Jan Burke - Goodnight, Irene

“Hmm.” He studied me, a skeptical look on his face. But he said, “You watch your backside-understand? Now get out of here and get back to work.”

“I understand they’re taking up a collection in the newsroom-they want to pay your tuition for charm school.”

“OUT!” he shouted, but I was already on my way.

I called Frank at police headquarters. I didn’t know how he would respond to the idea of meeting Guy, but I was at least going to give him the invitation.

“Frank?”

“Irene? What’s up?”

“Guy St. Germain has found something out down at the bank. He specifically asked if you could be there when he talks about it. We’re going to meet at the Thai Royal at eleven o’clock. Can you make it?”

He didn’t respond right away.

“I don’t see why not,” he said at last, and I felt a wave of relief.

“Great. See you there.”

• • •

SAM WAS ELATED to see me. Naturally, when I told him a couple of gentlemen would be joining us, he was beside himself with joy.

He showed us back to the same booth that I had been in the day Frank had called to say Kenny had been hurt. It seemed like a long time ago.

Guy arrived first, and as I had hoped, he and Lydia seemed to hit it off from the word “go.” Frank arrived a little late, apologizing as he and Guy appraised one another. He had apparently been swamped that morning, trying to catch up on all the loose ends from his days spent recuperating. I introduced him to Guy, and they shook hands as Frank sat next to me. Sam practically danced over and took our order.

“Well, Detective Harriman-”

“Call me Frank.”

“Very well, please call me Guy. I really appreciate your meeting with us. When Irene told me her friend was with the police, I knew it must be someone trustworthy, so I asked her to invite you to join us.

“Irene, you have told Frank about the safe-deposit boxes and so on?”

I nodded.

“Ah bien. What I have to say is-something happened this morning which made me curious. It turned out to be a part of a pattern. A man by the name of Robert Markham came into the bank carrying a large briefcase and signed in to use his safe-deposit box.”

“I’ve heard that name somewhere before,” I said, sitting upright. “And his initials are on the list on O’Connor’s computer notes. There were four sets of initials: AH, which I figured was Hollingsworth, RM, which might be this Robert Markham, and then EN and RL. RL for Richard Longren, but who is EN?”

“I believe I know. Robert Markham has entered the safe-deposit area on several different occasions. Each time, three days later, someone named Elizabeth Nickerson came in. They share the same deposit box.”

“Elizabeth Nickerson?” said Lydia. “Mayor Longren’s administrative assistant?”

“The same.”

“So who is Markham?” Frank asked.

“He works for Andrew Hollingsworth,” Guy explained. “He performs a number of duties: chauffeur, guard; whatever is needed, I suppose.”

“He was the guard at the gate when we were there,” I said.

“Yes,” Guy said. “We found the pattern by looking at the signature card and activity records for a safe-deposit box he rented; Miss Nickerson is authorized to use the same box. He comes into the bank on the morning after a fund-raiser for Hollingsworth. I believe he is putting some cash into the safe-deposit box, and Miss Nickerson is removing it. That way, nothing is reported to the Fair Political Practices Commission.”

Our food arrived and we ate in silence, thinking over all Guy had told us.

“I’ll have to report this to the U.S. Treasury Department and to my superiors at the bank,” Guy said. “They will not be pleased, I am afraid. The Hollingsworths have several very healthy accounts with us.”

“Is there anyone you can trust there?” I asked.

“Oh, don’t misunderstand. They can be trusted. They know what the penalties for withholding the information can be, and when I tell them that the police and the newspaper have already been in contact with me on the matter, they will not really have a choice.”

“It still takes guts,” Frank said. “What can I do for you?”

I was happy to see he had warmed up a little.

“Can you contact the state attorney general’s office?” Guy asked. “I believe they are the ones to talk to about getting subpoenas and warrants if need be-since we can hardly contact our own district attorney. If Mr. Markham has left the cash, we will need to enter the box before Miss Nickerson cleans it out.

“I am also worried that this is somehow connected to the attempt on Irene’s life, since she was coming out of the bank when a car tried to run her down. And because her friend was killed and he was also investigating this same matter, I am quite concerned.”

“I am too,” Frank said, looking at me meaningfully. “As soon as I get back to the office I’ll try to get a subpoena for the contents of the box and see what I can do about Markham and Nickerson as well. I’m not sure the attorney general will go for it unless you can provide me with the records of their movements.”

Guy reached into his pocket and removed a set of neatly folded papers. “Will these do?”

It was a copy of the signature card, with both names on it, and copies of each time they signed in to use the box.

“Thanks,” Frank said, “this should do it.”

Guy paid for our lunches over our protests and we thanked Sam and left the restaurant. On the sidewalk outside, I stayed close to Frank, letting Guy and Lydia have a moment or two together. Just in case.

Frank turned to me when we reached Pete’s car. “He’s a nice guy. I can see why you like him.”

“Sorry. I’m busy trying to win someone else’s affections.”

“Oh yeah? Maybe you’ve already won them.”

I looked up at him. I felt the same reticence I had noticed the night before. “Still mad at me?”

“I haven’t been angry, really. Just worried about you. Anyway, I’d better run.”

I waved good-bye to him as he pulled away from the curb and turned around to see Lydia doing the same with Guy.

“Well?” I said, as I walked over to Lydia.

“We will be best friends for another twenty-five years, Irene.”

“So you like him.”

“I like him. We’re going out to dinner tonight.”

“Boy, not wasting any time, are you? Good thing I made you watch all those hockey games with me.”

“No kidding. He’s pretty easy to talk to anyway. But we better get back to the paper before John bursts a blood vessel.”

We drove back, each of us with our own thoughts and distractions.

IWORKED ON pretty dull stuff the rest of the day. I’d look over at Lydia every once in a while; she looked like a regular bluebird of happiness. I kept thinking of Frank, pushing him out of my mind and thinking about him again. Lydia went off to a city editors’ meeting at about five o’clock.

I decided I would take a run along the beach. I had some shorts, a tank top, and my running shoes in the cubbyhole of the car, so I went downstairs to get them. I changed up in the women’s room and bundled up my work clothes. I was just stopping by the desk to put away a couple of pens I’d found in my pocket when the phone on my desk rang.

“Irene? Elinor Hollingsworth.”

If she hadn’t told me, I never would have recognized the frightened woman’s voice on the phone as that of the cool, calm Ice Queen I had met a few days before.

“Elinor? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Irene, I’m so upset. It’s Andrew. He’s done something terrible.”

“What?”

“I think he killed your friend, Mr. O’Connor.”