Drug Affair

by Rick Polad

  “Who the hell knows? Maybe none. There’s something odd about her. I certainly wouldn’t trust her. But I’m pretty sure she’d throw someone under the bus if it served her purpose.”

  “Including her own kid?”

  “Good question.”

  Jane stopped and asked if we wanted another beer. We both declined, and I asked for the check.

  “So, PI, why have you popped for that steak dinner?”

  “Would you like another tail job?” Ben had helped me with the case where Joey was framed and had offered his services if I needed him again.

  “Is that all? I’d have done that without the steak!”

  “I’ll remember that next time.”

  “Who’s the target?”

  “Senator Nadem’s kid, Mark.”

  His hands went up in the air. “You may have to say that again. I thought you said you wanted me to tail a senator’s kid.”

  “Would another beer help?”

  “I’m trying to figure out how I can give back the last one... and the steak! I was a prosecutor for nineteen years. I can damned well tell you what would happen if the senator gets ahold of that.”

  “Feel free to say no. I have other options.”

  “I’m not saying no… yet. Tell me about it.”

  I waved at Jane and held up two fingers. We were going to be a while.

  “Friday started out with a phone call from Bast telling me Reynolds was found in an alley in his precinct. I drove to his office, and we had a chat. He told me about Benita Landez who runs a program for the neighborhood kids out of a church.”

  Ben nodded. “I know Benny.”

  “After that I drove up to Kenilworth and talked to Mrs. Margot. And after that I drove back to the west side to see Benita, who led me to the prettiest nun I’ve ever seen. At the end—”

  “Wait, wait, wait. Back up to the part about the nun. I’ve seen a lot of nuns. Except for Julie Andrews, I wouldn’t describe them as pretty.”

  “You would if you met this one... a nun with the face of an angel.”

  He looked at me with squinted eyes. “Has your head been turned by another pretty face?”

  “What are you talking about? One can appreciate the aroma of a barbecue without eating the steak.”

  He laughed. “Yes, one can. But how’s Kelly Green these days?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That means one can, but you usually don’t. Does she of angelic face have a name?”

  “Katherine.”

  “That would be Sister Katherine, and other than smelling like steak, how is she involved in this?”

  “She works the streets. Benita runs the program for the kids in the church, and Katherine recruits the kids and evidently helps in any way she can with the poor families.”

  “Sounds like an angel. I know Benny, but I wonder why I never heard of Sister Katherine.”

  “Evidently no one else had either. She just showed up one day and started working miracles. Benny said Father Brown probably knows more, but she didn’t seem too interested in finding out.”

  Jane arrived with our beer.

  We poured, and Ben raised his glass. “Here’s to Sister Katherine.” We each took a long drink. “So, why am I following the kid? Looks like a gang hit.”

  “It does. But I had Paul tailing Reynolds, and the only time he left the house was to meet Mark Nadem. They sat outside a coffee shop in Glencoe and had a drink. That makes him a piece of the puzzle. After a half hour Reynolds returned home. Mark drove off in his father’s Maserati. Dad must have been out of town.”

  “A piece of the puzzle whose father happens to be one of the most powerful men in Congress. I wonder if his father knows he drives the Maserati.”

  “While the cat’s in DC the mice will play.”

  The wind had picked up and was pelting rain that sounded like tiny pebbles against the window.

  Ben took a drink and set down his glass. “Hard not to call this a gang killing and close the file.”

  I nodded. “I agree. But that’s the easy road.”

  “Who else?”

  “No clue. But I’ve been told several times that there are lots of people with fancy suits and big bank accounts tied to drug money who have an interest in not being too tough on crime.”

  “Yup. There are some politicians and rich people on the north shore who fit that category.”

  I took a deep breath and talked as I let it out. “And Senator Nadem is both. You ever have a case that led in that direction?”

  “To the senator?”

  “To anyone.”

  Thunder rumbled not too far away. “There were vague mentions but nothing concrete. Those people are protected better than the president.”

  “Maybe the kid was involved because his father was.”

  “Or maybe the mother got involved after the breadwinner died.”

  “And if a politician is involved, maybe part of his protection is someone in law enforcement… like maybe a chief of police.”

  Ben laughed and finished his beer. “So your list of suspects includes a senator, a chief of police, and the mother of a kid with a bullet in his head.”

  I didn’t answer because no answer was needed. It was obvious how silly that sounded.

  “Who you got on your side?” he asked.

  “Could be the same people you just mentioned… plus Detective Bast and Thward, as much as I hate to include him on the good side.”

  “How about Benny and the nun?”

  I shook my head. “Hard not to trust a nun.”

  “Who can you definitely say you trust?”

  “Well, Bast seems okay, and Mrs.—”

  “Seems doesn’t count. Who can you definitely say is not involved? People you know you can trust to be what they seem... always.”

  I thought about his point for a minute and then said, “Stosh and Rosie and Aunt Rose… and you.”

  “Exactly. Short list. And no one on that list is involved in this.”

  “So I can’t trust anybody.”

  “Always a good plan. Who does your gut say you can trust?”

  “Bast and Benny and Sister Katherine, and a little less… Thward.”

  “Ah… because they’re supposed to be the good guys. The next time we get together I’ll tell you about the good guys I’ve prosecuted.”

  “So I have a list of suspects.”

  “Yup. Maybe one of them pulled the trigger, or hired someone to. And maybe they’re all involved. Maybe you’ve got an Orient Express thing going on.”

  I gave him a dirty look and sighed. “And maybe it was the gang.”

  “You mean the gang that was upset that some rich kid was stepping on their turf? The gang that would kill someone because they didn’t like their hat? That gang? The one with motive and opportunity? The one you can count on to be exactly what they seem to be?”

  That didn’t need an answer. It was the obvious answer. Why complicate things?

  “What does Stosh have to say about it?” he asked.

  “Gang. But he’s humoring me for the moment.”

  “Just be real careful about making accusations. When do you want me to start on the kid?”

  “In the morning. I’ll call Paul, and the two of you can figure out a schedule.”

  The rain had let up, and we decided to call it a night.

  When I got home I called Paul and left a message for him to call me in the morning.

  Chapter 11

  I was half awake when I heard the paper hit the driveway and glanced at the clock… a few minutes past six. I spent the next half hour getting out of bed. I pulled on a sweatshirt, started the coffee, and while thinking about breakfast went out to get the paper. I had worked out a deal with the paper girl, and she got the paper
far enough up the driveway that I didn’t have to walk far off the porch to get it. The sky was still gray, but there were breaks in the clouds. By the time I got back to the kitchen I had decided on scrambled eggs and bacon. I set the paper on the table, put a skillet over low heat, and started on breakfast.

  The eggs and bacon and coffee were done at the same time, and I sat down. I started with orange juice, and as I was drinking I turned the paper over. The paper was upside down, but the headline was big enough to read without turning it around: “SENATOR’S SON MURDERED.” I didn’t have to read the story to know who they were talking about. I ate while I read.

  The body of Mark Nadem had been found in his car around two a.m. Sunday morning in the beach parking lot in Winnetka. I had been to that spot many times to watch a red full moon rise out of the lake. It was peaceful with a sweeping view of the lake. But there were three bullet holes in his chest that added a sinister twist. A .22 semi-automatic Ruger had been found on the ground next to the car. One shot from a .22 probably wouldn’t kill someone, but three would have much better odds. And a .22 was the preferred weapon of the Prophets. They were accurate, and ammunition was cheap. But if he was shot in his car, accuracy wasn’t a problem. There was a lot of information about the crime scene and what the police were doing, but nothing more of value. I was reading it again when the phone rang.

  “You seen the paper?” Stosh asked.

  “Looking at it now.”

  “If you’re planning on staying with this, and I assume you are, you need to carry a gun… always. I mean a gun you can carry easily, that will hold more than six rounds… so not your Magnum.”

  “I’ve been thinking about getting something that’s easier to carry. You have a suggestion?”

  “There’s a company out of Brazil that just started doing business in the US. Taurus. They have a relationship that shares technology with Smith and Wesson. I’ve heard good things.”

  “I have to give the whole thing some thought. I very well may not continue. But if I do I’ll be careful.”

  “If you do, talk to me.”

  “You know any more than what’s in the paper?”

  “Nope. Given who it is, not much is going to be on the grapevine. The feds will be all over this.”

  “Yeah. You still think it’s the gang?”

  “Hard not to, kid. They thought Reynolds was going to talk. If they thought that, they’d be watching him, and he meets with Mark Nadem. So now both of them are weak links in the chain. This is how they solve their problems.”

  “Nice and neat,” I said with some sarcasm.

  “Sometimes it is. I don’t refuse gifts.”

  “Let’s hope the bow doesn’t come undone.”

  “Yup. But one good thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Not my jurisdiction.”

  “Nope. This isn’t going to be pretty.”

  “It never is.”

  ***

  I kept the receiver at my ear, pushed down the button and dialed Ben.

  He answered with, “Morning, boss.”

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “Doesn’t take a genius after reading that headline. I guess I’m out of a job.”

  “I guess you are.”

  “Are you?” he asked.

  I had wondered that myself. The original problem hadn’t gone away, it just became more complicated.

  “Not sure, Ben. I need to give it some thought.”

  “Mark was a suspect. If he didn’t kill Reynolds your list is shorter.”

  “And if he did, it would be good to know.”

  “And both could be the gang. Maybe both were going to talk. I’d sure like to know what the rest of that chat was about when they met.”

  “That’d help. A lot of unknowns.”

  “One thing I do know. This is going to be a mess with the feds all over this. I’m already being ignored by Thward.”

  “And then there’s the media circus.”

  “Yup. Going to be hard to do my job with a whole circus watching.”

  “Let me know if you need me.”

  “Will do.”

  I hung up and took my coffee out to the back deck, slid a chair into the sun, and sat with my feet up on the bench. A cool, gentle breeze was at my back as I watched the sun climb higher over the trees to the east. There was a hint of a sour smell from the decaying leaves I had spread in the garden as a winter blanket. I always looked forward to the time when that sour smell was replaced by the sweet smell of new growth that spring brought. Crocuses were starting to show their heads. A vee of geese came over the roofs on their way back north.

  Because of the money my folks had left, I was lucky to be in a position where I could take cases based on whether I felt like it or not. I took few and turned down many. I had taken this one as a favor to the friend who recommended me to Mrs. Margot and because I chose to believe Mrs. Margot cared about her son. That was still a factor. But that was now offset by the federal and media attention this case would get that would make things a lot harder. And after sitting for a half hour I had decided that the attention outweighed the positives and that some time up in Door County was a great option. I would quit the case… again.

  As I was swinging my feet off the bench the phone rang. It was Paul. I told him it was a false alarm and wished him a peaceful Sunday.

  Chapter 12

  Wednesday morning I was at my desk in the office working on notes for the case. I had called Mrs. Margot on Monday and told her there was nothing more I could do. She tried to talk me into staying with it to no avail. I wished her well and thought about heading for Door County. Watson was lying in the sun in front of the windows. It was tough being a detective’s sidekick. The phone rang at a little after ten, and I heard Carol answer and then tuned her out. Most calls were deflected by her. But thirty seconds later the light on line one started flashing, and a few seconds later she leaned into my doorway. I had told her it was perfectly okay to holler from her desk, but she insisted that wasn’t professional. I had offered to get phones with an intercom, but she said she liked the exercise.

  “Spencer, there’s a woman from Mr. Malbry’s office on the phone. He’d like to speak to you.”

  “Thanks, Carol.” That piqued my curiosity. Why would Mr. Malbry, who had made it clear that he didn’t need or want my help, be calling me?

  I picked up the receiver and pushed the line one button. “Manning.”

  A calm, steady voice said, “Mr. Manning, please hold for Mr. Malbry.”

  I was about to give up holding when he came on the line.

  “Mr. Manning, Mr. Malbry.”

  “What can I do for you?” I said in my most unfriendly tone. I knew there was nothing I could do for him that he wanted to admit to.

  “Mrs. Margot would like me to hire you.”

  I took a deep breath. “Yes, I know. But I told her Monday that, with the murder of Mark Nadem, I wasn’t going to be of any help with her son and no longer wanted to be involved.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that. But that isn’t what she wants to hire you for.”

  I paused and tried to think what the catch was. He told me.

  “Mrs. Margot was brought in for questioning in the murder of Mark Nadem. She wants you involved.”

  That stopped me cold.

  “Mr. Manning?”

  “Yes, sorry. The murder of Mark Nadem?”

  “Yes, the gun found next to the body is registered to Mr. Margot. Mrs. Margot’s prints are on it. I assured her we could take care of it, but she wants you.”

  I tried not to let my smile make it through the phone. That must have been the hardest thing Malbry ever had to say. I decided not to rub it in. “What can you tell me?”

  “Not much. She was brought in an hour ago by Kenilworth police.
The wheels on this will turn pretty quickly, what with the senator involved.”

  “I bet.” The legal system was as bogged down as a fly swimming in molasses and needed reform for the sake of the accused who sometimes sat in jail for many months waiting for a hearing and even longer for a trial. Innocent lives had been ruined by the lack of quick turning wheels. But when the wheels turned quickly because someone with power and pull was turning the crank, certain things, like facts, tended to get overlooked.

  “Why was she brought in rather than questioning her at her house? Didn’t you tell her—?”

  “I didn’t get the chance. Two detectives showed up at her door and told her they needed to question her in the murder of Mark Nadem. They told her Chief Sawyer wanted to question her at the station.”

  “She didn’t call you?”

  “She did. But I wasn’t in. By the time my secretary found me, she was at the station.”

  “Sounds like they screwed up. Did she answer any questions before you got there?”

  “No. And I raised hell with the detective.”

  “Did he care?”

  “Didn’t seem to. People tend to get cocky with a senator and feds involved.”

  “Seems easy to explain that a gun she owns would have her prints on it.”

  “It does, and I have made that point, but there seems to be something they’re not saying.”

  I thought about that for a few seconds. “What does she want from me?”

  “To find out who’s behind all this.”

  “Is that all?”

  “That’s all.”

  Carol came in and sat in the chair across from my desk. She looked like a kid at her birthday party waiting to open presents. I squinted at her and went back to listening to Malbry.

  “…so this is how it will work. We’ll put you on retainer at our standard fee, and you’ll report directly to me, keeping me informed of your progress. Mrs. Stadler will send you our contract.”

  I rolled my eyes at Carol.

  “I’ll take the case, Malbry, but that’s not how it’s going to work. There’s only one person I work for, and that’s me. There’s also only one person I report to, and that’s my client. Mrs. Margot can share information with you… or not, as she chooses. Where is she now?”