Act Two, Part Three

Jim, descending the stairs, met Artie coming up. "How's it going?" he inquired.

"Oh, peachy, Jim. Just absolutely peachy! Say, you didn't pass Miss Hippolyta on the stairs just now, did you?"

"No, she hasn't come this way. What, you lost her?"

Artie snorted. "I wish! No, she's gotta be here somewhere. Anyway…" And he filled Jim in on the events at breakfast, after which Jim reciprocated with the outcome of breaking the news to Atalanta. Well, most of it.

"So," Jim finished, "since Mr Prior has already been by to request the ladies' presence, I'll let you handle that while I…"

"Me handle it!" Artie broke in. "Me, try to keep that harpy, that wannabe Fury in check all by myself? James, James! Why would you do such a thing? Why would you abandon me in my hour of need?"

"Because we still have to investigate the professor's death, and we only have some…" He glanced at his pocket watch. "…eighteen hours of the twenty-four Hippolyta allotted to us left. If we both have to escort the sisters to the funeral parlor, that will leave us precious little time to prove Atalanta's innocence."

"Hmm. True. And I wouldn't put it past Hippolyta to go off into her Fury act the very second the twenty-four hours are up either." Artie shook his head. "I'm telling you, Jim, the sooner this case is over and I never have to lay eyes on that Amazon again, the better I'll like it!"

Jim gave a soft chuckle and thumped his partner on the shoulder. "Oh, it won't be much longer. Now, Miss Lana needs some clothes, and I was going to have a bellhop come shift her things to our suite. You go on up and stay with her while I do that, and if I spot Hippolyta while I'm downstairs, I'll try to steer her your way. And once that's done…"

"Yeah?"

Jim quirked an eyebrow at his partner. "Then I'll try to scare up Hippolyta's mythical attacker, the one who's supposed to have all those fresh gouges across his face."

"Ah. Right. The Pretty Boy."

"Mm-hmm. If he exists." Jim nodded to Artie, and then the agents parted, each to see about his agreed-upon tasks.

…

In the main conference room of the hotel a committee meeting was about to begin. The dozen men there chattered amongst themselves as they polished off the remnants of breakfast — until at length the chairman of their group wiped his mouth, gaveled the meeting to order, then intoned solemnly, "Gentlemen, there is no other course open before us. We must shut down the conference immediately."

"Shut… shut it down! No!" came the cries of protest:

"But what of the papers? We've barely begun!"

"All these scientists, Mr Chairman! They've worked so hard preparing their exhibits, their presentations. Surely they're not to be turned away, sent home before their colleagues can learn of their new discoveries!"

"And besides," added the treasurer, "if we shut down now, all the attendees will want their admission tickets refunded, and how are we supposed to do that? We already spent the bulk of the money they paid us in order to rent this hotel!"

Everyone turned to stare coldly at him. "A man has died, Mr Treasurer," the chairman reminded him.

"Yes, yes, we're all aware of that."

"And what's more, the deceased was no less a personage than our own esteemed keynote speaker!"

From somewhere in the back of the room floated an incautious comment of "And what a fascinating address he gave us last night, too!" which immediately brought forth a round of horrified denouncements — along with, perhaps, a few well-concealed snickers of agreement.

Again the chairman hammered his gavel, demanding order. "That was in fact and indeed completely uncalled for, sir!" he growled at the quipster. "Why, consider Bracewell's poor daughters, still reeling from the death of their mother, and now left all alone in this cruel world, without friend, without support, with indeed none else in all the world but each other to turn to, to lean upon, to commiserate and console each other. No doubt this very moment the sorrowing young ladies are sitting together side by side up in their suite, crying their eyes out, bewailing the loss of their beloved father and…"

"I can guarantee you that's not the case," broke in a voice.

Startled, the chairman harrumphed and smote the gavel upon his table once again, this time nearly sending his breakfast plate dancing right over the edge. As the treasurer caught the plate and slid it to safety in the middle of the table, the chairman sputtered, "Who is that? Who is that man? He's not a member of this committee! How dare he interrupt? How dare…!"

The man in question, a handsome young fellow in a blue bolero suit, interrupted yet again. "My name is James West. I'm one of the Federal agents assigned to the Bracewell family, and I assure you there is no reason whatsoever to shut down this conference to spare the feelings of the professor's daughters. And I have very good reason to request the conference go on as scheduled."

The chairman gawped at him. "But good Heavens, man, it's hardly decent to continue with this event in light of last night's, ah… most, most unfortunate occurrence!"

"Last night's occurrence is precisely why I must insist the conference continue," said West. And as the members of the committee stared in consternation and murmured among themselves, Jim added, "A murder has been committed, and I have only until the conference ends to catch that murderer." He didn't bother to mention the much shorter time limit Miss Hippolyta herself had imposed upon the two agents. "So if you go ahead and close the conference now, you'll leave me with precious little time to find the murderer. He and everyone else here will scatter to the four winds, leaving Bracewell's murder unsolved — and don't you suppose that is the one thing the man's daughters want most of all right now, for the murderer to be caught?"

"Ah…" The chairman looked around at the other members of the committee, seeing each and all nod in assent. "Well… Very well, Mr West, we acquiesce. The conference shall continue as scheduled. And good luck to you in finding the culprit!" He banged the gavel on the table emphatically.

"Thank you, Mr Chairman," said Jim and strode from the room. And behind him the treasurer in particular heaved a great sigh of relief.