The Starry Night of Death

by Lawrence J Epstein

  “I’m sorry you’ve had to put up with that. You won’t with me. We’ll just try to learn. There’s no science here. We’ll do a few tasks together. You watch and you learn and you ask questions.”

  She stuck out her hand.

  I shook it.

  Then I turned around and walked out of the office.

  I walked toward the ships docked and stared at the water with the glittering sunlight shining off the waves. But I could still see Natalie Robbins’ face. It was as though her blue eyes were floating in the air in front of me.

  Uh-oh.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It was a tricky business at this point. I wasn’t allowed to take the Spring case. I had in fact been ordered not to do so. The steps I took couldn’t be obvious.

  Late that evening, I called Cromwell. I had once kept him from serving a very long prison sentence. You’d think this would have made him grateful, but instead he resented me every time I called. Cromwell was a professional thief. He never used a weapon. I told him if I heard about one of his burglaries I would turn him over to the police. He swore he was now just doing his other job.

  Cromwell might be called in polite society an information broker. What that means in real life is he had many contacts to call. He blackmailed, threatened, bribed, or stole the information. But he got it. That made him a very valuable man as long as one of those he got information from didn’t shoot him.

  “Cromwell. How nice to hear your voice.”

  “Danny Ryle, professional bloodsucker. I’m sure you just called to say hello. You’d never try to force me to get information for you for what seems like the rest of my life just for one little mistaken act on my part.”

  “I’m trying to help you, Cromwell. I seriously don’t think you would do well in jail. Some of your old friends would be there and they would be delighted to see you again just to make you suffer.”

  “What do you want? I’m working hard now. I’ve branched out into politics in case you need me.”

  “I play clean, Cromwell.”

  “It’s one of your major weaknesses, Danny.”

  “So be it. You know about the Jesse Spring arrest?”

  “I deal in information, Danny. Do you think I might know about it? What do you want?”

  “First what I want is for you is to keep my name out of it. I’m not the one asking you to do anything.”

  “All right. I love how much of my debt I can pay off. Keep talking.”

  “I want all you have about Spring. I spoke to him and he was so confused he wasn’t sure what he was saying.”

  “Did he do it?”

  “I don’t think so, but I’m not sure. I’m looking for someone who might have.”

  “I’ll learn what I can. You don’t have specifics, do you?”

  I didn’t want to name the suspects Spring had. I wanted Cromwell to work with a clean slate and see who he thought might have done it.

  “No specifics, Cromwell. I rely on your discretion and intelligence.”

  “This counts big, Danny.”

  “All right.”

  “Are we close to even?”

  “When you find Jimmy Hoffa’s body.”

  “A simple man like me needs some encouragement, Danny.”

  “Then I encourage you to work hard so I don’t have to speak to the police about you.”

  “Hey. There’s no reason to get nasty. I’ve been good for you, haven’t I?”

  “You have. I’m sorry, Cromwell. You’ve been very helpful. Show me how helpful you can keep being.”

  “Yeah. Goodbye.”

  I hung up and then called Al Flanagan at home.

  He picked up the phone.

  “Do you know what time it is?” It was not a pleasant voice.

  “It’s me, Al. I apologize for the time. I didn’t want a call going through your secretary. I’m not on the case that I really am on.”

  “Your mother must have been a saint to raise you. You don’t make sense half the time.”

  “She was a saint. Can we meet for breakfast tomorrow morning?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be out east. You know that new restaurant in Waterbend?”

  “You mean do I know the new waitress in the new restaurant in Waterbend.”

  “That might be an influential part of this discussion.”

  “What time?”

  “Ten-thirty. Like I say, I got something to do out there first.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  The new restaurant was a simple one. The marble counter on the left with a guy behind it giving customers soda fountain stuff. Booths in back made of red leather. Silver lights. It was all new so it looked good.

  But people didn’t go into the restaurant for the red leather. They went in for Daisy Gunn. She once told me customers liked the idea of her being from the South, so she affected an accent. She had been to Broadway and hadn’t been a success. She had taken acting lessons and her teacher told her to get married.

  Instead, she made a fortune in tips at the restaurant.

  She took me to a booth. I told her a guest was coming, a Mister Flanagan from the D.A.’s office.

  “I suppose I’d better watch myself then, Danny. Would he like the Southern bit?”

  “Thick as you can, Daisy. He’s already heard about you. Of course he’s a man in Suffolk County. So that he heard about you is obvious.”

  “If I was a flirt or a kisser I could get more.”

  “Stay just the way you are, Daisy. The other way leads to black eyes or fighting off some bad men.”

  “So I’ve heard. I...”

  “Why hello, ma’am. My name is Al. How are you doing?”

  “I’m happy as a pig with a hat dancing in mud, Al. Your friend here was just telling me about you. He said you were about the nicest man in the whole of the County.”

  Al smiled. “I wouldn’t ever compare you in any way to a pig, Miss Daisy.”

  “My. Aren’t you the sweetest?”

  “Thanks. The last waitress in here wasn’t as sweet.”

  “No. I guess not. They say she was as useful as a steering wheel on a mule.”

  Al laughed, louder and longer than was justified.

  “I think we’re going to get along great, Daisy.”

  She took our orders, teasing Al about how much he ordered.

  “That’s one sweet girl, Danny.”

  “It’s all an act.”

  “I know that. But I love the act. What is it you want?”

  “I’m looking at the Jesse Spring case, although I’m officially not supposed to do so.”

  “He’s guilty. Don’t waste your time.”

  “Have you spoken to him, Al?”

  “Yeah. I grant you he seems like little boy lost, but I think that’s from the reality of what happened hitting him hard.”

  “Was there GSR on the wife’s hands?”

  “It wasn’t a suicide. The weapon was too far from her anyway independent of there not being any GSR.”

  “Other people had motives.”

  “I don’t doubt it. Only they weren’t there. They didn’t have Spring’s weapon.”

  “What’s the motive?”

  “We’re looking. Maybe he had a girlfriend or maybe his wife had a boyfriend. Or maybe he was drunk. Or maybe one of a thousand reasons. You know as well as anyone, Danny, that humans don’t make any sense. One minute they’re St. Francis and the next minute they’re Charlie Manson. You figure it out. I can’t. It’s just my job to lock them up.”

  He drank some of the water.

  “Mrs. Lucey tell you not to do this?”

  “She did.”

  “It would be a good idea to listen.”

  “Just humor me. Tell me about any possibilities other than that Jesse Spring shot her.”

  “I’m not kidding here, Ryle. You turn the case upside down and sideways and shake it you end up with the same facts lying on the floor. He did it. You want to look, go ahead. I won’t tell anyone. But you�
��re wasting your time.”

  Daisy brought the food over.

  “So, Daisy. You’ve talked to me. You’ve smiled at me. You’ve given me that Southern talk that you learned to act. You’ve brought me food. Isn’t it about time we got married?”

  “Why, Al. You sure do know how to flatter a simple gal. But I’m sorry. I just keep looking for the right Southern gentleman.”

  “Danny is from Southern Sag Harbor.”

  She laughed.

  “Danny is too good for me. He doesn’t know how to have fun. Do you, Danny?”

  “No. I was born serious. And it only gets worse.”

  Daisy left.

  Flanagan ate a bit and then stopped and said, “Oh, I almost forgot. There is something you might like to hear about.”

  He went back to eating.

  “Come on, Flanagan. What is it?”

  “Spring had a very interesting visitor in jail. It was a surprise to everyone. Sort of a celebrity in the law enforcement world.”

  “My father came to visit Jesse Spring?”

  “He sure did. Brought cakes and cookies for guards. Some wouldn’t eat any. They were the ones who thought your father should be the one in jail.”

  “Why would my father visit him?” I didn’t mention to Flanagan what my father had told me about Spring’s father.

  “You’ll have to ask him.”

  Daisy came back around, filled Flanagan’s coffee cup, and made a point to put her hand on his shoulder.

  “I hope you’re going to make this place your second home, Al.”

  “As long as you’re here, Daisy, I may make it my first.”

  She laughed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Then she walked away.

  That was it.

  Al Flanagan was officially in love.

  We said good-bye.

  I wanted to find out what happened to Mrs. Spring, but I had to admit there wasn’t much to go on. I liked Jesse Spring but he didn’t mean much to me. I care about everyone in the abstract sense, but I really want cases where someone has been wronged in a terrible way.

  Maybe it was time to move on to greener pastures.

  And then I got home and got the message.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “There must be a mistake,” I said.

  Flanagan chortled. He was having a good time.

  “I told you this day would come,” he said.

  “I never believed it. For that matter, do you believe him?”

  “Ryle, why would your father confess to a crime, murder no less, if he didn’t do it? He spent his whole life avoiding justice. I guess he figured it was time to be honest.”

  “Did he even know Mrs. Spring?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What was his motive?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I can see you have an air-tight case against him. We both know he didn’t do this, Flanagan. Where did he get Spring’s weapon? How did he get into the house? And most importantly why in the world would he ever do this?”

  “It doesn’t matter. He confessed. End of story. The police have been waiting decades for this moment, and they’re not going to spend any time asking questions. They are just going to smile and then smile some more. They’re planning a field trip to Sing Sing for the execution.”

  “Where is my father now?”

  “He drove from Sag Harbor to Waterbend. Same thing as with Spring. Your father will be there in the lockup for a few days while all the paperwork is done and then he goes to County and then, my friend, I think he takes a trip upstate to the land of electric justice. I’m sorry.”

  “My father is not going to get the death penalty and he is not going to get electrocuted at Sing Sing. I’m going to save him. I have to visit him, Flanagan.”

  “They’ll let you in tomorrow morning. I already checked. I haven’t talked to him, but you better get ready, Danny. From what I heard he sounded serious and no one, and I mean no one, in our office is going to give him an inch. No one is going to try to break his confession. We’ll have a big party when the judge sends him away.”

  I wasn’t surprised.

  “Flanagan, let me say this again. You know he didn’t do it. He has a good life now. He had no reason. Spring’s father was my mother’s doctor. My father admired the family. He wouldn’t frame Spring and he wouldn’t harm Mrs. Spring. Something is really off here.”

  “You’re the only one that cares if it’s off, Danny. I’ve got a call. Good luck with it.”

  “Thanks.”

  We hung up.

  I sat down with a cup of coffee and tried to think it through. What was going on? I couldn’t think of a single reason why he would harm Mrs. Spring. And I couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d confess. There were lots of people who would be overjoyed to see him finally behind bars.

  But he was my father. It was my job to protect him until I learned that in fact he had killed Mrs. Spring, which I didn’t believe for a second.

  I took a deep breath.

  It was time to begin.

  The first call I made was to Gertrude Lucey.

  “Hello, Mr. Ryle. It’s good to hear from you.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Lucey. It’s not a good reason why I’m calling.”

  She let silence serve as permission for me to keep going.

  “Mrs. Lucey, my father has confessed to the murder of Mrs. Spring. Jesse Spring, I imagine, will be released.”

  “I’ll get the facts from you in a few minutes, Mr. Ryle. But I imagine you’ve called me to get permission to investigate the case now.”

  “I have, Mrs. Lucey.”

  “And you know my answer. Your father is involved. I must say if the stories about him are true, he may not deserve your help. But I’m dedicated to my own son, and I admire a son dedicated to his father. You may continue the investigation with my blessing.”

  “There will be expenses.”

  “Our usual arrangement applies, Mr. Ryle.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now tell me all about it, Mr. Ryle.”

  We spent the next fifteen minutes going over the limited amount that I knew. She was up-to-date. I had hoped that in retelling the story I would get some new insights, but I didn’t. We said good-bye.

  My second call was to Cromwell.

  “I haven’t finished yet, Danny.”

  “I didn’t think you had. There’s been a change.”

  “I’m like everyone else over the age of eighteen, Danny. I hate change. What’s going on?”

  “My father confessed to the murder.”

  “Is this some kind of joke? You know I have no sense of humor.”

  “I wish it were a joke, Cromwell. But it isn’t. Tell me what you’ve got.”

  “A big fat goose egg. There’s nothing there, Danny. If you had pushed me before you told me about your father, I would have said I’d take the prosecution’s side in a bet. I would have thought convicting Spring would be a snap. Listen, Danny, no kidding. If your father confessed and has his story straight, they are going to railroad him straightaway.”

  “Oh he has his facts straight. He went and visited Spring in jail. He learned all the facts he needed to get himself in trouble.”

  “Danny, you know I need to work for you to pay you back for keeping me out of jail. The more I work the less I owe you. But I’m telling you straight up, I think it’s a waste of time for me to look any more. You come up with something and want me to look, of course I will. But I can’t see the alleyway to look down. I can’t see other suspects.”

  “Spring named some, but none of them stuck out to me.”

  “You’re going to look into it?”

  “Of course.”

  “Some advice. You’re too close. It’s your father for God’s sake. Hire a private investigator to look at those suspects. Stay away from this. You’re too emotional. You may do something you’ll regret thinking you can get facts. It’s too dangerous for you, too hot to touch.
”

  “Cromwell, I know you mean well. If there is a real killer, that killer better watch out. I’m coming after him.”

  “Or her.”

  “Yes. Or her. Whoever it is I’m coming after them.”

  “Whomever it is.”

  “I’m hanging up now Cromwell.”

  “As well you should. Seriously, Danny, let me know if I can help.”

  I took out a piece of paper and began listing questions I needed to ask my father.

  Sleep was a brutal enemy that night, running away from me at every turn.

  I sat there in a chair going in and out of short naps, waiting for the sun to rise and then for my watch to move along at a faster pace.

  I was up early. I had a big breakfast which was unusual for me. But I needed the energy.

  Betsy had heard me and came downstairs. She seemed to sense that she needed to be a good listener, and she was.

  Finally, the torture of time ended and I could head over to the Waterbend lockup to see my father and try to find out if I could save his life.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Maybe it was the mood I was in, but the jailer in the Waterbend lockup had a face that looked like a botched science experiment. I was afraid of staring at him, so I looked away as I talked.

  He let me into the jail. I was surprised because Rabbi London was there. The Rabbi and I had established a friendship, and he had once surprised me by telling me my father had saved his brother’s life during the Second World War.

  “I hope you can talk some sense into him, Rabbi.”

  The Rabbi nodded. “Hello, Danny. All I can do is tell him to be true to his own self, and he tells me that is exactly what he is doing. I’m done speaking, and I have an appointment with someone about a wedding, so I’ve got to go.”

  My father stood up. He had always been clean-shaven, but I saw a gray stubble growing. Even his hair was longer.