Crooked River (Jack Francis Novel)

by MP Murphy

  “No, I haven’t seen her. It’s just a name she had mentioned in passing before and I wanted to check it out.” I would have to explain everything to him later but now was not the time.

  Colin’s face told me he was not going to buy it. “You lying sack of…”

  “Alright fine, she’s at my place right now. I came home from dinner with Madeline last night and Alex was sitting in my living room.”

  “Good thing you didn’t have Madeline with you.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  “Jack you are crazier than the bum who preaches on the corner of East 3rd Street.”

  “I don’t think she killed Beard,” I blurted out trying to protest my sanity.

  “So, she still stalked you to the museum and then broke into your condo.”

  “She said the door was open.”

  “Sure it was. Sometimes I can’t believe the two of us are friends. She must be some kind of magician in the bedroom to have you so screwed up.”

  “She is.” I could not help but smile.

  “It frustrates me to discuss your stupidity so early in the morning. So what is this guy’s name so we can move on?”

  “Lee Kershaw,” I said ready to change the subject myself.

  “I’ve actually heard of him.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, mostly hearsay but I think the boys at the office have a small file on him. No arrest record and no direct links to anything illegal, but his name keeps popping up from time to time in interesting places.”

  “It’s not going to be much help then,” I said.

  “Not necessarily. I’ll do a little digging and see what’s out there to find.” My phone buzzed in my pocket making Colin roll his eyes and return to the paper. “Your new girlfriend,” he mumbled.

  “Not quite,” I said checking the caller ID. “How are we today Madeline?” answering the phone.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Again? I thought we did that last night.”

  “It will be a little different this time Jack. I’m calling with a request from my father.”

  I was a little surprised. “OK I guess we can work something out.”

  “How about a late lunch?”

  “Sorry, I’ve got lunch plans already.” I saw Colin mouth the word Alex and I shamefully nodded my head yes.

  “It will have to be dinner then.”

  “That’s fine, but tonight it will be my choice. The club was a little stuffy for this poor boy. What about Mama Santa’s?”

  “It’s in Little Italy right?” Madeline asked.

  “Yeah, can you find your way?”

  “I’ll manage. Can you be there at 8:00?”

  At least she was asking me this time. “Sure that will be fine. See you tonight then.” Colin started laughing as I hung up the phone. “What?” I asked him.

  “Juggling two women. I don’t know how you do it. You know if they find out they’ll both kill you.”

  “It’s not like that,” I protested.

  “Sure looks like it.”

  “Will you stop judging my social life and while you’re at it, will you get off your ass and go find Kershaw for me.”

  Colin stared at me and then picked up the newspaper hiding his face behind it. He gave the paper a good shake that told me to go screw myself. I heard the word “asshole” mumbled from behind the sports section.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “That’s more like it. I’ll find Kershaw for you but only after I’m done with my coffee.”

  I looked into his cup to find it empty. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll leave you alone.”

  I got up from the table and turned to the door to leave when I heard Colin again from behind the paper. “Tell Alex I said hi.” He finished off with a good laugh to himself.

  Chapter 36

  Meeting Madeline for dinner worked out nicely for what I had planned. It was time to find out what Chelsea knew and having Madeline talk to her would probably get the best results.

  Mama Santa’s Restaurant stood out like a sore thumb among the trendy trattorias dominating Cleveland’s Little Italy neighborhood. It was housed in a square, red brick building, which was graced with an outdated sign and an inconspicuous pair of wooden doors. The small interior was dotted with red vinyl booths and checkered covered table cloths. Most people would say the place was in need of a remodeling job, but I loved the Goodfellas feel to it. The crowd at Mama Santa’s was always a mix of neighborhood families and college kids who came in for a cheap dinner. Madeline would be out of her element here, but I could care less because the place was right up my alley.

  The old man who greeted me at the door took me to a booth in a small room left of the main dining area. The room was darker than the rest of the place, with the walls painted an olive-green in contrast to the white walls throughout the rest of the building. I had never eaten in the room before but had often passed it on the way to the bathrooms. My imagination had always picture it as a meeting place for the heads of local families. Big and powerful Italian bosses sitting around tables with dry red wines and huge plates of homemade pasta. The room was quiet and as my fantasies flooded into my head, I noticed only two other couples around me. I would have preferred a little more noise to cover up our conversation but we could deal with it. The waitress came over after I took my seat and I ordered a plate of antipasti and a bottle of the house red while I waited for Madeline.

  The antipasti came with a loaf of fresh-baked Italian bread. I grabbed a piece and immediately went for the plate of fresh, cured meats, cheeses, and a salad tossed in vinegar and oil. I thought about waiting for Madeline, but she was late and I was hungry. There was no way I could have resisted the smell of the fresh baked bread anyways, so her lateness was a good excuse to start eating.

  “I know I’m a little late, but a gentleman should wait for a lady,” I heard Madeline’s voice say. She had come in while I was distracted, sopping up the olive oil with a piece of crust. When I looked up she smiled at me then slid into the booth.

  “Sorry,” I said reaching over to pour her some wine. “I was hungry but that’s no excuse.”

  “This place is different,” she said as she glanced around the room.

  “Don’t let appearances fool you. This is the best Italian food in Cleveland.”

  “Apparently,” she nodded towards the half-eaten antipasti. “It looks like it once was a nice little spread.”

  “Once again I’m sorry.” The waitress came by and we ordered a helping of veal scaloppini, a small order of the homemade ravioli, and a large pizza with the hopes that I would have some leftovers. We held off talking about business until dinner had arrived, as what seemed to be a standard practice for Madeline. Until then, we were able to keep the conversation from getting awkward with a varying array of small talk and a little dose of flirting. When the food finally arrived, I took the lead with the business talk, wanting to get out what I had to say first. “I need you to do a favor for me,” I said to her.

  “I’m not making any promises but what is it?”

  “I need you to talk to Chelsea for me and get some details about those photos. Even if she can’t remember much about the night before, or even the next morning, it still may be helpful.”

  Madeline sat quietly, thinking about what I had asked of her, but when she spoke, her face turned to upset. “Chelsea is not going to be of any help and if she does remember something it’s a moot point now.” She reached for her wine and took a long sip before pulling her purse onto her lap, taking out an envelope. “This is for you,” handing it to me. “Father asked me to inform you that we are no longer in need of your services.”

  I was taken aback by the news and almost choked on a bite of ravioli. The Captain had seemed so dead set on protecting Chelsea, and now he was calling the whole thing off. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “We have recovered the evidence being used to blackmail my sister, and that’s all that matters as far as father
is concerned.”

  “Recovered the evidence, but how? Beard was shot.”

  “After dinner last night, a man approached me with the photos andmemory card.”

  “Who was it?” I interrupted her. “He’s the one who probably shot Beard.”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” I asked.

  “I truly can’t. I never saw his face.”

  “We still have two dead bodies. Does your father believe I can let this case go with so many unanswered questions?”

  “Take a look inside the envelope, and you tell me if you will be able to let it go.”

  A substantial amount was inside. More than I had made in the last ten years I had worked for the government. I was being paid well to shut up and forget. “It is a nice gesture, but there is no way I can let any of this go.”

  “You don’t get it do you Jack? There is no choice here you have to let it go. Whatever is going on is none of your business. You were hired to do a job, and the job is over. Now move on will you?”

  Madeline was getting unnerved like I had never seen her before. Like every other aspect of the case, tonight was giving me more questions than answers. “Your father made it my business when he hired me,” I told her firmly. “What’s changed? Last night you wanted to be a detective.”

  “Chelsea’s safety is all I ever cared about. She’ll be in the clear now so please just drop it and go on with your life.”

  “Madeline there is more here than you are telling me. Give me something, any reason other than the money and I’ll let this die. Settle my curiosity, and then I can rest.”

  Madeline stared at her plate toying with her veal. “I can’t Jack, at least not tonight.” She got up suddenly and slung her purse over her shoulder. “Please Jack back off, if only just for me,” she said with watery eyes.

  “I will, if you talk to Chelsea for me like I asked.”

  “Chelsea has done all the talking she is going to do. Goodbye Jack, and please watch yourself.” Madeline turned and walked out leaving me all alone in the dark, Italian restaurant with a table full of leftovers and a mind full of questions.

  Chapter 37

  “Why does it have to rain all day?” Colin pondered with his head in my refrigerator. He came out with a couple of beers in hand and passed one in my direction. “Your new girlfriend still here?”

  “No, Alex left after lunch today.”

  “Where did she run off to?”

  “Sorry, I wasn’t keeping track.”

  “You should.” Colin plopped down with a heavy thud on my couch and used the remote to turn on the TV. “So she left you at dinner.?”

  “We’re talking about Madeline now?”

  “Yeah, keep up with the conversation will you?”

  “She was hiding something and I, of course, pressed the issue. Deep down Madeline had something more to say.”

  “Madeline is not one to talk unless she wants to. Your pressing the issue will probably just tighten those lips even more. What did she say about getting those pictures? Sounds mighty suspicious to me.”

  I settled into my favorite chair across from Colin and kicked my feet up on the coffee table. “Not much. Some man gave them to her after dinner and of course she never saw his face. And she was really defensive over Chelsea.”

  “How so?”

  “I wanted her to ask Chelsea a few questions and Madeline flat out said that Chelsea had nothing to say. It was an end of the conversation statement.”

  “The subject of family is a sensitive one with those Gilmores,” Colin said. “I’m sure they are being overprotective with Chelsea.”

  “Maybe, but I think there is more to it.”

  “You should back off and take it easy for a while. I know you won’t give up on this, but maybe you could make it look like you are. You did take Captain Gilmore’s money after all.”

  “I didn’t take it. Madeline left it on the table when she took off.”

  “Sure she did. Either way, lay low for a day or two, at least in regards to the Gilmores. Madeline’s lips might loosen up if she thinks you are doing what you’re told.”

  “I’ll think about it.” I was surprised Colin wanted me to back off but he could be right about Madeline. “What did you find out about Kershaw?”

  “Backing off already I see.”

  “Just tell me.”

  “OK. Kershaw is a mystery man when it comes to any documentation on him, but he is a well-known player on the street. Apparently he works for big money only and likes to play the middle man.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Powerful people hire Kershaw for a job, then Kershaw goes and hires it out to someone else. The person who actually does the work never knows who they are actually working for.”

  “A buffer between the average criminal and the powerful manipulators who don’t want their hands to get dirty.”

  “Exactly,” Colin said.

  “Well it explains how Alex is involved.”

  “Right. I’ve got some more if you want it.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Word is,” Colin continued, “that Kershaw likes to have lunch at the Inn of the Barristers on East 3rd.”

  “Ironic place for a criminal.”

  “He’s managed to stay clean somehow.”

  “I’ll check it out. Any idea what he looks like? I can’t be running all over town asking.”

  “Yeah,” Colin pulled a photo from inside his suit jacket and slid it across the coffee table to me.

  “Not the best shot,” I said looking at the photo.

  “It’s all we’ve got.”

  “I’m not complaining.”

  “Sounded like it,” Colin said before taking a sip of his beer. “What are you going to do about Madeline? Any chance you’ll take my advice?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but I don’t want to push too hard. I could back off for a few days and let her cool, but time is of the essence with this.”

  “My suggestion,” Colin began, “is to let her stew. Go and find Kershaw and see what he gives you. If she’s ever going to come around she’ll have to do it on her own.”

  “I hope she does because not much is making a whole lot of sense right now.”

  “That’s the problem with you, Jack, you think everything has to make sense. Personally I never saw that in the rule book, and everyday I’m alive it gets more and more confusing.”

  Chapter 38

  Finding Lee Kershaw was surprisingly easy. The morning after Colin gave me his photo, I trudged through the rain over to the Inn of the Barristers for lunch. A warm, corned beef sandwich, the house specialty, took the chill off, as I pretended to ignore the front door of the restaurant by watching the television behind the bar.

  Finishing off the first half of my sandwich, I noticed a short man walk into the bar with a newspaper tucked under his arm and an umbrella at his side. Slightly balding, he wore a pair of thin, round frame glasses, had a well-groomed mustache, and was dressed in a tailored three-piece suit. From the photo I had stashed in my suit pocket, I knew that I was looking at Lee Kershaw. His small appearance made him look more like a banker than a criminal, but then again, was there really a difference?

  Another gentleman already sitting at the bar nodded hello to Kershaw as he sat down. The bartender was there immediately with a cup of coffee and single malt Scotch. As soon as he was comfortable on the bar stool, he opened his newspaper, hiding his face from view and from anyone who might want to socialize. Within ten minutes a sandwich was placed in front of Kershaw. The usual, I assumed, a cold, corned beef sandwich with coleslaw and Swiss on rye. A good helping of Stadium Mustard was spooned onto the bread as Kershaw nibbled on the chips that came with his sandwich. He ate his food slowly while he continued to read the paper. When he was finished, he placed it on the bar, and paid for his meal in cash. He downed his untouched single malt in one gulp, and walked out.

  I took my time paying my tab
, not wanting to seem in a hurry, and then followed Kershaw out into the rain. Never in my wildest dreams had I planned on finding the man on the first day, so I had no plan of action. Just following him seemed appropriate at the moment. When I stepped out from the cover of the restaurant’s front awning, I could barely make out Kershaw’s gray suit and black umbrella through the sheets of rain. He was heading south on East 3rd towards Public Square at a leisurely pace. I found his casual pace surprising with the rain coming down as hard as it was. If I had been going anywhere farther than three blocks it would have been in a dry cab.

  Kershaw walked all the way to Tower City Center where he cut through to the downtown mall. The place was dry which was good, but the mall was nearly empty, making it impossible to follow him without being seen. Kershaw was not bothering to do any window shopping as he walked straight through the mall then out through the Huron Road exit. He crossed the street, barely pausing for the busy traffic that I decided to safely wait for. While I waited for a city bus to pass, I had a good view of where Kershaw was heading and watched as he walked through the sliding glass doors of the Rock ‘n’ Roll Casino. By the time I was able to catch up, and make my way inside, Kershaw had disappeared somewhere on the casino floor. I stood for a moment, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but all I was left with were the sounds of slot machines and a pair of cold, wet shoes.

  Chapter 39

  “I’m being followed,” Kershaw said as he sat in one of the black leather chairs Daniel Shaw had in his office.

  “Is that what you came here to tell me?”

  “No, I just noticed it on the way over here from lunch.”

  “Try breaking up your routine once in a while and it might be a little harder to follow you.”

  Kershaw really hated Daniel Shaw. Every ounce of him became frustrated simply at the thought of the man. “Why should I change my routine? You eat at Morton’s every day.”