Carolyn Keene - Trial By Fire

“Delighted,” he said. “Thomas Tyler at your service.”

Nancy glanced around the neat, comfortable apartment. The top of a corner table was cluttered with framed photographs, probably of his family. She walked over to it and noticed a picture of-Jim Dayton!

What was his photo doing here? She decided she’d work in the question during the course of the conversation.

“Please,” Mr. Tyler said. “Have a seat.” He seemed determined to be the perfect host. Charming and witty, he had them laughing over cups of tea for half an hour before they got around to the subject they had come to discuss.

“Mr. Tyler,” Nancy said, beginning, “did you work for the Gold Star Cab Company?”

“I was their mechanic from the first day they hit the streets until a year and a half ago, when they kicked me out. Said I should retire, and saw that I did.”

“Brownley and Reston?”

“That’s right. First they brought in a new man-to help me, they said-a thug who didn’t know a brake shoe from a bedroom slipper. Then they cut back on my hours, but they still paid me for full-time. The new man didn’t do a thing, which took care of the rolling stock. Everything began to fall apart.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Ann said.

“No, it doesn’t. Then they closed off the lower level where I was doing the maintenance work.”

Nancy held up a hand. “The street level isn’t the lowest level?”

“No, indeed. There’s a basement. The entrance was at the back on the right. You just drove on down. They put a door in there to close it up, and then they locked it. It cut the amount of our parking spaces in half, because I then had to work on the street level.”

“Why did they do that?” Nancy asked.

“I still don’t know. They fired drivers who’d been with them for years and began taking on part-timers. Then they bought new cabs, but they never used them.”

“It sounds as if they wanted to lose money,” Ann said.

“Well, they didn’t, even though the old cabs began to fall apart. You know riding in a Gold Star cab has become hazardous to your health. I even told my grandson that before he started working there.”

“Your grandson? After all you went through, why would he want to work there?” Nancy asked, now knowing Jim’s connection to Mr. Tyler.

“All Jim would say was that good-paying temp jobs are hard to come by. I know it’s only going to be a few weeks, but I still wish he hadn’t taken it.”

Nancy thought that sounded familiar. Ned was in the same predicament, only he hadn’t found a job.

A sudden suspicion began to grow in Nancy’s mind. “Were you working for Gold Star when Mrs. Harvey was hurt?”

“No, that happened a couple of months after they put me but to pasture. But of course I heard about it. Crimson Oaks is like a small town. And I felt real bad about what happened to Vera. Haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since.”

“Why?” Ann asked.

“That cab’s brakes had failed twice before I left Gold Star. I warned Brownley that they needed work. But they didn’t do a thing, Ms. Granger. Not before I left, and not after, because I saw that cab on the street.”

“You did all you could,” Nancy said.

“No. I could have reported them. If I had, Vera Harvey wouldn’t be walking with a cane today.”

Now Nancy was sure her suspicion was right. “Mr. Tyler, you’re Ann Granger’s source, aren’t you?” she asked.

“ What? ” Ann asked.

Mr. Tyler turned pink. “Young lady, you’re too smart for your own good. But so am I. You’re that lawyer’s daughter, aren’t you? You were on the news. They said that you’re a detective.”

The reporter stood up. “You mean, she’s right?”

“She’s right. I’m sorry, Ms. Granger. It never occurred to me I’d get you and Mr. Drew in so much trouble. Believe me, I’d never have let them put you in jail. I’d have come forward. Still plan to. You just tell me when.”

Ann leaned over and shook his hand. “Mr. Tyler, it means a great deal to me to hear you say that, but I don’t want you to do it. There’s a principle involved here. I’m protected by the First Amendment, and I intend to stick by my guns.”

“Well, let me know if you change your mind,” he said.

Nancy noticed that Ann didn’t mention that the members of the grand jury weren’t the only people who wanted to know his name.

“As I said, I’m sorry about the trouble I caused,” Mr. Tyler went on. “I just couldn’t sit back and see anyone else hurt, so I called you.”

“But why the newspaper?”

“After Vera’s accident, I went to Brownley and Reston and told them if they didn’t do something about those cabs, I’d report them to the Hacks Bureau. I thought Reston would beat me up, he was so mad, but Brownley cooled him down. Said I was right and they’d take care of things.”

“But they didn’t,” Ann said.

“No, but I didn’t find out until recently. My daughter in New York City had been nagging me to go and live with her. Well, I tried it for almost a year, but that was enough. Too many people on that island. I moved back here and found the same old cabs in the same rotten condition. My grandson told me it’s a miracle one car lasts for an entire shift.”

“When did you move back here, Mr. Tyler?” Nancy asked.

“A couple of months back. I went to the Hacks Bureau, and they sent me over to Public Safety. I explained that I wanted to report Gold Star, and they sent me somewhere else. Took me awhile before I realized I was getting the runaround. Everybody seemed to be covering for Gold Star.”

Nancy thought back to the glowing reports she had gotten about Gold Star cabs from those very same offices, and wondered what she had stumbled onto.

“One thing about business today,” Mr. Tyler was saying, “they can’t operate without insurance. When nobody downtown would listen, I figured that if I told Mid-City about the rotten cabs, they’d either get rid of Gold Star or make them clean up their act, as the young folks say.”

“Only there was no Mid-City,” Nancy said, beginning to understand.

“Right. But I thought it out. Expose Mid-City, and Gold Star would have to get another insurance company. To get one, they’d have to fix up their cabs. So that’s the route I took.”

“So you called me again telling me to talk to Mrs. Harvey,” Ann said.

“Yes. I found out Brownley and Reston had paid Vera’s bills themselves. If they did that , it meant they’d gone to Mid-City earlier to take care of the bills and found out it was phony then and there. But they’ve paid everybody’s bills and have never said a word to anybody. They’re as crooked as the Mid-City guys.”

“So there have been other accidents?” Nancy asked to be certain.

“Minor ones, mainly with Crimson Oaks people. But Gold Star’s got to be put out of business. And I’d like to be there when it happens. I’d give anything to know what they’re doing in that basement.”

Nancy frowned. “I thought you said it was empty.”

“No, I said they closed it off,” Mr. Tyler corrected her. “Before I left shipments of sealed boxes started coming in. Brownley stashed them downstairs. And he signed for the delivery of a brand-new air compressor. The garage had needed one for months. But where’d it go? Down to the lower level, and that was the last I saw of it.”

“Interesting,” Nancy said.

“I just hope they don’t discover that Jim Dayton is my grandson. They’re crooks and they’re hurting people, Ms. Granger. I was trying to stop them, that’s all.”

“I know you were,” answered Ann, smiling at him. “And we’re grateful for your help. May we call you again if we have any more questions?”