“I could kiss you, Fogie” Meacham yelled into the radio. “Watch it, you homo”, Fogarty roared before clicking off.
***
Portnoy answered the door wearing a food-stained tee shirt and bagging gray pants held up with suspenders. Beaten up brown slippers completed his wardrobe. Meacham assumed that he was not expecting company. Holding the door slightly ajar, he had an annoyed look on his face until Meacham flashed his badge.
Suddenly, Portnoy’s posture and attitude improved. After a little prodding, he invited Meacham inside.
Portnoy’s house was as disheveled as himself. Newspapers and magazines were strewn about and Meacham noted more than a few plates with caked food on them scattered on a low coffee table. Portnoy bustled about mouthing apologies as Meacham watched him push papers to the side to clear a place on the couch. He then stacked up several plates and carried them into the kitchen.
“So, detective, what brings you here today” said Portnoy in an upbeat, friendly tone that Meacham perceived as clearly a contrived way to hide his anxiety.
“Tell me, Seymour, do you live here alone?” asked Meacham, ignoring his question. Portnoy, looking startled and scratching the stubble on his chin as if he was contemplating something momentous, replied meekly. “My wife spends considerable time with her bed-ridden sister in Ohio, detective. So you might say I live like a free man much of the time.” As Portnoy finished, he smiled nervously and waived one arm around his domain as if to explain that the wretched condition of this house was somehow forced upon him by bachelordom.
Meacham felt something sticking into his rear and decided it must be a lump of food or a utensil. He popped up from the davenport but looked back and could see nothing. “Yeah, it’s kind of lumpy – takes some time to find a comfortable positon” explained Portnoy
Still standing, Meacham abruptly asked him if he knew Stanley Ward. Portnoy acknowledged that the name rang a bell but that he didn’t have a personal relationship with him. “Now that is interesting, Seymour, because Ward seemed to know a great deal about you when you served on the City Council” offered Meacham as he slowly paced back and forth in front of Portnoy.
“Listen, Detective, a lot of people came before us at Council meetings and hearings. My assumption is that Ward, being a local banker, appeared before us from time to time. You could check the Council records if you are really that interested. As for anything more specific, I’m sorry but I simply can’t recall”. While he was talking, Portnoy had gotten out of his chair and busied himself tidying up the coffee table while occasionally glancing at Meacham.
“That’s an excellent suggestion, Seymour, and you can be sure that we will take it. Let me ask you about another old acquaintance of yours – Woodrow Braun. How would you describe your relationship with him?” Meacham paused and watched Portnoy re-stack a pile of magazines before responding.
“Again, Detective, Braun like Ward had business before the Council but I cannot recall any particulars at the moment. There were so many projects, you know. Of course, his name has been in the newspaper in connection with his son’s funeral. Real sad, a tragedy for the family.”
“Perhaps you two old pals will get together while he’s in town, Seymour” suggested Meacham. “Oh no, that’s very doubtful. We weren’t pals and I don’t understand why you would suggest that. I am sure he has more pressing matters during his visit than to look up a casual acquaintance. Yes, that would be safe to say” explained Portnoy in a deferential voice.
“Right, right. Good point, Seymour. Well, I won’t take up any more of your time – at least right now. These inquiries can take time so don’t be surprised if I stop by again or even invite you down to the station for a more detailed interview. Don’t worry, though, just routine procedure. And don’t bother to get up. I can see myself out.”
Meacham had been speaking in a flippant, care-free manner but Portnoy was mortified by the words he was hearing. He needed to warn Braun not to come by the house again. If they were to meet, it would have to be surreptitiously. After Meacham left, Portnoy thought about joining his wife in Ohio but knew that he would not be welcome there.
***
Meacham had caught Portnoy in one lie, albeit a small one, and felt confident that it was an auspicious beginning to unravelling the tangled web of connections between Braun, Wattle and the City Council. Who would panic and make the next move, he wondered? And wasn’t it curious that Portnoy hadn’t even asked what the inquiry was about? Of course, that was because he already knew.
***
Late that night, the next move was made but no one was sure by whom. Randall DePue’s widow called the police station a little before midnight to report a break-in.
Unaware, Meacham spent the night tossing in his bed like he was fighting an invisible enemy and didn’t hear the news until the next morning.
The DePue house had been ransacked by thieves or vandals but no valuables appeared to be missing. The patrolman who investigated the incident reported that the intruders had focused their efforts on the basement, where boxes were tipped upside down and papers scattered in whirlwind fashion as if a tornado had swept through the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Wednesday, July 27, 1955
The Chief was standing by his car when Meacham arrived at the station. “Break-in at DePue’s. Jump in and we’ll ride together” directed the Chief cryptically before Meacham could say anything.
During the ride, Meacham briefed the Chief on his chat with Portnoy and the revelation that Braun had paid a visit to the ex-councilman shortly before him. “If you’d seen Portnoy and his house, Chief, I’m sure you would agree that Braun was not making a social call. A pig living in a sty. It’s safe to say that it was less than a friendly reminder from Braun to keep his mouth shut.”
When they arrived at the house, Mrs. DePue was watching at the window. Yesterday, she had appeared sad and dispirited to Meacham but now she was clearly frightened. When the Chief assured her that a patrolman would keep an eye on her house until further notice, Mrs. DePue just shook her head disconsolately.
Down in the basement, two patrolmen were on their knees, just completing the task of sorting through and creating stacks of manila folders. They had been instructed to look for one labelled “Stanley Ward.” When they saw the Chief, one of them nodded negatively.
When they got outside, Meacham couldn’t hold back. “Damn it, Chief, I should have asked for the file when I picked up the diary. What in sam hill was I thinking?”
“Okay, you made a mistake. Don’t beat yourself up. The diary is the key and we have our sights on the major players. Hell, one of them did us the favor of coming back to town, even if it was for his son’s funeral. And for all we know, the other documents in the file dealt with Ward’s estate. If so, whoever took the file is going to be either very disappointed or lulled into a false sense of ease.”
“I hope you’re right, Chief. But now that Portnoy knows we are interested in his relationship with Braun, every one of these guys will learn pretty quickly that we may have some potentially incriminating information. Not sure about Braun but my guess is that Wattle is already thinking a few steps ahead of his cohorts. As for Portnoy, he’s breakable and they are determined to keep him in line.”
“Let’s get back to the station and see what the DA’s boys came up with on the diary. Maybe Fogarty will be checking in soon” said the Chief as they climbed into his car.
***
Wattle had received a call from Braun the night before describing his meeting with Portnoy and then Meacham’s visit shortly afterwards. He sounded to Wattle like he was half in the bag, practically demanding a meeting. Wattle bought some time by telling Braun that he would pick a location and get back to him.
The ex-Mayor was accustomed to regulate events from a position of almost total control. He felt good about Sullivan and Percy. He had helped steer projects to their wards over the years and they had no choice but to be loyal. Yes, Portnoy could
be trouble simply because he was subject to intimidation by whomever was pressuring him at that particular moment. Braun probably thought he scared Portnoy but all that meant to Wattle was that he could be frightened, if not broken, by others just as easily.
What continued to concern Wattle was Braun’s volatile and unpredictable behavior. It never dawned on him that his partner in so many deals, always firmly under control and unflappable in the past, could become emotionally unhinged. Maybe he had been baking far too long in the desert sun.
Yesterday had not been a good day for the Wattles and his closest confidante agreed that it might be a good time for her to pack up the car and visit an old associate. And that’s precisely what Mildred Wattle did.
***
Two financial whiz kids from the DA’s office, Blifil and Badger, were waiting at the station when the Chief and Meacham returned. They had smug, self-satisfied smiles on their faces as they sat in the Chief’s office, their legs crossed and hands folded on their laps in perfect synchronization. Meacham noticed that they were dressed impeccably in matching blue suits and white shirts with only the shade of tie to differentiate them.
The blue tie narrated first. One month after the sale of his property to the town, Braun had withdrawn exactly $2500 in cash from the bank on four separate occasions. Within two days of the first withdrawal, Seymour Portnoy had made a cash deposit in the same amount. The other ex-councilman who had moved away – one Frank Neidermeyer – had staggered cash deposits over several weeks totaling exactly $2500.
Meacham asked about Neidermeyer and his whereabouts. The red tie smiled and handed Meacham a slip of paper with his address and telephone number in Patchinville.
“What about Percy and Sullivan?” asked the Chief. The red tie smiled again and explained that neither councilman made a similar cash deposit around the time of the land deal but both had made significant expenditures in the weeks afterwards. Percy had gone on a luxury cruise with his wife and Sullivan had undertaken some major home repairs. The blue tie cheerily chimed in, as if on cue, that both men had paid in cash, according to statements from the travel agency and the construction company.
After the Bobbsey Twins left, the Chief and Meacham mulled what they had heard. The Chief was the first to speak. “Percy and Sullivan are cagy guys, Billy. They’ll have some plausible explanation and call it a mere coincidence. I don’t remember Neidermeyer but we need to talk to him – and soon. Along with Portnoy, he is our best bet to build a solid case against these guys. Of course, Wattle and Braun are the big fish.”
It was quickly agreed that Sgt. Whipple would leave immediately to pay a visit to Frank Neidermeyer and that Meacham would apply some additional pressure on Seymour Portnoy.
***
Wattle and Braun met in the empty parking lot of the stock car race track a few miles outside of town. It was early afternoon and Wattle could smell the whisky on Braun’s breath as he climbed into the passenger seat of his car. As he slammed the door shut, Braun barked with a detectable slur “I put the fear of God into that Jew bastard. How are things on your end?” He was glaring and smiling at the same time which struck the normally implacable Wattle as almost diabolical. Wattle noticed that Braun’s face looked puffy and the left eye had a nervous tic that was disarming.
“Percy and Sullivan are solid, Woodrow. They did not deposit any cash into their accounts and although they were a bit too extravagant with their spending for my liking, they didn’t do anything that was traceable to us. If you have Portnoy scared into silence, and it sounds like it, you have nothing to worry about.”
Braun noticed that Wattle didn’t say “we” but let it go. “What about that other guy that moved away – what’s his name?” asked Braun, suddenly congenial. “You mean Neidermeyer and, yes, that is being taken care of as we speak by an associate of mine.”
Braun frowned. He didn’t like being left in the dark but felt powerless to compel Wattle to reveal anything and so remained silent. An image of his beautiful ranch house in the desert flashed in front of him and he wished he could have stayed in Arizona.
“So how much longer will you stay in Parlor City?” Wattle asked, starting to feel uneasy by the prolonged silence. Braun had been rubbing his eyes and cheeks as if he was trying to purge himself of some uncomfortable images.
“I’ve got some issues to resolve with Tommy’s widow. Just hope she’s not too damn stubborn to do what’s best for the boy. Guess I’d better see Portnoy one more time to make sure he doesn’t waiver.” Braun was staring out through the windshield and he spoke almost mechanically, as if Wattle wasn’t there.
“You might want to sweeten the pot for him, Woodrow. Just a thought. He’s not as resolute as us, you know. Weak link and all. Darn shame he put all of that $2500 you gave him into his account at once – you knew that, right? He could at least have divided it up into smaller deposits.” Wattle spoke calmly with his eyebrows arched up and concluded with his mouth slightly puckered, as if to suggest “You blew it, Braun”.
As Wattle was talking, Braun was rapidly chewing on the finger nail of his left thumb as his right hand fumbled with the door knob. The eye twitching had stopped but Wattle noticed slight trembling in both hands. He looked at his beefy mitts and felt squeamish at the image of an enraged Braun placing them around his neck.
Wattle decided it was the moment to be conciliatory and reassuring. “Listen, we can keep imagining dire outcomes but they are all unlikely. It’s time for us to remain calm and clear-headed.” Braun seemed to relax and a weak smile creased his face. “We may need to meet again before I leave town, Mayor” he said almost deferentially as he exited the car. Wattle simply nodded but said nothing.
After both cars drove off, Fogarty pulled his unmarked sedan out of the secluded side road. He quickly spotted Braun’s Chrysler Imperial several cars ahead and kept it in view at a safe distance.
***
When Braun arrived back at the B&B, he noticed a car idling at the bottom of the driveway and Portnoy sitting inside. As Braun walked back to meet him, Portnoy got out of his car and started to approach him. Braun waived him back and they stood facing each other behind Portnoy’s car.
“My wife is not feeling well or I would invite you in” Braun explained in a conciliatory tone, thinking of what Wattle had said. “Anything new that we need to discuss, Seymour?”
Portnoy knew he was lying about his wife but was used to it. He had learned long ago where he was not welcome and why. He had prepared his speech and could make it inside or outside the house. “The thing is, Woodrow, I got to thinking about this mess we’re in and how it might get messier. With Wattle out, we’ve got no protection from the police nosing around. This Meacham guy is pretty sharp and I’m hearing now that he is a favorite of the Chief after the way he handled that situation up at the Institute. If they keep digging, I could face some serious trouble, have to hire a lawyer – all for a measly $2500.”
Braun just stared at Portnoy and said nothing but his leathery face was taking on a reddish hue. He thought about Wattle’s earlier suggestion and wondered if it were a coincidence or if he had put Portnoy up to it. Either way, he needed to remain calm.
“Hey, your brother’s a lawyer, isn’t he?” Braun said feebly, in a feigned attempt to appear helpful. He remembered that Wattle had pressured him to use Leonard Portnoy on at least one real estate transaction.
Portnoy chuckled derisively. “That’s a laugh. He’s charge me standard rate and then some if he thought I was desperate. But I don’t need a lawyer right now anyway, do I?”
“No, no, of course not, Seymour. But listen, if you’re going through a rough patch right now, I could probably chip in to help, say $500?” Braun was struggling to sound concerned as he reached for his wallet.
Portnoy, feeling that he might be gaining an advantage, was now emboldened. With a look of disbelief, he said contemptuously. “Here’s the deal, Woodrow. We both know that you made a pretty penny on a bunch of deals with Wattle.
I stuck my neck out there on one of them and it’s still out there. But for $5000 – in cash – I can disappear for quite a while. Join my wife in Ohio, whatever. But please don’t insult me, ok?”
Braun felt trapped and knew he couldn’t take chances with Portnoy. At the same time, his instinct to negotiate took over as it had many times in the past to his ultimate benefit. “I can do $2000, Seymour, and have it for you in the morning – but on the condition that you leave town immediately.” No novice himself, Portnoy countered with “$3000 and I am out of Parlor City by noon tomorrow. Not a penny less, Woodrow.”
Braun nodded agreement and then added “Be back here in the morning at 11 sharp.” Portnoy smiled and stuck out his hand to confirm the deal but Braun only growled and turned back toward the house. It hadn’t taken long for him to forget his resolve not to alienate his former business partner.
As he watched Portnoy drive away, Fogarty decided it was time to update Meacham.
***
When the call came in from Fogarty, Meacham had it transferred to the Chief’s office so they could hear his update together. When Fogarty finished, Meacham said, “I think another visit to Seymour Portnoy is in order, Chief. As Fogarty described it, they seemed to be jawing pretty intensely about something. Now is the time to ratchet up the pressure.” The Chief agreed and Meacham headed out the door.
***
When Braun walked into the B&B, he heard loud talking mixed with laughter coming from the den. Visibly annoyed and making no attempt to hide it, he entered the den to see four ladies sitting at a card table drinking ice tea and playing pinochle. His wife jumped up and the room went silent. “I didn’t expect you back so soon, dear. You remember I was having some old friends over for a card game – just like the old days?” said Mrs. Braun, apologetically.
Braun stammered hello to his wife’s guests and then asked if he had received any calls. “Nothing – except a Mr. Portnoy who said he might stop by today. Would you like some tea?”
The Parlor City Boys Page 25