The Crawford Chronicles - Book 1

by Clayton Conrad

  “Yes, I had them especially made up, all different colors. I hope you like them.”

  “They’re beautiful. I’ll just ring for Marcus and have him put them in some water.”

  “Wait, I have a classic idea, kind of a payback,” Clayton said with a mischievous grin. “Can Marcus hear me from where his station is?”

  “No, it’s too far from here, back behind the kitchen.”

  “Good, then you ring the bell for him and I’ll do the rest.”

  “I know what you’re up to now, and it sounds devilishly delicious. Serve that old far right, just maybe he has met his match,” she said with the gleaming sparkle in her blue eyes.

  As she pulled on the green silk cord that hung near the wall, Clayton shouted out in a loud clear voice, “Hey Marcus, ring me a vase will you. I’ve still got these bloody flowers.”

  A moment later Marcus appeared from a nearby hallway. “You rang Miss?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Please put these flowers in a vase and display them where everyone can see and enjoy them.”

  “Yes Miss,” Marcus replied, “as you wish,” and took the flowers.

  Clayton extended his arm, which Rachel gracefully took, and they walked to the front door. Pausing for a second, he cocked his head and listened carefully to the sound of her father’s laughter somewhere in the halls behind them.

  “It might seem that I have scored a hit,” Clayton smiled.

  “Hit hell,” she said. “That was a home run,” as they walked arm in arm through the front door, down the wide steps and into the waiting car.

  Henry drove them to the Dexter House on Capitol Hill, a very exclusive and private club where you had to know someone or be someone just to get through the door. This was the place where the real power players hung their hats. The real big dogs. There was the Secretary of the Treasury with his wife seated at their table, and in the corner was the Speaker of the House joking with the head of Homeland Security. The director of the FBI was there with his family. The list could go on and on. Clayton couldn’t help wondering if these were some of the big dogs Poindexter was talking about. No, these men wouldn’t become involved with some kind of petty scams and some sleazebag lawyer.

  They wined on the best champagne in the house and ate food prepared by world-famous chefs. The service was impeccable, as were the surroundings, from 2 inch thick carpets to the comfortable velvet chairs, to the finest of solar settings, sparkling crystal glassware and fragile bone China. Soft relaxing music piped throughout the room, and to Clayton it was quite an experience just to walk through the door. But to Rachel it seemed no big deal. She knew a lot of people on a first name basis and spoke too many of them. She was thoroughly enjoying herself showing off her new friend.

  Then it was off to the Palace Playhouse for the revived Roger and Hammerstein’s production of “Oklahoma”. They played to a packed house and again it seemed anyone who is someone was there. Ladies in their high-fashion downs all the glitter with diamond necklaces and earrings, precious stones and other fine jewelry. The men in finest tuxedos, with their diamond rings and Rolex watches, all decked out for their big night at the Palace Playhouse.

  They could see the Playhouse from a block away, all lit up with large gas operated spotlights. The traffic got heavier and the crowds got thicker the closer they got. The red carpet was rolled out for the celebrities and everybody was a celebrity this night. The whole crowd had access to their to it and all was the glitter with pomp and ceremony. Everyone was there to see the play or maybe just to be seen. From the stars of Broadway to the autograph seekers, it was the opening night of the great play and guaranteed smash hit.

  After the play they stopped a little out-of-the-way place near Falls Church in Virginia, where they had a few drinks and danced to wind out there evening. Last call came and it looked like the night was now coming to an end, until Rachel leaned across the table and whispered.

  “I know a place not far from here, a real nice bed and breakfast, if you want to, that is? We can have Henry drop us off and send him on his way.”

  “A man would have to be a blind, deaf, and dumb to turn that down. Lead on my lady, lead on.”

  The room was dark all right, but for a dim night light that shone through the partially opened bathroom door. They were both awake and cradled in each other’s arms. It was four in the morning and they had just stopped to take a short breather. They were resting in quiet easiness. She felt complete now for the first time in her life. She found a man who seemed to satisfy her every need, who could give her what she needed to be a fulfilled woman.

  Rachel gazed at his profile as he lay half-asleep. He was young with a little devilish sparkle in his deep brown eyes, even a little rakish perhaps. A lot of fun to be with and a terrific sense of humor. Like a shy little boy in a man’s body, and where our body. When they had made love that night there was no groping a pawing in desperation like some of the other she had been with. Just his slow, rhythmic easiness, that set her on fire until she thought she would scream, and then, and then, Bam! She did. She went three or four times, each time stronger than the first. It was an explosion from deep within her, a new experience she had not known before.

  Laying there beside him she tried to analyze the feelings she was having, the fire of passion she was feeling deep in her body, down to her very soul. It was his gentle touch, the slow easy moves, the tender smooth caresses of his fingertips exploring every inch of her nakedness.

  She cuddled in closer as he pulled her to him and kissed her with feathery kisses ever so lightly over her eyes, nose, cheeks, and mouth. Oh God hearing we go again she thought.

  He continued his butterfly kisses down her slender neck to her shoulders, to her chest and slowly down to her tiny breasts that intensely hardened as the nipples he kept up in anticipation of even more attention. She cradled his head in her arms and firmly pressed his face to her breast, her head back on her pillows in ecstasy while his fingers gently explored the lines of her hips, her smooth flat belly to the soft flesh of her pubic area. He found his way in, in smooth easy strokes as they locked together in pure pleasure, enjoying each other in their moment of intense closeness.

  Not moving a muscle, but caressing each other with light gentle kisses, slowly they stirred a little, then a pause, then they start again and other short pause, then a very slow romantic motion. Not too fast, and a gentle steady action of rocking back and forth, they continued until unable to its hold it any longer. She shuddered from deep within and clung to him with all she had, in one – to – three explosions in a wild passionate climax. Again they went together.

  Drenched in sweat and completely exhausted, they lay back on the pillars, both breathing heavily. “Wow,” she whispered, “how many times can you go anyway?”

  “Who counts, with you I could go on and on and on, and never quit until we both dropped. You want to try me again?” He said teasingly.

  “Well, if you insist,” she said gainfully, “we will just see which one of us can go on and on and on.”

  “You little vixen, you really mean to make me say uncle, eh? We will just have to see about that.”

  And so it went for the rest of the early morning until they both fell fast asleep in each other’s arms. About 10 AM Clayton rolled over and ever so quietly, lest he wakes Rachel, set up on the side of the bed. Oh, was he sore. What a nightmare had. He tiptoed into the bathroom and to the shower to let the hot water beat against his back. Standing there with his four head inning against the tiled wall he suddenly felt her hand slip around his waist and holding tightly. Then ever so slowly, inch by inch down his stomach to his groin.

  “Yes, yes,” she shouted with joy, “he’s still alive!”

  “My God woman,” Clayton said, “you’re like a ravenous tiger stalking its prey. But, what the hell, why not?”

  Chapter 20

  They left the bed and breakfast about 1 PM that afternoon. Grabbing a cab, he dropped her off at her place and headed back to the
Wilson arms in Maryland. After a long hot shower and shave he felt somewhat relieved from his lack of sleep.

  Going to the kitchen he brewed himself hot cup of coffee and newest Michelle’s address book, which he left the phone. Immediately his thoughts turned back to all the unanswered questions about her death. He had read in the newspapers and heard on TV and in the police report that she had attended a party at Senator Harding’s hunting Lodge the night of her fatal accident. The police report was quite routine and stated only that dry facts.

  Her car was traveling at a high rate of speed. They knew this for the lack of skidmarks on the mountain road. She was going too fast to make the sharp curve in the road. The lab tests showed both drugs and alcohol were contributing factors. It was signed by detective Richards, the senior police detective assigned to the investigation. If it hadn’t been for the dog locked up in Driscoll’s house and left there to die like that, Clayton could’ve almost convinced himself that Michelle’s death was just an accident. That, plus all the conflicting stories he was getting about Michelle’s last few days leading up to the accident, as well as Driscoll’s disappearance. No, no way, something was really wrong there and he knew it.

  Did Driscoll know that Michelle was going to dump him? Could he have rigged her car some way, and possibly got scared and lit out for parts unknown? The only thing wrong with that was widely his dog like that, that didn’t jive it all, and what about Barbara wells? She was going with Driscoll before Michelle came on the scene and took him away from her. Was she so jealous that she lost it, that she did something to Michelle’s car? Or maybe paid someone to do the job? But the mechanic said the car hadn’t been tampered with.

  “Shit!” Clayton thought, “I’m just spinning my wheels and getting nowhere. Dumber than a stump.”

  If you could just talk to the Senator, maybe he could shed some light on things. What he really needed was the guest list from the party that fateful night. The more he thought about it the more he decided to pay the good Senator another visit in his ivory tower.

  The next day Henry picked him up at the Wilson as was prearranged.

  “Really going today dude?”

  “We're off to the ivory tower, Henry, to see Senator Harding, that is, if I can get past his watchdog, namely one Lester Howard. But first let’s stop at the old 56th to see detective Richards, see if anything new has turned up.”

  “Right on. You know I stopped by Mama’s restaurant yesterday for the late lunch and while I was there you never guess who shows up.”

  “Not Poindexter again, surely? Tell me it wasn’t Poindexter.”

  “No, not Poindexter, but someone just as obnoxious, and officious as hell. Like a real tight ass, you know, and everything by the book.”

  Clayton took a deep breath, “you going to tell me one of these days, or is this 20 questions?” He said in a pained tone.

  “The Public Health Department dude. Came in with his clipboard and little black book of state rules and regulations for all the city’s restaurants. But she had the places they can span and sparkling clean, all he could find wrong was a little dust on top of one of the coolers, and some overhead pipes in the kitchen needed a wipe down. He said he was sorry for the trouble he may have caused any inconvenience, but he had a report that the place was a filthy mess.”

  Clayton whistled, “I’m surprised Mama got rid of him so easy, must have been a glitch in communication. His boss will ream him a new ass hole for that one. That definitely was a lucky break for her and although I’m thankful for it we can expect more. That was just round two, I guess she will just have to wait and see what they try next.”

  Henry parked across the street from the police station and waited for Clayton while studying the daily racing forms.

  As Clayton entered the building the desk Sergeant recognized him and waved him through. “He’s in the back somewhere,” he said as he answered a ringing phone.

  Clayton found him pouring himself a big mug of hot steaming coffee from the coffee urn in a near corner.

  “Well, you still here kid? I thought you would have gone back home by now,” Richards said with a broad smile. “Just can’t stay away, is that it?”

  “Where else could I go, and get all this free entertainment.” Clayton laughed. “Thought might just hang around for a while, you know. See how things are going in your fair city by the Sea.”

  “Well the first place, it is in the city by the Sea, because it’s only the bay. The Chesapeake Bay. What you need kid, is a lesson in geography.”

  “No, what I need is some answers. Have you come across Driscoll’s car yet? It’s been over three weeks since he turned up missing. Has anything new turned up, anything I should know about, and he leads at all?”

  “The burned out hunk of his car has turned up in Arkansas a few days ago. Found it in a junkyard of all places, pretty clever of someone. The owner of the place was checking inventory and found it wasn’t his, so the local boys in blue trace it through the VIN number. There’s really not a whole lot less to it, or so they say. Got a man down there now going over it, but I wouldn’t expect a whole lot.”

  “Was it in some kind of accident, or something?”

  “Other than being completely destroyed by the fire, there’s no sign of it being in any kind of accident. And like I said, have a man going over it with a fine tooth comb, every inch of it. He’s an expert in his field and if there’s anything to find that may help us, he will find it.”

  “Driscoll could have torched his own car in order to throw us off,” Clayton mused. I found out that he was pressing Michelle to divorce me; I guess he really had the hots for her. I certainly can’t blame the guy, she was really a knockout. Anyway, he can’t take the rejection, and in a blind jealous rage kills her, and now he’s running for it.”

  “Yeah, he gives you that song and dance about Michelle being afraid for her life to buy him more time,” Richards added, then paused. “No, that bird won’t fly.”

  “Yeah,” Clayton responded, “that could play out like that if it weren’t for the dog. If he didn’t want to take the dog with him, he could at least turn it loose somewhere. Why leave it like that? And then there’s all those conflicting stories about Michelle’s last days. I can’t get around them.”

  “Well, when we find him, I’ll be sure to ask about that. But until something breaks for us, we just have to wait it out.”

  “I don’t have that kind of time, detective Richards. I’m going to have to shake something loose and I think I’ll start with the Senator.”

  “Senator! What Senator? Senator Harding? Senator Paul Harding? You can’t be serious kid. Wait a gaul dang minute! Harding is a respected member of our city, not to mention a US Senator. You can’t possibly think he had anything to do with your wife’s death? That’s really reaching.”

  “All I know is I’m getting different stories about Michelle’s last days before the accident, and I want to know why. Her friends said she was afraid of someone or something, that she was being followed. She was a nervous wreck and the good Senator says just the opposite.”

  “Take some friendly advice, will you kid? Take the first flight you can back to California. Let the police handle this. I’ve been a cop for almost 15 years, so please give me the benefit of knowing what I’m talking about, when I tell you you’re playing with fire don’t forget Mister Crawford, if you are right about this, and I think you might be, there’s a cold-blooded killer out there, and by your actions you could be placing yourself in his crosshairs.”

  “For crying in the sink!” Clayton shot back. “You want me to get out of town, you want to get rid of me, is that it? I’m in someone’s way here.”

  “You’re not listening kid; you could be in real danger if you keep on like this. Driscoll might not be the only one to turn up missing. Let the professionals do their job. We are better equipped and have a bigger gang than the bad guys. Now what is this? Crying in the sink? Never heard that one before. You’re killing me Crawf
ord, you’re killing me.”

  “Yeah, that’s almost as bad as ‘gaul dang it’,” Clayton answered, relaxing a little.

  “By the way, how’s old buck doing these days?” Richards asked.

  “He’s doing okay I guess. The vet said he’d release him by next week. How do you know his name?” Clayton asked.

  “By good old-fashioned police work. First I made a list of every veterinary within a 5 mile radius of Driscoll’s house. Then I started calling, and bingo, I got a hit, third call.”

  “You’re a real hard case, aren’t you Richards?”

  “Well I have to keep track of the little boy don’t I? Being as he is a material witness, you know. Just remember what I said about that killer out there, and leave the senator alone. If you want, I can spell it out for you. It’s spelled B – I – G – T – R – O – U – B – L – E.

  “Do you know a lawyer by the name of Perceval Poindexter?” Clayton asked.

  “No, can’t say that I do. Does he play into this mess somehow?”