The Visible Suspect (A Frank Randall Mystery)

by Steven Ehrman

  I raised my eyebrows at her declaration. It rankled a bit that she had assumed that I would agree to take her case before she met me, but the rich are certain everyone can be bought.

  “Any other questions, Mr. Randall?”

  “Just one, Mrs. Peterson,” I returned. There was one thing that had been bothering me since I realized who she was. “Why me?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. A rich lady, such as yourself, could have her pick of any of the big agencies. Why me and my one-man operation?

  “You are right on both counts, Mr. Randall. I am rich and I could hire anyone, but I need grit. It seems possible to me that this case could go in any direction and I needed a man of integrity. A knight errant, if you will. I heard what happened in the Pomeroy case.”

  I stirred uneasily in my chair.

  “Oh, yes, Mr. Randall, I heard all about it and not the official version, but the real version. It couldn’t have been easy to do what you did, but you did it anyway at great personal risk. As far as I’m concerned, you have exactly what I need.

  I didn’t say anything. There didn’t seem to be anything to say.

  “Now, to the business end. Here is five thousand dollars.”

  She handed me an envelope. I started to protest, but she waved it off with a hand.

  “Let’s call it a retainer. I trust you to keep an expense report and to charge me a fair amount. I know your rates. Should you need additional cash, it will be made available to you. I want no expense spared in this matter.”

  She stood up and extended a gloved hand.

  “My card is in the folder, Mr. Randall, and will expect regular reports.”

  With that I stood up, shook her hand, and walked her out of the office. We walked down to the elevator, which was just a few steps down the hall, and I pushed the down button. The door opened presently and the car was empty. She stepped in the elevator, turned, and held her hand against the door to keep it from closing.

  “Mr. Randall, please find my Tony,” she said, and there were tears in her eyes. “ He’s all I have and I miss him so. I know he loves me and would come back if he could. Find him, please.”

  I assured her I would do my best. I leaned in and pushed the button for the lobby and stepped back. As I watched the doors close, I could see she was still crying. She had six floors to pull herself together. A woman like that didn’t let her emotions burst to the surface in public. I was certain she would be composed as ever when the doors opened again.

  Chapter Three

  Mrs. Peterson had only been gone for about twenty minutes when I heard the outer office door open. I did not have time to rise from my seat when Frankie and Jimmy came through the inner door. They were the neighborhood watch committee. Jimmy had his trademark smirk on his face while Frankie, the larger of the two, was stone faced. The voluble Jimmy sat down in front of the desk while Frankie remained standing by the door as if on guard duty.

  I had first met the pair when they had jumped me and knocked me around in order to show me who was boss in the neighborhood. It had ended friendly when Jimmy helped me nab the killer in the Pomeroy case. He hadn’t done it out of friendship, that was certain. In fact, I was never sure why he had done it. He had given me a reason, but I didn’t believe it then or now. At any rate, Jimmy and his partner had their ears to the ground in the streets and were almost certainly way more plugged in than I was in terms of street level information. I thought that I might try to subtlety bring up the Peterson disappearance. Obviously, the Petersons moved in a different circle, but these two might know something the police didn’t. Jimmy however, didn’t give me a chance to ask.

  “Well, here we are again, Randall. Seems like old times doesn’t it, Frankie?”

  “Like old times,” replied Frankie.

  “Randall, you need to talk the super or something,” said Jimmy. “I wouldn’t want to have to climb those stairs all the time. What’s up with the elevator?”

  “It was working fine a little bit ago.”

  “Well, it ain’t working now. I’m sweating all over my good jacket. You can’t build a business if your customers can’t get to you. You don’t know much about business, do you, Randall?”

  I let that hang fire.

  “What do you want, Jimmy?”

  Jimmy adjusted the cuffs on his shirt theatrically and continued.

  “Randall, we hear you got a new client. Kind of a high society babe, that lost a husband is what we hear.”

  “Where did you hear that?” I asked.

  Jimmy glanced up at Frankie, and smirked again.

  “Cagey, eh? That’s what I like about you. You never give away anything for free,” Jimmy replied. “But we’re not here to shake you down, we just want to let you know that this Peterson broad has touched our hearts.” Jimmy put his hand over his heart to demonstrate his sincerity. “And we want you to know we might be able to help you in this case, and I’m gonna bet that you do need help. Word is this Peterson guy is pretty slippery.”

  I picked up my letter opener and continued to check my mail, as I tried to figure Jimmy’s angle.

  “Okay, Jimmy, let’s say I am looking for Peterson. What makes you think he is hiding out? Maybe something has happened to him and he can’t come back. I once heard of a guy who went swimming in the ocean with a car battery tied to each leg. The police found him two weeks later. Poor bastard couldn’t hold his breath that long and drowned.”

  “That’s funny, Randall. Always with a joke. That’s another thing we like about you. Right, Frankie?”

  “Funny guy,” replied Frankie.

  “You’re also pretty quick with this offer. I’ve been on the case a whole twenty minutes,” I said. “You didn’t give me much time to run out of clues on my own before you hustled in here to help. What’s so interesting about this case to you?”

  “Nothing more than we told you. We heard about it through the grapevine, and then we just happened to see a distraught woman come into the building and Frankie recognized her as Mrs. Peterson. We waited and she was even more distressed when she left, so we figured she had been talking to you.”

  I would never have described Glenda Peterson as a distressed woman, but I let Jimmy have his little joke on me and smiled.

  “What I’m trying to tell you, Randall, is we can be a resource for you in this detective gig,” said Jimmy. “Hey, maybe I can even get my name on the door. No, that wouldn’t work. How about I be a silent partner?”

  “Listen, Jimmy, I don’t need partners and I’m not in the giving out information game. I’m in the receiving information side of things. If you came here to tell me something about Peterson, then let’s hear it. If not what, do we have to talk about?”

  In answer Jimmy got up and walked back to the door. He whispered something in Frankie’s ear. Frankie nodded and left the room closing the door behind him. In another moment I heard the outer door open and close as well. Jimmy came back and resumed his seat in front of me.

  “Randall, just between you and me this is an important matter. Keep joking and giving me the stiff arm and something heavy is going to land on you.”

  “Are you threatening me, Jimmy? Because if you are-”

  “No threat, Randall,” Jimmy interrupted. “I’m just a messenger boy. The next message might not be so polite. I’m actually doing you a favor Randall. I asked for this assignment because I kinda like you, even if you are an ex cop. Take my word for it, this is dangerous territory. Step lightly and go through doors sideways. Anyway, if you need any help, me and Frankie will be around. You won’t have to look far for us.”

  With that, Jimmy rose out of his seat and left the office. I didn’t hear the outer door close, so I got up and checked. It was open. I looked out into the hallway and it was deserted. The dial wasn’t moving on the elevator so they must have taken the stairs back down. I went back in and locked the hallway door. I had had enough visitors for the day.

  I wasn’t sure what Jimmy’s game
was, but I was certain he was out for himself, and not for me. I always had a hard time getting a read on the guy. He pretended to be flip all the time, but there was a current of something in his words that chilled me. I opened my desk drawer, pulled out a bottle and a glass, and poured myself a short one. It felt like fire going down. As it settled in my stomach I felt that familiar warm glow.

  Chapter Four

  Idecided to do some phone work before I hit the streets. Mrs. Peterson said that she had notified the authorities that I was her representative, so I figured that should grease the skids a little. As an ex cop I still had plenty I friends on the force, so I made that my first call.

  After some initial switchboard trouble I found myself on the horn with Detective John Maynard. He was an officer I had worked with during my days in the force and since then as well. He was a solid detective with more than his share of brains. I expected him to make captain some day.

  “Frank, it’s good to hear from you, old friend,” he said. “You don’t stay in touch with the old gang the way you used to. Sometimes I wonder if you even remember the number.”

  “It’s still zero and then ask the operator for the police right, John?” I said with a laugh.

  It got a laugh in return.

  “Yeah, that’s still the number,” he said. “From what I’ve heard, this isn’t a social call is it, Frank?”

  “No, it’s not, buddy. I guess you’ve heard I’m on the Peterson missing persons case. Mrs. Peterson is very upset and seems to think that the local law enforcement is sleeping on the job. Any truth to that, old friend?”

  I could hear John breathing on the line, but I received no answer to my question.

  “John, are you there?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I’m here, Frank. Let me put you on hold for just a second.”

  The line clicked and I heard nothing. I waited as the seconds rolled by. At the one-minute mark I lit a cigarette and was halfway through it when he picked up again.

  “All right, Frank, sorry about that,” he said. “I was in the squad room and I wanted some more privacy. Now, what can I tell you?”

  “I just told what you can tell me. What is the status of the Peterson investigation? Are there any leads? Is it cold? Who is assigned to it? I want it all, John, c’mon.”

  “Is that all you want, Frank, everything? Okay. Subject is Tony Peterson. Five feet ten inches tall, 175 pounds, brown on brown, and no distinguishing marks. NVMS, but seems to have plenty of money.”

  “What do you mean no visible means of support? You mean there is nothing in his name? No stocks, bank accounts, anything?”

  “Nothing, Frank. Peterson dropped from heaven like the gentle rain. Oh, he’s been around town for a few years and he knew people, but there’s no record of where he came from. You know, of course, that Tony Peterson is an assumed name?”

  “Yeah, Mrs. Peterson said you found out that much.”

  “Well, I can give you a little more than that,” he said. “Peterson used the birth certificate of a deceased child to establish his identity. With that in hand, he applied for drivers license and then used the driver’s license for everything else he needed. It’s not an uncommon dodge.”

  “How did he get the birth certificate, I wonder?” I asked. “Maybe, there’s an avenue to investigate there. What do you think?”

  “That’s a dead end, Frank,” John said with a sigh. “There’s no mystery to how he got the birth certificate. He sent in four dollars to the county hall of records and they sent him a copy.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that, buddy. It’s a hole in the system. I think it is traced back to some truck drivers after the big war. They ran up points and citations on one identity and then switched to another. It was very useful for long haul drivers.”

  Truck drivers sounded right. That was a hole big enough to drive a semi truck through. All you had to do was find the name of a child who had died early. At least early enough so there was no built up record to cross you up.

  “All right, John, so Peterson is not who he represented himself to be. Why was he hiding behind that name?”

  “Hey, Frank, do you want me to do your investigation for you?”

  “No, I want you to do a proper investigation.”

  “Listen, Frank, I’m gonna tell you something because we’re friends, but you didn’t hear it from me. There is no investigation. Once we found out that Peterson was an alias we started to dig and ran up against a brick wall. Information requests from the FBI came to nothing. They claimed they were going to get back to us and yet, they never did. We dusted the house trying to get Peterson’s prints. We found plenty and ran them through the system and nothing. How likely do you think that is on a guy who is in hiding and is using an alias? He had to be in the system.”

  “So the investigation has slowed to a crawl. Is that what you’re saying?” I asked.

  “Frank, listen to me carefully,” he said with a lowered voice. “There is no investigation. We got the word from the big boys to drop it. No reason given and, brother, I didn’t ask. This thing is a hot potato. I can’t help you anymore on it, and don’t call the precinct again, please. They know we’re friends and I think they’re watching me.”

  “Okay, John. I’ve pulled a D and D for a partner before,” I said. “Thanks, for the steer. I don’t know what it means, but thanks again.”

  “Good luck, Frank,” he said. And then there was a dial tone.

  I hung the receiver back on the hook slowly. There was that reassuring click. I reached for another cigarette and tried to piece it together.

  I was on my third cigarette when the phone rang again. I answered it.

  “Frank Randall speaking,” I said.

  “Randall,” said a voice I knew all too well. “This is Captain Woodward.”

  Woodward had been my boss in the days when I was on the force. He thought I had a character flaw and pretty much ran me out of my job and into private practice. He was no friend of mine.

  “Randall,” he continued. “I hear that you have been bothering my people over this Peterson case. Is that true?”

  “It’s true, Captain. Mrs. Peterson has already notified your department that she has hired me as her representative in this matter. She is entitled to that, Captain.”

  “Randall, I know police procedure and I don’t need a lesson from you. The reason I am calling is so that we get things straight right from the beginning.”

  “Okay, Captain. Let’s hear it straight, then.”

  “For one thing, Randall, I know why the Peterson broad hired you,” he said. “She thinks because you’re an ex cop that you can get inside information. Well, I’m here to remind you that this department is not your branch office. I don’t want you bothering my men as they do their official duty. Is that clear?”

  “Captain, as Mrs. Peterson’s representative, I will be making contact with your department, but don’t worry, it will be through official channels. Oh, and by the way, Captain, I will be expecting cooperation or Mrs. Peterson will be going over your head to complain. Is that straight enough for you, Captain?”

  “You’re still a tough guy who can’t take orders aren’t you, Randall?” he asked. “You haven’t changed one bit since I met you. Don’t worry, Randall, I already know about Mrs. Peterson’s pull in this town, but she won’t always be around to clean your windshield. Don’t make too many enemies. You’re liable to get your ticket yanked when this is over. You do need a license in this state to be a private peeper.”

  I had really pushed Woodward’s buttons and I tried to calm things down a little.

  “Listen, Captain, we both have jobs to do. I know you don’t exactly like me, but maybe we can help each other.”

  “How would we do that, Randall?”

  “There might be a way. That is, if you really want to solve this case.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Of course, I want to solve it.”

  “It’s just th
at Mrs. Peterson got the impression that maybe the department might not be doing it’s level best to solve this thing. She thinks that maybe something embarrassing to the department is making you guys drag your feet. Now, I told her that you would never let embarrassment stop you, but that maybe, there was pressure from above, the feds maybe,” I was freelancing. “If that was the case, you could do an end run and scare up something maybe you could use.”

  Woodward hesitated before he replied.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said finally. “But I’m an honest cop. If you find out something I should know. I would be willing to listen. You know me, Randall, and you know you’ll get a fair shake from me. Just don’t go too far outside the lines doing it.”

  “I won’t, Captain, and if I find out something, maybe something the feds don’t want you to know, you’ll hear from me.”

  “Okay, Randall. Don’t make out like we’re partners or anything, but that sounds like the straight dope to me,” he said. “And, Frank, off the record, I want to find this guy pretty badly. Go ahead and shake the bushes and let me know before, not after okay?”

  “Okay, Captain,” I said. “But remember my client gets the first edition.”

  “Of course, Randall. I’ll stay in touch. Goodbye.”

  That had started off badly, but had ended better than I thought it could. He knew, of course, that Mrs. Peterson hadn’t told me about the investigation being whitewashed, but the fact that he was willing to pretend, and cooperate outside of channels with me showed me how crowded he felt on this.

  I made the Missing Persons Bureau my next call. In this state official missing person cases wound up on the bureau desk for final execution. It was considered kind of a dead end position among investigators, and was normally manned by the bureaucratic hack of whatever party was in power. I made the call to the bureau and after a few minutes of explanations, and dropping Mrs. Peterson’s name, I found myself on the horn with the secretary to the agent in charge.