The Pastor’s Daughter: Episode XXVIII

Councilman McCutchen Smith was waiting for me in the Duke’s Club. He was drinking wine and smoking his usual Cuban Cohiba. He waved to me as I crossed the empty lounge to join him.

“What’s eating you?” he said. “Need a drink?”

I shook my head.

“Let me start by saying this: how do you do it?”

“What do you mean?” he said.

“I mean, how do you live this double lifestyle: a legitimate front as a well-respected politician and then as a stone cold criminal at the other side? And you seem very comfortable with it.  Not only that, nobody even knew about it.”

“Well,” he grinned. “Let’s just say I’m a genius. I have a question for you too, Harry. Do you believe in stars? I mean, horoscope.”

“Not really,” I said. “But go ahead.”

“I’m a Gemini,” he continued. “Geminis has two personalities in one. I guess that answered your question about how I could maintain two lifestyles very comfortably.”

“Very interesting,” I said.

“Isn’t it?” he muttered. “Now, let’s get down to business. What’s biting you?”

“You said if I scratch your back, you’d scratch mine, right?” I began.

“Sure,” he said.

“Okay, here’s your chance.”

He tilted back his chair and  blew smoke towards the ceiling while listening as I explained about Revkin.

“Reverend Waters told me to put a private investigator to work, digging into his daughter’s background,” I said. “So I hired Revkin. I didn’t know he would did so deep. The bottom line is, he has dug me up.”

 McCutchen Smith looked at me, his face expressionless.

“So what?”

“Well, he is  blackmailing me for five thousand dollars. He said he will hand the information he has collected to the police if I don’t pay.”

“How bad is the information,” McCutchen Smith asked, scratching his jaw with an untrimmed fingernail.

“Not good at all,” I said. “If Lieutenant Ludlum get this information from him, I’m cooked. I haven’t five thousand dollars – nothing like it. If you want me to do this run to Ontario for you, then you must do something fast.”

“Such as what?”

“That’s up to you,” I replied. “I don’t suppose you want to pay him five thousand dollars, do you?”

He threw back his head and gave out a very loud laugh.

“You kidding?” He stood up and hunched his shoulders. “Come on Harry. Let’s go and see this punk. I’m gonna make him stay in line, okay?”

“Are you sure we can do this now, Mr. McCutchen?” I asked. I don’t really want to get mixed up in this. “He’s probably out. Why don’t you go to his office tomorrow? I would like to go with you, but I have to be in Atlantic City tomorrow to attend the inquest.”

He put his big hand on my arm, and his fingers dug into my muscles.

“We will go there now,” he replied. “Revkin will be in – I’m sure of that. Come on, let’s go. This is your mess, but you and me will take care of him together.”

“Take care of him?”

“Just shut the fuck up, Harry,” he said. “And come with me.”

With that said, he led me out of the club, across the sidewalk to where the black Pontiac was parked. We got in, and he sent the car shooting away from the curb.

“His office will be closed,” I said, flinching as councilman McCutchen narrowly missed a couple who were crossing the street.

Councilman McCutchen leaned out of the car window to curse them. He then pulled his head in and gave me a wide, animal grin.

“You amaze me,” I said. “You know that, don’t you?”

“How do you mean,” he said.

“Each time I see you in the papers, you are a respectable politician, with olive oil voice. But now, you are a common thug that I could hardly recognize.”

“Aw, Harry,” he said. “Don’t start again. I already told you the trick: I’m Gemini.”

We were silent for a few minutes, and then he said, “I know where the bastard lives. He and I had done a couple of business together. I assure you, he loves me to death. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for me.”

“I can see that you have a ‘master-of-the-universe’ mindset, huh?” I said.

“Oh, shut up, will you?”

I gave up. What’s the point in trying to convince him? So, for the rest of the reckless drive I said nothing to him.

We pulled up outside an apartment block in Perry Hall. Councilman McCutchen, crossed the sidewalk, and pushed open the entrance door and walked up the stairs, three at a time. I followed him up the stairs. He paused outside a shabby door on which was tacked one of Revkin’s business cards. He dug his index finger into the bell-push and kept it there.

There was about ten seconds’ pause, then the door opened cautiously. I had a glimpse of Revkin’s unshaven face before he tried to slam the door shut. But then, Councilman McCutchen was ready for his move. His knee came up and smashed into the door panel, slamming the door into Revkin who went down with a little scream of fear and pain. He sat  down on the floor of the hall, looking dazed. Councilman McCutchen walked in, let me pass then kicked the door shut.

He reached out and hauled Revkin  to his feet by his necktie. The tie tightened around Revkin’s fat throat and his face turned red. He hit councilman McCutchen feebly in his face, his small hands making as much impression on councilman McCutchen as a rubber hammer would make on a lump of steel.

Councilman McCutchen suddenly let go of the tie and gave Revkin  a violent shove. Revkin   went reeling back through a door into a small sitting-room. He fell on top of a small table set for a meal, and he and the table crashed to the floor.

I stood aside and watched.

Councilman McCutchen wandered into the room, his hands in his trousers pockets, whistling under his breath.

Revkin sat in the wreckage of his lunch, his face the color of Sara Lee natural cheese, his eyeballs almost bolting out of his head.

Meanwhile, councilman McCutchen wandered over to the window and sat on the sill. He smiled at Revkin.

“Listen here, you prick,” he said, jerking his thumb at me. “I’m sure you and Mr. Harry has met? He’s my good friend. So, if anyone is going to put a bite on him, it’ll be me. You are warned. And, I won’t tell you a second time. Understand?”

Revkin nodded. He licked his lips, tried to say something, but then changed his mind.

“I learned you have a lot of written stuff about him. Is that true?” Councilman McCutchen went on. “I want you to bring it to my apartment tomorrow morning. I mean, all of it. Do you get it?”

Again Revkin nodded.

“If any of it gets in the hands of Lieutenant Ludlum, or the press, then someone will tip them off about that little job you did in Fells Point. Get it?” Councilman McCutchen went on.

Revkin nodded. I noticed that sweat had began to run down his face.

Councilman McCutchen looked at me.

“It’s done, Harry,” he said. “This prick won’t bother you again. I guarantee it.”

I said it was okay with me.

Councilman McCutchen grinned.

“Good. Anything for a friend. You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch your back, right?”

“Sure,” I replied.

“Now, you get off and have fun,” he said. “Mr. Revkin and I are going to have a little session together.”

Revkin’s eyes bulged until I thought they were going to pop out of his face. He waved his hands at me and begged me  in a voice that chilled me, “Please Mr. Harry, don’t leave me alone with him. P-l-e-a-a-se!”

I had no sympathy for him.

“I’ll be seeing you around,” I said to councilman McCutchen.

As I went down the stairs, I heard a sound like the scream of a frightened puppy. Councilman McCutchen is indeed beating the hell out of him.

END OF EPISODE XXVIII

P.S. Episode Twenty-Nine  will be published here next Monday.

The Pastor’s Daughter: Episode XXVII

I spent the next one hour smoking one cigarette after another and viewing the whole set-up from every possible angle. I am in deep trouble, and I am very scared and worried. What worries me more is the complicated nature of my problem: I was heading to be arrested for murder, with enough evidence to make a conviction certain. At the same time, I was also being blackmailed by two unscrupulous thugs: by councilman McCutchen Smith and Mr. Revkin.

With this hanging over me, I made a new discovery. I found I no longer cared whether I had the job of being in charge of Middle River Times office in Trenton City or not, nor did I care two hoots how Reverend Waters would react if he finds out that I was the man with whom his beloved daughter had planned to spend a month at Atlantic City.

It is now that I realized what a fool I had been not to have called Atlantic City Police when I had found Brittany’s body. If I had done so, councilman McCutchen Smith – that piece of shit – wouldn’t have had time to alter Brittany’s watch or rig the rest of the evidence against me. If I had gone back to the vacation house to call the Atlantic City Police I would have found the note I had left for Brittany before councilman McCutchen Smith had got there.

I told myself I am the one person who can get myself out of this mess. I was stupid enough to get into it, and now it is up to me to figure out a way to beat these two thugs at their own game.

I knew I didn’t have much time at the moment. Unless I could figure out a way to nail Mr. Revkin, I will have to hand over every cent of my savings to him on Thursday. I would have to take the package of heroin to Cornwall, Ontario, on Friday unless I could pin Brittany’s murder on councilman McCutchen Smith.

I thought about councilman McCutchen Smith. I had very little evidence against him. I had two butts of Cuban Cohiba; one that I had found on surrounding of the vacation house in Atlantic City, the other I found in his room. But these wouldn’t be enough evidence to convict him of murder. What else was there? Well, I had proof from the telephone number scribbled on the wall that Brittany knew Grace Roselli, and it could follow from that that she also knew councilman McCutchen Smith. However, that wouldn’t be strong enough to convince a jury. Marcus Evans wouldn’t swear he had seen Brittany and councilman McCutchen Smith since he wasn’t so sure since, according to him, it was dark at the time. Besides, Brittany went around with a number of other men while she was in Middle River, and that made the whole issue more complicated.

I took out from my wallet the two train tickets from Baltimore to Trenton and back  that I had found in councilman McCutchen Smith’s desk and examined it. Was this of any value to me? Councilman McCutchen Smith had been in Trenton  three days before Brittany had left for Middle River. Phorbus Taylor had told me that Brittany had left for Middle River because she was involved in Aquiles Gomez’s murder.

I suddenly sat bolt upright. Here’s the key I was looking for! Both Phorbus and Leifert, who should know, had said it was practically certain that Vito Roselli had ordered Aquiles’ death. Did he sent his own son councilman McCutchen Smith to Trenton to do the job?  He probably wished to give the job to somebody he could completely trust. If so, who would be better than his own flesh and blood? Aquiles Gomez had been killed on the night of June 29^th. According to the train ticket, councilman McCutchen Smith had arrived in Trenton  on the 26^th and had left for Middle River on the 30^th. The dates fitted perfectly. Not only that, Brittany had also left on the 30^th, within four days she was apparently friendly with councilman McCutchen Smith. It had previously puzzled me how she could have got to know him so quickly. The only plausible explanation is that she had met him in Trenton.

Was that the hold Brittany had on councilman McCutchen Smith, assuming that she was blackmailing him? Phorbus and Leifert had mentioned a mysterious lady who had sold Aquiles Gomez out. Phorbus had said it was believed that woman was Brittany. Again, this made sense to me. Suppose councilman McCutchen Smith had known Brittany was a drug addict, and on his arrival to Trenton had contacted her. It is very possible that he offered her a sum of money or a free supply of drugs to sell Aquiles Gomez out. She would have let him into the apartment. Thinking about it later, Brittany may have realized how easy it would be to put pressure on him for more money or more drugs. Naturally, the threat of the electric chair will be a perfect hold she could have had to blackmail him.

While going over all these on my mind, I stood up and began to pace up and down. At last, I am getting somewhere, I thought. I went over in my mind the conversation I had had with councilman McCutchen Smith. He told me that he was in Atlantic City at the time Brittany died. Why was he there? I don’t want to believe he had gone there with the intention of killing Brittany. If he had wanted to kill her he could have done it in Middle River instead of going all the way to Atlantic City.

With my mind working like a busy bee, I continued to pace up and down. It was several minutes  before I remembered the picture I had seen in Grace Roselli’s lounge of her in swimsuit and which had looked familiar to me. I know I haven’t said this before, but I did remember the lone inaccessible vacation house vacation built in the hill face I had seen when I had been looking for Brittany. The truth is that I had seen a girl siting on the terrace of the vacation house. Then, the girl was half-hidden by a sun umbrella. At that time, I wasn’t really paying attention to her, because my mind was focused on Brittany. Now I was sure that the girl had been Grace Roselli.

If Grace owned the vacation house, McCutchen Smith would probably go down there quite often. After all she is her sister, though she was born by another mother. This would probably explain the fact that he had been there when Brittany had arrived.

I told myself that it will be important to take another look at the vacation house,  after I had attended the inquest.

Feeling I had got as far as I could with  city councilman McCutchen Smith,  I turned my attention to Revkin. I told myself that the only way to make him hold off was to throw a scare into him. But the problem is that I couldn’t do it myself. If anyone could throw a scare into him, councilman McCutchen Smith could.

I grinned. It seemed to me to be a good idea to play councilman McCutchen Smith off against  Revkin. It was in councilman McCutchen Smith’s interest for me to keep clear of the Baltimore Police.

Without hesitation, I dialed  Grace’s number. Councilman McCutchen Smith answered the call himself.

“This is Harry,” I said. “Something just came up and I want to talk to you pronto. Where can we meet?”

“What’s the problem?” he said, his voice sounding suspicious.

“I can’t say it on the phone,” I replied. “We’ve got competition and our arrangement for Friday can blow up.”

“Is it that serious?” There was a snarl in his voice that I wished Mr. Revkin could hear. “Alright. Meet me at the Duke’s Club in half an hour.”

I said I would be there and hung up.

I looked out of the window and discovered that it was raining again. As I was getting ready to grab my raincoat and head to Duke’s Club, the telephone bell rang.

“There’s a call for you from Trenton,” the operator told me. “Can you hold on?”

I guessed it would be Reverend Waters and I was right.

“What’s going on Harry?” he demanded when he came on the line. “Why haven’t you called me? I told you to keep me informed.”

At this point I was in no mood to take anything from him. It was because he hadn’t bothered to keep any kind of control over Brittany that I was in this jam.

“I haven’t got the time to keep calling you, Reverend,” I snapped back. “But now you are on the line, I may as well tell you the bad news: we are heading for a scandal and a stink that even you and your connections won’t be able to keep off the front pages of every newspaper in America except your own.”

I heard him draw in a sharp breath. I could imagine his face turning red.

“Have you gone crazy Harry?” he said angrily. “What the hell…?”

“Listen Reverend: I have an appointment at Duke’s Club and I’m in a hurry,” I broke in. “I do have a valid proof that your daughter Brittany was a drug addict and a blackmailer. Her clients and most of her friends are low lives, degenerates and criminals. She was also Aquiles Gomez’s mistress. The word on the street is that it was she who put the finger on Aquiles Gomez, and she was probably murdered because she was foolish enough to try to blackmail his killer.”

Reverend Waters went ballistic.

“Jesus H. Christ! You’ll be sorry for this, Harry!” he bellowed. “You must be either drunk or high on some drug yourself to talk this way to me. How dare you tell such lies about Brittany! She was a good, decent girl…”

“Don’t get too dramatic Reverend,” I broke in impatiently. “Just wait until you see the evidence. I have a list of fifteen men who are her clients and whom she blackmailed because she needed money to buy drugs. I didn’t made the list up Reverend. They are real names, some of whom I knew personally. Lieutenant Ludlum also know about the list. There’s a private detective who has been shadowing her ever since she arrived in Middle River, and he has almost a whole book of evidence with dates and details that you can’t silence.”

There was a sudden silence at the other end of the line. I raised the receiver and looked at it for a moment, thinking that we had been cut off. I placed it back to my ear again and listened carefully. That was when I heard the his  heavy breathing.

“I’d better come down to Middle River,” he said at last, and in a much milder tone. “I’m sorry I bawled at you Harry. I should have known you wouldn’t say anything against Brittany without proof. I am really in a shock. Perhaps it’s not as bad as it sounds?”

“I can see your concern, Reverend,” I said. “But this is a real mess and we’ve got to face it.”

“I will not be free until Thursday,” he said, with all the hardness out of his voice by now. “So I’ll be in my house in Middle River on Friday. Can we have a meeting on Friday night?”

“Friday night won’t work for me, sir,” I said. “ Things are moving fast down here. But we will work out a more convenient day when you are here.”

“Can you talk to Lieutenant Ludlum? Perhaps we can get an adjournment at the inquest? I will need some time to study this thing.”

“It’s a murder case, Reverend,” I replied. “So, our hands are tied.”

“Well, talk to him anyway. I’m relying on you, Harry.”

I grinned. Soon you won’t rely on me anymore, I thought. I wondered what he would do or say when he finds out I was one of the fifteen men who had fooled around with Brittany.

“I’ll talk to him, if you insist,” I said, “but I doubt if he will listen.”

“Who killed her, Harry?”

“A guy named McCutchen Smith,” I said, knowing he will be surprised.

“Wait a minute! Are you saying that councilman McCutchen Smith killed my daughter? Jesus Christ! I will..”

“Don’t do anything yet, Reverend,” I said, cutting him off. “I can’t prove it at the moment, but I’m going to have a try. It’s my bet he killed Aquiles Gomez and Brittany sold Aquiles Gomez to him.”

“This is both ugly and fantastic!” He really sounded as if he had taken a knock. “Anything I can do at this end? Seriously, I’m still confused about how Brittany got mixed up with these bad people. That a man who was weaned on my teats politically will pay me back this way get me more confused. What the hell is this world coming to?”

“Well, it happens,” I said. “ In any case, if you can get the boys to dig into Aquiles Gomez’s background, they might turn up something useful. See if they can get more things on  councilman McCutchen Smith and Vito Roselli. I want a hook-up between these two. See if they can get anything on what Brittany was up to and if she did go to Aquiles Gomez’s apartment.”

“Do you expect me to do that, you punk?” His voice rose to a shout. “I won’t! I don’t want anyone to know about this thing! This has to be hushed up, Harry!”

I laughed.

“Listen, Reverend,” I said. “you have as much hope of hushing this up as you’ve got in keeping a dynamite explosion quiet.”

After saying this, I hung up.

I waited a brief moment, then put a call through to Middle River Police. I asked if Lieutenant Ludlum was on duty. The desk sergeant told me to hold on son he can check if he was in his office. After about a minute, Lieutenant Ludlum came on the line.

“Yes, Mr. Harry?” He sounded calm and unexcited. “How may I help you?”

“I just want to confirm that the inquest will be held at eleven-thirty,” I said. “Am I correct?”

“That’s right, Harry. I am going down there tonight. Do you want to accompany me?”

“Not tonight,” I replied. “I will try to get there in the morning. How’s the investigation going?”

“It is satisfactory so far.”

“Any arrest yet?”

“Not yet. But, as I’m sure you know, these things take time.”

“I know,” I said. I wondered if I should tell him that Reverend Waters is yelling for an adjournment, but I decided it is not necessary at the moment. “How about Ms. Brittany’s family house? Are you through there yet?”

“Sure,” he said. “I was going to tell you. I left the key with the Parish secretary. And I took the police guards off this morning.”

“Thanks for letting me know Lieutenant,” I said. “I’ll now get busy and have the place cleared. Did you, by any chance, notice the telephone number written on the wall in their lounge?”

“Yeah,” Lieutenant Ludlum said. He didn’t sound very interested. “We checked it. It is the number of one Grace Roselli, a friend of Brittany.”

“Are you aware that Grace Roselli is the daughter of Vito Roselli, whom you boys are supposed to be looking for?”

There was a pause, then his said quietly, “Sure. I know that.”

“Well, I just thought it might have slipped your mind,” I said, and dropped the receiver back on its cradle.

END OF EPISODE XXVII

P.S. Episode Twenty-Eight  will be published here next Monday.

The Pastor’s Daughter: Episode XXVI

I entered the Middle River Press Club in Hawthorn Village at ten the following morning and asked the steward if there was anyone waiting for me. He told me there was a gentleman waiting for me in the coffee bar.  From the tone of his voice I understood that he was just trying to be nice and polite by using the word ‘gentleman.’

I found Revkin sitting in a corner, holding his hat and staring blankly at the opposite wall of the coffee bar. He had a leather portfolio which he rested on his laps. I took him over to a more comfortable chair and we sat down. I could smell the garlic on his breadth. The smell was strong enough to strip the barnacles off a ship’s keel.

“Well, Mr. Revkin,” I began. “What do you have for me?”

“Following your request, Mr. Harry,” he said, undoing the straps on his portfolio, “I have set six of my best men to work on Ms. Brittany’s background. I am still waiting for their reports. However, in the meantime, I have been able to gain access to a considerable amount of information from another source.” He scratched his ear and, moving uncomfortably in his chair, he went on, “You must understand  that in this kind of investigation some unpleasant facts often come to light. I said that to prepare you for what is in my report.”

Well, I had found so many rotten things about Brittany’s life myself. So I wasn’t surprised that he and his men had made similar discoveries.

“Please continue,” I said. “I already know some of the things you are going to tell me. Just don’t forget I warned you that this was a confidential business. Brittany was the daughter of Reverend Waters. And as I’m sure you know already, the Reverend is a very powerful and well-connected man, and we’ve got to be careful.”

“I’m aware of that, Mr. Harry.” Revkin looked even more uncomfortable. “You realize Lieutenant Ludlum is also working along the same lines as we? The way I see it, it will not be long before he will have the same information as I have here.” He tapped his portfolio. “I guess the best way to put it is that he will have the information in three days’ time.”

I stared at him.

“What made you so sure of that?”

“Perhaps you know that Ms. Brittany was a drug addict?” Revkin said. “Her father, the Reverend, gave her a very small allowance. But she needed more money to fund her drug habit. Anyway, to get more money to buy drugs, she blackmailed a number of men with whom she had been intimate.”

My mind told me he had probably found out that I had been a prospective victim of hers too.

“Well,” I said. “I believe I know that already.  You didn’t answer my question. Why are you so sure Lieutenant Ludlum…?”

“If you will excuse me, Mr. Harry,” Revkin broke in. “I will come to that in a moment. In this folder I have a list of names and addresses of the men from whom Ms. Brittany obtained money. You are paying for this investigation, so I will leave the list for you to study.” He gave me a long, slow stare that made my heart to skip a beat. Now, I have no doubt in my mind that my name was on the list.

“Who gave you this information?” I asked, bringing out my pack of Marlboro and offering it to him.

“No thanks,” he said. “I don’t smoke Marlboro. If you may allow me…”

He brought out a stick of Newport and lit it.

“I got the list from Mr. Daniel Guth, a private detective who once worked for the police. He handles only special cases and his fees are pretty high. Anyway, I have known Mr. Daniel Guth for years and I have been able to help him from time to time with my much larger organization. I approached him for help because I know you wanted information urgently. He immediately produced all these information I have here, which are already in his files.”

“How did he get them?” I asked, leaning forward and staring at Revkin.

“He had instructions to watch Ms. Brittany on her arrival in Middle River. So, he and his men never let her out of their sight during the time she was in Middle River.”

This new information really shook me.

“Did they follow her to Atlantic City?” I asked.

“Not at all,” he replied. “They had no instructions to do that. Daniel was told to watch her only while she was in Middle River.”

“Who gave him the instruction to watch her then?”

Revkin grinned sadly.

“Unfortunately, I can’t tell you, Mr. Harry. I have already given you too much information that are strictly confidential.  I must also tell you that Daniel agreed to help me because he is my very good friend, and because I gave him my sacred word that I would not pass on the information.”

“Since you have broken your sacred word already, why not just tell me who gave him the instruction?”

Revkin smiled sadly.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Harry,” he said. “I just can’t give you that information.”

I sat back.

“You said Lieutenant Ludlum could have this information in three days’ time. How do you know this?”

“Mr. Daniel was planning to give the information  to the Lieutenant Ludlum. It was I who persuaded him to hold on for three days.”

“But, why should he give Lieutenant Ludlum this information?”

“Because he suspects Ms. Brittany was murdered,” Revkin said mournfully, “and he feels that it is his duty to give the Lieutenant the information. I know this may sound strange to you, but the truth is that it is only when investigators help the police that the police in their turn will help them. Investigation work is a form of symbiotic relationship. See what I mean?”

“I guess I can see that,” I said. “But, why did you tell him to hold the information for three days?”

He moved uncomfortably.

“Just read the report, Mr. Harry,” he said. “You know why after you read it. As my client, I figured there may be things you would like to do before the police gets the report. In other words, I have gained a little time for you.”

I tried to look at his eyes, but I couldn’t make it. I was feeling pretty bad. So, I stubbed out my cigarette and lit another one.

“My name is on the list, correct?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

Revkin nodded.

“Yes Mr. Harry,” he replied. “It is known that you went to Atlantic City on the afternoon she died. It is known you visited their house in Victory Villa twice during the night. It was also known that she telephoned you at your office, just to ‘to make sure you are coming as we planned’, and that she used, while speaking to you, the name Mrs.  Graham Reed. Mr. Daniel took the precaution to tap your telephone line.”

I sat for a moment, motionless. I could barely breathe.

“And Mr. Daniel is going to turn this information over to Lieutenant Ludlum?”

Revkin looked as if he were going to cry.

“Yes, Harry” he replied. “Mr. Daniel feels it is his duty to do so. Besides, he knows he could get into serious trouble if he withhold evidence in a murder case. If the police found out, he could be charged as an accessory.”

“But he is still willing to give me three days’ grace, in spite of that?”

“I persuaded him to do so, Harry.”

I looked at him, feeling like a rabbit who has seen a boa constrictor in its burrow. This was it! Finally, I am cornered. This was something I just couldn’t lie myself out of. If Lieutenant Ludlum knew I was Graham Reed, he wouldn’t even need the note that I had left for Brittany. He will put two and two together and conclude I was her killer. I wasn’t kidding myself that I could get out of this spot once Lieutenant Ludlum had Mr. Daniel’s report in his hands.

Revkin’s voice brought me out of my nightmare.

“Look Mr. Harry,” he said. “Why not read the report yourself? Then perhaps we might talk again. You never know: you may have a new idea or some instructions for me.”

He was careful not to look at me. I had the feeling that there was something sinister behind this remark. Unfortunately, I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Alright,” I said. “Let me have it. And please, give me up to half an hour to go  through it. I mean, if you are not in a hurry?”

“Sure, Mr. Harry,” he said, and pulled a sheaf of papers from his portfolio. He handed them to me and said, “I’m not in a hurry at all.”

I took the papers from him and told him that I will read them at the cocktail bar. He said he was okay with that. I then left him and walked down the hallway to the cocktail bar. I had the place for myself because it was Sunday morning. Most people are either at the church or are still lying lazily in their beds.

The bar tender appeared and gave me a look that indicated that this was no time to bother him. But then, who cares? Anyway, I ordered a glass of Vodka, carried the drink to a corner table and sat down. I drank almost half of the Vodka in the glass in one gulp and it did something to blot out my trapped feeling, but it didn’t take away my fear.

I carefully read the twenty-paged report. In it were a list of fifteen names, most of which are people that I knew. Marcus Evans’s name headed the list. Mine appeared at the middle of the list. There were dates when Brittany spent the night with Marcus Evans, when he called on her at their house in Victory Villa, when she spent nights with other men. These I skipped through. I focused my attention on the details concerning my own activities with Brittany. Revkin hadn’t been lying when he had told me that Daniel Guth and his men had had never let Brittany out of their sight. A simple way to put it is that every meeting I had had with Brittany was carefully logged. The report also contained every word that she and I had ever said to each other on the telephone. The details of other telephone conversations between her and other men were also there to read. By the time I finished reading the report my head was spinning. It was obvious to me now that I was just another of Brittany’s prospective blackmail victims.

Three days!

Could I possibly pin Brittany’s murder on councilman McCutchen before then? Would it be better to go to Lieutenant Ludlum and confess the whole truth and let him go after councilman McCutchen? But why would he anyway? He had only to listen to my story to be convinced that I killed Brittany. No…that wouldn’t be a smart way to handle it.

Then a sudden idea struck me. There was not one mention of councilman McCutchen or Grace Roselli in Daniel Guth’s report. Surely, Brittany must have telephoned either one or the other at least once. The fact that Grace’s telephone number had been scribbled on Brittany’s wall proved that. Then why wasn’t councilman McCutchen or Grace in the report?

I sat thinking about this for several minutes. Then I asked the bar tender to get me the Middle River telephone directory. He handed it to me as if he was doing me a favor. Then he asked me if I would like another drink.

“Not at this time,” I replied.

I flicked through the pages of the telephone directory, looking for Daniel Guth’s name, but it didn’t show. This didn’t raise any red flag. He probably ran his agency with a different name, some type of alias maybe. I crossed over to the telephone booth near the bar and called Leifert Green. It took a little time to wake him up and get him out of bed and answer the phone.

“Oh my Gawd!” He exclaimed when he came on the line. “Don’t you know it’s Sunday, you crazy Baltimorean? I didn’t get to bed until three in the morning.”

“Take it easy, my good friend,” I said. “I just want some information, that’s  all. Have you ever heard of  Daniel Guth, a private detective who only handles special cases and is very expensive?”

“No, I haven’t,” Leifert said. “Know what I think? You’ve got the name wrong. I know all the private detectives in Baltimore City and Baltimore County. Daniel Guth  isn’t one of them. And, as I’m sure you know, Middle River is in Baltimore County. Now, can I go back to sleep?”

“Just a minute,” I said. “Are you sure Daniel Guth couldn’t be someone you’ve missed?”

“I’m one hundred and ten percent sure he isn’t. You’ve got the name wrong.”

“Thanks Leifert. Sorry to have got you out of bed,” I said, and I hung up before he could start cursing me.

I carried the Vodka back to my table and went through the report again. According to the report, out of the fifteen men whom Brittany had blackmailed, I was the only one who not only had the motive, but also the opportunity to kill her.

While drinking my Vodka, I spent another five minutes turning the set-up over in my mind. I soon finished my drink, and, feeling a little high, I went back to the coffee bar. Revkin still sat where I had left him, twiddling his hat and looking like someone who’s confused.

“Thanks for letting me read this, Mr. Revkin,” I said, and offered him the sheaf of papers.

He recoiled from it as if I had waved a black-spotted rattle snake in his face.

“That copy is for you, Mr. Harry,” he said. “I wouldn’t wish to keep it.”

“Thanks,” I said, folding the papers and putting them in my inside pocket. “So Daniel Guth has copies of these papers?”

The corners of Revkin’s mouth turned down.

“Yes, unfortunately,” he replied.

I lit a Marlborough cigarette and stretched my legs. I wasn’t feeling scared any more because I now had the idea of what was behind this set-up.

“Is Daniel Guth wealthy?” I asked.

Revkin raised his eyes and looked inquiringly at me.

“Mr. Harry, private detectives are never rich,” he said. “For a month you work, then for three months, perhaps, you  have no client and no work. I wouldn’t say Mr. Daniel Guth is well off.”

“Do you think he will play ball? I mean, can we make a deal with him?”

Revkin appeared to consider this. He scratched the top of his head and frowned down at the ashtray that stood on the table by him.

“How do you mean, Mr. Harry?”

“I’m willing to buy these reports from,” I said. “You must have read them.”

“Yes, Mr. Harry. I have read them.”

“If Lieutenant Ludlum got hold of them, he might jump to the conclusion that I killed Brittany.”

Revkin looked as if he were going to cry.

“That was the unfortunate impression that I got, Mr. Harry. That was the only reason why I persuaded Mr. Daniel Guth not to do anything for three days.”

“Do you think Daniel Guth’s high sense of duty would prevent him from making a deal with me?”

Revkin shrugged his fat shoulders.

“Well, I may as well tell you, Mr. Harry, that in my line of work one always look ahead. The best practice in my line of work is to be prepared for every contingency. I thought it was possible that you would wish to keep these reports from Lieutenant Ludlum. I mentioned the fact to Daniel Guth. But he is a difficult man: his sense of duty is over-developed. However, he and I have been good friends for almost a decade and I can put my cards on the table. I know his ambition is to buy a town house in Rosedale. So it is possible that he could play ball.”

“Would you help me to persuade him?”

Revkin appeared to hesitate.

“You are my client, Mr. Harry. So, I’m obliged to give you my full support. That’s how I built up my business. This is difficult and dangerous for me because I could be prosecuted. However, if you want it, I’m ready to take the risk since I put my customers first.”

“Your motives are as impressive as Mr. Daniel Guth’s,” I said.

He smiled mournfully.

“I’m here to serve, Mr. Harry,” he said.

“What do you imagine a down payment for a house in Rosedale would cost?” I asked looking directly at him. “Did you think to ask him?”

He met my eyes without any effort.

“I did touch on the subject. Mr. Daniel and I, we talk about everything because we are friends. I must tell you that Mr. Daniel isn’t entirely without means. I believe about five thousand dollars will make him to play ball.”

Five thousand dollars!

That would clean me right out. During my five years as a newspaper man at Middle River Times I had managed to save just that amount.

“And for that amount Mr. Daniel Guth would be prepared to hand over all the copies of this report and said nothing to the police and the press?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Harry, but I could ask him. I believe I may be able to persuade him to do that.”

“What would you want in return for doing that for me? I mean, are you going to charge me for doing it?” I asked. “Frankly, five thousand dollars would leave me flat. So, if there was to be a fee for you, you would have to get it from Mr. Daniel Guth.”

“That could be arranged if it were necessary, Mr. Harry,” Revkin said quietly. “After all, I shall be paid for my work on this by Reverend Waters. You did mention that the fee would be very substantial. I’m at your service. The best way to retain a client is to be useful to them.”

“I appreciate your help,” I said.  “So, you can fix the deal with Mr. Daniel Guth then?”

“As soon as possible, Mr. Harry. I should have news for you in a few hours. Are you okay with me meeting you at your apartment at one o’clock?”

“No problem,” I said. “Be my guest.”

“Then you will hear from me soon.”

He got to his feet and left.

I had no doubt on my mind that Mr. Daniel Guth didn’t exist and that Revkin had been hired by someone to watch Brittany. I also had no doubt that if I were going to pay up, then five thousand dollars would go directly into Revkin’s pocket.

There wasn’t much I could do about this. There might be a way out, but I hadn’t much time to figure it out. Everything now depended on if I could gain time.

I returned to my apartment and waited.

Revkin didn’t call me until two o’clock. By then I was worried and sweating and pacing the room.

“I have some good news for you, Mr. Harry” he said. “It’s done. Would Wednesday morning  be okay for you to settle the conditions?”

“Not really,” I replied. “I can’t do it before Thursday. I will have to sell…”

“Not on the telephone,” Revkin said, a sudden agony in his voice. “The walls have ears. It is not smart to discuss anything of this nature over an open line. Thursday is fine. Our associate has asked me to work with you. I will call you at noon on Thursday.”

I said I would be expecting his call and hung up.

END OF EPISODE XXVI

P.S. Episode Twenty-Seven  will be published here next Monday.