In Plain Sight

19 The Meeting

Alex waited an hour before making the phone calls. Danny called Lieutenant Callahan and Captain Rooney. Based on Danny’s reaction, the Captain wasn’t happy, but eventually Danny convinced him to come to Beaumont’s apartment. Once the police were on their way, Alex called Iggy. He hated waking the old man, but if he was going to save his skin, and Danny’s, he might need Iggy’s medical knowledge.

“That’s wonderful, lad,” Iggy said once Alex had told him what they found.

“I know you’re tired, but I might need you over here.”

“Say nothing of it,” he said, yawning. “I’ll throw on my clothes and be over as soon as I can.”

Alex thanked him and hung up. He wanted to stay on the line. Not because there was more he wanted to say to Iggy, but rather to avoid making the next call on his list. He took out his rune book and opened it to the back cover. Inside the cover was a pocket, sewn into the fabric. Alex kept loose papers there, notes and cards. He pulled out a simple white business card with a name and telephone number printed on it in blue ink. After a long moment, he sighed and dialed the phone.

“Hello?” a weary woman’s voice said. “Who is this?”

“Good morning, Sorceress,” he said in his most chipper voice.

“Mr. Lockerby,” Sorsha said, her voice dropping several degrees. “I trust you have a good reason for disturbing me at this hour.”

“You mean other than hearing your sparkling voice?”

There was a long pause and Alex could have sworn he felt the phone’s receiver getting cold. He really shouldn’t antagonize Sorsha, but she just made it so easy.

“Are you still interested in the disease that killed everyone at the Brotherhood of Hope?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, her voice perking up.

“I can tell you who brought it there, and where it came from.”

‘Well?” she said after a long moment.

“Not now,” Alex said. “Put on your work clothes, grab your FBI lackeys, and meet me.”

“If you’re wasting my time, scribbler, I’ll…”

“No joke, Sorceress,” Alex said. “Got a pencil?” He gave her Beaumont’s address and hung up.

The first to arrive was Callahan; he came in with two of his detectives and two uniforms whom he left outside the door.

“What’s this about, Danny?” he asked, after having a quick look around.

“Give us a few minutes,” Danny said. “There’s a few more people coming.”

Callahan pressed his hand to his forehead. “Please tell me you didn’t call the Captain.”

“He didn’t,” Alex lied. “I did.”

“Jesus, Lockerby,” Callahan swore. “Why don’t you just get us all fired?”

“Don’t worry, Lieutenant,” Alex said. “He’ll be smiling from ear to ear when he hears what we have to say.”

“You should worry more about whether I’ll be smiling,” Sorsha said, pushing the door open. Agents Davis and Warner followed in her wake, each looking like they weren’t used to being rousted in the early hours of the morning. If getting up early or being rushed out of her boudoir affected Sorsha, it didn’t show. Her face was perfect, alabaster skin without a single flaw, as if she’d been carved of marble. The only appearance of makeup were a few precise strokes of eyeliner and bright red lipstick. Alex had heard that the subtler the makeup, the longer it took to apply; if this was what Sorsha could do with just a few minutes, he really wanted to see what she looked like on her way to a party.

Alex introduced Sorsha and the FBI men to Callahan, then directed the Sorceress to the couch to await the rest.

“You do like living dangerously,” Callahan said under his breath, once Sorsha had taken a seat.

The next to arrive was Iggy. Sorsha was delighted to see the doctor again and invited him to sit with her on the couch. Last of all was Captain Rooney. He arrived in a rumpled suit with his vest mis-buttoned and his tie showing from under the back of his collar. Callahan and his detectives looked tired, but their clothes were neat and professional, a sign that they were used to going to work whenever the job required it. Rooney, on the other hand, kept banker’s hours, and it showed.

He started to shout at Alex, Danny, and Callahan, but stopped when he saw Sorsha.

“I assume,” he said in a calmer voice, “that you dragged everyone out of bed for a good reason.”

“I did, Captain,” Alex said, taking the lead. “You challenged me to find out who killed Jerry Pemberton, and with Detective Pak’s help, I have.”

“If that’s all this is about,” Rooney said, his voice dropping low, “I’ll have your license pulled so quick.”

Alex put his hand on his heart and feigned a wounded expression. “Patience, Captain.” He took a step back and addressed the whole room. “I’d like to welcome everyone to the home of Charles Beaumont,” he said.

A murmur of recognition flared up briefly, but there were many bewildered looks.

“Before Detective Pak and I get to the reason we called this little clam bake, I need to bring everyone up to speed,” Alex added.

Of the people in the room, only he, Danny, Iggy, and Callahan were familiar with both the case of Jerry Pemberton and the incident at the Brotherhood of Hope Mission. Alex briefly related the facts of each case, then asked for questions.

“How does Charles Beaumont connect to Jerry Pemberton?” Callahan asked.

“Beaumont was Pemberton’s partner,” Danny said. “The people who killed Pemberton were looking for Beaumont.”

“Why?” Rooney growled.

“Because of this,” Alex said, holding up the glass container he’d reconstructed. “There were four of these, each full of an alchemical solution that causes the disease that killed Father Harrison Clementine and everyone at the Mission.”

“And how do you know this?” Sorsha said.

Alex took out his multi-lamp and snapped the silverlight burner in it. “You’ll need to wear this,” he said, holding out his oculus to the Sorceress.

She hesitated for a minute, then slipped the strap over her head. Alex lit the lamp and then pointed to the table.

“See here, how three round objects stood here.” He put the reconstructed jar on the table.

Sorsha closed her uncovered eye and looked. After a moment, she moved the jar slightly to the left, covering one of the voids.

“What made the circles?” she asked.

“Milk,” Danny said, pointing to the empty drinking glass still lying on its side by the plate. “The jars were there when the milk spilled and until after it dried, then someone removed them.”

“Who?” Rooney asked. Alex grinned.

“In a moment, Captain.”

“I only see three circles,” Sorsha said. “You said there were four jars of this plague.”

“And I will explain where the fourth one went in just a minute,” Alex said, “but first I want Lieutenant Callahan and the Captain to have a look.”

Sorsha removed the oculus and handed it to Callahan, who then inspected the table.

“Was there food on the plate when you got here?” he asked.

“Yes,” Danny said. “It was pretty rank after five days so we threw it out, but the plate is right where we found it.”

Alex was impressed. Not much got by Callahan. From the look the Lieutenant gave him as he passed the oculus to Rooney, he was already thinking along the same lines Alex and Danny had.

“Okay, so what does this tell us?” Rooney asked.

Alex switched out his silverlight burner for a ghostlight one, then adjusted a few of the lenses on the oculus.

“Now take a look at the floor,” he said.

Rooney knelt down and scanned the floor on the right side of the table, the same side as the spilled glass of milk.

“Something spilled here too,” he said. “It’s all over the place, and there’s a footprint here,” he indicated a spot between the table and the door.

Alex waited for Callahan and Sorsha to take their turn with the oculus.

“Why is this light different?” Sorsha wondered, looking at the table top. “I can’t see the milk circles anymore.”

“I call it ghostlight,” Alex said. “It reveals magical residue.”

Sorsha nodded, taking the oculus off and handing it back to Alex.

“So Mr. Beaumont sat here,” she indicated the overturned chair. “He put the jars of plague on the table and proceeded to eat dinner. At some point, he knocks one of the jars off the table.” She picked up the broken one. “This one. He has quick hands but when he tries to grab it, he knocks over the milk. The jar breaks and Beaumont runs out, trying to escape being infected.”

Alex smiled and Danny whistled.

“That’s about the way we figure it,” Danny said.

“Why would this idiot put jars of plague on his dinner table?” Rooney asked.

“They would have been completely harmless while sealed,” Iggy said. “He might have simply wanted to look at them. Many alchemical solutions have interesting color patters and some even glow.”

“So why and how did he end up at the Mission?” Callahan asked.

“I can answer that as well,” Iggy said. “Sister Jefferson told us that he was always asking Father Clementine for blessings and drinking water from their old well. He thought it had healing properties, or at least he hoped it did.”

“It still doesn’t explain what any of this has to do with Jerry Pemberton,” Callahan said.

“Or where Beaumont got the jars,” Sorsha said, setting the restored jar down on the table again.

Alex snapped his fingers, pretending he’d just remembered something.

“That’s right,” he said. “We forgot to tell them about the shipping case.”

Sorsha fixed him with a level gaze and Rooney looked like he might just spontaneously combust. Alex continued as if he hadn’t seen either.

“My associate, Detective Pak, during an exhaustive search of this apartment, found this.”

Danny held up the shipping case. “It has a receiving stamp on it from the New York Aerodrome.”

“Are you saying that Beaumont stole this from the customs warehouse?” Callahan asked. “Then who stole Van der Waller’s jewelry?”

“Beaumont,” Alex said. “My best guess is that he wanted to keep the theft of the plague a secret for as long as possible, so he grabbed a case with a similar shape and size and substituted it for the one he stole.”

“So whoever was supposed to get the plague jars got the diamonds instead? Rooney asked. “Why didn’t he report the theft?”

Sorsha smiled and raised an eyebrow.

“Would you report that your jars full of an alchemical plague had been stolen?” she asked.

“Wait,” Callahan said. “Aren’t things in the customs warehouse supposed to be inspected before they’re released? How would they explain these jars? They couldn’t let the inspector open one, after all.”

“A good question,” Sorsha added. “They would have given off a strong magical aura and customs inspectors have detectors for that.”

“There’s only one way this could have made it into the country,” Alex said. “It was part of a diplomatic pouch.”

“Anything a foreign government ships to one of their embassies in the U.S. isn’t subject to search,” Danny said.

“The question remains,” Callahan pointed out, “Whose pouch was it?”

“It arrived by airship,” Danny said. “I checked the passenger manifest and there were three German citizens on board. No other country with goods in the warehouse had citizens on the airship.” He consulted his notepad. “The passengers listed their names as Helge Rothenbaur, Greta Albrecht, and Dietrich Strand.”

“Not surprising,” Iggy said. “German alchemists are the best in the world. They could have created a disease like the one we saw.”

“So,” Alex said, “when the Germans discover they have a case full of uncut diamonds instead of their plague, they go looking for it. They beat Beaumont’s name out of Pemberton, then come here, breaking the lock on the door to get in.”

“But Beaumont isn’t here,” Sorsha said. “So they take the three unbroken jars and leave.”

“Almost,” Alex said. “They did stop long enough to pick up the broken glass pieces from this jar,” he held up the restored one. “They threw them in the wastebasket.” Alex tipped the jar up, revealing fingerprint dust stuck to a large, clear thumbprint on the bottom of the jar. “And one of them was kind enough to leave us his print.”

“That could be anyone’s,” the young Agent Warner piped up.

Alex shrugged.

“Possible,” he said. “But the angle is strange unless you’re picking up a broken piece. It’s likely this is the fingerprint of whoever murdered Mr. Pemberton.” Alex handed the jar to Lieutenant Callahan with an exaggerated gesture. “I’ll leave the rest to you, Lieutenant,” he said.

“That’s it?” Rooney asked, shaking his head. “I nearly got my head chewed off getting permission for us to stake out the customs warehouse and now you want me to tell the Chief and the Mayor some cockamamie story about Nazis trying to poison New York?”

“Don’t worry, Captain Rooney,” Sorsha said, standing. “I shall take care of that. This is a federal matter now. You and your men and your…consultant have done excellent work. I’ll make sure the Governor hears about it.”

Rooney smiled, ingratiating, but his face had the sickly look of someone who had lost a favorite plaything. “Thank you, Miss Kincaid,” he said, then he turned to Callahan. “Make sure the FBI has everything they need, then wrap it up here.”

Callahan said that he would, and Rooney left without another word.

“Pak,” Callahan said in a loud voice. “This is your crime scene. Make sure everything’s logged and turned over to Miss Kincaid.” He put on his hat and then turned to leave as well. “I’ll make sure your bill gets paid, Lockerby,” he said on the way out.

Danny began giving instructions to the two other detectives while Alex packed up his kit.

“That was a real cute performance,” Agent Warner said, coming up behind him. Alex looked up into his young face. His lip was drawn up in a sneer and his blue eyes were hard. “Thought you’d make the rest of us look like chumps while you suck up to our boss?”

Alex just shrugged.

“I guess I thought that a bunch of Germans running around the city with a plague was something everyone needed to know,” he said. “This was just the easiest way to do it.”

“And to blow your own horn,” Warner said, anger in his voice. “I saw guys like you when I was on the force in Chicago. FBI has a few of them too. It’s never about the job for them, they’ve always got to make a big show. Problem is, while they’re doing their song and dance for the cameras and the brass, the bad guys get away. Sometimes people die.”

Alex straightened up and faced Warner. He was over an inch taller than the young Agent and he stretched himself up to his full height. Something about this was personal for Warner, but Alex had no idea what.

“Don’t worry, Agent Warner,” he said. “I’m not doing this for fame. I’m a P.I. I’m in it for the money.”

For a brief second Warner looked like he might punch him, but he mastered himself and stormed away.

“You look dead on your feet,” Iggy said, stepping up next to him.

Alex nodded. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept.

“The Sorceress will take it from here,” Iggy continued. “Let’s go home.”

Alex rubbed his eyes. Now that he’d sounded the alarm bell to the people who needed most to hear it, and saved his and Danny’s skins in the process, his job was done.

Wasn’t it?

“There’s still three Germans running around New York with jars full of death,” he said. He indicated the detectives and the FBI with a sweep of his arm. “They needed my help to get this far.”

“Do you know anything you haven’t told them?” Iggy asked. Alex wearily shook his head.

“No,” he confessed.

“Then your part in this little play is done,” Iggy said forcefully. “It’s time you slept anyway; you’re no good to anyone in this condition.”

Alex picked up his kit and followed Iggy toward the door, but stopped when Sorsha stepped intro his path. She looked at him with her intense eyes, one eyebrow raised.

“That was very good work, Mr. Lockerby,” she said.

Alex wasn’t sure he’d heard her right, but he smiled and said, “Thanks,” all the same.

“I don’t give compliments lightly,” she said. “Or idly. You should come work for me.”

Alex smiled at the thought of being an FBI agent. It would never work out, of course. He cut too many corners and broke too many rules to be a legitimate law officer of any kind.

“If I decide to pack it in, you’ll be my first call,” he said. “For right now, just find those Germans.”

She seemed to have been waiting for a sarcastic answer, and his frankness surprised her. Before she could pursue any more discussion, however, Danny called her away.

Alex didn’t remember much about the cab ride home. Outside, the sun was beginning to paint the sky shades of pink and yellow, and the buildings went by in a smoky, gray blur. At some point he collapsed onto his bed, still in his clothes, and fell instantly asleep.