by John Holt
* * *
It was getting late, and it was threatening rain. This was going to be another wasted evening I just knew it, waiting out in the cold, waiting for what? She wasn’t going to show was she? I looked at my watch. Seven thirty. I shook my head. I’ve been here since just after four. Five o’clock was their normal time to meet up, remember. So what has happened? Why the change? What did it mean, I wondered? It meant that Miss. Terri Franklin was no longer an issue. Walker had seen sense, and she had been given her marching orders, frightened off by the blackmailer maybe.
It made perfect sense. I heaved a sigh, and then sneezed. Great, on top of everything else, I was catching a cold. That was all I needed. I gave it up as a bad job. The sooner I got back to the apartment the better. A hot shower, a scotch or two, and then down to Changs for one of his specialties, then back home to play some blues, something to match my mood. Muddy Waters would have understood, perfectly.
I Be's Troubled
Well if I feel tomorrow, like I feel today
I'm gonna pack my suitcase, and make my getaway
Lord I'm troubled, I'm all worried in mind
And I'm never bein' satisfied, and I just can't keep from cryin'
As I stepped out from the doorway, a cab pulled up. The door opened, and a young lady stepped out. My plans dissolved into nothing.
Miss. Franklin had changed in the last few weeks. Her clothes were more expensive looking. She was decked out with expensive jewelry. She was altogether more poised. Is that the word I should use, poised? I guessed she’d had some luck on the roulette wheel, or at the track, or maybe she’d won the lottery, or ….
Denis Walker came out from the other side of the cab, paid the driver, and moved over to where Miss. Franklin was waiting. He put his arm around her, and then smiling and laughing they both entered the hotel.
That’s where her new found wealth had come from. Clearly Mr. Walker wasn’t that concerned about providing evidence for a blackmailer, and clearly he wasn’t too concerned at what his wife thought about it either. I wondered why? One thing was certain. What was it that the fake Mrs. Walker had said? Oh yes, a piece of junk. That summed up both Walker, and Miss. Franklin. And no amount of fine clothes, and expensive jewels was about to change that in a hurry. I wondered if Mrs. Walker knew about the changes. I wondered if she cared.
I wondered if I should arrange to see her, and tell her. I shook my head. Probably not, I was already in enough trouble with Walker. I didn’t want to lose my license did I?
More to the point if Walker was so worried about a blackmailer he didn’t seem to be worried about being seen with his lady friend did he? He was just opening himself up to no end of blackmailers. It didn’t make any sense to me.
* * *
Chapter Six
Frank Bates
As I had expected, that meeting with Walker hadn’t gone too well. I knew it wouldn’t, so no great surprise there. I suppose it could have been worse though, I’m just not sure how. You know what I said earlier, you know, about feelings? The feeling that things aren’t going right, that there was something wrong. Well something was wrong alright, very wrong. Something didn’t quite fit properly. I’ve had that feeling all morning. Some thing did I say? In truth there were several things that didn’t seem right. This case wasn’t making much sense at all, and I needed to think things out.
Number one, we have a wife who wants me to snoop on her husband. Only it wasn’t his wife was it? Okay, so whoever it was wants me to get details of his playing around. Something he had been doing for six months or more, so why does she want the details now? Why not a month ago, or two months maybe? What was so important about right now?
Secondly, she wants information that in fact she already had anyway. Alright so she didn’t know all of the sordid details, but she did know the time and she did know the place. So why did she need me?
Thirdly, Walker is being blackmailed by someone, using information that I had supplied. Then the lady blackmailer ends up dead. How’s that for convenience? I mean he’s free and clear. But then when I make the suggestion to him, or I should say, accusation, suddenly there’s a second blackmailer coming out of nowhere, and Walker wants me to find him.
And besides why would Walker want me to look for the guy anyway? I wasn’t exactly flavor of the month was I? I mean one minute he’s talking about reporting me, and getting my license revoked. And the next, he’s offering me a job with a ten thousand dollar pay off. Very likely I don’t think.
No it doesn’t make sense to me. Unless, of course there is no second person and Walker just made that up to take the attention away from himself. Now, if that’s correct, then the whole thing starts to make a bit more sense, but it also points the finger right back at Walker, and no mistake about it.
* * *
I was beginning to feel quite pleased with myself. I was becoming more and more certain that Walker had killed that woman, but I still had to prove it. But I have to say things tend to get a lot easier once you have a definite suspect. You’ve something to work with. Now if only we knew something more about our victim that would help.
Maybe Bates will eventually come up with something, you never know. In the meantime a drink was called for, by way of celebration you understand. So what am I celebrating? Does it matter?
I walked over to my small kitchen area and poured myself a scotch. I then walked back to my desk, and flipped the on switch on the CD player.
* * *
The telephone suddenly rang. I reached for it. “Daniels,” I said.
“Daniels,” a voice answered. “It’s Bates. We’ve done a run down on our Miss. Brady.”
“Yeah, and …..”
“And precisely nothing, she doesn’t exist.”
“What do you mean she doesn’t exist? Of course she exists,” I replied, more impatient than I had intended. “Okay so she’s dead, but she exists, that’s obvious. We aren’t just imagining a dead body are we?”
“We’ve checked her with Social Security, they never heard of her,” Bates began explaining. “We’ve checked for her birth record, driver’s license, the main banks, and we’ve come up with nothing.”
“There must be something,” I said, unconvinced. “You’re just missing it somewhere.”
Bates heaved a sigh. “We’ve missed nothing I’m telling you. We even did a fingerprint check. And still there’s nothing. She’s never had a police record, not even for a traffic violation. Apart from her name on the envelope we found inside her handbag, there was no other identification on her. We don’t even have an address.”
I couldn’t believe it. Someone somewhere must know her, her mother, father, maybe a brother or a sister. “Has no one come forward to identify her?” I asked, clutching at straws.
“No,” replied Bates. “No one has come forward. It’s a complete mystery.”
So who was this Susan Brady I wondered. Okay so she wasn’t Amanda Walker that much was certain, but it was beginning to look like she wasn’t Susan Brady either. So who was she?
“You might also do a run down on missing persons?” I suggested, helpfully.
“Way ahead of you, Daniels, we’ve checked Missing persons, but turned up nothing, a big fat zero,” replied Bates, heaving a sigh. “Oh, there are a couple of local women missing, but none of them match our Miss. Brady.”
“So we’re no nearer knowing who she is, or why she was murdered then,” I said, perhaps a little un-necessarily.
“If we could just make a positive identification we might be getting somewhere,” said Bates. “Or if we could find the actual murder site, then that might be a help.”
“Have you any ideas at all?” I asked.
“No, not really,” Bates replied. “The only thing we have to go on is her shoe.”
“Her shoes,” I repeated. “What about her shoes?”
“No, not shoes, I said shoe,” said Bates. “She was only wearing the one shoe when we found her. I’m guessing that the othe
r one came off and is still lying out there somewhere, maybe at the murder site.” He paused for a moment, and heaved a sigh. “The chances of finding it are about a thousand to one I’d guess.”
Now I’m not a betting man, but I would have put the odds a lot higher than that. I mean who would be bothered if they found an odd shoe? I certainly wouldn’t I can tell you, and I’m guessing neither would you.
I mean if everyone who found some old discarded clothing made a report to the police, the City’s finest wouldn’t have time to check on speeding motorists would they?
There’s an idea in there somewhere, just need to work it out.
* * *
Chapter Seven
Jerry’s Bar
It was a real hot day. The rain that had been forecast hadn’t happened, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Normally I wouldn’t have a problem with that but I had spent the whole day trailing behind a certain Mr. Walker, and his lady friend, Miss. Terri Franklin. They had gone into more shops than I thought actually existed. The guy must have spent a fortune on her. I guess it’s his money and he can spend it how he likes but ….
I began to wonder if there really was a blackmailer. Had there ever been a blackmailer I wondered. It didn’t seem likely somehow. Walker was being so out in the open with his playing around. There was no attempt to keep anything hidden, or be discreet. Also I haven’t heard anything more from Walker about payoffs and further demands, so I’m guessing that it’s all history, and no longer a problem, if it ever had been. I heaved a sigh of relief. I’d had enough of following the two of them around anyway. I decided to quit. That was it, no more wasting my time. I didn’t need this anyway. I would make out a report, and send it to Walker, together with a bill for expenses. Of course I didn’t expect to get paid, but I was going to send it anyway. He wouldn’t like it, but I wasn’t out to make friends was I?
* * *
I’d had enough. I was tired, I was hot. And I had lost all interest in Walker and his lady friend. I was bored by the whole thing. If he wanted to waste his money like that, that’s fine. As far as I was concerned they could just do as they pleased. What did I care anyway? I hoped Mrs. Walker found out, and did something about it. It was nothing to me, besides my feet ached.
So I made a pit stop at Jerry’s bar. To be honest he had actually called me a few days earlier. He had something that he thought might be useful to me. That’s what he had said anyway. Doesn’t sound like Jerry though does it? He was never one to give out information like that. What was it he had said? ‘I mean do I look like an information bureau?’ He never wanted to get involved. He just didn’t want to know did he? He wasn’t a great conversationalist remember.
Well all of that changed, especially for me, ever since I gave him some friendly advice about allowing known drug dealers to make use of his place. I guess he considered that sound advice, and since then he has passed a few useful things my way, but that’s another story.
* * *
It was a quarter after four when I entered the bar. The lunch time revelers had long since gone, apart from a few worse for wear stragglers. And it was far too early for the early evening commuters. Jerry saw me as I entered. He waved, and pointed over to a corner booth. I walked over and sat down. A few minutes later Jerry arrived with some drinks. He sat down opposite and placed a drink in front of me.
We exchanged the pleasantries. He was fine, so was his beautiful wife, Charlene, and his two wonderful kids, Ruth aged eight, and Colin, aged ten. I didn’t enquire about his silver haired old grand-mother, so don’t ask. I told him that my feet hurt. I’m not completely sure that he was that bothered.
“So Jerry what’s this thing that could be so useful to me?” I asked.
Jerry glanced around. I wasn’t sure why, because the bar was hardly bursting with activity. No one was listening. I took a drink. In your own time, but today would be good.
“You know that girl,” Jerry started to explain. “The one that got killed the other day?”
Sadly lots of girls had got killed. It wasn’t very nice but that’s how things were. Remember what I said. It’s a wicked world out there.
“Which particular girl did you have in mind?” I asked.
“The one they found in Battery Park,” Jerry continued. “Susan something or other.”
“Brady,” I replied. “Susan Brady.”
“Yeah right, her, I guess” Jerry agreed.”I just got the Susan part.”
“Why do you think that she would interest me?” I asked.
Jerry shrugged. “Who knows,” he said. “I just thought that you being a detective and all, you might have been interested, that’s all. Besides I guessed that maybe you might be able to help out the police, and maybe that could be to your advantage.”
Well it was a thought that was sure. It certainly wouldn’t do me any harm, and Detective Frank Bates would owe me big time.
“What about her?” I asked
“She was in here,” Jerry replied. “About three or four months ago, something like that. You know I’m not good with time.”
“Was she here on her own,” I asked.
Jerry shook his head, and took a drink. “No she was with another dame. A real good looker, you know, and talk about smart looking.”
“Did she have a name?” I asked. “The good looker I mean.”
“Yeah, sure she had a name, everybody’s got a name,” said Jerry. “It was Mattie, or Mandy, something like that, I’m not exactly sure.”
“Couldn’t have been Amanda, I suppose?” I suggested.
Jerry started to smile and nodded. “That’s right, it was Amanda. Amanda Jackson.”
That name meant nothing to me, but a connection between Susan and any Amanda was just too much of a co-incidence. I reached for my wallet, opened it and took out a photograph. I handed it to Jerry. “Was it her by any chance?”
Jerry looked at it for a few moments and then nodded. “That’s her, the very same.” He handed the photograph back to me. I returned it to my wallet. “Who is she?” he asked.
I shook my head, and shrugged. “It’s a long story. Another time,” I replied. “So what time was this meeting?”
Jerry shook his head. “I don’t know. Like I said, it was a long time ago. I don’t remember. The afternoon sometime I guess. I know the place wasn’t exactly crowded. I’d say about the same time as now, four-ish, maybe a little after.”
“Did they come in together?” I asked. “Or did they meet here in the bar?”
“Oh, they met here,” Jerry replied. “The classy one was here first, and then maybe ten minutes later the other one comes in.”
“So it was just a casual meeting then?” I suggested.
Jerry shook his head. “There was nothing casual about this meeting,” he replied. “Oh no, this meeting had been arranged. From the way they were carrying on, and what those two were saying, it was pretty obvious that they knew each other from way back. They were old friends I’d say.”
“So what were they saying?” I asked.
“Ah, now come on Daniels, you know I never listen in on the customers,” Jerry protested.
“Sure, I know that,” I agreed. “So what were they saying?”
Jerry shrugged and drained his glass. “Okay, okay.”
“Go on I’m listening.”
“Well one of them, the one in the paper, she’s going on about she’s just done some time you know,” Jerry explained.
“Prison you mean?” I knew what he was talking about. I just wanted to be sure that he knew.
“Yeah, sure prison. What else?” Jerry replied. “It seems she’s just got out. And she was short of cash.” He paused for a moment. “It was the other lady, the smartly dressed one, Mattie, or whatever her name was. Well she was doing all the spending you know, Martini for her, and gin and soda for her friend. They certainly got through a few I can tell you.”
“Do you happen to know why she was in prison?” I asked. I was guessing maybe blackmail
.
Jerry shook his head.
I wasn’t surprised. But I was surprised that Bates hadn’t found anything about her police record. That made no sense at all. I picked up my glass and drained it. I passed the empty glass to Jerry. “Let’s have another round shall we?”
Jerry smiled, nodded, and stood up. “Sounds like a good idea to me,” he said as he picked up the glasses, and walked across to the bar.
Well Jerry was correct. That information could well be useful. At present, though, I’m not entirely sure how. At present it just seems to have raised a lot more questions than provide any answers. I looked over at Jerry. He seemed to be busy with another customer. Clearly he wasn’t coming back in a hurry. I stood up and walked over to him.
“So Jerry can you tell me anymore?” I asked. “I mean do you know what they were talking about?”
Jerry shook his head. “No, apart from what I’ve already told you,” he replied as he placed a drink in front of me. He paused for a moment and started to rub down the counter. “Bob might have heard something though.”
“Bob?” I repeated. “Who’s Bob?”
“Bob Chandler. He’s just a customer, but he was here that same day,” Jerry continued. “The day that those women were here, he must have heard them talking. He was sitting at the next table.”
I looked at Jerry and nodded. I looked around. “Is he here now?” I asked. “I’d like to speak to him.”
Jerry shook his head. “No, he ain’t here, he had to take a trip, business I think, I don’t know, I mean you know me,” Jerry replied. “He said that he’d be back in a couple days, and that’s all that I know. I’ll get him to call you if you like.”
I drained my glass, and thanked him. “Do that, Jerry,” I said, and walked towards the door. “I’ll be seeing you.”
* * *
So a few more puzzles for me to work out. It would seem that Mrs. Amanda Walker, wife of shipping magnate, Denis Walker, knows our Susan Brady, an ex-con. What do they say? Tell me your friends and I’ll tell you who you are.