Homicide in Chicago by Edward Marston

Author:Edward Marston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2023-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

It was one of those rare moments when Brad Davisson realised why he had become an architect. He was having a coffee in the outer office that afternoon with Victor Goldblatt and Reed Cutler when the talk turned to a new hotel that was being built on Dearborn Street by a rival firm of architects, Hengest and Munroe. Approaching completion, it was now revealed in all its glory and excited great controversy. Cutler enthused about it, Goldblatt thought it hideous, and Davisson occupied a middle stance between the two, praising some features while condemning others. Three architects were sharing their opinions in a lively discussion that never strayed anywhere near acrimony. It was informative, invigorating, and sheer fun. Davisson had not felt so good about himself or his profession in years.

Merlin’s arrival interrupted the debate.

‘The prodigal son returns at last!’ mocked Goldblatt.

‘That’s no joke, Vic,’ said Merlin. ‘Hobart St John took me around his factory this morning. I’ve seen enough fatted calves to last a lifetime.’

‘Where’ve you been?’ asked Davisson.

‘Here, there, and everywhere. Down to the Union Stock Yards, back to my flat to find that it had been burgled, then out to Oak Park.’

‘Burgled?’ said Cutler. ‘What did they take?’

‘And what’s all this about a corpse on a building site?’ said Goldblatt, keen to exploit a sensitive subject. ‘I saw that item in the Tribune. It has to be the house you’ve designed, Merlin.’

‘It was.’

‘That will put the curse of death on it.’

‘Literally,’ observed Cutler.

‘No, it won’t,’ said Davisson fussily. ‘Everything will go ahead as planned. We have the client’s assurance on that, so let’s not waste any breath talking about it. I’m glad you’re back, Merlin. You had a call from Clare Brovik. She’s most anxious to speak to you.’

‘Clare? When did she ring?’

‘About an hour ago. Use the phone in our office.’

‘Thanks, Brad.’

‘Before you go,’ said Cutler. ‘Settle an argument.’

‘About what, Reed?’

‘The Excelsior. That new hotel on Dearborn. I think it’s the best thing that Hengest and Munroe have ever done, and Vic claims it will set Chicago architecture back fifty years. Where do you stand, Merl?’

‘I like it.’

‘I knew you would!’ said Cutler.

‘Bits of it, anyway,’ added Merlin. ‘The concept is terrific. You won’t find a better example of art deco anywhere else in the city. Problem is that it sells itself short. It should be four stories higher and have a much more imposing entrance.’

‘That’s exactly what I said!’ asserted Goldblatt.

‘It’s a masterpiece,’ claimed Cutler.

‘It’s a civic eyesore.’

‘They surpassed themselves, Vic. No wonder Hengest and Munroe edged us out for the Niedlander job.’

There was a strained silence. Goldblatt coloured, Davisson put a hand to his brow, Merlin felt embarrassed, and Cutler realised that he had spoken catastrophically out of turn. He gestured apologetically.

‘Sorry, Vic. I thought you knew.’

‘Is this true?’ said Goldblatt, rounding on Davisson.

‘Yes and no,’ mumbled his boss.

‘Reed sounded pretty certain about it to me.’

‘I know one of the draftsmen at the firm,’ said Cutler. ‘He told me about it. They’re going to build the Niedlander office block.

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