Amy Patricia Meade - Marjorie McClelland 02 - Ghost of a Chance (18 page)

Herbert Nussbaum sat, perfectly erect and completely composed, at
a small, rectangular table. His mother, Bernice, sat beside him, her
face pinched with worry and indignation. She stood up as Marjorie, Creighton, and Jameson entered the room. “What is this about?
You can’t keep my son here. He knows nothing about his father’s
death. I told you he was home that morning.”

Jameson placed Raymond Maxwell’s statement on the table before Bernice and then sat down at the head of the table; Marjorie
and Creighton sat opposite Bernice and Herbert, respectively.

“We have a witness who says otherwise,” the detective countered.

Bernice read the statement, and slowly sat back down. “What?
What is this?” She turned her gaze toward her son. “I didn’t know
you were… ” Her voice trailed off, but within seconds she stood up
again. “Who is this cab driver person? And why are you taking his
word over mine?”

“Mr. Maxwell was the cab driver who took your husband to
the fair the day he was killed,” Jameson replied. “He claims that, as
he drove out of the fair parking area, he had to slam on the brakes
to avoid hitting Herbert, who was running away from the fairgrounds just as the police were arriving.”

“That’s impossible!”

“Your son looked right at him as he hit the brakes. He has no
reason to lie, Mrs. Nussbaum.”

She threw her hands in the air. “No reason to lie? He was Alfred’s
driver. Alfred’s driver! Do I have to spell it out for you? He picked
Alfred up at that dumpy hotel he lived in and, while he waited for
Alfred to get ready-Alfred was never on time-Josie got to him
and paid him to say he saw Herbert at the fair. It’s obvious!”

Marjorie was incredulous. “What? Why would she do that?”

“Because she murdered Alfred and wants to pin the blame on
someone else! I told you my son was at home that day. Weren’t you
Herbert?”

The spectacled young man squirmed in his seat.

“Mommy’s defending you, Herbert. Now, tell these people you
weren’t at the fair,” Bernice demanded.

“I wasn’t at the fair,” the boy replied mechanically.

Mrs. Nussbaum smiled beatifically.

“It doesn’t much matter what either of you say when I have these,”
Jameson presented the handkerchief-wrapped darts.

Bernice’s smile turned into a scowl. “Where on earth did you get
those?”

“Your son was working on them when Detective Logan went to
collect him for this evening’s interrogation.”

“T-Those were for my work,” Herbert stammered. “I was recreating my father’s murder. To prove that I’m the world’s greatest
criminologist!”

“World’s greatest criminologist, huh?” Jameson jeered. “Your father had arranged to meet two people at the fair that day. I say one
of them was you, Herbert. Being well educated in the art of murder,
you hatched the poisoned dart scheme, making the darts just as you
did these and securing the curare from the dispensary where your
sister works. While your father was waiting for you-or the other
person he was meeting-you shot him with the poisoned dart and
then faded into the crowd to watch the drama unfold. You enjoyed
it at first, too, didn’t you? Until you heard the sirens. Then you got
nervous and ran.”

Herbert grinned. “That’s an interesting theory detective, but first,
why would I have met my father at the fair? I barely spoke to the
man. Second, how did I fire the darts? And, finally, why, after having
successfully killed my father, did I feel compelled to make more?”

“That’s right, Herbert,” Bernice exulted. “Oh, my brilliant boy!”

Jameson took a deep breath. “I must admit, I don’t know the
answers to those questions. But, mark my words, I will. And when I do, you’ll be hammering license plates instead of pen nibs. Unless…”

Herbert’s eyes widened.

“Unless you tell me what you know now. `Hot tempered young
man kills philandering father out of loyalty to beloved mother.’ A
jury is sure to look kindly upon you-if you turn yourself in.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’m afraid it makes you look like just another Nathan Leopold
or Richard Loeb. Another coldhearted killer trying to prove he’s a
genius.

At the mention of the infamous Leopold and Loeb, Herbert
cracked a bit of a smile. “I have nothing to confess, Detective.”

“Of course you don’t, Herbert” Bernice rose from her seat for
the third time. “And without more evidence, they have no reason
to keep us here any longer. So if you’re finished with your questions, Detective-”

Creighton, who had heretofore been silent, spoke up. “I have a
question, Mrs. Nussbaum. Yesterday, you said you knew your husband lived in Hartford with Josie, but you didn’t have an exact address. If that’s true, how did you know the cab driver picked your
husband up at a-what was the phrase you used?-a `dumpy hotel’?”

Herbert and Bernice stared blankly at the Englishman, yet said
nothing.

“No answer for that either?” Jameson remarked. “You Nussbaums
can be a tight-lipped bunch when you want to be. But, have no fear,
we’ll get to the bottom of that, too. Until then, there’s no reason for
you to stay here. Good night, Herbert. Good night, Mrs. Nussbaum”

“Yes, good night.” Creighton added, “And do have a restful sleep.
I think you’ll both be needing your energy-particularly you, Mrs.
Nussbaum. You’re looking a bit peaked.”

Interrogation room `B’ was the mirror image of room `A’: a small
rectangular table, five chairs, and a small desk lamp. Mateo Saporito
sat in the spot that corresponded to the one Herbert had assumed
in the previous interview. But that’s where the similarities between
the two suspects ended. Whereas the young Nussbaum was a picture of poise and careful good manners, Saporito was abrasively
crude.

Slumped in his seat, his arm draped over the chair beside him,
Saporito was clad in black pants and a sleeveless white undershirt
stained with bits of orange and red.

“Hey, angel,” he greeted as Marjorie entered the room. “You know,
you really oughta start hanging around a different class of people.
These two monkeys give you a bad name.”

“Not as bad as yours,” she replied.

“Oh, yeah? What have they been saying about me now?”

Marjorie sat across from Saporito, flanked on her left by Creighton and on her right, at the head of the table, Detective Jameson
who nodded his consent for her to continue the questioning. “Only
that you weren’t where you claimed to be on Saturday,” Marjorie
replied.

He smirked. “Oh? Where was I?”

“We hoped you’d be able to tell us. But we know you weren’t at
home, since the garage attendant says your car was out all day.”

Saporito chuckled and shook his head. “Son of a … yeah, I went
out. I went out for some air. Is that a crime?”

“Depends on where you got that air. If it was in the vicinity of
”
Ridgebury, Connecticut, it could be.”

I didn’t go to Ridgebury. I went to Hartford. I saw Josie while
the old man was out.”

“You were with Josie?” Jameson stepped in. “If so, perhaps you
know why she packed her bags and checked out of her hotel room
before she even knew of Alfred’s death.”

“Easy. We were running away together. Josie never loved that Alfred chump. It was me she really wanted. We decided then and there
to go back to Boston together.”

“How romantic,” Creighton commented. “I always do enjoy a
good love story. However, I somehow doubt you’d let Josie walk
away from what you Americans would call her `meal ticket.’ You
both had a nice racket going with Nussbaum. Why would you upset
the apple cart? Unless, of course, Nussbaum found out about you.”

Saporito scowled. “Find out about us? That guy? Ah, he was as
dumb as a brick. All Josie had to do was bat her eyelashes in his direction and he’d give her anything she wanted.”

“Handy,” Marjorie remarked. “Hard to believe she’d let that slip
through her fingers. Or, more precisely, that you’d let Josie let that
slip through her fingers. I’m all for hearts and flowers, Mr. Saporito,
but Josie’s the type of girl who likes silk stockings, perfume, and
nice clothes, and I don’t think you have either the means or the
wherewithal to give them to her.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that with Nussbaum around, you could have your cake
and eat it too. He footed the bills and you could have Josie without having to pay for her maintenance. I’d go so far as to say that you
probably profited from the arrangement too. After all, any extra
money Josie may have acquired, she’d most certainly share with her
`Mattie”’

“You’re a good-looking woman. Smart too. But don’t think you
can ride too far on that ticket. I don’t like mouthy dames.”
“

I don’t think you like dames in general, Mr. Saporito;’ Creighton spat back vehemently. “Anyone who’d send his wife out to marry
and fleece another man can’t have much respect for the fairer sex.
And for him to do it more than once-”

“What do you mean `more than once’?”

Jameson took over. “We know you and Josie have a criminal record. The files from New York will be here tomorrow, but I’m feeling generous, so I’ll give you the chance to tell your story, before we
receive them.”

Saporito mulled this over. “What do I get in return?”

“A chance to tell your side of the story before I get the files and
form my own opinion” Jameson leaned forward. “We know you
and Josie were never divorced. We know that Josie was preparing
to leave Hartford before Alfred was even dead. We know Alfred
had arranged to meet two people at the fair on Saturday and that
you have no alibi, except for what Josie can give you. You want me
to draw my own conclusions? Because I will.”

Saporito sat up and placed his hands on the table. “If you think
I’m going to jail, you’d better guess again.”

“If you killed Alfred Nussbaum, you’re going to jail anyway.”

“I didn’t kill Nussbaum!”

“Then tell us where you were. If you killed Nussbaum, I’ll find
out one way or another. But, if all you were doing was running a
scam, I’ll put in a good word. You’ll serve nine, ten months, tops.”

“Ten months? Easy for you to say. You’ve never been in the pen.”
He shook his head. “No dice. I’ll take my chances”

“Oh yeah? I wonder if Josie feels the same way. Creighton,”
Jameson addressed the Englishman, “call Noonan and tell him to
pick up Josie. Explain to him what’s been going on.”

Creighton nodded and headed toward the door.

“Don’t,” Saporito nearly yelled. “Don’t pick up Josie. She’s innocent in all this”

The Englishman sat back down.

“It was my idea,” Mattie continued. “I saw Nussbaum throwing
money around at my club, so I figured he was loaded. I knew he
had a thing for Josie; he never missed a show. So, I asked her to get
friendly with him.”

“Josie’s your wife,” Marjorie said, aghast.

“Yeah, but the club wasn’t doing well. The bill collectors were
at our heels. I thought the chump would give Josie a couple of furs
and that would be the end of it. But this guy was serious. He said
he wanted to marry her.”

“And you couldn’t refuse,” Marjorie alleged.

“Look, angel, you may not like what I did, but it was our ticket
out of Boston and out of that dive. Nussbaum gave Josie almost
everything he earned.”

“Yeah and left his wife and two children to fend for themselves.”

Saporito looked down at the table. “I’m sorry about that. I really am. I don’t like taking the food outta kids’ mouths, but it’s a dog-eat-dog world out there. And it’s not like I took nothin’ Nussbaum gave it to Josie-so it’s hers fair-and-square”

“How romantic,” Creighton remarked again. “I’m sure Nussbaum would have been thrilled to know that Josie was sharing the
money with her so-called `ex-husband”’

“Hey, it winds up Nussbaum wasn’t on the level either. So now
I don’t feel so bad.”

“You should,” Jameson commented. “It means that any life insurance policies Josie took out are invalid.”

Saporito laughed. “You really are a piece of work, Detective. You
think I’d have chanced an investigation by an insurance company?
Nah, I wanted my money up front. Josie told Nussbaum that she
was still legally married to me-she was brilliant, really turned on
the waterworks. I tell ya, she’s a good dancer, but she’s an even better actress. She told the old man that she wanted to marry him and
that she lied about the divorce because she didn’t want to lose him.
He bought it, hook, line, and sinker!”

“I don’t get it,” Marjorie admitted. “What was in that for you?”

“I’m getting to it, angel. See, I was the heavy. Josie told Nussbaum
that I wouldn’t give her a divorce. I was heartless, cruel-a real villain. Of course, Nussbaum took the bait and came to the club. I told
him I’d give Josie a divorce if he gave me $5,000 in cash.”

“How did you think he’d come up with $5,000?” Marjorie asked.

“Josie told me he had a big business deal he was counting on.
She didn’t know how much he was getting, but I named my price
and he didn’t even bat an eye. Made me think I should’ve asked for
more. But, if there’s one thing the extortion racket teaches ya, it’s
that ya can’t be greedy.”