THE DUMONTS LIVED south of Old Town on the Potomac River in a capacious mansion on several acres that sloped down to the water. At the rear of the property were stables big enough to accommodate six high-bred Tennessee Walking Horses noted for their superior bloodlines. The Dumonts had extensive real estate holdings in the area and owned the majority stake in the Dumont & Bellows bank, having wrested their controlling interest from Addison Bellows’ grandfather shortly after the Great Depression. While the Dumonts had made their fortune in tobacco, liquor and coal, few people knew it today and, instead, saw them not just as socialites but also as very generous and conspicuous philanthropists. No one could deny that they were one of the venerated first families of the area.
The Scatcherds had once had a refined pedigree of their own. Earlier generations had settled in Port Tobacco in southern Maryland over 200 years ago. There, they had prospered as planters and traders in the town’s heyday as a major shipping destination on the East Coast. Gradually, poor land management caused major silting which eventually clogged the harbor, making it almost impossible for ships to safely utilize the port, thereby cutting the town off from the Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean. When the Baltimore & Potomac Railroad by-passed Port Tobacco entirely, the once thriving village was destined to become a ghost town. Like many other once-prosperous families, the Scatcherds were impoverished.
Leonard Scatcherd’s grandfather moved west to Virginia in an area just south of Alexandria but the family never recovered its former glory. Scatcherd heard the family history from his aged grandmother before she died and could never erase the image of that embittered woman from his memory.
Scatcherd frequently relived his family’s glory days and was aggrieved, as if prosperity and honor had been stolen from him. He knew that the Dumonts would protect themselves at all cost and, unlike his forebears, had the resources to do it. Their son was now a state senator contemplating a run for Congress and young Lucy, just graduated from Sophie Newcomb College in New Orleans, was the other fresh face of the Dumont dynasty. Yes, Scatcherd admitted that the Dumonts had a nice run for generations, seemingly without obstacles, but did they deserve it?
To accompany the Polaroid, Scatcherd wrote a short note in block letters on a piece of ordinary typewriter paper. It read: I SAW YOUR FILE AT THE TORPEDO FACTORY. He thought he was clever by implying that he did not necessarily possess any documents but had merely taken a picture of a few provocative photographs. He was not ready to make an overt threat, nor did he want to give rise to a charge of extortion if for some reason his scheme should go awry or he should lose his resolve. For now, he simply wanted to tease and torment the Dumont family. If he could aggravate Addison Bellows in the process, that would be a bonus.
It was late into the evening before Scatcherd, despite all his bravado in private, finally worked up the courage to put the note along with the Polaroid copy of the two photographs into an envelope. He decided to address it to Helga Dumont since she was in both photographs and was the public face of the Dumont family. Under the cover of darkness, he slid from his apartment and walked furtively to the nearest post office box, as if his budding conspiracy was suddenly common knowledge. After he deposited the envelope, he scurried home as fast as his bum leg would carry him.
THE FOLLOWING MONDAY morning, Scatcherd walked into the Torpedo Factory and hung his coat on one of the hooks that lined the wall outside the clerical area. A disembodied head popped up from the middle of the room and Scatcherd heard a voice say, “Bellows wants to see you right away downstairs.”
Scatcherd descended the stairwell and stepped gingerly as he approached the bottom step. He looked down in anger as if the floor had leaped up and attacked him last week. He would not make the same mistake twice.
When Bellows greeted him with a soft, deferential voice instead of his usual condescension, Scatcherd was certain that something was astir. “That folder you left for me last Friday, Scatcherd. I understand that you had a bit of a tumble in the stairwell and the contents spilled out. I trust you weren’t injured.” Bellows stopped as if he were expecting some sort of acknowledgement for his solicitude, but Bellows hadn’t really asked a question so Scatcherd stared blankly ahead, refusing to aid the conversation but appreciating the reminder that Bellows probably had spies everywhere.
Nonplused, Bellows resumed. “Well, yes, my question is quite simple. Is it possible that you were negligent in gathering up the contents and one or more items were left on the floor? Nothing was turned into security. Or perhaps, they had fallen out earlier, say in the clerical area?” Bellows had already checked with the clerical supervisor who found nothing on his desk. To be safe, he would stay late and talk to the night cleaning crew.
Scatcherd continued to stare at Bellows who was now leaning back in his chair and playing with his hands in front of his chest, alternately rubbing them together and then making a steeple of them, all the time with a pensive look on his face. Scatcherd assumed that Bellows must know that the missing photographs had been in the folder. Was he concerned solely as an archivist or was his interest on behalf of the Dumonts as well? Was it possible that he was their toadie? Finally, Scatcherd said in his best emotion-free monotone, “I put everything back in the folder, sir. Perhaps, Miss Finch mishandled it when she delivered it to you.”
Bellows frowned deeply. Any aspersion directed at Viola Finch was an affront to his office. He was increasingly annoyed by the demeanor of the insolent clerk standing defiantly in front of him. “Let’s not be foolish, Scatcherd, and try to deflect responsibility. You were careless, and you are responsible for any missing documents that are not found. Is that clear? Now, I suggest that you go back and immediately conduct an assiduous search of your work area. My belief is that if you look hard enough, you will find what disappeared from the file. Any malfeasance on your part will be overlooked once the missing items are found, I can assure you.” Bellows stood up abruptly and waited for Scatcherd to react.
Scatcherd was starting to enjoy himself even as Bellows’ officious manner grated on him. He manufactured a scowl and then asked, “And exactly what is it, sir, that I am looking for? If you describe it, there is a much better chance of my success, don’t you think?” Bellows understood immediately that he was boxed in and anger started to boil up and color his otherwise placid face as he detected a smirk forming on Scatcherd’s mouth. He slammed his hands palm down on his desk, startling Miss Finch who was standing just on the other side of his office door. Bellows was now leaning forward, half way across his desk when he whispered hoarsely, spittle forming in the corners of his mouth, “War photographs, Scatcherd. Now get the hell out of here and start looking for them.”
AS SCATCHERD WALKED back to the clerical section, he felt certain that Bellows had someone search his desk over the weekend or early that morning. He had left a book in the top left corner of his desk on Friday. It was still there but was now facing in the opposite direction, making the clerk laugh out loud. The supervisor stood at his door and looked darkly at him. Bellows had probably called to complain as he was walking back. So, the game was on and moving a little faster than Scatcherd had anticipated. The confrontation with the senior archivist had been almost thrilling and Scatcherd had enjoyed watching him squirm before losing his temper. Bellows had made a veiled threat but softened it with a chance at expiation. Just make the missing photographs miraculously reappear and nothing else would be said. That certainly was an option, except that Bellows would likely exact revenge even if Scatcherd did return the photographs. So, why not play the game all the way through? He might even demand a job at the new archive facility across the river. Scatcherd was feeling heady as he pondered all his options.