38) THE WAYWARD CAVALIER c

38) THE WAYWARD CAVALIER c.1880 – Chicago

by D.B. Anderson

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

It was late June in Chicago and the weather was a sweltering 95 degrees with the humidity at 100 percent. Bruno entered his office carrying his suit coat over his shoulder. He immediately cracked open the one and only window in his office and a slight, but pleasant breeze wafted in on occasion off Lake Michigan which was about a mile away. As he sat behind his desk he reached for his bag of semi sweet chocolate chunks and found its contents all melted into one huge semi-liquid lump. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Seeing his precious semi sweet chocolate melted into submission Bruno made up his mind then and there to purchase one of the new electrical fan devices now on the market. He had thought about it in the past, and then thought about it some more, now it was time for action.

He then recriminated himself for even bothering to come to his office on a day like this. At his age he should have stayed in his flat, which was only a few blocks from the lake, and he had three windows to open for ventilation. But then he remembered he had an appointment with a sometimes client, Mr. Ferdinand Morreau, proprietor of the Art Counseling Agency. Mr. Morreau sold art by bringing it directly to his clients’ mansions or places of business, rather than operating a walk-in gallery, and on occasion the paintings or sculptures were extremely valuable and Bruno was retained to accompany him as a guard.

Bruno went to the one and only water closet of the building on the first floor and filled his water pitcher from the utility sink. The sides of the pitcher immediately turned wet with condensation and he was careful to carry the slippery vessel with both hands on his return to his office on the second floor, grumbling all the way.

When he returned he was surprised to find Mr. Morreau sitting across from his desk. "Mr. Morreau, I apologize for not being here to greet you. I'm afraid my pitcher ran dry."

"I fear I have been robbed," Mr. Morreau replied, in great distress. "A seventeenth century painting The Wayward Cavalier by Edward Fanshawe. I have it on consignment from a leading industrialist to be sold confidentially. I went out for my usual morning stroll, and stopped as usual for breakfast at the Lake Cafe, returned as usual at about nine a.m. and found the door to my apartment-studio unlocked and The Wayward Cavalier was missing."

"How distressful! I'll get busy for you right off, Mr. Morreau."

"I am offering a $2,000 reward for the return of the painting."

"So noted," Bruno shook his head in agreement.

Mr. Morreau then quickly arose and moved to the door. "I have an appointment in a half hour. Do keep me updated."

On his way to enlist the aide of his part time employee Sammy ‘The Mole’ Plankowski, Bruno paid a visit to the electrical appliance shop on Front Street. Entering the shop he felt he was entering the cool serenity of Shangri La, for several electrical fans were blowing throughout the shop attacking the hot air and humidity. His intention was to merely price and further investigate the workings of the electrical fan device, and found himself almost immediately purchasing two of the contraptions; one for his office and another for his flat.

Now burdened down with the two quite heavy packages, one nestled under each arm, Bruno slowly made his way four blocks further to Sammy's quarters at Ma Waller's Rooming House. He tapped on Sammy's door with his silver bear head walking cane, waited and then tapped again. Sammy slowly opened the door a crack and Bruno gazed down at one of Sammy's dark brown eyes peeking suspiciously through the crack. When Sammy saw it was Bruno he immediately swung the door open.

"Bear! What are you doing out in this hot weather?"

"Work as usual," Bruno stated, entering the sleeping room, which was something of a shambles and hot as a furnace. "Didn't your maid show up this morning?"

"Very comical,” Sammy replied, and then spotted the two packages Bruno was totting. "Bring me a gift?"

"I stopped off at the electrical shop on the way here and purchased a couple of those electrical fans."

"You brought me an electrical fan? You are a life saver!" Sammy stated, grabbing the box under Bruno's left arm. In total delight he rushed to undo the top flaps on the box and anxiously removed the very heavy, cast iron based fan and plugged it into the round white porcelain wall socket mounted by his window with its wire tacked to the wall and leading up into the attic. He quickly turned the fan on and sat in jubilation in front of its whirling and whirring blades. Bruno was at first perturbed at Sammy's boldness, after all he had use for both fans, but then saw the joy he had brought to his aged employee and decided to let the incident pass.

"Hope you enjoy it," Bruno said with a smile. "I now need your help. A painting The Wayward Cavalier has been heisted from the Morreau Art Counseling Studio. Whoever it was picked the lock on Mr. Morreau's apartment, and walked off with it."

Sammy chuckled. "A ten year could do that. What is the picture of again?" Sammy queried, allowing the fan to blow under his wet armpits.

"A Cavalier; a horse soldier of the seventeenth century. They wore fancy clothes, fought with swords, loved the ladies, drank and ate to excess, read and wrote poetry, were usually volunteers from rich families, and were fierce fighting men for the king of England."

"The good old days," Sammy responded, lifting up his shirt to feel the messaging coolness of the electrical fan tingling about his skin.

Bruno then moved his moisture-laden body in front of the fan, blocking the flow of cooling air to Sammy. "See what you can find out for me in the underground world and in those sleazy back alleys you frequent."

"My pleasure," Sammy agreed, pausing to place his head directly up to the grill on the fan to let the breeze rustle his hair, and blocked the flow of air to Bruno.

Bruno reached into his right trouser pocket and removed a small packet of cash. He counted out fifty dollars and placed the bills under the fan. "I'll be in my office at ten tomorrow morning." Bruno then chuckled, watching Sammy languishing in front of his new roommate; the electrical fan.

"I'll check things out tonight," Sammy responded, lying back on his single bed with the fan rustling the bed sheets about him, "when my friends are prowling around."

Bruno waived in acknowledgement to Sammy, and then slowly walked back to his office carefully clutching his remainder electrical fan. Fortunately a now almost constant breeze was emitting from Lake Michigan and the climate was becoming vaguely tolerable once again.

The next morning Sammy arrived at Bruno's office a little after ten a.m. "Good morning, Bear. Feels a lot better out there with the steady cool breeze off the lake."

"Looks like a thunder storm coming," Bruno replied, picking up his bag of yesterday's semi sweet chocolate from his desktop. "Care for some half melted chocolate?"

Sammy reached for the bag, feeling the soft lump inside the bag. "I know some kids who'll like it."

"God man," Bruno acknowledged, sitting behind his desk. "Enjoy your electrical fan? I certainly enjoyed my fan. I had a hard time getting out of bed this morning imagining the gorgeous Sharazade was next to my bed, fanning me all night long."

"She new in the neighborhood?"

Bruno chuckled. "What did you find out on the streets last night?"

Sammy stood by the open window enjoying the steady breeze now flowing off Lake Michigan. "This Morreau art ‘fella is selling high quality art stuff from rich people, which they bought stolen, and then kept it for awhile to show it off. Now they want to resell it real hush-hush, if you get my drift.”

Bruno stiffened in his chair. "Morreau? I never would have guessed that. He appears as honest as the day is long." Bruno then shook his head in disbelief. "Incredible...” He then paused rubbing his chin with his left hand in contemplation. "Well, now I wonder if indeed The Wayward Cavalier was heisted from him to begin with? He probably took it himself for a fast profit for one reason or another.” Bruno shook his head with a negative gesture. “You can’t trust anyone anymore.”

Sammy nodded in agreement. "I also learned he is a heavy gambler; cards, dice, yacht races, you name it."

Bruno suddenly pounded his right fist on the desktop, startling Sammy. "Well, I am going to confront him right off! I don't care what the man does in his personal life, gambling or whatever, but being hired to search for an imaginary art thief to cover up his probable theft is a bit too much. I do not like being played the fool."

"Need some back up?" Sammy volunteered.

"No, I have my silver bear head walking cane," Bruno grinned. "He's about due for a work out."

Sammy headed for the door. "I'm going home to lay in front of my electrical fan. I found some new pulp detective magazines in trash cans along mansion row, and I am just going to ease back and enjoy myself."

Bruno strode the approximate mile to Mr. Morreau's Art Counseling Service. His temper was flaring at high flame. Mr. Morreau was surprised to see him.

"I hope you are bringing positive news, Bruno. I sure could use it.”

Bruno vengefully pointed his silver bear head walking cane at Mr. Morreau. "Let's stop playing games, sir. I have discovered that you mainly sell art for clients, who originally purchased the art knowing it was stolen, and now they wish to resell it.” He then paused to catch his breath. “I now charge that you stole the painting you hired me to find for reasons of your own. I also learned you owe some rather large gambling debts. I surmise you hired me to investigate the matter so as to write you a report that the investigation is under way and than use my report to show your client that the matter of the stolen painting was currently being professionally investigated to give you more time to cover up the mess you are in, whatever that might be."

Mr. Morreau remained unusually calm considering Bruno’s confrontational stance, and sat behind his desk. "Well, if that much knowledge about me is out there on the streets, I fear it is high time I move my agency to a new climate."

Bruno did admire Mr. Morreau's calmness; the type of equanimity only a true scoundrel could possess. "I do not care to be made a fool of, Mr. Morreau!" Bruno further exclaimed, once again shaking his outstretched cane at his antagonist.

Mr. Morreau raised his hands in a defensive gesture, and then reached into his center desk drawer and removed a packet of cash. He counted out several bills and removed them from the wad. "Here is one thousand dollars if you allow me to pack up and leave Chicago, and do not notify the authorities. I have not sold the painting in question as of yet. I do have an out of town buyer in queue, but now, instead, I will return it to the true owner. I will vacate Chicago by the weekend. What say?" He then slid the one thousand dollars in cash across his desktop to Bruno.

Bruno’s anger now lessened as Mr. Morreau's attitude of surrender came to the fore. He gazed down at the cash at first insulted at the offer of bribery, but then reminded himself he was no longer a sergeant of detectives of the Chicago Police Department with their strict moral code. He was now a private detective dealing in the foibles of the hoi polloi. He gently gathered up the bills. "Agreed, but I insist that ‘I’ return the supposed purloined oil painting to the true owner."

Mr. Morreau grinned, arising and moving to a clothes closet. “As long as you tell him you are working for me, I have no problem with that arrangement, sir.” He unlocked the closet door, shielding the contents of the closet from Bruno's view, and slid out an oil painting. He then relocked the door, and handed the painting to Bruno. "May I present The Wayward Cavalier."

Bruno held the painting up to the light of a nearby window and gazed at a seventeenth century gentleman-soldier, gazing back at him with a bold bemused expression. The soldier of the King's elite cavalry wore a huge, very wide brimmed felt hat with a gigantic feathered plum, and a gaily patterned satin or silk outer coat with lace ruffles around the collar and cuffs. An oversized moustache resided under his red tinged nose.

Bruno couldn't help but chuckle for the image appeared to be of himself as a young man, minus the lace of course. He then gave Mr. Morreau an ominous stare, and triumphantly spun around and strode from the common thief’s apartment to return The Wayward Cavalier to his true owner.

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