The Shut Mouth Society Page 4

  Evarts picked one of the twelve doors and stepped out onto the patio. For first-time visitors, the grandeur of the view came as a surprise and a treat. Douglass had had the patio designed so that the ground seemed to disappear at the edge of the tiled surface. A person walking through one of these doors had the impression of being cantilevered over some of the most beautiful coastline in California. This was Abraham Douglass’s favorite spot in the world, and the two of them often spent the evening sipping scotch whiskey and watching the sun slowly sink into the Pacific Ocean.

  “Good evening, Mr. Douglass,” Evarts said to the man’s back.

  Douglass turned with his evening scotch already in hand. “Mr. Douglass? What’s got your dander up?”

  “I think you know.” Evarts took his usual seat in the chair on the opposite side of a glass-top table. He noticed the backgammon game was nowhere in sight.

  “Peter, can you get Mr. Evarts the usual?”

  Douglass, of course, meant a glass of Macallan’s, neat. “No thank you, Pete. Not just yet. I have official business first.”

  Douglass turned toward the sunset and took a shallow sip of his scotch. Abraham Douglass kept his craggy face clean-shaven and his gray hair cropped so close that his black skull showed through. Evarts knew Douglass was seventy-three, because he attended his gala birthday parties each year. An exceptionally handsome man, Douglass wore Hollywood-style attire from the forties, which made him look like a gracefully aging movie star.

  In truth, he had made his fortune in Southern California’s other great industry. When John F. Kennedy set the country’s sights on the moon, the Los Angeles area had already become the aerospace center of the country. Northrop, North American, Douglas Aircraft, Lockheed, TRW, Hughes, and others had bustling factories that contributed far more to the local economy than the entertainment industry. Douglass had had the foresight to understand that these factories would need millions upon millions of fasteners certified to stringent government specifications. His Aerospace Supply Company provided all these companies with explosive bolts, rivets, screws, and esoteric single-use fasteners that cost more than the outrageously priced hammer of Apollo fame. Douglass built a highly profitable business, but his huge wealth came from selling his company at the height of the eighties acquisition and merger craze.

  “I presume you have questions,” Douglass said.

  “A few. Where did you get the Lincoln document? Who’d you buy it from, and how did they make contact with you? Why did you have Baldwin hide the copy from me? How can this document endanger her? Why did you include that page of code? And finally, has there actually been a crime committed, or are you using me to run errands?” Evarts paused. “You may answer in any sequence you choose.” He said this last with a bit of an edge.

  Douglass seemed amused. “Is this the way you normally grill suspects?”

  “Damn it. Is everyone going to answer my questions with questions today?” Evarts turned toward the rear door. “Pete, on second thought, I’ll take that scotch now.” Evarts’s irritation grew because Douglass wore an enigmatic smile that said he found his friend’s annoyance amusing.

  Douglass waited until Evarts had been served. “You called it the Lincoln document. I take it you believe it genuine.”

  “Abe, you’re too damn smart to get scammed, and fake documents don’t raise a warning to third parties. My bet is that Baldwin will prove this document real.”

  “Probably not, but she won’t prove it fake. Harder to prove the positive.”

  “Did you use me just to get her up here?”

  Douglass took a deep breath. “Yes. But it’s bigger than that. Much bigger. I’ll explain everything when she gets here.”

  “I can wait a few minutes, but tell me now why you had her hide the document from me.”

  “Greg, I couldn’t trust your chivalrous nature. If someone threatened Professor Baldwin in your presence, you would disclose the location of the document in a heartbeat. Now the decision will be hers alone.”

  “What about the encrypted page? I’d like to take a crack at that code.”

  “Use your own copy.”

  Evarts stopped. “How do you know I have one?”

  “You might not care about the Cooper Union notes, but you could never resist that encryption.” Douglass chuckled. “I knew you’d make a copy for yourself before you drove down to UCLA.”

  “You used a priceless Lincoln document as bait? For what?” Evarts took a sip of his drink and set the heavy crystal glass down hard enough that the glass tabletop rattled. “Abe, why? You’ve never been devious with me before.”

  “Ah, but I wish that were true.” Douglass held up the flat of his hand to signal that he wouldn’t explain. “Please be kind enough to wait until Professor Baldwin arrives.”

  Evarts took a deep breath and picked up his drink. “Are you getting me involved in something illegal?”

  “An outrage, yes, but illegal … no, I don’t think so.”

  “That doesn’t sound reassuring.” Evarts thought about leaving but decided against it. He knew and trusted Douglass, so he would wait to hear the explanation. “No backgammon this evening?”

  “I thought you’d be more interested in spending the evening with an attractive woman.”

  “Professor Baldwin doesn’t like me, and I think she hates you.”

  Douglass laughed. “That ought to make for an interesting evening.”

  Evarts remembered the notation he made during Baldwin’s lecture. “Abe, are you a descendant of Frederick Douglass?”

  “Yes, I’m a direct descendant. That’s why I donated some of his papers to UCSB.” Douglass took on that enigmatic smile again. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked that question before now.”

  “Never occurred to me. I don’t care about people’s ancestry.”

  “Ah, but you should. Family’s important. You ought to look into your own genealogy.”

  Evarts finished his drink. “What the hell for? I know my parents. They’re good people. Anything beyond that is useless trivia.”

  Chapter 5

  Professor Baldwin arrived in less than an hour. She had on the same casual slacks, but now she wore a green raw-silk blouse that accented her eyes. She also wore a frosty demeanor that made their little social gathering a bit scratchy.

  The first words out of her mouth set the tone. “Good evening, Abe. Can I look at the originals of that document?”

  “Patricia, my dear, relax a moment first. I’ve taken the liberty of ordering you a nice port.”

  “I didn’t come here to socialize.” She didn’t take a seat or acknowledge Evarts’s presence.

  “But it would be polite. Please, humor an old man. After all, you’re about to examine a singular piece of antebellum history. One worthy of a learned dissertation by a preeminent Lincoln scholar.”

  “Flattery? I thought that beneath you.”

  Douglass chortled, as if privy to an inside joke. “In truth, very little is beneath me.”

  “If you think I’m a preeminent Lincoln scholar, why did you ravage my last book?”

  “Because your premise was wrong, my dear,” Douglass said with a cheery lilt.

  Exasperated, Baldwin slipped into the open chair. She picked up the glass of port and sniffed without tasting. “My, you pulled out one of your best bottles.”

  “A celebration. It’s not every day that a new Lincoln document surfaces.”

  She turned to Evarts for the first time. “You told me Abe thought the document was a forgery.”

  “Evidently, our host is playing games. I suspect the document’s real and that Douglass knew it all along.”

  “Impossible.” She shifted her gaze to Douglass. “Where would you get a preinauguration address in Lincoln’s own hand?”

  “From the descendants of people entrusted with Lincoln’s early papers.”

  “What? Who?” Baldwin sat bolt upright, looking flabbergasted. “You mean to say there’s more? Do you have th
em?”

  “I’m only in possession of the Cooper Union manuscript. You may examine it momentarily, but first, enjoy your port and the sunset. They’re both spectacular.”

  “Spectacular, hell. The sun sets every night. A previously undiscovered Lincoln document comes along once in a lifetime. Abe, you’re enjoying this far too much.” She looked peeved but tasted the port and made an appreciative nod. After another sip, she asked, “Why me?”

  “Why us?” Evarts interjected.

  Douglass appeared to choose his words carefully. “Patricia, you’re one of the foremost Lincoln experts in the country, and our friend Evarts here has the right background for his piece of our little enterprise.”

  “You mean my intelligence experience, don’t you?” Evarts said. “You used the Cooper Union manuscript to get me intrigued about the encrypted code.”

  “You’re a fine detective, which you just demonstrated.” Douglass raised his glass in a salute. “Your deduction is correct.”

  “Who wrote it? The code doesn’t appear to be in Lincoln’s hand.” Baldwin went right to practical matters.

  “I don’t know. That message was sent to Lincoln prior to his departure for New York to deliver that address. The code has never been broken.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” Evarts felt growing annoyance at being used for nonpolice business.

  “But true, nonetheless. People have tried, but no one has found the key to unlocking the encryption. All we know is that Lincoln was in secret communication with someone, and that someone probably lived in New York.”

  “Because the two documents were kept together?” Evarts asked.

  “Another astute deduction.” Douglass smiled at Baldwin. “See, I’ve paired you up with someone useful to your research.”

  “Paired? What are you talking about? I thought you just used Detective Evarts to get me up here.”

  “The task ahead requires both of you.”

  Douglass spoke with such solemnity that Evarts began to question his competence. He leaned forward. “Abe, perhaps you should explain this mystery … from the beginning.”

  “An excellent suggestion.” Douglass sipped his scotch and gazed at the horizon a moment. “This mystery, if you will, goes back to the Civil War. Beyond, actually. It involves one of the most powerful political families in our nation’s history. A family that was instrumental in securing our independence, engineering our republican government, and moving us ever forward toward the vision espoused in our founding documents. A family that not only had a hand in fomenting the Civil War, but to a large extent prosecuted that conflict.”

  Douglass took another moment to enjoy the view. Evarts might have been concerned, but he had seen this behavior on numerous occasions. Right in the middle of a roll of the dice, Douglass would almost go into a trance. It had never bothered him before, but now he wondered if these periodic distractions were an indication of an unraveling mind.

  When Douglass spoke again, it was as if there had been no interruption. “I believe the encrypted page will unveil a good piece of the mystery. And I can’t think of two better minds to put on it. It’s why I brought the two of you together.”

  “Which family?” Evarts asked.

  “Later. You need to understand more first. But I can assure you this family makes the Adams, Kennedy, and Bush families look like featherweights.”

  Evarts watched Baldwin scoot her cushioned chair around so she had a better view of the coastline. The way she sipped from her glass and sighed contentedly said volumes. She had dismissed Douglass’s recital as the ranting of an old man who was starting to lose it. Her posture and lack of further questions indicated that she had decided to take her host’s initial advice and enjoy the glow of an ending day, savoring the outrageously expensive port.

  Evarts, however, hoped this cagey old man might still be in possession of his faculties. He tapped the glass tabletop and used his hard cop voice to get Douglass’s full attention. “Where did you get the Cooper Union manuscript?”

  “From the Shut Mouth Society,” Douglass said. “An organization founded by members of the family I told you about.”

  “And the encrypted document?”

  “Same source.” Douglass actually seemed pleased with the questions.

  Suddenly, Baldwin whirled around, now interested in the discussion. “The Shut Mouth Society? That’s how Lincoln’s law partner described him. He said he was the most shut mouth man he had ever encountered.”

  “Correct, my dear. The Society took its name from that description.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Lincoln’s family wasn’t powerful … politically or otherwise. His ancestors were dirt poor. His son Robert was secretary of war, minister to Great Britain, and president of the Pullman Corporation, but there were no other prominent members of the Lincoln family.”

  “You misunderstood. The Shut Mouth Society idolized Lincoln, but neither he nor his family members belonged to it. A loose family cabal existed before Lincoln, but they became a secret society only after his death.”

  “A secret society? That sounds like the kind of hokum I’d expect to hear on a radio talk show in the wee hours of the morning,” Evarts said.

  “Have you ever heard of the Shut Mouth Society?” Douglass asked with a sly smile.

  “No,” they both said in unison.

  “That proves they’re a secret society, because I can assure you, it’s been in existence for nearly a hundred and fifty years.”

  “Doing what?” Baldwin asked.

  “Oh, you know secret societies. Much ado about nothing. The appeal is the secret association and some arcane little rituals. Once you get inside the Masons, Skull and Bones, or the Illuminati, the supposed secrets always disappoint.”

  “Are you a member of the Shut Mouth Society?” Evarts asked.

  “Me? A black man? Heavens, no. I told you the Society is comprised of descendants of a powerful political family that goes back to our founding. You’d be hard-pressed to find a Negro family that fits that description.”

  “Then how do you know it really exits?” Evarts asked.

  “Because my family has had dealings with the Society over the years. I knew about them from my father … and they provided the Cooper Union manuscript as their bona fides. A sample of their treasure trove, so to speak.”

  “Treasure trove?” Baldwin said incredulously. “Just before the Lincolns left for Washington, Mary burned stacks and stacks of papers in the alley behind their house. Historians always assumed that these weren’t just personal letters but all her husband’s political papers.”

  “Historians assumed wrong.” Douglass appeared to enjoy this exchange way too much.

  Baldwin’s voice showed impatience. “Abe, if they have Lincoln preinaugural papers, they have real secrets, not just arcane little rituals.”

  “Perhaps, but I don’t believe the Shut Mouth Society has a malicious purpose.”

  “Listen,” Evarts said. “I’m not a historian, so I need some help here. Professor Baldwin said the Cooper Union manuscript doesn’t conflict with recorded history, so why withhold this so-called treasure trove from the public?”

  “Exactly,” Baldwin added.

  For some reason, Evarts enjoyed the comradely glance Baldwin threw him as she said this. Douglass chuckled in a way that told him that he had noticed as well.

  “What secrets are they hiding?” Evarts demanded.

  “That I can’t answer. I only know that they approached me to ask a favor. They wanted the papers out, but without fanfare. I was asked to keep the circle of people small and professional.”

  “Why? And why now? What’s their purpose?” Baldwin de­manded.

  “That should seem obvious. They want the code broken. Why now, I don’t know.”

  “You know more,” Evarts said in an accusatory tone.

  “But I won’t tell more.”

  Evarts noticed he didn’t deny the charge. “Why not?” he asked.

&nb
sp; “Because you’re both skeptics. Further information will only convince you that I’ve succumbed to senility. You each must investigate the information I have already provided using your respective skills.”

  Night had fallen, and Douglass stood to indicate they should move indoors. “We’ll meet one week from today, and I’ll tell you everything … after you’ve learned enough on your own to give credence to what I have to say.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Baldwin said. “We have nothing to investigate.”

  “On the contrary. You have the Cooper Union manuscript, an unbroken code, and a family to identify.”

  “And the Shut Mouth Society,” Evarts said.

  “And the Shut Mouth Society.”

  Chapter 6

  When they stepped indoors, Douglass led them into his library. Interior decorators often assembled ersatz libraries for rich clients with intellectual pretensions. The library in Abraham Douglass’s home had none of the telltale signs of a decorator’s touch. The dark wood shelves extended to the ceiling and were stuffed with hardcover books, but the books had the jumbled appearance of actually having been pulled out to be read and then replaced without forethought. Some had dust covers, other did not. Some books lay in horizontal piles, while gaps existed on other shelves. The room was furnished with great easy chairs and ottomans instead of a Town & Country desk. Lighting was indirect, but each chair had its own floor lamp positioned just over the reader’s head. Evarts had perused the shelves enough to know that the books ranged from esoteric history tomes to popular novels.

  Evarts thought he knew the room, but Douglass went to a column of shelves that looked indistinguishable from the others and pressed a button on a remote he had taken from his pocket. A soft motor whirred, and the column moved out toward the room and pivoted to the side to reveal a massive walk-in safe.

  “My god, Abe,” Evarts said. “The Rock Burglar would never get through that before a police response.”