Chapter 43

“It is quite a three pipe problem...”

-Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Red-Headed League

The room was chilly. Like most Chicago landlords, they probably turned off the heat on April first, no matter what the weather. We didn’t take off our jackets.

Tom and Philip licked their wounds while I scouted for another way out of the room. Wolfie followed me around the perimeter as I searched for other windows or doors. There were none, only the one door she’d locked and deadbolted. I tried to force it open, but there’s no easy way to counteract a deadbolt and move it to an open position. If it was a good lock, one of those that could sustain up to 4000 pounds of pressure, it’s practically impossible to kick-out the door. Sometimes I really hate those insurance seminars.

I patted Wolfie and announced, “I think we’re stuck in here.”

“You’re the investigator. Investigate a way out,” Green deadpanned. “As for me, I’m going to sue you both. And that dog.”

“He’s not a dog, he’s a... ,”

I interrupted before Tom got us into even more trouble. “You don’t want a lawsuit hanging around your neck, Mr. Green. Tom was very upset. He was almost killed at the mansion, and he thought you were the one who tried to murder him. You can understand that, can’t you?” I threw Tom a ‘shut-up’ glance.

“I didn’t push you,” Green insisted. “And I certainly didn’t take Grange’s diary. I wish I did have it, but everything I know came from the lot of you at the mansion. I have no clue where the diary is or who has it.”

I took out my cell. “I’m going to try to make a call.”

Green struggled with his cell. “Me, too.”

I tried Morgan’s number. It rang once then went deader than a doornail.

Philip Green hung his head. “Nothing.” Then he glared angrily at Wolfie. “This bite needs to be looked at by a doctor.”

“Let me take a look,” I unwound Grace Dunbar’s shawl. The wound had stopped bleeding.

“It’s not very deep. I don’t think it will need stitches,” I told him.

“It hurts plenty. Are you a nurse or what?”

“You know I’m not. And right now, you don’t have access to a doctor, so be happy it’s not worse. We’re in this together, so try to make the best of it.”

My cell phone vibrated. I hoped for a connection.

“Hello, hello,” I said intently.

It was Morgan. “DD? Is that you? This connection’s really bad.”

“Help. We’re in trouble. The Foundation Director caught us breaking in. She called the cops - or the local Rangers.”

“The who?”

“Rangers. Never mind. It’s bad either way. What should we do?”

The connection crackled, but I heard something like, “Where are you now?”

“Locked in a store room.”

“This connection is so bad, DD. Repeat.”

“In a locked room.”

“Stall for time,” I heard Morgan say. “I’ll get a copter and fly up. Barricade yourselves in. Keep them at bay. I can trump them and take you into custody myself. I’ll arrest you for leaving the jurisdiction. It’s...”

More crackling. “Morgan?”

The line went dead. Maybe we did have one chance to straighten everything out. It all hinged on Morgan. I told Tom and Philip what he’d said.

Philip Green looked skeptical. “Well that might help you, but how is it going to help me?”

I sighed. “I suggest we take Lt. Fernandez’ advice and stay in here until he arrives. We’ll all get treated a heck of a lot better by him than by the locals she’s calling. Those good ol’ boys all know each other. We’re the outsiders. You two want to spend the next week in jail fighting a breaking and entering charge?”

They were both silent.

“All right then, help me. It’s our only chance to straighten this out. I know Lt. Fernandez will use his influence on our behalf. Now c’mon. Tom, you stand up while Philip and I move this furniture.”

Philip Green reluctantly and awkwardly helped shove stuff against the door. We piled on anything movable in the room. The barricade looked like a big trash heap. I had my doubts about its effectiveness.

We sat on the floor and waited while Green continued to complain about the bite.