by T W Morse
“Ms. Thatch. Vanessa Thatch. And you are?” she replies with a little disdain.
Conrad speaks up, “This is Mr. Nelson, my gym teacher and basketball coach.”
“Prefer physical education teacher,” Bob says, then gets an elbow from Dad. “Gym teacher is fine.”
Conrad finishes the introductions, “Mr. Adair, my history teacher, and Ulysses Adair, my friend and his son.” Almost forgetting Hannah, “Oh, and Hannah Reyes, my other friend.”
“I’ve heard so much about you. Thank you for befriending my son. Welcome,” Ms. Thatch says somberly.
“We are very sorry for your loss,” Dad adds to Ms. Thatch’s kind words.
We walk into the foyer of Conrad’s home, a place I have been to many times, but it was the first time for Dad, Mr. Nelson, and Hannah, so when they enter, gasps, oohs, and aws are exclaimed. I can always relate to Conrad being nervous in this place; even the dust looked expensive, if the place had any dust.
Hannah and I turn to Conrad, who has momentarily broken away from his mother.
“Hey man, sorry about your dad,” I say, not really knowing what to say, and remembering all the trite things people said to me when my mom died. I can’t remember anyone saying anything meaningful to me the day we laid her to rest.
Hannah hugs Conrad, “We hear you’re moving to New York City. Is this true?”
“Yeah, Mom’s got a big place in the Dakota Building. You know that’s where John Lennon lived. Yoko still does,” Conrad says, almost lost in his thoughts.
Hannah hugs Conrad again, holding back her tears. “Wish you could stay. We are going to miss you so much.”
“Do you know why someone would do this?” I boldly ask.
“No. I don’t know who would stab my dad, Ulysses! Sometimes I wish I had. He was a jerk.”
“Conrad, you don’t mean that!” Hannah says, wiping away tears.
“Why not? I lived under his thumb my whole life, and now...” He didn’t finish the sentence because he started to cry himself, pushing his blonde, wavy hair away.
I notice Dad and Mr. Nelson drift toward the food while I give Hannah a look. “Conrad, is there somewhere we could talk? Privately.”
“Yeah, sure.” Conrad leads us through two sliding doors, adorned with samurais in red and black, that open to an expansive black and white tiled floor. Black leather couches and a large chrome desk fill the space.
“It’s my father's office, was my father's office,” he corrects. “What’s up?” he asks, confused as to why we need privacy.
Hannah relays our entire experience the night his father was killed. I include parts of the office fight, which produce a confused look on Conrad’s face. We tell him everything, including how we, Dad, and Mr. Nelson are investigating and how his dad’s murder may also be connected to Terry and Jack’s suspension.
“What!” is his only response; his face looks stunned.
“Why weren’t you answering our messages and why did you act weird the night of your dad’s death?” I ask.
Conrad continues to look stunned, trying to find words to respond. I think everything is hitting him hard because he looks like he may faint, swaying in place. The floor looks hard, so Hannah takes him by the hand to one of the black leather couches. Conrad puts his hands to his head.
“Take a deep breath, man. Sorry we sprang this on you at your dad’s wake.”
Conrad finally looks up. “No, I really appreciate you guys caring about this. He was a jack off but didn’t deserve to be killed. I was standoffish because my dad told me right before my game that he was going to move overseas and I was going off to New York to live with my mom.”
Shocked, Hannah blurts, “Why was your Dad moving overseas? Where?”
“I don’t know, but either way, dead or alive, I was moving to New York. That’s why I was a little standoffish. I didn’t, don’t, want to leave you guys.”
Hannah and I sit on either side of Conrad. We both give him a big hug.
“Conrad, can you remember anything your dad did or said that could link back to his murder?” I ask.
“That Detective Brute asked me the same thing. I told him I do remember seeing a blue piece of paper with cut-out letters glued to them, you know like in the movies.”
“What’d it say?” I ask eagerly.
“I only remember bits. I saw the word MANGROVE, that caught my eye for obvious reasons, but I also saw the word GYM-MECHANICAL and JEWELS. There were a lot of other words, but I couldn’t see them all because the font was too small. I only saw those words because the person who made the letter used really big print for those words.”
“Jewels! Anything more? Did he look more angry than usual?” I ask, trying to process this new information.
“Ulysses! You know my dad. He was always a jerk. Hated me and hated basketball. He even hated that I attended a public school.”
“What is the connection to your dad and Mr. Barron?” Hannah adds.
“I don’t know,” Conrad says, shrugging.
“Your dad pushed him and argued about this Gallant family. Does a law firm called GG&W mean anything to you? Did your dad, as lawyer, work with or against this firm?”
Conrad looks up quickly, making his hair whip back. “Yeah. I mean, Dad would refer to it as his firm, GG&W. I have heard him speaking on the phone to people in New York about GG&W — I think.”
“The W does mean Wright!” Hannah confirms.
“Yeah. Look over here.” Conrad leads us to his dad’s desk. It looks like a desk of a super villain with the black metal and chrome.
“Yesterday, Mom and I were going through his things in here. I was messing around with his desk. Sitting in his chair, playing with his things. Knowing he’d kill me if he were alive. Then I found this.”
Conrad proceeds to act out what he did yesterday, sitting in his dad’s chair, when he reaches for an ornate, jade paperweight statue of a roaring lion. He pulls the lion toward him, and we hear a tiny click sound in his father’s desk, revealing a secret compartment.
“Wow!” Hannah and I chorus in unison.
Conrad opens the hidden compartment on his dad's desk. In the small compartment of the drawer is a series of business cards.
Conrad picks one up and hands it to me. I take the card and flip it over. In the middle of the card is a large crest. The crest includes an old British lion climbing the back of three bold cursive letters; T, L, and M. The letters are raised off the card, making it look very ornate. The card itself is made of thick, soft paper. Below the crest, in bold script, are the words GIBBINS, GALLANT AND WRIGHT, listing an address in New York City, with a phone number also in New York.
“Wow!” Hannah said looking at the card; sounding like Mr. Nelson. “GG&W! So Gallant and Wright were in the same law firm. Who is Gibbins? Why does that sound familiar? And what does this have to do with Barron?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, thinking we now have more questions than when we started. “Conrad, do you know what these letters stand for?”
“I have no clue. That’s all I really know,” Conrad responds, parting his blonde hair again, looking exhausted. “Dad never spoke about work. He kept everything from me, and I never cared to ask.”
“Can we keep this? My dad and Mr. Nelson have got to see this,” I question energetically.
“No worries,” Conrad responds. We both give him more hugs before moving on to find Dad and Mr. Nelson.
Hannah and I push open the doors of the study, leaving Conrad with his memories. As we are leaving the study, we both bump into what feels like a brick wall, looking up in our haste to find an irritated Ms. Clifton.
CHAPTER 29
- LOGAN -
REDHEADS AREN’T FUN AT WAKES
W e both look at the food table. Bob is practically drooling, but I also never pass on a free meal, especially when it is catered by the rich and famous. “Dude, they got lobster tail! Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Bob, not using his indoor voice, might
as well have shouted, “I don’t belong here!” The smell of lobster brings me back to my childhood in Maine. We both tuck in, as Jill used to always say in her English accent.
“Do you see anyone else from Mangrove?” I ask Bob.
“Nah. We the only suckers at this wake.”
“Keep your eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary.” I grab some cheese and crackers along with the biggest jumbo shrimp I’ve ever seen. I start to walk around the huge mansion, leaving Bob to graze. The view is spectacular. The patio doors span the length of the room, making the living area feel twice as big. The blues and greens of the Gulf visually meeting the hues of the pool give the appearance of being right on top of the water. Wow, so this is how the 1% lives. Donald Wright had huge multi-colored blown glass on pedestals scattered all over the living room.
“Great place for kid to be raised,” I mumble to myself.
Suddenly the frames on the wall draw me closer. There are several of Donald and Conrad, both looking unhappy. Another picture hangs in the middle of the wall. This picture is hung in a large golden frame. The picture is an eight by ten black and white. Conrad isn’t in it, just his dad and six other men. The picture was taken in a restaurant. All six men sat in a large booth with wine and plates of pasta set on a checkered tablecloth. I identify Donald Wright immediately, having met him several times. The others I don’t recognize.
“Wait a minute, I know you,” I whisper to myself, pointing a finger at a man sitting in the booth. He had what appears to be a dimpled chin and blonde hair. I thought back to the article on Hannah’s phone when we read the obituaries of the Gallants. This is Toby Gallant, the head of the murdered Gallant family! What was he doing in a picture with Donald Wright?
“What the hell!” I softly exclaim as Bob comes up behind me. I relay my findings to Bob and take out my iPhone and take several up-close photos of the picture when no one is looking. As soon as I put my phone away, I hear a voice behind us calling, “Bobby, oh Bobby!”
“Damn!” I say out loud to Bob.
Bob and I spin around. He still has his mouth full of lobster, and the side of his chin is dripping butter.
“Ms. Clifton, what a pleasant surprise,” I say raising my eyebrows to Bob.
She rushes over to us, wearing a very inappropriate dress for a wake, especially a wake for a student’s parent. It is green and sparkly. A low v-neck in the front exposes too much cleavage. She looks very out of place amongst the one percenters. The length of her dress — well, just using the term length is being generous. Maybe Bob is right — I have become a prude!
“Hello, boys,” Ms. Clifton says seductively. “Bobby, why haven’t you called?” She pouts, putting her hands on his cheeks, and brings him in for a very tight, long hug. Hopefully she doesn’t see the disgusted look on my face.
“Mare.” He already has a nickname for her? “I called you, babe, like twenty times. You don’t answer Bobby,” Bob finishes, in not only a Barry White voice, but he is now referring to himself in the third person!
“Oh baby, I’ve been so busy, but I’ve been thinking of you,” Ms. Clifton says, pulling his tie closer to her like a fisherman with a line. “It’s so sad to have a student’s father die, especially under such — tragic circumstances. Principal Barron wanted me to go as the Mangrove representative. Let me get you guys some drinks; it's an open bar!”
“Oh yeah! I’ll have a beer m’lady,” Bob says, making me almost vomit in my mouth.
“Yeah, I guess I’ll have one, too,” I say hesitantly.
After she walks to the bar, I pull Bob aside. “Don’t you think she is a little insensitive?”
Bob frowns and lowers his shoulders in disappointment. “Dude, jealousy doesn’t suit you.”
“I’m not jealous! That woman has a few screws loose. She also could be involved!”
“Logan, Logan, let me tell you somethin’, when a woman calls you got to answer, my friend. Anyway, you said it yourself: She was in plain sight the entire night of the murder.”
I frown, especially because I know my arguments will be of no use. Bob is smitten. “I’ve got a bad feeling about her. Be careful!”
“Be careful about what?” Mary Clifton says, coming over to hand us our drinks.
“Nothing. My boy Logan was just saying something about basketball,” Bob quickly covers.
“Well, I unfortunately have got to go,” Mary says to Bob.
“Girl, you just got here!” protested Bob.
“I know, but I have a long parent meeting in the morning and have some errands to run before then,” Mary says, her voice suddenly changing. This voice is cold and stern, compared to the immature, flirtatious tone she typically uses with Bob and me. “I’m sorry, Bob; rain check?” She then, to my shock, gives Bob a huge kiss on the lips and another hug while I look away in pure disbelief. My suspicions are growing with this woman; something is off.
Mary starts to walk away, turning to wave to both of us. I wave back while Bob blows her a kiss. As she blows one back to Bob, a door opens in front of her and Ulysses and Hannah walk right into her. It appears that they banged into each other hard.
Ulysses looks shocked at who it is, while Hannah says, “Oh, Ms. Clifton. We’re so sorry!”
Ms. Clifton turns to both of the kids, points her finger in disgust, and says in a raised voice, “You brats watch where the hell you're walking!” The entire room falls silent after hearing this. She then storms out in disgust.
CHAPTER 30
- ULYSSES -
CUBAN SANDWICHES AND MAFIA CONNECTIONS
W e arrive at Penny University after the wake.
“So that was an interesting wake,” Hannah says with a smirk as we sit down at a large table near the cafe's merchandise counter.
Hannah and I are starved. We didn’t have a chance to eat anything at Mr. Wright’s wake. Dad and Mr. Nelson, on the other hand, say they are full, which makes me a little upset. Did they do any investigative work? Or did they do what Mr. Nelson always does around food? Gorge!
Hannah and I order a couple of Cuban sandwiches with a pot of coffee in a large French press for all of us to share. The sandwich hits the spot, and it is even better washing it down with some hot coffee.
“What did you guys find out that you couldn’t tell us in the car?” Dad asks as Mr. Nelson flags down a waitress. Feeling left out, he orders a Cuban sandwich, too.
Hannah tells Dad and Mr. Nelson everything Conrad said to us at the wake, handing the business card over to Dad. Mr. Nelson leans over to read it with Dad. I see their eyes widen at the same time.
“The law firm GG&W business card was in a secret compartment in Mr. Wright’s desk?” Dad exclaims, practically spilling his coffee.
“Gibbins!” shouts Hannah. Realizing her voice was loud and people could be snooping, she lowers it immediately. “I knew we’ve seen that name.” She whips out her phone, “Look here.” Hannah opens the article about the death of the Gallant family. The sister,” Hannah continues eagerly as the three of us look at her blankly. “Samantha Gallant, wife to Toby and sister to a Sally Gibbins. This can’t be coincidence. Maybe she was Toby’s partner.”
I hug her for this nugget of information while Dad and Mr. Nelson both give high fives.
“Also, the picture I took at the wake; Toby Gallant and Donald Wright are both in it. I know I recognize one of the other men,” Dad says, typing into his phone. “Yes, right here. Guss Leoni. I remember seeing him in one of those true crime shows on cable. He is a mob boss working out of New York City. Leoni is wanted for a variety of crimes. I sat up late one night watching an expose about this guy. He is a bad dude.”
Dad shows a picture of his mugshot from his phone. It matches one of the men in the picture Dad took from the wake. Guss Leoni was pictured sitting right in the center. His arm was around Mr. Wright. He had his sleeves rolled up and his curly black hair had streaks of gray.
“There are three other men in that picture. The initials on the busine
ss card T-L-M could be other mob ties. Maybe those initials stand for different mafia bosses or associates. The L stands for Guss Leoni; the others must be his accomplices in the photo,” Dad says.
“More stuff to put on the murder board!” Hannah says cheerfully.
“Gallant, Gibbins, and Wright. They must have been private attorneys — only working for the mafia. That’s why you couldn’t find anything at the law library. They must have used the business cards for associates working with them. If they got into trouble with the law, they could make their one phone call to their personal attorneys. We have to find out what the other initials on the crest stand for,” Dad says as he looks over every inch of the card.
“Forget about it!” Mr. Nelson says loudly, with a smirk in a very weak imitation of an Italian accent. It actually sounds more like Russian. Nobody laughs.
“Mr. Wright was an attorney for a mobster?” I question, puzzled.
“And this Toby Gallant fella,” Mr. Nelson says, chowing down on his Cuban sandwich that just arrived.
“How do you find out who they are?” Mr. Nelson asks.
“As I say to my students: We have the World Wide Web at our fingertips,” Dad says eagerly as Hannah, Dad and I wake up our phones and start to search for the mafia members.
“Hannah, why don’t you look at the FBI’s most wanted list?” Dad suggests. “Ulysses, check the initials on Google and try a reverse phonebook search using the phone number and address from the business card. I’m going to enter the information into this database I found online. You can browse mugshots in New York. I know there must be thousands, but maybe if we find one, that one can lead us to the others. It’s a long shot, but I think it's worth the time.”
“What do you think about the piece of paper Conrad saw that said Mangrove, gym, mechanical, and jewels?” I ask Dad.
“Yeah, that. I think someone was blackmailing him. So now this case may involve the mafia and jewels. The note sounds like a meeting place and what to either bring or someone was supposed to bring to him.”
