Bellows stared at the note and the photographs side by side and, for the first time, was struck by the likeness of Barrington Dumont to the German officer. He had been so focused on Helga and her husband that he had overlooked the obvious similarity. Bellows was not brilliant, but his mind worked quickly. He understood now how valuable, if not critical, his assistance could be to Helga Dumont.
Bellows fumbled for words and spoke almost in a whisper. “I discovered the theft a few days ago and had hoped to handle this matter discreetly without disturbing you, ma’am. I am certain that I have identified the culprit and pressure is already being exerted on him to return the originals of the two photographs.”
“Don’t be a fool. There could be multiple copies by now for all we know. The originals and every damn copy, it is vital that we obtain them, do you understand?”
“Entirely. Yes. The suspect’s work area has been thoroughly searched and I will confess to you that I broke into his apartment myself, searched it and found nothing. My belief is that he has hidden the photographs elsewhere or given them to a friend, perhaps even an accomplice. Now, I have the folder that contained the photographs, but I can’t be overly aggressive at work without raising suspicion. However, I can assure you that his every move is being scrutinized while he is inside the Torpedo Factory. He is bound to slip up sooner or later, Mrs. Dumont.”
The matron seemed to be placated by Bellows description of his efforts and modified her tone before saying, “You are correct to be watching this fiend closely at work, but it must be extended to wherever he goes and whomever he meets outside that ghastly factory. I am confident that you can handle the first assignment, but you best leave the remainder to me. Of course, I will need his name, Mr. Bellows.”
Addison Bellows had his pride and tried to resist the steely gaze of Helga Dumont. And then the image of Lucy Dumont imposed itself and the name Leonard Scatcherd spilled out involuntarily.
Before leaving the Dumonts, Bellows provided Scatcherd’s address and mentioned that the clerk would be easily recognizable due to his pronounced limp. When Helga walked him to the door, she asked nonchalantly, “What do you know of this young reporter from the Alexandria Observer poking around the library reading old newspapers about the time when Augustus and I came home from Germany? Is there any connection between this Scatcherd character and him?” Bellows shook his head no and started to speak but Helga anticipated his offer to help. “Don’t trouble yourself. I’ll check on him myself. You need to focus all your energy on getting the original photographs and any copies that this bastard made besides this damn Polaroid. If you didn’t find them in Scatcherd’s apartment, you had better hope that they are hidden somewhere inside the Torpedo Factory.”
As Addison Bellows walked to his car, his pride was wounded. He had been brow-beaten in an almost accusatory tone and had failed to defend himself. He had not been prepared for this side of Helga Dumont and would have to be on guard in the future.
He was certain that Helga Dumont had greater concerns than a picture of her in a youthful dalliance with a German officer. He wondered if Scatcherd was able to look beyond the surface and see the real story of Helga Dumont’s perfidy.
CHAPTER EIGHT:
Scatcherd Feels The Heat
AFTER HIS HUMILIATING session with Helga Dumont, Addison Bellows was determined to make life miserable for Leonard Scatcherd. He had taken umbrage at the treatment he had received from the lady and was resolved to vent his spleen on the cause of his rift with the woman who held the key to his future bliss.
At the same time, he could not dismiss the thought that he, too, might have established some leverage over this domineering woman. It was one thing for a young, impressionable girl to flirt with a German officer at a lawn party during the war but quite a different thing if there had been an amorous assignation, the result of which was covered up with the complicity of her future husband. On that score, it wasn’t difficult for Bellows to believe that a meek, retiring sort like Augustus Dumont could have been manipulated by his future spouse.
Was it possible to be cuckholded before you got married, Bellows speculated with a mischievous grin forming on his normally placid face? The Dumonts might be able to survive the embarrassment of a 30-year old photograph but any revelation concerning Barrington Dumont’s parentage would be devastating. One might even say that Lucy Dumont would then be “damaged goods,” to put it crudely, making her more receptive to the blandishments of the archivist.
THE NEXT MORNING, Bellows cajoled a rookie member of the security team to station himself outside Scatcherd’s work area, conspicuous not just to the impertinent clerk but to his co-workers as well. Word had already spread that there had been a dust up between Scatcherd and Bellows and the archivist wanted to flush out anyone conspiring with Scatcherd who might get cold feet. And while there certainly wasn’t any good will among the clerical staff for an elitist like Bellows, no bonhomie existed for Scatcherd.
When Scatcherd arrived at the Torpedo Factory, he walked by the security guard and tried to make eye contact but to no avail. He knew that pressure would be exerted by Belllows, and possibly others, but the sight of the security guard caused swirling pains in his stomach. It had been a few days since he had sent the note with the photographs to the Dumonts and he was certain that this surveillance was just the next step in the effort to intimidate him.
After the initial euphoria of his half-formed plot wore off, Scatcherd was wavering, no longer relishing the prospect of tormenting the Dumonts without some ally to bolster him. It had been a delicious thought at the start but now was the time to follow-up on his veiled threat and he started to doubt his fortitude. The easy path would be to simply return the photographs to Bellows, make up some lame excuse as to how they had been misplaced and apologize – except that Scatcherd was not at the point of succumbing quite yet.
Leonard Scatcherd had never been ambitious about accumulating wealth so shaking down the Dumonts for money had never been an attractive option, especially since it smacked of extortion. He had convinced himself that he was operating on a higher moral plane.
He had read the fawning piece on Barrington Dumont in the Alexandria Observer at breakfast that morning and it made him so nauseous that he threw the newspaper in the garbage. It was a reminder that the Dumonts did deserve to be brought down not just a peg but several pegs. It suddenly dawned on Scatcherd that maybe the writer of that article might like to break a real story that would make headlines not just locally but all over the country.
Scatcherd walked around his work area looking at the desks of other clerks until he spotted a copy of the Observer. He saw the teaser picture on the front page of Barrington Dumont boarding the family yacht, with directions to the article on page 3. When he turned the page, he found the byline for Woodrow Meacham.
ADDISON BELLOWS WAS unusually moody, and Viola Finch picked up on it immediately. She had been the devoted assistant to Bellows for almost three years and with her antenna finely-tuned to anticipate the needs of her boss, she was remarkably successful in meeting them. Finch had always considered Leonard Scatcherd an inconvenience, an annoyance, but since Bellows had recently taken her into his confidence, she now despised the clerk for upsetting the archivist’s equilibrium.