“Now how can that be? I only saw the man when he called on Rhetta. We didn’t speak more than a dozen words.”
“That’s a lie. You and Stram fought together in the war in one of the Zouave regiments. However it came about, you met again here in Chicago. Stram seemed like the kind who would tap a well-off friend for money and you needed a henchman. You arranged for him to meet Rhetta and you paid him to keep company with her in order to spy on your father-in-law.”
“My father-in-law treated me like a son even before I married Delphine. Why would I want to spy on him?”
“You thought he was making bad investments, buying worthless water bonds, and losing money you considered your own. You didn’t know he was in cahoots with members of the city council to spread doubt about the bonds, start a panic, then buy them back cheap from desperate sellers.”
Bayer laughed. “Why, the sly old dog. He should have told me.”
“Would that have saved his life?”
“There was plenty of money. Why would I want him dead?”
“Because like Jason, you wanted it all. With Kadinger out of the way and Verner disinherited, you could control the company, the investments, everything that came with the Kadinger name. I wouldn’t be surprised if you inveigled Delphine to help plot her father’s murder. She couldn’t have guessed you’d commissioned hers as well.”
His handsome features knitted into a parody of innocence. “It’s true I asked Jack to keep an eye on the Kadingers for me, to watch where Rolf hid his papers and alert me if Delphine strayed back into the arms of one of her old lovers. But Jack was injured in the war. He wasn’t right in the head. He stayed drunk half the time and often acted irrationally. If he misinterpreted his commission, as you so cynically put it, then he needs to be arrested and tried.”
“He’s dead.”
That wiped the cavalier smile off his face. “When? How?”
“I shot him. He was trying to kill me. Was that also on your orders?”
“Is that what he told you?”
She wavered. Would a suggestion that Stram made a dying admission wring a confession out of Bayer? “Yes. He said you paid him four hundred to do the job.”
Bayer let out a nickering laugh. She’d muffed it.
“Jack saw enemies behind every rock. If he thought he was being pursued, he’d have gone after you. He told me he’d gone after you when Garnick first began asking questions about him at Cap Hyman’s. Jack was an excellent sniper. You’re lucky to be alive. And you dodged a second attempt. Congratulations, detective.” The smile returned. “There’s no denying Jack was a menace.”
“A menace to you. Weren’t you afraid he’d peach on you?”
“Jack wouldn’t have betrayed a brother Zouave, not if you’d cut off his hands and feet.”
Quinn’s stomach roiled. Burk Bayer was going to get away with murder and he knew it. He was laughing at her. “You’re a monster, a manipulating devil without an ounce of human feeling.”
“Yours is a lone voice, detective. I’m popularly regarded as a kind and generous soul.”
She wanted to lash out at him, but he was beyond shame. “Did you pay Stram to dump dead bodies into the lake?”
“I thought old Rolf would see the error of his bond buying if the water pumping into Chicago’s kitchens couldn’t be kept free of human remains. Jack removed a couple of corpses from the cemetery excavation project, but he dumped them too far from shore. They didn’t wash up near the intake crib as soon as I’d expected. It was wasted effort.”
“I bet you didn’t trust poor, not-right-in-the-head Jack to accomplish a successful arson. I bet you prepared the tinder and kerosene and placed it in just the right spot under the upstairs bedrooms before you left for Rock Island. All he had to do was drop his cigarette into your nest of flammables and hightail it.”
“Even if happened as you say, you have no proof.”
“Maybe there is proof. Stram was afraid of you. He called you a pit viper. He knew how cold-blooded you are and he was the only one who could link you to the fire. Maybe he left an insurance policy with Jemelle or Rhetta or Sue in case you decided to eliminate him as a risk. Maybe he hid a confession in one of those boats at the reaper works. If he did, I’ll find it.”
Bayer gave her a long measuring look, then leaned down, put his mouth close to her ear and whispered. “Listen to me, Quinn. You need to stop speaking these slanders. No one will believe you. I was in Rock Island. Whatever you think, it’s all conjecture.” His breath was hot and silky.
She shoved him away with both hands. “It’s the truth though, isn’t it? It all went according to your plan. You lied when you said you’d learned where Jemelle was working by reading the newspaper. Elfie told you her old friend had fallen on hard times and gone to hook at Annie Stafford’s. You sent Stram to get acquainted and report back to you how she could be manipulated. Elfie knows you paid Jemelle to fit her up for the murders. I don’t think you can rely on her absolute love anymore.”
He gave her a pitying look. “You still don’t understand, do you?”
The door bumped open against his back and he moved out of the way as Garnick pushed inside, a worried expression on his face. “Everything okay in here?”
Josabeth hustled in behind him, ringlets bouncing. “Mr. Bayer. You mustn’t let these people monopolize you. You’ve helped them in every way possible.”
“You’re right, Miss Allbright. Let’s return to our seats. The trial is probably well underway by now.” He took her arm and walked her back toward the courtroom.
“Damn it, Quinn.” Garnick shook his head in exasperation.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen.” Her nerves were still vibrating. “I’ll fill you in later. What’s happening in court?”
“Elfie’s on the stand. Let’s go.”
The judge frowned as they entered a few steps behind Bayer and Josabeth. He apologized to the jurors and instructed the bailiff to bar the door against any more latecomers. Elfie answered Winthrop’s question in a meek but clear voice. She had been Mr. Bayer’s housekeeper, but couldn’t help but hope he would someday marry her. She had behaved badly when he first dismissed her, haranguing him at the Tremont and trespassing upon the good will of his fiancée and her father at their home. She was deeply embarrassed and contrite, but she didn’t set the fire. She cast a beseeching gaze at the jury and touched a lace hanky to her nose. The prosecutor declined to cross-examine.
The judge thanked her and Winthrop called Mrs. Arnetta Crowley to the stand. The woman with the pince-nez came forward and swore on the Bible to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Yes, she was sure the defendant had spent the entire evening in her restaurant on the night of the fire. The poor girl had been brokenhearted and disconsolate but made no threats of any kind and there was no possibility she could have been anywhere near the Kadinger residence. The prosecutor again declined to cross-examine.
“I detect the intercession of a Higher Power,” said Garnick. “I reckon His Honor figures closing out Elfie’s case the way we wanted will scrape us off his shoes once and for all.”
The judge charged the jury with the duty to bring back an honest verdict on the basis of the testimony they’d heard and sent them out with the bailiff. He looked at the clock, nodded at the mayor, and remained seated. So did everyone else. In the quiet that followed, Quinn remembered a footnote in the book Miss Nearest had lent her. It described how at the end of a tragedy a god hoisted the actors up on a machine – the deus ex machina. The god explained all the bad things that had happened and restored order out of chaos. Quinn saw no deus ex machina, although the mayor seemed to have taken on the role of god. The judge’s nod looked sure as a promise.
Across the aisle, Henry Tench scratched his nose and tapped his feet. The spectators shifted in their seats and whispered among themselves. The judge drummed his fingers on the bench. The minute hand on the clock ticked. Megarian’s head stayed buried under the black cloth of his cam
era, waiting for his perfect shot.
The jurors were out for less than five minutes. They trooped in and the swarthy young foreman announced, “Not guilty.”
Elfie leapt up and a wild cry broke from her throat. Megarian’s camera flashed and banged and everyone was up and talking at the same time.
“Bugger all,” growled Annie in a voice that carried above the noise.
The corruption of the trial left Quinn feeling hollow. For all the risks and losses taken by Garnick & Paschal, for all their efforts and energies, nothing they had done made a difference in the end. It was Winthrop’s contrivance that freed Elfie and even though Quinn knew to a certainty who’d killed the Kadingers, there was no way to prove it. Bayer’s self-satisfied smile, which was a tacit admission, would be deviling her for the rest of her days.
The mayor’s imposing head rose above the crowd in the distance. Elfie had disappeared in the crush of the mob. Megarian, too short to be seen, was probably already pressing her for quotes. Quinn thought about waiting for her and offering her a ride to Mrs. Soseby’s Rezidense for Single Ladys, but she’d told her where it was. It was up to her. Maybe she’d go straight to the bank, take the money Burk had left her, and go back to Rock Island. Quinn turned and her eyes met Bayer’s as he waited for Josabeth to precede him into the aisle. He said, “No hard feelings, detectives. It’s good to see your faith in Elfie’s innocence rewarded.”
Quinn took Garnick’s hand. “Let’s go somewhere. Anywhere.”
They threaded their way through the crowd and down the courthouse steps into the afternoon heat. Quinn was at loose ends. She had no idea what she wanted next, nor even which way to turn.
“Burk!”
Quinn looked up and saw Elfie at the top of the steps.
“Burk! Thank you so much for the money.”
Burk and Josabeth stopped mid-way on the steps and looked back at her. Elfie bounded down the steps, holding the skirt of her pretty dress with both hands, a radiant smile on her face.
“No,” said Quinn, that tingle of dread returning. “No, no, no.”
Burk’s back was to her, his auburn hair shining in the sun. She couldn’t see Elfie standing in front of him, but they seemed to be having a friendly exchange. Burk was laughing. Suddenly Josabeth shrieked and jumped away. Quinn started up, but Garnick held her.
The air went still, all sound and movement suspended. Slowly, Burk twisted around, a rictus of shock and pain on his face. He stared straight ahead into empty space, then his body jackknifed and he tumbled head over heels down the concrete steps. He landed at Quinn’s feet, the hilt of a butcher’s knife projecting from his chest.
The world lurched back to life with a piercing shriek and kept on shrieking. Men shouted and from somewhere above came a flash and a bang and a sharp chemical smell. Quinn looked up as Chesterton and Fogerty forced Elfie’s arms behind her back and led her away. Her face was serene as a shriven martyr.
Chapter 33
Quinn turned over a queen, two tens and two threes. “Do I win?”
“Not this time.” Garnick pushed three deuces across the table.
“But my cards have a higher count than yours.”
“Your mind must’ve been elsewhere when I explained about pairs and triples.”
She sighed. “He acted as if none of their lives mattered.”
Garnick knew where her mind was. Transitions were unnecessary. They were spending the evening after the trial in her room at Mrs. Soseby’s where, to allay the trauma and tensions of the day, he had half-heartedly suggested teaching her to play poker.
“All that tormented soul talk he threw out when we first met him at the Allbrights’ house was guff. He had no heart, felt no guilt. Rolf, Delphine, Elfie, Stram, they were all expendable in furtherance of his interests.” She had recounted her conversation with Bayer three times and each time she lighted on another shade of meaning. “You were a soldier, Garnick. You had your loyalties. But what kind of hold would a man have on another to make him do murder for him?”
“The army conditions men to carry out orders. Could be Bayer was Stram’s commanding officer and Stram got used to doing whatever Bayer told him to do. Maybe that spent cartridge Stram carried with him came from a round Bayer took for him or saved him from. Or it could be Stram was just a blighter who’d do anything for money, same as Bayer.”
She massaged her forehead as if she could rearrange the contours of her brain. “Tell me again what that copper told you. How did she get the knife?”
“They’re not sure. She had breakfast in her cell with Winthrop under the supervision of a guard. Winthrop asked and received dispensation for her to clean up and dress for trial in the hotel across the street. She must’ve hoodwinked the guard to let her go to the kitchen for something. He turns his head and presto, she’s got the knife. Leastways that’s their story. Wouldn’t have been hard for her to hide it under her skirt.”
“Do you think what I said to her about Burk wanting her to be convicted is the reason she did it?”
“You can’t know why another person commits murder, Quinn. Elfie had an abundance of grievances to choose from. I think she lied when she said she didn’t recognize Stram’s name. She may never have met him in the flesh, but I’d guess Bayer told war stories about his old Zouave buddies.”
Quinn remembered Josabeth telling them about the ‘spellbinding’ stories he’d told her. Poor girl. She must be shattered and no one would ever convince her she’d had a lucky escape. A speech Medea made near the beginning of the play stuck in Quinn’s mind. Men’s designs are deceptive, their vows though made by the gods, come loose.
“We were right from the beginning about Bayer. Next time we get a case where the main suspect has an unshakable alibi, remind me to ignore it.”
“We know Bayer used Stram as his cat’s-paw,” said Garnick, “but there’s one killing I’m less inclined to ascribe to him.”
“Handish?”
“Right. The thing I never got around to telling you was about what I saw on Handish’s shirt collar.”
“I remember. Some kind of wax, you said.”
“It was lip wax. Pert nigh the same color as Jemelle’s lip wax. I don’t say she killed him, but she kissed him at some time or another. And that big roll of cash he had on him was never found.”
Quinn thought again about the complicated and dangerous lives of the hookers and the thin line of defense that separated them from disaster. “If Jemelle did kill him and take the money, it should set her up comfortably in St. Louis.
“I reckon. If she’s not arrested for passing counterfeit bills.”
“True. It wouldn’t surprise me if Marcel knows what happened to Handish and accepted a small gratuity for his help. Maybe even Lou.”
“Especially Lou,” said Garnick. “But maybe the spate of bad publicity for the ladies of the night will slow down now. Megarian’s gripper happened in the city’s most elite precinct and no soiled doves involved.”
“I can’t wait to read his poetic masterpiece.” She got up and stretched her back. “I suppose Verner will inherit the Kadinger estate now.”
“Unless Bayer has a long lost brother or a deserted bride comes out of the woodwork.”
“Moses’ horns!”
Garnick laughed. “There’s no prophesying. Anything can happen.” He picked up his jacket and threw it over his shoulder. “I’ll be heading home tonight.”
“Home?” She drew a blank.
“My cabin.”
“Oh.”
“Haven’t been around much. Things to take care of.”
“But it’s early yet.”
“It’s a corduroy road. Not safe to drive over after dark. Don’t want Leonidas to step in a hole. You need anything before I go?”
Quinn vacillated. She had a long list of criteria for how this relationship with Garnick should progress. There were rights and priorities and expectations to be negotiated. There were professional and personal obligations to iron out,
financial responsibilities, the decision to marry or not to marry. If they didn’t marry, how would they live? How would they present themselves to other people? Holy Mother of God, there was the dilemma of sex and the unintended consequences of sex.
Garnick’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’d be pleased if you want to ride along.”
She took a deep breath. There was no prophesying. “I’ll just drop off Mrs. Soseby’s key.”
Chapter 34
CHICAGO TRIBUNE
This city was shocked anew yesterday by a specimen of murder transcending in its atrocity any previously recorded in this publication. Mere minutes after being reprieved from the gallows for causing the conflagration that killed Mr. Rolf Kadinger and his fair, young and accomplished daughter, Mrs. Burk Bayer, the murderess Elfie Jackson struck again with the savagery of a tigress.
Mr. Burk Bayer, whom a kind Providence had spared from the Kadinger catastrophe, was walking down the courthouse steps with Miss Josabeth Allbright, a familiar figure in society, when Elfie flew at them with knife upraised. With a pitiless countenance, she drove her weapon to the hilt through Bayer’s heart. Seated around our family hearths in the gentle company of loving wives and mothers, we can scarcely comprehend so freakish an aberration of gender. This reporter has earlier observed the similarities to the fictional Medea. Yesterday, Elfie Jackson was her barbarous incarnation. She slew the innocent object of her sexual delusions and scattered mayhem through the crowd of spectators in attendance at her trial. As the villainess was led away, she showed no remorse.
An investigation has been launched. Readers may rely upon this reporter to discover why the jury acquitted and how the police could have allowed such a debacle to occur.
About the Author
Jeanne Matthews graduated from the University of Georgia with a degree in Journalism and has worked as a copywriter, a high school English and Drama teacher, and a paralegal. An avid traveler and crime fiction reader, she is the author of the Dinah Pelerin international mystery series. She currently lives in Washington State with her husband, who is a law professor, and a Norwich terrier named Jack Reacher.
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