Memories of a Murder

by Sid Kar

  “I told the boys working here they better bring out some fresh food or me and Frank would come back at night and drive away their unsavory clientele,” Joe beamed.

  “He got cheers from the other patrons,” Frank replied.

  “Looks delicious,” Clara said and pointed at Joe’s plate with her fork.

  Joe was eating a four egg omelet filled with cheese, ham, sausage and jalapenos and had a side plate of greasy bacon strips and another side plate stacked with toasts larded with butter. A stream of melted butter ran down one corner of his mouth and a streak of bacon grease down the other corner. Frank was eating more conservatively with a two egg plain omelet coupled with a slice of bread. Both of them had tall cups of steaming coffee to accompany their meal.

  Dave the bartender walked by and Joe looked up from his plate and called out to him.

  “Hey, take a look,” Joe said then made an inverted V with his fingers pointing atop of Frank and Clara’s heads and said, “Frank and Franny Kirk are having breakfast.” He displayed a large grin.

  “Joe!” Clara blushed.

  “You know, I moonlight as a bartender for wedding caterers,” Dave smiled at them, “would appreciate your business.”

  “Joe, you started this!” Clara laughed.

  “So I heard about that professional killer hiding in the oil company’s warehouse. Are you officers wrapped up around here or what?” Dave said.

  “Pretty much,” Frank replied.

  “Mrs.…I don’t know your real name,” Dave said, “I hope old man Calvin was of help to you and told you what you needed. That was a nice gesture to buy him some great beer.”

  “Yes, he was,” Clara replied.

  “Who is this Calvin?” Frank asked.

  The proprietor of the hotel called out to Dave just at that very moment.

  “Take care,” Dave said to them and walked away.

  “What did this Calvin tell you?” Frank asked.

  “Oh, he was that old trucker I spoke to you about on the phone,” Clara said, “when I was trying to inquire into if Dunlap was hiring truckers unlicensed for hazmat.”

  “Yeah, what did he tell you?” Frank asked.

  “It’s not relevant now,” Clara shook her head, “it didn’t even make sense then that Dunlap would hire someone like Panther to commit a murder on his behalf to hide violations of traffic regulations. Your theory of his involvement in the heroin racket is far more plausible.”

  “But tell me. I am curious. I don’t like to leave any loose ends hanging,” Frank said.

  “He just said Dunlap did hire some outside truckers unknown to him to drive gasoline tankers,” Clara said.

  “Just unknown or unlicensed?” Frank asked.

  “He didn’t know that,” Clara replied.

  “How did he know?”

  “He didn’t have his hazmat endorsement then and worked as a transport clerk at an oil depot leased by Dunlap’s company near the Atlantic shore, checking trucks out and checking them in,” Clara said, “Dunlap ordered him to hand over the keys to the gasoline trucks and specifically told him not to keep any records or mention the incident.”

  “Okay…” Frank said puzzled, “It is somewhat suspicious…”

  “He remembers that it was on a weekend and was all hush hush,” Clara said, “Dunlap had surprisingly given leave to everyone else in the depot that day and delayed the arrival of his oil shipping tankers from the Mediterranean till the next week.”

  “That day? This was a single occurrence?” Frank asked.

  “That’s what he said,” Clara replied.

  “That don’t make no sense, Frank,” Joe said.

  “I concur, Joe,” Frank replied, “could be Dunlap does a drug run only once in a blue moon to cut down on risk of interception. When he has it stocked up in large quantity. Did you show him Adam’s photo?”

  “Yes, on my phone, but Calvin doesn’t remember well, and he can’t connect a younger face to Adam’s current photo,” Clara replied.

  “Younger face?” Frank asked.

  “Didn’t you hear me say he is an old trucker?” Clara said, “this was before he even drove gasoline tankers.”

  “What the hell?” Frank asked, “How long ago was this?”

  “Calvin said 1992, almost thirty years back. He remembers because it was the year of a new president,” Clara said.

  “1992!!!” Frank exclaimed and Joe scoffed.

  “That’s old hat,” Joe said.

  “That’s why I said it’s irrelevant,” Clara said, “could be something shady Dunlap did back then but it has no bearing on your case. That’s why I didn’t bother telling you earlier.”

  “Where did I hear 1992?” Frank scratched his head, “It was just in the last couple of weeks. Connected to this investigation somehow.”

  “Darnell spoke it,” Joe said chewing on a bacon strip.

  “Yes, that’s it. Darnell said ’92 was the year Adam stopped smuggling cigarettes, went clean,” Frank said.

  “How did this Darnell know that?” Clara asked.

  “Informants in the mob down around AC at the time,” Joe said.

  “Then he might have gone clean with the mob, but dirty with Dunlap,” Clara said, “stopped smuggling cigarettes and started smuggling drugs. No one suspected Dunlap, so there would be no informants around him.”

  “No that can’t be right,” Frank shook his head, “No way Dunlap been running a drug racket and an oil refinery and transport company since way back then. No way State Police wouldn’t have even an inkling.”

  “Ask Friedrich for more videos,” Joe laughed.

  “No, you are right, Joe,” Frank said, “there was something about that last video. That’s it, the road,” Frank said.

  “The road?” Joe scoffed, “congested like every other road in this state.”

  “And narrow,” Frank nodded his head, “they widened that section of 287 in late 90s. Don’t you remember Joe?”

  Joe stopped eating and looked up at Frank wide eyed.

  “I do remember, but Frank you mean to say that video of his memory was more than twenty years ago?” Joe asked.

  “1992 I would bet,” Frank nodded.

  “But why would there be a scene of a gun firing?” Clara said.

  “Yes, that’s what I am thinking and also what Joe said yesterday about Panther’s memory of his murders,” Frank said, “he said murders.”

  “I did,” Joe nodded.

  “Joe, you are on fire,” Frank said and got up, “what if there was a second murder?”

  Larry Dunlap was sitting on the sofa of his office scanning the oil prices around the world on his phone when Greg walked in but stood near the door.

  “What is it?” Larry asked.

  “Major is here,” Greg said.

  “About time,” Larry threw his phone on a side table and looked up just as Major Richard Miller walked in. He was a forty year old man, lean but built and tall.

  “Larry, I took a risk coming here,” Major Richard said as he sat down on the sofa opposite Dunlap. Greg accompanied his Major but stood behind the sofa as an attendant.

  “What risk?” Larry asked brusquely.

  “This police detective, Frank Kirk, knows me. We have crossed paths in Afghanistan,” Richard said, “he might have your place under surveillance by plainclothes officers with photo and video cameras. If he sees me and does some inquires, it won’t take him long to put two and two together and connect the dots to the Renegade Squadron.”

  “Your boys botched up,” Larry said, “cry me a river. I got bigger problems. Bastard knows I am connected to Panther.”

  “Your hired man, Panther, botched first,” Richard said, “If he had done his job right and not left clues that led back to you and through you to me…”

  “You recommended him,” Larry said, “how the hell would I have even known how and where to hire a hitman from? I am an oilman.”

  “And soon to be a drug man,” Richard smiled but Larry s
hot back a mean look. “I have raked my mind over what police have disclosed about Panther’s hit on Adam and there is no way any of that could lead back to you. No way,” he added.

  “This Frank is holding some cards close to his chest, some clue he picked up at the crime scene or along the way he is not telling the press,” Larry said.

  “Police don’t have to till the case is officially concluded or unless they plan to use it in a trial against someone,” Richard said, “Look, Mr. Dunlap, be that all as may, we need to move that heroin fast. The Afghan drug lord is getting real antsy and demanding his payment. He is threatening to send a hundred men with Kalashnikovs after me if he doesn’t get either his money or his heroin back.”

  “How are they going to get into the US?” Larry asked.

  “That’s not the point,” Richard said, “it is sitting there for anyone to come and take. Rumors are spreading in the international underworld that a billion dollars of heroin shipment is up for grabs.”

  “You hid it well didn’t you?” Larry asked.

  “Yes, and only me and Greg,” Richard pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, “know its location. But we had to take help from shady figures along the way. Not a single one of them knows the whole puzzle, but if someone is determined to gather bits from each of them, he can put it all together. If it was in US we would have stuck it in a cave somewhere in the Rockies or the Sierras, but we are talking regions and cultures we are barely familiar with. We had to hire native crooks for this and that.”

  “Bring it to my tanker terminal then,” Larry said, “liquify it and load it. But I am not moving it till you move my merchandise first. And I am not making the payment till the heroin is here.”

  “We can’t,” Richard said, “I had given Panther a million dollar buy-in because we need a million or so to bribe the local police and the customs along the way.”

  “Sneak it through. You were special forces,” Larry said.

  “Not in that part of the world. Six Americans would stand out,” Richard said, “Again, Panther was the man for that type of job. A trained spy who could operate in the shadows all by himself. He knew safe houses and covert resources all around that region. I was going to let him plan our route from where it’s sitting to your tanker in the Mediterranean.”

  “I will tell you what, Major,” Dunlap scratched behind his ear then got up. He went to his table, opened a wooden box and took out a couple of cigars. He lit one for himself and held one out towards the Major but didn’t give it to him.

  “Here is my deal,” Dunlap pushed the cigar towards Richard, “I was going to pay Panther two million dollars for the job – one million after completion and a million after one year. I reasoned that if the case was still cold after a year, then the police don’t have much in the way of clues. I did this because I didn’t want Panther to do a sloppy job, take his money and run. He could go underground, hide in a cave somewhere or run out of the country. I can’t do any of that, or rather I wouldn’t want to. I have a big business to run. ”

  “If I had to pay the second million, it would have meant that Panther did his job right. But obviously he didn’t since it’s barely been two weeks and homicide detectives are snooping around breathing down my neck. But I will give you the second million on Monday if you take care of my merchandise today or tomorrow. I will also order my tanker to transport the heroin and your crew as soon as you are ready. And I will start cashing out my investments to accumulate funds to pay off this Afghan drug lord of yours. What is it, 25 million dollars?”

  “It is. With your share of $400 million it is 1 to 16 return on your investment,” Richard said taking the cigar from Larry’s hand, “Can you get a deal like this in your business world?”

  “Nope, that’s why I am in with you,” Larry said, “Do we have a deal?”

  “We do,” Richard nodded, “we will move your stuff first.”

  “Good,” Larry lit his lighter and advanced it toward Richard to light his cigar. “Oh, I forgot Greg,” Larry laughed. He went back to his table and got another cigar for Greg and tossed him the lighter.

  “Tell me though, why do you want it done this weekend?” Richard asked.

  “You want to drive it down on a week day? Get caught in the rush hour. You boys are sure not from Jersey,” Larry guffawed, “you don’t know our traffic. Cars move faster on the assembly line of their manufacturers than they do on roads here during office hours.”

  “Understood, but I meant it could be done next Saturday or Sunday or week or two after,” Richard said, “It’s not going anywhere.”

  “That is the problem, that it is not going anywhere on its own,” Larry said, “the State is getting serious about the cleanup of the oil spills. It is already settling with the big oil companies. Small players like my company will be next in the line under scrutiny. Police are already snooping around as you mentioned. I don’t want state regulators or police detectives to stumble upon it. I am not spending the rest of my life in jail and with my company bankrupted by the liability. Your deal goes bust too if that happens.”

  “We can’t allow that, can we?” Richard said, “It can’t be today. Me and Greg will have to make arrangements. Then tomorrow evening perhaps. Turnpike will have the least traffic then. Meanwhile, I am going to send Kyle and Shawn to do a recon.”

  “Joe you are driving. I have to make a phone call,” Frank said getting in the passenger seat. Joe took the steering wheel and Clara got in the back seat.

  “Where to?” Joe asked.

  “Get back on Route 80 West,” Frank said.

  “Why are we going there?” Joe asked.

  “Because I suspect Adam took the oil tanker on 80 West from 287,” Frank said. He took out his cell phone and dialed the number for Friedrich Brandt. Meanwhile Joe drove the car out of the town of Grandbridge and back onto Route 80.

  “Friedrich, tell me you are working in the office today,” Frank demanded on the call.

  “Yes, Frank, unfortunately I will be working half of Saturday,” Friedrich replied, “I have to make up for the lost time that I spent helping you.”

  “It helps your research too,” Frank replied, “but I need you to work on it again. It’s urgent.”

  “Are you coming now?” Friedrich asked.

  “No, we are too far away. You will have to tell me on the phone,” Frank said.

  “Tell you what?” Friedrich asked.

  “Play the last video we saw of Adam’s memories,” Frank said.

  “Give me a moment…”

  “No wait, listen to my instructions,” Frank said, “the video stops somewhere on Route 287 North before Parsippany…”

  “I don’t know where that is…”

  “Doesn’t matter. What I want you to do is try to extract further memories for that same scene,” Frank said, “put more electrodes in the same region of the brain where you got it from, amplify the signal more, do whatever you do. But I want you to get the memories from that scene till where the gasoline tanker comes to a final stop. I want you to tell me any road signs leading up to that.”

  “This will be difficult, Frank,” Friedrich replied, “The brain is not a computer that I can just access memories from on command. It gives what it gives.”

  “Please try,” Frank said.

  There was a silence on the other end of the line for a minute. Then a deep sigh.

  “I will try, but no promises.”

  “Call me back when you have something,” Frank said and ended the call.

  “Frank, what is this about the second murder?” Clara asked.

  “It’s a hypo I am working on…” Frank said.

  “A hypo?”

  “Hypothesis,” Frank replied, “Here is what we know. From the memories Friedrich pulled: we saw a gunshot scene in Adam’s trailer—that was him getting shot by Panther. But we also saw a revolver firing in the woods. Friedrich believes that was his mind playing tricks, so did I till just now. We also saw Adam driving a gasoline tan
ker which he wasn’t licensed for. And you told me that old trucker Calvin’s story about Dunlap ordering gasoline tankers to be released to unlicensed drivers. I believe Dunlap wanted something transported covertly, something that, if it got out, could destroy him, something worth killing someone over. Just like how he hired Panther to dispose of Adam to hide the heroin smuggling angle he is working on. Perhaps there was a witness to that event back in 1992. A witness who had to be taken care of.”

  “That’s a long shot, Frank,” Clara replied, “too many chain of events.”

  “We will find out soon enough,” Frank said.

  “Frank we will be over the Pennsylvania border if I keep driving,” Joe said.

  “No, pull over on the shoulder,” Frank said, “we wait for Friedrich’s call.”

  Joe pulled over, put the car in park but left the engine on. He sat back relaxed with his hands behind his head. Clara looked out the window lost in her thoughts. Frank intently checked his cell phone every ten minutes. About an hour passed then Frank’s phone rang.

  “It took you long,” Frank said,

  “I had to do a lot of tinkering to get a consistent visual, but I just saw where Adam stops the gasoline tanker,” Friedrich replied.

  “Tell me,” Frank said.

  “He takes a dirt road, I don’t know the highway’s name, but the road sign said ‘Applewood Forest…’”

  “That’s Route 80 West indeed,” Frank whistled with joy, “I know where that is. How far does he go in there?”

  “Oh I don’t know, I didn’t time it…a few minutes,” Friedrich replied, “but stopped at a…what is the word for open space in jungle…”

  “A Clearing?”

  “Yes, I believe,” Friedrich replied, “He stopped there.”

  “How long? What did he do? Did he get out and wander?” Frank asked.

  “That memory ends there. I will have to tinker more,” Friedrich replied.

  “That is good. I will talk to you later,” Frank said,

  “Frank, listen, Adam turned around the Tanker…”

  “Doesn’t matter. Listen, stay in your office today,” Frank said and ended the call.