by Emma Lathen
“To Buffalo?” Ken asked.
“Certainly not. To Framingham,” Thatcher said briefly. “I’ll talk to Martin Henderson myself. Let’s see, today’s Friday ...”
Nicolls watched Thatcher make a few notes on a desk pad, then ring for Miss Corsa. Apparently he was dismissed. Well, he thought, the new Nicolls takes over. “Mr. Thatcher, I’m going to have to know a little more of what you have in mind. What do you think I am going to do in Framingham?”
John Thatcher looked mildly surprised. “Well, presumably the police will have told Arthur Schneider about his cousin’s death. They probably won’t do more than some formal checking. You can tell him about the children. And watch his reactions.”
“Do you mean to tell me,” Ken persisted, “that you suspect Arthur Schneider, or for that matter Martin Henderson or Mrs. Walworth, of having anything to do with a murder.” He paused. “In Buffalo?”
Thatcher permitted himself a wintry smile. “I don’t suspect anyone or anything. That’s a police job. All I know is that when one of the heirs of a Sloan trust is killed, leaving two small children for whom we are responsible, then we keep our eyes very wide open.” Ken found nothing to say; Thatcher looked at him for a long moment. “Nicolls, when you have been in the banking business for as long as I have, you will learn that money has a very strange and powerful effect on human behavior. We just want to be absolutely sure that ... oh, yes, Miss Corsa. Now, I’ve written down the details. We’re interested in the murder of one Robert Schneider. It took place ... let’s see, Friday ...” Consulting the desk calendar, he checked a date, “Good heavens, Friday the thirteenth. I want to see the coverage in the Buffalo press.” Nicolls noted as he took his leave that Miss Corsa showed no surprise.
Two hours later, Nicolls emerged from a conference with Charlie Trinkam—a somewhat trying conference, at that, as Trinkam was not pleased by the extra work involved in shifting accounts.
And, thought Nicolls, he seemed somewhat short-tempered, these days. Turning to his office, he encountered Sheldon, the adenoidal but good-natured sixteen-year-old, whose last name no one in the office had ever known. As office messenger boy, he functioned officially as mover of calculating machines, ledgers, and similar items from desk to desk and office to office. Unofficially he was liaison between the sixth floor of the Sloan Guaranty Trust and the corner drugstore. He was lounging against a wall, his face contorted by the effort of unaccustomed thought.
“What’s up, Shelly?”
“Gee whiz, Mr. Nicolls,” said the boy despairingly, “where am I supposed to get old Buffalo papers? She tells me to get two weeks’ worth, but she doesn’t tell me where to get them.”
“She” was unmistakable, thought Ken, pulling out a cigarette. Smoking in the halls, while not strictly prohibited, was a luxury he had hitherto denied himself. I’m getting to feel at home here, he thought. Lighting the cigarette, he pondered Sheldon’s problem while the boy watched him hopefully. No ideas.
“Why don’t you steal them from the Public Library?” Nicolls suggested jokingly.
Sheldon was momentarily blank with admiration, and then, as his fertile imagination explored the possibilities, positively gleeful. “Thanks, Mr. Nicolls,” he cried as he loped down the hall.
“Good Lord, Shelly, it was a joke!” Ken shouted. But when impelled to move, Sheldon moved. He was gone.
And, mused Nicolls, if being a competent successful trust officer at the Sloan Guaranty Trust entailed murder investigations, there was no reason to assume that it did not also entail responsibility for raids on the New York Public Library. Not in the job description, of course, but...
Chapter 6
Progress Report
Having unleashed the havoc of a police investigation in at least three cities and assigned his subordinates to a number of difficult if not impossible tasks, Thatcher availed himself of the prerogatives of the executive and temporarily put the whole affair out of his mind. His round of activities ultimately led him to the Research Department where he found Walter Bowman almost submerged in reports, clippings, notes, graphs, and ribbons of figures, all bearing on the rumored merger of a small razor blade company with a huge electronics firm. “Electric shavers, Walter?” said Thatcher assuming his customary role of devil’s advocate.
He then voiced considerable skepticism about the possibility of a merger and, alternatively, the possibility of long-term profit for the Sloan if a merger did take place. Bowman brandished his information like a weapon and the resultant duel, conducted with gravely courteous logic by Thatcher and violent enthusiasm by Bowman, lasted a full hour before Thatcher conceded that there was after all, a great deal to be said for Walter’s position. They then proceeded to lunch where Bowman refueled himself with a double order of steak and potatoes and told a number of ribald stories about a well-known market letter writer.
When Thatcher returned to his office in the afternoon he was surprised to find a triumphant office boy depositing on his desk two large folios, clearly marked “Property of the New York Public Library.”
“I got them, Mr. Thatcher,” Sheldon said with simple pride.
“Good work, Sheldon,” Thatcher said gravely to the boy.
Miss Corsa, who had just spent ten minutes ineffectually trying to show Sheldon the enormity of his crime, succeeded in controlling her sense of outrage only until the door closed behind him.
“But, Mr. Thatcher,” she said in a scandalized voice, “we can’t steal from the public library!” Miss Corsa had been well brought up by the New York public school system; she had been taught that a violation of library property ranked somewhere above treason in the roster of capital crimes, and that one always washed one’s hands before touching a book. While the distance of the Sloan ladies’ room had necessitated some compromise on the second point, she was not yet prepared to cede one inch in defense of the first.
“Not stealing,” murmured Thatcher soothingly, “merely borrowing. After all, that’s the function of a library. I confess this is not precisely what I had in mind, but I refuse to dishearten a promising young man. Sheldon has a great career ahead of him.” He saw that Miss Corsa was prepared to protest again and hurriedly continued, “And, in order to further that career and preserve the decencies, Miss Corsa, I want you to return these papers later today without in any way revealing the culpability of either Sheldon or the Sloan.”
Dismissing Miss Corsa with a magisterial wave of the hand, Thatcher grinned maliciously and settled down for a good gloat. Sheldon had made off with complete files of the Buffalo Courier-Express and the Buffalo Evening News from December 7th to the present. Flipping to the issue for Friday, December 13th, he started to scan the headlines. After two false starts related to one juvenile street killing and one hit-and-run, and one conscienceless departure from duty to read what the citizens of East Aurora were saying about the proposed location of a shopping center in their midst, “I will fight this amendment of the zoning ordinance to the last ditch. I did not become alderman to preside over the dissolution of our fair community. We are not another bedroom suburb,” Thatcher found himself wishing that the Buffalo press could bring itself to introduce a little order into its make-up. By the time he had gone through every section of the issue for Sunday, December 15th with the Buffalo Bisons having done very well that Saturday, he was wondering what dark forces were at work to suppress any mention of the murder. But the afternoon paper for Monday, December 16th, came through with a two-inch notice on the first page. The body of C. Robert Schneider had been found late Monday morning in his apartment. Death had occurred sometime before the discovery. Police were investigating. That was all; apparently the Buffalo News had caught the alarm just before going to press. Opening the Courier for Tuesday morning Thatcher sighed with satisfaction. There were articles, pictures, and a promise of diagrams within.
Industrialist Found Slain
Buffalo, N.Y., December 17—C. Robert Schneider, prominent Buffalo industrialist, was found murdered
late yesterday morning in his apartment at Delaware Avenue and Edward Street in the heart of downtown Buffalo. An investigation is being carried out by Buffalo Metropolitan Police under the command of Detective Captain Peter J. Self. An autopsy has been performed by Erie County Coroner William R. O’Donald, who announced that death occurred late Friday night or early Saturday morning. Mr. Schneider was Vice-President of Buffalo Industrial Products, Inc., which maintains offices at South Lake Street in Lackawanna.
Stanislas V. Michaels, President of Buffalo Industrial Products, became alarmed when Mr. Schneider failed to arrive for an important conference on Monday morning. He telephoned Theodore K. Baracawicz, superintendent of the Edward Street Apartments, to institute an investigation. Mr. Baracawicz entered the apartment and found Mr. Schneider’s body. Mr. Schneider, fully clothed, was lying on the floor of his study with his head battered in. A blood-stained marble book end was lying nearby. Police authorities say that repeated blows were struck with a heavy object in a violent and determined assault. A macabre note was struck by the presence of a large Christmas wreath on the desk in the study.
Mr. Schneider was last seen in his office on Friday. He left for the day at seven o’clock in the evening after checking certain plans with Paul F. Reardon, plant foreman. Mr. Reardon, who helped the dead man dig his snow-bound car out of the plant parking lot, said that he appeared to be in cheerful spirits.
Schneider Love Nest Unbared
Buffalo, N.Y., December 17—A search of the apartment of murder victim, C. Robert Schneider, revealed signs of habitual occupancy by a woman. Mr. Schneider was unmarried.
Searchers reported the presence of feminine underclothes and nightgowns in the bedroom of Robert Schneider’s apartment. A woman’s toilet articles were found in the bathroom, which also contained a pale green silk negligee.
The discovery of two bottles of champagne in a cooler in the kitchen of Mr. Schneider’s apartment and the preparation of platters containing paté de foie and assorted cheeses has given rise to speculations that Mr. Schneider may have been planning to entertain his paramour on the night during which he was killed.
Police have traced the purchase of the champagne to the Old English Liquor Store at 236 Main Street. Mr. Schneider is reported to have visited the store at approximately eight o’clock that evening. The salesman, Henry P. Miller, says that the victim chatted about the hazardous driving conditions caused by the blizzard then in progress and remarked that he hoped his little party would not be called off because of snow.
Mystery Woman Seen with Wreath
Buffalo, N.Y., December 17—The police have just announced that they may have witnesses to the actual arrival of the woman whom Robert Schneider planned to entertain on the night of his murder. Mr. and Mrs. Richard V. Daniels and Dr. Donald Curtis have stated that, while they were standing on Delaware Avenue at eleven thirty on Friday evening, they saw an unescorted woman turn into Edward Street in the direction of the side entrance to Mr. Schneider’s apartment house. The three witnesses had just emerged from the annual Christmas party at the Buffalo Club and were attempting to locate a taxi in the blizzard. Due to the driving snow they were unable to observe the woman closely, but they report that the woman was wearing a fur coat and carrying a large Christmas wreath. A wreath was found next to the body of Robert Schneider. Mr. and Mrs. Daniels and Dr. Curtis will be taken to view the murder wreath this afternoon in an attempt to secure positive identification. Mr. Daniels is Vice-President of Lakeshore Realty, Inc., and Dr. Curtis is Chief of Surgery at Buffalo City Hospital. Mrs. Daniels is the former Miss Jean Manning of Dunkirk.
Snowstorm Hampers Police
Buffalo, N.Y., December 17—The blizzard which dumped eighteen inches of snow on Western New York last Friday and Saturday has added to the difficulties of investigators in the Schneider case.
Police are checking the movements of all known associates of the dead man on the night of the murder as well as the presence of any strangers in the vicinity of the Edward Street Apartments. But gale winds and reduced visibility left most bus and taxicab drivers too busy to think about the identity of their passengers. Furthermore, sources close to the police report that many of Mr. Schneider’s friends and co-workers have stated that they were two or three hours late on the fatal night due to drifts on the highways and the closing of the Lake Shore Road by State Police.
Most stores on Delaware Avenue closed early Friday afternoon in order to permit employees to leave before roads became impassable. Detective Captain Peter J. Self, who is in charge of the investigation, reports great difficulty in locating any witnesses in the area. A door to door interrogation of residents and shopkeepers along Delaware Avenue in the quarter mile separating Edward Street and the Hotel Statler is now in progress.
The next news item was accompanied by a photograph of a room containing several defiant-looking policemen pointing to a sinister chalk outline on the floor and an arrow hovering mysteriously in the air and pointing in the same general direction.
Police Seek Mystery Clue
Buffalo, N.Y., December 17—Police investigating the mysterious death of C. Robert Schneider have expressed concern over the disappearance of an unknown object from the dead man’s apartment on the night of the murder.
Pools of blood forming on the floor of the study near the victim’s body (see pictures at left) may provide a clue as to the identity of his assailant. By the time police arrived on the scene of the crime on Monday the blood had coagulated, and the impression of an object measuring two and three-quarter inches by one and a half inches was clearly visible (see arrow). Police reason that the object must have been removed after the tragedy, presumably by the murderer.
A laboratory analysis of the blood particles has revealed traces of paper fibers. Speculation has arisen that the object may have been a small box such as jewelers provide. Merchants in the greater Buffalo area are being circularized to check their records in the hope that a recent sale to Robert Schneider may conceal a clue to the identity of his murderer. Anyone having information as to the nature of this object should communicate directly with Captain Self at police headquarters, by calling MOhawk 3000.
Schneider’s Co-Workers Mystified
Lackawanna, December 17—The men at the main plant of Buffalo Industrial Products at 1130 South Lake Street expressed sorrow and anger today at the bludgeon slaying of Vice-President C. Robert Schneider.
Stanislas V. Michaels, president of the company, spoke highly of the dead man’s devotion and integrity. “We all admired Bob’s zeal and dedication,” said Michaels. “This is a great loss to us. We will give the police all the information and assistance in our power.”
The men on the line were equally saddened. “Mr. Schneider was more than a boss; he was a friend,” said Frederick Zukowski, head of Local 432 of the American Federation of Labor. “We shall miss him a great deal. His murderer must be discovered.”
All the workers at Buffalo Industrial Products expressed astonishment at the slaying and were unable to suggest any motive.
Mr. Schneider came to Buffalo Industrial Products five years ago as Production Engineer. He had been previously employed by Eastman Kodak in Rochester, New York. He rose rapidly, becoming Production Manager in 1954 and Vice-President in 1956. His generosity and sympathy were recognized by all, and there is sorrow today in Lackawanna where C. Robert Schneider is mourned by his many friends.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Thatcher closed the issue for December 17th and gave thanks for The New York Times which restricts itself to stately analyses of the situation in West Berlin and Federal Reserve credit policy. On the other hand he had gotten a lot of unlikely information about Robert Schneider who had definitely ceased to figure in Thatcher’s thoughts as a sulky seventeen-year-old. And any man who managed to surround his murder with champagne and silk negligees could not be the industrious drone that Fitzgerald had described. Robert Schneider not only found time for at least some extracurricular activities, but, what’s
more, he was determined to invest them with some aura of cosmopolitanism. Come to think of it, Thatcher reflected as he turned pages, there had been that business at Dartmouth. He should have realized that Fitzgerald couldn’t be relied on to recognize anything outside of a market analysis.
Thatcher idly flipped over to the first page of the December 18th issue. Probably the Buffalo newspapers had exhausted their supply of facts and would content themselves with a rehash and portentous hints about police progress. But, no, by Tuesday morning the Buffalo Courier had discovered the existence of Schneider’s marriage. Kathryn Schneider, looking pale and harassed, figured prominently as “Murder Victim’s Estranged Wife.” If the papers could be believed, Mrs. Schneider, in her determination to disown the now famous green negligee found in her husband’s bathroom, had unwisely allowed herself to be drawn into general comment on her marital situation. Thatcher shook his head disapprovingly. This was no time for a prudent woman to be expressing dissatisfaction with the deceased, no matter how temperate or justified her criticism. Indeed, he mused, taking in the steadily ominous overtone of the article, it was clear that the Buffalo journalistic world was putting its money on the wife and probably typing up descriptions of her tearful entrance into custody, just in case.
Thereafter, the newspapers contented themselves with keeping the story warm so that at the first hint of an arrest and subsequent trial, it could be rekindled into flame. But the eruption of a paving contract scandal on December 20th relegated the Schneider case to the inner pages and the first page became reserved for tantalizing statements about “imminent disclosures concerning the complicity of City Hall” and “alleged accusations aimed at figures close to the City Council.”
Having had more than enough of the Buffalo press, Thatcher buzzed his intercom impatiently. Miss Corsa entered warily, her eyes averted from his desk.
“All right, Miss Corsa, I’m done with all this. They can go back now.”
