Henry Wood Perception (24 page)

CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN

It was the crack of noon before Henry rolled out of bed. He wouldn’t have, but he heard a knocking at the front door. He threw on his thread bare robe and shuffled to answer it. Luna was standing on the stoop, looking light and airy. His head started to throb. He opened the door and showed her in.

“Good morning, Luna.”

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “I tried to call you last night. It looks like you were out having fun without me.”

“It didn’t start out that way.”

“Oh?” She set her purse on the credenza and wandered into the kitchen.

Henry realized she had been to church. He wasn’t sure, but he might have promised her he would go with her and her father. Was that this week? “I had a strange day yesterday and met Francis and Mike at the Rogue. Oh, and I invited Bobby along. That might have been my big mistake.”

Luna put the coffee on as Henry slumped into a chair. “A mistake? Bobby is a wonderful guy. How could it be a mistake?”

“It turns out he is part-Irish.”

“Really? What part?”

“The drinking part.”

Luna giggled, and Henry winced. “It sounds like fun. I guess you didn’t want any girls along to get in the way of your good times.”

“No, it wasn’t that. I wanted to talk about the case, to find out if Mike had anything new, and to get Francis’ perspective since he didn’t know anything about it. One of the guys who knew Kupton showed up yesterday and asked for my help…sort of.”

Luna started to make some pancakes. Henry still wasn’t comfortable being doted upon, but he had had them before and knew better than to object.

“What does ‘sort of’ mean?” Luna asked.

Henry told her about how William had shown up terrified and how he didn’t show for the meeting. He handed her the note as she handed him some pancakes. “Thanks. These are even better than last time. Where did you find blueberries?”

“I brought them last time, in case I was here in the morning.” She gave him a sly look. She had stayed over a few times, but, more often than not, he took her home. Luna was very easy-going and seemed to be enjoying their relationship as it was though now he wasn’t so sure. Maybe he wasn’t as good a detective as he had thought.

“What do you think of the note?”

Henry asked her what she thought. He valued her opinion, and he could tell it made her feel good when he asked.

She read it again. “I would say he has a good education but was terribly frightened and in a hurry.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He started off with your name and the first few words he used excellent penmanship. Then it got sloppy, though he still spelled everything correctly. The last part looks like it was written in a real hurry.”

Henry reached for the letter and read it again. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought about how it looked, just what it said.”

Luna was glowing. Henry stuffed a huge bite of pancake in his mouth and mumbled, “Be right back.”

He returned a few minutes later. He had put on a shirt and pants and ran his head under the bathroom faucet.

Luna was sitting and nibbling on Henry’s pancakes when he sat down. He took his notebook out and wrote down what she had said, stopping when Luna had a fork full of pancake hovering near his mouth. He ate it and continued. Henry wrote down some notes from the night before while gobbling the proffered bits of goodness. While he made his notes, his mind made its own: Being around Luna was comfortable.

When he had finished, he regaled her with stories of how Bobby had put on a herculean drinking display, which Mike and Francis mistakenly got sucked into. In the end, all four of them had gotten drunk, and a half dozen other people had gotten sucked into his vortex of Irish drinking songs.

Henry was starting to feel a little less like death. Luna got out the player, and they listened to more of the music from the future. With everything that had happened this year, his closet with the time portal seemed strangely normal. He still hadn’t been able to figure out the point of the Billy Joel music. Luna liked the songs and was choosing different ones at random. She hit play on “Only The Good Die Young” and was tapping her foot when Henry got a look on his face. He opened his notebook and wrote one word. Cynthia.

Luna saw it and became quiet. Henry was staring off into space, and she suddenly seemed very upset. “I have to go. I really need to get home.”

“What? Why? I thought we would try to figure out this music?” Henry said with a baffled look on his face. This only made her sorer at him. “Henry Wood, you just don’t know anything, do you?”

Henry knew one thing; it was best not to answer that question lest he make it worse. Like that, she left, and he sat in the kitchen alone. There was still some coffee left, so he drank a cup and tried to figure out women. It was a hopeless cause, and he wasn’t getting paid to solve that one, so he went back to bed.

CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT

Henry had spent most of the evening listening to one song. He couldn't understand why, but 'The Stranger' seemed to ring most true. His business was all about strangers, but the meeting with William and the earlier CIA run-in had been stranger than normal.

The drive into Manhattan was uneventful. Henry couldn't see anyone tailing him. It became apparent that looking for a stranger among millions of them was a Sisyphean task. He decided to limit his search to those who might have been noticed by his immediate circle of friends

As he walked into the Flatiron building, he read over the names of those he wanted to call. There was William's office; he wanted to know if the man had shown up for work. It seemed unlikely, but one should never assume. Sir Richard Bessemer was next, followed by Charles Hudson. He also thought it might be good to try Martin Van Sythe and see if he got rattled by the mention of the others.

Two men stood by his door. They seemed rather stiff, and one was wearing a bowler hat. They both looked at Henry as he walked down the hall, obviously hopeful that he was the detective on the door. When he passed the last office before his, he noticed the hand-written sign, ‘Be Right Back.’

“Hello, gentlemen, sorry to have kept you waiting.”

Bowler hat replied, “Not at all, sir, we have been here but a few minutes, and I would say you met the expectations of your sign.”

Henry smiled and shook both their hands. He got out his keys and, at their jingle, a meow from inside called back. Henry opened the door and found Buttons sitting in Celine's chair, upright, manning the desk.

“Please come on back, gentlemen. This is my assistant, Buttons...”

Buttons protested loudly, “Meow.”

“Sorry, this is the boss, Buttons, filling in for my assistant Celine.”

Bowler hat gave Buttons a nod; the other man did not.

Henry noticed that there wasn't any coffee and deduced that Celine had run out to buy some. “Please have a seat.”

They introduced themselves, then Richard got right to the point. “Mr. Wood, we understand you have been investigating the death of our friend Daniel Kupton.”

“I’m not at liberty to talk about my clients’ business.”

“That is fine; I really don't care, but we need your help and it's related to the case you may or may not be working on.”

“Related how?”

Celine came through the door with a grocery bag. “I’m sorry; we were out of coffee. I’ll put some right on.” She smiled at both men but looked at Richard as she asked, “Would you prefer tea?”

“I would. How did you know?”

She smiled, winked and said, “Detective in training.”

Charles, getting impatient, interrupted. “Mr. Wood, we got into business with Daniel. He needed cash and we were in a position to help.”

“But you were being benevolent, were you?” Henry shot back, not quite liking the edge to Charles’ voice.

“No, Mr. Wood, it was an investment, pure and simple.”

“Go on.”

“He had a plan, maybe a bit sketchy, but the profit potential made it worth a little risk.”

Henry may not have liked his tone, but he liked his straight-forwardness. “Sketchy how?”

“He was bidding for a Navy contract; it was very lucrative.”

“That seems legit.”

“Oh, that part was, but he had another customer who would pay handsomely for the parts, too. He planned to sell an equal amount to this other client for much more than even the price the Navy was paying.”

“I imagine the Navy wouldn't approve of such a sale?”

Charles looked at Richard who jumped in and said, “No, your American Navy would not approve, which is why the client would have to pay so much more.”

“I’m not seeing the problem. What do I care if you guys are doing a little back room dealing?”

They both looked at each other, the weight of what they were about to say crushing them. Charles started, but stopped and looked to Richard.

Richard continued, “Friday night we found out that the client was, is...”

Henry sat still as Buttons hopped up on the desk and sat down, looking intently at Richard, almost sizing him up.

“...it's the Russians.”

“Are you saying Kupton set up a side deal with the Russians?”

Richard answered cautiously, “I don't know if he knew or if it was Kerwin who made the contact, but if he did know and tried to back out, well, it might be why he was killed.”

Buttons leapt down from the desk.

Henry asked, “Who killed him?”

“We don't know, but suicide seems unlikely, considering how well things had been going. If he were the swan dive type, he would have done it when his company was on the brink, not when they were making a heroic comeback.”

Henry couldn't fault that logic. “So, do you have any guesses who might have tossed him out of the Woolworth building?”

Buttons said, “Meooow,” and started pawing at the wall in the corner. Henry looked at Buttons but, before he could scold the cat, noticed the wires. He flashed a look at both men and raised his finger to his mouth. “Celine, how is the coffee coming?”

Celine came in, “Is the cat bothering you? I'm sorry.”

Henry was kneeling next to Buttons, gently pulling the wire from the wall. It was a bug. His office was bugged! He wanted to lose his temper, but his reasoning wouldn't let him. He quickly replayed everything they had just discussed in his mind. “Gentlemen, this is very interesting, but I'm not sure I can help you.” He wrote on a piece of paper, “Wait in the hall.”

Both men looked shaken. They knew better than to keep talking and nodded. Richard replied, “I understand, thanks for your time. We will be leaving then.”

“I'll show you out.”

Celine was confused. Buttons was back on the desk and purring, obviously pleased with himself.

Henry and the two men went into the hall. He whispered, “I have to apologize. I just had the office swept less than a week ago. Let's go to Bobby's office for a moment, then we can move this meeting somewhere public and continue.”

“I'm not sure we want to hire a detective who lets his office get bugged. Charles said,” disgusted.

“That is your right, but I feel the least I can do is let you know what happened with your friend William.”

This hit home, and they followed Henry down to Bobby's door. Before he could knock, Bobby opened the door. “Hey, Henry, who are your friends?”

“Bobby, could they wait in your office for a few minutes, I'll explain later. It’s urgent.”

Bobby opened the door wide and showed them in. His outer room was completely free of the stacks of magazines, books, and newspapers Henry was used to seeing. There was a couch, several chairs, and a desk, even a couple of plants. Henry wanted to ask but didn't have time. He left the men with Bobby and hurried back to the office.

“It just wasn't the right case for us.”

Celine looked confused but sensed he was playing a part, so she did, too. “You're the boss. Shall I get you a cup of coffee? It’s just now done.”

“Thanks.” Henry then sat down and wrote a quick note: I'm going to go find out what they want. Use Bobby's phone and call Alan and get him down here ASAP. We have been bugged.

Henry took the cup and walked back to Bobby's office.

CHAPTER FIFTY NINE

The factory was humming along as it always did. Cars filled the parking lot, and weary faces wandered towards their stations carrying their lunch boxes and thermoses. Lawrence's eyes darted about, looking for the strange men, hoping not to see them. He left his jacket in his locker and felt ill at ease as he greeted the other guys. They talked for a few minutes, mostly about children and baseball, then went into the restricted area.

The shipping section seemed quiet and unaffected. Lawrence didn't have any reason to be over there so he went to his machine and quietly went about his business. The whistle blew, and everyone got to work. Lawrence was aware that his mind wasn't on the job. It made it hard to produce like he had the first week. After an hour, he was a little behind his normal pace. He was embarrassed.