The Dead Don't Talk

by Lawrence J Epstein

  “Maybe. Or maybe you’re making it nice and neat when it isn’t.”

  “I appreciate the encouragement.”

  “If you didn’t have feelings for her, I’d say don’t waste your time. Now I’ll say you can get yourself into one holy mess. Stay back, Danny. Does the Congressman want you to do this?”

  I was quiet.

  “I thought so. No one wants you to keep looking. Nobody. Stubborn is good sometimes, Danny, but in this case it’s self-defeating. I think Roth killed Siegel. It closes a bad part of my life. I’m happy. Even I think you’re spinning your wheels.”

  “You think Roth tried to kill me? You think Roth had the juice to put pressure on the Congressman to get me to back off? I don’t. I think there’s more to this. And I think Miss Roth deserves to have somebody who believes in her.”

  He looked at me.

  “I’ll have her brought to my office with some guards and a lawyer. You can talk to her.”

  “Thanks, Flanagan.”

  “Yeah. I’m going against myself. The case is closed, and I don’t want it opened. But you’re a good man, Danny. I can only do this once.”

  He stood up. So did I.

  We shook hands.

  I had to prepare for a talk with Rebecca Roth.

  I had to save her.

  I had to find the real killer.

  I had to show everyone what Danny Ryle was made of.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I was sitting with Ari and Betsy trying to figure out where to go.

  Betsy said, “Sometimes when I got lost, I found it useful to take a step or two back. Let’s return to the beginning and see what we missed.”

  “We can’t do it all properly,” I said. “We have to assume the cops did their best. There may not be clues to find.”

  “If we were starting, Danny, what would you tell us to do?”

  I took a sip of coffee.

  “I don’t know. Were there other deaths around that time frame? What records can we get of all the suspects? Can we get a list of their phone calls? I’m sure there is a ton of other stuff as well. We can’t sift through it all. The logical step is to focus on Bret Roth. We start with the same assumption as the police. What proof is there? Only if we rule him out do we go back and do the stuff I just outlined.”

  “Everybody’s dismissing the anti-Semitic writing on the walls, Danny. What if that Nazi who calls himself Riefenstahl was drunk and couldn’t help himself?”

  “It was the painter downstairs. It doesn’t matter. It’s a wrong turn.”

  “Okay. Then when are you speaking with Rebecca Roth?”

  I looked at my watch.

  “In ninety minutes. I’m going to head out soon.”

  Betsy cleared her throat and said, “What about the Congressman? You’re doing this for him, after all, and he’s telling you to stop.”

  “He’s ordering me to stop. We’ve disturbed someone. That’s good.”

  “Maybe you should stop, Danny. You can keep your job. And maybe keep your life.”

  “I’m not arguing with the logic of that. But, first of all, I can’t disappoint Rabbi London. He needs the comfort if I can provide it for him. Maybe I can’t. Then we both have to live with that. Second, I’m curious. I think we’re making good progress. I want to know where it goes. Third of all, I work for the Congressman. He doesn’t own my conscience.”

  “Spoken bravely for a man who’s still getting a paycheck,” Betsy said. “Speaking as someone who will not have a paycheck coming to me each week, it’s scary to be financially falling through space.”

  I nodded.

  “The Congressman isn’t going to fire me now. Governor Alden is coming into town, and I’m coordinating local security with his team. The Governor isn’t going to want to disrupt that.”

  “What does he care?”

  “Alden is running for President in two years. The Congressman sees a cabinet position for himself. Who knows? Maybe in the depth of night he sees himself as Alden’s Vice-Presidential running mate. All I know is that the Congressman won’t do anything to make life difficult for himself before the Governor’s visit. I have an easy job. I made some phone calls. A woman in the office helped me in return for a favor I did for her. I don’t have much to do, but the Congressman wants me to show up. What that means is that I’m not getting fired for a while.”

  We talked for a bit longer, and then I got up to go.

  Ari would follow me at a distance. He regularly checked my car, but I liked having him somewhere around me.

  As promised, Rebecca Roth was sitting in Al Flanagan’s office. Her lawyer was next to her on one side. A cop was on the other.

  I stuck my head inside. “This is getting to look like the Stateroom scene in A Night at the Opera. I’d like to play Groucho.”

  Flanagan said to the others, “Ignore him. We’re trying to find the right mental ward for him. Right now no one is willing to admit the kid.”

  Me they ignored. Flanagan, they laughed at.

  I switched tones.

  “I’d really like to speak to Miss Roth alone.”

  Everyone looked at Flanagan.

  “He’s relatively honest, and he’s got no legal knowledge at all, so I think it’s all right. I’ll take full responsibility.”

  That was enough. They were covered. They went out of the room but stayed by the window staring at us for any suspicious move.

  When we were alone, I said, “I’m sorry. I don’t have to ask you if you did it because I know you didn’t.”

  Rebecca’s face looked as though all human feelings had been drained out of it.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because you wouldn’t kill anyone, much less your own father.”

  “Why did you ask to speak with me?”

  “I wanted to see you again. And I wanted to tell you face to face that I’m going to find out who did murder your father. And then I’m going to get you released from jail.”

  “That’s awfully noble of you. I wish I had as much hope as you have.”

  “I have enough for both of us, Rebecca. I could use your help.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Just tell me what happened.”

  “It’s very simple. We closed the store for an hour. My father had to do stock work. We got a delivery of new materials—saws, nails, stuff like that—and we had to make room for it by removing older stuff and then putting the new goods on the shelf. I went out to eat lunch and prepare for the work.”

  “Where did you go?”

  She smiled.

  “A problem. I had brought my own food. I sat in my car and ate it. I like to be alone. Sometimes I need to be alone. In this case, as far as I know, no one saw me.”

  “And after you finished?”

  “I went back to the store. I was parked in back so it was very close.”

  “Did you see anyone back there even if they didn’t see you?”

  “I saw some trucks and cars go by. I can’t tell you any of the drivers.”

  “Can you tell me who owned the trucks? I mean, for example, a company.”

  “I don’t remember. I’m pretty sure a UPS truck went by.”

  “All right. So you finished your lunch and returned.”

  “Yes. I came in the back way. The front door was unlocked although it still had a sign on it saying we were closed. My father was lying on the floor. He was covered in blood.”

  “The head bleeds a lot,” I said.

  She just nodded.

  “I did what any daughter would do. I ran to him. I held him. I moved the hammer because it partially blocked his face. I wanted to see him. I checked his pulse and just sat there frozen for a minute, unable to move.

  “Then, crying, I got up and called the police.

  “They got there quickly, took a look around, stared at the blood on my dress and on my face and on my hands and told me they were taking me to police headquarters. It was all a confusing mess after that. I called
my sister. She got me my lawyer. Believe it or not I didn’t have a criminal lawyer I could just call.”

  She sounded understandably bitter.

  “Someone had to get in to kill him.”

  “Yes.”

  “So your father had to unlock the door.”

  “Yes. I guess so. Does that mean my father knew the killer?”

  “Not necessarily. Your father may just have wanted to accommodate a customer. So the killer is let in. He wasn’t there long. I’ve read the police report. There were no signs of a struggle. The man came there to kill your father. Can you think of anyone who might want to do that?”

  She shook her head.

  “My father had a temper. I...”

  “What, Rebecca?”

  “I don’t want to say it.”

  “That doesn’t matter. You have to.”

  “My father didn’t like the man I was going to marry. My father had wanted me to marry someone wealthy. The two got into very bad arguments. But my fiancé didn’t do it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he’s not my fiancé any longer. He broke up with me. My father was happy, and that got me very angry with him. But my fiancé had no reason to kill him. My father wasn’t blocking our marriage. There wasn’t going to be a marriage.”

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

  “Is this what they call a doomed life? Am I some tragic heroine from a 19th century Russian novel?”

  “I think it’s just called regular life. Can you think of anyone else who might have wanted to hurt your father?”

  “I’ve spent hours trying to think of someone, and I can’t.”

  “I have to ask you a tough question.”

  “I know what it is. You want to know if I think my father killed Rabbi Siegel.”

  She was smart. That didn’t make me like her less, but rather multiplied my attraction.

  “Do you?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “The police didn’t think anything was stolen.”

  “I know.”

  “There had to be a motive.”

  She was silent.

  Then she said, “Don’t waste your time helping me. I’m Little Girl Lost. No one will believe me. All the evidence is against me.”

  “But I know you didn’t do it. That means I can’t stop.”

  “Your helping me isn’t going to mean that I will have feelings for you.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you’d have feelings for anyone until after this is all settled.”

  She hung her head. Defeat is not pleasant to have to watch.

  I got up.

  “I know it’s difficult. But be brave. I’m going to save you.”

  She didn’t look at me.

  I nodded to Flanagan through the window.

  Then I went out and returned to my house.

  Ari came inside.

  “Danny, we have a problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You were being followed on your way home.”

  “Did you get his license number?”

  “Of course. But we both know it’s stolen from somewhere. Someone is after you, Danny.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I’m pretty sure there is a self-selection process for people to decide to become political reporters. They enjoy being annoying. They like interrupting others. They are really interested in power and are secretly irritated they don’t have any. They are smart. In the case of my friend Amanda from Newsday, they are very smart.

  She was standing by the hotel entrance when I arrived two hours early to check out the ballroom for Governor Alden.

  “I didn’t recognize you, Danny,” she said. “You’re dressed up like a real adult.”

  “Nice of you to notice.”

  “I need an interview with Alden and an exclusive with your boy.”

  “How about Ennis?”

  “Oh, sure. My readers are panting as they eagerly await the wise words of a chief of staff. Uh. No, Danny. The Honorable Mr. Miles himself.”

  “Amanda, I need a favor from you.”

  “I see a deal emerging.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Can I tell you the favor?”

  “Don’t bother. I won’t do anything until I speak to these boys.”

  “You’re just overflowing with the milk of human kindness.”

  “You try being kind and being a reporter. You’d be trampled on the ground.”

  I saw two men approaching.

  “Excuse me, Amanda.”

  “Sure. Just remember what I asked.”

  The first man was large with a face that probably needed shaving on the half hour.

  “You Ryle?”

  “I am.”

  The man nodded. No handshake.

  “I’m Jeffers. I’m in charge of the Governor’s security. You’ve spoken with my assistant. I was hoping you could take me around before he gets here. By ‘hope’ I mean you better do it and do it now.”

  I could hear the Congressman whispering in my ear: “Come on. Don’t get annoyed. He’ll only be here for a few hours. Just cooperate.”

  I took Jeffers around the hotel, focusing on the entrances, the elevator and stairs, and the kitchen. Then we went to the ballroom. It was large. He went to the stage, stood on it and looked over all the seats where the audience would be placed. He walked the whole stage. Then he asked if there was a small room near the stage where the Governor could stay. I showed him where it was. We went out and he grabbed a waiter and told the guy what to bring to the side room.

  “Let’s go over every step the Governor will take when he comes in here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He glared at me. We went back to the hotel entrance, and I explained the evening’s schedule. Jeffers wasn’t nervous, but he followed what I said very closely. He’s someone I’d want next to me in a foxhole even if I didn’t like him much. He was the kind of guy who never slept and knew every weapon ever invented.

  “How long have you been working for the Governor?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Nine months next week. I really enjoy it. Before that I worked around New York.”

  “You mind if I ask how you met him?”

  “A guy I had done a job for liked my work and told the Governor. I had a trial period.”

  “And now you’re head of security.”

  “Only in America,” he said.

  “Who’s the Governor’s media person?”

  “What do you want?”

  “A Newsday reporter I know wants an interview with him.”

  He knew the two major Newsday political reporters. “Is that Amanda or Dan?”

  “Amanda.”

  “When she gets here, you bring her to that side room. Tell her the Governor will be looking very carefully at the article she writes.”

  “I don’t think Amanda handles threats well.”

  “You just tell her that.

  Ennis arrived. It took him 0.4 seconds before he started to yell at me.

  I sort of listened. I think he was talking about whether I had checked out the hotel workers. I wasn’t positive, but I smiled and nodded, and soon he just walked away.

  The Governor was next. He was good. George Burns had once said, “Sincerity is everything. If you can fake that, you’ve got it made.” The Governor knew how to fake sincerity.

  He even came up to me, took my hand in both of his, and said, “Danny, it’s a pleasure to see you again. My team loves your boss, and Miles can’t stop bragging about you. I hope we’ll all be able to work together.”

  And then he was off.

  Congressman Miles came into the room. He didn’t stop and talk to people. I was surprised because he was usually careful to speak with everyone.

  I spotted Amanda.

  “You’ll like this. The Governor and you.”

  “You’re right. I do like it.”

  I spoke to Jeffers. He got the Governor into the side room and I took Amanda in
side.

  “Don’t be intimidated just because you might be speaking to the next President of the United States.”

  “You’re so good at calming people down,” she said.

  I spoke to the Congressman. He agreed to a meeting with Amanda after the event.

  All was going well.

  The Congressman said to me, “The Governor’s fundraising is going like gangbusters. There’s a tech guy from California who wants to ride with the Governor all the way to the White House. The tech guy is busy bundling donations. You working well with his security guy?”

  “Very well, Congressman.”

  “Good. I want the Governor to think of me as ready for the top.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Governor came out of the side room and walked again to the back of the ballroom. He wanted to shake the right hands, and he was counting on me to guide him to the money people, the people with influence, the party people who could help even as I rushed him past the poor, those without influence, and the party people who couldn’t help. I did that.

  Soon it was time to get the Governor to the stage. People had already begun to find seats.

  “This way, Governor,” I said, trying to lead him down the left aisle where fewer people would bother him.

  He stopped.

  “No, Danny. Let’s go down the center aisle. That way, I’ll be able to shake more hands.”

  It was a smart idea.

  I nodded.

  But he could read my inner thoughts. “I can see your face, Danny. You don’t like me. You don’t like my political tactics. Don’t judge me too soon. Politics is war without any bullets, Danny. It is therefore a sign of great moral progress. You may dislike my hunger for power, my lies, and my manipulation of people. But all that is still vastly better than having 19,000 soldiers killed at the Battle of the Bulge. You have to be tough in politics. The one who is the most ruthless will win. Don’t call it immoral without seeing the immorality it prevents.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I took him to the stage and went to the back.

  Amanda came to find me.

  I looked at her. “He wants you to write a puff piece.”

  “He’s very charming,” she said.

  “A charming politician. Amazing.”

  “Don’t be flippant, Danny boy. He’s really good. He has a chance. I’ve seen a lot of folks who took a shot at it. He’s one of the smartest. Thanks for getting the interview. And the Congressman said you arranged for me to speak with him after this is over.”