“Michelle discovered him when she was working as a bank teller. She desperately needed a job, since she was getting a little long in the tooth for modeling, and the manager of a bank on Wall Street was more than happy to hire her, although I don’t think it was for her banking experience, because she didn’t have any. Anyway, she met number three when he was making a bank deposit. Within a few weeks, she’d left the bank and become his wife. He was quite wealthy, but he’d omitted one little fact which cost him two marriages. He liked to play around with the hired help. She left that marriage with some money, but once again Michelle was divorced.”
“What a life that woman has lived and now this.” Liz admired Michelle for being so strong and a survivor, in spite of all she’d been through. “Did you find out how she met Bernie? She told me, but I can’t remember.”
“According to an article I read she met him at some event when she was still married to number three. I read in some rag that he’d given her his business card and said if she was ever free to do so, he’d love to have dinner with her. Guess guys as rich as Bernie Spitzer don’t mind poaching. Anyway, from what the article said, she called him after she was divorced, and they became a couple from then on. I also read where she literally bumped into him at a law office. Anyway, he bought her a condominium in the same building as his, an expensive car, fancy jewelry, and gave her a very large monthly allowance, although he was adamant about not ever getting married again.”
“I remember. It was the second one. Now I understand even more why having children is so important to Michelle. Seems like she’s never had anything remotely resembling a stable life. Glamourous, yes, normal no. Let me ask you one other question, and since you didn’t bring anything up about it, I’m assuming the answer is no. Did you find out anything negative about her, such as arrests, drug use, alcohol use, things of that nature?”
“No, I never even saw a hint that she was anything less than a person who had been victimized by a number of events over which she had no control. Have to tell you after doing the research on her, I’m on her side. The lady deserves a break.”
“She has no history of being involved in anything that seems to be the least bit illegal or even in any gray areas, right?”
“Right, why are you asking?”
“Sean, did you find anything that would point to her knowing that if she conceived Bernie’s children after his death by means of artificial insemination and then had them after his death, that they would be heirs to his fortune?”
“Not a thing, but I’m not sure information like that would be readily accessible. Do you know who told her that a new law in California had been enacted concerning that type of situation?”
“I think it was her attorney. It was my understanding based on a lunch I had with her shortly after we met, that she simply wanted to have Bernie’s child. I was under the impression it had nothing to do with his estate.”
“Liz, the doctor who oversaw the artificial insemination might have been aware of it. Maybe he was the one who told her. Do you have his name?”
“No, I’ll follow up on that. It might be relevant. Sean, can I get right back to you? Winston is standing at the door with an urgent look on his face. It will be just a few minutes.”
“I’ll be here. Talk to you in a few.”
CHAPTER 19
“Sorry, Sean,” Liz said a few minutes later when she called him back. “Winston needed to go outside and the look on his face told me I couldn’t put it off. Maybe I dropped too many crumbs on the floor for him.”
“Hate to say anything, Liz, but I think that dog has a better life than most of the people living in the United States. When I come back, I want to come back as a Langley dog.”
“You’re probably right, Sean, but he sure has been there a couple of times when I needed some help. A snack here and there is a small price to pay for him saving my life.”
“Okay, I grant you that one. Back to the list of suspects. I looked into Jim Brown, and I thought it was kind of a sad case. I try not to make moral judgments on people after I conduct a background investigation, but I wonder if Bernie Spitzer’s appetite for money and success kind of got away from him here.”
“What do you mean?” Liz asked.
“Well, I’m not getting paid to say someone did something right or wrong, but I’m having a hard time with this one. Seems like Bernie kind of pulled a fast one on Brown when he got an important patent registered in his name alone and left Brown hanging out to dry. Sure, it could have been an honest mistake, but all Bernie had to do was say that he’d register the patent in both of their names, but he didn’t. He registered it only in his name, forced Brown out of the company they both had formed, paid him a paltry sum for all of Brown’s work, and then he owns this fabulous money machine company free and clear. Not to mention the fact that he sold it for a bundle a few years later. Kind of smells in my book.”
“I rather imagine that’s what Brown thought, too, judging from the note I told you about. Did you find out anything about what Brown did after he left the company?”
“Pretty much what you told me. Brown never did much with his life after that. He bounced around in a couple of jobs, but guess his heart wasn’t in it. His wife left him, he lost his house, and for the rest of his life he’s pretty much been circling the drain. He’s living, or should I say, existing, on Social Security. He’s been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and from what I was able to find out, the outlook is not too rosy. Like I said, I feel sorry for the guy.”
“Sorry or not, the bottom line is did he hate what Bernie Spitzer did to him enough to kill him? That’s the question,” Liz said. “Plus, what immediately comes to my mind is how would someone that down on their luck get past the doorman in a swanky condominium?”
“That, Madam Sleuth, I don’t know. Guess that’s why you’re paid the big bucks.”
“Right, Sean. Good thing I have a lawyer for a husband and a successful spa business, or my pro bono work would have to end. What else did you find out?”
“This case, if it turns out to be a case, has some pretty undesirable characters in it. Bernie’s daughter, Joni Toscano, is married to Rocco Toscano. He’s bad through and through. He’s worked for the Luchese crime family since he was in his teens. Word has it that the only reason he married Joni was to get his hands on her dad’s money. He’s a two-bit criminal, but he sure would have the resources to have his father-in-law murdered. I found out he just spent the little money he and Joni have to get in on a piece of the action for some new business deal he thinks will make him rich. Looks like he promised he could get his hands on a lot more money very soon, and that what he’d paid to get into the deal was just a down payment.”
“Are you thinking he killed Bernie, so Joni would get her inheritance?”
“I’m not being paid to interpret the facts, Liz, that’s what you and Roger do. I do find it interesting that a man who has a violent temper and has been arrested a number of time for violent crimes including assault and battery, has entered into a shady business agreement, has told his future business partners that what he paid was just the down payment, and the rest of the money will soon follow, then his father-in-law dies suddenly of natural causes, and he knows his wife is going to inherit one-half of his estate. At least he thought that was the case, until he found out that Michelle was carrying Bernie’s baby, which now turns out to be two babies.”
Liz shivered involuntarily. “Maybe I’m reading between the lines, but it seems to me you’re suggesting that if Rocco was the one responsible for Bernie’s murder, he wouldn’t be thrilled with having to see his wife’s share of the estate reduced because of the pending births.”
“Like I said earlier, I’m just telling you the facts, but yes, I think that’s a fair analysis.”
“Sean, you said Rocco had been arrested for assault and battery. Was he ever convicted or did he do time for them?”
“No, he was lawyered up immediately by the attorney for t
he Luchese family. Guy’s dirty, but he has a heck of an attorney, and that attorney got him off every time. The police were called to the family home several times by Joni for domestic abuse, but each time she refused to file charges against Rocco, and the charges were dropped.”
“He sounds like a real sweetheart,” Liz said, making some notes on a pad of paper. “No wonder Roger thought Michelle should have a bodyguard 24/7. At the time, I thought he was overreacting, but given all this information, I think he was absolutely right. That leaves Bernie’s son, Larry Spitzer. What did you find out about him?”
“He’s a loser, a real loser,” Sean said. “I went back a lot of years and found out he was kicked out of college for cheating on an exam and when the cheat sheet was found on him, so was a stash of cocaine.”
“That seems like a pretty dumb thing to do.”
“It was, but no one ever said Larry Spitzer was going to give Albert Einstein a run for his money. Since that time his life has consisted of a series of drug rehabs and get-rich-schemes that never made enough money to even pay him back the entry fee. Talk has it that Bernie was getting ready to disinherit him.”
“So, reading between the lines, if Bernie dies before he formally disinherits Larry, that means Larry inherits half of Bernie’s estate as one of Bernie’s two heirs-at-law, is that right?” Liz said. “The other heir being his sister, Joni. Of course, the shares they will now receive are going to be reduced by half because of the impending birth of twins. That could be a pretty powerful motive for someone who was looking at no other options.”
“Yes, that it could.” Sean sounded distracted, and Liz could hear voices in the background. “Liz, I need to take care of a few things here at the office. If you find out something else, give me a call, and I’ll make sure Roger has all this information. I’ve sent you some pictures of the players, so if you run across any of them, you’ll recognize them. One last thing, here’s the contact information for everyone. Knowing you, you’re probably going to want to talk to them or at least their neighbors.” Liz wrote down the addresses and phone numbers he related to her.
“As always, Sean, thanks. At least you’ll get paid for providing me with this information. Bill Roger since he’s working on the defense angle.”
“Will do.”
“One last thing, Sean. Good luck with the game tomorrow night.”
“The boys and I thank you.”
CHAPTER 20
Liz looked over the notes she’d written out for Gina to make sure they’d be easy for her to interpret and apologized for having to be gone two nights in a row. Although she really didn’t like to be away from the spa during the guest dinners, she felt that Michelle’s problem trumped her role of being the congenial hostess.
She spent the next hour researching the suspects’ addresses on the Internet, printed out maps and directions, changed clothes, and took Winston outside to commune with nature before she put him in her van for the hour long drive into San Francisco.
“Winston, it looks like we need go into the city. Roger made me promise I’d take you, so like it or not, you’re stuck with me for the next few hours.”
The big dog wagged his tail as she spoke to him, and she was certain that he understood every word she was saying. As ridiculous as it felt, she and Roger had resorted to spelling certain words such as “ride,” because he understood perfectly well what that word meant and would always run to the door as soon as either one of them said it. She didn’t think San Francisco was in his word repertoire, but she imagined it would be after today.
Traffic was relatively light, and she felt her heart beat a little faster the closer she got to the city. She loved Red Cedar, and never regretted moving to the slower paced small rural town, but there was just something magical about San Francisco. Although she hadn’t left her heart there, as the famous Tony Bennett song said, the thought of the distinctive nature of the city never failed to thrill her.
She loved it all – the cable cars, North Beach with it’s wonderful Italian stores and restaurants, the fog, the steep rolling hills, the eclectic mix of architectural styles from the Victorian “painted lady” homes to the Coit Tower and the Palace of Fine Arts. She loved it when the fog cleared enough that she could see the Golden Gate bridge and the island where the former Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary had been located.
Liz smiled remembering the many times she’d taken her children, Jonah and Brittany, to Chinatown and Fisherman’s Wharf. Brittany was always mesmerized by the street mimes. Yes, Liz thought, there’s an energy in the city like nowhere else I’ve ever been, and I love it, but it is nice to be able to return to the peace and quiet of Red Cedar.
She easily drove to a run-down neighborhood that had seen better days. The apartment where Jim Brown lived was housed in a boxy, brown building. It had been built in an architectural time when everything was uniform, from the measured distance between the windows to the equal number of apartments on the left and the right. Liz imagined that the apartments inside the building were all exactly the same, except for what the tenants had done to them over the years.
Liz wasn’t sure what the response from the tenants would be if a large boxer entered their building, and since it was early afternoon, she didn’t think she’d be in any danger. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, Winston. You guard the van.”
She got out of her van and closed the door. Immediately Winston jumped up and put his front paws on the console between the passenger and driver’s seat, looking from one side to another. Obviously, he had taken her command literally. She knew that her van would be very safe in her absence, actually, probably safer than if she’d been in it.
As she walked up to the front door of the aging apartment building, she noticed the weeds that had grown up in the cracks in the cement walk and the paint chipping off of the door. She easily opened the door and walked over to where the elevator was located. There was a tenant roster next to it and she saw the name Jim Brown on it and his apartment number, 3B. She stepped into the elevator and was immediately overcome with the smell of stale smoke and urine. She wondered if the homeless used it to sleep in at night. It was all she could do to keep from retching.
When the door opened on the third floor, she quickly got out, but realized she was only exchanging the smells from the elevator for those of rancid oils and the sweet smell of marijuana. It looked like the frayed dirty brown carpeting in the hall hadn’t been vacuumed, much less cleaned, in a long, long time. Liz walked down the hall to 3B, took a deep breath, and rang the doorbell button which was hanging from a wire attached to the doorbell. There was no answer.
She listened, but didn’t hear any sounds coming from inside the apartment, so she tried knocking. Again, there was no answer. About that time a man and a woman opened the door at the end of the hallway which led up from the stairway. They walked down the hall towards Liz and stopped at the apartment next to Jim Brown’s.
The woman was putting her key in the door while the man lit a cigarette. “Excuse me,” Liz said, turning to face them. “Is this the apartment where Jim Brown lives? No one’s answering, and I want to make sure I have the right one.”
The man looked at her and she realized it was the doorman she’d seen at Michelle’s condominium building the evening before. “Aren’t you Joe, the doorman at the condominium where Michelle D’Amato lives?” she asked.
“Yes, why do you ask?” he said. Even though the door to their apartment was now open, the woman with him was standing in the doorway, listening to their conversation.
“I recognized you from when Michelle said hello to you last night. She’s a friend of mine.”
“You got good friends. She’s a nice lady. Shame about Mr. Spitzer. I’ve known him a long time, but guess when you’re that old, your time has come.”
What an insensitive thing to say, Liz thought. For all he knows I could be related to Bernie.
“You asked about Jim. Yeah, that’s his place, but he’s not usually at home most
days.”
“Well, that explains why he didn’t answer the doorbell or my knock. You said most days. Does he go somewhere special every day?” Liz asked, thinking if Sean’s information was right, he might be going to a doctor for chemotherapy or radiation treatments.
“Well, it’s not that special, but he loves to go to the park that’s two blocks down the street. He says he reads the paper and thinks about what his life would have been if it had turned out otherwise. Poor guy. From what he’s told me, he caught some bad breaks.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean.”
“Let’s just say Bernie Spitzer did him dirty. If it sounded like I wasn’t too sorry that Bernie died, there’s some truth to that. I’m sorry for Miss Michelle, because I like her. She always treats me right, you know, remembers my name and all. Even gives me an envelope with money in it each Christmas. Spitzer never did that. Don’t think too many people shed tears over his death, except for all them organizations he donated to. Sure never saw that he had a family that cared enough to come around, and can’t say I’m surprised. Never know what Miss Michelle saw in him.”
“I never met him, so I know nothing about him. Where did you say the park was located? I’d like to talk to Mr. Brown.”
“Go down the street two blocks,” he said gesturing in the direction of the park, “and turn left. It’s right there. Back in the day of clean open spaces it was pretty nice, but at least there’s a little green left among all these buildings. Nice talking to you, but I’ve got to go. I need to change clothes. My shift starts in a little while.”
Interesting, Liz thought, as she headed down the stairs in lieu of taking the elevator. If it’s determined that Bernie was murdered, and one of the suspects is Jim Brown, sure is convenient he knows the doorman at the condominium building where Bernie lived. It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to think the doorman might have given Jim access to Bernie’s condominium. That’s quite a coincidence, and I don’t like coincidences when I’m investigating a murder.
Murder in San Francisco Page 8