ALM06 Who Killed the Husband? (22 page)

The old man was innocently pleased. "Yes, sir! Yes, sir! So one should dine! But 
Les Americains
 are always in a hurry!"

Lee picked up the menu. "To begin with, I would like a morsel of fresh caviar."

François' old face made a picture of distress. "I am sorry, sir, there is none. You see it has been removed from the card. We have not had any since...since Mr. Yohe went away."

"You are sure you could not find me a portion in the pantry?"

"Not for love nor money, sir. It is still to be had in New York, but when a customer desires it, we must be notified in advance."

Lee with a shrug appeared to let it go. Studying the menu, and consulting with François, he ordered his dinner. François entered into the choice with enthusiasm.

During the course of the meal he hovered around the table solicitously. At the moment he had no one else to wait on.

"François," said Lee, "don't you find it rather trying for a man of your years to work in so popular a restaurant? Such crowds come here every night."

"I do not serve the late-comers, sir. Younger men are required for that. I am only for dinner. My hours are from five-thirty until nine-thirty."

Lee thought: So much the better!

Later François was emboldened to ask: "If it is not presuming, 
M'sieu
, what gentleman was it that recommended me to you?"

Lee said: "It was no other than Mr. Yohe himself." The old man was curiously moved. Unable to speak, he looked at Lee with moist eyes and trembling lips. Lee said: "You were attached to Mr. Yohe, I take it?"

"Yes, sir! Yes, sir!" François said softly. "I owe much to Mr. Yohe. The whole staff was attached to him. It is not the same since he is gone. He was a fair-minded man; he would listen to you. Always you had to laugh with him. The lowest bus boy in this place felt that Mr. Yohe was his friend."

"I, too, am his friend," said Lee. "I am convinced that a terrible mistake has been made."

The old man's eyes glistened. He would have liked to shake Lee's hand but recollected himself in time. "You are the first gentleman I have heard to say that, 
M'sieu
! All were his friends before; all are against him now."

"What did you mean by saying that you owed much to him?" asked Lee.

"Mr. Yohe engaged me to work here, sir. I was having a very difficult time because everybody else said I was too old. But Mr. Yohe said he wanted men who had grown old in service. He was pleased with my work here. He said that I attracted the kind of dinner custom he wanted. Already there is a change since he is gone. I fear...That is why I was grateful to you, sir, for asking to be served by me."

Lee said: "Do not fear for the future, François. There is always a place for one as good as you."

"Thank you, 
M'sieu
!"

Lee found a Romanée Conti on the wine list that pleased him and he ordered a second half bottle with cheese. This spun out the meal until after eight o'clock. Upon leaving, he gave François a tip that almost reduced him to tears again. Lee felt oddly drawn to the gentle old man whose passion was for service. If there were more like François, the world would be a pleasanter place, he thought.

Lee took a taxi at the door and had himself driven around the park to kill time. Back in Fifty-second Street shortly before nine-thirty, he had his man draw up at the curb across the road from La Sourabaya. He sat back in the cab smoking a cigar and watching the service entrance.

At nine-forty, François came out with, to Lee's great satisfaction, the green pasteboard box with a red stripe under his arm. The old man hailed a taxi with a self-important air and drove off to the east. Lee said to his own driver:

"Double fare if you keep that cab in sight."

They were led east to Park Avenue and north to Seventy-fourth Street. The first cab turned the corner and stopped before the service entrance of an expensive apartment house. Lee smiled to himself. It was the house where Delphine Harley lived. Lee had his driver wait across the street. François paid off his cab and went in, carrying his box. In a few minutes he came out again empty-handed and walked away toward Lexington Avenue. As soon as he was out of sight, Lee paid his own driver and went in the service entrance. Slipping half a dollar to the attendant at the elevator, he said:

"An old man just came here to deliever a box. Do you mind telling me whom it was for?"

The young man was only moderately surprised by the question. A New York elevator attendant has to be ready for anything. "He took it up to Miss Harley's apartment, sir."

"Thank you very much," said Lee.

Outside he hailed another cab and had himself driven to the stage door of Gilbert Miller's Theatre. He knew that the second act of 
Trumpet-vine
 ended at a few minutes past ten, and it was almost that. The doorkeeper said politely:

"Miss Harley never sees anybody during this entr'acte, sir. She has to make a complete change."

"A very old friend," said Lee. "I'll send in my card. If she can't see me, I'll wait until the final curtain."

Delphine knew that Lee would not call at this awkward moment unless there was something in the wind, and she did not keep him waiting. He found her in the hands of her maids; she had a towel around her neck, her bright hair was caught up in a knot on top of her head, her face was covered with cold cream.

"I have to change my make-up," she explained, "because I'm supposed to be chastened in the last act."

"Don't let me interrupt you," said Lee. "I only wanted to make sure that I could carry you off after the show before anybody else got you."

"How exciting! But why, Lee?"

Lee glanced at the maids. "It's a long story and I don't want to interfere with your dressing."

"But I'm booked to have supper with the Wintringhams at the St. Regis."

"You can be a few minutes late, can't you? I'll deliver you to the St. Regis before midnight."

"Surely, I can be a little late."

"Good! I'll be waiting in a cab at the stage door."

Three-quarters of an hour later, Delphine, issuing from the stage door, started talking before she was well inside the waiting cab. "What on earth is up, Lee? I am consumed with curiosity. Where are you taking me?"

"To your place," said Lee, giving the address to the driver.

"To my place? What for?"

"Have you any fresh caviar, Beluga by preference?"

"Caviar? No!"

"Have you ordered any?"

"Certainly not. It's worth about a million dollars a pound, isn't it?"

"Not quite that."

"Well, anyway, it's too much for a working girl. What put caviar into your head?"

"I think we'll find a consignment in your pantry, my dear."

"Nonsense! Stop talking in riddles."

"I followed it as far as your house. In a fancy green box with a red stripe around it. I believe it's on its way to Al Yohe."

"Oh!" said Delphine. She fell silent.

Lee was aware that she had hardened. He put a hand on hers. "I ought to tell you, my dear, that I have had a change of heart in respect to Al Yohe. As I see the plot developing against him, I can no longer believe that he is guilty. And I promise you that if I do find him, I shan't hand him over to the police. But it is necessary for me to consult with him before I can defend him to advantage."

Delphine relaxed. She moved closer to him. "Well, that's a relief. I knew you had a good heart, Lee. As for me, I never could believe that Al was guilty. Honestly, I don't know where he is, but I suspect that Mrs. Craigin, my cook, knows. You'll have to handle her with gloves, though."

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to handle her," said Lee. "Won't she be asleep at this hour?"

"She ought to be, because I said I wouldn't be home until late. The other maid, too."

"I suppose the police have been after Mrs. Craigin."

"Good gracious, yes! They questioned me, too, but I satisfied them I knew nothing. They've been here again and again to question Cook. She stood them off. Said she hadn't seen nor heard from him since he walked out of the door, and stuck to it. I was proud of her. I think the police have given her up as a bad job now."

As they entered the apartment, Delphine whispered, "We ought to talk in normal voices. If one of them is awake we don't want to sound like conspirators."

Lee raised his voice. "Yes, I am hungry, darling. What is there?"

"Let's go and see," said Delphine.

In the pantry and in the little kitchen adjoining, there was no green box visible. Delphine called Lee's attention to a faint rumbling sound not far off. "Cook's asleep, all right," she said giggling. She threw open the refrigerator door. No box.

"There's ham," said Lee in a normal voice. "A ham sandwich and beer would just touch the spot."

"Fetch it into the dining room," said Delphine. In a lowered voice she went on: "I'll take a look in her room. If she wakes, I can make some excuse."

In a moment or two she was back in the dining room. "You're a wizard," she said. "The green box is on a chair in her room hidden under a jacket. She didn't wake."

"Where's the other maid?" asked Lee.

"She lies down on the lounge in my dressing room until I come home."

"Tomorrow is Cook's Sunday off, I take it."

"You have guessed it, wizard!"

"Do you know where she goes?"

"She has a sister in service in the country near Greenwich, Connecticut. I don't know the sister's name or whom she works for, but Cook asked me today if Martin, my chauffeur, could take her to Grand Central tomorrow morning in time for the 10:11 train for Greenwich."

"That is sufficient," said Lee.

After eating his sandwich and drinking his beer, he took Delphine to the St. Regis and went on home. Before going to bed, he called up a garage that he patronized and arranged to have a town car with a reliable driver waiting at the door of his house at 9:15 on Sunday.

It was a clear, cool day with bright sunshine. Lee sat back in the corner of his car, smoking, gazing at the scenery, revolving the problems of the Al Yohe case. After he got out of the city the glimpses of tree-bordered Pelham Bay that he obtained and the ineffable blue of the Sound were lovely.

He had some difficulty in fitting George Coler into his puzzle. He could not believe that Coler had had a hand in the Philadelphia murder. However you looked at it, it was too hare-brained a scheme to appeal to a man of experience. And, anyhow, George, being in love with Agnes Gartrey, was not likely to lend himself to the job of removing the only dangerous witness against Agnes' favored lover. But supposing that Agnes had embarked on this without the knowledge of George, George's anxiety after the event was perfectly understandable. He could see what a dangerous situation Agnes was in. It was undoubtedly George who had engaged Harry Brummel to get her out of it.

The plot to hang the murder of Hawkins on Al Yohe bore the Brummel earmark. It was likely to be successful, too, considering the state of popular opinion, unless Al could produce a watertight alibi for the hours that Jocker Stacey claimed Al had spent with him. And who could testify for Al but Charlotte? The testimony of a wife, and especially of an adoring wife like Charlotte, would not have much weight with a jury. Nevertheless, Lee resolved that if he was able to cast a doubt on Jocker Stacey's "confession" he would advise Al to stand trial for the murder of Jules Gar-trey. After all, Eliza Young was not a strong character, and a first-rate lawyer, an honest lawyer, ought to be able to break down her lies--and perhaps Agnes', too. Lee thought: I have never yet helped to send a woman to the chair--but why not, if she's guilty?

He was in Greenwich in ample time for the train and his chauffeur parked the car with its nose to the station platform where Lee, hidden in the back, could see all that went on. He had newspaper photographs from which to identify Mrs. Craigin, but they proved to be unnecessary for when the train came in, she got off carrying the green box with its red stripe. Stout, good-natured, capable, Irish, Lee approved of her looks. She was met by a rather shabby but respectable man who had the appearance of a servant on board wages. He led her to a station wagon parked among the other cars. Lee said to his chauffeur:

"Follow the station wagon when it backs out."

But when the station wagon backed into the clear, he could read the legend painted on its door: 
Mount Pisgah
, and he changed his order. "Let it go," he said. "On the empty country roads they would soon get on to the fact that they were being followed."

The station wagon turned away out of sight and Lee had himself put down before a little cigar and news store opposite the station. To the man behind the counter, he said:

"Do you know a place around here called Mount Pisgah?"

"Sure thing, Mister, the Estabrook estate; five miles north. One of the biggest places in the county, but it's been closed up for four-five years. The Estabrooks, they got places all over; Palm Beach, Pinehurst, Bar Harbor, besides an apartment in New York. They haven't been up here in a dog's age."