Jack Daniels - Casebook

by John Holt

  Walker nodded. “Yes, she has,” he replied.

  “How much have you paid her so far?” I asked.

  “Forty thousand dollars so far,” he replied.

  I let out a low whistle. “And your wife still knows nothing about your activities?” I continued. Sure it was a risk to ask, but I needed to know.

  Walker shook his head. “She knows nothing about Miss. Franklin, if that is what you mean,” he said. “And that’s how it should remain. Do you understand me?”

  “Oh yes, I understand,” I replied. You didn’t need to a brain surgeon to get his meaning. “I shan’t breathe a word, you can rely on me, and Miss. Brady isn’t going to tell now is she?”

  Walker looked up, but said nothing.

  “She’s dead,” I continued. “And I want to know why.”

  Walker remained silent for a while. “And you think I should know.”

  “Well you have to admit that it does kind of let you off the hook doesn’t it,” I replied. “Blackmail’s a pretty good motive for killing you know.”

  If I was looking for brownie points, I soon realized that this was not the way to go about it.

  “You’re crazy,” Walker yelled. “I never killed anyone.”

  I shook my head. “Sure you didn’t,” I replied. “But it was a possibility, you know. It’s been known, it’s not unusual.”

  “When was she found?” Walker asked.

  I reached for the newspaper, and scanned the news item. “It says that she was found at about five thirty this morning,” I replied. “The preliminary investigation puts the time of death at between three thirty, and five thirty.”

  “Well I can state quite categorically that I was nowhere near the Bowery between those times,” Walker replied.

  “You can prove that can you?” I asked.

  “Daniels I don’t have to prove anything,” Walker replied. “I’m innocent until proven guilty remember. That’s our tried and trusted system.”

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  “But if you must know I was away on business,” Walker continued.

  I smiled and nodded. I had heard that one before, many times. “Sure you were,” I replied.

  “Miss. Franklin was with me,” Walker continued.

  So it was that kind of business. No surprise there then. I should have guessed shouldn’t I?

  * * *

  Chapter Five

  More Snooping

  I was tempted to ask whether Miss. Franklin would back him up with that alibi, but I guessed it would only cause Mr. Walker even more stress, and me further trouble. Besides I imagined that I’d used up my allotted allowance already.

  I also imagined that she had already been primed anyway. Of course she would back up his story.

  “Daniels, what would you say if I told you that I was still being blackmailed?” he asked. “I had a call at just after ten today, making another demand, together with instructions about the pay off.”

  That made no sense. Was he just saying that to take the heat away from himself? Or was this genuine? “Man or a woman?” I asked.

  “Oh a man definitely,” he replied.

  I shook my head. I wondered how far he would go with this little game. I decided to play along for a while. Okay, so there was a chance, a slim one admittedly, that he was actually telling the truth wasn’t there?

  “Have you been to the police?” I asked.

  He shook his head, and glared at me. “Daniels you know the score,” he replied. “No police, that’s the instruction. No police.”

  I shook my head, and smiled. “Kidnapping,” I pronounced.

  Walker looked puzzled.

  “In cases of kidnapping, that’s when they say no police,” I explained. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard it in a case of blackmail.”

  “Daniels, you know what, I’m not really that interested in your opinion,” Walker responded. He didn’t sound too pleased. “The guy said no police.”

  “Had you had contact with him before?” I asked.

  Walker shook his head. “Never,” he replied. “It has always been that Brady woman, or whatever her name was.”

  “Could you tell anything from the voice?” I asked. “I mean his age, nationality, things like that. Did he have a stutter? How about an accent? Did he have a deep voice maybe?”

  “I’m not good at that kind of thing,” Walker replied. “But if I had to guess, I would say a white guy, aged, oh, I don’t know, about thirty maybe, thirty-five, something like that. No accent.” He paused for a moment and shrugged. “Does it matter anyway? I mean do you think you would be able to get him.”

  He shook his head once again. Obviously he had very little confidence in my abilities, if any.

  I thought for a few moments. Could there really be a second person? Could he be a partner to Miss. Brady, and could he be her murderer? Maybe he thought that he could manage without her. Maybe they had a disagreement, maybe a misunderstanding, something like that. Or maybe he just got greedy, and he wanted more.

  More to the point, would I be able to catch him, or was Walker right to doubt my abilities. Don’t answer that.

  “Daniels, how much did my supposed wife offer you to get the information?” Walker asked.

  I wondered why the question. I didn’t imagine that he suddenly felt sorry for me, and that he was about to make good my losses. “Twenty-five thousand when I supplied the evidence,” I replied. “And another twenty-five after the divorce was settled.”

  Walker shook his head and smiled. “And you didn’t consider that odd in any way. I mean that’s your normal rate is it? A basic fee of twenty-five thousand dollars, you must be good.”

  I shook my head. “No, it’s certainly not my normal rate,” I replied. “I’d say that would be nearer five thousand.”

  “So?”

  I took a deep breath. “She said that you were worth a couple of billion, so I guessed that she could afford it.”

  He was silent for a while. I was sweating, and wishing I had a drink.

  “I slight exaggeration, I’m afraid,” he replied. “It’s just a little over one billion.” He paused for a moment. Perhaps it was to give me time to feel sorry for him, and express my sympathy.

  “I’m not sure whether or not to report you, and have your license revoked,” Walker announced. “I need to think this out.”

  Take as long as you like, I thought; a week, or two, a month even. Six months. I was in no hurry. Though, I guess to be honest I didn’t really blame him, but it wasn’t my fault. I mean anyone can make a mistake, and she was so convincing. How was I to know?

  “I’ve decided on what I’m going to do,” said Walker.

  Here it comes, I thought. It was nice while it lasted. It was just a pity it couldn’t last a bit longer.

  “I want you to find the blackmailer,” Walker continued. “When you do I’ll pay you ten thousand. You don’t deserve it but.”

  * * *

  He was right, I didn’t deserve it. More to the point I didn’t want it. I wasn’t really interested in his blackmailer, but I owed him, owed him big time. We agreed that I would take it on. Walker would keep me informed of any calls, and I’d take it from there.

  But if I was going to look for a blackmailer I really needed to know if the reason for the blackmail was still valid. I mean I wondered if little Miss. Terri Franklin was still an issue. I was tempted to ask but remembering what happened before, I decided against. Instead, I decided that maybe a bit more surveillance might be called for.

  * * *

  It was getting late, and it was threatening rain. This was going to be another wasted evening I just knew it, waiting out in the cold, waiting for what? She wasn’t going to show was she? I looked at my watch. Seven thirty. I shook my head. I’ve been here since just after four. Five o’clock was their normal time to meet up, remember. So what has happened? Why the change? What did it mean, I wondered? It meant that Miss. Terri Franklin was no longer an issue. Walker had seen
sense, and she had been given her marching orders, frightened off by the blackmailer maybe.

  It made perfect sense. I heaved a sigh, and then sneezed. Great, on top of everything else, I was catching a cold. That was all I needed. I gave it up as a bad job. The sooner I got back to the apartment the better. A hot shower, a scotch or two, and then down to Changs for one of his specialties, then back home to play some blues, something to match my mood. Muddy Waters would have understood, perfectly.

  I Be's Troubled

  Well if I feel tomorrow, like I feel today

  I'm gonna pack my suitcase, and make my getaway

  Lord I'm troubled, I'm all worried in mind

  And I'm never bein' satisfied, and I just can't keep from cryin'

  As I stepped out from the doorway, a cab pulled up. The door opened, and a young lady stepped out. My plans dissolved into nothing.

  Miss. Franklin had changed in the last few weeks. Her clothes were more expensive looking. She was decked out with expensive jewelry. She was altogether more poised. Is that the word I should use, poised? I guessed she’d had some luck on the roulette wheel, or at the track, or maybe she’d won the lottery, or ….

  Denis Walker came out from the other side of the cab, paid the driver, and moved over to where Miss. Franklin was waiting. He put his arm around her, and then smiling and laughing they both entered the hotel.

  That’s where her new found wealth had come from. Clearly Mr. Walker wasn’t that concerned about providing evidence for a blackmailer, and clearly he wasn’t too concerned at what his wife thought about it either. I wondered why? One thing was certain. What was it that the fake Mrs. Walker had said? Oh yes, a piece of junk. That summed up both Walker, and Miss. Franklin. And no amount of fine clothes, and expensive jewels was about to change that in a hurry. I wondered if Mrs. Walker knew about the changes. I wondered if she cared.

  I wondered if I should arrange to see her, and tell her. I shook my head. Probably not, I was already in enough trouble with Walker. I didn’t want to lose my license did I?

  More to the point if Walker was so worried about a blackmailer he didn’t seem to be worried about being seen with his lady friend did he? He was just opening himself up to no end of blackmailers. It didn’t make any sense to me.

  * * *

  Chapter Six

  Frank Bates

  As I had expected, that meeting with Walker hadn’t gone too well. I knew it wouldn’t, so no great surprise there. I suppose it could have been worse though, I’m just not sure how. You know what I said earlier, you know, about feelings? The feeling that things aren’t going right, that there was something wrong. Well something was wrong alright, very wrong. Something didn’t quite fit properly. I’ve had that feeling all morning. Some thing did I say? In truth there were several things that didn’t seem right. This case wasn’t making much sense at all, and I needed to think things out.

  Number one, we have a wife who wants me to snoop on her husband. Only it wasn’t his wife was it? Okay, so whoever it was wants me to get details of his playing around. Something he had been doing for six months or more, so why does she want the details now? Why not a month ago, or two months maybe? What was so important about right now?

  Secondly, she wants information that in fact she already had anyway. Alright so she didn’t know all of the sordid details, but she did know the time and she did know the place. So why did she need me?

  Thirdly, Walker is being blackmailed by someone, using information that I had supplied. Then the lady blackmailer ends up dead. How’s that for convenience? I mean he’s free and clear. But then when I make the suggestion to him, or I should say, accusation, suddenly there’s a second blackmailer coming out of nowhere, and Walker wants me to find him.

  And besides why would Walker want me to look for the guy anyway? I wasn’t exactly flavor of the month was I? I mean one minute he’s talking about reporting me, and getting my license revoked. And the next, he’s offering me a job with a ten thousand dollar pay off. Very likely I don’t think.

  No it doesn’t make sense to me. Unless, of course there is no second person and Walker just made that up to take the attention away from himself. Now, if that’s correct, then the whole thing starts to make a bit more sense, but it also points the finger right back at Walker, and no mistake about it.

  * * *

  I was beginning to feel quite pleased with myself. I was becoming more and more certain that Walker had killed that woman, but I still had to prove it. But I have to say things tend to get a lot easier once you have a definite suspect. You’ve something to work with. Now if only we knew something more about our victim that would help.

  Maybe Bates will eventually come up with something, you never know. In the meantime a drink was called for, by way of celebration you understand. So what am I celebrating? Does it matter?

  I walked over to my small kitchen area and poured myself a scotch. I then walked back to my desk, and flipped the on switch on the CD player.

  * * *

  The telephone suddenly rang. I reached for it. “Daniels,” I said.

  “Daniels,” a voice answered. “It’s Bates. We’ve done a run down on our Miss. Brady.”

  “Yeah, and …..”

  “And precisely nothing, she doesn’t exist.”

  “What do you mean she doesn’t exist? Of course she exists,” I replied, more impatient than I had intended. “Okay so she’s dead, but she exists, that’s obvious. We aren’t just imagining a dead body are we?”

  “We’ve checked her with Social Security, they never heard of her,” Bates began explaining. “We’ve checked for her birth record, driver’s license, the main banks, and we’ve come up with nothing.”

  “There must be something,” I said, unconvinced. “You’re just missing it somewhere.”

  Bates heaved a sigh. “We’ve missed nothing I’m telling you. We even did a fingerprint check. And still there’s nothing. She’s never had a police record, not even for a traffic violation. Apart from her name on the envelope we found inside her handbag, there was no other identification on her. We don’t even have an address.”

  I couldn’t believe it. Someone somewhere must know her, her mother, father, maybe a brother or a sister. “Has no one come forward to identify her?” I asked, clutching at straws.

  “No,” replied Bates. “No one has come forward. It’s a complete mystery.”

  So who was this Susan Brady I wondered. Okay so she wasn’t Amanda Walker that much was certain, but it was beginning to look like she wasn’t Susan Brady either. So who was she?

  “You might also do a run down on missing persons?” I suggested, helpfully.

  “Way ahead of you, Daniels, we’ve checked Missing persons, but turned up nothing, a big fat zero,” replied Bates, heaving a sigh. “Oh, there are a couple of local women missing, but none of them match our Miss. Brady.”

  “So we’re no nearer knowing who she is, or why she was murdered then,” I said, perhaps a little un-necessarily.

  “If we could just make a positive identification we might be getting somewhere,” said Bates. “Or if we could find the actual murder site, then that might be a help.”

  “Have you any ideas at all?” I asked.

  “No, not really,” Bates replied. “The only thing we have to go on is her shoe.”

  “Her shoes,” I repeated. “What about her shoes?”

  “No, not shoes, I said shoe,” said Bates. “She was only wearing the one shoe when we found her. I’m guessing that the other one came off and is still lying out there somewhere, maybe at the murder site.” He paused for a moment, and heaved a sigh. “The chances of finding it are about a thousand to one I’d guess.”

  Now I’m not a betting man, but I would have put the odds a lot higher than that. I mean who would be bothered if they found an odd shoe? I certainly wouldn’t I can tell you, and I’m guessing neither would you.

  I mean if everyone who found some old discarded clothing made a report to t
he police, the City’s finest wouldn’t have time to check on speeding motorists would they?

  There’s an idea in there somewhere, just need to work it out.

  * * *

  Chapter Seven

  Jerry’s Bar

  It was a real hot day. The rain that had been forecast hadn’t happened, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Normally I wouldn’t have a problem with that but I had spent the whole day trailing behind a certain Mr. Walker, and his lady friend, Miss. Terri Franklin. They had gone into more shops than I thought actually existed. The guy must have spent a fortune on her. I guess it’s his money and he can spend it how he likes but ….

  I began to wonder if there really was a blackmailer. Had there ever been a blackmailer I wondered. It didn’t seem likely somehow. Walker was being so out in the open with his playing around. There was no attempt to keep anything hidden, or be discreet. Also I haven’t heard anything more from Walker about payoffs and further demands, so I’m guessing that it’s all history, and no longer a problem, if it ever had been. I heaved a sigh of relief. I’d had enough of following the two of them around anyway. I decided to quit. That was it, no more wasting my time. I didn’t need this anyway. I would make out a report, and send it to Walker, together with a bill for expenses. Of course I didn’t expect to get paid, but I was going to send it anyway. He wouldn’t like it, but I wasn’t out to make friends was I?

  * * *

  I’d had enough. I was tired, I was hot. And I had lost all interest in Walker and his lady friend. I was bored by the whole thing. If he wanted to waste his money like that, that’s fine. As far as I was concerned they could just do as they pleased. What did I care anyway? I hoped Mrs. Walker found out, and did something about it. It was nothing to me, besides my feet ached.

  So I made a pit stop at Jerry’s bar. To be honest he had actually called me a few days earlier. He had something that he thought might be useful to me. That’s what he had said anyway. Doesn’t sound like Jerry though does it? He was never one to give out information like that. What was it he had said? ‘I mean do I look like an information bureau?’ He never wanted to get involved. He just didn’t want to know did he? He wasn’t a great conversationalist remember.