In the Still of the Night

out of here and cool your heels. We’ll let you know when he wakes up. You boys go get yourselves a drink somewhere and come back in an hour.”
    They had to be satisfied with that. Even a police chief couldn’t overrule a tough old doctor on his own turf.
    “There’s a place not far from here,“ Walker said. “Down on the riverfront. Usually open late. The boys down there would love to look over your Duesie,“ Walker said.
    They drove a couple blocks, turned off Route 9 onto a narrow road, descended a long hill, and parked in front of a darkened wooden building perched on a steep slope right next to the Hudson River. The big wooden building climbed three stories up the road.
    “It’s Myer’s Clam Tavern. Best place on the Hudson to eat,“ Walker said. “Park at the lower level. The two top stories are for the ‘working girls.’ Only the lowest level has food and booze.”
    Robert was astonished. Here was a rural speakeasy that called itself a tavern, provided prostitutes and nobody cared. He was used to the sophistication of New York City, but Poughkeepsie appeared to be way ahead in the tolerance game.
    Walker, unaware of Robert’s thoughts, continued, “The building’s been here since 1866 and in the Myers family since 1871.”
    And have the working girls been here all that time? Robert wondered.
    “Don’t let the lack of light in the windows fool you,“ Walker said as they got out of the automobile. He tapped two times at the door on the lower level, waited a moment, tapped twice, waited again and tapped once.
    The door opened slightly and someone said, “Jeez! It’s the cops!“ and tried to slam the door. But Walker already had his foot in the way. There were sounds of mad scrambling from inside.
    “Sam, it’s me,“ Walker said.
    “Oh.“ The door opened again. “Jeepers Creepers! Take a look at this car out here, boys.”
    Roberts and Walker stood aside as a dozen men poured out of the building to examine the Duesie. Then they went inside and sat down at a table. A downtrodden waitress came to the table. “Hiya, Howard. How’s tricks?“
    “Not too bad. I’m on duty. Just ginger beer for me.”
    Robert ordered scotch.
    The waitress ogled Robert when she brought the drinks back. “You’re quite a number. Haven’t seen you around before.“
    “Out-of-towner,“ Walker said.
    “But not far out of town,“ Robert said and winked at her.
    When she’d gone, Walker asked, “You’re sure about this rope? It was in your garage?“
    “I thought it was familiar when I tried to get it off Henry’s hands and I took a quick look at the wall when I pulled the Duesie out of the garage.
    The rope that was there is gone. But anybody could have taken it. The garage door barely latches, much less locks. And there were about a million people around all day. Lots of men and boys going down there to take a look at the Duesie.“
    “I’m curious about his feet not being bound as well as his hands,“ Walker said. “I’m curious about the whole thing. Why truss him up that way and leave him to possibly die of thirst or exposure when you could bump him off?”
    Robert thought for a while. “Maybe whoever did it didn’t intend to kill him there. Maybe he meant to take him somewhere else. Maybe it really was a kidnapping attempt and somebody else came along.“
    “He or she,“ Walker said.
    “Could a woman have done all that? How’d she knock him out to tie him up?“
    “I dunno. There’s certainly enough dead wood around to bop someone with a big chunk of it. But anybody approaching would make noise.“
    “Henry wouldn’t notice,“ Robert said. “When he gets a bee in his bonnet, he pays no attention to anything else.“
    “The perfect kind of victim,“ Walker said with irritation. “I’ll have to go back and look at the scene to see if there was a weapon, but it’s pretty hopeless. Everybody came running when you yelped and they all stumbled around messing up the ground.”
    Robert glanced at his watch. “It hasn’t been an hour yet, but let’s go back and see if he’s conscious.”

Chapter 22

    Henry was awake and furious. And as dumb as a brick. He didn’t know where he was or how he got there, nor could he remember what he last did. And he wanted to go home, but couldn’t quite recall where home was, which made him even angrier.
    “He’ll get his memory back,“ the doctor assured Howard and Robert. “Might take a while. What he needs now is a good ten hours’