Murder Made Legal: A Casey Alton Mystery

by Richard Wren

  “So what happened?” Casey asked.

  “We bailed out,” he answered.

  “And Lanner did it,” the older guy added.

  “He cut her finger off?” Casey answered disbelievingly.

  “And then he told the credit outfit we did it.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Casey muttered. “Why’d he do that?”

  “At the time, we figured he did it to keep our lips shut. We couldn’t squeal on him if everyone thought we’d been in on it.”

  “He really screwed up our lives,” the younger guy added.

  “Sounds like it,” Casey replied.

  “You don’t know the half,” the guy added. “It turned out, the credit outfit was an arm of some sort of Mafia gang, and they thought they owned us because of what Lanner told them.”

  “Yeah and they been pulling our chain ever since. It’s made our life hell running lousy errands for a bunch of psychos. We probably can’t get out from under that gang, but we sure as hell can crucify Lanner.”

  Casey couldn’t get the girl out of his mind. “What happened to the girl?”

  “We think he killed her,” the older guy said. “The father got one more finger in the mail and then nothing.”

  Casey looked at him in disbelief. “You mean nothing as in probably killed and the gang thinks you killed her?”

  “We don’t know. We’d skipped out by then, so we thought it must have been Lanner.”

  “So how can you crucify Lanner?

  They looked at each other. “We got a witness,” the older one said.

  “The sitter,” the other one added.

  Quickly, Casey asked the obvious question. “The lady who was babysitting the girl? Will she testify?”

  Just as quickly the answer came, “Yes.” He quickly added, “She was really an innocent bystander. But Lanner made one big mistake. He had her mail the packages with the fingers in them and that’ll nail him.”

  “She didn’t know what was in the packages?”

  “Not until the papers got hold of the story and she put two and two together, and then she still wasn’t positive.”

  “How come she didn’t come forward before?”

  “Like I said, she wasn’t sure until we met again a few months ago and compared notes.”

  “And she’s willing to testify, right?”

  “Actually, she can’t wait. You sure as hell can get anything you want out of Lanner with this.”

  They arranged for the lady to meet with Josie and Marilyn to get her story down and incidentally hire Josie as her attorney. Josie said, “Maybe he’ll tell us who hired him to get Jeannine out of the way. That would help.”

  Casey enthused, “That S.O.B. Lanner’s gonna fill his pants when he hears her story. Can you imagine? Out of the blue, we get Lanner nailed.”

  CHAPTER 48

  Smitty’s cell phone had been buzzing off and on for several minutes. He hauled it out of his pocket. Shorty was trying to contact him.

  “What’s up?” he answered and received the answer he expected.

  “Where the fuck you been? Got your phone up your ass?”

  “I’m fine, thank you, Shorty. How are you?”

  “You need to see me, unless I just been wasting my time for you.”

  Smitty knew Shorty so well he didn’t hesitate. Shorty didn’t go off half-cocked except verbally. If he said they should meet, then they should meet. Smitty agreed. He collared Casey and said that at Shorty’s request he had arranged a meeting away from Shorty’s office.

  “He told me, as long as they got good strong coffee, anywhere’d be okay with him.’

  Smitty knew from long experience that good strong coffee meant with a shot in it to Shorty and he knew just the place to get it.

  He picked Shorty up in front of the Trib building, drove five blocks South, then four block West and under the freeway.

  “The Old House!” Shorty exclaimed triumphantly. “We been here a few times,” he added.

  “Too long ago,” Smitty said. “Don’t expect it to be like it was years ago. They have a really young college-aged group operating it now, but it still looks the same, and they still have your favorite Old Crow in stock.

  “So you still come down here?”

  “Nope,” Smitty leaned over and patted Shorty on the knee. “I remembered your favorite and phoned to make sure they had it.”

  “Hah!” Shorty snorted. “You gotta need something outa me pretty bad.”

  Smitty laughed. “Don’t be such a damn pessimist, you old fart. Wait and see.”

  Seated at an isolated table with steaming mugs of coffee and shot glasses of Old Crow planted in front of them, Shorty went directly to the point.

  “You asked me to check the Trib records for any articles about a rape around 1978. “Couldn’t find anything.”

  “There goes that idea.”

  “I ain’t finished. I figured if it was like you’re thinkin’ and someone powerful was sittin’ on the story mebbe they could kill a story in the Trib too, all you’d need is to know one of the editors.”

  “You found something?”

  “Not in the Trib. I used my smarts and got in touch with an old buddy’s grandson at Cal. He went through the records at the Daily Cal and hit gold.”

  “They keep records that long?”

  “Sure as hell, way back to the 1800s. Anyway, in ‘67 they had a series called Crime on Campus and your case was in there. Didn’t say much except a rape in a frat house had been reported, and a student named Henry Harcourt was being questioned. Problem is, who the hell is Henry Harcourt?”

  Smitty didn’t have the heart to tell him that he wasn’t the one they were really looking for. “Great. That’s probably the guy that drugged her. We knew he was a student at the time, but there was another guy involved too. Any other names mentioned?”

  “Nope. But there was talk about the PI that got murdered about that time.”

  “What were they saying?”

  “I checked with some of the older reporters, and they remembered that there were rumors about a gang involvement connected to some high falutin’ politicians at the time.”

  “Any names show up?”

  “No names, but the guys all thought at the time that it was strange that the D.A.’s office dropped the case. There was talk about a Rooski gang and somebody high up with a connection to them, but the whole thing disappeared pretty quick.”

  Smitty thought for a moment, then slowly said, “Just another private eye getting killed, huh?”

  “That help any?” Shorty asked.

  Smitty remembered the remark about Mason’s ancestry being Russian. “I think so, Shorty.”

  Back at the house, he found Josie and Jeannine in a high state of excitement.

  “That’s him, the fatherless idiot!” Jeannine exclaimed.

  It took Smitty a moment to decipher her attempt to swear without swearing. “You mean bastard?” he laughingly asked.

  She giggled and said, “With exclamation marks, yes.”

  Casey arrived and asked if the lady that was willing to testify against Lanner was scheduled to meet Josie and was advised it was on for the next morning.

  Trying to be delicate Smitty asked, “You’re sure he was the second guy. Not the guy that drugged you?”

  “Of course,” she strongly replied. “I could never forget that face, not after what he did to me.”

  Smitty looked around at the group, “Okay then that settles it. The D.A.’s the guy and his granddad’s up to his eyeballs in it too. Question is, how do we prove it?”

  “I still find it hard to believe that Gordon would be involved in anything like that,” Josie said.

  “Maybe he isn’t. Maybe the grandfather engineered everything, and he didn’t even know about it,” Casey said.

  “I find that hard to believe,” Smitty growled. “But,” he continued, “I think the grandfather’s our target. If we could prove that he was behind the PI’s killing that’d exonerat
e Gus’s memory, right?” He looked at Josie.

  Jeannine spoke up. “If we can prove that, it will lead directly to your friend Gordon, and he’ll be ruined. That sounds good to me.” She turned to Josie. “What’s the statute of limitations on rape in California?” she asked.

  “Ten years,” was the prompt answer.

  “It’s time to put our thinking caps on,” the ever impatient Smitty interjected, and then added, “I’ve been wondering, if the PI was murdered because he knew something, what was it?”

  There was a moment of silence. Casey finally ventured. “He must have found out who the second guy was. You know, he found out the second guy was the grandfather’s grandson. That’d explain everything.”

  Smitty mused, “I wonder if we’d be lucky enough to find out his widow is still around or maybe an ex-secretary.”

  “Did we ever get the PI’s name?” Josie asked.

  They all looked blank. “I’ll call Shorty,” Smitty said.

  As Smitty got up to make the phone call, Josie grabbed his arm and pulled him off to one side. “Dad, I think I should go see Judge Harper, I’m getting real nervous about this whole scenario.”

  “That’s funny, I was thinking the same thing. If this ever gets to court, it’s gonna be tough on you going up against a couple of powerhouses. Go see the Judge; see what he says. One thing for sure, we can depend on him.”

  “You gotta be in charge,” Smitty ordered Casey. You gotta keep things coordinated. You and Jeannine will be here preparing the lady that guarded the little girl.”

  “Connie Waverly? She should be okay. She hates Lanner with a vengeance and can’t wait to confront him.”

  Both of you go because Josie’ll be gone a little. She wants to go over the whole thing with Judge Harper, and I think that lady and Jeannine will fit in good together.”

  “Okay, that makes sense, and you’re going to see your friend Shorty again?”

  “Yeah. We have to find out who the PI was and what he found. Also, I think I can find out some more about that rooski connection he talked about.”

  Smitty had a concern. “When you set up the interview with Lanner, take Les and a couple of the guys with you. Don’t take any chances. He’s liable to go nuts when he sees her and realize she’s got him by the nuts.”

  “Already got it set up for tomorrow. Les’ll be here first thing.”

  In the morning, Josie announced she had an appointment set up with her judge mentor for later that morning.

  CHAPTER 49

  “Judge, I’m really worried I’m going to do more harm than good for Gus.”

  He groped for his pipe. “You’re doubting your abilities?”

  “No, Judge, I’m not. I’m doubting Dad’s abilities to not totally compromise my case.”

  “Ah yes. Smitty,” the judge responded with understanding. “Now what has he done?”

  “Judge, I totally understand how he feels about Gus. I totally understand he’s desperate to get Gus out. I get that. But some way, some how, his impulsiveness will compromise any exculpatory or explanatory evidence I can discover. I either have to drop the case or get rid of Dad, and that would break his heart. I just don’t know what to do.”

  “Well,” the judge said with deliberateness as he rose out of his chair and paced the room. “Well,” he repeated. “Smitty, he can be a problem can’t he.” He continued pacing.

  Finally he stopped and sat down again. “I’ll tell you what your mother and I did to help him live up to the promise he made to her. It wasn’t perfect, but it did help.”

  “I’m all ears, Judge.”

  “As I said, it wasn’t perfect, but it helped some, and it’s somewhat poetic.” He smiled a tender smile to her.

  “Poetic?”

  “Poetic, yes. Because there was a third person involved, and that third person was Gus. We all loved Smitty but he continued gallivanting around impulsively by himself and inevitably got in trouble. We finally decided to not let him go off alone if we could. The only thing we could think of was to have someone constantly with him. He and Gus were the best of friends already, and all Gus had to do stay near Smitty so that he got included in most of his escapades. Gradually, it worked. Gradually, Gus was able to keep him out of trouble, at least most of the time.” He looked to Josie for a reaction.

  “Gus did that? I never knew; Mom never told me.”

  “We were afraid Smitty might catch on. Not that there was anything nefarious going on, just…” he paused and reflected a moment. “Well, you know Smitty. It was better if he didn’t know about our little plan.”

  Josie was silent as she remembered her mom.

  “So,” the judge concluded, “you have a husband; he’s already close to Smitty. I suggest you work to make him closer. Keep as close a rein on him as possible, and don’t be afraid to bawl your dad out if needed. He may not show it, but he really respects you and what you’re doing with your life. As far as the legal side is concerned, just be careful. You know the law as well as I do, you know where to draw the line; draw it! I predict your dad will respect you for it.”

  Josie left buoyed up and was back at her dad’s house before noon.

  “When are we supposed to pick up the lady and confront Lanner?”

  Casey glanced at his watch. “One o’clock at the warehouse. Her name’s Connie. Jack’s bringing her.”

  “Who’s Jack?” Josie asked.

  “One of the guys who told me about her yesterday. He wants to go with us.”

  “Can I question Lanner? I can testify against him too,” Jeannine reminded them. Then she continued, “I wonder if he’ll remember me?”

  Josie quickly disabused her. “Sure you can question him, but I don’t think I can count on your testimony. I’m not really sure you’re here legally.” Then she quickly added, “Of course, he doesn’t know that.”

  In a short time, Smitty left to see Shorty and Casey; Josie and Jeannine left for the warehouse. When they arrived, Les met them at the door and introduced the three of them to Jack first, then to a nice-looking, younger-than-he-expected, woman.

  “This is Connie Waverly,” he simply said.

  Jeannine immediately reached out to her and holding her hand, walked with her to a nearby table separated from the others.

  Connie demurely sat down, pulled her skirt down over her knees, and in Spanish said, “Are you the nun?”

  Surprised, Jeannine also in Spanish replied in the affirmative. “Yes I am. Are you Catholic? Do you speak English?”

  This time, in clear, unaccented English, she replied. “Of course, I just thought that you’d been…“ She trailed off, obviously embarrassed.

  Jeannine realized that someone had told Connie about her background. “That’s alright. I’ve been a nun in Mexico for many years, but I was raised right here in the good old USA. Obviously English was and is my first language.”

  Connie asked, “Sister, am I doing the right thing, or am I just being vengeful?”

  This was not a question that Jeannine had expected or was prepared for. She looked Connie in the eye and thought for a minute.

  “First, I think that’s a question for a priest, not me. But I can tell you that without your testimony, an innocent man may be jailed and a really bad man might go free, and if I was in your shoes, I would jump at the chance.”

  Connie straightened up, squared her shoulders, looked Jeannine directly in the eye, and said, “Good, that’s what I was hoping you would say. Let’s do it.”

  Casey heard the last part and took over. “Here’s how we’re going to do this. I think we first confront him with Connie.” He turned to her. “Are you okay with a confrontation?”

  She gave a disdainful laugh. “As long as there’re a couple dozen of you between him and me, sure.”

  “All taken care, believe me. I’ll tell him we want to talk about the little girl whose fingers were chopped off and mailed to her father. Then I’ll drop the bombshell. I’ll tell him he made a huge mistake. You
’re going to testify to the fact that you recognized the newspaper picture of the boxes the fingers were mailed in as boxes that he had handed to you to mail. Does that sound right?”

  “Yes, that’s it. I didn’t remember the number, but I did remember the street it was mailed to. I didn’t mail both of them. Just the one. I don’t think he intended for me to mail it, but it was on the corner of a table with some other mail, and I volunteered to mail it all when I was leaving. He looked shocked, but then recovered and told me to drop them all off in a box near the main post office across town. He said it would go out faster from there.”

  Trying to think like a detective might, Casey asked another question. “And you could identify the package from the newspaper picture?”

  “Oh yes. He had not only taped it, but he’d also double tied it with twine. It was quite recognizable. Just think, if I hadn’t walked in at just the moment I did, he might have never been identified.”

  In just under an hour, they were at the Richmond shop. Jeannine was amazed at the size of the operation. It looked like a Quonset hut on steroids. Inside it was bedlam. Many truck chassis and bodies scattered around amid several large garbage trucks being worked on. Welding torches and heavy duty metal shaping machines pounding away contributed to the sights and sounds.

  Casey led the group through the maze, into the far right rear of the building where he opened a door in what appeared to be just a wall and led them into a suite of offices. The moment he closed the door, she could hear the others talking again and realized that the rooms back here were really, really soundproofed.

  “Nice isn’t it?” Casey asked. “This’s all new. We used to have the offices upstairs, but it was way too noisy for the girls,” he pointed to four girls bustling around.

  “Follow me,” he directed and led them across the long room to a large structure in the corner of the room that appeared to be a much older than the rest of the building. As soon as Jeannine saw that it was actually a building within a building, she knew it had to be the infamous ice house. A large door with a hefty drop down latch dominated the front of the building. Two burly men in jeans and sweatshirts were sitting at a card table just outside the door.