“I was afraid something like that might happen.”
“You anticipated his departure?”
“No, not exactly. But he did receive a communication that he tried to hide from us. I assumed he had some other motive than merely helping you track down Robert Mason.”
“What communication?”
“Would you mind if I tell you over supper, Mr. Reese? I’m rather hungry just now.”
“Okay. Let me check something at the desk here. Then we can go up the street to eat.”
We went inside and I inquired about the schedule of the boat that had just left. It was going to Toronto. I had thought it was just an excursion boat to the Falls and back. The clerk handed me a schedule for the Niagara Navigation Company. There would be another boat leaving at eight o’clock for Toronto. Where I knew there was a Queen’s Hotel. There was also a schedule for the Richelieu & Ontario Navigation Company, which included a map of several steamship routes on Lake Ontario. One stood out rather prominently.
“Is there a faster way to Toronto than waiting for the next boat?” I asked the clerk.
“No, the boat would get you there around ten o’clock. You could take a carriage down to Niagara Falls and catch a train there, but you’d have to change trains in Hamilton or somewhere. The boat’s a lot more pleasant, too.”
I bought a map of Toronto at the hotel stationers while Emmie wired her mother. Then I led her back to the little cafe. We took my usual table.
“So, tell me about Whitey’s secret message.”
“While you were going through the descriptions with the clerk—and I have to say, Mr. Reese, I’m not sure that was the best way of handling that part of the affair—Whitey asked one of the clerks for a sheet on next week’s horse races at Fort Erie. But he said something else to the clerk I didn’t hear. The clerk handed him the racing sheet and also an envelope. Whitey quickly hid the envelope and went out on the porch, ostensibly to read his racing sheet. I tried to stay near the door and out of his sight. He read the message in the envelope, then burned it. But he used a pencil to write something on the racing sheet. That’s why I wanted to stay with him when we went in different directions, so I would have a chance to see what he had written.”
“And did you see it?”
“Oh, yes. Eventually.”
“What did it say?”
“Well, he had just made some notation. Probably to help him remember something in the message. I wrote it down in my notebook as soon as I was alone.”
She handed me the notebook, where she had written a sort of chart:
D 2 A
R 1 C
Y 2 E
“What do you think it means?” she asked.
“I have no idea. But he definitely took the boat to Toronto. I guess it’s something he’s supposed to find, or do, there.”
“Who was it who sent him the telegram?” she asked.
“It had to be his boss, Conners.”
I then explained Whitey’s connection to Conners and told her about the luncheon party earlier.
“Conners is worried that I’m looking for your uncle, and that the message to Sadie was from him. Whitey was sent along to make sure I didn’t find him. Conners wants your uncle to remain dead until the Elevator Company collects from the insurance policy on him and pays off that loan. It may be that he somehow found out the message was referring to the Queen’s Hotel in Toronto and he wired Whitey to go there and warn your uncle. Maybe that cryptograph you saw is just the room number and an alias.”
“But you think Whitey’s on the wrong track, because the postcards came from Mason.”
“Yes, I think we can be sure the cards were from Mason. Sadie was receiving them before your uncle disappeared. Then there’s the use of the names from Thackeray, which Mason had done before. And the connection to Montreal.”
“But if the card was referring to the Queen’s Hotel in Toronto, why did Sadie take the train east?”
“It suddenly dawned on me when I saw that map of the steamship routes at the hotel. There’s a lake port just up from Rochester, called Charlotte. And there’s a steamship that plies between there and Toronto. Sadie was just taking a roundabout way of getting to the Queen’s Hotel in Toronto.”
“So Miss Parker took the train to Rochester last night so she could catch a boat to Toronto. She hoped by taking that route we would mistake her intent. Mr. Whitner made you think his destination was here, but just passed through, taking the boat to Toronto. So presumably, Mason, Miss Parker, and Whitner are all converging at the Queen’s Hotel in Toronto as we speak.”
“That’s it in a nutshell.”
“So, we arrive at ten o’clock and surprise them. Unless Whitey unintentionally warns them off.”
“Or intentionally. If Whitey sees Sadie, he’ll assume she’s there to meet Elwell and will tell her I’m on to her. Unless Whitner already has. All he’s after is money. He too expects to find your uncle meeting Sadie. If he finds Mason there instead, he’ll just work him. He doesn’t want him caught as long as he can milk him.”
“But would he know Mason?”
“I imagine he knows all about Mason’s record, but perhaps wouldn’t recognize him. He seems to know quite a bit about all of this. And I’d like to find out how he learned it.”
13
The steamship Chippewa was crowded with people returning to Toronto after a day trip to the Falls. We found a spot on deck near the bow and away from the smoke. When we left the river for Lake Ontario, the wind picked up but it was still pleasant. Emmie suggested we pass the time with a few hands of nickel-ante poker.
“Miss McGinnis, are you planning to cheat?”
“You don’t mind, do you, Mr. Reese?” She was now at her most artful.
“Me? No, I’m used to playing a cold deck.”
“Well, don’t worry, I won’t trim you badly.”
“And by all means, be careful. You must be aware of what happens to those caught cheating at cards on steamboats.”
“Surely they are given some allowance during their apprenticeship.”
“Have you apprenticed yourself to Mr. Schuler?”
“Could I have spied on him if I had?”
“Do apprentice card sharps have an ethical code?”
“Oh, I think they must. Are you afraid I’ll betray you to Mr. Schuler?”
“Well, I do find the secret code a little romantic for Whitey. And there is the fact he referred to you by your first name.”
“Why, are you suspicious or jealous, Mr. Reese?”
“Maybe a little of both.”
“Well, let’s dispel the latter right now. I thought you preferred the more formal address. You may call me Emmie and I will call you Harry. Or is there another name your friends use?”
“No, just Harry. Don’t you like it?”
“Frankly, not particularly. Do you?”
“No, not particularly. But it’s short for Harrison, and I like that even less. And I guess I’ve grown accustomed to it. What name would you choose for me?”
“I’ll need to think about that.”
We watched the sunset from the deck and Emmie assured me the code was real and I assured her that I believed her. Now it was too dark to play cards, which was just as well as I had lost two dollars and ten cents. We had agreed that if I spotted Emmie cheating, it was my hand. If I unjustly accused her, it was hers. She quickly became as adroit at pretending to cheat as she was at cheating.
In making change for me, Emmie pulled a roll of bills from her purse. It caught my eye.
“How much money did you bring?” I asked. Financial necessity had trumped discretion.
“I started with just under one hundred dollars. I always keep that much at home.”
“You don’t trust banks?”
“Well, I have accounts in four banks and keep one hundred dollars in each. You see, my father once lost money in a bank failure and he taught me to always minimize my risk.”
“Experience
is a great teacher,” I said. While it would be difficult to argue it had imparted any of its wisdom to me, I felt the situation called for a comforting platitude. “I don’t mean to meddle, but do you think it’s wise to be carrying that amount around in your bag?”
“I must admit, Whitey’s pointing out those pickpockets did give me pause. What would you suggest?”
“Perhaps if you would allow me to hold some portion of it for you. That would reduce your risk of a total loss.”
“All right. I guess I would feel easier.”
She took out her stash and counted out fifty dollars and handed it to me. Given that my own fortune was quickly disappearing, the arrangement made me feel easier as well.
I suggested we go inside, where there was enough light to study the map I had bought earlier. But the cabin was too crowded to enter. There was a beer counter there and about half the passengers were in the queue. Some appeared to be getting back in line as soon as they were served. The citizens of Toronto were a thirsty bunch.
We found a bench on deck where there was just enough light to see the map. The Queen’s Hotel was only a couple blocks from the wharf.
“The problem,” I began, “is that if I’m right that Mason is meeting Sadie at the Queen’s Hotel, then Whitner is also right. At least as far as Sadie goes. But he’s expecting Elwell to show up and presumably knows what he looks like.”
“Oh, yes, he’s seen photos at the house.”
“Well, he won’t confront Sadie until Elwell shows up. Which won’t happen. So he’ll be staking out the lobby of the Queen’s.”
“What if Sadie has spotted Whitner?”
“We have to assume he’s too smart to allow that to happen. I think he’s an old hand at this type of thing.”
“If Whitner is watching the Queen’s Hotel he’ll recognize us immediately.”
“Yes, but what can he do about it?” I asked.” If he stays, we’ll just watch him as well. But I doubt he’ll stay. He’ll assume that if we see your uncle we’ll expose him—putting an end to Whitner’s chances of blackmailing him. Of course, that still leaves Whitey.”
“Perhaps he’ll also make the mistake of waiting for my uncle to arrive?”
“We can hope so. He’ll spot Whitner there because he expects to find him. I’m not sure what he’ll do if he sees Mason.”
“Would he recognize him?” she asked.
“I don’t know if they would have crossed paths or not. He didn’t show any interest in that photo you brought.”
“How do you think Conners found out whatever information he sent to Whitey?”
“He could have wired someone in Toronto to monitor the hotels and that someone spotted Sadie and sent back the room number and the alias she was using.”
“But why not just have the man in Toronto warn Sadie?” Emmie asked.
“Maybe it was someone he didn’t trust with too much information, like a hired detective. And maybe he doesn’t want Sadie warned unless she’s meeting your uncle. He didn’t seem at all upset about me bringing in Mason.”
“If that’s the case, maybe Whitey would turn him in before we get there?”
“Yes, I suppose that’s possible. But since there’s nothing for Whitey to gain by doing that, I think it’s unlikely.”
“So, we operate on the assumption Whitner and Whitey are still there, both waiting for my uncle. Then we arrive, just in time to apprehend Mason before either of them realizes what’s happening. I don’t think the odds are on our side, Harry.”
“No, I guess not.” Emmie certainly knew how to take the wind out of a man’s sails. “Regardless, there’s nothing else for us to do but go to the Queen’s and hope for the best.”
For the rest of the trip, we tried to think of names and rooms that could be created with the letters and numbers Whitey had recorded: D, R, Y, A, C, and E. Emmie expected to find a Mr. Darcey in Room 212, while I favored Mr. Cedray in Room 221.
The ship docked and as we waited our turn to disembark, a man on the plank before us stumbled and the passengers behind him closed in on each other. Emmie scanned the crowd for claws and buzzards and was disappointed when she didn’t spot any. Lamentably, sometimes a stumble is just a stumble.
We soon arrived at the Queen’s Hotel. We had agreed it would be better for Emmie to enter first, since Whitner wouldn’t be expecting her. Then I would enter through a different door. We would both try to search the lobby quickly, then head to any saloon or restaurant opening off of it.
It was all over in a matter of seconds. We found Whitner seated in the saloon. He had hopped up when he saw me enter, but it was too late to hide himself.
“Good evening, Mr. Whitner.”
“Good evening, Mr. Reese. I was wondering if you’d be making your way here. Ah, and Miss McGinnis.”
“No sign of Becky yet?” I asked.
“No, no sign of Becky,” he smiled.
“You know, it isn’t Elwell she’s planning to meet.”
“No? Look, why don’t we all sit down.” He offered Emmie a chair. “Tell me, Mr. Reese, who is she meeting?”
“A man named Mason.” I was hoping to convince Whitner to give up and leave.
“I see. Why is Miss McGinnis here if it doesn’t involve her uncle?”
“Curiosity, mainly,” Emmie answered. “If you gentlemen don’t mind, I think I’ll go see what rooms are available for the night.”
The waiter came by and I ordered a beer. Whitner laughed and suggested I try a lemonade. It seems the puritans of Toronto had instituted a particularly ruthless set of blue laws. No liquor could be sold from seven o’clock on Saturday evening until six o’clock Monday morning. That explained the thirst of the passengers on the Chippewa.
“Well, Mr. Reese, I think I’ve led you to the wrong Queen’s Hotel, twice.”
“Why do you think this is the wrong hotel?”
“For the simple reason that neither Sadie or Elwell has shown up. There are others, you know.”
“Yes. Tell me, how is it you came to know so much about Elwell?”
“Oh, I have my sources. Not so different from yours.” He was smiling.
“The other night, when you and I ran into Keegan, you recognized him, didn’t you?”
“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”
Just as the waiter brought us our lemonade, Emmie returned.
“They aren’t here,” she announced. “They must be at the Rossin.”
This seemed to puzzle Whitner as much as it did me. Before I could ask her to explain, two men entered and approached us. They had the unmistakable air of plain-clothes men.
“Are you the party who’s been inquiring for Joseph Sedley?” a skinny cop asked Whitner.
“Why do you ask?”
“Never mind that. How do you know him?”
“He’s a friend.”
“Yeah? Well, then you’d better come along.”
“He’s a friend of mine as well,” I announced.
“Yeah? Well, you better come, too.”
As we were led out, I tried to signal Emmie to stay behind. But when we entered the lobby the clerk piped up.
“She just asked for Sedley, too! And she showed me a photograph.”
“Yeah? Well, it will be a little crowded, but you better come, too. And I’ll take the photograph. Which one’s Sedley?”
“This is Robert Mason,” Emmie said, pointing to the photo. “But we believe he’s traveling as Joseph Sedley.”
We all trooped out and into a carriage the cops had brought. A few minutes later we arrived at police headquarters. The second plain-clothes man led us into the building while the skinny cop made off again in the carriage. The three of us were left to wait in a hallway with a patrolman. Twenty minutes later the skinny cop returned with an older cop whom he introduced as Colonel Livingston. They took Emmie into an office and five minutes later called me in.
“So the two of you came in by train this afternoon?” I hoped Colonel Livingston was just being
sly. But there was always a chance Emmie had let her imagination get the better of her.
“By boat, this evening,” I answered.
“Which boat?”
“The steamboat Chippewa, from Niagara-on-the-Lake. We got in at ten o’clock.”
“All right, who’s Joseph Sedley?”
“We believe it’s an alias being used by a man named Robert Mason. Mason is on the run and I’ve been hired by several insurance companies to find him. But if you don’t know who Sedley is, why are we here?”
“Because I know where he is.”
“In Toronto?”
“Yes, in the morgue.” Livingston watched me for a reaction, and he got one. Then he continued: “Sedley, or Mason, was shot and killed around nine o’clock.”
“You’re kidding me.” My three-hundred-dollar fee for finding Mason had just evaporated.
“Why would I be kidding you? I’ll need the name of someone to verify your story.”
I gave him Keegan as a reference, and also suggested he contact Detective Donahy.
“How is it you’re sure this fellow is the Joseph Sedley we’re looking for?”
“For one thing, Detective Burton here checked him against your photograph. And for another, he had papers on him in the name of Joseph Sedley. Who’s this fellow Whitner? Is he with you?”
“Whitner is a grafter from New York. He was hoping to shake down Sedley. Only he thought Sedley was someone named Charles Elwell, who may also be on the run.”
The explanation of all that required quite a bit of time.
“I don’t suppose you’ll be holding Whitner?” I asked.
“No. The people at the hotel say he was there all evening. But I will question him.”
“You might want to put a man on him when he leaves.”
“All right, I will,” he agreed. “So who’s Mike Schuler?”
He caught me off guard with that. I didn’t see any way around telling him that whole story as well.
“Have you picked up Schuler?” I asked.
“He’s the one who actually led the detectives to the body. But he denied having shot Sedley. Which seems likely, since he didn’t have a gun and we couldn’t find one. He showed some identification and said he came to pick up some papers from a Joseph Sedley at that address for a friend. But he insisted he had never seen Sedley before.”
Always a Cold Deck (A Harry Reese Mystery Book 1) Page 11
