BA Hammer History Ch. 02

Mary was wonderful. I waited and rode home with her. She was very happy in this play and having her friend back. It made me happy to see her so happy. We had an exhausting night and a late breakfast before I headed to the office.

Stevie had dropped off the report on Roscoe P. Hackett III before I got in. I got a cup of coffee and sat down to learn about Mr. Hackett.

The third Hackett was born in 1960. Junior had been born in 1920. That would mean he was three when his father died. He would then have no personal knowledge of the contract. He probably got it from his mother when he was old enough. Junior had died in 2011. That may explain why we are just hearing about the contract now. Third may have found it in his father's papers. It has only been four years since his father's death. It would be interesting to find out what steps Third has taken before sending this envelope. I needed to talk to him.

His address was in Chicago. I had his telephone number, but it would probably be better to surprise him at his office. If I call him beforehand, he will have plenty of time to prepare for me. I know that is really being paranoid. He knew the explosion his letter would cause, and surely had prepared for it. That being said, I'd rather do it my way.

I flew to Chicago that afternoon and looked his office up. It was in a newer, fashionable area downtown Chicago. The building was modern and tried hard to look chic. Too much glass for me, but it's not my office. His office was on the fortieth floor. "Hackett Development Company, LTD." This family wasn't starving, that was for sure. Rich people. It's never enough. They will eat other's young for another payday.

I walked into the office and up to the receptionist's desk. "Yes, sir, may I help you?"

"I wish to speak to Mr. Hackett."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but if you would have someone show him this envelope, please." I handed her an envelope with a copy of his letter. She nodded and called someone to her and gave them the envelope.

I sat down and waited. Let's see how long I would have to wait. It wasn't long at all. A pretty, young secretary came to get me within ten minutes and led me into the maze of offices. She knocked on a heavy, mahogany door and opened it for me when he called out. I entered a richly appointed office. The paintings were real, the carpet thick, and the desk huge. Talk about overcompensating. He must not have a dick at all. On to business.

I handed him a business card. "Well, Mr. Hammer. I wondered how long it would be before I heard from the Gilberts. So, what's next? The third degree? Threats of suits for slander?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Hackett. I am a private investigator. I have been tasked with trying to determine the truth of what you say. Anything you can tell me or give me that would help solve our little problem would be appreciated."

"Why the fuck would I want to help you? I have my own team working on this. I fully anticipate this will end up in a messy court battle. Their old man killed my grandfather and I intend to prove it."

"Mr. Hackett, you seem to be starting from a faulty premise. I am not here for them. I was hired by them to determine any truth to your accusations. I don't care if they murdered your grandfather or not. I don't care if they stole your share. I deal in facts. If what you say is true, I won't lift a finger to hide it or stop you from seeking whatever satisfaction the courts decide. Have I made myself clear?"

This settled Hackett down a little. "Perfectly clear. I don't think I can trust you to be a man of your word. I have no intention of giving their representative any of the information I have attained."

"Fair enough. Would you mind answering a few general questions that I have?"

"Depends. Ask and we will see."

"When did you discover the papers?"

"Three years ago, when I began going through my father's papers. He was a very private man. I had not been able to see anything he didn't want me to see. I wasn't even allowed to see his will until I went to court because I was an officer of this company and needed to know what he was planning. It was after his death that I found the agreement and paper cuttings about his father's death."

"That is kind of what I figured. So, you have an investigator working on the death angle, and any proof of the authenticity of the contract."

"That is correct."

"I don't suppose you would let me talk to them. I know they won't tell me anything you don't want them to tell me. I just have a few general questions."

Hackett sat quietly for several minutes. He finally reached into his desk and took out a card. He held it out to me. "I suppose you can talk to them. I'll make sure they don't have too loose a set of lips."

The card was for the investigator. "Thank you, Mr. Hackett. I have an idea we will see each other again. If you come to New York, look me up. I'm sure I can show you the sights."

Once clear of his building, I called Stevens Investigations and made an appointment for that afternoon at 2. Their office was in a not so nice building in a less fancy neighborhood. It seemed Hackett wasn't keen on spending too much of his money on a private investigator. That could be my in.

Steven Investigations had one woman in the office. It was obvious from her first comments to Stevens she was more than an employee. She had the attitude of a wife, not an employee.

When we were in his office, Bill Stevens shut the door. "Sorry Hammer. My wife sometimes lets her temper get in the way of the professionalism."

"No worries, Stevens. I try to keep my wife as far from my business as I can. Now, the reason I asked to see you is not to pump you for what you have found out. I will be able to find that myself in due time. No, I want your opinion of Hackett. It is obvious that his father was very secretive, and never told him about his father. Hackett is only now trying to catch up with the past. I just wonder what he is willing to pay for."

"You don't have to sugarcoat it Hammer. There are several large firms in Chicago that would have been more thorough than a one-man outfit. Hackett is too cheap to pay for them. He thinks he can hold me more under control than them. I admit I need the money, but I have done the work. There is a chance this is true. You should have an easier time being from New York."

"Thanks Stevens. I think I have an idea of what Hackett is like. I won't ask you anything about what you have found."

"It's nothing, Hammer. There is one thing I will tell you. If you have any connections with the NYPD, you might have more luck than I did there about the "murder". I thanked him again and headed home. I had been in Chicago for one day, but I have a much clearer picture of the other side.

The next morning, I went back to my office to find Stevie there.

"Stevie, we need to get whatever info we can get from the Times about Hackett's death. It's nearly a hundred years ago, and I don't know what records they still have from that far back."

"I'll give it ago. Somebody there will know where they keep their old papers."

"Ok, and I will go see Ed to see if they still have the police records from that long ago. I doubt it, but we need to try."

Ed O'Sullivan is a Captain of detectives for the NYPD and an old friend. He will sometimes help me with information if he can. He was in a good mood until he saw me. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Good morning to you too, Eddie."

"Don't call me that. You can call me Captain."

"Okay, Captain. I have a bet with Stevie. I say you can't help me with an old case, but Stevie is sure you can do anything."

He looked at me carefully. "I'm not giving you any police files, you know that."

"I'm talking an old case. Real old. It is from 1923."

He laughed. "That's not old, that's Biblical times old."

"Yeah, I know this is a long shot, but I have to start somewhere." I handed him my copies of the letter and contract." I know you won't talk about this to anyone."

"You know I don't give a shit about these rich theater fucks. You must be nice to them, I don't. Do you have any idea when in 1923?"

"Late December 1923. Are the records from that long ago still around anywhere?"

"I have no idea. I will check and see what we have. Something must be around. We don't throw old case records away."

I thanked him and left. When I got back to the office, Liz was waiting.

"Hey, boss, Stevie says he might have something. He is on his way back."

Stevie came in with quite a story. "Everyone in records kept telling me they don't keep anything from that far back. They were telling me I had to find those collectors of old papers. I just kept talking to different people in the records office, you know me; how's the family, the union sucks, things like that. I was talking to a pretty young thing who finally told me to go in the back and ask Max. So I go to the back, and Max was a young man sitting at a computer. I was looking for an old newspaper codger, and this kid couldn't have been thirty. Turns out, he is putting old papers in the computer. I told him I was looking for December 1923 and he smiled. He told me I was in luck. He was working on the seventies, but he told me the paper had started putting old papers on microfiche in the sixties. They had begun working their way backwards and stopped at 1900. He walked over to a dusty storage rack and looked at the dates. After a few minutes he stopped at 1923 and pulled out a stack of film. Once we had found December, he showed me the viewer. I settled in and found the story on December 23, 1923. He blew it up on a screen and let me take pictures of it. I decided to look at January to see what other follow up stories I might find. I found one that listed the conclusions and another about the funeral in January 1924. Here are those copies."

He had the pictures printed out and the story was clear. On the morning of December 23, 1923, the police were called to the home of Roscoe P. Hackett. There were no visible signs of violence, but Mrs. Hackett was so sure there was something wrong, she called the police. The body was taken to the morgue and the story ends there. The follow up in January stated that he had died of poisoning, and it was ruled accidental. It stated he had eaten fish that was tainted the night before and had died in his sleep. The last page he had was the story about his funeral. Nothing special about it. There weren't many people in attendance, but the story did point out the widow and small son. That was it.

"Poisoning, a hundred years ago. We're screwed." I had a longshot idea. "Stevie, I need you to try and find out about what happened to the widow later in life. Did she remarry, can we find out about her friends. You know the drill."

"Sure, BA, I'll get right on it."

After he left, I called Homer Arthur and asked him to check on her in whatever records he could look into. He promised to let me know. All I could do now was wait for them to find something we could use.

Ed called me the next day. I went over to see him.

"Turns out we do keep records that far back. You will need a court order to get a copy, but I can let you read it here." He took out an old folder that looked like it hadn't seen the light of day in a hundred years and laid it on the desk. He then went for a cup of coffee.

The file was thin. It stated what I already knew about that night. It had the names of a couple of friends of Mr. Hackett that was interviewed. I quickly wrote them down before he got back. The report stated the coroner decided the tainted fish did kill him and he had no reason to believe it was not an accident. The case was closed. By the time Ed got back, I was sitting in his office waiting for him. That was that.