Daddy's Gone a Hunting

45

Frank Ramsey and Nathan Klein had left Jack Worth and driven over the 59th Street Bridge into Manhattan. When they arrived at the upscale apartment building of Douglas Connelly, they were told by the doorman that he had just returned home. They went upstairs to find the same scenario they had witnessed a few nights earlier. Sandra answered the door and walked them back to the library, where Connelly was sitting, a drink in his hand.

“I just wanted you to know that Kate is running a fever and, as you can see, Douglas is very distraught,” Sandra said. “I hope that you make this very short because he needs to relax and have something to eat. The poor man is at the end of his rope.”

“We are both very sorry if Ms. Connelly’s condition has worsened,” Frank Ramsey said sincerely. “If Mr. Connelly intends to go back to the hospital tonight, we certainly understand that, and we can make an appointment to see him tomorrow.”

“No. His other daughter is playing the martyr. She wants to be alone with her sister.”

“That’s enough, Sandra.” Still holding his glass, Connelly stood up. “What is this I hear about a vagrant who might have been living in the van?”

“Was living in the van, Mr. Connelly,” Frank Ramsey corrected.

“And I understand that he may have been there over a period of years?”

“At least two. There are newspapers going back that far.”

Douglas Connelly took a long sip from the glass of vodka. “Incredible as it sounds, I can understand how that could have happened. You’ve seen the shed where the vans are housed. It’s open at the front but the sides and back are enclosed. That van was parked behind all the others. In these last few years usually two of the four in the front were in constant service. The other two formed a natural obstruction of any view of the wrecked van.

“Sometimes, when we had a long-range delivery, the driver would leave in the late evening or the very early morning. But certainly no driver would have had any reason to look into that old van. If the person in it got out before people began to arrive in the morning, he wouldn’t have been noticed. If he stayed inside the van all day, the vagrant wouldn’t have been noticed, either. But, since he would have obviously needed food and at least occasionally some kind of sanitation, I would imagine that he left by early morning, when no one was around, and came back late at night.”

“I think you’re right,” Nathan Klein agreed. “Our people have been canvassing the neighborhood. A derelict dragging a cart has been observed by some in the early-morning hours, but that area, with all the warehouses surrounding your complex, has a number of homeless taking shelter at night.”

“There is another possibility, Mr. Connelly,” Frank Ramsey said. “We believe that the vagrant may have been there at the time of the explosion. He may have been a witness to what happened that night.” With narrowed eyes he watched for Connelly’s reaction.

“We know that my daughter Kate and Gus Schmidt were on the premises. But even if by any chance the vagrant happened to see them there together, he would have no way of knowing that Kate had been lured there by Gus Schmidt.”

“And that’s going to be the official party line,” Ramsey sarcastically commented to Klein as they drove back to Fort Totten to file an updated report. When they were finished, they got into their own cars and, weary to the bone, went their separate ways home.