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

by Don Pendleton

  So fuck this shit.

  I had never laid down for any man; and I sure as hell wasn't going to do so for Martha again, no matter how insane it had all become.

  I sprung the Beretta from its holster without even thinking about it and squeezed off a single round. Nothing fancy, no grandstanding or trick shooting for the press box, I simply squeezed off a round.

  And Martha died again, this time for real.

  But it hurt... just as bad the second time around.

  Copp was in shock no more, but somehow I almost wished I were.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Well... SO this was the week that never should have been—but was.

  Martha had died but once, of course. The body that I identified in the morgue in Los Angeles and that same body that we brought home in the Sanford jet was Vicki Douglas all along—the "unlucky hooker" whose body I discovered later in Sanford's Tahoe home. That was a daring identity switch—and must have felt, at the time, like a brilliant stroke. The goal was twofold: not only to confuse the real identity of the corpse in Los Angeles but also to further implicate Harley Sanford in the woman's apparent death in Tahoe and to suggest that she had been murdered in Sanford's bed.

  The unfortunate funeral home attendant who picked up "Martha's" body at the airport in Mammoth had been reported missing and later found dead in a wilderness area outside Bridgeport. He had been the victim of a lethal "hotshot" of the same narcotic substance found in Janice Sanford's bloodstream on the morning of her brush with death.

  But this is a "cute" one: Sanford's cartoon character "tough guys," Sammy and Clifford, who were found dead beneath the cold waters of Lake Tahoe, had been dispatched in an identical manner, except that—and here's the cute part—the investigating officers at Tahoe found evidence that their injections were administered by lethal darts apparently shot from a tranquilizer gun.

  I have to give full credit for this deadly wrinkle to Martha. Her co-conspirator, Tom Lancer, had the perfect alibi, himself hospitalized in Mammoth with a self- inflicted flesh wound incurred during the airport shootout.

  The whole purpose of that airport shootout was to destroy the body of Martha's substitute, Vicki Douglas, so Martha could surface later, feign ignorance, and reclaim her legacy. Maybe it even would have worked except for a couple of bad breaks.

  Positive identification of mutilated gunshot victims is an iffy business at best in a morgue setting, before cosmetic restoration by an undertaker. Martha and Vicki Douglas were about the same size and build, with similar hairstyles, so it is not too remarkable that the deception had not been immediately apparent. Of course, the truth no doubt would have been discovered at some point, which is why both Martha and Lancer were so intent upon destroying that corpse before it could be returned for normal burial in the home environment. Even though I had twice viewed the body in the Los Angeles morgue, the rapid deterioration by the time I last viewed that body—plus the unnatural appearance normally encountered among the dead—made it very unlikely that I would have discovered the ruse even with my full memory in place.

  When Janice Sanford's original plan for claiming her daughter's body in Los Angeles—under Lancer's watchful eye—went awry and I, as the legal claimant, had to be called in to identify the body, Martha and Lancer were forced to play it by ear from that point. Lancer had already sent in the "soldier of fortune" imports and it must have seemed a simple matter to destroy the body in a fiery inferno at the airport with no danger to Lancer and with only the funeral home attendant as a witness to Lancer's version of events. With Janice and I aboard the plane, it called for more improvisation on Lancer's part—an "Academy Award"-winning performance of being under fire and even winged by the bogus assassins. He fooled me as well as Chief Terry.

  These poor bastards thought they were hired for an easy arson job on the plane. As it turned out, they became pawns in the bigger game when Janice and I unexpectedly accompanied the body from Los Angeles. These guys were sacrificial goats in the largest sense; one of them did not even know how to drive the stolen getaway vehicle.

  If all that seems too bizarre, imagine how panicky it must have been for the conspirators when the whole thing began unraveling like a loose ball of yarn when I survived the attempt on my life in Los Angeles and returned to Mammoth.

  Of course, I was never supposed to live to return from L.A., and the entire quirky chain of circumstances would not have developed if I had simply died like a nice boy when I was supposed to.

  It may be understandable, then, why Martha was so upset with me for spoiling their grand plot.

  It all began when George Kaufman, several years earlier, started keeping his own clandestine records of Harley Sanford's illegal wheeling and dealing, not only at the casino but also of Sanford's other business interests. This could have been for Kaufman's own protection as well as possible blackmail.

  Sanford was totally corrupt and had been bilking partners and clients alike for years. His entire financial empire had been built around illegal and dishonest pursuits all of his life. Martha had known of some of this, perhaps from her first husband, Kaufman, but also maybe in some measure by her own direct knowledge.

  That could account for Kaufman's "suspicious death" two years earlier, but that is pure conjecture on my part. It must have been devastating enough for Martha when she discovered that her own father had deliberately set her up in a disastrous marriage with his partner in crime, who was also homosexual.

  These things have a way of leveling themselves out; it may have made it much easier for her, later, to involve herself in plots against her own father and ultimately to kill him. Of such twisted convolutions are heinous crimes often inspired. We should all remember that when seeking to manipulate others.

  Martha's initial motivation undoubtedly had been to save her mother from financial ruin and public humiliation—perhaps even from becoming legally liable for her husband's criminal pursuits. This guy was rotten—and Martha knew it.

  When she learned of Harley's diversion of company funds and secret Swiss accounts, coupled with his plan to run away with his lover—Cindy Morgan, one of her closest friends—something must have snapped in this woman.

  It should also be worth noting that she was later described by another close acquaintance as "her father's daughter," suggesting that her venal predilections were inherited to some degree. I have revealed earlier that both Vicki Douglas's mother in Carson City and Marie here in Mammoth held low opinions of the Sanford clan.

  I had been inclined to discount much of that to sour grapes or other personal motives, but sometimes it may be true that evidence of smoke is also evidence of fire.

  The computer diskette obtained from Martha's safety- deposit box contained a damning record of all of Harley's financial shenanigans, including his secret Swiss account numbers, which gave her access to manipulation and transfer of millions. That is what had the man in such a sweat from the moment he discovered that Martha had possession of it all.

  Then when his million bucks in bearer bonds disappeared, he became unglued and went after his daughter. That explains the torching of the gallery and the burglary of Martha's condo by Sanford's hired thugs, although it is also possible that the torch job was simple, bald intimidation.

  I don't know how really to explain a guy like Tom Lancer. It would be too easy to account for his behavior here as a simple matter of "raging adventurism." It had to go deeper than that. When he was recruited by Martha he was willing without apparent restraint to involve himself in vile intrigues.

  Maybe it was exciting for him—or maybe it was simple greed that finally pushed his button over the edge. Evidently he loved the game. He will have several decades to wonder about that, himself, if he does not draw the death penalty for these intrigues.

  I cannot explain why the guy came up with the fictional love affair with Janice Sanford except to make himself look innocent and throw me off in case things went sour as their plot unfolded. Janice was undeniably shocked
and distressed when I asked her about his reputed love affair with her.

  So why the outrageous attacks on Harley Sanford? This went beyond simple murder. Several times they had tried to set him up on murder charges, and when that did not succeed, his death must have seemed like the only recourse.

  In human history, these are the truly dark moments of the soul. Patricide is not as rare as it may seem, but it is always ugly to encounter it, whatever the motive. Perhaps the easiest answer is simple greed, but in a complex situation like this one, the pat answer is seldom the right one.

  A whole phalanx of criminal charges were ripe and awaiting exposure at every turn, at every moment, so this was obviously not a master plan woven of a single piece but rather a succession of crisis-point adjustments requiring constant attempts to plug the holes in this sieve-like conspiracy.

  After all is said and done, maybe it all does come down to simple greed, power, and ruthless opportunism running wild.

  The street shooting of Officer Arthur Douglas in Mammoth was probably set up by Martha and Lancer initially to get Douglas out of the picture and frame Harley for his murder in the bargain. They knew that Douglas was getting too close to the truth. If Harley's machinations were exposed, they would be exposed and their entire plot would become meaningless.

  Arthur Douglas was no dummy. In his statement given after his recovery in the hospital, he explained that he had been aware of Cindy Morgan's interest in Harley Sanford and had learned that she was planning on leaving the country with him. He suspected that Sanford was connected to the mob and was absconding with illegal money from his business interests. He was a friend of the girl and wanted to protect her. His interest in me, evidenced by my mention in his personal address book, was related to my association with Martha. He sensed that Martha was somehow involved in a conspiracy with her father.

  Lancer has already made a plea bargain in Officer Douglas's attempted murder. He admitted renting a silver Continental and doing the actual shooting. He also confessed to hiring the two assassins in the follow-up attempt on Douglas's life in the hospital.

  One of the worst miscalculations of these two was their failing to recognize the capabilities of a small-town cop like John Terry. If he had not been at the hospital that day, perhaps little of this plot would ever have been brought to light.

  Now the conspirators were in a hell of a sweat. According to Lancer's own statement, Cindy Morgan was the most dangerous threat to Sanford's millions. She was marked for death in any event, since she knew too much about Harley's business. The whole conspiracy could have come unraveled with the real possibility that Sanford had confided in her about everything—or the fear that he would do so.

  Still using the rented Continental, Lancer lured the already panicky Sanford into a meeting near the ski resort at Mammoth Mountain. He and Martha ambushed the Sanford car—targeting only Cindy and allowing Harley to escape. Evidently there was still a spark of decency left in Martha, as she was reluctant to kill her father outright at this point. Lancer claimed that Martha was totally responsible—that she shot the girl cold and told her father, "Now maybe you'll leave me alone. Consider yourself lucky that I'm not sending one of these between your eyes. You're finished, Dad." They then drove away, leaving the dazed man wondering what to do next.

  It is therefore perhaps understandable that Sanford simply abandoned the car in a makeshift hideout off the road and fled the scene on foot. This poor bastard was in a state of shock such as I could understand.

  Lancer claimed in a sworn statement that Martha had been present during the staged attack at the airport and when that plan failed, she was in a state of desperation and again forced to improvise. She followed the hearse to Bridgeport and boldly presented herself at the mortuary as a family member. She held a gun on the attendant and forced him to prepare a closed-casket order to which she forged my name. Then she had him weigh and seal an empty coffin identified as Martha Kaufman. The attendant was ordered to carry Vicki's body, still in the body bag, and place it in the trunk of her car for transport to her father's home at Tahoe. She then administered a lethal "hotshot" to the attendant and dumped his body in a wilderness area near Bridgeport.

  And this was the "soft... wistful... vulnerable" girl that I had married.

  Martha herself, according to Lancer and verified by Janice, supplied the "hotshot" to her mother when she became hysterical after Martha revealed herself and the plot against her father, actually believing that she could persuade her mother to go along with the insanity.

  I feel that Martha only intended to "control" her mother, not to kill her.

  Knowing that the jig was up, Lancer told us where to find the "tranquil" mother in a small cabin in the June Lake area near Lee Vining.

  God only knows, and I don't want to know, what would have been Martha's final answer to the problem with Janice had they succeeded in carrying out their plan.

  I believe that the burglary at the Sanford home while Janice was in the hospital was a setup by Martha or Lancer to cover their own tracks in case it became necessary to kill Janice. Just for the record, it seems to me that all the other burglaries were inspired by the search for Sanford's missing goods and committed by Sammy and Clifford, acting under Sanford's orders.

  Andrews and Zambrano, the crack L.A. sheriff's detectives, were probably the unluckiest bastards of all. They were within a heartbeat of breaking this case. Lancer, the consummate ex-military "spook," had highly sophisticated electronic surveillance gear in his car and had been monitoring the local police frequencies as well as all telephone transmissions in and out of the police department. This enabled him to intercept Andrews' and

  Zambrano's conversations with Chief Terry and other police personnel.

  He knew that they were en route to Tahoe in an attempt to match the Tahoe body with the victim who they had I.D.'d in Los Angeles. This would have blown the whole plot wide open, establishing conclusive proof that Vicki Douglas, not Martha Kaufman, had died in Los Angeles, and that a deliberate misidentification had been criminally engineered.

  These cops were sharp enough to realize, or at least to suspect, that two victims of the same approximate age and time of death—both related in some way to Sanford and me—could be closely connected. And of course these guys had personally viewed the victim in Los Angeles. In the cabin where Janice was found safely sedated, we discovered the L.A. deputies' case file containing photos, fingerprints, and their notes on the Los Angeles murder victim. Their notes indicated that they had interviewed several Mammoth acquaintances of Martha Kaufman.

  Lancer knew that their game was just about up. What else did they have to lose from another killing or two? They had to keep the game going. This ambush was intended to plug another hole in this rapidly disintegrating plot.

  It is ironic, perhaps, that the "brilliant stroke" with the identity switch at Tahoe would have been their master coup had not the L.A. cops decided to investigate what must have seemed to them to be a long shot. Martha and Lancer actually had no other recourse but to kill the deputies once the body switch had gone forward and the deputies had become suspicious.

  I save this for last because it is the most painful part for me to recount. Betrayal is always a particularly bitter pill; to be betrayed by love with one's own life in the balance is the bitterest pill of all, especially when one feels like a sap in the bargain. Perhaps there had been something approximating love when Martha and I began, but Martha's "love" was of a far different character than my definition of love. I have to believe that her interest in me from the outset was largely motivated by her desire to manipulate me. Her almost insane determination to best her father was the driving force of her life and perhaps had been so for a very long time.

  If I had not been so blinded by the impact of my first meeting with her, perhaps I would have seen the character flaws that quickly led to her destruction—and of course very nearly my own. As it worked out, I had become very disturbed by her apparent obsession over he
r problems with Harley, but by that time I had begun working on a form of obsession myself: to make our love real, and special, and forever—little knowing that her interests would take me in directions that I could not possibly tolerate. On the very night of our honeymoon, she was already beginning to spew vile accusations against her father and trying to enlist my help in furthering her own sense of "justice." And of course I did not know at the time about the bearer bonds or any of the other intrigues that were driving Harley Sanford nuts.

  Martha "enlisted" me, perhaps in the same way that she had already enlisted Lancer. I did not know at that time the value of the bearer bonds or that they were Harley Sanford's property. I only knew, or believed, that something valuable was in the safety-deposit box and that Harley was trying to get it away from her.

  The torching of the gallery was the first concrete evidence I had seen that some sort of "war" was going on between father and daughter—and Martha had been very careful to keep me at a distance from her parents. So I have to feel that the whole deadly plot had been brewing in her mind from my first meeting with her.

  So, yeah, I was carefully set up. I had been led to believe that Martha was being pursued by her own father and that she was fearful for her life. I was taking her home with me. Vicki Douglas supposedly was in about the same fix as Martha and she was planning to stay with us in Southern California while seeking a new life for herself. Yes, Martha had told me that Vicki had become involved in prostitution under Sanford's influence and that she felt a responsibility to "rescue" the girl.

  Some rescue.

  By the time we were within a short distance of my place near L.A., I finally began to understand what Martha was asking of me. She wanted me to assist her in an outrageous plot against her father. We started arguing and I pulled the car over to have it out with her. Before I realized what was happening she had pulled my gun out of the glove box and shot me without warning. I cannot speak to my sense of betrayal and dismay but I know that it was more than a mere gunshot wound that propelled me into this hideous encounter with extreme shock.