Justin Stone and the Iris of the Madonna

[joegoda]

All of them, Justin, Jonathan, Simpson and Mary, Ezra and the policeman, escorted Mary to Justin's office on the roof. She hadn't wanted to go home, although Jonathan had offered to take her. Home, she had said, would remind her of Ernest.

Justin had suggested, in an offhanded and distracted way, that his office had a very comfortable fainting couch in it, and it would allow them to discuss the more interesting aspects of this situation in a more private setting.

While Jonathan comforted Mary in Justin's anteroom, Justin, the two policemen and Simpson retired to Justin's office. It was a small office, the size of a large closet. It was done with dark mahogany walls and floor with an intricate Persian carpet leading up to the desk. The desk was also small, having just enough room for a blotter, a couple of ledgers and a pen and inkwell. An ornate letter opener in the shape of a golden sword sat on the blotter.

An electric lamp with a tiffany shade occupied one corner of the desk, and another hung on one wall. It was the one on the wall that was providing the room illumination. There were three chairs. One behind the desk, obviously, and one in each of the corners facing the desk. The door to the office sat between the two corner chairs and faced the anteroom.

"I apologize for the cramped quarters, gentlemen," Justin held sat behind his desk, leaning forward. "I don't like spending much time here, so this is actually one of the smallest rooms in the building. It reminds me to spend more time with the employees, you see."

Simpson sat in the chair in the right corner, and Ezra sat in the left corner. The policeman stood by the door. Simpson sat ramrod straight, a sour look on his face. He cleared his throat and said, "Sir, if you would rather, I could excuse myself and oversee the guests at the... um... party."

"No, Erik," Justin shook his head. "I think I need you here." He cast an eye through the open door to where Jonathan was sitting and talking with Mary. "For a little while, at least." Justin stretched his hand forward. "May I see the envelope and the letter, please?"

"Certainly Sir." Simpson passed the papers across the table. Justin turned the lamp on his desk on and blinked back the glare. Then he opened a drawer on his side of desk and pulled out a magnifying glass. Holding the letter close to the lamp so that the light filtered through the paper, Justin ran the magnifying glass around the edge, peering through it, searching for something.

While he looked at the edge of the paper, which glowed in the lamplight, he said, "Detective Chandler, where was Ernest Hauptman found dead?" Apparently satisfied, he laid the letter on his desk and picked up the envelope. He slit the edges of the envelope with the letter opener and opened it up, flat. As he did with the letter, he held the opened envelope up to the lamp, and just as he did with the letter, he scanned the edges.

"What are you doing?" Ezra had gotten out of his chair and came over to the desk, leaning and squinting at the paper. "What are you looking for?"

"A good friend of mine, a doctor in England, once said that the devil is in the details." Justin pulled away from the lamp and picked up the letter with his free hand. "I know that each sheet of our stationary, once used, is stamped by the secretary that typed it." He held the paper up for the detective to examine and handed him the magnifying glass.

Seeing Simpson's face turn a bit pale, Justin chuckled. "Oh, come now, Simpson. Of course I would know about your little accounting measure."

Simpson cleared his throat and ran a finger around the inside of his collar. "Yes, sir. It's purely for productivity's sake, sir. The stamp allows me to make sure that we have no, if you pardon the expression, slackers on the floor."

Justin nodded. "True, true," he agreed. "It also allows you to count the number of sheets that are wasted when one of them makes a mistake and throws the letter away." Simpson blushed, and for a man whose pallor makes pale look tan, that was quite a feat. He turned the color of Jonathan's hair. "Don't let yourself worry about it, Simpson. It is your attention to detail that cause me to hire you in the first place."

He turned to Ezra. "Did you find it? That little mark in the lower left hand corner?" He waited for the detective to nod. "Yes... I thought you would."

"What does it mean," Ezra asked. "M12. What's M12?"

Simpson, having recovered most of his normal color, cleared his throat again. Looking at Justin, who nodded, he said, "It is the first initial of the secretary's name, followed by the numerical sequence that first letter falls in the hiring sequence. For example, if a woman named Susan had been hired, and she was the first one with the letter S as the first in her name, she would be S1. The second one hired, perhaps a woman named Sarah, would be the second one with the letter S and her designation would be S2."

"I... see." Ezra nodded. "And who would be M12?"

Justin nodded at Simpson again. "I'm sure that Simpson carries the list on his person. Don't you Simpson?"

Chagrined, Simpson nodded and reached into a vest pocket. "Yes sir." He pulled out a small notebook, a bit like what Ezra had been looking at earlier. This one, however, was made out of brass and had a sliding knob along the side. Simpson slid the knob down until it notched at an engraved letter 'S' on the front cover. He then pushed a small button at the bottom of the notebook, and the notebook popped open from the bottom up.

Simpson scanned the single page and looked up, his eyes a bit wide. "M12 is Mary Adams, sir. The very same woman that your brother is comforting."

"Yes," Justin said, nodding. "I suspected as much."

"Do you think she was responsible for the murder of Mister Hauptman," Simpson asked.

"Oh, I find that highly unlikely, Simpson." Justin looked at Ezra and raised a perfect eyebrow. "I'd rather suspect that she wanted to give her intended an way to meet me. I'd rather suspect that young Mary felt that if I met her Ernest, I would be so impressed with him, that I would hire him on the spot."

Ezra put the paper and the magnifying glass on the desk. "Would you do that," he asked, "Hire a person on the spot?"

Before Simpson could assert that he was the only one authorized to hire, Justin raised a hand and hushed him. "I don't know, detective. It is possible, I suppose." He leaned forward onto the desk and steepled his hands. "He would have to be a rather... unusual man for me to hire him like that."

"Oh he was, Mister Stone." Mary stood at the doorway, with Jonathan behind her. "He was an absolute wizard when it came to numbers." She was wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. "I just know that you would have hired him."

Justin and the others stood. "Do come in, Miss Adams," he said, offering her the chair that Ezra had occupied. "Are you feeling a bit better?"

Mary sat delicately and crossed her ankles. Justin and Simpson took their seats after Mary had composed herself, and Ezra walked to stand by the door with his man. Jonathan stepped in and stood next to Mary.

She arranged her hands in her lap and nodded. "A bit, yes, thank you." She sighed. "I suppose that the reality of it all hasn't hit me yet. I've known... knew... Ernest for ever, it seems." She sniffed and the tears appeared to threaten her again. "I want to thank you and your brother for your hospitality."

Justin waved the compliment away. "Think nothing of it, Miss Adams." He picked up the letter from his desk. "I know this is a very hard time to be asking you questions, but I am hoping it will enable us to find out who did this to..." He stopped when he saw a look of sad pain cross Mary's face. Behind her, Jonathan shook his head. 'Be gentle' Jonathan's eyes seemed to say. Justin continued, but softer. "I'm hoping it will enable us to find out who did this horrible deed and bring them to justice. May I ask you a question or two?"

Mary daubed as a tear leaked from the corner of her eye. "If it will help you catch..." A small sob broke free. "What can I answer for you, Mister Stone?"

Justin steepled his hands again and looked at Mary across them his finger tips. "We know that you were the one to write the false acceptance letter, Mary."

"And that is grounds for immediate dismissal," Simpson added sourly.

Justin hushed him with a look. "Not this time, Simpson." He turned back to Mary. "I assure you that your job is safe, Miss Adams." This statement brought a quiet humph from Simpson. Justin gave him a stern look. "It's not the first time that love caused someone to do take a risk, Simpson. I think we can forgive her this one time." He cast a knowing look at Jonathan. "In fact, it's a quality that we rather admire."

Mary's face turned a pretty pink. Her blush could have been from Justin's notice of her, or from having been caught out. "Yes, sir. I wrote the letter. But I can't take the credit for the letter. It wasn't my idea. I was directed by your man to type up the letter and drop it off at the front desk."

"Oh?" Justin raised an eyebrow. "Which man? And how did he direct you? What did he say?"

Mary was startled by the rapidity of the questions. "Why..." She paused in thought. "He never gave me his name. He just told me that he had been asked by you to type up the acceptance letter for Ernest." She looked imploringly at Justin. "The call came on the inter-office desk phone, so it had to have been someone in the building. I just assumed that it had to be a real call."

"Didn't it strike you as odd that the caller wouldn't introduce themselves?"

"No sir," Mary said. "I imagined that if you, that is the Foundation, had researched Ernest, you would know how wonderful he is... was. And I was told to not say anything to him about the letter, and that was the hardest part. I felt as if I had betrayed him."

A sudden thought crossed her mind and her face fell. "The letter got him killed, didn't it?" She buried her face in her hands and the tears started anew. "I typed the letter and it got him killed."

Jonathan placed his hands on her shoulders. "There, there," he said gently. "There isn't any evidence to show that the letter got him killed." Looking at Ezra, he raised his eyebrows imploringly.

"No," the detective said, "the only thing the letter did was to tie Mister Hauptman to the Stone Foundation. There isn't any evidence that the letter caused him to be murdered."

Mary looked at Ezra with tears running down her face. "Then what did," she asked.

"That, Miss Adams," Ezra said, "is the second question of the day, and it sits right up there right along with who did the deed."

"You never did answer my question, detective," Justin interjected. "Where was Mister Hauptman found?"

Ezra looked irritated. "In front of a pawn shop in the Hallows. Besides the letter from the Stone Foundation, we found some evidence that he had just come from there when he was taken from behind." He stopped, seeing Mary's face go ashen.

"I asked him not to go," she said sadly, shaking her head.

A thought passed through Justin's mind. "Miss Adams, I am, indeed, very sorry for your loss. May I offer you the use of one of the Stone Foundations Suites for the night? That is, if you don't feel like going home?"

Mary looked up at him and gave him a weak smile. "That is most kind of you," she said. "I didn't know that there were any suites in the Ivory... I mean, in Stone Tower."

Justin smiled thinly and nodded. "I know what the tower's called, Miss Adams. In another decade, that name will fade." His smile widened. "I have to admit, though. I rather like the name."

He turned his attention to Simpson. "Take Miss Adams to...," he thought for a moment. "Show her to suite 802, Simpson. Make sure she has all the amenities she requires. Then go back to the party, if it's still going on and make our apologies. Make sure nobody steals the silverware."

Simpson stood and nodded, but he didn't look very happy that he was being dismissed this way. It was too much like being treated as a commoner. "Very good, sir," he muttered dismally. He held out his hand to Mary. "Miss? If you'll come with me."

Mary stood, as did Justin. "Thank you for helping me, Mister Stone. I don't know what I would have done if..." Her tears started again, but she bravely tried to control them. "Anyway, thank you. If there's anything else I can do to help..."

"Why do you think I gave you a room here in the Ivory Tower," Justin jibed. "Try to sleep, Miss Adams. The world tomorrow will be much brighter after a good night's sleep."

She nodded shortly, looked over at Jonathan with her sad eyes and said, "Thank you for... thank you."

Jonathan gave a short bow from the waist. "It is my pleasure, Miss Adams. If you have a need for me, for anything at all, all you have to do is call me."

The men watched as Simpson led Mary through the anteroom and out the office door. Once they were gone, Justin leveled his gaze on Jonathan.

"I didn't know you knew how to bow," he said, smiling slightly.

"It's something I picked up when we were in France," Jonathan replied, adding quietly, "Jerk."

"Regardless, that is something we can talk about another time." Justin sat back behind his desk and offered the left chair to Ezra. Jonathan sat in the right one, and the poor policeman was still left standing by the door.

Justin leaned in and turned his gaze to Ezra. "Detective, if you don't mind, can I hear what other evidence you found on the body?"

Ezra scratched the side of his head. "Why would you want to do that? The only connection that you have with the murder is the letter."

"Exactly," Justin said, standing. His eyes took on a far away look and he was tapping his lower lip with the finger of his left hand.

Ezra started to rise, but Jonathan held him back, shaking his head and saying, "Don't. It's how he thinks. He has to pace. It's crowded enough in here, he'd just run you over."

Justin continued, pacing back and forth like a tiger in a very small cage. "Someone had poor Miss Adams type a letter that was delivered to Mister Hauptman. Someone knew that Miss Adams and Mister Hauptman were romantically inclined, and that made the letter become important enough that Miss Adams completely ignored any Foundation rules regarding employment letters."

Justin walked over to one of the walls and stood staring at the blank space for so long a time that Ezra started to reach out to see if Justin was all right. Again, Jonathan stopped him. "Just wait for it, Ezra. Justin sometimes thinks so fast, the thoughts get lost and it takes time for the concepts to reach his mouth."

Suddenly Justin started speaking again, rapidly and animatedly. "The caller didn't identify himself for obvious reasons. He didn't want Miss Adams to know who he was. He called from somewhere in the Stone Tower because it was an inside connection." He turned and looked directly at Jonathan. He shook his finger at his adoptive brother.

"That means that either they called from the front desk while Mildred was on break or else we have a serious security problem." Justin tapped his lower lip again. "Jon, can you trace the time the call went through?" He smiled slyly. "It might mean you will have to talk to Miss Adams again, but I don't think you'll mind that. It's my guess that you'll find out that the time the call came through will coincide with the very same time that Mildred went on break."

He cast a glance toward Ezra. "If, on the other hand, it turns out we do have a serious security leak, can I expect to be able to call you, detective, and have it handled... discreetly?"

"Um...," Ezra began, but Justin went right over him.

"Regardless, the person that called Miss Adams and had that letter typed knew it would be delivered to Mister Hauptman. It's my guess that Mister Hauptman would receive that letter on the very same day that he would receive another letter."

It was here that Justin stopped directly behind his desk, and leaned against it, his eyes locked directly on Ezra. "That second letter," he continued, "would be an offer of some sort, more than likely involving money, which would lure him down to the Hallows. A timid man would not be likely to the Hallows go unless there was money involved."

"What makes you think," Ezra asked, "that he was a timid man?"

"The fake Foundation letter that Hauptman received made mention of his years at Harvard and his recent graduation. Instead of applying for a job with the Stone Foundation, he instead applied at a safer job, with a minor accounting firm." Justin smiled grimly.

"Not exactly the act of a bold man. Also, a bold man would have asked Miss Adams to marry him years ago, regardless of his financial position. When you first asked her if she knew him, she called him her 'friend'." He shook his head.

"Ernest Hauptman was, perhaps, not a coward, detective. He was also not a man given to take chances, to take risks. Unless, of course, if there were some large benefit involved."

"So," Justin continued, taking off his gloves and tossing them on the table, "I have someone who used Miss Adams to send a message to Mister Hauptman, who went into the Hallows taking a risk that turned into something that got him killed. Whoever it was that called Miss Adams knew exactly what he was doing." He took his top hat from the desk where he had placed it and tossed it expertly to catch on a coat hook hanging near the door.

The silence stretched to seconds and then to a minute. Ezra leaned forward and asked, "And what was it he was doing, Mister Stone?"

Justin leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk. "Why detective, I would think it would be obvious." He laced his fingers behind his head. "The caller, whoever it was, was sending us a message. And more specifically he was sending me a message."

Again Justin lapsed into silence. Jonathan raised his hand, and at the same time he turned his head to Ezra. "He just loves these dramatic pauses," and then, to Justin he said, "Oh, Justin?"

Justin nodded towards Jonathan. "Yes? You there. In the front row."

Jonathan smiled, his bright teeth shining through his red beard. "And what, pray tell, Mister Stone, is the message that the caller was sending you?"

Justin unlaced his fingers from behind his head, kicked his feet off his desk and leaned forward. "Unless I miss my guess, I would say the message is 'Catch me if you can'."

Ezra snorted. "What sort of a message is that? And why you?"

"That is," Justin said, smiling, "as you have already pointed out, the question of the day." His smile got larger and more charming. "And that, detective, is why I need to see the rest of the evidence."