Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 124, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 757 & 758, September/October 2004

Old Cyrus was sitting in an armchair beside his son’s desk, watching us in silence, his eyes smoldering like a banked fire.

“You’re entitled to have a lawyer present, Mr. Belknap,” Brodie reminded R.J.

“I am a lawyer,” R.J. said firmly. “I’m well aware of my rights, including the right to end this interview anytime I choose. Ask your questions.”

“You knew about the bodies in the tank?” Brodie prompted.

“My father told me about them years ago. That’s why we kept the building empty, never tried to do anything with it.”

“What happened?” Pia asked. “How did they die?”

“An accident. It was the Gin Mill’s last night. After they closed, a few diehards stayed on, drinking. My dad, Coley Barnes, Misirlou, a couple of boys from the band. Even the waiter had a few.”

“Nate Crowell,” I put in.

“Right.” He nodded. “They hadn’t been drinking long when it hit them. My dad got sick, said he felt like he’d been kicked in the belly. The others were even worse off. Foaming at the mouth, vomiting, passing out. It was horrible. Dad tried to go for help but collapsed. He was unconscious for several hours. When he woke, they were dead. All of them.”

“Why didn’t he call the police? Or a doctor?” Brodie asked.

“To say what? That his bootleg whiskey killed five people? Go to jail for years? It was an accident.”

“Prohibition was over,” Brodie pointed out. “Why were they drinking bootleg whiskey?”

“That was Coley’s idea,” Cyrus put in quietly. “Got me a taste for bootleg, he said. Let’s drink up the last of the Best, he said. Stupid black bastard.”

“In any case, bootlegging was a minor offense then,” R.J. continued hastily. “My father is only guilty of concealing the bodies. Granted, he used poor judgment, but he was quite sick himself at the time.”

“Was he?” I asked. “Apparently he wasn’t too sick to tote five bodies up that ladder.”

“Stay out of this, Shea,” R.J. snapped. “Chief, I admit this was an ugly business, but even if my father committed any... minor infractions, the statute of limitations expired on them years ago.”

“You’re probably right, Mr. Belknap,” Brodie agreed. “Which brings us to the arson.”

“My father will admit to hiring a man named Romanik to set the fire. But since no one was hurt—”

I scratched my fingernails across the end table beside my chair, startling R.J. and Brodie. They both glared at me but I ignored them.

My eyes were locked on Cy’s face as I scratched the tabletop again. He paled, swallowing hard, his hands gripping the head of his cane so tightly I thought he might snap it.

“You know that sound, don’t you?” I said. “It’s what frightened you so badly in my office that day.”

“Look, Shea,” R.J. said, “I’ve been patient with you, but—”

“You don’t get it, do you, R.J.? Your father didn’t put dead bodies in that tank. He put people in there.”

“No!” Cy shouted, lurching to his feet. “They were dead! All twisted up, foaming at the mouth. Coley hanging on to that damned trumpet. But he was dead! They all were. I felt their necks!”

“So you dumped them in the tank like so much trash. They were only blacks, right? Who’d care? But at least one of them was still alive. The water must have revived him.”

“That’s a serious accusation, Shea,” Brodie warned.

“The claw marks are still there in the tank, untouched all these years. And you heard it, didn’t you, Cy? Heard someone trying to get out. Why didn’t you help?”

Agony and rage battled in Cy’s face, giving him a demonic look. Like a madman. For a moment I thought he was going to deny it. But R.J. was right, he’d been carrying the weight too long.

“I couldn’t reach him!” Cy sobbed, his voice breaking. “It was Coley. The water woke him up but he was too far down. I ran to get a rope, but when I got back... he was gone. They were all gone.”

“My God,” Pia said softly. No one else spoke, all of us staring at the old man.

After a moment Cy looked up, meeting our eyes. “You’ve got to understand,” he said, his voice quavering. “I’d been breaking my back for years, working days in the guncotton plant, nights in the Gin Mill, trying to get ahead. I couldn’t throw it all away over a stupid mistake. I thought they were dead, dammit. It wasn’t my fault. I found Nate on the stairs, took him to the hospital, made up the story about the robbery. Later on, I even helped out the families a few times. What more could I do?”

He looked at each of us in turn, as though he expected an answer. No one said a word. “God, I’m tired,” he said, sagging back in his chair. “I thought telling about it would help, but... I just feel so tired.”

“Go ahead, Mr. Belknap,” Chief Brodie said. “We’ll talk again later.”

Rising stiffly, Cy shuffled slowly out. I didn’t think he’d make it to the door. He moved like a man carrying a world of guilt on his shoulders. Or perhaps the weight of five bodies.

When he’d gone, Pia crossed to R.J.’s desk, staring down at him like a stranger.

“You knew about this, didn’t you? All this time?”