“So, what’s your price?” asked Bellows. He sounded almost blasé, as if a deal for the photographs was a fait accompli and he had a pocket full of cash ready to be handed over.
“I’m assuming you know the value of the originals to the Dumonts and you are here on their behalf. So, make an offer,” said Woody. “I need to see them, to verify their authenticity,” Bellows said, trying to sound authoritative. Woody laughed and then turned serious, flashing the Polaroid copy of the two photographs side by side in front of Bellows’ face. “There’s your authentication, so let’s not play games,” Woody said, as he put the photograph back in his pocket.
Bellows recognized the Polaroid that had been sent to Helga Dumont along with the threatening note. So, he said to himself, there are at least two copies, damn it. Instead of remaining calm, his anger boiled up. “So, you were in cahoots with that low-life Scatcherd all along. Tell me, are you the middle-man reporting to someone else? Some political operative out to destroy Barrington Dumont’s career?” Bellows sneered. Woody was not bending to his will and his plan to be polite, if not deferential, had not lasted long. The archivist simply couldn’t hide his petulance.
“If you’re trying to make me angry, it won’t work. Your suppositions are all wrong but it doesn’t really matter, does it? If you’re not prepared to negotiate, I’ll go straight to the Dumonts,” Woody said with a calmness that startled Bellows.
“That would be unproductive. I am a confidante of the family and they have asked me to deal with you on their behalf. Do you have the originals on you?” Bellows now realized that Woody would be no pushover, that perhaps he was the one and only partner of Scatcherd in this whole scheme. He decided to change tactics and appear to treat Woody as his equal. He lied about representing the Dumonts but that small prevarication would be forgiven if he recovered the photographs.
“They’re in a safe place,” Woody said, thinking that nothing was more secure than the pocket of Det. Hank Willoughby. Then he lied when adding, “But I can get them on short notice.”
“I’ll be in touch. Where can I reach you?” Bellows asked. Woody shook his head so decisively that Bellows knew that it would be futile to challenge him. “I’ll call you tonight at home. Be ready with an offer,” Woody said as he abruptly stood up.
When Bellows rose from the booth, Woody grabbed both of his lapels tightly and the archivist was unable to pull away. “One more thing. Call off the thugs that have been trailing me and wrecking apartments looking for the photographs. If anything happens to my friends downtown, any arrangements we make are off and copies of the photographs will be given to one of those hotshot investigative journalists downtown. I’ll make sure they know your role as the Dumonts’ patsy. You can be sure they won’t be writing any puff pieces on the Dumonts or you.”
AS THEY WALKED down the front steps of the diner. Bellows was still ruffled but decided to make a grand, conciliatory gesture and stuck out his hand. Reflexively, Woody shook it and quickly turned away in disgust.
BELLOWS WALKED SLOWLY back to the Torpedo Factory, sorting through all the things that Woody had said. He had blundered in initially sizing up his adversary and had to admit that, unlike Scatcherd, he was certainly no weak-kneed punk. He felt confident that the bartender had the originals but what did he mean about being followed, friends downtown and apartments being wrecked? He had searched Scatcherd’s apartment but hadn’t trashed it. Was this Helga’s way of putting heat on Meacham?
Bellows knew that his influence with and usefulness to Helga Dumont was at a low ebb but now he had a chance to redeem himself. He would call her before lunch and ask for instructions on how to proceed.
Helga had taken her old lover’s advice and assigned her two goons to watch Addison Bellows’ every move. They sat in their car in the parking lot outside the diner and watched Bellows and Woody talking inside. Then, they saw the handshake out front. After trailing Bellows back to the Torpedo Factory, the two men dutifully reported in.
WOODY WAS PERSPIRING and felt drained of energy as he walked to Pudge McFadden’s. It had been an intense 30-minute ordeal and it had been months since he had experienced the emotions that come with such high-stakes moments.
He had made up his mind in the middle of the back and forth with Bellows to demand a meeting with the Dumonts, come hell or high water. It was an empty threat but it seemed like a good ploy at the time. He had rightly concluded that Bellows was a pompous, conceited ass and yet he had no choice but to deal with him – at least for the present. Of course, any plan regarding the photographs would not proceed without Det. Willoughby’s concurrence. Woody had been flying solo for the past 24 hours but that had to end. He suspected that Willoughby would be furious and hoped that the break-in at Nellie’s apartment would somehow mitigate his anger.
Woody walked away from Bellows full of self-doubts. Was it all to avenge Nellie and prove his manhood, to demonstrate that he could protect her against the evils of the world? If so, he had failed miserably so far. He knew he had acted rashly but was determined not to back down – unless Willoughby compelled him to do so.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO:
Willoughby Makes A Discovery
BELLOWS WALKED INTO his office and was surprised to see Viola Finch glaring straight ahead. He looked to his left behind the door and saw the reason for her displeasure. Det. Willoughby was sitting in the corner.
WHEN HELGA GOT the call from her henchmen reporting on Bellows seemingly warm interaction with Woody Meacham, anger boiled up and her immediate reaction was that the archivist had either turned on her or, worse yet, was part of the conspiracy from the very beginning. She called Siegfried at his B&B and told him the latest about Bellows. “Can I come over there so we can discuss what to do?” she implored. Siegfried was getting tired of fending off this aging twin of one-time bombshell Shelly Winters but he didn’t let on. “It is not wise that we take the chance of being seen together, particularly during the day. It’s best that we talk on the telephone. Plus, I am going out shortly.
“Listen, Helga, you need to stop making every little thing that happens a cloak and dagger event. I watched the kid at the bar and I can tell you he’s no pro. How he got mixed up in this caper remains to be seen. My guess is that a desperate Scatcherd passed the pictures to him at the bar when they met that day and told him how valuable they were. If so, it would be logical, if Scatcherd also told him about Bellows, that he would want to take advantage of a chance encounter and make a deal, especially with Scatcherd dead.”
“So, Scatcherd’s death – it was an accident?” Helga asked. “Most likely. The only one with a possible motive would be someone who had somehow got a hold of the originals and wanted to get rid of him. That would not be this Meacham kid, unless we are to assume that he got into the Torpedo Factory, lured Scatcherd to the stairwell and then pushed him – all without being seen by anyone.”