The Anatomy of Deception - Lawrence Goldstone [131]
I arrived at about ten that night. As I dismounted my carriage, Keuhn jumped from his and accosted me. For the past two days, he had contented himself to be a shadow, but that was apparently at an end. “Mr. Lachtmann isn’t happy with you, Doc. He thinks that you ain’t been taking him seriously about butting out.”
“Why? Because I went to see Farnshaw?”
“Don’t play us for fools, Doc. It’s unhealthy.” Keuhn grinned at his joke.
“Has it occurred to Mr. Lachtmann that perhaps the wrong man is in custody and that I am doing him a favor? If I obtain the release of an innocent man, we might find the one who is guilty,” I said in reply.
“It’s occurred to Mr. Lachtmann that you’re trying to get someone off who’s guilty because he’s a friend and a ‘fellow doctor.’ It also occurred to him that you only admitted the part about the accomplice because you was scared, but once you was out of the room, you wanted to take it back, so now you’re trying to undo what you did. But, you know, Doc, it doesn’t matter what occurred to Mr. Lachtmann. It only matters that you do what he says. This, as they say, is your last warning.”
“Thank you, Keuhn,” I replied. “I understand you completely. Now, would you please step out of my way? I have no intention of going through life with you telling me where I may or may not go.”
I stepped around him and walked through the door, greeting Mike only perfunctorily. The giant actually seemed hurt that I did not acknowledge him more cordially. Once inside, I headed for the bar. The bartender made to greet me but, when I stood stone-faced, knew to pretend to ignorance. I ordered what passed for a whiskey, and then waited until Keuhn decided that the interval was sufficiently discreet to make his appearance.
Less than two minutes later, he sidled up to the bar himself. Glancing at the shot glass in front of me, he ordered a whiskey as well. As the rules of our little theater dictated, he never acknowledged my presence in public. Keuhn downed his shot and asked for another. He seemed not the least surprised at the quality of the whiskey. I, on the other hand, merely dallied for an additional moment or two, and then strolled across the room, taking care to leave my hat on the bar next to my glass. I knocked on the door of the office and announced myself. A moment later, I was asked to enter.
As I did, Haggens was just closing a drawer of his desk, looking like a guilty schoolboy. The smell of the real stuff permeated the room.
“I told you …” I began.
“Yeah, Doc, I know,” he replied. “It was my first one of the day.”
“I’m sure. Haggens,” I went on, “I need information.”
Haggens cocked his head like a spaniel. “Information? You paying?”
“No,” I said.
Haggens chewed this over. “Well, since I ain’t got your bill yet for listening to my heart, I guess I could give you some free information. You got a medical problem?” he joked.
“Thank you, no.” I asked whether Turk had ever bragged about setting up a sucker to hand to the police in case he was caught. Haggens listened carefully, and I think he would have told me had he known, but apparently Turk had said nothing to him.
“By the way,” I said. “There’s a man at the bar. He’s from the Pinkerton Detective Agency. He’s been following me.”
“You got the Pinkertons on you? That’s not good. They can be as fatal as endo … what was it?”
“Endocarditis. I’m afraid his presence has something to do with you as well, Haggens.”
Haggens emitted an exaggerated sigh. “What could that be? Me and the Pinkertons have always had kind of an understanding—we stay out of each other’s way. Kinda like you and me was supposed to do before it came to you that you like it here.”
“It’s true, Haggens. You have turned me into a Fatted Calf devotee.” I went on to relate the circumstances of the agency’s engagement by Jonas Lachtmann and Lachtmann’s obsession with avenging his daughter.
“I heard they pinched someone for that already. That other doc.”
“I fear that Lachtmann is not satisfied with Farnshaw. He intends to pressure me into revealing the