6,99 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Bastei Entertainment
- Kategorie: Krimi
- Sprache: Englisch
From the authors of the best-selling series CHERRINGHAM
This compilation contains episodes 10-12:
CITY HEAT
Kat brings Harry across the Atlantic to New York for a planned whirlwind time in her hometown. But when wealthy Teddy Crowther is kidnapped by the mob, the pair are called in to help. Soon they find themselves playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse.
FOOL’s GOLD
When young Ewan Mackay sails his small dinghy out to a mysterious wreck site a few miles off the coast of Littlehampton, he never returns. The police assume he drowned at sea - but Ewan's father is not convinced and asks Harry and Kat to investigate.
MURDER IN THE DARK
Harry and Kat take a sleeper train to the Scottish Highlands for a New Year's party weekend. But when a massive blizzard leaves them isolated, it soon becomes clear that the other guests all have secrets. And after an 'accident', our two heroes wonder... could murder be ringing in the New Year?
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Seitenzahl: 499
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
Ähnliche
Digital original edition
Copyright © 2024 by Bastei Lübbe AG, Schanzenstraße 6-20, 51063 Cologne, Germany
Reproductions of this work for text and data mining are reserved.
Written by Matthew Costello and Neil Richards
Edited by: Eleanor Abraham
Project management: Kathrin Kummer
Cover design: Guter Punkt GmbH Co. KG
Copyright: © Midjourney
ISBN 978-3-7517-6465-0
www.facebook.com/CherringhamMydworth
About the Authors
Co-authors Neil Richards (based in the UK) and Matthew Costello (based in the US), have been writing together since the mid 90’s. Their transatlantic collaboration has underpinned scores of TV drama scripts, computer games, radio shows, and the successful crime fiction series Cherringham.
About the Book
From the authors of the best-selling series CHERRINGHAM
This compilation contains episodes 10-12:
CITY HEAT
Kat brings Harry across the Atlantic to New York for a planned whirlwind time in her hometown. But when wealthy Teddy Crowther is kidnapped by the mob, the pair are called in to help. Soon they find themselves playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse.
FOOL’s GOLD
When young Ewan Mackay sails his small dinghy out to a mysterious wreck site a few miles off the coast of Littlehampton, he never returns. The police assume he drowned at sea - but Ewan's father is not convinced and asks Harry and Kat to investigate.
MURDER IN THE DARK
Harry and Kat take a sleeper train to the Scottish Highlands for a New Year's party weekend. But when a massive blizzard leaves them isolated, it soon becomes clear that the other guests all have secrets. And after an 'accident', our two heroes wonder... could murder be ringing in the New Year?
Mydworth Mysteries - Episode 10-12
Cover
Title
Copyright
About the Authors
About the book
Contents
Mydworth Mysteries - City Heat
Cover
Contents
Mydworth Mysteries
About the Book
Main Characters
The Authors
Title
1. A Night Out in the Village
2. New York, New York!
3. The Chairman of the Board
4. Meet the Family
5. The Call
6. The Drop
7. Bubbly and Plans
8. Sunday in New York
9. Family Matters
10. A Quiet Chat with Joseph
11. Meet the Reillys
12. Lunch at Ronaldo’s
13. Waiting...
14. A Call and a Clue
15. Coney Island
16. Deep in Coney
17. No Way Out
18. Home Run
Next Episode
Mydworth Mysteries - Fool´s Gold
Cover
Contents
Mydworth Mysteries
About the Book
Main Characters
The Authors
Title
1. Last Call
2. On the Quay
3. A Garden Party
4. A Surprising Event
5. Littlehampton
6. Revelations
7. A Strange Night at Sea
8. The Littlehampton Sailing Club
9. The Crown and Anchor
10. The Fight at Roper’s Farm
11. Home to Mydworth
12. A Surprise Visit
13. The Wreck
14. Jaggers’ Secret
15. Midnight
16. Last Act in Stoke Manor
17. The Boreas
Next Episode
Mydworth Mysteries 12 - Murder in the Dark
Cover
Contents
Mydworth Mysteries
About the Book
Main Characters
Title
1. One Month Earlier
2. All Aboard The Highlandman!
3. A Change in the Weather
4. Welcome to Inverdoran Castle
5. Festive Fun
6. Murder in the Dark
7. A Breakfast Chat
8. Secrets Revealed
9. Geoffrey Speaks
10. A Snowy Trail
11. The View from Lookout Point
12. A Feast and Fireworks
13. A Clear Case of Murder
14. In the Middle of the Night
15. The Scene of the Crime
16. The Last Gasp of Night
The Authors
Next Episode
Guide
Start Reading
Contents
Contents
Cover
Mydworth Mysteries
About the Book
Main Characters
The Authors
Title
1. A Night Out in the Village
2. New York, New York!
3. The Chairman of the Board
4. Meet the Family
5. The Call
6. The Drop
7. Bubbly and Plans
8. Sunday in New York
9. Family Matters
10. A Quiet Chat with Joseph
11. Meet the Reillys
12. Lunch at Ronaldo’s
13. Waiting...
14. A Call and a Clue
15. Coney Island
16. Deep in Coney
17. No Way Out
18. Home Run
Next Episode
Copyright
Mydworth Mysteries
Mydworth Mysteries is a series of self-contained novella-length mysteries, published in English and German. The stories are currently available as e-books and will soon be available as audiobooks in both languages.
About the Book
Kat brings Harry across the Atlantic to New York for a planned whirlwind time in her home town – complete with a lavish suite at the Plaza. But when Teddy Crowther – grandson of a wealthy City magnate – is snatched by the mob, the pair is asked to help. As Prohibition New York swelters in a heatwave, the Mortimers soon find themselves playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse, not just with the kidnappers, but also the rest of the Crowther family, all of whom have everything to gain – and maybe lose – if Teddy is found...
Main Characters
Sir Harry Mortimer , 30 – Born into a wealthy English aristocratic family, Harry is smart, funny and adventurous. Ten years in secret government service around the world has given him the perfect training to solve crimes; and though his title allows him access to the highest levels of English society, he’s just as much at home sipping a warm beer in the garden of a Sussex pub with his girl from the wrong side of the tracks – Kat Reilly.
Kat Reilly – Lady Mortimer, 29 – Kat grew up in the Bronx, right on Broadway. Her mother passed away when she was only eleven and she then helped her father run his small local bar The Lucky Shamrock. But Kat felt the call to adventure and excitement, first as a nurse on the battlefields of France, then working a series of jobs back in New York. After finishing college, she was recruited by the State Department, where she learned skills that would more than make her a match for the dashing Harry. To some, theirs is an unlikely pairing, but to those who know them both well, it’s nothing short of perfect.
The Authors
Matthew Costello (US-based) is the author of many successful novels published around the globe, including Vacation (2011, in development for film), Home (2014) and Beneath Still Waters (1989), which was adapted by Lionsgate as a major motion picture. He has written for The Disney Channel, BBC, SyFy and has also designed dozens of bestselling games including the critically acclaimed The 7th Guest , Doom 3 , Rage , Pirates of the Caribbean , and, with Neil Richards, Planet of the Apes: Last Frontier.
Neil Richards (based in the UK) has worked as a producer and writer in TV and film, creating scripts for BBC, Disney, and Channel 4, and earning numerous Bafta nominations along the way. He’s also written script and story for over 30 video games including The Da Vinci Code and Planet of the Apes , and consults around the world on digital storytelling.
MATTHEW COSTELLO NEIL RICHARDS
City Heat
1. A Night Out in the Village
T eddy Crowther tossed back the dregs of his Old Fashioned, slammed the glass down on the table and gazed out across the crowded bar.
Chumley’s. A speakeasy and – for Teddy – the closest place to heaven on earth.
Tonight, the place was heaving – every table packed.
The small band in the corner was smashing the hell out of an Irving Berlin number, and what served as a dance floor was so crammed with gyrating bodies it looked like if one fell they’d all go.
The bar, meanwhile, was just a blur of waving arms, white-aproned barmen sweating in the heat, sliding glasses, martini shakers, bottles of rye...
And Teddy thought, Word is there’s more than twenty thousand speakeasies in New York. If they’re all like this at 3am on a Wednesday night, who the hell’s keeping the city running?
He looked around for Zoe. Gorgeous, crop-haired, red-lipped, long-legged Zoe, in that short shimmering green silk dress that, well, kinda took your breath away.
Yep, and there she was – as usual – bang in the centre of the crowd, the music pounding in this cramped subterranean space, the eager lounge lizards, always with a snappy line, each one thinking that – just maybe – Zoe was just another Dumb Dora.
A pushover.
Fat chance, fellas, thought Teddy, smiling. Because he knew Zoe – one smart cookie too – only had eyes for him, just like for him she was the only gal in town.
Like she was mind reading – right now! – she looked across to his table, gave him a wave, mouthed a kiss with those perfect bow-shaped lips.
He held up her empty glass and made a gesture – fancy another?
But instead of nodding, as he expected, she slipped away from the dance floor, came right over and flopped onto his lap.
“Sweetie-pie, it’s late,” she said, after she’d given him a long, very long, kiss.
“Still feels early to me,” said Teddy. “Hey! Some of the gang are heading uptown. Word is it’s all happening at the Pincheon! Night’s young! Let’s party on!”
“Oh, don’t tempt me, baby,” said Zoe, touching his lips with her finger then giving him another kiss, her scent divine. “But you know I can’t stay out and play tonight.”
Then Teddy remembered. Zoe had a casting at 9am sharp for a big new Broadway show.
“Your re-call!” he said. “Sorry – I completely forgot! How can you forgive me! I’m an idiot!”
“No, not an idiot,” said Zoe. “You’re my precious ‘Teddy’ bear. My spangly shining knight.”
He laughed and kissed her again. Then he put his arms around her waist and lifted her up onto her feet, and stood.
“Exactly! And this shining knight’s taking you home for your beauty sleep – right now,” he said.
“Oh, think I might need more than a little beauty sleep,” said Zoe, coyly into his ear, her voice soft, teasing, “that is, if I’m going to really impress tomorrow.”
“Well okay then – what are we waiting for?” said Teddy, and arm in arm they headed for the stairs that led up and out of the bar.
*
Out on Bedford Street, the nondescript, unmarked door to Chumley’s shut tight behind them, Teddy could barely hear the sound of the band deep below the sidewalk.
He waited while Zoe leaned against a rail to put her heels back on.
“As you were saying... my place or yours?” he said, though he knew the answer.
Zoe’s rooms – quaint but little more than a lodging house.
Whereas his own apartment, courtesy of Daddy, not only had a roof you could sit out on to catch a breeze, but even that rare luxury – air conditioning.
The heat – even this late – unrelenting.
A brutally steamy New York summer night.
Soon to get, for Teddy and Zoe, hopefully... even steamier.
“Your place, silly,” said Zoe, stepping over. “Hope you remembered to fill your icebox. I want ice! Lots of it! And not just in the drinks!”
She giggled, then slipped her arm through his and together they walked up Bedford, heading for 9th Avenue and then home.
As they walked, her head resting on his shoulder, they passed the occasional late-night souls, sitting out on their stoops, cigarettes glowing, conversations soft, lingering outside – the best they could do to cool down.
But otherwise, Greenwich Village was deserted, most everyone trying to sleep even if the heat of the day had dropped only a couple of degrees.
Teddy could see windows wide open all along the dark streets, people desperate to suck the cooler night air into stifling apartments. Fans perched on the windowsills, doing their best. This last week had been a real sizzler, kids across the city playing in the hydrants, the ice trucks working non-stop.
And no let-up to the heatwave in sight.
“You happy?” he said, his head nuzzled in Zoe’s hair.
“Mmm,” she said. “Swell, Teddy Bear. Just swell.”
He smiled to himself, trying to stop his mind wandering to thoughts of the future: college, working for Daddy – and then the even darker thoughts – debts, loans, money coming in, money owed ...
A lot of questions – and not an answer in sight.
For instance – how he was going to deal with this morning’s letter from the bank telling him he really must put his finances in order by the end of the month – or else?
Or what were the bookies going to do when they realised he’d, um, slightly over-reached himself at the track on Saturday? Oh – and the tables the other night? Ouch.
When those loans from the sharks come due, you better have the money – or else.
No. Those kinds of thoughts must be reserved for daytime.
Not for nights with Zoe.
“Nearly home,” he said, as they crossed Hudson, the streets still quiet, though now with lines of cars parked on either side, people starting to spill out of other speakeasies, the night – for most – finally ending.
They turned into his own street, his apartment building at the far end. Ahead he saw a couple of guys on the sidewalk, lounging against a sedan, chatting, voices low, friends coming home from a good night out, maybe.
As Teddy and Zoe neared them, the two men stepped to one side of the sidewalk to let them pass.
“Nice evening,” said Teddy as he ushered Zoe through the gap left by the men; not concerned, just being good mannered.
“Sure is,” said one of the men. Then just as they were past, the other man held up a cigarette and said: “Hey – you got a light, pal?”
Teddy stopped, turned. “Sure,” he said, reaching into his pocket for his lighter.
The man took a step closer, put the cigarette in his mouth. Teddy gave his lighter a strike, and in the flame saw the man’s face more clearly.
A scar on one cheek. The eyes hard. Like they were thinking about something. And it wasn’t about having a smoke.
Cold eyes.
And suddenly Teddy – stopping – felt he had made a very, very bad mistake.
A jolt of fear ran through his blood – made his heart race – and he started to turn, to be closer to Zoe, to step back, away from these two men who no longer looked like innocent party-goers.
But as he did, he felt a hand come from nowhere and grip one of his arms, twisting it, wrenching it up behind his back, the muscle surely tearing, as a leg somehow flipped him over at the same time and he crashed face first, hard, into the side of the car, with a terrible crack from his teeth – his mouth filling instantly with blood.
“Zoe!” he shouted, hoping she was already running, but she was still there, and he heard her scream as one of the guys pushed her to the ground. He wanted to help her but everything was happening too fast.
The door of the sedan swung open and a heavy hood was slipped over his head and tied with a drawstring – so tight around his neck he could hardly breathe. He felt himself being dragged and shoved into the back seat of the car.
Then the engine roared, the door shut, one of the guys piled in on top of him and he felt the car pull away from the kerb, the tyres screeching – and outside, Zoe’s screams piercing the night air.
As he started to shout and scream too, something heavy crashed hard onto his skull – and, like that, he was out like a light.
2. New York, New York!
S ir Harry Mortimer stood on the top deck of the great Cunard liner Mauretania in the early morning sea breeze, watching as the massive ship glided by the Statue of Liberty on the port side, tiny figures visiting the monument, waving in response to the echoing ship’s horn.
Of course, at his side, was his American wife Lady Mortimer – though much better known in her home town of New York, he guessed, as Kat Reilly.
Harry always loved hearing about how Kat had grown up here in the Bronx, much of that time spent serving beers to customers in her father’s bar the Lucky Shamrock.
This trip, with Kat in charge? It was going to be wonderful fun!
“You okay, Harry?” she said, pressing close and looking into his eyes.
Harry could guess why she was asking.
The very last time he had been in the city, he’d been just a boy.
Bereft. Suddenly an orphan. Shipped from Nova Scotia to New York with hundreds of other survivors of the Titanic , ready to be quickly despatched back to England on board the Carpathia.
His mother and father still officially “missing”. Among – according to some estimates – 1500 people.
Missing...
Though Maggie, his nanny, had been honest with him and had told him, through tears, that the worst had almost certainly happened.
He turned to Kat.
“You know – I’m fine,” he said, smiling at her. “Surprisingly so. I thought I’d have all those dreadful feelings again, but, it seems, perhaps their time has passed. And, I must say, I’m glad.”
“Time does heal, dear husband,” she said. “Maybe it is true what they say.”
Then she held him tighter as they both turned again, peering through the excited crowds clustered at the ship’s rails as the thrilling skyline of New York loomed just ahead of them.
“Let me guess,” he said, after a minute, nodding to the immense, shining tower in the centre of what he knew to be Manhattan. “That building must be the marvel of the age – the Chrysler Building?”
“Biggest marvel – for now. The new Empire State Building will tower over even that, when it’s done in a year or two.”
“Extraordinary,” said Harry. “I definitely want to visit... see the city from there too!”
He realised that he sounded as excited as a kid.
“Oh yes. We may be able to get our own private tour,” said Kat. “I put some feelers out before we left.”
“Oh, did you indeed? And what other surprises do you have planned for our little ‘home town’ holiday – or vacation as you prefer to call it?”
“Well then, if I told you they wouldn’t be surprises, would they? But first stop: the Plaza Hotel. Always good to leave a little room for spontaneity.”
“Ah yes, spontaneity. Don’t we always do that so well?”
“Gotta warn you though, there is a compulsory get-together at the Shamrock so you can... meet the family.”
“Oh, I can’t wait,” said Harry, then seeing the expression on her face, he grinned and lowered his voice. “No really – I mean it – I can’t. I want to hear all the stories. How the scrawny kid from the wrong side of the tracks got out of the Bronx—”
“Scrawny?” she said, facing up to him, her fists mock raised. “Excuse me. I’ll have you know I was a match for any of them Broadway hoodlums!”
Harry laughed and continued: “Still are, I’m sure. And, as I was saying, I’m keen to hear how, you, fresh out of the Bronx, ended up doing diplomatic work of the most dangerous kind for your Uncle Sam.”
“Hmm, think we better keep quiet about that last bit,” said Kat. “As far as the Reilly clan are aware, I was but a humble secretary, who just happened to get posted round the world more than most.”
“Oh yes. Mum’s the word,” said Harry.
“Good. And we’ll definitely keep mum about our recent little escapades back in England.”
“Indeed. No, I shall tell them all how wonderfully you now play the lady of the manor, opening summer fêtes, cutting ribbons and holding lavish tea parties on the lawn.”
“I wish. There’s a lot to be said for the quiet life.”
“And this jaunt? Nobody needing our help? Perfect. Though I do expect to return home with a trunk full of souvenirs.”
“Aha, well, speaking of trunks , Sir Harry I do believe we should make sure that ours are ready to be disembarked.”
And she took his hand as they went below decks, and the great ship approached the Chelsea Piers.
*
As their cab drove up through the early Saturday morning streets of Manhattan – destination the Plaza Hotel – Kat hoped that the classy hotel was well equipped with fans.
The heat was stifling, a muggy, steamy heat, and a ripe smell that took her straight back to her years living and working here during what were called the “dog days of summer”.
Not that it seemed, so far, to bother Harry. Maybe during his stint in Cairo he had learned how to ignore heat.
Now, during this ride, he twisted and turned in his seat, excitedly pointing out landmarks he recognised – as well as amazing new buildings that weren’t even there last time she was home. And everywhere, street vendors, kids playing, hawkers, slick automobiles, trolleys clanging their way – all bustling, even on a Saturday.
The smells and the sounds of the city – almost hypnotic.
Outside the Plaza, as bellboys efficiently transported their cases and trunks inside, she and Harry stopped – nearly cricking their necks to look up at the absurd top storeys, before rushing in through the hotel’s grand doors like a honeymoon couple.
As they rode up in the enormous elevator, Kat said to Harry that she’d always dreamed of staying right here, in the famous hotel.
And Harry said that yes, he remembered her saying that once, which was why he’d booked them...
... a suite on the seventh floor.
Then, as the bellboy took his tip and left, and they stepped through into the luxurious sitting room, with ceiling-to-floor windows that looked out onto Central Park, a floor fan churning away, she turned to Harry and gave him the longest hug ever.
“Isn’t this just perfect?” she said. “This is going to be a week to remember.”
At the very moment Kat said those words, there was a polite tap on the door and an envelope slid under it.
Harry shot her a look, walked over, picked it up.
“To Lady Mortimer,” he said, reading the envelope and handing it to her. “Strictly private and confidential.”
Kat looked at the envelope. On the back the words: Sean O’Driscoll, Attorney at Law.
“Oh. From my old mentor, Sean,” she said. “I cabled him to say we were coming. It’ll probably be an invite to some stuffy old lawyers’ reception. Don’t worry, I’ll find a nice way of saying ‘no’.”
But when she opened the envelope and took out the letter, she immediately saw this was no invite.
She finished reading the brief note and handed it to Harry.
“My dear Kat,” he read aloud. “My apologies for interrupting your vacation. But I have a very personal favour to ask. At my suggestion, your presence – and that of your husband – is urgently needed by Mr Randolph Crowther, address below, within the hour. I would not request this of you were it not – quite simply – a matter of life and death.”
Harry looked up. And said, simply, “Well...”
“ Well indeed. What do you think?” she said, staring at Harry and shaking her head in surprise. Or maybe shock.
The vacation suddenly off to a bumpy start.
“Life or death? With those words, I think we don’t have a choice.”
“I agree.”
“This Crowther chap. Mean anything to you?”
“You bet he does,” said Kat, “Randolph Crowther is one of the grandest of this city’s many grand old businessmen. And that address? One of Wall Street’s finest.”
“Indeed?” said Harry. “An American tycoon? In which case, I do believe I had better unpack and find my best suit and tie.”
“So much for the holiday away from it all,” said Kat, as she headed for the bedroom to dress – not at all sure what would be best to wear.
Thinking, What’s the dress code for a matter of life and death?
And also feeling that old thrill... when it seemed a case might be about to start.
*
Harry opened the cab door for Kat, then paid the driver and stood on the sidewalk for a moment to look at the Crowther Building, all marble pillars and granite carvings, stretching what seemed like twenty floors up into the morning sky.
“I do see what you mean about grand ,” he said, taking Kat’s arm. They nodded to the doorman and entered into a lobby as tall as it was wide, with a reception desk as long as a cricket pitch, and a line of elevators.
“Pretty quiet,” said Harry.
“Saturday,” said Kat. “This place on a weekday? Not a seat in the house.”
Just one uniformed man stood behind reception. He stepped out and walked over to them, the squeaking of his polished shoes on the marble floor echoing in the vast space.
“Sir Harry and Lady Mortimer, I assume?” he said.
“You assume correctly,” said Harry.
“This way, please. Mr Crowther is expecting you.”
He led them to the furthest elevator, took out a key to unlock the controls, then pressed a button and the door opened.
Harry and Kat stepped in, but Harry was surprised to see the man remain outside.
“This is Mr Crowther’s private elevator. It will take you directly to his office. Good day.”
The doors shut, and with the gentlest of movements, Harry felt the elevator rise.
“Well, I must say. Not a museum or a gallery. But still – a jolly interesting start to the holidays,” he said, and he looked at Kat.
“I suspect it’s going to get way more interesting at any moment,” she replied.
After half a minute, the elevator stopped, and the door pinged softly, then opened. Harry and Kat stepped out into a small, empty anteroom – ahead of them, a polished door in the most perfect walnut.
Silence.
Then the door swung open and Harry saw a man appear – tall, white-haired, an old pin-stripe suit and waistcoat with a gold watch chain.
He looked to Harry like the classic Victorian lawyer – but for the weatherbeaten face, like a farmer’s, which now broke into a broad grin as the man saw Kat.
“Well, well,” he said. “Look at you, Kat Reilly. There’s a sight for sore eyes.”
“Sean O’Driscoll, as I live and breathe,” said Kat, and Harry heard a bit of an Irish lilt creeping into her voice.
Harry smiled and watched the two of them embrace – Sean stepping back to fully take her in, before turning to Harry, taking his hand and giving it a vigorous shake.
Got a grip like a farmer’s too, thought Harry, liking him instantly.
“You, sir, are one very lucky man,” he said, grinning, “being married to this extraordinary woman.”
“Don’t I know it,” said Harry.
“And also a brave one, I have to say,” said Sean with a wink, and Harry laughed.
But then he saw Sean’s face take on a serious expression.
“I do wish these were happier circumstances,” he said. “But they are what they are. Follow me now, and we’ll go through to Mr Crowther’s office. I’ve taken the liberty of explaining to him – in confidence of course – your particular history and skills , Kat. And also yours, Sir Harry, of which I have been apprised by one of my dearest old pals in our own diplomatic service. Again – all in strictest confidence.”
“Sounds as if you believe these skills are about to be called upon?” said Harry, as he and Kat followed Sean down a long corridor to a pair of imposing doors.
“Indeed,” said Sean. “But know this: you are at absolute liberty to reject the request that Mr Crowther is about to make of you.”
“Which is?” said Kat, as Sean stopped in front of a pair of double doors, with the word Chairman engraved in gold letters on a plinth above.
“I think I had best leave that to Mr Crowther to explain,” said Sean, then he knocked on the door.
“Enter!” came a gruff voice from within, and Sean opened the doors and in they went.
3. The Chairman of the Board
K at took in the wood-panelled room, the expansive leather-topped desk, the wide leather sofa and matching wingback armchairs – all dwarfed by massive oil paintings in the heroic style which filled the walls.
Each painting, a different romanticised vista of the great American West: a locomotive, steam and smoke billowing fiercely, powering into a sunset; brawny railway workers laying track across an endless plain, engineers on top of hills surveying mountain passes and the vast wilderness ahead.
All to be conquered.
Framed in the quartet of windows overlooking Wall Street, stood a man, his back to them, leaning on a silver cane – Randolph Crowther, Kat assumed.
He turned slowly and stared at his visitors for a few seconds. Kat stared back: he had the bearing, she thought, of a man used to giving orders to any and all, and seeing them quickly obeyed.
“Lady Mortimer. Sir Harry. Welcome. Your passage good? And I trust you are not suffering too much from this infernal heat?”
Kat saw Harry, ever the gentleman, stride over to the man and shake his hand.
“Oh, we’re used to it, sir,” he said. “Some of our postings were worse than this.”
Kat joined him and shook hands with Crowther, noting that grip – holding nothing back because she was female.
“Cairo, Morocco, Istanbul, yes?” he said, peering at them both. “And even, I believe, a stint in Tokyo, Lady Mortimer – am I correct?”
“You’re well informed, Mr Crowther,” said Kat, glancing at Sean who stood to one side. She saw him shrug.
Her own and Harry’s classified postings in government service clearly not as secret as she’d thought.
“Please. Take a seat,” said Crowther, nodding to the sofa and walking over to the desk and sitting behind it. “I’d like to start, but we shall have to wait for my damn son to get here. Never on time. No wonder the company’s going to the dogs.”
Kat glanced at Harry – both of them knowing not to add fuel to this fire. Then she heard the door burst open behind her.
“Ah, here he is at last ,” said Crowther.
Kat turned to see another man enter – in his forties maybe, flustered, a sheen of sweat on his brow, a stack of papers under one arm.
“Joseph Crowther,” said the man, putting down the papers in a sloppy heap, then quickly shaking their hands. His grip, looser, sweatier than his father’s. “Sir Harry, Lady Mortimer, pleasure to meet you, and please, call me Joseph.” Kat saw him turn quickly to Randolph. “Oh, sorry father, Midtown traffic, you know, even Saturdays now, this city, impossible, I don’t know what—”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure,” said Randolph. “Now sit down, will you? Let’s get on with it. Already lost half a morning! Sooner this is done, sooner we’ll have the boy home and you can get back to work and we can all get back to our lives.”
“Sorry everyone, sorry,” said Joseph dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief and taking the seat next to Sean.
The father shot a look at his son.
“Now, let me explain the situation,” said Randolph. “And a damn fine mess it is, I don’t mind telling you.”
Kat saw Joseph open his mouth as if to add something, but clearly thinking the better of it.
“Two nights ago, you see,” said Randolph, “my grandson Teddy was kidnapped. Grabbed from the street, thrown into a car, and taken by persons unknown. Yesterday morning, a ransom note was received by my son here, the boy’s father, demanding fifty thousand dollars for his safe return!”
Kat looked at Joseph, then Harry. So this was the matter of life or death. And fifty thousand – quite the sum.
“The kidnappers insisted that the police be kept out of it. No surprise there. They would say that, wouldn’t they? But I have no problem with that. In the last couple of years, there’s been a plague of kidnapping in this country and, in most cases, as far as I can see, the police have done more harm than good. I want my grandson back, foolish boy though he is, so I shall pay the ransom – problem solved. Questions?”
“I’m very sorry to hear this, Mr Crowther,” said Kat. “It must be terrible for you both, for your whole family. But perhaps the police should—”
Randolph quickly cut her off. She guessed his views about women and opinions. Ancient at best.
“Running around like headless chickens, most of ’em,” said Randolph.
“Yes, but—” – another look to Harry – “I wonder,” Kat continued, “how do you think my husband and I can help?”
“As I said, the police can stay the hell out of this. But – damn it – I need people watching over this show who know what they’re doing. There’s not just a life at stake. There’s a lot of money. My money.”
She heard Harry clear his throat. Then, as if pointing out the obvious, he said, “Could you not just hire a detective agency? Chaps like Pinkertons or Burns maybe?”
“Pah! Agencies? First thing they’ll do is sell the story to some damn newspaper. That is, if they aren’t already in the pay of whatever mobsters are behind this. Worse than the police, in my opinion.”
Kat wondered, Does this powerful tycoon have his own history with the police?
“No. When Sean mentioned you two, I knew straight away you’d be right for the job. Piece of damn luck you’re here in the city. Now – what’s it going to cost me?”
Kat looked at Harry again and caught his nod. This man was used to buying anything and everything – not exactly Harry’s cup of tea.
She jumped in quick before Harry bid Crowther good day and good luck.
If this was important to Sean, it was important to her.
“Mr Crowther, let me make something very clear,” she said. “ If Sir Harry and I decide to help – if – then there will be absolutely no charge. We will be doing it first as a favour to my dear mentor Mr O’Driscoll here. And second, because, as you say, there is a life at stake.”
Randolph’s eyes narrowed, staring right at her.
One tough cookie, Kat imagined, not used to the word if.
“And, I must say, we need to know plenty more about this situation before we decide one way or the other.”
She waited while Crowther seemed to take her words in.
“Hmm. No charge, eh?”
“We’re not a detective agency, Mr Crowther,” she said.
She caught a small smile from Harry – enjoying this back and forth.
“Right,” said Randolph, as if the idea of working for free was alien to him. “So, what else do you need to know? Joseph will answer your questions. Isn’t that right?”
Kat looked at Joseph Crowther – who sat in the leather armchair opposite, still dabbing his face with a handkerchief – then nodded to Harry.
Time to get some details.
*
“Joseph, your father here said you got a note yesterday,” said Harry, taking over the questioning. “Do you have it with you?”
“Sure,” said Joseph, reaching into one coat pocket, then another, before pulling out a tattered sheet of paper.
Harry unfolded it carefully – held it so that Kat could see it too. White writing paper pasted with words cut from a newspaper – the message simple: WE HAVE YOUR SON TEDDY. WE WANT 50 THOU. NO POLICE. BE BY YOUR PHONE SATURDAY AT 6 SHARP. FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS OR HE DIES.
At first glance, there were no obvious clues in the note. Harry had never been involved in investigating a kidnapping, but, from what he’d read – or learned chatting to police contacts back in London – this type of message? Pretty standard stuff.
“All right. How was it delivered to you?” he said.
“Just appeared under the door of our apartment,” said Joseph. “Was there when my wife and I got up yesterday.”
“Your wife?”
“Yes. Grace. Actually, she spotted it first.”
“Nobody saw who dropped it?” said Harry.
“No. Whoever delivered it must have slipped inside the building somehow.”
Or somebody in the building’s involved, thought Harry, straight away.
“How old is Teddy?” he said.
“Twenty. Just had his birthday.”
“I see. So, um, and please don’t take this the wrong way,” said Harry, “but is it possible this could just be a bit of a lark? You know? Pals playing around, having fun? Rattling dear old Dad and Grandpa?”
Kat’s mentor spoke for the first time.
“Harry – yes – that is of course always possible,” said Sean, “but it feels to me like the real thing. The abduction was pretty violent, according to Teddy’s girlfriend. And she was roughed up too.”
“Oh, so you have a witness?” said Kat. “Name?”
“Zoe Keane,” said Joseph. “Sweet kid, budding actress, just a youngster like him. She and Teddy are stuck on each other in a big way. They were walking home from a... um...”
“From a damn speakeasy ,” said his father. “Tell it like it is, Joseph, for God’s sake. The boy’s an irresponsible rascal, always has been. Nightclubs. The track. Parties. Spends less time sober than I spend working, and I’m retired dammit! ”
Harry looked at Kat, adding this information to the pack.
Randolph no longer running things.
He looked again at the note in his hand, running his fingers over the pasted newspaper clippings.
But now he looked more closely, and he had a feeling there was something not quite right about it – but he couldn’t quite figure what.
“Do you mind if I keep this?” he said.
“Oh, do you have to?” said Joseph, seeming alarmed. “I mean, if they knew I was talking to—”
“Don’t worry,” said Harry. “Safe and sound with us. And you will have all the information you need for when they phone.”
“Of course,” said Joseph, “silly of me to worry.”
“You said you were ready to pay the ransom,” said Harry, turning to Randolph. “Does that mean you have the money now? ”
Harry watched Randolph get up from his desk and go to a small safe in the corner of the room. With his back to them, he opened the safe and took out a valise which he placed on the desk and opened to reveal neatly stacked blocks of notes.
“Fifty thousand dollars,” he said. “Had my secretary count every bill.”
Harry glanced at Kat. It was a fortune – certainly more cash than he’d ever seen.
“The note says to be by your phone at six today , yes?” he said.
“That’s right,” said Joseph. “Our apartment on the Upper West Side.”
“You live there too, Mr Crowther?” said Kat, turning to Randolph at the desk.
“Heavens no! Used to. It’s a fine apartment. The finest. But when I retired from the business I moved out to the old family pile on Long Island.”
“So then, are you personally going to take charge of handing over the money when they call?” said Harry, looking at Joseph.
“No, he’s not,” said Randolph, stepping in before Joseph could reply. “Not unless we want it all messed up! My son-in-law will handle that.”
More interesting family relationships, thought Harry.
“Son-in-law?” he said.
“Perry,” said Joseph. “He’s married to my sister, Cicely.”
“Any particular reason why he’ll be doing the handover?” said Kat.
“Because he’s made of the right stuff,” said Randolph, pointedly looking at Joseph. “Been around a bit. Navy man. Much steadier hand. And when it comes to money – my money – that’s important.”
Harry didn’t respond to that, but instead turned back to Joseph.
“And who will be at the apartment when they phone – if they phone?”
“The whole family,” said Joseph.
“Whole damn circus more like,” said Randolph.
Harry tried to ignore that, kept his eyes on Joseph. Kat jumped in.
“So, the idea is that they tell you where to go and this... Perry... takes the cash, hands it over and your son is freed?”
“Isn’t that how it always works?” said Joseph. “Though, as you can see, we don’t have any details.”
Harry turned back to Randolph.
“So, Mr Crowther – with plans in place, payoff too – what precisely might you require of me and my wife?”
“Way I see it,” he said, “you’ll be tagging along in the background, staying out of sight, eyes damn tight on this here valise full of money.”
“I see,” said Harry, wondering quite why Sean had thought them suitable for such a simple surveillance exercise. “Just watching the money?”
“Oh, not just watching the money.”
“No?” Harry said.
“Once Teddy is free,” continued Randolph Crowther, “you’ll track these vermin down and deliver them to justice.”
Harry was about to reply, but Crowther wasn’t finished.
He leaned forward, hands gripping the desk, eyes narrowed.
“Dead or alive – as they used to say in the good ol’ days.”
Harry sat back. Trying to formulate the words to respond to what the man had just said.
Dead or alive, indeed.
But Kat beat him to it, first looking at her mentor.
“Mr Crowther, my husband and I are not vigilantes. Just to remind you, if we agree to do this it is to save a life. And as a favour to my dear friend here. If we succeed, we will turn the kidnappers over to the authorities.”
She paused.
“Do you understand that?”
Bravo , thought Harry.
He saw Crowther stir in his seat, for the first time actually looking chagrined.
“Yes. I understand... and...” – the next words clearly hard to get out – “thank you.”
Kat waited and Harry saw her look right at him.
Museum visits, concerts, maybe even swanky dinners all going out the big windows of this room.
He smiled and gave her a small nod.
“Right then,” said Kat. “We will do what we can.”
And at that both Randolph and Joseph smiled too, clearly relieved.
Though Harry thought, Just what have we got ourselves into?
4. Meet the Family
A nd on your right, the famous Sheep Meadow,” said Kat as she and Harry followed the tree-lined path across Central Park towards the Upper West Side.
“Let me guess,” said Harry. “Named after the famous sheep?”
“Very good,” said Kat, keeping an eye on the route they were taking. “At this rate you’ll be an expert on all New York’s tourist spots.”
“Amazing how much one can learn just by going past places. Sometimes even at speed in a cab.”
“I’m sure once this is over – and the wayward Teddy is safely back in his little apartment in Chelsea – we’ll have plenty of time to visit the sights for real.”
“Don’t you count on it,” said Harry. “I’ve got an odd feeling this thing is going to run the whole five miles. ”
“Really? And you don’t mind?” said Kat, worried that Harry’s first proper trip to ‘the Big Apple’ would be taken up on a case.
“Come on ,” he said, smiling, “you know I’m no tourist at heart. Prefer being busy. And absolutely love being busy with you. So this could be fun. And I suspect I’m going to see parts of this city your average Englishman never gets to visit.”
Kat linked arms with him and they passed smooching couples lying out on the grass in the shade of the trees – the whole city seeming to have moved outdoors to escape the heat.
Luckily their room at the Plaza had big electric fans, and they’d been able to cool down, change clothes and grab some room service lunch, before heading out across town.
“Hey!” said Harry. “Ice cream!”
Kat looked across to where an ice cream vendor had pulled up, ready to serve.
“The real thing too,” said Kat.
“We got time?”
“Sure. Joseph’s apartment’s just ten minutes away. And that call’s not due for a couple of hours.”
“Well then, let’s live a little,” said Harry, and they joined the queue.
*
Joseph Crowther’s apartment building was just off the Park on West 75th and, though it was only on the fifth floor, they took the elevator – the building was like an oven.
Soon as the doors pinged open, Harry could guess which apartment they were looking for. From the end of the hallway, he could hear the sounds of a heated argument – more than one voice raised.
Together they walked to the door, and Kat pressed a buzzer. No response. She pressed again.
The door flung open and Harry saw a woman in a slick dress, cigarette in one hand and a half-finished martini in the other.
“Well, if it isn’t the lord and his lady,” she said, then, over her shoulder, “Joseph, it’s your new pals!”
She made a mock bow and stood back, holding the door wide and swaying.
“Welcome to our humble abode,” said the woman. “The mob’s right through there. Oops. When I say ‘mob’, of course I don’t mean ‘ the mob’. I’m talking about my delightful family. Go ahead. They don’t bite. Usually. ”
Harry smiled and followed Kat towards the sound of the continuing argument, through a half-open door, and into a large sitting room with sofas and armchairs scattered throughout.
Tall windows, art deco furniture – he took in the place quickly, his own small London flat suddenly seeming tiny in comparison.
At one end of the room sat two women, both smoking and drinking – and definitely not talking to each other.
At this end – the source of all the noise – he recognised Joseph, in a heated exchange with another man in a linen suit and a silk bow tie, a small moustache and sleek, black hair.
The woman from the door swept past them straight to a large bar in the corner.
“What’re you having?” she said. “I’d offer you a cocktail but there’s nobody sober enough to make one.”
“Scotch with a dash of water, please,” said Harry, thinking it best not to start a discussion about the advisability of abstinence under dangerous circumstances.
“Same,” said Kat, and Harry knew she was on board with the plan.
Harry saw Joseph suddenly glance over and notice them – and he stepped over straight away.
“Sir Harry, Lady Mortimer, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise you were here—”
“I let them in. Nobody else seemed to want to,” said the woman, who now came over and handed them their drinks, each with chunks of ice in the crystal tumblers. “Bottoms up.”
“Cheers,” said Harry, taking a sip.
“You’ve met my sister then,” said Joseph. “Cicely, do try to be nice, won’t you?”
“Oh. Nice? How nice... exactly? ” said Cicely, and Harry saw her eyes lock onto him as she swayed and took a puff on her cigarette.
“Come and meet the rest of the family,” said Joseph, leading them both across the room. “I’m afraid,” he said, his voice lower, “well – the stress of all this – people have been hitting the sauce rather hard.”
“Don’t worry,” said Kat. “Totally understandable.”
“My wife Grace,” said Joseph as they reached the two women. The older woman got up, shook their hands.
“I see you’ve met Cicely,” she said, and Harry wondered if it was possible to load more disdain into so few words.
“Yes,” said Kat. “She kindly made us a drink.”
“She would. Her major talent, I’d say.”
“And, ahem, this is Zoe,” said Joseph, gesturing to the young woman who stayed seated. “Teddy’s... friend.”
Harry could see from her red eyes that Zoe had been crying, and was clearly in no state to socialise.
Grace walked over to a desk in the corner, picked up The Wall Street Journal and opened it – holding it aloft like a barrier to any further conversation. Harry saw Joseph frown at her reaction, then he smiled wearily at Kat and Harry and led them both away.
“We had the doctor here earlier and he prescribed some powders to, um, calm Zoe down. She’s found this all rather too much, poor thing.”
“Right. Does she remember anything at all about the kidnap?”
“Very little,” said Joseph. “Happened so fast. And she’s been in this kind of state ever since.”
Harry looked at Kat. Talking to Zoe had been key to their plan of action. Looked like that might have to be postponed.
“And this is my brother-in-law, Perry,” said Joseph as the man in the bow tie joined them.
“Probably the only sober one here,” said Perry, smiling.
“Good thing too,” said Harry, smiling back at him. “You’ve got quite a job to do, by all accounts.”
“Indeed. And it’s not one I volunteered for, I can tell you that.”
“Mr Crowther suggested you had perhaps the right... experience for it?” said Kat.
“Really? I don’t know what gave him that idea,” said Perry. “Two years in the navy – mostly spent behind a desk!”
“No,” said Joseph. “We both know why, Perry. This kind of thing – I’m not cut out for it. At least not in my dad’s eyes.”
Harry sensed perhaps this is what the argument had been about.
“Dealing with kidnappers? Ransom money? Don’t think anybody is, really,” said Kat.
“Be that as it may,” said Perry. “Can’t say I’m thrilled to be doing it.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Kat said. But she immediately realised the reassuring words didn’t sound reassuring at all. “And don’t forget, we’ll be right behind you.”
“Out of sight, of course,” said Harry.
“I have to say,” continued Perry, “I for one am very grateful for you being here. Helping out – you know?”
“No problem,” said Kat.
“Least we could do,” said Harry. He glanced at his watch, and saw Perry catch the look.
“Thirty-eight minutes, last time I checked,” said Perry, smiling. He turned to Joseph. “Best you get the cash, Joseph? We need be ready.”
Joseph set off down a hallway. To an office perhaps, Harry thought, the money waiting in a safe.
“By the way,” Perry added. “I don’t think this giving the kidnappers the money is a good idea at all. If it was me, this whole thing? A job for the police.”
Harry heard raised voices from Cicely and Grace at the other end of the room: Grace’s newspaper clearly no “obstacle” where Perry’s wife was concerned.
“Don’t worry about them,” said Joseph, returning with the valise clutched tight in one hand. “Been going on all day. Nerves.”
“Run us through your preparations,” said Kat. “Just so we know what to expect.”
“Preparations?” said Joseph. “Oh yes, right, I understand. Well, the phone is over there, on the table. I’ll take the call. Instruct Perry.”
“We have no idea where they’re holding poor Teddy – or how complicated this is going to get,” said Perry. “But I think we’ve covered most of the bases. My car’s down in the street, right in front – green Ford, Model A.”
“And here’s the key to my Studebaker, grey one, new model, parked just round the block,” said Joseph, giving Harry a key.
“Think Kat here will be doing the driving,” said Harry, handing it over to her.
“I say, how very modern,” said Perry.
“Right-hand drive?” said Harry. “Not my favourite.”
“Ah, of course,” said Perry, nodding.
“If it’s a walk not a drive, well Harry and I know how to keep out of sight,” said Kat.
“I gather you’ve done this kind of thing before?” said Perry. “For the, um... government?”
“Something like that,” said Kat quickly. “Now. What if they take the subway? You got tokens? Maybe switching trains?”
“Oh, right. Subway. Hadn’t thought of that. Um...”
Harry waited while Perry checked his pockets.
“Yes, got a few...”
Joseph reached in his pocket too and handed Harry some oddly shaped coins.
“Best you two have some tokens as well.”
“Anything happens, any of us gets stranded, or in trouble – we all call back here,” said Kat. “So, Joseph – you stay by that phone, right? Pass on locations. Information. And in the worst case – you call the police.”
“The police?” said Joseph, alarmed.
“Like I said. The worst case. ”
Harry knew what she meant – and he saw that Perry and Joseph realised too.
“One last thing,” said Kat. “Are you packing?”
“What?” said Perry.
“Will you be armed? ”
“Well. No. I didn’t think... Should I be?”
“Best not. Whatever happens, I doubt a gun is going to improve matters.”
“What about you two?” said Joseph, his eyes wide. “Are you... Will you...?”
“No,” said Harry. “Our plan is to stay well out of the way. And if any shooting does start, we’ll do the sensible thing.”
“Which is?” said Perry.
“Duck and run,” said Kat, smiling.
Harry saw both Joseph and Perry attempt to smile as well.
None too successfully.
“Apart from that,” said Kat, “I don’t think there’s much we can prepare for. Except – be ready for anything. Okay?”
And then the phone rang and the room went silent.
“But it’s only five thirty!” said Joseph. “They’re early!”
“Like I said,” said Kat, again, her face now serious, “ anything. ”
5. The Call
H arry watched Joseph walk over to the small table with the phone resting on it, his stride grim, determined, as if dreading what he was about to hear.
Beside the phone, a small pad and pencil. Joseph picked up the receiver, held it up and said a very quiet “hello”.
Harry watched him, head bobbing, listening intently.
Then Joseph spoke.
“Yes. Yes, I do. Right here.”
Harry noted that all eyes on the room were on Joseph; no one moving or whispering, the air that tense.
Joseph leaned down, took the pencil and started to make notes.
Harry remained standing close. He couldn’t hear more than the muffled sound of someone speaking, the muted sound leaking from the earpiece.
Joseph only added the occasional “yes” now and then.
Until – after writing down what had to be the instructions for the delivery of the valise of money – Joseph cleared his throat and said, “Yes, I understand. No, there will be no problem, I-I’m all... all ready. Yes. Right now. Er—”
It seemed as if Joseph might be about to say goodbye , as if ending a friendly chat with some friend.
But Harry could hear that the line had gone dead.
Instructions delivered. No time or need for any niceties.
Not with kidnappers.
And then Joseph, looking as if he had been struck by a jolt of electricity, face ashen, eyes wide, glazed, turned to all and said “I – er – have the instructions.”
*
Perry was quick to come over and take the piece of paper from Joseph.
“None too damn legible,” Perry said. “But—”
Harry saw others now cluster by Perry looking at the note: Cicely, Grace...
But not Zoe, who sat blankly on the sofa as if still in a daze.
“What? I’m to drive down Lexington Avenue, to Gramercy, then make a left over to 1st Avenue, and – really? Then on down Broome and Ludlow to—”
Perry looked up.
“The Lower East Side?” he said. “You kidding me? The tenements?”
Kat had now joined Harry and she peered at the note. She too would be navigating this route.
“Th-that’s what he said,” continued Joseph. “ He said the person with the money – and only that person – was to leave now, alone. He said that on that corner there—”
Joseph pointed to the note as if it was evidence of some kind.
“Said there’s a phone booth on the corner of Broome and Ludlow. And the person with the money—”
“Which would be me ,” Perry said, none too happily, Harry saw. The son-in-law, not in agreement with any of this, was now compelled to be – what did they call them in the crime thrillers? – the bagman.
And to make the drop in what Harry guessed was possibly an unsavoury part of town.
“Well then,” Perry said, without any enthusiasm, “seems like I better go now. ”
Kat took a step forward. “We won’t follow you, not down Lexington. I’ll go another way; get to a spot where we can see you, the phone booth, from a distance.”
Perry looked nervous. “You know, I never – well – did anything like this before.”
To which Harry said, in an attempt to lighten the air just a smidge...
“Oh, there’s a first time for everything.”
*
Perry was minutes ahead of them, Kat knew, as she slipped into the driver’s seat of the Studebaker.
She and Harry had taken the delivery entrance out of the building in case the kidnappers had anyone watching the front door as Perry raced out, making good on the instruction to be quick.
The Studebaker started up immediately, with the steady purr of a well-tuned engine.
“Nice car,” Harry said, as she pressed down on the clutch, and slipped the car into first gear.
“Little out of practice,” Kat said.
“Oh, I’m sure this, um, driving on the wrong side? Just like riding a bike.”
“No, I meant on busy city streets. It may be Saturday but—”
“Let me guess, no such thing as a sleepy weekend in old Manhattan?”
“Got that right,” said Kat as she pulled out into the side street, the air looking steamy with the heat. “Oh, just to warn you – I may have to jump a few traffic lights.”
“Isn’t that illegal?”
She had to smile at that, slamming the car into second gear, hitting Columbus Avenue fast, and then, at the first light just turned red, making good on her word.
“Ah, I see. You weren’t kidding, were you? I’d better hold on.”
She hit the throttle, eyes locked on the road, dodging slow-moving horse-drawn carts that somehow still made their way through the city: one loaded with produce, looking well picked over, the day’s sales done.
Another, a knife sharpener – the sign boldly proclaimed – was pulled in to the side, the driver sleeping while his horse had its face buried in a feed bag.
But as she sped downtown, she could see that the automobile was now king here. Taxis seemingly all over. And so many cars racing alongside the buses going north and south, while others streamed east and west on the big cross streets.
The route she was taking would at least dodge the trolley lines – as much as she remembered them.
“At least I’m getting to tour your great city,” said Harry. “If we pass anything really remarkable, do point it out to me, won’t you?”
