Henry Wood Perception (6 page)

“How strange.”

Henry thought so, but thus far in 1955, he was starting to think it was just business as usual. He picked up the phone to make more calls. He was on a roll.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The curves on Cynthia Pollard’s shadow could make a priest stray from his vows. She didn’t think of herself as having powers, but she did. They got her the best tables, jewels, endless attention, and any man she fancied. When she saw Daniel dining with his wife at Al Schacht’s Restaurant on E 52nd off Park Avenue, she just sat and watched them. The lawyer she was with was much too busy talking about himself to notice she wasn't listening. Before the dessert arrived, she was angry and jealous. The look he had in his eyes for his wife, well, she just couldn’t stand it.

Like a puma, she hunted and stalked her prey. He never had a chance.

It took less than a week for her to "accidentally" catch his eye. Daniel lit her cigarette. When she said, "Thanks," paused, and added, "Mister," he was done.

He introduced himself and she did the same. He bought her a drink and she let him. They talked for a while; she laughed at all the right places, and, before he knew what happened, he bought dinner. It wasn’t long before he started to lie to his wife. Daniel rented Cynthia a luxury apartment in the city.

She stood in the bathroom admiring her figure as she brushed her long dark hair. The phone rang. She pulled her silk robe closed and went into the bedroom to answer. “Hello.”

Henry could tell a dangerous voice when he heard one. “Hello, is this Miss Cynthia Pollard?”

Cynthia was already thinking about her next meal ticket. “Yes, it is. Who might this be?” She purred in a voice which could melt butter.

“My name is Henry Wood. I was curious if there might be a time we could get together for a talk?”

“Henry, that's a nice name.”

“Thanks.”

“What did you want to talk about?”

Henry thought he heard some clicking on the line and didn’t answer immediately.

After a few seconds, she said, “Henry, are you there?”

“Sorry, yes. I would like to talk to you about your friend Mr. Kupton.”

“Henry, are you a lawyer?”

Henry knew she was expecting a call about the will and went with it. “I prefer not to have this discussion over the phone; I'm sure you understand.”

“Yes, of course. Shall we meet? Do you know Al Schacht’s on 52nd?”

“Sure, I know it. You a baseball fan?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Oh, it's nothing. Yeah, I know the place, great steaks. How does five o'clock sound?”

“That's a little early for me. What about seven...for drinks?”

“I'll see you there. How will I recognize you?”

“When your jaw drops, you can pick it up and say hello." She hung up.

Henry made a few notes and called Celine into his office. “Celine, I forgot to mention that Lawrence is on his way over. He should be here shortly.”

“He is waiting now.”

Henry smiled and looked at his watch. “I love the enthusiasm. Would you get his information, please? We're adding him to the payroll. Now, I just need to get him on the Long Island Iron Works payroll, too.”

“Do you think our new client might be able to help?”

Henry thought about it for a second and realized it was a great idea. He wanted to talk to her anyway. “Would you get her on the phone, please?”

Celine smiled and left.

Henry put his feet up. The clicking sound was bothering him. He knew a guy who could check out his phone and made a note to call him. Henry didn’t think it was on his end, though. Celine popped her head back in to inform Henry that Miss Silverton was on for him.

“Miss Silverton, how are you today?”

“I'm well or as well as can be expected. Please, call me Amy.”

“Amy, please call me Henry.”

“I will, thanks.”

“I called because I want to ask you something…Hold on a second…Sorry.” Henry put his hand over the phone and listened. It was faint, but he could hear the clicks.

“Sorry…I wanted to ask you a favor only slightly related to the case.”

“Sure, anything, if it will help.”

“I can’t go into details but is there any chance you could help my friend get a position at Long Island Iron Works?”

She thought for a moment. “I can type something up, say it got misplaced after the…I can send it over today. What is the fella's name?”

“I'll send him over, and you can get everything you need.”

“I'm not sure it's necessary, but okay.”

“I also have something I want you to read. I'd like to get an unbiased opinion.”

“Sure thing, I'd be happy to give you my thoughts.”

“Thanks. I'll talk with you later.”

“Bye.”

Henry hung up the phone and walked out into the outer office. He put his finger to his lips to let Lawrence and Celine know not to talk. “I was thinking of heading down to the bakery for a cup of joe. I'm buying.” Henry motioned for them to follow, and they both said “Sure” at the same time.

Henry made a big deal of locking the door. He slid a match into the frame by the bottom corner.

At the end of the hall, Henry said, "Sorry, but I've got my suspicions there is something hinky going on with the phones."

Lawrence asked, "Hinky how?"

"I think they may be bugged."

Celine squinched her eyebrows and said, "Who would do that? They don't have the right!"

"Calm down, Celine, I'm guessing whomever it is doesn't care about our rights. Don't worry; I've got a guy who can sweep the place and find out for sure."

Lawrence asked, "Is your life always so exciting?"

Henry said, "Boring gets a bad rep."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

John squeezed into the booth across from Sir Richard Bessemer. Richard greeted him and asked, “How’s the deforestation of America going?”

“It may take a few more years to get 'em all.”

Richard was never sure if he was kidding. “So, why did you call me and want to meet at this paragon of culinary delight?”

“Since when do you Brits know anything about food?” John, despite his appearance, was far more cultured than most. He knew wine, liked to cook, and frequently dined with his wife and children, at the finest restaurants in New York.

“Touché.” Sir Richard Bessemer much preferred burgers and fries to fish and chips. His tastes were more American than British, but decorum and his title prevented him from showing his true colors to all but his closest friends. John was such a friend.

John said, “I hate to admit it, but that idiot Van Sythe has got me looking over my shoulder.”

“I got his note about the phones. I haven’t destroyed it yet. I may add some ketchup and have it with my lunch,” Richard said.

“You think there is anything to it?”

“I would ask who could be listening and why?”

“It could be the feds.”

“We haven’t done anything. We’re just the backers. The Navy contracts are completely legit, and, as far as anyone knows, we bought in to help our friend Kupton through his cash crunch.”

A waitress appeared, “What can I get you gents?”

John said, “I’ll take a cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke.”

“Make it two.”

She didn’t bother to write it down and yelled, “Two specials.” A grunt came from the back.

“So what now?” John asked after she had gone.

“You mean since Kupton did a flier off the Woolworth?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a good question. I hear Russell Huntsman is taking over as interim CEO. Kupton always spoke highly of him,” said Richard, as he opened his napkin with the silver wear wrapped inside.

“You think he knows the long-term plans?”

“I doubt it, but I could be wrong.”

John liked things simple. He sees a tree, cuts it down, hauls it out of the woods, saws it up, and sells it. Sometimes, he would need to get creative if there weren’t good roads, but the solution was generally cut and dried. He felt this way about their plan. Put in some money, make a profit, and take out some money. The complications made him uncomfortable. “We should invite him in.”

“I don’t see any other way.”

John considered not asking, but it had been eating him up. “Nobody wants to talk about Daniel. Why do you think he did it? You think his conscience got to him?”

“I don’t think for a second he jumped. Somebody tossed the bugger out of that window.”

John hadn’t considered anything but suicide. It made sense, in a way, because Daniel didn’t know anyone in that building. The papers guessed that since his own office was only two stories high, he had simply chosen the Woolworth, gone there after hours, and jumped. “Who would throw him…” His voice trailed off.

“I couldn’t say. It wasn’t me.”

“You think it was one of us? Somebody from the group?”

“I didn’t think it was you, mate. The day before, though, Daniel and William had a nasty fight over how quickly things were moving or, more accurately, not moving.”

“Yes, but William fights with everyone. It's how he talks.”

Richard gave a shrug and took a sip of water. John let the idea sink in. Their food arrived during the silence.

“What about Martin? He’s paranoid about everything.” John said.

“Just because he is paranoid doesn’t mean he is wrong. Have you heard the clicking?”

John set his burger down. His appetite faded. “Yep, I hear them all the time now, but for all I know the lines have always clicked. I never listened before. It isn’t very loud. Couldn’t it just be the lines?”

“Maybe, but you don’t think it is, or you wouldn’t have asked me here for lunch.”

“So what do you think we should do?”

“It seems prudent to avoid the phones, though not completely, as that might look suspicious. We should still talk daily but do as we always do.”

He laughed. “You mean make fun of each other?”

“Yes. I'm sure you won’t have any problem coming up with a few more jabs about my homeland across the pond.”

“I've been saving a couple.”

“We have never talked much about business, certainly not about the group's business. So, we just play it a little bit closer to the vest, and we'll be fine.”

John knew he was right, and his appetite returned. Richard ordered pie.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Henry bought coffee and donuts. They spent thirty minutes talking.

Lawrence was having the time of his life. He theorized that they were being spied on by Communists. Celine laughed at his suggestion, but Lawrence wasn’t offended. Henry didn’t really think it was Communists but didn’t have a better guess. Actually, he did have a better guess, but he wasn’t willing to share it. After they finished and said goodbye to Lawrence, Celine and Henry went back to the office. The match was where they had left it.

Henry wanted to get in touch with his friend who knew about bugs, but it would have to wait until tomorrow. Until then, he would just have to be careful. Celine agreed to watch what she talked about, too. They both went back to work.

Twenty minutes later, Henry heard a couple of people enter the office and the familiar voices of Don and Francis talking to Celine.

“Gentlemen, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Henry asked.

“I'm taking Don to a late lunch. I owed him. He wanted to drop off another picture he found when developing his negatives from the night Daniel Kupton jumped. We heard you were looking into the case.”

Don smiled, although he didn’t really take his eyes off Celine. She didn’t mind the attention and could handle herself just fine. Don handed Henry the envelope.

“Come on back; let’s see what you’ve got there.”

Francis got himself a cup of coffee as Don explained the shots.

“As you know, the best stuff always happens at night. So, I was up, as usual, when a friend who works the night desk at the precinct gave me a heads up that someone had gone splat.”

Henry grimaced at the visual but knew it was Don’s way.

“I got there about the same time as the cops. Their photographer was at another crime scene, so I said I would get the shots. I’ve helped them out before, and it was no big deal. The scene was a bit graphic for the paper anyway. I took shots of the body as usual. It was the middle of the night, so I used a flash. All pretty standard stuff.”

Henry flipped through the images, then got to one looking up at the building and showed it to Don.

“After I was done, I used my tripod and took a longer exposure from across the street, looking up. I thought it might be good for the paper. At that hour, most the office lights were off, it was a cloudy night, so there was a fair amount of ambient city light. It wasn’t obvious which window he had jumped out of as it was hard to see. I didn’t even notice that shot when I was looking through the negatives. By the time I had them developed, the police had already determined the exact office, so I didn’t think to print any of them. This morning, I printed that one.”