The Visible Suspect (A Frank Randall Mystery)

by Steven Ehrman

  Vitale laughed again, “Wow, Randall, you really are deep in the bushes on this. How do you sleep at night? You must be part bloodhound.”

  “Okay, so you’re Anthony Vitale. What’s your next move? Mrs. Peterson still wants you back.”

  “Ah, yes. Poor Glenda. She’s ever the victim in her own eyes. Let me tell you something, Randall. She was just a meal ticket for me,” he said. “I needed a rich widow and I found one. You see, Glenda doesn’t realize it yet, but the tax corporations I set up for her, I have managed to drain over a million from into my own personal overseas accounts.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “So, she didn’t tell you about them, did she?”

  “She told me, Tony,” I said. “But she also said her lawyers said it was on the up and up.”

  “Her lawyers are old school dopes. They are probably the ones who set up the trust for Thomas, that I happen to know can be broken,” he said. I was startled and he noticed. “That’s right, Randall, I know about that too. The reason I felt safe in taking the million was because if Glenda started any trouble she knew I could take her to court and get half of her dead husbands precious money. That would shut her down pretty quick. The old girl loves money and the power it can bring. Don’t let her fool you.”

  “So, you used her to set up a nest egg when the heat got turned up and now you’re going to skip and leave her holding the bag when the embezzlement is discovered?” I asked. “That’s pretty cold, Tony. She loves you.”

  “She got her moneys worth, Randall. If I wanted to I could-”

  Vitale was interrupted by Thomas Hawkins barging in through the door. His tie was askew and he was obviously intoxicated.

  “I knew it,” he shrieked. “You two are in this together. You’re trying to get my company!”

  His fists were balled up at his sides and he was breathing heavily. Vitale hadn’t even moved and was not looking at Thomas. He was examining his fingernails again in the ultimate movie tough guy pose.

  “Tom, how the hell did you even get in here? I asked. “The building is supposed to be locked up.”

  “Never mind that. What’s he doing here?”

  “It’s none of your business, Tom,” I said. “He and I are having a private talk and I report to your mother, and not to you.”

  “I’ll kill him before I let him have my company.”

  He took a step towards Vitale and swung an awkward hook at his face. Vitale barely moved, but Hawkins missed badly and nearly fell down. This was deteriorating quickly, and I rounded the desk in a trot and grabbed Hawkins by the shoulder.

  “Let me go,” he squealed.

  “I’m helping you up, Tom, and I’m gonna help you out too.”

  I took one of his arms and twisted it behind his back. Grabbing his jacket with the other hand, I marched him out into the hallway and pushed the button for the elevator. Mrs. Gonzales poked her head out of an office door to watch.

  “Now, be a good boy and go home and sleep it off,” I said, as I hustled him into the elevator car. I leaned in and pushed the button for the lobby and sent him down. He was calling me every name in the book, as it closed. When I was satisfied he wasn’t going to come right back up, I walked back to the office. Vitale was smoking a cigarette, as cool as he could be.

  “Where were we, Tony?” I asked, as I sat down again.

  “We were nowhere, Randall,” he said. “Look, you’ve earned your money. You found me, although you did it with a pretty nasty threat to Carla. Tell Glenda that she should lay off me unless she wants things to get a lot worse. I could take her to court and clean her clock.”

  “You couldn’t do that, Tony. You’re bluffing. Ravello wants your blood and there are a couple of police officers that would love to tie you to a concrete block and take you for a dip in the ocean. This town is too hot for you.”

  “You don’t know half what you think you know, Randall. I’m not afraid of Ravello. None of the boys he has left could take me on a bet. As for the cops, I got juice there too. Don’t worry about me.”

  “I ain’t exactly worried about you, Tony, but I do worry about what Mrs. Peterson will do when she realizes what a worm you are. So are you and Carla going to ride off into the sunset and spend your embezzlement money in Mexico or Brazil?”

  “Oh, Carla’s not coming with me,” he said with a laugh. “I’m a little disappointed that she let you turn her so quick with what was an obvious bluff. I can tell you haven’t got the guts to turn her over to Ravello’s mob, but I think I will just to teach her a lesson and do it myself. That might even be enough for Rico to call us even. He’ll be mad as hell when he finds out she knew who I was, and where I was, the whole time he was looking. He’ll tear her fingernails out with a set of pliers.”

  He began laughing and soon lost control a little. It was the giggle of a sociopath and it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. He pulled himself together and stood up.

  “Well, that’s it, Randall. I don’t suppose we’ll be seeing each other again. At least, you better hope not. Don’t dog my trail anymore, boy,” he said with real menace.

  I walked him out to the elevator and wondered how this guy could have made a classy woman like Mrs. Peterson fall in love with him. Even Carla didn’t make sense to me. She might be a grifter, but she was gorgeous and she had a class and a code of her own. This guy was going to throw them both under the bus just for sport. It was disgusting. I could see that Mrs. Gonzales was peeking out of a door down the hall watching.

  The door to the elevator opened and Vitale got in. I reached to the panel inside the car with my hand.

  “There you go, Tony. This way you won’t get lost on your way to the lobby,” I said grimly.

  “That was pretty childish, Randall,” he said as the doors closed.

  As I turned to walk back to the office, Mrs. Gonzales pulled her head back and I heard a vacuum cleaner start up almost immediately.

  About fifteen minutes later I was sitting in my office chair smoking a cigarette and pouring a drink when I heard the first police sirens. They sounded close, but in the city you get used to the noise. Soon it was impossible to ignore. I walked to the window and looked out. The street was filled with at least three squad cars and an ambulance. It was hard to tell if they were coming to this building or the one on the other side. I didn’t care. My meeting with Vitale had left me with a sour taste in my mouth. I just wanted to retire from the world. The night air felt warm and I mopped some sweat from my forehead and neck with a handkerchief. I noticed that my potted plant had a wilted leaf. I was back in my chair with my feet on the desk when a patrolman burst into the room.

  “You Randall?” he asked accusingly.

  I admitted it.

  He yelled over his shoulder.

  “Bobby, tell the captain he’s here.” He turned back to me. “Just sit there, mister. The captain wants to talk to you his self.”

  “What’s it all about?’ I asked.

  “Shut up and stay that way,” he answered.

  I made a mental note to complain to my congressman later, but I didn’t really care what they wanted. I wasn’t sure anything mattered anymore to me. I could hear Mrs. Gonzales chattering away in the hallway, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying or what she was being asked. After another fifteen or twenty minutes Captain Woodward sauntered through the door.

  “Trouble always seems to find you doesn’t it, Randall?”

  “It’s good to see you too, Captain. How is the wife?” I asked.

  “Can it, Randall. We got Peterson downstairs in the lobby. What do you know about that?”

  “Not much. He stopped by tonight we talked and he left. I’m surprised you caught up with him. He’s pretty slippery. Good job.”

  “Oh, it was easy, Frank,” he said evenly, staring intently at me. Someone punched his ticket for him.”

  “Peterson?”

  “That’s right, Frank. We received an anonymous phone call that there was a dead
man in your lobby. Someone stuck a shiv in Peterson’s brain. He’s dead. Now talk!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Woodward was glaring at me, waiting for a response. I didn’t care anything about Vitale, but I did wonder about Mrs. Peterson’s reaction. I hoped whoever told her would be gentle.

  “Come on, Randall,” Woodward said. “I already know you were the last person to see him alive. The cleaning lady confirms he was alive when he got on the elevator. What was he here for and who was threatening him? Why was he running?”

  “Captain, do you want answers or are you trying to set a record for questions?”

  Woodward looked like he was about to erupt and then I saw the tension drain from his shoulders. He sat down and pulled a cigarette from a pack in his front pocket. I had never seen Woodward smoke. I leaned across the desk and handed him my lighter. He lit up and handed it back to me. He noticed my quizzical expression about the cigarette.

  “Yeah, I know,” he said. “Nasty habit. I gave it up years ago and started up again. I got troubles, Randall, and as crazy as it sounds, you’re about the only person I trust on this case.”

  “Me?” I asked in genuine surprise. Our past history didn’t lead me to think Woodward trusted me in anything. “You feeling okay, Captain? You must have bumped your head against something. Maybe you should lay down for a while.”

  “Go ahead, Frank, needle me,” he said. “Given our history I deserve it, but it’s true. You’re the only person who doesn’t have an angle here, and I need your help.”

  “I’ll tell you what I can, Captain. I have to protect my client though, so any confidential information about her is off the table, but I’ll do what I can.”

  “Not the confidentiality thing, Frank? You know I can pull you in front of a grand jury and haul it out of you. You’re not an attorney.”

  “Captain, the way the higher ups are acting I don’t think there’s going to be a grand jury, but if there is, I’ll be the one with my hand on the Bible.”

  “You’re right about one thing, Frank. The lid’s been on this one since the beginning. When a rich woman’s husband disappears, you’d think the brass would be setting fires all over the place, but it hasn’t been like that. Mrs. Peterson has some pull in this town; yet every request I send up the chain for information or manpower goes in file thirteen. It’s a whitewash and I’m an honest cop. I don’t like it.”

  “What can I tell you, Captain? I just run a little one man operation.”

  “That’s just it. You’re independent. I already know just how independent and that’s valuable when everyone’s running for cover. You’ve got integrity, Frank, even if you rub me the wrong way most of the time.”

  I looked up at him to see if he was ribbing me or if he was trying to grease me, but he seemed sincere. I already knew I couldn’t give him the whole thing, but I wasn’t going to hold out everything.

  “Captain, you already know that Mrs. Peterson hired me because she was afraid the police weren’t moving on this. I found out quickly just how true that was.”

  “Go on,” he said with a grunt. “That part I know.”

  “Well, I found pretty soon that Peterson was a shady character and-”

  “Come on, Frank, that’s pretty weak tea,” he interrupted. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Let me do this my way, okay, Captain?”

  Woodward grunted and sat back in his chair.

  “I went to the Missing Persons Bureau and they were clammed up pretty good, but I did get the impression that Peterson was a witness or a potential witness that was being protected. Something to do with the Ravello outfit, I figured.”

  It was close enough to the truth so as not to be a lie, but it wasn’t the whole story by any means. I was going to keep the Vitale identity under my hat for now. As far as I knew, only a few dirty cops, Ravello, and Gloria had any knowledge of it. I was going to shield Mrs. Peterson from the worst of it if I could and keep Gloria out of it altogether.

  “What made you think Rico Ravello had anything to do with this?” Woodward asked.

  “Because his people picked me up on my way back from the capital. Rico was interested in Peterson. He asked me some questions that I didn’t answer and then his goons beat me unconscious. He said it was a lesson in the value of friendship.”

  “Why didn’t you report the assault, Randall? I’d love to see some of those wise guys trading in their silk suits for prison stripes.”

  “Captain, you don’t press charges against that crew. I have to work in this town. I can take a beating every now and again as the price of doing business.”

  He mulled it over.

  “Okay, it pulls together. Just barely, but it does. What did you do next?”

  I ran through it all for him and gave him most of it straight. I described my visit to the track and my visit to the Club Control trying to track down any leads on Peterson. I figured the track was an open secret, as Peterson had been there all the time. As for the club, that might be new information for the cops, but Rudy could take care of himself. I knew him to be a clam around the authorities. It all boiled down to the fact that Peterson had gone into hiding, for reasons unknown, but that obviously some bad people wanted to talk to him. Woodward listened impassively. He interrupted a few times and had me run over the whole thing twice, but he seemed satisfied.

  “You left out some other people who were interested in Peterson, Frank,” he said. “You wouldn’t be stooging for anyone would you?”

  I wasn’t sure where he was going, but I had shaded the truth enough tonight to be worried that I had made a misstep.

  “As an old cop, Frank, “ he continued. “You wouldn’t want to protect anyone on the force would you?”

  “Like who?”

  “Come on, Frank. I heard that Murphy and Scarpeli hassled you. The word is they know something about Peterson that I don’t. I hear it’s all tied up with that traffic accident that cost the department a couple of officers. What would Peterson have to do with that?”

  Woodward was uncomfortably close to the truth.

  “I don’t know, Captain,” I said shrugging my shoulders. “They did talk to me about Peterson, but I don’t know why they were interested, except that they were cops and he was missing. Why don’t you ask them?”

  “I’ll do that, Frank. You know that when this call came in those two were within blocks of this address and they should have been on the other side of town on patrol.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  “It is a fact. Listen, Frank, I’m an honest cop and I’ll arrest anyone for this murder even if it is one of my own. What I can’t have is you covering up for them just because you used to be a cop.”

  “Captain, I have told you all I can. If cops did this I know nothing about it.”

  “Okay, just so we’re clear. I’m not accusing any cops you know. I just want it clear that no one is untouchable. Now, why were you here tonight?”

  “I just came into to catch up on mail,” I waved my hands at the pile on my desk. “And to make a few calls around town. I was still shaking the bushes on Peterson.”

  “And he just waltzed in here is that it?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Frank, I told you I wanted a call before, not after, on this case. If you knew Peterson was coming in, you should have called the precinct. If you had, we would have Peterson downtown and not on a slab.”

  “I didn’t know he was coming. He walked in and said he heard that Mrs. Peterson had hired me and he wanted to talk.”

  “Fine. I can’t prove you’re lying, but if I do…”

  He left it hanging.

  “Anyway, we talked a while. I told him his wife wanted him back and that she didn’t care why he had left and that they could work out any jam he was in. He said he loved his wife, but he was too hot and he was leaving in order to protect her.”

  Another bald faced lie. Each one was easier than the last.

  “How long was he her
e?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe twenty minutes,” I said.

  “That took twenty minutes? Forget it. What else?”

  “Not much. He was getting ready to leave when Tom Hawkins barged in.”

  “I heard about that from the cleaning lady. From her description it had to be Hawkins. Why was he here? Did you call him?”

  “Of course, not,” I said. “He’s been paranoid about Peterson acing him out of his father’s company. He just happened in here drunk and seeing Peterson made him a little nuts. I tossed him out.”

  “He just happened in here the night Peterson shows up? Where did he go when he left?”

  “No idea, Captain,” I said. “Peterson and I talked for a bit more. I asked to at least see his wife and tell her his reasons, but he refused. We parted on friendly terms and I walked him to the elevator and that was that. Fifteen minutes later I heard the sirens and you know the rest.”

  Woodward blew out a lungful of smoke and stubbed out the butt in the ashtray. I noticed for the first time the bags under his eyes. The man looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown. At that moment a uniformed officer came through the door.

  “Captain, we picked up Hawkins,” he said standing at attention. He was a young cop that I didn’t know. Probably right out of the academy. The everyday grind would knock the starch out of his collar soon.

  “Where is he?” asked Woodward.

  “He’s outside in a squad card, sir. We picked him up in a bar a couple of blocks over. He swears that he has been there since he left Randall’s office.”

  He pointed to me as he spoke.

  “What do you mean `he says’, rookie? Have you done any investigation at all?”

  “Well, sir I…err I mean we…we have talked to the other patrons of the establishment,” he stammered. “Hawkins was noticed coming in and, of course, he was there when we arrived, but it’s Saturday night, Captain. The bar was packed and I doubt anyone could swear he left, but then again, no one can swear he was there the whole time. It’s an alibi, but a loose one. Could go either way in court.”