Drug Affair
Page 23
***
It was almost one thirty by the time I got to Kenilworth and rang the Margot’s bell. Maddy answered the door.
“Hello, Mr. Spencer.” She looked happy to see me.
“Hello, Maddy. Mrs. Margot in?”
“No, sir. She’s out for the afternoon.”
“Would you mind if I came in and talked with you for a few minutes?”
She hesitated and looked flustered. “Well, I… Mrs. Margot doesn’t—”
“It’s okay, Maddy. How about we sit out here?”
She looked past me toward the street. “I suppose that would be all right.”
We sat in the afternoon sun on one of two matching wrought iron benches that framed the front doors.
“I only have a few minutes… I have work to do.”
“That’ll be fine, Maddy. How long have you been with the Margots?”
She looked thoughtful. “I guess it’s going on eight years now.”
I nodded. “So you were here during the good times.”
“Yes. Times were better.”
“And you were here when Raymond was here.”
“Yes, he was…”
She quickly realized what she had said, or rather shouldn’t have said. She looked afraid and clasped her hands over her chest.
Shaking her head, she said, “I shouldn’t have said that. Mrs. Margot would fire me if she knew I said that. Please don’t—”
“Don’t worry, Maddy. I won’t say anything. Why would she fire you?”
She shook her head some more. “I shouldn’t say any more. It’s not something to be talked about.”
“Maddy, I already know about the accident. I know where Raymond is.”
She looked surprised as she dropped her hands to her lap.
“I’d like to know something about him.”
She looked out over the yard with tears in her eyes. “He was a good boy. Quiet. Never any trouble with him.”
“Unlike Reynolds?” I said.
“I don’t say bad things about people.”
“From the time I was with him I got the feeling Reynolds was a handful. Rebellious.”
She just nodded and asked quietly, almost in a whisper, “Where is Raymond?”
“He’s in South Carolina. Didn’t Mrs. Margot tell you?”
She shook her head. “After the funeral he just disappeared. No one said anything about Raymond, and I didn’t ask.”
“Why do you think that was, Maddy?”
“I truly don’t know.”
“Raymond must have felt terrible.”
“He must have.”
The mailman pulled up to the box at the front of the driveway as I decided Maddy had given me all the information she had. I thanked her and wished her well.
As I got into the car I reached for the phone to call Carol to ask her to make plane reservations to South Carolina. Then I remembered she wasn’t there. I’d have to make them myself. All the way back to the office I tried to talk myself into driving rather than flying. I hated flying. I knew the statistics… it was far safer than driving. But I hated giving up control. I understood the science of thrust and lift, but it seemed to me that something that heavy didn’t belong up in the sky. And being in something that could fall out of the sky didn’t seem like a good idea either. I had only flown three times, and each one was not pleasant. At some point it was worth spending extra time to drive. But South Carolina was way past that point. I’d have to bite the bullet.
I made the reservation when I got back to the office. Then I called Ben and invited him to dinner at McGoon’s. He’d meet me at seven fifteen.
Chapter 40
I was getting out of the car when he pulled in. Jack waved to us from the bar as we were shown to our table. We each ordered a Guinness, and Jane asked if we needed menus. We didn’t. Two ribeyes medium rare. I brought Ben up to date on everything that had happened since he had bailed me out of jail… my notes to Thward and Bast and their appearances at the apartment, the threatening note, my discovery of Raymond Margot, and my plan to try and find him.
“So where has this kid been hiding?” he asked.
“Charleston.”
“Illinois?”
I grimaced. “No. South Carolina.”
Jane arrived with the beer.
After raised glasses, he said, “That’s a long drive.”
“Yeah, which is why I’m flying.”
He almost choked on his beer. “In an airplane?”
That didn’t merit an answer.
“Wow. You should be walking away from this. It’s not worth the risk. Instead you’re getting on an airplane. I thought you said after the turbulence of the last flight the only way you’d get on a plane would be if you had lost your mind.”
“I think I have.”
“You must want this bad.”
I didn’t answer that either. A couple was seated next to us. The restaurant was busy for a Thursday night.
“What are you hoping to get from him?” Ben asked.
“Answers to questions.”
“Which are?”
“I know next to nothing about his brother. I’m hoping he knows what was going on. How did he get involved with drugs? Why is he in South Carolina, and why are there no pictures of him in his house?”
Ben set his glass down. “I’m guessing the answer to the last is he wanted to disappear. And if that’s the case, he won’t be happy about you finding him.”
“Probably not.”
“But you’re doing it anyway.”
I took a long drink. “His brother is dead. I’m hoping he cares about that.”
Ben nodded. “Maybe he does… and maybe he doesn’t.”
I cocked my head. “Only one way to find out.”
He nodded again as the food arrived. I was famished.
After a few bites, he said, “As you know, I spent many years working for the state’s attorney’s office as a prosecutor.”
I just looked at him as I savored the steak.
“I’ve learned a few things about the law.”
Knowing what was coming, I kept chewing and looking at him. I could do both at the same time.
“Bast hasn’t done anything illegal.”
“I’ve been told that. You law guys have a one-sided view of things.”
“Yeah, the side of the bench the judge sits on.”
I took a bite of garlic mashed potatoes and said, “I’m aware of the law. But I can do things the law can’t. And the way he went about that smelled bad. And there’s the drugs that were planted in my car. Easy explanation if it’s him.”
He cut another piece of meat, juice running onto his plate. “First, you can’t do things the law can’t. You just choose to ignore that fact. And some day bailing you out will be a lot more complicated. Second, I agree with you. Worth taking a closer look at him. If he is involved in drugs, he’s doing it for the money. So where is it?”
I shrugged.
“Fancy car?”
“Tan Buick sedan, at least three years old.”
Ben laughed. “Nothing says drug money like a three-year-old Buick. Fancy house? Expensive wife?”
“Don’t know.”
“Okay. I’ve got nothing to do while you’re risking your life in the friendly skies. I’ll look into it.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it.”
“And I appreciate the steak dinners.”
We finished eating and chatted about the Cubs, hopeful for a series run this year.
Chapter 41
I didn’t want to leave the Mustang in the lot at O’Hare, so I took a cab to the airport Friday morning. My flight left at 10:20. I had a return flight Sunday afternoon. I was being optimistic. I wasn’t a white-knuckle flyer, but as we sat waiting
for clearance I wondered if I’d ever see Rosie again. But I had been wondering that anyway. And I had always thought there was nothing Stosh would keep secret from me.
I actually enjoyed the rush of power as the plane roared down the runway and took off. And once we got in the air, I resigned myself to whatever was going to happen and read or slept. Ben had once told me that it didn’t matter where I was or what I was doing, if it was my turn to go, it was my turn to go. My argument to that was what if it was the pilot’s turn to go? All in all, I’d rather be on the ground. To make matters worse, it was cloudy when we took off. Again, I understood radar, but I’d like the pilots to be able to see where they’re going.
We had a tail wind and landed in Charleston at 1:40, twenty minutes early. The pilot announced that the skies were clear, and the temperature was eighty-two degrees. The temperature made me happy, but not as much as the clear skies. I also liked the pilot to be able to see the runway.
***
I rented a car from Enterprise and got a map of the Charleston area. We had taken a vacation every summer when I was a kid and seen a lot of the country, but we had never gotten to Charleston. For my birthday when I was ten my parents got me Bruce Catton’s three-volume series on the Civil War, and I spent the summer reading. I had always wanted to see Fort Sumter, but with Aunt Rose’s inn being guarded I didn’t think I should be sightseeing. I’d have to come back.
Lone Star was less than an hour north of the airport off of Route 26 and southwest of Lake Marion. I got a room at the Holiday Inn next to the airport and then headed north to Lone Star.
Based on the Margot’s lifestyle, I expected an expensive neighborhood. I was wrong. I came into town from the lake side where there were expensive homes. But a quarter mile from the lake the homes were modest. The homes along the lake were probably modest at some point too, before money discovered Lake Marion. Most of the homes away from the lake were ranches with detached garages, and most needed some work. Raymond’s was no different. It was pine clapboard that had been painted white, not recently, with dark-green trim. His lawn needed mowing, and there were no flowers or bushes. And there was no car in the driveway. I pulled off onto the verge two houses down from Raymond’s and watched for a half hour without seeing any sign of life, either in Raymond’s house or anywhere else on the street.
At ten to four I decided to be nosy. I walked slowly up the walk and rang the bell. There was no answer. I looked in the front picture window and saw nothing out of the ordinary. I went around back and looked in the kitchen window. Nothing. No answer at the back door either. The backyard was in worse shape than the front… lots of red clay patches. I walked across them to the garage and peeked in the window. It was empty.
As I turned back toward the driveway, I heard, “Hey, fella. What are you doing?” A grizzled, hornery-looking man who looked to be in his seventies was peering over a wood fence.
I figured the truth was the best answer. “I’m looking for Raymond. Do you know when he’ll be home?”
“There’s no Raymond here. Try again.”
He didn’t look menacing, but I didn’t need him calling the police. “Maybe I have the wrong address.” I gave it to him. And I realized that Raymond probably wasn’t using his right name.
“Right address… no Raymond. Why don’t you mosey along.”
I figured that was the best thing to do when I heard, “What’s going on, Zeke?”
“This guy says he’s looking for Raymond. I suggested he look somewhere else.”
The kid looked the right age and looked a lot like his mother.
“Thanks, Zeke. I appreciate it. I’ll take care of it.”
Zeke slowly made his way back into his house as the kid turned to me.
“Want to tell me what this is about, mister?”
Again, I figured the truth would work best. “You look just like your mother.”
“That tells me nothing,” he said.
“Reynolds was arrested for drug dealing. I was hired by your mother to help.”
He shrugged. “And what does that have to do with me? My brother likes getting into trouble.”
That was present tense. He didn’t know. And I wasn’t sure that I should be the one to tell him. But I was the only one there. I took a deep breath and just said it.
“Well, he won’t be getting into trouble anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
“He was murdered.”
That got his attention. He lost his balance for a second. I reached out, but he waved me away.
He shook his head. “Murdered. How?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” I told him what I knew. “Look, Raymond. I don’t know why you ended up down here, and it’s none of my business. But I’d like to find out who killed Reynolds, and I have a lot more questions than answers.”
He didn’t respond. He was just staring past me.
“You knew about the drug charges?” I asked.
He nodded.
“But you didn’t know about his death. How do you explain that?”
He stared at nothing for a couple more minutes. I let him stare.
When he turned to me, he said, “The only contact I have with my mother is when I call her. I haven’t called her since the drug arrest.”
“She can’t call you?”
He shook his head. “I don’t have a phone. That was the… um… arrangement.”
“Seems odd. Why?”
He had looked away but now looked right at me. “Because if she didn’t know where I was no one else would either.” His look changed from sad to hard and angry. “Which brings up a question.”
I knew what it was, but I let him ask.
“How did you find me?”
“You got a speeding ticket six months ago.”
His anger disappeared, replaced by concern and acceptance of something he didn’t want to accept.
“So if you found me, so can anyone else.”
“Not necessarily. My sources are broader and deeper than most.”
He thought about that for a moment and didn’t appear convinced. He asked for my ID. I showed it to him.
“So what do you want from me?” he asked.
“I was hoping you could fill in some blanks.”
He slowly came back to me and, in a quiet voice, said, “I don’t know anything about a murder.”
“I didn’t think you did, but I could use some family background.”
He didn’t respond. I persisted.
“There might be something that rings a bell.” I looked over the fence. The neighbor was standing on his back porch looking in our direction. I didn’t know if he was nosy or concerned.
“Can we go inside, Raymond? Not too private out here.” I looked to the left toward the neighbor.
He followed my nod and said, “Zeke’s okay. He kinda looks after me. We play checkers. I’d rather not go inside. The place isn’t very homey.”
I was ready to give him a card and ask him to call me if he wanted to talk when he said, “Gettin’ on dinner time. Wanna join me?”
“Sure. What do you have in mind?”
“There’s a tavern in town that has good burgers. We can sit outside and talk.”
“Sounds good. I’ll drive.”
“Is that your car on the street?”
“Yup.”
“Why don’t you pull it in the driveway. It’s only a fifteen-minute walk.”
“Fine by me.”
As we walked down the driveway I asked if he had a car.
“Yeah. A seventy-nine Chevy.” He laughed. “With a few dents.”
His laugh told me a lot about him, as did the house he was living in. But there were two clues to his former life… an expensive pair of sunglasses and designer jeans that were a lot nicer than mine, an
d I was wearing my best pair. When I flew I always tried to impress the flight attendants in case they’d have to make a choice about who to save first.
Raymond stood at the edge of the road while I pulled the rental into the drive.
“So where’s your car?” I asked as we walked up the street.
“In the shop for an oil change. I left it there this afternoon and walked home.”
We turned left at the first side street, and a collie ran out to make sure we didn’t need watching.
“Your brother drove a BMW. You don’t miss that?”
He laughed again. It was filled with disdain. “Can’t miss what you never liked in the first place. I drove an Audi when I had to drive, but that was only because my father wouldn’t have allowed a Chevy in the driveway. What would the neighbors think?”
I thought that was funny, but he wasn’t laughing.
“We both grew up with money and everything we could want. Problem was I didn’t want it. I wanted something more simple. He liked adventure and did dangerous things. I guess that’s what got him killed. I liked to sit and look at the lake and read. He was perfectly happy with the things money bought. I would have liked time with my mother and father.”
I felt sorry for this kid. I’d had the things he wanted, which made it all the harder when they were taken away from me.
“I can understand your father not being there,” I said. “People who work the trading floor tend to be driven by that. It consumes them. But your mother didn’t have to work. Surely she was around.”
He laughed a bitter laugh. “She was, but not for me. She was busy being a socialite, either giving parties or going to them or hobnobbing with the people who mattered. That’s what consumed her.”
The conversation was beyond my expertise. Family matters were something I had learned didn’t have easy solutions. So I changed the subject.
“Weather always like this down here?” I asked.
He laughed. “It’s pretty nice. This is usual for spring. But it gets a little hot and humid in the summer. Not much worse than Chicago though. And the ocean is a nice escape. Then there’s the threat of hurricanes, but the tradeoff is worth it.”
“How did you end up here?”