CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“So was she beautiful?” Luna asked.
“Define beautiful.” Henry answered as he plugged in the strange little device.
Luna sat across the kitchen table from Henry and gave him a look. She was adorable and Henry’s fondness for her seemed to be growing daily.
Luna opened the box and read the cover aloud, "Billy Joel, The Stranger 30th Anniversary Edition. Look at this…” She pointed to the date, ‘Live at Carnegie Hall, June 3, 1977,' and looked at Henry. Henry shook his head, still unsure of what it meant that he had a closet with a fondness for the future. The obvious questions, ‘How did it work?’, ‘Why him?’, and ‘Who sent the stuff?’ were ones he rarely asked as he couldn’t even begin to wrap his mind around any possible answers.
“Twenty seven years from now. Let’s give it a listen and see what they are up to in the seventies.”
Luna took out the contents as Henry grabbed a bottle of wine. “Look, there is a journal sort of thing and a picture book…oh, and another record.”
“I think they are called DVDs.”
“What does DVD mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“These two say CD on them, but they look the same.”
Henry took the first disk, a CD, and put it in the little player. He hesitated before hitting the button to start it. “You have your paper ready?”
Luna flipped open her notebook. It was just like Henry’s. When he had given it to her earlier, she had squealed with delight. Now she was acting professional and picked up her pencil. “I’m ready.”
“Anything you find interesting, jot it down. We have no idea why the closet sends me this stuff, but there is always a reason.”
He hit the play button, and a list of titles appeared on the screen. They both started writing them down, starting with “Movin’ Out (Anthony’s Song)”.
Luna said, “Music from the future. It’s nice. He just mentioned Hackensack; maybe it's a clue?”
Henry wrote, "Sutherland street down," then hit pause. A chill ran down his spine. “I didn’t tell you about this morning.”
Henry recounted the trip to the Woolworth building and their surprise at the twenty-third floor being empty.
She looked excited and pushed the button. The song continued. They listened to one after another: “The Stranger”, “Just the Way You Are”, and when "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant” started, Luna said, “I really like music from the future. Hey, look, we have a bottle of red.” It was half empty, and she was taking fewer notes. “Dance with me.”
She pulled him up from the kitchen table. They started to sway together until the change in tempo and then Luna let go and bopped around the room. She didn’t know where the song was going nor did she care. Henry liked her easy way with life.
“It's a story. Fun.” Luna said.
Henry sat back down and wrote, "Brenda and Eddie" in his notebook.
She stopped dancing and said, “Oh, it has a sad ending; they got a divorce. But it's still fun to dance to.” She started bopping around again. Luna waved "Brenda and Eddie Goodbye." The tempo changed again, and she grabbed Henry and said, “He is quite the piano player.” She looked into his eyes, then rested her head on his chest. They swayed for a while, right into "Vienna". The notes could wait; Henry could listen for clues later.
Henry turned off the player after "Vienna" finished. Luna looked up at Henry with tired eyes and said, “I should probably be getting home.”
Henry gave her a long slow kiss. She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a tight hug. “Detective work is nice.”
Henry said, “I think I'm going to go back to the city and do a bit more work.”
“Don’t stay up too late...Opening Day tomorrow. I’ve never been to an Opening Day.”
“Don’t worry about me. I hear Carl Erskine is getting the start.”
Luna smiled. She had no idea who Carl Erskine was, but she liked how excited Henry got when talking baseball.
Henry snuck in one more kiss before he said goodbye. It was about 11:00, and Henry had too much on his mind to pack it in for the evening. He brought the player and box with him and drove to his apartment.
It was an easy drive into the city.
The hallway outside his apartment was quiet. Henry opened the door. He walked in, set the player on the table, and went to grab a beer from the fridge. The phone rang before he got there. “Hello?”
“Henry, this is Mike, I tried a little while ago, but you didn’t answer.”
“I was out with Luna and just got back.”
“I know it’s late, but I need you to come down to a crime scene.”
“Sure, who is it?”
“I wouldn’t have bothered you, but, after the Woolworth building today, well, it was too much of a coincidence.”
“What was?”
“The victim has a picture of Daniel Kupton on her bedside table.”
“The victim, is it Cynthia Pollard?”
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
“I had dinner with her, tonight. She was his mistress.”
“I’ll send a car.”
***
Henry walked onto Cynthia's floor. Mike was standing in the hall talking to another officer. “This way,” Mike said.
They stopped at the door. The chain had been broken. In her hallway, a vase had been knocked off the table, and they carefully stepped over the puddle of water and lilies. Cynthia Pollard was lying on the floor next to her couch. She was wearing only a silk robe. Henry could see the red marks of a rope burn around her neck. He felt sick. More than that, he was angry.
“What time did you get the call?”
“The lady upstairs heard a scuffle and called at 9:27 pm. The first officer on the scene arrived less than five minutes later.”
“Any witnesses see someone leaving?”
“No, which is strange, as it's a secure building. The doorman reports that she got out of a cab at 9:10. He said there was a guy with her.”
“That would have been me.”
“Oh, yeah…right…sorry.”
Henry gave them a rundown of his evening. After a look around the apartment, he went with Mike down to the station to fill out an official report. The song "The Stranger", or at least the whistling, ran through his head.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It didn’t matter that he barely knew her; they had broken bread. Henry sat alone at Mike’s desk. He filled out an official report. Mike had called Luna, just to check the alibi and make it official. Henry didn’t mind.
Henry looked at the stack of file folders next to the name plate "Mike McDermott Detective." It was a strange collection of names on the tabs. Henry didn’t give it much thought as he cared little about Mike’s other cases. It was hard to imagine who might have killed Cynthia beyond a jealous Mrs. Kupton. He considered his client Amy Silverton, but dismissed her without any reason other than he didn’t want it to be her. She had seemed less than friendly towards Cynthia when she mentioned her as the mistress. Still, Henry thought that to hire a detective, then go out and kill someone without leaving any proof, seemed unlikely.
He knew Mike would be obligated to check out Mrs. Kupton, so he didn’t add it to his list. Seeing Amy was now tops on Henry's list. Obviously, there were more people in Daniel’s life, and he needed to know who they were. One of them must have killed Cynthia, but why? What could she have known or done to deserve it?
Mike returned with two cups of black coffee. “I called the captain and told him what was going on. I hated to wake his wife, but with Cynthia's connection to Kupton, I knew he would want to know.”
“What did he say?”
“Not much, just took it in.”
“Did you tell him about the disappearing tenants from the twenty-third floor?” asked Henry.
Mike said, “Yep, I told him when I got back to the station after dropping you off. He agreed that it seemed strange, but he isn’t convinced we have a murder on our hands. He said that people must move out of office buildings all the time.”
“I'm sure they do but an entire floor without anyone noticing?”
“Maybe they were magicians?”
Mike wasn’t known for his sense of humor, but Henry gave him a courtesy laugh anyway.
“I would like to know where they vanished to,” Henry said.
“I wonder how many buildings in town could accommodate that size of tenant on short notice.”
“Who would know something like that?”
The wheels in both their heads were turning but quickly ground to a halt. “I'm beat. I think I’ll head home if you no longer think I'm a suspect.”
Mike said, “You're free to go, my friend. It has been a long day, and I think I’ll head home, too. The case will be here, tomorrow. I'm sure someone in the precinct can figure out where they moved to or, at the very least, knows a real estate person who would. I’ll even check with city hall. Maybe there are permits or something.”
“Permits for what?”
“Sneakiness maybe?”
Henry looked at his watch and smiled. “It’s Opening Day.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Henry hadn’t slept much, maybe three hours. He had to be back to the office by 7:30 a.m. since Alan was going to be there to check for bugs. At 7:20 he passed Bobby’s office. The door popped open. Normally, the thought of getting roped into a lengthy conversation with Bobby would start the "excuse machine" running.
The strangest thing about Bobby was his office. Henry had only been through the door once. Usually, Bobby sort of slid through into the hall, barely giving a glimpse of what was inside. The one time he was inside, it was filled with mountains of newspapers, magazines, and books. There was a back room, too, which Henry imagined was about the size of Delaware.
“Hey, Henry, how are you today?” Bobby asked and continued without waiting for an answer. “I’m great; I got some new books, and they are wonderful. One of them is a chess book by a guy named Garry, there is another book about the Civil War, and there are some great travel books on Russia. I've always wanted to see the Baltic Sea. Have you ever been to Russia?”
“No, I haven’t, but…”
“You should go sometime. Celine said she has never been to Russia, either. She is nice. I'm glad you hired her. Is she doing a good job?”
“Yes, she is; I think the business…”
“I knew it. Are you working on any interesting cases? I really liked helping you that one time. If you ever need anything, I'm at your service. You think you'll need some help?”
“I don’t know…”
A brief, sad look flashed across his eyes, then it was gone. “That’s okay; I understand you're busy. I won’t keep bothering you.” He gave a quick smile, but didn’t look at Henry. Bobby disappeared into his office.
Henry was stunned, but he didn’t have time to dwell. He walked down the hall and opened the office. He went to put on some coffee, but they were out. Celine wouldn’t be in until 9:00 a.m., so he decided he would wait until Alan arrived, let him get started, then pop out and grab a couple of cups.
Alan knocked softly. Henry opened the door. Alan raised his finger to his lips. Alan carried a black doctor’s bag and set it on Celine’s desk. Henry, not wanting to talk, showed him an empty coffee cup, performed a rudimentary mime. Alan mouthed "two sugars". Henry left him to his search.
The morning paper was one of Henry's favorite routines. Henry turned to the sports page. He read about the Pirates who would be taking the field in a few short hours to face his beloved Brooklyn Dodgers. He knew that Erskine would be starting for the Dodgers and read that the hard-throwing Max Surkont would be taking the hill for the Pirates. Not being in a hurry, he read the rest of the sports section and bought two cups of coffee. When he walked back into the office, Alan was sitting on the desk looking at the receiver.
“I'm just finishing up.”
Henry noticed the talking ban had been lifted. “Here, two sugars.”
“Your wiring is fine as are the phones. I searched the office and there aren't any sign of bugs. Well, I saw a cockroach in the corner, but it looked like it had been dead for a while.”
“How do you explain the clicking?”
“I can’t, but you mind if I make a call?”
“Go ahead.”
Alan dialed and said, “Roxanne, how are you this morning…I know…yes…I meant to, but I'm calling now. Hold on just a minutes, let me talk. I'm calling to ask if you want to have lunch. I know, I'm sorry, but I've been busy. Sure, that place on Broadway, say 11:30? Now, I need you to do me a favor and be quiet. I want to listen to the line.” There was ten seconds of silence. “Great, thanks, Roxanne. I'll see you later. You’re a doll.”
“Roxanne?”
“She’s a good kid but somewhat clingy. I should have called, though, but she’ll forgive me.”
Henry smiled and said, “You're a charmer.” Opening his wallet and handing a twenty to Alan, “Did you hear the clicking?”
“Nope.”
“Let me make a call.” Henry dialed and Amy answered. “Hey, I was wondering if you had time to meet me tomorrow? I want to ask you a few things.”