Crooked River (Jack Francis Novel)

by MP Murphy

  “Well, what happen was,” Lee Kershaw was stammering a little as he spoke.

  “I don’t give a crap about what happened. I paid you to do a job. Now finish it correctly or else we are going to have a problem. We both know that I don’t like problems Lee, so fix this and fix it fast.”

  “Yes Mr. Shaw. I’ll get back to you when,” but it was too late to finish, Shaw had already slammed the phone down.

  Chapter 4

  The Clevelander Bar was packed with the after work crowd. Even with the air conditioning pumping through the vents and ancient fans turning from the cavernous ceilings, the place was still muggy. Kershaw walked through the bar still fuming from the phone call with Daniel Shaw. The man was an egotistical maniac, but he was powerful and he paid well. Kershaw knew he had screwed up by sending out Jimmy DeLuca and now he regretted it even more than he thought he ever would. The kid had been getting sloppy and overconfident lately, which was a bad combination in the business they were in. Eventually that combination would get you killed.

  Kershaw scanned the bar and found the spot he was looking for. He saddle up next to a knockout of a brunette and ordered a beer. Soft curls of hair framed a perfect face and voluptuous lips that were sipping a gin and tonic. She wore tan suit pants and had a fitted white blouse tucked in. Kershaw followed the lines of her thighs up to her thin waist and to the spot where her blouse was unbuttoned giving him a glimpse of her ample cleavage.

  “Quit staring at my tits Lee,” the woman said not even giving him a glance.

  “Sorry Alex, but they’re just out there for public viewing.”

  “Go screw yourself asshole.”

  “Hey that was a compliment.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  “Well that’s what it was.”

  “Fine, what the hell are you doing here?”

  “I have a job for you. More like a problem to fix.” Kershaw didn’t like the idea of passing along these jobs, but he did not have the manpower to fix this one. Alex was reliable and ruthless so she would not be a problem like Jimmy had been.

  “I’m listening. Normal fee just so you know.”

  “If you get it done fast there will be a little extra for you.”

  “Hmm…you must be working for the big guy if you’re throwing around extra cash.”

  “That doesn’t matter Alex. Now listen I need you to find an antique dealer for me.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding? That should be easy.”

  “Not exactly, there is a good chance you will not be the only one looking for him, and I bet he knows it. The way I look at it, he’ll be keeping a low profile unless the guy is a plain idiot.”

  “What’s he done?”

  “Gotten into affairs where he doesn’t belong.”

  “You want to fill me in Lee?”

  “Not here. Get in touch with Jimmy DeLuca. He’s your muscle on this one and the one who got us into the mess. He will fill you in on all the details, but remember to keep a leash on the kid because he’s gotten a little sloppy.”

  “Can you give me the antique dealer’s name at least?”

  “Charles Beard. He’s got a shop over near the market on West 25th Street. Check the place out first. Probably won’t find anything, but it will be a good place to start.”

  “What are we looking for?”

  “Just look for Beard. Like I said before, Jimmy will be able to give you more details.”

  “Fine, fine, I get the picture.”

  “This is really important Alex. Get it done fast and get it done right. No screw ups this time or we might all be looking for a place to hide.” Kershaw got up from the bar stool and threw some cash down for his beer. “No change,” he said to the bartender who had come over.

  “Thanks,” the bartender picked up the cash and walked away.

  “Lee, what kind of time frame do I have? I mean what does getting it done fast entail?”

  “Yesterday Alex, does that paint the picture for you?”

  “Sure does, now remind me to thank you for bringing me into this someday.”

  “You’re just finding a simple antique dealer, remember?”

  “I know you Lee, and it’s always more complicated than you lead on.”

  Kershaw nodded to Alex and left her sitting at the bar. She would get the job done. He had no doubts or no choice in the matter.

  Chapter 5

  The pictures the Captain handed me were enough to make a man worry, but the blackmailer’s note was what really had me puzzled. The pictures were simple and predictable, yet they were still a gruesome image portraying Chelsea standing above an unidentified man with a hole blown through the back of his skull. It was the note, though, that had me guessing. It was signed, which was completely unprofessional. Signed, I thought, it was actually signed. Who signed a blackmail note? Who would be dumb enough to actually put a bull’s-eye on their back? Even the most confident crooks would not have been so dumb. The only answer was simply that the guy was an amateur, a complete fool who stumbled upon more than he could imagine.

  “He signed it,” I said in disbelief to the Captain.

  “Charles Beard, antique dealer to Cleveland’s elite. Runs a small shop over on West 25th near the market and across from the brewery, but he doesn’t do a whole lot of business out of the store.”

  “Why not?”

  “The man specializes in the rarest of pieces. His shop is not the place an average antique collector would go into to purchase a piece. No, Charles Beard is a finder. You tell him what you are looking for and he goes out and gets it, no matter what the cost. That is the reason he deals with only people who can afford such a service.”

  “I understand the business, but why would he blackmail your family?”

  “Why do you think?” The Captain wanted my opinion of the situation. He must be testing my judgment I guessed.

  “He’s an amateur who stumbled on an opportunity. Beard probably was delivering a piece to this house,” I pointed to the picture in my hand, “and walked in on the scene.”

  “It’s the Zeitlin house over in Bratenahl,” the Captain offered.

  “How do you know?”

  “Look at the background, all the extravagance and the wall memorabilia. I have been in that obnoxious house and wouldn’t forget it.”

  “OK, so he was delivering a piece to the Zeitlin house and stumbled upon this scene. He recognized Chelsea because he has done business with you,” I looked at the Captain for confirmation.

  “Yes, we have done business and yes, he knows who Chelsea is.”

  “So he snapped a few shots with his camera phone, and figured he would extract his retirement from you.”

  “Apparently so.”

  “What do you want me to do with this guy?”

  “Anything, I do not particularly care. All I want is to get back anything he has on Chelsea. Mr. Francis, my family means the world to me and I will do anything to protect them. I am not telling you to do anything outside of the law, but I want you to understand my need to protect my daughter.”

  “I believe I’m getting your point,” I answered him confidently.

  “Nothing comes back to this house. None of this will ever reach the ears of the public, and under no circumstances do I ever want my daughter to find out.”

  “You mean she doesn’t know?”

  “No, and she won’t. Chelsea is not the most stable of creatures, never has been. I can’t imagine how such a fragile girl would react to being blackmailed. I am sure she is already a complete mess over finding herself next to a dead body.”

  “Has she spoken of this at all to you? Does she know who the dead guy in the picture is?”

  “She hasn’t said a word and I am sure she won’t. As for the body, who knows? It is not a priority of mine. You do understand what I want from you Mr. Francis?”

  “Yeah, get any evidence that Beard has on Chelsea and neutralize this problem with no public knowledge.”

  “That’s the
military precision I expected out of you.” The Captain closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the rocking chair. I thought he had fallen asleep for a second.

  “If that is all Captain?” I rose believing the conversation had ended with the man falling asleep.

  He opened his eyes suddenly. “That is all. We will not speak on this subject again, you and I. If you need anything you will contact Douglas. He will also pay whatever fees you may accumulate.” The man returned his head to the back of the chair and closed his eyes.

  “I understand Captain, and thank you for the bourbon,” I put the glass down next to the photos and made my way towards the door.

  “Mr. Francis,” the old man came alive again.

  “Yes.”

  “My daughter is the only priority here. Do you understand?”

  “I get the picture sir.”

  “Very well then, end this quickly.”

  Chapter 6

  Madeline rose quickly from her chair on the upstairs balcony of her father’s estate. She moved fast and quietly, with her long, tanned legs moving her into her room where she threw a robe on over her bikini. Opening the door, she proceeded down the hall on tiptoes. Madeline was determined to see who this Mr. Francis was. She had overheard her father’s entire conversation with the man, and now she needed to know who was entrusted with Chelsea’s well-being.

  At the edge of the main hall and behind the central staircase, she began to hear the voices coming from below. She slowed, and positioned herself behind a marble pillar, conveniently putting herself in the shadows on the second floor. Below her in the main hall, she could see Douglas speaking with a man. Average height, maybe a little short for her taste, but he did have a nice body. Athletic, she thought, that could make up for the height. He had a firm jaw, dark hair, and piercing blue eyes. She found herself paying attention to the man’s looks and not the conversation. She shook her head, clearing her mind, and concentrated on the conversation.

  “I have been authorized to give you a check in the necessary amount right now Mr. Francis,” Madeline heard Douglas say.

  “A butler with the ability to write checks, I am impressed.”

  “I am Captain Gilmore’s assistant, not his butler, Mr. Francis.”

  “Sorry, I misunderstood.”

  Madeline watched the man smile.

  “Hold onto the check. I haven’t done anything for the Captain yet, but I will be in touch.”

  “I will be waiting, sir.”

  “Douglas, just so you know I do charge for my expenses while on the case as well.”

  “The Captain has given me quite a large sum to provide to you now, and then more if he is satisfied with your work. Needless to say, I do not think your expenses will be a problem. I am to remind you that the sensitive nature of your work is a priceless commodity to him.”

  “I am beginning to understand that Douglas,” Mr. Francis went for the door, “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Good day, Mr. Francis.”

  Madeline watched the man walk out of the front door and waited until she heard his car pull away before she headed back to her room. There was opportunity here for her, but first she needed to protect Chelsea. Her father looked upon her often as a nuisance, similar to her little sister, but he didn’t realize how much she kept Chelsea out of trouble. Madeline had her own problems, true, but now she needed to put them aside to take care of her sister. This Mr. Francis was the key, she thought. She would stay close to him until he could provide her with the information she needed to put an end to this episode on her own, and besides, from the looks of him, it was going to be good company.

  Chapter 7

  I replayed the situation over and over in my head the whole way back downtown from the Captain’s house. There was a certain peculiarity to the entire state of things that I couldn’t seem to put my finger on. Besides, now I had a feeling that it was going to get a little more complicated than the Captain had planned. I was pretty sure that someone was listening in on my conversation with Douglas. I could have sworn there was a woman in the shadows on the second floor balcony. If there was, I would bet that either one, or both, of the Captain’s daughters now knew about the blackmailer.

  Parking the car in the basement garage of my condo building in the Warehouse District, I quickly ran up to my place to change. It was a top floor condo I had been able to swindle, for mere pennies of what it had been worth before the housing market had crashed, and now I lived like a gypsy in the palace. There was nothing better than lake views by day and the lights of the city by night.

  I tore off the suit I felt was necessary to wear for my meeting with the Captain, and replaced it with a pair of shorts and a polo. It was the middle of August after all. Looking at the clock in my bedroom I realized it was time for happy hour, so I made my way back down to the street and hailed a cab. I could have walked the short ten blocks from my condo on West 6th Street over to East 4th were I was headed, but I was feeling lazy and it was hot.

  East 4th is a pedestrian only street filled with clubs, bars, and restaurants. It was also home to my favorite happy hour spot, the Greenhouse Tavern. I walked through the glass front door, into a building two stories tall. The place was narrow but long, and the bar ran down the right side. There was balcony seating on the second floor that overlooked the bar, and large windows that faced the street, but at the moment no one was eating. I was alone at the restaurant’s oversized, beast of a bar. There were a few cooks speaking with the chef at a table, and Katya was in her usual place behind the bar.

  Katya was about the purest of American sweethearts. She had big, brown, puppy dog eyes that matched her straight, shoulder length hair. The woman had the looks of a high school prom queen and a personality to boot. I should have scooped her up years ago but I was too late, as a diamond already sparkled on her finger. Before I even sat down she had a bourbon on the rocks already on the bar, and if I had to guess, a plate of gravy frites would be out for me any minute. It wasn’t that I came here often, which I did, but Katya knew me well having married my former partner when I was in the FBI.

  I was always too social in school, never paying much attention to my studies, so when I dropped out of college at Ohio State I joined the Army. It was the structure of the military that worked on me, and despite my carefree attitude about most things in life, I excelled. Eventually the Bureau noticed me and sent me to The Farm for training. Federal work is a stable career when you’re not being shot at, but the problem is it didn’t pay well. I stayed on for ten years, mostly because I was stationed in Cleveland and enjoyed working with my partner, Colin Sommers. When I finally had enough, I moved into the private sector where the money was better. I tried to take Colin with me but he wouldn’t budge. I think it was the stability that kept him there, especially since he had just married Katya.

  My gravy frites came within a few minutes, and I devoured the bowl of brown gravy and mozzarella curd covered fries before they even cooled off. Katya and I were having small talk while a few more people wandered in. I knew by six o’clock the whole street would be crawling with suits from every office building downtown. I was not here for the crowd and I actually didn’t come here to eat and drink, although that part always helped. I was waiting for my old partner to get off work. He always stopped in and I needed to run my day by him. The Captain wanted to keep the whole affair quiet, but I needed an outside opinion of what I was getting myself into. Colin always had a clearer head than I did.

  Chapter 8

  “I see you’re here hitting on my wife again,” Colin said as he entered the bar. He threw his jacket over the barstool and loosened his tie. His boxy frame stretched out his button-down shirt and his blonde hair seemed a little too stiff today.

  “And I see you’re going a little heavy on the mousse again.”

  Katya giggled. “I keep telling him to go a little more natural with the hair, but he refuses. Must be a Bureau thing.”

  “Not when I was there.”


  “Shut up, both of you,” Colin said sitting down next to me. Katya walked away to take care of some other guests leaving her husband with a cold beer. “So what’s up with you? Did you spend all afternoon in the bar?”

  “Nah, I just got here. I was looking for you, actually.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Had an interesting day.”

  “You want to run it by me?” Colin asked, sipping his beer.

  “I had to run out to Gates Mills today to meet with a client.”

  “Captain Gilmore?”

  “How did you know?” Now I was a little thrown off.

  “I recommended you when he called looking for help.”

  “Why would he call you? From what I gathered he didn’t want word about this whole thing getting out?”

  “He called me because he knew I could keep it a private matter. It was a personal call not a Bureau call.”

  “Still doesn’t explain why he called you.”

  Colin pointed with his beer toward Katya. “I’m married to his goddaughter.”

  “Now, how come I never knew about this?”

  “I don’t know how you didn’t. The Captain and you were both at our wedding.”

  “I don’t really remember.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Colin chuckled.

  “What did he tell you about this whole thing?” I was curious to know just how involved Colin already was.

  “Everything I guess. At least I’m sure it was the same thing he told you.”

  “Have you seen the pictures of Chelsea?”

  “No we just talked over the phone. I don’t think he would show me anyways because to him I’m still the authorities.”

  “Did it seem strange to you how unconcerned he was about the dead body? When we talked he just skimmed by it and kept focusing on Chelsea.”