Then Mr. Van Dorn turned to me. “Do you think this Chamberlain character can help us find my son?”
“I’ll know soon enough, sir.” I decided to get something off my chest that had been bugging me since we pegged Chamberlain. “I understand that Chamberlain’s family is also from New York, and you might’ve traveled in the same circles.”
Mr. Van Dorn looked surprised by the question. “We know them, I suppose, but we’re hardly friends. We’ve attended some of the same functions, vacationed at some of the same places from time to time, but that’s all. I believe Jack may have attended the same school as Chamberlain. Though, given Chamberlain’s age, they were several years apart.”
I didn’t know if it mattered, but it might come in handy. I said to Carmichael, “I’d like Loomis in there with me while I question him. He’s a hell of an interrogator.” I handed Chamberlin’s file to Loomis. He looked a little surprised by the compliment.
“How do you want us to handle it, Chief?”
“Go as far as you need to,” he said. “Hurt him if you have to, but for God’s sake stay away from his face. If we bring him out of here all banged up in front of that mob, we’ll have a goddamned riot on our hands.” Loomis tucked Chamberlain’s file under his arm. “You might have one anyway.”
OH! LOOK AT ME NOW
LOOMIS AND I found Peter Chamberlain sitting alone at the desk in the parlor. He’d probably been a good-looking man not too long ago, but’ the life’ had slowly drained his good looks away. His hair was sandy brown, but thin. He had sharp features and a good jaw line, but his skin was pockmarked and gray from bad food and no sleep. He looked like a man in his late forties, which was a damned shame, because according to his rap sheet, he’d just turned thirty-five the month before.
Chamberlain wore a faded tan suit jacket and a white shirt that was at least one size too big. He’d managed to flip a tie into some kind of knot, but didn’t bother pulling it all the way up to his neck. He’d put a lot of effort into looking mock-presentable. That meant he’d thought about this a long time before he walked up the front steps and rang Van Dorn’s doorbell. Which meant this wasn’t going to be easy.
As I closed the French doors behind us, Chamberlain looked up at Loomis and me like he was granting us an audience. The little rich boy in him was making a reappearance. He put his coffee cup gently on the saucer and pushed it away from him. “You’re wasting your time, boys. What I’ve got to say, I say to Van Dorn and no one else.”
“You don’t make demands around here, shitbird,” I said. “We do.”
Loomis tried a softer touch. “Calm down, Chamberlain. Chief Carmichael asked us to speak to you first, just to make sure you had some information on where Jack is.”
Chamberlain sighed as he sat back in his chair. “That’s too bad. For Mr. Van Dorn. And for Jack, too.”
“You can’t hardly blame the man, can you?” Loomis said. “You read about what happened with that Lindbergh case. Every crazy in three states drove up to the front door, claiming they knew where the kid was. A lot of cops wasted a lot of time chasing down bum leads. The Chief just wants us to make sure you’re on the level, before we get Mr. Van Dorn all worked up. That makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“Nonsense,” Chamberlain smiled. I saw he had crooked, uneven teeth. “Rachel already told you all about me.”
Now I knew Chamberlain was no lightweight. “Who’s Rachel?”
“Come on, Detective. You beat the hell out of her brother, then have a bunch of cops drag both of them out in cuffs in broad daylight. People tend to notice these things. At least my people do.”
“Your people?” Loomis asked. “And just who might your people be?”
Chamberlain made a fist and threw it up into the air. “‘We the people,’ brother. ‘We the people,’ out there in the world. In fields and factories, and on the streets, and right outside that door right now. ‘We the people,’ who are out of work and living out of doors, because people who live in grand mansions like this have exploited us. ‘We the people’ are everywhere, and there are more of us in more places than you bastards will ever know — until the time is right for us to rise up. Take back what’s ours. And, judging by the crowd outside right now, maybe today is a good day to start.”
“Stow the working man bullshit,” I said. “I saw my share of revolutionaries after the war. You’re just a two-bit skel peddling Red ideas for easy trim and cheap drinks in union halls. I don’t begrudge a man a gimmick, but drop the Karl Marx bit.”
Chamberlain’s grin didn’t budge. He nodded at the folder under Loomis’ arm. “Guess you boys have been reading up on me.”
“Didn’t have to.” Loomis dropped the file on the desk and sat on the corner of it, crowding Chamberlain just a bit. “Detective Hauser already told us all about you. Says you’requite a man.”
“I’ll just bet he did,” Chamberlain said. “I love giving bastards like him a hard time.”
“And we love giving punks like you a worse time,” I said as I lit a Lucky. “Looks like we’re all in for a hell of a night.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Loomis said to Chamberlain. “How about giving us proof that you know where Jack is. Something we can show Van Dorn. Something that’ll show him you’re the real McCoy.”
Chamberlain looked at both of us while he drummed the fingers of his left hand on the desktop. He shuffled the cup and saucer back and forth while he turned it over in his mind. I could damned near hear the gears grinding in his head. Then he stopped drumming his fingers. “No sale, boys. What I’ve got to say, I say to Mr. Van Dorn personally. So either the big man himself comes in here and speaks to me, or he goes on worrying about his kid. And, believe me, the longer he waits, the worse it’s gonna be for his little Jackie Boy.”
I flicked my ash into the fireplace. “You’re really starting to annoy me, Chamberlain.”
“Then get Mr. Van Dorn in here so we can start talking business.” Chamberlain pushed the cup and saucer away from him. “And while you’re at it, bring me a fresh cup of coffee?”
Loomis and I looked at each other. We both knew this clown would keep playing games all day and night if we let him. And Chamberlain was right about one thing: Jack Van Dorn didn’t have that kind of time.
I picked up the cup and saucer. “Now you’re thinking,” Chamberlain laughed. “And make sure there’s two sugars this time. I like my coffee good and sweet.”
I put the cup and saucer on the fireplace mantel. I pulled my sap from the back of my pants and slammed it down on his left hand. Hard. He screamed.
Loomis grabbed Chamberlain’s wrist before he could pull it back. He held the broken hand flat on the desk. “Fucking fascist!” Chamberlain screamed through his teeth.
I put my weight on his arm as I leaned in closer. “I know you didn’t think it would happen this way. You thought you’d saunter in here, tell us you knew about where Van Dorn was, then string us along like a couple of dopes.” I clipped Chamberlain in the back of the head and jerked him closer to me by the collar. “But we don’t have that kind of time, fucko. Either you have Jack, or you know where he is. You’re going to tell us everything you know eventually. How bad you get hurt in the meantime is up to you.”
I signaled Loomis to let him go and we both backed away. Chamberlain sank back in the chair, cradling his busted paw. I’d knocked some of the smugness out of him, but not enough. Given how Loomis had walked away when we worked over the bartender, I hadn’t expected him to go along with the rough stuff. But he held his water and crowded the punk some more.
“Tell us where Jack is, before this gets a whole lot worse real fast.”
Chamberlain jerked his head toward Fifth Avenue. “That crowd out there is my doing, you dumb bastards. I put the word out, told them this was their chance to get some attention for the poor in this city. Everyone gets themselves worked up into a panic when one little rich boy goes missing, but no one cares about the thousands out of work who
go to sleep with empty bellies each night.”
“That so?” I said.
But Chamberlain wasn’t finished. “I even told them I was coming here to offer to help find Jack in exchange for a little help for the people. Told them you’d probably kick my teeth in by way of thanks. So if you touch me again, I’ll cry out and when I do, brother, watch out. They’ll come pouring through that door like locusts.”
Loomis looked back toward the French doors, then back at Chamberlain. “Then where are they?”
Chamberlain suddenly didn’t look so smug any more.
Loomis said, “You just cried out when Detective Doherty broke your hand, but I don’t hear them coming. I don’t think they can hear you all the way out there.”
I clipped Chamberlain in the back of the head again. “Looks like it’s just the three of us, fucko. Start talking.”
Chamberlain shook out the cobwebs. Whatever fight he still had in him was dying a quick death. He was beginning to realize that he hadn’t thought this through. Not even halfway. He was all alone, and not as tough as he’d thought. I’d seen that look before. Many, many times.
Chamberlain pulled his busted hand closer to his chest. “I… I know who took Jack. A… a… and where he is. I know who killed the girl, too.”
I felt my gut flip when I heard a scuffle out in the hallway — probably Carmichael and Van Dorn’s attorney. I didn’t know for sure, but I figured Mr. Van Dorn had probably insisted on listening at the door.
Loomis leaned in. “Then tell us everything before this gets more out of hand than it already has.”
“I… I want a deal,” Chamberlain said. I tried to grab him, but he shrank back into the corner. His words came out fast and loud. “I want immunity now or I don’t talk at all! No matter how much you beat me, I won’t say a word. I’ll lie and make you waste your time looking everywhere but where Jack really is.”
Loomis motioned for me to hold off, then said calmly, “The first one in always gets the best deal.” He tapped the folder on the desk. “You’ve been around. You know how it works, so start spilling.”
Chamberlain looked at both of us. Wide-eyed. Scared. Desperate. The tough guy who’d strutted in here with a plan was long gone. His lower lip started quivering and he began sobbing. The boil had been lanced. Now the poison would come out. “It wasn’t our idea,” Chamberlain said as the tears flowed freely. “It was Jack’s.”
“We know that,” I said. “How did you find out about it?”
Chamberlain swallowed hard. “Jack got drunk one night last week down at The Chantilly Club and, brother, I mean soused. He’d just had a fight with his father, and went on and on about how he was sick of this town and of living a lie just to please his family. He said he’d come up with a way to free himself from the whole mess. He clammed up right away, but me and the other boys got curious, so we kept pouring more booze into him. We goaded him into telling us about this big escape plan of his, the one he’d cooked up with Rachel. It didn’t take long before old Jack was drunk enough to lay out the whole thing for us right then and there.”
Chamberlain drew in a jagged breath and wiped at some tears with his good hand. “Jack was so tight, he didn’t even remember telling us anything about it the next day. But me and the other boys heard him, all right. We got to thinking that maybe we could snatch Jack and snag the ransom for ourselves. Blow town with the money and live like kings for a while. Jack had already laid out the whole plan. He’d even told us how much he thought his old man would be willing to pay. So what if we stiff him and his old man out of fifty grand? It’s not like they need it, and…”
I wasn’t interested in hearing him justifying himself. “Skip to the part when things went haywire. Why’d you kill the girl?”
Chamberlain’s voice broke again. “I… I didn’t kill her. I swear I didn’t. I… I’d done everything I could to make sure she didn’t have to get hurt.”
Loomis leaned in closer. “How?”
“I called her at pay phones all over the city just to make sure she wasn’t being followed.”
“Was anyone watching her?” I asked.
Chamberlain shrugged. “I don’t think so, but I didn’t know for sure. We were all together with Jack in the apartment. But Jessica didn’t know if we were watching her or not. When I thought we had run her around enough, I told her to come to The Chauncey Arms, but wouldn’t tell her the room number over the phone. I didn’t want her having the police come in instead, so I told her she’d recognize one of the names in the register and she should come up to that room number.”
“So you signed the guest book ‘Silas Van Dorn’.” Loomis shook his head. “Her dead grandfather. You sick, rotten son of a bitch.”
“It was all I could think of,” Chamberlain said. “Enzo and I went to the room while the other two stayed with Jack. Since I figured she might remember me from my old life, I hid in the bathroom while Enzo handled the payoff.” He looked at Loomis, then me. “Don’t you see? Everything I did was to keep her safe. No one wanted a murder rap on top of all this.” He dropped his head into his hands. “No one was supposed to die.”
I grabbed a fist full of Chamberlain’s hair and jerked his head up straight. I needed eye contact with him on this one. “Then who killed Jessica?”
I didn’t think the punk’s eyes could get any wider, but they did, looking at nothing in particular. “Enzo did it,” he whispered. “Right there in front of me. He didn’t have to, but he did. No one was supposed to die. I… I never saw anyone die before. Not up close. Not like… not like that.”
He was starting to drift, so I grabbed him by the collar and jerked him out of it. “Why? She brought the money. She did everything you told her to. Why’d you have to kill her?”
Chamberlain could’ve nodded, but it was so faint, I wouldn’t swear to it. “The boys sent me with Enzo to keep an eye on him. Enzo gets some wild notions sometimes, especially when it comes to money and women. So I was in the room with him when Jessica dropped off the money.”
He trailed off and looked at Loomis like Loomis could help him. “I stayed in the shadows, see? She was just supposed to drop off the money and leave.” Then Chamberlain stared off into nothing, like he was back in the Chauncey Arms, watching it happen all over again. “But Enzo wanted to have his fun, see? He started frisking her. It was just a way for the sick bastard to get his jollies. He grabbed her hard in the wrong place and wouldn’t let go. She started squealing and I didn’t want us to draw any attention to the room. That’s when I came out to push him off her. And… and that’s when she got a good look at me.”
Chamberlain’s eyes dimmed. “She recognized me from back when I used to run in these circles. She was just a kid then, so I didn’t think she’d remember me, but she did. She recognized me.” A shiver went through Chamberlain. “Enzo saw it, too. I tried getting her out of there, but before I could push her out the door, Enzo jerked her back and…”
I heard another scuffle erupted out in the hall. Muffled shouts, somebody banged into the parlor doors. Then a gunshot. More scuffling and yelling followed. I didn’t know who fired it and I didn’t have time to find out. Chamberlain bolted out of his chair, but Loomis and I threw him back down.
The chair pitched back on its rear legs but I jerked him upright. “Why clean up the way you did?”
“I panicked. I wanted to clean up. Enzo had already started cutting her clothes off. I threw him out of there while I quickly wiped everything down. I made sure we didn’t leave any trace of anything anywhere. I’d hoped it would throw you off, so…”
I’d heard enough. I shook Chamberlain harder and said, “Where’s Jack now, damn it? Where?”
“Enzo’s got him!” he screamed. “He’s alive, I swear! We got him drunk a couple of nights ago and kept him that way since.”
This time, Loomis shoved him. “Where?”
Chamberlain couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “Two-Forty-Two Eighth Avenue. Apartment 4C. Enzo’s there
with two other knock-around guys from The Chantilly Club. Friends of his.”
He kept repeating himself, but I’d already memorized the address. The scuffling in the hall had died down, but the noise from the street picked up. It was a low rumble, like the sound of an approaching subway train or the sound you heard at a ballgame between innings. Something was starting.
TEARS IN MY HEART
OUT IN the hallway, Mr. Van Dorn was sitting in a chair, holding his head in his hands. A shaken Gottheim stood by his side, while a half a dozen cops scurried around them.
Carmichael was carefully unloading a long-barreled .38. I knew it wasn’t police issue, and figured it was Van Dorn’s. I could smell the cordite in the air.
The Chief sighed as he handled the gun. “It’s my own damned fault for letting him listen at the door without checking him first.” He looked back at Van Dorn, who was shaking and sobbing like Chamberlain, except his tears were for a much different, deeper loss.
“Can’t blame him,” I said.
Carmichael snapped the gun’s bullet chamber closed and handed it to one of the uniforms, along with the bullets. “You get Chamberlain to give up where Jack is?”
“A place on Twenty-Third and Eighth,” I said. “A crud named Enzo’s got him. I want to…”
The crowd noise from the street rose from a rumble to a quiet roar. Somewhere, glass shattered and the roar grew louder.
“Son of a bitch,” Carmichael said. “That gunshot must’ve gotten them riled up.”
Turning to one of his men, he barked an order to get word to the mounted units. Carmichael shoved me out of the way and waved three uniforms past me into the parlor. He pointed at Chamberlain and said, “Bring this sack of shit upstairs. If the crowd storms the mansion, throw him off the roof.”
Chamberlain screamed as the cops snatched him from the chair and dragged him out of the room. One of the men twisted Chamberlain’s busted hand behind his back, making him shriek louder.
Slow Burn Page 13
