Pretty City Murder

by Robert E. Dunn

  “Ahem, Joe, I want to talk with Pepper Chase. Has she been called in for more questioning?”

  Joe looked up. "Larry, you heard what Dempsey said. I’ll be making the decisions from now on. I’ll keep you informed when necessary. As a matter of fact, she is coming in today at one o’clock. Do you want to be present?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “All right. Get some lunch and, when you return, you can sit in on the interview.”

  Larry went to Chinatown, this time alone, still smarting from the early-morning show of disloyalty and needing a place to feel proud and useful again. Merchants stopped talking to each other and smiled when he walked by. One of them chatted with Larry for a minute. On Stockton Street, yellow and green vegetables rested in tilted crates placed in neat rows. He sat down at a sidewalk table belonging to Tony of Tony’s Pizza Napoletana’s. The building was elaborately painted olive green and yellow. He ordered meat balls.

  At precisely one o’clock, Larry and Hieu walked into Joe’s office.

  “I got a call telling me to stay away from the Greenwich.”

  Joe looked up. “Who was it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Let’s head to Interview Room #2.”

  The men entered a plain, white room with a city desk that had a chair on each side. A voice recorder was inside a wall niche next to the desk. The desk and chairs were bolted to the floor, and the recorder was locked behind a transparent acrylic cover. Two more chairs were shoved up against the opposite wall and touched the bottom edge of a two-way, observation mirror set into the wall. A giant, phony daisy camouflaged a hidden camera.

  Dressed in a sky-blue jacket and sitting straight, Pepper Chase fiddled with an orange clip on the back of her head. She smiled at Larry. A red patent-leather purse sat in her lap, and a paper cup filled with water was in her right hand.

  Larry leaned against the wall with his hands behind his back, and Hieu took the wall chair next to Larry.

  Varton extracted a pencil from his pocket and placed it on the desk next to a piece of paper, yanked a key from his other pocket, unlocked the recorder cover, pulled it down, and hit the record button. “Ms. Chase, the interview will be recorded. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Her eyes flickered at Larry until he said, “Please listen carefully to Inspector Varton and answer the questions truthfully.”

  “Ms. Chase, my name is Inspector Varton.”

  She looked down at his pencil.

  He looked at the piece of paper. “Your name is Pepper Darlene Chase, you work at the Greenwich, and you live in San Francisco. Let’s see. You come from Chowchilla, California. Is that right?”

  “Yes, sir,” she answered cheerfully.

  Larry asked, “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

  The skin covering the area above her cheeks rippled like water, possibly signifying the gnashing of teeth. Both hands trembled slightly. “I have two brothers, but I don’t like talking about them.”

  “Okay,” Larry said, “We won’t talk about them.” Larry remembered the old kidnapping case in Chowchilla and avoided any further mention of her hometown. “Are you happy here in San Francisco?”

  “Oh yes, I love the city.”

  “Are you happy with your job?”

  “It’s my first job, and it’s the best. The guests are extremely nice to me. I couldn’t ask for more. I’m making friends. The employees are wonderful. I’m able to buy clothes I never could afford. I have an ideal apartment for one. The weather is sunny and mild. I get my nails done every week at the Greenwich. The rooms are elegantly decorated, and the hallways are vacuumed every day. So, yes, I’m happy. Really.”

  She likes being the center of attention, but not being questioned.

  Varton lowered his voice. “Do you know how money got into Cornelius’ room?”

  “No, sir. I have no idea. I brought him his lunch at three thirty. He is so precise. Always wants his meals at the same time every day. He can be a problem...oh, you know what I mean, don’t you Mr. Leahy?” She scanned Larry as if he would provide an answer. “I brought him pot roast from the hotel kitchen. That’s something I would like to learn how to prepare when I get married, but it is so difficult to find a good man. Mr. MacKenzie was a very good man, wouldn’t you agree?” She looked at each one of them.

  Her voice is no different from the twang of a rubber-band.

  Larry prepared to probe Pepper about her relationship with Cornelius.

  Was O’Hara right about a romantic relationship?

  “Ms. Chase, when was the last time you were in Mr. MacKenzie’s room?”

  Her attention shifted to Larry. “Four o’clock.”

  “Is something wrong, Ms. Chase?” Varton asked.

  Larry pulled out his notepad and quickly wrote, “Last time Pepper was in 1212 was at four in the afternoon.” He added an exclamation point, his way of noting the shock questions caused.

  “No need, Inspector Leahy. The interview is being recorded.”

  Larry held firmly to his notepad and noticed Hieu quickly stuffing his in his suit pocket.

  Pepper pulled a red compact from her purse and said, “I look terrible.”

  “Are you feeling okay?” Varton asked.

  “Yes. I’m fine.”

  “And what did you mean when you said, ‘Mr. MacKenzie can be a problem’?”

  Larry saw a torn poster announcing May’s Officer of the Month lying on the floor in a corner of the room. Dust balls covered a picture of his face.

  Varton said, “So, what did you mean?”

  Pepper wriggled like a kindergartener. “Well, he told me that he had an argument with Mr. O’Hara about someone who had been fired. I liked looking after him. He is...oh, I mean, he was...a fine man...and a religious man, too. I don’t know much about religion. My family never went to church. You understand, Mr. Leahy?”

  “Miss Chase, just answer the questions,” Varton said without emotion.

  Larry asked, “Pepper, do you want another drink of water?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Inspector Trang, get her water,” Varton ordered.

  As Hieu walked out of the office, Larry sat down and slid his chair over ruts to be closer to her. “Just be calm. The questioning shouldn’t take too long. Take your time.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  “Ms. Chase, the last time you were in Mr. MacKenzie’s room, you say, was about four. Did you leave after that?” Varton asked in a flat voice, as if he were a lounge singer sitting on a grand piano and not caring who was there.

  “About twenty minutes later.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “Back to the front desk.”

  “Did you return to his room later in the night?”

  “No, of course not. It was the Fourth of July, and we were getting busy.”

  “Did anyone else go to Mr. MacKenzie’s room...to the best of your knowledge?”

  “No.”

  Hieu walked in with a paper cup and handed it to Pepper. She drank deeply and, with the other hand still clutching the compact, pulled the purse up her lap, which drew her black skirt up. Not knowing where or how to get rid of the paper cup, she pulled the skirt down and studied Larry.

  “Let me take that,” Larry said.

  “I can get rid of the paper cup,” Hieu said.

  “Give it to me.” Varton threw it in the waste paper basket.

  Hieu leaned over and whispered into Larry’s ear.

  “Excuse me, Inspector Varton. I need to talk to Inspector Trang outside.”

  “All right. We’ll wait until you return and begin the questioning again.”

  They stepped out. As if speaking to the dead, Larry said, “Okay, great. We’ll wait five minutes and go back in, just enough time for Pepper to wonder what’s going on. That might get her to relax and talk.” Hieu took out his cell phone. Five minutes passed, and they nodded at each other.

  “Thanks, Inspector
Varton. Pepper, tell us more about your job and what it’s like to be a front desk clerk.”

  Pepper asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. We received a report from the Greenwich.”

  “A report, Mr. Leahy?”

  “Accounting records, phone calls, e-mails...“

  “E-mails?” Pepper lifted the compact, looked at herself, and said, “Sometimes, I have to work with security. They will ask me questions, and they’ve taught me to be on the look-out for dishonest people and people with motives. I notice things, and if I’m asked, I always report what I’ve heard or seen. It’s my duty, and I always do my duty. Really.”

  “And how does that work out? Have you ever been commended for what you’ve reported? Has Mr. O’Hara ever given you a raise for a good report?” Larry asked.

  “No, he hasn’t, but I got a letter of commendation from the accounting office one time for catching an employee who was stealing. He wasn’t putting his tips into the tip pool, which is a large jar under the front counter.”

  “Who was that?”

  “I... I don’t know if I should say his name?”

  “Pepper, you don’t have to, but it helps us gather information during this phase of the investigation,” Hieu said.

  “Well, all right, his name is Gerald Smith, but don’t tell him I said that.”

  Larry asked, “How do you know?”

  “I saw him put a tip into his wallet.”

  “Maybe, he intended to put it into the tip jar,” Larry said.

  “No, because I saw him buy a bottle of gin from the hotel bar with his tip money. We are prohibited from entering the bar or buying anything there.”

  “Did the bartender get in trouble?”

  “All right. Enough of that,” Varton said. “Last night you said you were in the vault some time before midnight. Is that right?”

  “Yes.” Pepper looked at the recorder and said, “I really don’t know anything more about this.”

  “Pepper, it’s very, very important that you answer truthfully and completely. Did you take money to the late Mr. MacKenzie’s room?”

  She looked at Larry and said, “He needed money.”

  The red purse came up against the desk and lodged there.

  Larry spoke in a gentle voice, “Pepper?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you take money to Cornelius’ room?”

  “He sent me an e-mail.” She inspected the ceiling as if she preferred it to answering any more questions.

  “What did it say?”

  “He said he needed money.”

  “Ms. Chase, this is a serious matter. A man is dead, and you say he asked you for money. From now on you will tell us everything. Is that understood?” Pepper’s compact fell out of her hand and the sound of shattering glass broke the calm. “Leave it there. Now tell us what you did,” Varton bellowed. His pencil snapped.

  Hieu jumped up, lifted the compact, broken glass still wrapped by the frame, and placed it back in her hand. “Inspector Varton wants to know if you brought Cornelius money. That’s all. You are being recorded.”

  “Cornelius is not your supervisor. What business do you have with him?” asked Varton, digging into the drawer to find another pencil.

  “Like I told you, I brought him dinner.”

  Varton broke another pencil. “Dinner or lunch?”

  “Dinner,” she said sheepishly. “Yes, yes. I brought him the money.”

  There it is.

  Varton took charge.

  “How much?”

  Her answer didn’t come soon enough.

  “Answer my question.”

  “$50,000.”

  “Did he say why he needed the money?” Hieu asked.

  She whispered, “He said he had a gambling debt.”

  Varton exhaled loudly. “So, you brought him $50,000 to help him out...so he could pay off his debt...correct?”

  “Yes.”

  Hieu asked, “Did you know he gambled?”

  “No.”

  Larry asked, “You said he sent an e-mail. We’ll need to see it.”

  Her chair slipped. It could have come off a linoleum crack, and when she stuffed the compact in the purse, the purse slid out of her lap, and the compact jumped out of her purse like a hot potato. Pieces of glass fell out of the frame. She reached for it, and her shoe ground the glass into the floor. She left it there and slouched back in the chair.

  “Take your time, Pepper, and we’ll get the compact after the interview.” Larry felt sorry for Pepper and picked up the compact. “When did you bring him the money?”

  “About eight o’clock.”

  Hieu snuck a peek at Larry. “Who else was on duty with you last night besides Doris?”

  Hieu knows her name, so he must have read the report.

  “Pablo and another bellhop.”

  “Did Pablo visit MacKenzie?”

  Pepper rolled her eyes at Varton and said, “I don’t know.”

  Larry moved closer. “Did anyone else visit Mr. MacKenzie?”

  Pepper cast a frightened gaze around the room as if she were in an enclosure of panthers. “Umm, yes, Gerald Smith. The guy that was fired. He came to visit Cornelius around midnight, but I don’t know if he did, because he disappeared, and I didn’t see him for the rest of the night. Honestly, I don’t know much more about all of this.”

  “What was the real reason Smith was fired?”

  Varton is fishing.

  “I don’t know.”

  Varton laughed. “No, not you.”

  “I’m getting tired. Are there a lot more questions, Mr. Leahy?”

  “Just a few more. Hang in there.”

  Varton said, “Tell me about Smith.”

  “Well, everyone knows that Cornelius has a vacation home at Topaz Lake and goes up there, sometimes by himself and sometimes with Mr. Smith. Cornelius spent the Fourth of July holiday with his sister. Gerald called many times asking for Cornelius, and he asked me to page Cornelius around midnight.”

  “Mr. MacKenzie spent most of the day with his sister?” Larry asked.

  “Yes, he did. He’s so sweet.”

  I spoke to him in the morning. She might be lying.

  “Did you see Cornelius returning to the hotel after seeing his sister? Try to remember,” Larry said.

  “No.”

  She looked troubled.

  “The interviews make me so...well, Mr. Leahy, I know this may sound odd, but I was going to ask if I could get a phone number from you. That police officer taking everyone’s finger prints – I didn’t get his name. He’s the one with the honest eyes. I suppose that’s why he is so good at his job. People trust him to hold their hands and hearts,” she added, “or at least their thumbs. I made a joke about how he had my digits, but I didn’t have his, and he said that was a shame. Then, I asked him if it was true that twins have the same fingerprints, and he never was able to give me his phone number. I feel silly asking you, but they say that if you feel that spark, you shouldn’t worry about being foolish. Just a phone number.”

  “No. Now, back to what we are talking about. Did anyone report hearing a gun shot?”

  “No. Cornelius lives on the top floor on the corner of the building, no one above and no neighbors on either side. On one side of his apartment is a utility room. Across the hall is a housekeeping room. He liked the apartment because it gave him so much privacy.”

  Larry saw Varton’s lips miming the words, “Nine-eighteen.”

  Larry mouthed a reply, “No, she’s not crazy.”

  “So, Ms. Chase, one more question. Did Mr. MacKenzie answer when you paged him for Smith?” Varton asked.

  “No. He must have been asleep.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Well, I just assumed he was asleep.”

  “Did you go to his room and ring the doorbell?”

  “No. No.” Pepper sank into her seat.

  “I hope you have told us the complete truth.” Varton loo
ked at Larry.

  “Yes. That’s the truth,” she answered, and with one last breath, she exhaled, “I’ve told you everything I know, honestly.”

  “Thank you, Pepper. Inspector Varton, is there anything else you would like to know from Ms. Chase?” Larry asked.

  “No. Be available for further questioning. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Larry tendered her the red compact.

  Hieu said, “Let me show you out.”

  After she stepped outside the room, Varton told Larry to put off charging her with grand theft until the medical examiner had determined the cause of death.

  Outside, Larry told Pepper, “You did the right thing, telling us you took the money to Cornelius. I appreciate...”

  “You took the money! You’re fired.”

  Larry turned around and saw eyes glaring behind monogrammed glasses.

  “Mr. O’Hara!” She pulled out a pair of gold cufflinks, hid behind Larry, and passed the links into O’Hara’s hands.

  “I don’t want those.” O’Hara handed them back. “Your final paycheck and the contents of your employee locker will be delivered to your residence later today.” The cigar in his mouth appeared grotesquely large.

  “I just wanted something of his to keep.”

  “I don’t care. Now leave.”

  “Please, Mr. O’Hara, my job is all I have. I just did what Cornelius told me to do.”

  Larry placed his right hand on O’Hara’s upper arm and said, “James, this is an investigation, and we’re gathering facts.”

  O’Hara looked around Larry and yelled at her, “Do as I say.”

  She ran, dribbling her emotions down the hall.

  O’Hara calmly pulled out his cell phone and punched in some numbers. He looked at Leahy. “Let go of me. Stay out of this, Larry. I’m a master at what I do.” O’Hara took two steps away from Larry and spoke into his phone. When he turned around, his broad shoulders gave him the appearance of a buffalo.