Charles Willeford - Way We Die Now

by Unknown

  "Does she ever come down here to visit you?"

  Mrs. Schwartz shook her head. "We're not very close. I invited her to the wedding when Leo and I got married, but she couldn't come, she said."

  "According to my notes in the file, you visited your sister--half sister--for the first time when Dr. Russell was killed. If you weren't close, as you say, what was the purpose of the visit?"

  "I wasn't asked that by the first detective."

  "I know. That's why I'm asking you now."

  Mrs. Schwartz tried to smile, but the corners of her lips turned down. "Do you have to know?"

  "Yes, I do. The man who shot your husband had to know you'd be out of town, you see."

  "All right. I can tell you, and you can check it out easily enough. Becky was mixed up with a married man and got pregnant. She got an abortion, and she asked me to come and stay with her for a few days. Our parents are dead, and I'm the only family she has left. So I went up there. You can check the records at the Fernandez Planned Parenthood Clinic in Orlando if you like. But that's behind her now, and I'd rather let it be. I don't see how it can have any bearing on this case. I don't know why Paul was shot. Who did it, Sergeant?"

  "I'll have to withhold that information for a few days, but you'll know soon enough, I promise. And I don't think there's any need to bother your half sister. If I do make inquiries, I'll be discreet. In a right-wing city like Orlando a schoolteacher could lose her job if the school board found out she had an abortion."

  "They don't know. The only ones who know are you, Becky and me, and the staff of the clinic."

  Hoke nodded. "Don't worry." Hoke grinned. "But I did think I should prepare you for the announcement of the arrest. I know how women are. When TV cameras are involved, women want to look their best, and you might want to make a beauty shop appointment, buy some new clothes, or something. Not that you don't look lovely now, of course."

  "I see. Well, thank you. Could I get you something? A drink? Coffee?"

  "No, thanks. I'm just glad I could finally bring you some good news. No need to get up. I can find my way out."

  Mrs. Schwartz got up anyway and trailed Hoke to the door.

  "It is good news," she said, taking his hand after he had opened the door. "But I don't know what else to say. It's been so long now I thought the police had given up and closed the case."

  Hoke shook his head. "A murder case is never closed until the killer is tried and put away. For the time being, Mrs. Schwartz, at least for a few days, please keep this information to yourself. Don't even tell your husband."

  "I will. How long will it be? Before you make your arrest, I mean."

  "Not long. Just a few more days, and that's a promise, Mrs. Schwartz."

  Hoke got into his car, and the woman lingered in the doorway, watching him as he drove away.

  Hoke was well pleased by the interrogation. It had gone more smoothly than he had thought it would. Before returning to the station, Hoke stopped at Larry's Hideaway for a shot of Early Times and a beer. Sergeant Armando Quevedo was sitting at the bar, and staring glumly into a seventeen-ounce strawberry margarita. A large strawberry floated on top of the drink. Hoke sat on the stool next to him and ordered a shot of Early Times and a Michelob draft.

  "When did you start drinking that shit, Armando?" Hoke said.

  Quevedo turned and grimaced. "It's pretty awful, but the doe said I'd have to give up boilermakers. So I figured if I stuck to this belly wash, I wouldn't overdo it. It's sweeter than hell. Are you off today?"

  "No, I'm working. I just stopped for a quickie. Have you come up with any ideas for our Homicide Crack Committee Report?"

  "Yeah, one." Quevedo laughed. "It came to me the other night. What we should do, you see, is take all of the confiscated crack, all we've got, and all the DEA's got in storage, and then stage a big smoke-in in the Orange Bowl. We invite all the crack abusers and tell 'em they can smoke all they want free. Inasmuch as they'll smoke it until they die, we should be able to kill them all off, or at least the two or three hundred who show up. We can have TV cameras there, Channels Four, Seven, and Ten, and they can shoot the whole scene live. Maybe we can get Geraldo Rivera to emcee the event, and it'll show what crack does to the abusers. We can have black body bags stacked up, too, you see, and the medical examiner. As the ME pronounces each person dead, we can put the body in the bag, and then stack the bags on trucks. What do you think?"

  "Sounds like a good idea to me, Armando. You type up the report tonight, and I'll sign it."

  "You talk as if you mean it, Hoke. I was only kidding."

  "Why not? At least it's an idea. I haven't been able to think of anything, and it'll give Brownley something on paper to turn over to the new chief."

  "If you really mean it, I'll type it up tonight when I go on shift. But you'll have to sign it. I sure as hell won't."

  "I'll sign it. Hell, I'd like to watch something like that on TV myself. Bartender!" Hoke beckoned to the man behind the bar. "Give this gentleman a shot of Early Times and a beer, and dump this pink stuff in the sink."

  Quevedo sighed. "I guess one shot won't hurt me." He pushed the strawberry margarita to one side.

  "The key to drinking is moderation," Hoke said. He finished his beer, paid for the drinks, and drove toward the station. A block before he reached the station, Hoke stopped at the curb, emptied the car ashtray into the street, and then drove to the lot to turn in his unmarked car. Mrs. Burger's black More cigarette butts, if found in the ashtray, would have netted him another twenty-five-dollar fine.

  CHAPTER 15

  While Hoke was watching -Saturday Night Live- on the tube, the phone rang. Hoke cursed and turned the sound down before answering the phone in the kitchen.

  "I'm sorry to disturb you this time of night at home, Sergeant Moseley, but I couldn't get ahold of Lieutenant Vitale. I'm Officer Clyde Brown, and my badge number, in case--"

  "Never mind, Brown. You didn't wake me. What's up?"

  "I'm on a one-man patrol, alone in the car, you see--out here at the airport. There's a redcap watching my car at departures, and I'm phoning here at Eastern from a pay phone. My instructions were to stop at Forty-one thirty-five Poinciana two or three times on my patrol and put the spot on the house number for a minute or so. I asked Vitale why, and he said the instructions came from you, and that was all I needed to know. I was only there, he said, to look for signs of departure."

  "Did you see any?"

  "That's why I'm calling, Sergeant. On my second pass the house was dark. I didn't see anything unusual, but I noticed the white Mercedes in the driveway. I turned off the spot, and drove down to the next corner, and parked. I wanted a smoke, and you have to get out of the car to smoke. There's this new rule, you know about--"

  "I know about the rule."

  "Okay. Anyway, I lit a cigarette. My car lights were out, and then I saw this white Mercedes drive by and recognized the number. I got back in the car and tailed it out here to the airport. He parked in the Eastern garage, up on the third floor. The man had a suitcase, and when he headed for the elevator, I drove around here to the Eastern loading zone and parked. I told the redcap to watch my car and waited inside the terminal. The man bought a ticket at the Eastern counter and then left for the concourse. After he left, I asked the ticket seller about the ticket, and she said the man's name was L. Black, and he bought a one-way ticket to Seattle. Flight Eight Thirty-two. The plane doesn't leave till twelve forty-five, and I can still pick him up. But I don't have any orders for that or any probable cause. So when I couldn't get ahold of Lieutenant Vitale, I thought I'd better call you. Captain Slater in Homicide gave me your home number."

  "How come you're in a one-man car, Brown?"

  "It's part of the new austerity program, I guess. In quiet districts like mine a one-man car is all you need anyway. I can always call for backup. But I'm way the hell out of my district now, and I'm gonna have to get back. Unless you tell me to pick this guy up."

  "N
o, let him go. You did the right thing by calling me. When you write your report, send a copy to me, and I'll write a commendation for your file. The man's a murder suspect, but I don't have enough evidence to get a warrant. The best thing I could hope for was to have him run. You'd better get back to your car before someone steals it--unless you tipped the redcap in advance. And thanks again for calling me. If you get any flak for leaving your district, I'll cover for you with Lieutentant Vitale."

  Hoke turned off the TV set altogether, sat back in his recliner, and savored the report. There was no doubt in his mind now that Dr. Schwartz was the killer. If the frightened bastard had used his own name to fly out to Seattle, the doctor could have said later on that he was on a vacation or visiting a friend. But "L. Black," an unimaginative pseudonym for Leo Schwartz, was a dead giveaway.

  Before dressing again, Hoke called Gonzalez at home, and told him to meet him at Dr. Schwartz's house.

  "Tonight?"

  "That's what I said. If you get there before me, don't knock on the door. Just wait for me. We'll talk to Mrs. Schwartz together. Bring your notebook, and take down everything that's said."

  "It'll take me about fifteen minutes or so to get there."

  "I may be a little longer, but wait for me out front."

  Gonzalez's shiny black Mercury Lynx was parked in front of the house at the curb when Hoke arrived. Hoke pulled into the empty driveway, and Gonzalez joined him on the lawn. He was wearing a white shawl-collared tuxedo jacket, with a red-and-blue bow tie and cummerbund, black tuxedo trousers, and black patent leather shoes.

  "Why the semiformal?"

  "I had a date," Gonzalez said. "I'd just got home when you called. If things had worked out the way I planned, I wouldn't've been home to answer the damned phone."

  "You have your notebook?"

  "Right here. I've also got a minirecorder in my jacket pocket, but I haven't turned it on yet."

  "That's even better. Turn it on now. You're beginning to show initiative after all."

  "It's mine, not the department's."

  "That doesn't matter, if it works."

  The porch light was on, and there was a light in the back of the house. Hoke pressed the bell ring, holding his finger on the button, and listened as chimes clanged softly behind the heavy metal door. Lights came on in the living room, and a square of light appeared on the lawn as the window whitened behind lace curtains. Louise Schwartz opened the door. Her eyelids were red and sore-looking, as if she had been crying. She wore a rose-colored negligee over her white satin nightgown, and her slippers were pink rabbits, upsidedown rabbits, including furry heads, bright button eyes, and floppy ears. Hoke had seen slippers like these on sale in department stores but thought that only teenage girls bought them. The long rabbit ears flipped up and down as she invited them in and retreated to the living room.

  "If you've come to arrest my husband, Sergeant Moseley, you're too late. He's gone."

  "I know that," Hoke said. "He's on his way to Seattle, but the sheriff'll meet the plane. We want to ask you a few questions, however--"

  "I didn't know Leo did it--not until tonight, when he told me."

  "That was one of my questions."

  "When Leo came home this evening, he was irritable. Something was bothering him, and he could hardly eat dinner. Mrs. Burger, his nurse at the clinic, told him in confidence this afternoon that the police knew who the killer was and would soon be making an arrest. I told him the same thing, what you told me. I know you told me not to, but he knew already, so I went ahead and told him. All he said at dinner was that he wondered who it was. But then he had three drinks after dinner. Brandy. He sometimes has one brandy, but when he poured the third one, I knew that he was worried about something. When I pointed out to him that this was his third drink, he got mad and said he didn't need a woman around to count his drinks for him. He went into his den and closed the door. I thought he'd be out in a few minutes to apologize, but then, when he didn't come out, I went upstairs and got ready for bed--" She smiled at Gonzalez. "You look very nice, Lieutenant."

  Gonzalez smiled, looking up from his notebook. "I'm not a lieutenant. I'm just an investigator. Sergeant Mosely here is in charge."

  "You still look very nice."

  "Perhaps if we sat down..." Hoke suggested.

  "I have coffee in the kitchen," Mrs. Schwartz said. "I could bring it out here, or we could go back to the breakfast room."

  "Sure."

  They followed her down the hallway to the kitchen, and she seated them in the breakfast room. One wall was open to the kitchen, and the other three walls, mostly glass jalousies, were surrounded by a patio. She switched on the lights outside. Hoke looked out and saw a leering stone gnome with a wooden wheelbarrow in the bushes encircling the patio. There was a large green metal frog inside the wheelbarrow. She brought cups and saucers to the table and poured the coffee before seating herself. Hoke put a half spoon of sugar into his coffee, and noticed that the creamer held real cream, not milk or half-and-half. He also realized that Mrs. Schwartz had used some delaying tactics, just as she had been about to tell all. But perhaps she was merely trying to organize her thoughts.

  "How long have you known that Dr. Schwartz killed your husband?"

  She studied the tablecloth for a moment and nibbled her thin lower lip. There was a triangle of flesh-colored adhesive tape plastered between her eyes. This patch was supposed to minimize or reduce frown lines between the twin arches of her eyebrows, but the frown lines were under the tape all the same, Hoke thought.

  "Not till tonight," she said finally, with a shake of her head. "I'm still trying to take it all in, what Leo told me, and it seems unreal."

  "Perhaps I can help you, Mrs. Schwartz. Were you and Leo having an affair before Dr. Russell was killed, or did it begin afterward?"

  "Afterward. And it wasn't any -affair-, as you put it, because I was a widow then. I don't like the word -affair-. The implication in that word is that something sordid was going on, and that wasn't the case at all."

  "I'm not implying anything. I need information. I'm trying to determine what Dr. Schwartz's motivation was, that's all. In their partnership arrangement Dr. Farris and Dr. Schwartz, after Dr. Russell's death, had a fifty-fifty split of the clinic, so it wasn't necessary for Leo Schwartz to marry you in order to profit."

  "I also share in the profits, Sergeant. Not as much, but I still get a five percent profit until the clinic is sold or their partnership is dissolved. The thing is, as Leo told me, my husband was bringing in most of the money. He had the most patients, and he brought in more than half the money, and they were barely making up the second half. My husband, you see, had threatened to leave, to sell out his third interest to another doctor. If he'd done that, they would've been in trouble. That was Leo's motivation. It wasn't for me. I didn't know anything about the business side of the clinic. I got my insurance, of course, but then I turned to Leo for help. I didn't know how to invest my money or run my affairs, and he was very helpful. We saw a lot of each other, and then one thing led to another. It wasn't a mad love affair, and there was no triangle--I want you to understand that. We're mature people, and it seemed like a sensible arrangement to get married. It was easier for me, and it seemed foolish for Leo to keep a separate apartment when he was spending most of his nights here anyway." She sipped her coffee but held the cup with both hands. "But I didn't know that Leo had killed my husband. The idea never occurred to me. And I still can't believe it, even though he told me so tonight before he left. Taking lives is not something doctors do. They -save- lives, not take them, and Leo and Max Farris would still have made lots of money, even if my husband had sold out his third of the practice."

  "Some people never have enough money, Mrs. Schwartz. Look at Ivan Boesky. Greed was Leo's motivation. This is not a community property state, so Dr. Schwartz also got you, your house, the white Mercedes, and Dr. Russell's ring. He also made a handsome profit, I suppose, when he sold his condo and moved in
here with you. You'd better see a lawyer sometime tomorrow, Mrs. Schwartz, even though it's Sunday. Salvage as much as you can before we bring Dr. Schwartz back here for trial. Otherwise, he'll try to spend all your money, as well as his, for lawyer's fees. So get a good lawyer, and close your joint accounts."

  "I still can't believe that Leo would do such a thing."

  "He did it, all right. Detective Gonzalez will be over here in the morning with a statement for you to sign. Try to get some sleep, and if you remember any pertinent de tails, give them to Detective Gonzalez. The state's attorney will contact you by Monday or Tuesday."

  "Will I have to testify against Leo in court? I thought a wife wasn't allowed to testify against her husband."

  Hoke laughed. "That isn't true, although a lot of people think it is. in your case your testimony will be necessary for you to avoid being considered an accomplice, you see. You'll have to clear yourself, which will be easy enough because you were out of town at the time of the murder. You see what I mean?"

  She nodded. "I guess so. Leo has a lawyer on retainer. Should I contact him or get another?"

  "Get another. You can't ask Leo's lawyer to help you hide money and assets now, can you? I'm not allowed to recommend anyone, but call some of your women friends-- preferably a woman who got a decent divorce settlement-- and use her lawyer."

  Hoke got to his feet, and so did Gonzalez. Hoke took his cup and saucer over to the sink, but Gonzalez didn't.

  "I have one more question, Mrs. Schwartz," Hoke said as he turned at the sink. "How do you get your garage door open?"

  "I--I just unlock it and lift it with one hand. Why?"

  "You don't have electronic garage openers then?"

  She nodded. "We have two. Leo keeps one in his car, but I leave the other one here in the house. I had to order replacements when you kept Paul's opener as evidence, but the new ones don't work very well at times. Is this important?"

  Hoke shrugged. "Not any longer. Just a loose end. Let's go, Gonzalez."