14 - Black Eagle Mystery by Geraldine Bonner

In the heart of New York, a corporate lawyer plunges eighteen stories from the ominously named Black Eagle Building. Police quickly rule it a suicide, but Molly Morgenthau Babbits, an audacious part-time detective, isnt so easily convinced. The deceased, Hollings Harland, was rumored to be involved in a covert organization controlling the copper market, and was on the brink of being exposed. Just before his death, Harland had a heated argument with the affluent Johnston Barker, another suspected member of the secretive organization. Could Harland have been considering defection? Or was there something more sinister at play? With the help of an insider at the Black Eagle, Molly dives headfirst into her own unofficial investigation, suspecting a foul play murder.

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter fourteen of The Black Eagle Mystery. This is a
LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain.
For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org.
Recording by Mike overby Midland, Washington, dedicated to UNI. The

(00:22):
Black Eagle Mystery by Geraldine Bonner, Chapter fourteen, Mollie tells
the story. You can imagine after that disappointment in Philadelphia.
It seems an unfeeling way to speak of the death
of an old gentleman. How we all turned our eyes
and kept them fixed on Tony Ford. Friday night, Babbitts
told me the hospital had reported he couldn't be seen

(00:42):
till Monday. The others were in a fever. He said,
O'Malley smoking big black cigars by the gross and Jack
Reddy gone off to Buffalo, and mister George that scared
Ford would slip off some way. He'd have liked to
put a cordon of the National Guard round the hospital.
Then came Saturday, and gee up. Everything burst different to
what everybody had expected. It started with mister George being

(01:05):
so nervous he couldn't rest till he called up the
hospital in the morning and got word that there'd been
a mistake in the message of the day before, and
that mister Ford was well enough to see the Philadelphia
detectives that afternoon. Before midday, Babbots and O'Malley were gathered
in and while I was waiting on pins and needles
in ninety fifth Street and Jack Ready was off unsuspecting
in Buffalo, the two of them were planted by Tony

(01:26):
Ford's bedside, hearing the story that lifted the Harland case
one peg higher in its surprise and gruesomeness. O'Malley and
Babbitts had their plans all laid beforehand. They were two
plainclothes men from Philadelphia who had just come in on
a new lead, the finding of Samos. When they'd opened
that up before him. They were going to pass on
to the murder take him by surprise. If Ford made

(01:48):
the confession they hoped to shake out of him, the
warrant for his arrest would be issued and the Harland
case would be before the public in his true light.
Babbitts had never seen Ford, and when he described him
to me, it didn't sound like the same. He was
lying propped up with pillows, his head swathed in bandages,
and his face pale and haggard under the covers. His

(02:08):
long legs stretched most to the end of the cot,
and his big, powerful hands were lying limp on the counterpane.
He was in a private room in an inside wing
of the hospital, very quiet and retired. When the attendant
left and they introduced themselves, he looked sort of scowling
from one to the other. Both noticed the same thing,

(02:28):
a kind of uneasiness, as if his apprehensions were aroused.
And for all his broken head, he was on the job,
not weak and indifferent, but wary and alert. This wasn't
what they wanted, so they started in telling him the
news that they thought would please him and put him
at his ease. A clue had been picked up in
Philadelphia that looked like the mystery of his attack was solved.

(02:49):
In fact, says O'Malley, a man's been run to earth
there that we're pretty sure as the one. Both men
were watching him, and both saw a change come over
him that caught their eyes and held them. Instead of
being relieved, he was scared. Have you got the man?
He said? O'Malley nodded, that's what we have. Who is

(03:11):
He party called Samos answers to the description. Before he
could go further, Ford raised himself on his elbow, looking
downright terrified. Joseph Samos, he said, his eyes sat staring
on a malley. That's it. We tracked him up and
found him, but I don't want to raise any false hopes.
We were too late. When we got there, he was dead.

(03:33):
It had an extraordinary effect upon Ford. He gave a
gasp and raised himself up into a sitting posture, his
mouth open, his eyes glued on a malley. For a moment,
not one of them said a word. Ford evidently too
paralyzed at what he'd heard, and the other's too surprised
that the way Ford was acting, which was exactly different
to what they'd expected. It was he who spoke first,

(03:54):
his voice gone down to a husky murmur. Dead. Answered
heart disease and giina pectaurus. The doctor down there said
some strain or effort had finished him. That, as we see,
it was the attack he made on you. Then Ford
did the most surprising thing of all. Raising his hands,
he clapped both over his face and with a big

(04:16):
heaving sob from the bottom of his chest, fell back
on the pillows and began to cry. Babbitt said, you
couldn't have believed it if you hadn't seen it. He
and O'Malley looking stumped at each other, and between them
that great ox of a man lying in the bed
crying like a baby. Then himself, being fearful that maybe
they'd done the man harm, rose up to go after

(04:36):
a nurse, but O'Malley caught him by the coat, whispering,
keep still, you goat, then turned and said very pleasant
to Ford, knocked you out, old man, that's natural. Nerves
still weak. Keep it up till you feel better. Don't
mind us, We're used to it. So there they sat,
Babbitt still uneasy, but O'Malley calm and patient, tilting back

(04:58):
in his chair, looking dreamy. Out of the way, though
he said afterward that he knew that hysterical fit for
what it was, relief, and that was why he wouldn't
let babbitts call a nurse. Presently, the sobs began to
ease off, and Ford, groping under the pillow for a handkerchief, said,
all choked up, how did you come to connect him
with me? By papers found in his desk, records of

(05:20):
a real estate business. You and he had been in
some years ago at Syracuse. That's the man, said Ford,
between his hiccupy catches of breath. And he's dead, dead
is Julius Caesar. O'Malley leaned forward, his voice dropping, you
knew he was the chap that attacked you. Ford, His

(05:44):
head drooped, his shoulders hunched up like an old woman's nodded, Yes,
I lied when I said he was a stranger to me.
Why did you do that, asked Babbits. It was just
what you might know, he'd asked. One of the cutest
things about himself is that he never can understand why anyone,
no matter what the provocation, has to lie. Ford didn't answer,

(06:04):
and O'Malley, giving his chair a hitch nearer to the bed,
said kind of persuasive, say, Ford, you better tell us
all you know. We got the papers and most of
the information. The man's dead, clean it up and we'll
let it drop. Without raising his head, Ford said, low
and sort of sullen, All right, if you agree to that.

(06:26):
I was in business with him, and I didn't play
fair lit out with some of the money. He turned
his lowering look onto Babbits, that's the answer to your question.
Then back to O'Malley. I didn't run across him or
hear of him in all this time, and suppose the
whole thing was buried and forgotten until he came into

(06:48):
my room Tuesday night. He was blazing mad, said he'd
been waiting for a chance to even up and had
at last found me. To keep him quiet, I said
i'd give him some money, and I had. Yes, Yes,
said O'Malley, nodding cheerfully, the legacy your uncle left you.
Ford shot a look at him, sharp and quick. Oh

(07:09):
you know about that. Naturally, inquiries have been made in
all directions. Go on. I hadn't much cash there, a
few dollars, but I thought i'd hand him that and
agreed to pay him more. Later he said he didn't
want money that wouldn't square our accounts, And as I
went to the desk, he came up behind me and
struck me. That's all I know. Did he say how

(07:32):
he'd located you? Yes, he'd been looking for me ever
since I'd skipped, but couldn't find me. Then he saw
my name in the papers. After the Harlan suicide, some
fool reporter spoke to me in that street that night,
and I told him who I was and where I worked.
A short while after, Samus phoned up to the Black
Eagle Building, hurt from Miss Whitehall. I'd left and got

(07:52):
from her my house address. Did he say what he
was doing in Philadelphia? He had some new job there.
He didn't say what, but he said he was well paid.
That came out in his blustering about not wanting my money.
There was a pause, Babbitts and O'Malley scribbling in their notebooks.
Ford sitting up in that hunched position, looking surly at

(08:12):
his hands lying on the counterpane. So far every word
he'd said tallied with what they already knew. Babbitts was
wondering how O'Malley was going to get round to the
real business of the interview, when the detective suddenly raised
up from his notes and, leaning forward, tapped lightly on
one of Ford's hands with the point of his pencil.
Say Ford, how about that legacy from your uncle? Ford

(08:34):
gave a start, stiffened up, and looked quick as a
flash into the detective's face. What about it? He stammered, O'Malley,
his body bending forward, his pencil tips still on Ford's hand,
said with sudden grim meaning, we know where it came from.
For a second, they eyed each other. Babbitts said it
looked like an electric current was passing between them, holding

(08:56):
them still as if they were mesmerized. Then O'Malley went
on very low, each word falling slow and clear from
his lips. We know all about that money and the
game you've been playing. This Samus, business isn't what we're
here for. It's the other, the Harland matter, the thing
that's been occupying your time and thoughts lately, that outside
job of yours, that job that was funded on the

(09:18):
night of January the fifteenth. He paused, and Ford's glance
slid away from him, his eyes like the eyes of
a trapped animal traveling around the walls of the room.
We've got you, Ford, The whole thing's in our hands.
Your only chance is to tell tell everything you know.
In describing it to me, babbitt said that moment was

(09:40):
one of the tensest of the whole case. Ford was cornered.
You could see he knew it, and you could see
the consciousness of guilt, and his pallid face and trembling
hands O'Malley was like a hunter that has his prey
at last in sight. Drawn forward to the edge of
his chair, his jaw squared, his eyes piercing into Ford
like gimlets go ahead. He almost whispered, what was that

(10:03):
money paid you for? Ford tried to smile the ghost
of that cockshore grin, distorting his face like a grimace.
I guess you've got the goods on me, he said,
I know what I'm beaten. You needn't try any third degree,
I'll tell Babbitts was so excited he could hardly breathe.
The big story was his at last, he was going

(10:25):
to hear the murderer's confession from his own lips. Ford
lifted his head and, holding it high and defiant, looked
at O'Malley and said, slowly, I got the money from
the haulings Harland for reporting to him the affair between
Johnston Barker and Miss Whitehall. If you'd hit him in
the head with a brick, Babbitt said, he couldn't have
been more knocked out. He had sense enough to smother

(10:47):
the exclamation that nearly burst from him, but he did
square round in his chair and look aghast at O'Malley.
That old bird never gave a sign that he'd got
a blow in the solar plexus. For all anyone could
guess by his face, it was just what he' diday
expected to hear. You were in Harland's pay, he murmured,
nodding his head. I was in Harland's pay from the
first of December through the day of his death. In

(11:10):
that time he gave me eight hundred dollars. O'Malley, slouching
comfortable against his chair back, drooped his head towards his
shoulder and said, suppose you tell us the whole thing
straight from the start. It'll be easier that way. Any
way you want it, said Ford, it's all the same
to me. I first met Harland in the elevator some
time in the end of November. Seeing me every day,

(11:32):
he spoke to me casually and civilly, as one man
does to another. There was nothing more than that till
Johnston Barker began coming to the Easily Woods Estates, and
then bit by bit Harland grew more friendly. I'll admit
I was flattered. A chap in my position doesn't usually
get more than a passing nod from a man in
his As he warmed up to me, feeling his way

(11:52):
with questions, I began to get a line on what
he was after. He wanted a tab kept on Barker.
Jealous o' malan, I suggested, desperately jealous as soon as
the thing opened up before me. I saw how Matters stood.
He was secretly crazy about Miss Whitehall and was easy
until Barker cut in. Then he got alarmed. Barker was

(12:14):
a bigger man than he, and there was no doubt
about it that she liked Barker when he realized that
he put it up to me straight. He'd sized me
up pretty thoroughly by that time and knew that I'd, Oh,
what's the use of mincing Matters do his dirty work
for him? O'Malley inclined his head as if he was
too polite to contradict. He offered me good money, and

(12:36):
all I had to do was to watch her and
Barker and report what I heard or saw. It was
a cinch. I was on the spot. The only other
person in the office, a fool of a stenographer, a
girl who hardly counted. What was the result of your investigations?
That Barker was in love with her too. He came
often on a flimsy excuse that he wanted to build

(12:57):
a house in the tract. She was friendly at first,
then for a while very cold and haughty, as if
they might have had a quarrel. Then they seemed to
make that up and get as thick as thieves did.
She seem to care for Harland, not exactly anyway, not
the way he did for her. She was always awfully
nice to him the few times he came into the office,

(13:20):
gentle and sweet, but not the way she was with Barker.
She was two different women to them, with Harland a
sort of affable, gracious winner, but with Barker a girl
with a man. She's fond of, natural, glad to see him,
no society stunts. A little before Christmas, I caught on
to the fact that she was recovering letters from Barker,
and Harland offered me extra money if I got their contents.

(13:42):
This wasn't so easy. Generally she took them away with her,
but twice she'd left them on her desk. All I
had to do then was to stay overtime when she
was gone copy them. That way, I got onto something
that phased us. Both she and Barker were up to
some scheme. O'Malley moved slightly in his chair. Scheme, he said,

(14:02):
what do you mean by scheme? Something they were planning
to do after Christmas? Every time he'd come, they'd go
into the private office and talk there so low you
couldn't catch a word. And the letters were all about it,
but we couldn't get a line on what it was.
I'll show them to you and you'll see for yourself.
It got Harlan wild, for though they weren't exactly love letters,
they showed that she and Barker were close knit in

(14:23):
some secret enterprise. Did you continue this work till the
day of the suicide? I did to the night to
the time it happened. Harland was getting more and more
worked up. I don't know whether it was the Barker
Whitehall business or his own financial worries, but I could
see he was holding the lid on with difficulty. That day,
January fifteenth, as you may remember, he was in her

(14:45):
office and had a talk with her. As he went out,
I saw that he looked cheered up, brisk and confident.
Of course, I have no idea what she said to him.
But knowing the state he was in, I'll swear it
was something that gave him hope. Yet a few hours
after that he killed himself. Seeing him so heartened up
and being curious myself, I decided to stay that evening

(15:05):
and do a little quiet snooping among her papers. But
she nearly blocked that game. She was in the habit
of going between half past five and six, leaving me
to close up that night. She didn't do it, but
hung about in the office, and after watching her for
a few minutes, I saw that she was on the jump,
moving about, going from one desk to the other, glancing
at the clock. Her manner made me certain that something

(15:28):
was up. It was possible it had to do with
the scheme she and Barker were hatching. I got the
idea that I'd go and come back after a while
on the chance of stumbling on something that would be
useful to my employer. I left her there, and after
loafing around for about half an hour, returned. The office
was dark and she'd gone. I lit up and looked
over her desk in the exhibit room at a table

(15:49):
in my office where she kept some papers, but found nothing.
Then I thought I'd take a look into the private office.
But that door was locked. Ah locked, said calm as
a summer sea. Was that her custom? Not, as far
as I knew, I'd never found it locked before. It
gave me an uneasy feeling, for I thought she might

(16:10):
have suspected what I was doing and turned the key
against my invasion of her particular sanctum. She was no
fool and might have caught on. So I fixed up
the papers as I found them and left the office.
You know what time that was, or you do if
you read of the Harlan suicide. I've always supposed that
poor Chap was up that side corridor. As I stood
there waiting for the car, Babbitt's bent over his notebook scribbling.

(16:33):
He had to hide his face. He told me he
thought the expression on it of stunned, crestfallen blankness would
have given him away to an idiot waiting with their
ears stretched to hear a confession of murder. And this
was what they got. And the man wasn't lying. Every
word he'd said matched with the facts they'd been warming
and digging to find. He couldn't possibly have known murder

(16:53):
had been discovered. He hadn't any suspicion a murder had
been committed. The great revelation that was to have broken
on the public with an explosion like a dynamite bomb,
was that Tony Ford was Harlan's paid spy. Well, he said,
looking at O'Malley, what have you got to say? Go
ahead with it if it'll give you any satisfaction. Only

(17:15):
you needn't waste your breath. I know without being told
that it's a rotten, dirty business. O'Malley, his face as
red as the harvest moon, pulled out his mustache, looking
thoughtful but sore as he must have been. You'd have
to know O'Malley to realize what his disappointment was. He answered,
cool and easy. I ain't got anything to say. It's
not my job to train the young. You've told me

(17:37):
what I wanted to know. That's all I'm here for.
Ford turned to Babbitts and asked him to get some
letters off the table, and then went to o'maley, how
did you come to find it out? Babbits, gathering up
the letters, cocked his head to listen, wondering how O'Malley
was going to get out of it. But you couldn't
face that veteran several ways. You see, what we're after
is Johnston Barker. It's the copper pool that owns us.

(18:00):
And nosing around in our quiet little way, we got
onto the Barker Whitehall affair, and from that followed the
scent of that legacy of yours. We didn't altogether believe
in that uncle up state, thought maybe he was Johnston
Barker in private life, and that you might know something.
He gave a lazy, good humored laugh, got fooled all round.
I don't mind telling you now that the way we
happened on Samus was pure accident. Thought he was Barker

(18:23):
and had him shadowed. He looked like enough to him
to have been its brother. That's so, said Ford, as
Babbits handed him the letters, especially with his hat on,
I noticed it myself. He selected two papers from the
bunch and handed them to Amalley. There those are the
letters I spoke of. This one he flicked it across
the counterpane. It is just a note from Harland making

(18:45):
a date. I don't know how I happened to keep it.
They were the three letters Babbits had taken after the attack.
Copies of which at that moment were lying in O'Malley's pocket.
It was not till they were out on the hospital
steps that they dared to speak. O'Malley's face was a study,
his mouth drooped down to his chin, and his eyes
dismal and despairing, like he'd come from a tragedy. Well,

(19:06):
he said, what do you make of that? Zero? Not
a thing to do with it, hasn't a suspicion of it.
No more involved in it than that's sparrow there. He
pointed to a sparrow that had lit on a step nearby.
I've had setbacks in my profession before, but this he stopped,
stuck his hands into his pockets, and stared blankly at
the sparrow. Well, if it lets him out, said Babbits,

(19:29):
it tightens the cords around the other two. Mm agreed O'Malley,
still gazing stonily at the sparrow. That's what keeps your
spirits up. With him eliminated, the whole thing concentrates on
her and Barker, it does, my son, O'Malley roused up
and came out of his depression. Instead of a brain
and a pair of hands, as we've called it. It
was a brain in one hand, the smart hand the right.

(19:51):
That was the woman. He turned and began to descend
the steps, taking Babbits by the arm to draw him
closer and speaking low. Do you see how it went?
They were in the private office when Ford came back.
She and Barker and the dead man. When they heard
him come, they switched off the light and locked the door,
and Great Scott, can you imagine how they felt shut

(20:12):
in there in the dark with their victim, not knowing
who Ford could be or what he was doing, listening
to him rummaging around his steps, coming nearer, his hand
on the doorknob. I'm too familiar with murder to see
any terrors in it, but that situation, I've never known
the beat of it in all my existence. Then, when
Ford goes on his very heels over and out with

(20:32):
the thing they'd killed, and both of them back there again,
or maybe stealing to the front windows and taking a
look down at the crowd below, they walked up the street,
arm in arm, talking in hushed voices. As he looked
at the faces of the people that passed. The thought
came to Babbitts that in a short time maybe a
few days there'd be readings in the paper of the
awful crime. Not one of them now had a suspicion

(20:54):
of end of chapter fourteen