*****
Hearing the knock on the door of her quarters aboard The Heart of Fortune, Tracy called out, “Come on in!”
The door opened and Eddie Padilla entered. If Tracy were pressed to describe him she usually said he looked like Valentino with a darker tan. One with a more objective and creative eye would have said that if a Doberman were given human form, it would look like Eddie Padilla. Sleek, dark, and dangerous, he was Fortune’s right hand man and lawyer. He carried two bottles of champagne by the neck in one hand and two flutes in the other. “Heard about your little adventure and thought you could use a drink.”
Tracy emerged from her bathroom, a towel wrapped around her freshly washed hair and wearing a thick white terrycloth robe. “You’re a darling, Eddie! Have a seat and pour me a glass. Is Fortune still ashore?”
Eddie sat down and set to work opening a bottle. “Yeah. He took Ronald, Pasquale, and Regina with him. Something about a really weird murder. Three people found in a basement with all the blood drained from their bodies. He left me and Stephen in charge of the ship.”
Tracy flopped into another chair and furiously said, “That’s the sort of caper I should be on! Not this! I hate this caper! Eddie, none of those people would lift a hand to help me save that woman? What sort of people idly stand by and willingly watch a woman die without doing a thing to aid or assist?”
Eddie handed her a glass and poured champagne. “If I had known about this caper, I’d have volunteered for it. This is out of your depth.”
Tracy frowned. “Oh, really? And how so?”
“You and Fortune were born into a life of power, prestige, and privilege. There’s a certain mindset those people have that you’ll never understand because you didn’t have to grow up wondering where your next meal was coming from. Or if there was even going to be a next meal. Or if your father was going to come home drunk and knock you around just because. Or why your mother sneaks up to the third floor apartment as soon as your father leaves the house for work.”
“And you do?”
“I grew up in a barrio not much better than Marcy Village. So yeah, I understand those people. I don’t agree with what they did but I understand why they did it. Understanding of those people and the conditions they live in will bring you a step closer to who is burning down those buildings.”
“But there’s no connection anywhere! I’ve looked for one but there just isn’t any. Dammit, Eddie, I’m no detective! Point me at something to shoot, stab, or punch and I’m your girl. This trying to put together clues that aren’t any-“
“Slow down. Calm down. Now, listen to me. The very fact that there isn’t a connection is a connection. If somebody isn’t doing this for profit, they’re doing it because it’s personal. They don’t care which building they burn down as long buildings are burning.”
Tracy held out her hand for more champagne. “Revenge.”
“That would be my guess. Somebody has a grudge against the neighborhood and the people that live there.” Eddie looked at her thoughtfully over his glass of champagne. “It could very well be that your firebug’s motive is that he doesn’t have a motive.”
“They don’t have a motive. A man and woman running from the fire knocked my right on my bum. There’s two of them.”
“Curious. I’ve never heard of a case where two pyromaniacs worked together. It could very well be they’re getting a sexual release from setting fires together.”
“Stephen’s supposed to be the psychologist of our crew, remember?”
“In order to be a successful lawyer, you’ve also got to be something of a psychologist as well, Tracy.” Eddie grinned. “In any case, this puts you back at Square One. These fires are being set deliberately and for a reason.”
“Eddie, can you do me a favor and get a list of professional arsonists in Sovereign City?”
“Sure. You realize that the police have probably checked them out already?”
“From the reports I read, the police didn’t do much of anything. Pour me some more champagne.”
“What’s your next move, Sherlock?”
“I’m going to visit Mr. Reginald Morris Kelly tomorrow. It’s time I brought him up to date on this caper and see how he reacts to it.” Tracy sighed. “I also could use your help in finding out that boy’s name and where his family is.”
“He hasn’t spoken a word since you rescued him?”
“No. I couldn’t leave him there. I brought him back to the ship and turned him over to my maids. They bathed him, fed him, and put him to bed. He went right to sleep.”
“Don’t give it a second thought. I’ll find out if he has any family. You just make sure we don’t have to take in any more orphans.”
3.
Tracy drove an ice blue Alfa Romeo 8C to Tompkinsville. Unlike Fortune, who preferred to be chauffeured around, Tracy liked to do her own driving. Fortune could drive quite well. Well enough to have competed professionally in several European car races, in fact. But he rarely did so. He claimed it was because he found city driving boring and tedious but Tracy believed it was nothing but pure vanity on his part.
She herself delighted in driving and especially in a car like the Alfa Romeo. She drove as fast as she liked. The license plate, which read F8, was one of a dozen that the Mayor’s Office had issued to Fortune to place on his cars. After an incident during one of their capers where a police officer would not let Fortune park near a crime scene he was investigating, Mayor Byles had remedied that by issuing the plates and instructing the Police Commissioner to tell all his officers that the driver of any vehicle with those plates was not to be interfered with.
Tompkinsville was the smallest of Sovereign City’s black communities, but it was the wealthiest. The redbrick brownstone and limestone buildings built in Italian Renaissance or Colonial Rival styles were marvelously elegant. Restaurants, shops, and office buildings also bespoke of the prosperity of the inhabitants. The streets here were cleaner, the streetlamps no doubt shone brighter at night and smiling, well dressed men and women walked freely on the sidewalks. They did not have to be concerned with being accosted by drunks.
Tracy found a parking spot about a block away from the headquarters of the Sovereign City Negro Advancement Association. She locked up her car and briskly walked there, ignoring the men who gallantly tipped their hats to her. She looked wonderfully efficient and yet beautiful in her T. Thomas business pants suit.
The Negro Advancement Association occupied a two story office building. She walked in the front door and stated her business to a young lass working at the reception desk. Tracy was escorted upstairs to Kelly’s office.
Her escort knocked on the door. “Mr. Kelly?” The young lass opened the door and Tracy caught a glimpse of Kelly pulling away from a woman in the room. Obviously they had been quite close just before the door opened.
Flustered, the young lass said, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Kelly…but you left standing orders that if Miss Scott were to come by-“
“I know what my orders were, Miss Simpson. That still doesn’t mean you can just come barging into my office without getting a word of permission from me first.”
“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”
“You can be sure of that. I’ll have more to say on this. You stay in the building until we’ve talked, young lady.”
Miss Simpson, on the verge of tears, closed the office door behind her as she left. Tracy said quietly, “I hope you won’t be too hard on her.”
“Just as hard as I need to be, Miss Scott. Won’t you please sit down?” He gestured at a Parisian Club Chair. As she seated herself, Tracy noted the woman had turned her back to Tracy. But she examined Tracy closely by means of her compact mirror while she pretended to check her makeup. Tracy gave the woman a once over herself. Her clothes and hair yelled money. Her skin maybe two shades lighter than honey. She turned around and gave Tracy a look that communicated quite well that she had heard of Tracy Scott and had made up her mind ab
out her.
“This is Mrs. Lila Beaumont, Miss Scott. Lila, this is Miss Tracy Scott. No doubt you’ve heard of her.”
“Yes. Yes, I have. Many men of my acquaintance both single and married seem to be quite enamored of your Miss Scott.” Lila Beaumont walked across the room to quickly shake hands with Tracy. “Reginald tells me you’re doing some sort of detective work for him?”
“He’s asked me to look into the recent arsons taking place in Marcy Village.” Tracy looked at Kelly. “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you. Another two buildings were burned down last night.”
Kelly sat down in a chair behind his desk. “Yes, I was informed this morning. Three people were killed in the fire.”
“One of them I saw die.”
Kelly abruptly sat forward. “You were there?”
“I spent a few days undercover in the Village. I was actually knocked down by the arsonists, I think. A man and a woman.” Tracy’s eyes rapidly moved back and forth from Kelly to Lila. “In fact, the man and woman that knocked me down were just about the general height and weight of you two.”
Kelly sat back in his chair, chuckling. “I appreciate your attempt to lighten the mood with humor, Miss Scott.”
“Look at her face, Reginald. I don’t think your Miss Scott is joking.”
“I’m most certainly not. The man and woman who knocked me down were indeed the general height and weight of you two. Where were the two of you last night, say…around ten p.m.?”
“I hope you’re not really expecting an answer because you certainly are not getting one from me,” Lila said crisply. “Really, Reginald, are you going to accept such rudeness from a hireling?”
“I was having a late dinner at Selby’s. It’s a popular seafood restaurant over on Parks Island. I dined with half a dozen people. All of them will vouch for me.”
“Reginald! I’m shocked!”
Kelly shrugged. “I certainly have nothing to hide from Miss Scott. And I did ask her for her help. She has my full cooperation in this matter. Miss Scott, Lila was not with me but I can assure you she wasn’t running around Marcy Village torching buildings.”
“I should say not! And you don’t have to make excuses for me, Reginald! I’m not in the habit of explaining myself to the help!” And with that, Lila Beaumont gathered up her purse, her fur wrap and stormed out of the office.
“My apologies if I made trouble for you with her.” Tracy said in a voice that communicated most eloquently that she really didn’t care. “I assume you can vouch for her?”
“Yes. Before I went out for my late dinner I left her in a suite in The Randolph Hotel. You know where it is. The staff there is discreet, but if you need them to confirm…”
“Not at all, sir. Your word is good enough for me. And again, I apologize.”
“Lila’s husband is a prominent businessman here in Tompkinsville. I trust I can count on your discretion as well?”
“You can, sir.”
“Lila’s husband knows of our relationship but doesn’t care as his taste runs toward young men. Their marriage is strictly one of convenience. But they both go through great pains that their outside relationships remain secret.”
“Your business is your own, Mr. Kelly. And you can count on me minding mine.”
“Thank you. Now, have you determined what your next course of action is going to be?”
“Well, I know that these are random torchings. There’s apparently no connection between the families in the buildings burned down and no one stands to make any significant financial gain from the destruction of those buildings. Indeed, many of them appear to have been abandoned by their owners.”
“So we’re dealing with a lunatic. Or two lunatics, if as you say, you saw a man and a woman running from the scene of the fire last night.”
“I hate the mentally unstable, “ Tracy sighed. “Too unpredictable. You can never tell what they will do.”
“Well, since you don’t have a plan in mind, why not come with me down to the Village? I have some business down there with Dr. Farr.”
“Dr. Farr?”
“He operates a free medical clinic in the Village. In fact, he’s someone you should know since you’re working in the Village. Come along, why don’t you? We’ll take my car, have some lunch, and then we’ll visit the good doctor.”
Tales of Fortune: For Violent Fires That Soon Burn Out Page 3
