Casey's Slip

by Richard L. Wren

  I told the chief that Smitty wanted us to stay with the papers and try to get more information about the Sacramento connection.

  The chief quickly threw cold water on that idea.

  “Actually, you might as well head home now. First, I have to protect the integrity of the evidence,” he explained to us. “I have to document the entire handling of it and make sure it isn’t compromised in any way. I can’t let you even near it, let alone touch it. It’s what’s called the chain of evidence.” He stopped for a moment, looked hard at his desk, ran a hand through his hair, then looked back up at us, each of us, individually. Then he finally said, “What Ican do is let you know the minute we run across anything that might be helpful to you. I just can’t let you see it or touch it in any way.”

  We couldn’t argue with the chief so we did as he suggested and headed home. Back at the house Gus seemed to be none the worse for his afternoon of drinking. He said he’d been thinking about Sacramento. Trying to figure out how someone got hold of that type of information.

  “I don’t think it’d be a senator,” he said, “They don’t deal in that kind of information, not on a regular basis. More likely someone in the Attorney General’s office?”

  “Isn’t there some sort of senatorial committee that looks into illegal things that senators do?” I asked. “It’d help if we knew the name of that committee,”

  Smitty had more to add. “I still think we need to go to Sacramento. I’m gonna phone Little George up there and see if he can arrange a place for us to stay a couple of nights. He can help us, he knows more about Sacramento than any of us.

  “Who’s Little George?” I asked Josie as we headed downstairs.

  “He’s like Dad, only he’s in Sacramento. And, trust me, he isn’t little. He’s about six five, and he must weigh over three hundred pounds. Ever seen a motorcycle with a rider so huge you could hardly see the bike? It’s Little George. But he’s like Dad, getting up there in age and mellowing out. I like him.”

  Gus and the guys wanted to fix something to eat, even though it was late. We all settled for a midnight snack and hit the hay.

  Next morning, after a breakfast that was pretty much a rerun of last night’s snack, the phone rang. It was the chief. Smitty put him on the speaker phone, expecting to hear that they’d gotten an indictment on Carpenter or something. What we got was something else.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” Chief O’Meara told us, sounding grim. “Carpenter made bail. Either he’s got some friends inmighty high places or he’s got enough dope on someone that they came through for him. Either way, he had a high-priced attorney here last night. Somehow or other, he got himself an early morning hearing, had bail set and got out.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked. “Can you still get an indictment?”

  “Course I can. He’s not supposed to leave town. We’ll still indict him and get a second crack at putting him behind bars. Trouble is he knows now that he doesn’t have me under control any more. I made it very plain to him that I wasn’t going to cooperate with him, any way, any more. Now I’m afraid he’s a flight risk. Now that he knows his house of cards is sliding into the San Andreas Fault, he may just take off, bail or no bail.”

  “What can we do?”

  “I’m putting a detail on his house. If he makes the slightest move, I’ll know it. My problem is I can’t spare enough men to track him or try to stop him. Particularly since I’m acting on just a hunch. This could take days. Can you get three or four guys out here to help my guys? With a few of your guys on bikes and my two guys in cars we should be able to keep track of him. What do you think?”

  Smitty said he’d send some guys right away.

  “They’ve got helmet radios, don’t they?”

  “Sure do.”

  “Tell them to stop by the station on the way. We’ll make sure they have the right frequency to talk to our guys.”

  CHAPTER 63

  Smitty sent four guys up to augment the chiefs’ forces and then announced to us, “We’re going to Sacramento, maybe tomorrow.”

  “Did you find a direct link to someone there?” Josie asked.

  “No, we didn’t. Not a direct one, anyway. But the trail seems to stop with Carpenter, as far as where all the blackmail information actually ended up, and it’s pretty obvious that he got the stuff from someone else. Every letter we find leads us back to Sacramento.”

  “So who’s going?” Josie asked.

  “So far, I’m thinking you, Casey and Gus. I’ve already talked to Little George about what we’re doing. He’s got some ideas. He says there’ve been rumors about a couple of senators for years. Maybe he can help us. Anyway, we’re going.”

  That left Josie and me with nothing really to do.

  She asked me if I’d heard of an old movie theatre that served pizzas and had sofas and overstuffed chairs instead of the regular seats.

  “You bet! It’s right near my place. I’ve been there a couple of times. It’s fun, if you don’t mind old movies.”

  So that’s what we did. Two on a sofa, pizza and an old movie. What could be better? When we got out it was still light. Josie suggested we go to her favorite ice cream place for a cone or something, but just as we were pulling into the parking lot, the phone rang.

  “I knew it was too good to be true,” Josie said. “I was really looking forward to the ice cream.”

  She was right – it was her dad.

  “Better get back here fast,” he said. “Looks like Carpenter’s on the move.”

  Josie kept right on going, through the parking lot and out, headed back up into the Oakland hills to her dad’s house.

  The place was a beehive of activity. Smitty was on the phone. Several of the guys were sitting on their bikes with helmets on, ready to go. Gus was the only one we could talk to.

  “He’s left his house. Gone to a restaurant in El Cerrito. The cops saw him sneaking suitcases into his car. We’ve got four bikes and two cars set to follow him wherever he goes. The chief’s checking all the airlines to see if he’s made reservations. Other than that, all we can do is follow him when he leaves.”

  “If he tries to fly out, can’t he be stopped?” I asked, exasperated. “I thought the court told him he had to stay in town.”

  “The chief says that’d be real hard to do. They don’t have an indictment yet. He says he has to be super careful and not violate any of Carpenter’s civil rights in advance of the indictment and trial.”

  “So, what are we doing?”

  “Well, we’re not sure. We’re pretty much on our own. Smitty says we’re gonna follow him wherever he goes and somehow stop him. That’s why he wanted you. He said you might have more useful ideas and that you’re quick on your feet. His words. I’d say get ready to go any minute. When he leaves the restaurant, our guys are gonna follow him and feed us information on his route. As soon as we find out his general direction, we’ll try to get ahead of him. Smitty’s pretty sold on the idea that he’ll be heading to the Oakland Airport. But it could be San Francisco. We just better be ready either way. Smitty wants us with him in the car.”

  Smitty walked in and interrupted us. “I’d bet real money he’s headed for the Oakland Airport. What I’m afraid of is that he might get ahead of us and get away. It’s taking a chance but let’s leave now so we’ll be ahead of him. Josie, you drive. I’ll be on the cell Gus; you follow us and keep your cell phone open.”

  Gus, ever alert, instantly understood and agreed.

  “As soon as we’re sure he’s heading our way, we’ll get in front of his car. That way we’ll be sure to get to the airport first. We’ll need to hatch out some sort of a plan on the fly.”

  I immediately saw a snag in Smitty’s plan. “How’ll we know which airline he’s going to if we’re ahead of him? It’s a long way from one airline to another.”

  “Do I have to think of everything? You figure it out!”

  In a few minutes I had an answer. “You said we
’d be in front of him when we got to the airport?”

  “Yeah. That’s my plan.”

  “Okay then, this should work.” I said. “We pull into the very first terminal, as if we’re picking up or letting someone out. If he follows us in, we know where he’s going. If he drives by, then we follow him.”

  “On the other hand, he could drive into the parking lot and walk in, you know,” Smitty pointed out.

  “Probably not with all the luggage he had. But if he does, then we follow him into the lot and park where he can’t see us. The guys on bikes can circle ahead and let us know which airline he heads for. Then we follow him.”

  “Okay, Then what?”

  “So he gets to the airline counter and gets in line,” I continued my high-wire improv. “I’m guessing he ordered tickets on line or by phone. He’ll have to get in line to get them. Then I’m stuck. I don’t what to do once he’s in line.”

  “I don’t know either. Come up with an idea!” Smitty urged.

  I’d flown up and down the coast plenty of times, often at the last minute, on the way to pick up a boat for delivery. I tried to envision standing in line and some way to disrupt Carpenter.

  As we got to the freeway entrance, we got the call.

  “He’s out of’ the restaurant. Trying to look real nonchalant like. You know, paused outside and used a toothpick. Read the newspaper headlines, studiously avoided looking at his watch, before getting in his car. He’s definitely heading to the freeway. Only question now is does he go north or south. Hang on.”

  Total silence for about a minute.

  “South it is! If you’re right and he’s heading for an airport, it’s gotta be either Oakland or S.F. I’m on his tail. I’ll know pretty soon. Keep this line clear.”

  This time several minutes went by before he called back. Carpenter had passed the SF turn off. He had to be headed for the Oakland airport

  Smitty got a complete description of the car plus the license number. He told Josie, “Go! We can poke along on the freeway and let him catch us.”

  Just as we pulled onto the freeway, I remembered something that happened to a guy standing in line near me in the San Diego Airport some years ago

  “Smitty, is there any chance that any of our guys here might have a small amount of a controlled substance on them?”

  “What the hell are you talking about? It’s not time for any of that crap now!”

  “Not for me, for you! No, no, not for you, for Carpenter! I’ve got an idea that might work, but I need a little bit of marijuana or cocaine or something.”

  “Shit, I don’t know. Josie, get on Gus’s cell and see. Jesus, I hope the chief isn’t listening in on all this.”

  It took some time for Gus to convince his guys that this wasn’t some kind of a joke, but he finally managed to round up some cocaine. I had no idea which of the guys had it, and I didn’t want to know. All I needed to know was that one of them did. I also had no idea if my idea would work. I asked Smitty if Les was on one of the bikes tailing Carpenter.

  “Yep,” he said.

  “Tell him to quit tailing. Tell him to get hold of the cocaine and meet us at the airport. Fast!”

  “Yes, sir” Smitty responded. “Anything else, sir?”

  Josie said, “Okay, now that we’ve established who gives orders to whom, would you mind telling me what we’re doing?”

  “Simple,” I said, wishing it was. “We’re gonna get Carpenter arrested! Again!”

  CHAPTER 64

  Smitty got Gus on his speaker phone. “Keep going as slow as you can,” he said, let him catch up with you. They said he’s alone, so he should be easy to spot. I’ll bet he’s not driving too fast either. Last thing he wants is to be stopped by a cop for any reason.”

  “Hell, if I go any slower, I’ll get rear ended,” Gus grumbled. “I’ll try to spot him before he sees us. Going this slow we stand out like a broken thumb.”

  “Well, as soon as you see him, step on it and lead him into the airport. We’ll do like Casey said, park at the first airline and let him pass. Oh, and watch for Les, too. Casey says we’ll be needing him.”

  “Okay, boss,” Gus said. “Anything else?”

  “Where does the tail say he is?”

  “He’s still coming our way, about a mile behind us. We’re still far enough away from the airport that we can speed up a little and still not be so noticeable. He’s doing the speed limit, so he’ll catch up with us well before the turn off.”

  I wanted to know where Les was.

  “Les is way ahead of you,” Gus said. “He took the frontage road to avoid being seen by Carpenter and he’s flying! He saw you guys as he passed you. Wait, I think I see Carpenter. He’s five or six cars behind us now. We better get going!”

  Josie handled it perfectly. We “followed” Carpenter from five or six cars ahead of him and he had no idea we were there. Pulling into the first airline stop as planned, we let him go by, then followed him to United’s stop at the far end of Terminal One. He found a valet service and, after unloading four large suitcases, had the valet service take his car. We had him.

  No question, he was abandoning ship. Now we had to make my plan work. Ithad to work, ‘cuz we sure as hell didn’t have anything for a back-up plan.

  Smitty handed a hundred bucks to one of the valet guys and said, “Off the record, for a short time?” A quick acceptance and we were inside.

  We didn’t know if Carpenter would recognize Smitty or Gus, but we knew for sure he’d recognize Josie and me. We stayed out of sight until Carpenter got into line. Les was waiting for us inside the doors, looking a little anxious with a pocket full of cocaine.

  The United desk was about a hundred yards long, with lots of lines all going to different destinations. Fortunately we could see Carpenter walk all the way to the end, to a line for Cleveland, Ohio. Maybe it was the first ticket he could get.

  I had time to outline my idea to Les. I took him aside.

  “Smitty tells me you used to be a pretty good pickpocket and magician?”

  “Yeah…but it’s been a long time,” Les said, dubious.

  “Did you get the cocaine I asked for?”

  “Yeah, got it right here,” he said, slipping a hand into a front pocket of his jeans. He was showing it to me!

  “Jesus, don’t wave it around.” He froze, then put his other hand in the other front pocket and rocked back on his heels. Old Mr. nonchalant killing a little time at the airport.

  “Okay,” I said, “here’s what I want you to do. As soon as he’s in line and busy dragging his bags forward, get as close as you can to him. When you’re close enough, slip the cocaine into his inside coat pocket. Can you do that?”

  Les looked over at Carpenter, took in his preoccupation with his four bags and the suit jacket he had on, and broke out in a grin.

  “Piece of cake!”

  “Okay, but you must do it right away, for the second part to work.”

  He gave me a swift thumbs-up, then walked away, headed for Carpenter’s line. When he got there, he kind of insinuated himself right beside Carpenter. I don’t think he even noticed Les. Then I noticed Les giving Carpenter a hand moving his four bags. In a couple of minutes Les walked back to us. This time he gave me the A-OK sign.

  “Time for Part Two of my plan. This time it was up to Gus. We’d gone over it twice. He’d already located a cop and was keeping an eye on him so he could flag him down as soon as he needed him.

  “Okay, Gus, time to go,” I said. “Just to review: tell the cop–”

  “–that the guy in the United line,” Gus recited, “the guy wearing the suit jacket over jeans, approached me in the men’s’ room and offered me a hundred bucks if I’d carry a small amount of cocaine to Cleveland for him.”

  “Right. Then he’ll probably want you –”

  “I know, Casey, I know. To go with him when he confronts Carpenter. I’ll have to go, but I know damn well that Carpenter’ll make a big stink. The cop’l
l probably have backup, I should be able to slip away in the confusion.”

  “Right. And they won’t need you –”

  “– once they find the coke in his pocket.” Gus gave me another sour look.

  By that time Carpenter was about halfway to the counter, with six or seven people ahead of him. It was time. I gave Gus the nod.

  Gus took off after the cop. In a moment, he was gesticulating and pointing. The cop turned and pointed at the United line, saying something to Gus. Gus nodded and said something back. The next thing the cop did was drop his mouth to his shoulder radio and call for reinforcements.

  Next he took Gus by the arm and started toward the United line. On the way he was joined by two other cops.

  The cops, with Gus in tow, worked their way through the line till they had Carpenter surrounded. Carpenter started out as the “what, me?” picture of innocence, then quickly switched to arguing with them, even trying to jerk his arm out of their grips, to no avail. By that time there were five cops there. They forced him out of the line, leaving his bags in line, guarded by a cop.

  We hid behind one of the baggage carts and watched the whole thing go down. It was all we could do to keep from laughing. As they marched Carpenter toward their offices, Les lagged further and further behind, then slipped out a side door. The last we saw of him, he was headed for the parking lot.

  Shortly thereafter we watched the really good part, the part where one of the cops gave Carpenter a pat-down and found a package of something in his coat pocket. What a surprise! And then, handcuffs!

  The last we saw of Carpenter he was being driven away in a police cruiser.

  CHAPTER 65

  On the way back to the house, Smitty called the chief and told him we’d heard that Carpenter had been picked up at the Oakland airport on drug charges.

  “He’s in the Oakland jail?”