by Dan Willis
“And the rest would be…?” Alex left the sentence hanging.
“Well, in one of our storage warehouses, obviously,” Lyle said.
That took Alex aback.
“How many warehouses do you have?”
“About a dozen scattered around the city,” Lyle said. “We started with just one, but as the museum grew, we just kept needing more and more.”
“But which one has the cards?” Zelda asked; her face was flushed and her breathing was fast and shallow. Clearly she saw where Alex was going with this.
“Well…I don’t know,” Lyle said, rubbing his chin. “They aren’t particularly valuable as they are, so they would have been stored in whichever warehouse had space. I can look it up in the original file on the exhibit, but it might take me a few days to track that file down.”
“Whoever stole those cards is going to want the rest of them,” Alex said. “The quicker you find that warehouse, the quicker we can use those cards as bait for our thief.”
Lyle finally seemed to understand, and he nodded.
“I’ll get to work on that right away,” he said. “I’m sure I can locate the remaining cards in a few hours if I put my mind to it.”
“All right,” Alex said, picking up the stray photographs and dropping them back into the folio. “Do you mind if I take this back to my hotel to go through it?” he asked the insurance man.
Edwards shrugged, then nodded.
“Since I doubt the museum would make a claim even if they were all stolen, I don’t see the harm,” he said. “Just don’t lose any, as I’m going to need them back.”
“I’ll take great care of them,” Alex said. “Thank you.”
Shaking Edward’s hand, Alex nodded to Lyle and Zelda before heading out into the hall. He had only gone a few steps when Zelda’s voice rang out behind him.
“Are you running away again, Alex?” she said. “Keep that up and I might develop a complex.”
Alex turned with an apologetic look on his face. Zelda was pretty, certainly, and he might have pursued her a few months ago. She certainly made her interest known. But he had a feeling that if he so much as held her hand, Sorsha would make him pay for it. Quite apart from that, he was just beginning to actually melt some of the Ice Queen’s frosty façade, and he didn’t want to ruin that.
“Well,” he lied. “You did want me to solve this case quickly. I can’t do that if I’m just standing around talking.”
Zelda walked toward him in a way Alex could only describe as ‘slinky”. She rolled her hips, emphasizing them with every step until only a foot separated them and the smell of her expensive perfume washed over him.
“Well, I didn’t want to tie you up, but I figured you might need a break from the case every now and then.”
A tingling sensation raced up the back of Alex’s arms and he was suddenly very aware of how close she was.
“I do take the occasional break,” he said, magnanimously. “But right now I’ve got to get these pictures back to my room and go over them. That’s going to take a lot of time.”
She reached out and slid her finger up the lapel of his suit coat, straightening the knot of his tie when she reached the top.
“I was thinking further out,” she said. “There’s a gallery opening tomorrow night over at the Freer Gallery. It’s just over there,” she pointed off to the east. “They’ve got a new exhibit of American Impressionist paintings and I’d love it if you came with me.”
Alex’s mind raced, looking for a believable way to bow out of an evening looking at paintings.
“I know these things can be a bit tedious,” Zelda went on, reading his expression. “But there’s always Champagne, that and good company can pass the evening quite amiably.”
She smiled at him in a way that made him really want to agree.
“All right,” he said. “I can’t promise anything because something might come up with the case, but if I’m free, I’d be happy to escort you.”
Zelda’s sultry smile grew until it beamed.
“I’ll hold you to that, Alex,” she purred. “And I do expect you to catch our thief in time for the opening.”
She turned and sauntered back to Lyle’s office. This time Alex had a perfect view of the little roll she gave her hips as she went, watching until she was out of sight.
Blowing out a pent-up breath, Alex clutched the folio full of pictures. If he was right about the thief’s motive, the pictures would help him solve this case. Before he could go through them, however, he was going to need a cold shower.
16
Patterns
Alex opted to run a cold towel over his face rather than taking a shower when he got back to his hotel room. Zelda was pretty and very insistent, but her charms faded when compared to Sorsha. The only exception was in just how completely Zelda had shaped her sex appeal into a weapon. He wondered what kind of negotiator she was.
Pushing those thoughts from his mind, Alex set the folio full of card pictures on the little writing desk and opened the door to his vault. He was tempted to look through the pictures, but realistically he simply didn’t have the expertise to understand what they meant. Their real importance was what they revealed. So far he knew that the cards that had been stolen from the museum were just a tiny fraction of the ones that had been purchased with the loom. That meant that if the thief really was after the pattern the cards made, he’d be back.
Once Gundersen finds the rest of them, he thought, we’ll make sure people know they exist, then sit on them and see who comes calling.
In the meantime, he’d give the photographs to someone who would know what they meant. If the thief didn’t fall for the bait, maybe Alex could find him by knowing what pattern the cards actually made.
The pattern someone was willing to kill for.
Picking up the folio, he entered his vault and headed to the right-hand hallway, to where the cover door to his Manhattan office stood. Since he was supposed to be out of town, he couldn’t just walk into his waiting room where he might be seen, so he entered his private office and sat behind his monstrous desk.
The desk had been supplied to Alex, along with the office, as part of his deal with Andrew Barton. It was far larger than Alex needed, and incredibly ornate, with carved flourishes on the corners and around the panels. The top was covered in green leather that had been stained in a way that made it resemble marble. It was so fancy, he only kept his phone, an in-box, a matching leather blotter, the intercom, and his touch tip lighter on it.
Of course he’d been away for half a week, so Sherry had piled several stacks of case files on his desk, but the top was big enough that Alex didn’t even have to move them as he sat down. He pressed the white “talk” key on his intercom twice in quick succession, then retrieved his contact book from the center drawer of the desk. As he opened it, the intercom clicked, and there was a brief burst of static.
Since the door through Alex’s vault needed to remain a secret, Alex and Sherry worked out the two-tap signal with the intercom months ago. When Alex returned through the vault, two taps let Sherry know he was back, and she’d answer with a single tap so Alex knew she’d received the message.
Since Alex didn’t know if Sherry was busy up front, he proceeded to open his contact book and flipped to the second page where he found the number for Broadline Textiles. He’d done some work for Lewis Clayton, the owner, a few years back and Lewis had promised him a favor if he ever needed it. Looking at the folio stuffed with pictures of wooden cards with holes in them, Alex chuckled. This would be a big ask.
Picking up the receiver on his desk phone, Alex dialed the number for Broadline. A receptionist with a pleasant, Midwestern accent picked up and took his name, then, a few minutes later, Lewis Clayton himself came on the line.
“Lockerby,” he said, enthusiasm flowing through his Brooklyn drawl. “Been a long time, what brings you to me?”
“Lew,” Alex greeted him. “You ever heard of a Jacquard loom?�
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Lew laughed out loud.
“I’m in the textile business,” he said, as if that explained everything.
“So?”
“A guy like me not knowing Jacquard is like a painter who never heard of DaVinci. The weaving machines I use are just faster versions of Jacquard’s original, that and our cards are made out of paperboard. Why do you wanna know?”
“Someone broke into a museum and stole the cards right off their loom display,” Alex explained. “I’m thinking they wanted to get their hands on whatever pattern the cards made.”
“That’s nuts,” Lew said. “It’d be easier and cheaper to just hire someone to make you new cards from the original design.”
“What if the design was some kind of secret?”
There was a pause on the line while Lew thought that one over.
“We’re talking about pictures made out of cloth,” he said finally. “How special could this pattern really be?”
“Well that’s what I was hoping you could tell me,” Alex said. “The museum had pictures taken of the cards, you know, for insurance purposes. If I showed you the cards, could you figure out what the design they produced looked like?”
“Me?” Lew scoffed. “No. But I’ve got a girl who makes the cards for all my patterns, and she’s amazing. I could have her take a look and let you know, but it might take a week or two.”
That wasn’t what Alex wanted to hear, but it was better than nothing, so he agreed.
“I’ll have my secretary send them over to you by messenger,” he added.
“Hey,” Lew added before Alex could hang up. “If this pattern is something interesting, do you mind if I use it once you’re done?”
Alex thought about that. If the pattern was something important, that would be bad, but it might just as easily have been whatever was fashionable at the beginning of the last century.
“I’d have to check with the Smithsonian,” he hedged. “It’s their pattern after all. I will ask, though.”
“You’re a prince, Alex,” Lew said, then hung up.
Alex shook his head as he returned the phone receiver to its cradle. Trust Lew to find a way to make a buck off returning a favor.
He copied the address of Broadline Textiles from his contact book onto a notepad and had just torn it free, when the door opened and Sherry came in.
“Hi-ya, boss,” she said with an endearing grin. “You ducking out of some boring meetings?”
Alex chuckled at that. So far his trip to the nation’s capital had been anything but boring. He was about to explain when he noticed Sherry’s attire. She had on a black knee-length dress with white buttons and trim. His secretary didn’t usually wear high heels, but the pumps she had on were taller than any Alex had seen before. Not only that, the dress fit her very well and the front was cut lower than usual.
“Who’s the guy?” Alex asked, not bothering to hide a grin.
Sherry looked stunned and then her cheeks flushed.
“Can’t get anything past you, can I?”
“Not with that neckline.”
Sherry blushed further and tugged the front of her dress up a bit.
“Just somebody who came in while you were out,” she said. “Now don’t change the subject, what brings you back?”
Alex wanted to push, but Sherry’s brush-off seemed pretty definite. When she wanted to tell him, she would, so he returned to business and told her about his time in Washington.
“You’ve got three cases and you’ve only been in town a few days,” she said with an incredulous look. “I’m starting to wonder what you need me for?”
“Don’t ever wonder that,” Alex said, pushing the folio full of pictures across the desk toward her. “I need you to have these sent over to Lew Clayton at Broadline Textiles right away.” He handed her the slip of note paper with the address on it. “Then I need you to call Charles Grier and Linda Kellin.” Opening his flip notebook, Alex tore off the top page and handed it over. “Ask them about these things, whether they’re used in alchemy and, if so, what they might be used for. I need to know back about that right away.”
Sherry scanned the paper and her face screwed up in confusion.
“Regulus of Antimony?” she read, then she shrugged and nodded. “Okay, I’ll call them right away. You want me to just put their answers on your desk?”
Alex nodded.
“I’ll check back sometime tonight. Last, I need you to run over to the library archives and look up William Unger; he’s recently been appointed to the Senate by the Governor of Illinois. He was undoubtedly a local politician before his elevation, so find out how many scandals he’s involved in along with any other dirt you can find.”
“You need that tonight as well?” she asked, no trace of complaint in her voice. When Alex nodded, she continued. “I’ll have to close the office for the afternoon then, Mike’s out on a case.”
“That’s fine,” Alex said, rising. “Good luck. Now I’ve got to get back before I’m missed.”
Alex had just shut his vault when there was a knock at his door. This time it was Connie who stood in the hotel hallway.
“What did you find out?” Alex asked, stepping back so the gangster could enter.
“Sal took three hundred dollars out of Colton’s account on the day he went missing,” Connie said, not moving from the hall. “And the boss wants to see you.”
Alex suppressed a sigh and went back to the room’s desk and picked up his kit.
The residence of Lucky Tony Casetti was an unassuming house on a rural street. It was surrounded by a wall of red brick with wrought iron decorations running along the top. As Connie maneuvered his car through the open gate and up the short driveway, Alex noted that the decorative iron was pointed on top, turning it into an effective deterrent to any effort to scale the wall.
The house itself was constructed of red brick with white shutters and eaves. It was three stories high with a wraparound porch that kept it from looking too tall and skinny. The little yard inside the wall was neat and orderly with winter-brown grass and evergreen shrubs up against the foundation. Empty flower beds ran along both sides of the walk, no doubt sheltering bulbs that would bloom come spring.
Connie led the way up the walk to the porch, then in through the heavy front door. A sunken parlor opened up immediately to the left as they entered, and Alex found Lucky Tony and several of his men waiting with an expectant air.
“Connie tells me you have a theory,” Tony said without preamble. He motioned for Alex to take a seat, then continued. “He says you think someone grabbed Colton and when Sal tried to ransom him on his own, he got hit by a truck before he could. Is that about it?”
“I did think that, yes,” Alex admitted.
Tony’s brows dropped down over his eyes is an angry scowl.
“And that would mean that they probably killed Colton and dumped him in the drink the same time they disposed of Sal? Well, that’s nonsense,” Tony went on without waiting for Alex to answer. “Sal knew better than to act without telling me.”
“Maybe he thought he could avoid your wrath by getting Colton back on his own,” Alex said.
“Wrath?” Tony scoffed. “Guys get grabbed sometimes,” he said. “It happens, but the important part is getting them back. The quicker you get on that, the more chance you have of getting your man back in one piece. Sal knew that, so you’d better come up with something else.”
Alex could feel the heat of the mob boss’s words wash over him. He’d snapped at Connie, when the man had pushed him, but that kind of latitude didn’t extend to men like Lucky Tony.
“You’re right,” he said. “When I first heard that Sal had an empty bank envelope on him, I figured he’d messed up and lost Colton, then tried to make the payoff himself.”
Tony glared at Alex then his expression softened a tiny bit.
“What changed your mind?”
“The alleged ransom,” Alex said. “We know Colton saw his bookie on t
he day he disappeared and collected five hundred dollars in winnings. Sal took three hundred out of Capital Bank sometime later. That’s a total of seven hundred. What kind of ransom is that?”
“Seven hundred is a lot of cash to most people,” Tony said.
“Yeah, but how much do you keep in that account at Capital Bank?”
Tony shrugged.
“Not much,” he said. “It’s just so Colton can pay incidental expenses. Every month, my accountant tops it up to a couple grand.”
“So if there were kidnappers,” Alex said, “and they grabbed Colton, they’d find five hundred on him, right?”
Tony nodded.
“So why did they only ask for a measly three hundred more? Why not another five, or a grand?”
Tony raised an eyebrow as he thought over Alex’s words. He looked around at his men, ending with Connie.
“I’d ask for more,” Connie said. “I wouldn’t be satisfied with three hundred, not when the mark had five on him.”
Tony hesitated, then nodded agreement.
“So, you don’t think my nephew is at the bottom of the Potomac,” he said, turning back to Alex. “What now?”
Alex took a deep breath, giving himself a few extra seconds to think. He didn’t have a good answer to Lucky Tony’s question, not that he was about to tell the gangster that.
“Now Connie and I go back to the receipts we found in Colton’s home,” he said. “I called all the shops to find out what he might have bought there and all of them matched the list from his desk except one. That was a haberdasher.”
“So Colton bought himself a new hat?” Tony said. “How does that help? And if you’ve already talked to these shops, what are you hoping to find this time?” An edge of irritation was creeping into Tony’s voice and Alex could feel himself beginning to sweat. He really wished he’d worked on a new escape rune.
