Depth of Deception (A Titanic Murder Mystery) (20 page)

Greenwyn wrote ‘crazy’ in the margin and circled it several times. Willowby nodded. He had been watching for the usual signs of lying to a police officer. She displayed none. She was either one hell of an actress or she really believed what she was saying.

Myra was now speaking more freely.
"
I made my way northward along Broadway towards my home... but home doesn’t exist anymore. I understood why the operator couldn’t find Bloomingdale Square...
"

The two officers leaned forward waiting for the explanation.

"
It was gone,
"
she whispered.
"
It is now called Duke of… Something Street.
"

"
Duke Ellington Boulevard,
"
corrected Willowby. They had picked up Myra at the park right there at 106th and Broadway.

"
My house is gone,
"
Myra continued, only slightly agitated,
"
So is our neighbor’s house... the Straus’ home... gone… Even the Bloomingdale Reformed Church where Archie and I were married is gone. Gone. The life I knew is gone.
"

Greenwyn started to write in point form – no longer able to keep up in longhand.

"
That’s when I saw it,
"
Myra prattled on.

"What?"

"
A headline on a newspaper… fluttering on the park bench. I picked it up. There was an article about a
Titanic II
…
"

Myra began to shiver. She rubbed her hands vigorously. Willowby wondered what one thing had to do with the other. How was the
Titanic II
of any importance?

"
Then my hands began to shake as I saw the photo beneath the headline. The photo of the Hoffmans. I knew Edward, my son, and there was Archie! He had aged so much but it doesn't matter to me. My husband is still alive! I needed to see him, needed him to hold me... then I saw
her
picture.
"

"Who?" Willowby asked but she seemed glassy-eyed as she began to unfold the newspaper she had crumpled when they picked her up. Myra's finger stabbed at the image of an old woman in the photo between the two elderly men.
"
Her! Who is this woman?
"

Willowby looked and recognized
the
image of Edward Hoffman: He was a respected business tycoon and wealthy philanthropist. She jabbed her finger again, losing her composure,
"
Who is the woman who dares call herself Myra Hoffman? Who is she? How could she steal my family? My life?
"

Willowby watched as Myra started to tear up the newspaper as she screamed,
"
I want my family back! I want my life back!
"

She sneered at the tattered remains,
"
I am
Myra Hoffman! Why did she do this to me? How did she steal my life?!
"

Officer Willowby ran his finger across his scar as he looked over at Greenwyn. He could tell by his expression that they were both thinking the same thing: She was nuts!

Chapter
XXIII

Callum did not get much sleep in his holding cell. It certainly wasn’t built for comfort. The white bricks had a yellowish tint to them, making the room feel more disgusting than it probably was. A battered cot sat in the corner and an old metal urinal on the wall completed the décor. It wasn’t the in
hospitable surroundings that were
keeping him up all night, however—it was the
string of
incessant questions pounding in his head. All his life he was led to believe that his grandfather had made a mistake and was disgraced for it. Now with her last breaths, Ruthie revealed to him that his grandfather had tried to be honorable and was threatened for doing so. Who should he believe? Who could he trust, when his own beliefs were now in question?

Doubts began to flood over his mind. Why did his grandfather confide in Ruthie instead of his family? What if Ruthie was just saying that to make him feel better?
But who would do that when they realized they were dying?
He reviewed the case in his head. The eyewitness accounts of the man seen fleeing Agatha Gilcrest’s murder did not match Otto Slade. Ruthie’s father was not allowed to testify and his family was threatened if he spoke the truth. Somehow Otto Slade was the scapegoat. Callum’s grandfather found out about it and was also threatened. Why? Who was the Glasgow Police protecting? Or was it all just jibberish rambling from an old woman as she lay bleeding to death?

Callum’s thoughts were interrupted by the squeaking sound of a door opening down the hall. Footsteps on the tile floor echoed through the holding cells, and Detective Chief Inspector de Kirkhaugh’s smug face appeared on the opposite side of the bars.

"
Here to take me before the district court’s office?
"
asked Callum without bothering to get up.

"
No,
"
replied de Kirkhaugh.
"
I’m here to ask why you’re investigating a murder that took place almost a century ago.
"

Callum tried to keep a poker face,
"
What do you mean?
"

"
You can’t deny it,
"
de Kirkhaugh said with a definite tone.
"
I know you’re investigating your grandfather’s case. He was dishonorably discharged from the Glasgow Police for his incompetence.
"

"
And how exactly do you know who my grandfather is?
"

Through the bars de Kirkhaugh opened his fingers and the necklace given to him by Ruthie dropped and
stopped at the end of the chain.
"
You were carrying your grandfather Inspector John Toughill’s pendant. The inscription is on the back along with his police warrant number.
"

Callum hadn’t the time to inspect the back of the pendant when Ruthie gave it to him, but at least now he knew she had told him the truth. The sight of de Kirkhaugh holding his grandfather’s pendant infuriated him, but since it was the Glasgow Police that ruined his father he was not about to blurt out everything he knew. He simply gazed at the Detective Chief Inspector, who obviously couldn’t stand the silence for long.

"
So why are you investigating such an old case?
"

"
How is it any of your business?
"

"
It’s my business when Ruth McArthur turns up dead and she was ‘witness’ in the murder case your grandfather investigated back in 1909.
"

"
How is it that you’re so familiar with the details of a murder case from 1909?
"
asked Callum.

"
Well I could br
ag about my powers of deduction, or admit that I
simply look
ed
at the files and newspaper clippings in your satchel case. Your grandfather’s name is all over it. By the by, you left it in the cab you took from the Glasgow airport to Ruth McArthur’s flat.
"

"
You had no right to go through my personal belongings,
"
sneered Callum.

"
You were a suspect in a murder case
. T
hat gave me every right to determine if I had a case against you.
"

"
Were
a suspect?
"

"
The bullet that killed Miss Ruth McArthur did not come from your gun.
"

"
What caliber of bullet was it?
"
asked Callum. There was another moment of silence as de Kirkhaugh stared him down. He didn’t answer. Callum added,
"
I’m just curious… in case I see something.
"

"
I can’t tell you,
"
replied de Kirkhaugh
.

"
You don’t trust me?
"

"
No, I don’t,
"
said de Kirkhaugh.
"
But even if I did, I still can’t tell you. I know your gun wasn’t modified to shoot
£
75 bullets.
"

"
What?
"

"
You’re free to go, Mr. Toughill,
"
said de Kirkhaugh as he unlocked the door. Call
um carefully stood up
.

"
That’s it?
"

"
I know you weren’t the assassin,
"
replied de Kirkhaugh.

"
Assassin?
"

"
The constable there will escort you to pick up your personal effects.
"

"
Everything had better be back in my satchel,
"
Callum said as he glanced over to where de Kirkhaugh was pointing and saw a uniformed officer standing by the door at the end of the hallway.

"
A word of warning,
"
de Kirkhaugh said as he held out the pendant for Callum to take.
"
Leave homicide investigation to the trained professionals. We’re experts in what we do, and consider amateurs such as yourself to be obstructors of justice.
"

"
Ha,
"
snapped Callum as he snatched the pendant away. He’d had enough of this insolent twit.
"
It was your experts that botched up the case in the first place and sent an innocent man to the gallows. Then when my grandfather tried to prove his innocence, the ‘professional’ Glasgow police turned on him and disgraced him. So much for the brotherhood.
"

"
Sod off,
"
barked de Kirkhaugh.
"
You don’t know what you’re talking about.
"

Callum smiled. He finally got to him and left with a parting remark,
"
Prove me wrong. I dare you.
"

Callum was still feeling ebullient with his last word as the constable led him to the discharge area to pick up his personal belongings. His warm feelings of victory were short lived, however. They vanished when he saw the stern expression of Percy Winthrope from Lloyds of London.

Chapter
XXIV

"
What the blazes is going on with you?
"
demanded Percy before Callum could sit down with his cup at the Arcade Café, a centuries-old coffee house.

Callum
took his time. He sat and
stirred in some sugar as he gazed about at the ornate hand-carved wood décor on the walls. It was early enough in the day that the café wasn’t too crowded, allowing them to speak freely. Where would he begin? He had hoped to have something more conclusive before presenting his findings to Percy. That way the end would have justified the means. However, at this point he was still essentially empty handed.

"
I don’t know what to tell you,
"
Callum
finally
said as he took a sip.
"
I was just following the leads and they brought me to where you found me.
"

"
Leads? What leads?
"
exclaimed Percy.
"
All you had to do was look at the evidence and declare it a hoax.
"

"
Oh, now you’re going to tell me what to declare?
"
Callum exploded.
"
Why bother having investigators then? Why not sit there in your tacky, stuffy office and rubberstamp your own verdict without any investigation?
"

"
I beg your pardon?
"

"
I meant no disrespect,
"
continued Callum.
"
But I’ve been chasing leads all over the United Kingdom, I’ve hardly had any sleep, I’ve been shot at and accused of murdering someone I happened to like, and I don’t appreciate an Irish bastard such as yourself telling me how to do my job.
"

"
Are you quite finished?
"

"
For now. I reserve the right to call you a few more names after I’ve finished my coffee.
"

"
I did not mean to suggest that you pass judgment without investigation,
"
said Percy in a calm voice.
"
But I assumed that after seeing the scribbles on the back of that insurance claim, you would hav
e come to the same conclusion a
nd found the facts to back it up.
"