Phantom Point
by Gary Inbinder
Chapter 1: Chicago, July 1907
part 2
Max smiled. “I’m always interested in making jack, Miss Van Dorn, and that’s a lot of jack. May I ask who recommended me?”
“Judge Moran and Captain Crunican. I believe the captain was your supervisor when you were on the police force?”
“Yes, Miss Van Dorn. I’ve had a long association with both gentlemen.” Moran and Crunican were two of Chicago’s biggest grafters, which was saying a lot. Max was not averse to working with them, when it suited his interests. As for the danger, Max had faced death or dismemberment for a lot less than five grand, or even twenty-five hundred. He kept smiling politely and waited for Miss Van Dorn to continue.
“The job will require you to travel to Santa Teresa. Do you know where that is?”
“I haven’t a clue.”
“It’s on the California coast, about a hundred miles north of Los Angeles. Have you ever been to California?”
“Only in my dreams, Miss.”
“In your dreams? It seems you’d welcome the trip. Then you aren’t opposed to making such a long journey on short notice?” She looked down and fussed with some lace trim around her smallish but well-formed bosom while waiting for his answer.
“I didn’t say that, Miss. California’s way out of my bailiwick. In my business, we rely a good deal on a network for information and assistance. My network’s here, in the Midwest. Working on my own in strange territory makes the case that much more difficult, not to mention dangerous. What’s more, I’d have to close up shop for a while.”
She stopped picking at her dress and looked back at Max. “I understand, Mr. Niemand. You’ll get twenty-five hundred cash up front, plus all expenses paid and the prospect of earning an additional twenty-five hundred dollar bonus for successful completion of the job. Does that solve the problems you’ve mentioned?”
“It solves nothing, Miss,” Max said with a grin, “but it’s tempting. Why don’t you tell me what you want me to do in California? Then I can decide whether the game’s worth the candle.”
“You must promise that what I’m about to tell you will remain strictly confidential, whether or not you take the job.” She grabbed what remained of her cigarette and took a couple of nervous puffs.
“Discretion’s my middle name. Moran and Crunican can confirm that. In my line, a loose mouth’s bad for business and at times downright unhealthy.”
She stubbed out her smoke in the ashtray and began a familiar narrative, the theme of which Max had heard played with variations. Hugo Sr. wanted his only son, Hugo Jr., to take over the business and marry well; the kid had other ideas. He was a talented amateur painter and wanted to go to Paris to complete his studies. The old man was strongly opposed, but eventually relented with conditions. He allowed junior one year in Paris to get the foolishness out of his system. If he didn’t return to Chicago and go to work for his father when the year was up, there would be serious consequences.
With money, good looks, charm, and a little talent, the kid had a swell time in Gay Paree. He fit right in with the bohemian crowd and formed a relationship with Mrs. Merwin, a widowed American expatriate from California. Having filled in the background, Miss Van Dorn came to the point:
“Father was furious when my brother didn’t return to Chicago at the end of the year. He sent telegrams that were answered evasively, or not at all. Finally, he stopped my brother’s allowance and sent a lawyer to Paris to give Hugo Jr. an ultimatum: drop Mrs. Merwin and come home at once, or be cut out of father’s will.
“My brother played dilatory games with the lawyer; eventually he returned to America, but not to Chicago.”
“Did he go to California with Mrs. Merwin?”
“Yes, Mr. Niemand. The news was more than father could bear. He had a stroke, which is why you are meeting with me instead of with him.”
“Excuse me, Miss Van Dorn. You said your father stopped your brother’s allowance. What’s he living on?” Max could guess, but he wanted to hear it from her.
“Mrs. Merwin supports him. Her late husband left her well provided for.”
“What’s his status under your father’s will?”
“There’s a signed and witnessed codicil that disinherits him.”
“When was the codicil executed?”
“Shortly before father’s stroke.”
“I’m sorry to ask this, Miss, but is your father now competent to revoke the codicil?”
“The doctors assure me he is, and I’ve consulted Judge Moran about the legal issues, but that could change. So you see the urgency of the situation. I want you to go to Santa Teresa and convince Hugo to return to Chicago. If he meets father’s conditions, he’ll be forgiven and reinstated in the will.”
“Forgive me for asking, Miss Van Dorn, but is there a chance you might benefit from your brother’s disinheritance?”
She paused a moment before saying, “My portion remains the same, regardless of whether or not my brother complies with our father’s wishes.”
“I see. In that case, you must care a great deal for your brother to go to all this trouble for him.”
“I’m doing this for my father’s sake. Now, do you want the job or not?”
Max had touched a raw nerve. He figured there was a lot going on behind the scenes in this family, most of it unpleasant. He was inclined to take the lucrative job, but on his terms. “I’m certainly interested, Miss Van Dorn, but have you considered going to California and appealing to your brother directly? You might be more persuasive than a hired detective.”
“That’s out of the question. I can’t leave my father. And when it comes to being persuasive, I’ve been assured you will do what’s necessary to get the desired result.”
“What’s necessary, yes; within the law, of course.”
“I’m giving you an assignment, Mr. Niemand. What means you use to accomplish it is your business.”
Means? I suppose I could slip him a Mickey, tie him up in a trunk — with air-holes, of course — and ship him home. “I understand, Miss. Have you thought about hiring someone local? There are good detectives in Los Angeles.”
“I already went that route. I hired someone, and he failed miserably. That’s why I came to you with an offer well above a detective’s usual and customary fee.”
Max smiled and shook his head. “It’s a swell offer, all right. And you believe I’ll succeed where the other guy failed?”
“I was relying on your reputation. However, if you’re not confident you can handle this, Mr. Niemand, then you’re wasting my time and yours.” The frown and the squint returned.
“I didn’t say I couldn’t handle it. I’m just trying to get more information. I’ll want to meet with the guy you hired when I get to California. Hopefully, I can learn from his mistakes. That’ll save time and money: my time, your money.”
“Then you’ll agree to take this on?”
“You mentioned danger, Miss Van Dorn. The guy in Los Angeles, what’s his name?”
“Arthur Burgess.”
“Did someone scare him off?”
“Perhaps. Does that worry you?”
“Depends on who put the scare in him. Do you have any ideas?”
“Burgess was evasive when I asked. But if I were to guess, I’d say Mrs. Merwin was behind it.”
“All right, Miss Van Dorn. I’ll take the job, but not for what you offered me. I’m OK with twenty-five hundred cash up front but the bonus is a problem. I’m going into unknown territory, with little or no idea of what I might be up against, and on short notice. What’s more, I’m running the risk of lost business opportunities. Since the bonus is contingent upon a successful resolution, I want you to raise it to five thousand. Do that, and we have a deal.”
She stared back at Max for an uncomfortable moment that seemed longer than it actually was. Then she said, “Three thousand.”
Max came back with, “Four, and you’re getting me cheap.”
“Thirty-five hundred, and that’s final.” The eye twitched slightly.
Max paused for effect before saying, “Done.” He smiled and added, “You drive a hard bargain, Miss.”
“My father taught me well, Mr. Niemand.” The sly smile returned.
Forget junior. This girl ought to be running the business, he thought. “One thing more before I go. I’ll be traveling under an alias, Matt Rogers, Real Estate Broker. All communications between us while I’m in California should use that name and reference ‘The Murphy Deal.’ Understood?”
“Matt Rogers and The Murphy Deal. I understand, Mr. Niemand. Good luck to you. Although,” — she added with a slight twitch of her misaligned eye — “I doubt you’ll need it.”
Copyright © 2022 by Gary Inbinder
