The Watchtower Affair: What Building?

Part 3
The Watchtower Affair: Now You See It, Now You Don't

Federal Building, Chicago (Source: Wikipedia)

Bridgette's Diary
13 February, 1925

 

I’m not sure exactly what I expected from Mr. Rasicci’s office, since I’ve never been in a private investigator’s establishment before. Perhaps something from Sherlock Holmes where he operates out of his flat? “Rasicci, Private Investigator” was nowhere near his literary counterpart.

There was an anteroom intended for a secretary, filled with a desk and filing cabinets along the wall. We trooped on through another door into the larger office belonging to Mr. Rasicci. Behind the large desk sat a chair which had obviously seen much use. (Something about the wear on the seat made me wonder if Mr. Rasicci actually slept in it on a regular basis.) On the corner of the desk sat a humidor and used ash tray and over against one wall was a forlorn liquor cabinet, sitting nearly empty thanks to the America’s crazy notion of Prohibition. Across from the desk sat a pair of chairs for clients. There was also another filing cabinet, as well as a small table with a typewriter sitting on it. Another door led off into a small bathroom. Really, it looked like pretty much an office.

            Belle and I took the two seats while the men assumed various positions around the room. After we were settled, Mr. Smith began to fill us in on the problem. Apparently something has been happening to Chicago’s more notorious element. They have always been organized, but now there seems to be something other than orders from New York directing them. Mr. Smith also believes that it is all tied in to the rather bizarre occurrences we experienced approaching the city.

            We were in the process of brainstorming various possible investigative paths when the sirens of several police cards went careening by outside the office building. Looking out of the window, Mr. Rasicci noted that they were heading downtown, in the apparent direction of the US Federal Building.

            Mr. Smith led the way barreling down the steps and out the doors, where we all managed to somehow pile into Mr. Rasicci’s automobile. Once the last person had piled in, Mr. Rasicci wasted no time in careening off after the police cars.

            Mr. Rasicci’s hunch about our destination proved correct, as we soon pulled up outside the imposing stone edifice housing the area’s federal offices. The action seemed to be taking place on the lower two floors, where, Mr. Rasicci informed us, the US Postal Service for the Chicago area was housed. The bank robbers were fairly audacious in holding up the Federal Building in broad daylight and in such an obvious manner.

 

 

There were city police and federal cars ringing the outside of the building, ready to halt anyone coming out, one way or another. I’m still not used to seeing so many firearms in one location. The Americans certainly love their guns.

            On a hunch, Mr. Smith led us around to the back of the building, where we discovered several burly men loading sack after sack into the backs of two nearby vehicles. Of course, all of the men in our happy hunting party pull their weapons and go wading into the fray. We ladies hang back from the gunfire, watching from the safety of a nearby car. Fortunately it isn’t the car that explodes from a well placed bullet. As soon as they can, the bad guys managed to pile into their cars and take off. We also clambered into a couple of nearby cars – including Mr. Rasicci’s – and head off in renewed pursuit through the streets of Chicago.

            We found the autos stopped outside what appeared to be an empty lot and watched as the men ran from their cars and onto the lot, where they promptly disappeared from site. Yes, dear diary, you read that correctly. The vanished right in front of us, apparently into thin air.

Keira stated unequivocally that she could see a building before us, but try as I might, I couldn’t make it appear. Mr. Long, ever the strategist, picked up a rock and lobbed it at the supposed building. We easily heard a crash and watched in awe as a shower of broken glass trickled to the ground. That seemed to be the trigger for everyone else to now see the building. They wasted no time running towards it, hot in pursuit of the robbers.

 I still can’t see a thing, other than the empty lot. Concerned, Keira remained outside with me, trying to help my mind see the impossible – an invisible building. I’m sure it was out of sheer frustration that she finally suggested that I go inside to analyze the broken glass. It was a clever ploy, appealing to my mind’s scientific bent. I still felt a bit dazed and confused, so I went with her suggestion. Heading to Mr. Rasicci’s car, I retrieved my medical bag, which, after my last adventure with these folks now contained a small assortment of lab paraphernalia. I believe that I squared my shoulders and heaved a sigh before walking down the sidewalk towards what I hope is the building’s entrance. As I get within a few feet of where I hope to discover a door, the building suddenly materialized and I wondered why I hadn’t seen it there earlier.

            “I see it now, Keira,” I told my friend, before taking a firmer grip on my bad and heading through the door. “I’ll see what I can do, though.” Yes, diary, my thoughts were still a little fuzzy, but I was hopeful that my thoughts would clear while I was performing more normal actions