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Early the next morning, in Archie Abbott’s library, Marion read aloud to Isaac Bell the New York Times account of yesterday’s shootout on Pier 54. Steered by Cunard Line publicists charged with maintaining the steamship company’s reputation for safety, and threatened, Bell presumed, by red-faced police and docks commissioners, the newspaper blamed the gunfire on “disgruntled Italian longshoremen.”
Bell laughed, which made his head hurt.
“‘The Italians all escaped in the confusion,’” Marion concluded her reading. “‘Arrests are imminent,’ vowed the commissioners.”
Archie’s butler appeared and said, “A Mr. Harry Warren to see you at the kitchen door, sir.”
“Bring him in,” said Marion.
“I tried, Mrs. Bell. He won’t come past the kitchen.”
The cook poured Harry coffee and made herself scarce.
Harry stared in some amazement at Bell, who was attired in his customary white linen suit and had combed his thick golden hair to hide a row of surgical stitches. “If you wasn’t white as your duds, no one would know you was recently brained and partly drowned.”
“He looks better than he is,” said Marion. “The doctor said he ought to be in bed.”
“I’m fine,” said Bell.
Harry Warren and Marion Bell traded glances of concern. “You know, boss, Mrs. Bell is right to be worried. So’s the doc. Knocks on the noggin rate respect.”
“Thank you, Harry,” said Marion. “Could you help me walk him upstairs?”
“What have you found?” Bell demanded.
“The Gophers didn’t believe there was a fire on the Mauretania.”
“What business was it of theirs? It so happens there was a fire. I saw it with my own eyes. It burned up everything in the forward baggage room, including the smuggled film stock that ignited it.”
“That’s what the Gophers didn’t believe.”
Bell looked at Marion. The penny dropped. “You mean the Gophers were smuggling the film stock?”
“They put up the dough for the shipment. When they heard about the fire, they decided that the guy they paid to smuggle it into New York was welshing on the deal, selling the stock to another buyer for more dough.”
“Where did they get that idea?”
“They’re Gophers! They get ideas like that. They figure that what they would do to somebody, somebody would do to them. Like the Golden Rule. Backwards. So they met the ship to deal with the guy who they thought welshed.”
“Who is he?”
“Clyde Lynds.”
Bell exchanged a second glance with Marion and shook his head in disgust, setting off new jolts of pain. “I was afraid you were going to say that. Clyde smelled the film going bad and knew exactly what it was because it was his stock.”
Marion said, “The ‘hero’ who saved the ship is the smuggler who almost sank the ship.”
“In a nutshell,” Harry Warren agreed. He stood up and put on his derby. “Anyway, when the Yorkville boys showed up, the Gophers jumped to the conclusion that they were taking delivery of the film stock they’d bought out from under them. Fighting ensued.”
“In a nutshell…”
“Thanks for the coffee.”
“Who are the Yorkville boys?”
“From the new German district up in Yorkville. Uptown, on the East Side.”
“Germans?”
