by S. D. Tooley
The fax machine started humming. They walked into the study and stood vigil over the paper-spitting machine.
“The family lawyer accessed Mr. Abbott’s safety deposit box,” Frank explained. “It contained only one item. Ludders wasn’t sure if it had any significance. But when a man bothers to rent a safety deposit box for over forty years ...”
“Forty years?” Sam interrupted.
“Yes. And all he kept in it was one piece of jewelry.” Frank pulled the sheet out of the fax tray.
“Sonafabitch,” Jake whispered.
The picture was of a pin in the shape of a lightning bolt.
Chapter 40
Carl opened the door to his hotel suite wearing a robe, his face covered in shaving cream. “I see you are still an early riser,” he told Jake.
“Old habits are hard to break.”
“Help yourself to coffee.” Carl returned to the bathroom. “Any luck on the survivors in Mushima Valley?” Carl called out.
“According to Lieutenant Colonel Joe Kelly, none of the survivors of his Task Force was conscious at the time so they wouldn’t be able to tell us anything anyway.”
Jake carried his cup of coffee to the large picture window. The sun was making a stunning appearance on the horizon, dwarfing the fishing boats and a large tanker off in the distance. He walked over to the dressing area where Carl was rinsing off the shaving cream.
“Murphy closed the Wilson case. He received the order from Preston.”
“I thought you removed that bug from Preston’s phone.” Carl hung his robe up in the closet and slipped into a light blue short-sleeved shirt.
“These were calls made before I removed the bug. Preston is bribing Murphy with the police commissioner post. Claims he can’t have any negative publicity in HIS town before his announcement.”
“What announcement?”
They moved to the couch in the living room. Jake told Carl that Preston was blackmailing Governor Avery Meacham. “I’m not at liberty to explain the extent of the blackmail. It has been neutralized, for now.”
Carl shook his head in disbelief. “That man has no conscience. State rep wasn’t good enough. Now he wants to be governor?”
Jake told Carl about the phone call from Murphy to a man named Cain.
Carl slid several pictures across the table. “My surveillance team took shots of this guy coming and going from Preston’s house numerous times. Recognize him?”
Jake studied the picture. The man looked like a retiree from the pro-wrestling tour. “Hate to meet him in a dark alley.”
“His name’s Cain Valenzio. Former boxer from New York. We think he was a runner for the Gambino family at one time. We could never get anything to stick. For his size, it’s surprising he’s able to slip in and out of the darkest recesses of a city without being seen. If he’s used aliases, we haven’t pegged any on him yet. But give us time.”
“He didn’t happen to hop a plane to Dallas recently, did he?”
“I’m embarrassed to say he gave my men the slip that night. His name wasn’t on the flight log but he could have used an alias. Our Dallas office showed Cain’s picture around the VA hospital. No one recognized him.”
Jake showed him a copy of a fax. “The family attorney found this lone item in Abbott’s safety deposit box. According to the bank, the box hadn’t been accessed since 1957.”
Carl studied the picture. “Damn. That’s the same pin.”
At exactly five-thirty, the phone rang. Jake pressed the speaker button on the phone. They exchanged introductions and pleasantries. The woman’s name was Phong Lee. Elvis translated for Phong Lee who said she hoped she could help.
“Phong Lee tells me she was twelve years old when Hap washed ashore in their village of Yongchou,” Elvis explained in his slight accent.
“Does she remember a date?”
Elvis relayed the question to Phong Lee.
“No. She says she only remembers it was hot, so it had to be August or September. And since she had turned twelve the month before, it had to be 1951.”
Jake read off a list of questions slowly so Elvis could write them down. Elvis relayed the questions one by one to Phong Lee.
“She says the black man was delirious. He had a bullet in his back and he also had malaria or something. He told her his name was Duke.”
“Does she have any idea where he went after he left Yongchou?” Carl asked.
“She says men stopped by the village for food and he left with them. The men had painted faces and spotted clothing. They frightened her. They were American. Duke was frightened of them at first but then after talking with them he shook their hands. Duke told her father that he lost his papers to get home and the men would help him get some made up. He mentioned something about Honolulu.”
“Mercenaries,” Jake said under his breath. “One last question, Elvis. How does Phong Lee know this Duke was the same man pictured in the paper?”
After a while Elvis replied, “She says it was his smile. She had never seen anyone smile the way he did.”
Jake ended the call and looked over at Carl. “He had a whole new set of I.D.s made up.”
“Which might prove the desertion theory. Why else would he need to change his identity?”
Jake got up to leave, then turned back to Carl, rested his gaze on him, his brows furrowed. “Are you sure there isn’t some information you want to share with me?”
Carl shoved his hands deep in his pants pocket, studied the patterned carpeting. For a moment, Jake thought Carl might finally tell him what was bothering him. Instead, Carl patted him on the back as he walked Jake to the door.
“Have patience.”
Chapter 41
Preston walked up behind Cain. “What are you looking at?”
Cain’s thick fingers were parting the white sheers hanging from the window in the ballroom. “There was a dark car following me from the hotel this morning.”
“Could have been a coincidence.”
Cain shook his head. “Maybe, maybe not. I made a detour through the shopping center and eventually lost him.”
“Did you get a look at the driver?”
“Dark windows. Could be cops.”
“You are jumpy.” Preston walked over to the silver tray on the bar and poured himself a glass of orange juice. His heels clicked against the polished marble floor. “You did an excellent job in Dallas. They have made it official. My dear friend, George Abbott, died of natural causes. No witnesses. Another clean job.”
“What about Parker Smith?”
Preston reached into the inside pocket of his linen jacket and pulled out an envelope. “Parker is a vegetable. He’s no threat. Ames is already dead. That takes care of everyone.” He handed Cain the envelope. “There’s a little bonus in there, too. The helicopter should be coming soon. I’ll be leaving shortly for a meeting in Springfield.”
“When will you be back?”
“Late this evening or early morning, depending on the weather.”
Cain watched a blue Jeep ramble up the drive. “Are you expecting company?”
Preston looked over Cain’s shoulder. “Come.” Preston led Cain down the hallway to the living room. He motioned for him to wait around the corner in the dining room. A few minutes later, Juanita knocked on the door and announced his visitor.
“Hope this isn’t a bad time, Mr. Hilliard,” Sam said with a somewhat monotone voice that said, I don’t really give a damn if it is. Preston extended his hand which she clasped firmly.
“I’m leaving in a few moments. What can I do for you, Sergeant Casey?”
Sam took a seat on the Queen Anne sofa. Preston chose a regal high-backed chair. “I’m sure you’ve read about the body discovered in the overpass.”
“Yes. A syndicate hit, wasn’t it?” Preston smiled slightly, then added, “or was it a drug buy gone bad?” Hearing a helicopter droning nearby, he checked his watch.
Sam watched him closely, her eyes dissecting his e
very move, her mind digesting and storing the information for future use. She pulled out a picture of Hap Wilson from her purse and said, “I understand that you served in the Korean War. Mushima Valley seemed to be where you made a name for yourself.”
Preston picked up the picture of Hap and studied it. “He wasn’t one of the wounded I carried out.”
“No?” Sam asked with an innocent, wide-eyed expression.
“There weren’t any blacks on that killing field. I would have remembered that.”
“You don’t recall during your tour of duty in Korea of ever seeing this man?”
Preston gave a half-hearted laugh and tossed the picture on the coffee table in front of her. “My dear girl, that war ended over forty years ago. Where has this man been all that time? He has been reported missing from duty while the rest of us risked life and limb. And you expect anyone to have any interest whatsoever in where he has hidden himself all these years?”
Preston pulled a piece of lint from his pants and held it up as if scrutinizing this foreign object that dared to soil his clothing. Standing up, he straightened his floral silk tie and buttoned his suit coat over his trim torso. “I saw a lot of men die in that war, Sergeant. I myself was wounded. I won’t spend one more second discussing a cowardly deserter.”
He was ending the meeting. Sam watched him walk to the door. She picked up the picture and followed him.
“Did you know George Abbott?”
Preston turned, his hand on the front door knob.
“Abbott?” He furrowed his brow in thought. “Yes, he was with me in Korea, for a brief time. I’m ashamed to say I didn’t keep in touch with anyone after Korea.” He held the front door open.
“The Dallas police are looking into Abbott’s death as a possible homicide.”
“Oh, really? The papers say the police closed that case.”
“That’s what the police want the press to print.” She handed him a picture of Cain. “What about this man? His name is Cain Valenzio and it’s possible he might be tied to Abbott’s death. Maybe he has some vendetta against Korean War vets.”
Preston grew silent. Overhead, the helicopter was sweeping around for its landing in the backyard. The updraft sent tree branches swaying.
Sam could tell by the way his temples pulsed that she had hit a nerve. “Well, I see your ride is here.” She motioned for him to keep the picture of Cain. “Have a safe trip, Mr. Hilliard.”
Sam smiled as she walked to her Jeep. She had ruffled his feathers, and ruffling a few feathers was always her favorite way to start out a morning.
As the pilot carried Preston’s suit bag and briefcase onto the helicopter, Preston made a quick call.
“You need to rein in Sergeant Casey or we are going to have problems.”
Chapter 42
Murphy stopped by Sam’s doorway. He didn’t wait for her to look up. He just bellowed, “Casey, I want you in my office, NOW.”
Sam didn’t think it would take long for Preston to call Murphy. He probably called him from the helicopter. She saw the look on Jake’s face as she headed down the aisle. It was a look of, What have you done, this time?
Murphy didn’t bother to close his door. He liked an audience when he was chewing out one of his subordinates. He planted his knuckles on his desk. “What the hell were you doing at our esteemed state representative’s house this morning?”
“Just tying up loose ends.”
“Loose ends on a case that’s closed?”
“It’s routine.”
“Routine?” His voice raised a few decibels. “I’ll say what’s routine and what isn’t. You usurped my authority when I specifically ...”
“You closed the case too soon,” Sam countered. “I didn’t know you were the kind of cop to bury a case under a ton of red tape.”
“You have a problem, Sergeant?”
“My problem is with you. How dare you interfere with an ongoing investigation? Chief Connelley would never go behind his detectives’ backs. He obviously is a man of character and principle.” Sam kept in control but made no effort to keep her voice down. If Murphy wanted an audience, she would give them something to hear.
Murphy’s face reddened. “Who the hell do you think you are talking to, young lady?”
“At this moment, I’m not really sure.” Her feathered earring whipped across her face. At one point it got caught in her hair. She was aware of the spectators in the outer office. Some lived and breathed for confrontations like this and Camille Carter’s visits. It fueled the break room gossip mongers. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jake heading her way, but Frank stopped him.
Perspiration started to form on Murphy’s forehead. The meeting would be short-lived because Sam knew the last thing Murphy wanted was to sweat in his one-hundred-and-twenty-five-dollar silk shirt.
“Sergeant, I think you need some time off to think about this. You are suspended. Take three days to rethink exactly what kind of future you want in this department. No, make it a week.” He raised his arm in a theatrical gesture. “Now get the hell outta here.”
Sam glared at him. Her hand instinctively found her medicine bundle. Oblivious to the stares and whispers, she returned to her office. All she did was chant in her native Lakota while she clasped her medicine bundle firmly in her right hand.
“Sam, you have to think first before you open your mouth,” Jake said.
She ignored him, walked over to the window in her office and cranked it open, all the while chanting. She packed up her tote bag with her notes. Janet poked her head in to tell her Chief Connelley wanted her to call him. It was important.
“Sam,” Jake called out after her as she headed for the elevator. He stopped at Janet’s desk and stood next to Frank. As Sam waited by the elevator, the two mourning doves streaked through her doorway and into the office. Maury and Andy made a dive for the floor. One officer pulled out his gun and aimed it at the moving targets.
“Hey, shoo them birds out of here,” Sergeant Scofield yelled, rushing out from behind his desk. “And put that gun away.”
The two mourning doves flew into Murphy’s office where they each made a deposit on Murphy’s desk right in the middle of the report he was writing to put into Sam’s file.
Murphy jerked back screaming, “Sonafabitch!”
One dove snatched a yellow rose from the vase of flowers on Murphy’s credenza. It flew over to the elevator where it deposited the rose in Sam’s outstretched hand, and then flew back to its mate on the windowsill.
The laughter that erupted when the birds visited Murphy’s office ended abruptly when the rose was dropped into Sam’s palm. She scanned the silent office slowly, her turquoise eyes seeming to take on a glow. Inhaling the sweet fragrance of the rose, Sam smiled and stepped into the waiting elevator.
“Mitchell!” Murphy stood at his doorway with his hands on his hips.
“What happened to my day-to-day reports on Casey?” Murphy closed the door eyeing the bandage on Jake’s head but not curious enough to ask him what had happened.
“You said to report anything suspicious. I haven’t seen anything suspicious. Just routine police work.” Jake looked at the residue the mourning doves had left on Murphy’s desk and smiled.
“Routine? You call anything Casey does routine?” He used a notepad to scoop the littered papers into the garbage can. “JANET!” Murphy yelled into the intercom.
“Circumventing a homicide investigation isn’t exactly routine either.”
Jabbing an index finger toward him, Murphy warned, “You watch it or you’ll be suspended along with Casey.”
Janet appeared in the doorway. He pointed toward some of the bird droppings that had missed the papers and stained his desk. “Get something to clean this up.”
A few seconds later, Janet appeared with a can of disinfectant and a wad of paper towels. She set them on his desk and announced, “I’m going to lunch.”
“Wait.” Murphy watched Janet scurry out. “Shit, you e
xpect me to clean this?” He stared at the mess and winced. Gingerly, he ripped off one of the paper towels and took a half-hearted swipe at the droppings.
Jake moved toward the door. “What’s the saying? Ye sow what ye reap?”
“You just remember our agreement and keep up your end of the bargain.”
“Now that Sam’s suspended, she can’t very well get into any more trouble.”
Murphy straightened up from his sanitizing chore. “Trust me. The worst thing in the world is to give Sergeant Casey time on her hands.”
Chapter 43
Jake dried off and pulled on a pair of clean blue jeans, thanks to Abby. Little by little, more of his clothes were ending up in the locker in the gym. He heard soft flute music floating through the intercom system on the wall. A lit, scented candle on the counter emitted a faint, pleasant aroma.
His hair still damp from the shower, Jake opened the refrigerator and felt for the coldest beer can he could find. He didn’t open it, just held the can to his head.
Abby materialized in the doorway. “You left work early.” She poured two glasses of iced tea and handed Jake one. Taking the can of beer from him and placing it back in the refrigerator, she said, “Have a seat and I’ll change the bandage.”
Subtle, yet effective. Jake had to smile at how smoothly Abby did that. She had a certain air of respectability that made it difficult to defy, deny, or criticize her. She was Mother Theresa in a headdress.
