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33) BRUNO & CAPT. AQUA – c.1880 – Chicago

by D.B. Anderson

A “Bruno Clew, Esq. – Society Detective Agency” Series Tale

Copyright © 2005 D.B. Anderson All rights reserved

 

     Bruno was jolted to reality as three verbose knocks sounded at his office door.  He was deeply embedded in a tome regarding muskellunge fishing in Northern Wisconsin.  A drawing of the creature shown it to be a huge, prehistoric appearing fish; with a full set of needle sharp teeth.        

     “Enter!” he shouted.

     A tall young man nattily dressed in a good quality tweed suit and black felt bowler entered.  He was smiling, but Bruno sensed a mild tinge of trepidation about him.

     “Detective Clew, I am Capt. Mike Aqua.  I am the proprietor of the Underwater Investigation Agency.  I telephoned you an hour ago for an appointment.”

     Bruno smiled up at the young man, setting his angling book aside.  “Please be seated,” Bruno spoke, pointing to the wooden chair in front of his desk.  “I must admit I found our telephone conversation somewhat intriguing.  You engage in underwater investigations.”  Bruno politely smiled.  “Please be so good as to explain it all to me in detail.”

     “Detective Clew, I am a deep sea diving specialist.  I received my training working for construction companies building bridges spanning rivers.  I was trained to do the underwater construction part of the bridge.”

     Bruno shook his head in wonder.  “Underwater construction.  Isn’t it strange?  One never thinks of the underwater construction aspect of a bridge.  We see men hanging from ropes atop the bridge and think what a bunch of daredevils, but never really think of what is going on under the surface.”

     “Yes, and it can be just as daring as hanging from ropes from the iron and wooden girders from high above.”

     Bruno nodded his head in respect.  “I can only imagine.  At least high above you are breathing a natural supply of air.”

     Capt. Aqua grinned.  “Quite so.”

     “Please do continue.”

     “On occasion the company I worked for also had me do unrelated diving; as to search for sunken boats, drowning victims, bags of stolen money, jewelry lost overboard, and I have worked on cases involving bootlegging, smuggling, and I have conducted confidential dives per the request of the State and Federal authorities.  I have now quit that employer and have decided to open my own agency to do the detective aspect of it all.”

     “I assume you wear one of those underwater bulky suits with the metal bonnet with a window?  The outfit must weigh a ton.”

     Capt. Aqua smiled.  “On land yes, the helmet is made of bronze.  The suit is heavyweight canvas, and I wear weighted boots and a weighted waist belt.  An air hose extends from the helmet to a manually operated air pump on the surface.  Below the surface the suit is fairly easy to maneuver about. It is called a Cebe suit after the manufacturer and inventor. I also am an excellent swimmer and cliff diver.”  Capt. Aqua them chuckled.  “I actually feel more at home on and in water than on land.” 

     Bruno listened intently, studying the persona of the young man; well suited, about six feet tall, athletic build, dark slicked back hair, handsome, of Spanish heritage.  “I must admit this is quite intriguing,” Bruno commented, reaching into a white paper bag on his desktop and removing a chunk of semi sweet chocolate, then popping it into his mouth.  He offered the open bag to Capt. Aqua who motioned negatively with his right hand.  “You mentioned we might work together on a case from time to time.  Please explain that aspect a bit further.”

     Capt. Aqua’s hazel-green tinted eyes now stared intently at Bruno.  “Detective Clew, your clientele is the crème-de-la-crème of Chicago Society.  Quite frankly I would like to become acquainted with them and explain my underwater diving services.”

     Bruno lowered his eyes from the young man’s hypnotic gaze.   “Captain, how would your services affect them?”

     “Their enterprises might require a ‘confidential’ diver to find items lost overboard from their yachts, find sunken cargo carriers containing valuable cargo from their manufacturing companies, also investigate theft from their freighters while docked.  I might help you in detective work for anything to do with boating and underwater activities, including missing persons.  I have also aided historians find underwater craft and artifacts from the Civil War, and other engagements.  I can aid you in conducting bootlegging and opium smuggling investigations, plus I have acted as an onboard undercover agent with ship passengers and crews.  I am quite sociable.” 

     Bruno smiled and raised his hands.  “You’ve sold me, Captain.  I’ll be pleased to do what I can for you.  I must admit you provide a very unique service.”  

     “A lot goes on out on the Great Lakes and along the river ways in our area that never reaches the newspapers, Detective Clew.   Piracy on occasion, theft quite often, and smuggling is paramount.  There are also illegal floating liquor distilleries, opium production aboard ship, illegal gambling parlors; the list is endless. Actually,” he added quite seriously, “if it happens on land it can also happen afloat.  Crime knows no boundaries.”   

     Bruno nodded in agreement and then bluntly enquired, “What type of monetary arrangement do you propose between us?”

     Capt. Aqua paused.  “I thought we might split fifty-fifty on the profits of cases you provide for me.”

     Bruno paused; his interest now peaked with the adventure of it all, not to mention the commission split was quite inviting.  “I’ll pass the word about regarding your unique underwater detective agency and notify you just as soon as I receive any assignments.”

     Capt. Aqua released an unabashed sigh of relief and smiled broadly exposing a perfect set of pure white teeth, sans one golden tooth in the lower part of his right mouth.

     “Mind if I ask about the obvious?” Bruno teased, motioning to Captain Aqua’s jaw.  “Was it an underwater accident?”

     “A beautiful red headed book store owner socked me for no reason whatsoever.”

     Bruno chuckled, arising from his chair.  “I’ll make some phone calls, Captain.  I’ll telephone you later today.”

     Bruno then recollected an incident he heard of via his sometimes-associate Sammy ‘The Mole’ Plankowski of a jewelry robbery, which occurred about six months prior and never made the newspapers.  It was rumored a middle of the night burglar robbed an exclusive downtown jewelry store of 1.2 million dollars in assorted gems and jewelry and escaped by boarding a row boat he had tied to a pier in the Chicago River abutting the jewelry store building.  A vagrant claimed to the police he saw the shadow of a man climbing into the empty boat.  The next day the police found an overturned rowboat in the river not far from the crime scene.  A body was never found.  The gems and jewelry were not found.  The police weren’t even sure the overturned boat belonged to the thief.  They wrote the case off as unsolved with the burglar and jewelry missing, and perhaps drowned. 

     A rumor persisted in the underworld that a second person was also involved, that they scuffled in the rowboat in the middle of the river for reasons of their own and the boat overturned and both men and the booty were sent overboard into the murky depths of the waterway, never to be seen again.

     Bruno arraigned an appointment with Mr. Porter Mooreland of the Mooreland Gem Investment Company, the injured party in the six-month-old ‘secret’ robbery, to discuss the theft.  My. Mooreland agreed to the meeting, sounding very anxious to meet Bruno.

     Mr. Mooreland, an impeccably attired elderly gentleman, nervously chewing on a lit cigar, greeted Bruno at his office door.

     “A pleasure meeting you, Detective Clew.”

     “Likewise,” Bruno responded, noticing a guarded expression masking Mr. Mooreland’s handsome aged face.

     “I must admit I am astounded that you know of the robbery,” Mr. Mooreland then continued, releasing a bellow of cigar smoke into the air from his mouth, which intoxicated the air with a sweet alcoholic aroma.  He motioned for Bruno to be seated in front of his desk, and retrieved a leather tooled cigar box from his desk top, opened the lid, and extended the box to Bruno who was delighted to gently remove one of the obviously Cuban hand rolled, elite quality  delights from its nestling place.  “ We did our best, with the police department’s cooperation to keep the incident a secret.  If the news of the robbery and the 1.2 million dollars worth of diamonds being lost in the middle of the Chicago River reached the general public…well, I fear, half of the population of Chicago would have gone diving for the gems, and the remaining half would have been contemplating same.  We did attempt to hire, through a third party, a dredging company to sift the bottom of the river in the area for ‘lost cargo’, but they claimed the water was just too murky and the underwater area generally too filthy for any hopes to find anything.”  He then paused.  “May I ask how you caught wind of the robbery?”

     “Suffice to say that in my business of private detection I have certain contacts in the underworld, Mr. Mooreland.  The robbery is common knowledge there.”

     Mr. Mooreland blew another aphrodisiac scented blast of Cuban cigar smoke into the air.  “Yes, I suppose that makes sense.  Yet, why aren’t they attempting to recover the gems?”

     Bruno grinned.  They are waiting for someone else to do the dirty work, and then rob them for their efforts.  They also realize the area is apt to be under constant scrutiny by the authorities.”  Mr. Mooreland grinned.  “Makes sense.”    

     Bruno gently nestled his Cuban into his suit coat vest pocket for future enjoyment.  “Mr. Moreland, I just might have the answer for your dilemma.  I am now associated with an underwater diving specialist who dives in deep and difficult areas for sunken ships, cargo overboard, people overboard, and such.  He wears a canvas diving suit with a brass helmet, and air is pumped down to him from up above with an air pump.”

     Mr. Mooreland’s eyes lit with revelation.  “I recently read an article on that in the Scientific Journal.”  He then thought for a few moments and his face lit with relief.  “Yes, I suppose it is worth a try.  The insurance company is balking at paying us in full until all avenues of search have been extinguished.  This just might totally loosen their purse strings.  Yes, do proceed with the search.”    

     “We charge $100 per day for our time and equipment rental, plus if successful we receive a 1% finder’s fee for recovering the gems.”

     Mr. Mooreland’s forehead wrinkled into deep furrows.  “Why would you receive a finder’s fee?”

     “We are the only agency in the area offering this type of underwater service, and we do so with total confidentiality.”

     “Wouldn’t your boat out there in the middle of the river with a man in a diving suit attract a crowd?  We are in a busy shopping district.”

     “We will use a flat boat with a cabin atop, and my diver will dive underwater from inside the cabin using a trap door cut into the flat boat’s floor.”

     Mr. Mooreland released another bellow of intoxicating smoke into the atmosphere. 

     “Your fee is a bit steep is it not?  I will pay the $100.00 per day, and if you find the gems I will add a $500.00 bonus.”

     “Make that $1,000 if we find the gems plus our $100.00 per day fee.”

     “I agree to the terms.  How soon will you start?”

     “At dawn’s first light tomorrow morning.”

     Waves of excitement filled Bruno’s mind as he jauntily two-stepped it to his office two miles east.  An underwater criminal investigation would be a first in his crime dossier and the excitement of it all more than wetted his appetitive. 

     He immediately telephone Capt. Agua, who upon receiving the news was brimming with excitement over their first assignment.

     “I told Mr. Mooreland you would make the dive first thing in the morning – I hope I was not too presumptuous in so doing.  Plus I rattled on about a cabin atop a flat boat with you diving secretly from within so prying eyes would not see you in action..  I remember seeing a photograph of a flat boat with a cabin atop  when they built the Brooklyn Bridge in New York City.”

     Capt. Aqua broke into a nervous laughter.  “That is exactly my procedure.  I have a trusted employee who will work the air pump.  He is actually my Uncle Jose Rodriquez, a retired fisherman from Barcelona.  He speaks little English.”

     “Good.  I’ll keep watch from shore with my binoculars to see if anyone is spying on you.”

     The next morning’s great adventure turned into a dud.  Bruno watched the search from a secluded area near the Murphy Street bridge as Capt. Agua’s flat boat with the cabin atop move slowly back and forth in an approximately one hundred yard distance on the surface of the Chicago River abutting the Mooreland Gem Investment Company.  The dawn’s first light quickly became a full burst of sunshine.  Bruno was able to see occasional bubbles bursting onto the surface of the river emitting from Capt. Agua’s underwater brass diving helmet, but other than that no pedestrians were aware of the ensuing search, and they were in too much of a hurry to get to their jobs in the area office buildings.

     Bruno asked Capt. Aqua to accompany him to Mr. Mooreland’s office but the Capt. stated he had an emergency dive to make for another customer.  Bruno then sadly relayed to Mr. Mooreland the negative news of not finding the gems nor, in fact, the bodies of the two alleged criminals.  Mr. Mooreland responded by simply breathing a sigh of relief, and asked Bruno to submit a full report to him of the search so that he might submit it to the insurance company to receive full payment for the loss. 

     Bruno hand-wrote two full reports on the case, and delivered one report to Mr. Mooreland in the morning and was immediately tendered a check for services rendered by a relieved Mr. Mooreland, pleased to end the matter and to finally receive his full insurance claim.  Bruno telephoned Capt. Aqua to pick up his check. 

     Capt. Aqua never appeared.  The next morning Bruno telephoned him several times with no response.  Bruno then went to visit Capt. Aqua’s business and found the office door locked.  He then asked about the boat yards if anyone had seen the Capt. or his Uncle Miguel, and all answers were negative, other than pointing out that his boat was still tied to the pier and his diving equipment was reclining on the deck.   

     A week passed with no sight of Capt. Agua.  Bruno had Sammy ‘The Mole’ Plankowski pass the word amongst the underworld as to the possible whereabouts of the Capt., but all responses were negative. 

     Bruno waited an entire month to hear from the Capt., checking on his boat and office which were both still intact, and could only imagine the good Capt. pulled an old fashioned disappearing act. 

     Bruno closed the case file as complete.  He did have the proceeds of the check from Mr. Mooreland for $1,100, which dearly pleased him.  Mr. Mooreland had his report regarding the unsuccessful search to tender to the insurance company to obtain his full insurance proceeds.  And Capt. Aqua has…?

 

 

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