Afternoon, Monday, September 15, 1947
I moved my car to the side street and turned it to face the pawnshop just across Oakland. I parked beneath a giant elm, which cast the car in shade, making it difficult to see us should Miss Lufkin leave the building and glance our way. Then we waited, keeping our eyes on the door to the left of the plate glass window. We passed the time talking about Spelling, the chief, Alan, whether or not we thought Jackie Robinson was going to make Rookie of the Year, and how we believed President Truman was doing overall. We were just discussing the rumor that Truman was planning on creating a Central Intelligence Agency when Florence Lufkin made her appearance across the street. She still wore the gray skirt she had on earlier, but now sported a slim, black plaid coat, white gloves, and a black handbag over her right arm. Her freshly combed shoulder-length hair was now down, and on top of it was a black pillbox hat with a pink band.
“There she is, Heath. She must be going to meet her date.”
“Yes, I see her. She’s heading north, probably to the streetcar stop up the block. Do me a favor and open my glovebox. There’s a streetcar map in there, underneath the one for the City of Milwaukee.”
“Right,” Riker said, opening the glovebox and rummaging around. “Gee, you keep it pretty neat in here.”
“It’s just the way I like it. Makes it easier to find things. I get rid of stuff that I have no use for.”
“I wish you’d tell that to Mary Jane. She even saves old gift wrap. She unwraps every gift carefully, then irons it and puts it away. String, too, and boxes, and every old greeting card she’s ever gotten. And don’t get me started on her clothes.”
I smiled. “A lot of people are like that after living through the Depression. They don’t want to throw anything away. Find the Oakland and Locust stop on the map.”
He scanned it briefly. “Got it.”
“Okay. I’m going to move my car around the corner and up a couple blocks, just close enough so we can see which streetcar she takes.”
I moved into position and parked again, sliding down just a bit in the seat so we wouldn’t be spotted but could still see her. She waited on the platform for approximately ten minutes, until the southbound streetcar slowed to a stop and she got on.
“All right, what’s the next stop for the south bound trolly?”
“Bradford Avenue. Then North Avenue.”
“Good, I’ll drive us down to the Bradford Avenue stop and see if she gets off there.”
We beat the train by a few minutes and waited as it slowed to a stop, discharged a few passengers and took on a few more, but Miss Lufkin did not get off. “On to North Avenue,” I said, putting my car in gear again.
We had better luck there, with Florence Lufkin exiting next to last. She adjusted her hat and checked her face in her compact, then started walking east at a steady pace.
“I think we best go by foot from here, Riker,” I said, pulling over to the curb and shutting off the engine, “but we’ll have to keep our distance.”
“Right. Where do you think she’s headed?”
“Only one way to find out,” I said, climbing out while keeping Miss Lufkin in my line of vision. “Let’s go.”
We slowly walked two abreast, staying at least a block behind her. She stopped at the corner where North crosses Farwell, opened her handbag, and took out her compact to check her face powder once more. I wondered if she had spotted us in the mirror of her compact, but if so she didn’t react. She put the compact back into her handbag and continued on her way, walking briskly until she turned into what looked like a tavern.
“Let’s cross to the south side of North Avenue and watch the front door,” I said.
“Louie’s Bar and Grill,” Riker said as we got closer. “Doesn’t look like the type of establishment Miss Lufkin would patronize. Kind of seedy and run down.”
“Which may be precisely why she chose it.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because it’s unlikely anyone in there would know or recognize her,” I said.
“Ah, that makes sense. A perfect place for a secret rendezvous. So now what?”
“Now we wait again. You’ll find a large part of detective work is just sitting or standing around waiting. Waiting for something to happen, waiting for someone to appear, waiting for someone to leave, waiting for just about anything and everything.”
“Good thing I’m a patient man.”
“Yeah, same here. Goes with the job. Here’s a dime, go buy a newspaper from that newsstand over there, will ya?” I said.
“Sure, what for?”
“To give us something to do and something to hide behind. We’ll look suspicious if we just stand here, but two gents standing on the sidewalk reading a newspaper isn’t so unusual.”
“Clever. Be right back.”
He bought the Milwaukee Journal and gave the first section to me, which I opened and pretended to read as I kept my eyes on the front door of Louie’s across the street over the top of the page.
“Interesting,” I said after a few minutes. “No one else has gone in there.”
“What’s interesting about that?”
“That means whoever she intended to meet was already there waiting for her, or they’re late, or perhaps a no-show.”
“Shouldn’t one of us go in and see?” Riker said from behind the section of paper he was holding.
I shook my head slightly, the paper rustling in my hands. “As much as I’d love to find out what’s going on in there, I don’t think it’s possible to do it discreetly. It looks like much too small a space, and she knows both of us. We’ll just have to wait until she leaves.”
“Then when she leaves, we go in and question the bartender about who she was with?”
“Yes. Though I think it might be best to split up at that point, one of us tailing her to see if she makes any other stops.”
“Flip a coin?”
“Doesn’t matter, you choose.”
“Okay, I’ll tail her, you go in.”
“Fair enough. What time do you have?”
Riker glanced at his wristwatch. “A quarter after three. She’s been in there fifteen minutes now.”
At a quarter of four, both Riker and I were getting restless. At four, I was beginning to wonder.
“I know I said I was patient, Heath, but how long do we wait? My arms are aching from holding up this newspaper.”
“I know. Take a walk up the block and back for a break. I’ll do the same when you return.”
“Sounds good, thanks.” He folded up his paper, tucked it under his arm, and strode west on North Avenue. When he returned, I did the same. It felt good to relax my arms and my body. When I got back to Riker, I asked the time again.
“Four fifteen. She’s been in there an hour and fifteen minutes.”
I shook my head. “Something’s not right. I think we should go in.”
“But what if she sees us?”
“It’s a chance we’ll have to take. A woman like Miss Lufkin wouldn’t meet someone at a place like this to begin with unless she had ill intent. And it’s doubtful a meeting of ill intent would last over an hour. I’ll pull my hat down, go in, and have a quick look around. If I spot her, I’ll turn around and leave, like I ducked into the wrong door, hopefully before she recognizes me. I’ll take my tie off and try to change my appearance a little, just in case.”
“What should I do?”
“Just stay here and keep watching. I’ll signal for you if I need you.”
“Okay. What’s the signal?”
“The signal? I’ll open the front door and wave to you or something.”
“Oh,” he said, looking slightly disappointed. “I thought maybe there was some special thing you did, you know, smoke, or using a mirror to send Morse code or a secret whistle, or something like that.”
“You watch too many movies and read too many detective novels, Riker. Just watch the front door.”
“Right, will do. Be careful.”
“Like I tell Alan and my mother, I always try to be.” I crossed the busy street, pulled my hat low, and removed my tie, tucking it into my suit coat pocket before entering. The place was dark, and it took a few moments for my eyes to adjust, but I slowly looked around the interior. Near the door was a Panoram jukebox machine playing a short musical film, but no one was paying much attention to it. A couple of men at the bar were nursing some tap beers. In the far corner sat a man and a shady-looking woman who seemed like they were well acquainted, or about to be, but I saw no sign of Florence Lufkin. Maybe she was in the ladies’ room or what passed for one in a joint like that, so I figured I should wait a while before signaling Riker. I stepped up to the bar and ordered a Coke, no ice, pushing my hat back on my head.
When the bartender served it, I gave him a dollar and told him to keep the change.
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Thanks, big spender. What brings you in?”
“I’m looking for a girl.”
“Aren’t we all?” He studied me briefly. “Clean cut, well dressed, big tipper, hmm. We get girls in here from time to time, but I doubt they’re the kind you’re looking for.”
“Actually, I’m looking for one in particular. About five foot four, auburn hair, slender, wearing a gray skirt and black plaid coat, with a black hat that has a pink band around it. Oh, and she’s wearing white gloves, or at least she was when she came in.”
He laughed heartily. “When you say one in particular, you mean it.”
“Yeah, I’m funny that way.”
“You’re funny all right.”
“Have you seen her recently?”
“Yeah, sure. She was here, talking to some fella over at that table there,” he said, pointing with a stubby finger, the end of which was missing.
“What did the man she was talking to look like?”
“Nice enough looking, but nothin’ special. What’s it to you?”
I ignored his question. “When did they leave?”
“I don’t know, exactly. Twenty minutes, maybe half an hour at most.”
“Where did they go? They didn’t leave through the front.”
“How do you know that?”
“I was watching, that’s all. You have a back door to this place?”
“You ask a lot of questions, friend.”
“And you don’t provide a lot of answers.” I slid off my stool, walked to the door, and stepped outside, motioning for Riker, who quickly discarded the newspaper and jaywalked across the street in a hurry, dodging the heavy traffic as cars honked at him. I turned and walked back to the bar. “I’m a police detective,” I said, showing him my badge. “Now where did these two go?”
“I figured you were a cop or a private dick.”
“Good deduction.”
“She in some kind of trouble?”
“You’re going to be in some kind of trouble if you don’t tell me where they went, and when. Ever hear of obstruction of justice?”
“All right, all right, I don’t want any problems with the cops. The man gave me a couple bucks to let them out the back way.”
“I see. How about I give you a couple bucks in exchange for the two he gave you?” I said, hoping to get some fingerprints off them.
“I put ’em in the till. Probably in some other customer’s pocket by now.”
Riker entered, letting the door slam behind him, and came up next to me as I turned to look at him.
“Is she here?” he said.
“They left out the back, about twenty or thirty minutes ago,” I said, and then turned back to the bartender. “Where’s the back door?”
“Through the storeroom.” He pointed with his thumb to a door just to the left of the bar. “It opens on to the alley. It’s where I get my deliveries.”
“Right, let’s go,” I said to Riker.
“Aren’t you going to finish your Coke?” the bartender said.
I didn’t bother to respond. With Riker following behind, I walked through the storeroom and out the back door into the alley. It was a narrow, dark, foul-smelling space that ran from Murray Street to Farwell Avenue, east to west. It was filled with trash cans, litter, empty bottles, and a few rats that went scurrying and squeaking when we approached. I wondered what Firestone would have had to say about their actions according to myomancy. We both took out our guns as a precaution.
We stopped just outside the door, each of us looking left to right, and up and down. “No sign of them,” Riker said. “But what’s that awful smell?”
“Rotting garbage, urine, animal feces, and who knows what else in a place like this.” I glanced down at my shoes, already dirty from the muck. “And I wore my good Allen Edmonds today, too. Damn,” I said.
“They’ll clean up, a little spit and polish. Now what? Back to her place? Or back to the station?”
I paused a moment. “I’m not sure just yet.”
“Why would they sneak out the back like that?” Riker said.
“She may have spotted us and wanted to give us the slip. Looks like she did just that. I wish I knew who the man was that she met up with. Ricci? Goodacre? Someone else?”
“Could have been Ricci, based on that mysterious note she sent him,” Riker said.
“Yes, possibly. And the fact that he lied about not seeing Firestone again after he stopped by their dinner table. It’s possible they were in on Firestone’s murder together, and she wanted to meet Ricci here, away from prying eyes and ears, to discuss what to do next, especially now that you and I have been nosing around. Perhaps she glanced out the front door, saw us across the street, and the two of them decided to sneak out the back way.”
“Makes sense, Heath. It seems to me we have enough to arrest her and Ricci on suspicion of murder if it turns out he’s the one that was here with her.”
“Pretty weak case at this point. If only we knew for sure who the man was and what they were doing. The bartender described the man as nice enough looking but nothing special.”
“That could be Ricci or Goodacre.”
“Or any one of a thousand other guys,” I said. “Let me think a moment.” I paced up and down the alley, kicking an occasional empty tin can out of the way, and glancing here and there into deep, dark doorways that led to places unknown. I sidestepped a murky oily puddle, and that’s when I saw it. One foot, encased in a black shoe, sticking out from behind a few battered trash cans. I stopped short in my tracks and let out a low whistle. “Riker! Come here, quick.”
“What is it?”
I holstered my gun, moved a couple of the cans out of the way, and stooped down. “Lorenzo Ricci,” I said.
Riker put his gun away and bent down beside me. “I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. Well, now we know who she met.”
“Yes, it would seem so.” Ricci’s face was a grisly shade of white, drained of all color. I checked his vital signs just to be sure, though there was no question. “He’s dead all right. Shot twice, just like Firestone by the looks of it, only Ricci was shot right in the chest.”
“How did we not hear the shots?”
“North Avenue is busy, especially this time of day, and we were on the other side of the building across the street. Lots of traffic. Trucks backfire, horns honk, cars rumble by. We probably just missed it.”
“Yeah, I suppose so. What’s that in his hand?”
I looked closer, prying the fingers of his right hand open. “A gold F, on a broken chain. Like the one Flo Lufkin was wearing this morning,” I said, careful not to touch the necklace itself.
“Looks like Lufkin’s definitely our gal, then.”
“But she wasn’t wearing it when we spoke with her this afternoon. She said she misplaced it, remember?”
“Maybe she found it and put it on before she left her apartment,” Riker said.
“I suppose. I’ll have the necklace sent to the lab for fingerprinting.”
“If they were in on killing Firestone together, maybe she decided to eliminate him. She felt he might spill the beans. How’s the saying go? The only way to keep a secret between two people is if one of them is dead.”
“Gruesome but true. Miss Lufkin may have asked him here to discuss the situation, and perhaps she could see he was panicked and nervous, so she decided to do away with him.”
“It all adds up,” Riker said. “She takes out a gun, they struggle, he pulls off her necklace, and she shoots him then flees.”
“But she might have been blackmailing him, like we said before. She sent him a note asking him to meet her here with a payment of some kind or else.”
“But if that’s the case, why kill him, I wonder?” Riker said.
“Maybe he refused to cooperate. Or maybe he threatened her physically. Or maybe he tried to kill her in the alley, so she killed him first. Or he made the payment as promised, and she decided to kill him anyway to avenge the death of her idol, Almanzo Firestone.”
“All good possibilities,” Riker said. “I think now we have enough to arrest her.”
“You think so?” I said.
“Sure. Don’t you?”
“I don’t know. Certainly it warrants questioning her more.”
“She could have easily taken the gun from the Firestone suite that night, or she may even have her own gun. Maybe she got one from her uncle’s pawnshop.”
“Maybe. Better get the lab and the coroner out here. We’ll need pictures and fingerprints before they take the body away for an autopsy. Take care of that for me, will you?”
“Sure, I can do that.”
“Good. We need to question that bartender officially and get his statement, as well as statements from the rest of the patrons who were in there. Don’t let anyone leave just yet. Maybe one of them saw or heard something.” I took out my pocket watch and noted the time for the record. It was twenty minutes to five. “Better call your wife and tell her you’ll be late for dinner tonight, Riker. So much for your promise to be home by six.”
“That’s a call I’m not looking forward to. What time do you think we’ll be done?”
“Hard to say. When we finish here, we still have to go back to the station and write up our reports for the chief. If I had to guess, I’d say we won’t get home until eight at least. I’ll give Alan a call later and tell him I won’t be able to make it to that movie at the Downer.”
“I have a feeling Alan will be more understanding than Mary Jane, but that’s the way it goes, I guess. Back in a bit,” he said, going back into the storeroom.
I stayed in the alley with the body, which was lying in a puddle of murky blood, dirt, and oil. The flies were already swarming about. Nasty little things. I used my handkerchief periodically to mask the smell of the alley until Riker returned.
“All set?”
“Yeah, a black-and-white just got here. They’re holding everyone inside until we can question them.”
“Okay, we’ll do that first.”
“Good idea. Most of them were none too happy about not being able to leave. Oh, and the lab and coroner are on their way,” Riker said. “I also requested a black-and-white to head over to Miss Lufkin’s and have her picked up on suspicion of murder.”
“Whoa, we didn’t talk about that, Riker. I never okayed that.”
“Sure, we talked about it. What do you mean?”
“We discussed it, and I said I wanted to question her further, that’s all.”
“Oh. But she has to be the murderer, Heath. And we can’t let her skip town. If she saw us following her, she could be halfway to Canada by now.”
“She may well be the murderer, and she may be on her way to Canada, but having her arrested is premature.”
“Sorry. I was just trying to think for myself.”
“Do me a favor and don’t do that anymore. At least not right now.”
He looked sheepish. “Okay, so now what?”
“We could call back and cancel the squad,” I said. “Did you call them last?”
“No, I did that first. I called Mary Jane last. She was not happy.”
“I imagine not. Well, you’re efficient, if nothing else. They’ve probably already picked Miss Lufkin up at this point, then. Well, let’s wait and see what happens. Maybe she’ll crack under the strain of being arrested and confess. For now, we’ve got more work to do.”
“At least it looks like Scotty and Mrs. Webster are in the clear,” Riker said.
“On that I agree, if the two murders are connected. I can’t see any reason why Scotty or Mrs. Webster would have to kill Ricci.”