The Crawford Chronicles - Book 1

by Clayton Conrad

  After leaving Rachel, Clayton got a cab and headed for the 36th precinct to meet with detective Richards again. The traffic was light and it didn’t take long to get across town. He arrived shortly past 10 AM.

  “Is detective Richards in?” He asked the sleepy eyed desk Sergeant.

  “In the back, like before. He’s been expecting you Mister Crawford.”

  “Thanks,” Clayton said and walked back through the maze of desks and cubicles. It was an average work morning at the 36th, with phones ringing, papers shuffling, people talking quietly in little groups, the general buzz of a busy office.

  Richards looked over and saw Clayton coming in his direction and got up from his desk, putting his hands on his hips he waited while Clayton found his way through the narrow aisles and cluttered desks. When Clayton approached, he pointed to a side room used to interrogate people and held the door open as Clayton entered. Richards followed him in and close the door behind him.

  “Are you nuts or something? What do you think you’re doing? I told you to leave the Senator alone, deny Russian Mark you just don’t walk into his office like that and make all kinds of demands. He is a United States Senator, dammit! You must be crazy to think you could do that.”

  “I didn’t make any demands,” Clayton retorted. “All I asked for was a simple list. Our guest list of the people who were at the party’s all was that the night she died.”

  “Well, you sure stirred up a hornet’s nest, all right. My phones have been ringing off the hook with complaints about you trying to throw your weight around when you have no juice, no wait to throw. Located, you come here from California, you’re an out-of-state guest, and under tragic circumstances. So I tried to be nice to you and cooperate with you, but you just pooped in your own Wheaties, my misguided friend. The store is closed to you from now on. My job is on the line here and I’m not joking about that.”

  “But you don’t see, there’s something wrong here. First Michelle’s death, then the missing boyfriend, the dog talk, and now all this fuss about a simple list,”

  “We have that list!” Richards shouted. “What do you think we’ve been doing here all this time, studying our belly buttons? We have that list, and if you would have asked, you would have known that. Oh no, but instead you run off half-cocked and make a big mess of things. These people are powerful and influential. You don’t mess with them without something in your slingshot, and you have nothing”

  “Yeah, well I still think –“

  “That’s your problem kid, you think too much, or better yet, you’re not thinking at all. Now get out of here, go back to California where you came from and leave this alone.”

  “I won’t leave it alone dammit! Trust me on that,” Clayton snapped back, and knowing he was being watched, and every word taken in, he walked to the mirror with the one-way glass and looked directly into it. “You can take that to the bank.” Then he turned back towards Richards, “I guess this means I can have that list, eh?”

  Richards looked at him and shook his head in wonderment. “Kid, you got more nerve than the law allows. No you can’t have that list.”

  Chapter 24

  After leaving the 36th, Clayton went to his hotel. He stopped at the front desk to check on his mail. He should have received a copy of that contract concerning Wilson Electronics by now, and wondered what the holdup was. He’d call the attorney, Michael Lansing, later and give him a little nudge, just in case he needed one.

  There was a message from Barbara wells asking him to have lunch with her at Bishop’s Steakhouse at 1 o’clock. Bishops was a well-known high-end restaurant in the city. Well, why not, he thought to himself. He didn’t have anything else to do that afternoon and maybe she had remembered something important concerning Michelle. Or was that just wishful thinking?

  Back in his room he placed a call to his lawyer Michael Lansing, but it was too early for Michael to be in yet, far too early. Clayton was having a hard time getting used to the three-hour time difference in Baltimore. He called Barbara and had to leave a message confirming their lunch appointment. After a hot shower he lay down for a while. He had little sleep at Rachel’s the night before.

  Just as he started to doze off, his cell phone rang. It was Frank, who had just gotten home from his trip.

  “Hi, this is Frank. Just got in. In fact I’m still at the airport. I wanted to touch base with you before you made any plans for tonight.”

  “Yeah Frank, sure. What is it?”

  “Seems there’s a big doings at the country club tonight. A black tie affair. They have something like this once a month, you know, to get everyone together and catch up on the latest gossip.”

  “Black tie, eh? Well, I don’t have a tux. Can a dark blue business suit do?”

  “Afraid not. Rent one if you have to. Here, I’ll give you the name of my tailor and I’m sure he can fix you up. His name is George Jessop, we call him J.J. He’s in the book, Jessop tailoring. He’s really very good. Tell him I said hi, and for him to fix you up. Where are you? You staying at the estate or the penthouse?”

  “I met the penthouse for now.”

  “Good, I’ll pick you up around 7 o’clock.”

  “That’s fine Frank, Lord knows I could use a party. Had a hell of a morning.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “Well, I’ve been trying to get a list of the guests that were at the party that night Michelle died. It seems no one is willing to give me one. It was a private affair, by invitation only. It looks like I hit a brick wall. I just don’t know where to go from here or what more I can do.”

  “You say you need a list of the guests from the party? Hell son, I can get that for you. I would have been there myself but my plane was late getting in that night. I know half the people that were there any way. There might be one or two of them at the club tonight.”

  “That would be great Frank,” Clayton replied. “So I’ll see you here around seven. Thanks again.” He hung up. Then he called Henry, who answered after the fifth ring.

  “What’s up dude?”

  “I need you ASAP, Henry. I’m in dire need of a tuxedo for tonight and I hope you can work some of your magic for me.”

  “Can-do, dude. The hard things I can handle, the impossible takes me a little longer.”

  “Great, pick me up out front as soon as possible and get ready to rock ‘n roll, as we have a whole lot of ground to cover in a very short time. I have a lunch appointment at 1 o’clock at a place called Bishop’s Steakhouse.”

  “Great place. I know where it is, no sweat. We will shoot over to this tailor shop I know and get you fitted for a rental, and still have time to make your appointment, if we hurry. But we can’t waste any time,” Henry said and hung up.

  15 minutes later Henry picked Clayton up at the hotel’s front entrance, then sped off, one in his way through the traffic like he was a NASCAR driver. Horns blaring, drivers shouting, brakes screeching, Henry plowed on like the devil himself was after him, all the while telling Clayton all about his day at the races. Clayton just held on to the armrest and dashboard and prayed for a safe ending to this trip.

  With the winding of the motor, the crying of the brakes, and a super sharp turn in front of a city bus, Henry pulled up in front of a small tailor shop at the end of a crowded block of small shops and markets. He was double parked.

  “Go inside, tell the man, his name is Jerry, tell Jerry set I sent you. I’ll park this heap of metal as soon as I find a place to put it, and join you then.” Clayton got out of the car with a sigh of relief and walked inside.

  “Henry Stockton sent me here. He said you could fit me with a tuxedo for tonight,” Clayton said to the man behind a small counter.

  “Henry Stockton, eh? Well, well, of all people. Where is Henry?”

  “He’s parking his cab and will be here shortly.”

  The man was short and stocky, with a bald head, tiny eyes that were too close together. He wore bent glasses, a wrinkled white shirt
open at the neck.

  “When did you say you needed it?” Jerry asked.

  “I need it for tonight, no later than 6 o’clock.”

  “That’s a tall order,” Jerry said, as he rubbed his jaw in concentration. “It will be expensive, seeing such short notice, and special order. The time alone will be a close call. Well hell, come on in the back, and I’ll take your measurements and get started. 6 o’clock?”

  Henry came in just about then and joined them in the back room. It was a small shop, long and narrow the sewing machines, a heavy-duty steam press, everything commercial grade and well-kept. Henry headed for a coffee pot on a small table in a corner and poured himself a cup, and helped himself to a fresh doughnut.

  “You two haven’t met yet. Clayton, this is Jerry, Jerry I want you to meet Clayton, a good friend of mine and also a paying customer. Well Jerry, how you been? Henry continued, almost in the same breath. “How’s the family? Everyone well, I hope.”

  “The family is broke up. The kids won’t talk to me and I’ve never been happier. I left Marge a couple of months ago. It got so bad at the house; it was either move out or kill her. So being the coward I am, plus the fact she is much bigger than me, I moved out. Should have done it a long time ago, but because of the kids, I stuck it out.”

  “Yeah, I know how it is,” Henry put in. “A man can just take so much. All the nagging and bickering, the cursing and arguing can get to a guy after a while. I know it takes to make an argument, but still it’s a hard life. I left mine almost 3 years ago. You know we get along better now than we did when we were married?”

  “I know all about that,” Clayton said. “I was married to the Queen of Mean for short time and you can trust me when I tell you, it was no fun. When she goes after you with a butcher knife, you can pretty much tell that the honeymoon is over.”

  “Anyway,” Jerry said, “I moved in with Jimmy. He’s my lifetime partner you know. Been seeing him for almost 5 years steady. Yeah,” Jerry looked at Clayton, “I’m a gay guy. Fresh out of the closet and it feels really good. We got married last month as soon as they passed that new law about same-sex marriage.”

  “That doesn’t make any difference to me,” Henry said. “It doesn’t change who you are. I mean, you’re still the same old screwup you always been, eh?” Everyone laughed.

  “Anyway, it’s my life and I’ll live it, thank you very much. Marge is mad as hell, says I treat Jimmy a lot better than I ever treated her.” Then he thought a serious look on his face for just a moment, “maybe there’s some truth to that.”

  It was arranged to have the talks delivered at Clayton’s hotel. After another wild hair-raising trip through town, Henry dropped Clayton off in front of the Bishop’s Steakhouse a little after 1 o’clock. By the time the head waiter showed him to the table he was 10 minutes late.

  “I’m sorry to be late Barbara. I guess I’m trying to do too much into short a time. Something just came up where I desperately needed a tuxedo for tonight, so I had to run and get fitted for our rental. I’m really sorry, but I had to have that tux.”

  “So you have a date tonight,” she said with an icy smile.

  “Sort of a comma” Clayton answered. “Frank has asked me to go with him to this big shindig at his club tonight, and it’s very formal I guess. Anyway, a tux is required.”

  “Are you and he a thing now?” She asked, with that same icy smile.

  The waiter approached the table to take their drink order and they stopped talking until he left.

  “That remark was uncalled for lady,” he said with a warning look in his eyes.

  “It isn’t nice to keep a lady waiting,” she snapped. “You said you would call me.”

  “Wait a minute,” Clayton said in a low voice, “I said I’d call you if I found out anything new and I haven’t, so what’s going on here? Have I missed something?”

  “I won’t be lied to. I detest a liar,” her voice was hard and cold. “I’ve been sitting here like a dummy, waiting for you to show up, while you decide whether you’re going to meet me or not.”

  “Ladies, you are completely certifiable, and alter nuts, and I think I’ve had just about enough of this nonsense!” Clayton said, as he rose from his chair and tossed a 50 on the table. She looked up and hissed at him to sit back down, that he was causing a scene. Clayton turned to leave, and she jumped to her feet, knocking over her chair.

  “Damn you!” She screamed. “I won’t be treated like this. I have friends, lots of them that can hurt you bad. You hear me? Don’t you walk away from me, you bastard!” In her frustration, her face red in a mad rage, she picked up a cup and threw it at him. He kept walking as the Sailed past his shoulder. By then the manager and a waiter were trying to calm her down and she started swinging with closed fists. All in all, it was quite a show.

  Clayton ducked in a cab out front and was soon out of sight of the carnage and mayhem the lady had caused. “Well,” he told himself, as the cab drove off, “that went well Clay, baby. But I don’t think I’ll come back for the second act.”

  The cab dropped Clayton off at his hotel. Because he didn’t hang around to have lunch at Bishop’s Steakhouse, he decided he’d lunch in the hotel’s coffee shop. He was having a house salad with blue cheese and iced tea when his cell phone rang. The caller I.D. told him it was Barbara; he didn’t answer.

  He still had all afternoon so he thought he would visit the hotels fitness room and maybe work out a little. Farber called again and again, and finally gave up around 3 o’clock. At 6 o’clock on dot the bell hop delivered the tuxedo to the penthouse. It was a perfect fit. His phone rang again. It was Rachel.

  “Hey, what’s going on sugar?” She asked.

  “Not much.” He thought better about telling her about the tuxedo, after refusing to wear one for her the other night. “Just hanging out here at the hotel. Oh, yes I can. Say, you would be proud of me if you were with me a while back.”

  “Why? What did you do now?” She asked.

  “Well, I went out and bought a tuxedo. I didn’t really buy it, just rented one. Seems everyone around here has two or three.”

  “And after you refused to wear one the other night for me? I don’t know if I like that,” she said, half joking.

  “Yeah, well I know, but when a guy is in Rome he’s got to do with the Romans do, doesn’t he? I said all that to say this, I don’t know what I’m talking about, I guess I’m just rattling on. I do that when I get nervous.”

  “Do I make you nervous?”

  “Extremely,” he answered.

  “We will have to do something about that. What you need is a little more attention. So if you were to come over tonight, say around seven –ish, we could work on that.”

  “I can’t, there’s a big shebang at Frank’s country club tonight. Say, why don’t you come with me? Yeah, that’s a capital idea!”

  “I can’t, I’ll never be able to get ready in such short notice.”

  “That’s no excuse, you could come as you are and still be the prettiest woman there.”

  “Oh, you silver tongue little devil. I get weak in the knees when you talk like that.”

  “It’s settled then, I’ll pick you up in my chariot around seven.”

  “Okay, but don’t be thinking you’re off the hook yet. Far from it Mister.”

  “But wait, it gets better,” Clayton hinted.

  “Now what?” She was hooked.

  “Remember me asking you if you knew Barbara Wells?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, she left a message at the front desk for me to meet her for lunch at Bishop’s Steakhouse today. Well, I thought she had more news about Michelle.”

  “And?”

  “When I got there, for one reason or another, I was a little late, like 10 minutes. Anyway, she went off on me like a Roman candle. I’m talking the Fourth of July personified 10 times over. Screaming, swearing, throwing things, the whole shooting match, right there in the Bishop. When the mana
ger and head waiter tried to calm her, she started swinging at them.”

  “You got to be kidding, are you serious?”

  “Hey, what I lie? Trust me on this one, she is a complete nut case. I mean you should have seen the fire in her eyes. I believe she had a gun she would’ve shot me.”

  “Come on now, just what did you do to cause all that?”

  “I showed up 10 minutes late. That’s what I did and if I’m lying, I’m dying.”

  “Let me understand this, let me see that I got this straight. I ask you nicely to wear a tux just the other night. Your answer was, no, you don’t wear tuxedos. Then you buy one to go to a shebang as you call it, at some country club. Then you have lunch with a beautiful woman, who for some reason threatens you with great bodily harm. And just as a passing thought, mind you, you think of good old Rachel. ‘Why don’t I ask good old Rachel to the shebang?’ Is that how this all played out, loverboy?”