The Crawford Chronicles - Book 1

by Clayton Conrad

  “Yeah, I guess so, except that tuxedos are required. It was all up spur of the moment thing. Frank called and asked if I could join him at the club tonight. A tux was required. Hey, you want to go, or not?”

  “Of course,” she answered. “I’m dying to see what you do for an encore. 7 o’clock Mister, and you better not be late, or I will hurt you!” Click. She disconnected.

  “Crimenellie,” Clayton murmured. “You’d think I killed someone’s dog or something. Women!”

  His phone rang, it was Barbara wells again. He didn’t answer.

  “Shit!” He had almost forgot about Frank. Too much going on in a very short time. He called and Frank picked up on the third ring.

  “Frank, this is Clayton.”

  “Yeah Clay, what can I do for you?”

  “Just wanted to tell you, you don’t have to pick me up at seven. Oh, is it all right if I bring someone?”

  “Sure, the more the better. Who is she, and where did you meet her?”

  “She’s Rachael Downing. I met her at the luncheon you had out at the estate after the funeral.”

  “Is she the daughter of Mark Downing, Downing aircraft? I know her and her father well. In fact we went to college together at Ole Miss. Hell of a half back in those days, got his scholarship by playing football. There was talk about him turning pro, but I think his father stepped in stopped that real quick. Yes, I’d be delighted to see her again. I only had a minute or two to spend with her at the luncheon, so many people there.”

  Okay Frank,” Clayton said, “I’ll see you tonight then.”

  “A word of advice for you, son. Mark may be small in stature, but he is a giant in the financial world. He can be somewhat of a jokester, but don’t let that fool you, he can be ruthless if things don’t go his way, and they always do. He’d be a good friend to have, but a deadly enemy.”

  “You mean in other words, it wouldn’t be wise to find one’s self at odds with him?”

  “No, not another words play, those are the words.” Then Frank added, “Oh, I’ll have that list for you tonight. I made a few calls and called in a marker or two and came up with several names.”

  “I’m not even sure it will help,” Clayton said, but it’s the only thing I can think of. Something just isn’t right about Lester Howard, and maybe the Senator is well. I just can’t put my finger on it.”

  “Well then,” after a deep sigh, “I can’t see the Senator being involved in anything shady, that’s for sure,” Frank said. “As for his aid, Lester Howard, I can’t tell. You don’t suppose he had anything to do with Michelle’s death, do you? You do realize I’m the one who got her that job with the Senator, don’t you?”

  “Oh no, nothing like that. I just want to talk to a few people who were at that party,” Clayton answered. “To get their take on Michelle that night, how she was acting, who she was with. That sort of thing.”

  “I spoiled her you know. Gave her everything but me, and looking back on it, that’s all she wanted. Michelle was only 15 when her mother died,” Frank continued. “I was never there for her when it counted. Always flying off to somewhere, going here, going there, never home. I buried myself in my work to cope with my grief. Then when I was home, I doted on her to make up for my absence.”

  “Frank, you don’t –“

  “No Clayton, I must say these things so that you know and might understand this burden I now carry. I gave her everything she wanted, anything at all. She grew up too fast to sing. Oh, I saw that she went to the best schools and had the right training, all right, but I just wasn’t there when I should have been. Then her brother was killed in the war and that must have had some effect on her, because they were very close to one another.”

  “Frank, none of that can be changed now. You have to put it aside, or it will destroy you in the end. You’ve got to close the book on it.”

  “You’re right Clayton, and I know it. But every once in a while, I somehow let myself get pulled back into it. And there I am, living it all over again.”

  “Well cut it out, then, and buck up. We’re going to a great party in a little while and there will be no long faces there.”

  “You’re right son, I’m sorry for bending your ear like that, and I will close that book. But I’m afraid I’ll need your help in doing so.”

  “You got it Frank, you got it, you know that. So, I’ll see you at the club and until then, be cool Frank, be cool.”

  Henry drove up the wide circle drive and stopped at the front door precisely at 7 o’clock. Clayton got out of the SUV and walked up to the front door and rang the bell while Henry waited in the car. The loud chimes could be easily heard from the front porch, and the door opened shortly after. Clayton had braced himself for another one of Mark Downing’s jokes but this time the man who appeared was a genuine butler in full attire.

  “May I help you, sir?”

  “Yes, I’m Clayton Crawford, and I’m here to see Rachel please.”

  “Please step in and follow me, sir.”

  Clayton left the butler leads him into the great reception hall, but then the butler paused, and with his arms indicated another hall to the left. “This way, please,” as he continued bleeding Clayton down a large carpeted hallway with rooms on either side. He stopped at a large double door. The butler tapped, then opened the doors and stepped to one side for Clayton to enter.

  The room was very large with a high vaulted ceiling and richly paneled walls. A series of animal heads hung from the walls. What struck Clayton the most was the huge white polar bear that was mounted on a stand in the center of the room. It was a massive thing on all fours. Alive it must have dressed out at 2000 pounds.

  “I shot him in Alaska two years ago.”

  Startled, Clayton turned to look at a man who was standing by a wet bar in a corner of the room.

  “I got him with one shot,” the man continued, “at 300 yards. Dropped him like a sack of potatoes.”

  He wasn’t very tall for a want – to – be pro football player. Just under 6 feet. He had a shock of silver gray hair, clear blue eyes and an athletic build. He looked to be in his 50s, trim and very fit.

  “The lion,” he continued, as he gestured to a mounted head high on a wall, “I bagged him in Africa, though he almost bagged me. I got him just last year. That to, is a prize-winning trophy.”

  Clayton said nothing, just listened and let the man talk.

  “The tiger I got in Tibet, the leopard in the steaming jungles of South America, and so on. Tell me Mister Crawford, what you think of my little trophy room?”

  “I seem to be at a disadvantage Sir, as you know my name but I don’t know yours.”

  “Of course. I certainly apologize for my rudeness, purely unintentional, I assure you. I’m Mark Downing, Rachel’s father. You were about to tell me what you thought of my trophy room.”

  “I’ll never understand what it is in mankind that makes him feel the need to hunt down and kill defenseless animal, who means no harm. And then as the audacity to mount its head on a wall and call it his trophy.”

  “I showed you these things so that you would see and understand that I always, and I emphasize the word always, get what I want. I never quit. My daughter tells me you bumped heads with one of my lawyers the –“

  “There you are.” Rachel said as she walked into the room. “Has father been boring you with his wild tales of high adventure, and far off and mystic lands?”

  She was dressed in a formal evening gown, all white, with shoulder straps coming from the back of the neck over her shoulders, across the front of each breast, crossing, wrapping around the waist, then gracefully falling to the floor with in a short train. Diamonds sparkled from her ears and necklace, from her rings and bracelets. She was absolutely stunning, down to her white slippers that peaked out from under the hem of her gown.

  “Well, I certainly hope it isn’t pistols at the crack of dawn,” she said with a warm smile.

  “No, of course not, Rachel. I adm
ire a man who isn’t afraid to speak his mind. I’m sure we understand and respect one another, and through that respect will develop a lasting friendship. Now let’s all have a Sherry before you to have to leave. You don’t want to be late you know, its bad form.”

  Clayton held out a box with a wrist corsage of blue and white orchids.

  “Oh! You little devil, you,” she said, her eyes sparkling with delight. You really know how to please a girl, don’t you? I’ll bet I’m the only lady there that has flowers.”

  Henry pulled in behind a long line a very expensive cars and limos, all heading to the country club entrance, which was lit up like a Christmas tree.

  It was another grand affair with all the bright lights, smiles, warm greetings and laughter. Waiters and waitresses passed through the large reception room with trays of champagne and caviar. Ladies were showing off the latest fashions from Paris. The men were in their starched white shirts, cummerbunds and tuxedos. Women glittered with diamonds and precious stones, men in their $5000 Rolex watches and diamond rings.

  A six piece jazz band played from a stage that had been set up at one end of the room. As the crowd kept getting larger more tables were brought in to accommodate the need and overflow rooms were opened at each side of the main room. The tables down the center and on either side are quickly being filled and the guests still kept coming. Everything of course, was posh, from the sterling silver to the dinnerware to the crystal glasses to the finest Irish linen and napkins. Lobster and prime rib were on the menu with baked potatoes, a nice salad, and the best of wines. They were from callers for dessert and plenty of ice cream to go with it. All in all, it was a splendid meal.

  Then some of the tables were moved back in the band changed their beat from dinner music to dance tunes and requests were taken. During a break in the music, while Rachel was in the powder room, Frank walked over to Clayton’s table with another man about his age, pulled up a couple of empty chairs and joined Clayton. “Clayton, this is Mr. Thomas Spelling, of Spelling and Spilling, Attorneys at Law. He was at the fundraiser that night and he… Well, I’ll let him tell you.”

  “Certainly, go ahead Thomas.”

  “There’s really not much to tell. I didn’t see much of her, but what little I did see I could tell she was highly agitated, really upset, though she tried to hide it. She kept looking around the room when I was trying to carry on a conversation and kept glancing at her watch. She was preoccupied and nervous about something.”

  “Could you tell if she was with someone in particular?” Clayton asked.

  “No, I don’t think so, she was just floating. What we call ‘working the room’, you know, sort of snoozing the guests so they would give more. It’s a common practice. Then I turned around and she was gone, just like that. I’ll say this much, she was really offer game that night.”

  “What you mean, that she was offer game? Do you think she was on something?”

  “That’s not for me to say, either way. We were all pretty well lit with one thing or another. If she was on something, I really couldn’t say for sure, but there’s a good chance. Anyway, she had disappeared and I didn’t see her for the rest of the night. That’s all I can recall.”

  “Okay,” Clayton said. “Thanks for your time.”

  As Frank and Thomas got up to leave, Frank handed Clayton a white sealed envelope. “Here’s that list we were talking about. I hope it helps you put this thing at rest, one way or the other.” Then he turned and walked away with his friend.

  Clayton sat and contemplated what Thomas just told him as he watched the two men disappear into the crowd. The band started playing as Rachel came back to the table.

  “What was that all about?” She asked.

  “He is one of the men he was at the party that night, nothing new. Just another dead-end.”

  “You still poking around, trying to sniff out villains? I think you’re chasing Indians when there’s no Indians to chase.”

  “Maybe so, maybe so. You want to dance, or just sit there and look pretty?”

  “I can sit and look pretty any time Mister, so let’s dance. And maybe later, well who knows. There may be something new I like to try.”

  “Oh, okay,” Clayton said and rolled his eyes. They danced and laughed, drank and Cape Verde about for the rest of the night. Frank came over and he and Rachel danced to the beat of slow jazz music. One of two other men who were at the fundraiser that night, talked to Clayton with the same outcome. Nothing new, just vague impressions of her being there. None of them would commit to definitely seen her with anyone in particular, or that she was high on drugs.

  About 4 AM they decided to call it a night and called a cab and headed for Rachel’s place. They stopped at an all-night diner and had breakfast, talked of small things and listen to the music from the jukebox. They got to Rachel’s cottage about 5:30 in the morning. They opened the door and started peeling their closed off as they walked back to the bedroom. They were not in a hurry, in complete silence, both weary and bone tired, but crawled into bed. They called for a moment and fell fast asleep in each other’s arms.

  Chapter 25

  The next week Rachel was busy in court battling insurance companies while Clayton made his phone calls to the man whose names were on the list. All he got from them were vague answers, like maybe they saw her once or twice that night but couldn’t be sure. Or they were too busy to notice if she was with anyone. Or they only saw her from across the room. Or maybe so – and – so would know more about her than anyone, call him. All the answers were the old standard Washington to step.

  He called Henry early one morning to ask for a ride to the county courthouse and the Hall of records. Henry pulled up in his new Ford Expedition. He had just traded his six-year-old Windstar and was excited about his new ride.

  “Hey look,” he exclaimed, it has been warmers, remote start, memory settings, moonroof and a terrific sound system; this thing is loaded! All the bells and whistles you could want and a GPS that’s really first-rate. I tell you dude, you’re riding in high clover now, yes sir. High clover! So what you think? It’s fully equipped with automatic four-wheel-drive to. I mean this is a five-star, blue ribbon ride, dude. It’s got a black lacquer finish and windows tinted all around. So what you think, huh?”

  “I think I can see your rates just going up,” Clayton chuckled.

  “Well, I got to pay for it, don’t I dude? A man’s got to make a living, don’t he?”

  “That all depends,” Clayton teased. “Can this thing get us across town to the Hall of records for less than $200?”

  “You’re killing me dude, you’re killing me!”

  “One good thing is…” Clayton began, as Henry pulled away from the curb and into the flow of traffic, “I think Barbara Wells has finally stopped calling me. Almost two old days now, and not one call from her.”

  “Maybe she got the message.”

  “Maybe, one can only hope.”

  But the hope, it seems, was in vain. Barbara Wells was in her little non-descriptive gray Toyota, keeping a safe following distance. If asked why, she couldn’t say. No man had ever treated her that shabby before. One minute she hated him with all the venom of a deadly snake and the next she loved him so much, she ached inside. What could she do about it? Nothing! He wouldn’t even take her phone calls. Damn him anyway.

  It had been a week now that she started watching his coming and going from a safe distance and he didn’t seem to notice at all. That was good, because she didn’t know what she would do if he suddenly confronted her. It was his own fault! Damn him.

  At the municipal county courthouse Clayton stopped in the lobby to study the directory. What he wanted was on the fourth floor, so he walked to the elevators. When he got there, the lady at the counter asked him if he needed help. He couldn’t help but notice her stringy, dirty hair and the walked of garlic as she spoke.

  “Yes ma’am, I don’t know where to start, or what to do, so I’ll need plenty of help.”<
br />
  “Yeah, well that’s what the city pays me for,” she said.

  Clayton had to almost step back because her breath was so bad. “I have an address here. It’s over on the East side in the 500 block on Kiffin Avenue. I like to look at that entire block of buildings, if that’s possible.”

  “Sure you can, it’s all public knowledge you know,” she said, as she consulted a metal filing cabinet to her left. “Kiffin Avenue you say, the 500 block,” she repeated, as she thumbed through the third drawer down. “That would be number 5598771, it will take a minute,” she continued, as she looked at the reference card. “I’ll be right back.”