CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Dex and Gaspar rented a car at LaGuardia and drove the rest of the way to Centerport, New York. It was a beautiful little town right on the harbor, heading out to the Hamptons. The traffic was positively ridiculous. For every car on the road, there were at least a hundred honking their horns.

“Do any of these assholes realize there’s nowhere to go?” growled Dex.

“I think they all know that. Maybe that’s why they’re honking. They’re pissed off they don’t have anywhere else to go,” smirked Gaspar.

“Man, I could never live here. People on top of people on top of people. And this is the burbs! Can you imagine living in Manhattan?”

“I can’t,” said Gaspar. “I could never live in a tiny box on top of other tiny boxes. I need my fresh air, the water, clear skies. It’s all I ever dreamed about when I was deployed.” Dex nodded his head.

The Vanderbilt Museum was actually in Huntington, New York, but it was close enough that neither man cared. As long as they could get there, find what they needed, and get back, they were going to be happy.

“Are you seeing this?” asked Dex. “Look at that fucking house.”

“That’s not a house. It’s a village. Why does anyone need that much space? I guess if you’ve got the money, you want to spend it. We don’t need to look at the house. Let’s just find the museum and see if we can find anything about Charity and her uncle.”

It turned out that the Vanderbilt Museum was more complicated than either man thought. Centering mostly on the life of William Vanderbilt, it barely mentioned anything about his brothers. It did, however, have an entire section about their companies and firms and the employees who played a critical role in their success.

Including Marcus Christopher Van Etten.

“Excuse me, can you help us?” asked Dex.

“Of course,” smiled the young man. “What can I do for you?”

“We realize this is the Vanderbilt Museum, but we were wondering if you could tell us anything about this man here. Marcus Van Etten.”

“Oh, yes. Mr. Van Etten was a very important man in the firm. He died some years before William Vanderbilt, but he, of course, would have worked with him and his brothers.”

“What did he do for them?” asked Gaspar.

“Well,” he laughed, “times were different then. But Mr. Van Etten was the man that went out and found businesses to buy, break apart, crush, or take over.”

“Sounds like a swell guy,” frowned Dex.

“He was quite brilliant. The Vanderbilts would most likely credit a great deal of their wealth to him.”

“He was a guardian to his niece, wasn’t he?” asked Dex.

“Yes,” smiled the man. “Very few people know of her. Charity. Beautiful young woman, from what I understand. The Vanderbilts actually wanted one of their sons to marry her, but her uncle refused. It turned out to be a good thing, considering her mental illness.”

“I don’t understand,” frowned Gaspar, ignoring the mental illness comment. “Why would he refuse that? It would have secured the business relationship and certainly his niece’s future.”

“That’s true, but it also would have secured her unhappiness. Mr. Van Etten saw the toll that society life took on the young women of the family. It was not easy. Yes, they had the best of everything, but they couldn’t do many of the things other young women of the time were doing. He wanted his niece to have a free life with a man of her choosing.”

“How did Mr. Van Etten die?” asked Dex.

“That’s a wonderful story, although tragic,” smiled the man. “It’s said that he and one of the valets for Mr. Vanderbilt got into a terrible argument. The valet challenged him to a duel, and Mr. Van Etten lost.”

“What did they argue about?” asked Gaspar.

“Why Charity, of course,” smiled the man. “The valet was sent to retrieve Charity, and she wasn’t in her uncle’s home. He barged in, trying to find her, and Van Etten threw him into the street. Duels were very old-fashioned and illegal. Apparently, the valet didn’t care.”

“How does a valet kill a man like Mr. Van Etten?” The young man cocked his head to the side, unsure of what they were asking. “I guess what I’m saying is, the valet probably didn’t have a great deal of experience with a weapon. Mr. Van Etten, being the man he was, would have had experience shooting. Even if it was only for sport. How in the world would he have killed him?”

“You really don’t know?” They both shook their heads. “He was Tony Lyons of the famous Oak Street Gang in New York City.”

“Vanderbilt brought in a hired gun as a valet?” The young man laughed.

“I hardly think he brought him in as a valet, sir. Mr. Vanderbilt was far more intelligent than that. What he wanted, he got. One way or another.”

Gaspar and Dex stood outside, leaning against the rental car. They scanned the massive property, just shaking their heads.

“So, if the uncle knew they would try to take Charity, he might have asked her Aunt Gertie to travel with her for a while.”

“And, if she continued to refuse Vanderbilt’s son, then maybe they were worried that her refusal would look bad on them,” said Dex.

“Maybe. But she said she wasn’t in the same social circles as the Vanderbilts. I wonder if her aunt and uncle didn’t tell her about it. She was rather old to be declining wedding proposals. I mean, for the time,” said Gaspar.

“I think we should try to find some information about her aunt and uncle.”

“Fuck me. That means we have to go into the city, don’t we?”

“Afraid so, dude.”

Gaspar had never wanted to kill so many people so badly. He was prepared to just start firing out his car window. When they reached the hotel more than two hours later, for what should have taken thirty minutes, they were stressed and exhausted.

Ordering room service and a movie, the two men turned in early, vowing to hit the streets in the morning.

The great thing about New York City is the accessibility to its public libraries. The next great thing was the public libraries themselves. They were like museums. Beautifully decorated, unbelievable volumes of history, and the most educated librarians on the planet. Dex and Gaspar were in heaven.

“Excuse me, ma’am, can you help me find information about this man?” Dex slid the paper across the table, whispering to the woman.

“Of course,” she nodded. “Follow me. We don’t get many people interested in those that worked for the Vanderbilts.”

“You know this man?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve been a librarian here for more than fifty years now. It’s my passion. Mr. Van Etten is from a very old Dutch family that settled in the Wall Street area of the city. They were founding members of this great place.”

“Really? I thought he was first generation,” said Dex.

“No. No, not at all. I believe his ancestors came over in the late 1600s. Remarkable family. He died tragically, of course. His wife was devastated, especially after her niece died.”

They continued to follow the woman to a room with stacks and stacks of volumes. The smell of old leather, musty and worn, made them smile. You could actually smell the paper and ink. This wasn’t a digital room; it was the real thing.

“I still love that smell,” she smiled at the men. “Here. These five volumes are all about the timeframe Mr. Van Etten was with the Vanderbilt firm. This one would be around the time of his death. There was some consternation around the company that he refused to try and break apart. It wasn’t large and didn’t fit with what the Vanderbilts typically did, but when they sunk their teeth into something, that was all she wrote.”

“Ma’am? What was the name of the company?”

“Robicheaux Sugar out of Louisiana.”

Gaspar stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over the chair behind him. He took a deep breath, staring at Dex.

“My goodness! Are you alright, young man? Would you like some water or coffee?”

“Coffee. Coffee if I can have it,” he whispered.

“It’s not allowed, but I’ll make an exception. You have a seat.” She scurried out the door, leaving the two men behind.

“Van Etten stopped them from trying to take over the sugar mill. It would have been a time when they weren’t quite as prosperous,” said Gaspar. “Had they approached them, they might have sold. I might not be standing here.”

“Here you are, young man. I put some sugar in there and brought a few cookies. You look like you could use one,” she smiled.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m a little confused, is all. My name is Gaspar Robicheaux, and Robicheaux Sugar would have been my family’s business.”

“Oh my! That’s terribly interesting and exciting,” she grinned. “Well, I don’t know if your family knew Mr. Van Etten, but he was determined to not allow the Vanderbilts to get to the business. He just saw no reason to venture into something like sugar when they hadn’t touched anything like it in the past. The son was the one that wanted it so desperately. I’m sure it was just another play thing for him to break into pieces and destroy.”

“Did Mrs. Van Etten know about this?” asked Dex.

“Oh, yes. She was always aware of her husband’s business dealings. She was an incredibly smart woman.”

“Do we think she took Charity to New Orleans on the pretense of a getaway but might have been warning my ancestor?” asked Gaspar.

“It wouldn’t surprise me at all. Look, you’ve found the volume that you need. It will list all of the businesses that were taken over, those approached, those torn apart, and those they passed on. Mr. Van Etten’s notes are sprinkled all through the journals. I’m sure you’ll find something.” She looked at her watch and frowned.

“Are you closing?” asked Dex.

“Soon. Another hour. You try to find what you need. If you’re still here at closing, I’ll see what I can help you with.”

“What’s your name?” asked Gaspar.

“Rachel. Rachel Brittle.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. You’ve changed my mind about rude New Yorkers.” She let out a laugh, shaking her head.

“Hold onto that opinion, young man. It might save your life.”