by John Holt
I was hesitant. It wasn’t the kind of activity that anyone wanted, and she sure didn’t need it. It was obvious that her nerves were not good, and clearly she was vulnerable. I thought it would be best if she was kept out of it. “You couldn’t find someone else could you?” I asked hopefully. “I mean there must be somebody else.”
There was silence for a while. “I’ll see what I can do,” Bates eventually replied. “You’re right. He must have had relatives, or other friends somewhere. Leave it with me.”
“Good, if you find out anything else you’ll let me know won’t you.”
“Sure I will, Daniels, and you keep safe.” The line went dead.
* * *
So that was that. The guy was dead. No big surprise there. I just had a feeling that’s how it would turn out. It seemed clear to me that the murder was drug related. No prizes there then. And I was also pretty sure who had carried out the killing. Everything pointed to those two guys at Jerry’s. There had been that argument just a few days ago. It seemed pretty clear to me, but I still had to prove it. I just hoped that forensics would throw up some evidence that would help. In the meantime another visit to Jerry’s was called for, and a little talk with those guys might prove useful. Then after that another visit to apartment thirty-four might prove useful.
* * *
I needed to speak to Linda though, and tell her the news. I wasn’t looking forward to it. I looked at my watch. It was twenty minutes to five. At the very least I needed to call to apologize for being so late.
* * *
Twenty-five minutes later I arrived back at my apartment, and I had told her the bad news. Although she took it well, she was clearly very upset about something. She was reluctant to say what it was, but eventually I got to the reason. She didn’t like being left alone so much in my place during the day, whilst I was out doing what detectives do. I couldn’t blame her. It was comfortable enough for me, but I was used to it. It would hardly suit someone like her. Besides she was probably lonely, and frightened. The news about Joe would certainly do nothing to comfort her.
It was agreed that she would probably be much better staying with her mother. And so it was all arranged.
“I’ll take you,” I offered.
She wouldn’t hear of it. “I’ve put you to enough trouble already,” she said. “I can get a cab, it’s not a problem.”
It was obvious that further discussion would be pointless, so reluctantly I agreed. “But if you need me. “I said. “You’ve got my number.” I tapped my cell-phone
“Yes,” she said. “I’ve got your number. I won’t forget.”
“Okay, so let me have your mother’s address and telephone number,” I said. “Just in case, you never know.”
“Oh no, you won’t need that,” she said shaking her head. “Besides, mother doesn’t really like strangers to know her number. Anyway like I said just now, I’ll ring you.”
I forced a smile. “I’m not really a stranger am I?” I asked trying not to sound too disappointed. “Anyway I’ll need to ring you if I get any news won’t I?”
She had to admit that I was right. “Guess so,” she said as she reached for a piece of paper, and quickly wrote the details down. “There you are,” she said, as she handed it to me. “Now I best get going, I’ve a cab waiting.” She picked up her bag and headed towards the door.
“I’ll walk you down,” I said, brushing my right eye. She looked at me. “It’s nothing, just a piece of grit,” I said by way of explanation.
As we came out of the building, the first drops of rain began to fall. The sky was overcast, and in the distance I could hear the low rumble of thunder. I held the cab door open for her, and she got in.
“Don’t forget if you need me, you know where I am,” I said.
She smiled. “I know, and thanks for everything. Don’t stand out in the cold,” she said. “I’ll be alright.”
I suddenly shivered, and it wasn’t just with the cold. It sounded so final somehow, almost like she was saying goodbye.
“Just give me a ring when you get there,” I said. “Then I’ll know that you’re safe.”
She said that she would, and that I was not to worry.
The rainfall was now getting heavier. A flash of lightning split the sky, and then there was a crash of thunder. I closed the cab door, and without anything further, she was gone. I brushed my eye once again, blaming the rain this time.
* * *
It was about forty-five minutes later that I got the call. She had arrived safe and sound at her mother’s house, and was just getting settled in. I suddenly felt a lot better. That was one less problem I had to worry about. She was safe and nobody knew where she was except me. And I wasn’t going to tell anyone was I?
* * *
Chapter Ten
Greg And Ken
Jerry had told me that if I wanted to speak to those two guys, the best day was a Tuesday, at about six. So at just after six, I made my third visit to Jerry’s.
Jerry saw me as I entered the bar. He didn’t say anything, but merely pointed to his left, to two guys sitting in one of the side booths. I gave a cursory nod in acknowledgement.
* * *
Although Jerry had pointed them out to me, I had already seen them. I would have known them anywhere. Their files back at police headquarters contained everything you would want to know about them. There were the mug shots, personal details, and naturally their criminal record.
Greg Nichols, just twenty-seven years old, he had tried his hand at everything from car-jacking, to credit card fraud. Now he had turned his hand to drug dealing. Sitting next to him was Ken Tyler, Greg’s cousin. Only twenty-five years old, but considered a local hard man. Good with his fists, poor with his brains. Both guys had done time on several occasions, but it was thought that they had been going straight for the last couple of years.
* * *
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” I said casually, as I walked over to where they were seated. “Mind if I join you?” I didn’t wait for a reply, and just sat down. I looked across at the paper they were writing on. “What’s that, your memoirs?” I asked.
The elder of the two looked up. “Who the hell are you?” he asked, sounding anything but friendly. “And what do you want?”
“Now, now, manners, is that any way to speak to someone who’s just about to buy you a drink? Politeness costs nothing.” I looked over at Jerry. “A round of drinks over here, if you please,” I called out. “And by the way the counter looks great.”
Jerry looked puzzled for a moment, and then he started to laugh.
“Now gentlemen, let’s get down to business shall we?” I said. “The name’s Daniels, Jack Daniels. I’m a private detective.” I took my wallet out of my inside pocket and opened it. “Which of you is Greg?”
“I’m Greg,” replied the older of the two. “How’d you know that?”
I smiled. “And you must be Ken,” I said facing the other one.
“I said how did you know our names?” Greg repeated.
“And I heard you,” I replied. “I’ve 20-20 hearing.”
“So how did you know our names?” he asked again.
“I told you, I’m a detective. I know things like that. I make it my business to know things like that.” I took out a photograph and placed it on to the table. “Now if we could just get on, I’m a busy man, and I’m sure you both have things to do,” I continued. “I think you know this guy.”
Greg shook his head. “I’ve never seen him before.”
At that moment Jerry arrived with the drinks. I looked up. “Ah, here comes Gerry with our drinks, just in time.”
I passed them around, and Jerry went back to the bar. “Say again,” I said, taking a drink.
“I said I ain’t never seen him before.”
“That’s what I thought you said,” I smiled and pushed the photograph closer to him. “I’m disappointed though, I must say. I expected much better things from you, and you’re
letting me down badly.”
“I said we ain’t never seen him,” Greg repeated.
“Ah now, you’re just not trying. Take a good look,” I insisted. “I’ll give you a clue, it might help. You were all in here the other day, last Tuesday in fact. You, your sidekick over there, and this guy,” I tapped the photograph. “You were having an argument about something.”
“What’s it got to do with you, anyway?” Greg asked.
I heaved a sigh. “We’re not going there again are we?” I replied. “I told you I’m a ….”
“We know him,” interrupted Ken, who hadn’t said a word up until that point. “So what if we do. Is it any concern of yours?”
“So what was the argument about?” I asked ignoring the comment.
“What argument? Ken protested. “It was just a friendly discussion that’s all, just a little talk.”
“Well I heard different,” I said. “Remember what I said, about my 20-20 hearing. I heard that there was a heated argument going on, and people complained about the noise. Jerry over there had to quieten you down a couple of times.”
“He was muscling in on our business operations,” said Greg.
“Your drug pushing, you mean” I suggested. “Selling drugs to some of the local youth isn’t it? That ain’t very nice now though is it? Corrupting the youth like that. You could kill someone that way.”
“We ain’t no pushers,” Greg protested.
“Sure you’re not,” I replied. “You just provide a kind of a care service.”
“That’s right,” agreed Greg. “We provide a service to those that need it.”
“Oh I see,” I replied. “A sort of charity thing is it, a bit like Medicare, is that it? Or maybe the Red Cross?”
There was no reply.
“So you think you’re doing a great thing, out there in the alley where it’s all dark, so no one can see you, is that it,” I said seething with anger. “Is that where you operate? Is that where you do such noble charitable work?”
Still there was no reply. I took a drink, a long one, trying to calm my nerves. “Whatever you call it, it’s still illegal,” I continued. “But there again so is murder.”
“Murder?” repeated Greg. “What murder?”
I tapped the photograph. “Your friend there, he’s dead,” I replied. “Shot, twice.”
“And you think we had something to do with it?” said Greg.
“I don’t think anything,” I replied holding my hands up. “I’m just asking questions, that’s what detectives do.” I smiled. “I keep thinking of that argument you had ….”
“It wasn’t an argument,” Greg interrupted.
I nodded. “Right, it was just a discussion, a little talk,” I said. “But I’m wondering if that’s why you killed him.”
“We had nothing to do with it,” Ken insisted.
You know what? I was beginning to believe him. Don’t ask me why, but somehow I just couldn’t imagine that these guys would have the necessary brain power to carry out a murder. They were just two small time crooks, very small time. I was doubtful that they would even know which end of the gun the bullet came out of.
“Where were you last Thursday evening, between eight and ten?” I asked. Although I had asked the question I wasn’t even sure that these guys knew where they were ten minutes ago.
There was no reply. I repeated the question. Still there was no response. “What’s the matter, guys, was that too difficult for you?” I asked. “Can’t you remember?”
Still there was no reply. “Well I suggest you think about it, and think hard. Because a friend of mine, a certain Detective Frank Bates, will want to see you boys, and he will certainly want some answers. And he’s not as friendly as I am.”
I stood up, and drained my glass. “Okay I’m done, but if you’ll take my advice, you’ll get a proper job. Forget all about the drugs. It’s a mugs game anyway, and one day, as sure as eggs is eggs you’ll get caught. And then it’s twenty to life I’d guess.”
I waved to Jerry, and walked out. I imagined that Detective Bates would be interested in speaking with the terrible two, but I had a murderer to find, and I wasn’t going to find him – or her – here in Jerry’s Bar that was for sure.
* * *
Chapter Eleven
Where To Now?
So I had discounted the dreadful duo from Jerry’s Bar. They were criminals alright, no doubt about that. Criminals of the very worst kind, but I just couldn’t picture them as killers. If I’d been a betting man I would have laid odds against it. So now what? Where did I go from here? What other suspects did I have? Precisely zero. I had no other leads to follow up, and there were no other lines of enquiry open to me.
I have to admit that I had always thought that the murder was drug related in some way. It seemed so obvious to me. Those white packages seemed to confirm it. Perhaps a disgruntled addict was the murderer, or a jealous dealer. Maybe greed had come into play. Money had always been considered a good motive for murder. But in reality the murder could have been carried out for any number of reasons, including robbery, or blackmail, perhaps revenge even.
I just hoped that Bates might turn up something, because I wasn’t getting anywhere.
* * *
The telephone rang. It was Bates. He must have been reading my mind because he was having similar thoughts, and suffering similar disappointments. So far his investigations had turned up nothing of any significance.
“We spoke to those two in Jerry’s bar,” he said. “You’re right. They’re just two small time crooks, but they’re no murderers. We’ve arrested them, and charged them with drug dealing. They’ll go to trial in a few months. In the meantime I’ve told them that if they co-operate, the Court might go easy on them. I gave them the standard drill. You know, we know all about you, you’re being watched. Step out of line and we’ll jump all over you.”
“Should do the trick,” I said.
“Just for good measure,” Bates continued. “I told them that if they don’t co-operate then with their record, if they so much as sneezed in the wrong way, they will be looking at ten to twenty, with no chance of parole.”
I smiled. “I told them that it would probably be twenty to life.”
Bates shook his head. “Who knows, you could be right,” he said. “The point is they won’t be pushing their stuff anymore, so that’s one less pusher to worry about.”
That was one good result at least, I thought, but it got us no nearer to the murderer.
“Anything further on identifying the body,” I asked.
“Oh yes that’s one bright thing on a dark horizon,” Bates replied. “We had a definite identification.”
I was a little surprised at the news, but it was welcomed. “So what a relative was it, a cousin or something?”
“No nothing like that,” Bates replied. “Strangely enough Ms. Marshall asked to do it.”
“What?” I just couldn’t believe it. I was convinced that she wouldn’t want to do it, and who could blame her. She’d had a bad time, and I didn’t think she could take much more. “So what happened?”
“She arrived at the morgue yesterday afternoon,” Bates continued. “And sure enough it was Joe Philips. She identified him straight away, no hesitation.”
I still couldn’t believe it, but facts are facts I guess. You can’t argue with that. “How did she take it?” I asked.
There was silence for a few moments, and then I heard Bates sigh loudly. “Pretty well I’d say,” he replied. “A few tears, but not too bad.” He paused for a few moments. “I don’t really know,” he came back on. “From what you had said I expected hysterics, you know weeping and screaming, and ….” There was another pause. “She’s obviously a lot tougher than you thought, Daniels.”
Maybe Bates was right. Maybe I had just got a wrong idea. And yet she seemed so vulnerable, so frightened. It didn’t make sense, but it was just another case of facts being facts, I guess. There was nothing I could
do about it except accept it.
“So now what?” I asked. “Where do we go from here?”
“A few days ago you said that it drug related, remember?” said Bates.
I remembered, but I was beginning to have doubts. I said nothing.
“I think that you’re right,” Bates continued. “So we need to check his contacts, all of them. The suppliers, the dealers, his customers, anyone remotely connected.”
It sounded like a mammoth task to me. The list of names could stretch from here until the middle of next month. “Quite a job I would say.”
“Well I’ve nothing else have I?” snapped Bates. “And I’ve already got some names from our friends Greg, and Ken.”
I sighed, and shook my head. It was a start, a good start, but I thought of the dozens of names there would be, maybe hundreds, I wasn’t sure. And all of them would have to be found, and then questioned. The checking, and re-checking, that would be necessary. I thought about how the names would actually be obtained. Somehow it didn’t seem likely that the dealers, and the addicts, would be that helpful. They weren’t exactly going to step up and volunteer were they?
“Guess not,” I replied, trying to sound upbeat and positive. Not entirely sure that it came across that way.
I just hoped that I would get a better, and quicker, result at apartment number thirty-four.
* * *
Chapter Twelve
Apartment Thirty-Four
It was just after lunch time when I arrived back at the apartment. The officer on duty saw me come out of the elevator. “Mr. Daniels?” he asked.
I nodded. “I’m Daniels.”
The officer walked to the door of number thirty-four, and unlocked it. “If you need anything just yell,” he said. “I’ll be right here.”
He then returned to his flask of coffee, and a packed lunch, sitting on the makeshift table that had been prepared for him. And back to the radio that he had been listening to. He turned up the volume. He looked over at me. “They just scored,” he said.”