The Love Potion Murders in the Museum of Man_ A Norman De Ratour Mystery - Alfred Alcorn [91]
33
I have been made privy to some disturbing information regarding Freddie Bain, information that makes me more anxious than ever for the safety and well-being of Diantha. As I was sitting in my office this morning in a practically deserted museum — everyone who can has already officially or unofficially taken holiday leave — Lieutenant Tracy called and said he wanted to drop by with Sergeant Lemure and Agent Jack Johnson of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
I said certainly, and not long afterward they arrived. Dressed in a plain but sharply pressed dark blue suit, Agent Johnson evinced the practiced no-nonsense demeanor of a veteran law enforcement officer. He took in, I noticed, some of the more outré items decorating the office but said nothing. He gave my hand a short, brisk shake and sat down in one of the three chairs I had pulled up before my desk for the meeting.
Flanked by Sergeant Lemure in rumpled suit and Lieutenant Tracy in tweed jacket and holiday tie, Agent Johnson started right in. “Mr. de Ratour,” he said, getting my name right, “I hope you understand that the Bureau seldom shares information with a private citizen regarding an ongoing criminal investigation …”
“Or even with local police departments,” Sergeant Lemure put in.
“That’s right. But it seems the Bureau, the Seaboard Police Department, and you have a keen common interest in the activities of one Freddie Bain.”
“That’s right.”
“Could you tell me why?”
“For several reasons. But one of them involves confidentiality and the others remain conjectural.”
“If it involves criminal activity, Mr. de Ratour, I’m afraid I won’t be able to comply with any request for confidentiality.”
I nodded. “I don’t believe it is criminal. But I will leave it to your judgment.” I waited for him to nod and then continued. “A couple of months back one of our professors — or, I should say, one of Wainscott’s professors who was affiliated with the museum — undertook a highly dangerous expedition to South America. Given the nature of the trip, we here at the museum refused to fund any substantial part of it. We did underwrite his medical supplies and his insurance for medical evacuation.”
“How was it dangerous?” Agent Johnson, a man in his forties, regarded me steadily with cool hazel eyes.
“It was very remote to begin with. A lot of outsiders have disappeared while exploring the territory. The situation, apparently, has been exacerbated recently by road-building and logging activities near the tribal lands. The Yomamas are reputed to be cannibals as well as very fierce. Indeed, Professor Chard went there with the express purpose of witnessing an anthropophagic ritual.”
“That’s cannibalism,” Sergeant Lemure put in.
Agent Johnson ignored the sergeant. “And he got eaten instead?” There might have been the slightest touch of ironic humor in his tone.
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“We have it on tape.”
“I see. And how does Freddie Bain fit in to all this?”
“Mr. Bain funded most of the expedition.”
The agent nodded. “Well, there’s nothing illegal in that, is there? At least on the surface.” He paused for a moment as though considering. He shifted in his seat. “And your other conjectures?”
I must say I felt a bit self-conscious detailing for this experienced FBI agent what amounted to little more than hunches. I had a sense as I reviewed my suspicions regarding the “love potion” deaths and Korky’s kidnapping that Lieutenant Tracy and Sergeant Lemure wanted me, for professional reasons, to do the speculating for them.
Whatever the case, Agent Johnson listened with unnerving attention. When I finished, he said, “First off, Mr. de Ratour, I would advise you to be very careful in any dealings you have with Freddie Bain.”
“Yeah, he ain’t called ‘the Bear’ for nothing,” Sergeant Lemure put in.
Agent