Black Shadows

by Simon Swift

  "I do know of an Arnold Muchado," she said eventually. "It's hard to be in the entertainment business and not hear of him. He controls many of the unions you know, some say through money some say through influence, yet we all know he cracks kneecaps and bangs heads together. But that's as far as it goes. I think I may have met him the once although not to talk to, I'm afraid there's lots of pretty girls in Hollywood, even I am nothing special."

  She sighed as if the fact really upset her. I'm sure she was being modest, it surely wasn't true.

  "If you think that I am some kind of gangster's moll you are wildly mistaken, Errol. If Muchado is involved with Hermeez, which I guess he is by your presence here, even in my rather inebriated state," she nodded at her fast emptying glass, "then it is nothing at all to do with me. But I would appreciate it if you could get him out of it. We may not be married anymore, but I do so want him to stay in one piece."

  "You really mean that don't you?" I said.

  She sighed and nodded her head. "Yes I do," and then put her head in her hands. When she looked up again she had tears streaming down her cheeks. I passed her my handkerchief and she wiped her eyes.

  "Look, I guess I ought to put some clothes on. You really must think that I'm just a stupid child, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, Errol." She looked at me excitedly. "Maybe we could go for a coffee somewhere."

  Ten minutes later, she reappeared wearing a tiny light blue skirt and cardigan to match, made out of a fluffy woolen fabric. She wore garters from the skirt and had plain, brown stockings that would have looked rather mundane on anyone else but on Marcia they managed to look fantastic. She was a lot more humble and if anything it was her that appeared embarrassed, making it all the more unbelievable that only half an hour ago she had rather crudely tried to seduce me with a sordid display of exhibitionism. What was even more unbelievable was that this randy old goat had politely refused, against remarkably physical odds.

  I stayed for another half hour.

  This time we drank coffee and talked without the mental sparring. It was pleasant enough although I couldn't get her naked image out of my mind. I had forgotten what an interesting and nice girl she was, with the nice bit being the real attribute. This did make me embarrassed, as she talked about her life and loves, dreams and heartbreaks; I realized that she was just a girl, a young girl with a lot of history and lot of problems. She insisted that she would always love Hermeez, and he too would love her but that they could never again live together and that was what hurt. When we again broached the subject of Muchado I promised her that it would be all right and I would not allow Hermeez to get into any trouble. It was a promise I was doubtful that I could keep.

  Timmy Matthews was looking at his watch when I arrived. I was over half an hour late when he looked over his shoulder into my smiling face. He stood and shook my hand and we both took a seat on the creaking wooden bench that looked over the western side of the lake in lower Central Park. I had taken a short stroll from The Plaza up through the park, past the zoo, along The Mall and over the Bow Bridge, into The Ramble, where we had arranged to meet last night.

  It was supposed to be a clear-the-air talk between two old friends that had not seen eye to eye the other night. Timmy was wearing his usual full length, dirty trench coat, brown suit with half undone tie and a crumpled fedora. He had what looked like egg spilt down the front of his shirt and a pile of butts around his ankles. He looked at me, his craggy face a picture of worry, but managed to raise a smile.

  "Hello Timmy," I said. "Sorry I'm late."

  He shrugged and said, "I'm surprised you showed at all. I hope you're in a better mood than the other night."

  "I'm sorry about that too, but you know I don't like being pushed. How's the investigation going, am I still the prime suspect?"

  "You're still walking around aren't you, Errol? Have you got anything you want to tell me?"

  "Yeah, I didn't kill Dyke Spanner. There you go, I've said it, now if you want to call me a liar we know exactly where we are."

  Timmy held out a paw and patted me on the shoulder. "Hey calm down, this is supposed to be friendly, a couple of old friends talking, okay?"

  I nodded, "Okay."

  And for ten minutes that's exactly what it was; I asked Timmy how his kids were and he told me about little Desmond's home run for the under tens; he asked me how the refurbishments were coming along in the office and what I had planned to do for the Christmas break. We both gave our opinions on the events in Washington and the state of the nation and critical reviews of the Yankees and the Dodgers. He even told me a couple of jokes that were doing the rounds and we had a good belly laugh together before watching with interest as a kingfisher appeared on the lake and gracefully plucked lunch from beneath the murky waters. But inevitably it was not going to stay like this and it was Timmy that led the way…

  "Right then, Eezy. Give me an assessment. I've read your statement and I've thrown it away. This is firmly off the record and if you want, it will stay that way I just want your spin on things. First up, who do you think did kill him?"

  That was a question.

  I smiled and lit up a cigarette. "Possible suspects are numerous. First, you got me; I was at the crime scene, I was seen by various witnesses holding the body and it was fairly common knowledge we didn't see eye to eye. It’s all pretty circumstantial but a possibility nonetheless. Only I'm telling you I didn't do it, so you've got that to take into account.

  "Secondly, there is the delectable Mrs. Margaret Spanner; Again it was well known they were not getting on and here is the added possibility of crime of passion, as you know many murders are committed by spouse's or partners especially when they are, how shall I put it..."

  "Unfaithful?"

  "Yeah, that will do, unfaithful. Thirdly, there is my partner and your other good friend, Hermeez Wentz, Dyke's sworn enemy ever since his marriage break up. And indeed they were not best pals even when they worked together. Hermeez has been acting a little strange of late, and does not appear to have an alibi. Neither, of course, does Maggie. Fourthly..."

  "There's more?"

  "Much more, only here is where it starts to get difficult. You see it wasn't any of the first three so the fourth option is very, very important."

  I lit up a Lucky and sucked the smoke deep into my lungs before breathing it out into the cleanest air in New York.

  "Fourthly, there is the chance that it was someone involved in Dyke's work, whether it is current or previous. As you know he has made many enemies and lost plenty friends, there is always the chance that one of those has come back to get revenge. I think we both agree we can rule out simple random killing, he wasn't robbed and his body was found to be uninterfered with, so that makes it somebody he knew, but if you want a list of names it could take a long time."

  "How about his current stuff, I know you've been looking into it. Found anything yet?"

  I looked right into the eyes of my old friend. He smiled back and held my gaze. He was nudging, gently.

  I pulled the bullet out of my pocket and handed it over. Timmy looked at me quizzically and rolled it over in his handkerchief before popping it in his breast pocket.

  "Have you heard of a man known as The Coward?" I asked and he lost his smile.

  "No. Is this relevant to Dyke..."

  "How about ‘The Portly Gangster’?"

  This time he paused for a second, probably no longer but it was a noticeable hesitation, "No again and I repeat is this relevant to Dyke's killer?"

  I shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think so but get the bullet checked out and let me know the result."

  We sat in silence for a few moments. The park was peaceful, it was a true haven of tranquility and beauty in a dirty, smelly world. I stubbed my cigarette out and waited for Timmy's next question. When it came, it was a real disappointment.

  "Have you found out anything else about the murder?"

  I shook my head. "Nothing I want to share. So far everything is to
o sketchy, too many ifs, buts and maybes. If I do find out more I'll pass it on to you personally, you know that Timmy."

  Timmy sighed and shuffled a little anxiously. "That may not be possible I'm afraid, Eezy."

  "Oh?" I said, concerned at the tone Timmy had taken. Was this to be a stitch up, had he got me here under false pretences, milked me for all he could get only to truss me up and take me in? Normally I would have laughed at the suggestion but there was something about Tim's voice that made me wary. He was about to say something he didn't want to and even more so something that I didn't want him to.

  "You see Eezy, I maybe not on the case much longer. Without knowing what Dyke's latest business was I have come up against a brick wall. So far all my investigations have come down to two people, you and Weeny Jung Ping, neither of which are giving me anything that my fuckin' secretary couldn't guess. Lieutenant Beech thinks that I am too close to you both, particularly you. I don't know how much Jake has told you but Beech doesn't like you one bit and because of our friendship he is going off me quickly."

  He sighed a real deep sigh. "It looks like I may be taken off the case."

  I shook my head. "I'm real sorry pal."

  "Don't be, just you make sure that you solve it."

  I looked out over the lake. A family was boating across the water causing the birds to scatter and the water to ripple. The kids were laughing and screaming and the father was splashing them with the oar. All the while, the mother was sitting back soaking up the sun. It was peaceful here.

  Timmy stood up and looked at his watch again. "I'm gonna have to go, Eezy. Just one thing before I do."

  He took out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to me. "It's a court order banning you from leaving the City borders. I'm sorry but Beech insisted. Don't make me have to lie for you okay? If you want to talk, and I'm not gonna push you, you know where to find me."

  And he was gone.

  Chapter Ten – Upstate

  The landscape along the Hudson River from the City to Albany, the state capital, is among the most breathtaking in the whole of America. Alongside the many hiking and skiing trails there are miles of orchards, vineyards, pine forests and picturesque mountains lakes. It's a great area for fishing, for relaxing and for sheer enjoying the natural beauty of our fine country. It's not so great however when you've got the life of a young woman in your hands and the puzzle of a friend's murder hanging around your neck.

  After Timmy had left Central Park I hung around for another hour or so, watching the boaters and the joggers go by. I took a walk back down The Mall and observed the street entertainers whilst eating an ice cream. I had planned to drive to Woodstock late this afternoon, well in advance of tomorrow's rendezvous. So far I had not told anybody of my plans and after the meeting with Timmy I was even more reluctant to say anything until I got there.

  I followed Route West right the way up to Saugerties before heading west into the Catskill Forest Preserve. The drive took less time than I thought and I was soon checked into the premier hotel in the small town of Woodstock, which was a quaint, thirty-room inn that hadn't been renovated this century. It was called The Mountain Star and had a bar, a restaurant and a conservative casino although there was little else. It failed to even offer twenty-four hour room service, although I did find a complimentary packet of peanuts by my bedside and there was a bible in the bedside cabinet!

  That evening, after I had eaten a meal of buffalo steak, mashed potato and chick peas, followed by Black Forrest Gateau, I telephoned Ava. She was a smart lady, loyal as a bulldog, and the least I could do was tell her where I was. For all I knew the police could now have a warrant out for my arrest.

  "Mrs. Jameson, how are you, is Ava there please?...Yeah, it's Errol...Ava, how are you honey?"

  "Errol, where are you? I've been trying to find you all day."

  "What is it sweetheart, are you okay?"

  "I'm fine, Errol, don't worry about me. I just need to talk to you, that's all. Are you coming in to the office tonight?"

  "I'm away on business, baby. I'm upstate in a town called Woodstock. I'm afraid I don't know how long this is going to take."

  "Woodstock! What are you doing there? Errol, if you..."

  I explained the situation minus a few details but it only served to make her more agitated.

  "Errol, there's been a man in to see you. He says he's been looking all over for you."

  "What sort of man, who is he?"

  "A Mr.Benjamin Wilson. He says that he wants to talk to you in a matter of extreme urgency."

  "What's he like, sweetheart, is he a Fed?"

  "No, definitely not. He's a little strange, effeminate even. Certainly not police."

  "Does he fit the description of The Coward?"

  "No, he's tall and thin, your upper-class gentleman, English country squire type. He was very polite, very well spoken and....and very strange. He was most insistent that he must speak to you as soon as possible."

  I lit up a Lucky and inhaled deeply as Ava gave me his number. She'd run a check on him and came up with nothing.

  "I don’t know if I'll be able to contact him while I'm over here, I've got to tie up this end first. Don't worry precious; I'll be in touch as soon as I return. If he comes again try and get a little more out of him, tell him I'll coming back ASAP."

  "Okay Errol."

  "That's it...good girl. Has Hermeez been in touch today?"

  "No not yet and I haven't heard from his friend Muchado either. I hope he hasn't taken exception to me for standing him up."

  "Are Mike and Terence still there?"

  "Sure they're here. Do you need to have a word?"

  "No, just tell them I want them to keep working until I return, and if Hermeez gets in touch tell him to call me."

  I gave her my number, "And the same goes for you Ava, if there's anything you don't like, give me a call. Promise me."

  "I promise. Now, you take care Errol, you hear me?"

  "Sure thing angel. Listen, any more visits from the police get straight in touch with Jake, he'll know what to do. I’ll ring you again soon. Yep...you too darling, bye."

  “Any messages for Black?" I asked the receptionist as I arrived back through the double doors and into the two-story lobby, with its dark, hardwood floor, plethora of potted plants and impressive antiques under dingy recessed lighting.

  She smiled warmly and checked the messages tray. It may have been warm but it sure was stuck, I bet that smile stayed in place all day.

  "No sir, I’m sorry," she replied.

  I lifted my hat and headed for the stairs. A few moments later I found the third floor and ambled towards my room. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and immediately sensed there was something wrong.

  There was.

  The room door was swinging on its battered hinges, the lock broken in two most probably by a powerful kick or makeshift battering ram. There was a breeze blowing in from the open window that led to the fire escape and down to the kitchens and goods entrance. The interior of the room could best be described as having been trashed. Everything that was breakable was broken and everything that could be knocked over had been. Drawers were hanging out of their chest, the wardrobe was knocked so that it was resting on its side, and the toiletries from the bathroom were all smashed and scattered all over the room, which ironically gave a rather pleasant aroma to the chaos.

  I had brought few belongings with me and after a quick check, they all appeared to be still there and relatively unscathed. My clothes had been tossed around and the contents of my bag had been rather hurriedly or hastily gone through but nothing was broken and nothing had been taken.

  I went to the bedside and picked up the telephone. To my surprise, it was still working and after a couple of barely perceptible clicks a honey sweet voice asked me what my request was. I told her about the room and within minutes the manager was knocking on the battered door with a couple of beefy security guards alongside him.

&n
bsp; "We won't be needing them," I said, nodding at the gorillas. "Whoever has done this is long gone."

  The manager agreed and waved them away before taking a full inspection of the trashed room. He was a tall, thin man dressed in a casual cream suit and straw fedora; he was in his early thirties with short graying hair, wide vacant eyes and a smile that crept slowly across his tired looking face.

  "You must accept my most sincere apologies, Mr. Black. We will of course be looking into this most unsavory incident most vigilantly."

  I nodded and accepted his apologies while lighting up a Lucky.

  "Would you like one?" I asked.

  "No thank you. I haven't smoked for twelve months now and unless there is another war in my fighting lifetime I don't suppose I ever will again."

  I smoked alone, but we had a drink together and soon we were walking into the Catskills Suite, the premier room in the house. Harry, the manager, had okayed my upgrade as soon as we found out we had both served in the same military band of men in the Pacific. He didn't go into details and neither did I but it was clear we had both seen things we would rather not see again and it created a strange bond between us, like many of us ex-servicemen back in the real world. We didn't have to talk about it, Harry's little comment about cigarettes was enough and from now on I knew I had at least one ally in Woodstock.

  The Catskills Suite was something else. Like the hotel lobby it was high-ceilinged with a fiercely polished hardwood floor and adorned with many old trinkets and paintings. There was an open stairway that led to a balcony which had a better view than the kitchens and loading bay and also led to the two bedrooms; underneath there was an extensive bar, comfy chairs and a marble fireplace with a well lit fire that cast haunting shadows in the subdued lighting.

  Harry stayed for another drink, bourbon on the rocks, and said goodnight. It was just as he opened the door and was half way through that I asked him about The Coward. His reaction was the same as other people I had asked, one of genuine ignorance.