Return to Murder

by John Osipowicz

  Todd saw on the city docket that there was a special City Council meeting tonight to discuss the pollution issue. He decided to stay in town and attend that meeting.

  He drove to the first McDonald’s he could find, to have a chicken sandwich and fries, topped off with a piece of apple pie. He remembered the guy on a TV show a year ago who for a few weeks ate at fast-food restaurants and gained fifty pounds. He was showing how harmful that food was. Todd felt like he was beginning to put on a few pounds. The belt was getting tighter—he had to let it out a notch. He decided he didn’t care. Comfort food was comfort food. It caused comfort, and that’s what he needed to handle his police life at the moment.

  He still had a couple hours till the meeting. He spent the time walking around the Notre Dame campus, looking at the mural of Touchdown Jesus and then strolling around the famed football stadium. His dad couldn’t afford to send him to Notre Dame; he had attended Villanova, where he felt he received a good education. He had always wondered what it would be like to go to this well-known school. The academics there were supposed to be tough. Even the football players had to maintain a “C” average, or was that a myth? He was never good enough to play for the football team, but he thought it would be fun to be around all the hoopla.

  Before he left the campus, he stopped in at Sacred Heart Chapel. It was nothing like St. Peter’s, but pretty impressive in itself. He sat there wanting to pray, but he didn’t exactly know how. He ended up asking Whomever Above for him or her to help him solve this darn case. He didn’t want to say damn case. Todd’s dad was not a churchgoer. Garret had been raised Catholic, and he said he was grateful for the nuns beating some sense into him, but he wasn’t going to join all those foolish people who believed in that superstition that God existed. Todd remembered at the dinner table his dad would sometimes do a minute lecture on there couldn’t be a God because he wouldn’t have been so cruel as to take his wife away from him so early. He would give Todd his steely stare and say, If there was a God he would have kept Maria alive to take care of you.

  Todd didn’t try to think about whether there was a God, or not. How could anyone know? He felt he would find out later. Or not.

  The meeting was crowded. No empty seats. Todd stood in the back against the wall with about a dozen other late-comers.

  Neddy Bridgewater had the kind of build that made you uncomfortable to look at it. Possibly it was because he wore too tight clothes. His ample belly spilled over his belt; his neck tried to run out of his collar and even his hair wouldn’t stay out of his eyes. To increase the discomfort of the viewer, the entire time Neddy spoke he gestured with waving hands and moved around the stage without stopping. Normally with that much motion it would have been distracting to listen to him, but this was where Neddy excelled. With a booming voice he forced Todd and the audience to listen to him. Todd had to smile inwardly because he thought here was a man who could help Garret sell air-conditioners.

  Bridgewater made his point succinctly. There was a crime being committed in South Bend, and it was up to him and the good citizens of the town to put a stop to it. He’d had someone test the water, and it was approaching the dangerous level.

  “I’m not telling you all to stop drinking the water, but if this crime continues, no one will have clean water in a month.” In answer to what he was doing about it, he said he already had a lawyer working on the charges and, “within a week we’re bringing Arista Chemical into court.” The applause was deafening. Bridgewater actually bowed to the audience. It had been an effective performance.

  After the meeting was declared over, a gaggle of hangers-on kept Neddy up on stage for the next half hour. Todd felt the guy could run for mayor next year and win. Possibly that was his intent.

  Todd sat in a now-empty seat in back and waited for Bridgewater to finish with his fans. One lady carrying as much weight as Neddy still lingered. She might have wanted to date her heart-throb. Finally he broke away from her. The room was not particularly hot, but the sweat was running down Neddy’s cheeks.

  Todd tried to intercept the man, but he brushed right past him and out the door. He moved quickly for a big man. Todd didn’t catch up to him until the sidewalk outside.

  “Mr. Bridgewater, wait up a second,” Todd almost shouted, but the man didn’t stop. In the parking lot, Todd sprinted and got to the drivers-side door before Neddy did.

  The face-to-face meeting was so abrupt that Neddy put his hands high up into the air. “Please don’t shoot. Take my money, but spare my life.”

  “Mr. Bridgewater, I don’t want to rob you; I simply want to talk to you.”

  “Oh. What do you want to talk about?”

  “The pollution of the St. Joseph River.”

  “I’ve just had a meeting about it. You should have been there.”

  “I was there. I want to talk to you about something personal connected to all that.”

  “Personal? All right, let’s sit on the hood of my car and talk. I know I’m being paranoid not letting you inside my car, but I’ve received death threats. You came out of nowhere in the dark and scared me.”

  “The hood is fine.”

  “Excuse me just a second. He took out a small pill bottle, unscrewed it, and popped a tiny tablet into his mouth. “I haven’t been taking my heart medicine. All right I’m ready now.”

  Todd had to help him up onto the hood.

  “What is this personal stuff that can’t wait until tomorrow? I need sleep.”

  “You are of course familiar with Robert Granville and Stuart Mencken.”

  “Yes, as someone would be familiar with bad weather in Seattle. They are worse than wastrels; they are evil. They are knowingly killing the people of this city, like I said at the meeting.”

  “I have information that they may soon be attempting to kill you.”

  “Kill me? You are serious, aren’t you? Where did you get such information?” More sweat was beginning to form on Bridgewater’s brow.

  “I overheard a meeting between Granville and Mencken. They’re bringing in a hit man to do his job against you. I think it’s going to happen soon, so you might want to hire some protection. I’m here to warn you.”

  “I appreciate the warning, fella. So they think they can eliminate me. We will just see about that.” He seemed infused with new energy as he bounded off the hood. His last words as he shut the door were, “No one messes with me.” He sped out of the parking lot.

  Todd’s next stop was to the city police station. He was told the Chief was out of town at a conference. Handling duties tonight was the Chief’s assistant, Officer Muldoon.

  As Todd began speaking Muldoon turned his head an odd way as if he were hard of hearing. Todd talked a little louder. “I’ve come upon some information, and I want you people to know about it. Possibly you can set up some protection for the gentleman.”

  “We’re in the protection business, but we’re a little short-handed lately. One of our top people was murdered a few weeks ago in Calypso. But tell me your story, and I’ll see what we can do. You don’t have to talk so loud. I’m not deaf.”

  “The target is the head of City Council.”

  “Sure, we know Neddy well. He’s always stirring up something, but he is trying to help us clean up this town. Someone might be going to try to kill him?” Muldoon for the first time looked a little skeptical. “Neddy is very public person. It would be quite a risky to try to murder him. Are you sure about your information? Who might this killer be?”

  “Vincent McGuire. He’s a hit man, out of prison a couple years ago.”

  “Oh, we are well aware of Vincent. Now, I’m starting to get my doubts about your information.”

  “My information is totally reliable.”

  “The reason I’m questioning it is that Vincent caused a lot of trouble here in South Bend, and we finally got him put away. Since he got out we’ve been keeping tabs on him because you know the old saying, A leopard doesn’t change his spots. I’m glad to report t
o you that after Vincent got out of jail he moved to Topeka, Kansas and has lived there ever since.”

  “Well, then, he’s coming back here to do this killing.”

  “I don’t think so because just six months ago he was arrested in Topeka for trying to hold up a bank. He’s in jail there for the next eight years, and we haven’t been informed of any recent break-outs from that prison. So I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed. However, thank you for coming in. We depend on the eyes and ears of our citizens to help us at all times. Have a good night now.”

  Todd was not having a good night. He had heard the two leaders of Arista clearly plotting. How could there be a mistake?

  He was still mulling it over when he got back to his motel near the Interstate. If his information was actually incorrect, he wouldn’t be needed here in South Bend, so probably he would head back to Calypso in the morning.

  He relaxed on his bed and turned on the TV. The late news was just coming on. The third item was the water pollution issue. There was a reporter covering the emergency Council meeting tonight, with a previous interview with Bridgewater spliced in. The report then shifted to Arista headquarters where CEO Granville was holding his own press conference. This one was live. Stuart Mencken was standing behind him, as Granville began pontificating:

  “Arista Chemical has been plagued by innuendo and falsehoods from one man, Neddy Bridgewater. Managing Director Mencken and I have met this afternoon to take our own counter-action.” Granville turned slightly to his left to indicate a tall well-groomed person in an expensive looking suit. Our lawyer, Roger McGuire, tomorrow will file a legal action against Mr. Bridgewater charging defamation of character. All other questions that you have will now be answered by Mr. McGuire.”

  Todd was almost dozing off, and the entire segment almost slipped by him, but abruptly he got very wide awake when those words hit home. Their lawyer’s name was McGuire. That’s whom they were talking about in Granville’s dining room. It made sense. He was the lawyer who had gotten them out of jail after a few months, foiling Ma Blessing’s attempt to put them in there for a long time. Of course they would be relying on him again.

  How could Todd have made a mistake? Wait a minute, this lawyer’s name was Roger McGuire, not Vincent. Why hadn’t his name popped up also when Todd was looking in his phone directory? Todd got his Smart Phone and typed in Roger McGuire’s name. There it was. Roger McGuire didn’t live in South Bend proper. He lived in a town three miles distant called, Elkhart Indiana. The Smart Phone is smart only when its user is. Earlier Todd had asked it for the McGuires who lived only in South Bend, and the app answered properly giving him the hit man and the plumber. Todd had been so eager to get the goods on the Arista people that he had rushed to judgment.

  Todd had been lucky that the error had been caught. No harm had been done. He got ready for bed upbraiding himself for moving too quickly without conclusive evidence. This case was frustrating him; he had to better control his anxiety.

  CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

  Todd slept soundly that night and felt totally refreshed the next morning. If he had known what real damage he had actually caused he wouldn’t have slept at all.

  He got his things together, ready to check out, and just happened to flip on the TV. The local news was doing a repeat of the Today’s Big Story, the death of Neddy Bridgewater.

  What! Todd dropped his duffle bag and sat on the bed. Apparently an upset Bridgewater, very late last night had stormed into the home of Robert Granville and began physically attacking him. Granville’s story was that he was simply defending himself and he had hardly hit Neddy back when the man collapsed right on the living room rug. An ambulance was called but Bridgewater died on the way to the hospital. In a statement issued by his lawyer, Granville said he had no idea why Neddy has so violently attacked him. “I was simply trying to keep myself and my family from being harmed. In fact, I think my punch just barely grazed him. He stood straight up as if he was going to come at me again, and then he fell. I immediately called 911.”

  Assistant Police Chief, Bertram Muldoon’s, statement was that his office was considering manslaughter charges against Granville, pending further investigation.

  Todd flopped back onto his pillow. “Oh my god,” he said aloud. What have I done?”

  His first impulse was to go to Muldoon and tell him how all this happened. But, wait a minute, he was doing the same thing that had caused the problems. He was acting too quickly. He lay in bed for the next half hour thinking.

  One of the later news reports stated that the City Council was still going to go through with pressing charges against Arista. A lady spokesperson for the Council said she would be taking over for Bridgewater. “It is a terrible loss for the city of South Bend, but with Neddy’s spirit guiding us we will persevere against this malice plaguing our streams.”

  Todd could see right away she didn’t have the forcefulness of good old Neddy. However, it might turn out that Robert Granville would spend some time in jail. The manslaughter charge could result in a 10-12 year sentence. Todd knew Stuart Mencken didn’t seem to have the strength to keep Arista going, and so eventually they might have to pull out of South Bend, and maybe even begin to dissolve the company. There were many ifs, but possibly this was going to work out well. But not so well for Neddy Bridgewater. Stuart Granville’s family would not want him to go to jail, but both the son and wife might then begin to enjoy a peaceful life for the first time in a long time.

  Todd’s decision was to leave town and do nothing. Even though he in a sense had caused the entire calamity, there would be no way that any of it would come back to connect to him. No one knew about the discussion he and Neddy had sitting on the hood of his car.

  Again, the only thing Todd knew for sure was that he still had his murder case. So far there was no real proof that Granville or Mencken had done any killing, at least intentional killing.

  Arriving back to Calypso, he felt it had become a haven for him to hide from his misdeed. He needed some feeling of security, so of course he went for some food at the McDonald’s. And at this comfort place he had comfort food, consisting of French fries, onion rings, and a chocolate shake. He could again almost feel those arteries closing up. He was finishing the last of his shake when Nancy Skylar walked in. That smile also gave him comfort.

  “You look like you’ve recovered from your kidnapping ordeal, Nancy.”

  “Each day I feel better. Now I’m getting more certain that someone isn’t going to come into my house and whisk me away. Although I wouldn’t mind getting whisked away by you.”

  “Right now I’m not much in a whisking mood. I have to get back on that murder case.”

  “When I drove by a minute ago, I saw your car, and I came in specifically to tell you something about the case.”

  “Go right ahead. I’m basking in caloric delight. I’m ready to listen.”

  “I think the killer you’re looking for is Lulu.”

  “Nancy, I don’t think so. That would mean she killed her mother.”

  “I know. It’s even a horrible thought, but she had good reason to be angry at her mother.”

  “People get angry, but they don’t necessarily kill.”

  “It depends on how violated the person feels. This is the reasoning behind my theory. It was no secret that Ma Blessing was friends, very close friends, with the barkeeper, Walt Fosdick. Ma would be often at the bar seeing Walt, and as often she would take the young Lulu in there with her. Like I told you Ma was one of my main sources of stories since she knew so many people in the town. Often when I would find Ma in the bar, there would Lulu be sitting right next to her, drinking some soda. At least I think it was soda. Clem was pretty worthless watching over his daughter. Lulu basically had one parent. Anyway, one day when I came in to talk to Ma, Lulu was not sitting next to her. At first Ma wouldn’t say where she was. Then, she simply said she was upstairs. Well, everyone knew what went on in those second floor rooms. At the same time, Walt wa
sn’t in his usual spot behind the bar. In fact, Ma was serving the drinks. She did that at times anyway when he was there just to socialize with him under the guise of helping out. I asked where Walt was. Ma looked a little funny and said, ‘Oh, he just went out.’ But then as I talked more with her, she kept glancing upstairs. It didn’t take me long to realize what was going on. Ma was prostituting her own daughter out to her friend. Or at the very least Walt took a shine to Lulu which got more serious, and Ma was allowing it.

  “Nancy, you didn’t really know Walt was upstairs.”

  “Listen, Todd, I could give Ma the benefit of the doubt that maybe Ma had sent Lulu up there to clean the rooms. Sometimes Lulu did that for extra money. But Walt never lifted a finger to clean anything up there. He collected the rent, but other than that, he had no reason to be upstairs for any length of time.

  “Like I said, you didn’t know Walt was really up there.”

  “Oh, yes, I did. After I left the bar I had to go across the street to Abigail, the bakery lady to see what goodies she was going to have for the ice cream social the next week. Not exactly big news, but I often had to scrimp for any news.”

  “I’m not getting how this is connected to Walt.”

  “Before I can even walk into the bakery out comes Walt from the front door of the bar. He was in that bar the entire time and Ma didn’t say so. So where was he? There is a back room, but why didn’t Ma say he was back there? She said Walt went out somewhere else. There is only one other entrance to the bar, and it’s toward the back but actually on the side. I could see that entrance, and there was no way that Walt walked in there from the side, and then walked out the front a minute later. I would have seen him going in that side door. Before I went in the bakery, I had stopped to talk to one of the townspeople, and I was facing toward the bar building. No one went in that side door. Walt was in the bar all the time. Ma had probably slipped telling me that Lulu was upstairs. She should have told me her daughter was somewhere else also. But once she said that she couldn’t tell me Walt was up there also. I would have known immediately something illicit was going on.”