Pretty City Murder

by Robert E. Dunn

  Varton said, “The gun found next to Cornelius had Smith’s fingerprints on it, but it wasn’t the gun that killed Cornelius. It was the other gun from the Security office that killed Cornelius. We’ve got to find that gun.” He stood up and said, “Right. Let’s go to the Greenwich. I want to personally arrest O’Hara.”

  “Wait. Does Smith own a gun,” Varton asked.

  “No, I don’t think he does,” Larry answered.

  “And he never stole a gun from the Greenwich?”

  “No.”

  •••

  After leaving Central, Larry called Father Ralph.

  Larry felt his heart pounding, his vision blurring, and his neck hurting.

  How do I tell Ralph our mutual friend had plotted to murder his Cornelius?

  “Ralph, it’s Larry.”

  “Any more news about Pablo?”

  “No. The reason I called is James.”

  “I’m sure he is worried about the effects of the suicide on the hotel.”

  “No. James is going to be arrested.”

  “What? Why? Surely, he couldn’t have had anything to do with Pablo’s death.”

  Larry took a moment to find his courage before continuing.

  “James solicited Pablo and Gerald Smith to kill Cornelius.”

  Silence met him at the other end.

  “Ralph? Are you still there?”

  “I don’t believe you. James loved Cornelius.”

  “Talk to him yourself. Only you better do it quick and ask him why he was at the Greenwich on the night Cornelius died.”

  “I will. Good-bye, Larry.”

  “And do not tell him he will be arrested.”

  Larry heard the line go dead.

  •••

  Father Ralph’s hands shook as he hung up the phone.

  Why would Larry say such things?

  James is like a brother.

  Larry is lying...or he’s crazy.

  He’s too old to be doing police work.

  He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

  Father Ralph dialed his old friend’s number.

  “O’Hara.”

  Father Ralph’s other hand hit his desk blotter when James answered.

  “It’s me,” Father Ralph responded in a weakened voice. He wanted to leave his office and be alone.

  “Oh. It’s you, Ralph. How are you?”

  Father Ralph slowly said, “Larry...Larry told me something I don’t believe. I just wanted to check in with you. You know about the suicide?”

  “That kid was nothing but trouble for me. I’m not surprised.”

  “James, Larry said something else. He said...he said you solicited Pablo to kill Cornelius.”

  Silence met him at the other end.

  Father Ralph continued, “I know it’s outlandish...”

  “It is,” O’Hara interrupted.

  His denial brought Father Ralph a jolt of relief.

  “So, what do you think happened to Cornelius? I’m so frustrated, James. I need answers.”

  “Larry is unable to solve the murder. He’s grasping at straws to save himself from drowning in the investigation. I wouldn’t believe a word he says. You don’t believe him, do you?”

  For a moment, James sounded uncertain.

  “I don’t want to, but why would a man who was about to jump off a bridge say that?”

  “You know people. In desperation, a man might say anything.”

  “I’m just after the truth...and so is Larry.”

  “So am I.”

  “Then why were you at the Greenwich before I found Cornelius? I thought you were at the party all night?”

  “I was. Who said I was at the Greenwich?”

  “Larry.”

  There was an unnerving silence, and Father Ralph sensed that a crossroad had been reached in the conversation. He got out of his chair and paced. The edge of his desk became a formidable adversary when he bumped into it. He sat down and stretched out his leg. It felt stiff.

  I might have a heart attack.

  “I’ve got to go – lots of work to do.”

  “I want an answer.”

  Father Ralph felt his heart rate rising.

  “What if I said that Pablo wanted to kill Cornelius?” James quickly added.

  “Why?”

  “All I know is what Pablo told me.”

  “Then...it’s true. You talked to Pablo about it.”

  “I may have, but it wasn’t important.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Larry or me?”

  “It’s Larry’s investigation, not mine.”

  Father Ralph’s anger was growing.

  “That’s no answer. You promised to protect Cornelius. You obviously didn’t keep that promise. You’re not as innocent as you pretend to be. And when’s the last time you went to confession?”

  “I don’t need confession. Why should a man confess to another man?”

  “Christ is present in the confessional. You want to come see me?”

  “No. I have no need to see you and nothing to confess.”

  “I think you do. Tell me now what you did!”

  “I’m busy. Good-bye, Ralph.”

  James had dropped the ball, and Father Ralph’s confidence in him hit the floor.

  Could Larry be right?

  •••

  Minutes later, at 2:45 p.m., Varton pushed open the double doors and walked past Ms. Keck into O’Hara’s office. O’Hara swung around in his chair. Varton crossed the room.

  “Stand up. You are under arrest for solicitation to commit murder.”

  “What? What’s the idea of barging into my office?”

  “Turn around.”

  “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”

  “I pay your salary.”

  Varton reached into his pocket and said, “Here’s your nickel,” as he poked him in the eye with it. The cigar fell onto the plush rug. Varton pulled the handcuffs off his belt, and the sound of them clicking shut disturbed only one man, the man whose grand office was now witness to the odor of a hole burning into the carpet and a trail of smoke spiraling toward the chandelier.

  O’Hara was led out.

  Larry left Varton’s triumphant side and entered the lobby.

  Larissa saw Larry coming toward her and seemed to sense what was coming.

  He rushed her down the hall to the lunch room.

  “My baby will never know his father.”

  Larry reached inside his jacket pocket and placed the crucifix in front of her on the lunch room table, but sitting with her, there in the room, the heat was all wrong, the setting was all wrong, and the outcome was all wrong. He started to cry with Larissa. The unkindness of the world filled the room, and he hoped he had nothing to do with it.

  Back in his office at Central, Larry read Hieu’s report on Pablo.

  Silence meant the seagull chicks were gone. The sky was gray, and Hieu was the only bright spot.

  The desk phone rang, and Larry toyed with the idea of not answering it. He smelled dust and sneezed.

  “Sir, I have something for you. A fisherman turned in a black hat drifting near Pier 47. He turned it over to the coast guard, and a courier brought it in.”

  “Thanks. Any news on Pablo Morales?”

  “The body of Mr. Morales was found at 1530 hours and is with the Medical Examiner.”

  The service aide walked in and handed Hieu the black fedora.

  Larry reached over and took the hat from Hieu.

  He quickly pushed it into a bottom drawer.

  “I’ll call Father Ralph and let him know.”

  “I’m sorry about what happened.”

  Larry cleared his throat. “Thanks, Hieu. You did the best you could. Let�
��s talk to Joe.”

  Hieu followed Larry into Joe’s office.

  Through a glittering smile, Joe said, “I re-interviewed O’Hara in his jail cell. I was surprised he was willing to talk. He admitted to entering MacKenzie’s room. He repeated the claim that Smith killed MacKenzie. I asked him if he knew where the missing gun was, and he said no. Are you any closer to finding the gun?”

  “No. I’d like to visit Larissa at home.”

  Varton said, “She was informed, Larry.”

  “I’m hoping we can find out something more from her.”

  “Doubt it. The kid committed suicide. Smith and O’Hara were in the apartment. We know the kid wasn’t and that he bought a gun and pawned it the day after the murder. What can Larissa add?”

  “Remember the fingernails? Maybe, she can tell us more.”

  “Well, it can’t hurt. Go for it.”

  Larry called Larissa from his own office phone.

  She had been excused from work and agreed to a meeting at her home.

  “Should we bring something?” Hieu asked.

  “What can we bring?”

  “Fresh flowers from my mom’s garden. Would she like them?”

  “Sure. My plan is to tell her we want to clear Pablo’s name.”

  Father Ralph answered his phone and agreed to come along.

  Hieu’s mother walked quickly to Central and gave him a bunch of English lavender with the bottoms of the stems wrapped in dampened paper towels covered by tin foil and purple wrapping paper with white polka dots.

  They drove to Quesada and waited at Larissa’s door.

  “Hello, Mr. Leahy. Please come in. The baby is with my mother.”

  “Larissa, this is Father Ralph MacKenzie.”

  “Nice to meet you, Father. Please come this way.”

  They sat down in the living room as if they were waiting for someone else to arrive.

  Father Ralph said a Hail Mary, and Larry joined in.

  “Larissa, I have a few questions I’d like to ask. It will take just a few minutes. Okay?” Larry said.

  “Yes. I know Pablo is innocent.”

  “You gave me a fingernail that was in Pablo’s jacket pocket.” He pulled out his baggie and emptied its contents onto the coffee table. Larissa picked up a baby rattle and held it. “Please take another look. You’ll see that the fingernails match. One is the fingernail you gave me, and the other is a fingernail I picked up outside the Security office.”

  Everyone looked at the evidence.

  “On the night of the incident, I remember Pepper’s fingernails were broken. Did you talk to Pepper at any time during the night?”

  “Yes. You know I sit close to the front desk. We talk to each other when neither of us is busy.”

  “How did Pepper appear to you? Was there anything that had upset her?”

  “What I remember is that she passed the switchboard and talked about breaking a nail.”

  That’s what I saw.

  “Did you see the nail polish Pepper was wearing?”

  “Yes. We talked about it earlier. Pepper had her nails done the day before and was so happy with them.” Larissa held back the tears.

  “What color were her fingernails?”

  “Glittery black with red and blue stripes, the same as those.”

  “It wasn’t red or another color?”

  “No. The next day she had her nails redone in red.”

  Larry placed the nails back inside the baggie and said, “Inspector Trang, Father Ralph, and I will be at Pablo’s funeral.”

  “Thank you so much. The memorial is Sunday.”

  Back in Joe’s office, the aide came in and told Larry he had a phone call. He rushed to his office. “Hello. I’ll see you at...five o’clock.”

  Hieu walked in and asked, “Who was that?”

  “Gerald. I asked him to call me. First, let’s have a chat with Pepper Chase.”

  “Joe said he wanted Smith arrested. He doesn’t believe his story.”

  “I know. I’ll stall him.”

  Larry came back from Joe’s office and said, “We have one more day until Smith is arrested. We’ve got an interview to do.”

  “Larry, let me question Pepper. We gotta put the squeeze on this girl.”

  Larry and Hieu arrived at the Greenwich at just after four o’clock and were told that Pepper was a no-show for two days.

  “Let’s go to her apartment,” Larry said.

  They entered her apartment building and climbed the stairs to the second floor. He put his finger to his lips and listened at her door. He knocked. No one answered. They walked back to the lobby and asked Patel if he had seen Pepper that morning, and he said no.

  Larry’s phone call to her went to voice mail.

  “Call my number, Patel, as soon as she arrives. Hieu, wait for me at the Greenwich. I’m going to pay a visit to Gerald Smith.”

  Larry patted Hieu on the arm and headed on foot for Gerald’s apartment.

  Outside, a transaction moved to the edge of the sidewalk.

  Inside, the lobby was desolate. It was half past four.

  Gerald answered. “Come on in, Inspector.”

  “I’m early. How did the job interview go?”

  “It didn’t work out. I was late.”

  “Sorry about that Gerald.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll get a job sooner or later. There are a lot of jobs out there.”

  “Gerald, did Cornelius keep fire arms at Topaz Lake?’

  “His rifles.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No.”

  “Where did he hunt?”

  “Sweetwater Mountains. Mostly ducks, birds, and rabbits.” Gerald smoothed the back his hair and asked, “Why?”

  Larry walked around the room and looked in the closet.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just making sure there are no guns in your apartment.”

  “I told you I don’t own a gun. When are you going to start trusting me?”

  “It’s habit.”

  “I’m not real educated, but I think you’re trying to figure me out...or is it something else?”

  “What do you mean?” Larry stopped looking.

  “Remember you told me about your son?”

  “Did I?” Larry stopped at the fishing rod and sat down on the kitchen chair.

  “Well, something’s eatin’ you up. Is it about Trang?”

  “What about him?”

  “I think you like him...something about him and your son.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Okay.”

  “Ever heard of Ansel Adams?”

  There aren’t any pictures in his apartment.

  “No.”

  “You like the Sierras. Adams took photographs of Yosemite and the Sierras. Black and white pictures with shadows as his focus.”

  “You a photographer?”

  “Amateur photographer. I like old San Francisco. Some pictures hang in my office.”

  “Any of the family?”

  Larry closed his eyes for a moment. “Yes.”

  “Your son and you don’t see eye-to-eye? Right?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “How come?” Gerald asked.

  “He’s living with a woman. That’s not the way I raised him.” Larry saw Gerald looking at him intently from the sofa.

  “Maybe he’ll make an honest woman of her.” Gerald picked up a fly and admired it. “If I had a dad like you, I’d do my best to make him happy.”

  “What about Pepper?” Larry asked.

  “I’m pretty ornery. She needs someone really, really stable.” Gerald opened his fly-tying box. “So, what is it you really want to know?”

  “Have you dated her?”

  “Nope.” Gerald looked at Larry.

  “Tell me more about her.”

  “Say what you wanna say.”

  “Has she ever...well, let me put it this way...were you ever suspicious o
f her?”

  “No.”

  “Would you have given her a gun if she asked?”

  “Not on your life. Besides, she’s happier than a tick on a stray dog. If you’re thinking she shot Cornelius, I would say you have the wrong person. Besides, she told me she loved him.”

  “Okay. Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “Any time.”

  That confirms it – she stole the gun.

  Larry stood up and said, “Gerald, you may be arrested.”

  Gerald dropped a fly and jumped up. “What? You waited all this time to tell me. You’re my friend, aren’t you?”

  “Hang on a minute. Let me explain. Morales is dead.”

  “I know.”

  “O’Hara was arrested for soliciting a murder.”

  “See. I told you.”

  “Varton has no other suspects. That’s about all I can tell you for now. I have a plan, but I need your help. No one else knows about it, and I can tell you only some of it.”

  “What’s my part?” he said in that Texas drawl.

  “We can’t find Pepper. Call her. If she answers, ask to meet for dinner. If she doesn’t answer, leave a voicemail asking her to return the call.”

  “No problem there.” He picked up his cell phone and punched in her number.

  They waited.

  “Hi. This is Gerald. I been looking for you. Call me. I want to see you.” He looked at Larry. “Now what?”

  “Perfect. Just wait for her call. Try to find out where she is. Say you want to invite her to dinner, and you will pay for it, and ask where she is. Do you think she will say ‘yes’?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll think of something.”

  “Good. I’ll ask Varton for another day, maybe two.”

  Chapter 18

  Saturday, July 13

  Gerald moped around his apartment.

  Check her apartment and then the Greenwich.

  No one answered his knock at Pepper’s door. Four o’clock.

  Fearful now of being seen in the Greenwich, he stayed close to the walls of the buildings on the same side of the street as the hotel and entered through the garage.

  He heard a man and a boy and some scuffling at the other end, but they were too far away to be recognized.

  The man shoved the boy against a car. It sounded like a clunk. He stuck his finger in the boy’s face.

  Gerald ran in their direction and yelled, “Back off, dude.”