The Savage Son (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 6)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  "So, they're having an affair?"

  "Nope. Sam is a homosexual. They're just friends, but Mr. Kopek doesn't like Sam, for some reason."

  The lieutenant grimaced. "Can't blame him. Go on."

  "Next thing that happens is that the new Governor of Silesia--"

  "Where?"

  "Silesia. It's the part of Czechoslovakia where all these people are from."

  "Got it."

  "The Germans have taken over the country and, being the efficient people they are, one of them discovers the fact that Mr. Z. had conspired with the government official to rip off, not only the Kopeks, but also a few other people in the country. Once Mr. Z and his friend discover the gig is up, they hop it to Switzerland, where they spend the next ten or so years, doing who knows what."

  "OK. What else?"

  "This April, Sam meets Ivan, the Kopeks' son, and they become friendly."

  The lieutenant shakes his head. "I shoulda known it would be something like this with all you faggots involved."

  I rolled my eyes and continued. "Meanwhile, Mr. Z leaves Switzerland in '50 and makes his way here. He buys 1198 Lombard for a song."

  "How do you know all that?"

  "The first part is conjecture, although easy to verify--"

  "Yeah. And it's been verified. Came here in December of 1950 on a Swiss passport that's a fake, it turns out."

  I nodded. "The house was dirt cheap because it was falling down. Someone asked me to buy it, but I didn't want the hassle of renovating the place."

  The lieutenant grinned at me with his cigar-stained teeth. "The problems of the mighty rich. What else?"

  "Ivan meets Mr. Z a couple of weeks ago, right before he disappears. Mr. Z recognizes him from the old country because of his scar and identifies himself to the kid. Ivan's heard about this man most of his life and decides he's gonna kill the guy to get revenge for his parents."

  The lieutenant nodded. "Makes sense."

  "Only, he doesn't. Someone else did it."

  "Go on."

  "So, it turns out that there's another person from Petervald who's in town. Or was."

  "Was?"

  I nodded. "Yeah. Woman by the name of Karina Ros."

  "A dame?"

  "Yeah. She got here about three weeks ago. And she's a loyal Party member back home in Czechoslovakia."

  The lieutenant sat up. "A Red did the murder?"

  I shrugged. "I don't know. She's probably in Mexico by now."

  "Damn it, Williams. How long have you known this?"

  I looked at my watch. "About forty-five minutes."

  "And she knew the dead guy?"

  I nodded. "They all grew up together."

  He ran his hand over his head. "That's the thing. There was no signs of a struggle. None at all. And there was one set of fingerprints that we could never trace. The only set from that Kopek kid was on the inside of the front door. But the other set was on a wine glass in the sink in the kitchen. And on the kitchen counter. And the back door."

  I nodded.

  He looked at me for a long moment and then asked, "You think this is political?"

  I replied, "Maybe. I think the Czechoslovakian government wants the money this guy stole. From what I read about these puppet states, they need all the hard currency they can get their hands on. He's probably got it locked up in Switzerland."

  "So they send a gal over to kill him? How does that help?"

  I said, "Dunno. But you know the Reds. Women can do the same things a man can do. Or, at least, that's what they say."

  "Even assassination?"

  "Yeah, maybe even that."

  The lieutenant picked up the phone. When a voice answered, he barked, "Get me the F.B.I. Office now!"

  Chapter 13

  Superior Court for the County of San Francisco

  Room 102

  Monday, December 21, 1953

  Just past 10 in the morning

  The gallery was full. The same four reporters who had been at the arraignment on Thursday morning were sitting together a few rows behind us. The one from the Examiner looked drunk, again.

  Ike looked weary but defiant as a deputy brought him in the courtroom. He was wearing the suit his mother had brought by the office on Friday and looked good, nonetheless. He was not in handcuffs which I took as a good sign. The deputy walked him over to the defense table where Ike sat down next to Kenneth

  Carter elbowed me on my left and whispered, "Where are his parents?"

  I whispered back, "Dunno."

  Sam, who sat on my right and was wearing his new coat, tie, and trousers, asked, "Will they have to testify?"

  Before I could answer, the court officer called order and announced the judge. We all stood. When Judge Bernard Rollins entered, we all sat as he began to review the docket. He was a florid man. His face was square and he had short iron-gray hair perfectly held in place by pomade. He was frowning at whatever he was reading. I wondered what that meant.

  The judge read out the docket number and the charges. He asked, "Is the defendant present?"

  Kenneth stood, motioned for Ike to do the same, and replied, "Yes, Your Honor. Kenneth Wilcox for the defendant Ivan Kopek."

  The prosecutor stood. "Roger Stanton for the state, Your Honor."

  The judge said, "Fine. Mr. Stanton, you may begin."

  Kenneth and Ike sat down as the prosecutor announced, "Call Officer Michael Rossi."

  A short, thin policeman with dark hair stood up and walked to the witness chair. Once he was sworn, he looked at the prosecutor with anticipation. I wondered if he'd been coached.

  "Officer Rossi, can you describe the events of the morning of Thursday, December 17, 1953?"

  "I was on duty at the North District Station. At approximately 1 a.m., I received a phone call reporting the sound of gunshots at 1198 Lombard Street."

  "Who placed that call?"

  "The caller identified herself as a Mrs. Wanda Jacobson. Mrs. Jacobson said she lived at 1190 Lombard. She reported that she had been making a cup of tea when she heard the shots."

  "What did you do next?"

  "I notified my partner, Officer Stephen Richardson. We drove out to the location. Once we arrived, we investigated the property and saw no one on the premises outside. We then rang the doorbell. After a few minutes, the door was opened by the defendant. We asked about the shots. He replied he hadn't heard any. We asked if we could enter and he said we could. As we surveyed the first floor, we found the victim in the kitchen. There was a significant amount of blood on the floor to the right of the body. I took his pulse and discovered he was dead."

  "What was the defendant doing at that time?"

  "He followed us around as walked through the house. When we found the victim's body, he became visibly upset."

  "How so?"

  "He said a few words in a foreign language and looked--"

  Kenneth stood up. "Objection."

  The prosecutor quickly said, "What else did he do or say?"

  Kenneth sat down.

  "He didn't say anything else. He folded his arms and watched us."

  "What happened next?"

  "Using the phone in the house, I called the station to report in. Officer Richardson and I arrested the defendant and secured him in the patrol car. Once Lieutenant Daniel Rostenkowski arrived, we transported the defendant to the North District Station where we handed him over for processing."

  "What time did Lieutenant Rostenkowski arrive?"

  Rossi said, "1:50 a.m." He said it very precisely. And, I noticed he didn't say "ten before two" or "about a quarter to two."

  "How was the victim dressed?"

  "He was wearing a dark blue robe of some sort." He paused. "And nothing else."

  "Was his face up or down?"

  "Down."

  "Thank you Officer Rossi." Stanton sat down and said, "Your witness."

  Kenneth stood up and said, "Thank you, Officer Rossi, for your thorough description. It's been very enlighte
ning. I have a couple of questions for you."

  Rossi smiled slightly and said, "Sure."

  "The house at 1198 Lombard is at the corner of Larkin Street, correct?"

  "Yes."

  "When you surveyed the property in the dark, did you walk along the side of the house that runs along Larkin?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you see the back of the house?"

  "No, sir. The back of the property is adjacent to the side of the first house on Larkin. There's a wall that divides the property. We just shined our flashlights to see if anyone was there."

  "Thank you." He looked down at his notes. "When the defendant answered the door, how was he dressed?"

  Rossi smirked. "All he had on was his underclothes." There was some laughter in the gallery.

  The judge banged his gavel and barked, "Order!" The laughter stopped. After a moment, he said, "You may continue, Mr. Wilcox."

  Kenneth nodded. "You see the defendant sitting next to me, correct?"

  Rossi nodded. Then, remembering that this was court, he said, "Yes."

  "Today his hair is kept in place using some sort of treatment and is neat, wouldn't you agree?"

  Rossi said, "Yes."

  "Did his hair look like this on Thursday morning when he opened the door."

  Rossi grinned. "No, sir. It was a rat's nest. It was sticking out all over the place."

  "Would you say the defendant had long hair?"

  Rossi looked confused but he nodded. "Yes, sir. Longer than mine." He had a buzz cut.

  Kenneth nodded. "Thank you." He shuffled some pages on the table. "You testified that the victim was wearing a robe and nothing else. You also said his face was down. Is that correct?"

  Rossi said, "Yes, sir."

  "How did you know he was wearing only the robe?"

  Rossi blushed. "The robe was caught on the side of a cabinet door and was suspended in the air. We could see he had nothing else on."

  This got a good reaction in the gallery. The judge banged his gavel twice but didn't say anything.

  Kenneth said, "One last question, Officer Rossi." He looked down for a moment. "When you found the victim's body in the kitchen, could you see the defendant's face?"

  Rossi shook his head. "No, sir."

  "So, you don't know what his reaction was to seeing the victim's body on the floor, covered in blood, do you?"

  "Well, I know he said something in a foreign language."

  "Yes, you said that already. Thank you very much, Officer Rossi. You've been very helpful."

  As Rossi walked back into the gallery, I was impressed at Kenneth's style. I'd never seen him at work in open court and he was good. He was very good.

  . . .

  "Call Lieutenant Daniel Rostenkowski."

  As the lieutenant walked forward, sat down in the witness chair, and took the oath, I wondered about the expression on his face. He looked annoyed.

  "Lieutenant Rostenkowski, Officer Rossi has testified that you arrived at 1198 Lombard Street at 1:50 a.m. Is that correct?"

  The lieutenant nodded and said, "At about that time, yes."

  Stanton asked, "What did you observe when you arrived?"

  "I saw the defendant secured in the patrol car. I saw the lights in the house were on. I saw that the front door was slightly ajar. When I walked in, I found two men from the coroner's office waiting to transport the victim's body. In the kitchen, I found Sergeant John Wong from the Investigation Division at work. I found Officer Rossi and Officer Richardson in the kitchen assisting Sergeant Wong."

  "What did you do next?"

  "I instructed Officer Rossi and Officer Richardson to transport the defendant to the North District Station for processing. Once they left, I began to assist Sergeant Wong."

  "What did you do?"

  "Using a camera that Sergeant Wong had brought with him, I took several photographs of the kitchen. I also helped him take fingerprints off the victim."

  "Then what did you do?" Although I couldn't see the prosecutor's face, Rostenkowski was looking more and more annoyed.

  He breathed in sharply. "I left the scene once additional members of the Investigation Division arrived to assist Sergeant Wong. I returned to the North District Station and began to question the defendant."

  "What did he tell you?"

  "He said he was asleep when the doorbell woke him up. He said that he'd been staying in the house for a week. He said that the victim was his cousin."

  "What else did he say?"

  "Nothing connected to the crime beyond that." I wondered at this answer.

  "Did he give you a home address when you questioned him?"

  "Yes."

  "And what was it?"

  "335 Turk Street, Apartment 5-R."

  "Did he say whether he lived there?" This questioning was beginning to sound hostile.

  "He said that was his parents' home." Rostenkowski was only answering the questions exactly as they'd been asked. This was getting very interesting.

  "Did you interview his parents?"

  "Yes."

  "When did you interview them?"

  "Yesterday, Sunday, November 20th, at approximately 8 p.m."

  "What did you ask them?"

  "I asked them several questions." Up until them, the judge had been looking down. I knew he wasn't asleep. But, when Rostenkowski answered that way, the Judge looked up and at the prosecutor.

  "What was the first question you asked them?"

  "Their legal names."

  The judge said, "Mr. Stanton, would you like an opportunity to confer with your witness before we continue?" There were a few murmurs in the gallery.

  Stanton nodded and said, "Yes, Your Honor."

  The judge said, "Fifteen minute recess." He banged his gavel and left the courtroom as we all stood.

  . . .

  Stanton and Rostenkowski left the courtroom quickly while most of the gallery watched. Sam and I walked over to the rail behind the defense table.

  "Hi, kid," I said.

  Ike turned and looked at me. He smiled wanly. When he saw Sam, his whole face lit up. "Sam!" I wondered if he was gonna go in for a big kiss but, instead, he just looked like a kid in love. Sam nodded and smiled. I saw the deputy behind Ike roll his eyes and shake his head.

  "Why are we even here?" I asked Kenneth. I'd called him as soon as we'd finished talking to Rostenkowski the night before.

  He shook his head. "Beats me. I called Stanton this morning and asked him if he was going to drop the charges. He said, 'Hell, no,' and hung up on me."

  . . .

  The judge returned about fifteen minutes later. Stanton and Rostenkowski, however, hadn't. After another five minutes, the judge said, "Bailiff, please locate Mr. Stanton and Lieutenant Rostenkowski and bring them into the courtroom."

  The bailiff standing closest to the bench nodded and said, "Yes, Your Honor." He signaled to one in the back and they left together.

  The gallery burst out into furious whispering. The judge sat on the bench and I watched his florid face get redder as he played with a pencil by twirling it and tapping it.

  After another five or so minutes, the bailiffs appeared with both Stanton and Rostenkowski. As they walked through the gallery, the whispers turned to gasps. Stanton had a cut lip and was dabbing it with a handkerchief. Rostenkowski looked like he'd been rolling on the floor. His blue coat was covered in dust, his hair was out of place, and his tie was loose.

  The bailiffs brought both men forward and stood them in front of the judge who was no longer angry. He now looked mildly amused.

  "Mr. Stanton, as an officer of the court, is there a reason I shouldn't hold you in contempt?"

  Stanton said, "I can't think of a good one, Your Honor." The gallery laughed. So did the judge.

  "Well, I think you've been punished enough for one day. Are you prepared to proceed?"

  Stanton drew in a deep breath and said, "No, Your Honor. The state withdraws its charge against Ivan Kopek at this ti
me." The gallery erupted while the judge banged his gavel. If I wasn't mistaken, he was having a great time doing it.

  Chapter 14

  Offices of Consolidated Security

  Monday, December 21, 1953

  Just past 1 in the afternoon

  "What the hell was that all about?" That was Carter.

  Once Ike had been processed and released, we'd sent him and Sam to our house in a cab. Meanwhile, Marnie had ordered in some sandwiches for Kenneth, Carter, and myself.

  Kenneth laughed as he took a swig from a bottle of Pepsi. "That was the most entertaining thing I've ever seen in court."

  I called over to Marnie. "Hey doll, ask Mike to come over if he's free."

  She said, "Sure thing, Nick." She picked up the phone and pressed a button.

  We sat and ate for a couple of minutes until Mike walked in. He looked at me and said, "I already heard."

  "Have you talked to the lieutenant, yet?"

  Mike smiled and shook his head as he leaned against the door frame. "No. I figure I'll take him out tonight for a couple of drinks." He licked his lips. "Stanton better never run for D.A. He's very unpopular with the rank and file. I gotta call from one of the sergeants at the North Station who had it second hand. But, he said the story is spreading like wildfire."

  "What'd he say?" I asked.

  "Stanton threw the first punch. Of course, slugging Rostenkowski is like hitting Carter. All you're gonna do is break your hand."

  I said, "Not if you know how to do it right."

  Carter looked at me significantly and said, "You already used your quota, Nick."

  Mike laughed and said, "Well, he's mostly muscle, anyway. I heard the lieutenant let him go at it a couple of times before he popped Stanton in the kisser. Must've been a good show."

  Carter asked, "But what were they fighting about?"

  Mike shook his head. "The scuttlebutt is that the lieutenant had, through solid police work," he looked at me and winked, "exonerated Ike and that Stanton didn't want to withdraw the charges. Is that right?" He was looking at Kenneth when he asked the last question.