Dead men dont remember, p.7
Dead Men Don't Remember, page 7
~
I resumed my original task, and went outside to call Leroy. Nancy Oakland answered and told me Leroy wasn’t available. I asked her to have him call and visit with Charlie Silverstone tomorrow – the reason would be evident when Leroy spoke with him.
Flo appeared when I returned to the booth and took my order for one of Ronnie’s steaks. I enjoyed the meal along with a couple of Jack Daniel’s and Coke while trying to think through this mess.
I was returning to Memphis tomorrow, but didn’t figure my Cottage sheets would get cold during my absence. I expected to be back real soon – and I was right!
Interesting Red Head
I grabbed a coffee to go and got an early start on my drive back to Memphis – almost 11:30!
It had been two days since the big snow, but the temperature had done very little to make it disappear. The road crews had the highways clean; however, I was taking my time and enjoying the jazz music from a station located somewhere in West Memphis. Their hourly weather forecast predicted a slight warming trend and maybe rain. Then, it would be turning colder again with possible snow for the weekend. Stupid Tennessee weather!
Liz was due back on Sunday, and would be traveling to Humboldt to spend a few days and attend some silly party Mary Ellen Maxwell was giving at the Country Club. Of course, I was expected to be Liz’s escort.
My plans were simple. I wanted to wrap the Teddy/Margaret Novack case up this afternoon, and then let Jack take it from there. That would give me Saturday to snoop around concerning the whereabouts of Phillip Reardon, and then head back to Humboldt on Sunday. As usual, my plans were going to get all screwed up!
~
Marcie wasn’t at her desk when I walked into the Peabody Lobby, so I went directly to Joe’s office. He was sitting at his desk and talking on the phone. I took a seat in one of his office chairs and I could tell from his conversation that he was speaking with Jack Logan.
“Jack wants us to meet him at the ‘Arcade’ for a drink and maybe a sandwich,” Joe said after he hung up. “Have you already eaten?”
“Not a bite,” I nodded, “and that sounds like a terrific idea. But, let me see what you’ve got for him before walk over.”
Joe opened an envelope and spread out several photographs of skiers, but with one particular woman appearing in each picture.
“That’s her, second from the left,” Joe said pointing at the photograph I was holding. “She was using the name Margaret Evans, and that’s her boyfriend at the far left of the picture. He called himself Conrad Evans and they claimed to be husband and wife.”
“And you’re certain this is Margaret Novack,” I asked.
“Absolutely. And the Breckenridge Sheriff was also convinced, once he finally found the APB that had been issued from Tennessee. Those guys don’t get a lot of criminal activity; everybody is there for the fun, I guess. Anyway, he hauled her off to jail and Conrad took off for parts unknown. I got on an airplane and came home. Did I do good, Boss?”
“Joe, your talent never ceases to amaze me! Yes, great job. Now, let’s go find Jack and have some lunch.
~
The Arcade is located at 540 South Main Street and rumored to be one of the oldest restaurants in Memphis. In addition to superb breakfast and dinner offerings, their lunch menu is loaded with great sandwiches. They’re famous for their Rueben; it’s the best I’ve ever tasted.
It was only a short walk from the Peabody and Jack already had us a table when we got there. We all ordered beer and I ordered a Rueben sandwich, while listening to Joe tell his story to Jack.
I had already finished my sandwich when Jack closed his large brown file and said, “Great job guys. This wraps up the Teddy Novack case and I’ll have him back on the street late today or early tomorrow. Guess lunch is on me!” he smiled.
“And a lot more,” I added, “but we won’t go there just yet. Right now I need to talk to you about a case I am working on for ‘Black Diamond Insurance’. So, sit tight and I’ll order us another beer!”
Over the next hour, and two more beers, I told Jack everything that had occurred while Joe had been in Colorado. He sipped his beer and listened quietly, as I shared my activities and also my opinion on what was happening. When I finished, he sat his beer down and scratched his graying temple.
“Carson, I’m not a corporate lawyer. But, I do know that if they get their hands on all that stock, there isn’t much that can be done. They own the business and can run it however they wish.”
“Jack, something about this case just has a bad odor. I don’t believe the Mafia bumped these guys off, but I also don’t believe they had ‘mysterious’ accidents either. I believe Phillip Reardon saw a chance to make some money, and I think he sold out. This means the Memphis Mafia stands to make millions – multi-millions and that isn’t good news!’
“So, what are you going to do to earn your fee from ‘Black Diamond Insurance’’?” Jack asked seriously.
“I don’t know yet,” I said rubbing my face. “But, I believe these guys were murdered and the murders made to look like accidents; however, I can’t imagine any of the other stockholders doing that. Which means something else, but I don’t know what that something else is. Murder instead of an accident should change the terms of the insurance policy, especially if they were murdered while involved in some illegal activity. Right?”
“It could change a lot of things,” Jack said tugging on his ear. “If the SEC believes criminal activities are a part of ‘Times 2, Inc.’ then they might dissolve the whole corporation. I’m not sure how that would effect insurance payoffs; but if made, I suspect they might revert to the survivor’s family. And, I suspect that being murdered while involved in criminal activity might negate the whole policy – or at least the ‘Double Indemnity’ part.”
“Are you sure one the other partners couldn’t be responsible?” Joe asked. “I understand the last man standing is obviously guilty, but there could have been internal fighting, and they might have the same plan you believe the Mafia has. Make the corporation rich, then shut it down, take the money and go home.”
“Interesting theory,” I said thinking and finishing my beer. “We’re going to spend next week talking to the remaining stockholders, we’ll ask them about it.”
“What can I do to help?” Jack asked.
“Jack, if you’ll work with me on this, I’ll forget Joe’s expenses and not put that burden on your budget. Can you do that?”
“Well,” Jack laughed. “I haven’t seen Joe’s expense report, but I expect my accountant might have a stroke when he does! You got a deal.”
“I want you to go over to the Memphis SEC office and throw as many monkey wrenches into ‘Times 2, Inc.’ as you can. Let’s try to derail this runaway train and see if any of the bad guys decide to jump off. It could get very interesting if we can change how this opportunity looks to everyone. Meanwhile, I’m going to do the same on my end, plus see if I can’t figure out who ‘caused’ these accidents.”
~
Jack paid for lunch, again, and Joe and I walked back to the Peabody. I sent Joe home with instructions to take the weekend off, and to also make plans on meeting me in Humboldt Sunday night. He went to his car and I headed to my office. Marcie was at her desk when I walked back into the lobby.
“You’ve got a client in your office,” she said when I reached her desk.
“You put them in my office?” I didn’t like that.
“She refused to wait in the lobby. So, I figured that was all I could do. Did you want me to tell her to leave?” Marcie snapped.
“She? So it’s a woman,” I shook my head. “No, you did the right thing. We NEVER want to turn clients away.”
I opened the door to my office and then quickly took two steps backward. Smoke rolled out of the room, and I was wondering if I needed to call the fire department!
Stepping inside I saw the problem. Kitty Collins was sitting in an office chair and puffing on one of her Pall Mall cigarettes.
She didn’t get up when I entered, but simply looked at me and shook her head.
“So, that job with the SEC didn’t work out?” she sneered.
“It was just temporary,” I grinned getting comfortable in my desk chair. “My regular work is chasing bad guys and cheating spouses. Is that why you’re sitting in my office?”
Despite all the blue cigarette smoke lingering in the air, I could still see that Kitty Collins was a very attractive woman – which I had noticed at our first meeting. I also noticed her short white skirt and the long legs crossed underneath, which were showing a lot of thigh along with her dark stockings. She had my attention.
Kitty crushed out her cigarette, in the already full ashtray, and pulled her chair over in front of my desk. Flapping her fake eyelashes and showing a small smile in front of her red lipstick and very white teeth, she looked at me and quietly said, “I’m afraid something has happened to Phillip.”
“Well, that’s interesting,” I nodded. “I expected you two to be sitting on a warm beach somewhere swapping sunscreen and drinking a ‘Pina Colada’. What happened?”
“That was our plan, or at least I think that was our plan. When Phillip came back to the office after you left the other day, he told me who you were; then went into his office and closed the door. He stayed behind the closed door until two big guys showed up and demanded to see Phillip. He came out of his office, and together they proceeded to clean out a lot of our files. The big guys loaded the files into a box, picked it up and left with it. Phillip told me to go home and he would be over in a couple of hours; that was Wednesday and I haven’t heard from him since.”
“Who were the two guys who took the files?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Both were big guys, and one of them had a mouth full of toothpicks! I know that sounds stupid, but he must have had 15 or 20 hanging out of the corner of his mouth.”
“Had you ever seen these guys before?”
“No!” she said retrieving and lighting another Pall Mall.
I stared at her for a minute and thought I could see some small tears forming in the corners of her eyes (however, it could just be the smoke!). “So, what do you want me to do?” I asked.
“I want you to find Phillip, please! We’ve been working together for a couple of years and...well...we have become very close. I’m afraid something has happened to him,” she finally started to cry (guess it wasn’t the smoke).
I sat in silence and let her cry for a few minutes. “Okay, Kitty,” I finally said. “I’ll do what I can, but I need something from you.”
“Oh, money,” she said partially recovering. “Let me get you a check.”
“It’s not money I need. What I need is for you to give me your phone number; go home and stay there until you hear from me or someone that works for me. Can you do that?”
She continued her recovery and crushed out her latest unfinished Pall Mall. “Yes, yes I can do that,” she said sniffling. “When will you call?”
“I don’t know when, but I will call,” I assured her.
She scribbled a phone number on a nearby note pad and then left without saying anything else. Her tears were getting bigger and her sorrow was genuine, I was sure of that.
~
I waved goodbye to Marcie and pointed the Ford toward the ‘Starlight Lounge’. I was late for the tea dance, but I could still enjoy a couple of drinks and catch up with Rita.
As always, Rita greeted me at the door and escorted me to my favorite table. I invited her to join me when she got the opportunity; she nodded an acceptance before turning and walking away.
A waitress I didn’t recognize quickly delivered my drink, while I watched the dance-floor full of mismatched couples enjoying each other’s company. Short ones with tall ones, old ones with young ones and their attire ranging from tuxedos to faded jeans – as always, it was an interesting show!
I had just ordered my second drink when a large shadow appeared over my table, blocking the limited light. Turning to see the culprit, my eyes easily found the shadow and it was a nightmare. Frowning deeply, breathing heavily and staring down at me with his arms folded like a ‘Buddha’, was MoMo Murphy!
MoMo Murphy is absolutely the biggest man I have ever seen. His hands were the size of a baseball catcher’s mitt, and his head was the size of a basketball. The rest of his body was proportionally just as large and MoMo was not fat, he was just big.
MoMo was dressed in his usual size 60 triple X sport coat and a white tee shirt – I honestly think this was the only clothes he could find to fit him. Standing beside MoMo was the midget, Jimmy ‘clean hands’ Sweeney. Jimmy was wearing his usual plaid sport coat that probably came from Goodwill, a stupid looking bow tie and an even stupider looking hat. Behind this walking freak show was my old friend, Steve Carrollton – head of the Memphis Mafia.
They casually took seats in the three empty chairs and Steve Carrollton waved at the waitress, while lighting a Camel – probably his 50th of the day.
“Why don’t you join me,” I said when they got settled. “Do we need to get a stool for the midget’s feet? I know it’s hard to be comfortable when your feet don’t touch the ground!”
Jimmy started to reach across table, but MoMo’s hand caught him in mid-air.
“Carson,” Steve said shaking his head. “He’s going to kill you one of these days and it won’t be any of my doing.”
“He couldn’t kill a roach, unless he got MoMo to hold it for him,” I said loudly. “Why don’t you take this freak show somewhere else and leave me alone. And where are your other two weirdo punks – Swede Anderson and Tommy ‘toothpicks’ Thompson? Are they out burying bodies?”
“Carson, I need to talk with you for a minute, so just enjoy the music, your drink and our company,” Steve said ignoring my comment.
The waitress appeared and Steve Carrollton placed orders for everybody – I wasn’t listening to what he said, I was just pissed.
“Okay, Steve,” I nodded. “Talk and please do it quick. It has been a long day and I intend to make it a short night.”
“We’re making an investment in a corporation that has roots in Humboldt, and I understand your nose is already involved in our business.”
I didn’t comment and just watched him crush out his Camel and reach for another one.
“I don’t know what you’re getting paid for your work, but I’m sure we can make a better offer,” Steve said nodding to MoMo.
MoMo reached into his size 60 triple X jacket and produced an overstuffed envelope, which he laid on the table.
“A bribe!” I laughed. “You’re offering me a bribe? This must be real important to you assholes!”
“It is,” Steve said lighting his Camel. “So, just take the envelope and go away to play with your long-legged stewardess. You’re not going to make anything from that insurance company; my offer is much better and you don’t need to do anything to earn it.”
“Not do anything,” I shouted. “Just forget about all the bodies you’ve left scatted across Gibson County, that’s all I need to do! You take that envelope and have MoMo stick it up this midget’s ass - it might help him walk better.” I tossed the envelope back to MoMo.
“We had nothing to do with the unfortunate deaths you’re talking about,” Steve said calmly blowing smoke across the table. “But, we do intend to take advantage of the fortunes that this corporation has now found. And, Mr. Reno, there is nothing you can do about it. You’ll be sorry you didn’t take our offer.”
“We’ll see about that,” I said as they stood up just as the waitress delivered our drinks. A Jack Daniel’s and Coke for me, a Vodka Tonic for Steve and MoMo and something with a little umbrella in it for Jimmy ‘clean hands’ Sweeney.
“Hey Sweeney,” I yelled as they walked away. “You forgot your umbrella! It might rain and it’s just the right size for you.”
Jimmy ‘clean hands’ Sweeney showed me the middle digit of his right hand, as they slowly walked to the door and left the ‘Starlight Lounge.
~
Rita joined me while I was watching them walk out the door.
“Good friends?” she asked smiling.
“The best,” I nodded. “Friends that are always interested in my health.”
~
Rita and I chatted about other things for the next half-hour, and then I pointed the Ford toward home. The temperature had warmed during the day, but was now already headed in the other direction. Bad weather was again expected for West Tennessee. I skipped the ‘Down Under’ and took the elevator home.
Standing on my patio, having a final drink and enjoying a Fuente cigar, I watched the lights of downtown Memphis shadowed by the cloudy skies in the west. My thoughts were cluttered and I was wondering what to do next - this case was getting stranger by the day. I didn’t know it then, but tomorrow’s events were going to send this investigation in a whole new direction.
Another One
Why was somebody driving a streetcar through my bedroom? And why was the idiot driver continually ringing his stupid bell?
Opening my eyes and looking around my bedroom, I didn’t see a streetcar, but I did see a phone that was trying to jump off my bedside table. I know it was still the middle of the night, so what moron could possibly be calling at this hour?
Somehow I managed to find the receiver and then find my ear. “This better be good,” I answered my midnight intruder.
“Carson,” I heard Deputy Jeff Cole say. “Leroy was afraid you weren’t home, we’ve been calling all morning.”
“Morning? It’s still the middle of the night! What’s so urgent?” I mumbled.
“It may be the middle of the night in Memphis,” Jeff laughed, “but in Humboldt, its 9:00 AM!”
“That’s what I said, 9:00 AM IS the middle of the night,” I continued to mumble while sitting up in the bed and trying to get focused.
