Chapter 6 #2
But, in finishing, she did say, “I gather Mr. Carmody had written articles which earned him the enmity of people in high places in Washington. And that he was well on the way to doing the same in New York.”
“I have read his Washington articles,” said Miss Genevieve, eyes sparkling.
“They were hard-hitting, all right. They have led to at least one official hearing, into Colonel Forbes, Director of the Veterans’ Bureau, who was selling surplus government material for his own profit.
I wonder if Forbes hired a hoodlum to rub Carmody out. ”
“The man I saw running away didn’t look like …” Daisy started to protest, but Miss Genevieve wasn’t listening.
“No, more likely the Tammany bosses sent one of their local thugs to stop his investigation before they got hurt.
And since both the police and the District Attorney’s Office are firmly under Tammany’s thumb, they’ll get away with it.”
Miss Cabot continued the running refrain which had punctuated Daisy’s story: “Oh dear!”
“Not necessarily,” said Daisy. “I understand a federal agent will be involved.”
“The Feds stationed in New York are all in Tammany’s pockets,” declared Miss Genevieve cynically.
“A man is coming from Washington.”
“Indeed! Now how did that come about, I wonder?” Her penetrating gaze fixed Daisy, who was immediately certain she looked guilty. She had no intention of revealing that J. Edgar Hoover had sent an agent to take care of her.
However, Miss Genevieve forbore to probe. “That will put a cat among the pigeons, and no mistake!” she went on. “So close to the election, they can’t afford to be caught hiding evidence. It would be worse than letting Carmody publish, and almost as bad as being proved to have hired an assassin!”
“Oh dear!”
“You don’t think there might have been a more personal motive for the attack on Carmody?” Daisy ventured. “I don’t know anything about his private life.”
“He was married,” revealed Miss Genevieve consideringly. “His wife came with him from Washington.”
“Oh dear, the poor woman!”
“But she left him, as you know very well, sister.”
“Only think how guilty she will feel, sister, to have left him in his hour of need!”
“She can hardly have foreseen that he was to be murdered,
sister. Unless,” Miss Genevieve mused, “she was responsible for his death.”
“Oh dear!”
Married? Then the woman Daisy had heard must have been Mrs. Carmody. Did the fact reinforce or destroy Sergeant Gilligan’s pet theory?
“There was also the man he quarrelled with in the lobby the other day,” continued Miss Genevieve. “A Mr. Pitt, a fellow resident and fellow writer. He has written a novel, poor man. I had noticed them together previously.”
“What did they quarrel about?” Daisy asked.
“That I cannot tell you, alas. Mr. Pitt spoke quite quietly, and they were at some distance from us, in that area between the lobby and the registration desk. Mr. Carmody’s voice was not lowered, however.
He repeated several times, in different ways, that he could do nothing for him.
In the end, Mr. Pitt raised his voice and called him a … ”
“Sister!”
“A rude name. Several, in fact. He continued the abuse as Carmody pushed past him, heading for the street.”
“What did Mr. Pitt do then?” Daisy wanted to know.
“The manager came out and—I presume—desired him to moderate his language as there were ladies present, whereupon he departed, I assume by way of the stairs.”
“The stairs? Not the elevators?”
“He turned to the right, and I happened to have noticed young Kevin sneaking out about his nefarious business a few minutes earlier,” said Miss Genevieve dryly.
Daisy laughed. “Pitt went up by the stairs, then. Heavens, look at the time. My husband will be back at his hotel
by now. I must phone him and tell him I shan’t be taking the train tomorrow. Excuse me for running off, and thank you so much for the tea.”
Returning to her room, Daisy saw that a uniformed policeman had been stationed at the next door along the passage, the door to Carmody’s room.
She wondered whether it had been searched already.
Perhaps Gilligan was still busy with Thorwald and other possible witnesses at the Flatiron Building, such as the doormen.
The sergeant might well want to search the victim’s room himself, for fear of turning up evidence incriminating his bosses at Tammany Hall.
While she waited for her telephone call to be put through, Daisy paced her room. She hardly dared think what Alec was going to say, but she simply could not fix her mind on anything else, even the burning question of who had killed Carmody.
It was twenty minutes before the switchboard rang back to say she was connected. Then Alec’s voice came through, crackling and scratchy but unmistakably Alec.
“Great Scott, Daisy, tell me it’s not true?”
“Darling, I couldn’t help it!”
His sigh whistled down the wire. “I know, love. You’d better not talk about it.
There’s no knowing who might be listening in.
Just tell me, are you all right? You’re not too upset?
The police didn’t threaten you with what they call the ‘third degree’?
If they did, by God I’ll have their livers and lights! ”
“No, no, darling, they were fairly polite. But this isn’t the moment to remind me of American police methods! Surely they wouldn’t use violent methods on a respectable married lady who has been utterly cooperative? Besides, my
watchdog was by my side most of the time. I’m going to have your super’s liver and lights when we get home!”
A laugh entered Alec’s voice. “So you’ve discovered Crane’s meddling, have you?”
“Alec, he didn’t tell you he was going to …”
“Great Scott, no, love. The gentleman I’m working with here told me, to reassure me that you wouldn’t run amok without me. Little did he know …”
“Don’t be beastly, darling. I do miss you. I wish you were here.”
“Oh, I shall be. I’m taking a train to New York tomorrow afternoon. Should be there by teatime. Hoover has exacted a promise from me to protect the New York police from you.”
“Horrid beast! But I’m glad you’re coming. I’ll meet you at the station. What time?”
The rest of their conversation was taken up with practical details followed by sweet nothings. After she had hung up the earpiece, Daisy sat for several minutes revelling in the glow left by the latter.
Then curiosity, her besetting sin, reasserted itself. She reached out determinedly for the bell to ring for the chambermaid. It was time to find out what Bridget had to tell about the late Otis Carmody.