A Charm of Powerful Trouble (A Harry Reese Mystery Book 4) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Mostly it was my share of the booty.”
    “Oh, I feel certain Mr. X must have wealth far beyond that trifle of gold.”
    “And you expect him to share it with us?”
    “Harry, couldn’t you show some imagination for once?”
    “I’ve always thought it best to leave that to you,” I admitted. “Were there any more coincidental connections?”
    “Yes, there is one more. Your connection to Carlotta.”
    “And your connection to her by marriage. But there’s another you don’t know about.”
    “Don’t you think you should tell me?”
    “When I was in college I was on the debating team for a period.”
    “I find that rather hard to believe. What do you know of rhetoric?”
    “A lot more since marrying you. My tenure on the team was brief. But I remember meeting Jimmy Yuan on an opposing team. Maybe Syracuse.”
    “He didn’t seem to remember you.”
    “It may surprise you to learn, Emmie, but among upstate college men, a fellow from China stands out a bit more than a fellow from Utica.”
    “Singapore. Still, your point is a valid one.”
    “So now that we have the web of connections, what’s next?”
    “We only have the visible connections. Now we need to find the invisible. I suggest we first visit Ernie Joy’s boarding house.”
    “How do you know where he was living?”
    “From a receipt I found in his pocket.”
    “I thought you said there was nothing with his name on it.”
    “Did I?”
    A few minutes later, Emmie and I took a car across the bridge and then the L up to 14 th Street. Joy had lived at a house just a couple blocks from the station. A girl answered the door and Emmie opened the conversation.
    “Hello. I’m Ernie Joy’s cousin.”
    “He ain’t here. Didn’t come home last night. But you come on in.”
    She led us to a dining room where a fellow and two women were sitting with coffee.
    “This here’s Mr. Joy’s cousin,” she told the middle-aged woman at the head of the table.
    “I’m Mrs. de Shine,” she said. “I’m afraid Ernie seems to be out.”
    “I’m Lucinda Ormsbee,” Emmie told her. “And this is my husband, Oliver. I take it you haven’t heard the news.”
    “What news is that, dear?”
    “Poor Ernie was killed last night. Shot dead,” Emmie announced. Then she dabbed her cheeks with a handkerchief in the manner of a tent-show tragedienne.
    “Ernie, shot dead?” the younger woman squealed. Mrs. de Shine went over to her.
    “Where’d this happen?” the fellow asked.
    “At an opium den, I’m afraid,” Emmie confessed. The handkerchief made another trip north.
    “You two better sit down,” our hostess advised. She poured us some coffee.
    “An opium den ?” The fellow seemed disbelieving.
    “Well, not a real opium den,” I told him. There didn’t seem any point in exaggerating the faults of the dead. “A fellow named Jimmy Yuan has been running a make-believe Chinatown at a West Side warehouse. I don’t suppose you’d know anything about that?”
    “Ernie’s been headlining at Proctor’s 23 rd Street for the last two weeks,” he informed us.
    “Was he there last night?”
    “Sure he was there,” the squeaky one said.
    “When did he leave the theatre?” Emmie asked.
    “Just after his turn.”
    “What time was that?”
    “Just before ten, didn’t even bother to change.”
    “Maybe he was meeting someone,” Emmie suggested.
    “The White Rats,” the girl whispered.
    “White Rats?” Emmie asked. “Who are they?”
    “Just some friends. That’s all,” the fellow said. He gave the girl a stern look. “A club for show people.”
    “Ernie’s mother asked me to bring back some of his things,” Emmie told Mrs. de Shine.
    “All right. I’ll take you upstairs.”
    “It’s curious the cops haven’t stopped by,” the increasingly troublesome fellow interjected.
    “Oh, they’ve a lot on their plate,” I assured him.
    As we climbed the stairs, Emmie asked about the girl who was so upset.
    “That was the future Mrs. Joy.