by Richard Wren
Josie laughed. “Thanks, Jerry. I needed that.”
Smitty held up his hand. “So what’d you learn today?”
Slowly and deliberately, Josie answered. “Mostly bad news. I found out what the smoking gun piece of evidence is, and it doesn’t look good for Gus.”
“How bad is it?” Smitty asked.
“You tell me. It’s a bloody shirt. With Gus’s blood on it, according to a DNA test. A bloody shirt that had been found at the scene of the crime. How do I refute that?”
“C’mon, Josie. It can’t be that bad.” Casey offered.
“Wait’ll you hear the rest of it. Evidently, a guy was murdered with a knife way back in the early eighties, and they never solved the case.
They never found the murder weapon, and even though they had suspicions about a lot of the guy’s friends, they couldn’t prove anything, or even come up with a motive. Time went by and it was moved to the unsolved cases file, and all that remained of the case was the evidence box.”
“Oh shit,” Smitty interjected. “They could ID the DNA after all these years?”
“They do it all the time. That’s one of the reasons that they’ve overturned a few cases in the last years. Unfortunately, this time, it’s working against us.”
“And the bloody shirt?” Casey nudged.
“Well, there wasn’t much in the evidence box except two bloody shirts. The police’d always assumed the blood was from the deceased, but with the renewed interest in DNA, they tested it. It turned out to match a DNA sample from Gus. That’s their case. An irrefutable DNA test. It proves he was at the scene of the crime.”
Expectantly, all eyes were focused on Smitty. For several moments, he was silent, staring off into space. After what seemed like forever he wrenched out his thoughts.
“Jesus Christ, I don’t know what to say. Isn’t there any way a DNA test can be wrong?”
“Dad, I wish there was, but I can’t think of any.”
This time, an even longer pause followed by a deep, deep breath and sigh. Then, slowly standing up, he said, “Well, I for one don’t believe a single damn word of that DNA test. There’s just no way that Gus’s guilty of murder. We just gotta find a way to prove it. What did Gus say about the charge?”
“Practically nothing. He barely remembers the case and says he has no idea how his blood came to be on the guy’s shirt.”
“Did you ask him if he remembered any of the cops on the case?”
“Yep, so far, no soap. But I got a lead from Marilyn for you to follow up on.”
“Marilyn? From the D.A.’s office? Where is she?”
“She’ll be here later this afternoon. Which reminds me, we have to make room for her.”
Smitty wasn’t interested in the interior decorating problems. He interrupted impatiently, “We’ll figure that out later. What’d she got for us?”
“She remembered the name of a real young assistant D.A. who might have been around in the mid-sixties. If he was, he would have been in the thick of this investigation. He went into private practice, and she thinks he may have retired by now.”
“So he might even remember the case, but would he talk to us? Casey asked.
“Can’t hurt to try, if we can find him. What’s the guy’s name and where does she think he retired to?” Smitty retorted.
Josie handed a slip of paper to Smitty. “It’s all right here. He retired to a golf community a few miles inland.”
Unfolding the paper Smitty read the name and address to Casey, raising his eyebrows at the same time. “Jack Littler, Post Office box 335, Trilogy at Rio Vista, Rio Vista, California and a phone number.”
“Rio Vista? Isn’t that on the river above Mare Island? We could drive there and talk to him personally in less than two hours.” Casey suggested.
“Not now, guys. I really need help getting an office set up here. We need at least two desks and office chairs, and telephones and two dedicated computers and what else did I say?” she said addressing one of the younger members of the gang.
“You said computer paper, stenographer notebooks, pens, pencils, and a blackboard.” He hesitated. “I think that was all.”
Casey thought of something he’d seen in films. “Won’t you need a law library and a law clerk?”
Josie gave a short “hah. The second computer will be all the librarian we need, and Marilyn’ll do all the research necessary on it.”
Smitty agreed. “Okay. I’m anxious to get Gus outa the slammer, but that’s your area so we should help you get started ASAP.” He turned to Casey. “We can go up first thing in the morning; maybe we’ll phone first.”
The rest of the day was spent converting Smitty’s spacious garage into an office. Office desks and chairs were rented from an office rental supply company, and with some extra money, and persuasion, from Smitty, were delivered the same day. Three computers were purchased and with some illegalities performed by a light fingered member of the gang, conveniently overlooked by Josie, were up and running by nightfall. A blackboard was procured, and Marilyn arrived, adding to the confusion by insisting they needed a paper shredder and at least two legal size printers. “There’s no way I can give you the back-up you’ll need without adequate tools.”
After several more runs, Josie and Marilyn, standing with their hands on their hips and gazing around at their new office space, announced they were satisfied, at least until the next time.
Josie made an announcement. “Good job, guys. Now! Just to clarify the air. Dad, Casey, and I decided earlier that I, as Gus’s attorney, am in charge. That means all decisions and actions are declared through me. Got it?” She looked each of the five gang members present in the eye and repeated, “Got it?”
There was a hesitation as the gang as one unit glanced at Smitty. He nodded his head affirmatively, indicating he agreed with what she said. What Josie couldn’t see was the deliberate wink of his right eye out of her sight. The guys understood. They told her they got it.
“Okay, as long as that’s understood. First order. Get some rest tonight. I may need all of you tomorrow.”
Amidst some grumbling that they’d prefer to do something drastic tonight for their old friend and buddy, Gus, they left, promising to be back first thing in the morning.
Casey had spent many hours in Smitty’s home the previous year, even had helped fight off an attack on the home, so he wasn’t surprised when the five motorcyclists disappeared down the hill without a sound. Living in the posh, hilly area of town as Smitty did and wanting to avoid the ire of his neighbors, he had insisted that all the club members coast the last block or two both to and from the residence.
Smitty slapped Casey on the shoulder. “I got a big surprise for you tomorrow morning,” he enthused.
Warily, Casey responded. “Oh yeah? And what might that be?
“You’ll love it. Right after breakfast we’re gonna take a joy ride up to Benicia. Les said you can use his bike.”
Casey had been initiated into the bike gang the previous year. He had been sat on the seat, given a five minute instructional and then been told to follow one of the gang through city streets, out onto the freeway and then cross town. Somehow he had survived. Josey was at home on a bike, almost as much as Smitty was. She expected Casey to do the same. He was getting proficient but had not bought one of his own yet. A fairly long ride to Benicia seemed a little threatening to him.
CHAPTER 14
“Wouldn’t it be more practical to take a car?” Casey asked early the next morning as he and Smitty ate breakfast.
“Why would anyone want to take a car on a nice day like this. Besides, you need to try out your helmet and radio.” Smitty guffawed.
Smitty insisted that the whole gang get helmets with radios so they could communicate more easily.
After a few miles Casey was as enthused about them as Smitty was.
“There it is. Trilogy at Rio Vista.” Smitty pointed at a huge sign just ahead on their right as they approached.
. The desk clerk looked a little puzzled when they asked for Jack Littler. “He’s here, but he’s on the course. Are you sure about the date?”
Smitty glanced at the wall calendar. “Yep, it’s today alright. He must’ve forgotten. How long do you think he’ll be?”
“Probably about an hour. Would you like to wait in the coffee shop? I can page him for you.”
A little over an hour and several cups of coffee later, they were approached by a tall, heavyset senior, somewhat florid citizen sporting white slacks, a light blue shirt and a maroon sweater tied around his neck.
“You’re looking for me?” He asked.
Smitty performed the introductions and retold the story.
“Elsie remembered me? After all these years? Her memory’s a hell of a lot better than mine. I don’t remember much about the case at all.”
“Anything at all might help.”
“I remember we never brought the case to trial. We had suspicions about some gang activities but never ID’d anyone. We investigated the hell out of a few of the victim’s friends, but couldn’t prove anything. Last I remember was the case became one of a bunch of unsolved ones, and that’s about all I remember.”
“Gang activities?”
“Oh, hell yes. The victim was up to his neck in some gang activities, and they were very bad then. Drive by shootings, murders, kidnappings, dope, you name it.”
“The PI?” Smitty asked incredulously.
“Hell yes. That’s why writing it off as a gang shooting was so easy.” Suddenly he hesitated and looked at Smitty closely. A look of recognition came over his face.
“You’re Smitty, aren’t you? You ran with that motorcycle gang.”
Smitty was surprised that the ex D.A. remembered him. “Good memory. Sorry I don’t remember you. But I do remember some of the gangs from then. Back then our motorcycle club was mostly for fun, even though there was a bunch of weed around and a few of the guys got busted for possession and stuff like that.” Smitty didn’t mention his own incarceration, hoping the ex D.A. wouldn’t remember it also.
He continued. “You’re saying the D.A.’s office thought the killing was gang related, but just couldn’t prove it?”
“Pretty much. Back then, the gangs were vicious, strong and connected. You gotta remember, I was just a new assistant then, but I had a feeling that the gangs were connected somehow or someone was just afraid to tackle them.”
“You remember anything about a Gus Dalziel?”
“Dalziel? Nope, doesn’t ring any bells.”
They thanked him and left.
“The D.A.’s office thought the killing was gang related? Wow that paints a different picture doesn’t it?” Casey remarked as they headed back.
“Call Josie before we get back on our steed.” Smitty instructed. “See if Elsie called in yet.”
Casey put the phone on speaker mode. “Nothing new,” Josie reported. “Except I’m surprised they haven’t arraigned Gus yet.”
“Not much up here either, maybe a little. Did we get a call from Elsie in Denver?”
“Sure did. A couple of hours ago. She said to tell you she was leaving this afternoon and that she had made some phone calls, and she had some info that you’re going to be real interested in.”
“She say what the info was?”
“Not a hint. She said you’d love it and she’d call you from the airport with her arrival time.”
A little under two hours later, Josie was waiting in front of the house as they glided to a stop in the driveway. Casey had a premonition that something bad had happened to Gus.
“What’s up?” he asked Josie.
Josie didn’t mince words. “It’s Elsie. She was killed in a hit and run accident about an hour ago.”
“Jesus Christ. In Denver? We just talked to her. What the hell happened?”
“All the police said was that she had been killed in a hit and run accident near the airport and she had your name and our phone number in her purse. They wanted to know if you were related to her, and I told them you’d only met her yesterday for the first time.
“Jesus Christ,” Smitty repeated. “She was so full of life and was on her way down here to visit her daughter.” Smitty was thunderstruck. He and Casey just stared at each other for a few moments.
The phone rang, and they all paused and looked at it. “Denver again, maybe?” Smitty asked as he answered.
“Mr. Alton?” a voice queried. “This is Lieutenant Hansen of the Denver police. Did your daughter tell you about the accidental death we are investigating?”
Smitty decided to go the model citizen route. “Yes, sir, but I don’t know why you’re calling me. I met Mrs. Lancaster for the first time ever yesterday.”
“I understand sir. The only reason we’re calling you is that there are some suspicious circumstances surrounding the accident, and we found some notes together with your name and telephone number in her purse. Can you tell us how they came to be there?”
Before he could think Smitty blurted; “suspicious circumstances?”
There was a noticeable pause before the officer responded. “As a matter of routine we’re investigating if it might not be an accident.” Without pause, and obviously cutting off any further comment on the suspicious comment, he continued. “Can you explain how your information came to be in her purse?”
Smitty’s mind raced. “Notes to him, his name and telephone number. Her remark that she had some info he’d be really interested in.” He decided He needed to see those notes for himself.
. “My son-in-law and I flew up yesterday to interview her about her career. We weren’t there more than an hour. Lieutenant, all I know is she said she was flying down to visit her daughter today. Then she called later saying she was bringing some notes with her.”
The lieutenant was interested. “Are you intending to be in Denver again soon? I’d like to know more about the conversation you had with her. Particularly in view of the suspicious circumstances I mentioned.”
Something was missing. If it was a simple accident, why was he angling to interview Smitty in person? It was clearly more than an idle question. The detective was strongly suggesting that Smitty should make himself available for questioning.
Smitty wanted to see the notes. “Detective, I can be there tomorrow and help any way I can.”
Brusquely, the lieutenant answered. “I’ll be expecting you here at headquarters. Ask for Detective lieutenant Hansen.”
Smitty hung up. “You hear that?” he asked Casey and Josie. Both had been listening on the speaker phone. “Detective Lieutenant! That means that her death is under suspicion as something more than an accident.” He turned to Marilyn. “Get us two tickets to Denver as early as possible, first class if necessary.”
CHAPTER 15
At six A.M. the next morning Casey and Smitty boarded a United Flight to Denver that would deliver them to Denver at eight thirty. Casey figured about a half hour cab ride to the police station and they could confront the detective about nine. He left a phone message at the station informing the lieutenant of their imminent arrival.
“Maybe he’ll be really helpful to us when he realizes the trouble we’ve gone to in helping him with his case.” Smitty hazarded.
“Lieutenant Hansen?” Smitty aimed his question toward the casually dressed, middle-aged man who had been watching him wend his way across the cluttered room.
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “And you are,” he consulted a slip of paper on his desk, “Mr. Smith?”
“That’s right, lieutenant, and this is my son-in-law, Casey Alton.”
Belying his casual dress, the lieutenant went directly to the point. He looked Smitty straight in the eye and rather impatiently asked while drumming his fingers impatiently on his desk, “So why were you so anxious to get up here when you h
ardly knew the deceased?”
Smitty had decided on the flight up that his best bet was to be straight-arrow with the detective and hope for sympathy and cooperation.
He told him the complete story about Gus’s arrest and the charges against him and ended up by telling him about how he and Casey were working for his daughter who was Gus’s attorney of record. He emphasized the fact that she was an ex district attorney for Alameda County.
“So you see, Lieutenant, we have no legal basis for hoping to see the content of those notes except we’re working for the legal counsel for Gus’s defense team.”
The lieutenant stopped drumming his fingers and stared fixedly at Smitty for a few seconds.
“Tell me again how you heard of Mrs. Lancaster and about her career in the police department.”
Smitty went over the information again except this time he emphasized what he thought had caught the lieutenant’s attention.
“I got her name from a retired highway patrolman friend of mine who recalled that she had been a police dispatcher during the time of the murder.” He left out any reference to Shirl the bartender.
“So you are acquainted with a number of retired highway patrolmen?”
“And lots of police, too. Fact is, as soon as you identified yourself as a detective, I began wondering if there was more to her death than you were telling me.” Smitty answered somewhat dryly.
The lieutenant stared at Smitty for a few seconds as if mulling over his answer. “Is there a reason why you might think that?”
“No sir, just familiarity with police routine.”
“And you can prove you were in Oakland yesterday afternoon?”
“Actually we were in Rio Vista, but I can prove it.”
The lieutenant picked up a folder, opened it, and handed a piece of paper to Smitty.
Smitty studied it for a moment or two and handed it to Casey. “Is that all you found?”
“As far as we can make out, it’s meaningless, just a jumble of numbers, unless it means anything to you?”