Chapter 12 Fraud department doubles

If Theodore F. Gross decides to run for mayor of New York, he will get a record majority on West Eighty Street between the park and the river, and maybe sooner or later he will also get a record majority throughout the city vote.Fortunately for traditional parties, Gross' forte is not politics but finance.He is a champion of preserving sound money for people during these inflationary times.Today, a dollar can only buy fifty cents, and Gross's talent allows him to retain the original value of money.His solution is brilliant: He makes every dollar replicate itself, like an amoeba.For this feat of service to all, he was known among the radical crowd as the "Wizard of the Boulevard of Amsterdam".But most people still give him a nickname that is both affectionate and grand: "Double" Gross.

As for what Ellery called him, I will not list it here. Ellery first heard of Theodore F. Gross from Joe Belcasage, who was chief of the maintenance department in the three-story terracotta building where the Quinn family lived on West Eighty-seventh Street. .Mr. Belcasage's biggest investment to date has been spaghetti for his large, restless family.Still, he paused for a moment to wrestle with a can of soot to explain Gross's glorious deeds to a listening Mr. Quinn on the sidewalk. Mr. Belcasage's eyes, usually dead dogs, were blazing with joy this morning. "He took twelve dollars and twenty-five cents of my insurance money," cried Mr. Belcasage, "and after three months he gave me twenty-four dollars and fifty cents back! My god! You If you have any money, Mr Quinn, give it to the Wizard. That's what everybody does."

Mr. Quinn forgot why he wanted to come out in the sun.He turned the corner on Amsterdam Boulevard, stopping and going.Indeed, everyone does it.Mr. Rick Hartz, the butcher of the Frank Fancy Bazaar, made a 100% profit on both investments he handed over to Wizard Gross.Despite misgivings on the part of the stock exchange, he was planning a third visit. Mrs. Kahn, the widow of Tasty Bakery, is excitedly considering becoming a repeat customer.Old Mr. Patterson of the silver shop, who had suspended his work of polishing a pair of antique candlesticks, indicated with a trill that he, too, was a satisfied customer of Theodore F. Gross.Like this, along both sides of the whole avenue.Ellery doubted it was the same at Cross Street.

“Even kids in school give him their lunch money,” Ellery protested to his father that night. “Daddy, the whole district is involved. Guaranteed to double their money in three months! Is there nothing you can do?" "It's the first time I've heard of it." Inspector Quinn mused. "Apparently the state attorney general's office hasn't received any complaints." "That's because he's still paying back the money and building up his reputation. What an old scam!" Ellery waved his long arms threateningly, "Gross didn't invest their money at all, he just used the money he received today to pay off the debt three months ago. Dad, you know , this kind of thing spreads all over the place once word of mouth spreads. He gets a bunch of new clients every time he pays - he's miles ahead of the game. The only problem is, someday He’d go on vacation quietly with the raw money his clients handed him.”

"I'll bring it to the attention of the Attorney General's office, Ellery." "I can't wait that long! Charlie Philippozzi just borrowed a hundred dollars from the loan company and gave it to Gross." Charlie Philippozzi was a disabled soldier who ran a newsstand in this area. "Everybody else is doing the same stupid thing. Dad, we gotta scare the trader, maybe scare him off the wall." The Inspector looked interested. "Have you thought of any way?" "If you want to do it, make a complete set, otherwise what do you want this white-haired old boy on Central Avenue to do?"

At 8:15 the next morning, everything was arranged, and the Quinns, together with Sergeant Thomas Willie, one of the police officers, went to visit the wizard on Amsterdam Avenue.Although it was still early, the seventh floor of the office building was packed with people.Ellery flinched.Among them was young Minnie Bender, supporting a spastic child on her wages as a waitress at an Eighty-ninth Street café.He also recognized the two elderly ladies who worked at Crawford's Dime Grocery, the barbershop shoe shine boy from the Black Quarter, the ex-refugees who made potatoes, beef and pastrami at Gobicky's Deli, and the Black Negerson Grill The bartender at the store, who has two kids in North Korea—everywhere Ellery looks, he sees familiar faces, familiar hands clutching low-denomination bills.

The pressure of the crowd slammed the front door of Gross's office open, filling what appeared to be a reception room.Despite Sergeant Willie clearing the way, the Quinns had to struggle to get into the outer office. "No more crowding!" "We came first!" "Who do you think you are?" "Where?" growled the inspector over the din. "Where is this man Theodore F. Gross?" "He hasn't arrived yet." "He starts his business at nine o'clock every day." "Willy! Get everyone out." Within minutes, the reception room emptied, the officer's bulky body casting a shadow over the corrugated glass of the front door.There were still a few flustered voices left, which were quickly drowned out by the chattering questions of the crowd.

In the side wall of the reception room there is a door with the words "TF Gross, private office" written in gold.Ellery tried, and the door was locked. The furnishing of the outside office was very cheap.Quinn and his son sat down on the wooden bench and waited. At eight thirty-five, there was a noise outside, and they stood up.The next moment, the door leading to the corridor opened.A rosy-cheeked man, waving beamingly as if returning home, crept under the outstretched arms of Sergeant Willie into the reception room.The officer shut the door, and the shout of joy turned to a growl of discontent.

"Good morning, gentlemen." "Double" Gross said briskly, "The man outside said that you have important things waiting to see me. I don't know what to do?" pick it up.The mail was trodden by the crowd.He was a stout, fatherly man with a gray military moustache, a shiny bald head, a smooth talker, and an old politician's uniform jacket. "Jesus, they must have broken in again. You know what? I've had the lock fixed twice this week." Inspector Quinn looked unimpressed.He took out his badge and said softly, "I'm Inspector General of Police Headquarters. This is Ellery Queen."

"Oh...okay. I have some regular clients who are really high class," Gross said triumphantly. "Gentlemen, want to invest?" "Indeed, Mr. Gross," said Ellery. "It is precisely this that we have come to discuss with you ... at length." "Ah, no problem! As long as you give me a few minutes, I will read all the emails..." Gross hurried to the door of his private office, looking for the key on his trouser chain. "You've got fifteen minutes," Ellery said. "No more." "After that," Inspector Quinn said, showing his dentures, "I have something for you, Mr. Gross." He touched his breast pocket lightly with his palm.

But the wizard's cheeks did not lose their color.He just nodded absently, opened the door of the office, went in, and closed the door behind his back. "An old hand," muttered the Inspector. "It's no use, son." "Hard to say," Ellery said, looking at his watch, and sat down to light a cigarette.All exits from the building are now guarded by police in blue uniforms, with orders to keep no one out, in case Gross is cornered... Thirteen minutes later, there was another commotion outside.Inspector Quinn rushed to the hallway and flung the door open. Sergeant Willie grabbed a small, pale man with clenched fists.He had damp brown hair and a pale, worried expression. "But I told you I work here!" wailed the little man. "My name is Albert Crocker, Office Assistant. Please let me in. Mr. Gross will be angry, I'm late—" "Let him in, Willie." The inspector glanced at the clerk.Gross's fortunes apparently had nothing to do with his secretary; Crocker was a shabby fellow who looked badly in need of a good breakfast. "Grose is in the private office, Crocker. You'd better call him out." "What happened—what's the matter, sir?" Sweat was on the man's upper lip. "Tell him," Ellery said, "his time is up." The clerk became even more nervous.He rushed to the room marked "Private," opened it, and entered his employer's office. "Crocker might be useful," muttered Ellery. "Well, we can try him. I guarantee he'll confess! What's the matter, Crocker?" The miserable clerk was at the door, looking more worried than ever. "Gentlemen, are you right that Mr. Gross is here?" "He's not there?" cried the Inspector.With a triumphant smile, he pushed Crocker away and rushed into the inner office. It was a long, narrow, dark room, furnished in a Spartan style—flat desk, two wooden chairs, filing cabinets, a clothes rack.The room is empty. "We made him run for his life!" the Inspector laughed triumphantly. "They'll catch him at the exit of the street with a box of cash—" "Probably not," Ellery said in a strange voice. "Son, what did you say?" "If Gross can get out of this room, Dad, then maybe holding the exit won't be enough to stop him." His father looked at him. "Look again. Look carefully." The inspector's smile froze.He now saw that there were only two exits from Gross's private office: one was the exit to the reception room that the Quinns had guarded since Gross entered the office, and the other was the window seven stories above Amsterdam Boulevard.There was a narrow sill running along the outside of the window, but the window was bolted tightly from the inside. A tightly guarded door; a lone window, locked from the inside.There wasn't any space in the room to hide a baby monkey! "What did they call him?" Inspector Quinn said weakly. "Wizard?" For a long time, Ellery was a perfect imitation of the people in the asylum solving esoteric problems.The mob surrounded Ellery's desk in the inner office, screaming for their hard-earned money, and the blood of vanished wizards.They would have torn poor Crocker to pieces if Sergeant Willie hadn't intervened and made a menacing gesture with a police pistol.The sergeant kept calling for reinforcements, and finally they came—Inspector Quinn with six men in uniform, each bewildered.As the police began to scramble to deal with the crowd, the inspector rushed to the desk, glaring at his brooding son. "Ellery!" Ellery looked up. "Oh. Can't find it, Dad?" "Can't find it!" roared the Inspector. "Those people swear on their mother's memory, they didn't let Gross—or anyone else—leave the building. But where is he? How the hell did he get out of this building?" room?" "Yeah, what about the others?" a woman's voice screamed. "Where's our money?" shouted a man restrained by uniformed police. Ellery climbed onto the wizard's table and yelled, "If you'll be quiet, I'll answer all your questions!" The commotion in the crowd stopped immediately. "Gross was a clever prisoner. He had prepared his escape in case of emergency. When he saw the Inspector, he went into the private office and closed the door. There were only two exits from the room: the one to the outer office, Quinn The Inspector and I were waiting for him here; and the exit overlooking Amsterdam Avenue. Since we can confirm that Gross did not exit through the outer office, he could only have exited through the window. There was a very narrow sill, and he followed the move--" "Through the window?" muttered the Inspector. "But boy, the window is locked from the inside!" "As I said," said Ellery, "Gross walked along the edge to the window of the adjoining office. No doubt he had rented that office long ago for the purpose. From the adjoining office he took Stolen money, walked through the hallway into the crowd. He must have tried to leave the building, but he saw police at every exit and there was no way to get out without being frisked. He had to think of something else. "He figured out right away that the biggest problem was how to hide the money until the wind died down. It was easy when it was all over. Where did he hide it? Apparently next door, an office he rented under another name, No one knows. But in order for the money to be safely stashed in that office, we must not suspect that the office has anything to do with Theodore F. Gross. How can he keep us away from that office? Remember Well, he got there through the window. It was evidently unlocked when he climbed out. If it could be locked, he thought we wouldn't think it was his way of escape. So Gross again Came back, back to his private office, locked the window from the inside—” "Wait, wait," growled the Inspector. "What do you mean you came back? He has to do it through you and me in the reception room—" "Exactly," Ellery said. "But the only person who passed the two of us in the reception room was... Crocker..." "Yes, Crocker," said Ellery. "Crocker came into the office from the anteroom, ostensibly to call Gross out—but actually to lock the windows. Crocker, I My friends, Theodore F. Gross, who removed the padding from his clothes, the wig on his bald head, the fake beard, the blush, and the cotton in his mouth—and changed his clothes in a snap, these Clothes must have been hidden in the office next door—” Ellery went on to explain that people's money and disguise supplies that Gross had thrown away would be found in the office next door, but no one was listening to him.The inspector had rushed through the crowd, and the crowd followed him with a whoosh, through the reception room and into the corridor.The thin man caught between Sergeant Willie's legs suddenly made a malicious move, and the Sergeant tripped.Crocker Gross rushed across the anteroom, Ellery yelling after him. The little man stopped by the door, and this time his face was bloodless.People had already turned their heads, and after seeing him, they all closed their mouths and opened their arms in unison.