Shadow of a Killer: the Dark Side of Paradise

by Frank A. Perdue

  He had just laid down to take one of his many naps when he heard, “You got a visitor.” It was one of the trustees, also incarcerated, but with more privileges than he. The man in blue dungarees was followed by a guard who dutifully opened Ivan’s cell door and escorted him, sans chains this time, to a waiting room. He silently hoped it was Rachel who awaited him in the next room. He expanded that thought with a desperate wish that not only would she be as beautiful as he remembered so long ago when he began his descent off the mountain, but she would bring news good enough to end his incarceration.

  When she entered the room, it was immediately transformed from the dismal surroundings of which he could not escape, to a hopeful place. She was that devastatingly beautiful to him.

  “Darling, are you all right?” She said it with a fearful look on her angelic countenance.

  “What do you think?” His tone was sarcastic, and he regretted it as soon as it was said. “I’m sorry baby, I am glad to see you. It’s just that I think I’m stir-crazy already. At least now I know what that term means.”

  “I wish I could trade with you.” They both knew she didn’t really mean that. No one should be in his position, unless they deserved it, and he definitely didn’t.

  She reached out to take his hand, and the guard standing in the corner cleared his throat, loudly. Ivan pulled his hand back, saying as he did, “It’s one of the rules around here. No touching of any kind.”

  “What a horrible place,” she answered.

  “Yeah. We don’t have much time. I need you to do something for me.”

  “I thought you said we couldn’t touch.” She said it to take the edge off. Her smile didn’t really come off though.

  Ivan ignored the inference, “I’ve had a lot of time to think in here, and there has to be a connection between the cop who was killed and me. For the life of me, literally, I can’t come up with anything.”

  Rachel interrupted Ivan, saying, “Harry Shields protégé, who works out of the FBI office here is checking on that from the standpoint of the widow. So far nothing has jumped out at him.”

  “I can think of only one creep who might want revenge on me, Harold Lambright. Remember him?”

  “How can I forget?” She said it, thinking back to when he took a shot at her in Richmond, when he thought that she was going to report that he raped her. His weapon of choice had been a rifle, not a pistol. “Isn’t he still in prison?”

  “I don’t know. It’s been nearly four years, and no one could prove that he ever killed anyone. He could be out on parole.”

  “I can call Andrew Dark. He might still be working at the Richmond police department. If not, I’ll call the Virginia State Prison. Maybe they’ll tell me if Harold’s still there.”

  “I doubt you’d learn anything that way. When you’re dealing with the government they don’t ever like to give out info to the public.”

  She gave him a disapproving look, and tears welled up in her eyes, an indication of the futility she felt. “At least I can try, can’t I?”

  “Sorry kid, this place is getting on my nerves. I’m not trying to be short with you.”

  “I know. It’s frustrating not getting anywhere.” The tears somehow held back.

  “Something will turn up. It has to.” It was said to pick up his wife’s spirit. Things weren’t looking too good from his standpoint.

  They spoke of personal things for another ten minutes. She also related everything the widow Carey had told her about her relationship with her husband. When their allotted time had expired, Rachel stood, and leaned across the table, meeting her husband halfway. Their kiss drew a response from the guard, who started toward them. They separated, and Ivan looked at the officer whose duty it was to enforce the rules, saying, “What are you going to do, throw me in jail?”

  The other man said nothing. He backed away, returning to his position by the door, waiting for his prisoner to follow. Truth was, the man liked Ivan Dunn, and he was probably the only officer in the jail who believed him innocent.

  Ivan left the room first, as Rachel Dunn watched her husband, his shoulders slumped, being led from the one touch of home he might experience for a long, long time.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As soon as Rachel returned home, she called for Andrew Dark at the police station in Richmond. She was politely informed that he had retired. Of course they wouldn’t give her his phone number or address.

  She dialed the information number, and it was another dead-end. Dark’s number was restricted. Since they looked it up for Richmond, she was sure that he must still be in the area. She would probably have to return to her home town to obtain his address, and visit him personally. It was important they find out Harold Lambright’s whereabouts.

  Rachel made a decision. She would not only go to Richmond and track down Andrew Dark, she would continue north to Joliet, Illinois and see Chris Ellison, the man they also knew as Joe. It was a longshot, but perhaps he could shed some light on the case. Being in prison, he might have heard something that would help her husband’s stature. And it had just occurred to her, there was one other person who might hold a grudge against her husband. Joe would know about that.

  Now that she had made the decision to travel east, there was no reason to wait. She called the airline, and was able to obtain a seat on a plane heading to Chicago the next day. Were she to go to Richmond she would have to wait two more days for an open seat. That made her choice easy. Time was of the essence. She would have to make a connection for Virginia after she talked to Joe.

  Just then her phone rang. It was her son. “Mother, how are you doing with everything that’s going on?”

  “It’s good to talk to you too,” she said it a little sharply, slightly irritated that he skipped the amenities, and still feeling down from her visit with her husband. She had a feeling that Thomas had already convicted Ivan, and sent him packing to Alcatraz, or San Quentin.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

  “For what it’s worth, my husband was with me when that policeman was killed. He’s being framed!” Period. End of discussion about that.

  “Okay. So how are you going to prove it?”

  “I’ve talked to the widow, and I’m convinced she didn’t have anything to do with it. So now I’m going to follow up on it from Ivan’s side. Someone had to have it in for both of them. Otherwise why go to so much trouble to plant evidence in our home?”

  There was a slight pause on the other end of the line, then Thomas asked, “Is anyone assisting you? I know the police have already closed the book on this. They’ll be no help at all.”

  “We have a friend in the FBI, who’s checking out the forensic evidence. But he works out of Los Angeles, and can’t give too much time to this. There’s another agent in San Diego who’s doing a little investigating here, mostly as a favor to the L.A. guy. Nothing has turned up yet.” Rachel’s voice trailed off, an indication of her discouragement.

  “Why don’t you give me their names, so if I run into them I’ll know they’re on our side?” As an afterthought he added, “It’s not like I have anything else to do in my free time.”

  The mother instinct in Rachel overrode her other concerns, and she answered, “Oh Thomas, (She never called him Tom) I’m so sorry about what happened in Japan. Is there any chance that the girl, what was her name, Kim, will come over here?”

  “No Mom, that book is closed.” He didn’t elaborate.

  She dropped the subject, because she was sure it was what her son wanted. “There are two people who, I’m sure, have a grudge against Ivan, and they are capable of doing something like this. But one or both might still be in prison, where my husband put them. I need to go back east to find out.”

  “Are they both in the same place?”

  “No. I’m not sure what happened to one of them, but he could be in the state penitentiary in Joliet, Illinois, and the other is in the Virginia State Prison.” She paused before cont
inuing, “You’ve heard me talk about the man named Joe. He’s in Joliet, and might be able to shed some light on the one man’s whereabouts.”

  “I’ve got some time coming. Why not let me take care of one of the investigations for you?”

  “I can’t ask you to do that. You’d have to go to Richmond, Virginia. I already have an airline ticket to Chicago. I’m not even sure you’d be able to find the retired police officer down south who could give you the information.” Silently Rachel was relieved that he wanted to help.

  “It’s settled. Tell me what I need to know.”

  Rachel was slightly unnerved. If she hadn’t already bought her airline ticket, which was not transferable, she would just go to Richmond, and let her son talk to the man named Joe in Illinois. But that wouldn’t work now. She couldn’t tell him too much about Harold Lambright, lest he learn about his mother’s rape. She would have to rely upon Andrew Dark’s discretion to not reveal that part of her past. “I’ll write it out for you.”

  Rachel’s hesitation was almost imperceptible, but Thomas, having been trained as a policeman, noticed. However, he chalked it up to her reluctance in asking for his help, and not wanting to impose on her son.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Gladys Pisney was not really a busybody in the true sense of the word. She was a sweet little old lady with not a lot to do. Her beloved husband Leonard had died just short of their thirtieth wedding anniversary. He’d been gone now for nearly a year. She’d taken up quilting, but couldn’t stay interested. Besides, her borders were ragged no matter how many books on the subject she’d read. She just couldn’t get it right.

  Lately she had spent much of her afternoons standing at her large living room window, sometimes for hours at a time, just staring out to the street. It was fortunate for Ivan Dunn that her home was adjacent to his property in La Jolla, the way it all turned out.

  She was stationed at the window one cold clear January afternoon when she noticed some activity on the street below.

  There’d been a storm come through the night before, and the low clouds and fog had been pushed far out to sea with the strong north winds that followed.

  When she saw the Dunn Chevrolet pull out onto the street she perked up. Finally there was something different to see from just the usual landscape. There were clearly two people in the front seat of the vehicle. She could even tell that one of them was a woman, and that her neighbor Ivan Dunn was driving the car.

  Not three hours later another car pulled up near the house across the street. A man, in some kind of uniform, and wearing a cap, walked up to the front entrance of the Dunn house. He looked around, but couldn’t see the neighbor, who had pulled a sheer curtain across her window. When he turned back he appeared to ring the bell. He was carrying a large package, wrapped in manila colored paper.

  She was intrigued by what she was watching, but just then the bell on her oven rang, signifying her hot cookies were done. She went to the oven to remove them. When she returned. the man was nowhere to be seen, but his automobile was still parked at the curb.

  Soon the door to the house across the street opened and the man appeared. He was no longer carrying the large package. He did, however, hold a much smaller bundle under his arm, also wrapped in the same colored paper.

  It was interesting to her because it gave her something to focus on. Most days she would stare out that window seeing nothing unusual for hours on end.

  It wasn’t until many days later that she would attach some significance to the occurrence. That was the day that Evan Castiglione came calling.

  The private investigator assumed, correctly, that when the authorities had Ivan Dunn locked safely behind bars, their investigation would grind to a halt. After all, they had more than enough evidence to convict. They were blinded by the rage they all felt by the loss of one of their own.

  There were few homes on the street of the Dunn residence. The Pisney house was the third one he tried.

  He had almost decided no one was home when he stood on her front porch for over a minute after ringing her bell without an answer. That’s when he saw the curtain on a window near the porch move slightly. He rang the buzzer again, leaning on it a little longer this time.

  Gladys had been upstairs in her kitchen preparing her meager lunch of soup and a half sandwich when the doorbell rang the first time. She hurried down the winding stairs of the spacious home to the ground floor, thinking excitedly that maybe one of her children had come to call.

  As a precaution, since she lived alone, she peeked out the downstairs window before opening the door. A man she didn’t recognize stood there. He wore an overcoat, and his hat was pulled down so that she couldn’t really see his eyes. She had decided not to open the door when the buzzer sounded again. She recanted, but opened the door only slightly.

  “Yes young man, what is it?” She muttered irritably, disappointed that it wasn’t her son standing there.

  “I’m sorry to bother you ma’am. Here’s my card.” He held out a business card with his name and occupation on it. He also, in his other hand, showed his investigator’s license.

  “I don’t know if you listen to the news on the radio or television, or perhaps you’ve seen it in the local newspaper about Mr. Dunn across the street?” He ended on a questioning note.

  “What about Mister Dunn?”

  “He’s been arrested. I’m trying to help him. If you could answer a few questions for me it would sure help.”

  The stranger sounded nice, and sincere, and she would like to help her neighbor if she could, so she opened the door wide, and invited Evan in. “Now what can I do to help? You said you have some questions?”

  After being seated in one of her soft living room chairs, Evan stated, “Yes. It concerns any activity you might have noticed a few weeks ago. It might have been a Friday, probably in the morning.” He was really guessing about the day and time. It didn’t have to happen right after the couple left for the cabin in the mountains. There was about a three day window before the cop was killed. He didn’t want to spook his possible witness by telling her what Dunn was accused of, either, although it was unlikely she hadn’t heard or read about the case.

  “I don’t want you to think that I spend my time watching the neighbors Mister---, what did you say your name was?”

  “It’s Castiglione ma’am, with a hard E on the end. And I didn’t mean to imply that you spy on people. I just thought that in your daily routine perhaps you spotted something out of place.”

  “Well let me think.” She was becoming excited, that just maybe she could help with the case. “There was one thing that seemed strange. A delivery man came to the Dunn home one day. I’m not sure what day though.”

  “What was strange about it?”

  “Well, he didn’t have a delivery truck, for one thing.”

  Castiglione jumped on that, sure that this might be what he was looking for. “You said for one thing. What else was there?”

  “He took a large package into the house. He had to be in there for some time, and when he came out he only had a smaller one.”

  “How small?”

  “Let me think.” She liked using that term. “It was about the size of maybe a milk bottle. But it was wrapped up.”

  “Do you remember anything else? What kind of car was he driving?”

  “It was black, and older, maybe a Ford”

  This was much more information than he expected. His excitement showed on his face. “And what about the man himself? Was there anything distinguishing about him or the way he was dressed?” Evan held his breath in anticipation of her answer.

  Gladys Pisney thought for a moment before answering, “Well he looked Chinese, or Japanese.”

  “In what way?”

  “Well, he had slanted eyes!”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Evan Castiglione was on a roll. His investigation was turning up valuable information. Longfellow might be able to have the case against Ivan Dunn di
smissed with what he found out. At the very least the bail would be set at a reasonable amount. He was also thinking an early dismissal might earn him a bonus. He could use it, with his daughter in the hospital.

  Evan had never married, but it wasn’t for lack of want. Jackie, his girlfriend, wanted a career, of all things. She was in college when she got pregnant. When he found out he pleaded with her to marry him. They hadn’t been together long, but he wanted to do the right thing. He was ten years older, so that was a consideration. Her dream of a career in medicine was the deciding factor however. She only had one more year of college to get her bachelor’s degree, and then two years at nurse’s school. To her it was unthinkable to throw all that away, on a marriage to a man she didn’t love.

  He did convince her to have the baby, and put it up for adoption. That plan went by the wayside when she saw her baby girl. She was willing to endure all the stares and criticism for being an unwed mother, just to keep her darling child, which she named Debbie, after a cute movie star named Debbie Reynolds.

  Evan did what he could to help, contributing most of his money while Jackie finished college. She never made it to nurse’s school however. Her daughter contracted a viral infection in her heart, and was hospitalized for an indefinite length of time.

  That had been six months ago, and there was no end in sight. Debbie was a fighter, but she just wasn’t well enough to go home. Perhaps she never would be.

  Evan Castiglione drove out to El Cajon. He wanted to interview the widow. He had one important question to ask her. Then he would lay it out for the lawyer.

  When he pulled up to the curb in front of the Carey house he was intercepted by the cop named Jay.