“Fastest racing there is. Ice yacht racing.”
“Do you race, sir?” asked Bell.
“Do I race? Cousin John founded the Hudson River Ice Yacht Club. His Icicle cracked one hundred miles per hour and won the Challenge Pennant. Ever been on an ice yacht, Detective?”
“I skippered Helene in the Shrewsbury regattas.”
“So you’re a professional?”
“I was Mr. Morrison’s guest,” said Bell, and added casually, “Culp races ice yachts, you know?”
“Daphne!” shouted the President. “Fast as greased lightning!” He flashed a toothy grin. “Just goes to show you, Bell, the Almighty puts some good in every man—even J. B. Culp.”
The President’s hearty ebullience offered an opening and Bell seized it. “May I ask you one favor, sir?”
“Shoot.”
“Would you make your speech at the Hudson River Siphon your only speech?”
Roosevelt considered the tall detective’s request for such an interim that Bell saw reason to hope that the President was finally thinking of the assassination that had flung him into office.
“O.K.,” he answered abruptly. “Fair enough.”
Joseph Van Dorn was staying on in Washington, but he rode with Isaac Bell on the trolley to the train station. “That was a complete bust,” he said gloomily. “One speech, ten speeches, what’s the difference? Everywhere he stops, the reckless fool will wade into the crowds—knowing full well that McKinley got shot while shaking hands.”
“But his only scheduled appearance will be the speech. Branco will know precisely where and when to find him at the Hudson Siphon—the only place the President will be a sitting duck.”
“That is something,” Van Dorn conceded. “So how do we protect the sitting duck?”
Isaac Bell said, “Clamp a vise around Branco. Squeeze him.”
“To squeeze him, you’ve got to find him.”
“He’s holed up in Culp’s estate.”
“Still?” Van Dorn looked skeptical. “Where’d you get that idea?”
“Culp’s private train,” answered Bell. “I sent Eddie Edwards to nose around the crew. Eddie bribed a brakeman. It seems that ordinarily by November, Culp spends weekdays in town, but the last time he left the property, he took his train to Scranton and came back the same night.”
“I wouldn’t call that definitive proof that Branco’s holed up with him.”
“Eddie’s brakeman is courting a housemaid at Raven’s Eyrie. She tells him, and he tells Eddie, that Culp is sticking unusually close to home. She also says the boxers don’t live there anymore. And we already knew that Culp’s wife decamped for the city. Add it all up and it’s highly likely that Branco’s in the house.”
“Yet Branco’s been to town, and he’s still bossing his gangsters.”
Bell said, “I have your Black Hand Squad working round the clock to find how he gets out and back in.”
The letter was waiting for Joseph Van Dorn when he got to the New Williard.
THE WHITE HOUSE
WASHINGTON, D.C.
December 1, 1906
Joseph Van Dorn
Van Dorn Detective Agency