Murder in San Francisco

by Dianne Harman

  Michelle’s gaze followed the elderly dynamo who tottered away on impossibly high heels. There was a running weekly bet among the diner’s regulars as to when Gertie would take a tumble and have to do away with the stilettos. So far no one had collected on it.

  CHAPTER 6

  Larry Spitzer threw down the business section of the newspaper he was reading and softly swore under his breath. There was nothing that irritated him more than reading that his father, Bernie Spitzer, had once again donated a large amount of money to some charity and given him nothing.

  Stupid dogs, he thought. If no one ever adopts them, so what. Might as well get rid of them, but no, the big man decided to give the shelter a boatload of money, so it could become a no-kill shelter. Like we need a few more dogs in the world. Why can’t he ever give me a check that big? After all, as his son, I’m more deserving than those stupid dogs.

  He knew his luck was running out. The last get-rich-quick scheme he’d been involved in had cost him nearly everything he had, and there were no prospects for pot of gold rainbows in his future.

  In a rare moment of introspection, Larry rested his head in his hands and looked back over the past few years and couldn’t even begin to count up the number of things he’d been involved in that always promised, to his way of thinking, to make him a rich man, maybe as rich as his father.

  It wasn’t his fault that he really didn’t have a profession to fall back on. That stupid teacher in college was the one who’d ruined any future career he might have had working in what people often referred to as respectable professions. He grimaced at the memory. When she found the answers to the exam Larry and the other students were taking stuffed up Larry’s sleeve, it hadn’t helped when she’d also found his stash of cocaine. The police were called and that was Larry’s first arrest.

  Over the years there had been other arrests as well as stints in several drug rehabilitation centers. As he played back the events of the last few years, one ran into another. Even though his father had always bailed him out, Larry knew how disappointed Bernie was in his son. Larry wondered to himself why Bernie had never understood that it really wasn’t Larry’s fault. It was all that professor’s. He was sure he’d been targeted by the teacher just because he was Bernie’s son.

  When his mother had been alive, she’d always taken Larry’s side and using reason, had logically explained to Bernie why Larry really wasn’t to blame for whatever the problem of the month was. When she died, Larry’s major cheerleader had also died. Since that time, Bernie had grudgingly helped his son, but the help had a hefty price tag attached to it. It had varied over the years, but the latest price tag was the threat that if Larry didn’t clean up his act, become gainfully employed, and indicate he was free from drug use, Bernie was going to disinherit him.

  Larry hated to admit it, but for years he’d been desperately counting on his inheritance. Truth be told, he’d been counting on it for as long as he could remember. What he hadn’t counted on was Bernie living until he was over eighty years of age and still going strong. Larry knew it wasn’t politically correct to wish that your father would die, but that was the only thing that could end the harassing calls from the debt collectors that he was now receiving 24/7.

  He used to think every time the phone rang it was someone calling to tell him he’d won the lottery or one of his “investments” had paid off. Not anymore. He’d even started hiding his car in a friend’s garage, because he was sure if it was parked on the street near the run-down apartment building where he lived, it would be repossessed. It really wasn’t his fault life had dealt him a bad hand. He knew from the comments that people made that they envied him being the son of one of the wealthiest men in San Francisco. They didn’t know that if his father disinherited him, it wouldn’t matter what their relationship was. No money was simply that, no money, and from what his sister had told him, he wasn’t the only one who had been threatened with disinheritance.

  Although Larry had an arrest record, and there had been a lot of drug activity in his life, he’d always prided himself on the fact that he’d never had to resort to violence. Well, other than the one time when his second wife, Gloria, had gotten really mouthy, and he’d meant to merely tap her on the chin to get her attention. He still wasn’t real sure what had happened, because the rage that had overcome him had clouded his memory, but the next thing he knew he was in police custody and charged with domestic violence.

  When he’d returned to their squalid little apartment, Gloria was gone, along with anything of value, which wasn’t much. The only thing she’d left was a note telling him that she’d put up with his dysfunction long enough, whatever that meant. He hadn’t been too surprised, because you’d have to be a fool not to realize the marriage had been over for a long time. And Larry knew he wasn’t a fool, just very unlucky.

  The more he thought about it, the clearer it became to him that he needed to take control of his own destiny, and if that fate included something happening to his father, well, so be it. Like the expiration date on some of his prescription drugs his doctor had prescribed, he figured Bernie had outlived his expiration date, particularly if that date involved disinheritance.

  CHAPTER 7

  As she sat looking out the front window of her modest home onto the littered front yards of the neighbors, Joni Toscano relived the conversation she’d had a few days earlier with her father, Bernie Spitzer. Her husband, Rocco, would be home within a few hours from his annual fishing trip with some friends of his from their old neighborhood in North Beach, the Little Italy section of San Francisco. She dreaded telling him that Bernie had emphatically told her he would not give her or her good-for-nothing husband a penny, and that he was seriously thinking about disinheriting her.

  She was terrified what Rocco might do to her, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could hide what he did from time to time to her. Their daughter had recently asked several pointed questions about the bruises on her face and arms. Joni had lied to her about how she’d gotten the bruises. It was easier than the consequences that came from telling the truth.

  She remembered how angry her father had been all those years ago when she’d told him she’d fallen in love with Rocco. Bernie had asked her what Rocco’s profession was. She hadn’t known at the time that he was a runner for Gino Luchese, or more precisely, for the crime family that ran the San Francisco Mafia. Rocco hadn’t told her that. He’d said he worked for a man as his administrative assistant and often had to leave the house unexpectedly when something came up. It was only later that she found out the “something” usually involved drugs or money.

  Many times she’d wanted out of the marriage, but Rocco had made it very clear to her that the only way she’d get out of their marriage was feet first. After several years he’d told her the only reason he’d married her was because she was Bernie Spitzer’s daughter, and everyone in San Francisco knew how wealthy he was. They could hardly avoid reading about his overly generous gifts to different charities. What angered Rocco the most was that such generous gifts were never extended to Bernie’s daughter and her husband.

  When she’d told Bernie she was marrying Rocco, and she’d like Bernie to give her away, Bernie refused point blank. He told her a private investigator he’d hired had determined that Rocco worked for the Luchese family and was probably a part of the Italian Mafia. Joni accused Bernie of lying about it, because he didn’t like Rocco. Their relationship hadn’t improved with time. When Bernie refused to attend her wedding, her brother Larry had given her away. It had broken her mother’s heart not to attend her only daughter’s wedding, but after she’d seen the report from the private investigator, it had left little room in her mind that the report was correct. Joni wished she’d listened to her parents, but it was way too late for that now.

  Joni had deliberately chosen to know as little as possible about Rocco’s line of work. They were always struggling financially and many times, Rocco had told her he’d be glad when Bernie was
dead, because then they’d be rich. Privately, she wasn’t so sure that was going to happen. Yesterday, when she’d had lunch with her brother Larry, he’d told her he was certain Bernie was going to disinherit both of them. She didn’t know what Rocco was going to say about it, and in the back of her mind, there was a nagging thought that if she couldn’t produce the money Rocco had thought she could, he might think she was expendable, and in his line of work, that wasn’t a term she was very anxious to explore.

  “Hey, babe, your favorite Italian stallion is home,” Rocco said as he came through the front door an hour later. “How about gettin’ me a beer? All that talkin’ and fishin’ made me thirsty. So, whaddya hear from the money man? Has he had a change of heart and decided his darling lil’ daughter should get an early inheritance?” Rocco greeted Joni with a lecherous pinch to her behind. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, and turned toward the refrigerator.

  Rocco threw his fishing gear on the floor, and Joni knew it would stay there until she picked it up and put it away later. “Hope so,” he went on, “cuz I jes’ spent a bundle on a nice little deal that oughta make us a ton of money, but I gotta come up with a bunch of cash, like pronto. Tol’ my friend that it might take me a little while, but I figured you could wheedle some out of your dad now that he’s getting’ up there in years. Tol’ the guy worst case scenario is he’d have to wait until the ol’ guy bit the dust. He said that wasn’t a problem, and he’d take an IOU ‘til ya’ get yer’ inheritance. So, what’s up?” Rocco asked as he sat at the kitchen table drinking the beer she’d given him.

  “Uhh, Rocco, I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Joni said as she looked away from him, unable to meet his gaze. She began to pick up the things he’d thrown on the floor.

  “What are ya’ talkin’ about?” Rocco set his beer bottle down with a bang. “This is serious, Joni. My tush is on the line with this one. I gotta have that money. Tell me the ol’ man’s gone and yer’ gonna get the money. Heck, I’d even be okay with Larry gettin’ half. I mean, who’s the ol’ guy gonna leave it to? That bimbo girlfriend of his that’s young enough to be his granddaughter? Fat chance, as much as he likes his money.”

  “I had lunch with Larry yesterday,” Joni said quietly, her timid voice trembling. “He told me he talked to dad recently, and he’s threatening to disinherit Larry and me. From what he said, there’s not going to be any early money for me, and there may not be any money at all, even after he’s gone.” Joni held her breath, waiting for Rocco to erupt.

  “Ain’t gonna happen,” Rocco sneered. “Gimme another beer. Joni, I need that money, and I got friends that’ll make sure I get it. I’ve been holdin’ off doin’ anything, thinkin’ we could get it the nice and easy way, but it looks like that ain’t gonna happen. This deal I’m in is so sweet I’d sacrifice my own mother if she could get me the money, but she can’t. The only person who can get me the money is yer’ dad.” He took a slug from the bottle Joni had just handed him. “Tell you what, sweetheart, I’ll take over from here. You ain’t done that good a job handlin’ it on yer’ own. Ya’ asked me to stay out of it and I have, but those days are over. I got friends that know how to take care of problems like this, if you know what I mean.”

  Joni began to sort a pile of laundry. Rocco’s dirty things caused her to hold her breath. “I don’t think I want to know about this, Rocco.”

  “Nice to know we can agree on somethin’ at last. Ya’ won’t know a thing, but ya’ better start thinkin’ about what yer’ gonna do with the money that’ll soon be comin’ yer’ way,” he said as he stood up from the kitchen table. “I’m goin’ outside. Need to make a few calls, and it’d be better if ya’ didn’t know nothin’.”

  Joni had lived with Rocco for almost thirty years and knew that once his mind was made up, there was no room for compromise. She never expected her father to be on the short end of a no compromise situation.

  CHAPTER 8

  “If you’d care to, why don’t you tell me about yourself, Michelle?” Liz said, as they sat in Gertie’s diner. “All I know is that a man you’re seeing called one of my husband’s law partners and asked him to book a stay for you. I’m always interested in who comes to the spa and why.”

  Michelle looked away for a few moments and then turned back to Liz. “I suppose I’m like a lot of other people in that I occasionally need a little vacation from life.”

  “That’s a rather provocative statement,” Liz said. “Care to tell me more? I’m not prying, just interested.” She took a sip of her milkshake and watched Michelle, who was gazing absently off into space.

  “Sure, I have nothing to hide.” Michelle gave Liz a tight smile. “The short story is that I’m in love with a man who has no interest in getting married. Period. He treats me very well and pays for everything, way beyond what I need, so I really have no complaints.”

  “Okay, that’s the short story. We have time and if you care to, how about telling me the long version of your story? The hamburgers take a little time and as busy as it is in here, Gertie won’t be joining us.”

  After a moment, Michelle said, “I imagine my story isn’t all that different from a lot of other women, although maybe my path to adulthood was a little more stressful than that of a lot of them.” She hesitated before continuing. “You see, I never knew my parents. My mother dropped me off on some church steps when I was a newborn. From then until I was sixteen, the people I grew up with were a revolving door of foster families. Some were good, some not so good. The not so good got a bit more pronounced as I developed into womanhood. Several of the foster fathers took a special interest in me, if you know what I mean.” Looking away from Liz, Michelle clutched her napkin.

  “Oh, Michelle, I’m so sorry. No child should have to be placed in environments like that,” Liz said reaching across the table and putting her hand over Michelle’s. She was thinking of her children, Brittany and Jonah, who had been raised by Liz and her husband, Joe, in a loving household. Fortunately, the children were adults when he suffered a fatal heart attack and although they grieved, they weren’t in their formative years.

  Michelle looked at Liz’s hand on hers. “I guess I spent the next years looking for the love I never got as a child because I managed to marry three men and divorce three men,” she said sadly. “The only good thing that came of it was that my last husband was a wealthy banker, and when I unexpectedly discovered him and our maid in a compromising situation, his divorce settlement to me was very generous. Funny enough, I was just settling the last details of our divorce in your husband’s law office, when I ran, literally, into Bernie, the man I’ve been with for several years.”

  “I didn’t realize that you’d been a client at the law office. My husband told me it was Bernie who called his partner.”

  “I doubt if there was any reason your husband would know about it. Sometimes I feel like a cartoon character gone bad or some joke in a novel. You see, Bernie is eighty-three and as I mentioned, has no intention of getting married to me or anyone else, and I understand why. He’s been a widower for twenty-five years and has two ne’er-do-well children. I’ve wanted to have his baby for a long time, because I really love him, and let’s face it, my biological clock is ticking. He’s always said he didn’t want another child. A few days ago, my doctor suggested that Bernie donate his sperm to a sperm bank, and I would be the one authorized to use it if I still wanted a baby after he died.”

  Liz noticed that Michelle’s lip was quivering, and it was several moments before the younger woman had composed herself enough to continue.

  “Bernie agreed to do it.” She raised her head up and smiled wryly at Liz. “I think it was more to shut me up than anything else, but it is something for me to think about, although even with his advancing years, that would probably be a long time off in the future. As a matter of fact, my clock will probably have run out by then. Anyway, that’s kind of who I am and where I came from.”

  “Do you have any family that
you’re aware of?” Liz asked.

  “No. I have no one. There’s simply me, myself, and I. When Bernie dies, I don’t really know where I’ll go or what I’ll do. He’s been wonderful to me for the last few years, and although I know he’s completely against marriage, he loves me, and he’s shown it in a number of ways. When he’s not around, I’ll be completely alone.” She looked down at her hands, and her hair fell across her face. Liz saw a tear trickle down her cheek.

  “Michelle, I know we’ve just met, but I feel like we have a connection. I don’t want to be presumptuous, but if you ever need a friend, or even someone you’d like to think of as a sister, I’d be honored if you’d give me a call. I have no idea where this is coming from, but it just feels right to me. What do you say?”

  Michelle wiped her cheek with the red paper napkin. “Liz, I can’t think of anything that would make me happier. I have to admit that I often feel so terribly alone. Thank you. Hopefully, if I ever need to call on you, it will be a long time away, but it’s so reassuring to know that I have someone in my court. Again, thank you.”

  There’s an old saying that when man makes plans, God laughs. On that particular day, God was definitely laughing.

  CHAPTER 9

  Dr. Jerome Throckmorton, or Dr. “T” as his loving patients called him, looked longingly at the photograph of the woman in the bikini that was on his screensaver. She hadn’t come cheap. Women who were beautiful and trying to make it in the movies always came with a heavy price tag, but it was a price he’d gladly paid. He knew every time he went anywhere with Lupe, grown men became slobbering idiots at the sight of her, and women instantly hated her.