Emil didn’t say anything in front of them. But he carried the Examiner upstairs to his apartment over the garage, and he discussed the story with his wife. Of course Judd couldn’t have been connected with the crime, but correct is correct. Now, a week ago Wednesday -
She joined his thought at once. “That was my dentist day. Remember, I spoke to you downstairs. Judd was with you.”
They remembered well, because Emil had told her a thousand times never to interrupt when he was talking to one of the Steiners.
“But I needed the dentist money.”
Then Emil came out with what bothered him. Just then, young Steiner had been telling him the brakes of the Stutz needed adjustment. “He left his Stutz in the garage. He didn’t have it out at all that day.”
“Well, he went with that Artie Straus chasing girls. They must have had some other car.”
“Yes, but here he told the police he was in his Stutz. And at first Artie wouldn’t even admit he was with him.”
“It’s none of our business.”
Another thing: Artie and Judd, the next day – that was Thursday, about noon – had come around the driveway with a Willys. They had been washing it. He had offered to help clean the Willys – there were some dark spots in the rear, wine spots they said – and Artie had refused his help, saying they were all through anyway.
“Well, that would explain it,” she said. “They borrowed some other car.”
Yet Emil kept puzzling. By nightfall he felt it was his duty to mention the matter to the police.
“You want to make a fool of yourself?” his wife argued. “These people are good to us…”
By evening, after the boys had been held more than twenty-four hours, each family was assembled. At the Steiners, there were Judd’s aunt and uncle, his brother, his father. Max was for sending down a lawyer and getting the kid out, before any more dirty stuff, like that letter, was spilled.
Judd’s father was rather silent. He had a way of being present in a discussion without speaking, except to make summaries – not exactly decisions, but summaries that left only one possible decision.
But Aunt Bertha was indignant. The boy had spent the night in jail. What was he getting to eat? Had he had a chance even to change his clothes?
“We can see that he is well treated,” his father said. “But when the authorities are satisfied the boys don’t know anything, they will let them go.”
At the Straus mansion, Artie’s uncle Gerald was taking charge. He was older than Artie’s father, and was the most decisive character among the Straus brothers – a businessman who operated in spectacular flashes.
Arriving with Edgar Feldscher, he demanded action. “What’s Horn holding him for? Is he arrested? If not, let’s get him out.” Feldscher counselled going easy. After all, if Horn started to dig behind that letter… The men’s voices dropped, as though a shade were drawn between them and the women.
Finally, after phoning back and forth between the two families, the Steiner men came to the Strauses. The two brothers, Max and James, went aside. It was Max who said, “We’ve got to look at the thing realistically. We have to consider all the possibilities, even the worst.”
For an instant, their eyes admitted it to each other. They were of about the same age. To each, the brother was still “the kid”, some seven years younger. Max tried now to make a practical suggestion. Maybe the simplest thing would even be, since the boys couldn’t produce those two girls they had picked up – it shouldn’t be impossible to dig up a couple of girls.
James shook his head – too risky.
“I just thought we ought to be prepared for everything. Those cops will stop at nothing to get off the hook on this case.”
That was why somebody ought to go downtown, James said. Just to remind them who the boys were.
And so the two fathers and Uncle Gerald Straus went downtown. Emil drove them to the County Building.
The whole press gang was still waiting around for the boys to be brought back from dinner when the three older men walked into the office.
We crowded around them, these men of millions who had come, we felt sure, to take their sons home. I looked at the two fathers with a dazed sense of my own power, for I held the proof of guilt in my pocket. How had they known so little of their sons! What did my own father know of me?
Judah Steiner, Sr., looked somehow so fatherly, so decent. The other, Randolph Straus, was of a pair with his brother Gerald – both of them more polished-appearing than Steiner, and colder in their manner.
Gerald Straus was the spokesman. “Now, boys, we have no information; you fellows know more than we do. We only came to see Mr. Horn.”
Healy, a staff assistant, explained that Mr. Horn was out to dinner. Yes, he was expected back at the office.
And the boys? Were they in jail? Or where?
They were probably having dinner with Mr. Horn. It was just a matter of getting all the information they could provide…
The mention of dinner with Mr. Horn somewhat surprised and mollified the men. “Naturally,” said Gerald Straus, “we want them to give every assistance they can in this horrible thing. You say they are in Mr. Horn’s personal custody?”
“Yes, he personally is responsible.”
Straus spoke again, choosing his words carefully. “Both families want Mr. Horn to keep the boys until he is fully satisfied that they know nothing that may have a bearing on this crime.”
“The minute he is satisfied,” Healy repeated, “they will be sent home.”
Steiner added that if the boys were going to be held any longer, perhaps it would be best to send down a change of linen, pyjamas.
“Why don’t you give us a ring a little later?” Healy suggested.
The men spoke a moment among themselves, then thanked him, and withdrew. We all followed them to the lift. Gerald Straus was again the spokesman. “Give us a break, gentleman. We want to help, but we also are concerned for our boys and for the family reputations. Some of you fellows have run some pretty damaging stuff about a couple of innocent boys. Now I know what you’re up against, too. But, gentlemen, remember we are pretty responsible families in this town.”
And so they departed.
Fifteen minutes later, the cavalcade arrived from the restaurant. Everyone seemed animated, friendly, but Horn laughingly steered the boys straight through the press crowd. Judd went into Padua ’s office; Artie went along with Swasey.
Tom had tried to stop Horn on the wing; now he strode to the corner door, knocked, and walked in. I followed. “We’ve got something,” Tom said. I put the material on Horn’s desk.
Horn’s short, jabby arms fell on the papers. An instant later, he buzzed for Healy, told him to fetch the original ransom note, and to keep his mouth shut. Of us, he demanded whether we could get hold of the boys who had been with Judd when he typed the law stuff? I said two of them were waiting for my call at the frat.
He nodded. “Get them down here.” His hands were clenching, unclenching. As he looked up, his eyes were glazed. “That dirty pair of fairies,” he muttered. “They had half my staff believing them.”
Tom made our request. Could this break be kept quiet, for the Globe?
Horn stood up, sympathetic. “Fellows, you’re helping me and I appreciate it. I’m going to see your paper gets credit for this.”
Padua brought Judd into the room. We were waved out. As I walked past him, Judd gave me a wary, inquiring look. In my excited state of mind, I imagined it asked if I were trying to do something against him.
Only the typewritten legal notes were in sight on Horn’s desk. Horn asked if he remembered typing this stuff at his house in the presence of several of his classmates? Then Judd saw himself using the portable. So they had him.
But it did not seem possible. He and Artie had proven they were truly of another level; they were minds moving in a fourth dimension unreachable by these mundane police. He stared at his adversaries – Horn, who could say parlez-vous, and Padua, a slick Valentino.