by Beth Urich
“Trust me, I haven’t finished with Allen. Or the Brightons for that matter. But I realize I need help.”
“I’m proud of you, Kate.”
“Don’t be too hasty. I plan to blackmail Tom into giving me an exclusive on the councilman’s arrest.”
“Do his activities warrant criminal charges?”
“Maybe not. But whatever it is, I’ll have the story.”
“That sounds more like my ace reporter.”
KATE CONCEALED THE partnership agreement in her mother’s recipe box between spaghetti marinara and squash soufflé—no one would look there. The note by the phone indicated her father planned to “linger” at Marge’s after dinner and a movie. Kate smiled, then frowned and blocked the mental picture.
Tom hadn’t elaborated about his unexpected trip to Chicago. He was sorry they’d have to reschedule the Silver Dollar City outing and bowling date for next week and the surprise she had planned for tonight.
She had no choice—she’d take a nice hot bubble bath.
An hour later she gathered the left-over tuna surprise casserole and a half bag of potato chips and snuggled down on the sofa. She watched a marathon featuring the last six episodes of Cheers followed by cast interviews, recording the last two hours to share with Tom when he returned from the windy city.
Her arms full of dishes, she couldn’t quite flip the light-switch in the kitchen. As she set the load on the counter, she saw the councilman standing outside under the patio lamp. Without thinking, she slid open the glass door.
Allen said, “I rang the bell, but you didn’t answer. Your car was out front, and I saw the light on the patio, so I came around.”
She didn’t respond, trying to figure out why he’d come to her house and why he lied about ringing the bell.
“Can I come in?” he asked, but he was already brushing past her.
He continued down the short hall to the living room. Her first instinct was to leave the house, go to the hotel office, and call the police. But it occurred to her he couldn’t be stupid enough to hurt her in her own home. Nevertheless, she scooped up the paring knife from the dish drain, slid it into to her robe pocket, and proceeded down the hallway.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“My grandfather is unusually upset.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“You have something he wants.”
“Councilman Allen, you’ll have to contact me tomorrow at the paper. This is my home. I’m expecting my boyfriend any minute. He’s returning from a business trip. You know my boyfriend, don’t you?”
“I know Detective Collingwood is still in Chicago. He won’t be back until tomorrow or the next day.”
“I spoke to him a couple hours ago before he boarded the flight to Springfield.”
“Nice try. And don’t even bother to say your father will be home soon. He’s still at the movie with that realtor girlfriend of his. I’m sure they’ll go to her place afterward.”
“Okay. How about I don’t want you here. Please leave.”
“It will take you less than five minutes to retrieve Etta’s original document from whatever clever place you’ve stowed it and bring it to me. That’s all I want, and I’ll be gone.”
Kate put her hand in the pocket containing the knife and walked to the front door. Her pounding heart echoed in her temples. She wasn’t sure if her adrenalin was pumping out of fear or anger. She turned on the porch light, opened the door, and then turned to stare at her visitor.
Allen shook his head and took a step backward. “Okay. I’ll search for it myself,” he said, opening several drawers in the living room tables.
She approached him, even though her twitching muscles argued for her to stay put. After taking a shallow breath, she said, “You know, according to your grandfather’s lawyer, the document is a useless piece of paper. Why do you think it’s so important?”
“We have no doubt it will be invalidated, but don’t want to create any confusion.”
“You mean, if I give it to Bryan Porter.”
Allen stepped closer and crouched down to stare directly into her eyes. Pushing his pointed index finger into her shoulder with each word, he said, “Very bad idea. Understand?”
She glared at his hand until he withdrew it, straightened up, and stepped away—assessing her reaction to his obvious threat. Taking a deep, calm breath through her nose to quell the anger welling in her gut, she counted to ten as her mother would have insisted.
“You have forced your way into my house and assaulted me. You are essentially holding me a prisoner in my own home. The question is, Councilman Allen, do you understand?”
Careful not to touch her as he headed to the door, he made a beeline to his car and drove off the motel lot. She engaged the front dead bolt, pulled down the safety bar on the patio entrance, and double locked the back door. Then she checked all the windows to be sure they were closed and secure.
Once in her room, she crawled into bed and—still shaking—cried herself to sleep.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Eddie promised a traditional Chicago PD breakfast when he picked up Tom at seven in the morning. It turned out to be a doughnut and coffee at the precinct. A fax from the utility department arrived about eight-thirty indicating the Friedens paid the utilities for both sides of the duplex.
“Guess we’ll have to find out where Julie and Frankie are the hard way,” Eddie said.
“When will the parents be home?”
“Lionel works full-time, but Beverly works mornings at the local library branch not far from the house. I’d say we could drift over after lunch.”
“In the meantime, I’m going to check in with my boss and partner,” Tom said.
“And don’t forget that girlfriend of yours.”
“Not likely.”
LUNCH CONSISTED OF a quick hotdog—fully loaded in Chicago style—and a soda. They parked as close as they could to the duplex and walked to the small porch. When a middle-aged woman answered the door, Eddie confirmed she was Mrs. Frieden and introduced himself and Tom.
“Is my husband okay?” she asked.
“He’s fine. I mean, it’s not about your husband,” Eddie said.
“You scared me for a moment.”
“I’m sorry, Ma’am. No one’s in trouble or hurt. We just have a few questions.”
“Let’s sit on the porch, if you don’t mind. My daughter is visiting. The house is a lot messier than I’d like to share with strangers.”
“We understand. This is fine.”
The three settled into some metal chairs in front of the left side of the duplex.
“Mrs. Frieden, I’m from Branson, Missouri,” Tom said. “Your daughter Julie and her friend Frankie may be able to help me with a case. She called on a tip-line we set up.”
The woman frowned but remained silent.
“We’d like to speak to Frankie. Do you know where he is?” Eddie said.
“I’m not sure. You need to ask Julie, but she’s at work. She takes care of several children in an afterschool program at the grade school up the street. But please don’t go there.”
“No, we wouldn’t do that,” Eddie said.
Tom asked, “When will she be home?”
“About six, when all the kids have gone home.”
MRS. FRIEDEN WASN’T too keen on Eddie and Tom sitting on the porch—or in their car in front of the porch—until Julie came home.
Consequently, the detectives drove around the block, garnered some snacks at the convenience store, and parked a good distance down the street so Julie’s mother wouldn’t see them. A couple of hours later, Tom was wishing he’d been able to get in touch with Kate, who had been in meetings all day.
Eddie straightened in his seat. “Frankie Martin, I presume,” he said, smiling.
“Are you sure?”
“No, but I’m hopeful.”
They watched as the young man continued toward them then turned and ran up the
steps at the Frieden duplex. Tom didn’t budge a muscle as he waited for the inevitable door selection.
“Bingo. Frieden side. Has to be him,” Eddie said, already exiting the car.
“Let me take point on this,” Tom said.
“No problem.”
Tom used the door knocker.
“I’ll get it, Bev,” the young male voice said.
Tom explained why he tracked Frankie as a possible witness for a Branson case.
Frankie paced to a side window in the small living room. “I told Julie not to get involved. I don’t know anything.”
Eddie asked, “Can we speak to you on the porch? Just a few questions.”
Tom sat across from Frankie. “The fact is, Julie was worried about you. She did get involved. She said you witnessed a bribe exchange. Would you be willing to give me a statement about what you saw and any other information you may have regarding the construction industry in Branson?”
“No way. And you have no jurisdiction in Chicago.”
“But I do,” Eddie said.
Frankie shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Did someone threaten you or Julie?”
The young man peered over the railing toward a passing vehicle.
“We can protect you,” Tom said.
“Maybe so, but what I say doesn’t mean anything. I’m one guy from out of town.”
“If you help us, give us everything you know, maybe other guys who’ve seen stuff or heard stuff will come forward. They’re probably afraid like you, but together you can build the proof we need to stop the corruption.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Eddie scooted to the end of his chair. He leaned forward so he was even closer to Frankie. “How about you come down to the station with us now. You can tell your story. Then decide to sign it or not. It won’t be an official statement unless you want it to be. Would that be okay with you?”
“And if I decide not to sign, you’ll tear it up?”
“Hey, no problem,” Eddie said with a smile.
Tom sat in the back with his witness to explain the process at the station, hoping to make Frankie comfortable. Eddie escorted the young man into an interrogation room while Tom picked up sodas from the vending machine.
Frankie took the Dr. Pepper, popped the top, and swallowed a long swig. “I want to make something clear,” he said, wrapping his knuckles on the table. “I’ve done nothing wrong and I will not return to Branson. If my written statement isn’t enough, you’re wasting my time and yours.”
“Good enough,” Tom said. “Let’s start with the event Julie told me about.”
Frankie described the circumstances leading to the payoff, including the general contractor’s man putting money—a stack of at least fifty bills—in an envelope. Before Frankie, could back out of the area, the inspector arrived and took the envelope from the contractor.
“Do you know the names of these two men?” Tom asked.
“No. I’d dealt with them, but don’t remember their names,” he said.
“It will be important to include a description in addition to a name and other details,” Tom said, moving quickly to another question. “What happened next?”
“They shook hands and left the room. I went back to work. I don’t even remember why I went to that area of the site to begin with. I know I shouldn’t have been shocked, but I didn’t expect it in Branson.”
“This was your first encounter of a possible bribe?” Eddie asked.
Frankie said, “Yes, but not the first time I had suspicions about stuff.”
“Can you be specific?” Tom asked.
“I’m a finisher, which means I do the tile and woodwork toward the end of a construction project. Usually, I arrive and leave and don’t mingle much. But this project was full of loose talk about how permits and inspections were expedited. I only paid attention because there was so much discussion.”
“We’ll need details, including who made the comments,” Eddie said.
“Look, if I tell you everything I know or suspect or heard and then have to write it down again later, I’ll be here all night and most of tomorrow.”
“You’re right,” Tom said. “Eddie, can a stenographer take all this down so—”
But Eddie was already out the door. Just as quickly, a police stenographer with her machine was seated and ready to go. Before he would say another word, Frankie insisted on calling Julie. The detectives stepped out while he made the call.
“Before you begin,” Tom said, returning to the room, “I want to thank you and Julie again for your help. If you’ll start with the details you remember from the office complex job that would be great.”
“Like I said, the guys were always whispering about stuff. The project manager was really hyper about getting everything done on time. The workers said he was into every detail but hadn’t been able to get the building permit issued. That’s really unusual when the finishers are showing up.”
“What did the workers think about it?”
“Same as me. They blamed the project manager.”
“Did you know him?”
“I met Allen, but I dealt with the guy who managed the finish work. That’s what I do. I go in, do my thing, and get out. I rarely have to coordinate with anyone or wait for something to be done.”
Eddie said, “So things went along even though the permit hadn’t been issued.”
“Oh, they went along. Even when some piece of the job failed an inspection, it took no time ... and I mean a couple of hours ... to fix it, pass the inspection, and move along.”
“Did you experience that with your work?” Tom asked.
“No, but I overheard guys talking about it lots of times.”
“What else?” Eddie asked when the witness fell silent.
“More of the same on other projects.”
Frankie related what he had heard and seen for several projects, giving the name or a description of individuals who made comments or were involved. The detectives listened, asking occasionally for clarifications. Eddie ordered in burgers and fries for dinner and let Frankie call Julie again while the stenographer transcribed the statement.
When she brought in the completed pages, Tom’s witness read, then reread, the document. It was almost ten p.m. when he laid the last sheet face down on the others for the fourth time. He folded his hands on the table, fingers intertwined, and closed his eyes.
Tom and Eddie exchanged glances but said nothing.
“Do you have a pen?” the young man asked after a long thirty seconds.
TOM MANAGED TO GET a reservation for the ten-a.m. flight to Branson. Eddie pulled up and stopped at the departure area about eight-thirty.
“Does this mean you aren’t walking me to the gate?”
“That would be correct,” Eddie said, smiling.
“I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your help. I almost hate to leave.”
“I’m sure you’ll be over that feeling as soon as the plane takes off. Hey, you’re welcome. But don’t forget you owe me the return favor if I come to Branson.”
“No problem!”
AS LUCK WOULD HAVE it the flight departure was delayed for thirty minutes while someone replaced the windshield wipers on the plane. Given the heavy downpour at the time, it seemed like a good idea. But nothing could upset him. He had his witness statement and he was headed home to Kate.
Tom briefed Sid on the drive to Branson from the airport. They spent the next couple of hours developing a list and calling individuals they needed to interview, starting with Ben Leatherman first thing Wednesday morning.
“Will we have enough?” Sid asked.
“You mean without in person testimony? I’m not sure. Maybe having what Frankie told us will help convince others to speak up as well.”
“Brad Fortner, the inspector Frankie described, quit a couple of weeks ago. What are the odds we can compel him to return and testify?”
“As good as the o
dds are of finding him, which we’ll know better after our chat with Leatherman.”
Sid said, “It’s almost five, do you want to hit some of the bars the constructions crews frequent? Maybe see what we can find out?”
“You know, that sounds like a fun time, but I have somewhere I need to be.”
“I can’t imagine,” Sid said, but his partner was already halfway to the door.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kate had heard her father come home about three a.m. He opened her door, probably to ask why she had locked everything so securely. She had pretended to be asleep even when he called her name, so he gave up. Waking again after another few hours, Kate had decided to go to the office early and work on the scathing exposé she’d like to release about Larry Allen. She wanted to pour every ounce of anger she still felt into the article. The first draft was finished at about nine o’clock when Marge called asking her to come to the real estate office as soon as she could.
As Kate headed down the street, she could swear she saw Bryan Porter duck inside the small flea market on the other side. The man was beginning to get on her nerves. What did he hope to see or find out by following her? Stop being paranoid, she thought. He’s probably checking on his competition.
Marge was in her office reviewing hundreds of sticky notes attached to a formerly blank area of the wall by her window. Sheets of paper were spread across her desk and the table the crafts fair ladies had used.
“You’ve been busy,” Kate said.
“I told you I wouldn’t be able to bring all this to your office,” the realtor said, smiling while admiring her handiwork.
Kate read a few of the notes and shrugged. “You’ll have to decipher these for me. I don’t understand your shorthand.”
“Right. Sit down, this is important.”
“I haven’t seen you this excited since you brought that soup to my dad.”
“This is almost as good,” she said, pacing back and forth next to the notes.
“Calm down and start from the beginning.”
