Copp In The Dark, A Joe Copp Thriller (Joe Copp Private Eye Series)

by Don Pendleton

  But I could tell by Johnny Lunceford's reaction to the applause that he was not doing it "for free." He was doing it for love, and at that moment he was indeed adored.

  It should be that way for all of us, I decided, when we do well the things that we do.

  Certainly we should not be killed for it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “These guys are the greatest," Lunceford told me in admiring tones, referring to the band. They'd taken a break after his number and a few patrons immediately left, as though waiting for that moment to quit the place, and that opened some tables. I'd taken one in a back corner and Lunceford had joined me there.

  "Mack has been coaching me on the side, helping me with microphone technique and all that. You know it's a whole different ball game when you're in an intimate situation like this. It's like you're more than a singer, you're the host at a party, you have to command the room and you don't have a script to follow.

  "If you can't do that then you can't work in a lounge, no matter how good your music is. So they're great, they're the best, and I owe them a lot. Janie's the best, the absolute best there is. If we weren't both married, I'd be in love with her. She and Mack are married. Isn't that great?

  "What a great way to make a living, singing love songs with someone you truly love. They do casuals all over the place too, wedding receptions and all kind of private

  parties, they're together night and day, seven days and nights a week, and they're still in love. Isn't that great?

  “That's what I'd like to do. But my wife can't sing. Well, I told her to take up the piano anyway. I mean we could do this, if she'd learn keyboards. She's not musical, though, not at all."

  He peered sadly into his beer then took a long pull at it. I didn't know if he was running the jaw that way because he was nervous with me or if he always went on that way.

  "I told Alfie we could do it, he wasn't that bad with keyboards—hell, we could fake it, with all the electronic help you can get these days. We could work up an act and Mack would help us find a gig, he's a great guy. But Alfie liked the big stage, he liked ..."

  I got a single word in. "Alfie?"

  "You knew him as Craig Maan. That was a funny deal, I want you to know how that came about. Alfie had been into all kinds of dumb shit. I don't know—he was just too much of a romantic, I guess. Big dreams, big deals, always the big deals. We met in college. Both majoring in drama. His dad thought he was majoring in chemical engineering. Right there, see, he was already living a lie. I don't know how you can do that. I mean . . . that's just too much intrigue, I couldn't live that way.

  "For Alfie it just seemed natural, the way to go. So—"

  "What happened after college?"

  "I was two years ahead of him. I graduated and came out here. I've been living a double life myself for the past two years—but on the up and up, see. Couldn't get any regular television or stage work so I had to take a job. I wanted to get married. Hell, I had to make a living. So I make my living during the day and I work toward the

  future at night. Maybe some day I’ll make my living at night. I'd like that."

  "You were telling me about this funny deal."

  "I don't know, Alfie got into some kind of dumb shit after I graduated and came out here. From the University of Chicago, that's where we went to school. I guess he spent his whole junior year with one dumb thing after another. He dropped out in his senior year and showed up on my doorstep one day, said he didn't want anyone to know where he was.

  "Now listen to this, this is really dumb. Alfie told me that he'd gotten involved with this older man, a gay man old enough to be his father, and that this gay man had been sponsoring him in a career—a showbiz career—but Alfie couldn't stand it any more, he had to get out of the relationship. But he owed this man a lot of money and the man didn't want to let him go. Alfie wanted to live incognito for awhile, he needed a job and he especially didn't want his father to know anything about his problems.

  "Well, I've been working in dinner and community theater all the time I've been out here. Most of it is equity waiver so you don't make a lot of money but it's a good place to learn the ropes and improve yourself and maybe even get noticed by somebody who can help your career. There's a lot of that kind of work out here so you can work fairly steady if you don't mind bumping along from one small theater to another."

  "And," I added, "If you don't mind working for carfare."

  "That's exactly right. Alfie wasn't married, didn't have any bills to speak of—except to his gay friend—and pocket money was really all he needed for the time being. I had

  just auditioned for this production of La Mancha and landed the role as the Padre. This other guy, Greg Houston, landed the tide role. Greg is older, he's done La Mancha all over the place, and he was even on Broadway years ago, briefly. Anyway, a few small roles were still open or at least questionable so I took Alfie in to see Judith.

  "Well there was instant chemistry there. And Greg Houston had just called that very morning to say that he'd gotten a better offer from San Francisco and he'd like to bow out of La Mancha. The upshot of it all is that Alfie stepped into the tide role two days before the show opened and he was like born for the part.

  "Look, I'm not modest—I know I sing better than Alfie. Well, I've worked harder at it. But he like brought Miguel Cervantes to life on that stage. He was great, and everyone knew it. It's a great tragedy, and great loss that he was snatched away from us. Everyone loved Alfie, and I mean everyone."

  "The funny deal," I prompted.

  "Oh, yeah ... I thought it was a gag, I mean it started out like a gag. Alfie wanted to be incognito. He auditioned as Craig Maan and he got the role as Craig Maan. Then he started telling people that my real name was Alfred Johansen. I thought, 'What the hell is this?'—but I went along with it and it got to be a real gag. I mean I even told stories about Alfie as though they were my stories—you know, college stuff and all that, stories about Alfie's father and all that. That's the way it got started. It was just a gag."

  "Some gag," I commented. "It had a lot of people fooled."

  "For a long time, yeah. This has been going on for about

  three months. Then a few weeks ago he started this thing about the national tour. Now I knew that was bullshit. I knew it from the start. I mean, I didn't know that it was bullshit, he never told me that it was, but I just knew from the way it got started that it was another one of Alfie's dumb stunts."

  I asked, "How did it start?"

  "It started," Lunceford replied, "as a gag."

  "How so?"

  "These two new waiters started at the theater. Alfie turned white the first time he spotted them from the stage, and he pointed them out to me from backstage during intermission. He told me that they'd been looking for him and it looked like they'd finally caught up with him."

  "This was Larry and Jack."

  "That's right. He said they were private detectives hired by his old gay friend. Then later on that same night he told me that they'd brought a proposition to him. The old man wanted to give him a chance to settle his debts. He would bankroll—the old gay man—he would bankroll the show for a national tour if Alfie would agree to remain in the title role.

  "Well, I thought that was bullshit. It sounded like bullshit to me. But he began repeating it around and the rest of the cast bought it. I guess when you've wanted something so bad for so long... and the other kids didn't know Alfie like I know Alfie. I knew it was bullshit but I never said anything. I should have. Especially when ..."

  "When what?"

  "When he came up with this ..."

  "This what?"

  "This dumb . . . plot, I guess. He called it insurance."

  "Insurance for what?"

  'To keep the old gay man in check, I guess. To keep him honest,' was the way Alfie put it. He wanted to involve the entire cast in the plot. We were all supposed to chip in a week's paycheck. We'd hire another private detective to protect him�
�him being Alfie—and Alfie would arrange the insurance."

  "Why would Alfie need protection to do that?"

  "This old gay man ..."

  "What about him?"

  Lunceford chuckled. "Alfie told us he was a Mafia godfather. Can you imagine? A gay godfather?"

  I chuckled, too, but not with humor. "Did Alfie ever name this gay godfather?"

  "No. I never bothered to ask because I knew it was bullshit. And I was not about to contribute a week's pay for one of Alfie's gags. I have responsibilities, about to become a father. What it finally came down to was five people who bought into it, and—"

  I said, "That would be Elaine, Susan and the three guys-Peterson, Sanchez and Stein."

  Lunceford nodded his head soberly at each name. "Yes, may God bless. I thought they were all nuts to go along with that. But now I don't know. I guess it wasn't a gag. Five people are dead, aren't they."

  "Five of six," I mused aloud. "Why do you suppose Susan was spared?"

  "I guess she was just in the right place at the right time," Lunceford replied. "I don't know why, unless she just got lucky." He shivered. "It could have happened to me. What would have become of my wife and kid? Huh? I'm a bit pissed at Alfie, even though he's dead. He's responsible for all of that, him and his dumb shit."

  "What was the script, Johnny?" I asked casually.

  "What script?"

  "The insurance script. What was the plan?"

  He shook his head. "I don't know, didn't want to know. I was glad when you said you wanted to talk to me because I wanted that too. Just want you to know that I had nothing to do with any of it. Well, except one thing. I did ..."

  "You did what?"

  "I was worried about maybe I was involved, that maybe Alfie had involved me without my knowing about it. So I... well, that's why I called Alfie's father."

  "You're the one."

  "I called him, yeah. I didn't want Alfie to know that I'd finked on him, but the way things were going I didn't want there to be any confusion about people's names. So I just turned Mr. Johansen toward you. I knew that Alfie had hired you, or was going to very shortly, so ..."

  "So you wanted me to blow the whistle."

  "I wanted Judge Johansen to know where his son was, for the sake of both of them. There'd been a lot of heartbreak there. I hoped maybe the judge could straighten it out if he had a chance. He's a good man. I hoped Alfie would go home and forget about all this other stuff."

  "Did he ever tell you that he was an undercover cop?"

  "Alfie?" Lunceford laughed softly. "He's told me so many dumb damned things . . . maybe he did, I don't remember."

  "An informer for the FBI?"

  "I don't think so."

  "Shortly before she died," I said, "Elaine Suzanne told me that she and Craig had been secretly married recently. Do you know anything about that?"

  He gave me a dumb look. "Not unless..."

  "Unless what?"

  "Unless it was something to do with the plan. Maybe they did get married. I can see Elaine doing that, but Alfie ... well, for some devious purpose maybe, something to do with this crazy plot he was hatching."

  "What do you think he was really going for, Johnny?"

  Lunceford scratched his nose, looked at his hand, said very softly, "I think he was setting up some kind of blackmail. I believe he really got the idea in his head that he could take this show on the road. I think he was trying for Mafia money. What do you think?"

  I told him, "If that is true, then I think he was crazy. Those people just don't play that kind of game."

  Lunceford sighed as he replied, "That's what I figured. And that is why I didn't want any part of it"

  I asked, "Where had Alfie been living since his apartment caught fire?"

  He snickered, looked at the bandstand then back to me. "He's never had an apartment since he came here. He's just been living from house to house as long as someone would put up with him. He even stayed with Judith for awhile."

  I raised an eyebrow at that. "She kicked him out?"

  "Sure. It only took her about a week to figure him out Then he moved in with Mack and Janie. You know they are really very nice people, the best. I don't know what kind of sob story he gave them but... well, they're just nice people. They took him in. The next day he put a move on Janie. She told Mack. Mack beat the shit out of him and tossed him out. He just kept moving on like that, house to house." Lunceford shook his head sorrowfully. "I think you're right. The guy was crazy. He was a user."

  "Drugs?"

  "No. People. And he could do it because he was so damned likeable. But, no, he couldn't bear to let people like him. Always had to screw it up with something dumb."

  "Ever know him to use drugs?"

  "Not recently. Back in college, you know, a joint now and then. Most everybody did that."

  "Any of the other kids in the show have a drug habit?"

  "Not that I know about. I mean, not unless someone was passing it around. Takes money, otherwise."

  "Some people," I reminded him, "deal just enough to support a habit. You ever see anything to make you wonder about that?"

  "No."

  "There was a good supply of coke found in the apartment where Elaine and the three other guys were killed. Any idea where that could have come from?"

  Lunceford said, "I didn't know those guys very well. Elaine, yeah, long time, we worked at the Curtain Call together and before that at La Mirada Civic Opera but ... Elaine was very naive but she knew about drugs and what they do to a promising career. I can't believe she would mess around like that."

  "But the guys ..."

  "I wouldn't call them seriously committed to anything," he replied quietly. "Except maybe to kinky sex."

  "They were into that."

  "Yeah. No holds barred. I warned Alfie about them but ... turned out they were the only ones would put up with him. That's where he'd been staying the past few weeks."

  "In that apartment?"

  "That's right."

  "Did Elaine know that?"

  "Sure, she had to know. She lived right around the corner."

  "In the apartment where Alfie was killed?"

  "No, not that one. But in the same complex. Susan has lived there a long time. It's fairly convenient to the theater, so when someone needed an apartment she'd always steer them there. Nice place, nice area, low rent. What more can you want?"

  I asked him, "Who lived in the apartment where Alfie was killed?"

  "I really don't know," he replied. "Susan might know." I saw a thought cross his face. "Has anyone notified Judge Johansen?"

  I said, "The sheriff probably notified him. They identified Alfie by his fingerprints."

  "That wasn't necessary," he said. "I told them all about it."

  "You did?"

  "Yes, I told that detective, what's his name?—Lahey?"

  "Lahey."

  "Yeah, I told him. I just hope they notified the judge."

  "He's really a judge?"

  Lunceford chuckled grimly. "I guess he is. He's on the Minnesota Supreme Court."

  "I see," I said.

  But I hadn't seen anything yet.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The content of the room had changed somewhat during the break, people coming and going, and when the band returned to the stage it appeared that most of the La Mancha cast were now present in the lounge and partying, though in a somewhat subdued manner.

  "This is our usual night to howl," Lunceford told me. "Not Saturday because we do two shows on Sundays and it's already short enough between curtain-down on Saturday night and curtain-up on Sunday afternoon. It's going to be kind of strange around here tonight though."

  He received another introduction from the stage, shook my hand and muttered something unintelligible, then went up amid howls and whistles from his friends to sing another song.

  I looked at my watch and wondered what was keeping Judith, but then the cocktail waitress came over to my table and asked
me, "Are you Joe Copp?"

  "Guilty," I confessed.

  "Judith asked me to tell you that she had to run an errand." She smiled. "But I don't think you're stood up." She handed me a slip of paper with a phone number

  scrawled across it. "Wants you to call her after one o'clock."

  I took the paper and asked the waitress, "What time do you close?"

  "Last call is one o'clock," she said.

  "That's when the band signs off?"

  "Well, not always on Fridays." She waved a hand to indicate the overflow crowd. "The cast from the theater comes in here to jam and entertain one another. A lot of the regulars stay for that too. So it's anybody's guess when the band goes home on Fridays. But remember, last call for drinks is one o'clock."

  "How "bout on Tuesday nights?"

  "No, that's just on Fridays."

  "Did you work this past Tuesday?"

  "Uh huh, I work Tuesday through Saturday."

  "The band too?"

  "Uh huh." She was growing agitated. "Sorry, I've got drinks up."

  "Just one more. Did anything unusual happen in here Tuesday night?"

  She laughed and told me, "Something unusual happens in here every night."

  "Do you remember seeing Craig Maan in here Tuesday night?"

  It was like I had slapped her in the face. She stared at me in speechless reaction for a moment, then spluttered, "If that's your idea of a joke...!"

  I held up both hands and said, "Hey, no, I didn't know I was on sensitive ground. I'm investigating his murder. I just wondered—"

  "Well, lots of luck!" She swept the room with her arm. "Here are a few of your suspects, everyone in this room!

  That jerk dirtied every person he touched! Hell, no, he wasn't here Tuesday because I promised him I'd poison his next drink in this bar!"

  The waitress went away with that, and I could see that she was still steaming as she picked up a tray of drinks at the bar. I'd sure touched a nerve there.

  The one man band was playing the intro to a show tune and Lunceford was sharing a microphone with the blonde, looking a little nervous and clowning with a table of kids down front while awaiting his musical cue. I left money on the table and went out of there, returned to the theater, found it locked and darkened.