“I guess just to confuse things. If the police found the two thousand they’d assume it was to pay Mason. So he offered another story. Where is it now?”
“Safe at home.” Her half-smile left the distinct impression she meant safe from me.
When we arrived in Rochester, I suggested that if we hurried, maybe we could talk to the porter and make it off before the train left the station. No go. By the time we were able to speak to him, we were on our way—next stop: Syracuse.
He did recognize the photograph, however, and immediately started laughing.
“Sure, I remember him. He came on with a ticket for the sleeper. But he thought this car went to Montreal. I told him he’d have to change trains in Utica. He said that was all right and climbs into upper number one. He could have had a lower in the middle of the car, but he said he should stick close to my room so I could wake him in Utica. I said, that means I have to stay awake. So he gave me a dollar. At Utica, he was dead to the world, but I got him up and wrote him a slip so he could get a berth on the Montreal train, assuming one was left to be had.”
“What time is Utica?”
“One a.m.”
I took down his name and address and gave him a dollar. Then we went back to our coach.
“Are you planning to catch the train for Montreal, too?” Emmie asked.
“No, we’ve established Charlie was on the train Saturday night, not in Toronto. He obviously wasn’t involved in your uncle’s murder and I think we can assume the rest of his story is true. Or at least something like the truth.”
“Do you think Detective Donahy will think so?”
“That I don’t know. And of course it doesn’t let your family off completely.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Aunt Nell knew Whitner. Maybe she was working an insurance fraud with your uncle, just as he suspected. Only the plan wasn’t to meet up with him later, but to live their separate lives. Whitner may have discovered something about it and was trying to blackmail her. He came by Sunday and she led him away from the house so your mother wouldn’t overhear. They argued, and, well….”
“And Aunt Nell overpowered him?”
“Maybe she hit him from behind while he was admiring the cellar hole.”
“I know you’re just playing horse again, Harry, but stop it. And after Aunt Nell said such nice things about you.”
“Did she? Well, then, I take it all back.”
By the time we reached Syracuse I was reading the want ads out loud just to keep Emmie awake. We arrived at 11:45 and I immediately went to the ticket counter and asked about the next train back to Buffalo.
“Well,” the man at the window said, “there’s the Lake Shore Limited that stops here in about an hour. It goes to Buffalo. But you can’t take it.”
“Why not?”
“It only carries passengers to points west of Buffalo. You can get on in Buffalo, but you can’t get off in Buffalo.”
I was beginning to understand why these men were protected by bars over the window.
“What would be the next train to Buffalo that would allow us to both get on and get off?”
“That would be the Western Express. Leaves here at two a.m.”
I bought the tickets, stopped at the newsstand, and went back to Emmie.
“We have two hours to wait. What do you say we look for a saloon and try out Charlie’s technique for sleeping on a train?”
“What’s that?”
“Two stiff drinks. No more. No less.”
“I guess it would be better than listening to you recite the to-let ads.”
“No need for that. If the drinks don’t work I bought you this.” I handed her the latest Nick Carter. “Not quite Thackeray, but the pinnacle of dime detectives.”
Emmie seemed genuinely touched by my gift. It turned out she had truly never read any dime novels, which seemed a little odd given that she intended to make her fortune through them. It didn’t take long to find a saloon, but Emmie was being selective. She chose the seediest, of course. I ordered our drinks and we sat down at a table. Emmie immersed herself in Nick Carter, so I went to the bar for some conversation. A while later she joined me.
“You know, Harry, this is quite awful. And it isn’t the least bit sordid. Is it really the pinnacle?”
“That, of course, is a matter of opinion. Let’s just say there are far worse.”
“Honestly?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Any more sordid?”
“You mean salacious, don’t you?” I smiled. “There are some romances in which the subject of sex comes up now and again, but usually just the merest allusion. Unfortunately, the reputation of dime novels for being corrupting is not well deserved. Are you reassessing your plans?”
“It would certainly be easy to do better.”
“You’re assuming better is what the readership wants.”
“How much do you think they pay the writers for these?”
“As it happens, I know a fellow who writes them. He does pretty well, but only because he can do one in a few days.”
“Write a book in a few days?”
“Only if you define the word book rather loosely.”
“Mrs. Rohlfs told me she rarely finishes more than one book a year.”
“Mrs. Rohlfs?”
“You know her, she writes as Anna Katharine Green—Detective Gryce and Amelia Butterworth. She’s a friend of Aunt Nell’s and I’ve spoken to her several times about writing.”
“Well, compared with the average dime novelist, she’s Charlotte Brontë. Of course, her books aren’t particularly corrupting either. I mean, you aren’t going to find old man Gryce and Amelia having a tumble out in the garden.”
“No. It’s true her books lack a certain liveliness.”
We had a second round and Emmie spent the rest of our stay exchanging card tricks with the bartender. Meanwhile, I had a scintillating conversation with some drummer about the cost of collars and the advantages of a collared shirt. We caught the two o’clock train and Emmie promptly fell into a deep sleep. I dozed some, but when the train arrived in Buffalo at six a.m. I was in need of a good night’s rest and went straight to my hotel. Emmie went home to explain to her mother where she had spent the night.
22
I made it to Donahy’s office by eleven Wednesday morning. I was told he was out with Stark, so I sat down to wait. Half an hour later I was woken by a sharp kick to the shin.
“Cut out that damn racket.” A large detective seemed to be of the opinion that I snored too stridently. Luckily, the intense pain he had engendered prevented a relapse into slumber, the likely result of which would be a matching bruise on my other, still healthy, shin. Donahy and Stark showed up soon afterwards.
“Looks like you had a busy night,” Donahy began.
“You heard about our little trek?”
“Yeah, we’ve been talking to the future Mrs. Reese.” Donahy was visibly amused. “We were invited to the wedding supper.”
“Wedding supper?”
“Yes,” Stark joined in. “This evening. You seem surprised.”
“Oh, no. It just slipped my mind. What else did she tell you?”
“We have the name of the porter,” Donahy said. “But I’ll need to check that out for myself. And it doesn’t mean he wasn’t in Buffalo Sunday night.”
“Yes, Detective,” Stark said. “But if young Elwell didn’t kill his father, it eliminates the motive for killing Whitner.”
“One motive, maybe,” Donahy conceded.
“Did she tell you anything else?”
“Well, she produced the two thousand dollars taken from Elwell’s office,” Stark said. “I must say, though, the explanation seems a little difficult to believe.”
“What was her explanation?”
“She told us Schuler took it from Elwell’s wallet in order to give it to her aunt, Elwell’s real widow. And that yesterday afternoon Schuler had entrusted it to he
r to deliver. But she thought it better to turn it in. You know Schuler, Detective. Does that sound believable?”
“It sounds as believable as anything else involving the Elwell family.”
“It also jibes with Mason’s story,” I helpfully added.
“Yes,” Stark agreed. “A story Miss McGinnis was privy to.” Then he added quickly, “Not that I doubt her veracity, Mr. Reese.”
“Oh, certainly not, I’m sure,” I said.
I thought it a good time to consult my future wife and see if I might be let in on the wedding plans. I said good-bye and found a telephone to call the Elwell residence. Aunt Nell congratulated me and then gave the phone to Emmie.
“Everything’s set for one o’clock this afternoon, Harry.”
“Is it? Seems kind of sudden.”
“I’m afraid mother insisted.”
“I see. She believes I’m leading her little girl astray, and so she insists we be married.”
“Well, led astray. I told her everything.”
“Everything? Why in the world did you do that?”
“In hindsight, it wasn’t the best strategy. But I wanted to assure her your intentions were honorable.”
“Were they?” The chances that Emmie had been outmaneuvered by her mother were nil. But I was hardly in a position to argue the case. “Where’s the ceremony?”
“We’ve found a judge to perform the ceremony at the courthouse—well, General Osgood did. You’re to meet Charlie at his office at half past twelve. He has a suit you can wear. In the meantime, why don’t you invite Carlotta to the supper this evening?”
“All right. Where did we decide to hold it?”
“Charlie offered to host it at the Iroquois. Tell her seven o’clock.”
“Who else did we invite?”
“Just the family and a few friends—Mrs. Rohlfs, General Osgood and his daughter, and several people you don’t know. And Inspector Stark and Detective Donahy, of course. Oh, and be sure to invite Mr. Keegan as well.”
“All right. You know, Charlie seems to be taking a big interest in getting you married off.”
“I suppose he sees himself as the patriarch now.”
“Or maybe he wants you out of the house?”
“You better get going.”
I did so. Carlotta was off somewhere but I left a note for her. Over at the Iroquois, I found Keegan in the billiard room. He was keen on attending the supper, but begged off the ceremony.
“But why don’t you bring the wedding party to the track this afternoon? I’ll stand for that.”
“That’s very generous,” I lied. It would set him back all of ten dollars. I’d have hoped for something a little more substantial. Then I told him all about Emmie’s suspicions. Luckily, he was amused by it all.
I told Keegan we’d see him at the station in time for the two o’clock train, provided the others were game, and then went to meet Charlie. He thanked me for helping to clear him and then tried to get me into one of his best suits, but it wasn’t meant to be. Emmie, her mother, and Aunt Nell were waiting for us at the courthouse, where the judge first had us sign for a wedding license and then performed a sort of express wedding service. We used Emmie’s mother’s ring, on the understanding it was temporary. By quarter past it was all over. My new mother-in-law suggested we all go back to the house for a light lunch, so I jumped in with Keegan’s offer. Mother needed some convincing, but Charlie and Emmie soon talked her into it.
We all walked over to the station and found Keegan waiting. The trip to Fort Erie was a short one, and as we were leaving the station we ran into General Osgood and his daughter. Charlie confirmed they’d be coming to supper, but there seemed to be some awkwardness. As we walked to the stands Charlie pulled me aside.
“The old man seemed a little cold, didn’t he?”
“Yes, there did seem to be something eating him.”
“You see, I’m all but engaged to his daughter, Catherine. I suppose, in his eyes, we are. But I’ve never said anything definite.”
“So no chance of a breach of promise case?”
“No,” he laughed. “It’s not that I want to end it. I just don’t want to make a mistake by rushing into anything.”
“Oh, yes,” I agreed. “Marriage isn’t something that should be hurried. But how does she feel about it?”
“Well, that’s where I really put my foot in it. She called me at work Monday morning, asking where I’d been all day Sunday. And I told her that tale about staying Saturday night in Lockport and then at the Bedell House Sunday. Well, naturally, it sounded pretty suspicious to her that I’d gone on this outing without mentioning it. Then I stumbled in telling her who I was with, because of course they would all be people she knew. So I’m sure she assumes the worst.”
“I see. I thought you had invented that story for my benefit.”
As we were making our way to join the others, I ran into Carlotta. She was seated with a couple fellows I’d never met. She congratulated me and said she would be coming to our supper. I reminded Carlotta about Emmie’s construction of her past and suggested it would be great fun if she could play the part at supper. And it would relieve Emmie of having to explain her contorted tale was a fabrication. She agreed it was a great idea.
“There is one thing, Harry. How did Emmie know you had a cousin Carlotta?”
“Well, I had to supply the name, of course. Your name just came readily to mind.”
“Did it? Well, never mind, Harry. I’ll see you at seven.”
I was delighted with my little scheme. The only fly in the ointment was that I forgot to tell Emmie about it.
I went and found the others busily going over the horses in the first race. It’s always amazed me how those in attendance at horse races seem to honestly think the record of a given horse on similar courses, or how dry the track is, has the least bit to do with which will win. I’ve always assumed the winners are decided the evening before in a smoke-filled room someplace.
Once the races started, Keegan and Charlie made frequent trips to the bookies both for themselves and for Emmie. Whitey stopped by and Emmie invited him to our supper. He said he’d try to make it, then left us—without offering any tips.
But Emmie had no need for them. She had another profitable day. This worried me. Nothing stokes the gambling bug quite like early success. The day before, her winnings could be attributed to Whitey’s expertise. But today she would see it as her own knack for the thing. If luck was involved, then she knew herself to be blessed with it. I saw danger ahead.
On the train back, Charlie and I were seated apart from the others and he took the opportunity to ask for the details of what had happened in Toronto. I asked him if he was surprised by it all.
“I was surprised that he had this other family, but not the rest. I began to suspect he was up to something about a year ago, when I came home after law school. For the last few years, the story had been that money was a little tight. My mother cut back on things so I could stay in school. He made a show of cutting back, too. He even sold his boat. That one he used for his accident was a recent purchase.
“But then I started working at the firm, and meeting other lawyers here. They all spoke of my father as having one of the most successful practices in town. I’d hear about lucrative deals he’d been in on and things like that. At first, I suspected maybe he was gambling. Then I found out about Sadie and I assumed that was where the money went. What was Mrs. Redstone like?”
“Well, she was pretty upset when we met her.”
“She must have known there was more to his story. She couldn’t be that naïve.”
“People can be pretty naïve when they want to be.”
“Another thing that isn’t clear is how they misidentified father after the shooting. Emmie said she gave them a photograph.”
“It was a group photograph, of all the officers of the Elevator Company. We were focusing on Mason. But to the cop who took it, they were just four men. When th
e body looked like one of them, he just assumed it was the man we were looking for. We told them we thought Mason was traveling as Joseph Sedley, and that’s whose wallet was on the body.”
“Who do you think killed him?”
Before I could answer, the train jolted to a stop and a stout woman fell into my lap. We eventually disentangled ourselves, to the great amusement of all around. I met the others on the platform.
“In front of my mother, Harry,” Emmie sighed. “And on our wedding day….”
“It’s okay, Emmie. I threw her back.”
Our party went its separate ways and Emmie insisted she and I go shopping for rings before the stores closed. I told her it wasn’t a good time financially, but she was willing to dip into the day’s winnings. We got a respectable pair for less than thirty dollars. Then she went home and I went to McLeod’s to bathe for supper.
23
At the Iroquois, Emmie, her mother, Aunt Nell, and I greeted our guests in the lobby and Charlie escorted them to the private room he had reserved. When all but Whitey had arrived, we followed them in. The table was set as a buffet and the guests were grouped about.
Carlotta went over to Emmie’s family and began speaking of her and Emmie’s time at school together. She even got misty-eyed when recounting how she had to leave her little child with her mother while she eked out a living on the road. Emmie, her mother, and Aunt Nell all stood open-mouthed and speechless. Carlottta drew me aside.
“Not a very sympathetic family you’re signing up with.”
“It does seem an odd reaction, but they’ll come around.”
“I thought of renting a kid to bring along, but I figured you wouldn’t want a brat getting underfoot.”
“Yes, a wise decision.”
Emmie came over and explained that, on the way here, she confessed to her family that she had made up the story about Carlotta. Then she turned to me and said rather crossly, “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t used Carlotta’s name.”
“Now, now,” Carlotta said. “Not on your wedding day. Cousin Carlotta will take care of it.”
She went over and explained things to Emmie’s mother and Aunt Nell. Emmie’s aunt laughed, but her poor mother seemed more confused than ever. Then the pianist arrived and started in on something Baroque.
Always a Cold Deck (A Harry Reese Mystery Book 1) Page 19
