Sarah broke up laughing.
“Sarah!”
“Sorry, Boss, I’m just a little nervous. My life might be in danger because of a marshmallow man. Boy, if I ever write a book…”
She hung up.
Lowell’s phone rang. “This is Lowell.”
“It’s Buddy. Have you got something for me, Mr. Lowell?” His voice was animated and cheerful. One could hear the smile in every word.
“Are your phones lines secure?”
“Mr. Lowell, we’re a candy company, not the CIA. We run an informal business here. I guess someone could listen in on a conversation. Why do you ask?”
“I have some things to discuss with you. I think it would be best to do so in person. Do you have time to see me today?”
“Why, sure. You can come over any time. I’m always here.”
“My associate and I will be there in an hour. In the meantime would you please not discuss this business with anyone?”
“Yes sir, I’ll try. By the way, do you like marshmallows? I can send you up a nice mixed selection of our top sellers, if you like?”
Lowell was about to refuse when he thought of his team. “You know what, why don’t you. I’m a vegetarian so I can’t eat them. But my staff might enjoy them. I’ll put Sarah back on and she’ll give you an address. Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure. Looking forward to seeing you.”
Lowell switched to the intercom. “Sarah, please give Mr. Ferguson our mailing address and then come in here.”
A few moments later Sarah entered. “So what’s up, Boss?”
The astrologer looked at his staff. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I want you all to be extremely careful. Things aren’t quite as they seem, and I appear to be a target once again. I take this very seriously. Andy will always be a phone call away. Don’t hesitate to call him or me if you see something funny, or if you just don’t feel quite right.”
“Dad, do you think we’re in any real danger?”
“I don’t think so. If anyone is at risk I assume it would be me. But I’m not taking any unnecessary chances, nor should any of you. Take extra precautions and stay alert.”
They all nodded.
Lowell got up. “Mort and I are going to see our client and try to figure this all out.”
Chapter Nineteen
Andy drove Lowell and Mort to the Lower East Side. They entered a gray stone building about one hundred years old, and a rickety ancient elevator with a metal door that had to be closed manually. On the third floor the elevator doors opened to the offices of The Happy Snappy Marshmallow Company.
A huge plastic effigy of a smiling Marshmallow Man stood next to the reception desk. Mort couldn’t resist pushing his finger into the statue, which was made of a rubbery substance. His finger went in a good two inches.
They approach the smiling receptionist. A plastic Ziploc container filled with various colored marshmallows sat on her desk.
“David Lowell to see…”
“Yes, Mr. Lowell,” her smile widened, “Buddy is expecting you. Just go down the hall to the last door on your left.”
Apparently everyone did call him Buddy, even his employees.
They walked down the hall past framed pictures of multi-colored marshmallows, giant S’mores, and children sitting around a campfire with marshmallow laden sticks. They passed half a dozen employees, all smiling, and all quite overweight. They must’ve liked the product.
The door to Buddy’s office was open. He was sitting behind his desk. Lowell knocked on the door frame.
Buddy looked up, a huge smile on his face. “Mr. Lowell, please come in.” He stood and extended his hand.
Lowell shook it. “This is my associate Mort Simpson.”
“How do you do, Mr. Simpson?”
“Call me Mort.”
They shook hands, and then they all sat.
Buddy was a short, squat, squishy man. He looked amazingly like the figurine out front, and Lowell wondered if he had been the model for the company’s icon, or if was just coincidence.
Buddy opened a plastic container that was sitting on his desk. It was filled with various varieties of the sweet treats. “Please, help yourself.”
Mort took a coconut covered one and popped it into his mouth.
“Now, what can I do for you gentlemen?”
“Have you contacted the FBI yet?” asked Lowell.
“Just spoke to them yesterday.” His voice was cheery, the smile firmly planted on his face. “The agent I spoke with, Bill Jensen, was less than encouraging. He said the evidence was shabby at best. But I insisted, pointing out the gravity of the situation. He said he’d think about it.”
“I might have a chat with Agent Jensen.” Lowell tugged on his ponytail. “Buddy, did you tell anyone about what we talked about?”
There was silence for a few moments. “Well, I told my partner, but I don’t think he told anyone.”
“Can you find out?”
“Sure. I’ll get him in here right now and you can ask him yourself.” He picked up the phone and pushed a few numbers. “Ralph, would you mind coming into my office for a few moments? Thank you.” He hung up. “Do you mind if I ask what this is all about?”
Lowell considered the question before answering. “There’s been some trouble and I need to discover its origin.”
Buddy took a chocolate-covered marshmallow and ate it. “Trouble, what kind of trouble?”
“My assistant Sarah and I were attacked the other night.”
Buddy looked absolutely horrified, the smile gone. “Attacked? Oh my goodness. I hope you’re both alright.”
“Yes, we’re fine. We managed to dissuade the assailants.”
“Well, thank God for that.” The smile returned. “Are you sure it has to do with our business?”
“No, I’m not. That’s why we’re here today, to try and uncover the source of the problem.”
There was a light tapping on the door. Buddy waved his hand. “Ralph, come in. I want you to meet David Lowell, the detective I told you about, and his associate, Mort Simpson.”
A tall, extremely thin man entered. He was not smiling. “How do you do? I understand from Buddy that you’ve got a lead on our missing money.”
His voice was loud and high-pitched. Lowell wondered if there were any secrets at all in this company.
“Do you mind if we close the door?” asked the detective.
Buddy frowned. “Well, I suppose not.”
Ralph closed the door behind him, walked over to the desk and stood next to Buddy. They reminded Lowell of Abbott and Costello. Mort and Lowell exchanged a quick glance.
“This is my partner and brother-in-law, Ralph Murphy.” Buddy ate another marshmallow. “Apparently Mr. Lowell was attacked a few nights ago.”
Ralph looked appalled. “Attacked? Well, Mr. Lowell, what does this have to do with us? We’re a family business.”
“Yes,” said Lowell, “a family business with a multimillion dollar thief. Have you discussed the situation with anyone?”
The skinny man replied. “Well, not directly.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s hard to keep things quiet around here.”
Lowell shook his head. “I don’t doubt it.”
“I mean, people overhear things, you know?”
“And who do you think overheard you?”
Ralph looked thoughtful. “I guess everyone. We don’t have secrets at Happy Snappy.”
Lowell nodded. “I think you should start considering it.”
Buddy ate a green one. “You don’t think one of our people attacked you, do you?”
“Not directly. But apparently someone was paid to have me silenced, and until I’m sure who it was I must look at all possibilities. We’re deali
ng with the theft of a great deal of money. If the thieves are caught they will face a very long prison sentence. That’s motivation enough for someone to do almost anything to prevent our succeeding.”
Ralph nodded. “Well, I did overhear our receptionist, Martha, talking about what’s been happening on the phone to her boyfriend.”
Buddy looked pale. “Why didn’t you mention it?”
“I didn’t think it was important. I mean, by now everyone knows that something is up. But I don’t believe anyone knows exactly what.”
“No,” said Lowell, “nobody except the person who stole it.”
“Ralph,” said Buddy, “they think it was Harriet.”
“Harriet? Oh my God, no. But she’s such a competent bookkeeper.”
Lowell nodded. “Yes, it takes a lot of competence to successfully steal millions of dollars.”
Both partners nodded.
“But how could she do it?” asked Ralph.
Buddy reached for another treat, but Ralph grabbed his wrist and stared at him. Buddy put the top back on the container. “They believe her brother was in on it. That he used his office in the bank to move the money.” He turned to Lowell. “Is that about right?”
Lowell nodded. “That’s why I insisted that you bring the FBI in. They need to audit the bank’s records, and quickly, before the money can be moved. That’s the only way we will know for sure.”
Buddy unconsciously reached for another sweet treat, but caught Ralph looking at him and he pulled his hand away.
Lowell stood. “Please let me know what the FBI finds out. And in the meantime I must ask you both to be discrete and not talk about this around the office.”
Buddy stood up and shook hands with Lowell and Mort. “I’ll let you know the moment I hear anything. This is terrible business, just terrible.” He reached over and grabbed a red, white, and blue marshmallow before Ralph could react. “These are left over from the Fourth of July. Vanilla, blueberry, and strawberry. They’re very popular. I’ll send some in your order.”
He popped it in his mouth.
In the elevator Mort turned to Lowell. “What did you think?”
Lowell pulled on his ponytail. “I thought marshmallows weren’t very fattening.”
Mort giggled. “I guess if you eat enough of anything…”
Chapter Twenty
That night Lowell was having an early dinner alone at Louie’s on Twenty-fifth Street. He was being extra cautious and had sent the staff home early with Andy. After a hearty vegetarian stew and a glass of organic Merlot he paid his bill and headed home. The long walk would help his digestion, and Andy was only a phone call away. It was almost seven. Rush hour had winded down and the traffic was moving along quickly.
He began walking uptown on First Avenue when he saw two men approach a yellow Toyota stopped at a light. One went around to the passenger’s side and opened the door. The other yanked the driver’s door open and began pulling a middle-aged woman out by her hair.
Lowell ran across the street and was a few feet from the car when a short young woman joined him.
“You take the one on the driver’s side, if you think you can handle it, Grandpa.”
“Grandpa? Listen, young lady, why don’t you just go about your business and let me deal with this?” He turned to look at her and was startled. He had noticed her earlier that day, half a block behind him looking in store windows, and had begun to wonder if perhaps she was tailing him.
She ignored his advice and ran around to the passenger’s side.
He ran to the driver’s side, grabbed the assailant’s arm at the elbow and pushed against the joint, causing that man great pain. The man let the woman’s head go and turned his attention toward Lowell.
“Want a piece of me, asshole, you got it.”
He swung a slow, wide, left hook, which David was able to step away from. The force of the punch upset the man’s balance, and David pulled him forward while putting his leg out. The man tripped over it and fell facedown on the ground. David walked over and took the man’s arm at the shoulder and twisted it, dislocating the joint. The man screamed in pain and then passed out.
Lowell turned toward the second assailant just in time to witness the young woman who had joined in the rescue execute a perfect judo shoulder-throw, tossing the man on his back. As he lifted his head she swung her left foot whacking him on the side of his head and knocking him out.
She looked at the man lying at Lowell’s feet. “Not bad, Grandpa.”
“If you call me grandpa one more time I’m going to take you over my knee and spank the living daylights out of you.”
“Oh, do you promise? Fifty shades of gray.” She laughed. “Anyway, lighten up, I meant it as a compliment. I like older men. Takes guys a long time to grow up.”
A cop car pulled over behind them and two of New York’s finest exited.
“What’s going on here?” asked a young officer.
The driver of the car came over. “Officer, those two men were trying to pull me out of my car when this man and woman came to my rescue.”
“I see.”
Lowell presented his card. “David Lowell.”
The officer looked down at it. “Okay, Mr. Lowell, if you wouldn’t mind giving us a brief statement.”
After they both had told their tale to the officer, Lowell headed uptown once again. The young woman walked right next to him, keeping pace. She was a few inches shorter than Lowell’s five-feet-eight.
“Young lady, what do you want? And why have you been following me?”
“Oh you notice, huh? I never was good at tailing. It’s just as well. I want to talk to you.”
She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a small, well-worn leather wallet. She flipped it open. “Officer Karen Sweeney,” then she flipped it closed and returned it to her pocket.
“That wasn’t a New York badge, was it?”
“LAPD.”
“Hmm. What does the LAPD want with me?”
“We’re pursuing someone in New York and your name came up.”
“Who are you chasing?”
“Williamson.”
Lowell stopped walking and turned toward her. “Dr. Williamson?”
She nodded. “I was tailing him too and saw him go to your office. What did Williamson want with you?”
“I wouldn’t stay in business very long if I betrayed the confidence of my clients, would I?”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving until I find out.” They walked uptown together at a New York pace Lowell was used to. “Hey, could you slow down just a bit? I got short legs.”
“Can’t keep up with the old guy?”
She smiled. “Maybe not on foot. Anyway, I was told to look you up and I was going to introduce myself eventually. I just wanted to check you out on the sly for a little while, see who I was dealing with.”
“Told to look me up by whom?”
“You know a detective in L.A. named Samuels?”
“Wally?”
She nodded. “He told me to introduce myself while in New York. Said you were old friends.”
“Let me see that badge again.”
She took it out. “What’s the matter, don’t you trust me?”
“For forty bucks you could have a phony made up. You have any other ID?”
She laughed. “You’re Wally’s friend, alright. Here,” she reached into her back pocket and took out her personal wallet.
Lowell looked through it and found a picture of the woman in uniform standing next to Wally Samuels. It looked like a Christmas party at the precinct. Satisfied, he returned it to her.
“So what can I do for you?”
“Private detective from L.A. named Mickey Broad was found shot to death in his apartment in Venice, California, and I’d lik
e to know who killed him. He was in New York shortly before his murder. I believe the doctor was his last client. I find him to be a person of interest in the case.”
Lowell nodded. “Williamson mentioned hiring a PI in California. So what do you want from me?”
“I want to hire you. I need to know what he told you. I can pay you five hundred bucks. That’s all I’ve got.” She took a check from her wallet already made out to Lowell for that amount. “Only don’t cash it until I get back to L.A.”
“Officer…”
“Sweeney.”
“Officer Sweeney, I have no intention of giving you any information regarding my client or his case.”
“I was hoping in the spirit of cooperation with law enforcement…”
“I tell you what, any information that I feel isn’t crossing the line I will share with you. How’s that?”
He started to walk rapidly. She struggled to keep up.
“I take it that walking is not a sport in L.A. like it is in New York?”
“We only walk on treadmills.”
“Well,” said Lowell, “get used to it. But don’t expect to get much information.”
“Like I said before, I’m not leaving your side until I find out a few things.”
“Where are you staying?”
“Wally sort of thought you might be willing to put me up for a few nights. He said you have a big place. And I wouldn’t get in the way.”
“Why don’t you just stay in a hotel and charge it to the LAPD?”
She shrugged.
“You’re out here on your own, aren’t you? Does your boss even know what you’re up to?”
“He thinks I’m on vacation visiting my aunt in Greenwich, Connecticut.” She laughed. “He’d bust a gut if he knew.”
“Look,” said the detective, “I don’t mind helping you out a bit while you’re in town, but I’m a very private person and I don’t really like house guests.”
“You won’t even know I’m there, I promise. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse and won’t leave my room.”
“I don’t think so.”
Karen stopped walking and gently grabbed Lowell’s arm. He stopped too. “I wouldn’t ask, except that, well, I’m kinda broke right now and it took all my dough to get here. I really don’t have enough for a hotel room.”
Evil in the 1st House Page 9
