Twenty Plus Two

Chapter 9

Alder moved into the room. “Who are you?”

“A name, yes, of course. You want a name. Very well, I’ll give you one. Winterbotham? Van Landingham? You’d like something less pretentious? Smith? Jones?”

“You’ve got one minute,” said Alder.

“Then you’ll call the gendarmes? No, you’re one of the strong ones. You’ll throw me out yourself. But observe, my dear fellow. There is a bulge under the left breast of my jacket. An automatic pistol? No — it isn’t a wallet — that’s on my right side. Let me show it to you.”

Gingerly he thrust his hand under his right coat lapel. Using only two fingers, he extracted a pigskin wallet. “Rather slender, you are thinking. Ah yes, but potent.” He slipped a single bill out of the wallet.

“I’d like your opinion of this specimen, my dear chap. I’ll wager you’ve never handled one. Hundreds, yes; you’ve probably one or two in your pocket right now. But a thousand-dollar bill! They’re very rare. Beautiful and rare. And it’s yours, Mr. Alder.”

“Why?”

“For what reason do you receive stipends? Your services. I wish to retain them.”

“No,” said Alder.

“You haven’t heard me out, sir. You cannot refuse my employment until you know the nature of it. The nature and the extent of the remuneration. Both will interest you, of that I am certain. This thousand-dollar bill, my good sir — it is only one of ten that I possess and all ten can be yours for a modicum of your time, time that you know how to use so well. I want you to find a man for me.”

“Who”

“Again you want a name! This man has had many names. I can only give you the one he bore when he was a youth. It is the same as mine, for he is my brother. Yes, Mr. Alder, it is my brother I want you to find. My long-lost, missing brother... Auguste Pleschette. I, sir, am Jacques Pleschette, at your service. I am of French extraction.” He leaned back in his chair and put his hands together, the fingertips touching, the wrists separated. “You accept, Mr. Alder? You will undertake my commission?”

Alder shook his head. “You want a private detective.”

“But, sir, that is why I have come to you!”

“I’m not a detective.”

“I talked to your colleague in San Francisco, Mr. Stark.”

Alder exclaimed, “Joe Stark!”

“The very same. Believe me, I gave him one of these beautiful treasury certificates for a dossier on you, Mr. Alder. Your complete history, the record of your accomplishments — everything. And Mr. Stark’s recommendation? He said you were the best. He told me of the Wilbur Marriner case, the splendid work you did in locating the heirs of Henrietta Kretzmyer. Beautiful, Mr. Alder, magnificent! You have a talent for that sort of thing, an acumen, a sixth sense. Your logic, Mr. Stark told me — and I concur most heartily — is a wonder to behold. A mathematician knows that two and two are four. He does not look behind the figure. It is a truth to him and he does not examine. But you, sir, you know that two and two equal four, but you are not always satisfied with that fact. You look at it from the top, the bottom, from the side, and from behind and you see what the mathematician cannot see because he accepts his figures.”

“All right,” said Alder, “tell me what your interest is in the Julia Joliet murder?”

“You see?” exclaimed the man who called himself Pleschette. “That is precisely what I have been saying. Your brain is rapier-sharp. And like the rapier, you are inexorable, merciless. You cannot be distracted, you will not be diverted.”

“Keep talking,” said Alder grimly, “and when you get all through I’m still going to ask you what you know about Julia Joliet.”

“I’ll give it to you, sir. My answer shall be direct and succinct. You ask what I know of Julia — Joliet, is it? Nothing, Mr. Alder, absolutely nothing. I do not know Miss Joliet. I never met her. I know nothing about her.”

“Why were you at her place last night?”

“I knew that would be your next question. I anticipated it. And I shall answer you just as precisely as I answered your other question. Mr. Alder, I was there because of you. I followed you. I wanted to observe you in action, so to speak. Your technique. I had already decided to seek your aid, engage your services. But I am a cautious man. When you left your home yesterday morning, Mr. Alder, I was behind you. I followed you to the police station, then back to your home and then, in the evening, to The Tuilleries. It was magnificent, Mr. Alder, the way you worked. You got the salient facts from the police and then you went right to the suspect the, ah, the motion picture man, Mr. Dane. You struck up an acquaintance with him, gulled him beautifully. You got a lead from him and then you went direct to the, ah, the scene of the crime. You persuaded the court manager to give you entry to Miss Joliet’s premises. You searched them — thoroughly, I assure you, because I saw you — through the window. You observed things, you found clues that the police overlooked.”

“Did I? What were they?”

“Oh, that I do not know, Mr. Alder. I am not an expert in such things, but there were clues, little things that others overlooked, that perhaps meant nothing to their crass minds, but to your superior intellect — I am sure the things you found caused you to come here, to New York, where you will no doubt find the remaining answers to the problem.”

“What problem am I trying to solve?”

“How should I know, Mr. Alder? I am not a mind reader. You seek the murderer of Julia Joliet, I presume.”

“She lived in Hollywood, she was murdered there. Why would I come to New York to find her murderer?”

“My dear sir, I don’t know. I am not in your confidence. I have not seen your clues, I do not know their significance. If I were to hazard a guess—”

“Go ahead, hazard.”

“I am a simple man. Miss Joliet, according to the papers, was employed by Mr. Dane, the motion picture person. You sought him out, tricked him into revealing something damaging. Yes, I would hazard the guess that Mr. Dane is your man. He murdered Miss Joliet. You know it, but you cannot prove it. You are seeking proof here, in New York. Something in Mr. Dane’s past, or Miss Joliet’s.”

“Not bad,” said Alder, “not bad at all. Now let me hazard a guess. Miss Joliet is of French extraction and so are you.”

“Oh, that’s good, very good. You are already forming a connection between us. I see how your mind works. Unfortunately, you are wrong. The fact that Miss Joliet is — was — of French extraction and that I bear a French name is a coincidence, a mere coincidence. It has no significance. I am not interested in Miss Joliet.”

“Leroy Dane?”

“Nothing, Mr. Alder. No interest whatever. I know nothing of motion picture people. Mr. Dane is the first one I ever saw. I never spoke to him, I have never spoken to anyone connected with the cinema. I have no interest in Mr. Dane, none in. the late Miss Joliet. Believe me, Mr. Alder, the only thing I want is for you to locate my dear, long-lost brother.”

“Whose name is Auguste Pleschette — or something else?”

“Alas, yes.”

“And his last known address?”

“Alas, again. I am barren of information. I have no clues to his whereabouts.”

“How long has he been missing?”

“A long time, a terribly long time.”

“How long?”

“The truth of the matter, Mr. Alder, I have never seen my brother.”

“What?”

“A tragedy, isn’t it? To have a brother and never to have seen him. The truth of the matter, Mr. Alder, is that my brother is fifteen years younger than I am. He was born after, ah, after I left home.”

“How long ago is that?”

“I have just told you. Auguste is fifteen years my junior — fifteen years and three months. He was born exactly three months after I went out into the world to seek my fortune, so to speak.”

“You never went home?”

“How could I? I was young, I was learning my trade. Auguste wrote me a letter once. I still have it — somewhere. He was fifteen years old then, precisely the age I had been when I went out to make my way. He, too, was about to spread his wings — he asked me if I could give him any advice. Advice, Mr. Alder, is what he asked me for. Advice, not money. I wrote to him, suggested that he might be happier where he was, in his own comfortable little nest. I never heard from him. But Mother — dear Mother! She wrote to me, as she was dying, on her very deathbed. She said Auguste had not heeded my advice. He had, ah, run away from home. He had never written, had never sent them any money. Alas, Mr. Alder, I will not prolong the dismal story of my shortcomings. I did not try to help my poor young brother. I gave him fatuous advice instead of help. I wrote him platitudes when I should have sent him cold, hard cash. I acted very badly toward my own flesh and blood and I have lived to regret it. I want to find my brother now. I want to help him, give him some of the good things I have acquired in this life.”

“Some of the thousand-dollar bills?”

“Ah yes, the treasury certificates. The beautiful thousand dollar bills. I am not a rich man, but I have been careful. I put these away for a rainy day and now, sir, the heavens have opened and it is raining. I am fifty-nine, well, if you must have it straight, sixty-two years of age. I do not have too many years left and I want to help my kinfolk. Mother is dead. Father — Father does not want, or need my aid. There is only Auguste, Auguste whom I have never seen in all my life. I want to find him. I want you to find him.”

“For ten thousand dollars?”

“If need be, ten thousand — yes, ten thousand dollars.”

“You’ve told me all you know of your brother?”

“All, sir, all.”

Alder shook his head. “The letter he wrote you when he was fifteen. To what address did he send it?”

The big man hesitated. “Is that necessary? My residence at the time can be of no help.”

“I’d like to have it.”

“You embarrass me.”

“Why? Why would a thirty-two-year-old address embarrass you?”

“Because I was at the time dear Auguste wrote to me in a rather peculiar situation. Very well, sir, if you must know, the address was Ossining, New York.”

“Sing Sing?”

“Alas, yes.”

“You served time?”

“I have served a great deal of time. I am an erudite person. Where did I acquire such erudition? I had very little formal education. I left home at the tender age of fifteen. In prison, Mr. Alder, there is time for study. They have excellent libraries in the better state prisons. There is time — time.”

“How long were you up?”

“The first time? A mere jaunt — three years.”

“The second time?”

“I’ll spare you, Mr. Alder. I am sixty-two years of age. I have spent a total of twenty-six years in prisons.” He shook his head. “They gave me a life sentence the last time, a habitual criminal, the judge called me. I spent sixteen consecutive years in durance. I am a criminal, Mr. Alder, alas, but a successful one. My last, ah, haul, netted me in excess of one hundred thousand dollars — one hundred and ten thousand, to be exact. My rainy day nest egg. My attorneys knew that I had it safely tucked away and they never ceased their efforts on my behalf. And their own, you might say, inasmuch as I promised them one-half of all my worldly goods. I have paid them, Mr. Alder, and I am again at liberty, breathing the fresh, untainted air of freedom. My nest egg is smaller, but I am a man of modest desires.”

“Pleschette,” said Alder. “Big Frenchy, the king of the confidence men. Only it isn’t Pleschette, is it?”

“Pleschette is my real name. I would not sully that name, sir, when I engaged in crime. I assumed an, ah, nom de plume. Philippe Fanchon.” The big man became earnest again. “Mr. Alder, you will not let my, ah, my true identity and character stand in the way of our little deal? You will find my brother for me?”

“I don’t know, Frenchy, I don’t know.”

“Sleep on it. We will talk tomorrow. But please, I detest the ah, the monicker — Frenchy, Big Frenchy. Let us keep it on a higher level — one gentleman to another. Mr. Pleschette, Mr. Alder. Yes?”

The big man got to his feet. Then suddenly he stooped and laid the crisp thousand-dollar bill on the coffee table. “Keep it there overnight. Look at it. Let it tempt you.”

“I can be tempted by a thousand-dollar bill without looking at it. Take it along.”

“My little mission will not interfere with your other work, Mr. Alder. You can do it at the same time. Please, consider it carefully. And give me your answer in the morning?”