Ardmore Green

by Jeff Siebold

* * *

  “There’s more to it, then,” said Clive. He was standing at the low table in his office, looking over Zeke’s shoulder at a crime scene photo of the dead kids. It was obvious that they had been unceremoniously and hastily dropped into the dumpster. The flash from the photographer’s camera lit the scene like a white spotlight and created a surreal, high contrast photo. The girl was lying on her side, while the boy’s body was on its back. She looked smaller than Zeke had expected.

  “Well, if it ties in, then yes,” said Zeke. “It certainly gives another dimension to the possibilities.”

  “You said that you have new insight into the Larosa family?” asked Clive.

  “I do. It seems that they’ve been involved in selling illegal prescription drugs for the past eight or nine years,” said Zeke.

  “Indeed,” said Clive. He was looking more casual today, wearing a pinpoint oxford button down collared shirt tucked into light wool slacks. Even dressed casually, his clothing fit impeccably. And he smelled like a combination of fresh Duke of Windsor roses, cedarwood and eucalyptus.

  “That’s Royal Mayfair, isn’t it?” Zeke said.

  “Good nose, old boy,” said Clive. “Had it shipped in from Creed, the Mount Street store.”

  “George is pretty clever. He know’s he’s dying, so he did all the confessing, and Oscar just sat there and nodded. It seems that after Oscar’s dad, Gino, died, George decided to expand the family business. He says they stayed out of the rough stuff, hard drugs and prostitution, but branched out into pills,” said Zeke. “That’s when Oscar was dealing with his rehab, trying to learn to live without feet. I doubt that he was involved much.”

  “What was the source?” asked Clive.

  “They...well, he wouldn’t say,” said Zeke. “But it sounds like they were generating quite a bit of volume, until George got sick.”

  “Cancer can do that,” said Clive. “Change your priorities, I mean.”

  “Yes. So while they weren’t watching closely, someone stepped in and undercut them. At first they provided supply to George’s dealers at a better price, and their quantities, according to George, were very strong. Good quality, too.”

  “Any idea who was involved in the competition?” asked Clive. He had stepped to the window and was looking down at the street.

  “They don’t seem to know the extent of the organization, but they mentioned Kevin McCarthy as the figurehead. That’s Carrie McCarthy’s dad. They think he’s a puppet, though. Said someone else is running the operation.”

  “And you think this may be related to the killings?”

  “It’s certainly possible,” said Zeke. “There are a number of scenarios that might end up with the kids dead.”

  “I suppose so,” said Clive.

  “One or both of them may have been involved in the sales,” said Zeke. “Or maybe they stole money or pills from the wrong people.”

  “Could be,” said Clive. “Or they might have happened across something or someone they shouldn’t have seen. Didn’t Will Burns say something about knowing where he could get some money so he and Susie could take off?”

  “He did, according to Seth. He mentioned that Will was going to ‘take some off the top’ to travel with when I interviewed him.”

  “Could be what got them killed,” said Clive.

  “It seems like there might be a few people who know what happened,” said Zeke.

  “Like who?” asked Clive.

  “Alan Parker and the boys who were arrested for selling prescription drugs at the college. And Kevin McCarthy. And Seth Gordon, who disappeared with Carrie. I think I’ll talk with Alan first and see where that leads. According to Amy and Anne Gordon, he’s pretty fragile. Then, maybe, I’ll visit with Kevin McCarthy again.”

  Chapter 33

  “This is amazing,” said Carrie, smiling, looking at the pier and the ocean. “I can’t believe we’re really here!”

  Seth had followed Interstate 40 west through Los Angeles, then found his way to the Santa Monica Freeway, and took that until it turned into the Pacific Coast Highway at the Santa Monica Pier. He’d parked the car in a lot that paralleled the highway and the beach, and he and Carrie walked together down toward the Ferris wheel and the roller coaster. Carrie seemed excited for the first time in days.

  “I told you we’d get here,” said Seth. He was looking west and smiling, too.

  “I take back all that stuff I said in the car,” Carrie said. She turned and suddenly gave him a kiss on the mouth, surprising him. “You might get lucky,” she said, trying to sound breathy. She kissed him again and held the kiss and ground her hips into him.

  “You like that, don’t you? Boys always like that.”

  “Well, yeah,” said Seth, taken aback but trying to cover for it. “It’s OK with me.”

  “This is perfect! I love it!” Carrie detached suddenly and looked all around, at the pier, at the beach, at the tall buildings. She used her phone to take some pictures of Seth on the pier, with the water in the background. “Is there a hotel near here? I’d love to be able to see the water from my room,” she said.

  “Our room, you mean,” said Seth.

  “Yeah, that’s what I meant,” she said absently. She was obviously preoccupied, taking it all in.

  “It looks like a couple of those buildings are hotels.” Seth had turned and was looking east, away from the pier.

  “Oh, good,” said Carrie. “I’m really hungry, can we eat something?”

  “Sure,” said Seth, thinking, She’s feeling pretty hot right now. It’s about time.

  “Let’s eat on the pier,” said Carrie, suddenly pulling Seth along, obviously not wanting to leave.

  They found a place next to the amusement park called the Harbor Grill and ordered burgers, fries and two Cokes. The bill was high, but Seth still had plenty of cash.

  “I’m so glad we don’t have to worry anymore,” said Carrie. “I don’t want to end up like Susie and Will did.”

  Well, that chilled the mood, thought Seth.

  “We should find Jack Frost,” said Seth. “He probably knows where to score some good weed.”

  Carrie nodded, preoccupied with her French fries.

  They finished their meal in silence.

  “Do you want to hang out here while I check into a hotel?” asked Seth.

  “It’s still early, right? What, about four o’clock?” asked Carrie. “So, sure.”

  “OK, I’ll find a room and then come back for you. Stay around here on the boardwalk, OK?”

  “Yeah, sure, I’ll be right here,” said Carrie. She plopped herself down on a bench near the roller coaster. “Give me a cigarette,” she said.

  “OK, here,” said Seth. “Last one in the pack.” He lit it and handed it to her. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  * * *

  Most of the people in California didn’t look like anyone Seth had seen before. They were tan, fit and easygoing and acted mellow, relaxed.

  Seth parked out front and walked into a Wyndham Hotel that was adjacent to the freeway.

  “Welcome to the Wyndham Santa Monica at the Pier,” said the desk clerk, an Hispanic girl in a blazer and matching skirt. She was about his age. “I’m Inez. How can I help you?” Her voice sounded light and melodic.

  “Do you have any rooms available?” asked Seth. In contrast, he noticed the rather harsh, nasal tone in his own voice.

  “We do,” said the girl. “How many guests?”

  “Two,” said Seth, and remembering Carrie’s promise he added, “Do you have a room looking out at the pier?”

  “Ocean view, yes, we have one of those,” she said. “It’s on the fifth floor, and it’s $250 a night. How many nights will you be with us?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Seth, honestly. “We just arrived, and we don’t have solid plans.”

  “OK, well, can you let us know tonight if you want to stay more than one night?” she asked with a smile.

  “Sure,” he sa
id. “Can I leave my car parked out front? I want to walk over to the pier.”

  “The pier is two-tenths of a mile, an easy walk. And we have guest parking.” She told him where to park his Saab.

  * * *

  When he got back to the bench near the roller coaster, Carrie wasn’t anywhere around. Seth walked up and down the pier, peering into the open fronts of the various booths, restaurants and shops, to see if she was inside. The bright afternoon sun and the contrasting shade from the shops’ awnings made it difficult to tell who was inside.

  At the end of the pier, west toward the ocean, he found Carrie. She was smoking a fresh cigarette and talking with two Mexican-looking high school kids, who were fishing from the pier.

  “Hey, where’d you go?” asked Seth. He wanted to act hurt, but not so much in front of the Mexicans.

  “I needed another cigarette,” said Carrie, waving hers at Seth. “So I bummed one from these guys.”

  “OK, well, I got us an ocean view room,” Seth said to Carrie.

  One of the kids said something in quick Spanish to the other, and they both laughed easily. Seth and Carrie walked off toward the hotel, Carrie exaggerating her hip swing in her cutoff shorts. Seth looked back and saw the two kids watching her go.

  Too bad they can’t see the tattoo, he thought. Then they’d know she’s my girl for sure.

  “Did you pay cash?” asked Carrie, as they walked the quarter mile to the hotel.

  “Yeah. I had to use a credit card for the deposit, but they promised not to run it.” They’d learned this tactic earlier on their cross country trip. Seth was pretty sure they couldn’t be traced if they didn’t charge with the credit card.

  Carrie took a last puff on her cigarette, a filter-tipped Salem, and put it out in the ashtray just outside the hotel lobby. “I’m not really a menthol girl,” she said. There was a slight pause before the automatic door slid open. They walked in through the lobby to the elevators.

  “I’m ready to get lucky,” said Seth as they waited. He handed her a Molly, an MDMA pill. “Here, take this,” he said. “It’ll get you in the mood.”

  Carrie thought about that for a moment. “You’re always horny,” she said, as she swallowed the pill.

  “Sure am. And so are you,” added Seth. “Don’t pretend you’re not.”

  “We’re finally in California,” said Carrie. “That does make me hot. And the view of the ocean might make me even hotter.”

  “I’m liking that,” said Seth. “Let’s check it out.”

  Chapter 34

  Kimmy and Zeke rode the hundred and thirty-five miles back to Ardmore and stopped in to see Oscar Larosa. Oscar was irrepressible, as always, and greeted them at the front door in his abrupt fashion. He acted as if Zeke’s conversation with him and George had never happened.

  “Hey, Zeke, Kimmy, come on in,” he said, and rolled his chair back out of their way.

  “Just stopped by to check in with you on our way to talk with Alan Parker,” said Zeke. “We’ve got a meeting with him at the college in an hour.”

  “Come on in. We haven’t heard anything else from the police yet,” he said.

  Zeke and Kimmy followed Oscar through the house once again, and they settled around the kitchen table.

  “Do you know Alan Parker?” Zeke asked.

  “No, not really. Heard the name when the drug bust was going down. It was all over the local paper. Turns out he’s from Allentown. His dad owns a car dealership or something,” said Oscar.

  “Do you remember anything about that incident, those arrests, that we should know?” asked Zeke.

  “Not really, just what was in the papers.”

  “How about his suppliers? Do you and George have any history with them?” Zeke asked.

  “Don’t know. Don’t think so, but I’ll confirm it with George and let you know if we do,” said Oscar.

  * * *

  Alan Parker attended Penn, which is the University of Pennsylvania’s main campus near Philly, about seven miles southeast of Ardmore. He was twenty years old and a Junior. Zeke had called him from DC that morning and arranged to meet with him at the Starbucks on campus at Walnut and 34th. Zeke mentioned the FBI and Alan’s probation officer by name, and they agreed on a three o’clock meeting.

  “I’ll be there,” sighed Parker.

  Zeke found him in the coffee shop. He was a thin, pale young man with short blond hair. He looked as if the sun had never touched his skin. He was nursing what looked like an iced coffee in a clear plastic cup, and he looked up sullenly when Zeke approached him.

  “Alan Parker, right?” asked Zeke.

  “How did you know? Did my P.O. show you my mugshot?”

  “Nothing that fancy. You’re the only male sitting alone in here,” said Zeke. “This is Kimmy. She works with me.”

  “At the FBI?”

  “Sort of, but undercover,” said Zeke. “So we want to chat with you about the pills, the stuff you and Seth were into.”

  “Man, I’m done with all that,” Alan said. “It caused me too much grief. Not. Worth. It.” He shook his head to emphasize the words.

  Zeke and Kimmy sat down at the table with him. “So what actually happened?” asked Zeke.

  “Man, I sold some pills a while back to Seth Gordon, Amy’s brother,” he said. “It wasn’t a big thing. But he got busted, and he gave me up. So the cops came after me, and they were going to arrest me. So my parents made me tell them where I got the pills.” He said it in a monotone, as if he’d repeated the same series of sentences many, many times.

  “Which was?”

  “From guys in my dorm. A lot of guys use them, you know. They’re always up for a good time.”

  Zeke looked at Kimmy. She was fiddling with her smart phone, but he knew she hadn’t missed a word.

  “What type of pills were they?” asked Zeke.

  “Well, they had almost everything, man,” he said. “Like oxycodone, morphine, cocaine. There may have been more, too.”

  “Other types of pills?”

  “Yeah,” said Alan.

  “Where did they come from?” asked Zeke.

  “Huh?” said Alan.

  “What was the source?”

  “Wow, you know, that’s not something you ask a guy selling you pills, man. Not cool.” Sullen again.

  “Right, but I’m sure the police tracked the pills back as far as they could,” said Zeke.

  “Maybe, but they didn’t share any of that with me,” said Alan.

  Zeke said, “Do we need to reopen this investigation, Alan? Maybe find some other charges that might send you to jail?”

  Kimmy looked up at Alan, still, not blinking.

  “No, no, I don’t know anything about the source. Really, I told the cops everything I know.”

  “Anything in your pockets now?” asked Zeke.

  “No.” Alan looked down, then back at Zeke. Not defiant, but suddenly focused. “No, they’re empty.”

  “We need the names of the guys who sold you the pills, Alan.”

  * * *

  “Just checking back with you,” said Zeke. “We’re running down some leads that suggest prescription drugs might be part of the motivation for this whole thing.”

  “For the murders?” asked Detective Harrison. They were sitting on opposite sides of Harrison’s gray metal desk in the bullpen in the Lower Merion Township police station.

  “Possible. Too early to say. But I was hoping you could put us in touch with someone on the Philly PD who was involved with an arrest last year,” said Zeke. “The drug arrests at UPenn...the pills.”

  “There was a pretty big bust on campus last year. Kids,” said Harrison, and he looked at Zeke as if waiting for a response.

  Zeke looked at him.

  After a moment, Harrison said, “Yeah, I know one of the guys who was involved with that. Hang on,” and he rifled through his rolodex for a moment and then dialed his desk phone.

  “Hey, Morty, this is Harrison down in A
rdmore. How you doin’?”

  He paused. “Yeah, listen, I’m gonna send a guy over to talk with you about the arrests at the University last year. He’s working with the FBI. Apparently, the two killings we had here may be related to that somehow.”

  He put his big hand over the telephone handset. “He wants to know how,” he said.

  “How they’re related?”

  “Yeah,” said Harrison.

  “We’re looking at possible motives for the killings,” said Zeke. “Same as before.”

  “Right,” said Harrison. Then, into the handset, “Could be the reason for the murders. The drugs.”

  * * *

  Detective Morty Fishbein was a short, plump man with beady eyes set deep under bushy gray eyebrows. Zeke and Kimmy were sitting with him in the Sixteenth District station house, in a commander’s office they’d borrowed for privacy.

  “You were involved in the prescription drug arrests last year in Samson West, weren’t you?” asked Zeke, referring to an on-campus housing facility. “The Alan Parker deal?”

  The man sitting across from Zeke thought for a minute. “We were,” he said, neutrally.

  “OK if we chat about that for a minute?” asked Zeke.

  “Your boss called my Commander about a half hour ago, so yeah, we can talk about it.”

  “We appreciate the cooperation, Morty,” said Zeke. “Just trying to run down a murderer.”

  “So how can I help?” Marty’s bushy eyebrows were animated when he talked. They bounced and jumped and seemed to have a life of their own.

  “We’re investigating the source of the pills,” said Zeke. “Any idea where they came from? Were they stolen pharmaceuticals? Or were they imported? Or made locally?”

  “Like in the University chemistry department?” asked Morty. “No, nobody gave up the supplier. Nobody really knew, as best we can tell.”

  “How did the kids get the pills?”

  “Well, that’s it, you know,” eyebrows moving frantically. “Apparently, they were delivered by UPS, from a UPS drop station, you know?”