Chasing Charlie Chan - Special Edition: Includes Catching Water in a Net

by J. L. Abramo

  “I’m Meg Kelly. I knew your brother. I’m sorry about what happened to Lenny.”

  Nate didn’t know how to respond.

  “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?” she asked, taking him off the hook. “It’s on Jimmy.”

  “No, thanks,” Nate said. “Maybe some more coffee.”

  “Coming up. And how about you, young lady? Can I bring you something else?”

  “A beer would be nice,” Angel said.

  “How about pineapple juice?”

  “How about a caffeine-packed non-diet Coke.”

  Peter Quince used a pay telephone at the library and called the LASD for Frank Raft. Peter felt it was about time to turn over Richards’ files, information which could very well be considered valuable evidence in a murder investigation. He was told by a desk Sergeant that Detective Raft was presently unavailable and was expected back at the station the following day.

  “Would you care to leave a message for the detective?” the sergeant asked. “He may check in.”

  Peter was about to leave his name and phone number and the reason for his call when to his own surprise he simply said, “I’ll try reaching him tomorrow.”

  After replacing the receiver, Peter realized what had caused his sudden change of heart. He was waylaid by the question that had been nagging him all weekend. How had Ed Richards’ laptop come into the possession of Kevin Tully just after the journalist’s violent death?

  Peter went through the library copy of the Sunday LA Times and found the latest report on the investigation. He decided he would wait until he had another look through the computer files before he gave them up. He would search for any references to Ricardo Diaz, Carlos Valdez, Frank Raft, Robert Tully or Lenny Archer.

  Peter returned to his research at a table in the USC library to learn more about Virginia Hill and her infamous circle.

  Twenty minutes later he was looking at page seventy-three in Homes of the Hollywood Stars, the photograph of a Beverly Hills mansion. A large mansion which Peter easily recognized as the one he had seen in the background of the photos of the two women in Ed Richards’ files. He quickly scanned the history of the mansion and its past occupants, who included Charlie Chan portrayer Warner Oland, Benjamin Siegel and Virginia Hill. And Quince learned the identity of the mansion’s current resident, who happened to be one of the most powerful men in California.

  “Holy shit,” he said aloud, turning a few heads at a nearby table.

  Peter added the name Masters to his list of references to search for in the Richards’ files.

  It took Jimmy some time to convince Maria Rivas he was who he claimed to be, an emissary dispatched by her fugitive daughter to collect the tools of Angel’s escape. Clothing, cash and passport.

  “What about the car?” Maria asked, finally relenting.

  “If things go the way I’d like them to, she won’t need the car because Angel won’t be heading anywhere except back here to you. Safe and sound with a very suspenseful story to tell your grandchildren.”

  “Promise me you will not let any harm come to my little girl,” Maria Rivas said as Jimmy turned to leave.

  Jimmy looked into the woman’s eyes. He knew he could not make such a promise, should never even consider making such a promise.

  “I promise Angel will be safe,” Pigeon said.

  FAMOUS LAST WORDS

  Less than thirty minutes after Jimmy left Maria Rivas with a seat-of-the-pants promise to protect her daughter, Frank Raft arrived directly from the cemetery. He pulled into a parking space and sat watching the Rivas house.

  Raft had time to kill before his scheduled afternoon call to Jackson Masters to iron out the details of the big pay-off. He thought if he could catch up to the Rivas girl and silence her, he might have it both ways.

  The detective searched his pockets for a smoke and a match and realized he had left his pager at home. He cursed his absentmindedness and lit a cigarette.

  At the same time the pager on Raft’s kitchen table beeped, signaling a telephone call originating from Meg’s Café.

  Back at Jimmy’s apartment Nate Archer paced, waiting for Pigeon to return with the bounty that would hopefully inspire Angel to start talking. He stopped occasionally in front of a tall bookcase to examine Jimmy’s library, which for the most part ran to the classics. Dumas, Dostoevsky, Dickens. Angel Rivas sat on the sofa leafing through a copy of The New Yorker, silent except for the time or two when she felt obliged to report that this or that cartoon was not funny.

  Jimmy walked into the apartment, a suitcase in one hand and a small hand purse in the other. The purse held Angel’s passport, one thousand dollars in cash and a bank debit card. The girl dumped the magazine and jumped up from the sofa, looking at Jimmy as if he’d just walked in with a pardon from the Governor.

  “Clean clothes,” she said. “Thank God. Can I use your shower?”

  “Sure,” Jimmy said, holding out the suitcase. “But make it quick. You can use the bedroom to dress.”

  “How is my mother?” she asked, grabbing the suitcase.

  “Very worried.”

  “Can I have the purse?”

  “The bath is on the house, the purse is going to cost you,” Jimmy said. “You can warm up your singing voice in the shower. If you aren’t ready to tell us something we don’t already know about Lenny’s death when you come out, I’ll give the police a shot at you.”

  “No cops.”

  “It’s your call,” Jimmy said. “Get moving.”

  Angel carried the suitcase into the bedroom and she slammed the door shut.

  Nate Archer had stood quietly listening until the girl left the room.

  “Think she’ll use the fire escape?” he asked.

  “Not without this,” Jimmy said, holding up the purse.

  “Do you think she knows who killed Lenny?”

  “Not exactly. But she knows something that may help.”

  “Why is she so afraid of the police?” Nate asked.

  “I can only guess there’s a cop or two involved in the killings.”

  “There were two voices on the office tape recorder,” Nate said. “Are you thinking Raft and Tully?”

  “I’d say they’re the odds on favorites, but we need to hear it from the girl. Something strong enough to get Ray Boyle to jump onboard.”

  “Why?” asked Nate. “Why would two LASD detectives assassinate Lenny and the journalist?”

  “Tully’s not talking, so someone needs to ask Frank Raft. I’d rather it not be me,” Jimmy said. “That’s why we need Boyle. Or Charlie Chan.”

  The old man phoned his grandson.

  “When do you expect to hear from Raft?” he asked.

  “Soon,” said Jackson Masters. “Early this afternoon. I’ll tell him he’ll have to wait until morning.”

  “Tell him this instead,” the old man said. “Tell him we only have one hundred thousand on hand, say we can get the rest for him when the bank opens in the morning and deliver all of the cash to him then.”

  “If Raft knows we’re sitting on a hundred grand, he’ll demand at least that much today.”

  “I’m counting on it. Arrange a time and place for delivery and tell Raft to expect a courier.”

  “Who will you send?”

  “That is not your concern. Call me when you’ve made the arrangements,” said the old man before hanging up and turning to the other man in the room.

  “So?” asked Nick Sedway.

  “We wait. When we hear where and when the drop will be, you’ll go and kill Frank Raft and immediately return to New York. Be careful, Raft is a devious man. I appreciate your help, Nick. I didn’t want to have to use someone from here in Los Angeles,” said the old man as he poured Scotch. “While we wait, please join me in a toast to the memory of your grandfather; he was a dear and trusted friend.”

  “He spoke of you often, with great respect,” Sedway said. “And don’t worry about Frank Raft. He won’t be any trouble to
you after today.”

  Ray Boyle grabbed the receiver before the phone could ring a second time.

  “Speak to me.”

  “It’s Harriman. I found what you were looking for.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m on my way back from Santa Monica; I’m ten minutes from Parker.”

  “Meet me in the coffee shop at Broadway and Temple in fifteen,” Boyle said.

  “Sure,” said Harriman.

  “Ricky shot Tully again, when Tully was already down. Raft stood and watched,” Angel said. She was sitting on the sofa, drying her hair with a towel, Nathan and Jimmy hanging on every word. When the girl paused a little too long, Jimmy cleared his throat to get her going again.

  “And then Raft shot Ricky and I ran like hell.”

  “Did you know Raft and Tully were Sheriff’s Department detectives?” Jimmy asked.

  “I wasn’t sure who or what they were until I saw the newspaper the following day. I thought I might have seen Raft before, giving Ricardo some grief,” Angel said. “But it didn’t matter. I ran because I had no doubt he would have killed me without blinking an eye, whoever he was.”

  “And you’re sure Ricardo had nothing to do with Lenny Archer’s death or the reporter’s.”

  “Absolutely positive.”

  “I need to call Boyle now,” Jimmy said.

  “Boyle who?” Angel asked.

  “Detective Ray Boyle, LAPD,” said Jimmy. “The man who is going to become your knight in shining armor as soon as I can vacate the position.”

  “You told me there would be no cops if I talked to you.”

  “I promised your mother you would be safe and only Boyle can protect you,” said Jimmy. “I’ll have to break one promise to keep another.”

  Jimmy went to the phone to call Boyle.

  While Desk Sergeant Murphy was taking a message from Jimmy Pigeon at his post at Parker Center, a request that Detective Boyle return the call as soon as possible, Ray Boyle sat at the counter of a coffee shop in downtown LA with crime scene investigator Harriman.

  “So, you’re sure it came from the reporter’s house,” Boyle said.

  “The floor of Richards’ house was covered with it,” said Harriman. “I could do a lab comparison if you want, but I’ll tell you right now it’s the same blue gravel we found on Tully’s shoe.”

  “Which means Tully was at Archer’s office sometime after Archer lost the tooth, but before he picked up the gravel at the Richards murder scene.”

  “I’d bet on it,” said Harriman.

  “And what about the chances Tully was in Archer’s office at the time Archer was killed and in Richards’ house when Richards was killed. Is that worth a wager?”

  “And Raft, too?”

  “Had to be. And it had to be Raft who set Ricky Diaz up to take the rap and then silenced both Diaz and Tully.”

  “The sick bastard set up his own partner.”

  “Can we prove it?” asked Boyle.

  “From the evidence alone, I don’t think so. We need a witness, or a confession. It might help to know why Archer and Richards were marked in the first place.”

  “Do you think Raft might have had a good excuse?”

  “At least a reason,” said Harriman.

  “I’m a little curious,” said Boyle. “But if I find out he killed John Billings, Raft is going to have to talk very fucking fast.”

  “Are you planning to track him down sometime soon?” Harriman asked.

  “My shift is over at three.”

  “Want company?”

  “Do you like your job, Harriman?”

  “Love it.”

  “Then I think its best you sit this one out.”

  Frank Raft had run out of cigarettes and had run out of patience. He abandoned his stakeout across from the Rivas house and he cruised in his car until he spotted a pay phone in front of a corner newsstand. He telephoned Jackson Masters.

  As Masters had predicted and as his grandfather had hoped, Raft was anxious to get his hands on the one hundred thousand dollar down payment as soon as possible. Masters objected just enough to avoid sounding too eager to comply.

  “Four this afternoon, in Malibu,” Raft said. “Come alone.”

  “I won’t be coming at all, Frank. I wouldn’t be seen anywhere near you, don’t take it personally. We’ll send a messenger. Where in Malibu? Your place?”

  “What kind of messenger?”

  “Some flunky who runs errands for the old man,” said Masters. “He won’t know who you are or what he’s carrying. He’s harmless. Where in Malibu?”

  “Nobody is harmless, Masters. Tell your flunky to be in Malibu and to phone my pager at three-fifty. I’ll call and give him the drop location then. Tell your harmless delivery boy to be punctual. If all goes well, I’ll ring you tonight to arrange for the balance which I will expect as soon as the bank opens in the morning. If things don’t go well, there better be a damn good reason.”

  Raft hung up before Jackson Masters could argue with the delivery instructions or react to the implied threat. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the newsstand and he glanced at his watch. He realized he hadn’t eaten a thing all day. He jumped into his car and headed out to Malibu. He could grab lunch at his favorite neighborhood diner and have more than enough time to stop at his house to check his pager and his phone messages before the call from Masters’ delivery boy at three-fifty. And plenty of time to make sure he was well prepared for the old man’s flunky messenger, harmless or not.

  Jimmy grabbed the telephone receiver after the first ring hoping to hear Ray Boyle’s voice. Instead it was a woman’s voice and the voice asked to speak to Nate Archer. Jimmy asked the woman to hold and placed the receiver down beside the telephone.

  “It’s for you,” he said to Archer.

  “Who?”

  “I’m guessing it’s your wife,” Jimmy said. “And it sounds a bit urgent.”

  Nate rushed to the phone.

  Back at Parker Center, Boyle stopped at Sergeant Murphy’s desk.

  “Sergeant.”

  “Lieutenant.”

  “I need a home address for Detective Frank Raft, LASD, right away,” said Boyle. “And after you get the information to me, I need you to forget I ever asked.”

  “Is that all?” said the Desk Sergeant.

  “Yes, thank you,” said Boyle, turning toward the stairs.

  “Lieutenant.”

  “Yes?”

  “Jimmy Pigeon phoned for you. He asked that you get in touch with him as soon as possible.”

  “Thanks, Murphy. I’ll be at my desk waiting for your call.”

  Boyle headed up to his office.

  “Annie’s gone into labor, she took a cab to the hospital,” Nate said. “I should be there.”

  “Of course, you should be there,” Jimmy said.

  “But I should be here, help you follow this through for my brother.”

  “You can’t be in both places, Nate. Your wife needs you more than we do right now. We’ll be fine as soon as I catch up with Boyle. We need to drop this mess into his lap anyway,” said Jimmy. “So get going.”

  “I’ll be back up as soon as I can.”

  “Just call me after the baby comes, let me know how it went. Hopefully I’ll have good news. Hopefully it will be over. Some kind of justice for Lenny. Good luck.”

  “You, too,” said Archer.

  “Well, looks like it’s just you and me kid,” Jimmy said after Nate took off.

  “Can I call my mom?” Angel asked.

  “Sure,” said Jimmy. “Go ahead.”

  Boyle called Jimmy Pigeon at home. The line was busy. Before he had a chance to try again, Murphy rang him with Frank Raft’s Malibu address. Boyle checked the time. It was close enough to three. He grabbed his jacket and he headed down to his car.

  Jimmy telephoned Parker Center after Angel was done talking with her mother. Sergeant Murphy told Jimmy that Boyle had been in, had been given Jimm
y’s message and had left again.

  “Fuck,” Jimmy said aloud after hanging up.

  “Now, now,” said Angel from the sofa.

  Back at his Malibu apartment, Raft went directly to the pager he had left sitting on his kitchen table. He returned the phone call originating from Meg’s Café. A few minutes later Raft learned Jimmy Pigeon had been at the café earlier in the company of a young Hispanic woman with a ravenous appetite. He decided that after receiving his down payment he would take a ride to Santa Monica to look up Jimmy Pigeon. Raft telephoned Anthony Gravano at home.

  “Tony, it’s Frank Raft.”

  “What can I do for you, Frank?”

  “I need the use of the barber shop this afternoon, around four. I’m expecting a delivery and I’d rather not take it at home.”

  “How about I meet you there at three forty-five and let you in. You can let yourself out and lock the door when you’re through.”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

  “Frank?”

  “Yes?”

  “How did that laptop work out for you?”

  “Great, Tony. I’ll see you at a quarter to four.”

  Ray Boyle pulled up across the street from Raft’s apartment building on Fernhill Drive at three-thirty. He was about to leave his car when he spotted Raft coming out. He slid down in his seat, saw Raft climb into his own car and drive off. Boyle restarted his engine and followed.

  Ten minutes later, Boyle watched from his car as Raft paced in front of Tony’s Barber Shop on Greenwater Road.

  Boyle decided to wait.

  Soon a second man arrived. He unlocked the front door of the shop. Raft entered the dark storefront shop and the other man left.

  What the hell is this all about? Boyle wondered.

  He decided to sit and wait a while longer and confront Raft when he left the shop.