“What’s all this about?” he said.
“I’m afraid Trish is dead, Paddy. I’m a private investigator. I was hired to look into the circumstances of Freddy Kingsley’s death. Trish was his girlfriend so I wanted to talk to her. Unfortunately, before I could find her she was murdered.”
“Oh Jesus, Mary, mother of God.” He slumped back in his chair like a marionette that’d had its strings cut. He looked over at me. There were tears in his eyes. If he knew already it was an Oscar-winning performance.
“Where is she?” he whispered.
“I found her in a room a couple of blocks away from where she was living.”
“When?”
“Last night. I’m going to have to take you in Paddy, you know that. You killed a man. Not much of a man maybe, but a man nonetheless.”
He looked at me in surprise. “What?” he said.
“You killed Freddy; I’ve got to take you in.”
“I didn’t kill Freddy,” he said. “I’m not proud of what I did, but I didn’t kill anyone.”
“I’ve got the video from the CCTV at the station. You’re on it plain as day leaving with Freddy’s briefcase.”
He looked me in the eye. “Yeah, I took the case, but I didn’t kill him, I swear.”
“You want to tell me your story?”
“How did she die?”
“They cut her throat.”
“Oh God.” He leaned forward and banged his head on the table over and over. Then he started to sob uncontrollably. He made fists of his hands and beat them against his temples. When he finally stopped I said to him:
“Tell me what happened, Paddy.”
He sighed and shook his head. Tears coursed down his cheeks.
“You want to tell me or you want to tell the cops?”
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Freddy was making a drop – a big one. Trish found out about it; well he told her. Said he was getting into the big time. But he wasn’t, he was just being used. Anyway, Trish had this idea.” He swallowed, took another deep breath, looked at his hands and then at me. “She knew where he was making the drop…she said if I could get the bag from him we could get out of town and she could make a fresh start. Freddy didn’t know me; we didn’t think there was any risk that they’d find out who grabbed the stuff. She wanted to get straight.” He sighed heavily. “I wanted that so badly for her.”
“What was in the bag?”
“Coke. High purity Cocaine. Ten pounds of it.”
“So how did you get the bag?”
“I was waiting for a chance to grab it. Freddy was half my size and I knew I could do it but I was waiting for the right moment. I reckoned I could wrestle the bag away from him, but there were too many people. I’d just about decided it was too risky when suddenly, just before the train arrived, he put the briefcase down. I couldn’t believe it. I just kind of reached over and took it and then I pushed my way through the people and out the station. I didn’t see him fall, and honest to God I never touched him. I only heard about the accident later.”
“Where are the drugs now?”
“I stashed the bag in the cellar. I’m pretty much the only one who ever goes down there. I put the case in the air-conditioning duct. It’s still there; I haven’t touched it since that night.” He paused for a while. “The idea was that we’d wait for a few weeks and then get out of town. We knew we couldn’t do anything here. I don’t know anything about drugs, but Trish said she’d find someone to buy them, maybe out west somewhere. Then we’d go back to the old country, she’d get herself straight and…”
“Whose drugs are they?”
“Al Costa’s. Freddy owed some money to Al’s sons. They made him a proposition – if he’d deliver some drugs to a guy coming in from out of town the debt would be written off.”
“Why did Trish move out of her place, Paddy?”
“I tried to stop her. After we heard about Freddy she panicked. She thought Al’s boys would come looking for her. I told her to stay put, brazen it out. Just say she knew nothing about it. I told her if she split it would look bad; but she wouldn’t listen to me. I’ve got a room upstairs but she couldn’t come here. She said she’d lie low for a week or two then maybe we could get out of town together.”
While he’d been talking I tried to work out if he was telling me the truth. I had no reason to doubt the truthfulness of the things he said about his complicity in stealing the briefcase, but what about Freddy’s death? It could be true. After all, if there’d been a struggle for the briefcase it was more likely that someone would have related that to the police. And Freddy’s murder wouldn’t have needed to be a necessary part of the plan. On the contrary, his death was likely to cause unnecessary complications. Was Paddy’s reaction a carefully prepared act? My instinct told me that it wasn’t – that what he’d told me might well be true. Not that it really mattered. After all there was no evidence that I knew about that contradicted his story. I was less certain now what I should do. Should I call the police? He’d admitted stealing the case; but it was only theft of drugs from a drug courier. One thing I knew was that I had to make sure that he didn’t suffer the same fate as his sister. Since finding the note on my car I’d been extra vigilant about the possibility of being followed, but I had no idea what Trish had told her killer or killers before she died.
“I need to get you out of here, Paddy, and I need to get you out now. Where’s your stuff?”
“In my room, upstairs.”
“I want you to get the briefcase from the cellar and grab whatever you need. I’m not going to call the police, at least not yet; I want to sleep on it. But you’re in serious danger. Don’t argue with me. I don’t want to add to your grief unnecessarily, but the way your sister died wasn’t pleasant, and it wasn’t quick either. And I’ll tell you this – Trish died trying to cover for you, of that I’m certain. If she’d told anyone I wouldn’t be talking to you now. You need to do exactly what I say.”
He looked over at me, hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“Get going.”
I went back into the bar. “He’s taken the news hard,” I said to Dennis. “I’m sorry, but he’s going to need to get away for a while.”
“It’s okay. I got people that’ll be able to cover for him. I’m sorry about his sister.”
I waited in the bar. After about ten minutes he came down, a suitcase in one hand, the black briefcase in the other.
“Let’s go,” I said. Then I said, “Wait.”
I walked over to Dennis and handed him one of my cards. “If anyone comes here looking for Paddy I want you to call me, okay?”
“Okay, sure” he said, looking slightly puzzled by the request.
“His sister was murdered.”
“Geez,” he said.
Chapter Fourteen
A Safe Place
We went out to the car and I started to drive. I needed to find Paddy somewhere safe to stay until I could figure out a way to sort out this mess. I could think of a half-dozen people who would help but I didn’t want to put them at risk. It was obviously no good taking him to my place.
“I’m going to check you in a hotel with security. It’s the safest place I can think of for now. You’re to stay there until I come to collect you, you understand?”
“So you’re not going to turn me in to the police?”
“Not for now. I’ll have to consider what to do with you later, but right now my primary concern is to keep you safe and keep you out of the way. But I’ll tell you what,” I said, as I steered the car towards Cambridge, “I’m sticking my neck out for you and in doing that I’m putting myself in potential danger. I want you to promise to do exactly as I say.”
“I will. You have my word.”
I drove us to the Marriott hotel and booked a room in my own name. I paid cash in advance for three days and left five hundred dollars deposit again
st incidental expenses; then we went up to the room.
“You’re to stay here until I come for you. You will not leave the room. You can order room service and watch the TV. That’s your life for the next few days, you understand?”
He nodded.
“You don’t answer your cell phone unless you see my caller display. You call no-one. You don’t use the phone in the room. Have you got a laptop or tablet?”
“I’ve got a laptop.”
“You are not to use the internet under any circumstances. The hotel Wi-fi isn’t a secure connection.”
“You don’t think all these precautions are a bit over the top?” he said.
“Sit down; I want to show you something,” I said.
He sat, and I pulled out my cell phone. I found one of the pictures I’d taken of Trish’s dead body. It was something I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to do.
“Take a look,” I said.
“What…”
“Take a look.”
He looked.
“Oh Jesus,” he said.
“Don’t underestimate what these people will do to you if they find you. And don’t underestimate their power to find you. If you do what I say you’ll be safe. If you don’t then I wash my hands of responsibility for you. Now give me your ID.”
He handed it over.
“If you even think of trying to run I’ll get the police to pick you up before you can say Hail Mary. You understand?”
He swallowed hard. “I understand,” he said. “I won’t let you down, I promise.”
“Don’t expect to hear anything more from me for a day or two.”
“What are going to do?”
“Think,” I said.
*
I had only the vaguest idea of what I was going to do next, except for one thing. I called Benny and told him I needed to see him right away. Forty five minutes later we were seated opposite each other in our usual rendezvous.
“You can forget the search for the guy in the photograph,” I said, “and you can forget about Trish. It’s not important anymore. There’s some other information I need. I want to know where Al Costa lives, you got that?”
“Sure, I can find that out no problem. You reckon he’s connected to this in some way?” he said over the top of his coffee cup.
“You don’t need to know the reason,” I said.
I called Lucy to tell her I was on the way home. She’d arranged to see Angela at three o’clock; would I be able to come?
“Like I said, I’m on the way. I don’t have anything else to do until maybe this evening.”
“Did you find the Costas?”
“Yeah, so I’m going to need to take a shower when I get home,” I said.
*
“I want us to stay together for the next couple of days – and nights,” I said, as I walked through Lucy’s front door.
“How sweet,” Lucy said.
“Yeah. Joking aside I don’t like the fact that these assholes know where I live. And I’ve been thinking; why did they leave me a note written in Italian? It makes me wonder if they know about you, too.”
“How’s that possible?”
“If I can find out stuff about them, then they can find out stuff about me. And maybe about you, too.”
“Creepy. What happened today?” she said.
I was sitting in Lucy’s sitting room with a glass in my hand and most of the contents of the glass in my stomach.
“I found the briefcase guy.”
“The killer? What did you do?”
“I’m not satisfied that he killed Freddy,” I said. “He says he didn’t and I’ve no evidence to the contrary. He spun a fairly plausible story, but he admitted stealing the briefcase.”
“What did he do with it?”
“He stashed it in the basement of the place he was working. I left it in a locker downtown while I decide what to do with it. Oh, and I called Trish’s murder in on the way home. Anonymously, obviously.”
“Who’s the guy?”
“Trish’s brother. His name’s Paddy.”
“So what happened? Tell me the whole story, don’t make it like twenty questions,” she said.
“Trish’s room-mate told me she had a brother working at an Irish bar in Dorchester. I went to break the news of his sister’s death to him and to tell him where to pick up her stuff. I didn’t realize he was the guy in the photograph until I saw him. It makes sense now though.”
“Why?”
“It explains why Trish held out against her killers. At least I think she did. The idea for the heist was hers. She told her brother that if they could get the drugs that Freddy was supposed to deliver that night they could make enough money for both of them to make a fresh start. Her brother says he wasn’t mixed up with drugs himself, and that’s probably the truth since nobody on the street knew who he was. He admits stealing the briefcase. He said he snatched it when Freddy put it down on the platform. He claims there was no struggle and he didn’t even know about Freddy’s death until later.”
“Did you believe him?”
“I don’t know. But whether it’s the truth or not there’s nothing to contradict his version of events. Anyway, I need time to think about how to play this. For the time being I’ve got him holed up in the Marriott in Cambridge. I hope to God he follows my advice and stays put.”
“Why not just hand it all over to the police and let them sort it out. You should get some kudos by pointing out the briefcase thing.”
“The problem is the police have no evidence against the people responsible for Trish’s murder – nor even any evidence that Al Costa and his sons were behind the drug delivery that was supposed to take place the night Freddy was killed. I need them all locked up; not least because they know where I live.”
“So what’s next?”
“Angela,” I said. “Let’s see what she’s got.”
Chapter Fifteen
Elm Ridge
Each time I saw Angela she looked more and more like she belonged on one of our movie posters. The blond hair was tumbling over her right eye and she was wearing a cream-colored two-piece with a very short skirt. Her nylon stockings rustled when she crossed and uncrossed her legs. Lucy rolled her eyes at me.
“Lucy tells me that you’ve seen Muriel and determined that there is another son – a twin. You can tell us about that in a moment. Lucy hasn’t yet told you about the latest evidence the police investigation has thrown up. The fact is that Bob had been embezzling funds from his firm for several months before his death. The police angle on that is that the audit was due and Bob realized his thefts would be discovered. They believe that’s what triggered the events on the night both he and his wife died. I’m sorry. It paints a rather different picture than the one you painted for us of Bob Hughes.”
Angela shook her head. “It’s hard to believe,” she said. “I don’t know of any reason Bob would need money that badly. It’s a shock, of course.”
“Okay, well let’s move on. What’s the information about the brother?”
“Muriel was pleased to see me, though obviously she’s still coming to terms with the dreadful news about Bob and Cynthia. I told her that Bob had told me he had a brother. Actually I stretched the truth a bit I’m afraid. I said he’d told me he had a twin brother. After I told her that she told me all about it. She was married in 1975 when she became pregnant with the twins. She knew even back then that it was a mistake, but at the time she thought it was the right thing to do – to marry the father. The marriage didn’t last and her husband deserted her and the children within months after their birth. Later they were divorced, but neither party remarried. She never saw her husband again and she brought the two boys up by herself. It was a struggle, but she managed.
“The problem was that although the boys were twins – clinically identical twins – and they looked very much alike, that’s where the similarity ended. Bob was always a good s
on, but George, the other son, was always in trouble. She believes that he was probably a sociopath, with no concern for anyone but himself. She even described him as hateful. He sometimes even physically assaulted her, especially when she refused to give him money. When he was fifteen he said he wanted to go to live with his father. Since then she’s had no contact with him, although she knows that her former husband died about seven years ago. She has no idea where George is now and she said she stopped considering him as her son more than twenty years ago.”
“Well that all makes sense,” Lucy said. “Do you think we have enough to go to the police with now? To get them to re-open the investigation?”
“It ought to be, if it wasn’t for the evidence about Bob’s systematic theft over the past few months,” I said.
“But that doesn’t change anything,” Lucy said. “There’s still Claudia’s evidence; and the watch.”
“Except that the missing watch may not be such a puzzle anymore,” I said. “If Bob was so desperate for money that he was stealing from his company then he may have sold the watch himself – or pawned it. At least we know that George wasn’t adopted –and presumably he’s still using the family name. Bearing in mind Muriel’s description of George’s character it will be worth checking if the police know anything about him. It’ll be easy enough to get a check run through the police computers.”
“Maybe he was blackmailing his brother and Bob was stealing money to pay him off.” Lucy said.
“Blackmailing him about what?” I said.
“I don’t know,” Lucy said softly.
“I think it’s best not to make wild guesses,” I said.
“I got details about the place and date of marriage and Muriel’s husband’s name,” Angela said. “I told her that whatever his faults George deserved to know about his brother’s death. She accepted that.”
“Okay. I’ll get a police check done to see if he’s got a record and Lucy, you start checking the internet. See if you can find anything out that way.”
I Spy - Mark Kane Mysteries - Book Six: A Private Investigator Crime Series of Murder, Mystery, Suspense & Thriller Stories - A Murder Mystery & Suspense Thriller Page 8
