SUNDAY, MARCH 6, 1932
VALLEY GREEN, NEW JERSEY
When I got back to the kitchen, I found Dietz sitting in my chair and finishing my breakfast. Mrs. Conway said she’d make more, and chopped salami. Dietz sopped up the last of the eggs with a corner of toast and said, “I heard you had a busy night, gunman.”
I poured coffee from the pot on the stove. “I’m used to it. There’s always something happening in the city. You should give it a try sometime.”
Dietz snorted. “I’ll stay here, thank you very much.”
I picked up a section of newspaper. Mrs. Conway had put out more oil lamps but there really wasn’t enough light to read. The brindle cat bumped against my leg but otherwise ignored me.
Mr. Mears shuffled in with a candle of his own. But before he could sit, Mrs. Conway told him to look to the furnace. We didn’t need to be both cold and dark, she said. The old guy nodded, and shuffled out as Connie Nix came in. She’d changed into her maid’s uniform and had a hushed conversation with Mrs. Conway that seemed to surprise and fluster the cook.
“All right, then,” she said, “Get the rolling cart, the smaller one, from the pantry, we’ll use that. Four of them, you say? Dietz, help Mr. Mears with the coal and tell him to come back here. Miss Flora’s friends will be staying with us until the storm passes, and they’re all wanting breakfast. As if we didn’t have enough without those . . . Well, don’t just sit there.”
She hurriedly scrambled my salami and eggs, and I wolfed them down before anybody else took it from me. Mr. Mears returned, and I asked him if he had a key to the gun room. He gave it to me.
Spence’s shooting gallery appeared normal; nothing had been touched. The rifles and shotguns were where they belonged. It was the same in the pistol drawer. The only missing pieces were Spence’s .45 and the Mauser.
The pistol I’d taken from Teddy was a Walther PP automatic. Why did all these rich guys go for German guns? I put it inside the drawer and locked up the room. I couldn’t assume that those two were unarmed, but why make it easy for them to get more guns? And what did I really know about them? That they were rich and belligerent, and claimed to hang out in nightclubs with gangsters. The blond one acted fey. The fat one wanted to get into Flora’s pants. Maybe it was a coincidence that they got thrown out of my place and then showed up here, but I couldn’t quite buy it. And I wondered what happened at Dr. Cloninger’s clinic, after our first little get-together.
Back in the kitchen, they were preparing breakfast for the folks upstairs. Dietz was buttoning a heavy coat and checking out the ice that rimmed the outside of the window in the door. Snow and sleet were just becoming visible in the first dawn light.
“Thermometer’s still dropping, gunman. This will last for at least another day. Best make your peace with the houseguests.”
“Not likely. But since you’re the groundskeeper, you’ll be able to find the best spot for a grave if I have to kill them.”
Dietz cackled around his pipe. “Digging’s not necessary. We just weigh down the bodies, and drop ’em in the lake. It’s deeper than it looks.”
When I woke late that afternoon, the wind had subsided but snow filled the gray sky, and the power was still out. There was hot water for a shower, though. I put on my heaviest turtleneck, brace, and warmest suit, and checked the load in the Detective Special. I didn’t hear any movement on my floor, so I guessed everyone was asleep. Flora and Cameron together, most likely. Where were the guys? I wasn’t in charge of sleeping arrangements but I needed to know the assholes’ whereabouts.
The ground floor held the same still Sunday-afternoon feeling. Several inches of messy snow had piled up outside, and it was coming down steadily. The doors to the ballroom were standing open, and the previous night’s litter was scattered over the black-and-white marble floor. Judging by the empty bottles, they’d added crème de menthe, Dubonnet, and absinthe to their champagne diet. The breakfast cart stood in the back, with half-empty plates and an open bottle of brandy.
The fire had gone out in the library. The shuttered room was so dark I had to light an oil lamp. Still moving quietly, I went through the other rooms and found nobody. So the assholes were upstairs. The quiet was eerie and I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that someone was nearby, watching me. The reading room was as dark and cold as the rest of the house.
Downstairs, I found Connie Nix asleep at the kitchen table, like she’d been folding table linen and had put her head down for a brief nap on the stack before her. I tried to be quiet as I poured coffee but she sat up and rubbed her eyes.
“Don’t get up. I’m just going to fix a sandwich.”
“No, Mrs. Conway wouldn’t have you using her kitchen.”
I sat. She sliced cheese and bread.
“You said your dad’s in the wine business. Makes something called Vine-Glo. Tell me about it.”
“He belongs to a co-op. They turn the grapes into concentrate. Just add water and do some other stuff and sixty days later, you’ve got a keg of wine. They make it in little bricks, too. I don’t understand how that’s legal and real wine isn’t, but it is. Of course, he’d rather be working in the vineyard the way he did before. It’s nothing like what you do.”
“You think so? You’ve seen my place. It’s nice enough but it’s not the lap of luxury and to tell you the truth, for the past couple of years, ever since the crash, things have been tough. Some months I do swell, some months . . .”
That had been the case a lot recently. “Your old man’s probably in a better position than I am because one of these days, Prohibition’s gonna end, and when that happens, he’ll have the stuff people want. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
The door banged open and Dietz hurried in from outside. A hard gust of icy wind fluttered the lamp and blew out the candle. His hat and overcoat were stiff with sleet. He hung them on a hook by the door and took off his wet boots before he got coffee.“What’s it like out there?” I said.
“Limbs are down on the drive and the road. I heard a crew somewhere close. Wind’s starting to pick up again, and the glass is falling. I reckon we’ve got another twenty-four hours before she breaks.”
The power came back at about six that evening. Deputy Parker showed up a half hour later. Mrs. Pennyweight was with the baby in her rooms, so I answered the door. I could hear music from the Electrola in the ballroom. Flora and her pals were back among the living.
Parker stamped the wet, gray snow off his boots. “I just wanted to check that everything is all right here.”
Flora floated in from the ballroom, wearing a patterned woolen dress and a dazzling smile. A slap-happy grin plastered itself over Parker’s mug.
“Hello, Flo— Mrs. Spencer.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, I’m still Flora to you.”
Titus appeared, and shouldered ahead of her. “Somebody told me they’d made you a cop,” he snarled at Parker. “I couldn’t believe they were that hard up. What the hell are you doing here?” So, Parker knew the assholes. That was interesting.
Parker squared his shoulders and hooked his thumbs on his gun belt. “Mr. Quinn noticed some suspicious activity, and asked me to keep an eye on things.”
“I don’t believe that for a goddamn second.” Titus shoved his face at Parker, and poked at the other man’s chest. “You’re just sucking around here, like you always did. The candy-ass uniform doesn’t change anything. Remember who pays your salary.”
I leaned on my stick and watched the two men posturing. I saw this kind of trouble boil up often enough in my place. We always tried to get the guys outside before fists started swinging. I doubted that would happen here, but was curious about how far Parker would let the big kid go before he responded.
Flora wasn’t impressed one way or another. She rolled her eyes and waved a hand like she’d seen this scene before and was bored by it.
Finally Teddy got between them. “Now, I’m sure that Parker is just doing his job. We don’t want to get in his way, do we?”
When Titus didn’t move, Teddy pushed him back. “Do we?” He really wanted the big guy to leave the cop alone.
Titus puffed out his chest, trying to sneer, but it was hard to do with his swollen cheek. On his way out, he gave me another hard look. “We ain’t done yet, pipsqueak, not by a long shot. You hear?”
Mrs. Pennyweight watched it all from the second-floor balcony.