Croaker: Grave Sins (Fey Croaker Book 2)

by Paul Bishop

  Dr. Logan nodded. “It was a mess,” he said. “It had to be or I wouldn’t have remembered it all these years later. I’m retired now, but I’ve never seen another case like it, either before or after.”

  “What made the delivery unique?” Fey asked.

  “It was almost two o’clock in the morning when they brought Hallie Cullen into the delivery room. She was screaming bloody murder. She was pregnant, her blood pressure was through the roof, and there was heavy vaginal hemorrhaging.” The doctor’s voice was low and deep. He spoke slowly while the fingers of his right hand fiddled with the tines of his salad fork. “The ambulance crew had picked her up in a tenement apartment. Her screaming had scared hell out of everyone else in the rat-trap building.”

  “The woman was scared to death herself, poor child,” Etta Carson interjected. Her salad had disappeared while Dr. Logan had been talking and she was trying not to obviously eye the still full plates in front of everyone else. “She’d never been to see the doctor during her entire pregnancy. She was illiterate, scared of hospitals. Scared that she would be locked up and kept away from her dope connection. I took a doctor with me when I went to see her once, but I couldn’t locate her. She seemed fine, though. No problems with the pregnancy. Not even morning sickness according to Hallie herself.”

  “I’m surprised she didn’t abort the baby,” Fey said.

  Etta Carson looked at her with world weary eyes. “There’s money in babies. She was looking for a big score.”

  The waiter came and cleared the salad plates. Etta Carson looked sad to see most of the remaining rabbit food going to waste. Fey had the feeling the social worker would have stuffed it all in her oversized purse if nobody had been looking.

  Etta Carson continued. “I tried to get Hallie to agree to go to the hospital when the baby was due, but this was the seventies and somebody had convinced her that natural child birth at home was the way to go.” The woman paused for breath and emphasis. “The day before she was taken by ambulance to the hospital, she bore her child at home with nary a blink of the eye.” Etta Carson gave both Fey and Ash a stare as if she was telling a ghost story. “It was a sorrowful sight, though. The baby was all there – fingers and toes – but he was itching for the monkey just like his momma. She’d tried to stay clean, but the wagon is there to be fallen off.”

  “Wait a minute.” Fey frowned, shaking her head. She looked at Dr. Logan. “I thought you said she was pregnant when she was brought into the emergency room.”

  “She was.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I told you it was an extraordinary case,” Dr. Logan said. “Hallie Cullen had two uteruses. One was normal, but the other was blind except for a small opening connecting it with the normal uterus. When Hallie Cullen became pregnant, the ovum in the normal uterus appeared to have split. The first split developed in the normal uterus, but the second split was forced, through the connecting opening, into the blind uterus. A freak accident. Through the connecting opening, the placenta in both uteruses received nourishment from the umbilical cord.”

  “You’re saying she had twins? Only they weren’t delivered at the same time because there was no exit from the second uterus?” Fey asked, riveted by the implications of the doctor’s explanation.

  “Exactly.”

  “Slow down,” Ash requested. “Are we talking identical twins?”

  “They could be if it was one egg that split. Or they could be fraternal twins if there were originally two eggs.”

  “So there’s possibly another JoJo Cullen running around out there? How come he hasn’t stepped forward?”

  “He doesn’t know he’s JoJo Cullen’s brother,” Tucker said. Everyone turned to look at him. Tucker deferred to Etta Carson. “Tell them what you told me,” he instructed her.

  While everyone else had been either talking or listening, Etta Carson had been scarfing down her veal parmesan. She paused and wiped her chin.

  She appeared to be reluctant to speak. Tucker took two long, white envelopes out of his inside jacket pocket. He handed one to Etta Carson and the other to Dr. Logan “As we agreed,” he said.

  Fey saw a hungry look pass across the face of Dr. Logan when he accepted his envelope. It made her wonder just what vices Logan had that would make him susceptible to tabloid money. The three empty glasses next to his elbow gave her one clue.

  “Hallie Cullen named her first child MoJo because she thought he was magic,” Etta Carson said, once she had snaked her envelope into a fold in her muumuu. “When she died in the hospital giving birth to JoJo, little MoJo was taken into protective custody. Hallie Cullen had no relatives that anybody could find, and the daddy could have been anybody.” She paused to push the remaining veal around on her plate. She seemed to have lost her appetite. “Since Hallie had been one of my cases, it was my job to find a home for the children. I was lucky. Even with his addiction problem, MoJo went to an adoptive family almost immediately. They changed his name to Martin – Martin Morgan. JoJo had more problems and was placed with the Sacred Heart Orphanage who had the facilities to deal with him.”

  Ash watched Etta Carson with a wary eye. “And all these years later you’re the only one who remembers MoJo – or Martin – was JoJo Cullen’s brother?”

  “I didn’t even remember until Mr. Tucker come around stirring up memories and helping me put two and two together.”

  “How much did two and two add up to, Tucker?” Ash asked. “What’s the going rate for two and two these days?”

  Fey put her hand on Ash’s arm. She was seeing a little too much of herself in his attitude. Maybe she was rubbing off on him.

  “What happened at the hospital?” she asked Dr. Logan.

  “We couldn’t save the mother, she was losing too much blood. But we did a C-section and saved the child. He was small, almost didn’t make it, but eventually he did. Fought like a champ.” He shrugged.

  “Where did the name JoJo come from?”

  “That was me,” Etta Carson said. “Hallie had a girlfriend living with her who called me at work the day after Hallie was taken away by the ambulance. I went to the hospital. I knew the first child’s name had been MoJo. JoJo seemed like a logical progression.”

  “Where is this Martin Morgan now? What’s he doing?” Ash asked cutting to the chase.

  Zelman Tucker almost disappeared behind a Cheshire cat grin. “I should’a been a detective,” he said.

  Fey could feel her heart pounding in her chest. “Spill it, man,” she demanded.

  Chapter 52

  Del Mar race track was bustling in the afternoon heat of the perfect Southern California day. The temperature was in the high seventies and the track was clear and fast. The two o’clock post time was rapidly approaching, and the regulars were watching the odds and checking their racing forms.

  Where the surf meets the turf at old Del Mar was the tuneful refrain that caught the dazzle of the old race track’s glory days. Once a playground for the rich and famous, Del Mar had played host to movie stars and business moguls alike. The exclusive conclaves of La Jolla provided monied shelter from the storm, but Del Mar had been where the action was.

  Not located right on the surf, but close enough for government, publicity, and musical purposes, Del Mar was now an aging lady. Though no longer the jewel of the fast lane, it still maintained an aura of faded glamour. Without the celebrities that had once walked its pathways, however, the track’s clientele had been reduced to hustlers, track mavens, gamblers, and the people whose lives revolved around the love of thoroughbreds.

  Ash pulled through the gated entrance to the parking lot and followed the arm waving of an attendant to an appropriate spot. With Tucker expansively spread out across the back seat, Ash had been silent for most of the drive from the restaurant. He left the questions up to Fey, and listened to Tucker’s answers with a jaundiced ear.

  Taking their leave of Etta Carson and Dr. Logan, Ash had almost duck-walked Tucker out of the resta
urant. They paused only long enough for Tucker to settle the bill with a credit card that drew on his American Inquirer expense account. If MoJo Cullen, now Martin Morgan, truly existed, Ash and Fey wanted to get to him now.

  “Why did you set up this little luncheon tête-à-tête if you knew about Martin Morgan all along?” Fey had asked as they walked out of the restaurant and headed for their car.

  “I only found out the personal details of Martin Morgan shortly before coming to lunch. I had Carson and Logan on the hook, but my sources still hadn’t been able to trace Morgan himself. I thought you’d figure I was scamming you if I simply told you what I’d found out, so I set it up for you to meet the original sources of my information.”

  “You still might be scamming us,” Ash said as they all climbed into the detective sedan. “Those two back there could have been playing very effective parts. If this is some elaborate plot on the part of American Inquirer to generate false headlines, I’ll have your ass on a platter.”

  Tucker had moved forward on the back seat of the car and reached over to grab Ash by the shoulder. “Look,” he said. All pretense was gone from his voice. “I know you think I’m a scum sucking bottom feeder, or worse, but I’m good at what I do. Nobody else – not you, not your buddy Croaker here, or any other big shot LAPD or FBI detectives – came up with the witnesses that I’ve found. I should have taken them straight to American Inquirer – after all they are the ones footing the tab for all this – but I didn’t. I brought them to you.” Fey saw Tucker’s grip tighten on Ash’s shoulder. “You’re the monster hunter, man, and I know how much this one means to you. I don’t care that you can’t stand the sight of me, everybody has their shortcomings, but I respect what you do, and it’s time you started respecting me.”

  There was a short pause before Ash reached forward and turned the vehicle ignition. “Nice speech,” he said. “Now get your hand off my shoulder.” His words were tough, but there was no heart behind them.

  From Mission Bay to Del Mar was a twenty minute drive with another ten to get parked and gain entrance to the track. On the drive, Fey had continued to question Tucker.

  “How did you find Etta Carson and Doctor Logan? And what made you look for them in the first place?”

  “I wasn’t looking specifically for them,” Tucker said. He was sitting relaxed in the back seat now. “I was just looking for a lead, some kind of handle on this whole story that nobody else had come up with. I figured that the detectives working the case would be focusing on the victims. Nobody was looking for a killer anymore, because everybody – that is everybody except you two – believed the killer was in custody.”

  Fey was beginning to see how Tucker’s mind had worked. “So, you went back to the beginning.” She nodded her head in approval. “You were right when you said you should have been a detective. Going back to the beginning is always the right thing to do when a case gets stuck.”

  Tucker stretched and folded his arms behind his head. “I found Etta Carson through the Social Services records –”

  “How the hell did you get into those?” Ash couldn’t help asking.

  “Come on, man,” Tucker said, “American Inquirer may be tabloid sleaze, but it’s still read more than any other publication in America except Reader’s Digest. I wouldn’t be their highest paid reporter if I didn’t know how to work a source.”

  Ash started to object, but Tucker cut him off. “Don’t go getting your panties in a bunch about ethics. If cops had the money to throw around that American Inquirer does, they’d also use it for payoffs. Everybody has their price and government workers are cheaper than most.”

  “So you bought off Etta Carson,” Fey said.

  “It was cheaper than trying to get into the adoption files,” Tucker said. “Now that takes bucks.”

  “And Dr. Logan?” Fey asked.

  “And Sister Ruth as well,” Tucker said without remorse. He caught the look Fey threw him. “Hey, nuns got a price too, you know. It’s amazing how much those rug rats she supports cost to keep in undershorts and squashed bananas.”

  “If this is all about money,” Fey said pointedly, “then why haven’t you run back to your tabloid and spread this all over the checkout stands? It would be the scoop of the century.”

  “It is about money. That’s the point,” Tucker said. “Screw American Inquirer. They may be footing the bill for this, but they aren’t paying me anything beyond my salary to dig this stuff up. Now my salary ain’t nothing to sneeze at, and maybe they give me a bonus and a pat on the back, but so what.” He reached forward and again grabbed Ash’s shoulder. “My man here, however, is going to make me richer than rich. Between us, I’m gonna write a Pulitzer Prize winner and come up with all the ‘screw you’ money I’m ever gonna need.” Tucker smiled when Ash’s whole body seemed to cringe.

  “Alright,” Fey said in resignation. “But what about Martin Morgan.”

  “MoJo was a little tough even for me,” Tucker admitted. “After I got over the shock of his existence, I got on it and tracked him like a randy hound dog looking for a French poodle.” When neither Fey nor Ash responded to his stab at humor, Tucker continued. “I won’t bore you with all the details, but the fact is that he works at the track selling programs and tip sheets.”

  “What do you know about him?” Fey asked.

  “I know he isn’t the success story that his brother is,” Tucker said. “Rap sheet a mile long including time for child molest and rape.”

  “Get outta here,” Fey said. “Quit yanking us around.”

  Tucker looked suitably aggrieved. “If I’m lying, I’m dying,” he said. He took a folded sheet of paper out of his jacket and handed it over the seat to Fey. She unfolded it and ran her eyes down it.

  “He isn’t dying,” she said to Ash. “He was convicted in 1988 for rape. Did his time in San Quentin and was released in 1994.”

  The trio was now walking toward the track turnstiles. Ash pushed Tucker forward to pay for all of their admissions.

  “This is total garbage,” he said. “No way is this evil twin crap going to cut it. If this guy is JoJo Cullen’s identical twin, how come nobody has ever brought it up? JoJo Cullen is a celebrity. Everybody knows what he looks like.” Ash was getting agitated. “I don’t care if he is JoJo’s identical twin,” he said. “I don’t care if he’s the biggest pervert since Caligula. I don’t care if he confesses and we find photos of the victim in his possession. I’m not going to believe it.”

  “Believe it, man,” Tucker said with confidence. “Leave this one to the old T-man. We got it nailed.”

  “How will we recognize him?” Fey asked, and then realized how stupid she was being. “Sorry,” she said. “I guess we just look for the tallest guy at the track who looks like JoJo Cullen.”

  The mid-week crowd was fairly heavy. Almost everyone was stopping as they came through the turnstiles to buy a program from one of three hawkers scattered across the main walkway leading to the stands. All three hawkers were wizened old men, two white and one black, who bore no resemblance at all to JoJo.

  Walking further, Fey saw several other men hawking tip sheets from behind small wooden tables. One of the men was slender and tall. His left side was exposed to the detectives, as his table was turned sideways to the walkway, and he was sitting on a beat-up bar stool. He took money from a customer and handed back a tip sheet all with his left hand.

  “That’s him,” Fey said. “Got to be.”

  “Easy, girl,” Ash said. He pushed Tucker back behind him. “Let’s not leap too quick.”

  As the two detectives approached their quarry, with Tucker close on their heels, they both geared up for a foot pursuit if their man took off.

  “Martin Morgan?” Ash asked when they were close enough.

  “Yeah.” The man turned to face them.

  The trio looked at him.

  He looked enough like JoJo Cullen to be taken for his brother if they were in the same room together, but they’d
never be mistaken for identical twins. But there was more.

  “What do you want?” he asked. “You bill collectors or sumthin’?”

  “We’re shocked,” Fey said bizarrely. But then the whole situation was bizarre.

  MoJo Cullen, AKA Martin Morgan, fraternal twin brother of JoJo Cullen and convicted sex offender, had only one arm and one leg.

  “You are a stupid little turd!” Ash said to Tucker through gritted teeth. “I should blister your ass up one side and down the other.”

  “Relax, man, relax!” Tucker was almost whimpering. “I had no idea.”

  They had moved away from the main walkway to a small concrete bench near the entrance to the main stands. Around them a swirl of humanity gave them a wide berth. Ash was clearly getting ready to jump in Tucker’s face, and Fey wasn’t far behind him.

  “I thought that maybe I’d misjudged you,” Ash said, his voice low. “And then I find you’re screwing us around on a wild goose chase.” Ash filled his fist with yellow polo shirt.

  “Hey! Hey!” Tucker said. “Calm down. I bruise easy. I didn’t know, man. I swear. I thought we were on it, man. I thought this was it.”

  Ash suddenly dropped his hold. He took a deep breath. Looking around him, he sucked in more air. “I have to find a bathroom,” he said, and moved away without further explanation.

  “Whew,” Tucker said, after a few moments.

  “I don’t think you’re out of the woods yet,” Fey told him.

  “He’ll chill,” Tucker said. “But I don’t know how much more he’s got left in him.”

  Fey quizzed him with her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean it’s obvious. It’s getting to him. He’s running out of gas. He’s a physical guy. A year ago he would have reached down my throat and pulled my lungs out.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean by ‘running out of gas.’“

  Tucker turned to face her and saw that she really didn’t understand what he was talking about. “Ash is sick,” he said.