A Wake of Vultures

by Patrick Kansoer

  “Sure did Mr. Loughlin. Got it right here. Mr. Fleer gave permission to use the private elevator too so we won’t have to wait for any other guests while we make the trip to the room. He also gave me a passkey for the elevator to give to you so you can use it at your convenience while you are staying with us this time.”

  “That’s great Johnny. Let’s get the wheel truck loaded. It shouldn’t take more than two trips.”

  It took about ten minutes to get the first load on the four-wheeler and Loughlin instructed Johnny to wait until he had secured the truck so that they could both push since it was so heavy. Five minutes later they were on the thirty-second floor and Johnny handed Loughlin the key card to suite 32-135. Loughlin opened the door and helped Johnny wheel the truck into the living room area.

  “Where do you want to stack this stuff Mr. Loughlin?”

  “Over behind the love seat will be just fine Johnny. Thanks.”

  Within ten minutes they had stacked the first load and returned to the loading dock to get the rest. Half an hour later it was all transferred into the suite and Loughlin accompanied Johnny back to the loading dock to move the van out to the parking garage. Loughlin gave Johnny two fifty dollar bills.

  “Thanks for all your help Johnny. You’re great, as always.”

  “Thank you Mr. Loughlin. I’m happy to help you any time. Have a great stay.”

  After he moved the van to the parking garage Loughlin went back to the suite to relax a bit and to prepare for his business meeting. He knew that he had an extra twenty-four hours beforehand and once he had things set up in the suite it was his plan to get some serious gambling done.

  Loughlin took a long, slow shower with the steam jets on full, put on the complimentary plush bathrobe, grabbed a cold beer from the fridge and ordered himself a ribeye steak from room service. It arrived within twenty minutes along with a visitor he hadn’t expected MaryJane Dimaguiba. Hiding his surprise at her presence he signed for the meal and added a generous twenty-five percent tip. “What a pleasure to see you MaryJane,” he lied. “I was just about to have my dinner. If you would care to join me I can call down and order something for you.”

  “No, that won’t be necessary Maurice. I’ve already eaten. You go ahead though. We can talk while you eat.”

  He wheeled the cart over by the window where he had hoped to enjoy the view of the opening night of the concert at the venue across the street.

  “You should have notified C & A that you were coming out here to Vegas. The Chicago office was informed about your merchandise pickup in Morton Grove. Free-lancing like this can cause complications. The Firm doesn’t like complications Maurice.”

  “This is no big deal MaryJane. Why would the Firm want to bust my balls over a penny-ante deal like this one? It’s just chump change and I saw it as a chance to get some R&R here in Vegas for a couple of days.”

  “There ‘Big Deal’ as you put it is two-fold. First, on a personal level, you are in my territory. I handle all of the Firm’s business in this sector and nothing goes down without my knowledge and O.K. Secondly, you are on the verge of screwing up an operation that the Firm has spent a long time and many assets on.”

  “I didn’t know, MaryJane. I figured it was such a small-time deal that it wouldn’t matter.”

  “Well it matters, Maurice. It matters. So from this point on I’m your baby-sitter through this deal. I’m not going to screw with your money but I’m going to make damn sure you don’t throw a wrench into the machinery due to ignorance or stupidity. You’ve got until Sunday night as I understand it before the deal gets done.

  Get your R&R out of the way and I’ll be here Sunday afternoon to make sure things go the way they need to. Is that clear Maurice?”

  “Clear as crystal MaryJane. Tell Chicago that I really didn’t mean to step on their stuff.”

  “You can tell them yourself when you get back to Chicago. I’m sure they will want to have a long talk with you when you get back.”

  MaryJane got up and walked to the door where Loughlin had laid the two pass card on the occasional table and picked one up.

  “This way I can let myself in next time Maurice. I’ll see you Sunday afternoon.”

  MaryJane let herself out of the suite and Maurice looked forlornly out the window. Suddenly he was no longer hungry.

  9 POSSUM KNOB

  The intercom on Keren’s desk buzzed shaking her out of her reverie.

  “Ms. Odensdotter there’s a Detective Lieutenant Kevin Litkowiak and a Sergeant Wayne Boerema from the Skokie police to see you.”

  “Send them in Margaret.” Keren wrinkled her forehead. She had no current clients with any cases involving the Skokie authorities and wondered what this could be about. Since she was just wrapping up her work before taking off for a couple of weeks, the interruption caused more curiosity than aggravation.

  As the two cops entered her office,, she was absolutely sure which one was in charge.

  Lieutenant Kevin Litkowiak looked how a detective in a movie looks, and he played the part well.

  His suit was tailored. He was chomping an unlit cigar that was his trademark. His booming voice had a thick with Chicago accent.

  “Keren Odensdotter, I’m Lieutenant Kevin Litkowiak, Skokie police. Do you have a client named Sherman Melvin Jacob?”

  “And a gracious good morning to you Lieutenant and to your friend behind you, I’m Keren Odensdotter”, she said extending her hand toward Sergeant Boererma.

  He took her proffered hand and was surprised at firm grip of her handshake. “Sergeant Wayne Boerema, Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Keren decided that Boerema was class, and that Litkowiak was an ass and decided to act accordingly..

  “Now Lieutenant, what exactly is this all about that you come barging into my office on a Thursday morning?”

  Litkowiak wasn’t quite sure how to play this. He gave out with a hearty laugh and said; “Well little lady, I need to know if Sherman Melvin Jacob is one of your clients.”

  “You can cut the little lady bullshit Lieutenant. I’m an attorney and I eat pissant coppers with an attitude for breakfast. Now, we can either start this over at the beginning, civilized, or I can kick your ass and throw you out on my office on your ear. It’s your choice, but make it snappy and choose right. I don’t have all day to waste with bullshit.”

  Boerema engaged in a coughing fit to cover the laugh that welled up in his throat. Litkowiak was a bully and a bullshitter but he had certainly met his match in this female attorney.

  Somewhat chastised, Litkowiak started over. “Well, I need to know if you have a Sherman Melvin Jacob as a client. We are conducting an investigation and we need to gather some information on him, his associates, his business dealings and so forth. Is he one of your clients?”

  “Lieutenant, Mr. Jacob was a client of my former associate Douglas Gunn. Mr. Gunn is no longer associated with the firm and Mr. Jacob is no longer a client of this firm.”

  “Well, Ms. Odensdotter that leaves me with a bit of a problem. You see, Mr. Jacob was the victim of a crime and one of your business cards was in his possessions. Can you explain that since you disavow him as a client?”

  “Easy enough Lieutenant. Mr. Jacob contacted me about three weeks or so ago. He wanted to discuss a legal problem. I informed him that Mr. Gunn was no longer practicing law and Mr. Jacob asked me to join him for dinner at the Little Club in Skokie to discuss his matter. We met. We had dinner, and I told him that I would not be able to take him on as a client. We parted ways after dinner and I haven’t seen him nor heard from him since.”

  “Can you give me any information on what his legal problem was. What did he want to discuss with you?”

  “I have nothing more to tell you about that lieutenant. As I told you just two minutes ago, I told him I would not take him on as a client. Exactly what part of that did you fail to understand lieutenant?

  He and I had a cursory conversation about my possibly representing
him. I run my own shop and chose not to take him on as a client. Being independent I can choose who I will or will not represent. I chose not to have an attorney-client relationship with Mr. Jacob. Have I made myself clear this time, lieutenant?”

  “Lady, I am conducting a homicide investigation here and you are being very uncooperative. Do I need to take you into custody and continue this down at the Skokie police station?”

  “Lieutenant, you have just overstepped your authority and in the process you have stepped on your privates. If you have reason to believe that you have probable cause to detain me then, by all means, take me into custody. As an officer of the court I am fully aware of my rights, Miranda and otherwise. If you do not intend to detain me,, I would seriously suggest that you and sergeant Boerema leave my office immediately. I assure you that if you continue to pursue this line of action that I will be filing a complaint with the Cook County State’s attorney’s office for official misconduct and abuse of office.”

  Litkowiak’s neck veins stood out like ropes and he began to turn an angry shade of purplish-red. His teeth clenched so tightly that he bit through the end of his unlit cigar and it fell to the floor. He turned on his heel and stomped out of the office.

  Sergeant Boerema stepped forward and retrieved the chewed-off cigar from the carpet and smiled and winked at Keren. “Sorry about that. He can be a bit much sometimes.”

  “Boerema!” bellowed from the reception area, “Let’s go!”

  Sergeant Boerema shrugged, turned and left the office.

  Keren thought for a moment and pressed the intercom key.

  “Margaret, please get Mr. Noble Petris on the phone. He’s down in Possum’s Knob, Missouri.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Margaret giggled, “Possum’s Knob?”

  “Yes, Possum’s Knob wise guy. It’s down south of Branson in the Ozarks.”

  “Right away Ms. Odensdotter.”

  A few minutes later Keren’s phone jingled. “This is Keren Odensdotter. Mr. Petris?”

  “No Ms. Odensdotter this is Ted Berg, Petris’ assistant. What can we do for you?”

  “Hello Ted. I was hoping to have a word with Mr. Petris. It’s in reference to a prior client of Douglas Gunn’s and an envelope I sent down your way a few weeks ago.”

  “I remember the envelope Ms. Odensdotter. Petris was very interested when we received it. Hold on a second and I’ll see if he can come to the phone.”

  Keren heard the phone being laid down and a few seconds later she heard another extension being picked up.

  “Petris here, hello Keren Odensdotter. How are you and what’s going on?”

  “Hello Mr. Petris. It’s regarding Sherman Jacobs and that envelope I sent down a few weeks ago. As I remember, Jacobs wanted you to have that in case he ran into trouble. I just was visited here by a couple of homicide detectives from Skokie, IL and I think Sherman Jacobs ran into more than just a little trouble.”

  “It doesn’t surprise me counselor. I opened the envelope as soon as it arrived. As you might know, I was involved in a couple of cases of Douglas Gunn’s involving Jacob. Strange bird, that one. Anyway, after looking at what you sent me I’m not at all surprised that Sherman got his mammary glands caught in the water extraction device over this. Some heavy-duty stuff involved.”

  “Well, I didn’t know Mr. Jacob, but he was very adamant that you should get whatever was in that envelope and look into it if there was a problem. I would think that murder would be certainly considered a problem.”

  “It’s going to be a bit of an adventure, that’s for sure. If you are of a mind and have some curiosity about how this Gordian knot gets untangled, I would be pleased to have you come down here to the Ozarks for a couple of days. Pretty country down here. Nothing at all like Chicago or the suburbs.”

  “That’s very kind of you Mr. Petris. I’ve got some off time planned for the next ten days or so. I guess I could use the vacation time to help unravel the mystery, or, at the very least find out what it’s all about.”

  “Fine counselor, it’s settled then. I believe that Ted is still on the extension so he can give you directions on how to get here. I believe the fastest way would be to fly United into Branson-Springfield airport and then take US 65 south down to our neck of the woods. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow Ms. Odensdotter.”

  With that Petris hung up the phone and Ted Berg spent the next five minutes or so giving Keren directions on how to get to Petris’ estate in Possums’ Knob. After hanging up the phone Keren had Margaret make a reservation on United for the following morning, buttoned up the office and left for home to pack for the trip.

  After the usual indignity that was involved in flying and a forty-five minute drive through some very pretty scenery which was made easier by programming the directions she had received from Ted Berg into her phone’s GPS, Keren found herself at the top of the Ozark hill known as Possum’s Knob.

  Hidden down a narrow winding driveway in a wooded part of Petris’s 20 acres lay the lair of the man himself.

  Blocked with a gated ten-foot chain-link fence covered in metallic baffles to prevent viewing inside is a metal box. It looked like a 1920s police call-box attached to the left of the gate and 4-foot by 8-foot metal sign. The fence topped with razor wire. The sign read:

  Anthropology Research Facility

  NO TRESPASSING

  DO NOT ENTER- Extreme Biological Hazard

  For information contact Noble Petris (417) 974-4408

  Keren, felt put off by what she saw as extreme and unnecessary theatrics would have turned around and left this anti-social old coot alone but she knew he was perhaps the only person available to her who could help with the rat’s nest she faced.

  She adjusted her attitude and dropped her shapely derriere from her shoulders back to its normal position, she exited the car, approached the fence and opened the call-box.

  She lifted the hand-set, punched the phone number onto the keypad and waited for a response.

  After the third ring it connected.

  “Petris. State your name and the nature of your business.”

  “Hi Mr. Petris. This is Keren Odensdotter, we spoke on the phone yesterday about a case I’m involved in.”

  “It’s Petris, Odensdotter. No need for that mister crap. When I open the gate, replace the hand-set on the phone, close the call-box door, get in your car and follow the road to the inner compound. Drive to the house. Do not stop and sightsee. Drive to the porte-cochere by the front door and wait in your car for my person to bring you in. Do you have all that?”

  “Yes, I do, but…”

  The line went dead, and the gate opened.

  “Rude old bastard.” She said out loud as she followed his instructions.

  Two hundred feet further inside the first fence she saw a second fence to her left. Similar in structure to the first it displayed another metal sign which read:

  WARNING—PUBLIC SAFETY NOTICE

  If you discover a dead body, DO NOT render medical help

  DO NOT APPROACH WITHIN 20 FEET

  EXTREME BIOLOGICAL HAZARD

  REPORT INCIDENT IMMEDIATELY

  Noble Petris (417) 947-4408

  The driveway continued off to the right into the woods twisting and turning reminding her very much like a road in the German Schwartzwald. That road had been on the grounds of the Schloss hotel where she and her late husband Lars had spent their honeymoon. The sudden memory of Lars was disconcerting.

  The uneasiness about this meeting with Petris nagged at the back of her consciousness.

  So far, this whole business of working with the Ozarks recluse seemed to be a fool’s errand or perhaps the opening scenes of a second-rate horror movie.

  As her car rounded a last left-turn, the thick forest fell away to reveal a large structure of Missouri limestone reminiscent of the manor houses in central Europe.

  Traditional Bavarian decorations adorned the property facade and the covered entrance. All in all, it reminded
Keren of a cross between the Disney cartoon “Beauty and the Beast” and the Chateau-on-the-Lake resort she had passed as she went through Branson on her way here. She slowly negotiated the sweeping cobblestone driveway and parked her rental car under the Porte—cochere as she was instructed.

  Almost immediately the intricately carved wooden entrance door opened and a slim, middle-aged, athletic-looking gentleman appeared and came down the stairs to greet her.

  “Petris?” she inquired.

  “No Ms. Odensdotter, I’m Ted, Petris’ assistant. I will assist you with your bags, help you get settled in your room and once you’ve freshened up, I will bring you to Petris in his study.”

  “Petris’ assistant, Ted? I don’t understand. I was led to believe that Petris was a bit of a recluse and wasn’t disposed to be around many people.”

  “Ms. Odensdotter, your information is mostly correct.

  Petris is a very private person with a distinct personality and has very little patience with the banalities of most human interactions. It has been said, quite accurately, that Petris doesn’t suffer fools well.

  But, as you can see, this place is a bit more than a simple shack in the hills and Petris realized that even using local service people, there would be a need for a “major-domo” so-to-speak. That turned out to be me and time has proven to Petris that I am neither banal nor a fool. We met during the last case that Petris worked with Douglas Gunn and I have been with him ever since.”

  “Ted, I can carry my own bag and don’t need to “freshen up” as you put it. I did shower this morning before leaving Chicago. Please just take me to Petris so that we can get our business done and with luck, I can get on my way to the Springfield airport and on my way back to Chicago.”

  “Ms. Odensdotter, if I may be so forward, I know a little about you. I know that you have had a successful private practice in Chicago that you started when you left the Public Defender’s office. I know that you lost your husband at a very young age. I know that you are a strong and strong-willed woman who is used to being in charge and doesn’t like being told what to do or how to do it. I also know that you are into a case where you are over your head and need the help of Petris.