A Charm of Powerful Trouble (A Harry Reese Mystery Book 4) (18 page)

BOOK: A Charm of Powerful Trouble (A Harry Reese Mystery Book 4)
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“How long have you and Elizabeth been together?” I asked smugly.

“You finally figured it out? Emmie did the other day. When we were talking about the manuscript.”

“She didn’t mention it to me.”

“Remember I stayed on in Washington for a few days last December? And she supposedly went off to Hong Kong?”

“Bangkok, I believe. We did know she hadn’t made the trip.”

“She showed up at my hotel the next day. That was that.” Then he changed the subject abruptly. “What are you doing this afternoon?”

“Raising money for Emmie’s bail.”

“I got a lead on that gun. Frank Rhodes is a college professor in New Haven. I’m going up there to talk to him. Why don’t you come along? Emmie can fend for herself.”

“That’s just what I’m afraid of. She’s gotten a little chummy with her cellmate, a Madame So-and-so.”

“Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be catching the two o’clock express.”

18

It was raining even harder when I approached our building. Then, just as I was crossing Vanderbilt Avenue, a closed carriage pulled in front of me and two fellows leapt out. They were Chinamen, one of whom I recognized as the fellow I dispatched with the pickled lambs’ tongues back in Whitehall. From his expression, I took it he remembered the occasion as well and was hoping to find some way to commemorate it. They pushed me into the carriage and seated me between them. Opposite us was Jimmy Yuan and an older fellow.

“Good afternoon, Jimmy. Out for a ride in the park? Lovely day for it.”

“Best not to joke with these fellows, Harry.” Jimmy had lost his normal self-assurance. “This gentleman represents the Hip Sing Tong. They’ve lost… a certain cargo….”

“Misplaced?”

“Stolen. It was a cargo of quite some value.”

“Insured?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Ah, well, there’s the problem. Insurance isn’t a luxury, it’s a necessity. Unforeseen events are inevitable.”

“Yes, but recovery is quite often possible. And in this case, the tong is very confident of recovery.”

“Look, they can’t think I have a gaggle of Chinese girls hanging about.”

The older fellow then exchanged a few words with Jimmy.

“My associate suggests that by your insouciant attitude, you’ve already confirmed you know where the cargo has been hidden. He suggests that you may have some similar goods you value likewise.”

“He’s threatening me?”

“I would have thought that was obvious. But I suggest you not insist on proof of his sincerity in the matter. Of course, he is a businessman, and used to reaching accommodation.”

“What is he offering?”

“He assumes you were acting as agent for others. The Chop Sing Tong, perhaps?”

“In fact, it’s a particularly ruthless sect of religious fanatics.”

“But you could provide the whereabouts of the six girls? Not without remuneration, of course. You could, in this way, have your cake and eat it too.”

“How much cake are we talking about?”

The older fellow said something to Jimmy.

“Five hundred dollars.”

“Doesn’t sound like much.”

“Ah, but you will also be assured of the safety of… your own cargo.”

“Well, give me a few days to think about it.”

“That may not be possible. This gentleman, though he may not look it, is of an impetuous nature.”

“Those are my terms.”

“Well, I can only give you some friendly advice. Be careful, Harry.”

“Are we friends, Jimmy?”

“Of course. Any animosity I’ve projected is not my own. I am a mere conduit.”

“That’s reassuring,” I smiled. “Tell me, you referred to six girls. I remember seven.”

Jimmy said something to the other fellow. The old man stared at me.

Then for the first time he addressed me. “You know where Xiang-Mei can be found?”

“Not for certain. I was simply curious why she hadn’t been included.”

He smiled. The carriage stopped and I was freed.

I decided to leave my cargo safely jailed in New Jersey and go with Tibbitts to New Haven, if for no other reason than to distract anyone following me.

I’d already suspected Xiang-Mei was something other than a peasant girl sold to white slavers. My best guess was she’d been working the profession in some Chinese port and had been sent as a sort of chaperon to the other girls.

At Grand Central, I found Tibbitts already aboard. We exchanged grunts and then I sat down and took out a book.

“What’s that?” he asked.


The Taming of the Shrew
. It crossed my mind this Frank Rhodes might be another English professor. Perhaps a mentor to Twinem. Maybe he can tell us what might have made that manuscript worth stealing, just in case it was really stolen. I thought I’d bone up on the subject so I can converse intelligently.”

“It’s not English he teaches. He’s an expert on bugs.”

“Bugs?”

“Something about insects.”

“Not
insectivores
?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Of course!
Rhodes on the Soricidae
. I should have recognized the name.”

“What?”

“Shrews are of the family
Soricidae
.”

“Sounds Italian.”

“Frank Rhodes is the leading authority on shrews this side of Heidelberg. Twinem must have consulted Rhodes about the differing features of European shrews.”

“You know, Elizabeth said the shrew thing was obviously just a clever metaphor and only a yap would take it literally.”

I didn’t answer Elizabeth’s intended insult straight out. I just tossed my book to Tibbitts.

“You need this more than I do,” I told him.

“Think it will work?”

“Can’t hurt to try.”

He apparently agreed, and spent the rest of the trip reading.

We arrived in New Haven just before four. Tibbitts hired a cab to take us to Rhodes’ house, then left me to pay for it when we got there.

A housekeeper answered our knock.

“We’ve come to consult the eminent Professor Rhodes,” I told her.

“You should have sent word first. He’s with the circus.”

“The circus? Is it in town?”


His
circus. Out back in the carriage house. But he’s not to be disturbed.”

“It’s a police matter,” Tibbitts told her.

“Be that as it may, he won’t see you until rehearsal’s over at six.”

“I’m investigating a murder,” Tibbitts insisted.

“Well, unless it was a shrew that was murdered, I doubt he’d be much interested.”

“In truth, madam, it was not a shrew that was murdered,” I confessed. “But shrews feature largely in the case. We wish to consult the professor vis à vis the distinguishing characteristics of the Etruscan shrew and its utility as a literary device.”

“The tight-rope walkers?”

“Pardon?”

“The little tiny shrews….”

“Yes, the tight-rope walkers.”

“You speak Latin?” she asked.

“Ah, amo
Crociduram etruscam
.”

“All right,
you
can go around back. Your friend can wait here for you.”

“Though my acolyte’s manner is coarse, and his knowledge of the Insectivora limited, he strives to better himself. Show her the book, Sergeant.”

He handed the play to her and she inspected it.

“A shrew tamer?”

“He aspires to be.”

“All right then. Take the path ’round the house.”

As we made our way, Tibbitts turned to me.

“You know, nine months of the year my cases are simple little murders. If it isn’t a husband who killed his wife, or a wife who killed her husband, a fellow’s either caught with a gun in his hand, or bragged about the killing, or starts spending the bundle he killed for. Then about the ninth month something comes up involving you and I find myself in New Haven trying to interview a nut who runs a shrew circus.”

“There does seem to be a predictable regularity to it. I suppose it gives you something to look forward to during the otherwise dull routine of your work.”

“Yeah. I suppose.”

I knocked on the door of the carriage house. There was no answer. Then Tibbitts gave it the patented police knock, which rarely fails to elicit a response.

This, however, was one of those rare cases. I opened the door gingerly and we stepped in.

“Close the door, you ass!”

When I did so, we were submerged in darkness. All the windows had been blocked, and the only light was afforded by three lanterns, each fitted with a deep red filter. My eyes had just begun to adjust when I was addressed.

“What d’yer want?”

This fellow was no college professor. He looked more like a circus roustabout. Another like fellow joined us.

“Youse spoilt the frail’s cooch show!”

“Gentlemen, we apologize for the intrusion. But we’ve come to consult Professor Rhodes on a pressing shrew matter. The New York police are stymied, and have come to the conclusion that only an authority on
Soricidae
taxonomy can offer a way out of the impenetrable darkness.”

“The kinkers like it dark!”

“Oh, we’re all well aware of the nocturnal preferences of the kinkers. I was referring to the dark night of ignorance.”

Another fellow stepped forward. He was dressed like the other two, but older, and clearly the man in charge.

“Dr. Rhodes, I presume?”

“Yes.” He eyed me warily. “You’d better not be another pretender.”

“Pretender? You do me wrong, sir. I only wish I’d thought to bring my copy of
Rhodes on the Soricidae
so as to have you inscribe it. I’ve unfortunately left it behind on my night stand.”

“You have my book?”

“What other? The 1885 edition, with the small error on page 23. Printer’s mistake, no doubt.”

“Yes, the fools. I’m rather busy at the moment. We open tomorrow.”

“An ingenious idea. Are they easy to train?”

“For God’s sake, man. One doesn’t train a shrew. One can only persuade it.”

“Much like a cat?” I asked innocently.

“Cat!” he exclaimed. Both the big men began looking about the floor. “It’s all right, gentlemen,” he told them. Then turned back to me. “Can you imagine what havoc a damn feline would cause?”

“Yes, I see your point. I despise the creatures myself. As does Sergeant Tibbitts. The fact is, Professor, we’ve come to consult you about a fellow named Twinem.”

“Twinem?”

“I believe he wanted to ascertain which species of shrew Shakespeare had been referring to.”

“Him! The man’s insane.”

“Was, maybe,” Tibbitts interjected. “He’s dead now. Haven’t you heard?”

“No, I haven’t time to worry about him. I’ve the show.”

“But he did consult you?”

“Yes, or tried to. Didn’t know a damned thing about
Soricidae
. A pretender.”

“You in the G.A.R.?” Tibbitts asked.

“Yes, I’m a veteran. I was there at Appomattox Courthouse.”

“Thank goodness you made it through the worst of it,” I said.

“What’s that? I’d just gotten out of training camp. Never actually saw any fighting.”

“Not something you could have anticipated when you enlisted.”

“Enlisted? Do I look like a fool? I was drafted.”

Frank Rhodes was the first veteran I’d met who was honest about his service. The truth was that thousands of fellows had had to be dragged kicking and screaming into battle—not that I blamed them any. But I’d never met a veteran who’d owned up to it.

Tibbitts took out the gun we found on the farm and asked Rhodes if it was his.

“Yes—how’d you get it?”

“It was used to kill a man in New York,” Tibbitts told him. “Where’d you last see it?”

“Upstairs, in my room.”

“When was that?”

“When? It’s been there since I was presented it.”

“So you didn’t give it to anyone?”

“Give away the gun my comrades presented me in gratitude? Of course not. I earned that gun. Do you imagine it’s easy arranging a reunion dinner for six hundred, Sergeant? When you’re given just four days’ notice?”

“Could Twinem have taken the gun when he came to see you?”

“I don’t see how. He was only in the house for ten or fifteen minutes. And never went upstairs. Can I have it back?”

“Not now, it’s evidence.”

The professor insisted on restarting the rehearsal and demanded that the door not be opened again until it was completed. We had missed the frail’s cooch show, but the high-wire act the little Etruscans put on more than made up for it. A miniature red spotlight followed them scampering about, quarreling and chirping incessantly. The answer to Twinem’s question seemed obvious. Kate was Etruscan.

Meanwhile, the Ferris wheel spun continuously on shrew power alone, and the aquatic members of the family took turns diving into a tank and devouring minnows.

When we were released, we had dinner in town and then caught an evening train back to New York. Tibbitts had been carrying a small valise during the trip, but hadn’t made use of anything in it.

“Were you thinking of spending the night in New Haven?” I asked.

“No. I thought I mentioned it. I was going to ask you if I could stay at your place.”

“Things that bad?”

“Yeah. Don’t you have a couple spare rooms?”

“All full up, I’m afraid. But you can have the couch.”

BOOK: A Charm of Powerful Trouble (A Harry Reese Mystery Book 4)
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