The Cinco de Mayo Murder (26 page)

Finally Eddie left the pool and joined a game with other small children while I got my wish and swam several laps, enjoying stretching those muscles for the first time of the year.

In the evening, Jack and I discussed our plans for the next afternoon. I would take the train to Manhattan so that we would have only one car to drive home. The WaldorfAstoria covered a full block between Forty-ninth and Fiftieth and between Park Avenue and Lex. The cocktail area was on the Park Avenue side so we would meet at the Lexington entrance and ride the escalator up to the lobby floor; while I walked through the entire lobby, Jack would hang back, eventually standing where he had a view of our table.

“If he wants to walk you out, I'll be right behind you,” he said. “I just showed up to meet you for dinner.”

“OK.”

“I doubt whether he's staying there. It's a bit pricey for a college professor.”

“I can always tell him I'm meeting my husband and he'll be on his way.”

“So we'll meet at five to five on Lex.”

“I'll be there.”

Grand Central Station sits on top of what would be Park Avenue except that the divided avenue splits to pass alongside the east and west sides of the building. The avenue to the east of Park is Lexington and I got myself over there, walked up to the Waldorf, and waited at the north end of the entrance. In this new casual society of ours, I saw more people dressed in sporty attire than in cocktail clothes or business wear. I guess if you're spending your vacation shopping, you may as well be comfortable.

I was early, but not by much. I scanned Lex in both directions but didn't see Jack. It got to be five of and then a minute before five. I became nervous. It was one of the times I would have liked to have a cell phone with me. Jack carries one because he has to be available virtually twentyfour hours a day. But I don't, and I tremble to think what our monthly bill would be.

Five o'clock and no sign of my husband. It was too late to call the precinct; besides, he was surely on his way by now, probably backed up in rush-hour traffic or having trouble finding a garage. At three minutes past, I stepped into the middle of the sidewalk and looked in both directions. Jack wasn't visible, and I had no choice but to keep my appointment. I went inside, rode up the long escalator,
and started through the lobby—past shops where I could afford nothing, elevators to the many floors, finally arriving at the Park Avenue end where a huge chandelier hung over a mosaic of the wheel of life. I glanced back but saw no familiar face.

To my right were a couple of levels of tables and chairs with waiters dancing from one to another. I scanned the faces of the men, trying to find one big man sitting alone looking for me. Finally a short, round man with glasses and dark hair, wearing a brown suit, stood and looked directly at me. Could that possibly be my bully?

I took a last look behind me for Jack, who wasn't there. Herb waved and I smiled and walked toward his table. He made his way in my direction and we met about halfway.

“Chris?” He was five-four or -five, slightly shorter than I.

“Herb,” I said, almost relieved at his size. “Nice to meet you.”

“I've got a table. Let's sit.”

Unfortunately, the chair he led me to faced Park Avenue, so I would have no way of seeing Jack without being obvious. I sat and gave my order of white wine to the waiter, who had materialized in seconds.

“Well it's great to meet you,” Herb said, “after all our phone calls. You find this place all right?”

I assured him I had.

“So what've you learned since we last discussed Heinz's death?”

“I can't even remember what I've told you,” I said. “I learn a little more every day, but I don't have it down yet. There were at least three men on the mountain. Did I tell you that?”

“I'm not sure. Who was the third?”

“It has to be Marty McHugh.”

“Marty flew to Arizona?”

“It looks that way. I told you I had a conference call with Steve Millman.”

“Yeah. With Marty on the line.”

“Marty wanted to make sure Steve didn't drop anything that would hurt him.”

“Right. So you think they killed Heinz.”

“I don't know what to think. And it's possible there was a fourth person there.”

“Another one! Hey, you'll have the whole college on that trail pretty soon.”

My wine came and I took a sip. It was cool and crisp. Herb was drinking Scotch on the rocks with a twist, something that would have appealed to Jack.

“Not quite,” I said in response to his comment.

“What makes you think there were more than three?”

“Something I came across yesterday,” I said lamely.

“Everyone's been lying to me, Herb. Well, not Dean Hershey.”

“And not me.”

“No, of course not. You've given me lots of good information. But Marty lied about some things. Steve told me things that were clearly not true. Andrew Franklin I'm not sure of. It depends on something that Steve said.”

“But those may be details. What we need to know is who was on that mountain and who had it in for Heinz.”

“Yes. I've also spoken to Heinz's oldest friend from high school. He read me some of Heinz's letters that were written that last semester. Your name is mentioned.”

“What did he say about me?” Was it eagerness or concern that I heard in his voice?

“Not a lot.”

“He didn't say I was taking that trip, did he?”

I felt a chill. “No, he didn't. He may have said that he asked you but you couldn't make it.”

“That sounds about right.”

So I had worked my way out of that. I wanted desperately to look over my shoulder and see if my husband's reassuring presence was there, but I didn't dare. I sipped my wine and waited for Herb to pick up the dialogue.

“Well, I can say you've learned a lot in the last few days. How long are you giving this?”

“I'm not sure. I may need to get back to Professor Addison again. I really appreciate that lead.”

“No trouble.”

I looked at my watch. It was almost twenty-five after and I was out of things to tell him.

“Why don't we hop a cab and go to my hotel? I'd like you to meet my wife. I'm sure she's there by now.”

“I would love to, but I really can't. My husband's meeting me here soon. He said as long as I was in the city, why didn't we go out to dinner? So that's what we're doing.”

“I wish we could join you, but we have tickets over on the west side. And I need a shower and a change of clothes before I go anywhere.”

“Maybe another time.” I sipped more wine. He had finished his drink, so I assumed our meeting was coming to an end.

“Where's your husband meeting you?”

“Under that huge chandelier. I guess half of New York must meet there.”

“It's really something.”

I chanced a glance at that area, knowing Jack would not be standing in the middle of the lobby.

“He there yet?”

I shook my head. “Any minute.”

“Well, I guess I'd better get going. It's been great meeting you, Chris.” He pulled out a wallet and put some bills on the table. The check had mysteriously appeared.

“Same here.” I stood, and we started for the center of the lobby. “Thank you so much for the drink. I'm so glad to be able to put a person to the voice.”

We shook hands and I watched him go down the stairs to the Park Avenue entrance. He turned and waved. I waved back, then pivoted.

“I'm right here,” Jack said. He leaned over and kissed me. I felt like hugging him. “Sorry I was late. As usual, something came up and I was thirty seconds too late getting out of there. The desk officer grabbed me and I didn't get here till five fifteen.”

“I'm just so relieved to see you, I've forgotten all about it.”

“Let's go back to Lex. I've got a reservation a couple of blocks from here.”

I grabbed his arm and hung on to it as we walked back the way I had come.

“I don't know if he's the one, Jack,” I said when we were sitting at a table with a heavy white linen tablecloth and huge napkins. “I was so nervous, I hardly knew what I was saying. But I didn't disclose that I've been talking to Steve Millman. Did you see the size of him?”

“Short and squat. That's your bully.”

“I was looking for tall and powerful. What a surprise. He invited me to his hotel to meet his wife. I'm glad I had a legitimate excuse for not going.”

“Do you seriously think he was part of the group that killed your friend?”

“I seriously think it's possible.”

“It looks like your only hope is to get this Steve Millman guy to tell you what he knows.”

“He hasn't called for two days.”

“Two days isn't forever,” my husband assured me.

“Let's look at the menu. This place was recommended highly by my captain.”

“Good. Now that I'm here, I'm starving.”

The idea came to me while we were driving home. I kept it to myself. Having botched the meeting with Herb Fallon, I didn't want to say anything to Jackuntil I had something firm. Tomorrow morning I had an important call to make.

At ten on Friday morning I called Dean Hershey. I started out by saying that I had met Herb Fallon in New York, and how nice it was to know what he looked like and discuss the case with him in person.

“What I would like to know this morning,” I said when we had finished our introductory chitchat, “is the names of the other students in Heinz's class who were brought to Rimson by Professor Koch.”

“Ah, I wonder if that's in our files.”

“It's become quite important,” I said.

“I could probably call him and ask. He might remember. It was his last year at Rimson.”

“I'd rather you didn't ask him personally, Dean Hershey. Or even let him know that you're looking into it.”

“Let me see what I can find.”

I called Joseph after that and told her what I had learned in the last few days and what I had asked the dean to find out for me.

“That sounds like a good question, Chris. Let me know when you get the answer.”

I shopped, made lunch, sat down to eat…and the phone rang.

“This is Dean Hershey. I've found the answer to your question.”

“Thank you. I'm listening.” I picked up a pencil and grabbed an envelope with a bill in it.

“There were two other students that year, Erica Wright and Steven Millman.”

“Steve,” I said.

“I think we established that he dropped out of Rimson after Heinz's death. And we haven't heard from him since.”

“I have, but he hasn't been as forthcoming as I'd like. He was on the trail with Heinz the day of the accident.”

“I see. What does that have to do with Alfred?”

“I'm not sure. Do you have a phone number for Erica Wright?”

He dictated it. Her married name was Tyler, she lived in Buffalo, and, he told me, had graduated with honors from Rimson. “Alfred knew how to pick them.”

“Thank you very much,” I said sincerely. “This is a big help.”

I pushed aside my salad and dialed the Buffalo number. A woman answered immediately and said she was Erica Tyler. I gave her some background, and she told me she remembered that Heinz had died.

“I understand you came to Rimson partly through the work of a professor who scouted for appropriate students,” I said.

“Professor Koch, yes. He came to my high school and I made a good impression on him. Rimson was always my first choice, so I was really pleased that he wanted me to go there.”

“Did your parents pay him for his help?”

“I don't think so. I think he just met me and picked me as a prospect.”

“Did you know Steve Millman and Heinz Gruner?”

“I knew Heinz slightly. I knew Steve better, although he
was a pain in the neck, an annoying person. He complained about everything. He really disliked Professor Koch, although I think the professor wasn't even at Rimson the year we were freshmen.”

“He went to Columbia,” I volunteered.

“But he popped up one day during the year to see how we were all doing.”

“Do you know why Steve disliked him so much?”

“It's so long ago, it probably doesn't matter if I tell you. I think Professor Koch charged Steve's parents a lot of money to get him into Rimson. It was Steve's first or second choice and I don't think he had the grades, although his SATs were good. There was something going on there. You know what? I think Steve or his family were planning to take Professor Koch to court. Steve used the word ‘bribe’ when he talked about it. He also said Koch had taken bribes from a number of students’ families.”

“I see. Do you know if it ever went to court?”

“I don't think it did. Heinz died and Steve dropped out, and I never heard anything more about it.”

I gave her my phone number in case she remembered anything else and went back to my lunch. That and what Dean Hershey had told me were my missing pieces of information. It just didn't explain why Heinz Gruner had fallen off the trail. And if Steve Millman didn't call back, I might never know.