“About face.”
“Thanks for the overwhelming vote of confidence.”
“Welcome.”
“Are you unique?”
“Of course.”
“Not that. I mean are there others in your line of work?”
“A few, I’m told.”
“Don’t know them?”
“No. They prefer it this way.”
“They?”
“Employers.”
“Oh. So, some might work alone or some might work in tandem with someone else?”
“Suppose so.”
“Helluva job you got there, buddy. Better thee than me.”
He showed a hint of a smile, but nothing close to the Michael Jordan grandeur. We were silent for a few minutes. The air felt clean and pure for the first time. I got up from the couch and walked to the hole in the wall. The forest looked calm and peaceful today. Nature at rest.
“One more thing.”
“I’m listening,” I said without turning around.
“There won’t be anymore of Joey Malone’s men coming after me. It’s over.”
“Conjecture, or do you have proof to offer?”
“Joey Malone was killed yesterday.”
30
I stayed on another day with Roosevelt Washington in his Sterling, Virginia condo. Rest and relaxation. I learned little more about his work, but what he did tell me was that the information about Joey Malone’s murder came from his contact in the government. He never mentioned the name of his contact. I didn’t ask.
Before we had left for Sterling, a new window had been installed in the cabin. All of the traps had been removed and most of the blood had been cleaned up from the front porch where the last victim had breathed his last. The country charm had been restored to the pastoral setting. All was right with the world.
True enough, except for what I was feeling inside. I was focused upon my part in the drama, not Rosey’s profession. I had not intended upon killing three people less than forty-eight hours ago. And yet, I had driven to D.C. to warn him and stayed around for the action to unfold. I don’t know what I had expected to happen, but I just hadn’t given thought to exterminating three men, even if they did work for Joey Malone. The evil that men do. Women also.
I could rationalize easy enough along the lines that they deserved it. They even asked for it by coming after us. They were hired killers. No one hired us. Well, no one hired me. I was there out of friendship, a long ago, far away friendship of one lone teenage girl for another lonely teenage boy who felt out of place in Southern rural America. Somehow or other Rosey and I had bonded back in the seventies. Despite all the lapsed time in between then and now, we had formed something of a lasting friendship. Or whatever. We formed something.
That what’s I pondered all the way back to Norfolk from Sterling. Debated. Argued. I even fumed a little. I could not shake the feeling that I had done what I had done out of my regard for Rosey. I had helped people before, but nothing like that.
I decided to take a few more days of doing nothing before I allowed myself to jump into another case. I needed more rest before I even went back to searching for the truth about my father’s death. Despite his removal from the scene, Joey Malone was still my link to my father’s murder. I could now investigate without worrying about Joey coming after me. Or my friend Rosey. Rest first, then investigate.
Blackie and Sam were extravagant with their affections when I returned home. I think even Rogers was glad that I had safely returned.
“Well, party girl, nice of you to come home and visit us peons once more.”
“It was no party, love.”
“What was it then?” she said.
“A battle to the death.”
“As in war?”
“There are worst descriptions, but that’s close enough. It was not pretty.”
“Glad you’re back safely. The dogs missed you.”
I smiled to myself. She said that often. Must be hiding some emotion there. Computers. Go figure.
“You’re a dream.”
“I know. Upward and onward is my motto. Heard the latest?”
“Joey’s demise?”
“Wow, impressive for a human. Bad news traveling fast, I suppose.”
“Well, I don’t know how bad that news is. Can’t say I will miss him.”
“Many will not, I am sure. However, his family is concerned.”
“You have a source for that statement?”
“Messages … several of them … left for you. Shall I play them or give you the condensed version?”
“They’re all the same?”
“Basically. Same man calling and asking for you.”
“Who?”
“Craven Malone.”
“What does he want me for? Does he think I killed his son?”
“Don’t think so. He wants to hire you.”
“For what?”
“To find his son’s killer.”
“Oh, boy.”
The drive to Virginia Beach was not as taxing as the last drive over there. I took Sam with me this time. Blackie was a home-body anyway, so Sam was delighted to get out of Norfolk once again. Margie agreed to take in Blackie while Sam and I were away on business. I had been away so much the past few days, the least I could do was to take Sam with me. I promised to take him for a romp in the ocean, too. Sealed the deal.
Craven Malone had practically begged to see me, so the least I could do was to go see the man and offer my condolences. I was expected if not anticipated, so the gate opened before I pushed the intercom button to announce our presence. The bozo that met us halfway up the drive was an enlightened species.
“What’s the dog?” he said.
I hated questions that answered themselves, but it did offer me the opportunity to be feisty.
“Lab.”
“What’s he doin’ here?”
“Partner.”
“I don’t remember seein’ him with ya the last time,” he countered. Mr. Keen Eye.
“Wasn’t his turn. Rotating system.”
He looked confused.
“What?”
“He goes where I go.”
“The boss won’t like this.”
“He’ll get over it.”
“The dog?” Again, he seemed confused.
“No, your boss.”
I was ushered into the library. The room was literally full of books. They gave the appearance of having been bought, but not read. Everything was in perfect order. I ran my finger along one of the shelves. Spotless. The maid did nice work. I sat down in one of the leather chairs by the mahogany desk. Sam sat down on his back legs next to me and stared at the door. He knew that we were in semi-hostile territory.
“I think we’re relatively safe here,” I said to him and patted his head.
Sam swiveled his head to look at me, but then immediately turned back to stare at the door. We didn’t always see eye to eye on danger. His intuition was a tad different from mine.
Craven entered the room with his two thugs, Reno and Georgio. They stopped at the door like good guard dogs while Craven walked across the room to his desk. Sam growled lightly, almost at an inaudible pitch. I put my hand on the back of his neck and could feel his body tighten. He stopped making that low growl.
“What’s the dog for?” he asked after taking his seat behind the desk.
“Style.”
“I don’t like dogs.”
“He knows.”
“Always good to know where one stands, huh?”
“It is for him.”
“I want you to find out who murdered my son,” his voice carried little, if any, emotion. Perhaps the grief had passed.
“Sorry for your loss,” I said with forced feeling.
“Thank you. This is not for family. This is business.”
“Competitors?”
“Don’t know. That’s why I’m paying you.”
“I need some clues. Helps to get sta
rted, you know.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Give me a list of his enemies.”
“Damn, woman. I’m an old man. Hell, if I have to list all of his enemies, I’ll be well over a hundred before I finish.”
“Popular, huh?”
“Nobody liked him. I don’t even think he liked himself. He was a cruel, mean-spirited, corrupt, and excessive man.”
“You liked him,” I said more of a question than a statement.
“Not much. He was my son. That’s about it. You can’t imagine the times I regretted having brought the bastard into the world. The only person who ever loved him is dead. She’s been dead now for over thirty years. Died of a broken heart. His fault, too.”
“That would be…” I said waiting for him to fill in the gap.
“His mother. My first wife. She was the crown jewel. Nobody on the planet like her. God, I still miss that woman. But she was too sensitive. You can’t be that sensitive and survive in this world. She took Joey’s stupidity to heart. Cost her, too.”
“Loved not wisely, but too well.”
“What?”
“Poetic insight.”
“Oh. The funeral is day after tomorrow. Had to have an autopsy. One of his live-ins found him in the bathroom.”
“That’s a start. Shot?”
“Not that I was told. Body was in the shower. An initial report said he probably OD’d from drugs or he could have been poisoned,” he made some horrible sound to clear his throat.
There was silence for a few moments. Sam had been watching Craven Malone while he had been telling about Joey. I noticed that he had not taken his sharp, canine eyes from the man since Craven had entered the room. When Craven paused, Sam turned to look at the two bodyguards by the door. They were posed with their arms crossed over their chests and their feet firmly planted underneath the heavy frames. Bookends. Impressive.
“Drug overdose is not likely murder,” I said. “You must be leaning towards poison.”
“All I got to say is he was murdered. I’ll leave it up to you as to how it was done.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Why don’t you go up with me for the funeral?” he said. “I could tell people that you’re my protégé. I don’t want a lot of press on this. I would prefer that you do this investigation secretly. And for sure I don’t want anyone knowing that I hired you.”
I thought it obvious that if anyone would hire me for this it would have been the father. I said nothing.
“What kind of protégé?”
“Business associate. Does that suit you?”
“Sure. How do I dress the part?”
“I’ll provide you the right clothes, I can make you look like a traveling secretary, someone who handles business arrangements.”
“You have someone who does this already.”
He nodded without answering. At this point he opened the cigar box on the desk and took out one of his Churchills.
“Mind?” he said.
I pointed to the window behind him and he laughed. Consistency might be my only virtue.
“So what do you say?”
“I’ll investigate his death.”
“And the funeral?”
“Sure. Get me some wardrobe for the front. I’ll go home and pack some bluejeans for the gumshoe work.”
“One more thing,” he said. “The dog doesn’t go.”
“Pity. He’s never seen the lights of Detroit.”
31
I called Rosey to tell him what was happening and how strange the world could be. One day we are fleeing for our lives because a man has hired someone to kill me. Another day in the same week, I am hired to find out who killed the man who was trying to kill me.
“I need some assistance.”
“What do you need?”
“A weapon.”
“Come get what you need.”
“I’m flying with Craven to attend the funeral. Irony, huh?”
“Complete and pure. You want me to smuggle a gun on board the flight for you?”
“Not necessarily. I thought you might have some contacts in the Detroit area who could loan me something.”
“You should have hidden those two weapons you acquired at Lake Nettie.”
“Hindsight.”
“Okay. I’ll take care of it.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“Mr. Wonderful strikes again.”
“When do you leave?”
“Fly to Detroit tomorrow afternoon. The funeral is the next day. I’m pretending to be Malone’s protégée.”
“Keep an eye on his hands.”
“Hey, this is a ninety year old man. I can easily outrun him.”
“Not on a plane. I’ll call you with the details for your request.”
Rogers spent the morning researching the newspapers in the Detroit area on Joey Malone’s killing. The press was brief and terse, their way of saying this maggot didn’t matter. The obituary was more enlightening.
“The PR department of the magazine wrote the obit, for sure. Makes him sound like a lusty saint.”
“All obituaries make people sound like saints. It’s a genre of literature.”
“No mention of wife or wives, nor children. Devout bachelor.”
“Can’t address that as to accuracy. I doubt his chastity.”
“You suppose he had a thing for children?” Rogers asked.
“I don’t want to know that. I already don’t like him, and he’s not even alive.”
I was in the bedroom packing my suitcase. I had no idea how long I might stay. In fact, I was thinking I would just stay over and do some snooping around in Detroit to see if I could learn anything more than who killed Joey Malone. We detectives are supposed to be good at snooping. Sounds subversive.
“Says that he was a philanthropist. Honorary this, honorary that. I tell you, this guy had two lives. He made millions, but he also gave away millions. Hard to figure.”
“Most people are schizophrenic. What else?”
“Hey, Miss Clancy, this is odd,” Rogers continued. “Says that flowers are accepted as a memorial, but that donations can be made to the American Cancer Society, Alcoholics Anonymous, and the Autumn Leaves Health Care Institute of North Carolina.”
I stopped packing and walked into the living room to see if Rogers had anything displayed. Some beach in paradise was on the monitor.
“Show me what you found.”
The screen changed and the obituary appeared in full view.
“Well, I must admit that the first two are rather ironic for an addicted smoker and an alcoholic.”
“Who told you that?”
“Big Daddy Malone.”
“Maybe junior had some regrets with his lifestyle.”
“Incurable optimist are we?”
“Addicts can have regrets.”
“Oh, I’m sure they do. But he doesn’t fit the mold. At least according to what papa told me. Despite the strangeness of the AA and the cancer people, it’s the last one that doesn’t seem to fit at all. What are his connections to North Carolina? And where is this Autumn Leaves Institute?”
“Maybe that’s why Big Daddy hired you, baby.”
“And that’s why I have you, Love. While I’m in Detroit grieving over this perverted merchant of trash, you see what you can learn about that place in North Carolina.”
I finishing packing and took both dogs for a walk. Sam didn’t require a leash, but Blackie preferred it. I think it made her feel upper class. I kept a brisk pace on these walks, and she loved to trot with her tail held high. Dignity personified. Sam would explore, but return every two minutes or so to check on us. Father Protector.
An hour later we returned. The dogs headed for the soft comfort of their favorite furniture and I took a shower.
I checked with Margie about taking care of the dogs for several days. She said she was glad to do it. While she never said it, I
had the feeling that Margie could use the money I paid her for the dog sitting. It worked out well for both us most of the time.
After a quick salad and a glass of Piñot Grigio, Rogers was beckoning me with her report. Efficient and fast.
“Place used to be called Autumn Care Nursing Home. Changed its name a couple of decades back to the Autumn Leaves Health Institute. Came up with several million around that time and added some buildings as well as renovated existing facilities. Located in Mooresville, NC.”
“Who owns it?”
“Nothing on that so far. Has a Board of Directors, but none of the names suggest anything. Lots of files and contracts to go through. I’ll keep searching. Just thought you’d like to know that tidbit about the windfall and the name change.”
“Check to see if anything happened to Lusty magazine around the same time that Autumn Leaves was improving.”
“It could be that his estate just randomly selected this charity.”
“Unlikely. I smell a clue.”
“You super sleuths are all alike. You look for things we mortals only chalk up to coincidence.”
“We mortals? When did you join the human race?”
“Hey, Bubbette, you created me. I have personality, style and a fine working brain. The body could use a nip and tuck here and there; but, you gotta admit, I have heart.”
“Yes, ma’am. I admit that and the other. Think I should turn you into a robot so you could walk around and actually do things for me?”
“Watch that, Peaches. I do plenty for you.”
“Yes, you do much for me. I am grateful. But the attitude ….”
“Make you look good most of the time. Where would you be without me, Tootsie? Saved your bacon more than once. Hows about a little respect for the intelligent machine over here, Babes?”
“If I had a hat, I’d tip it.”
“Darn right. Some people’s kids. You’d be in a mess if I decided to go on strike. Then you’d dance a different tune.”
“Okay, okay. Work out your aggression by finding out who owns that facility in Mooresville, North Carolina. Chase down anything that might lead you to Lusty or the late charmer, Joey Malone.”
“Anything else, Massuh?”
“Yeah. Search all of the employees of Lusty and see what you come up with. Remember, we’re working two cases here. I haven’t given up on finding the connection between my father’s death and Craven Malone Industries, Inc.”
One Lost Soul More: A Clancy Evans Mystery (Clancy Evans PI Book 1) Page 12