The Referral Game (A Frank Randall Mystery)

by Steven Ehrman

  “It’s all gone,” Bill said, with a grin. “He turned it into cash and now we can’t find it. It’s disappeared. We think that he must have sent it overseas, as a hedge in case things went wrong. Then he would have a nest egg out of the country to fall back on. When you’re running from the law a few million bucks can come in handy. There are at least a half a dozen countries in the world where a wad like that can make you virtually immune to extradition.”

  We chewed it over for some more, but every thing seemed to be tied up. After awhile Bill left for the office, more paperwork he said. He hates the details; he’s more of a big picture guy. Paula and I were alone and a silence enveloped the room. She broke the ice with a question that had been on my mind all day.

  “Where does this leave us, Frank?”

  I hadn’t expected it quite so blunt; even so I was ready.

  “All I know is that I want there to be an us, that’s as plain as I can make it,” I said. “I’ve been alone for alone for a long time, Paula, and I’m set in my ways, but I want to try and make something with you. I don’t want to walk that road alone anymore. I want you with me, that is if you’ll have me.”

  I had laid it all out and I held my breath waiting on her. I didn’t have to wait long.

  “Oh, Frank,” she cried, and kissed me gently. “I’ve been alone too. We’ve got a connection that’s been tested hard already. I know we can be happy. Just promise me that we’ll look forward and not back. I feel like my life has just started. Is that how you feel?”

  It sounded corny, like something out of a B movie or an overwrought poem, but it was exactly how I felt. I was hers.

  We sat together holding hands, touching each other’s cheeks, anything to stay in contact with each other for the rest of the day. She fed me lunch, she fed me dinner, and when I woke the next day she fed me breakfast. The food was awful, but I didn’t notice it, I had a woman who loved me.

  Chapter 9

  The Fox

  When I left the hospital I wanted to take some time off, but Paula said that we were both working stiffs, and getting back on the job would be the best therapy for both of us. I didn’t agree, but it was true that we needed some money coming in.

  For her part she left the club for a better paying dispatchers job at a local trucking company. I couldn’t figure out how she had landed it, until I realized that it was the same company that Bill had broken up a theft ring for on their loading docks a year or so ago. I remembered him telling me about it. He must have called in a favor and gotten her the position, although he wouldn’t admit to it. He had contacts like that all over town.

  As for me the publicity, misinformed as it was in my humble opinion, gave the business a big boost. Not a day went by without a fresh call for my services. I was actually in a position to pick and choose, instead of complaining about the rotten jobs that came my way, but still accepting virtually every one. For all my carping about domestic stuff I had taken plenty of photos of husbands, and soon to be ex-husbands paying alimony, coming out of by-the-hour motels straightening their ties among other things. I had that kind of work down cold, but those days were over, at least while this ride lasted.

  For a time everything was going according to plan, my plan anyhow. Paula and I saw each other almost every day and I had cut back on the booze. My head was as clear as it had been in years. There was one catch; Paula wouldn’t take the next step with me. Two months after I was released from the hospital I asked her to marry me. I assumed it was just a formality. I thought she would cry, call my name, and smother me with kisses and whatever else she had handy. It didn’t turn out that way. She hadn’t said no, but she wouldn’t say yes either.

  “Frank, a lot has happened very quickly,” she said as we sat in my car outside of her apartment. “We’ve got the rest of our lives, let’s not rush into marriage just yet.”

  I was confused and a little hurt. What she was saying made sense, but I wanted less logic and more raw emotion.

  “Honey, we’ll both know when the time is right,” she continued. “Let’s just let this pot simmer, okay? You know you can ruin a good stew if you let it boil over onto the burner.”

  I wasn’t in the mood for cooking based homilies, but I agreed to wait until she felt comfortable.

  So we drifted along for a time. We saw each other five nights a week instead of seven. It was still nice. She was still affectionate, even though I could feel a slight chill develop between us. She became irritated at any mention of the Pomeroy affair. She said it was a closed chapter and she didn’t want to talk about it or be around anyone who did. I got the message and dropped it. I could understand her feelings. She hadn’t been as exposed to that side of the human condition as I had in my life. There were things that I didn’t like to talk about too and she respected that. The least I could do was reciprocate.

  Things were better for a time, then worse, then a little better. Now I remembered why I didn’t seek out relationships. We began going out only on weekends and gradually, without formally breaking up, we stopped seeing each other.

  I fell back into old patterns. The only changes were that I kept off the sauce and business was still good. I considered the possibility that the two were related and dismissed it out of hand. No sense in kicking myself while I was down.

  I worked several out of town jobs for a while with mixed results. Two were rich kid runaways. I don’t think I did the parents any favors by finding them, but I’m not paid to judge these things. When I came back to the city I began work on a case at a family owned electronics store undercover. The owner, a guy named Paul Bristol, was a vital looking man in his late fifties. He couldn’t believe any of his employees, mostly long timers, would rip him off. However, it was all he could figure from the way the receipts were jibing with the register. I went in as a new salesman, with only him knowing my true identity. I was a nine to fiver for two weeks and didn’t discover anything, so I set up a nighttime stake out outside the building for a week. Day seven of the surveillance saw the son of the owner pull up in a car at two in the morning, disappear inside for ten minutes, and take off again. When I showed Bristol the tape I had made of the incident he broke down in tears. He hadn’t wanted to know the truth that badly after all. I watched him age ten years in as many minutes. I waited while he pulled himself together.

  “I would have given him the money if he had asked for it, Randall,” he said. “It only came to five or six thousand. Why did he have to steal it?”

  “I don’t know, Mr. Bristol. If I had the answer to that one I’d bottle it and make my fortune.”

  “That’s true enough, I suppose,” he mused. “Money will make people do things outside of their normal character.”

  I nodded and he continued.

  “In a roundabout way, that’s how I came to hire you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. I remembered your name from the Silas Pomeroy case. I read about it in the papers.”

  I allowed myself a smile.

  “I see that you’ve heard that before,” said Bristol. “But I remember it for a more personal reason. You see, I knew Silas.”

  “Really?” I said, feigning interest that I didn’t truly feel.

  “Yes, yes,” said Bristol, warming to the subject. “He and I went to college together.”

  “Is that a fact?” I realized that he was the right age.

  “Yes, we were even in the same fraternity. Would you like to see a picture of the old gang in all our glory?”

  “Sure,” I said. What was next, a slide show? I’d have to make some sort of excuse to cut out if it got much worse.

  Bristol was rummaging through a cabinet and pulled out a large photo.

  “Here it is,” he announced triumphantly. “This is the entire house. It was my senior year. I must admit I was quite the rake in those days.”

  I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was back there again, younger, with his whole life ahead of him. No one had disappointed him yet, as his
son had now.

  I looked at the picture as he pointed out the players.

  “Here I am, in the third row,” he said.

  He hadn’t changed all that much. I could have picked him out with no trouble at all.

  “Now the test, can you find Silas?” he challenged.

  I scanned the photo, without enthusiasm. I wanted to forget that I had ever met Silas Pomeroy, but it was obvious that Bristol was going to insist, so I played along. I looked at the men, trying to add some thirty odd years to their youthful faces.

  I finally found a face I recognized, smiling and happy, in the prime of life. I stared at it for some time before I realized that Bristol was speaking again.

  “Not that we were great chums or anything, but I do remember him quite well. Who would have thought that he could ever have been involved in anything like that?” He came to a pause. “Well, did the fox find the rabbit?”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Did you find your man?”

  “Yes, yes ,I did,” I said slowly.

  “Those were the days, Randall. We were quite a group of scamps back then. Why, I remember once in my junior year at homecoming I-”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Bristol,” I interrupted. “I’m sorry, but I have another appointment this afternoon and I’m afraid that I’ll have to be on my way.”

  Bristol nodded: “Certainly, Randall, I quite understand. You’ve done a fine job here, even if the solution was a bit painful. But, you know what they say; the best way to pull a bandage off, is in one fast rip. It hurts less that way in the long run. At any rate, I’ll have a check cut for you today.”

  We said our good-byes and I walked to my car. It was a very sunny and clear day. It was the kind of day, where if you were a pilot, visibility was unlimited. But clear nights had a down side. It got cold at night with no cloud cover. I shivered in advance.

  Chapter 10

  The Tip

  That evening I sat in my office alone. I stayed late and drank my dinner. The phone rang off and on all evening. Towards the end of the bottle I got sick of hearing it ring so I picked it up.

  “Yeah?” My phone etiquette was getting lousy.

  “Hey, Randall. Don’t you answer the phone no more? It’s murder getting a hold of you.”

  “Who’s this?” I asked.

  “A friend.”

  “I don’t have any friends.”

  “I can believe that.”

  “I’m hanging up now.”

  “Wait, Randall. Boy, you don’t have much of a sense of humor anymore.”

  I waited.

  “It’s your old friend Jimmy, remember? My associate Frankie and I tried to make a business arrangement with you awhile back. You remember me, don’t ya?”

  “Every time I step on a bug.”

  “Yeah, that’s the funny man I remember. That’s what I like about you, Randall.”

  “I still don’t need your neighborhood watch services, if that’s what this is about.”

  “That ain’t it, Randall. We’re in a sideline business in conjunction to our neighborhood watch program. We now provide information to our preferred customers at discount prices, and I’ve got some info for you. And the good news is that it’s only going to cost you a hundred bucks.”

  “You don’t know anything worth ten.”

  “Man, you’re a hard case, Randall,” Jimmy said, with a laugh. “I was just kidding you about the bread. I’m going to give you a free sample this time because of our long association and other considerations. Now, sit back and listen to this.”

  He talked and I listened.

  The next morning I got busy and made some rounds. Over the course of the next few days I stopped by the Hall of Records, the newspaper archives, my bookie, and several other points of interest. I also managed to fit in a little surveillance work. I found something worthwhile at almost every stop. I wanted things to make sense. Trouble was they did, I just didn’t like it. I decided to take a couple of days off; I had them coming, and think about my life.

  I woke up after a night of tossing and turning, and decided to go and see Bill. It was still early, but I didn’t want to miss him. I took a long hot shower to try and clear the cobwebs out of my head. When I got out, the mirror was all steamed up. I had no reflection. I wiped it clean with a towel, but it fogged over again. I gave up and shaved without a mirror. I cut myself three times.

  It was a short trip to Bill’s place. He had a bungalow in the hills above the city. It had a beautiful view at night of the city lights. The sun was just beginning to rise and would still be low in the sky by the time I arrived. I mailed a letter on the way and pushed my car hard the rest of the trip. I wanted to see the lights. It was not yet seven when I pulled up to the curb in front of Bill’s house. I made it in time to see the lights below wink out one by one. It was like a fireworks show in reverse.

  As I sat in my car finishing a cigarette I got that familiar feeling of being watched. I turned around and the girl was in the backseat of the car. I could have reached out and touched her. I didn’t. I turned around and was facing front again. I finished my cigarette and stubbed the butt in the ashtray. I closed my eyes very tight for a minute and then opened them. I looked in my rear view mirror. She was still there.

  “Any tips?” I asked, my tongue thick in my mouth.

  Just the same sad stare. I opened the car door, got out, and slammed the door. I walked up to Bill’s place and didn’t look back. I could feel her eyes on me.

  I rapped on the door for two full minutes before a bleary-eyed Bill answered. I told him that I needed to talk to him. He said that before he had his coffee he didn’t talk to anyone.

  I took a seat and listened to him bang around in the kitchen. He eventually came out, looking a bit more like himself, with his cup of morning eye-opener and sat across from me.

  “Shave in the car?” he asked, eyeing the toilet paper on my face.

  I shrugged and he went on. “Okay, what’s so important that it couldn’t wait until a decent hour?”

  “Something happened on a case that I worked on last week.”

  “Is that all? Things happened to me last week too, and I didn’t drag you out of bed to tell you about them,” Bill said, with a wry grin.

  “This was for a guy named Paul Bristol. He went to college with Silas Pomeroy, they were in the same fraternity together.”

  “Fascinating,” said Bill, as he smothered a yawn. “You’ve still got Silas on the brain, I see.”

  “He even showed me a picture of him and Silas and all of their fraternity brothers.”

  “And you got me up to tell me that?”

  “You were in the picture, Bill,” I said softly. “You and Silas were standing shoulder to shoulder.”

  We stared at each other in silence. I could hear the refrigerator motor kick on in the kitchen.

  “You’re mistaken, Frank,” said Bill finally. “A photo like that must be over thirty years old. It must have been someone who looks like me.”

  “No mistake, Bill, I checked the school records.”

  Bill sighed. “And what conclusion do you draw from this, counselor?”

  “There’s only one possible conclusion, you lied to me.”

  Bill crossed his legs and stared at me. He reached over to the table next to him, grabbed a pack of cigarettes and lit one. “So Silas and I knew each other, so what?”

  “Well, it puts the whole case in a different light doesn’t it? You knew the Pomeroy family much better than you admitted. You couldn’t have been fooled by Silas posing as Edgar. That means you were in on it from the beginning.”

  “Wait a minute, Frank, you’re going way to fast. I admit that I knew Silas pretty well once upon a time, but that was a long time ago. And you can guess why I didn’t come clean afterwards. It would have made me look foolish for not seeing the whole thing coming, but for God’s sake that doesn’t make me a murderer or an accessory to anything. The day Silas called I really thought it was Edgar. Yo
u remember how crazy it was that day with the Hanson girl missing. Don’t crucify me for one mistake, Frank, I stood by you when things weren’t going right for you.”

  “There’s more, Bill. I don’t think that you can shrug it all off.”

  “You’re dead wrong on this,” he said.

  “Listen to it all, and tell what you think. I always was uneasy about this whole affair. It just didn’t feel right to me, there were pieces missing, but with all the Pomeroy’s dead it didn’t look like I would ever fill in those pieces. However, put you in the mix and a lot of it falls together neatly.

  “There were things Silas said that night that have always bothered me. Silas said that he was going to drop Edgar’s car at the beach. That’s a two-man job, unless he was planning to take a cab home. Not a very smart move to have a cabbie place him at the car’s location. And when I told him that the police would dig into these killings even if they believed his set-up, he said something about having that end covered.”

  “Frank, this is all just supposition, built up in your mind. I think you need a rest.”

  “I’m not done, Bill. Hear me out,” I said. “After I saw you in the picture with Silas, I was sure that you had lied to me, but it still could have been, like you said, an honest mistake on your part. Then I realized that Silas had lied about how close you were to the Pomeroy family too. You were both covering up the same truth. That made you partners.” I held up a hand to stop Bill from interrupting me. “I know what you’re going to say. That Silas was playing the part of Edgar and he might have had his own reasons for playing down your connections to the family. Then something else happened. That very same night I got a call from an acquaintance of mine. Do you remember me telling you about the two guys who roughed me up the night I met Silas, before I had found Paula at the club?”

  He grunted a reply.

  “Well, apparently they were watching my office later that night, hoping to get another shot at me, but I had Paula with me so they passed. Before they left they saw Silas go in.”