Copp In Shock, A Joe Copp Thriller (Joe Copp Private Eye Series)

by Don Pendleton

  I said, "The Tahoe connection keeps bothering me. First we had these two guys harassing Martha in the gallery and who probably should be considered the prime suspects for the torching of the gallery, then I find the same two searching Martha's condo. The two shooters at the hospital obviously came down from the same area. You told me that Sanford had a piece of the action at Tahoe and it appears that he is knee-deep in all of these recent events. How big a bite does he have?"

  Terry replied, without actually looking at me, "Big enough to finance a number of his property development deals. He was a partner in one of the smaller casinos. Martha met Kaufman through her Dad, actually. Kaufman was his controller, the one who kept Harley's interests protected among the partnership. He had degrees in law and accounting. When you swim with sharks, it is wise to have a guy like Kaufman on top of the situation. That was his function."

  "So Martha and Kaufman lived in Tahoe?"

  "For a while. He was working for Harley when Martha met him. I had the feeling that it was not a particularly happy marriage."

  "It looked happy enough in that photograph we found at Douglas's place."

  "There had been a couple of separations before she moved back to Mammoth for good. She had lived here alone for some time before he was killed."

  I said, "I know you're a good cop and this is a very small town, but I have to feel that you've had more than a casual interest in Martha's personal life."

  The Chief said, "Yeah. Screw you too, bud. I've known Martha from way back. If you were trying to suggest something between Martha and me..."

  I said, "Well, that got a rise. So what nerve did I touch there, pal?"

  It had dawned on me for the first time that this guy was younger than I might have imagined and was probably something more than a mere police machine. I did not even know if the guy was married or had ever been— nothing personal about him. He did not rise to my bait so I punched him again. "Were you dating Martha before her marriage to Kaufman or after she moved back to Mammoth?"

  He gave me a startled look. "God damn! You shoot from the hip, don't you, bud. Where did you get the idea I had dated Martha?"

  I said, "Well, shit, you just confirmed it. Hey, I'm not

  into the jealous-husband routine and I am not idiot enough to suppose that a beautiful and intelligent woman would not be attracted by the opposite sex. So get off it."

  We were entering the parking lot at the police department when he chuckled and told me, "I've had a couple flings at the marriage game myself, so you're not talking to a choirboy here. Sure, I'd known Martha since before her first marriage and we'd had dinner a few times after she left Kaufman. We never got it on, if that's what you're wondering about, but not because I wouldn't have liked to. I guess we just sort of lost our moment. She was dealing with her divorce at the time and I knew that she was not ready to leap into another relationship right away. As a matter of fact, neither was I."

  I asked, "So this was shortly before Kaufman was killed?"

  "Yeah. The divorce wasn't final when he died."

  "How did the trouble between Martha and her husband affect the relationship between Kaufman and Sanford?"

  "Hell, I don't know. He was still working for Harley when he died. It would be characteristic of Harley to insist that those two work out their own problems without embroiling him. With Harley it has always been business first."

  I said, "Even above his family, huh?"

  "Oh, yeah. Harley's business deals have always been sacrosanct. You may have noticed that even his wife plays second fiddle to that."

  "Yes, I had that feeling immediately. You hinted this morning that there may have been something fishy

  about the automobile accident that killed Kaufman."

  "Yeah. It was on the Nevada side. I had no input there. The Nevada authorities were satisfied that it was a drunk-driving case. I never bought that. Kaufman was practically a teetotaler. Martha herself never bought it."

  "Did Sanford buy it?"

  He said, "You never know what a guy like Harley Sanford is buying and not buying. If you are asking if he seemed upset about his son-in-law's death—he never showed it."

  It was growing more and more obvious that a trip to Lake Tahoe was shaping up for me, which would entail a three-hour drive north by car. But I was still a bit fuzzy behind the ears and I knew that my stamina was beginning to fade so I did not want to undertake a long trip by car before a bit of rest.

  I mentioned this to the Chief as we got out of the car. He said, "Well, bud, I think we've both earned some rest. Myself, I'm bushed. You must be, too."

  I knew it was true. I went on to my van and showed him a fond wave as he stepped inside the station.

  I had really grown to like this guy.

  I was thinking, as I moved into my van, that it would hurt like hell if this guy turned out dirty. It is not that I always look for the worst in people but that I have one of these sticky minds that is always affected by truths half spoken. Not that this guy had shown me any reason to distrust him—and I would love to believe that I could not have been affected by the possibility that he had been intimate with Martha—but only that something simply was not right here.

  So maybe it was just fatigue.

  I went back to the condo and hoped that I would have a different slant on things after a short rest. I should have known that any kind of rest was not in the cards for me that night.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The telephone was ringing as I walked into Martha's apartment. Chief Terry was on the horn. He said, "Janice Sanford is on my other line. Is it okay if I put her in touch with you?"

  I asked, "Where is she calling from?"

  "She's in L.A. She's having a problem with the release of Martha's body."

  I said, "Sure, put her on."

  Terry replied, "No, I can't patch her through, Joe. Are you feeling rummy?"

  I told him, "Maybe I am. It's been a long day. Sure, tell her to call me. But do it quickly. I think I'm ready to crash at most any moment."

  He said, "Okay, I'll tell her. Stay right there. She really needs to talk to you."

  True to his word, the phone rang again almost immediately after we disconnected. Janice sounded none the worse for wear after the long trip into Los Angeles. She said, "I guess I did something dumb. I told the coroner's office that you were Martha's husband. Now they won't release the body to me. This is really dumb, isn't it?"

  I told her, "That didn't occur to me, Janice. Is there someone I can talk with to straighten this out?"

  She said, "You know it's really dumb how involved official red tape can be sometimes. But I guess it's my own fault. I didn't even bring the right paperwork with me. Martha Sanford did not exist anymore as a legal entity since the time she and George were married...and now that you two were married, it's even more complicated. This is a nightmare...and I don't think I can cope with it. I need your help, Joe."

  "Where is your husband, Janice?"

  "I don't know. I've rung the phone off the hook at home. I don't know where to go from here."

  I said, "Looks like it's my problem, isn't it. Let me see if I can find someone to straighten this out for you. Give me the number you're calling from."

  That fine reserve was beginning to crack at the edges as she replied, "I can order the company plane for you, Joe. It's only about an hour flight. Could you come down here?"

  That was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. But it was my problem and I didn't see any way to avoid it. I told her, "Sure, I'll come. Tell me where to find the plane."

  Her relief was obvious as she said, "Mammoth airport—you'll be meeting Tom Lancer. He's our pilot. I have already called ahead and made the arrangements at the airport. Tom will be ready as soon as you are."

  I said, "Okay, I'll start immediately."

  "Thank you, Joe. I know this is tough on you but I just didn't know what..."

  "No, it's okay. Just sit tight. Why don't you wait for me in the hospital
cafeteria? Have a bite to eat and stop worrying about it. I'm on my way."

  So much for that. I called the Chief back and told him what was happening. He said gruffly, "Watch those big- city cops."

  The cops were not my principal worry. I opened the secret compartment inside my van and sprung a 9mm Beretta from its concealing nook and strapped on the gun leather. I did not want to be unarmed again until this case was closed.

  Tom Lancer seemed to be an okay guy. He came to greet me as I parked the van. "Are you Mr. Copp?"

  I admitted it and he identified himself with crisp formality. A guy of about forty, lean and tanned, clean and well put together, with an aura of capable professionalism.

  He already had the plane serviced and ready to fly—a Cessna Citation V jet, one of the newest of the fleet and impressively equipped for noncommercial service.

  As we climbed aboard, Lancer told me, "I filed the flight plan for a fifty-minute flight to Burbank. That's about the best we're going to do in the vicinity of the hospital. Possibly we could find a closer field but it would be a difference of a few minutes at most, and many of the smaller fields have limited services. Mrs. Sanford will have a car waiting for you at the field."

  I said, "Sounds great. You won't mind if I catch some sleep? I'm bushed."

  He replied, "Not at all. There are refreshments and snacks if you're interested."

  I thanked him and relaxed into my seat immediately. I don't even remember leaving the ground at Mammoth, and the arrival at Burbank was so smooth that I was a bit disoriented during the landing routine—I thought we were just taking off.

  I had hoped that I might have a chance to talk to this guy about his boss during the flight but I doubt that it would have bought me anything, anyway. I did ask, just the same, while I was still half asleep and we were taxiing toward the private terminal. "Did you take Mr. Sanford to Tahoe today?"

  I got no response to that. Maybe he just did not hear me. The guy was busy and intent on handling the aircraft.

  I asked him again when we arrived at the tie-down area and we stepped onto the field. Again he did not seem to hear the question. "Let's go see if your transportation is waiting for you, Mr. Copp."

  That was obvious enough. Nothing particularly surprising about that—it was none of my business. I let it drop and we went into the terminal area.

  A driver was waiting for me. I thanked the pilot and asked him, "Do you have instructions to wait for me here?"

  He heard that one fine. "Yes, sir, Mrs. Sanford is expecting to return to Mammoth with you."

  I asked, "Are you aware of the nature of our business here?"

  Lancer showed me a perplexed smile. "Yes, sir, I was told that we would be returning Mrs. Kaufman's body to Mammoth."

  "When did you learn of Martha's death?"

  "I learned about it when Mrs. Sanford called me this evening."

  "Mr. Sanford had not told you?"

  "I haven't seen Mr. Sanford since yesterday."

  "Mr. Sanford did not call you a few hours ago for a flight to Tahoe?"

  "I told you I haven't seen him since yesterday."

  I said, "That is not what I asked you, Tom. Have you talked to Harley Sanford since yesterday?"

  "No, sir."

  "Why not? An expensive plane like that one just sits around on its wheels day after day? Isn't it your job to ferry the Sanfords around?"

  The guy was losing patience with me. He said, "It is not my job, Mr. Copp, to tell people about my employer's business. So cut it out. If you want to know something about my employer, you're asking the wrong person."

  I flashed my badge at him and asked, "Would this make any difference?"

  He replied, "None at all. I knew you were a cop. That doesn't buy you anything in my store. I'm not trying to be unfriendly, and all my sympathies go to the entire family, but my first loyalty is to Mr. Sanford."

  "Not to Mrs. Sanford?"

  "I refer to both, of course."

  "Did Mrs. Sanford tell you that Martha and I were married shortly before she died?"

  That one hit home. For a moment it seemed that the man was going to call me a liar, but he recovered quickly and replied, "No, I didn't know about that. I'm sorry."

  I told him, "It's a shocker, yeah. And maybe it's only the beginning of shock. Cindy Morgan was murdered today. Did you know that?"

  That one seemed to hit him, too. "Cindy?" he gasped.

  "Yes, and Arthur Douglas is teetering at the edge of death right now. He was shot, too. You didn't know that?"

  "God, no!"

  I said, "There has been an epidemic of violent death and it may not be over yet. Harley Sanford could be in deep trouble himself here. I'm not telling you this to scare you but to alert you to the situation. If Harley is in trouble, maybe he needs a friend right now more than anything else. Keep that in mind and maybe you'd like to discuss it further on the way home."

  He said, in a slightly muffled voice, "I don't know what we'd have to discuss."

  "What you're telling me is that you don't want to see and you don't want to know. That might not be enough to keep you out of trouble. My offer still goes."

  The chauffeur of a waiting limousine had been patiently standing by. He seemed pleased that there was no luggage to be handled. Tom Lancer watched with interest as I followed the chauffeur to the door. He showed me a deferential smile and almost friendly wave as I walked out.

  But there was more to it than that. I was sure that the guy wanted to tell me something. It was okay. I would have another shot at this one as we returned to Mammoth.

  Some may think that it was a bit foolhardy of me to venture back into the Los Angeles police jurisdiction at such a time, but actually I had known all along that those guys could have picked me up at any time of their choosing in Mammoth. That was not the bother. And I was not really all that bothered about another ordeal at the morgue. I was bothered, though, because I knew that all of my real problems were centered around Mammoth and it felt like I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  If I have anything like a method to my police work, it involves an almost constant focus on the resolution of the problem. This flight to L.A. seemed to be a blunting of whatever edge I might have gained to this point. Not that I had a hell of a lot but at least I was more focused into the problem while in Mammoth than anywhere else.

  All that aside, I knew that this was where I needed to be at this moment. Janice Sanford could have been in some real trouble of her own that had nothing whatever to do with the hassles she was encountering at the morgue. Something was out of kilter with her actions of the early afternoon—perhaps something entirely innocent but also maybe not. The feeling had been growing on me strongly that this was a family going into self-destruction. Obviously, Harley Sanford was in deep trouble. He, himself, was a very good candidate for a murder rap as well as attempted murder. I had to feel that somehow the death of Martha Kaufman was directly related to all the events of today.

  I hoped that Janice Sanford was not involved in any of it. But I really did not feel any strong conviction about that. In fact, I think I was scared to death about what I might learn about my mother-in-law.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Janice Sanford was tensely waiting for me just inside the door to the hospital cafeteria. She was immaculately dressed and coiffed but the day had taken its toll on her. Earlier I would have guessed this woman's age at around forty; at that moment she was looking much closer to her fifty-odd years.

  She lit up when she saw me and hurried forward to embrace me. She said, "Thank you, Joe. I hate to seem like a ninny but I didn't know where to go with this."

  I replied, "No, no, it's okay. We're family. I'm just sorry you had to be put through this."

  "I was just having some coffee. Can I get you something?"

  "That would help, sure—coffee's fine."

  She replied, "Sit down. I'll get it."

  I watched her getting the coffee and again it was almost like a fla
shback to a slightly older Martha, that same aura of grace and dignity under pressure. A casual observer would not have guessed that this was a heartbroken woman preparing to bury her only daughter.

  She returned with the coffee and showed me a brave smile. "Sorry, I didn't remember how you take your coffee. I brought sugar and cream if you need it."

  I thanked her and suddenly found myself at a loss for words.

  There was a brief awkwardness as we stared at each other silently, then she sighed and said, "I have arranged for a mortuary to handle the details. They're waiting for our call once we get through the paperwork. We just need to complete the formalities here."

  I wanted to spare her another trip through the morgue. I did not really want the coffee. "I'll go up and handle that. Are you comfortable here?"

  "As comfortable as anywhere, I guess." Her relief was evident. "Thanks, Joe. Yes, if you don't mind, I'll just wait here."

  I took the elevator to the second floor, and as I stepped out a feeling of dread began to grip me. I knew that they would insist that I view the body again. I had been through this kind of routine so many times before as a cop on duty, so it was not that I was unprepared for the experience, but of course this time I did not have the luxury of an impersonal encounter or the shelter of amnesia. I knew this victim now, and I had no effective defenses. My first viewing had done a number on me, even though I was largely out of my mind at the time. Now I knew that it was going to be brutal. I managed to shake it off and do what had to be done.

  It was mercifully quick and done with a minimum of red tape. I provided all the necessary paperwork; the rest was routine. I told the attendant that I would notify the mortuary for the pickup. I signed an itemized list of her personal effects, stuffed the small bag into my pocket, and got out of there.

  I returned to the cafeteria and told Janice, "Okay, it's

  over. So now we just need to contact the mortuary and find out when we might expect them."