“I told you, sir, she’s a fast boat. She’ll make Cincinnati to Pittsburgh in two days.”
“My special just took me here in four hours. So I’m not planning any steamboat traveling, but I do intend to be in this race if it is a race. I’m asking you again, who bought your other boat?”
“His name was Smith.”
“Smith?”
“Smith. I know. I worried, too.”
“I don’t think I’d take a check from an out-of-town fellow named Smith.”
“Nor would I, sir. Cash on the barrelhead from any man who calls himself Smith.”
“That’s a lot of cash for an out-of-town fellow to pack with him.”
“He paid with bearer bonds.”
“Bearer bonds?” the gent in white echoed. “They’re a risky proposition. How’d he guarantee they were still good?”
“A New York broker was the issuing agent. Thibodeau & Marzen. He marched me straight to their Cincinnati branch office on East Seventh and I walked out with the cash.”
“What did he look like?”
“Not quite so tall as you. A bit wider. Dark hair, what I could see of it under his hat.”
“Beard?”
“Clean-shaven.”
Bell shook his head. “Maybe he shaved… I always kidded him it made him look old. Say, what color were his eyes?”
“Strange-colored. Like copper, like a snake’s. I found ’em off-putting.”
“I’ll be,” said Bell. “It’s not him.”
“What do you mean?”
“His are blue.”
Bell stood up. “I’m sorry, Mr. Held. The louse tried to trick me into buying a boat I don’t need.”
“But maybe he bought his down in Louisville or New Orleans.”
“Well, if I find out he did, I’ll be back.”
Bell put on his hat and started out the door, feeling a mite guilty for the disappointed look on Held’s face. A funny idea struck him — a scheme that could upend the situation in Pittsburgh and, with any luck, defuse it.
“Mr. Held, I do know some fellows who might like a steamboat.”
“Well, send them to me and I’ll cut you in with a finder’s fee.”
“I couldn’t take a fee among friends. But the trouble is, these fellows don’t have much money.”
“I have a lot sunk into this one.”
“I understand. Would you consider renting it?”
“I might.”
“I’ll tell these fellows about her. Meantime, let me pay you to coal her and get steam up by tomorrow.”
“By tomorrow?”
North Pole light flickered in Isaac Bell’s eyes.
“I’m sure I could, now that I think about it,” said Held. “She’ll be raring to go in the morning.”
Bell paid Court Held for the coal and labor and hopped a trolley back to the business district. He got off at a Western Union office and sent a long telegram to Jim Higgins about the
He stood outside, reading the gold leaf on the window, while he thought about how Wish Clarke, or Joseph Van Dorn, would pry information about “Smith” from prominent brokers — the leading New York — based broker in Cincinnati, judging by the look of the office — who had every reason not to give it.
He started by presenting a business card from Dagget, Staples & Hitchcock, an old-line New England insurance company. Joseph Van Dorn had made a deal to allow select agents a business disguise in return for discreet investigations of underwriting opportunities and losses incurred. Thibodeau & Marzen’s manager himself was summoned. Behind the broker’s friendly salesman’s smile, Bell detected a serious, no-nonsense executive, a tough nut to crack.
“Dagget, Staples & Hitchcock? Delighted to meet you, Mr. Bell. What brings you all the way from Hartford, Connecticut?”
“The principals have sent me on a scouting expedition.”
“Well, as stockbrokers and insurance firms are potential partners rather than adversaries, I do believe you started scouting in the right place. May I offer a libation in my office?”
They felt each other out over bourbon whiskey, the manager probing for Bell’s status at the venerable Hartford firm, Bell dropping names of school friends’ fathers he had met and men he had read about in Grady Forrer’s newspaper files. Turning down a hospitable refill, he said, “I’ve been asked to look into some bearer bonds that went missing in Chicago.”
“Missing bearer bonds are never a happy story, as whoever possesses them can cash them and whoever lost them can’t. Which, of course, I don’t have to tell a man in the insurance line.”
“Dagget, Staples & Hitchcock would not dream of trying to recover them, or the losses, which as you point out would be impossible. However, we do have a strong interest in the man in whose hands they ended up.”
“If missing bearer bonds have ended up repeatedly in this man’s hands as you are implying,” the branch manager said drily, “I am not surprised you do.”
So far, thought Bell, the branch manager was holding him off adroitly, as if he had been in business long enough to guess what was coming next from this seemingly casual visitor. The young detective said, “I would not be surprised if you have an inkling about the sort of question I am going to ask next.”
“Not one bit surprised,” the manager answered with a cool smile.
“The latest that went missing were railroad bonds. In twenty-five-thousand-dollar denominations.”
“May I ask which railroad?”
“It could have been one of many. The owner — previous owner, I guess we should say — had an affection for railroad bonds and owned a broad range, with various maturity dates and coupon rates of course.”
“Of course.”
“Of those stolen from his safe, we are particularly interested in three that were cashed within the week in a branch office of the issuing agent.”
“My branch office?” said the manager.
“Let me assure you that we are suggesting no impropriety on your part, and certainly not on the part of Mr. Court Held.”
“I should think not.”
“Surely not, in your case. But we do find, rarely but occasionally, that businessmen facing hard times will do very foolish things, so I am extremely happy to say that this has nothing to do with Mr. Held beyond the fact that the man who gave him the bonds in the course of a legitimate transaction might — and I emphasize
The manager said nothing.
Bell said, “His name is John Claggart.”
“That’s not the man.”
“Sometimes he calls himself Henry Clay.”
“Not this time.”
“May I describe him to you?”
“Go ahead.”
Isaac described Henry Clay, ending with the eyes.
The branch manager of Thibodeau & Marzen said, “He called himself Smith. The bonds were on the New Haven Railroad, maturing in 1908, with a coupon rate of five percent.”
“Thank you,” said Bell, but he was disappointed. He had been half hoping that the manager would try to protect Claggart. With branches throughout the Midwest, Thibodeau & Marzen would make a good front for a
