A Charm of Powerful Trouble (A Harry Reese Mystery Book 4) (25 page)

It was half past nine when we found Elizabeth’s cabin. Tibbitts was there with a dozen others, and he was uncorking bottles of champagne with a liberality one appreciates in a host. Elizabeth herself was in a corner giving everyone a sort of frozen smile. Beside her sat Bridget, her traveling companion, reading from a brochure that extolled all the exciting attractions the ship had to offer. When she saw us, Elizabeth hopped up and led us into the passageway.

“Was this your doing, Emmie? I don’t believe Tibbitts came up with it himself.”

“It was Harry who lent him Shakespeare’s shrew-taming manual.”

“And was it Harry who had me in a harem in Bangkok?”

This obscure reference needs explanation. Earlier that year, Emmie had tried to resurrect a defunct literary journal. And for want of content, she had included a “Letter from Bangkok” purported to have been written by Elizabeth, who had led us to believe she was going to that city. It was a colorful little tale describing Elizabeth’s abandonment by the fiancé she’d gone to meet and her subsequent sale into the king’s harem. Emmie then distributed the few copies she’d managed to print to former classmates of hers and Elizabeth’s.

“That was your own fault,” Emmie answered. “I’d have had no need to turn to the magazine if you hadn’t foiled the publication of my biography of the countess.”

Well, I could stop to explain that reference as well, but it would just lead to another. Suffice it to say, a series of recriminations were exchanged until Tibbitts came around with the champagne. While Emmie led him off, I changed the topic to something that could allow Elizabeth to exhibit her superior knowledge of all things literary.

“Where’s the name Peaseblossom come from?” I asked her.

“Are you quizzing me, Harry?”

“Certainly not. It came up in this case. I’m sure it’s from something I’ve read, but can’t place it.”

“Peaseblossom is one of the fairies in
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
.”

The ship’s whistle sounded and a steward came along ringing a chime. We made to leave with all the rest of the guests so as to give Tibbitts and his colleague a chance to say good-bye to their wives.

“Have a delightful crossing, Elizabeth,” Emmie cooed sweetly.

“Thank you, dear Emmie,” Elizabeth answered likewise. “And do make sure you read Kitty Graham’s next newsletter. Tibbitts told me all about your escapade upstate.”

Emmie wanted to find out what she meant, but we barely had time to leave the boat.

“Who’s Kitty Graham?” I asked.

“A former classmate. She puts together a letter with all the gossip on everyone and sends it out. She provided an amplification to my rendition of Elizabeth’s trip to Bangkok. I hope she doesn’t compromise the location of the girls.”

“I doubt there are many members of the tong among Kitty Graham’s readers.”

“No, I suppose that’s true. But she does manage to find some very interesting bits of news.”

“I’m going to head back to the apartment before the ceremony, Emmie.”

“There isn’t time. We need to shop for a present.”

“I’ll be quick, and you can pick something out. I’ll see you at the church at noon.”

I rushed home and went into our bedroom, where I located both of the folding frames. I removed the photo I presumed to be of Mrs. Rhodes from behind Mrs. Twinem’s and placed it in the empty frame beside Mr. Twinem. Then I put this in my pocket.

A minute later, Carlotta emerged in a gown Ainslie had arranged for from a prop man. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what it looked like. Thibaut looked even sillier in a top hat and tails. But then Thibaut looked pretty silly however he dressed.

Ainslie had hired a carriage, and during the ride over the bridge, I showed the photo of Mrs. Rhodes to Carlotta.

“That’s HER!” she exclaimed, as only she could. “That’s the
swell
I was TELLING you
about
. The one ERnie WAS with
just
a WEEK before
he
was SHOT.”

We arrived at the church just a little before the hour. Emmie was there waiting. All six of us went up to the altar and the whole thing lasted about ten minutes. There was no organist, so it was a quiet ceremony. At least until Carlotta’s “I DO!” sent a pair of twins waiting to be baptized into hysterics.

Like a lot of men, Ainslie could be very generous when he was spending his wife’s money. We had a sumptuous, five-course luncheon at Sherry’s. Then the four artistes hurried off to the Theatre Unique for their matinee.

“I need to go back to Mme. Sahlumie’s, Harry,” Emmie told me. “And I won’t be home for dinner. There’s much to be done before tonight.”

“What time’s the show?”

“Eight, but you need to arrive by half past seven to get into position. Also, we need a second man, to act as Mme. Sahlumie’s assistant. Do you think you could convince Ainslie to come along?”

“I think I might be able to do that.”

“Good.”

She wrote down an address on West 43rd Street, and then hurried off.

I took the 6
th
Avenue L down to the Cosmopolitan and found the day clerk I’d spoken with the day before. I showed him the frame with the photos of Twinem and Mrs. Rhodes.

“Know them?” I asked.

“Maybe….”

Five dollars.

“That’s them.”

“Which them?”

“Peaseblossom, and the woman he said was his wife.”

“Is the night man up in his room?”

“Yeah, he’s up there, sleeping. But don’t knock, it’ll never wake him up. Just go right in.”

I could think of only one reason he’d give me such specific instructions, especially when they came accompanied by a playful expression. I knocked, heard voices inside, then knocked again. A second later, a chambermaid rushed out of the room. I went in and found the fellow washing his face.

“It’s only you? You put the fear of God in that girl, and it took me two weeks to get her in here.”

“My apologies.”

“That’s not enough, is it?”

“Well, I could talk to the manager….”

“Him? He wouldn’t dare. I know all about his night rounds.”

“This is a busy place. Keeping the hinges oiled must be a full-time job.”

“What do you want, anyway?”

I showed him Mrs. Rhodes’ photo alone first.

“Know her?”

“There you go—that’s Mrs. Peaseblossom.”

“And Mr. Peaseblossom?” I brought out the other photo.

“Yeah. But the cops said he was Twinem.”

“He
was
Twinem. But was he the one who checked in that night as Twinem?”

“I told you, I can’t be sure. Looked the same when they showed me the corpse in his room.”

“But when he came to the desk that evening, and signed in as Twinem, did you recognize him as Peaseblossom?”

“No, I guess I didn’t.”

I left him and then went up to Washington Square, where I found Professor Rhodes leaving his office.

“I suppose you’ve heard of the séance Twinem’s mother is putting on this evening?”

“Yes. It’s silly, but I suppose there’s no harm in humoring an old woman.”

“Well, I’m glad that’s your attitude. You see, I’ve been cast as Twinem’s voice.”

“Is this a regular part of your business?”

“No, this is a novelty. My wife’s idea. The problem is, I never met the fellow. What sort of voice did he have?”

“Deep, kind of gravelly.”

I gave it a try.

“No, that’s not it at all.”

“Well, I suppose I can plead the effects of decomposition,” I said. “Will Mrs. Rhodes be attending as well?”

“Yes, she’s rather keen on it. Why do you ask?”

“Just want to make sure the seating works out correctly. By the way, did you happen to see the production of a
Midsummer Night’s Dream
at Manhattan Beach this summer?”

“Yes, a very adequate production.”

“The ass’s mask appropriately shaggy?”

“Well, not shaggy enough, but closer than most.”

When I got home, I found Xiang-Mei making yet another batch of moon cakes. There were now stacks of them covering every inch of space in the kitchen.

“Tonight is the
big
festival,” she told me. “You must
come
.”

“Where is it?”

“At the farm,
on
the bay. Lou’s farm.”

“We have an engagement at eight.”

“Come
later
, it will be a very
big
party.”

Just then the parrot squawked something in Chinese.

“I thought you exiled him,” I said.

“He was just
too
hungry. You never feed him
enough
.”

“What’s he saying?”

“Chinese girls
very
beautiful. So Lou remembers.”

A while later the vaudevillians returned from their matinee. Carlotta had regained her place in the act, with Nell moved to a supporting role as her mother. When the others wandered off to their rooms, Ainslie opened our last bottle of wine.

“The act’s better than ever,” he told me.

“Do you think it can spare you tonight? There’s a little performance I need you for.”

“Sorry, I have to be there to keep the whole thing paced.”

“I was rather depending on you.”

“That was foolish. Even my mother never made that mistake.”

After he’d had a good laugh at his joke, I told him I knew he’d pawned some of Nell’s things.

“How would you know if I had?”

“Doesn’t matter, really. But I’d hate to have to embarrass you.”

“God, you’re a low bastard,” he said. “All right, what do I have to do?”

“It’s simple, really. You play Ernie at a séance. Do you think you could do his voice convincingly?”

“Sure. And a reasonable likeness.”

“This will just involve the voice. Maybe some rapping and whatnot.”

“Who’s paying?”

“Twinem’s mother is putting on the show, but you’ll have to be satisfied with identifying those responsible for Ernie’s death.”

“Who’s that?”

“You’ll need to wait and see.”

Not liking my answer, he sulked off to his room with my bottle of wine under his arm. I went to the phone and called Tibbitts’s office.

“What’d you think of my little party?”

“I’d say your shrew isn’t entirely tamed just yet.”

“Yeah, it’s slow work.”

“Seems like poor Bridget will be bearing the brunt of it. Six days in a tiny cabin with an annoyed Elizabeth. That’s a tough sentence. I’d lay odds she’s either done in or jumps overboard before the ship reaches Cherbourg.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Bridget. From what I’ve heard about her, she’ll hold her own. That fellow with the black eye was her husband.”

“Did Emmie invite you to tonight’s entertainment?”

“Yeah, said I’d be able to make an arrest. She’s still thinking Rhodes and Twinem’s wife, isn’t she?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“She’s wrong there. I’ve checked on them both.”

“Still, you might want to be ready for an arrest.”

“Yeah? Care to add a name?”

“I can give you one. Ever hear of Mike Scanlan? He used to work for the Byrnes Agency.”

“No. You think he shot Twinem?”

“No, but odds are he knows who did.” I gave Tibbitts Scanlan’s address on West 34
th
Street. “Can you have him brought around to the show tonight?”

“Sure. But I have to have a reason.”

“You’ll have plenty on him when it’s over. Accessory after the fact, extortion, etc.”

“So you have it all figured out?”

“Well, there’s a healthy amount of conjecture involved. But Scanlan should help clear that up. Just keep him out of sight until we’re ready for him.”

He agreed to and we hung up. Ainslie and I left the apartment just before seven and took a car to Park Row. I handed him a little script of just a few lines.

“Think you can memorize these?”

“Sure, that’s my job. Just to satisfy my curiosity, how’d you know about Nell’s bracelet?”

“Just a guess. Seemed a safe one.”

“Elwell had given it to her. It was inscribed.”

“He was her husband for twenty-odd years.”

“And someone else’s at the same time. It made me sick that she kept it. I thought I’d free her from the memory.”

“Very selfless. Of course, there’s that other reminder of her marriage to Elwell, married and living in Buffalo.”

“Oh, I don’t mind the boy. Sounds like a good kid. You’ve met him, haven’t you?”

“Yes. Nice fellow.”

“Nell told me he married the daughter of his father’s killer. So he can’t have been too attached to him.”

“No. But to be fair, he didn’t marry her
because
she was the daughter of his father’s killer.”

He laughed. It seemed odd that he hadn’t figured out he was Charlie’s father. Or that Nell hadn’t told him. But it certainly wasn’t my place to reveal the family secret.

We arrived at Mme. Sahlumie’s about twenty to eight. While Emmie was admonishing me for being late, Madame herself appeared. She was quite a sight, all done up in flowing robes. And a ruby the size of a goose egg attached to her turban.

“How do you do?” she said in a kind of indistinguishable European accent.

We replied in kind. Then she smiled, and from then until the arrival of the guests, she lapsed into the voice of a Hoboken dockhand.

“Who’s playing the corpse?” she asked.

I nodded toward Ainslie. When Emmie objected, I pointed out he had more experience.

Madame showed him the chamber where he was to perform, a little closet with two chairs. Coming out of the ceiling was a speaking tube of the sort you see on ships.

“You talk into that, and it comes out there.”

She pointed to the chandelier and told Ainslie to try it.

“I am the voice of Ernie Joy, coming from the great beyond.” Then he added a sinister laugh.

“A little too much, dearie,” Madame informed him. “Say as little as possible.”

“And you aren’t Ernie Joy, you’re Cyrus Twinem,” Emmie added. “You just say what I tell you to. I’ll be right next to you.”

Mme. Sahlumie took me aside to explain my duties and give me my lines. Then she had me help her rig up some pyrotechnic displays and, for five dollars, allowed me to rig up one of my own.

I asked Ainslie to come over and assist me in assembling my costume.

“Which is it?” he asked. “Am I Twinem or Ernie?”

“Go ahead and play along with Emmie to begin with, but when you hear me bang that gong over there, deliver the lines I gave you as Ernie.”

Just as I finished positioning my turban, Tibbitts arrived.

“Scanlan’s just down the hall,” he told me.

“Good. Have him sent in, alone, when the gong strikes twice.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m trying to keep with the spirit of the affair.”

He gave his men the instructions and then sat down. A moment later there was a knock on the door. Emmie and Ainslie got into the chamber and I greeted the Twinems: old Mrs., the mother; the brother; and the widow.

“L’chaim.” I gave each of them a little bow. “Please take your seats. Madame Salami will join us shortly.”

Then Professor Rhodes and his wife came in. The photograph of Lena didn’t do her justice.

Once everyone was seated, I dimmed the lights. There was a flash and a poof of smoke at the end of the table. When it cleared, Mme. Sahlumie was in position.

“We must join hands.” Her words dripped with solemnity.

Then she went into a trance, chanting, “Katmandu and Kalamazoo…, Timbuktu…, Tippecanoe and Tyler, too! Spirits, arise!”

There was another flash and poof of smoke, this time in the middle of the table. Then the groaning started—the dead man’s tormented soul, no doubt. “Mother…, Mother, are you there?”

“I’m here, Cyrus! I’m here!”

“Has my death yet been avenged? Have my killers been brought to justice?”

“No, my son. Who was it? Who shot you, Cyrus?”

“My own wife, mother! It was she who shot me! But she did not act alone.”

The dead man’s widow broke the circle. “I won’t stand for this nonsense. Mother, you can’t believe this. The woman is a charlatan.”

“Let’s hear it through, just for laughs,” Tibbitts suggested. He pushed her back in her chair. “Okay, spirit, who else was in on it?”

I decided it was time to bang the gong.

“This is the spirit of Ernie Joy….”

“Who are you?” the old woman asked. “Get my son back on the line, this instant!”

Emmie’s muffled voice could now be heard coming through the pipe, “
What are you doing
?”