Chapter 13
It was mid-afternoon when they came to Abbott’s apartment building where they were ushered in. After climbing the stairs, Jack had to knock several times at the door before it was opened by the butler.
Avoiding Ezra’s glance, he looked coldly at the detective and asked, “What can I do for you?”
“We’re looking for Abbott.”
“I’m afraid that he is out for the day,” he said brusquely.
Jack looked hard at the butler and frowned. “I think we can sit right here and wait for him. I wasn’t planning on doing anything else today.” He grinned at his partner. “How about you, Mister Miller?”
“I’d have assumed that a gentleman such as Mister Abbott would not make his guests stand and wait outside for him,” replied Ezra.
“You will be waiting for a long time,” the butler said sharply. “I don’t think you will find it worth your while, gentlemen. Now I suggest you leave.” He began to shut the door, but Jack pushed his way past him.
“Now, sirs, I must protest. You can’t come in here like this. I will have to get the doorman to remove you by force,” he called after them as they walked past.
Abbot was there.
The butler followed, “I’m sorry, Mister Abbott,” he apologized. “But they were most insistent.”
Abbott, with a drink in one hand, waved away the butler’s apology. He turned his attention back to Jack. “It’s so good to see you again,” he said sarcastically. “Now can’t a man get any peace in his own home? Tell me why I shouldn’t have you thrown out.”
“I can tell you why,” Jack replied. “We can tie you directly to the disappearance of Lawrence and also to a murder.”
“Murder?” Abbott asked quizzically, but still calm. He finished his drink and walked lazily over to a decanter at a sideboard and poured another. “You had better tell me what you are talking about, so I can make some sense of it.” He then returned to his position before the sofa, his movements slow and careful.
Jack said impatiently, “Tinen was the owner of the Gay Lady Saloon. He was found dead the other day. I have a source that places you there with Lawrence the night he left town. It strikes me as an odd coincidence that the man who owned the place where Lawrence disappeared ended up murdered.”
Abbott cocked an eyebrow and frowned. “As I said before, I don’t have anything to do with Lawrence or any missing papers.”
Jack bounded over and shoved Abbot roughly backwards, forcing him down onto the sofa. The drink splattered on his coat. “Now just shut up for once, and listen to me,” the detective said angrily. “And you’ll only talk when I tell you to talk. You’re going to tell me about Tinen. And then you’re going to tell me about Davis.”
Winston panicked and tried to quickly leave the room to get help, but Ezra grabbed him by the collar and pushed the butler hard against the wall. “I wouldn’t want you to rush off and miss all of the fun,” the black man said. “I suggest you just stand here and listen to this for a while.”
Jack ignored this commotion and continued to speak to Abbott. “I’m not sure where Lawrence is right now, but I do know several things. He was blackmailed by you, but it was Davis who provided the letters. Hell, it was Davis who provided the girl Mulholland in the first place. She was convinced to seduce Lawrence since she was the victim of blackmail herself.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Abbott sputtered, his face red with anger. “Davis? I’ve never heard of the man.”
Jack continued, “At first, the idea was to just drain the Hanson bank account. You and Davis could have milked it for a long time, but the girl Mulholland was foolish and her husband found her out. But after the affair was finished, you and Davis were left with the love letters that Lawrence sent to her. At first glance, this wouldn’t seem like much to have, but then this war broke out. You had someone working for the War Department whose family couldn’t stand to have a hint of scandal. Lawrence had access to sensitive material, and he was also the type who could be blackmailed. If those letters were sent to his employer, he would lose his job and any chance of redeeming himself.”
“I tell you, Lawrence was a friend of mine,” Abbott said indignantly, his finger pointing at the detective’s chest. “I could never do anything to him like that.”
“I’m being paid to find him and will do anything I need to do to get him back. The War Department wants Lawrence too, but I would prefer to get him first. Now are you going to tell me where he is?”
Abbott looked nervously up at Jack and tried to stand – looking like he wanted to run for it. “I already told you, I don’t know anything about this.”
“Enough of the lies!” Jack shouted. “You were the last person seen with him the night he disappeared. You tried to cover that up, but I found out anyways.” He raised his hand as if to strike the quaking man.
Abbott slumped on the arm of the sofa and raised his hands to protect himself. “Please,” he gasped. He suddenly leaned over, his hands moving towards his jacket pocket. Quickly, Abbott slid a small pistol out of his coat pocket. He tried to fire it, but his hand was raised awkwardly. The detective twisted it roughly from Abbott’s hand. The small gun discharged, the bullet striking the ceiling above. There was a sickening crunch as the trigger-guard broke the man’s finger. He screamed as he cradled his hand.
Jack loosened the pistol from Abbott’s grip. “That was an expected move. Now don’t do anything foolish like that again, or I’ll make sure the remaining bullet is for you.”
“I think you broke my finger,” he whined, clutching his hands together in pain.
“Good. That will be a reminder for you as to the kind of man I am. I’m not some jealous husband or old man to be easily cowed with threats.”
“Stevenson will get you,” Abbott threatened childishly. “He’s a bigger man than you are and even tougher.”
Jack laughed hollowly. “We’ll see about that soon enough. Now I want you to be honest with me. If not, I’ll have to open the side of your face. The prostitutes won’t like the ugly scar that I will leave. They will be charging double to service you.”
“Please, give me a chance,” Abbott pleaded, his voice trembling with worry. His face was pale with panic and pain.
“No more chances,” Jack replied nastily.
“Please, I can pay you more than the Hanson family will be willing to give you. I have lots of money.”
“If I wanted your money, I would have asked for it. No more games. Tell me, where is Lawrence?”
Abbott hesitated before speaking, the pain and fear etched in his face. His shoulders then slumped in surrender. “Lawrence is being held by Stevenson,” he finally said.
“Where?” Jack demanded, his hand grabbing ahold of Abbott’s lapels.
“He has an old house that he rents in the south side of town. He lives there at times and uses it to take care of any private business that comes up.”
Jack looked at his partner, who nodded back. That was the location of Stevenson’s house alright. “Good, you’re beginning to learn. Now where are those plans being kept?”
“I don’t know,” Abbott said quietly. “I handed them over to Stevenson, those were the orders I was given from Mister Davis.”
Jack gave him a light tap with the pistol on the side of the face. “Are you sure about that?” he asked.
Abbott flinched away from the pistol, swallowed and answered. “Yes. Stevenson was supposed to meet the courier sent by the Rebels. They were supposed to setup the meeting place to swap the plans. Davis is going to make the trade himself, but he wants to make sure everything is setup right first. He fears being double-crossed.”
Jack stood back and smiled coldly. “I see. Now my partner and I will have to pay a visit to Stevenson. But first we are going to take you to meet a friend of ours so you don’t have a chance to warn anyone. Now get up and let’s go.”
H
e stood up meekly, holding to his hand gingerly. “Where are you taking me?”
“A nice cozy jail cell,” Jack said. “It will be a fitting place for a villain like you.”
“You can’t take me to jail,” Abbott spat out. “You aren’t a constable.”
“No, I’m not, but my friend is,” Jack said. His smile showed he relished Abbott’s fear. “We’ll take your butler too. I wouldn’t want him to get any ideas and go tell on us. Now let’s get going.” Grabbing the scruff of the man’s collar, he shoved him roughly towards the door.