(1988) The Golden Room (8 page)

He lowered himself into a chair behind his desk. ‘It won’t take long,’ he said, ‘but allow me to explain the procedure. I’m going to examine you once again, Fanny, in better light, just to be absolutely sure of my diagnosis. Then if necessary, I’ll examine you, Mr Simon, to learn if there are any signs of your having the disease.’

‘I certainly hope not,’ said Varney.

‘There’s a fifty-fifty chance. If you show no evidence of the disease, you have not a thing to worry about. If you do show any signs of syphilis, I’ll treat you just as I’ll treat Fanny.’

‘I’ve never had it before,’ said Fanny. ‘What are you going to do to cure me?’

‘If the syphilis has been absorbed into your blood, I’ll prescribe the mercury treatment,’ explained Dr Holmes. ‘I’ll give you mercury in the form of pills, and then you’ll need — your friend as well - a mercury vapour bath.’

‘It won’t take long, will it?’ asked Varney.

‘No more than the examination itself.’ Dr Holmes stood up. ‘Now follow me down the hall to my examining-room.’

‘I thought you were going to examine us here,’ said Fanny, rising.

‘I prefer to undertake examinations of this sort in an isolated room,’ said Dr Holmes. ‘Please come along.’

He walked them both to the rear and pushed a button, sliding open the door to his airtight room.

‘Come inside,’ he ordered.

Dr Holmes went into the chamber, followed by a bewildered Fanny and Varney.

The physician led them to an oversized examining-table in the centre of the room, and waved his hand at the features of the room around him.

‘The sheeting and covered windows are to give absolute assurance of privacy. I suggest you both undress and seat yourselves side by side on the examining table.’

‘Together?’ Fanny asked. ‘Both of us at the same time?’

‘Do it,’ Holmes replied sharply.

Turning his back, he left the room. Once outside the room, he secured the heavy door.

He walked leisurely to his office.

Once at his desk, he took up a pipe, filled it, lit it and smoked, taking his time to give them the interval to undress. Their nakedness would save him a lot of time later.

After three or four minutes, he put his pipe down in a copper ashtray, and strolled over to the concealed levers.

Coolly, he flipped on the lever that would send gas into the room where Fanny and Varney awaited his reappearance. The poisonous gas would begin to pour from four jets into the airtight room. In seconds Fanny and her friend would become aware of it. In a minute, they would realize that something was amiss. In a few minutes, they would begin choking, strangling, crying for help.

But no one anywhere would hear their pleas.

Dr Holmes smiled broadly. He pulled out his watch. In five minutes they would be asphyxiated. First one, then the other, would drop to the floor.

He peered at his watch.

One more minute and they would be dead.

The Everleigh Club would be safe for Dr Herman Holmes.

The watch in his hand ticked on. A full minute had passed.

The two of them were dead. The double-crossers had been silenced for ever.

Dr Holmes turned off the gas. Then he pressed a second lever upward to open the narrow windows on top of the secret room. This clearing process usually took about ten minutes.

In fifteen minutes, the chamber would be safe for the return of Dr Holmes.

Waiting, Holmes shuffled through several medical journals, but had no patience with them. He had recently purchased two novels by E. P. Roe and George Barr McCutcheon. He picked up the Roe book and tried to begin reading, but his excitement made it too hard to continue. He brought up his watch twice, and after twelve minutes had passed he threw the novel aside, walked out of his office, and made for the lethal chamber.

Parting the sliding doors, he stepped inside. A faint aroma of gas was still in the air. Inhaling, Holmes was satisfied the chamber was clear enough. His eyes held on the two bodies crumpled on the floor in front of the examining table. Fanny was nude, but, curiously, the man named Simon had not undressed.

Holmes went to them, kneeled, and felt for a pulse.

No beat in either.

Dead. Both dead.

Pleased, Holmes took hold of Fanny underneath her armpits and dragged her to the trap door leading to the basement. Lowering her to the floor, Holmes tugged open the trap door. Unceremoniously, Holmes lifted Fanny’s corpse, settled it into the chute, and let go. It slid down and away and out of sight. Then he sent her clothes down after her.

Holmes decided he’d dispose of Fanny first, before coming back to get rid of Simon. Holmes strode to the second trap door, yanked it free, and carefully descended the staircase.

Once downstairs, Holmes opened the furnace and started a fire. He turned to lift up Fanny’s body, carried it to the tank of quicklime, and lowered it inside. After a short interval, he emptied the tank, and, donning long rubber gloves, picked up Fanny’s corpse and carried it to his dissection table. He stretched the remains out flat, peeled off his gloves, picked up a scalpel, and resumed his work.

Slowly, with considerable precision, Holmes dismembered the body part by part, until seven parts lay before him.

Opening the furnace, he took each part and tossed it into the blazing kiln. Then he threw in her clothes.

He shut the furnace. While the remains were being cremated, Holmes carefully washed and cleaned the dissecting-table. When he was satisfied, he went to the staircase and climbed up into the secret chamber.

There was still the man to be dealt with. Holmes headed for this second corpse, prepared to cast it down the chute, when he hesitated.

Simon’s complete disappearance might not deter Mayor Harrison’s investigation, Holmes decided.

He thought about it some more. If Simon’s body could be found, and identified, the mayor would somehow learn about it. This would shock Harrison, and remind him that his effort to infiltrate the Everleigh Club had been of no avail. This might deter Harrison from risking another agent to expose the Club.

Holmes stared down at the lifeless body. Finally, Holmes went to his knees and began to search Simon’s trousers and jacket. There was only a wallet stuffed with money and a pack of richly embossed calling-cards that plainly identified the man as Jack Simon, president of Quality Beer Company in St Louis. Obviously a fake — but it had been enough to gain Simon entrance to the Everleigh Club, and it would be enough to have the corpse brought sooner or later to the mayor’s attention.

Instantly, Holmes’s mind was made up.

No chute, no quicklime, no dismemberment, no cremation for Jack Simon.

His corpse would be found whole, a victim of murder, but whole and identifiable.

That surely would give Harrison pause and make the mayor quit his investigation.

Dr Herman Holmes would then have the Everleigh Club to himself.

He put his mind to the problem of disposing of the body.

At three-twenty in the morning, Dr Holmes drove his new one-cylinder Packard touring car to the front door of the Castle. Even though the car was a bit conspicuous, it had the advantages of a roof, as well as separate back seats.

Leaving the automobile, Holmes stood in the street and surveyed the neighbourhood. There was not a human being in sight. It was sleep time, the silent time of the night -perfect for his purpose.

Going into the Castle, Holmes continued past his office to the sliding door of the death chamber, pushed the button, and went inside. The corpse lay sprawled on the floor. The body was thin, but it was dead weight; with an effort Holmes carried it out of the chamber and up the hallway to the front door. He propped the body half-seated against the pillar inside the front entrance, opened the door, and stepped outside.

He looked around the area.

No movement. No one anywhere.

There would be minimum risk.

With growing confidence, Holmes hoisted the body upwards, keeping it upright - if someone noticed, he could claim his companion was drunk - and pulled the body outside, to the rear of the Packard. The car had a tonneau entry from the rear, leading into the back seat. After pulling out this extra door, Holmes strained hard to lift the body higher, and

with difficulty succeeded in stuffing the corpse inside the car. Quietly, Holmes closed the door.

Wiping his brow, he once more cast his eyes about the neighbourhood to observe if there had been any witnesses. He could reassure himself there had been none.

He went to the entrance to the Castle and locked the front door.

Holmes hurried back to the Packard and climbed up, set-ding in behind the wheel. He started the car and sped off to the downtown Loop area.

As he came closer to the hub of the city, he noticed a few isolated late-nighters here and there, but not enough to cause concern.

After half an hour had passed, Holmes realized he was approaching the grey building that was the City Hall and also the main police station. He remembered the thickly wooded park in front of it, large and dense with foliage and trees. This was the place he was seeking.

The wooded park, black except for a few scattered electric carbon arc lights, came into view. Holmes watched for one of the dirt paths into the park, and turned a sharp left at the first path he spotted. The candles in the car’s headlights illuminated his way as he drove deeper into the woods.

At last he saw an opening, and turned right again for a short distance. Manoeuvring his car into the trees and bushes, be brought it to a halt. Stepping down from the driver’s seat, Holmes hastened to the rear. He opened the auxiliary door, reached in for the body, got a firm grip on it, and started to drag it out.

There was the sound of laughter nearby. His heart hammering with surprise and fright, Holmes shoved the body back into the car. Ducking behind a tree closer to the footpath, Holmes strained to see and finally saw a stylish young man in a suit and derby hat, arm around a young woman. They were strolling along to the edge of the park.

Holmes waited breathlessly until they were out of sight.

He heard the woman’s laughter once more, but it was distant. Soon no other sound could be heard.

Quickly, Holmes went back to the rear of the Packard, unlatched the tonneau door, and, wasting no more time, he dragged the corpse on to the grass. Then, holding it under the arms, he yanked it back farther, pulling it deeper into the woods.

At last he dropped it before a clump of bushes.

This, he decided, was an excellent spot. The body would be out of sight, but sooner or later - most likely sooner -some strollers would wander off the path and stumble upon the dead man.

Hastily, Holmes made his way to the Packard, checking his jacket to make certain it had not caught on a bramble and left a shred behind.

At the Packard, he paused to catch his breath again. There were no clues whatsoever, except for the markings of his automobile tyres and footprints, which he hastily erased with the side of his shoe.

Holmes got into his Packard and backed the car out to the footpath, pleased in the knowledge that he had left an anonymous warning to the meddlesome Mayor Carter Harrison -and that the Everleigh Club and its lush inhabitants would live on to be constantly enjoyed by Dr Herman Holmes.

It had been a bad night and a mystifying morning for Carter Harrison, Mayor of Chicago.

The previous evening, as he had been readying himself for bed, the mayor had received an excited telephone call from Karen Grant at the City Hall office.

‘I just heard from Gus Varney, and it is good news,’ she had cried out. ‘He telephoned me from somewhere to report - these were his words as I remember them - “Very good news. Tell the mayor. I’ll see you.” When I told him I’d notify you, he said, “Tell him not to rush.” Gus said it would

take him at least an hour, because he had to make another stop before coming in, and he couldn’t explain.’

‘Why the delay?’ Harrison had wanted to know. ‘What’s keeping him?’

‘He just wasn’t able to explain,’ Karen had repeated. ‘But he made it clear he would be here in an hour to tell you what he found out about the Everleighs. He insisted that what he had found out was what you wanted.’

‘Perfect!’ the mayor had exclaimed, fully awake and with rising enthusiasm. ‘I’ll get dressed and be over in less than an hour.’

Harrison had joined Karen Grant in his office, and together they had waited for the appearance of Gus Varney. Half an hour had passed, then two. Eventually it was after midnight, and still no Gus Varney.

By one o’clock in the morning the mayor had become discouraged. ‘I don’t know what could have happened to him.’

Karen had tried to soothe the mayor. ‘I’m sure it is that stop he had to make. Whatever it was, that must have delayed him. Why don’t you go home and catch some sleep? I’ll remain here for another hour. Don’t worry, Mayor, I’m sure Gus will turn up.’

The mayor had gone home. After another hour, Karen had called it quits and also gone home.

Now it was just before noon on the following morning, and Gus Varney had not turned up with his good news.

They had waited in the executive office, Harrison and Karen, from eight-thirty until twelve. Varney had not appeared and there had been no further word from him.

At last the mayor threw up his hands in despair. ‘I don’t like this,’ he told Karen. ‘I’m worried that something happened to him, something I don’t like to think about.’

‘But what could happen?’ Karen wondered aloud.

‘We’ll find out. I’m going to start checking around. Karen, call the chief of police for me.’

‘You mean Francis O’Neill?’

‘Himself. Get him on the telephone right now.’

Karen moved to the telephone, gave the operator the number for the main police station downstairs in City Hall, and waited. When someone answered, she stated that she was calling for Mayor Carter Harrison, who wished to speak to the chief of police immediately.

After a short wait, Karen spoke into the phone. ‘Chief O’Neill?’

‘Yes?’

‘This is Mayor Harrison’s office. I’m calling for the mayor. He wishes to speak to you on an urgent matter.’