by Richard Wren
“No problem, we’ll leave that to the oldsters like Smitty.” Casey smiled as he pointed toward the senior group.
“What’ll I do if I find something?”
“It’s just after one, let’s all meet here at six and see what we’ve found out.” He jumped up on top of a table and made a shrill whistle to get everyone’s attention.
“Tonight at six we meet back here, okay?”
Later at the house, they reminisced about Gus as they each made their own sandwiches.
“Remember the huge sandwiches he used to make?” Josie laughed.
“I always wondered how he ate so much and kept his girlish figure, as he used to refer to himself,” Smitty said.
Josie choked back tears. “That’s so Uncle Gus. What a sweetheart.”
They were all silent for a few minutes.
Smitty finally spoke. “Remember last year when Gus dressed up like he thought an IRS agent should look and how he fit the part?”
Casey smiled. “Yeah, but it turned out he’d actually been an accountant a long time ago.”
Josie chipped in, “He really loved acting and was good at it.”
Casey asked, “Had he done a lot of it?”
Smitty snuffed a laugh. “Every time he ran a con!”
They finished their sandwiches and left.
“We’re meeting all the guys back at the warehouse at six,” Casey informed Smitty.
“Good,” Josie said. “Casey and I are running by our house for a quick shower, aren’t we Casey?” she announced in a voice that brooked no argument. “And then up to Dad’s house, we need to talk to Jeannine,” She continued.
Freshly showered and feeling much better in the fresh clothing they had donned, they phoned ahead. Jeannine was waiting on the front porch. Smitty glided up just ahead of them and was waiting in front of the house. All three were surprised that Peterson was sitting in a chair next to her.
“Oh shit,” Smitty said.
Josie said, “Not to worry Dad, she can take care of herself and more, you’ll see.”
As they approached Smitty was astounded when Peterson leaped to his feet and extended a hand to Jeannine to help her up. “I’ll be damned,” he whispered.
Jeannine took both of Josie’s hands in hers and said to both she and Smitty, “I’m so sorry about your friend, I prayed for him.”
All Josie could manage was a heartfelt “thanks,” with a catch in her throat.
Marilyn stuck her head out of the door and said to Jeannine, “did you tell them?”
“Tell them what?” Josie asked.
Jeannine answered with a grimace. “I’m going to be a cashier tomorrow.”
“AAAAh,” Smitty said to Josie. “Are you sure? Suppose he recognizes her? It could be dangerous.” He looked at Jeannine with concern.
Marilyn quickly replied. “No way. When we’re done, not even you’ll recognize her.”
Smitty pursued the subject farther. “You don’t have to do this Jeannine. It may not be necessary.” Josie looked at her Dad curiously. Why was he being so gallant to the ex-nun? she wondered.
Jeannine answered. “I need to be satisfied that it’s him and so do you. So I’m doing it, case closed.” She giggled. “There, don’t I even sound like a private eye?”
Still being excessively and unexpectedly gallant in Josie’s eyes, Smitty replied directly to her. “Move over Father Brown.” They both smiled.
Casey and Josie exchanged looks and raised eyebrows. Casey broke the silence. “It’s almost six; we better get going.”
“Where are we going?” Jeannine asked.
Once again Smitty surprised them by including her. “Down to a clubhouse we own. We’re going to meet up with the rest of the motorcycle club and coordinate stories.”
Josie was shocked. The warehouse had become a clubhouse. The motorcycle gang had become a club and swapping news had become coordinating stories. On top of that, a woman into the warehouse?
She gave up. “What about Peterson, he coming too?”
Casey answered her. “I think so. I think some of the guys might be able to refresh his memory some.”
Peterson blanched and thought quickly. “Somebody should stay and watch the house?”
“You’re coming,” Smitty tersely replied, then turned to Jeannine. “Remember the things you told us you always wanted to do the first day you got here?”
“Something about being like Father Brown?”
“Something about riding a motorcycle, remember?”
Jeannine gave him a shocked look. “Oh ohhhh,” she whispered.
“No time like the present,” Smitty said forcefully and shot a triumphant look at Josie.
In a short time, Josie had Jeannine outfitted in heavy jeans and jacket and loaned Jeannine her own helmet. Jeannine acted like she was terrified, but was secretly thrilled and excited by the prospect of getting her first ever motorcycle ride.
“I have to do what?” she exclaimed.
Josie and Casey Laughed together and Casey repeated. “You have to climb on that little seat behind Smitty, put your feet on those little bars, squeeze up tight to Smitty, and then tightly wrap your arms around his waist.”
In a tone of voice only an ex nun could achieve, she said, “You’re absolutely certain that’s necessary?”
Trying to keep a straight face, Josie replied. “For your own safety, yes.”
Somehow keeping her dignity and savoir faire intact, she climbed aboard and tentatively wrapped her arms around Smitty.
“Not too fast now,” was the last thing she said as they coasted silently down the street.
Peterson, standing beside Josey, asked why they all coasted in and out of Smitty’s house.
Josie answered. “It’s part of a neighborhood agreement Dad has. When he bought the place, there was a little hullabaloo about all the bikes, so Dad told the neighbors that all the guys would coast in and out and there wouldn’t be any bikes parked on the street or in front of the house. Now, especially after last year, the neighbors all love him.”
She winked at Casey as they both recalled how Smitty had taken bows in the street when the neighbors all thought he had participated in a movie shoot right in front of their houses when actually the gang had been thwarting a vicious home invasion plan.
“I get it. That’s why all the guys coast all the way into the garage. Lucky for you the garage is that big.”
“It wasn’t that big originally. Dad had it excavated and built so the gang could coast in that way.”
Peterson looked at her speculatively. “Wow,” was all he could muster.
Down at the warehouse, Jeannine was the center of attention. Old enough to be some of the younger guy’s mother, she was still one of only a handful of women to have entered their enclave.
Casey noticed that she’d had time to remove Josie’s helmet, brush her hair, and re-apply make up after the bike ride down. The thought crossed his mind that living a cloistered life might be a key to staying young. Here she was in her mid-fifties, dressed in tight jeans, hair slightly windblown, her face hardly lined, looking like a model in front of an admiring gang of miscreant motorcycle riders, when just a few days ago, she’d been a full blown nun. Wow, he thought If she looks like that tomorrow, the D.A.’ll sure as hell recognize and remember her.”
Smitty called the meeting to order. “Alright, you baboons. Quit bothering the lady and start talking. Anybody got anything worthwhile talking about?”
Art pushed his way to the front of the standing group. “I think so.” He looked at Casey. “Remember I said there was some guys really pissed off at him?”
Casey thought back to what he’d said earlier that day, “Sure, I remember.”
“Well it turns out some of them guys are really, really pissed at him. A couple of them eye witnessed some stuff he did that’d put him away for life if they told what they seen. They said he’d snitched on them for dough and they couldn’t care less about him.”
“
Can we use them?”
“Only on the condition that they’re satisfied he’s gonna be put away for good.”
Casey looked at Smitty, and Smitty looked thoughtfully at Josie. An unspoken agreement arose between the three. Slowly and just so Art could hear, he told him. “I think that between Josie’s lawyering ability, plus our experience at handling difficult situations, we can guarantee that.”
Art looked at Smitty questioningly. Smitty raised his eyebrows and nodded his head up and down. Art got the message. There’s more than one way to skin a cat and the gang has skinned several.
“Got it. I’ll talk to them.”
Among the other guys, there was nothing substantial yet. One guy said he kinda remembered about a nasty case involving the senior Mason that’d been in the papers, then fizzled out.
Smitty said he’d check with Shorty about that.
The guys gradually and somewhat reluctantly melted away from Smitty, Josie, Casey, and Jeannine. Peterson begged to stay at the warehouse for a day or two until they finished with Lanner. He had a question. “What about Willy?”
“Willy? Lanner’s buddy? You don’t have to worry about him; he totally wimped out.”
Peterson laughed. “Don’t surprise me at all. He always was a brownnoser.”
Smitty turned him over to Les after getting an okay from the gang, then suggested the four of them have dinner together. “A really nice restaurant here on the Embarcadero.”
Josie laughed and said, “Quinn’s Lighthouse?” Smitty looked offended. Josie turned to Jeannine and said, “He always goes there, and he always has their hamburger.” She reached out and patted her Dad’s arm. “You’re so predictable,” she kidded.
“Okay, okay. So I like the place.” He looked to Jeannine. “You’ll like it and we can get a private table.”
CHAPTER 47
Inside, Smitty was greeted as an old friend and they were led to a secluded table overlooking a marina full of sailboats. Smitty insisted that Jeannine go upstairs to check out the more casual café and bar.
“The floor’s thick with peanut shells,” she announced when she returned.
“You noticed!” Casey laughed. “Been that way for years.”
She gasped. “They never clean up?”
Thinking she would get the wrong impression about the cleanliness of his favorite restaurant, Smitty in all seriousness told her that they really swept the place up every night. Jeannine giggled. “Gotcha!” she said.
He shook his finger at her. “You’ve been around Josie way too much.” He insisted that Jeannine join him in having a hamburger and French fries. Jeannine pronounced it the best she had ever eaten.
Josie got her two cents in. “Next time try the Anchor Beer Steamed Mussels. They’re spectacular.”
Jeannine went silent for a few minutes. Very seriously she broke her silence. “Are you certain that the D.A.’s family had something to do with those two killings?”
Casey answered. “Not Shirl’s, except indirectly. We’re pretty sure someone in the family was responsible for you being sent to Mexico, the killing of the private detective that was investigating the rape and the murder of Mrs. Elsie Lancaster. And it’s three killings now with Gus.”
Slowly Jeannine uttered her thoughts. “I’m not so sure I like this detective business after all.”
A solemn silence brooded over the table for a few moments.
Casey broke the silence. “I don’t think any of us is happy about what’s happened. Thinking back to Gus’s arrest, that’s how it all started.”
Jeannine objected. “No, no. It started when someone hired a killer to kill that private detective and me.”
Josie asked again, “so what’s next?”
Smitty quickly answered. “Jeannine ID’s the D.A. and I go see Shorty at the Tribune, and you should see Art about some guys he knows that might be willing to testify against him.”
Josie asked, “To use in court?”
“Nope,” Casey answered. “Art sold them on the idea they can give us enough evidence on Lanner that it’ll make him want to cooperate with us.”
“Why?” Josie said.
“Cause they hate his guts.”
Josie turned to her dad. “What’s with Shorty at the Trib.?”
“A couple of things. One is I promised him a scoop if we ever get that far, and two is he said he’d go through the old papers and see what he could find about any rumors or anything we could use. One thing we have to research is on the granddad’s connection to the gambling places and if there’re known gangsters also associated there. Shorty’s working on that.” He finished up with a surprise. “The guys at the warehouse told me there’s not much Mafia activity around here, but quite a lot of Russian gang stuff, and one of them thought he’d read that the Mason family came from Russia and their name was Maslov before the granddad came to the U.S. Gotta check that out too.”
“Okay,” Josie announced intensely. “We got a plan. We’re going to prove that Gordon was the rapist, that Gordon’s grandfather engineered two or more killings and was behind Jeannine ending up in Mexico. All this against a sitting District Attorney and a ninety–three-year-old, feared, major political figure with connections to organized crime. Sounds like a breeze.”
“One step at a time,” Smitty counseled.
Jeannine smiled. “Well I’m kind of looking forward to my acting role tomorrow if you can get me home safely on that contraption outside,” She directed her remark to Smitty.
They broke up, agreeing to meet for breakfast. Jeannine said, “I’m making muffins for breakfast from a recipe the Nunnery used, so get up early. Breakfast at eight.
Next morning, Casey was standing at the kitchen table, coffee mug in one hand and a muffin in the other as Smitty entered.
“Gotta rush. Art’s waiting for me at the warehouse. Says he’s got some guys lined up for me to talk to and I have a question. Yesterday when you said we’d take care of Lanner one way or another, what did you mean?”
Nonchalantly, Smitty replied. “Just what I said. One way or another he won’t be around as a threat to anyone.”
“What does that mean? You might have him killed?”
“Look Case, there’s a lot you don’t know about our cycle club. First of all we’ve got branches all over the world and we protect each other. I could send Lanner on a one way trip to Timbuctoo, and he’d never be heard from again. Don’t have to kill him to gag him. Don’t worry about it.”
A little reluctantly, Casey said, “If you say so,” and left it at that.
At the warehouse, Casey was surprised to find Art having coffee with two other guys. Art introduced them as Beejay Franklin and Eddie North.
“Beejay?” Casey asked. “B.J.” he corrected. It’s actually Benjamin Jethro Franklin, but that’s a little much so I’m B.J. to all the guys.”
Casey looked at Art for some direction, but all Art did was nod in their direction and raise his eyebrows which Casey took as permission to question them.
“Art, said you had a bone to pick with this guy Lanner and maybe some dirt on him that might make him willing to talk with us?”
The two guys looked at each other. “Where’s Lanner now?”
“Tightly locked up in an old ice house with about a dozen of the Devils keeping an eye on him.”
At the mention of the bike gang’s name, they both swiveled their eyes and looked at Art. “You’re in the Devils?”
“I never kept it a secret.”
“And Casey here?”
Art had a knowing smile on his face. “Smitty’s son-in-law.”
“Okaaaaay.” The older one sighed. “I guess its fuck you time for that prick Lanner.” He glanced at the younger man for confirmation.
“About time, I’d say,” he agreed.
“Let’s sit down,” Casey suggested. Keeping it simple and informa,l trying to make the story telling as easy as possible for them, he said, “Want a beer while we talk?”
After a l
ong draft from the beer bottle, the older one carefully set the dewy bottle down carefully on an already existing ring and said, “We talked it over last night, and we agreed that it’s been long enough for Lanner and he needs to go down.” He glanced at the younger guy for confirmation, and he nodded affirmatively.
He continued. “You can use this on Lanner, but we won’t be witnesses at a trial or anything.”
“Self-incrimination?” Casey softly asked.
“You got it,” he confirmed. “Anyway, here’s what happened. About ten years ago, Lanner brought us in on what he told us was a simple job. He was working as an enforcer for a money lending outfit. He said a guy was into them for a half mil.”
Casey interrupted. “A half million? Wow.”
“That’s what we thought, and that’s why he needed us he said. He said the outfit wanted to make a real example out of the guy and still get their money back. We were supposed to find a way to scare the hell out of the guy, but keep him alive to collect.”
“Sounds like a movie script,” Casey sotto voiced.
“It happens,” the younger guy tossed in.
“Yeah, it does. But this time it got worse. “We didn’t know it until it happened, but what they wanted Lanner to do was to kidnap the guy’s eight-year-old daughter and keep her until he paid.”
“You’re kidding?”
“I wish we were, but that’s what happened. By the time we were brought in, they’d already kidnapped the girl and needed us to guard her. What he told us was that they had her in a safe house with a woman guard and all they needed us for was a little muscle. The pay was good, so we did it.”
“AAAh,” Casey said. “Means you’re technically guilty of kidnapping, right?”
“It gets worse. I don’t know if the guy couldn’t or wouldn’t pay, but didn’t by the time they set. Next thing we know, Lanner calls us and says we gotta cut one of her fingers off. He said some gang behind the loan outfit had threatened to cut one of her fingers off if her Dad didn’t pay by a certain time.”
The younger guy spoke up. “We never signed on for nothin’ like that.”