The Squeeze

by Paul Schueller

  Although it was after midnight, Doug picked up his cell and dialed Kyle. “Yeah, it’s me. You want to go to an accident scene that I think is about to turn into a crime scene?”

  “Yes. You want me to pick you up? My guess is you’ve had a couple,” Kyle said.

  “Just a couple, but that would probably be best,” Doug said.

  “Who got in an accident and where?” Kyle asked.

  “John DeFallo, on Lakeshore drive, south of the loop,” Doug said.

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Kyle said.

  John was long gone to the hospital when they arrived, but four police cars and yellow tape had the area secure for investigators. Doug looked around, quickly spotted the lead investigator and approached.

  “Good evening,” Doug said. “Can I ask how it’s going?”

  “You can ask, but I’m not inclined to answer,” the thin, tall lead investigator said.

  Doug flashed his badge and stretched the truth saying, “This guy was a suspect in a murder investigation.”

  “Sounds pretty coincidental that he would get in an accident.”

  Doug extended a business card to the man. “Can you keep me in the loop, please?”

  “Yeah, will do. I can tell you something right away. This is no ordinary accident. The car is pretty messed up, and I’m guessing from what I heard that we find paint from another car or his brakes were tampered with or maybe even his seat belt was compromised. He was thrown from the vehicle.”

  “So, what do you see?” Doug asked.

  “It’s not really what I see so far, it’s what he heard.” The investigator’s eyes darted over to his left as he spoke. “You need to talk to the first cop on the scene. He’s over there and you won’t believe what he has to say.” The investigator pointed to a young, clean cut Chicago city officer leaning against the hood of his patrol car.

  “How is the crash victim doing?” Doug asked.

  “Can’t be doing well if they got me out here. Paramedics told the initial cops on the scene that it was bad.”

  “Thanks,” Doug said, and he and Kyle turned away from the yellow tape, walking back toward the patrol car.

  Doug flashed his badge and gave the young officer the same story that he told the accident investigator. The officer looked like he was barely out of high school, with short brown hair and a dazed look on his baby face.

  “So, what can you tell me young man?” Doug asked.

  “I’ve never seen a guy that knew he was dying before, so I don’t know how one is supposed to act. But this was strange,” the officer said.

  “You talked to him?” Doug asked, totally surprised.

  “More listened than talked. I was the first one here. Looked like the bottom half of his torso was flattened. He was pinned under his own car but still alert, at least for a minute.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Well, first off he was freakishly calm. I was ready to shit myself, and dying didn’t seem to scare him in the least.”

  “Yeah, well, what did he say?” Doug asked.

  “He mumbled something about at least getting to see his wife again, then he paused and asked if I thought people that were murdered usually knew before they died.”

  “And?!” Doug said.

  “And, that was it. I asked him if someone was trying to kill him and who it was, but he just stared at me and then passed out. I’m not sure he would have answered or knew.”

  “Jeez. Okay. Thanks for your time, and I wouldn’t worry about seeing something like that again. You could be a cop for a hundred lifetimes and not have that happen.” Doug turned to Kyle, motioning that they should leave.

  “That’s it?” Kyle said.

  “Yeah, unless you know something about accident reconstruction. One thing I’ve learned about car accidents and fires . . . I don’t know shit,” Doug said.

  “So, who do you think did this?” Kyle said.

  “Take your pick. Mark. Tommy. RD Partners. I don’t fucking know anymore. What do you think? Doug asked.

  “I think I need to find out who RD is. That’s been hanging out there too long now. Why didn’t you make that a higher priority?” Kyle asked.

  “Why didn’t you? I told you that I couldn’t figure it out,” Doug insisted and then continued. “You’ll know when you try to track it down, it’s not easy. Plus, until John’s accident there was never a decent tie to a crime.”

  Could be a falling out. A fight over money. That’s enough money to cause some problems,” Kyle said.

  “Well, you chase that down then. I’m going to the hospital,” Doug said, then hesitated. “Well, I’ll go in the morning. John’s not going anywhere.”

  “I’ll take you home and head to the office,” Kyle said.

  “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “I have to track down this other owner, and I won’t be able to sleep until I do.”

  “Suit yourself. My bet is it’s a dead end.”

  After dropping Doug back off at his apartment, Kyle pored over his files and the state business incorporation database. The path back to John DeFallo was easy to find as he had before, but the other owner eventually always circled back to the company name, RD Partners. There was one shell company after another incorporated in different states, all with post office boxes, until Kyle finally found an address for the law office of Young & Erickson.

  It was six in the morning, and Doug would probably be getting up soon, Kyle thought. After six rings, Doug whined. “What the hell do you want?”

  “Hey, I’ve been up all night. Don’t get testy with me. Does the law firm of Young & Erickson mean anything to you?” Kyle asked.

  “Young & Erickson is where Tommy’s ex-girlfriend works. You met her the other day when we had Tommy and Pat in. They represented Tommy when this whole mess started,” Doug said.

  “Well, the firm represents RD Partners. We need to find out who RD is.”

  “Yeah, no shit. We find out who and we may have our killer. You want to pick me up at eight and we can head over to the law office?” Doug asked.

  “We should do that. I suppose you think RD is short for Tommy Gardner,” Kyle said sarcastically.

  “Hilarious. Maybe because it’s early in the morning, but I don’t know what to think anymore.”

  Kyle and Doug were escorted to a conference room at Young & Erickson. It was the same room that Tommy had spent many hours in, squirming and fighting to stay out of jail just four months earlier. Susan rushed in, skirt and blouse tightly cut, her ponytail typically securely bound. “What can I do for you gentlemen? I’m assuming it might have something to do with Tommy Gardner,” she said.

  “Yes, how’d you know?” Kyle said.

  Susan hesitated, thinking she should just let the dumb question go unanswered, but instead, she said, “I don’t have many clients, actually former clients in this case, that attract police interest and only one who attracts the police and securities’ people. What can I do for you?”

  “Are you familiar with, or did you set up a corporate entity, RD Partners?” Doug asked.

  “No, never heard of it,” Susan said.

  “That’s surprising, since your firm set up a series of shell companies, one of which owned one-half of an entity with John DeFallo.”

  Susan immediately grasped the potential ramifications implied in that statement and became much more engaged in the conversation.

  “I’m sure we didn’t represent Mr. DeFallo. That would have been a clear conflict with our representation of Mr. Gardner when they set up their business,” Susan offered.

  “Why don’t you try really hard to help us out here, because even representing RD, whoever that is, opposite Mr. DeFallo looks a little problematic given his relationship and history with Mr. Gardner,” Doug said, and added, “and now Mr. DeFallo is lying in a hospital.”

  Doug was surprised how little the whole conversation fazed Susan as she started to speak again. “I do remember John being in here a co
uple of times, and I even mentioned it to Tommy once.”

  “Can you remember anything else?” Kyle asked.

  “Normal work comings and goings. Wait, there was a woman. Really well-dressed, always in red,” Susan said.

  “Might RD be red dress?” Doug asked.

  Without answering, Susan opened her laptop and typed RD Partners into the firm’s client cross-check software. Although Susan actually knew what would come up, she had to go through the motions. RD Partners was a client of her boss, Sam Meyers, Young & Erickson’s managing partner. “Ah, gentlemen, I can’t share anymore with you. I have to go,” Susan said.

  “Wait a minute. You can’t just go. Is Tommy behind this?” Doug asked.

  “All I can tell you is that Tommy has nothing to do with RD Partners, and you need to talk to our managing partner, Sam Meyers, if you want to continue this discussion.”

  “Is he in?” Doug asked.

  “I’ll check, but I doubt it. Good luck to you, gentlemen,” Susan said and disappeared.

  With one brief interaction, RD was confirmed as a prime suspect for John’s murder, if it turned out to be that, and Doug and Kyle were also thinking quite possibly George’s. They stared at each other, too exhausted to discuss the possible scenarios running through their heads.

  They walked out knowing that Doug had more legwork and Kyle had more research to do. They had a follow up scheduled for later in the day and would talk then.

  Doug headed over to the hospital where John was in ICU. It was late morning Friday after the accident the previous night. Doug figured if nothing else, he might run into family or friends of John’s and start digging a little. He knew that would be risky since this was still an accident, but he just had a feeling it would be worth the trip.

  As Doug entered the ICU waiting room, he passed Deb as she was leaving after her brief conversation with Mark and Tommy. Doug knew she looked familiar but couldn't place her until the picture of George's wife from his file flashed into his head. He was puzzled by her presence there, but had more pressing things on his mind.

  Doug got more than he expected when he came around the corner and saw Tommy and Mark through the ICU room window, talking right over John’s body like he wasn’t even there. He thought he heard Tommy say something about murder, but didn’t know for sure. Doug thought about going in, but he stood by the closed door and listened. The men started to talk more quietly, so he couldn’t make out another word.

  There was nothing he could do at that moment because he preferred to separate Tommy and Mark for his questions. It was a nice day, and Doug had recently taken up smoking again, so he figured he’d grab a cigarette and wait outside for Tommy or Mark. Soon after Doug lit his smoke and took a drag, Tommy blew out the door, still reeling from the info from Deb and confrontation with Mark.

  “Hey, Tommy, what’s the hurry?” Doug asked.

  Tommy’s hair looked like he had grabbed fists of it and tried to pull it out. He focused on the ground five feet in front of him, totally unaware of his surroundings. Clearly something had gone on in the hospital, and Doug knew it.

  “My God, what now?” Tommy said.

  “Do you really need to ask what now? Another dead body—well, near dead body—in your wake.”

  “Come on, I have nothing to do with this,” Tommy said.

  “Not so sure about that. They all start out as accidents with you. My guess is this one ends up as something else, just like George and the guy before him.”

  Tommy had to admit from Doug’s perspective, this was looking pretty bad. “Listen, if you knew what I knew, you wouldn’t be looking at me for George, or this, or anything else,” Tommy said.

  “Really. Enlighten me, then,” Doug said sarcastically.

  “I can’t. I won’t . . . I don’t really know for sure. Why don’t you talk to Mark or George’s wife or John’s business partner?” Tommy offered.

  “Where the hell did that all come from?” Doug asked, trying to look surprised, but knowing he was struggling with the same questions.

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe finally take the advice I gave from the beginning, and follow the money! I’m out of here since I assume you’re not taking me in again.”

  “No, you’re free to go,” Doug said. “I’ll wait until after the accident investigation guys tell me that it was no accident.”

  “You do that. Then, I’ll tell you again where to go . . . looking,” Tommy said and turned, nearly running down the sidewalk. There was nothing left for him to do at the hospital. He headed home broke, exhausted, and confused about all he had learned at the hospital. He knew now that George had been behind the false trades, too. Tommy wouldn’t believe it—he couldn’t believe it—but in the back of his mind, it made everything else make sense.

  50

  Tommy sat down the next morning with a large cup of coffee at his favorite table at the little coffee shop a block from his apartment. The smell and sound was the same as every other coffee house in the city, but this one looked more like someone’s grandmother’s house with old worn fabric furniture, thin spindled tables, and framed chairs with stuffed fabric seats. Tommy adjusted the time of day that he came throughout the year to match the one precious hour a day where the sun rose over the building across the street and snuck in under the canvas window canopy.

  Tommy sat down to read a book. A novel of fiction, no less. He had to do something besides drinking and pills to take his mind off his troubles.

  He never read without purpose. Enjoyment wasn’t purpose. He was bored within minutes and looked up to see Doug, yet again. This time he saw something different as Doug approached. Instead of plopping himself down uninvited, he walked up, and then stood by Tommy’s table for a moment.

  “May I join you please?” Doug asked.

  “Yeah. I guess,” Tommy answered.

  “Thank you. I thought that it would be a good idea for us to talk outside the precinct and in a more civilized manner for once. What do you think?” Doug asked.

  “Given how those conversations have gone, I guess it can’t hurt,” Tommy said. “But I have to tell you, congenial looks pretty creepy on you. What changed since yesterday?”

  “You know, Tommy, I have never talked to a potential felon on a case I was working as often as I have talked to you. I just wanted you to know that this is—you are—a personal record for me.”

  “Uh, okay . . . thanks?” Tommy muttered, still surprised by the dynamic of the conversation.

  “Well, I have been trying to figure out why a guy would do that as often as you have without an attorney. For a while I knew that your issues with attorneys because of your dad’s death would keep you coming back, but that doesn’t explain all of your actions. Either you are guilty and ridiculously arrogant, or you don’t have anything to hide.”

  “I’d like to believe that I am in the second category, but what do you think?”

  “See, therein lies the problem. I might not be the best detective in the world but I can read people pretty well, and it seems like you are innocent, arrogant, and guilty,” Doug said.

  Tommy thought for a few seconds before speaking again, noting Doug’s demeanor and the fact that Kyle wasn’t with him. He decided to take a bit of a chance. “Well maybe I am a little of all of those things. I can tell you that I didn’t kill anyone or have anything to do with anyone dying.”

  “Why do I get the arrogant and guilty vibes, too?” Doug asked.

  “I am not saying I’m guilty, but on the securities side, maybe, just maybe, you are picking something up there.”

  “I’ll let Kyle worry about that, but I am rethinking the murder side of things and solving the murder is my primary concern,” Doug offered.

  “About fucking time!” Tommy exclaimed.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You are still a person of interest, just not of much interest,” Doug said, and he rose and headed for the door.

  Doug hoped that the conversation would get Tommy more in the moo
d to help with the murder investigations. He also knew that it would likely shut down Tommy’s willingness to cooperate on the market charges, but that wasn’t his case or problem. He headed back to the precinct to catch the live video feed of the interrogation in Whitefish of the brothers with ties to Mark and John.

  A Chicago PD IT guy had rigged up an interrogation room with two laptops, each paired with a speaker phone. The laptops each showed two camera views. In one room, Rick was on one side of the table with his attorney and officer Murphy on the other. The second laptop showed Ron in another room waiting alone at a table across from an empty chair.

  Doug was informed that the attorney was very well-known locally and well compensated; someone way out of the brother’s price range, but who would be representing both men. The attorney’s presence made it evident that this ran deeper than the two brothers. The instructions were simple . . . only have one mic open at a time. Green light, mic is on. Red light, mic is off. Doug didn’t appreciate the condescending tone of the young IT person who probably figured that Doug barely knew how to turn on a cell phone. Activity on camera started before Doug could vent his frustration.

  “Please state your full name and why you think you are here,” Officer Murphy said.

  “Richard Sparks, and I have been asked to come in because I was skiing the same day that this George guy, whatever his last name was, died, or was killed,” Rick said.

  “George Shannon,” Officer Murphy added.

  “Yeah, him. Seemed like a nice enough guy,” Rick said.

  Officer Murphy was surprised by the response, but quickly countered, “You admit to knowing George Shannon?”

  “Yes. Well, I met him that day. Ran into him on the slopes. I can only assume that you would have figured that out sooner or later. There are quite a few cameras out there,” Rick said, glancing at his attorney for approval.

  “Where, exactly, on the property did you meet him?” Murphy asked.

  “I don’t recall. Wasn’t a big deal at the time.” Rick was quickly getting comfortable but stayed alert for cues from his attorney.