Murder Made Legal: A Casey Alton Mystery

by Richard Wren

  “Did they do that CT scan yet?”

  Unexpectedly, she demonstrated a friendly and helpful attitude that surprised him. Smiling, she said, “You mean Mr. Alton? You should go back to his room. He’s chafing at the bit.”

  Casey looked up and grimaced from struggling to tie his shoes as Smitty opened the door. “CAT scan was clear, so I’m cleared to go home, but I sure got some aches and pains.”

  “That S.O.B. Peterson hauled off and kicked you after you were out cold and tied up. Do you remember?”

  “Nothing after that guy Earl cold cocked me.” Casey croaked.

  “You can talk?”

  “It hurts, but yes. Where’s Josie?”

  Smitty deliberately and just for the fun of it simply said, “She’s gone to the jail to get the S.O.B. Peterson out on bail if she can.”

  Casey straightened up, “What the hell?”

  Smitty laughed and said, “Gotcha.” He went on to explain their strategy.

  A long drawn out “Oooookaaay” was Casey’s response.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Maybe. So you and I and Shirl are the witnesses against Peterson? What about the guy Squinty? He’s the psycho.” His voice seemed to be improving as he talked.

  “Peterson says his name’s Earl. The cops have statements from Shirl and me and’ll be after one from you pretty quick. That’ll be enough to bind him over for a court hearing. Josie said they’ll probably charge him with some sort of assault charge, and she’ll be able to get him out on bail.

  Then we go to work on him. She’ll tell him that once the D.A.’s office hears the whole story they’re gonna charge him with assault to commit murder at the very least, just because he was in it with. We all heard Earl say he was gonna kill us.”

  “So we just forget about what Earl did to Shirl?” Casey was keeping his questions short.

  “Of course not. But we gotta forget about Carl. Gotta keep our priorities straight. We don’t want Earl; leave him to the police. We want the people behind him, and Peterson’s our ticket. We get Peterson out; Josie becomes his lawyer; he confides in her in order for him to plea bargain with the D.A.’s office, and we find out who he phoned. Clear as mud?”

  “What’s he got to plea bargain with?”

  “Our statements. They’ll make it clear that Earl did all the rough stuff and that Peterson’s going to turn state’s evidence in order to get Earl. It will be the only chance for him. He’ll have to cooperate with us in order for us to have him cooperate with the D.A.”

  “Is Shirl on board with all this?”

  “Josie will call her as soon as she gets Peterson in our pocket.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Think positive thoughts. Get back to the house and wait for the call from Josie that Peterson’s cooperating.”

  CHAPTER 22

  They were met at the front door by an agitated Marilyn. “What in the world’s going on?” She asked in a frustrated tone. “Josie called from the hospital and said she needed information about a guy that’s just been arrested, probably aggravated assault or some such thing. She said whatever I do, don’t say a word to the D.A.’s office. She didn’t give me time to ask why she was in the hospital. So what happened?”

  “Take a deep breath,” Smitty ordered. “Everything’s okay.”

  Casey grabbed at his throat and croaked out, “That’s easy for you to say,” Marilyn blanched at the sound of his voice.

  Smitty quickly brought her up to date, then asked,

  “I see a couple of bikes out front. Some of the guys here?”

  “I guess so. They just drove up, said hi, and headed for the kitchen. Is that okay with you?”

  “You’ll get used to it. They may be a little rough around the edges, but they’ll be perfect gentlemen to you.” He paused for a second, then added, “Or else.” He grabbed Casey and headed for the kitchen.

  “Hey Andy, Hey Dave,” he greeted them. “Thought I recognized your wheels.” He looked at the two gigantic po’ boy sandwiches they had constructed sitting in front of them. “Anything left in the fridge?” he asked as the phone rang.

  “Josie!” He greeted the caller. “Good news?” He listened for a second, then simultaneously nodded his head affirmatively to Casey and said, “Great, good going,” He listened for a while, nodding and making a few notes. “Okay, got it.” He hung up and turned to Casey.

  “We got him. She said he was just another case to the police and nobody from the D.A.’s office even showed up in front of the judge. She was able to post bond, and he’s released in her custody. She’s gonna bring him up here. She said he’s willing to tell us what he knows.”

  “What about Gene, the other guy?” Casey asked.

  “Let him rot in jail as far as I’m concerned,” Smitty pronounced.

  He turned to Andy and Dave and gave them what amounted to an order. “Finish your lunch and get a few more of the guys up here. We’re gonna be doing some more investigating, but from now on, it’ll be with protection. None of us goes nowhere without a couple of you guys along, especially Josie. Got it? These guys wanna play rough, so be it!”

  Later in the afternoon, Josie showed up with Peterson in tow. He affected a little swaggering bravado until Smitty somewhat forcefully put him in his place.

  “You think you got us by the tail ‘cause you’ve got some information we need? Think again. First off, I owe you ‘cause of the kicking you gave my son-in-law, and second, without us, you ain’t got a chance of avoiding jail time.” He had a thought. “Got any priors”?

  Peterson flinched. “Thought so,” exclaimed Smitty. “An ex-policeman with priors? I wouldn’t give your life expectancy in jail any great odds, would you?”

  Sullenly, Peterson replied, “I didn’t do nothin’, not really.”

  “Bullshit,” Smitty muttered under his breath as he swung his attention to Josie.

  “He tell you anything yet?”

  “Only that he did make the phone call that Casey saw. I think he sees the handwriting on the wall and he’ll cooperate.”

  “I guarantee it,” Smitty said.

  That simple remark filled Josie with some trepidation. Josie knew more than she wanted to know about her father’s sordid past, things that her mother had told her she was better off not knowing. There was no doubt in her mind that Mr. Peterson could be in for a rough ride if he didn’t cooperate.

  “Sit down,” Smitty suddenly ordered Peterson just as the door swung open from the garage and three heavily bearded, bandanna’d, leather-clad and booted guys came barreling in.

  “This the guy you want us to soften up, Smitty?”

  Then, as if he had been reading her thoughts, Smitty said, “It’s getting crowded in here, Josie. Why don’t you get together with one of the guys downstairs and set up a protection plan for you.”

  Josie got the implied message and reluctantly left, thinking to herself, Dad will be dad.

  Peterson sat and sullenly said, “You can’t touch me. I been released into her custody, and she’s responsible for my safety.”

  Smitty laughed and spoke to the guys. “Hey, remember last year? That politician that thought he had us by the short hairs? How many times did he fall down those stairs--seems to me it was maybe three times? Broke his arm and a leg. That was a damn shame, just a clumsy guy, I guess.” He turned to Peterson.

  “Those damn stairs are dangerous. Particularly for a guy like you that doesn’t talk too well.” He pulled a chair over and sat in front of Peterson and reached out a hand as if he wanted to shake hands. Peterson tentatively and warily reached out his right hand.

  Smitty suddenly reversed his grip and seized Peterson’s middle finger, bending it backwards until it was almost parallel with the back of his hand. “That hurt?” he calmly asked. The three guys looked on calmly. One walked over to the refrigerator and opened a beer.

  Sweat broke out on Peterson’s brow. “Fuck yes, it hurts,” he ground out between gritted teeth.
<
br />   “About a quarter inch more and it breaks, then I got four more to work on. Get the picture?”

  “Okay, okay, whatcha want?”

  Smitty took a shot in the dark. “Who do you work for?”

  “Work for?”

  “Yeah, the guy you phoned from Shirl’s place. And don’t tell me it was Earl.”

  Peterson hesitated. “Really wasn’t no guy. Just a phone number. Honest!”

  Smitty pushed the finger back until there was a loud crack and Peterson looked down in agony at his twisted and broken finger.

  Casey was shocked. This was a side of his father-in-law he’d never seen before. Then the source of Smitty’s pent up anger became apparent.

  “That was for kicking my son-in-law, you son of a bitch. You’re just lucky you didn’t break a rib, then you’d really be hurtin’. I’ve a mind to go ahead and break another finger for Gus’s sake, and then another one for the lies you’re giving me.”

  Casey wasn’t sure that Peterson would give in. He was big and strong and was somewhat stoic. But he was sweating and had turned pale. Maybe the threat of jail and the loss of his buddies would sway him?

  “What lies?”

  “Only a phone number? That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

  Suddenly Peterson’s attitude changed. He slumped down in the chair. He asked a question.

  “You guys really gonna defend me if I tell you what I know?”

  “That’s what Josie signed on to do in the courtroom. Now she’s stuck with you, and you’re stuck with her. That’s the reason she hustled down to sign you on, and you better be appreciative ‘cause she just left the D.A.’s office to take your case.” Smitty thought stretching the truth a little wouldn’t hurt.

  A short silence ensued. “Can someone splint my finger? It hurts like hell.”

  “You gonna talk?”

  Eyes down, slumped forward in the chair, holding his right hand tight against his chest, he mumbled, “Guess so, if that’s the only deal in town.”

  “You better believe it. Somebody get some tape and a couple of tongue depressors.” Nips, one of three bearded bikers jumped up. “Be a pleasure. Got lots of experience there,” he announced.

  Casey remembered that Nips was a retired locksmith and had shown off his nimble fingers the previous year when he picked the locks in order to break into a kidnapper’s house.

  Now Smitty became Mr. Nice Guy. “Aspirin? How about a drink? A beer?” Then he added, “See how easy it gets when you’re cooperative?” He didn’t wait for an answer.

  “So whatcha got for us?”

  “I’ll give you all I know, but it ain’t much.”

  “We’ll be the judge of that.”

  “Okay. First off, I been running errands for some local big shots ever since I retired. You know, muscle stuff.

  “Skip all that crap; get to what you did yesterday.”

  He affected an injured expression. “I am, I am. But you gotta know how it happened.” He paused. “It’s important.”

  “Most of the stuff’s been pretty harmless. A little stiff-arm here and there, mostly just a show of force did the job, until recently.”

  “Then what?”

  “You gotta realize there’s never been no contact with the guy that’s ordering the rough stuff, just some sort of a middleman. We could kinda guess who might be calling the shots, but nothing definite. See what I mean?”

  “You said we. Who’s we?”

  He hesitated. Smitty reached out toward his hand.

  Peterson yanked his hand off the table. “Gene’s one of ‘em. That’s him in jail, but he don’t know nothing. There’s a couple more, but I get all the calls on my cellphone.” He referred to the other guy arrested at Shirl’s.

  Irritated at his not getting to the point, Smitty roared out, “For Christ’s sake, get to what happened today.”

  Summoned by Smitty’s roar, Josie stuck her head in the door. “Dad, you’re gonna get me disbarred. You can’t abuse my witness that way,” she challenged.

  “What way?” He turned and glared at Peterson. “We been abusing you in any way?”

  With a wry look at his now bandaged hand hidden under the table he answered, “Just been discussing the terms a little.”

  “I’m staying,” Josie said as she walked in and took a seat.

  “Good,” Smitty responded as he turned to Casey.

  “In a nice and respectful way, tell this guy what we know and what we want.”

  “Okay.” Casey pulled up a chair and sat facing Peterson, determined to be a little more patient than Smitty had been. “So you’ve been doing some dirty jobs for someone who contacts you by cellphone. Right so far?”

  “That’s it.”

  “But you’ve never met the guy, and you have no idea who he is?”

  Peterson hesitated. “Well,” he drew the word out as he looked up slyly at Smitty. “I may kinda have an idea.”

  “Not Earl, right?”

  “Hell no, not Earl. He’s hired just like me. But let me tell you something, watch out for him.”

  “What d’ya mean?”

  “You saw him, you outta know. He’s psycho if I ever met one, dangerous as hell and totally unpredictable. Hell, I saw him slice a guy’s ear off just for the hell of it. Blood spurtin’ all over, and he just laughed.” He winced as he tried to wave his hand as emphasis. “Just watch out for him.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Earl! He knows who you are and by now probably knows where you live. He thinks you got away with blowing up his payday; he’ll be after you next. He gets on a rampage; and he’s like a wild animal,” he reflected for a moment. “And cunning too. If I was you, I’d be looking over my shoulder all the time.”

  CHAPTER 23

  “That’s crap and you know it. Hell, he doesn’t even know who we are. Besides the police’ve probably got him by now.”

  “Earl? Hah! You wish.”

  Smitty started and directed his eyes at Josie. “Can you check the police?”

  “On it,” she flung over her shoulder as she left the room.

  Casey turned toward Smitty. “You believe this crap?”

  Smitty thought for a second. “Probably. He sure acted like a psycho when he slugged Shirl for no reason. Could be.”

  “Earl Lanner.” Josie announced as she came back into the room. “That’s his name, and they have no idea where he is. But they say he’s dangerous and could be a threat to us.”

  Peterson snorted. “Told ya”

  “Something else I found out,” Josie continued looking directly at Casey, “Peterson? He’s not a retired cop; he was fired. Something about beating up suspects and taking bribes.”

  Peterson sniffed, “Never said I was retired, said I used to be a cop.”

  “That’s enough.” Smitty suddenly announced. “One thing at a time.” He turned and took a menacing step toward Peterson, holding a chair in his hands. Peterson cowered and held his injured hand up in front of his face. Smitty stopped, looked down at him, and then plopped the chair down backside to Peterson and straddled it.

  “Who is it?”

  “Who is what?” Peterson timidly replied.

  “Quit the shit.” Smitty ordered. “You said you had an idea who’s been giving the orders. Who is it?” He repeated.

  A crafty expression came onto Peterson’s face. “We’re making a trade, right? I give you what I know, and you get me outa jail, right?” He looked up at Smitty’s unforgiving face, then nervously added. “And you’re gonna hide me from Earl too. Right?”

  Smitty looked at Josie and winked. “That’s it. Now start talking.”

  Peterson paused for a few seconds. “Actually, I said I kinda had an idea.”

  “For Christ’s sake, out with it.” Smitty was getting more and more exasperated.

  “Okay, okay. I guess, when I got kicked off the force the word got around that I might be available for a little strong arm action occasionally. Right away, I was a littl
e suspicious ‘cause the reason for my getting kicked off was supposed to be kept under the table. So how did the word get around? It seemed to me it had to be someone with access to police records, or someone close to the police department. Didn’t matter much as long as I got paid.”

  “What kind of strong arm stuff?” Casey asked.

  “Mostly at first, lots of threats. Carry a concealed gun and flash it at some little guy that didn’t pay for protection. Stuff like that.”

  “Protection from whom?” Josie asked.

  “Half the time, I had no idea. Just scare ‘em, I was told. They’ll get the message. Couple of times, they had me rough a guy up a little. Once they had me break a window. Guess I was just cheap labor.”

  Smitty sprang up from the chair knocking it over. “Screw it,” he announced. “This idiot doesn’t know nothin’. Get rid of him.”

  “Wait, there’s more,” Peterson pleaded. “Things started changing. I started getting different kinds of orders.”

  “How different?” Smitty growled.

  “Just different. More specific. More,” he hesitated in thought, “more political.”

  “That’s it? That’s your smoking gun? You better have more than that. Get to the point.” Smitty threatened.

  “There’s more,” Peterson added. “I gradually decided I was dealing with someone that really knew his way around the police department, maybe even the chief? Thought about that a lot, but couldn’t quite see it. I couldn’t see any way he’d profit from my doing what I did. It had to be someone with police knowledge and a political agenda.”

  “Okay who?”

  Peterson paused for effect, glanced around the room, and then announced, “Someone in the D.A.’s office!”

  “God dammit, who?” Smitty roared, and at the same time, out of Josie’s sight, pantomimed snapping a finger back to the breaking point.

  Peterson got the message.

  “Last year,” he began. “Remember the gal that claimed she’d been raped by some fraternity guys at Cal?”

  Josie and Smitty looked at each other. “When was that?” Josie asked.

  “More than thirty years ago, but it was right here in Berkeley.”