Bread (87th Precinct) (18 page)

“What’d you find out at Castleview?”

“Chase and Grimm knew each other. They corresponded regularly.”

“Just what we figured,” Ollie said. “Did you get those pictures from the IS?”

“Should be here in a little while, I hope.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon,” Ollie said.

He had not told Carella where he was, and Carella did not think to ask. Nor did the man in the Photographic Unit tell Ollie that the rush order from next door was earmarked for a detective named Steve Carella of the 87th Squad. He did not tell Ollie
because it was none of Ollie’s business. Ollie didn’t ask him anything about the rush order because all Ollie wanted was his own damn pictures and fast. Besides, Carella had already assured him the mug shots of Chase should be up at the squadroom in just a little while. Ollie left High Street with his own eight-by-ten glossies at a quarter to one. The package to Carella from the PU (as it was affectionately called by any detective who’d ever had to wait for photographs) did not arrive at the squadroom until almost 1:30. They had still not heard from Hawes, so they decided to hit Reardon’s landlady all by their lonesomes.

Rosalie Waggener’s taxi had traveled directly up Ainsley Avenue until it reached the Hamilton Bridge. Actually there were
two
Hamilton Bridges in the city, one of them on the northern side of Isola, crossing the River Harb into the next state, and formally called the
Alexander
Hamilton Bridge. This was not to be confused with the plain old
Hamilton
Bridge, which crossed the Diamondback River up around Piney Hill Terrace (upon which there was not a single pine tree) and connected Isola and Riverhead, which were both parts of the same state and, in fact, the same city. If you asked anyone in the city for directions to the Hamilton Bridge, they would invariably give you directions to the Alexander Hamilton Bridge. In fact, odds were nine-to-five that nobody in the city even
knew
there was a bridge simply called the Hamilton, less than a block long and spanning the Diamondback River, which incidentally became the River Dix a little further west—it was all very complicated, though not as complicated as the city of Bologna, Italy.

The cab continued south into Riverhead, crossing the old College Road and then turning and proceeding west on Marlowe Avenue for several blocks. It finally pulled up before a red-brick apartment building on Marlowe, a few blocks from the elevated train tracks on Geraldson Avenue. Hawes pulled his own car into
the curb, cut the ignition, and watched as Rosalie, some seven car lengths ahead, got out of the taxi and went directly into the building. He waited a respectable five minutes, figuring a building so tall
had
to be an elevator building, and not wanting her to be waiting in the lobby when he went inside. At the end of that time, he went in, found the mailboxes, and began checking out the nameplates.

There were ten stories in the building, with six apartments on each floor. According to the nameplates, Oscar Hemmings did not live in the building.

But on the mailbox for Apartment 45, there was a plate engraved with a name Hawes recognized.

He squinted at the name, and then scratched his head.

“My husband is downtown buying hardware,” Barbara Loomis said. “Anything I can do for you?”

She was wearing very tight, very short navy-blue shorts and a pink shirt with the tails knotted just under her breasts. “Come in,” she said, “come in. Nobody going to bite you.”

They went into the apartment and sat at the kitchen table. Fat Ollie kept trying to look into her blouse. He was sure she wasn’t wearing a bra, and the top three buttons of the blouse were unbuttoned. Carella spread the photographs on the tabletop—the mug shots of Alfred Allen Chase; the police photographer’s shots of Charlie Harrod in death, eyes wide and staring up at the camera; the snapshot of Elizabeth Benjamin standing against the tenement wall, smiling; and the front and side shots Ollie had taken of Robinson Worthy and Oscar Hemmings that morning.

“Recognize any of these people?” he asked Barbara.

“Yeah, sure I do,” Barbara said. “What happened to the big redheaded cop? How come he didn’t come back with these?”

“Won’t we do?” Ollie said, and grinned.

“Which of them do you recognize?” Carella asked.

“You fellows want a beer?” Barbara said.

“No, thanks,” Carella said.

“I wouldn’t mind one,” Ollie said, and watched Barbara’s behind when she rose and walked to the refrigerator. He winked at Carella and grinned again.

Barbara came back to the table, set the beer before Ollie, and then looked down at the pictures. “This is the girl Frank shacked up with those two nights,” she said, and pointed to the picture of Elizabeth Benjamin.

“And the others?” Carella said.

“Two of those men came to see Frank at the end of July.”

“Which ones?” Carella asked.

“This one and this one,” Barbara said, her forefinger tapping first Charlie Harrod’s head and then Robinson Worthy’s.

“Recognize the other man in that picture?” Carella asked.

“This one?” she asked. She lifted the picture Ollie had taken, and peered at Oscar Hemmings. “No,” she said. “Never saw him here. That doesn’t mean he’s never been here, it just means I never saw him.”

“Okay. How about this man?” Carella asked, and shoved the picture of Alfred Allen Chase across the table.

“Nope, never saw him either,” Barbara said, and turned to Ollie and smiled. “How’s the beer?” she asked.

“Delicious,” Ollie said. “Just delicious, m’little chickadee,” and Barbara giggled girlishly.

In the car riding uptown to the squadroom, Carella said, “Worthy and Harrod. They’re definitely the ones who made contact with Reardon, which means Diamondback Development burned out Grimm.”

“Right,” Ollie said. “I think that lady can be banged, you know that?”

“I don’t get it,” Carella said.

“You know what she said to me?”

“What?” Carella asked absently.

“She said her bedroom is air-conditioned. I tell you that lady can be banged, Carella.”

“It was Rosalie Waggener who went to Bremen, right?” Carella said. “And she’s Hemmings’s girlfriend, right?”

“Right,” Ollie said. “Yep, I think that lady can very definitely be banged.”

“Rosalie flew to Bremen on the day before Grimm’s packer acknowledged receipt of payment. Grimm’s check
couldn’t
have got there by then, so somebody must’ve made payment in person. And that had to be Rosalie.”

“I think I’ll give that lady a call tonight.”

“But what’s the connection, Ollie? Why the hell would Hemmings’s girl be paying Grimm’s bills while Hemmings’s company is planning to burn down Grimm’s warehouse? It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense at all.”

It made even less sense when they got back to the squadroom. Hawes was waiting for them there, and he reported that Rosalie Waggener had spent almost an hour in an apartment on Marlowe Avenue before heading back to Isola again.

The mailbox in the Marlowe Avenue lobby had carried a plate with the name Alfred Allen Chase engraved on it.

They picked up Rosalie Waggener at 4:00 that afternoon and took her to the squadroom. They told her they were not charging her with anything, but that they had reasonable grounds to believe she had information pertinent to their investigation, and would appreciate her answering a few questions. Rosalie said she would answer any questions they wanted to ask, but not without a lawyer present. They explained again that she was not being charged with anything, and when she insisted on a lawyer, they explained that they could force her to testify before a grand jury, but they did not want to go to all that trouble since she was not being charged with anything.

Reluctantly, Rosalie agreed to answer their questions.

“According to your passport,” Carella said, “you entered West Germany through the Bremen airport on July twenty-fifth, is that correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Rosalie said.

“And you returned to the United States on July twenty-seventh, is that also correct?”

“Yes,” Rosalie said.

“You told us you were visiting your relatives in Zeven.”

“That’s right.”

“We want to know the names, addresses, and telephone numbers of your relatives in Zeven,” Carella said.

“Why?”

“Because we’re going to check with the German police to make sure they exist.”

“They exist,” Rosalie said.

“Then give us their names.”

“I don’t have to.”

“That’s right, you don’t have to. Not here, you don’t. Before a grand jury, you do. It’s up to you.”

“Will the police call them? The German police?”

“Yes, that’s what we’ll request.”

“Why?”

“To make sure you were with them.”

“I was.”

“Then what are their names?”

“They’re very old people. I don’t want them bothered by the police. Anyway, what’s this got to do with your investigation? You said I had information that might…”

“That’s right.”

“What information?”

“Do you know a man named Roger Grimm?”

“No.”

“Did you visit Bremerhaven while you were in West Germany?”

“No.”

“Are you familiar with a firm called Bachmann Speditionsfirma in Bremerhaven?”

“No.”

“Why’d you go see Alfred Chase this afternoon?”

“Who said I…?”

“I followed you there,” Hawes said. “5361 Marlowe Avenue. Chase is in Apartment 45.”

“Did you go there or not?” Ollie asked.

“I went there.”

“Why?”

“Mr. Chase had some correspondence he wanted to answer. I told you, I do part-time secretarial work for…”

“Why didn’t you answer it at the office?”

“The office is closed on Saturdays.”

“I was there this morning,” Ollie said. “It was open.”

“Well, I guess Mr. Chase didn’t feel like going in today. I’m not the boss, you know. If they ask me to go up to Riverhead, I go.” Rosalie shrugged. “I’m not the boss.”

“Who is the boss?”

“They’re three partners.”

“I thought Hemmings was your boyfriend.”

“He is. But I work for the company. That has nothing to do with it. Oscar has nothing to do with it. I mean, if one of the bosses asks me to do something, I have to do it. It’s a job. If
your
boss asks you to do something,
you
do it, don’t you?”

“I’m not engaged to my boss,” Ollie said dryly.

“All I’m trying to say is it’s a job like any other job. I do what they ask me to do.”

“What do they ask you to do? Besides taking dictation and typing letters?”

“Secretarial work. All kinds of secretarial work.”

“Did they ask you to go to Germany?”

“No, I went there to visit my relatives.”

“What are their names?” Carella asked again.

“I’ll give you their names if you promise not to bother them.”

“I can’t promise that. I intend to place a transatlantic call the minute you give me the information.”

“Why? What the hell’s so important about my relatives?”

“We’re trying to find out why you went to Germany, Miss Waggener.”

“Did Diamondback Development send you there?”

“No.”

“Did Roger Grimm?”

“I never heard of Roger Grimm.”

“Did you take money to Germany?”

“Money? What do you mean? Of course, I took money.”

“How much?”

“Enough for expenses. In traveler’s checks.”

“How much?”

“I forget. A little more than a thousand, I think.”

“Did you spend it all?”

“No, not all of it.”

“Then you’ve still got traveler’s checks you didn’t cash, is that right?”

“Well…yes, I suppose so. Maybe I did spend all of it.”

“Did you or didn’t you?”

“Yes, I spent all of it.”

“A minute ago you said you
didn’t
spend all of it.”

“I was mistaken.”

“Then you
don’t
have any uncashed traveler’s checks.”

“That’s right, I don’t.”

“Where’d you buy the traveler’s checks?”

“At a bank.”

“Which bank?”

“I forget. One of the banks downtown.”

“When did you buy them?”

“A few days before I left.”

“That would be…” Carella picked up the desk calendar and studied it. “You left on July twenty-fifth, which was a Thursday, so you bought the checks sometime before then, right?”

“Yes.”

“Sometime that week?”

“Yes.”

“That would have been either Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday, right? July twenty-second, -third, or -fourth. Is that when you bought them, Miss Waggener?”

“Yes.”

“What
kind
of traveler’s checks?”

“American Express.”

“You won’t mind if we call American Express, will you?”

“Why do you want to call them?”

“To find out about the checks.”

“It was only a thousand dollars or so, what’s so important about that? Everybody uses traveler’s checks. I don’t see what’s so…”

“Some people use cash,” Hawes said.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Rosalie said.

“Did you take any cash with you?” Carella asked. “In addition to the traveler’s checks?”

“A little, I guess. I really don’t remember.”

“How much?” Ollie asked.

“Just a little. A hundred dollars or so.”

“And that’s all you took to Germany, right? A thousand dollars in traveler’s checks…”

“Well, a thousand more or less. I don’t remember the exact amount.”

“Well, let’s say a thousand, okay? A thousand in traveler’s checks and about a hundred in cash.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Okay, let’s call American Express,” Ollie said.

“They probably won’t have a record,” Rosalie said quickly.

“Why not?”

“Because…I don’t remember whether they were American Express checks or some other kind.”

“What other kind do you think they might have been?”

“I don’t remember. I just asked for traveler’s checks. I can’t really remember which kind they gave me.”

“There aren’t too many companies issuing traveler’s checks in this city,” Carella said. “If you don’t mind, we’ll call them all.”

“I…”

“Yes?” Carella said.

“Actually, I took cash,” she said.

“Then why’d you lie about it?”

“Because I wasn’t sure how much cash you’re allowed to take out of the country. I thought it might be illegal or something. I’m not familiar with the law.”

“How much money
did
you take out?”

“I told you. A little more than a thousand.”

“In cash.”

“Yes.”

“You’re
sure
it was in cash. A minute ago you said it was in traveler’s checks, but now you’re saying it was cash. Are you sure about that?”

“Oh yes, I’m sure.”

“And you’re also sure about the amount.”

“The amount?”

“Yes. A thousand dollars, is that right?”

“More or less.”

“Which?”

“What?”

“Which was it? Was it more than a thousand, or less than a thousand?”

“More.”

“How much more?”

“Oh, twelve hundred, thirteen hundred, something like that.”

“Where’d you get the money?”

“I had it. I saved it.”

“Where’d you save it?”

“I kept it in the apartment.”

“You didn’t keep it in a bank?”

“No.”

“You figured it was safe to leave thirteen hundred dollars in an apartment in Diamondback?” Ollie asked incredulously.

“Yes. I’ve never been robbed. I’ve been living there for almost three months, and I’ve never been robbed. I figured it was safe.”

“Where’d you live before then?”

“Downtown. In the Quarter.”

“Where’d you meet Oscar Hemmings?”

“At a party, I think.”

“When?”

“Oh, six, seven months ago.”

“How long have you been engaged?”

“Oh, four or five months.”

“You got engaged before you moved into the apartment on Saint Sebastian?”

“Yes.”

“Who paid to have the apartment redone?”

“Oscar.”

“Oscar personally? Or Diamondback Development?”

“Diamondback Development, I think. That’s their business, you know. Buying these old buildings and fixing them up.”

“Oh, have
all
the apartments in that building been fixed up?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“But not the outside of the building.”

“No, not the outside.”

“Why’s that?”

“Gee, I don’t know,” Rosalie said. “Maybe they didn’t want to spend the extra money. To fix up the outside, I mean.”

“Who else lives in that building?” Hawes asked.

“Lots of people.”

“Know any of them?”

“I don’t have much to do with my neighbors,” Rosalie said.

“You say you met Oscar six or seven months ago. Where was that? In Diamondback, or down in the Quarter?”

“Well, actually, I met him in Vegas.”

“Vegas? What were you doing there?”

“I used to go there weekends. When I was living on the Coast.”

“Oh, did you live in California?” Hawes asked.

“Yes. I was born in California. I only came here recently. After I met Oscar.”

“What kind of work did you do on the Coast?” Ollie asked.

“Secretarial.”

“Full or part time?”

“Well, part time mostly.”

“Who’d you work for?”

“Lots of different companies.”

“And you used to go to Las Vegas every weekend, is that right?”

“Well, not
every
weekend.”

“Just
some
weekends.”

“Yes, just some.”

“And that’s where you met Oscar Hemmings.”

“Yes.”

“At a party there, right?”

“Yes, at a party.”

“And then you came East and started working for Diamondback Development.”

“Yes.”

“And living with Oscar.”

“Yes. After we got engaged.”

“In a building renovated by Diamondback Development.”

“Yes.”

“Are you a hooker, Miss Waggener?” Hawes asked.

“No. Oh, no.”

“Ever been arrested, Miss Waggener?”

“No.”

“Sure about that?”

“Well, minor things.”

“Like what?”

“Traffic violations.”

“Here or in California?”

“California.”

“Where’d you live out there?”

“In LA.”

“Would you mind if we called the Los Angeles Police Department to find out whether or not you were ever arrested for anything more serious than a traffic violation?”

“I don’t see any reason for you to do that.”

“Why not?”

“I may decide to go back to California one day. I don’t want the police there to have me listed as somebody questionable.”

“Questionable?”

“Well, somebody you were asking questions about.”

“You don’t want us to call the German police, you don’t want us to call the LA police, you don’t want us to call American Express, or any of the other traveler’s checks companies…”

“I took cash with me, I told you that.”

“That’s a lot of people you don’t want us to call, Miss Waggener.”

“You said I’m not being charged with anything. Okay, so why should I allow you to pry into my personal life?”

“We’re going to call Los Angeles, anyway. We’re also going to call Las Vegas.”

“Why?”

“To see if you’ve got an arrest record.”

“Okay, okay,” Rosalie said.

“We can call?”

“No, you don’t have to call.”

“You want to tell us about it?”

“I was arrested once for prostitution on the Coast.”

“Uh-huh,” Hawes said.

“You still hooking?” Ollie asked.

“No.”

“What’s that fancy building on St. Sebastian? It’s a whorehouse, ain’t it?

“Gee, I couldn’t tell you. It’s where I live.”

“Is Oscar Hemmings a pimp?”

“No. Oh, no,” Rosalie said.

“We’re going to visit that building again, you know,” Carella said. “To find out who else is living there.”

“Well, they’re just ordinary tenants,” Rosalie said.

“Like
you
?” Ollie asked.

“I haven’t had any trouble with the police since that time in LA,” Rosalie said.

“That only means you haven’t been
caught
lately,” Ollie said.