Meacham hit the highlights as the Chief shook his head in disgust several times. When Meacham finished, the Chief said, “Okay, maybe we catch a break and someone spots Carver and Miss D although I wouldn’t be surprised if they had switched cars by now. Looks like Grimsley is the key right now – is he under surveillance?”
“He is, Chief, and we will bring him in first thing in the morning for some intense grilling. We are pretty sure he doesn’t know anything that Hawkins revealed to us so we can use that against him. He’s your typical bully – we feel confident that we can break him. As to the new identities, there is no way of knowing what Carver and the girl are using now. We found notes referring to new identities with the names of Sidney Farber, Lily Sanswhite and Winston Siebert III, the last of which was supposed to be for Hawkins. We suspect that the first two names were decoys to deceive Hawkins and also throw us off in the event these documents were ever found. It is hard to believe that Carver and the girl are using them, especially if they are following the news” concluded Meacham, turning to Whipple.
The Sergeant ran down the history of cash payoffs to the Mayor plus a list of suppliers to the Institute which all appeared to be fictitious.
The Chief stood up and stared intently at Meacham and Whipple. After a short pause, he said “Look guys, I know the reputation I have within the department for being under the thumb of the Mayor but those days are over. You will just have to trust me on this one for now. I have an idea on how to handle Wattle but in the meantime let’s not let any hint slip out that we think he might be involved in this caper, if at all. And keep in mind, he may be in it for nothing more than the cash bribes. By the way he acted this morning, we can be sure he is very concerned about the information Hawkins left behind and is most likely plotting his next move right now. Don’t let his appearance deceive you. Wattle is a very astute and clever operator. Are we good here?”
“We are with you all the way, Chief,” said Meacham while Whipple nodded his assent. As they were leaving, the Chief followed them to the door and whispered “Hey, take some of these cookies with you or I will have to answer to the lady upstairs.”
Once outside, Whipple radioed in and confirmed that Fogarty was parked down the street from Grimsley’s house. It looked like their subject was settled in for the evening. Enjoy your last night at home for a long time, Meacham said to himself, as he climbed into his car.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
MONDAY, JULY 18, 1955
It was early in the morning but Burt Grimsley was already pacing in the kitchen in a state of near panic. He had hardly slept. When he walked down to the end of the driveway around dawn, he saw the police car parked at the end of his street and was barely able to control his rage.
When the telephone rang, he jumped at it and heard the artificially soothing voice of Det. Meacham telling him that Officer Fogarty would be in his driveway in 15 minutes to transport him down to the station. The phone went dead before Grimsley could even respond.
***
Meacham was in the interview room sipping coffee when Fogarty brought Grimsley in. “Thanks for coming in, Burt” said Meacham cheerily, as if Grimsley’s attendance was optional and he was doing the detective a favor by stopping by. “Can we get you some coffee?” Grimsley muttered “no thanks” and sat down across from Meacham.
“Burt, let’s go back to our brief conversation at your house on Saturday. Exactly what did you mean when you said that you hadn’t done anything “illegal” up at the Institute” Meacham asked with a quizzical look on his face.
“Look, Meacham, I have no problem admitting that my methods with some of the inmates – I mean patients – are considered rough. Some of the staff think these losers should be coddled but I never broke any Institute rules regarding treatment procedures. You can ask Hawkins if you doubt that - not even a reprimand in my file. If some people are complaining, let’ em step forward and confront me.” Grimsley was gaining confidence as he spoke and was thinking what a waste of money if would have been to bring Ziggy’s lawyer with him today.
“Oh, so Mr. Hawkins can corroborate your statement, is that what you are saying? Sort of a character witness?” Meacham asked in his most helpful tone.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying, Detective” said Grimsley, leaning back in his chair with his arms interlocked behind his head, a sneering smile starting to form.
“Well, my friend, I guess you haven’t heard the big news. Frederick Hawkins hung himself yesterday in his basement. Gruesome sight, Burt. So, he won’t be corroborating anything – at least verbally, that is. Grimsley breathed deeply and tried to suppress the smile that was spreading over his face. With Carver gone and Hawkins dead, he figured that he had nothing to fear.
“But,” and Meacham let the word hang in the air long enough to see the Grimsley’s smile start to fade, “he did leave behind copious written documents about a number of troubling events at the Institute and, furthermore, your name is mentioned in connection with at least two of them. I like that word copious, don’t you? Had to look it up in the dictionary and I can tell you if certainly applies here.”
“Hey, I already told you if there are complaints from patients, I haven’t heard about them. I’m ready to confront my accusers right now. Just tell me who they are.” Grimsley was inspecting his right bicep and massaging it slowly with his other hand before he looked up at Meacham.
“Now Burt, do you really think I would put a police car at the end of your street overnight to watch your house just because you had allegedly bullied or even brutalized some patients? If charges are eventually brought against you for your rumored misconduct with the inmates, as you just described them, others will see that you pay for it.” Meacham paused and stared into Grimsley’s eyes before continuing.
“So, Burt, it seems to me that the big question facing you is, with Carver on the run and Hawkins now deceased, whether or not you intend to be the sole fall guy. It appears from my vantage point that the lackey I have sitting here across from me is a patsy, a dumb muscleman who is going to take the rap for an abduction charge – and a lot more. I never thought you were brainy, Burt, but didn’t think you were stupid.”
Grimsley slammed his fist on the table and yelled, “What fuckin’ abduction, you’re outta your goddam mind!” Fogarty opened the door ready to step in but Meacham waived him off and leaned across the table.
“Fine, Burt, if that’s your position, stick with it and let’s see how this plays out. I would probably do the same thing in your shoes if I thought that the written confession of a man who just hung himself was all the police had on me.
“But then, I might rethink my strategy when I learned that there was an eyewitness to an abduction who has already submitted a sworn statement putting you at the scene as an active participant. Now this sworn statement and Hawkins’ confession would make me a little uncomfortable. But, again, that’s just me.” Meacham finished and sitting back in his chair, took a sip of coffee without taking his eyes off Grimsley.
Grimsley sat transfixed, his mind racing. What abduction? And then it dawned on him that the incident with DeLong must have been seen by someone on the Institute staff or even one of the patients. So, stuffing someone into the trunk of a car was a crime? Hell, Grimsley would have done it a hundred times and considered it just a prank. Sitting there across from Meacham, the incident now took on a frightening form and Grimsley wondered what else had been seen. He could feel Meacham’s eyes on him but looked down and fidgeted with his hands.
Meacham chose to give him plenty of time but after what seemed like several minutes of silence decided to proceed. “I think we understand each other, don’t we Burt? You will be booked on the abduction of Mike DeLong this morning but, to be completely honest with you, that really is the least of your problems, isn’t it? Hell, if DeLong had his way, he might not even press charges. As I see it, you are lucky that he didn’t suffocate in the trunk of Carver’s car or even choke to death on his own vomit. A
lcoholics are known to do that, aren’t they?
“Now choking, that would be an ugly way to die – and in your own vomit. It makes me think of that poor patient up at the Institute, Randall DePue. There’s a strange case. A guy that doesn’t even like rye – but is a well-known top of the line scotch drinker, decides to guzzle down an entire quart of the worst rot gut brand on the market. It makes you speculate about how it happened. For example, what if he were held down and the booze was forced down his throat until he passed out? Yes, if I saw something like that, it would be very hard to keep it a secret.” Meacham paused again and could see that Grimsley was visibly shaking.
“Listen, Burt, are you really prepared to take the rap for Carver? I’ll bet he made big promises to you before skipping town. And with Hawkins dead, look who’s left holding the bag? Hell, Carver double-crossed his partner and it drove Hawkins over the edge. Hey, you’re a Marine, a man who took the honor oath. Now is your moment to do the right thing.”
Meacham got up and walked behind Grimsley and patted him briefly on the shoulder before leaving the room. As he closed the door, he could see the bully shaking uncontrollably. It was now Whipple’s turn to take over. He had a softer interviewing touch that was equally effective.
***
Within an hour, Grimsley had confessed to his active involvement in the DeLong abduction and DePue murder, insisting that he had only held down the patient as Carver force fed him the rye. Meacham couldn’t believe that Grimsley somehow thought this admission, even if true, made him less guilty. It turned out that Carver had only given him $100 with promises of a big pay day right before he left town with Miss D.
In time, Grimsley would learn that Meacham had no eyewitness to the DePue murder and that he had volunteered a confession that would keep him in jail for many years. He was visited early on by his friend Ziggy who slyly asked if he wanted to see that shyster lawyer now. Behind bars, he was unable to control his rage, unleashing it repeatedly and receiving the same in return from his violent cell mates. Some would say that he had reached that elemental level of evil where he had always belonged.
***
While Grimsley was being dismantled at the station by Meacham’s and Whipple’s skillful tag team interrogation, the Chief was huddled with the town’s attorney and a few trusted officials who were not suspected of being in the Mayor’s pocket.
After considerable debate, it was decided that the best path was to encourage the Mayor’s immediate resignation for health reasons with the proviso that no prosecution would ensue – but only for the cash bribes paid by Hawkins. It was further understood that the Mayor would publicly admit, in a written statement, to receiving “improper gratuities” and would contribute to a special fund to be established for support of the families of indigent alcoholics housed at the Institute, the amount equal to the bribes documented in Hawkins’ files.
The Deputy Mayor was eager to make the offer but the Chief insisted that it was essential that he deliver the message. He would not be denied this opportunity for expiation. By 5:00, the Mayor had accepted the terms of the deal and submitted his resignation. He knew that the Hawkins’ letter, along with other information, would eventually be made public and that his other self-dealings to enrich himself might also be revealed. His immediate plan was to sell off, at a deep discount if necessary, as many of his assets as possible, giving him the flexibility to leave Parlor City on short notice. While the town attorney was certain that the cash bribes by Hawkins were only the “tip of the iceberg”, he also knew that getting a local grand jury to indict Wattle might not be easy.
***
Carver was looking out through a slit in the curtains at the two-lane road that ran past the dingy motel. Stella was sitting on the bed and he could feel her eyes on him. She said nothing but was unable to muffle the occasional sob. It was uncharacteristic of her and it gave him a twinge of concern.
“With Hawkins dead instead of on the run, it is our best course of action. I warned you that we might have to adjust our plans on the fly. We don’t know what he might have said before hanging himself. That means we could be in greater jeopardy traveling together”, said Carver.
He never once looked back from the window but heard the sound of a suitcase clicking open and felt certain that she would pack without further complaint.
CHAPTER TWENTY
TUESDAY, JULY 19, 1955
Meacham was sitting as his desk, thinking about all that had transpired in the last several days, when the Chief called in with the news about the deal with the Mayor.
Meacham felt that he had handled himself well in the various investigations thrown at him in the last few weeks but there was no sense of satisfaction. Of course, there were still a number of loose ends but that wasn’t it. Would they ever find Carver – or Ripley – and his blonde companion? How would things turn out for DeLong? What about his lingering doubts about his Father and the governor? Deep inside, he felt he wasn’t getting resolved the things that mattered most.
It was at this moment that he decided to make a call on Big Red before he let another day passed.
***
Big Red’s father owned several gas stations in the Parlor City area. He had a residual militaristic bent from his service in the Navy during the war, manifested in part by the clip-on red ties and sailor hats worn by all his attendants. Some employees called him “Mr. Big Red” behind his back but were mute when he conducted his periodic, unannounced spot inspections. He wasn’t wealthy but liked to display the trappings of success and lived comfortably in a large house in the fashionable section of town. It was certainly spacious enough to accommodate his daughter when she returned to town.
As Meacham exited his car, he heard voices and the sound of splashing water so he immediately steered toward the gate on the side of the house that provided entry to the backyard. He recalled that when Big Red’s father had installed the pool upon her return to town, neighbors were envious and some even sneered that he had done so to showcase his daughter’s physical attributes. Some had nicknamed her the “Esther Williams of Parlor City”.
The sun was sending splintered rays through the fir trees that lined the back of the pool and as Meacham adjusted his eyes, he squinted to see a hulking figure dive into the water. Spread out on a chaise lounge, as if posing for a bathing suit ad, was Big Red in a form-fitted black ensemble with nylon eyelet ruffles fringing the bottom. Her skin was glistening from her face to her feet and it was obvious that she had just been thoroughly oiled. Maybe she got her supply from one of her Father’s gas stations, Meacham chuckled to himself.
“Hey, Billy, didn’t expect to see you today. Sit down and pull a cold one from the cooler”, Big Red said in a relaxed tone. Meacham mumbled something about being in the neighborhood and obediently grabbed a beer as Big Red looked at the pool and smiled. “Sea Nymph. Like it?”, asked Big Red, turning toward Meacham to give him a more provocative view. “Huh?”, Meacham responded, perplexed. “The suit, idiot. It’s called Sea Nymph, the newest fashion. Never mind” said Big Red sharply. “Oh yeah, very fetching” replied Meacham, remembering Hawkins description of Dede and thinking she would be pleased. Big Red simply glared and said nothing.
Splashing water broke the silence and a figure emerged from the far end of the pool. Big Red yelled out “Harry, come down here and say hello to my friend Billy Meacham, big time detective downtown. Harry runs a construction company, Billy. He builds all my Dad’s stations and just branched out into pre-fab housing.”
Harry Macklowe was a perfect bronze bookend for Big Red. Meacham could tell from the bulging muscles that he spent considerable time in the gym and an equal amount in the sun. As Harry walked toward them, Meacham stood up, pulled his stomach in and straitened his posture.
Harry grunted hello and said, “Oil me down, babe, it washed off in the water.” Big Red proceeded to slowly and seductively oil Macklowe’s body as Meacham sat down and focused on his unopened can of beer. Finally, as the massage se
emed to go on forever, he got up and went over to examine the pool more closely.
Meacham could hear Macklowe behind him whispering directions to Big Red and then they started bantering back and forth as if he wasn’t even there. “Uh, I gotta be going,” said Meacham louder than he intended, after a few more uncomfortable minutes gazing into the water. As he turned back, Big Red was now slowly and forcefully massaging oil into Harry’s legs and acted surprised that Meacham was still there. “Take it easy, babe,” said Harry in a deep baritone voice.
As Meacham opened the gate, Big Red hustled to catch up to him while wiggling into bright yellow terry cloth shorties. They covered the brief distance to his car in silence until Meacham decided it was time to speak. “Listen, Cynthia, I’ve been meaning ---“ “Just shut up, Billy”, she interrupted, poking her finger into his chest. “You have been meaning something and doing nothing since high school. You’re a genuine good guy but annoying as hell. I’ve run out of time with you and probably wasted too much already. And let me give you some advice, since you are a genuine good guy, that a genuine good guy with no plan rarely gets the girl – if ever. Hell, if you do have designs on that snooty brunette, you’ll probably lose out to that gawky minister because he is at least a man with a purpose. I saw the way you kept looking at her the other night at the Pig & Whistle and then in the church parking lot so let’s not pretend we both don’t know exactly who I am talking about, ok?” Meacham was not prepared for this verbal onslaught and said nothing. “Oh shit, I’m wasting my time again,” she said almost plaintively.
Macklowe bellowed from the backyard, “Cynthia, get back here, you missed a few spots.” And with that, Big Red smiled at the mute Billy Meacham and strutted toward the backyard.
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