Clutching at Straws

by J. L. Abramo

  “You don’t understand, Mr. Diamond,” he said.

  “That’s an understatement, Freddie, and that’s why we’re sitting here.”

  “My father didn’t know a thing about it, at least until you broke your word and told him about the kidnappers taking a toe,” Freddie said. “You told me you wouldn’t mention it to him.”

  “Sue me. Keep talking.”

  “I needed money to pay off gambling debts. I was afraid to go to my father, so I dreamed up the kidnap idea. It almost worked, but somehow he suspected.”

  I almost felt sorry for the kid. He was so clueless.

  “Nothing came close to almost working, Freddie. Your father was worried about you, he cares about you. Even now, after you deceived him and put him into a huge jam while you were at it. Whether he knew or not, he’s guilty after the fact. You could both wind up in jail if this came out.”

  “Will it?”

  “I don’t know, Freddie. Are you still gambling?”

  “Dad has me in a recovery program. I don’t want to fuck up again.”

  “Keep telling yourself, Freddie. I don’t care all that much. Tell me about Vigoda.”

  “I played cards with him a few times, that’s all.”

  “How well do you know Lowell Ryder?”

  “Not all that well. I’m just working for his campaign. It’s more a school project than anything else.”

  “Don’t let me find out that you’re holding out on me, Freddie.”

  “I’m telling the truth, Mr. Diamond. What’s going to happen to my father?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll watch and think about it.”

  I left him sitting at the bench and headed back to my office.

  Sixteen

  “Sonny called,” Darlene said when I walked in. “He wants you to call him. The number is on your desk. I’m going to take Tug out for a walk.”

  She went out with the dog and I went back to my desk. “Sonny?”

  “Jake, I’m working up a history on Ryder. Thought I’d tell you where I am. He grew up on an avocado farm in Folsom, a small town east of the state capital. Left for college after high school and never went back. I didn’t get the details, but it seems he has a brother who served some time in prison, in his late teens or early twenties. An incident in a bar parking lot left another teenage boy dead. Might have to go to Folsom to get the whole story. I’m working on Ryder’s law school years in the meanwhile.”

  Good work, Sonny. Keep going forward. I’ll check out the brother. Keep in touch,” I said, “and thanks.”

  I called Lowell Ryder’s office. I was in a flirting mood.

  “Mr. Diamond, I’m sorry about what happened to your client,” he said.

  “I’m not sure I know what exactly happened, Mr. Ryder. But I’m determined to find out.”

  I gave him a chance to respond. He passed.

  “In any event, I was wondering if you could tell me why you think Officer Katt killed Lefty Wright in cold blood.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ryder said, “and I’m not sure that I appreciate your tone, Mr. Diamond.”

  Ryder was obviously not tone deaf.

  I decided to put his hearing to the big test.

  “Then you’re really not going to like me asking about your brother.”

  “Mr. Diamond, I’m very tied up with work at the moment. Perhaps we should talk face-to-face, and I could clear some things up for you.”

  “That would be wonderful,” I said, wondering about his definition of clearing things up.

  “How about eight this evening? I could meet you at your office.”

  “Fine,” I said, and hung up.

  Minutes later I got a call from Jeremy Cash.

  “I understand you had a talk with my son, Mr. Diamond,” he said.

  “That I did, Mr. Cash.”

  “Before I say what I’m about to say I want to assure you that I am not thinking of myself, only of Freddie. I’m rich enough and tough enough to take care of myself, but Freddie is young and soft and something like this could ruin his life. He made a great mistake, he realizes that he did, and it really didn’t hurt anyone. I was hoping that it could be forgotten, that you could trust me to see that Freddie gets the help he needs.”

  “Mr. Cash—”

  “Please, let me finish. I believe that you are an honorable man, and I would understand if you felt that you had no choice. And I certainly wouldn’t insult you by offering to buy your silence. I can only promise that if you ever needed my help, in any way, I would be at your service.”

  “That isn’t necessary, Mr. Cash.”

  “I would feel better if you would keep it in mind,” he said.

  “I’ll keep it in mind, Mr. Cash. Good luck.”

  Jeremy Cash thanked me and ended the call.

  When Darlene returned with Tug McGraw I called Sally. I felt like I had been wallowing in grime for days and that perhaps she could help. I found her at home and she invited me to drop over.

  Sally French was my first client when I opened shop in San Francisco. I helped locate the mother who had put her up for adoption at birth. Sally moved up from department store clerk to entrepreneur, taking on more and more responsibility in running Bytemp, her newfound mother’s successful sporting equipment wholesale enterprise.

  And along the way she married me.

  The turbulence of our marriage was due in part to Sally’s insistence that I give up the private investigation business. And a lot due to my stubbornness.

  When I look back I realize that I hadn’t been doing my investigative work long enough or even well enough at the time to be so unwaveringly committed, and I certainly wasn’t making a living at it. But it was my job, and at thirty-five a man likes to believe that a profession has been at least approximated. I was too vocationally insecure after my failed attempts at movie stardom to submit to Sally’s constant pleas that I take employment in the sporting goods company. Going to work for my wife and her mother didn’t seem the best route to a sense of personal self-worth and accomplishment.

  I have since convinced myself that the stubborn decision to stay with Diamond Investigation was the right one. Unfortunately, I wasn’t as confident during our marriage and had a difficult time justifying my position.

  The truth be told, I didn’t try for very long. I intuitively knew what I wanted to do and what I didn’t want to do, but I couldn’t make Sally understand what was not all that clear to me.

  And in short time I gave up the attempt entirely, and it left both Sally and me frustrated and vulnerable.

  So here we were, five years later. Sitting in the kitchen of the large house near the Presidio that we shared when we were married, slowly getting to know each other for the first time. And now I could explain, to anyone who cared to listen, why I felt that my work was valuable and haphazardly admirable.

  There were times, however, the past week being a good example, when I felt as if I were swimming in a pool of thick mud. When the ugliness I saw around me had me wishing that I sold Korean baseball gloves and Taiwanese basketballs for a living. And the irony was that lately, when I had those occasional doubts about my career choice, I turned to Sally for a shoulder to lean on.

  “That’s terrible Jake,” she said, after I gave her a quick recap of what I thought had happened to Lefty Wright, “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I guess you could say it goes with the territory,” I said.

  “No, I couldn’t. Listen, Jake, I was a nagging brat when we were first married. I was thinking more of myself when I pressed you to give up your work and jump into mine. I wanted you to give something up for me, but at the same time I really did believe that giving up private investigation wasn’t all that much a sacrifice. I was convinced that in the long run you would be better off getting out before it sucked you in too deep.”

  “And here I am proving your case.”

  “No. I think differently now. I’m no longer afraid of how the job
might affect you morally. I know that you’re strong enough to rise above the murk and that you do help people who need someone and you won’t sink down into it with them.”

  “But?”

  “But I am afraid of the physical threat. I can’t help feeling that there are less dangerous ways that you can make a living helping people. The last thing I want is to sound preachy, unsympathetic, or discouraging. I just worry about your safety.”

  “I’m bulletproof, Sally.”

  “Don’t mock me, Jake. I’m serious and it isn’t easy to say these things to you. Please trust that my intentions are unselfish.”

  “I absolutely do. And what’s more, I appreciate the concern. But for now, it’s too late for Lefty Wright to turn to someone else.”

  “Okay. Then do what you have to do and stop whining about it. And be very careful,” she said. “We have time for dinner before you get back to work. Let’s go to Little Mike’s. It’s near your office, and I’m in the mood for fried food and cheap wine.”

  When it was nearly eight we rose to leave the restaurant. “Are you going to be in town this week?” I asked.

  “Yes. Call me and do me a favor until then.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Keep dodging those bullets,” she said, kissing me lightly on the cheek.

  I put Sally in a cab on Columbus Avenue and walked over to the office to meet Lowell Ryder. I didn’t notice the silver Mercedes at the curb until a voice called to me from its interior.

  “Mr. Diamond.”

  I walked over to the vehicle and stooped to peer into the open passenger window. Lowell Ryder sat behind the steering wheel.

  “I would like to speak frankly with you, Mr. Diamond, if you would be kind enough to grant me the privilege.”

  “I suppose you’ll want me to get into the car.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind.”

  “What the heck,” I said, and climbed in.

  “I’d like to tell you a story,” he said when I was settled in.

  “Like once upon a time?”

  “No. I think that you are too intelligent to believe in fairy tales.”

  “Don’t overestimate me. Care if I smoke?”

  “Go right ahead.”

  I lit a Camel and turned to face him.

  “Okay, the floor is all yours,” I said.

  “I don’t know if you’re aware that I’m a Stanford graduate, graduated with honors in fact, third in my class.”

  “I heard about the diploma, haven’t seen the GPA.”

  “I was raised on an avocado farm, and my father wanted me to be an avocado farmer when I grew up. All that I ever wanted to be was a lawyer. My childhood heroes were Clarence Darrow and Atticus Finch. While other boys my age were reading Superman comics, I was reading about the great trials.”

  “Don’t knock Superman. He had some great trials of his own,” I said, hoping to move him off the soapbox, “and by the way, I was reading Voltaire.”

  “I have no desire to offend you or to be judgmental, I simply want you to understand how important a career in legal practice was to me.”

  “I think I got it.”

  “Would it be all right if I drive?” he asked.

  “Sure. Taking me for a ride?”

  He pulled away from the curb.

  I tried to relax.

  “I graduated valedictorian from high school and was accepted to Stanford for the fall. On graduation night, some friends and I went out to celebrate. My brother Chance came along with us. We did some serious drinking. Chance wasn’t very accustomed to alcohol and before long decided that he’d had enough and left on his own.”

  Ryder headed out Broadway and turned on Van Ness toward Market Street.

  “Fifteen minutes later I walked out into the parking area for some fresh air. I noticed that my brother’s truck was still in the lot. I walked over and found him behind the steering wheel, he was white as a ghost. Chance told me that he thought he had killed another boy.”

  Ryder went silent for a while.

  “Where are we headed?” I asked, not quite knowing what else to say.

  Ryder ignored the question and kept driving. He remained quiet for a few more minutes and then continued on Market.

  “In the parking lot, walking to his car, my brother heard what he said sounded like a muffled scream. He moved toward the sound and saw a boy, our age, on top of a girl on the ground. She was struggling to free herself; the boy was tearing at her clothing with one hand while holding the other over her mouth. She let out another yell and he reared back and punched her in the face. She went quiet.”

  Ryder turned onto Burnett and then onto Crestline Drive. “Why are you telling me this, Mr. Ryder?” I asked.

  “You brought up my brother, Mr. Diamond. I would rather you heard it from me.”

  Ryder pulled into a parking area and stopped the car.

  “Is this where we get out and walk?” I asked.

  We got out of the car and I followed him on the footpath up the hill.

  The hill was steep and we walked in silence for a while. When he spoke again his voice was clear and calm. I, on the other hand, was breathing hard.

  “My brother grabbed the attacker from behind and managed to tear him away from the girl. The assailant was immediately up on his feet and at my brother’s throat. Then they were both down on the ground, the other boy had his hands around Chance’s neck, and my brother felt as if he were about to pass out.”

  “What’s at the top of the hill?” I said, wheezing.

  ‘You’ve never been up here?”

  “No.”

  “You’re in for a treat,” he said. “Where was I?”

  ‘Your brother was about to pass out,” I said, feeling close to it myself.

  “My brother walked me over to a dark area behind some bushes off the parking lot. There was a body lying there. I checked to see if the boy was alive.”

  “And?”

  “The boy was dead. His head was crushed.”

  “What happened?”

  “As I said, Chance was feeling faint, flailing his arms wildly, trying to get free, and his hand hit a hard object. He reached for it, picked it up and smashed it into the boy’s head. The boy went limp; his weight pinned Chance to the ground. My brother said that he could feel blood dripping on his neck and chest. He let go of the rock and pushed the boy off of him. The boy didn’t move. My brother got up to see about the girl. She was gone. Chance dragged the body behind a large hedge,” said Ryder, looking out from the summit. “Beautiful isn’t it?”

  We had reached the top of one of the hills at Twin Peaks. From the heights we viewed a three-hundred-sixty-degree panorama of the city and the bay.

  “I took my brother home. My father called the chief of police, Bill Gunderson. They had grown up together in that same small town. My father took Chance back to the scene, and my brother turned himself in to the chief. September came and I went off to college. That was more than fifteen years ago. Less than a year ago I prosecuted a businessman who had violated security exchange laws. The man was a friend of Judge Chancellor. The judge pleaded with me to go easy. I couldn’t do it.”

  “I heard that the man committed suicide.”

  “I felt no joy in that at all, Mr. Diamond, but the man was guilty. In any event, Chancellor became my sworn enemy. The judge somehow learned about my brother’s trouble and he warned me to drop out of the DA race or he would bring it out into the open.”

  “Why would something your brother did years ago, apparently in self-defense, undermine your bid for office?” I asked.

  “It shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t be sure. The media are vultures, people are funny about family secrets, skeletons are skeletons.”

  “So you had to kill him.”

  “No, Mr. Diamond. I didn’t kill Judge Chancellor and I didn’t have him killed. But I wasn’t about to submit to blackmail. I told Chancellor to do what he thought he had to do. I decided to make a complete discl
osure and let the chips fall where they may. I was about to call a press conference for that very purpose when I picked up a morning paper and read that the judge had been murdered.”

  “And then you lived happily ever after.”

  “Mr. Diamond, I can’t make you believe me. I can only ask that you suspend disbelief for the time being. Give me the benefit of the doubt. And if Lefty Wright was not directly involved in the judge’s death, I will do all I can to clear his name. Isn’t that what you really want?”

  “What I really want is something you may not be able to offer,” I said. “We’ll have to wait and see. For right now, I could use a ride back to my office.”

  Ryder dropped me off in front of my building. I climbed into the Toyota and drove home.

  I walked up to my apartment and let myself in. I went straight for the Dickel but caught myself just in time and put up some espresso instead. I settled in to do some reading. I was curious to find out what Edmond Dantes was up to as a free man.

  I kept drifting back to Lowell Ryder’s tale. It was almost too strange to be fiction, but there was a lot about the story that bothered me. Not the least of which was Ryder’s concern that I might hear it from someone else. Who the hell was I to have earned a firsthand account?

  Not to mention that giving Ryder the benefit of the doubt would push the progress of the investigation back to the getting nowhere fast stage.

  On the other side of the coin, I was finding it very hard to believe that the mysterious missing envelope, which may have caused the deaths of four people, had nothing more to offer than fifteen-year-old news. News that was in the public record somewhere. News that even Vinnie Strings could have managed to dig up given enough time.

  Either Chancellor had something on Ryder that was far more threatening, or Ryder had nothing to do with any of it.

  I put my mind on pause and traveled with Dantes to the Island of Monte Cristo.

  Seventeen

  The next morning I was up and out at dawn. I drove the Toyota over to Joey Russo’s place to exchange it for my Chevy. Joey was already awake, sitting out on the front porch with a mug of coffee and the Examiner.