To Find a Killer

by Charlie Vogel

  He delicately placed the stem on the edge of the salad plate, then casually moved that hand to the envelope. One twist of his wrist and several eight by ten photos slid onto the white tablecloth. Photos of Lori. He distastefully slid them together and placed them beside my plate.

  “Do you know her, Robert?”

  “I think you know the answer.”

  “Can you explain why she is living with you?”

  “Can you explain why you have pictures of her?”

  “Not important at the moment.”

  “You’ve had your damn investigators checking up on me again, haven’t you?”

  “Long ago, I accepted the responsibility to watch over you. You did marry my daughter and began receiving a portion of my money through her. I am a careful investor. Now . . . quit avoiding my questions. Who is this girl to you?”

  “I’ve been old enough to vote for a long time . . . and my business is none of your goddamn business.”

  “Don’t be crude, Robert. Your wife has been dead a very short time. You move to a disreputable section of town and take a mistress. Not particularly admirable actions. I wish to remind you of the two million dollars I gave you and Eileen as a wedding present.”

  “Gave, not invested. I don’t remember signing any agreements at the time.”

  “No time for any prenuptial, as I recall, and Eileen convinced me there would be no need. Who would have believed you would outlive her?”

  “Cut the bullshit, Henry. Get to the point. What does Lori—” I waved my hand over the photos, “—have to do with two million bucks you think you threw away?”

  He sat up straighter, his eyes cold and narrow. “You will get rid of that prostitute and your store clerk friend. I expect you to move back into your home and take up your normal responsibilities. If you don’t do what I ask, Robert, this matter will be referred to my attorney. Mr. Winters has found a totally legal procedure to freeze your various bank accounts.”

  “Don’t threaten me, you son-of-a-bitch! I’ll have my accounts transferred the minute I walk out of here.”

  He continued eating the remains of his salad. “A temporary court order was filled this afternoon.”

  The asshole refused to look back at me. The waitress removed the salads. The waiter at her shoulder uncovered plates of chef-arranged beef and potatoes with parsley sprigs. Henry began to eat despite my burning stare.

  Calm down. Slow the heart rate. Could he be bluffing? How could he touch that money? His name was never on those accounts. Could strangle the bastard, but he isn’t worth jail. But Fox might get away with it.

  I stabbed my fork into a succulent piece of pink and brown beef. “Why are you doing this, Henry?”

  “I loved my daughter. I feel you are being disrespectful of her and her family . . . by your actions and associations. Just the other day, Donald agreed—”

  “Stop right there! You talked to my brother?”

  “We met at the funeral. I found him well-spoken and respectful, even reasonable. You really should be more like him, you know. Anyway . . . I flew to Chicago a few days ago. We met for dinner at a restaurant owned by a football coach . . . a friend of mine you wouldn’t know, of course.”

  Now he looked at me, a glint of triumphant in his eyes that chilled my blood. “Donald and I agreed you have become not only irresponsible, but unstable. Eileen’s death was . . . a shock to us all, but it is time to get yourself together, to get on with your life . . . as Eileen would have wanted. Donald said you wish to retire from teaching. I agreed it was about time. A perfect change would be for you to step into the advertising department of either Bison Insurance or Ashland Steel. As a controlling officer on both boards, I can give you the position you choose.”

  The antique clock on the fireplace mantle ticked. Henry’s knife grated on his plate. I watched him precisely cut the meat, just like he was cutting my options.

  Or is he? You haven’t learned anything about him in all these years, Norris? He’s addicted to negotiation and Eileen . . .

  “I need time. What would time cost you? Six months. Give me six months to find Eileen’s killer, then I’ll do as you say.”

  “That’s why you . . . you moved to the slums? No wonder Donald didn’t want to elaborate! He insinuated you couldn’t accept her murder. But you want to become comic book avenger? Ridiculous!”

  “Lot of other people agree with my assessment of . . . what happened. I now have the kind of friends that can help.”

  “In six months.”

  “Yes.

  “And if you find him, then what?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll make up my mind when the time comes.”

  “Afterward . . . will you come to your senses?”

  “Once again, I don’t know. This is all my mind can handle right now. Didn’t you say one time I’m just a hare-brained artist who can’t focus? Now I have a focus.”

  “And damned smart, when you want to be . . . in Eileen’s words.” Hooked! “All right. If I hadn’t learned to gamble and take risks in my younger years . . . Well, I wouldn’t be sitting on all these boards and living in the house on the hill.”

  I twisted my spoon in the julienne green beans on my plate “Interesting . . . I thought you lived closer to the clouds in order to look down on the little people of your world.”

  “Bad joke, Robert, but I will have the last laugh. The more I think about it, the more it sounds like this is a sure bet. Either way I win. You find the killer, justice is served. You don’t, you will be seated in my office in six months, complying with my wishes.”

  Never happen, old man!

  “Okay, I will change the court order, however I will not allow you to spend from your savings or investment accounts. You will be allowed four thousand a month from your checking. Not a penny more. That means no more spending on automobiles.”

  “Only four thousand? I have two people depending on me. What about them?”

  “Robert, Robert,” he groaned. “Why do you want to keep a prostitute of that caliber, when you could hire a better—”

  “—She’s helping me, and not in bed. I got her off the streets . . . and am paying her a salary. She is getting me to the people who know the dirt going on in this city.”

  He sipped his wine, then sighed heavily. Obviously he wanted me out of his life. “Why must you complicate everything you do, Robert? I’ll put her on my payroll . . . until she finds another line of work. I’m sure five hundred a week is less than she made hooking, but I’ll not pay her a penny more. I suppose you’re paying the one-arm man, too?”

  Let him think he’s in control and he’s putty. “I’m sure your investigators told you he has a job, but, yeah, he’s working for me too, kind of between a body guard-trainer and my own version of an investigator. He’s not too proud. I’m sure he would appreciate anything you wish to give him . . . like me, I suppose.”

  “Don’t push me, Robert. I’ll tolerate this six months. Then you’ll move up in the world to a better class of associates.”

  “Don’t count on it,” I mumbled but ducked as I added “asshole.” No sense in irritating the quiet predator! Eileen had trained me not to be a total fool around this man.

  As I sipped my untouched wine, Henry tapped his water glass with a spoon. “Charles! Robert is ready to leave now.”

  I looked at my barely touched food. “I am?”

  “I have a business meeting here in . . . ten minutes. I am having dessert served . . . to them.”

  I shrugged and couldn’t resist a parting dig. “Enjoy their butt kissing, Henry.”

  * * *

  Chucky expertly squeezed the limousine into the noon hour traffic. I tapped on the partition glass. It slid down and I leaned on folded arms.

  “How old are you, Charles?”

  “Sixty-two, sir.”

  “Hm, five years younger than good Ol’ Henry.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And still young enough to have some fun.”


  “I beg your pardon, sir?”

  “Henry will be at Amato’s for at least two hours. That’s his minimum for a business meeting, as I remember. How about having some fun for those two hours? You could pick up my friends, Lori and Henry, and we could all go to a bar.”

  “Oh no, sir. I’m on the clock. A driver is never allowed to drink on duty.”

  “So you take us to the bar and I’ll spring for a can of pop. For old times sake?”

  Thirty minutes later Chucky parked the limousine in front of the Tickled Pink Bar and Grill. Two blocks around the corner from the apartment. The three of us sat side-by-side on the back seat, waiting for Chucky to open the door.

  First, Lori giggled.

  “What?”

  “Ever see that picture of the three monkeys sitting on a limb? One had his hands over his ears—”

  “Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil!” Harry’s laugh filled the car. “That ain’t us! I was wondering what the hell everyone’s going to say when they see us climbing out this. Last time they seen anything this big, the governor visited two years ago.”

  “Why was the governor in this part of town?”

  “Gave a speech on his ‘War on Crime.’”

  Chucky held the door. We emerged.

  Lori poked Harry in the ribs. “So, was the governor for or against crime?”

  Even Chucky smiled at that one.

  Inside, we found a table towards the back of the dim room. On the wall closest to us hung a picture of a mounted cowboy racing beside a stage coach team, shooting back pursuing Indians.

  The waitress sauntered up. Her gaze lingered on Chucky in his pristine chauffeur’s uniform, but she knew the rest of us. The thin, tired face made her look at least thirty-five. Lori had told me Pam was twenty-eight then warned me to quit guessing or asking people’s ages. They didn’t like being reminded. The age thing wasn’t a big deal to me. I just found it interesting that she looked so good in those black short-shorts and knotted t-shirt. Only today, the bottom half of the shirt had been cut off revealing her slim mid-drift. Harry held her gaze a moment. I saw her wink before she looked at me.

  “Hi, Bob. You want the usual?”

  “No. Had too much of that a couple of nights back. Get us a pitcher of beer and some glasses.”

  Moments later she returned. After unloading her tray, she squinted at Lori. “Heard you got the super itch, girl.”

  Lori stiffened. “Keep it up, bitch, and you’ll eat it!”

  “Whoa, there! Just makin’ conversation.” She began to fill our glasses.

  I squeezed Lori’s arm before throwing money on Pam’s tray. Lori gave me a dirty look and relaxed back in her chair. Her pout looked like many I had seen in my classrooms. Chucky, on the other hand, sat in his chair as straight up as a cigar store Indian. He even stared ahead as if afraid to look right or left at his surroundings.

  Maybe I had made a mistake bringing him here . . . but he had information I wanted. I considered the four-inch heads on piss-colored liquid in front of us. Nothing like cheap beer to loosen a man’s tongue.

  “Hey, Charles. Take off the jacket and loosen your tie. Consider yourself on a break.”

  “I must insist, sir, that I am on duty. I cannot drink beer.”

  “I forgot. I’ll have Pam bring you a Coke or Pepsi.”

  “I think not. I’ll wait in the car. No employer would tolerate this behavior. And, Young Lady, if you put your hand there once more, I shall call the police.”

  Lori’s laughter bubbled up. “Come on, Chucky, loosen up. Join the fun. Bob’s paying. Look at it this way! You got free beer, friendly folk to talk to . . . and I’m available this afternoon.”

  Harry leaned against my shoulder to whisper “Why did you bring him here?”

  “He’s close to my father-in-law and I need some info. We need to loosen him up.”

  The next moment Harry waved his arm across the table, knocking over a full glass of beer . . . that immediately flowed onto Chucky’s lap. The cigar-store Indian gasped.

  “Goddamn it! Shit happens, Man, especially when I gotta put up with one arm. Sit right there, Charles. I’ll get something from the bar to clean you up.”

  Lori fisted napkins and vigorously dabbed at his lap. Chucky shoved her hand away and jumped to his feet, his chair tipping over.

  “Damn it! Miss, I want you to leave me alone. Mr. Norris, I am leaving. I must change my uniform and be at the restaurant in time to pick up my employer.”

  I decided to seize the opportunity, because it wasn’t likely to come again. It didn’t matter if I lied to get the information I needed. “Hold it, Charles. Before you go . . . I have to know something. Just days before-before Eileen died, she talked about . . . well, she said you had an affair with her mother.” He stilled, his eyes boring into mine. “She said it had been years ago, something long forgotten by everyone, but . . . she meant to talk to you, without Henry knowing, of course. She’s gone, so I feel I owe it—”

  With all the dignity a beer-soaked man could maintain, he sat down. He picked up Lori’s glass of beer. For a moment I thought he would throw it at me. Instead, he put it to his lips and drank. Carefully he set the empty glass down, wiped the foam from his upper lip with a fresh napkin, and tapped the rim of the glass. Lori refilled it. Two long droughts and it was empty again.

  “Sir, I have no idea how Eileen heard of that, but it is certainly none of your business.”

  Norris, you are getting good at this investigating stuff! I didn’t smile. “I agree and I’m really sorry for bringing it up. However, in the conversation, I promised Eileen, if she didn’t get the opportunity, I would take you aside. After all, Henry tended to ignore me . . . but she didn’t get her questions answered, did she? In a way, I’m her representative now. So, for Eileen, what is the truth?”

  His third beer finished, he slumped back in the chair. “May I call you Bob?”

  “By all means.”

  His tone softened, probably from the beer and unleashed memories. “Well, Bob, it wasn’t an affair. It was deep, abiding love. When Eileen’s mother died, my life ended, too. Veronica and I were devoted lovers, long before Eileen’s existence. When my employer left on his many business trips, Ronnie and I went to a cabin in Wisconsin. That was ‘our home.’ My heart shriveled when she died of cancer six years ago. Is that what you wanted? Do you feel better knowing?”

  My eyes burned, but I had to take that final step. “Are you Eileen’s father?”

  “Yes.” He cocked his head and studied me. “I have been your true father-in-law all these years. Only Ronnie and I knew. Not even . . . Not even my employer knew.” His gaze counted each of us. “And that will not go beyond this table.”

  Lori and Harry only nodded.

  “You have my solemn word,” I said with conviction. “But there is one more thing. It will wait until we get you cleaned up and back in service.”

  Gently, Lori took Chucky’s arm. He stood, no longer offended by her touch but a little unsteady on his feet. She led him towards the door with Harry and I on their heels.

  At the limo, she looked him over from head to toe. “We may get him cleaned up, but he’ll never be sober enough to drive. I have an idea.” She handed Chucky to us, fished in his pockets, and pulled out the keys. I couldn’t tell if he enjoyed her manhandling or was trying to wiggle away from her.

  Lori slid behind the wheel. Chucky threw himself against the front passenger door. We had no choice but to put him next to her. Only the seat belt and shoulder harness kept him from ousting her. She ignored his protests as she swung the monstrous vehicle into the street and around the corner. At first Harry and I were going to offer back seat advice, but soon decided it was safer to buckle up our own seat belts.

  Lori pulled into two parallel parking spots. I was grateful they were on the corner, but didn’t doubt for a minute she would have tried parking the thing anywhere she decided it would fit.

  “Watch him,” she pointed at the
bleary-eyed Chucky. “I’ll be right back.”

  The three of us clueless males watched her disappear into a uniform shop. I nervously noticed the police uniforms on display in the window. When I started to comment, I found Harry leaned over the seat adjusting Chucky’s restraints. The brewery-smelling chauffeur had passed out.

  Minutes later, Lori slid back into the car, dressed in a double-breasted chauffeur’s uniform even more formal than Chucky’s.

  “What’s going on?” I demanded.

  “I’m a regular customer here. I’ve dressed as everything from a nun to a sailor. You know, to please my johns.”

  “No, I don’t know and I don’t want to know. You can’t take Chucky’s place. You can hardly steer this damn thing around a corner. Henry will be pissed if you show up. Not only will you get your ass fired, but Chucky’s, too.”

  “What do you mean he’ll fire me?”

  She backed the limo and pulled into the street. A horn blasted behind us.

  “I forgot. You are on his payroll and you’re making a thousand more a month than I was paying you.”

  “You gotta tell me how you talked him into that one! Right now, you and Harry take care of Charles.” She threw me a dirty look in the mirror. “And his name is Charles, not Chucky.” She concentrated on moving through traffic, her words sounding more precise, her manner changing from friendly to formal. “I will become the best damn chauffeur Henry has ever had. He might end up giving me another raise.”

  Wonder if she changed personalities right along with her clothes for her johns?

  “Give me Henry’s address.”

  “Do you know where Amato’s is at?”

  “Well, well! Yeah. Never been there ‘til now, that is. I will let you three out and just about make it on time, I think.”

  “Are you the same Lori who challenged the bar girl?”

  “You’re a funny man, Bob.”

  “So, what are you going to tell him about Chucky, ah, Charles?”

  “He got sick. Is there a cell phone back there? I’ve seen that in the movies.”

  “Who do you want to call? Fox?”