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Rated: 18+ · Book · Mystery · #1133930

Larry Charles reports a murder and becomes the main suspect

Larry Goes Undercover




A week later, they didn’t seem to be any closer to solving the murder. Larry had stayed at his own place for the last five evenings. He wore old clothes and hung around in the warehouse district in the daytime and early evening. He learned Barbara Coin had been known to hang around the fire barrel in the empty lot on the corner of Canal and Ivy. The regulars at the location said they didn’t know who he was talking about. They told him he was misinformed.
Larry called Peggy every evening. They had not discussed a permanent arrangement. Peggy didn’t want him to think she was trying to force him in one direction or the other. Larry had not allowed himself to consider the issue. He was presently content with their unspoken arrangement.
“Hi, sweetheart, have you learned anything new?” Larry asked.
“Well hi to you too. Yes, I miss you. Lisa and I are both fine. How are you doing my love?”
“I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m so wrapped up in this . . . mess — I miss you and I wish it were over. Forgive me for sounding uncaring and insensitive; I just want this thing to be over so we can get back to a normal life.” Larry knew the sarcastic tone of Peggy’s voice was a product of her fear for his safety. He felt guilty for rushing into the business of trying to prove himself innocent, rather than showing concern for her.
Peggy realized how her reproach must have sounded to the man she loved, a man who was putting his life on the line to save them both. Her voice softened, “It’s all right, I’m a little stressed, is all. No one seems to know who the man in the photograph is who’s sitting at the table with Jennifer Lattice. Jennifer said she wasn’t at her table when the picture was taken. She said she went to that table to say hello to an old college sorority sister, Melinda Santos. She said she didn’t know anyone else at the table. On the bright side, the public seems to be growing tired of the media rehashing the Larry Charles angle. So the media moguls are making their money by aiming their guns at Mark White and Jennifer Lattice. There was also a brief mention of Henry Coin, Barbara’s ex. He owns Coin Construction Company. Here’s, Lisa, she will fill you in on what she has learned.
“Hey Larry, how are you holding up?”
“I’m doing okay. I appreciate your help. You have really been great about all this.”
“I know you’ve got your hands full trying to keep yourself and my sister alive, while trying to get yourself killed down there in blood alley, but try to be a little more considerate of her feelings, okay?”
Peggy grinned and ducked her head at hearing her sister’s reproach.
Larry became aggravated. “Lisa, is there anything else constructive you would like to tell me?”
“Now, that we have the amenities out of the way, the police as well as the media are actively investigating Mark White and Jennifer lattice, as well as, Johnny, ‘Two Foot,’ Marini.”
“That’s kind of what Peggy told me. Is there anything else?”
“Do you know why they call him ‘Two Foot’?”
“No, Lisa, why do they call him ‘Two Foot’?”
“Get this, his mother made him take dancing lessons because he was a klutz, as in two left feet. So now, he’s known for his ability to impress the ladies, at least while he’s on the dance floor. Oh, Paul Ashy hasn’t been able to break the code. He wanted to turn the floppy over to a friend of his, but I took it back. I didn’t think it would be wise to get too many people involved in what has proven to be a dangerous undertaking. Peggy has the floppy.”
After hanging up, Larry was alone with his thoughts and blank walls were all that presented themselves. He had to come up with a new angle. “Who is Cindy East,” Larry asked himself. “Where does she fit into the picture?” They had not found Cindy East during their search of public records. Larry realized he had been staring at the blue and white bandanna he had hung on the kitchen chair in his apartment. He thought he would give it a shot. The next morning he wore it on his head when he went to hang out with the indigents on Canal and Ivy.
Larry received a couple second looks, but no one said anything. In the afternoon, a man he hadn’t seen before approached him. “Hey bub, you look like a worker. Don’t let on to the others. If you want to make a buck come with me.” Larry looked at the man questioningly. He stood about five-nine, and had a very solid, stocky build. The man stuck out his hand in greeting. “I’m Carl,” he said.
“Larry,” Larry responded, shaking Carl’s strong, hand. He noticed there weren’t any calluses on Carl’s hand.
“I work around here all the time. I got contacts,” Carl said, smiling. “All we have to do is move some stuff for them and we each get a ten-spot. You game?” The man asked.
“Sure,” Larry said.
Maybe he was finally getting his foot in the door. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, however, he was close to giving up his quest and leaving the matter to the police. The police weren’t bothering him now, and his efforts, as well as Lisa’s and Peggy’s, seemed futile. He followed Carl into a warehouse across the street from the vacant lot.
The warehouse was empty except for the four men standing about 30 yards away, toward the other end. Three of the men were dressed in work clothes, the fourth wore casual business attire. There was an eighteen-inch-wide drainage trough at each end of the warehouse. They were connected by another one, which ran down the middle of the building. They were in the form of a large ‘H’ and were covered with grating. The men were standing next to a section of grating that had been removed from the center trough. The drainage troughs were a foot deep. The outlet had become clogged. Ten inches of water, oil, hydraulic fluid, anti-freeze, and other contaminates had collected throughout the trough system. One of the men was urinating into the trough. The other men were laughing and talking amongst themselves. “These are the guys we’re gonna work for,” Carl said, as they approached the four men. “This is your man, Larry Charles,” Carl said, placing his hand on Larry’s shoulder and taking a step behind him. He grabbed Larry by the arms, from behind. Larry tried to break free, but the other men helped hold Larry’s arms.
The man wearing casual dress clothes stood there watching. His demeanor was that of a supervisor watching his crew performing their usual task. His skin was soft. He stood about five-eleven, and had sandy hair. He looked like the kid you knew growing up; the one who had all the wrong answers, but the others listened to him because he talked with such assurance. The kid who grows up to sell used cars, become a small time politician, or goes to jail by age seventeen. “I recognized you from the news,” he said to Larry. “You’re the asshole who killed the reporter who was snooping around here.” One of the other men hit Larry in the stomach. Before Larry could recover from the blow, the man hit him again.
“I haven’t killed anybody. You said you listened to the news. You know they had to let me go.”
“Your lawyer can bullshit your way out of jail for you, but you ain’t got no lawyer to bullshit your way out of this. We are your judge, jury and executioners,” the soft man said. He nodded his head and the two men punched him, repeatedly, in the face and in the crotch, working their way to his middle. When they stopped hitting him, he was still conscious although, hanging limp in the two men’s arms. “So you have anything to say before you die?” the soft man asked. Larry’s mouth moved but no sound came out. He raised his head to look at the soft man, and concentrated his efforts on getting his legs to support him. Finally, Larry was able to say, “Why are you doing this?” The soft man nodded and the two men who had beaten him grabbed his legs and tipped him upside down. Then the four of them shoved Larry’s head under the miasmic soup, which lay in the trough. After struggling for what seemed to be several minutes to Larry, they lifted his head out but continued to hold him upside down. The soft man was squatting down next to Larry. Larry was still coughing and gasping when the soft man asked, “Why did you kill her?”
“I had nothing to do with it,” Larry said. He was hoping Farnum had tailed him here.
“Sure, that’s why you’re down here with her bandanna on your head. That bandanna seems to bring nothing except bad luck. It should be buried. Bury it deep,” the soft man said. They shoved his head into the toxic waste again. They held him there until his body was convulsing in its fight for oxygen. Larry knew he was going to die. Seconds later, they pulled him up again. He was coughing and spitting, and his eyes burned. He had swallowed some of the waste products and had started vomiting while trying to breathe.
“You are going to die in this cesspool for murdering that reporter,” the soft man announced in a deep authoritative voice.
“Then I’ll die here for nothing. I didn’t murder her. You’re bringing more trouble down on yourselves than you can possibly imagine,” Larry said, as adamantly as he could.
“I’m not the one drowning in this piss trough. You were there when she died. You lived in the same building she lived in. You worked in the same building she worked in. You’re nosing around here like she did before she died. Either you killed her like the police said you did, or you were working with her. Tell me you put the bug in her ear that got her snooping around, and I’ll give you a chance to explain yourself.”
“I sure as hell wasn’t working with her, and you should know who killed her. You know who I am. How are you connected? Who do you answer to?” Larry asked.
“I’ll ask the questions,” the soft man said. He nodded and they buried Larry’s head in the trough again.
They’re after information. What can I say will keep me alive? Larry tried to work it out in his mind. He only had a few seconds to contrive the right answer. They don’t care she’s dead. They think I know something. What? They will kill me, even if I could tell them what they want to hear. I can only tell them what I don’t know.
When they pulled him out, Larry gasped, “Okay, damn it. It was Cindy East.” His body wrenched as it forced the toxic fluids out of his mouth. He gasped involuntarily. His body fought to stay alive, drawing in all the oxygen it could between wrenching his stomach and collapsing his diaphragm to expel the poisons he had ingested.
“Cindy East.” the soft man howled. “Why in the hell didn’t you just say you were working Cindy East?” If Larry could have seen him, he would have seen the fear in the soft man’s face. “Put him down and give me your shirt.”
As they laid him on the floor, one of the men said, “What in the hell do you want my shirt for?”
Larry fought his body for control. He was winning. He started gasping in a rhythmic pattern. Cindy East was going to keep him alive. There was a problem. He wasn’t sure how to use the name to his advantage. He had to be careful.
“Just give it to me, before I rip it off along with your fucking head.” the soft man yelled. “Okay, okay, geeze!” the other man knuckled under and tore off his shirt.
“Get him over there under the emergency wash and clean him up.” The soft man instructed. They cleaned Larry up as best as they could, and dried him off with the shirt. “You've gotta understand, we didn’t know where you stood in this thing. If Cindy East is paying you to take care of certain things, I ain’t got no complaints. No hard feelings, Okay?” The soft man was almost begging.
“You better understand, Cindy East wants to know what is going on, who did what, who is with us, and who ain’t,” Larry ad-libbed. He thought about his own activities; he had spent a lot of time asking questions on the street. “Cindy East wants to know what the word is out in the street.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. He was not sure if it was the right thing to say. He was sticking his neck out again. He was scared stiff but couldn’t stop himself. “Well?” he said, looking the soft man, hard in the eyes.
The soft man read the fear in Larry as controlled anger. He did not want to be responsible for making Larry lose it. He couldn’t afford to have a bad report going to Cindy East. “She whacked the bitch. What could we do, after that?”
“How did she get in?” Larry asked. Larry wanted to see if Claude’s name would be mentioned. He was sure he knew, nevertheless, he had to hear the name.
The soft man had a different interpretation of Larry’s question. “She wasn’t getting nowhere down here until Moe started talking to her. She bought him off, we figure. He wouldn’t admit to it though. Not that it mattered, ‘cause we knew better. We planted him in the country. We knew.”
“Now the press is crawling up everybody’s ass.” Larry said, as though he were chewing them out.
“Christ, give us a break. How in the hell were we to know what was going to happen?” the soft man defended.
“And this?” Larry asked, indicating the warehouse. He had a hard knot growing in his stomach. He had no idea why he said it, although he knew he could always refer it to their attack on him.
“Hell, we couldn’t take a chance. Cindy East knows that. We moved it all. Right by the book. We do things just the way Cindy East says to do’em,” the soft man explained.
“Where do you stand?” Larry asked.
The soft man studied him for a moment. “I don’t like this, if you have to ask . . .”
“Cindy East is asking. I’m just looking for loose ends,” Larry said. He decided it was time to get out of there, before he said the wrong thing. He could feel the edge he had gained, slipping away from him.
“Marini is fish bait, or jail bait. It don’t make me no difference,” the soft man said.
“You got a name?” Larry asked the soft man.
“Dick, Richard, Richard Boxer?” The soft man said curiously.
“Dick Boxer?” Larry chuckled.
“Yeah, that’s me, Dick Boxer.” He chuckled nervously.
“You ruined my shirt, Boxer,” Larry said, “a large, 35 inch sleeve.” He turned and walked away. “You were right about the bandanna. Leave it buried.” He didn’t breathe until he was outside. It was a mental effort to keep from increasing his gate as he walked out of the pier district.
When Larry got to his apartment, he showered and washed his hair. Eyewash ended the irritation and took the red out of one eye. The other eye was black, one cheek was swollen and his lower lip was split. Both lips were swollen. His body was bruised from being held so tightly and from being punched. The stiff painful feelings, which accompanied the bruises were beginning to become the norm. He debated over how much of what had happened he should tell Peggy. He knew she would worry needlessly. His actions could put her into greater danger as well. She had a right to know. A broad smile covered his partially numb, and very sore face. He realized he was more afraid of her reaction than he was of the thugs. He looked at his pummeled form in the mirror. Hell, what could I leave out that wouldn’t speak for itself, he thought. I might as well get dressed and go . . . and go home.
***
“Oh my God! Larry, what happened to you?” Peggy looked horrified.
“It isn’t as bad as it looks; actually, it is better than it looks. Wait until you hear what I found out.” He couldn’t wait to reveal all he had learned. He certainly didn’t want Peggy to dwell on his condition.
Peggy pulled up his shirt to examine his body. “You need a doctor, I’m taking you to the hospital. Who did this to you?”
“Peggy darling, sweetheart, take it easy. I’m okay. Believe me.”
“Have you seen yourself? You could have fractured ribs, your cheekbone might be broken again.”
“Darling, I love you and I appreciate your concern, but I learned more today in twenty minutes, than all of us together have learned in two weeks. Just sit down here with me for a moment and let me tell you about it.” He led her into the living room and pulled her down next to him on the sofa.
Peggy’s eyes and lips were searching for a spot that didn’t look sore. She kissed him on the cheek, which almost looked normal. “It’s the first time you said that. You said you loved me.” She was looking into his good eye. The other one was half closed.
“When I realized I was more afraid of your reaction than I was of the possibility the gangsters would kill me, I realized how important you are to me. I love you, Peggy Brandt. Now can I tell you what I found out, before I bust?”
Peggy’s face exploded with joy. “Yes, yes, go ahead, tell me.” She grabbed his face and kissed him on his swollen lips.
Larry pulled away with a howl as Peggy reached out, helplessly, with her hands to try to soothe the pain she had caused. He took her hands and kissed them. He could not help himself. He had to take advantage of the situation and torment her a little. “That’s okay, just, love me from a distance.” He let go of her hands, and raised his palms toward her. “Just stay way over there and love me.”
Peggy leaned toward him, stretching her arms out to him. “Oh Larry, I’m so sorry.”
He moved to the other end of the couch, raising his palms again. “No, no.” He cocked his head slightly to one side. “I can feel your love for me flowing through my body from way over here. I don’t need to risk physical contact to know you love me.”
“Oh.” she said, “I see. I’ll remember what you said, tonight. Why, it might be a week before I forget it. Oh well, you obviously have something more important on your mind,” she said, waving her hand in the air as a sign of dismissing the subject.
“I can barely stay a step ahead of the bad guys and I seem to always be a step behind you. This isn’t good for my ego.”
“It’s too bad you can’t handle physical attention. I could make it feel better, and all the pain would be forgotten,” Peggy sighed.
“You could physically soothe my ego?”
“That too,” Peggy said, unbuckling his belt.
Afterward, Larry told her everything he had learned from Richard Boxer. He had not stopped to consider the danger in which he had placed Peggy and himself. It wasn’t until he saw the fear in Peggy’s eyes. Boxer had given Larry incriminating information, not only on himself, but also on Cindy East. Once Boxer discovered he had been fooled, he would have to kill Larry and Peggy. They agreed they should tell all they knew to Detective Farnum. Larry picked up the phone.
Peggy stood next to Larry, her arms resting on the counter with her hands folded as though in prayer. Larry sat on the barstool in the kitchen, talking on the phone to Detective Farnum. He had reached him at home. “You said to keep you informed. Well I’ve learned a great deal since we last met. I’ve learned so much, I’m certain Peggy and I could be killed at any time.” Peggy put her hand on his shoulder. “In an hour, sure. We will put on a pot of coffee.” Larry looked relieved. “He said he would be here in an hour. I think Lisa should be here too he said dialing her number.”
When Farnum arrived and saw Larry’s face, he smiled. “You certainly seem to have a way with people, Larry or should I call you Mr. Charles?”
“Larry’s fine,” he smiled back, while motioning for Farnum to sit down.
Lisa arrived a couple of minutes after Detective Farnum. Larry was sitting to his right. Peggy was pouring coffee. “Hi Joe,” Lisa said softly.
“Hi Lisa,” Farnum said, smiling at her.
“My God, Larry, who’s murder did you uncover this time?” Lisa asked.
“Moe’s murder,” Larry stated. Farnum looked at him with his ever-questioning eyes. “I’ll get to that.”
A cup for Lisa had already been set on the table. She sat across from Farnum, and Peggy took the chair on the other side of him. Farnum didn’t like the social atmosphere they were creating. He did like seeing Lisa again, however, he didn’t like conducting police business in what seemed to be a family atmosphere. He wanted the objectivity inherent in a police inquiry.
“Tell me every thing that happened. I want the, who, what, why, where and when.” Farnum said, looking at Larry.
“Have you ever heard the name, Cindy East?” Larry asked.
“Yes,” Farnum said, looking both concerned and very interested.
“You have?” Peggy, Larry and Lisa said in unison.
“Tell me what you know.” Farnum looked surprised by the outburst, and sounded aggravated; they had obviously been holding back critical information.
“Look, we have done all kinds of research. We haven’t been able to find out anything, anywhere, about anyone named Cindy East. There isn’t a C. East in the phone book, not to mention city, court, newspapers, ___”
“If there had been, you would only have been wasting your time chasing dead ends. Cindy East isn’t a person, it is an acronym.” Farnum explained.
“But, when I asked this thug, Dick Boxer, about who killed Ms. Coin, he said it was Cindy East.”
“Figuratively speaking, he was probably right.. Cindy East’s involvement, explains the professional muscle who dropped in on you and Peggy.” Farnum was obviously excited by the revelation. “This puts everything in a new light. They weren’t necessarily here to kill you. The company doesn’t like any more publicity than necessary. Your life or death would have been predicated upon what you did or didn’t know. That’s just a guess, of course.”
“What is Cindy East, then?” Lisa asked.
Farnum took out his pen and pad and began spelling out the word. “It’s an acronym for the word, S•Y•N•D•I•C•A•T•E.” He had their attention. “With a little rearranging you have Cindy East. It refers to a position, rather than to an individual. That being said, it is believed there are only four in the country. So-called legitimate businesspersons hold the positions; corporate figures and lawyers have been known to be Cindy East. They are negotiators, you might say. They live a double life. You see, anonymity is as important to The Company as it is to the Negotiators. The Company doesn’t like to draw attention to itself. They prefer a quiet takeover the crime operations in a city or area of a city. They send in a Negotiator. He explains the advantages of becoming a part of the family, and the disadvantages of not becoming a part of the family. I’m not saying the Negotiator is a benevolent creature. He will order a hit on a recalcitrant participant or on an entire gang, if necessary. It is a very powerful position. If the Negotiator determines a particular small-time organization, for example, stands in the way of The Company operating a smooth operation, he can eliminate the small-time organization.”
“You mean kill them all?” Peggy asked.
“Not necessarily. He may pay off key people to work for The Company, or have the leader or leaders killed. He may have more Syndicate muscle than a small drug ring can contend with, forcing the small operation to move. Unlike the old days, he is paid for his brains not his muscles and quick trigger finger.”
“I never figured you to be someone so smart, Farnum. Where did a run-of-the-mill, city police detective learn about the underworld in such detail, crime magazines?” Larry asked.
“FBI. I was with the Bureau for a couple of years.” Farnum explained.
“Should I ask why you’re just a city cop now?”
“Personal preference.”
“So, how did you get your face pushed in for the second time, Larry?” Lisa asked. She knew Larry was trying to get back at Joe, for his “you’re not too smart” comments on his first visit. She thought it best to change the subject. She would ask Joe about his past when they were alone.
“Yes, okay, let’s see,” Larry said, dropping his assault, and getting his facts in order. “This guy who said his name was Carl . . .” He gave them some of the details of what happened, enough to validate what he had learned.
“I’ll see what I can find out about Richard Boxer, Carl and Moe,” Farnum said.
“It sounds as though Marini isn’t going along with the Negotiator,” Peggy observed.
“You’re right,” Farnum said, “he'll have to toe the line or get a toe tag. It definitely sounds like The Company is moving in. There recently was a foiled bust. One, which involved weapons and narcotics dealers. It was too big an operation for local criminal organizations, unless they combined forces to achieve a common goal. It happens, but it isn’t a likely scenario. It was too well organized. It was probably organized by Cindy East to show how profitable working under the wing of The Company can be. Hopefully our bust created some turmoil between the parties.”
“Not as much as you would like,” Larry said. “When I made reference to the warehouse they were trying to kill me in, Dicky said they moved whatever they had in there out on Cindy East’s orders.”
“The Syndicate connection must be what Barbara Coin was working on. They discovered who she was, so they killed her.” Lisa said.
“Most likely,” Farnum agreed.
“Then it wasn’t the perverted Claude, peeping through bathroom vents, who killed her.” Peggy hypothesized.
“It’s beginning to sound like a professional hit,” Farnum said. “Now for the rest of it, the part you didn’t tell me.” Farnum insisted, looking Larry hard in the eyes.
“The rest of it?” Larry echoed.
“The only way Boxer would believe you worked for Cindy East was for you to bring up the name. What did you find in Barbara Coin’s apartment?” Farnum asked.
The beating and the earlier remarks referring to Larry’s intelligence were still on Larry’s mind, however, he couldn’t help admiring the guy. “After all,” he thought, “he did save my life, that’s got to count for something.” Larry smiled and pulled the floppy from his pocket. He laid it on the table. “This is why she was lying on the bathroom floor. It was wedged up between the tub and the partition. “I’ll bet her clothes were in disorder. Even torn or cut, or maybe both. You guys probably thought someone was trying to rape her. Whoever did it was looking for this. I’ll bet when they examined her body there wasn’t any evidence to support your rape theory.” Larry could tell by Farnum’s expression, he was right. He felt vindicated.
“That was some dammed good police work, detective Charles.” There was a glint of appreciation in Farnum’s eyes. It was the first time Larry and Peggy saw anything other than his hard questioning stare. They relaxed for the first time while being in his presence.
Lisa smiled. This was the Joe Farnum she had come to know. “Why did you wait until now to come forward with the diskette?” Farnum asked. “You were almost killed for this, not to mention withholding evidence.”
“We didn’t know who to trust,” Peggy said.
“We had reason to question your motivation,” Larry added. “You, that is the police, are trying to hang the murder on me, and the more I learn the less it makes sense.”
Farnum could understand their reticence. He, too, had his reservations about turning over the diskette to his department. It was obvious to him someone leaked the drug and arms raid, which had gotten an undercover officer killed. Then there was the disappearance of a bookie and a sleazy lawyer, named Desmond, who happened to be part of a murder investigation. He remembered hearing an officer complain about his snitch, Wiltman. He said it wasn’t likely he had fallen off his balcony drunk, at least not without help. He believed it was a payback. Someone found out he had snitched.
“What is on the diskette?” Farnum asked
“We don’t know. All we have is the file name, ‘Cindy East’. It needs a password,” Lisa explained.
“You knew about this?”
“Of course,” Lisa said, the corner of her mouth curling into a hint of how much she enjoyed ruffling his feathers. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem for the department to crack it.”
“I’m afraid I share Peggy and Larry’s penchant for caution. I know someone at the Bureau who could help.”
“What about Boxer and Moe?” Larry asked.
“There’s a couple more problems. For one thing, I’m not supposed to be involved in this case.” Farnum leaned back in his chair and silently tapped his finger on the table. “For another, how do I pass on the information you gave me without mentioning the diskette? First, I have to find out who Moe is. Then I’ll know how to deal with Mr. Dicky Boxer.”
Lisa rested her chin on her folded hands and smiled up at Joe.
Larry cleared his throat. Farnum realized he and Lisa were staring at each other smiling. “You were right,” Farnum said, a little too loudly. “You and these women are in grave danger. Do you have a place where you could stay, somewhere no one knows about?” Farnum was once again looking at Larry and the women with his hard questioning eyes.
“Yes, I know where there’s a cabin I can use anytime I want.”
“Do you know where it is Lisa?” Farnum asked.
“No. It’s the first I’ve heard of it.”
“Good. I don’t want to know either, not yet anyway. I suggest you go there today. Take Peggy with you, and make sure you aren’t followed,” Farnum warned. “Here, give me your car keys, and you take mine. I’ll put yours in storage and pick up a rental.”
Peggy leaned forward. She held her hands palms outward, fingers spread apart. It was as if she were trying to stop the full weight of the obvious answer from hitting her. “How can I go? What about my job? I’ll lose it, if I just up and leave. I have bills to pay.”
“I have a more important question,” Farnum said. “How much can a dead woman earn?”
“Pack.,” Lisa said earnestly.
“What about you?” Peggy asked her sister.
“She will be okay,” Farnum said. “She will stay with me.”
Lisa sat up straight. She didn’t see it coming. “Wow, you really take the bull by the horns, or is it the cow by the . . . I mean sure, but damn, how about a little forewarning the next time?” She was beaming.
“Joe? Can I call you Joe?” Peggy asked
“Sure.” He was surprised she thought she had to ask.
“Joe, if anything happens to my sister, shoot me on sight, because it is going to be either you or me. That’s a promise.” She was looking hard into his eyes.
His eyes softened. “If anything happens to her, you have my permission to shoot me on sight.”
“Gosh, this is such a warm and cozy moment, however, I think Joe is right. We had better get moving. The longer we stay here the more time Dicky has to find out, I outsmarted him.”
“Oh, there is a three-fifty-seven snubbed-nose under the dash on the driver’s side. Reach up with your right hand. It’s in a clip holster. Just take a hold of the handle and pull it out. If you need to, otherwise just leave it alone,” Farnum cautioned.
“How long will we have to stay there?” Peggy asked.
“Do you know the phone number at the cabin?” Joe asked.
“There isn’t a phone. The closest one is two or three miles down the road at the general store.” Larry informed, looking at all three of his compatriots. “There isn’t even electricity.”
“Oh great!” Peggy exclaimed, “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she said apologetically, “we will have to stop along the way and get supplies.”
“Here’s my cell phone,” Joe said. He wrote on a piece of paper. “Here’s the number of my cell phone in case one of you is at the general store or you become separated for some reason. Oh, and find out the number of the phone at the general store and get it to me. And don’t call me unless it is an emergency. I’ll call you. You don’t know how sophisticated these people are. They could be listening to us right now. I’ll contact you from a safe phone.”
Peggy was becoming more frightened as the seriousness of their predicament grew on her. “We had better make sure we take everything we’ll need with us. We might be gone for some time.”
“How long will it be before you get to the cabin?” Farnum asked.
“It will probably be an hour before we leave here, then we will have to stop and get supplies . . .about five and a half to six and a half hours, I imagine.”
“We have to get Lisa secure at my place, which means we have to go by her place and get everything she’ll need. I have some things to check out, also. We’ll check on you in six hours.”
“Joe, you didn’t answer my question,” Peggy said. “How long do you think we will have to remain in hiding?”
“I don’t have an answer, Peggy. Like I said, I have some things to check out. It depends on what I dig up. It depends on how well the other detectives, Lester and McKeegan, do on the case. It depends on what is on this diskette. All I can do is give you the worst-case scenario. If living the pioneer life at the cabin becomes unbearable, think how unbearable not living would be.”





Larry and Peggy Are On the Run


It took them thirty minutes to pack and load everything into Joe’s car. Larry told Peggy how his uncle and cousins used the cabin for fishing and hunting during the spring, fall and winter, but didn’t use it in the summer. They decided to stop for supplies at a strip mall that had a large home improvement center on one end and a grocery at the other end. They would be able to get things like lanterns, flashlights and other camping equipment, they might need. They were on their way there when the Joe’s phone rang.
“Larry, it’s Claude. That Farnum detective was just here. He was climbing up my ass about the Murder in 304. I was giv’n him the what fors when all of a sudden he says, ‘I know who killed her.’ He gives me this number and says to tell you to get it on over here, pronto, and he’ll be back in a few.”
“What did you tell him?” Larry asked.
“What could I tell him? I said okay. He beat feet and I called.”
“No. What did you say that led him to believe he knows who the murderer is?” Larry urged.
“Hell, I don’t know. I was showing him the crap that was in the apartment. No one picked it up, so I stored it in the basement, yah know. I told him how both ex’s claimed it, but nobody came to get it. I showed the stuff to him and he gets all excited and here we are, yah know?”
Larry was turning the car around. “I’m on my way.” He hung up the phone and told Peggy what was going on.
“I don’t know, Larry, do you think Joe would have given him his cell number? This might be a trap,” She cautioned.
“If he knows who the murderer is, we don’t have to worry. It means it’s all over.” Larry reasoned.
“If it is all over, why do we have to meet him at your place?”
“Not my place, Claude’s, or the basement. Claude didn’t specify.”
“Why? It doesn’t make sense”
“I don’t know. We’ll find out after we get there.” Larry said.
Peggy was quiet during the rest of the trip to Larry’s apartment building. Peggy thought about what they knew about the case. She wasn’t making some connection. Something in the back of her mind said, ‘this isn’t right.’ She couldn’t connect the dots. When they arrived, Larry found an empty space just thirty feet from the entrance. When he got out of the car, he realized Peggy had not moved to exit the vehicle. He stooped over and looked into the car at her. “Are you coming?”
“No. I’ll wait here. If you need me, you come out and get me, okay?”
“Okay. Lock the doors,” He said. Her trepidation was wearing off on him. “I’ll come and get you, if I need you.”
Larry could smell the bleach as he went up the steps. The hallway still had the smell of mildew. He knocked on Claude’s door. “It’s open,” Claude said. He stepped inside. Claude was sitting in his chair. He looked passed Larry. “Where is your little lady friend?” He asked.
“In the car, why?” He never felt the blow to the back of his neck. He lay crumpled on the carpet at Claude’s feet.
“I’ll get the girl,” Greer said. “I told you it would be easy.”
“Are you sure this is going to work? There’s all ready a problem, with the girl not coming in.” Claude said.
“I’ll have her in here in two seconds. It’s a simple plan. You killed him in self defense, he shot the girl when she got in the crossfire, trying to stop him from killing you.” Greer smiled at Claude. “Your problems and my problems will be all over. Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
“What if somebody sees you getting the girl? I had better get her,” Claude said.
“Now that I like. Very good thinking, Claude. Yeah, you go and get her.” Claude got up from his chair, stepping over Larry, and started out the door. “You’re right, I shouldn’t be seen,” Greer chuckled. “You’re okay Bremmer.”
Claude stepped out of the door and looked up and down the street. He was looking for Larry’s car. He stood on the sidewalk and scratched his head. Then he walked to the corner and looked down the side street. As he turned to walk back to his apartment, Peggy was standing in front of the building.
“Where is Larry?” she asked.
“He’s inside. It might be a little bit before that Farnum fellow gets back. You might as well wait inside, have some coffee, tea if you like. You kind of surprised me. I was looking for Larry’s car.” He pointed at Joe’s car. “That one yours?”
“Yes. How long ago did Farnum get here?”
“Oh Gosh, an hour or so, ago, I guess. He left just before I called you.”
“Wasn’t anyone with him?”
“No, his partner was suspended, Yuh know.”
“Well, let’s not keep destiny waiting.” She motioned with her hand. “Lead the way.”
When they got to Claude’s apartment, he entered first. He held the door about a third of the way open, blocking her view of Larry lying on the floor. He graciously smiled and motioned her in. “Your man awaits you, my lady.” As soon a she entered, the door slammed behind her. She jumped and froze, all in the same instant. In a blur of movement, Greer grabbed Claude and sent him flying through the air, bouncing off the back of his favorite chair, upsetting it. He tumbled to the floor behind the upset chair, and immediately rose to his feet, his hands pushed out in front of him. They were his only defense against the bullet, which he knew was coming. The time span from the instant the door slammed shut until Greer’s last shot was fired, had only been fifteen and a half seconds. It seemed to be happening in slow motion in Peggy’s mind’s eye. She saw Larry’s crumpled form on the floor as Claude went floating through the air over him. She saw Greer leveling his pistol on Claude as he was springing to his feet. It seemed too surreal to be really happening. Peggy’s reaction was automatic, almost involuntary.
“I forgot to tell you one little detail, Claude. While you were outside, I called it in. You see, you got killed by Larry, and in the exchange, you shot his girl friend.” Greer fired two rounds in rapid succession into Claude. The first round went through Claude’s left hand and into his upper chest. The second bullet ripped through Claude’s left atrium and aortic valve. As his trigger hand lowered, he grabbed Peggy by the arm and swung her into the proper position for the crossfire he had planned. His trigger hand rose to find it’s target. He wanted a clean kill . . . one round through her heart.
The explosion stunned her. How such a little gun could make more noise than Joe’s forty-five was beyond her comprehension. The snubbed-nose had jumped in her hand and the hammer split the skin between her thumb and forefinger. The recoil hurt her wrist although, she wouldn’t realize it until later. In that same instant, Greer’s arm jerked out spasmodically at an awkward angle and fired a round into Claude’s favorite chair. Had she needed a second shot, she would have been killed. She hadn’t aimed, she didn’t know how. She just jerked the snubbed-nose out of her purse and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Greer in the forehead. He immediately disappeared from her view, leaving a stream of blood and gray matter, which trailed down the wall, next to the door and met him on the floor. She had no idea how long she stood there afterward trying to pull herself together. She knew she now had to deal with the fate of her lover. Twenty-five seconds had passed since she had stepped into the apartment.
Peggy slumped to the floor and threw herself on top of Larry’s body, sobbing. She almost choked on her tears when she heard him moaning. “Larry, oh my God! I’ll call an ambulance.” She was frantically searching for his wound. “Where were you shot?”
“I don’t know. I walked into the room and everything went black. Oh my head, I must have been hit in the head. It feels like it is going to explode,” he complained. There are noises screaming inside my head. Oh God, Peggy.”
“I think the noises you hear are the police sirens. I think you were struck from behind; there’s no wound. They’re going to throw us in prison and bury the key if we don’t get out of here.”
“What happened?”
“I killed Sergeant Greer. Can you move? We have to hurry,” she said as compassionately as she could. Her voice trembled in concert with her body.
Larry turned his head and saw Greer. The bullet had struck him just above the right eye. The eyeball had sunken back into his skull and stared up at the ceiling. He reached over and picked up the gun on the floor. “Where did you get this?” he asked, looking stunned and confused.
“That’s Greer’s gun. I took Joe’s gun from the car,” she explained, holding it up for Larry to see. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized it was still in her hand.
He leaped to his feet, grabbing the back of his neck. His face was distorted in pain. “Peggy, move, let’s go! You can’t stay here.” He frantically shoved her out the apartment and almost carried her down the hallway to the entrance. “They will never believe you.” He threw Greer’s weapon on the hallway floor, and snatched the three-fifty-seven from Peggy’s hand. Then, with the snubbed-nose in one hand and Peggy’s hand in the other, he almost dragged her out of the building and down the steps, and shoved her into the car. They sped away as the police arrived from all directions. Lester and McKeegan noted it was Detective Farnum’s car, which sped away from the scene. Since it was a fellow officer, they didn’t think pursuit was necessary.
***
Peggy filled Larry in on what had occurred while he was unconscious. They debated over how and why it happened.
“Joe, obviously, set us up,” Peggy said venomously.
“If he set us up, why would he give us his car and his gun?”
“If he didn’t, how did Bremmer and Sergeant Greer know we had Joe’s phone?”
Peggy’s face looked tormented. “Maybe Greer kidnapped Joe and Lisa. Maybe he tortured them into telling him what we were doing. Then killed them both.”
Larry knew the path she was pursuing would not be helpful. It would limit their options and increase the burden they both felt weighing down on them. “Joe is the expert in these things. Remember, he said your apartment might be bugged. That’s probably how they knew about the phone.”
“Then why didn’t they know about the car? I wasn’t suspicious only because it wasn’t you who came out to get me, it was also because he didn’t recognize, Joe’s car. ”
“Because . . . because Greer listened in on our conversation, not Bremmer. He told Bremmer to call us at Joe’s cell number. He was obviously also setting up Bremmer. Maybe Greer failed to tell him, maybe it didn’t seem important at the time.” Larry grabbed Peggy’s hand. “Peggy, Greer was a cretin, a hard-nosed prick. In spite of his personality, would he do something like this out of revenge? What if the Syndicate bugged your apartment and he was on their payroll. What if they ordered him to kill us?”
Peggy looked terrified. “Oh, God, if that’s the case, then Joe and Lisa must be dead.”
Larry didn’t want to say it, nevertheless, he had to bring it out in the open. “Maybe our friend, Detective Joseph Gardner Farnum is on their payroll as well.”
It was five o’clock in the evening when they arrived at the Plumb’s General Store. They hadn’t stopped to get supplies on the way. They wanted to put as much distance as they could between themselves and the rest of the world. Bob Plumb was just closing. They were able to get lanterns, a two-burner Coleman stove, flashlights, food, and other goods they would need. Peggy also purchased scented candles. “So it won’t smell musty, like your place,” she said. They had to pay a premium price for their purchases, but they had the basic tools of survival; food, clothing, shelter, the power to reason, and credit cards.
They unloaded the vehicle, placing everything in its approximate place of utilization. It was already dark on their side of the mountain. Larry lit two of the three lanterns, while Peggy lit several candles.
The cabin was the typical log-cabin design, with mortar between the logs. The interior had been insulated and paneled for winter use. It consisted of one great room separated into three sections by supporting beams. At one end there was a kitchen with cabinets, sink, gas stove and gas refrigerator. A large round table with chairs dominated that portion of the cabin. A large potbellied stove, chairs and a large divan filled the center section. The other end of the cabin contained three bunk beds and three single cots. Larry threw some wood in the stove and started a fire. He was relieved to find the stove in working order. Larry looked at his watch. “Joe should have called by now,” he noted.
Peggy stood at the counter preparing coffee to cook on the stove. She turned her head to look at Larry. “Do you think . . .” The tension she felt was displayed in her almost, robotic movements. All the alternatives were horrible. She couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought, not when her sister’s life hung in the balance.
Larry looked at Joe’s cell phone. “Where not getting a transmission signal.” He pulled out a jacket from a suitcase. It was getting chilly as the sun settled in the foothills. “I’ll head toward civilization; we’re not in range of a transmitter. He’ll call . . . for one reason or another. He’ll call.”
“Do you think I’m going to sit here by myself and slowly go out of my mind?” Peggy said. “If something has happened to Lisa, I want to know about it.” She didn’t bother opening a suitcase. She grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around herself. “Let’s go,” she ordered.
They drove to the beginning of the cut-off they had taken when they left the main road to get to the cabin. Larry checked the signal. “It’s okay, he should be able to reach us from this location.” They were careful to park back far enough, to stay out of sight of the main road. Peggy and Larry were unaware of the small herd of deer grazing in the meadow across from the main highway. They could be seen through the opening in the trees. The stars twinkled through the tree branches above and an owl hooted nearby. Thin, silver-gray clouds floated under the moon. They were only aware of the silence of the cell phone. Each wanted to offer the other something positive to hold on to without sounding disingenuous. Finally, Larry reiterated the reason they were sitting in the car and in the dark, the woods protecting them from being seen by anyone who would harm them, “I think we were out of transmitter range.” He lightly patted her on the leg. They sat there in silence. Peggy wrapped the blanket around the both of them, and they fell asleep.





Joe’s Interrogation

Joe could hear Captain Edwards’ muffled shouts from his desk. Detectives Lester and McKeegan were being raked over the coals because an off duty officer was killed by the very suspect they had been told to build a case against. Not only that, the only person with knowledge of the original crime, the murder of Barbara Coin, was killed as well, by their prime suspect. “How is it Charles was able to waltz in and kill Sergeant Greer and the Bremmer fellow?” He demanded.
“Captain, we don’t even know what Greer was doing there. He was on suspension. Neither he nor Farnum were supposed to be working on this case,” Lester complained.
“If you knew how to read evidence and interpret facts you would know Greer was there to save a man’s life. He called it in. Bremmer called him because Charles was threatening his life. Both Sergeant Greer’s and Charles’ prints were on the weapon, which killed Claude Bremmer. That means Greer fought over the gun and was killed in the process. If I have to do all the work for you I might as well handle the case and let you two go on vacation!” Edwards shouted.
“I want to know why the perp made his getaway in Farnum’s car,” McKeegan said.
“IAD is going to take care of that. The two of you are to go over to IAD and give your statements when you leave here. Do either of you have reason to think Farnum is dirty?”
McKeegan stiffened his back. “I think he’s been awfully protective of Charles. There’s more than police work going on in their relationship. Everything he gives us on this case involves someone who knew the Coin woman, everyone except Charles.” McKeegan related his information with the sound of an accusation.
“He just happened to be there to save Charles’ life from the mob hit, and he just happened to loan his car to Charles before Charles kills his partner, whom he ratted on? I want to know why the son-of-a-bitch is sitting at his desk instead of in a cell.” Lester added.
By the time Edwards finished with them, he was convinced Farnum, at the very least, had a personal connection to Charles. He didn’t want him in his precinct, he believed Farnum had forfeited his right to wear a badge.
Farnum looked up to see Torrentelli and Fittzwater walking toward him. They were from IAD. He was expecting them. His backup piece killed his partner, and the getaway car was his vehicle.
“Okay, so you’re hot for this Lisa Thompkins woman, so you let her sister’s boyfriend use your car to whack your partner and possibly the only witness against him,” Fittzwater said.
Joe looked at his watch. They had been questioning him for six hours.
“You got a date?” Torrentelli asked. Maybe you’re supposed to get in touch with this guy Charles who you are so fond of. The guy who killed your partner.”
“Give it a rest, Torrentelli,” Farnum said. “You ran this circle, how many times now?”
“I don’t give a shit how many times. You’re an accessory to murder, not just any murder, the murder of your partner, a police officer.”
“Like I told you, he asked to borrow my car to go to the beach for the day. His car is a piece of crap, so I agreed. We swapped keys.”
“Even though he is a suspect in a murder case you were working on, you associated with the perp, the one who killed your partner. That’s two partners you’ve gotten killed,” Fittzwater said.
“Was your first partner a setup also, Farnum?” Torrentelli asked
“Screw you!” Joe yelled, throwing a pointed finger toward Torrentelli’s chest. “As far as I’m concerned, when Larry Charles took my vehicle and went to Claude Bremmer’s place he violated my trust. He acted without my knowledge. Had I known what was going to happen, I would have stood between him and the two men he killed. Had I known, he wouldn’t have had access to my car. As far as I’m concerned, when he went to Claude’s apartment, instead of where he said he was going, he had illegal possession of my vehicle. He was using it without my consent.”
“You’re saying he stole your car, is that right, Joe?” Fittzwater asked.
“You’re dammed right.”
“And when did he steal your car?” Torrentelli asked.
“The minute he decided to go to Bremmer’s place instead of where he told me he was going.”
“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere, Joe,” Fittzwater said. “You let him take your car with your back up piece in it. That doesn’t sound very smart, Joe.”
When Farnum finally got out of interrogation, he was suspended until further notice. Another arrest warrant was issued for Charles, this one for car theft. Lisa was brought in for questioning. She arrived with her lawyer Earl Stromb, and spent five minutes answering questions.





On the Run Again

It was eight p.m. when the phone rang. Larry awoke with a start. He was sweating from the body heat, trapped under the blanket. “It’s Joe, are you two all right?” he asked.
“Yes, Larry said, were fine. How is Lisa?” He sounded groggy, and had to clear his throat.
“Are you all right? You sound like you’re hurt.” Joe asked. He sounded concerned.
“I, we fell asleep in the car waiting for you to call; I’m just coming out of a fog.”
“Lisa is okay. She’s where I said she’d be. Let me talk to Peggy for a moment.”
Larry handed the phone to Peggy. “Joe wants to talk to you.”
“Joe, what’s wrong, is it Lisa?” she asked, fearing the worst.
“Lisa is fine. I’m concerned about you. Are you okay, Peggy?”
“Considering I was almost murdered by your partner, Sergeant Greer, and I’m on the run from the Syndicate, and now, from the police as well, I suppose you could say I’m okay; yeah I’m just fine, Joe.”
“Okay, let me talk to Larry again.”
She handed the phone to Larry. He looked at her with his questioning, furrowed forehead, what look. She shrugged and gave him the flash of raised eyebrows, the I don’t know look.
“What do we do now, Joe?”
“What in the hell happened? Two witnesses saw you two exit your apartment building, and get into my car. They said you dragged Peggy out of the building and forced her into the car. You had my gun in your hand, Larry. The gun, which killed Greer. My fellow officers saw my car speeding away from the crime scene. There are warrants out for your arrest for two counts of murder, one count of kidnapping and another for car theft . . . . Talk to me Larry.”
“We were on our way out of town when we received a call from Claude. He said you had solved the Coin murder and you had told him to call us on your cell phone and meet you in his apartment.”
“You believed him?”
“Not entirely; he knew your cell number. We felt compelled to check it out. We wanted this thing to be over.”
“Dammit, where was your head?” Joe yelled. “You weren’t going into hiding because of the Coin murder, you were going into hiding because Boxer and Cindy East want you dead. You rightfully had suspicions concerning Claude’s involvement. You should have seen this coming.”
Larry exploded. “I’m sorry we aren’t real detectives like you. I’m sorry we almost got killed. We are just two regular people who want an end to this nightmare. And what in the hell do you mean… kidnapping and car theft?”
“Okay, okay, just take it easy,” Joe relented, “we’ll get out of this. We’ll take it one step at a time. First, I’ve got to tell you, we’re in this up to our necks.”
“What do you mean we? Peggy and I are the___”
“It was my back-up piece that killed my partner, and my vehicle was the get away car. I’ve been suspended. I spent the last seven hours filling out forms and being interrogated. Then I had to lose a tail to call you.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize. . . What do we do now, Joe?”
“First of all, I don’t want you flying off the handle or getting defensive. Listen to what I say, okay?”
“Okay, Joe.”
“They think you kidnapped Peggy, based on the witnesses’ description of your exodus. I had to tell them you stole my car or else I would be in custody, as an accomplice, and wouldn’t be able to help you. The two of you have been through a traumatic ordeal. A lot of things have happened. I want you to tell me in as much detail as you can, what happened from the time you left me, until you left your apartment building. When you’ve finished telling me everything, I want you to put Peggy on the phone and I want her to tell me her view of what happened.”
“What in the hell are you up to, Farnum?” Larry asked, suspiciously.
“You have to understand, when a person goes through something like this, even a trained professional, we can get things wrong. There are things we don’t know and things we know, but aren’t aware of. Our minds fill in the blanks to make sense out of what happened. It’s what the police call false information; the filling in the blanks so it will make sense, part of it. I need to hear both of your versions on what happened to put it together into a complete story.”
When they had finished and Peggy was sure Lisa was all right, she handed the phone back to Larry. “How did Greer know we had your cell phone?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe he had planted a bug in Peggy’s apartment. Maybe he had a tap on her phone, maybe he listened in on our conversation with a directional mike.”
“What do we do now?”
“Like I told Peggy, just sit tight. I’ll get a hold of you if anything develops.”
“That might be a problem. We are sitting in your car about eight miles from the cabin. We weren’t sure if your cell phone would pick up that far out. Oh, here is the number of the general store, and the number of the pay phone outside the store.” He gave Joe the numbers he had jotted down while they were shopping.
“Okay Larry, here is what I want you to do: drive halfway back to the cabin and call me at this number.” Joe gave Larry the number of the phone booth he was calling from. If you get through to me, try again from the cabin. If I don’t here from you at either point, we’ll both know your closest calling point.” Joe suddenly realized Peggy and Larry may have to move again. “Larry, did you or Peggy make any credit card purchases at the general store, or on your way there?”
“Yes, about fifty miles from here we filled up with gas, then we had to buy all of those supplies at the general store.” Larry explained. “Why?” He knew the answer when he asked. He wanted to be wrong.
“At the general store, was it an electronic approval, or do they still use the old slide-imprinter, card copier?”
The slide-imprinter. We have at least two days before they trace us to the cabin. Larry thought.
“You have at least two days before they trace you to the general store, possibly a week, depending on when they turn in their receipts. We’ll work on the two day schedule. It will give me time to find another place for you if you don’t come up with one on your own. Transmitters can pick up a call over a three to five mile range. Call me in four miles. In case you are out of range, I’ll call you tomorrow at noon.” Joe hung up.
As they drove the four miles, Larry explained to Peggy what had transpired. The phone worked at the four-mile mark but not from the cabin. They decided to fix something to eat and get a good night’s rest. Neither of them could think of another place to go to from here. They had little cash. They threw a couple of mattresses on the floor next to each other and cuddled up under the blankets they had brought with them. Peggy couldn’t keep the vision of Greer’s corpse out of her mind. She thought about the nameless, formless entity, The Syndicate, creeping up on them and destroying their lives. Larry couldn’t stop thinking of the danger he had placed her in. He felt guilty for having asked her and her sister to help him. By two in the morning, fatigue was kind enough to outweigh their fears and overcome their guilt. They slowly sank away into a peaceful sleep.
The next morning Larry awoke to the smell of coffee, sausage, and eggs. Toast was being made on top of the potbelly stove. Larry smiled. “The urbanite does country,” he said walking into the kitchen area. He put his arms around her, hugging her from behind. He pressed himself against her, his muscles stretching, his body entwining with hers as his body prepared itself for another day. “I had a thought, as I awoke,” he continued.
“Yes, I can feel it pressing into where no man has gone before,” she quipped.
“No, I mean, oh, yeah.” He stopped to enjoy the moment. It was actually the first thought he had when he awoke. “Actually, what I was going to say was . . .”
“Hmm, yes?” she chuckled softly.
“Ah, when I awoke I was thinking, since they will know where we are anyway, we might as well use the closest ATM and get all the cash we can.” He tried to remember if he had seen one at the last outpost of civilization they had gone through. The thought was lost. His hands had gone into the exploratory mode.
“The hotter we get, the colder breakfast gets,” Peggy said, reaching her hand behind her.
“So, is there a valuable point to that insight?”
“Just that you can make me anytime, but I’m not making breakfast again.”
“Your hand is saying one thing, and your mouth is saying another,” he said in a long moaning breath.
“Then I’ll get my hands and mouth going in the same direction,” she said with a sigh. She removed her hand, while turning around to face him with a smile, and pushed him away, laughing. “Pour the coffee and I’ll fix the plates.”
Larry stood there with his arms and mouth spread open. Completely taken aback, he said, “I don’t believe this. Oh, you are cruel. Cruel and treacherous. Where is the gun.” he laughed. He started looking around the room as though he were searching for it. “I have no other recourse. When I find it, it’s all over.” He was bent over going through their things.
Peggy tackled him knocking him to the floor. “Hey I’m not so easy to kill, remember?” Then she grew serious.
“You? I was going to shoot myself,” he said laughing and grabbing her. He started showering her with kisses. He could feel the tension in her body. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“I could see Greer lying there.” She shuddered.
“Oh, honey, honey, please don’t. Let it go. You had to. He was about to kill you and then kill me. You didn’t mean for it to happen. You acted out of self-preservation. It was the honest, selfish and just, thing to do. You had no choice.”
They sat on the floor, she, with her head on his shoulder, while he held her in his arms. He rocked her gently while she cried. Suddenly she sat up sniffling, and looking around for something to wipe her nose. Larry fell backward and reached into his suitcase and pulled out the first thing he grabbed a tee shirt. Peggy took it, blew her nose, and wiped her eyes. The cabin was full of smoke. Peggy jumped up and knocked what were the remnants of the toast off the stove and onto the floor. “I will not let those sons-of-bitches ruin my breakfast.” She went into the kitchen. Larry poured the coffee. Neither of them spoke until they had sat down to eat.
“We don’t want to forewarn them,” Larry started saying aloud what he was thinking. “We will wait until we hear from Joe. Then on our way out of here we will stop at the nearest ATM and pick up all of the cash we can.”
“We aren’t waiting for Joe,” Peggy exclaimed. “He can call us anywhere, anytime, and it won’t be here.” She had both forearms pressed hard on the table. She was trying not to tremble.
“You’re right, of course,” Larry assured. “Let’s just take a minute to pull ourselves together. We’ll leave here with clear heads and a defined purpose of action.” He reached over and took her hand in his. “We’re an unbeatable team.”
Peggy’s emotions were quieted by Larry’s touch and her resolve grew stronger hearing the assurance in his words. “We will have to be careful,” Peggy said, “the gas purchase we made will put them within fifty miles of us. They know the car.”
“That’s right, and in this part of the country, they have to be thinking, camps, hideaways; that sort of thing.”
Peggy poured the rest of the coffee into the thermos they had purchased at Plumb’s General Store. They grabbed their belongings and loaded them into the car. Larry stopped at the general store and purchased a twelve gauge pump shotgun, two boxes of shells, and a box of shells for the three-fifty-seven, snubbed-nosed. He picked up an atlas, and a state map. They found an ATM at a convenience store on the main highway, twelve miles from the general store. They traveled for another three miles and pulled off the road into a corn field. They sat there, and studied the map, waiting to hear from Joe. They had no idea which way to go. It was ten a.m.
“My pictures. We forgot my pictures. The man in the car and at the awards banquet. We’ll have to tell Joe, so he can get them. Something tells me, he is involved in all of this,” Larry said.
At twelve noon, the phone rang. “Billings, room and board, room isn’t here,” Larry said.
“I’m glad you can keep your sense of humor,” Joe said.
“Hey, while I’m thinking about it, Joe, there is a gentleman I took a picture of. He was sitting in the car Mark White was getting into, in front of the courthouse, when he had to appear for arraignment. Peggy also snapped a picture of this guy at Barbara Coin’s award banquet. The pictures are behind the couch at Peggy’s. Maybe you know him, or can find out who he is. We think he is involved in this some way.”
“Now, I’m going to test your sense of humor Larry. Someone went through Peggy’s apartment. Then they set it afire. The dark room is totally gone and there’s nothing left worth salvaging in the rest of the place. They tried to make it look like an accident, but it was set.”
Larry held the phone so they could both listen. “Is Lisa with you?” Peggy asked.
“No, no one knows where she is, and no one is looking for her. I intend to keep it that way. Greer must have been working for the Company. They found some expensive eavesdropping equipment in his trunk. A very sensitive directional mike, it amplifies . . ., anyway it is what they call a parabolic mike with a receiver. He must have been listening in on our conversation the other night. As far as I can tell, he didn’t record anything, and I don’t have reason to suspect he reported to them either. If he had, there would be word out in the street about Lisa. The only word is on you two.”
“Believe it or not, I find that comforting,” Peggy said. “It also brings to mind the reality, we are sitting in the middle of a cornfield. Did you find a place for us to go?”
“Yes, how are you fixed for cash?” Joe asked.
“Okay for now, we picked up two thousand and fifty: cleaned out our checking and savings accounts. We stopped at an ATM not far from the camp. We figured they would be in the area since we stopped for gas only twelve miles from there. They know we’re in your car, so we wanted to put some distance between them and us. The problem is we didn’t know what direction to go without talking to you first, so here we are.”
Joe was silent for a moment. He didn’t want to start yelling at them again. “Okay. That’s one of the reasons I wanted you to stay there until I called you, but it’s okay. There’s a safe house, on the outskirts of a little town called Proctorsville, about thirty miles south of here. The FBI hasn’t used it for some time. Are you familiar with Pracktorsville?”
“Yes, I’ve been through there,” Larry said.
Joe gave them directions to the safe house. “If we don’t wrap this up by the end of the month, you’ll have to get out of there before the Bureau gets the utility bill, and sends someone out to investigate. That gives us a little over two weeks. So don’t worry about it now.”
“Any other encouraging thoughts you would like to share?” Larry asked.
“Yes, I’m in this up to my ears. Once they pull my cell phone records, they’ll figure out you have my cell phone. When that happens, they will be able to trace it to the nearest transmitter to your location. So only use it when you are on the move. There’s a safe line at the house.”
“What have you learned about Cindy East?” Peggy asked.
“I haven’t heard from the Bureau yet. I’ll check with my friend after five this evening. The Company is definitely after you. They knew the two of you were responsible for Greer and Bremmer’s demise before your names were released to the press. I don’t know if it’s a connection they made, or because of the way it went down, or if there’s someone else in the department on the take besides Greer. Don’t trust anyone, and keep yourselves and my car out of danger and out of sight. Now, don’t worry too much, I’ll keep you as safe as I can from this end.” Joe didn’t want to sound sentimental. He changed his tone of voice. “How long, do you think, it will take for you to get to the safe house?”
“We’ll have to go back the way we left, about eight hours,” Larry said.
“You’ll have to find some back roads. Wait until dark, and use the cover of night to lessen your chance of being spotted. Remember, you have the police and the Company looking for you. I’ll call you at noon so you will have a chance to sleep,” Joe said. “Oh, Lisa said to tell you love and luck.”
“The same to her,” Larry said, at the same time Peggy was saying, “The same to the two of you.” Joe hung up.
They had seven hours until dark. They wished they had waited at the cabin. They didn’t want to chance being seen. They went over the map plotting out the route they would take. That left them six hours and fifty minutes. They reasoned, since they would be driving all night, they would sleep now. They reclined their seats and closed their eyes. After a few minutes they peeked out at each other and burst out laughing. As they grew silent, Peggy recognized the glint growing in Larry’s eyes. Larry jumped out of the car and grabbed a blanket from the jumble in the back seat. Peggy got out on her side and started removing her clothes, while Larry spread the blanket, as best as he could, between the rows of corn.
It was twilight when Larry and Peggy left the corn field. They had eaten the snack food they had bought at the general store. “I can’t believe, we didn’t have presence of mind to buy canned food,” Larry complained. They had left the perishables at another cabin on their way out.
“At those prices?” Peggy said. Larry gave her the, you must be kidding look. I always buy frozen,” she said, as though it were the ultimate explanation for their hunger plight. Larry shook his head and let the subject drop.
They drove for two hours and decided to stop for something to eat. They were only twenty minutes from a main road. They reasoned the police and the Syndicate would be looking for them farther north, above the place where they had stopped for gas. Larry pulled the car around to the back of the diner. A four-year-old Buick, a nondescript, primer colored pickup and an old Volkswagen Beetle, shared the rear parking area with a dumpster. He parked between the two vehicles, which most likely belonging to the employees. There were only two vehicles in front of the building, and only three people inside. Upon entering, they were looking down the length of the counter. A man in a cheap suit sat at the counter. Across from the counter, there was a line of booths, which ran the length of the counter. Two men in business suits sat in a booth toward the middle of the diner’s length. They were being served their meal. One of them, a rather large man, sat facing toward the door, and the other one sat with his back to the door. A room separator, made of lattice normally used in gardening, separated the counter and the row of booths from the rest of the diner. On the other side of the lattice work, there were two rows of booths, one along the lattice and another along the far wall. Larry and Peggy sat along the far wall. When they finished eating Larry went to the counter and had their thermos filled with coffee. The man in the booth with his back to Larry called for his check. Larry stepped beyond the lattice and signaled Peggy to leave. He went back to the counter and paid for their meal and the coffee. Peggy had already left. He thanked the waitress and strolled out the door. As soon as he was out of view he ran. “Get to the car!” he yelled as he passed by Peggy. Peggy knew there was something wrong and had been walking quickly. She now was at a dead run. When Larry got to the car he pulled out the shotgun and crouched down between Joe’s car, and the one next to him. Peggy ran around to the other side of the car and pulled the snubbed-nosed out of her purse. “What is it?” she asked.
Larry pointed to the opposite side of the building. “Watch in that direction. You know the two men in the booth? One of them is Carl, you know, the guy who helped Dicky when they were trying to drown me in waste products. I recognized his voice. You put a hoodlum in a suit and he still sounds like a hoodlum.”
Larry could see someone silhouetted by the light in front of the diner as he came around the corner and headed toward the rear. He motioned to Peggy to let her know there was someone coming his way. There wasn’t a light to illuminate the rear of the building. It was easy for Larry and Peggy to hide in the shadows between the cars. They heard a car driving away out front. Probably the salesman at the counter, they guessed. Peggy caught Larry’s eye. She was motioning toward the back wall of the diner. He couldn’t see the second man. He was a shadow moving quietly through the dark night. The lights in the front of the building went out. It was easier to see without the illuminated backdrop silhouetting the building. Larry spotted the shadow moving parallel to the building. The two figures started to converge toward the cars. Peggy and Larry inched their way toward the rear of the car. All of a sudden, a floodlight came on and Carl swung his weapon toward the diner. The other man crouched and fired his weapon at his victims. He had a street sweeper, a semi-automatic, twelve-gauge shotgun with a drum clip, which holds twelve rounds. Peggy screamed as she dived behind Joe’s vehicle. The hoodlum let off three rounds, shooting out both passenger windows and the rear window. The rest of the double ought buckshot tore through the doors. Larry jumped behind the pickup and came around to its other side as Carl swung back around toward the vehicles and opened up with his Cobray, M11/9mm Semi-automatic. It had a 32 round clip and a two-stage silencer. The value of a silencer when his partner was waking up the world with a street sweeper defied all logic. Carl didn’t have a target, but he opened up on the car. Joe’s vehicle had fourteen 9mm slugs through it before Larry could silence him for good. He hit Carl twice; once in the shoulder and once in the chest. The other man swung his street sweeper toward Larry when he heard the explosion of Larry’s shotgun. At that moment, Peggy rose up from behind the car and began firing at the would-be killer. She had gotten two rounds off, the slugs thudding into the diner wall, before the hoodlum turned back to take her out. Larry caught him in the right upper chest. In that same moment, Peggy somehow managed to hit him just above the heart. He flew backwards some three feet before hitting the ground. If it weren’t for the gunfire echoing in their ears, they would have heard the hefty fellow hitting the ground like a slab of meat.
Larry and Peggy jumped into the car and sped off. The car jounced as it ran over Carl’s leg that lay akimbo, jutting out into the vehicle's path. “Stop!” Peggy yelled.
Larry slammed on the brakes, almost putting Peggy into the windshield. She jumped out of the car and grabbed both weapons, which lay next to the would-be killers. “Go!” she yelled, leaping into the vehicle. The momentum of the car leaping forward, closed Peggy’s door. As they rounded the corner, the night cook/manager, stuck his head out to see what had happened. The dishwasher stuck his head over the manager’s shoulder. “Oh my lord, a gangland killing.” he declared.
“Drug lords, or Russian Mafia,” the cook/manager asserted authoritatively. Good thing the salesman and the young couple left when they did. The waitress was on the phone. She had come out from under the counter and called 911.
No one would know it was Larry and Peggy until the police recovered the three-fifty-seven slugs from the wall and from the hefty hoodlum. By the time ballistics made the determination, Peggy and Larry would be at the safe house wondering for how long it would be safe.
Twenty minutes down a dirt road, Larry stopped and they placed blankets over the passenger windows. The wind whistled loudly through several of the nine-millimeter holes in the car and it howled erratically as it buffeted through the windows. “Gee, do you think Bonnie and Clyde had it this good?” Peggy asked in a sarcastic tone.
“No,” Larry replied, “they were in the car when it got shot up.” One of Carl’s 9mm rounds had disabled the radio. Fortunately, the noise created enough discomfort to keep them awake while behind the wheel.










The Safe House


Proctorsville ended abruptly with an abandoned factory on one side of the highway and the shell of a defunct restaurant across the road. They were looking for these ruins as a landmark. There were weeds and bushes, which began at the foundations at the ends of both buildings, continuing outward and disappearing in the night over the rise in the road. A mile farther, a dirt road to the left disappeared over a rise between two hayfields. Larry turned onto this road, his headlights sweeping the hayfield to his right and illuminating a seldom-used dirt road. The condition of the road gave one the impression it was slowly becoming part of the hayfields. This was Barters Road, though there wasn’t a sign to announce its name. Barters Road had once been the shortcut to Crossville, and had linked the five farms in between. When the one-car bridge over Morton’s Creek washed out in the flood ten years ago, the county decided it wasn’t worth the expense of replacing it. Three of the farms had already fallen into ruin. Not enough people from either community seemed to care one way or the other about the road. There were larger cities close by, and the main highway made traveling between the two towns easier. A quarter of a mile farther there was a house on the left. They couldn’t see it in the 4 a.m. blanket of darkness, however, Joe had told them to take the first left after taking the first left off the main road. It set about three hundred feet off the road. The drive was once a graded road packed with gravel. Time and weather had taken their toll. It followed a straight line, parallel to the road. There was a two car garage directly at the end of the drive. The drive showed signs of diverging to the right of the garage, reaching out to the shed and the barn at the rear of the house. There was more mowed weed than road along this path. The drive also made a circle in front of the house, looping back to its origin twenty feet in front of the garage.
Larry found the key hanging on the nail inside the garage where Joe told them it would be. When they entered the house, he grabbed Peggy, swung her around in a circle, and gave her a kiss. “We’re home,” he announced.
“Our first home,” Peggy quipped. “Let’s get our stuff in here and crash. If we’re going to die I think it should be in our sleep.”
“I can live with that,” Larry shot back.
They trudged back to the car and started unloading. After piling everything in the living room, Larry took a flashlight and went out to investigate the barn and the shed. He put the car in the shed and padlocked the door with a lock he had found in the garage. When he returned to the house, he found Peggy all ready asleep in one of the two bedrooms. He kicked off his shoes and crawled under the blanket with her, fully clothed. Neither stirred until Joe called.
Joe told them about the match on his snubbed-nose revolver at the diner. The police and the Syndicate had intensified the search. The floppy proved to be valuable in the Bureau’s investigation of the Syndicates attempt to open shop locally. It also put a name on the shadowy figure, Cindy East. He is a man named Anthony Scott, an import/export advisor on trade development. His home office was in Portland. He had been in town for the past month. It seems Barbara Coin traced him through his connection with Mark White. At this point in time, it is the closest he could be connected to Barbara Coin. The FBI had no interest in pursuing a simple homicide when more and greater fish could be had by tracking Mr. Scott’s activities. So far, according to the Bureau’s investigation, Mr. Scott had no priors and by all appearances, he was a legitimate businessman. They did not intend to turn their information over to the local authorities. Joe had to agree with them. It wouldn’t help the investigation at this point and might even tip their hand if there was another officer in the department on the Company’s payroll.
Peggy and Larry told Joe what had happened to his car. He said his insurance should cover it. After all, he had reported it stolen. They told him they needed some provisions. Larry’s stomach was growling as they continued talking to Joe. Joe said he would send someone out to them with a couple of weeks of food, a TV and a radio. His name was Jeff. Joe gave them a description of Jeff. “I’ll send some movies also. Don’t call me. Don’t try to contact anyone, for any reason. Make believe this is your honeymoon or something. I won’t contact you unless I have something important to tell you. Lisa sends her love. She is doing fine. Is there anything else?”
“We’re in too much in a daze to know for sure, but I’m sure there is,” Larry said.
“If we think of something, can we pass it on to you via Jeff?” Peggy asked.
“Certainly. You can trust him with your life,” Joe assured them.
“We are,” they said in unison.
Joe smiled. “A janitor and a receptionist, outsmarting and outshooting cops and mobsters alike. Jeff wouldn’t stand a chance. Look, I had better get going if you two want to eat today. It could be two weeks before you hear from me, so don’t panic, and don’t go anywhere. If someone stops by and wants to know what you are doing there, tell them you’re renting the place from the Grayson’s. The locals know that name. It is the one we use for the owners. You rented it through the Everett reality company. It’s best if no one sees you, Larry. Let Peggy do the talking if someone comes by, you stay scarce. Your picture is on TV and in the papers. I’m hanging up is there anything else?”
“Steaks, and a barbecue grill. We’ll pay Jeff when he delivers,” Larry said.
There was a long silence, then Joe laughed. “I shouldn’t have asked,” he said. “Okay, but it will be that much longer before you get your supplies.”
When Joe hung up Larry and Peggy felt as though they had just been cut off from the planet earth while on a mission on the moon.
They showered, brushed their teeth and changed. When Larry finished shaving he found Peggy in the living room. From the age of the house, it had originally been called the parlor. The walls were made of laths and plaster. Everything centered on the living room. It was the main entrance. The front door was centered on the front wall. If you stood in the front doorway looking in, the stairs were to your right. There were no windows on that wall. The entrance to the cellar was under the stairs. To your left at the front of the living room was the entrance to the dining room. At the far end of the wall, which separated the living room from the dining room, there was a doorway, which led to the kitchen. The dining room had another door at its far end, which opened into the kitchen as well. There were two windows in the front wall of the living room, one centered on each side of the door. Peggy was looking out the living room window nearest to the stairs. The windows looked out upon the front lawn. From the front windows you could see up the drive all the way to Barters Road. They liked the idea of no surprise visits. In the center of the loop, which formed the driveway in front of the house, there were flowers set in tractor tires, framing a rather large birdbath. The lawn had recently been mowed. Peggy didn’t turn when she heard Larry coming down the stairs. He put his arm around her and using his chin, moved her hair out of the way to kiss her on the neck. Peggy leaned against him, turning her head to reach his mouth. “Let’s go for a walk,” she said, taking Larry’s hand. They went outside and walked around the property. They enjoyed the smell of the freshly mowed lawn. At first, they looked like two lovers on a romantic stroll, stopping to smell the flowers, giving each other small caresses and hugs, then they became animated as they plotted out their defense strategies in preparation for the day they hoped would never come. The lawn extended for two hundred feet in front of the house, and for one hundred feet in all other directions, irrespective of the garage, shed, and barn. The barn set about one hundred and fifty feet from the house. As they walked back from the barn Peggy said, “You know, I think there is an apple and a can of Vienna sausages in that little insulated tote bag we bought for keeping things cool.”
“I think you’re right,” Larry replied. “You can have the apple; I want to keep you healthy.” Peggy let go of his hand. They eyed the back entrance. It opened into the kitchen. They looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes. Both grinning, then chuckling, they took off at a dead run for the Vienna sausages.









Getting Closer - Joe Looks at the Facts


Lisa had returned to work. Since no one was after her, Joe reasoned there was no reason for her to draw attention to herself by disappearing from sight. She became relentless about helping with the investigation. Again, Joe reasoned she would unnecessarily draw attention to herself.
“Dammit, Joe, I’ve been involved with helping Larry and my sister out of the jam they’re in from the moment you and your partner locked Larry in a closet with a light glaring in his eyes. You and Greer were trying to sweat a confession out of him while I was investigating to prove him innocent.”
“Where did that come from? He wasn’t locked in a closet. There wasn’t a light glaring in his eyes; we interviewed him. His interview proved he was our prime suspect, so we interrogated him. No rubber hoses or phone books, no physical threats, just standard police procedural questioning.”
“I’m not saying you did anything wrong. I know it was your partner, Paul Greer who did the rubber hose thing . . . what do you do with the phone book?”
Joe rubbed his head; he didn’t want to have this conversation. “If you hit someone with something heavy, broad and relatively soft like a thick phone book, you don’t leave any external bruises, but it hurts like hell and scares the perp.”
Lisa’s mouth dropped open and her eyes grew large. “How would you know about things like that?”
He grimaced. “Greer told me.”
“Well, I’ve got to admit you did get me off of the subject. Nonetheless, I am not going to be sitting on the sideline while my sister and the man she loves have their lives threatened.”
“Lisa, I will need your help. I don’t have time to do everything. Now, the assignments I give you will be vital to discovering the identity of the murderer. At the same time, they will keep you out of the public’s and the Syndicate’s line of site.”
Lisa decided to let the subject drop, for now. She had some ideas of her own, and was in the process of pursuing them. “Okay, just as long as I can help in whatever way I can.” She gave him a kiss. “I’m going shopping. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
The following day, Detective Joe Farnum sat at home filling out four-by-five cards. Joe had arranged the cards in two separate layouts. The first layout concerned the Barbara Coin murder, the other concerned the Syndicate connection. Then there were the overlaps. This is what he was looking for; the connections. Connecting the dots, which said, ‘X’ murdered Coin. This is how ‘X’ is involved and these are the ties to The Company. On the Coin murder layout he had:
Crime Scene (1 of 2)
Victim lying on bathroom floor, Feet almost in the living room
Murder weapon in the kitchen sink
Few personal possessions
Apartment had been hurriedly searched


Crime Scene (2 of 2)
victim was hurriedly searched - pockets inside out - linings and breast binding cut - looking for a diskette?
Apartment searched by perp
Murder weapon hidden in sink
Several pertinent items missing (see missing items).
Clock radio blinking
Not a theft - clock-radio and small TV still in the apartment
No prints - other than the victim’s and the landlord’s
Victim
Thirty-five, female, no sign of rape, signs of a struggle (bruise on left upper arm, near shoulder, throat cut, clothes displaced, breast binding cut– not torn.) Little resistance– no blood/flesh fabric under fingernails, no defensive wounds
Dirt and wood splinters under her fingernails - probably from hiding diskette
No purse or I. D
Small amount of money pulled from pocket and left near the victim
Motives
She knew too much - The Company, local gang
Vengeance - Jennifer Lattice, Hank Coin
Hate/Anger Jennifer Lattice, Hank Coin
Money - Paul Greer, Jennifer Lattice, Hank Coin, Claude Bremmer
Passion, Sex Crime gone wrong - Claude Bremmer
Suspects
The Company: Mark White, Anthony Scott, Paul Greer
Local organizations: Richard Boxer, Johnny Marini, Carl Sweat, Paul Greer
Jennifer Lattice, Hank Coin, Claude Bremmer
Joe was creating a chart with the cards. The suspect cards spread out on the table like a graph, some connecting and others with sub-connections.
Claude Bremmer
C B had knowledge, access, opportunity; C B knew about the vent, C B knew we were waiting in the apartment for the killer to return. C B had access to L C’s apartment (vent, rope, shoebox, knowledge) C B has several utility knives.
C B’s MOTIVE
Money, passion, being extorted, hate/anger, vendetta.
This card set in between another layout.
Why C B didn’t kill Coin:
C B has no criminal record. The apartment building ownership has no criminal ties; no known criminal ties to C B, relatives, friends, etc, no known association between Coin and C B, no significant changes in C B’s bank accounts, no investment portfolio.
Then there was the Claude Bremmer as an accessory to murder theory. Again, Joe laid out the appropriate cards. These followed the same pattern as above. “Motive, I have everything except motive,” he said tapping his finger on the motive card. “I find the motive and I’ve found the killer, or prove he was an accessory to the murder. Then that leads me to the murderer. In other words, I have nothing.”
He wrote, Greer, on another card. Under this card he created the following layout:
Greer on the take - paid by The Company. Reason for selling out? Money - Close to retirement, Debts? - Did he gamble? Use?
On another card he wrote: Greer set Charles up for the murder of C B. With this were the cards: Paid by the mob to eliminate C B - Convenient to blame Charles - Vengeance - Blames Charles for his suspension + C B tricked him and made him look foolish by locking him in the bathroom (C B obvious suspect anyway) - Greer killed Coin and with the aid of Claude, set up Charles. Joe added the note addendum: If The Company paid Greer for the set up, it was obvious to Greer, Charles was innocent - back to vengeance.
The Company wanted Charles to be the fall guy - Paid Greer to set Charles up specifically - why not C B instead of Charles? - Charles was already suspect, C B could be useful in the future, apartment location close to canal operations, possibly useful in the future.
Joe followed this up with the layout, ‘The Company.’ His first card read:
Coin was on to their operations
Coin discovered something specific - Identity of Cindy East
A professional hit - Why involve C B?
There was a card attached to this one, which read - C B discovered Coin’s identity. He went to White or someone else connected- to sell his services - Where’s the pay off?
Another card read - Coin death not related to The Company - works to their advantage. This theory started another layout. Who killed Coin and why?
Vengeance - J L or half of the people who knew Barbara Coin. Barbara was a cutthroat reporter. She angered a lot of her peers and all those who were subjects of her stories; Mark White for one.
Passion - J L, C B, H C; After 3 years out of her life, Hank Coin Comes to claim her property-Why, passion or monetary? - Who inherits the property? H.C. or J L? What did she own?
Here he started a new list:
Material evidence:
Murder weapon - Utility knife
Rope
Charles’ Clothing
Award - why bring it with you? - Why send it to H C?
Then Joe started a new card:
Missing material items
Lap top
Suitcase
Notes
Briefcase
Camera
Camera? he thought. There wasn’t a camera mentioned. She was a reporter. Why wouldn’t she have had a camera? Joe took out his notepad. He wrote, “Motive-Camera-Blinking Radio?” and put it back into his pocket.
He picked up a new card. On this one he wrote Mark White. Then he started with the obvious: Vengeance and She knew too much. With Boxer and Marini it was a similar layout. Hank Coin? He knew nothing about Hank Coin. He took out his notebook and wrote, “Hank Coin?” Joe picked up another card and wrote “Earl Stepplebottom” at top center. He tapped it with his index finger and grimaced. Not Earl, please don’t let it be Earl, he thought. He rubbed his face and scratched his head with both hands, then shook his head. He needed to clear his head. Everything was starting to run together in his mind. He now had to pick an avenue to follow. From this point the card chart would shrink and grow, then shrink again. He would end up with: Crime Scene - Victim - Suspect - Means - Motive - Opportunity - Supporting material evidence. Joe looked at his watch. Lisa would be coming in at any moment. He sat back and closed his eyes. He wanted to take her somewhere nice. He jumped up and grabbed the phone with one hand and the phone book with the other. He would need a reservation and it was getting late. “Raphael’s,” the maitre d’ answered.
***
“What are going to have?” Lisa asked. She was still looking at the menu. It was her first time at Raphael’s. The prices scared her. She didn’t want to give him the impression she was going to take pity on his wallet at the expense of his pride. She knew he would recognize her intent, and the evening would be less enjoyable for him. Therefore, the evening would become less enjoyable for her as well. Living beyond your means wasn’t an easy task.
“I think I’ll have the coq au vin,” he said, pondering. That was good. It was in the mid-price range, a good indicator for Lisa to go by. “Then again, I’m drawn toward the shrimp with ratatouille.” That was in the higher priced range.
“Ooh, did you see the Chateaubriand?” Lisa asked. They have it as a special for two, and it’s served family style.”
“My, how French?” he smiled.
The cost was between the medium priced meal and a higher priced meal. “I’ve never had it before, but I always wanted to try it,” she said, joyously. Her problem was solved. Joe was happy. She was excited about having a famous French meal with wine and desert. He could skate by for around a hundred dollars.
As they ate, Lisa did a double take as a man got up from his table. He was two tables behind Joe. She reached over and took Joe’s arm. “The man in White’s car, and in Peggy’s picture. He’s walking this way,” she said, trying to look casual. Joe watched him as he circled around the table to his right. He continued toward the restrooms. “If you will excuse me Lisa. I think I will go powder my nose,” Joe said.
“You may want to wait a minute,” Lisa suggested.
“Why is that?”
“If you glance to your right, you will see Mark White, who must have just arrived, going toward the restroom, also.”
“Hmm, he must have a bladder problem, he isn’t even going to his table first,” Joe made notice.
“He must have his own table. He wasn’t even escorted by the maitre d’,” Lisa pointed out.
“This should be an interesting conversation. I may even find out who the man in the picture is. A picture by the way, which I never had a chance to see. So once again, if you will excuse me. I’m being called to the facilities as it were,” he said smiling.
When he entered the restroom, no one was in there. There were only two other doors in the alcove, one was the women’s room, the other had a combination lock on it. Joe made note of the security camera in the corner of the alcove. Its focal point was the area leading up to the door with the lock on it. Joe returned to his table and filled Lisa in on the disappearance of the two suspects. The Chateaubriand was excellent, the wine was superb, and the dessert was out of this world. They left well sated, but unsatisfied.
***
The following morning was Sunday. Lisa and Joe did some brainstorming at the breakfast table. There wasn’t much else to do after that. She was in her favorite pajamas and Joe was wearing sweat pants and a tee shirt. They were both pumped up by the previous night’s near miss and the morning inspirational. It gave him new ideas on how to proceed and awakened old thoughts on the case. Lisa wanted to stay home Monday and work with him on the case. “Sorry, lady,” he teased, “one of us has to earn money, and you’re the one with the job.” He stuck out his tongue at her and shook his head.
She grinned, stomping her feet as she turned and marched out the front door. The door opened again, and she stuck her head in. “You know, I don’t usually go out in my pajamas, unless I’m wearing a bra and panties.”
“Where were you going without bra or panties?”
She laughed, “I don’t know. I have all this energy; I need to do something, extraordinary.”
“You are extraordinary,” he replied. “Come back in here, I want to do something extraordinary.”
Lisa stepped back inside and closed the door.
“No panties or bra,” he said.
The following morning Lisa insisted on staying home to help with the case. They argued over breakfast. Joe insisted she needed to maintain a noninvolvement profile on the outside chance she was being watched, to see if she would lead them to her sister and Larry. She argued he was a detective, and he hadn’t caught anyone watching her or following her. Finally, though unconvinced, she begrudgingly conceded and started off for work.
“Don’t you solve this without me,” she warned.
“Okay, I’ll call Peggy and Larry and tell them they will have to wait for you to solve it with me,” he jested.
“That was cold. You know, sometimes you are a complete ass.” She closed the door and departed for work.
“What in the hell? What was that for?” He had no idea what set her off. Joe shook his head and went to the dining room table.
The dining table was soon covered by the murder scene layout. He stood there looking over his crime scene and scenario plots. He pointed a finger at the Material Evidence card. “The award, why bring it with you? Why was it sent to her ex, Henry Coin?” he asked the empty room. He was going to make it his business to find out.





Lisa Gets Involved

Richard Boxer looked at the application, and then he looked into Lisa’s eyes. “Miss Thompkins, if you obtained this position, you would be taking a ten percent drop in pay. Why would you want to do such a thing?”
“Two reasons, Mr. Boxer: One, as a receptionist for the Media and Marketing Group, I’m in a dead-end position. The second reason is, as secretary I will accrue the experience necessary to grow within a company. Besides, I’m sure when you see how well I function in your office you will increase my salary accordingly, at the appropriate time of course.”
“The Perriard Building, isn’t that where some janitor went berserk and killed all those people where he lived?”
Lisa had put the address on the application without mentioning the building. She hoped the street number wouldn’t attract attention to the fact, Larry and Peggy both worked there. She used her own address instead of Joe’s, and relied on her last name being Thompkins, and Peggy’s being Brandt, to preclude any association, which may be made between the two.
“Yes,” she said aghast, “I’m so glad it happened away from there. They sound like Bonnie and Clyde. Did you hear the news this morning about the big shoot-out at some restaurant? You only expect those kinds of things to happen in the movies, not in real life.”
“Yes, I agree,” Boxer said. “As I explained, here at ‘World Wide Conduit’ we deal in the temporary storage of import and export items. Every business wants to know what the competition is offering, how much it costs them and what their sources are for obtaining the particular goods. So you see, confidentiality is number one in this business. As my secretary, you would be handling, many confidential documents. This filing cabinet behind me for instance is off limits to everyone, except myself. Now, suppose a person came storming in here; I’m not around, and he is ranting about his shipment not being on time. He is threatening to take his business elsewhere, and it is a sizable account. We, World Wide Conduit, would not take kindly to losing such a lucrative account because of some mix-up. He demands to see the shipment and billing invoices for his account. What do you do?”
“I first apologize for his inconvenience, then I tell him we at World Wide Conduit, will do everything in our power to correct the problem. I will inform him we have a shipping and receiving tracking system rivaled by none. If he will just give me his documentation on the shipment, I will put it in the system and he will have his answer by the time he returns to his office.”
“We don’t have such a system.” Boxer said, raising an eyebrow.
“He doesn’t know that,” Lisa said, returning the eyebrow.
Boxer smiled. He twitched his lips, nodding his head. “You are all caught up on your work, so you decide to straighten up the office, put things in order, do some filing. On my desk there are three files. You look at the names of the files, but you aren’t familiar with them. What do you do to finish straightening up?”
“I’m sure you will set ground rules. Many managers take responsibility for their own desk, and don’t expect or want their secretary to touch anything on it. If this isn’t the case, from what you told me; they probably belong in your confidential file cabinet, and shame on you for leaving them out. If you are asking how curious I would be as to what is in the confidential files, well, not very. When it comes to business deals, the less I know about them in some sort of detailed way, the less I have to avoid saying when the irate customer comes in.”
“Well, thank you, Miss Thompkins. I have a couple of others to interview. Unless you want to discuss the position further, over dinner, I’ll be letting you know in a few days.”
“Then, in a few days, we can discuss my duties over dinner, in celebration of my new job. My treat.”





Joe’s Sleuthing Starts to Pay Off


Joe went to the Coin Construction Office. He caught Henry Coin as he was about to leave for a job site. “I can give you about two minutes, Detective. I’ve got an underground spring to contend with.”
“I appreciate your time. “Mr. Coin, if I wanted to incriminate you in a murder, I wouldn’t mail you something from the crime scene I would plant it among your belongings. You wouldn’t know about it until the police came with a warrant and showed it to you.”
“I never thought the killer sent it to me. I figured it was Barbara, for what reason I don’t know. Maybe because I told her I was sure her relationship with the Lattice woman would destroy her career. Corporations of any kind don’t like negative press. Lesbianism, while a hot, moneymaking issue for the media, is also negative press. I don’t know who sent it. Maybe someone else sent it, someone with their own agenda.”
“Who wound up with Barbara’s personal possessions? I understand there was a fight between you and Jennifer Lattice for them,” Joe queried.
“I let her have them. She’s probably right; they would do her more good and me more harm.”
“Why did you want them, and why would possessing them be harmful to you?”
“I loved her, and I still love her. The wrong memories,” Henry said. His face was hard. His eyes were starting to water. “I’ve got to run.” He walked off.
Joe called after him. “Mr. Coin, whether it was Barbara, or someone else who sent the award to you, why the call to the police? What do you think the point was in notifying us?”
“I’ve wondered about that myself. You ask a good question. I figured a really savvy detective would figure it out, and then we would both know.”
***
The award was in the evidence room. Joe wanted to look at it one more time. First he wanted to take a look at a similar one. When he walked into the Perriard Building, he spotted Lisa at her desk. He walked up to her smiling. “I was afraid you might have solved the murder, and Peggy and Larry are needlessly waiting in their luxurious country setting, eating steaks and lounging on the verandah.”
The hurt expression she put on when she saw him coming toward her with his maniacal smile broke into a large “PHAHH!” sound as she tried not to react. “That was unfair,” she chuckled. “Is that all you came here for, to apologize?”
She had him and he knew it. Any rebuttal would only work to his disadvantage; he wanted an out. The rule, ‘Ockham’s Razor’, came to mind; do not give more explanation than is necessary in any situation. There was one word she couldn’t use against him; ‘actually’. “Actually, I came here to take a look at the display case of Today’s Journalist. I want to get a second look at their award.”
“Oh, you think Barbara’s was altered in some way? Maybe she hid something in it, huh?” Her eyes had grown large, like the itinerant greenhorn who sees a few grains of gold in his neighbor's pan. Her lust for the quest was renewed.
“I guess. That might be it. I don’t know why it was mailed to her ex. I’m just digging around. I’m not sure what I’m looking for.”
Lisa was beaming. “Join me for lunch?”
“That was my next question,” he lied. “Twelve at Bernie’s, across the street?”
“Sure, love yah.” She wiggled her fingers at him as he walked off smiling.
Joe stood in front of the display case on the seventh floor, studying the Concept Award. He pulled his Pentax 120Mi out from his pocket and took a picture of it from the front and then from the side. There was something about this one that made it different from the one in the station’s Evidence Room. He looked at his watch. If he hurried he could get back here in time to take Lisa to lunch. He stopped at Lisa’s desk on the way out. “There is something I need you to check on.”
“Sure, Joe. What is it?”
“It seems to me Barbara would have had a camera.”
“I’ll let you know at lunch.”
He mouthed a kiss at her and hurried out.
When he arrived at the station it was as though he were invisible. No one looked at him or acknowledged his presence. After he passed by various officers, he could sense a change in their demeanor. The tension his presence created was obvious. He could feel their eyes cutting through the back of his head. He couldn’t catch the words, but he could hear the disdain in their voices. Finally, he made his way to the evidence room.
“Sorry,” the officer pulling Evidence Room duty said. He turned his back on Joe and made himself look busy.
“I don’t want to check it out of here, I just want to look at it,” Joe reasoned with the officer.
Without turning to face Joe, the officer said sarcastically, “You’re on suspension. You shouldn’t even be down here. Get your Captain to okay it, and I’ll even Christmas wrap it for you.”
“Just pull the damn thing, and hold it up for me to look at it, okay?” Joe asked.
Another officer in blue was walking by. The Evidence Room officer turned and called out to him. “Hey do you believe this? Detective ‘I turned on my partner, and loaned my gun and car to his killer.’ Farnum wants me to do him a favor.”
“What are you doing down here, Farnum?” the other officer asked. It sounded more like, “shrivel up and die, Farnum.”
“I think he’s looking for another partner,” the Evidence Officer said, curtly.
“Yeah, three is the charm,” the other officer said snidely.
Farnum smiled at the two officers, “Then I must be in the wrong place. I’m looking for an intelligent partner.” He turned and walked out. The two officers yelled some obscenities and vague threats after him, confirming Joe’s evaluation of them.









Lunch at Bernie’s


Bernie’s was priced right for the downtown lunch crowd. There were soups, salads and sandwiches on the menu that a secretary could afford. There was also a gourmet section with gourmet prices for those who wanted to impress themselves or someone else. Tables appeared on the sidewalk in front of Bernie’s at this time of year and they were always full, when it didn’t rain.
Lisa was sipping a soft drink at one of the tables, waiting for Joe to arrive. The wait staff eyed her begrudgingly, and would-be diners eyed her woundedly as she sipped her lonely soft drink. She gave a wave of her hand to catch Joe’s attention when she saw him searching the lunch crowd for her. She started filling him in before he was completely seated. “Here is what I found out,” Lisa said, with her eyes opened wide and shining. She wiggled her butt and leaned forward, her hands palms down, fingers outstretched and pressing against the table. She looked like a cat preparing to pounce. “Barbara has a Nikon F-100, although, she seldom used it. When there are pictures, she usually has a photographer with her. But.” She raised her hand, and held up one finger. “When she worked undercover she carried a Minox LX. It is one of those little spy cameras, small enough to fit inside a candy wrapper. I’ll bet the murderer removed it from her person, after killing her. You’re really on to something here, aren’t you?”
Heads turned toward her and ears pricked up as she vociferously talked about murderers and someone being killed in a joyous tone.
Joe smiled at her enthusiasm. He was well aware of her beauty and sensuality and how they radiated from her entire being when she became excited. “No,” he said, noticing the attention they were receiving in his peripheral vision.
“No? What do you mean, no?” she looked half-disappointed, half confused.
He lowered his voice to indicate the attention she had risen. “There was no mention of a camera by anyone in any of the reports. I thought, there should have been a camera mentioned among the suspected missing items. You have just confirmed my suspicion,”
Lisa leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Oh, something else to look for. Another mystery,” Her voice trailed off, feeling disappointed.
“Lisa, you’ll have to learn to look at things from a different perspective when you’re doing detective work. This information could prove to be very helpful. The more missing items, the more loose ends there are. A perfect murder is one without loose ends. This one has loads of loose ends. For instance, her Minox LX is not an ordinary camera. They quit making them around ‘96’. You can still get them in mint condition for about eight hundred dollars. So it isn’t something that can go unnoticed.”
“I guess I’m not fully into the detective mode. Is this information supposed to tell me something besides we have a lot of work ahead of us?” She looked doubtfully at Joe.
“Oh yes,” he said, furrowing his brow in an attempt to look as serious as possible despite the glint in his eye. “It opens up a direction in which we will travel toward the discovery of the murderer.”
“Go on,” she replied, ignoring the glint. She didn’t want to let him know his attempt to conceal his boyish joy at his latest discovery was a failure.
“We now know it wasn’t The Company. It wasn’t a mob hit.”
“I see,” she almost yelled, “if it were it would have been more, or less, quick, clean, and efficient. With all these loose ends the murderer has eliminated The Company; and the camera is one more item, which could be found to give away the fiend’s identity.”
“You know,” Joe beamed, “if a quarter of the detectives on the force were half as quick and intelligent as you, twice as many crimes would be solved.”
“You’re probably right,” she said, her back and shoulders held straight, and her body wiggling from the hips. “What did you find out about the trophy?”
“Nothing. I’m still on suspension. I couldn’t get access to the Evidence Room.
“So, what’s the next step?”
“After we finish lunch, I’m going to go and take a look at Bremmer’s place. Maybe there is something there that will help.”
“Do you still think he did it?” she asked.
“I think he was involved. There are too many factors pointing away from attempted rape gone bad. Without some evidence, I don’t have a motive for him.
“I know you couldn’t find evidence of a payoff. I think somebody has something on him, forcing him to play along, and that something has to do with Greer setting him and Larry and my sister up to be killed. Do you think, Greer could have killed her?”
“No,” Joe said, “it was too messy. There wouldn’t have been a murder weapon, etc., etc.”
“If Greer was working for The Company, like you suspect, and they didn’t do it, and he didn’t do it . . .” She held her hands palm up, arms bent at the elbow, and shook her head. She looked confused.
“See how we are closing in on this thing,” he smiled.
“Do you know how hard it is going to be for me to go back and play little miss receptionist? I’m going with you, and that’s that. I don’t want to hear it, Joe.”
“Okay, I won’t push it, however, there is another item I want you to check out. The Company has been actively trying to locate your sister, as we both know. Could you get access to Today’s Journalist phone records? Maybe we can find out who is sending hitmen after her and Larry. I’m sure they have called her office trying to get information on where she is.”
“I see. Calls other than from the police or the media asking about Peggy would probably be from someone in The Company. Okay,” she smiled, and flashed her eyebrows, “I have connections in that place and everyone is dying to help me.” Lisa thought a moment. “With you working one end of this case, and me the other, it won’t be long before Peggy and Larry will be back home, and possibly joining the Farnum & Thompkins Detective agency.”
“Well, Detective Thompkins, try to do this on the QT. Drawing attention to yourself can be very unhealthy.”
Lisa had never considered herself to be in danger. Joe, while thinking it a remote possibility, considered her out of danger as long as she didn’t attract attention to herself by becoming knowingly involved in her sister’s problem. He hadn’t considered the possibility of her returning to her own apartment. Joe didn’t want her to go beyond the reach of his protective arm. He knew how determined she could be, and if he didn’t let her help him in the investigation, she would investigate, on her own, without regard for her own safety. This way he had some control over her actions. Lisa didn’t want to be out of Joe’s reach for any conceivable reason. The only reason she would consider it would be to go undercover. Until now, she had been more afraid of Joe’s reaction than the possible consequences of her actions. If a call from the underworld had been made, and she could find out from where the call originated, she would be that much closer to proving her sister’s and Larry’s innocence. She was sure a phone call inquiring about her sister Peggy’s whereabouts had been made, and that it was made from Boxer’s office. She was certain her plan of action would be successful.
***
The blood and brains had been cleaned up in Claude’s apartment and his favorite chair had been turned upright. There was still a stain on the wall and carpet. Joe could see where they’d removed the slug remnants from the wall, after it had passed through Greer’s skull. Claude had been shot with a twenty-five caliber Beretta using dum-dums; explosive rounds. The same weapon that failed Hinkley worked well for Greer. Joe jimmied the lock and let himself in. The place had been gone over thoroughly by the police. Joe couldn’t see going over the same ground and not finding the same things. After a cursory tour of the apartment, pulling this out and looking here, then there, he sat down in Claude’s favorite chair. His exploration of Claude’s apartment, and reviewing his two conversations with Claude, gave him an insight to Claude and his lifestyle. He sat there pondering this and the evidence he had gathered. He applied these to his hypothesis concerning Claude. Something wasn’t right. Joe got up and looked at the chair. It wasn’t where it had been, not quite. Joe adjusted the chair, so that it set in the impressions in the carpet, and sat down again. Yes, he thought, this was the center of Claude’s universe. The wall to his left housed a bookcase, containing mostly western and detective novels. In front of him was the TV. Between the bookcase and the TV were two chairs. Their position indicated they were probably used for talking to tenants or interviewing perspective tenants. A small red light was mounted above the TV. During their first investigation, Farnum and Greer discovered the light would flash whenever someone entered the building. Just to the right of the TV, he could see into the kitchen. On the wall to his right, set an inexpensive stereo system. Between the stereo system and the kitchen doorway stood the entrance. The wall behind him included a desk and a filing cabinet. The entrance to his bedroom set to the left of the filing cabinet. An end table, containing a lamp and the phone set next to the right of chair. Next to the phone there was a notepad and a pen. This, not the desk, was his office. To the left of his chair, there was a TV tray. This was also his dining room.
After assessing all the information he had concerning Claude, Joe came to the conclusion that Claude wasn’t one for entertaining. His lifestyle suggested, he was someone who kept to himself. His constant banter was a means of covering up his true intentions and masking his thoughts. It was also a means of putting out feelers by which to judge an opponent and a means of gathering information. His airhead statements and probing commentary compelled one to respond. You had to respond, he gave you no choice.
Above the entrance door, there was a window; one of those windows that had the room number on it, and could be swiveled open to allow heat to escape when it was too hot or stuffy in the room. It was a remnant of when this was truly an office. Through the window, Joe could see down the hall, because of the security mirror. The Beretta probably belonged to Claude and had been kept tucked in his chair or under a magazine on the end table. Joe concluded that this was Claude’s hideout. He was a man with a dark past or tormented mind.
Now that he had some insight concerning Claude’s character, he began his search. He went through the apartment looking for evidence that would prove Claude’s involvement in Coin’s death. To find a motive, he knew he needed to know more about the man. He stuck his hand down between the seat cushion and the back of the chair Claude always sat in. He found a paper clip, a business card that read, “Tony Latelli / Barber,” 32 cents in change and a crumpled piece of paper with a phone number on it. He picked up the phone and dialed the number. It was the office of Raphael’s Restaurant. In a plastic milk crate he found, what he believed to be, the key to Claude’s past. The crate was stuffed tight with old vinyl 78’s and books. Someone had pulled them out and stuffed most of them back in, leaving some of them on the floor. Amongst them, there was a large manila envelope containing what looked like an old family reunion picture. There were about eighty or ninety people, all crowded together. In the front two rows were the children. Joe pointed at a skinny little boy with big ears. “I’ll bet that’s you Claude,” He said aloud. The picture looked like it was taken in a park. Way off in the distance there was a dome, like those seen on many state capitals and old municipal buildings. There was what looked like a river, barely visible to one side of the dome. Joe knew it wouldn’t be long before he knew Claude’s whole family.
Joe took the keys that were lying on the desk and went to the Maintenance closet. He had looked it over with his partner, Paul Greer. At that time their interest was a murder weapon. He was now interested in anything that would tie Claude to Barbara Coin, Paul Greer, The Company or to Claude’s involvement in Barbara’s death. He had no idea what could be in a maintenance room that would be an indictment of guilt, possibly Greer’s business card with a home phone written on the back, Boxer’s business card, or a pair of Ms. Coin’s panties. He was just covering all the angles. It was part of the investigation process. There, under the workbench, he found something. In a bucket of junk parts, old doorknobs, broken outlets, etc., he found a circuit breaker. On the breaker, a label read, “304.” He picked it up and went to the basement. At the bottom of the stairs and to the right were a series of circuit breaker panels. In one of the slots, Joe found an unlabeled, shiny, new circuit breaker. The one above it read, “303,” and the one after it read, “305.” Now he knew why the clock radio was flashing. Claude had been sitting in his chair watching TV. The little red light flashed and he watched through the mirror and saw Barbara Coin enter. He then hurried to the basement, flipped the circuit breaker off, and on to warn the person or persons in Coin’s apartment. The circuit breaker malfunctioned. After twenty years of faithful service it had quit. Barbara and her killer were in the dark. The killer took full advantage of the cover provided. Barbara Coin was dead.
Why would Claude become involved? Joe wondered to himself. There isn’t any sign of a payoff. Was he, in fact, repaying a debt? Something in Claude’s life that placed him in the middle of a murder and he has paid the price demanded, his life. What did you in Claude? Who were you involved with?
The only people that could be found, who knew Claude personally were his barber, Tony Latelli, the man in 105, Martin Boyd, and Nicholas Bassett, who operated the deli down the street. They played pinochle on Saturdays, and bowled on Wednesdays. They were all bachelors except for Nicholas, who was a widower. None of them knew anything about Claude’s personal life apart from Saturdays and Wednesdays.
“He liked his privacy,” Tony explained.
“When we talk about our families, or you know, things from the past, he didn’t talk,” Martin said.
Nicholas pressed the fingers of his right hand lightly against Joe’s arm. “It’s like I told the other policemen, if we pushed a little he would say something like, “Why, are you falling in love with me? It’s your deal,” or “Do you want to talk and hold hands, or do you want to play cards?” The rest of the time, he was a motor mouth.
That evening Joe told Lisa about his discovery, and asked her if she could take the afternoon or morning off the following day to go to the library. He wanted her to look at pictures of state capital buildings, and old municipal buildings. Lisa said she would call in sick. She also told him, it would be another three days before they received the phone records for the past billing period. Joe said he would drop in on Johnny Marini in the morning. They agreed to meet for lunch again to fill each other in on their progress.





Joe and Johnny Spar


Two blocks from World Wide Conduit on Ivy Street, there was another enterprise: Marini’s Wholesale Sea Food. Marini’s main office and warehouse were on Canal Street. Prey Street, where Undercover Officer, Eddy Brockton was killed in the foiled raid, was in-between Canal and Ivy Street; in-between Marini’s and Boxer’s warehouses. That particular warehouse was owned by a corporation, which was owned by a holding company that was owned by, etc., etc., etc. Everyone knew Marini controlled the illegal weapons market and Mark White controlled the drug-smuggling organization. Joe learned, from his connection at the Bureau, that mob money and mob lawyers were handling Mark White’s defense. He also learned the crime boss, Giorgio Carducci, had a private dining room in the basement shared by the Brandenbaum Antique Emporium and Raphael’s Restaurant. He wondered if Marini had been at the meeting with White and the man in the picture. He doubted it. He at least hoped that Marini was still on the outside. He hoped to use him as a lever to pry open The Company’s connection to Coin’s murder, and maybe shed some light on their progress in attempting to take over the warehouse district. Joe was sure the handful of weapons, which were seized in the Eddy Brockton raid, had been Marini’s. He was sure it was White’s drugs, and foreign money that eluded the police.
Marini’s Office set in the middle of the block. Joe went into the Coffee Shop, two doors up from Marini’s, ordered their special blend, and sat at the front watching the street. After a few minutes he had the information he was looking for. There were two surveillance crews watching Marini’s. One was set up in a van catty-corner to his office. Most likely, they were videotaping and listening as well. The other was in a window on the second floor across the street. The operation, upstairs, didn’t look like the standard law enforcement operation, although to detect any surveillance, you really would have to be looking. Joe left the shop and entered the door accessing the apartments above the shop. He went to the end of the hall and looked out the window with his binoculars. He saw two bored males. One man had a pair of binoculars and the other man had a shotgun mike mounted on a tripod, and he was wearing a headset. He knew there was a receiver and a recorder in the room as well. There wasn’t a camera being used. They didn’t have to prove anything in a court of law. They didn’t need or want proof that specific. They had their own system of justice. They would either set Marini up for a fall, or wipe him out if he didn’t learn to play ball. The latter was more likely. Joe wrote down the information about the two surveillance operations and the note, ‘When is the last time you scanned for bugs?’ He stuck it in his pocket.
Joe walked passed the secretary and into the waiting room that connected to Marini’s office. The two men in the waiting room would have looked at home in a large road house, wearing black tee-shirts that had the word “bouncer” in white above the left pectoral muscles. The Secretary started out of her chair yelling, “Excuse me, sir!” The young thug on Joe’s left jumped up as Joe jerked the door open. In one motion, Joe opened the door, stepped in and fell on to his left knee, his left fist shooting straight out and into the thug’s groin. Almost in the same instant, Joe reached out his right hand grabbing the second young thug by the right leg, jerking his feet out from under him. In an attempt to strike Joe, the second thug shifted his weight forward to maintain balance. He hit the floor in a sitting position. Joe thrust both of his fists into the faces of the two men at the same time. It was all over in about six seconds. The way Joe saw it, he had no choice; he couldn’t stop them with his badge, it was in the Captain’s desk. It was purely a matter of self-defense before the fact.
Joe burst into Marini’s office. Marini had bolted out of his seat, having heard the commotion outside. “Put that away,” Joe ordered, pointing to the gun in Marini’s hand. “We have to talk.”
“Who in the hell are you? Why did you break in to my office?” Marini asked.
Joe handed him the piece of paper he had stuck in his pocket. Marini read it glancing up at Joe a couple times in-between. Joe had immediately responded to Marini’s questions to eliminate the suspicious pregnant pause that would have followed had he waited for Marini to read the note.
“I’m Joe Farnum. I was a dammed good cop until they pulled my badge and gun. Now, I’m a pissed-off citizen who knows all the ins and outs of the police and organized crime. I broke into your office, because it is the quickest and easiest way to get an appointment.”
“Don’t tell me ‘easy,’ I’m paying too much money for those trained monkeys out there.” Marini gestured with the note, “Besides this place is clean. The only thing I have to worry about is jerks, like you, busting in here.”
“It took me all of three seconds to get in here. You must be renting them from The Company and paying out the nose,” Joe chided.
“Six seconds, maybe ten,” Marini said, reproofing Joe, “you aren’t that good. What do you want, ex-police officer Joe Farnum? You’ve earned yourself ten seconds of my time. After that, I’m going to call them boys in here and you won’t have the element of surprise.” Marini pushed the intercom. “Nancy, how about some music?” Rather loud music started emanating from the front office.
“Isn’t that the kind of situation that you hired them to handle?”
“Now you have five seconds.” Marini turned on his stereo, and walked Joe to the other end of the room, behind the speakers. “What do you want, Farnum? We can’t be heard.”
“Carducci is trying to take over your business. White, Boxer and the others are siding with the organization. Even some of your boys have turned their heads. You’re going to have to go along, and at this point with prejudice or, to use Boxer’s term, become fish bait.”
“That slimy pig bastard said that about me?” He knew it was true, he knew Boxer. What he meant was, “How do you know all this?”
“I’m going to help you keep your enterprises intact, in exchange for you helping me clear my friends of murder. Together we’ll put an end to Carducci’s take-over attempts, which are something we both want.”
The second thug came barging in through the door, still trying to fight the fog surrounding him. He didn’t like being suckered, and he didn’t want his reputation ruined. He stumbled toward Joe, both fists raised, partly for balance. Joe slapped him upside the head, catching the thug full in the ear. He followed through with the blow, his hand following the thug's head to the floor. He was out. The other thug could be seen in the open doorway. He was moaning, holding his head with one hand and his crotch with the other. “Pathetic,” Joe said, shaking his head.
Marini stood there looking dispassionately at his two goons. “This is how you get yourself back on the Force?” He stepped across his goon and closed the door before joining Joe beyond the noise barrier.
“No, but that would be icing on the cake. What I want, are my friends cleared of murders they didn’t have anything to do with, and Carducci out of business here.”
“And me?” Marini asked.
“I like things simple, things I can touch. The Company is like a heavy, dangerous mist. You can’t touch it.” Joe indicated his present surroundings with a swinging gesture of his hand. “The local genre, I can touch.”
“You’re telling me you want things back to normal so you can screw with me,” Marini stated rhetorically. “You have a hell of a lot of balls___”
“Let’s not waste each other’s time stating the obvious. Let’s do what is in your best interest, and what is in my best interest. Together, we can beat them. We will worry about our paths crossing in the future, at a more convenient time.”
“Okay, Farnum. Give me a couple of days. I’ve got to think about it.”
“That sounds reasonable. Give me a number where I can reach you, I don’t want to run you out of muscle.”
***
Joe had waited half an hour at Bernie’s for Lisa. He sat inside at the bar nursing a Guinness Stout. Finally, he ordered lunch for the two of them. The order arrived as Lisa walked in the door. The waiter showed them to a table.
Lisa couldn’t keep it all in. Before the waiter had departed, she began. “I didn’t find it yet. I can continue this afternoon. I had to cut my search short because, . . Joe, I don’t want to hear it. If you are going to carry on I’ll get up and leave.” She looked quite adamant, and deadly serious.
“What is it, I am carrying on about?” Joe looked puzzled.
“Do you think it’s right for you to go out on a daily basis, risking your life, without any regard to how I feel about it?” she said, pointedly.
“This is my job. It was my job before I met you. There was never a question about what I did. What are you talking about?”
“Do you think it is fair for you to put yourself at some risk, knowing I care for you more deeply than I’ve ever cared for anyone in my entire life?” she asked, looking him in the eyes.
Joe studied her for a moment. He didn’t know where she was coming from or what could have prompted her attack. He knew he had to end this right now. If they were to continue in their relationship, she would have to accept his decision to live his life in the manner he had chosen. “The risks, I sometimes, take are inherent in the profession that I have chosen. I don’t know what prompted your lack of tolerance for my chosen occupation, but this is what I do, and will continue doing. With this as a basis, whatever seems to be a problem for you, we can discuss it and work toward a solution. I hope.”
Lisa sat there and stared at him.
“If you were in my position you would take the same point of view. Think about it. You know I’m right,” he said.
“And you would be just as accepting of my decision, as you expect me to be of yours?” she asked.
“Of course.”
She lowered her head, looking at the rim of his plate. “Okay, then you will hear me out before saying anything?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t get the research on the dome buildings completed because I had to run home to my apartment to check my answering machine. You see, I applied for and got a job as secretary to Dicky Boxer,” she smiled. “Joe, I’m on the inside. I can be of more help to you and the invest___”
“Of all the rotten, conniving, unconscionable, dirty tricks! You missed your calling lady; you don’t want to be a detective, you want to be a lawyer.”
Lisa kept her eyes on his, but her posture was relaxed. She picked up her sandwich and took a bite. She was relieved. His reaction wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be.
“No, no, I’m wrong, a politician. Yes, that way you could ambush thousands, even millions of people, all in one stroke. And you will probably be assassinated for your efforts” He stopped and looked at her. “Say something, damn it.”
“Something, damn it.”
Joe threw his hands up in the air, his eyes rolling back. He jumped up from his chair and walked around it, one hand remaining on the chair’s back as he circled, and sat down again. “What in the hell were you thinking?” He almost shouted.
Lisa leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “I was thinking I could learn more about the mob and their involvement in Peggy and Larry’s situation from the inside than I could otherwise. I like to refer to them as the mob,” she added, nodding her head affirmatively. “I start there tomorrow. What did you learn from Marini?”
Joe sat there and stared at her.
Still in a low voice, she asked, “Did you notice how everyone in the place has stopped staring at us? Except for the guy to your left. His ears are still pricked up and pointing this way.”
Joe burst out laughing. He eased his feelings of fear and trepidation that accompanied her announcement by thinking, she could easily stay one step ahead of ‘the mob. He didn’t buy his own supposition completely. I have to wrap this case up quickly, very quickly, he thought.








Joe Becomes Familiar with the Women in the Case

Barbara Coin owned an apartment in a high-rise. It had been sealed by court order, pending the settlement of the estate. The door attendant recognized Detective Farnum from when he was doing routine questioning, and let him into the building. Although it was Greer and Farnum’s case, Detectives Lester and McKeegan conducted the actual search of the apartment. The City wanted this one wrapped up quickly. The theory was simple. It was simple because it was a government theory. “If one person can do it in ten hours, let’s put ten people on it and it will be completed in one hour.” They forgot about things like, “too many cooks spoil the soup,” and “the left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing.” Lester and McKeegan went through Barbara’s apartment right behind the Crime Scene Search Unit. Joe wasn’t surprised by the condition of the apartment. It had been gone through, before the crime was discovered by someone who knew what they were looking for. They didn’t seem to care about anyone discovering the place had been thoroughly searched. He was surprised that it wasn’t mentioned in the Lester, McKeegan report on their portion of the investigation. The Crime Scene Specialist report included a complaint against the detective division for “disturbing the crime scene.” They obviously believed it was Lester and McKeegan who had searched the apartment.
It seemed to Joe, the perp, or perps, went through the apartment as soon as, if not before, Coin was murdered. The place wasn’t in shambles, although, it was obvious many things were not in their proper place. Since they knew what they were looking for, the indications of where they had searched made it easier for Joe. He didn’t have to look there also, because he was looking for the same thing, something incriminating. He went from room to room, checking for the inconspicuous, and the untouched. There was a picture missing from the mantel. Barbara hadn’t been in her apartment for three weeks before she was murdered. It was going on a month since she was murdered. The difference in dust layers left an outline of where the picture had rested.
There were two baths; a half bath off the living room and a full bat with a Jacuzzi in the bedroom. When Joe looked inside the medicine cabinet, he found four screw holes, two each on two different shelves, but no screws. It was a tight fit, nevertheless, it came out of the wall. He had to look, even though he was sure he wouldn’t find anything in the wall. The Crime Scene Unit had to notice the mount screws were missing from the cabinet. He was surprised when he saw something at the joist level, inside the wall. It took him three minutes to fish it out using straightened coat hangers; one with a hook for moving and prodding, one with a loop on it. It was a miniature flashlight. It wasn’t an ordinary flashlight. It was a diver’s 10,000 candlepower, rechargeable, deep-sea flashlight, waterproof down to five hundred feet. It cost around a hundred dollars. It would be hard, though not impossible to trace to its owner. Someone to whom money isn’t everything, but has it to spend.
The bedroom didn’t reveal any clues. The color scheme, decor and personal items said she was a very sensual and passionate woman. The rest of the house had a contradictory decor. There was a comfortable “this is my home” feel inspired by a few personal touches. A formal, almost business atmosphere surrounded the personal touches. Each person who entered knew where the line was drawn. Joe concluded she wasn’t one for mixing business with pleasure.
By the time he finished, he realized whoever had searched Barbara Coin’s apartment had removed anything pertaining to her work. There were only two possible reasons, or they may be one in the same: To insure there weren’t any connections to The Company, and/or it was someone she knew, someone she worked with. Someone who didn’t want the authorities finding a name, and connecting it to The Company, and/or to the murder. Joe smiled. He was getting closer. His next move would be in the evening. He would call on Jennifer Lattice.
***
Jennifer opened the door and held it open about six inches. Her eyes scanned Joe from head to foot, taking in his comportment and physical characteristics. “Yes, Officer?” The door attendant had told her that a Detective Farnum was there to see her. Without hesitation she said, “Send him up.” Now, she seemed to be having second thoughts.
“Ms. Lattice, I’m Detective Joe Farnum. You need to talk to me,” he said.
“Really.”
“Knowing there was a rather severe rift between you and Ms. Coin, I believe you are, nonetheless, interested in seeing her murderer brought to justice.”
“I see. You are implying that if I refuse to talk to you, I am saying I don’t want to see her murderer brought to justice.”
“That is a point to be considered, but not the one I am trying to make. The tabloids are making a fortune off your involvement with Barbara Coin and your professional breach with her over the Mark White Story. While some of the rags imply you murdered her, others are saying you were having a ménage à trois with Charles and his girlfriend, and that he killed her at your request.”
“I know all this,” she said dryly.
“I know your work is suffering. You can’t cover a story; your company is hesitant to use what you write. They want you to put your work under someone else’s name. That is why you need me. So, you can get your life back.”
“You have been doing your homework, haven’t you?” she said, opening the door to let Joe in. Actually, he had been guessing, basing it on other people who had been torn apart by the press. “Okay, that buys you three minutes. If you haven’t said anything I care to hear in that time, you’re out of here, understand?”
As he stepped in he surveyed the apartment. Jennifer Lattice owned an upscale condo on Nineteenth Street. It was on the fourteenth floor. She had an exquisite view of the park and the bay beyond. When you entered, you were standing in an area, which was cut into the shape of an arc. At one end of the arc, there was a door, presumably a rather large coat closet to accommodate the trappings of guests at parties. Two steps that followed the shape of the arc led into the living room. There was a bar to the left, on the right were two French doors that opened up onto a balcony. Three full length sofas and several other chairs dominated the room. Straight ahead, two steps led up to what must have been the dining room. His general impression was, it spoke well beyond the income of a journalist. Jennifer led the way and motioned casually toward a seat, taking one across from him. She didn’t say a word. The clock was running. “Charles stole my car and killed my partner with my backup piece. I have a vested interest in his capture, and ensuring that he receives the death sentence. Help me get him and both of our lives return to normal. You can help me by answering my questions, offering anything you might think is helpful, and correcting anything I may misunderstand. You have nothing to lose. Are you willing to work with me on this? If not, three hundred minutes won’t be enough. I might as well walk out right now.” Joe stared at her as casually as he could. He didn’t want to scare her off. People tend to think he sees too much.
“I don’t know how I can help you. The police are after this Charles person for several murders. What is it you need? Ask me something.”
He had succeeded. The easiest person to sell is a salesperson. A reporter quite often has to be a salesperson to get a story from the unwilling. She was a professional. “I would like to start with Claude Bremmer, the superintendent at the apartment building where Ms. Coin was murdered. As you may know, Mr. Charles murdered him as well. When you went there to pick up Ms. Coin’s things, did Mr. Bremmer say anything that would shed light on these murders?”
“He thought there was something weird about Charles. I mean if it’s true what they say, you know, he bathed in her blood.” She shuddered. “How weird can you get,” she said rhetorically. “Claude, that is Mr. Bremmer, said he had noticed him watching her. I think he is a very disturbed young man.”
“Did Bremmer have any reason to think Charles knew what she, that is, Ms. Coin, was up to?”
“No. He was surprised to discover it was a woman in 304.”
“Why do you suppose Charles didn’t take her TV and clock radio?”
“He’s a pervert, not a thief. Or perhaps he lost it when he realized in his attempt to rape her, he had accidentally slashed her throat. Trying to grab her, hold her perhaps. He just ran away,” she said it in a flat, matter-of-fact tone of voice. Her lower lip was trembling slightly. “This is hard to talk about. Could we take a different venue?”
“When you went to see Mr. Bremmer about getting Ms. Coin’s personal possessions, where you surprised to find out Henry Coin had asked for them as well?”
“The man is insufferable.” Perhaps talking about Barbara’s death had unnerved her, but she was no longer detached. Color came into her face, and her arm movements were more rigid. “He threw her out with only the clothes she had on, and promised a fight to the death if she tried to get one solitary thing from him. She didn’t even try, of course. She was too much of a woman for that. She was too independent. She had too much pride. It certainly wasn’t because she wasn’t a fighter. She could get down and dirty with the best of them. . . I digress. He hadn’t spoken a word to her, since he threw her out. Then, he had the nerve to lay claim on what little she did possess.”
“Why did he throw her out, and in the manner you mentioned?” Joe asked.
“Because, she was sleeping with me.”
“I see. Why do you suppose he wanted to claim her belongings?”
“Her belongings? You make it sound as if, are you under the impression he was only laying claim to what was in the apartment where she was killed?”
“Yes, that was my understanding.”
“Oh no, he wanted it all, her entire estate, not that it has great value.”
“You are getting it?”
“No. There are certain things we shared that I want, however, the estate as it is, goes to her family. She has a mother and a brother in Canada. That is where she was born. Did you know that?”
“No. There wasn’t anything in her home relating to her work, not so much as a pencil.” Joe stated.
“Is there a question?”
“You don’t seem surprised.”
“She kept her home life and her career separate. Everything she used in the field she carried with her, everything else she kept at the office. Would you like something to drink?” she asked, getting up.
“A bourbon and water would be nice. Why did she send her award to Henry Coin?”
She stopped just short of the bar. She turned to face Joe. “I have to ask. How are these particular questions going to clear me, and help you to catch the Charles fellow?”
“There are a lot of loose ends. Loose ends that a smart lawyer would use in court to get him off, by letting them fall either through the cracks or by capitalizing on them. The more loose ends there are, the more ammunition the rags have to use against you.”
“Do you have any other questions?” she demanded.
He had hit a nerve. “Let’s try this one. If it were a rape gone bad, not a robbery; why take all the tools of her trade, the lap top, her brief case, her notes, recorder, and suitcase?”
She studied him intently. Finally, giving her head a little sideways nod, she replied, “I don’t know, you will have to ask him.”
“Him? Do you mean Henry Coin, or Larry Charles?”
“I’d put my money on Henry, if it wasn’t for the certitude Charles is the one they will convict.”
“Doesn’t it bother you that the guilty party may not be punished?” Joe accused.
“If the guilty party slips by in this world, the next will be more cruel and unforgiving. You see detective, I don’t believe, we ever get away with our sins. Charles and Henry Coin will both get their just rewards in the end.”
“Why Henry Coin? What would be his motive? Like you said, he hasn’t associated with her since he threw her out?”
“He idolized her. She was the center of his life. Her unfaithfulness destroyed him. It has been gnawing at him ever since. I’ve known him longer than I’ve known Barbara. He is a very possessive and controlling man. When he took her as his wife, he tried to blend her into his own being, make her an extension of himself, and in the process destroy her individuality. The only reason she married him was to prove to herself she wasn’t a lesbian. That is where I came into the picture. He would have destroyed her, Detective. As strong a woman as Barbara was, she would have let him erase her as a person. She would have lived the lie. A slow death isn’t living. I saved her. I gave her a reason to live, by allowing her to discover who she was. I gave her the courage to be herself. It was that simple.”
“How did you meet Henry Coin?”
“We belonged to the same scuba club. That’s how I met Barbara. She was his fiancée.”
“There’s another thing that bothers me, Ms. Lattice. If he killed her by accident, as you suggested, why did he take the time to hide the murder weapon in the sink among the dirty dishes? It doesn’t strike me as something someone would do in a panic. They would wipe it off and throw it down, or take it with them. Why take the trouble to bury it in the sink pile?”
Her mouth opened a little. Her eyes were fixed on his, but she was looking inward. After a moment she looked at him. “You certainly raised some very interesting questions. I hope you don’t decide to work for the Larry Charles defense team, or Henry Coin’s for that matter. I can’t see where I can help you with any of this. Is there anything else?”
“Someone went through Ms. Coins apartment before the police even knew that she was murdered. If she didn’t keep anything at home related to her work, what could they have been looking for, and what could they have found? You see there doesn’t seem to be anything missing except for a picture from the mantel.”
“I took the picture,” Jennifer offered, “this one here.” She picked up a picture from the bar and held it out to Joe. He went to her, and looked at the picture. It was a picture of her and Barbara. “As for anything else, a few personal items you wouldn’t be interested in, just mementos of our relationship.” She took the picture from him, and walked toward the door. He took his cue and followed her. “I hope I have been of some help, Detective Farnum.”
“Thank you for your time, Ms. Lattice. If you think of anything that may help you, give me a call.” He handed her his card. “I can be reached at my home number.”
Joe was anxious to get home to discuss Lisa’s decision to work for Boxer. He had hoped to talk with her after work, before going to see Jennifer Lattice. She didn’t come home as usual after work. Lisa had avoided the one on one by leaving a message on his machine. “Hi lover, I’m going to grab a sandwich or something and go to the library. There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you don’t want to eat out. Love you, bye.” He chewed on leftovers for a few minutes and tossed the rest into the garbage. He would have to wait until he returned from his interview.
When he arrived home she was curled up on the sofa with a bowl of strawberry ice cream, buried in chocolate topping and whipped cream. She patted the seat next to her. “Come on, I can’t wait to hear about your day,” she smiled. Joe sat down, and she shoved a spoonful of the mixture at his face. He moved his head away and shook it negatively.
“Let’s start with your day. How about with your progress at the library, and we’ll work our way into the hard stuff from there?” he suggested.
“Wellp,” she spooned some of the concoction into her mouth and licked the cream off her lips. “This is great, are you sure you don’t want some?”
Joe shook his head again. Then he kicked his shoes off, drew one foot up onto the sofa, and clasped his hands over his knee. He moved his shoulders to relax the muscles and leaned back on the sofa. He had all the time it would take.
“I had no idea there were that many cities in this country with domed buildings. I mean not just state and municipal capitals; there are also libraries, museums, churches, business enterprises, you name it. My God, domes with a park; about one third of them. When you throw in a river, well, you cut the third down to a tenth. Then I got lucky, Jefferson City, Missouri. Just like in the picture. I mean, I am good. It’s all in knowing how to sort, and how to ask the right questions.”
“Who did you ask?” he queried.
“Myself,” she said in a tone that said ‘obviously,’ “but it still had to be asked. I had to know the questions, before I could find the answers, right?”
Joe decided not to pursue this any further. She was obviously stalling in an attempt to put off the Boxer issue. “You’ll have to go there tomorrow to find out what you can about the family gathering,” he said, baiting her.
“Joe . . . haven’t you been listening?” She looked adamant, as well as frustrated. “Tomorrow, I start my undercover job at Boxer’s. That, I think is more important than Claude’s family. I mean finding out who directed the hit on Barbara Coin, and if the mob knew about or planned Greer’s murder of Claude and the botched murder of Larry and my sister.”
“I see,” he said, stroking his chin. “How are you going to do that? What is your plan?” He looked at her earnestly. He knew he couldn’t stop her. What she was doing scared the hell out of him. He could at least guide her and give her the benefit of his experience. Hopefully, it would be enough to keep her from getting herself killed.
“Well, basically I will do the secretary thing and keep my eyes and ears open. When it looks safe, I’ll see what he has on his computer and on his desk.” She was getting into it. Her eyes glistened. She unconsciously put her bowl of security to the side and adjusted herself on the sofa, her legs folded under her, sitting back on her ankles. I’ll see if I can get into his classified file cabinet. You will have to teach me how to pick the lock.”
“All right,” Joe said, “now, when you’re doing your duties as a secretary, you will have to learn how to listen without showing any signs of listening. Remember that guy in the restaurant that had his ears tuned to our conversation?” She stared at him, looking perplexed. “That was a question.”
“Joe, he couldn’t help but tune in, you were yelling about lawyers, and politicians, and being assassinated.”
“Yes, Lisa, and I haven’t forgiven you for being so mischievously clever, for lack of a better term, without becoming rude.” She gave him a devilish grin. “The point is his mannerisms gave away the fact he was listening. The pricked up ears, the slight turn of the head, or the stiffness in the neck, and all the other little signs of listening to someone else’s conversation. You have to learn to listen without physically indicating you are doing so.”
“Yes, okay, thank you for the pointer. This is good, I need your help,” she said, sincerely. Her heart started racing a little faster. In the back of her mind was the thought of the danger she could be placing herself in. She was hungry for his full support and all the knowledge he could impart to keep her safe. She reached for the bowl of ice cream, never taking her eyes off his face as he told her about the challenges and pit falls of undercover work.
“Don’t carry anything in your purse you don’t want found. They will go through it from time to time. They may in an off-handed manner say something to see if you are privy to something you shouldn’t know about.” She jumped up. “Wait a minute,” she said, “I won’t remember all this.” She ran and got a pen and paper, and then bouncing back into her position on the couch, she started writing. “Okay, go ahead.” He told her everything, he could remember. Everything he had learned, through experience and training. Finally he said, “That should be enough to keep you from getting killed.”
“Wait, one more thing,” she reminded him, “you didn’t teach me how to pick a lock.”
“It isn’t that easy. There are so many different kinds; warded locking mechanisms, lever tumbler, pin tumbler, wafer, or disc tumbler. Then there is the medeco, double tumbler, and the high security locks. I would have to know what kind it was before I could tell you anything. I might not even know how to open it. Leave the file cabinet alone for now. If we need it, it will still be there.” He didn’t even want her snooping around on Boxers desk. Hell, he didn’t want her to leave her safe little receptionist station at the Perriard Building. To make it worse, he was going to have to go to Jefferson City, Missouri for a day, maybe more.
“Oh,” she said, remembering, “tomorrow night I’m having some of the girls from work over here.”
“A little going away party?”
“Going away? No,” she replied, “a finding out party. They’re coming over here with a copy of the phone records, and we’re going to decide who made what calls to whom and about what.”
“I see,” he said, sounding a little concerned. “I hope too many cooks don’t spoil the secrecy.”
“How?”
“The more people who know what you are doing, the greater the chance that the wrong people will find out what you are up to.” He had never heard of nor envisioned an investigation being conducted in this manner.
“I’ll tell the girls to keep it on the QT.”
Joe made a face and shrugged. What more could he ask for?
“So, what did you find out?” she asked
“I am expecting a call, from Marini, within the next two days. I think I can get him to roll over on his ex-compatriots. As I pointed out to him, he can lose control of his business or help me bring them down.
I went through Barbara Coin’s apartment and discovered that someone else had gone through it in a very thorough manner. I’m sure they went through it, before the police arrived, probably before the body was discovered.
“So, her murder was a mob hit?”
“Let’s look at the rest of the evidence, Joe Smiled. There was nothing in there related to her work. I could tell from the layout that she liked to keep work and play separate, although, not to that extent, which is what Jennifer Lattice tried to sell me. Anyway, that is another story. I found this, a hundred dollar, rechargeable, diver’s flashlight in the wall behind her medicine cabinet.”
Lisa took the flashlight and examined it. “Behind the medicine cabinet? Boy, do you do a thorough search.”
Joe grinned, “You can’t be too thorough; I even pulled off baseboards and door frames.”
Lisa’s mouth dropped open, then she burst out laughing. “I can’t believe, I was almost that gullible.”
“What?” He asked, giving her a questioning and defensive stare.
“Joe?”
It was his turn to burst out laughing. “Okay, at the murder scene, the medicine cabinet screws were missing, and the mount screws had been pulled out of the cabinet in her apartment.”
“Why would anyone think of looking behind a medicine cabinet?” She still had that incredulous look on her face.
“The only reason I can think of is the one performing the search knows their victim’s habits. Barbara Coin probably hid things there in the past.”
“So it wasn’t the mob who killed her it was someone who knew her.” Lisa reasoned.
“We don’t know for sure. Maybe they killed her, and someone else conducted the search, or there was more than one search. Regardless, at this point, there are only two suspects who knew her habits.”
Lisa’s right hand shot out, her index finger pointing at the suspects. Henry Coin and Jennifer Lattice.”
“We know Henry is involved, somehow. He received the award. I know Jennifer is involved. She searched Barbara’s home.”
“What did she tell you?” Lisa asked.
“It’s what she didn’t say that guaranteed her a seat on the suspect A-list.” She indicted Henry Coin for Barbara’s murder, and gave an extensive explanation for a motive, however, when I asked about his receiving Barbara’s award, she avoided the question. She didn’t rebuke my theory; it was Barbara who had sent it too him. Nonetheless, her not denying the possibility of Barbara sending him the trophy tends to rebuke her account of the relationship between Barbara and Henry.”
“So your next move will be to have a heart to heart with Henry?” Lisa guessed.
“It’s on the list,” he replied, however, I have to go to Jefferson City, Missouri first.
“Maybe a woman’s approach would be more revealing. If you want, I could interview Henry Coin for you.” Lisa suggested.
“No, I don’t want your face known by too many players in this game. Your undercover work is our ace in the hole.”
Lisa struggled to contain her elation. He had just told her that he recognized her as an indispensable major player. Somewhere in the room there was an announcer saying, “Congratulations, you are now a full-fledged detective!” “Yes, you’re right. I could do some in-depth background work on Henry Coin. Who knows what I might uncover?”
“That’s a good angle. It might help me ask the right questions.” Joe couldn’t imagine having a better partner. If he could just shake the feeling of dread that hit him whenever he thought about her snooping around in a den murderers.




Lisa’s First Day with Boxer


Boxer watched Lisa, as she approached his office, from the warehouse entrance. He was sure with the right training, she could become an invaluable asset to him. She was smart, cunning, and had more balls than most men. She had just a little more breast than her petite figure suggested as a balance in form. He liked that. She stopped and turned sideways to speak to one of the men in the warehouse. It gave him a chance to admire her firm round buttocks, along with the rest of her lovely firm body. He liked that, too. Boxer let out a long sigh. “What a waste,” he said, shaking his head sadly. When she turned back to continue toward the office, he put his head down and resumed working on the papers in front of him. He didn’t look up until she entered the office.
“Good morning Mr. Boxer,” Lisa said, smiling broadly.
Boxer smiled and glanced over her body as though he had noticed her for the first time since her arrival. “Hello, Ms. Thompkins. I’m glad you accepted our offer for employment. I know the pay isn’t as much as you had been receiving at the Perriard building. Regardless, as you pointed out, to our advantage I must say, this position gets you in the door as a personal secretary. I can guarantee, you will never work as a receptionist again.”
“Yes, and I appreciate the opportunity you are giving me.”
“Okay, Ms. Thompkins, let’s get down to business. First, there is the matter of you owing me a dinner,” he said. His eyes slightly squinted and his smile spread in a straight line further into his face. It made his features resemble the avaricious pig depicted in Animal Farm. Lisa interpreted it as a greasy smile.
“Seven o’clock at Sho’ Pan’s on Gardenia Boulevard,” she said enthusiastically.
“I love Oriental. A good choice,” he complemented. “I’ll pick you up at, say, six forty-five.”
“No, that would be too much like a date. I would like to try and maintain something of a professional relationship with my employer. I’ll meet you there, if you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. Now, let’s get to the less relevant; that is your desk.” Boxer pointed to a desk in a small office next to his. There was a large window between the two offices, with blinds only on his side of the window. They were open. Lisa was sure when she had been here for the employment interview, there were blinds on both sides of the window. Boxer motioned for her to precede him into her new office. There were three doors to her office; one from Boxer’s office, one from the street side of the building and one that led out to the Warehouse. The desk was piled with bills of lading, invoices, statements and files. “Your first project will be to sort, organize and file. Once you have found your way through the shambles left by your predecessor, I will help you with the who to pay what to, and what to collect from whom portion. Our accounting office, of course, will handle that. All you have to know is what to send to whom, okay?”
“Yes sir. I’m anxious to get started,” she replied, raising her brows and smiling.
“Good. You will answer all incoming calls. Push that button to buzz me, that one and that one, in that order to transfer the call to my desk. You use the same transfer procedure to transfer a call to the other two phones in the building. If the phone at my desk rings, that’s my private line. If I’m not in the office, let it ring. Whoever it is can reach me at my pager. Anything you type will be printed out on the printer in my office. I’m not sure where Moe kept his various personal office supplies, however, I’m sure you will find everything you need.” A shadow came over his eyes. He hadn’t intended to mention his last secretary’s name. She felt her skin prickle with goose bumps, and her stomach tightened. Boxer didn’t seem to notice, and continued with his orientation. “I’m sure you will want to take some time to familiarize yourself with your new surroundings.” Boxer pointed at a two door metal cabinet set in the corner of the room. “That is the supply room. All of the forms, paper, pens, floppies, etc. are kept in there. It usually isn’t locked since we are the only ones who use it. Please feel free to arrange things to your preference. It is your office, and I want you to feel comfortable. Any questions?”
“Who is Moe?” She swallowed.
“He was my secretary. I had to terminate him,” Boxer smiled. It wasn’t a kind smile.
“May I ask, why?” Lisa prompted.
“Well, let’s just say . . . this is a very competitive business. He was selling information to the other side. It was too bad, I really liked him,” Boxer said with sincerity.
Lisa looked down at her desk. “Well, it looks like I had better get started. I’ll let you know when I’m caught up, Mr. Boxer.”
“Richard, call me Richard,” he smiled. He pointed to the door that led from the street side of the building. “From now on Lisa, you don’t mind if I call you Lisa?”
“Of course not, please do, Richard.”
“From now on use that door to enter and exit. We shouldn’t go through the warehouse. It gets too busy out there. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt, and I don’t want the men distracted by your beauty.”
“Certainly, Mr., I mean, Richard. It’s just that imports and exports sounds so exciting. I wanted to see what it was like out there.” That was a half-truth. She would love to get a chance to do a search of his inventory. She was sure, she would find cases of guns marked “bookends” from Peking, or marijuana in crates from Mexico labeled “Mexican Jumping Beans”.
“I won’t bother you anymore. If you need something, just give me a buzz,” he said, pointing to the phone. Boxer turned and went into his office, closing the door behind him.
Lisa had spent the day, to her surprise, actually working. What surprised her most was the realization that she really enjoyed what she was doing. She found the warehousing of imports and exports to be an interesting business. She was sorry Mr. Boxer was a murderer. He had a lecherous eye, but he kept his hands to himself. Over all, she found him to be pleasant and easy to work for. She thought it best to spend the day getting things caught up so she would later have time to search his office. She also thought, it was in her best interest to gain his trust by being an efficient and competent secretary.
At five o’clock she peeked into his office to announce she was leaving for the day. “I’ll meet you at the ‘Sho’ Pan’ about five till seven?”
Boxer gave her a devilish smile. “It’s a date.”
Lisa pursed her lips as though she were saying, “youuuuu”, and shook her finger it him. “Just don’t get too cocky. After all, this is the first time we dine together.”
Boxer smiled and waved goodnight, then returned to his paperwork.
Lisa wasn’t sure what to wear. She didn’t want to give him the impression she was afraid of him, or that she was completely turned off by him. She didn’t want to give him any reason to think he should expect more than dinner, tonight, or for that matter, at any other time. She decided to wear her mandarin dress; after all, they were going Chinese. Her tanned skin, framed by her petite body and dark hair, required a second look to tell she wasn’t Asian. When Boxer saw her his mouth dropped open. He was attracted to her from the first moment he had laid eyes on her. In the Mandarin dress her face looked like fine porcelain, expertly crafted and painted. It was as though the master craftsman himself had created her in the image of love and purity. If he had been capable of falling in love, this would have been the moment. He had never seen anyone so magnificently beautiful in his life. Of all the beautiful women, he had paid to sleep with, he couldn’t remember one that was worthy of standing under the same sun as Lisa. He had a problem, one that had to be resolved tonight. It was his life that hung in the balance.
Once seated, Boxer cleared his throat and looked at the menu. He had always been the man in charge. There were certainly others he had to answer to, however, even as a kid he was the one with a plan, the one who made the final decision on what game they would play. He tried not to look at her. He was always in control of himself, which allowed him the right to control others, those that were weaker. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He continually glanced at her while entering the restaurant, now he kept looking up over his menu. He cleared his throat again.
Lisa was taken aback by his obsession. She was well aware of his emotional state. It was written all over his face. She noticed his jerky movements, as he tried to decide whether he had the right to touch her arm, in an attempt to guide her into the restaurant and to the table. He reminded her of Paul Lumford, in seventh grade. He would melt away when she smiled at him, and hold his breath and was unable to talk to her when she addressed him. His only defense was to run away. She wondered if Boxer was going to run away. It certainly was preferable to any alternative that came to mind.
They ordered and ate quietly. She tried to make conversation, but he seemed preoccupied as the meal progressed. Finally, she reached out and took his hand. “Richard, this is very uncomfortable, and not at all flattering. I’m going to get up and leave, if you don’t start acting like Richard Boxer. You know, the guy that terminated Moe, and spent the day teaching me the ropes.” She let go of his hand.
He looked at her and then he looked down at the table. He shook his head, “Yes, yes, you’re right.” He looked her in the eyes. “I’m sorry, I had to work something out, that’s all.”
She had originally planned to prime the pump, hoping to get Boxer to say something that would help the investigation. Now, she decided it best to let the sleeping dog lie. She had just seen him stir, and it scared her.
The rest of the evening went without a hitch. She actually found him to have a charming personality. It was hard to believe this was the same man who almost killed Larry and her sister, and who was more successful with poor Moe.
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