton. It sounds like they made a show, held up the train, and he must have realized what was happening. He got off and tried to make a run for it.”

  “Why would they shoot him?”

  “Because we told them to stop the guy.”

  I hung up and gave the two women the news.

  “What fools,” Elizabeth said.

  “All it would take is one fool,” I said.

  “Maybe it wasn’t so foolish,” Emmie said. “Someone certainly benefits.”

  “Not the cop in Binghamton who pulled the trigger,” I pointed out.

  “Are the police in Binghamton so incorruptible?” Emmie asked.

  Her friend answered with a noise that seemed to indicate skepticism.

  “Have you learned anything about debt collection, Emmie?” I asked.

  I almost forgot,” she said. “I did find something, but it was rather disappointing. It was a list of what appeared to be outstanding debts to Minden. I didn’t recognize any of the names, however.”

  “How many names were there?” I asked.

  “Two dozen perhaps. It was the amounts that were notable. One man owes over $13,000.”

  “I don’t suppose you jotted down any of the names?” Elizabeth asked.

  “No, I didn’t. You need to direct your stratagems elsewhere, Elizabeth.”

  “Oh, I have other avenues.”

  “Are you sure no one saw you snooping about, Emmie?” I asked. “Maybe you should give up this job.”

  “This is our best chance to find the debt collector,” she said. “It stands to reason that if someone came up with a scheme to broker gambling debts, they’d approach Minden. I’m certainly not going to give up now, after a week of working that wretched adding machine.”

  The next morning I went to see Mrs. Osborne. Emmie came with me, and I was glad of it. While we waited in the parlor, we could hear children in the house. It was not Mrs. Osborne who came to us, but a sister. I insisted we speak to Mrs. Osborne. She brought her in and we all sat down. I gave them the sad news about their brother. They spent some time comforting each other. Then Mrs. Osborne looked at me angrily.

  “He’d be alive if you’d left him alone,” she said.

  “Perhaps,” Emmie said. “But if you and your husband had taken him to the police when you learned of the scheme, they’d likely both be alive.”

  “I never knew what it was about. My husband told me nothing, and Gene led me to believe he was covering up for Sanford. It was only on the train back I realized how foolish I’d been. By then he was dead.”

  It was obvious Mrs. Osborne had nothing else to tell us, so we offered our condolences and left.

  “Her husband certainly was an ass,” Emmie observed. “If he had told her what he’d learned about her brother, she probably would have agreed that he needed to tell the authorities. By trying to shield her, he just made things worse. You wouldn’t be as foolish as that, would you, Harry?”

  “No, dear. I’m perfectly willing to turn in your relatives. But keep in mind, Osborne’s motives may not have been purely altruistic.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, he secured the position for his brother-in-law, and I’m sure vouched for his character.”

  “And he would have been held responsible for something he knew nothing about?”

  “He would have been at the mercy of his superiors, who may not have been of the merciful sort.”

  We stopped by the apartment, where the packers were at work. Elizabeth said she would not be preparing dinner so I told Dorothy I would be dining out. Then I went off to see Ratigan and told him about Donigan. From there I went down and gave Koestler the news. He wasn’t upset.

  “It’s probably for the best,” he said. “Justice has been done.”

  I didn’t quite believe he cared all that much about justice, and pointed out it would make the investigation that much more difficult.

  “Then let’s end the investigation right now,” he said. “Some things just aren’t worth explaining.”

  He thanked me, and shook my hand. That was to be the end of it. I went out for lunch and then over to the Bureau and told Keegan about Koestler’s decision.

  “Well, I might have something else for you,” he said. “Be in the office tomorrow at nine and be ready to travel.”

  “For how long?”

  “You’ll be back Monday.”

  I asked what it was about, but he wouldn’t say. He did, however, tell me to bring along all my notes on the case. I went up to Ratigan’s office and asked him to wrap things up, for the second time. I walked around a bit and ended up on the ferry to Williamsburg. I wasn’t happy about having to close the case, but I’d adjust. Emmie would be a different matter.

  18

  When the boat landed in Williamsburg, I wandered over to the Carleton. I joined some fellows playing poker and tried to forget about insurance schemes and stock manipulations. By about the fifth round, I’d achieved my goal. And by the time I went off to meet Emmie I was feeling more than a little chipper. It took some cajoling at the continuous card game before I was granted entrance to the Frauenverein’s inner sanctum. One of the ladies made reference to a boiled owl.

  Once upstairs, I saw Elizabeth and Edward Howell sitting with Sally and Charlie Sennett. I sat with them while I waited for Emmie. A little later, I may, or may not, have upset someone’s drink, but Sennett left soon afterwards. I was relieved when Emmie finally came down. She took one look at me and suggested we go home for the evening. On the way, I told her about Koestler calling things off.

  “Well, I suppose he’s welcome to do as he wishes,” she said.

  Her breezy tone troubled me. “Look, Emmie, I don’t want you working at that place any longer.”

  “All right, Harry.”

  If I hadn’t been in the state I was in, I would have recognized that there had to be something behind her ready acquiescence. When we got in I told her about Keegan mentioning a trip.

  “How would you like to come along, Emmie?”

  “Does it have to do with the case?”

  “Apparently—I was told to bring my notes, and that I’d be back Monday.”

  That was the last I remember of Friday evening. The next morning we breakfasted and left together for the Bureau. Emmie was curious enough to want to find out the nature of the trip and she too was prepared to travel. I sat her down in our room with Little and Cranston and went to talk with Keegan.

  “You know how Koestler gained control of Sovereign,” Keegan began.

  “By playing the movements of the share price.”

  “Yes, exactly,” Keegan confirmed. “And as you noticed, his trades were well-timed.”

  “As if he knew ahead of time what would be revealed.”

  “Yes. For instance, he was shorting shares even before we heard about the problem. And he shorted another large block just before that fellow Osborne’s body was found. Maybe this was just coincidence. There are other reasons the share price was vulnerable. Nonetheless, there are those on Sovereign’s board who have concerns.”

  “What is it you want me to do?” I asked.

  “I’ve arranged to meet with several of the board members on Sunday. Some will be coming down from Boston and so I’ve offered to host the meeting at my cottage in Newport. We have the dates of Koestler’s trades. What I want you to do is to prepare a scenario of the events involved, back to the very beginning. Then we’ll be able to compare the two.”

  “All right. But why would I need to travel to do that?”

  “Well, there’s a second part to this, and it’s more in the nature of a favor. The cottage is closed up, and I don’t want to call the agent there to have him open it. What I’d like you to do is to take the morning train, and you can work on your scenario on the way. You’ll arrive in Wickford about three and then take the boat to Newport. You’ll need to pick up
food and wine. I have to stay in town this evening and will be catching a late train. Tomorrow the others will be arriving about one.”

  I’d never been invited to Newport before, so I accepted. He gave me a detailed list of victuals to purchase, and just then Emmie entered the room.

  “So where are we off to?” she asked.

  I hadn’t mentioned the possibility of Emmie accompanying me to Keegan yet.

  “Oh, you’re welcome to come along, my dear,” Keegan said. “But I’m afraid you might have to play hostess.”

  I could see Emmie wasn’t keen on that idea, so I added that it would be at his cottage in Newport. We didn’t get many invitations of the sort, and the novelty was enough to sway her. After we left Keegan, I explained the nature of the mission. We caught the ten o’clock train and settled in to the task. It took quite a bit of time to turn my notes into discrete events, and then to choose the ones relevant to Keegan’s purpose.

  Our chronology had just over a dozen entries:

  January 2nd: Policy written on Barclay by Huber.

  February 12th: Barclay found dead.

  February 14th: Claim on policy received at Sovereign, okayed for payment.

  February 28th: Policy written on Farrell.

  March 1st: Policy written on Marquisee.

  March 5th: Policy written on Warner.

  March 13th: Huber takes his life.

  March 15th: Perkins begins looking at Huber’s policies.

  March 22nd: Farrell found dead.

  March 25th: Claim made on Farrell policy, payment delayed pending inquiry.

  April 2nd: Redfield contacts Keegan.

  April 3rd: Investigation begun.

  April 13th: Mrs. Barclay sets sail with her sister. Anna Farrell disappears.

  April 14th: Mrs. Marquisee found dead.

  April 16th: The Warners leave New York.

  April 17th: Osborne’s body found in river, fell off ferry previous afternoon.

  April 25th: Donigan flees city, is killed by police.

  We went into the dining car for lunch and looked it over again.

  “This doesn’t really tell us anything, Harry.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. It tells us there was something going on. And that both Barclay and Farrell were probably murdered.”

  “Because they died so soon after the policies were written?”