So what did I really hope to achieve in New York? I took out my little notepad and pencil. The alderman’s house, perhaps? Would they know of any family upsets, and more to the point, would they tell me? I could maybe find out from Alderman Hannan’s attorney who would inherit and whether he had recently made a new will. I could find out from his office whether there were any recent problems in his professional or political life. But the more I thought of it, I always came back to the family. There had to have been a good reason that Brian Hannan summoned his entire family to a deserted beach town in the middle of October and just happened to invite a top New York police detective at the same time. He had wanted Daniel to observe something or help him figure out something that weekend, I was sure.
“I think I might have gotten it wrong,” was all I had to go on. No indication what “it” was. But something to do with his family. And it occurred to me that if he’d confided in anyone it would have been to his secretary or attorney. I’d try both of them.
I arrived at the Grand Central Terminal at the same time as thousands of workers and businessmen. After the quiet of Newport the noise and smells of the city were overwhelming and I fought my way through the crowds to the station for the elevated railway. I had decided that my first stop should be at the alderman’s mansion on the Upper East Side, since that was my only destination in that direction. Also I was a little early to visit his office. So I hopped aboard the Third Avenue elevated railway and alighted at Sixty-seventh Street. The alderman’s house was on Sixty-sixth, just across the street from the Astors. He had certainly moved into the realm of the Four Hundred, and judging from the magnificent facade of the white-trimmed brick mansion, he had made more money than most of them. I adjusted my hat and took a deep breath before I rapped on the front door. The maid who opened it ushered me into a small anteroom where I was joined almost immediately by the butler, Soames. I introduced myself to that very proper English gentleman and explained that I had been the alderman’s guest. I had come to town and suspected that they had heard little about what was going on at the cottage.
“It is most gracious of you to pay us a call, Mrs. Sullivan,” the butler said. “As you can imagine the entire household has been in a state of shock. We could scarcely believe the news when the policeman came to the door. Is it true that the master was murdered? Have they found out who did this awful deed yet?”
“They have not. My husband, who is a New York police captain, would have been able to assist more fully in the investigation, but he is recovering from pneumonia,” I said and decided to stretch the truth a little. “So he sent me down to the city on his behalf, in the hope that either you or the alderman’s office staff could shed any light on the sad business.”
“Me?” Mr. Soames looked perplexed. “In what way does he think I should be able to help you?”
“He wondered if the alderman had received any threats recently.”
“Threats? From whom, Mrs. Sullivan?”
“I don’t know—someone with whom he has crossed swords with in business or politics?”
“I only know what goes on in this establishment, and I think it highly unlikely that anyone would come to threaten him in his own home.” He held my gaze. “Is that what the police think? That an adversary followed him to Newport to kill him? Why not do so here? The alderman often took a walk in the park in the mornings before work. A perfect chance to kill him if one was so inclined.”
“Had he seemed worried recently?”
“I am only his butler, not his confidant,” he replied stiffly.
“Mr. Soames, I know that loyalty to your employer may prevent you from speaking your mind to me, but I’m sure you want his killer found as much as the rest of us do. If there is any small thing you can think of—anything at all in his last days that made you feel the alderman was worried, or upset?”
“He did seem—preoccupied as he prepared to leave. As if he had a lot on his mind.”
“Had he shared with you his reason for summoning the family to Newport at this time of year?”
“My dear Mrs. Sullivan. I am his servant. And he was a man who kept himself very close. But he did say, ‘You are lucky to have grown up in an orphanage, Soames. Families are a pain in the neck.’”
“So some family member had been on his mind. Any idea which one?”
Mr. Soames shook his head.
“Had any of them been to call on him here recently?”
“Not that I can think—oh, but wait. Mr. Archie came by on Thursday last and was annoyed to find that the master had already left for Newport. I asked whether I could take a message and he replied, rather rudely, ‘No you damned well can’t. It’s too late.’ And he stalked off again.”
“Was that sort of behavior unusual for him?”
“Oh, yes, Mrs. Sullivan. Mr. Archie is usually such a well-mannered young man. I was quite shocked, I can tell you.”
I got up to take my leave. “Thank you, you’ve been most helpful and my condolences on the loss of your employer.”