The Three Monkeys, a Carter A. Johnson & Kate Menke Thriller

by Robert Schobernd

  Carter whispered, "That must be Anastasia, Peltier's concubine. Some years ago, she must have been a real beauty." He guessed she was about ten years older than he or Kate.

  Kate elbowed him in the ribs as she chuckled. "She is still very attractive, but don't get any ideas, Big Boy. You are spoken for and I can be very vindictive."

  He winked at her. "She looks and sounds like she's from the Caribbean Islands."

  "That would be my guess, too. Maybe Haiti or the Dominican Republic. What do you judge her age to be?"

  "Fifty to mid-fifties?"

  "You're probably close at early fifties."

  "Eunice was right; she's still gorgeous."

  Kate leaned to his ear. "But in a dark, haunting way. I think she has seen a lot in her life that I do not even care to think about."

  Carter nodded. "Just for the hell of it, I'll ask Deline to get background information on our mysterious Anastasia."

  The coolness absorbed during their early morning air-conditioned drive disappeared quickly as the temperature and humidity rose. After five minutes of standing in the rising sun, both felt sweat beads forming on their foreheads and underarms.

  The sound of the lock disengaging and the doorknob turning prompted both detectives to focus on the painfully slow opening door. When the door was three-fourths open, the tall, slender, well-endowed maid motioned for them to enter the anteroom. Eagerly, they moved forward into the coolness of the thick stone walled space. The maid struggled to close the huge outer door behind them before motioning them through the inner set of double wood doors. Carter thought of futuristic movies where the sets of doors and the dark anteroom were replaced by gleaming metallic airlocks. How times and perceptions change.

  The elongated, high-ceilinged entry hall stretched at least forty feet before them. Dark maroon and green striped wallpaper at the bottoms of the walls stopped at a forest green painted chair rail extending around the entire space. The area above the rail was painted a dark maroon color that at first glance looked black in the dim light cast by eight low-wattage, frosted glass wall sconces. Ornate wood trim finished the decor from the extremely wide baseboards, up and across door openings, and then at multiple trim boards at the wall-to-ceiling joint that competed for attention. The wide pine floorboards gave way to a dark multicolor cloth runner that looked Persian and flowed down the room's center to an ornate oak stairway. Ahead of the stairway, a massive, cut-glass chandelier hung from a ceiling medallion on a heavy gold-plated chain.

  Kate and Carter stopped to stare in awe at the exquisite decor; the maid waited impatiently at doors at the right side of the stairway and ushered them ahead into a sitting room.

  Kate hesitated at the entrance to take in the period furniture and amenities gracing the elegantly furnished room when a tall, impeccably attired older gentleman rose from a cloth chair in a dim far corner. A maroon silk scarf wrapped his neck under a black and gold dressing gown worn over black dress slacks. Shiny patent leather house slippers without a scratch or mar encased his black sock clad feet. He approached them at the doorway and stood tall when he stopped.

  Carter knew Kate would feel seriously underdressed in the presence of the elegantly attired geriatric. Her gray skirt and navy jacket over a white blouse was a suitable work outfit for their purposes as were his cowboy boots, Levi’s and black linen jacket over a charcoal gray tee shirt. Carter wasn't the least bit intimidated by the older man’s formal appearance.

  After exchanging introductions, Peltier said, "Please be seated." He gestured to a brown leather couch against the left wall. Peltier sat on a multicolored, floral print cloth chair near the far end of the couch facing his guests. He spoke as they sat. "Your secretary was rather vague as to the reason for this visit. Could you please be specific as to your purpose?"

  Kate closely observed Peltier as Carter said, "We're investigating the killing of three people who were found in Illinois several months ago. There may be racial overtones behind those killings. The opinions you gave during several TV show discussions have made you a person of interest in our investigation."

  Peltier raised his eyebrows and visibly stiffened. "I suppose you refer to what the media has labeled ‘The Three Monkeys Murders’? Because I voice my opinions, I'm now considered a murder suspect? I seriously doubt that would constitute evidence that would stand the scrutiny of a court trial." He smirked at the detectives, daring them to proceed.

  Carter shook his head slightly. "You are not a suspect, sir. We simply want to ask if in your acquaintances there could be someone who would go further than merely complaining about their feelings toward minority races and persons of different sexual orientations. Someone who is capable, in your opinion, of committing heinous murders."

  "Really, Mr. Johnson. Now you ask me to be an informer, a squealer? You insult me, sir. However, to answer your inquiry truthfully, I must say there is no one who comes to mind among my friends or casual acquaintances who could commit such gory acts of violence. Anyone who could commit such acts would most definitely not be welcomed in my circle of friends."

  Kate said, "You do understand why we find it disturbing for a man of your stature and accomplishments to harbor such harsh feelings for other groups of our society."

  "No, I do not. I simply do not subscribe to the politically correct nonsense put forth by the liberal loons that one must temper their comments to the point that there is no value left in what one believes."

  Carter glanced at Kate. She tried a different tact. "The surname Peltier, it is French is it not?"

  "Yes, it is."

  "I read an article on the internet about a company that manufactured some kind of refrigeration parts. Are you related to those Peltiers?”

  "Yes, that was my family’s' business. My great-great-great-grandfather, French physicist Jean Charles Athanase Peltier, discovered what he named the Peltier Effect in 1834. A typical Peltier heat pump device involves multiple electrical junctions in series through which a current is driven. Some of the junctions lose heat due to the Peltier Effect, while others gain heat. Thermoelectric heat pumps exploit this phenomenon, as do thermoelectric devices found in refrigerators. For several years, my only son and I watched markets for our product lines decline due to foreign competitors undercutting our cost while union contracts and punitive government regulations added to the manufacturing cost. At that point, we were losing so much money that I disposed of the company. In the end, foreign competitors produced their products cheaper than our company could, so I sold it at a huge loss."

  "I also read that you are raising a grandson with a learning disability. I respect that."

  "Thank you. Johnny is autistic. His doctors agree he has outgrown some of the autism symptoms since his mid-teen years. I hope and pray he will continue to improve over time. His mother, father and sister died years ago, leaving me as his only family."

  Paul Peltier stood abruptly. "Now, unless you desire to discuss other issues, you must excuse me. I have another scheduled appointment I really must attend. Anastasia will see you out."

  Outside on the stoop again, Carter remarked, "Talk about getting the bum's rush. He made it very obvious when he was done talking to us."

  "He did, but aside from that, what was your opinion of the man?"

  "It's too soon for me to make a judgment of him. If I met him without knowledge of his racist, sexist and political statements I would likely hold him in high esteem. However, since he is an extremely radical supporter of the Constitution and against just about everything on the liberal agenda, I'll withhold my opinion until I know more."

  "My sentiments exactly, along with his treatment of his ex-wife. But we need to be careful because we both harbor conservative feelings that could make us suspects also. Especially when you consider our vigilante past."

  As they strode purposely to the car, Carter commented, "I don’t know if this helps, but as I watched him, I had the impression he was smirking at us without the accompanying facial expression, as if
he were playing a game with us."

  Paul Peltier stood at a window facing the street and watched the detectives cross through traffic to a Cadillac Escalade. Ms. Kate Menke drove with Mr. Carter Johnson sitting in the passenger seat. He looked at his 1940 Bulova Accutron wristwatch with its gold expansion band. It had slowly become an antique just as he had. The investigators pulled away from the curb, and his mind shifted to immediate tasks. He and Johnny could reach the airport for their two o'clock flight without rushing. He'd feed the stray mutt in the basement cage before they left; it would be fine until they returned. Its health after that wouldn't matter one iota.

  Anastasia was in the dining room when Paul informed her he and Johnny were flying to Indianapolis for a few days. She was surprised but pleased to be granted the following four days off with pay. That only happened less than a handful of times in her thirty years of service to the Peltier's. Something was up, yet again. His generosity only flowed when he had something to hide. Master instructed her to be there early the fourth day and to have fresh food in the house and their rooms prepared for them, as if she didn't have enough sense to do it on her own.

  There was a time when he talked up to her, not down. That was back when she had aspirations of taking her place beside him as a permanent fixture in the Peltier home. Perhaps she could have someday even been recognized as his partner, a second wife. The trophy wife. But that relationship changed from her being either above him or below him in his bed. Over a minimal period of months, she was rejected and made to feel low and dirty. He called her what she was, his personal whore to be used any way he saw fit and anytime his libido demanded her services. Gradually, other women claimed his bed and his sperm. Each of the fools thought their claim to him would stick, but soon they were replaced when their aspirations became clear. Were she a legal citizen, she could have let her anger run amuck and left at any time. But being in the country illegally left her little recourse. Stay and submit, he said, or he would notify the authorities of her immigration status and have her sent back to the Dominican Republic. To return to the hovels she had striven so hard to leave and forget was not an option; she would die by her own hand first. She grimaced, shook her head and walked up the stairs to continue cleaning the bedrooms. The one cowardly act she regretted the most in her life was her participation in Master’s plan to rid himself of Eunice. She was a nice lady and deserved better. Anastasia passed her selfish behavior off to her wanting to be accepted as a citizen and hopes that Paul loved her. She’d been a young, foolish girl who let her dreams outweigh her common sense.

  The Peltiers' plane was scheduled to be airborne fifteen minutes earlier. She waited another hour after the arrogant, faux aristocrat should be at cruising altitude before carefully slipping down to the heavy, thick, wood door to his private room in the basement. It was the only room in the mansion she was not allowed a key to. It had never been cleaned as far as she knew. Why was that? Only Paul and, lately, Johnny were allowed to access his private sanctuary. At the heavy wood door, she stopped to listen with her ear against the wood. What was the faint sound she heard? Was it human? Surely not. There was a series of sharp, muted barks. A dog? Master disliked animals of any kind in the mansion, especially cats and dogs. Only Johnny was allowed to keep a canine companion. Why would Master keep a dog hidden there? She tried to turn the fancy, brass, doorknob as she had on several occasions, still to no avail. Shaking her head, she spun around and returned to her duties upstairs away from the dark, humid and chilly underground rooms.

  Paul shifted uncomfortably in the wide first-class seat. Since takeoff, Johnny had entertained himself with some silly game on his iPod. Paul sipped Scotch as he observed his grandson. What would happen to his only offspring after he passed? If Johnny remained single, their branch of the Peltier lineage would end. He cringed at the thought. The idea of creating descendants to continue the surname flowed strongly through his loins. He should have remarried years ago and sired several more children.

  At the time, getting rid of the irredeemable shrew of a woman he'd made the mistake of taking for his wife consumed his mind and his actions. She was attractive enough, but too opinionated and nosey. His mother and father were fully to blame for that error in judgment. They had pushed the union and even threatened him if he objected. They wanted grandchildren and he was expected to comply by furnishing those offspring. He gloated in silence. When this was over, he would schedule an appointment with a specialist and ejaculate into a test tube to have his sperm frozen for posterity. Then he could find several concubines to serve as cows to carry his children to birth. A strong legal contract with suitable rewards to care for and raise the children would be a challenge, but then he'd dealt with and conquered more difficult dilemmas than that in his lifetime. Yes, that was definitely an option for the near future. The only unknown was how many children he'd sire.

  He caught the eye of the flight attendant and raised his glass for a refill prior to emptying the dregs from the cheap, conical piece of clear plastic.

  After dinner that evening, Carter suggested, "Let's go for another ride tonight. We've just about toured the entire area in North St. Louis County. I'd like to finish looking at the last of the area and then start on a new area tomorrow evening. We'll take the Beemer for a run. It hasn't been driven for several days and needs some exercise."

  They spent thirty minutes crisscrossing residential streets and cruising through occasional commercial areas. Some neighborhoods were neat and clean with well-maintained homes. Others descended to near slum-like conditions. In one of the worst slum areas, a piece of concrete the size of a softball hurtled at the car from shadows between two abandoned houses. It crashed onto the pavement inches from the Beemer’s grill and skidded across the street to the cracked concrete curb. Carter punched the gas and sprinted out of range before other angry missiles could be launched. He turned to Kate and shook his head in disgust.

  Chapter Nine

  Paul and Johnny deplaned in Indianapolis, Indiana, and took the free shuttle to the Hyatt Place hotel. Their itinerary called for four nights lodging. For years, back when his son was alive, the family had stayed downtown at the Alexander Hotel exclusively. That was before the establishment began catering to the Lesbian, Gay, Bi-sexual and Transgender crowd. Now they openly recruited lesbian and gay marriages and receptions and whatever else those damn queers wanted to do. That damned liberal acceptance was the initial affront that triggered his obsession with turning the country around before it was too late.

  After checking in at the Hyatt and seeing their luggage deposited in their room, Johnny put on his swimsuit and went to the pool. Paul stripped to his shorts and undershirt and lay on a bed nursing a Scotch and water from the in-room refrigerator.

  Being on the radar of the J&M detectives disturbed him. He'd felt his comments on the Atkins Report were safe, not innocuous but far from the raving and ranting he listened to and even encouraged from some of the fringe hate groups. The only reason he contributed modest sums of money to a few of the radical redneck hate groups was to keep them viable so they could provide some small measure of cover for his own views. It was hard to contain his outbursts when on the air, and he was aware that on occasion he went a tad too far. Not nearly as far as his true feelings would take him but too far in the eyes of the cowards of his own party. He sat the empty glass on the nightstand, exhaled deeply, and closed his eyes as he continued to berate the country's so-called leaders.

  An hour later, he awoke when the door opened. Johnny was back from the pool. They showered, dressed formally, and later enjoyed a relaxing dinner at the hotel's premier dining room. A twenty-dollar bill palmed to the maître d' ensured they had their choice of tables in the exclusive and elegant facility.

  Johnny's next major role was scheduled for early the following morning. In their room, Paul coached him again on the steps and ensured he was committed, willing and ready. The young man only balked at the fate ahead of the innocent dog. Paul insisted his harsh ac
tions were necessary. He would deal with the dog by himself and promised to be quick about it.

  At four the next morning, the alarm sounded. Paul quickly rose to be first to use the bathroom. Thirty minutes later he rousted Johnny from a deep slumber. Johnny had stayed up late watching something on TV and didn't awaken gracefully. They had one hour to finish grooming, dress and take a taxi to Union Station at the Wholesale District for their six o'clock departure. They would eat what was available on the train. The schedule gave an arrival time of eight twenty-three that evening in St. Louis. The arrival time was perfect for Paul's next planned action. When Johnny exited the bathroom, Paul phoned a taxi company. He requested a five-fifteen pick up at the Hyatt going to Union Station. When he ended the phone call, he wore a huge grin. So far, so good. Everything was progressing per his plan for the J&M detectives.

  They had no luggage and went directly to the ticket window where Paul paid cash for their tickets. They would ride in the observation car and eat their meals in the dining car. Best of all, there'd be no record of their transport back to St. Louis.

  Johnny sat on the cloth seat near the window and plugged his MP3 player into his ears. Minutes after the train pulled away from the station and left the switchyard behind, the car rocked from side to side as it passed over switches and street crossings. The speed quickly increased as the congested city fell behind.

  Paul couldn't restrain a grin when he glanced at his grandson. The boy was asleep with his mouth open and his head resting against the window. Paul stretched and snuggled into the seat until he was comfortable. He hoped he was doing the right thing involving Johnny in his personal vendetta against the establishment. There really was no other choice. Execution of his plan called for a minimum of two people; there was no way one person, especially someone at his age, could execute the actions he was committed to.