by Henry Hack
“You wouldn’t know they were brothers if you compared their inner beings,” Agatha said. “My husband is a loving, God-fearing, honest man, thank God.”
Before I could ask, Edward placed a paper shopping bag on the table and took out a cardboard box. He opened its flaps and pulled out a handful of photos and papers. After putting on his glasses he searched through them for a minute or so selecting three photos and an envelope. The photos were of his niece, Ellen Weston, and the envelope contained the original wedding invitation they had received from James and Ellen.
“Did you attend the wedding?” Spider asked.
“Shamefully, no,” Edward said. “My brother said he would disown us both if we dared to show up.”
“I wanted to go regardless,” Agatha said. “That poor lovely girl didn’t deserve the treatment he gave her. I didn’t care if he disowned me. That would have been fine with me, but I’m ashamed to say, I stayed away, too.”
“We sent them a nice check, though,” Edward said.
“With a note never to mention it to her father,” Agatha said.
I scrutinized the wedding invitation and was disappointed to discover they were not married in a church – of course not stupid, I thought – but had a civil ceremony at the place of their reception, a catering hall in Queens. It was time to ask the big question, “Mr. and Mrs. Weston,” I said, “do you know where Ellen is now?”
Agatha opened her mouth, but Edward put his hand up and stopped her. “Before we answer that,” he said, “can you answer a few of our questions and let us know what’s going on here?”
“Sure, go ahead,” I said.
“Do you think Ellen killed my brother and his wife?”
“No.”
“Do you know who killed them and why?”
“I think so, but I have no proof yet.”
“Is Ellen possibly now in danger?”
“That’s a strong possibility, and that’s why we have to find her right away.”
“Who would want to kill a nun?” Agatha asked.
“Pardon me?” Spider said.
“She went into the convent after giving up the baby,” she said.
“Do you know where she is?” I asked again.
“I want my answer first,” Edward said.
“Frankie Chandler is our suspect,” Mr. Weston. “Ellen’s son. Your brother’s grandson.”
That shocked both of them speechless and I gave them some more information, but left out the serial killer part. When I finished Edward said, “So Frankie searches out who he thinks is his mother and kills her. And you think she probably told him who his real mother was before she was murdered.”
“And based on her name,” Agatha said, “Frankie locates her parents and comes here to find out from them where his long, lost real mother is.”
“Correct,” I said. “Did they know where she is, and do you two also know?”
“She’s out on Long Island,” Edward said. “At St. John of the Cross convent. At least that’s where she went all those years ago.”
“And Frankie’s grandparents knew that?”
“Yes,” Edward said. “I had kept contact with Ellen for a while and I whispered her whereabouts to my sister-in-law, Eleanor. I’m not sure if she told my brother.”
“Do you know her religious name?” Spider asked.
“Sister Audrey LaSalle,” Agatha replied. “She teaches second grade.”
“Thank you very much,” I said. “As you can surmise, my partner and I have to move quickly on this. And I’d like to keep one of these photos of Ellen if I may.”
“Sure,” Edward said handing me the three photos.
I selected the best one and Spider and I started to leave. Agatha Weston grabbed my arm and said, “Detective Boyland, what kind of person kills his mother, biological or not, and his grandparents?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I suppose one answer is deranged maniac. Or a stealthy psychopath. Or maybe a grown-up boy who was tossed around cruelly his whole life and just wants his mother – his real mother – to comfort him.”
“You’ll keep us up-to-date?” Edward asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Thank you both again for your help.”
On the drive back to Mineola I called down to Agent Havlek in Washington and said, “We caught a break. Try to get up here as soon as you can.”
I stayed true to my word and brought Lois Lane into the meeting I had set up for seven that evening. Havlek and I decided on a team of six to do the surveillance out at St. John’s. We had assumed Frankie would be making contact with his mother soon – one way or the other – where else would he go, except the one place where he might be able to fulfill his life’s goal?
We decided on Spider, Manny Perez, Havlek and another FBI Agent from the local office, and Sam Hervell and his partner from Queens Homicide. We would begin surveillance the next day with Spider and Mike Havlek. I would not be a part of the up-close surveillance at any time as my face was well known to Frankie Chandler, but I would be one of us to always be in the immediate area should the surveillance team spot him. Allison Hayes agreed to stay a few blocks away from the immediate location, but we promised to call her as soon as the surveillance paid off and we decided to make our move to bring Frankie into custody.
On the first day of surveillance both Spider and Havlek observed Sister Audrey at various times and at various locations on the campus. On the second day both reported that Sister Audrey looked at them suspiciously on separate occasions. We switched teams for the next day using Sam Hervell and his female partner with the caveat to be extra careful and observe the nun from as far away as possible We supplied them with high powered binoculars and waited.
Since I couldn’t be seen, I sat off campus in a car and began to prepare an affidavit for a wiretap on Sister Audrey’s phone. That would take a couple of days, at least, for approval. We hoped the case would break before that, but so far there were absolutely no signs of Frankie Chandler.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
When Mommy called me tonight and told me of her suspicions regarding seeing an unusual number of strangers around the school and grounds, I calmed her fears as best I could. I told her that any past sins I had committed were not of such a nature as to attract law enforcement’s attention. That seemed to satisfy her, but I had to find out one important thing. I said, “Mommy, can you remember what they looked like?”
“Frankie, there were several of them, both men and women, black and white.”
“Concentrate on the white man,” I said. “I think I’m being followed by a guy, maybe a bill collector that looks like this…” I then gave her as detailed a description of Detective Danny Boyland as I could, and waited, holding my breath.
“No, Frankie, none of them looked like that at all.”
“Thanks,” I said my red warning flag changing to yellow. “Let’s forget about it. I’ll call you tomorrow and see you Friday for dinner.”
After I closed my cell phone, I thought about this situation some more and decided to take the bull by the horns. Danny had to be looking for me since he had the murder case on Angela. I’m sure he suspected me – I mean, come on, he damn well knew it was me – but his suspicions still had not been voiced on the television news or in the papers. I decided to call him the next morning using my cell phone which still had a 562 California area code. Won’t he be surprised when he hears my voice, the voice of the killer he was no doubt desperate to catch?
“Homicide Squad, Detective Boyland.”
“Hello, Danny. It’s been awhile. Frankie Chandler here.”
Danny was good, I give him that. He didn’t miss a beat and sounded genuinely happy when he said,” Frankie! Good to hear from you. How are you?”
I could visualize him waving madly at someone and writing my cell number down off his caller ID, but he betrayed no trace of anxiety in his voice.
“I’m doing okay,” I said.
“Still out in sunny California?” he ask
ed.
“Yeah, got my Associate’s degree now.”
“Good for you. Uh…are you planning on coming back East anytime soon?”
“No, no reason to.”
“Well, I may give you one. I’m glad you called because I had no way of finding you.”
“You were looking for me?”
“Yeah, Frank. Listen, I have some bad news I have to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“Frankie, this is a hard one to say. You were always interested in locating your mother, ever since you were a young boy…”
“Well, I’m still looking, but this doesn’t sound good.”
“I caught a murder case a couple of weeks ago in Farmingdale. Woman’s name was Maria Ferraro. When we ran her prints they came back to Angela Chandler. Frankie, I’m sorry. We’re pretty certain she’s your mother.”
“Holy shit!” I said. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, and I wanted to notify you right away in case you wanted to claim her body and provide a burial.”
“Is she still in the morgue?”
“Yes, she is.”
“I’ll have to think this whole thing over,” I said. “This news is a tremendous surprise – and a shock.”
“Give me a call when you digest it all,” Danny said. “I’m here on days all week. And once more, Frankie, let me tell you how sorry I am. I knew you had a lot of bad breaks in this life. You didn’t need this.”
“Any idea who did it?”
“Unfortunately, no,” he said. “She was shot at close range with a .357 caliber weapon. No bullet matches so far.”
“Who the hell would want to kill my mother?” I asked.
“No clues yet. No motive yet. It’s still a mystery. Hey, when you come back I still have your bicycle sitting in my garage waiting for you.”
My bike! Danny was pulling out all the stops to lure me back. I disconnected the call after promising him to get in touch again soon and I mulled over the conversation. Danny seemed to be totally on the up and up. But was he so good that he was able to conceal his true knowledge about me and all the other murders? Was he just trying to get me to return to New York under the pretext of burying my mother, just to slap the cuffs on me? Or was he really concerned about me as he had always been ever since I met him when I was nine years old?
That evening I called Mommy and asked her about any more sightings of strangers. She told me she hadn’t been out and about much today as she had a ton of papers to grade. She said, “During my walks from the convent to the school, I didn’t notice anyone I didn’t know.”
“That’s good news,” I said. “Maybe those strangers were there for a purpose entirely unrelated to me and you.”
“Probably,” she said. “I feel better about it now.”
“Good. I’ll meet you tomorrow when you leave school.”
“That’s a good idea, Frankie. We can take a walk and then I can change into street clothes for our dinner date.”
“Okay, Mommy. I’ll be there around three.”
I was pretty much convinced that the suspicious people Mommy observed had nothing at all to do with me, especially after my conversation with Danny Boyland. I breathed easier and smiled in anticipation of dinner tomorrow with my new found real mother and the planning we would do for our new life together.
Friday afternoon arrived and I had shaved my head, trimmed my beard and dressed in navy blue slacks, white dress shirt and light-blue checked blazer. My black penny loafers sported a bright shine as I left my rented room and got into my car for the short drive over to St. John of the Cross.
I arrived a half hour early and sat unobserved in my car from a vantage point where I could observe the entire grounds. Using binoculars I scanned the school, the church, the convent, the maintenance sheds and all the grounds in-between them. I noticed no suspicious persons or anything else out of the ordinary. When I observed activity at the school – the first students were beginning to leave the building – I got out of my car, settled my .40 caliber automatic firmly into my belt at the rear of my slacks, and headed toward the school.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
On Friday afternoon just when we were all beginning to feel that this would be another day that Frankie wouldn’t show, the radio in the car in which I was sitting with Spider crackled and Mike Havlek said, “All units, I’m watching a gray Chevy near the front of the parking lot. It’s been there about ten minutes and the driver has not left, but seems to be doing what I’m doing – observing with binoculars.”
“Ten-four, Mike,” I said. “Let’s all sit tight until he makes a move – and Mike, any description of him?”
“No, Danny, I can just make out the back of his head. He seems bald. Was Frankie bald?”
“Not the last time I saw him,” I said. “And he has a head of hair that looked as if it would never leave him.”
Fifteen minutes later Havlek was back on the radio and said, “Subject now leaving his car. He is bald, but has a full black beard. Height and weight appear to be in line with those of Chandler.”
“Okay, guys, this could be it,” I said, “everyone out of their cars and begin to converge on the campus. Make sure you switch to walkie-talkie mode.”
They all acknowledged me. Spider and I, along with six others, came slowly toward the campus from the four points of the compass. Sam Hervell was the next to break the silence saying, “I got him. He’s walking directly across the campus toward the school.”
Manny Perez chimed in and said, “Shit, there’s a bunch of kids piling out of there.”
“Everyone lay back,” I said. “Let’s see where he goes, and let’s hope those kids get out of there fast.”
“They will,” Sam said. “It’s Friday afternoon.”
Sam was right about that and five minutes later, with all the kids gone, we watched as Frankie greeted a nun with a big hug, no doubt Sister Audrey LaSalle, his long lost mother. They began strolling toward the middle of the park-like grounds, arm in arm, happy smiles on their faces. Jesus, I thought, how many times has this poor kid ever been happy in his tragic life? I got on the radio and said, “Okay guys, this is it. Let’s take him. Who’s directly in front of him?”
“Me and my partner,” Mike Havlek said.
“Go right at him,” I said, “and the rest of us will close fast from the other three compass directions. No matter which way he runs we’ll have him. And remember, he is no doubt armed. All acknowledge.”
When all four ten-fours came in, I said, “Okay, move!”
Frankie spotted Havlek’s team coming right at him, and despite Mike’s shouted warning of “Freeze!” he disengaged his arm from his mother, shoved her to the ground, turned around and ran toward the school – right into the approaching team of Manny Perez and Queenie Pearson. He pulled a gun out and exchanged a few shots with Manny and Queenie and made it to the school when they were forced to dive for cover. It seemed no one got hit during the exchange. We all caught up to Manny and Queenie and verified they were okay. From a previous study of the campus layout we knew the buildings were all connected via underground tunnels. But did Frankie know that? Or would he shortly discover that?
The tunnels connected five buildings – the school, the church, the convent, the priest’s residence and the largest maintenance building. I’m sure everyone thought of the potential hostage situations as we split up to cover the buildings. Spider and I further split to cover the two buildings that we figured were occupied by the least number of people. Spider took the maintenance building and I headed for the church.
Gun down, I slipped into the church through a side door and closed it behind me. The afternoon sun, slanting through the stained-glass windows, provided adequate lighting as I peeked from behind a marble pillar at the gloomy interior of the church. All the pews were empty. I heard no sounds or movement. There were two confessionals, one on each side of the aisle. I moved up the right side and checked that one. Empty. I moved toward the back of the churc
h and checked the two restrooms in the vestibule. Both empty. Back down the left aisle toward the other confessional. Empty. I was moving fast. I didn’t figure Frankie to be here at all. Most likely he had a nun hostage in the convent and my presence would be better served there. But I had to finish the search, just in case. I would check the offices adjacent to the altar, then the choir loft and finally the basement. Then I’d move through the tunnel to join the others.
The first office door I opened was the priest’s changing room. Unoccupied. A door to a small kitchen stood ajar and I pushed it fully open and peered in. A hand grabbed my arm and whirled me around. Frankie Chandler stood there pointing a gun at my face. My gun was pointed directly at his belly. “Danny,” he said.
“Hello, Frankie,” I said.
“Are you going to shoot me, Danny?”
“No, Frankie. Are you going to shoot me?”
“No, but I should. How else am I going to get away?”
“Let’s talk about it,” I said. “Let’s sit at the table and talk about it.”
We groped our way over to the table, eyes locked, neither one of us lowering our guns. I sat with my back to the door and he sat directly across from me. We were no more than thirty inches apart. “I don’t like to talk with a gun pointed at me,” I said.
“Neither do I,” he said. “Put yours down.”
“You first, Frankie,” I said with a smile.
“You first,” he responded.
I thought for a moment and then said, “Sure, Frankie.” I laid the gun down near the center of the table. He looked surprised and laid down his Glock next to my Glock.
“What now, Detective Boyland?”
“You surrender to me. Nobody gets shot.”
“And exactly what am I surrendering for?”
“Murders. A lot of murders in California. And my murder case – your mother, Angela Chandler.”
“So, you knew all along. You knew everything while we spoke on the phone. And you acted so cool, as if you knew none of it. Great acting job.”