“I’ve already told you.”
The man had a nervous, exasperated air to him, but there was something else, something Percy couldn’t quite place. Whatever it was, it was all he could do to contain himself and answer the questions being thrown at him. Percy watched him the way you do a pot of water about to boil over.
“Seven-thirty. I always open early on Mondays to check stock and see what needs to be reordered. Where’s my daughter? I need to find my daughter.”
Hutchers ignored the question and went right on. “And that’s when you one found him? When you opened the door?”
“No, as I said before, officer, I -”
“Detective. Detective Hutchers,” Hutchers interrupted.
“Detective Hutchers.” The jeweler repeated the name, his eyes blinking rapidly. “I…I knew just looking at the window something was wrong. The display case was in disarray and then I saw him. There he was, in the middle of my garlands and bells, the little Christmas tree lying on top of him.” Waller gestured to the laden gurney and the three of them turned in that direction.
Percy got her first look-see at the victim, and it would have been funny if he wasn’t quite so dead. The size of a six-year old child, but with a larger torso, neck and head, he was dressed from head to foot in a bright green leotard. Elongated, emerald feet pointed upward, the ends of the shoes curling into a semi-circle, two red balls dangling from the tips. He wore a green felt Robin Hood type hat, tasseled with another red ball, as large as a small balloon. He had a handsome face, even in death, with a five o’clock shadow dotting a strong jaw line even Superman would have envied.
Wait a minute. I’ve been reading too many of Oliver’s comic books. Come back from kiddy land to Santa Land.
She dropped a handful of empty shells in her pocket, stepped closer and noticed the small lines around the elf’s closed eyes and grim mouth. He looked around her age and, like her, no longer in his first youth, as they would say. Of course, he was no longer in anything.
Hutchers’ voice caused Percy to swivel back to the jeweler and the head cop. “So you finally got here, Perce. Took you long enough. You know William Waller? The son in Waller and Son Jewelers.”
“Yes, my father is retired and it’s my business now.” He reached out a weak hand and she took it into a strong shake. He winced. “How do you do Mrs. Cole?”
“Miss Cole. Sorry we’re not meeting under better circumstances, Mr. Waller,” she added. There, I can be as civil as the next person. She even smiled at Hutchers, who returned the smile with a glare. He had a lot to glare about these days.
Percy’s brother, Jude, handled Hutchers messy divorce a few months back. He’d had a wife who wanted everything, including his jockey shorts, but not what was in them. Jude managed to get him visitation rights to the kids and keep his car, a ‘39 Desoto, so Hutchers was a grateful man.
“Excuse us a minute, Mr. Waller.” Hutchers yanked at Percy by her upper arm.
“Hey! Watch the suit. I just got it yesterday.”
Ignoring Percy’s command, Hutchers hauled her to a glass counter holding diamond solitaire engagement rings, several of them large enough to choke a horse. She shrugged free of the detective and looked back at Waller.
He is one worried man. No, not worried. Scared. This man is terrified something is going to come out. This is interesting.
Out of earshot, Hutchers said, “Listen, Perce, I don’t have a lotta time, so here’s the skinny.” He never called her Persephone or Percy, but shortened her name to one syllable, as if saying more than that was too much effort. He went on, “Waller finds the dead dwarf, calls us, we find his daughter’s handbag lying underneath the guy --”
“That would be Waller’s daughter’s handbag, right? Not the dead dwarf’s.”
“What are you, a comedian? Why would I tell Waller to call you if it wasn’t his daughter I’m talking about?”
“Just making sure, Hutchers. Checking the facts. You don’t have to bite my head off.”
“Well, shut up and let me finish.”
“So finish.”
For some reason her retort appeased him. “Okay. So we open the purse, Perce, and we find a snub nose, recently fired.”
“I take it the elf was shot.”
I’m not going to say anything about the double purses. No point in further annoying an already pissed off guy.
“You’re getting quicker. So we ask Daddy where the daughter is and he don’t know, nobody does. It isn’t certain, but I’d say by how stiff the stiff is, he was probably shot sometime around three or four in the morning. Waller, by the way, has a crackerjack alibi until seven-thirty this morning. He was spending the night playing cards with his good pal, Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia, along with about a dozen other prominent citizens. Now there’s an alibi. But the girl, his daughter, what’s her name.” He looked at his notes. “Lily Waller, she don’t show up for work this morning. She works at Santa Land along with the dead guy. I got a warrant out for her arrest. That’s it.”
“That her purse over there?” Percy pointed to a small silver bag lying on the counter, with a tag on it. The chainmail clutch bag looked like it was made out of real silver. A large chunk of jade carved in the shape of a dragon decorated the clasp. Two glittering red stones filled the eyes, probably rubies. “Looks expensive.”
He shrugged. “She’s a rich doll. These people always think they’re above the law.”
She turned her head around and studied the father.
With your attitude, Hutchers, no wonder her father looks scared. Or worse.
Percy turned back to Hutchers. He was glaring at her again, eyebrows furrowed, lips pinched.
“One of these days your face is going to freeze like that and then you’ll be sorry.” Startled, Hutchers’ expression changed to one of confusion. “Never mind. Just something a mother gets used to saying to her kid. It’s in the handbook. You tell him I was fat?”
“Yeah, something like that. I don’t want him thinking you was no flimsy girl, can’t take care of herself. Now look, I owe your brother big time, and he said he would appreciate it if I could do something for his sister – and yes, that would be you and not the dead dwarf’s sister – so I’m doing it. What with your father laid up and all, I’m being a good guy. But I don’t need no lip from my department over this, right? So just pretend you’re interested in helping him out, make a few bucks, and go back down to the east side.” He leaned in and glared at her again, this time eyeball to eyeball. He was her height, so he could do it. “But don’t get in my way, understand?”
You can be one nasty, rude slob, copper. I hope Santa leaves coal in your stocking.
She threw him an outward smile. He didn’t return it. “Understood, Hutchers,” she said. “Thanks for the job and Merry Christmas. Have a pistachio.” She proffered the bag. He ignored her gesture.
“Don’t mention it, Perce. And I mean that. Don’t mention it to nobody or we’ll both be sorry.”
Each word was stressed, as if she was too stupid to get it, otherwise. Then the charm school drop-out turned around and went back to Waller, who was gnawing on his nails like he hadn’t eaten in a week. Percy followed and came to the jeweler’s side.
Hutchers ignored Percy but looked at the jewelry store owner and closed his notebook.
“That’s it for now. I’ll let you know when we find your daughter, unless she turns herself in first. You might want to tell her that if she comes by or calls. It would look better for her. My men will be finished up here in about an hour. Then you can straighten up and open for business.”
“Thank you.” Waller said, once again throwing in some manners. Somebody may be dead, but he was going to be genteel about it. Together Percy and the jeweler watched Hutchers storm out of the shop, as if the crime had been a personal affront to him.
Waller moved around behind a long, glass counter decorated with crystal bowls filled with red and green Christmas balls, and toward a narrow door at the back of the ro
om. He gestured for Percy to follow.
The door opened to a short hallway, at the end of which stood a steel-grated, glass door leading to a back alley. Off to one side of the hall were two doors, one closed and one open. The opened door was a bathroom, with an overhead, low-watt bulb throwing a modicum of light in the tiny space. Waller reached up and pulled on the chain, shutting off the light. Then he opened an opposite door, which appeared to be his office. All the while he said nothing and neither did Percy.
A small desk, two comfortable-looking brown leather chairs, and dozens of black velvet-covered jewelry boxes filled the small room. On the windowsill a philodendron struggled for life, looking thirsty and neglected. The window also wore steel grating. She could see where being in the diamond business needed a lot of protective steel.
“Sit down, Miss Cole.” He sat behind the desk in one leather chair and she sat in the other facing him.
“Okay, so I’m here,” she said, getting right to it. “What do you want?”
“I need you to find Lily before the police do or before she does anything else.”
“Meaning what? You think she killed the elf?”
“Of course not. Lily’s not violent, not really. It’s only she can be…she’s a bit… a bit headstrong and…” He stopped talking and looked down at his gnawed fingernails.
“And?”
“I guess I should say it. She sometimes does irresponsible things. Her mother died when she was seven and she never got over it. That’s all.”
He looked over at an eight by ten studio portrait framed in silver. Percy’s eyes followed his gaze. She considered the picture of a glamorous, young brunette, wearing heavy make-up and a Vaselined, vapid smile. Her youth coupled with his fatherly look of adoration told Percy this was the jeweler’s daughter, even though Waller hadn’t say so. Lily’s ears were garnished with two diamond drop earrings, set with stones larger than most of the marbles Percy had seen her son playing with from his collection. Waller broke away from the photo, cleared his throat, and began picking up square, velvet ring cases. He stacked them neatly at one end of the desk.
“What else, Mr. Waller? I’m happy to take your money but you might want to get something for it. Let’s start with the gun. Is it hers?” She lifted a pistachio to her mouth, bit down and separated the shell from the nut.
He didn’t say anything but nodded, lining up the small boxes in three or four stacks.
“How old is Lily?”
“Eighteen just. Last week was her birthday.”
“That’s pretty young to be carrying.”
“Being in the diamond business has its downsides, Miss Cole. One of them is robbery. We’ve been robbed three or four times at gunpoint and once, they tried to take Lily as a hostage, a bargaining chip. She was fifteen. She got away but I gave her some protection to carry after that.”
“She went to school carrying a piece?” Percy was dumbfounded and didn’t bother to hide it. If my son carried a gun to school, fifteen or fifty, I’d kill him.
“Lily dropped out of school at fourteen, in the middle of term. I couldn’t get her to go back. I’ve hired tutors for her from time to time, for all the good it does me.”
“Okay, so Lily’s a handful. What else?”
“A few weeks ago Lily took a job at Santa Land as a lark. She didn’t need the money. Then I found out she…ah… knew this….ah…elf. Conrad was his name, Conrad Wilson. She’d been hired to be one of Santa’s helpers, so they worked together, sort of. Anyway, I found them together at our Long Island estate.” He hesitated and looked away, fidgeting with a long, black velvet box, probably meant to hold a necklace worth more than the state of Delaware.
“In flagrante delicto?”
She’d learned this phrase along with others from several of her brother’s books she’d studied on the law. A private detective should know a few things, including which end of a gun to point and fire.
He nodded and went back to stacking boxes.
“She at the Long Island estate now or you think she skipped town?”
“No, I think she’s there. I phoned but no one answered. The staff is on holiday and the house is empty. Her car is missing and I can’t think of anywhere else she’d go. She loves that house. It’s the only place she’d known with her mother.”
“You want me to go there and talk her into turning herself in?” He nodded again. “If you think she’s there, why don’t you go, yourself?” Percy looked around, found an ashtray and dropped several shells into it. “And stop with the boxes. Please.”
He hesitated, set the boxes down, and leaned forward looking directly into her eyes. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m nervous.”
“You don’t look nervous to me. More like scared. You scared, Mr. Waller?”
“I..I..yes, I am. Lily can be…can be…” He seemed to search for the right words.
“A handful,” Percy offered.
William Waller nodded. “She can be, yes. Miss Cole, for all the men she’s had in her life, including me and her grandfather, she’s never trusted any of us. I don’t know why. Maybe I should have spent more time with her when she was little, but my business takes me away a lot. Lately, I’ve tried my best to win her over. For God’s sake, I’m her father. But she doesn’t seem to…respond to men except romantically, and that never lasts long. I’m hoping you, as an older woman, can win her confidence. That’s why I asked the detective if he knew any older policewomen. He didn’t, but suggested you.”
Man, oh, man. When the hell did I become ‘an older’ woman? Merry Christmas to me. Look who’s got the lump of coal now.
“Maybe Lily will open up to you,” the jeweler went on, unaware of Percy’s thoughts. “If nothing else, maybe you can get her to go to the police before they hunt her down. I didn’t tell them about Long Island, just the apartment in Beekman Place.”
“That doesn’t give us much time. The cops aren’t as dumb as you’d like to think. Write down the address.” Percy did some fast thinking. The only way I can get to Long island quick enough is by car. And if I’m going to do that, I need gas money.
“I’m going to need a cash advance,” Percy said matter-of-factly.
The jeweler nodded, drew out a set of keys from his pocket, opened a locked drawer in the bottom of the desk, and hauled out a metal box. Using another key, he opened the box to reveal more lettuce than she’d seen in her life. He picked up a pile of what she first thought was tens and twenties. He flipped over the stack to reveal one-hundred dollar bills. She tried to keep her eyebrows from banging into the fedora plopped on her head. Waller peeled off three bills.
“Here’s three-hundred dollars.” He slid over a pad and fountain pen. “I’ll need a receipt.”
So you were expecting a five spot, Percy, instead of three C notes. Get over it and try to keep from stuttering when you open your mouth.
“Okay.” With a shaking hand, she scrawled the amount and her name on the paper while he continued talking.
“If you can save my daughter from this…and from herself…I’ll give you another one-thousand dollars. Keep her out of jail and I’ll make if five-thousand.”
Five thousand bucks! Enough to get my own house, my own car, live on my own, just Oliver and me! She took a deep breath. Slow down, kiddo, you haven’t earned it yet. Besides, maybe he’s talking through his hat.
“You want to put that down in writing? And sign it?” She returned the bag of nuts to her pocket, but threw more shells into the ashtray.
“Of course.” He reached for a large notepad and began to write. “I don’t know how legal this is.”
“Legal enough.” Percy watched him write one or two sentences and sign his name at the bottom. She reached over, took the note, folded it and put it in her breast pocket. “Let me suggest you get yourself a good criminal lawyer. If you don’t know one, my brother probably does.”
Mr. Waller shook his head. “I don’t want it to go that far. She didn’t kill the man.”
�
��Regardless, line somebody up. Or call my brother, Jude, Jude Cole. He’s an attorney and he’s honest. That’s why he’s broke. He’s in the phone book.” She stood. “I’d better get going. If I know Hutchers, he’ll be on this like a drunk on a beer. Got a glass of water?”
A little thrown, Waller nonetheless reached over to a tumbler filled with water and poured some into one of the glasses resting on a nearby tray. She took the glass, crossed the small room over to the windowsill. Percy poured a steady stream of water into the philodendron, neither Waller nor she saying a word.
The bought and paid for detective turned back to her client. “Things die from neglect, Mr. Waller, or sometimes they shoot somebody. We’re going to see if that’s what your daughter did.”
Chapter Four
“I can’t find it, boy,” the man said to the dog. “But it’s here. We’ll look again tomorrow.” He strained his eyes to look at the watch on his wrist, drawing from the negligible light of the lamp.
“I got to go up and mop the store. It won’t look right if I don’t get up to the store.” He clawed at the rummaged goods he’d strewn about on the floor, chucking them in a corner, so he could have a pathway. “Putting it back, boy, so it looks like nobody’s been here. Not that anybody comes down here. Nobody’s got the key.” His face clouded over. Even in the half light, the dog saw the change and skulked away.
“Of course, that didn’t keep that elf out. Nosy bastard, but he got his. He got his.” He looked around in the darkness for the dog and called out loudly. “Come on, boy. We got to get upstairs.”
Chapter Five
The trip over the Long Island turnpike was fast and quiet. At midday, there weren’t a lot of cars on the road and gas rationing was at its peak. Ophelia sailed along the road, steady and solid. Percy loved this old car, even the butterfly window that wouldn’t close and made driving a windy experience, and downright frigid in the winter.
She had to laugh when she thought of the shocked expression on the gas jockey’s face at the neighborhood gas station when she told him to ‘fill ’er up.’ The Cole’s usual limit was 3-gallons at a time. Maybe things were changing for the Coles.
Persephone Cole and the Christmas Killings Page 2
