All Chickens Must Die: A Benjamin Wade Mystery

by Scott Dennis Parker

  “No.” I walked over to her and shook out one of my own. I offered it to her and lit it.

  “You have trust issues, Mr. Wade,” Danielle said.

  “I do.” I motioned to Martha to pull a chair over and set near Danielle. She complied. Looking around the room, I found Danielle’s purse. I brought it over and sat across from her. “Let’s see what we have in here that says 1:10 p.m.”

  I rifled through her purse. The usual assortment of female items. Tucked deep into the bottom was an envelope. I opened it and pulled out three train tickets, all for a coach seat on the 1:10 p.m. train out of Houston at Grand Central Station.

  Three? What had I missed?

  “Who’s the third ticket for?” I said. “You and Marlowe, I get. Who’s the third?”

  It was her turn to smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  I read the names on the tickets. Preston Marlowe, Danielle Bowie and…

  “Amos Peete?” I stared at her in astonishment. “You know Amos Peete?”

  Danielle smiled at me and shook her head. “You don’t think I’d let my brother stay behind and wind up in jail, do you?”

  The revelation was surprising, but what was more surprising was that I didn’t have a clue how this all fit together. Danielle and Peete are siblings? In what world did that make sense? She must have been the one who had Peete tail and get to know Clara. See what she knew on the night Marlowe visited Teague. Then I showed up and he started in on me, going so far as attacking me in my own house. It’s because he was looking for the diamond, but I gave him enough of a fight that he had to hightail it before the police showed up.

  “Marlowe?”

  “He and I are lovers, if you must know, Mr. Wade.”

  Most of the pieces were now falling into place. “Marlowe was hired by Kruger to get the diamond Aldridge bought before Kruger could get it. That means—”I made sure I had my facts somewhat in order—”Kruger and Marlowe are both part of that mysterious organization.”

  “It’s more of an informal society, if you must know.”

  “And, if Teague isn’t a part of the society, that means Marlowe has something on Teague to force him to order the slaughter. But, if you’re Marlowe’s lover that means you know about this organization.”

  Danielle gave me a pitying look. “Mr. Wade, I not only know about the organization, I’m a member of it.”

  I stood. “Well, then, looks like we have a date at the train station.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Danielle blew smoke in my direction. “And Marlowe is an expert thief. He’ll smell a rat a mile away if you show up alone.”

  She was right. I paced the room while Martha continued to hold her gun on Danielle. I looked at the two of them. The thing that had stuck in my craw for a couple of days finally dislodged.

  And now I knew how I was going to catch Marlowe.

  I raced across the room and picked up the phone. Danielle suddenly looked worried. “Who are you calling?”

  “The police. You’re going to jail.”

  Danielle actually laughed at that. “You seem very certain, Mr. Wade.”

  I spoke into the telephone, then hung up. Walking over to Martha, I motioned for her to stand and I whispered something in her ear.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. Think you can handle it, seeing as the two of y’all will be alone together?”

  For the first time since I’d met her, I saw Martha’s smile. “We’ll do just fine.” She angled a look at me. “This mean I have the job?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And what are you going to do?” Martha asked.

  “I’m going to go see an old friend.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The University Savings and Loan building was a short, five-story brick structure in the West University district of Houston. Located just off Kirby Drive, it was among the tallest buildings in the area. It had the air of being the biggest fish in a moderately small pond.

  Oliver Aldridge was that fish and his savings and loan was the pond. His wealth was probably ill-gotten but his influence was oddly substantial. You’d think that a fish like him would only have influence in the hiring and firing of his employees, but you’d be wrong. He knew people, powerful people. I decided that he owed me a favor.

  I parked my car and strolled into the lobby like I owned the place which, for the next few minutes, I did.

  A guard noticed me first. He didn’t do much other than unfold his arms and hook his thumbs in his belt. I paid him no mind. Instead, I walked straight across the lobby until I reached the receptionist who sat in front of an ornate office. Now, “ornate” by bank standards is several rungs lower on the scale than, say, that of an oil man or a rancher. Still, it was the fanciest office in the room.

  I rapped a knuckle on the receptionist’s desk. She looked up and then over her glasses. Her brunette hair was beginning to show streaks of gray.

  “May I help you?” Her tone indicated that the correct answer was “no.”

  I pointed at her boss’s office door. “I need to see him.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said but didn’t mean it. “Mr. Aldridge isn’t seeing anyone this morning.”

  “He’ll see me.”

  “Why?”

  I leaned down closer to her ear. “Because I know where the diamond is.”

  She frowned.

  “Just tell him. I promise he’ll see me.” I waggled my eyebrows and waited for her to comply.

  She threw a glance at the security guard. His impassive stare offered her no hope. With another stink eye at me, she rose and walked primly to the frosted glass door and slid inside. The lobby was quiet, but I still couldn’t make out the conversation going on in there. Probably helped when the bank had to foreclose on some poor soul.

  A few minutes later, the door opened and the receptionist walked out followed by a man who wasn’t Aldridge. Turned out it was a bank vice president named Sanderson. He was short and portly. There was almost no hair on his head. His face had the pucker of a man who had just peeled and eaten a lemon. This wasn’t going to be good.

  Mr. Sanderson didn’t offer me his hand. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Aldridge isn’t taking any meetings this morning, mister—what is your name?”

  “Wade. I’m a private eye. Mr. Aldridge should know me. I visited his wife yesterday, but not in the way you just thought of.” I reached into my jacket and pulled out a business card. “This is for you in case you can’t remember my name.”

  The puckered mouth actually shrank more. “No need for name-calling, Mr. Wade.”

  “I didn’t call you a name. Don’t say I did.” I indicated the card with my chin. “You gonna give that to Aldridge?”

  “Probably not,” Sanderson said. “But I’ll see you out.”

  I stood my ground. “I’m not sure if your secretary told you, but tell Aldridge I have the diamond.” I smiled. “He’ll know what I mean.”

  Mr. Sanderson paused a moment, clearly thinking things over. I helped him out.

  “Would you like to be the one to explain to your boss how you knew who had the diamond but then felt it your duty to escort that person out of his grasp? I’m offering myself to you as long as you take me to Aldridge. You’ll be a hero. Maybe you can buy some more lemons.” I raised my eyebrows.

  Sanderson just stared at me. He noticed his secretary and the guard looking at him.

  “I don’t think you can just walk in here and demand anything, Mr. Wade.”

  “Maybe not, but the only way I’m leaving here is by being dragged. Then, won’t everyone comment on that? It might even end up in the paper. You think your boss will like that?”

  Sanderson pursed his lips and gave a noncommittal shrug. “Wait here.” He walked back to his secretary’s desk and picked up the phone. He dialed and waited, then spoke in low tones.

  To his secretary, I said, “Does he eat lemons for breakfast?”

  She looked at me and stifled a chuckle.


  Sanderson nodded, then nodded again. He shot a look at me. I knew I was in. I really knew it when Sanderson’s shoulders slumped, then rose again. He put the receiver down and came back to stand in front of me.

  “You got your wish, Mr. Wade. I hope you know what you’re doing. Follow me.”

  Oliver Aldridge’s office was about as ostentatious as you could get and still be considered something resembling a work environment. The walls were lined with photos of Aldridge and various celebrities, politicians, and other folks I didn’t know. Atop one wall hung the taxidermied head of a ten-point deer. The opposite wall had an African gazelle. The accompanying photo showed Aldridge, decked out in safari gear, kneeling in front of a Jeep with the freshly shot gazelle in the foreground.

  I guess he liked his prey best when they were dead.

  Sanderson stood politely out of the way. Three men—let’s call them guards—dressed in suits stood at the ready. The bulges in their suits told me they were armed. I still got the impression Aldridge wasn’t too sure of my story and wanted to make sure to stay out of the range of collateral damage, to keep his suit clean.

  The big wing chair behind the massive desk faced the window at the far side of the office. Out of the window, the main area of downtown shone in the morning sunlight. The traffic down on Kirby Drive was moderate, cars moving up and down its lanes. Thick, velvety curtains framed the window. The desk was the typical banker’s desk complete with a green lamp, a desk blotter as pristine as you could image, and a few silver pens standing in pen holders. Two black phones were positioned off to one corner of the desk. A third phone sat opposite the pair.

  From behind the chair, the voice of Oliver Aldridge slithered out of his mouth. “I think you and I have had some dealings before, Mr. Wade.”

  I stepped forward. One of his goons tensed. Another took a step toward me. I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise. “Yes, we did.”

  “You were a beat cop on the force, if I remember correctly.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And what was it you called me?”

  The memory jolted to the front of my brain. Inwardly I cringed. It was one thing to call a man a lying, thieving son of a bitch to a bunch of fellow officers with one lousy reporter in the room who passed along the compliment to Aldridge. It was quite another to be talking with the man to whom the jab was directed.

  I cleared my throat and threw caution to the wind. I wanted something from him and the best way to get it was the direct approach. “I believe it was something along the lines of a lying, thieving son of a bitch.”

  Aldridge finally swung around in his chair. I hadn’t seen the man in person for a few years, but, evidently, time had been good for him. He was tanned to a nice golden hue. His clothes, as always, were starched so heavily you could use them as a notepad. The gaudy rings on his fingers picked up the light. The tie all but glistened in the light of the room.

  He smiled at me. It was the smile of a snake. “That’s exactly what you said.” He gave me a steady look. “Care to repeat it again, this time to my face?”

  “Truth be told, Mr. Aldridge, I’d rather not.”

  “Too yellow to say it to my face?”

  “No, more like that’s in the past. That’s not why I’m here today.” I indicated my suit pocket. “Mind if I get a cigarette?”

  His goons eyed me but Aldridge nodded. I tapped a cigarette out and put fire to it. The lungful of smoke soothed me.

  “I think you know why I’m here, Mr. Aldridge.”

  He smiled, showing white but crooked teeth. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  I walked over to a chair opposite his desk and plopped myself in it. “The diamond.”

  “What diamond?” Aldridge kept his voice even, trying to suppress the surprise in it.

  “You know what diamond,” I said. “The diamond you bought. The same diamond that was stolen from your house. Now I’ve got it. Call it my ticket in here to chat with you.”

  Aldridge wet his lips. I saw the twitches running just under his skin. I suspect not many people talked to him this way.

  He folded his hands. “What would you like to talk about?”

  “Chickens.”

  Some of the men behind me chuckled. Even Aldridge tried to keep a grin from showing on his stoic face. “Chickens?”

  “That’s right, chickens.”

  “What about chickens?”

  “Well, you see, it’s like this.” I settled in to offer a discourse. Or, at least, a bluff. “I have a client who earns his living by raising chickens. It’s his bread and butter like money is to you or investigations are to me. With me so far?”

  Aldridge arched an eyebrow in response.

  Right. “Something was taken from you, as you well know or we wouldn’t be talking.”

  He looked at me evenly. “I heard you visited my house yesterday. Interviewed my wife. Made kind of a nuisance of yourself. Why were you there?”

  So ended the question-and-answer session. Time for only answers. I needed to get back on top of this. “Investigating,” I said, buying time. “Putting things together, looking for the reason why someone would want to slaughter a bunch of chickens.”

  “And did you?”

  “I did. You see, the man who stole the diamond from you ended up losing it in the chicken coop of your neighbor, Mr. Smith. The thief, a man named Preston Marlowe, was set to deliver the gem to the man who hired him, but the only way to get the diamond was to kill all the chickens and examine their carcasses one by one until he found the diamond.”

  Aldridge arched an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. But Marlowe must not have grown up near a farm because he didn’t know that all hard objects like stones or diamonds simply pass through the digestive tracts of chickens. He was looking at the wrong end of the birds.”

  “And you found my diamond?”

  “I did.”

  “Do you have it?”

  “I do.”

  He snapped his fingers. His men started moving toward me.

  “Hey, I don’t have it with me. I’m not that dumb.”

  Aldridge chuckled at that. “You’re pretty close to that dumb. I can have my boys work it out of you. Have you howling in no time. You’ll just give it to me and be begging for your life.”

  I spread my hands. “Mr. Aldridge, I’m gonna give you the diamond. It’s why I’m here.”

  He stopped, his mouth agape, staring at me. “What?”

  “I’m here to let you know I’m perfectly willing to return what’s rightfully yours.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “But?”

  “I’d like to have you to do a favor for me.”

  “What?”

  “Make a phone call.”

  “A phone call?”

  “Yup. To someone who can cancel the death warrant on my client’s chickens.”

  The room was silent for a moment until one of the goons chuckled. In a flash, Aldridge snapped his fingers and jerked his thumb in the man’s direction. “Out.” The offending man stopped laughing but stood there, as if he didn’t really think his boss had just dismissed him.

  “Did I not make myself clear? Get the hell out of my office.”

  The chastened man shuffled out the door.

  Aldridge looked at me. “I misunderstood you, Mr. Wade. You are a man of honor.”

  “Thank you. Now, who do you know in the agriculture department?”

  “Whom.”

  “What?”

  “Whom do you know in the agriculture department? Didn’t you pass grammar?”

  I shrugged. “Not with flying colors. Is there anyone you can call who can pull some strings and get this slaughter order rescinded? Like that fancy word?”

  “Not really. I have a degree from the University of Texas. Where did you earn your degree?”

  I scowled. “School of hard knocks. It’s amazing how much you can learn from the streets.”

  “Like how to arrest the wrong
man?”

  I smirked. “No, that takes institutional knowledge.”

  “Or a few men in the Houston Police Department who know the truth but choose to ignore it for their own gains.” He steepled his fingers. “Now, it is my turn to ask you for a question. You mentioned the thief’s name. Do you know his client?”

  “A man named Kruger.”

  Aldridge slammed his open palm on his desk so hard everything on the desk jumped an inch. Despite my cool exterior, so did I.

  “God damn him,” Aldridge bellowed. “I knew it. I knew it!” He stood so abruptly that the chair went flying backward, smashing into the wall.

  Sheepishly walking into Aldridge’s anger, I said, “Marlowe and Kruger are part of some sort of secret society that has, as a rule, the unquestioning obligation to right the wrongs, perceived or otherwise, done to its members. Based on what I’ve learned and what I’ve been able to deduce, Kruger must have thought it a slight that you bought that diamond before he did. Seeing that as a wrong, he contacted Marlowe to steal what Kruger thought was rightfully his.”

  “It never was his,” Aldridge yelled. “I bought it. The diamond belongs to me.”

  A new thought occurred to me. “How would you like to have a little chat with Marlowe, see what he knows about Kruger?”

  Aldridge turned and leveled his gaze on me. “Do you know where he is?”

  “No, but I know where he’s going to be. And I’ve already set a plan in motion to get him. If you, um, would like to be in on it, I have an easy way to make sure you get a piece of him.”

  Aldridge pursed his lips, then came around his desk and sat on the edge. “Explain.”

  I did.

  He nodded. “I’m taking an awful chance with my diamond, Wade. This had better work.”

  “It will,” I said. “And you’ll make that call to Austin?”

  He put out his hand. I stood and shook it. Our eyes met. There was something akin to respect in his. He nodded once.

  “Great,” I said. “Now, who has a phone book?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Houston's Grand Central Station was the Southern Pacific's main line here in town. The station opened in 1934 and most of the new building smell was gone, replaced by exhaust and sweaty people. Fashioned in the Art Deco style so popular in the 1930s, the main central structure was three stories tall. On both sides jutted smaller two-story wings. Sitting atop the roof were the words “Southern Pacific” in red letters that glistened in the noonday sun.