Always a Cold Deck (A Harry Reese Mystery Book 1)

by Robert Bruce Stewart

  Charlie was with the Osgoods, apparently trying to get back in their good graces. Whitey showed up, with another supply of smoked eel as a wedding gift. Keegan told him how thoughtful he was, and then pumped him for tips on the next day’s races. Mrs. Rohlfs stopped by briefly and gave Emmie a copy of The Circular Study, her latest chronicle of the sexless Gryce and Butterworth.

  I persuaded Whitey to go over and give Stark his story. I didn’t listen in, but I’m sure it was a tale worthy of the name. Meanwhile, Emmie cornered Donahy and inquired after the etymology of “the Hooks.” He shrugged. After that, the detectives stayed off to one side. It had been a little awkward introducing them to the other guests, what with Charlie still being something of a suspect. I wasn’t entirely sure why Emmie had invited them. But I’d find out soon enough.

  There was a bit of a lull in the proceedings as the champagne was being handed out, but Emmie livened things up by upsetting a tray onto the General. Whitey made an attempt to catch it, but tripped over Keegan instead. This caused Donahy to laugh uproariously, which in turn led Stark, still standing next to him, to blush with embarrassment.

  The General was none too happy either. Charlie and his daughter rushed to his aid and Emmie went over to help Whitey off the floor. Then she and Catherine left the room, Catherine carrying her father’s soiled coat. The piano player, who’d progressed to Chopin a little before, jumped into a cake walk. It was then that I recognized him from Croteau’s saloon.

  Everyone recovered their good humor pretty quickly. I guess a bride can get away with a lot on her wedding day. Whitey was now standing near the door and I went over to him.

  “Nicely done, Whitey.”

  “You think so? I think he knew I took it. But he didn’t say anything. Is Emmie fooling with me?”

  “I wouldn’t venture to say. She has a rather playful nature, but she means well.”

  “Yeah, maybe. All I can say is, better you than me.”

  “That’s an odd way of offering your congratulations, Whitey.”

  “Oh, I just meant you seem to take it in stride. She’d drive me crazy.”

  Emmie arrived back and I went to join her.

  “What’d you find?” I asked.

  “Find where?”

  “In Keegan’s wallet.”

  “You knew?”

  “Well, only because you told me last evening.”

  “Did you tell him?”

  “I may have hinted at it.”

  “That explains it.”

  “Explains what?”

  “The only thing in the wallet is a check for five thousand dollars, made out to Mr. and Mrs. Harrison Reese.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “It’s true.”

  I made Emmie give me the wallet and sure enough, the only thing in it was the check, just as she described. I was dumbfounded.

  “I guess you had better return it.”

  “Yes. But maybe it would be better if you returned it?”

  “No, I don’t think it would.”

  Emmie took the wallet over and gave it to Keegan with some completely ridiculous story of how it must have fallen into the folds of her skirt. Keegan made a show of believing her, but gradually lost himself to laughter. Then he pulled the check out of the wallet.

  “You didn’t want this, my dear?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Emmie tried.

  “Your wedding present!”

  “Oh, what is it?”

  Keegan handed her the check. Emmie told him how generous he was and I walked over and thanked him and pretended I was seeing the check for the first time. And, in a way, I was. Though it was a real bank draft, it had one deficiency. In place of his signature, Keegan had written the word “Void.”

  Then Charlie offered a toast and I made a little speech that ended with me saying I was sorry Emmie’s father wasn’t there, but I hoped to be meeting him soon. It was then that Charlie informed me Emmie’s father had died a few years before. Next we handed out little tea cakes and the hotel photographer showed up and we posed for a couple photographs. I had a hard time convincing the man I was the groom and not Charlie, but he eventually accepted that I was just an extremely shabby dresser.

  The piano player was now providing a vocal accompaniment to himself. Fortunately, he confined himself to tunes which, while they may not have been less risqué than those he had performed the previous Friday, made more artful use of allusion. Now Emmie recognized him, too. She asked if I had arranged for him to be there, presumably for sentimental reasons. I simply smiled.

  A porter came in carrying the General’s coat and brought it over to Catherine. She handed it to her father, who immediately noticed his wallet was missing. He went out after the porter. Then Whitey helpfully pointed out it may have just fallen on the floor. We all began looking for it and, lo and behold, it was found under a table by Charlie, who handed it over to Catherine. She, unfortunately, dropped it. It quickly became apparent that the General was one of those men who use their wallet as a sort of portable filing cabinet. The floor was littered with bits of paper, and soon we were all on our knees helping to gather them up. When we were done, Catherine did her best to cram them all in and then went off in search of her father.

  While it was true we set a meager table, and served third-rate wine, there was no denying we kept our guests amused.

  “Take a look at this, Harry.”

  Emmie had drawn me aside and was showing me a receipt. It was from the American House in Toronto and was dated August 5th, the Sunday before.

  “Why was the General in Toronto Sunday night?” she asked.

  “You mean Saturday night. He would have paid when he left Sunday.”

  “That’s even better.”

  “I guess he could have been there on business.”

  “You don’t believe that, do you?”

  “No, not really,” I admitted. “Well, now you have something to show Donahy and Stark, after all. Congratulations, Emmie.”

  “Thank you, Harry.”

  We went over to the far corner where Donahy and Stark were hiding.

  “Gentlemen, I believe I can solve both murders,” Emmie began. “General Osgood killed my uncle and then killed Whitner because he tried to blackmail him.”

  The policemen both looked at her quizzically. It was a response I had come to realize Emmie elicited rather frequently.

  “Osgood? Why would he kill Elwell?” Donahy asked.

  “Who exactly is General Osgood?” Stark asked.

  As the piano player broke into a lively rendition of Henrietta, Have You Met Her?, Emmie answered them.

  “General Osgood is the president of the Eastern Elevator Company, where Robert Mason had been superintendent and my uncle, Charles Elwell, secretary. He was counting on a life insurance policy the company had on Uncle Charles to pay off a loan the company had taken from Boss Conners. Somehow, he must have known that my uncle was alive and living in Canada. But he kept it to himself. Not to do my uncle any favors, but because if he gave that information to the police, the policy would never pay off. So, like everyone else involved, he went along with the drowning story.

  “Then Harry started looking into the Elevator Company and asking about Uncle Charles. It was just Saturday morning that he revealed to the General that my uncle had been involved in the stock scheme. So the General decided to seal the thing before Harry could expose Uncle Charles. He went up to Toronto, where he knew my uncle had set himself up, and shot him.”

  “But that’s all conjecture, Miss McGinnis,” Stark pointed out.

  Emmie handed Stark the receipt.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “It’s a receipt from the American House in Toronto dated Sunday,” Emmie answered.

  “And where did you get it?”

  “General Osgood’s wallet. He must have spent Saturday night in Toronto.”

  “Why would Osgood go to a hotel if he had just shot Elwell?” Donahy asked. “Why not tak
e a train back Saturday night?”

  “I’ve encountered this myself,” Stark said. “The only way to get to Buffalo after seven is to catch a local that leaves just before midnight. You are required to change trains twice and won’t get in here until eight in the morning. Nonetheless, the man could have had an innocent reason for being in Toronto.”

  “There might be another piece of real evidence, Inspector,” I said. “Remember I told you how I had showed Mrs. Redstone the photo and she said she thought she recognized the man who had stopped by Saturday afternoon?”

  “Yes—Mason.”

  “But when you interviewed Mason in Rochester, he admitted he knew not only that Elwell was in Toronto, but also about the building he was killed in,” I pointed out. “He had no reason to visit the Redstone residence. I’m afraid I made the same mistake we’d made earlier by not making it clear who it was in the photograph I was referring to. When she said she thought she recognized the man in the photo, she must have been referring to Osgood. It was Osgood who went to D’Arcy Street, spoke with Mrs. Redstone, and then followed Elwell. He must have hoped Elwell would lead him someplace less conspicuous. Unfortunately, Elwell obliged him. He saw Elwell meet Mason and the two of them go upstairs. He entered the building and followed the sound of their voices to the office where Mason and Elwell were having their talk.”

  “But wouldn’t he be afraid of killing Elwell in front of a witness?” Stark asked. “Why not just wait for Mason to leave?”

  “Because he hated Mason as much as he hated my uncle,” Emmie answered. “It was Mason’s schemes that drove the Elevator Company close to bankruptcy. So he opened the door on them and shot twice. He most likely thought he had killed Mason as well as my uncle.”

  “And Whitner saw him leave the building?” Stark asked.

  “Yes, he must have slipped away from the Queen’s,” Emmie answered. “And then got back before he was missed.”

  “I just don’t see how that makes sense,” Stark interjected. “Whitner is waiting at the Queen’s Hotel all evening and then happens to sneak away and be near the murder scene at the exact time Osgood shoots Elwell, then he returns to the Queen’s Hotel and waits. The next day, he goes off to another Queen’s Hotel. No, I don’t think Whitner had any idea what had happened Saturday night.”

  “Of course,” I added, “Whitner would have known who Osgood was from his studying up on Elwell. He may have just seen him in Toronto, maybe Saturday, or maybe Sunday morning when they both took trains out of town. When he got to Port Hope and saw Sadie with Mason, he realized I had told him the truth. He knew Mason was on the run, so while they were on the boat over from Port Hope, Whitner confronted him, offering his silence in return for money. Mason would have agreed to anything, since there would be no escaping if Whitner wanted to turn him in. He tells Whitner what happened in Toronto, and that it was Elwell who had been killed by some third party. When the boat lands in Charlotte, Whitner sees the police nab Mason and realizes he needs to find a new game. He remembers seeing Osgood in Toronto. He has no idea if Osgood killed Elwell, but it seems too much of a coincidence. And now he’s desperate to find some way to make his investment in time and money pay off. So Sunday evening he takes a train back to Buffalo and confronts Osgood. If the General had an innocent reason for having been in Toronto, he would have just told Whitner to get lost. Whitner risked nothing by trying.”

  “Nothing outside of having his skull cracked open,” Donahy pointed out.

  “A slight miscalculation,” I conceded. “You see, that cellar hole is around the corner from the Elwells’, but just a block or two further from the General’s own home.”

  “Maybe there is something to this,” Donahy said. “It was Osgood who called the chief and told him about Elwell’s kid being away on Saturday and Sunday. He said he just wanted to keep his daughter from being involved in any trouble. It seemed reasonable at the time, but maybe he was trying send us in the wrong direction.”

  “Well, it’s an interesting theory,” Stark said. “But the receipt doesn’t prove anything beyond that he was in Toronto Saturday night. And your only other evidence is that Mrs. Redstone might have been identifying Osgood rather than Mason in the photo. We’ll need to wait until I can have someone show her the photograph again.”

  “There’s one way to find out this evening,” I said.

  “What’s that?” Stark asked.

  “Whitner’s technique: bluff him. If you go over, Inspector, and tell the General that Mrs. Redstone pointed him out in the photo, we’ll know one way or the other. He and his daughter have just returned.”

  “All right.” And Stark did so. We didn’t get a dramatic confession, but Osgood refused to talk further without his lawyer. Then he led his daughter out without another word.

  Donahy followed them. Then Stark left to wire his people to take a copy of the photo to Mrs. Redstone.

  Charlie came over with a puzzled look on his face.

  “What was that all about?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid Emmie may have put you in badly with Miss Osgood, Charlie.”

  By then the guests were beginning to say their good-byes and making as if to leave. But Emmie would have none of that. She had everyone sit down again and recounted the whole story. More quizzical looks ensued. Your average wedding guest just isn’t expecting the bride to finger one of the other guests for murder after serving the cake.

  Keegan came up and congratulated us. Emmie insisted he tell us where he had gone on Saturday.

  “To Saratoga, for the races,” he told her.

  “But why did you tell Harry you’d be in town?”

  “Well, my wife was standing over my shoulder when I wrote the note. She doesn’t approve of gambling. I had told her I’d be stuck in Buffalo for several days. This way I was able to spend an afternoon in Saratoga, and this week go across the river for the trotters. And I’ll still get home before her. It was too good to pass up.”

  “I see,” Emmie said. “I’m glad it was nothing untoward.”

  People bitten by the bug are very forgiving of each other’s deceits, provided they’re directed at nonmembers of the fellowship.

  “Harry,” he said, “if you’re done here, there’s that little job in Scranton that needs to be looked at. But you’d need to leave tomorrow.”

  “A honeymoon in Scranton?” I said. “We thought we’d stay in town a few days. You see, now I’m in line to net the three hundred for that policy on Elwell. I’m guessing the Elevator Company can’t collect when it was the president of the company who pulled the trigger.”

  “Yes, I imagine you’re right,” Keegan agreed. “Well, then, we can go back to the races tomorrow.”

  I didn’t like that idea any better, but it was Whitey who cinched it by pointing out that his boss wouldn’t be pleased to hear we had gummed up the repayment of his loan. He advised us to go to Scranton first thing in the morning.

  Emmie went home and packed what she would need until the rest could be sent on and I went to McLeod’s for the last time. That night, we had a room at the Iroquois booked.

  24

  We caught the Lackawanna Limited at 9:30 the next morning. I expected some tears at the station, given the suddenness of our marriage and departure. But Aunt Nell and Charlie, and even Emmie’s mother, seemed rather happy to see us leave. I can’t say I blame them, really. But wouldn’t you think an occasion like this calls for the show of some emotion besides relief?

  Later, as the train made its way toward Scranton, I asked Emmie about her part in the breathless summation of the case against the General.

  “It really was well done, wasn’t it, Harry. My only regret is Mrs. Rohlfs wasn’t there to hear it.”

  “It was a virtuoso performance, Emmie. But I thought you had fingered Keegan, at least for Whitner’s murder.”

  “Well, I don’t know if I should tell you.”

  “Tell me what? We can’t very well start out our marriage by misleading each other
.” Though I had to admit it had worked well enough during the engagement.

  “All right. I’ll confess,” she smiled. “You see, Harry, I was sure I could solve it, even if you weren’t willing to help. I knew it would end this way. Ever since last Friday, the night we went to Croteau’s.”

  “You knew the General had done it—that is, was going to do it?”

  “No. I mean, I knew it would end with me telling the police who did it.”

  “I see. Sort of an Amelia Butterworth act?”

  “Well, yes, something like that. Of course, at that time, I wasn’t sure who killed my uncle.”

  “Of course, at the time, he was still alive.”

  “Yes, but I never believed that. I had worked out cases against all the people who might have killed him, or had him killed. The General, Boss Conners, Mason, and one or two others I eliminated later. Then, after what went on in Toronto, and the death of Whitner, I had to revise everything Monday night.”

  “And add Keegan to the list.”

  “Yes. Here, you can read them if you like.”

  She handed me her notebook. There were indeed similar summations making a case against each of the central characters. All had been written in a small script and had been repeatedly revised, so they were a little hard to read. But in addition to the version naming the General, there was one where Conners had Whitey shoot Elwell and then bludgeon Whitner, one where Whitner killed Elwell and then Keegan killed Whitner, and, lastly, one that had Mason killing Elwell and Donahy killing Whitner.

  “Donahy?”

  “That was a good one, wasn’t it?”

  “Well, creative. But you had the General first?”

  “Yes. Remember how I told you it seemed like he kept me in that job because he felt sympathy for me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, it occurred to me that maybe it wasn’t sympathy at all, but guilt.”

  “I see. So you solved the case based on the mistaken belief that your uncle had already been murdered.”

  “Well, not mistaken. Premature, perhaps. But I missed the part about Mrs. Redstone and the photo. That helped a lot, Harry.”