The Classic Car Killer. Richard A. Lupoff
lettered sign giving days and hours that the mansion was open to the public. It normally closed at 3:00 PM, and it was now almost 4:00. He rang the doorbell anyway.
He turned back toward the lawn and driveway, trying to re-create the crime in his mind’s eye, and heard the door open behind him.
A female voice said, “I’m sorry but we’re—”
“Miss Smith.”
“Oh, you’re—”
“Hobart Lindsey, right. We met briefly.”
Beside Lindsey, Joe Roberts said, “Hello, Jayjay.”
She ignored Roberts. “Did you want to come in, Mr. Lindsey?”
Lindsey said, “If you don’t mind.” He wondered why she’d snubbed Roberts.
She pulled the door open.
As Lindsey stepped inside he heard Roberts say, “Come to think of it, I’ve got to get some work out today. So long, Lindsey. Nice seeing you, Jayjay.” Lindsey wondered what that had been about.
Jayjay Smith locked the door behind Lindsey, pulling down a translucent shade. No fancy party togs today, she was wearing a pale blouse and a pair of middle-aged jeans.
“You actually live here, Miss Smith?”
“It’s convenient for the city and for me. I could never rent anyplace livable on my salary. And if I didn’t live here they’d have to hire a watchman. So—I get a free home, Oakland gets a free watchwoman.”
“All alone?”
“What?” She had led him into a parlor he hadn’t seen on Saturday night. On the way there, he saw that the evidence of the Smart Set’s gala had been cleaned up. There was no sign of the buffet that had filled one end of the ballroom or of the bandstand that had stood at the other end. He looked around. Where had Roberts gone?
“What did you ask?” Jayjay Smith looked at him. Apparently she hadn’t caught his last question.
But instead of repeating it he asked, “Where did Joe Roberts go?”
She gave him a slightly rueful look. She was fortyish, with a slightly fleshy look to her. Hair in a natural arrangement, cut to the length of her jaw. Some light makeup. Well-preserved, as they said in some of the old novels his mother had got interested in lately. “You didn’t see him turn around and leave when I opened the door?”
Lindsey shook his head. “He must have been embarrassed because of the other night. Getting sick, and all.”
“You don’t know what else happened?”
Lindsey felt uncomfortable. “Well, he did mention, ah.…”
She raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t going to make this easy.
“He said he’d made a pass at you.”
“Yes.”
“Well.…”
“I mean, I wouldn’t think that would be so terrible. I mean, you’re both grown-ups.”
She laughed, not entirely good-naturedly. “He didn’t tell you how many passes he’s made at me.” She looked at him, and he could see anger come and go in her eyes. “Oh, look, this is silly. You didn’t come here to quiz me about my love life. What were you asking me before?’
It was a relief to get back to the previous topic. “You live here all alone?”
“Not quite. Old Mr. Kleiner has his room. Actually, I’m very worried about him. I might have to call in a doctor if he doesn’t snap out of this.”
Lindsey was startled. “Who’s old Mr. Kleiner?”
“You didn’t know?”
Lindsey hadn’t known, no.
“This is the Kleiner Mansion. It was his, his family’s.”
“But—”
“You know, the Kleiners were an old Oakland family. Nineteenth Century settlers, merchants, real estate. They lost everything in the Depression. Including the mansion. The mansion and the Duesenberg.”
Lindsey looked around for someplace to sit. It wasn’t a tough problem. He chose an elegant sofa with polished wooden legs and well-stuffed cushions. They must not let visitors sit on the furniture, though, or they’d be re-upholstering it constantly. He opened his pocket organizer on a low table and leaned over it. He said, “You mean to tell me—”
Jayjay Smith sat opposite him.
He had let his sentence trail away, hoping that she would pick up where he left off, but she left him hanging. A trick he’d used many times, and got useful information from difficult people. Now it was being used on him.
“You mean there’s actually a Mr. Kleiner?’
“Of course. They didn’t name this place for a Mozart ditty!”
She seemed to be waiting for something, but Lindsey didn’t know what she was waiting for.
“A play on words,” Jayjay Smith finally explained.
Lindsey still drew a blank.
“Never mind.” She crossed her legs. “You wanted to know about Mr. Kleiner.”
Lindsey held his pen poised over the organizer. He grunted his assent.
“Well, I don’t know very much about Mr. Kleiner. And I don’t know how much it would be right to tell you. I mean, there are privacy laws.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Besides, there’s a historical pamphlet about the mansion. Did you pick one up, Mr. Lindsey?”
“I didn’t know you had one.”
She found a brochure in a polished breakfront and handed it to him. He slipped it into his jacket pocket. “Thanks.”
“Well, you can read the brochure at your convenience. It doesn’t really tell you much—it was written by some bureaucrat. It has a couple of nice photos in it, and a little history of the mansion. Anyway, when the Kleiners lost all their money they couldn’t keep up the taxes on the mansion. There was quite a scandal. The Kleiners were supposedly the richest family in Oakland. Millions and millions of dollars. Nobody knows exactly how much.”
Lindsey scribbled notes, mainly reminding himself to check on the Kleiner family. Tax records should still be available from the 1920s, and records of real estate transfers. And there had to be a local historical society. They might have something.
Jayjay Smith was still talking. “I don’t really know all the details of what happened. All I know is what Mr. Kleiner told me. And some of the members of the Smart Set.”
Lindsey nodded encouragingly.
“Apparently Mr. Kleiner went to his lawyer’s office and had a paper drawn up deeding the mansion and all of its contents, as well as the garage and the Duesenberg, to the city in lieu of taxes. The city had to forgive any other taxes that the Kleiners owed, they had to give Mr. Kleiner lifetime residence in the mansion, and they had to employ him for life. As chauffeur.”
“And the city went for that?” Lindsey jotted down: Kleiner lawyer? Newspapers for ’29?
“Apparently they did. I guess they figured it was a good offer. Somebody was really foresighted. If this house were in private hands today the city would really miss it. They couldn’t afford to buy it. And then the owners would probably knock it down and build condos here. Great for the people who live in them, rotten for everybody else.”
“How much did the Kleiners owe the city?”
“I don’t know. Must have been plenty, to give up this house. Even by 1929 standards, it must have been worth a fortune. Today you couldn’t touch it for any amount.