“That’s just great detective, now Howie knows we’re after him, and will be that much harder to find.”
“Yeah, well shit happens. But don’t worry, he’s got to surface sooner or later, and when he does we’ll be there.”
“You sound like a duck, that just farted in shallow water.” Clayton hung up pissed off and discouraged.
“Shit,” he said out loud. “I forgot to ask about the injured patrolmen.” So he called right back.
“This is detective Richards, how may I help you?”
“The officer who was hurt, how bad is he and what are his injuries?”
“Number one, the officer is a she. Number two, she was hit with a 9 mm Ruger, but thank God she was wearing a vast and the bullet didn’t penetrate it. She will be sore for a week or so, the prognosis is good. You know all about bruised ribs, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I sure do. Listen,” Clayton started to apologize, but couldn’t find the words. A long pause followed.
“Yeah, I know”, Richards said with a sigh. “You don’t have to say it. It’s been a long day for everyone.”
Clayton arranged to rent the conference room in the Wilson Arms and because it had a satellite hookup to anyplace in the world, it was ideal for his purpose.
The meeting went off without a hitch. New business was discussed and different advertisement was looked at. What the department had called the bill board blitz. A member of the board of directors was named temporary vice president and that seemed to satisfy everyone. The meeting was closed and Clayton breathed a sigh of relief. For now he could concentrate on the problem at hand, finding Michelle’s killer.
Late that afternoon, around 4:30 he called Rachel at her office. “Hey, what are you doing tonight Dink? Want to go out to some fancy place and spend a lot of money?”
“I don’t know these last-minute dates are wearing pretty thin, Patch. Why not come over to my place and save some money. I’ll put on a couple of steaks, throw together a fresh salad and maybe a baked potato or two.”
“Can’t wait, what about seven?”
“That works for me,” she answered.
Then he called Henry, who was at the race tracks with Buck on his leash. The two were becoming inseparable.
“I need you to run me out to Silver Springs around 6 o’clock. I have another date with that gorgeous little brunette I see now and then.”
“Now and then my ass, you guys are joined at the hip.”
“Are you doing any good at the track?”
“No, there’s nothing that looks good right now. The next race, maybe.”
“You got Buck with you?”
“Don’t I always?”
“Okay, see you at the Wilson around 6 o’clock. No wait… there is one other thing you can be thinking about.”
“What was that dude?”
“I’m going to need a good, reliable printing company. I’ll be needing several thousand handbills printed up. Then I’m going to need a way to distribute them.”
“Oh, is that all.”
“No, there’s more. I want them on every street corner, on every lamppost, and storefronts and shops. I want them in restaurants clothiers, theaters. I want them in gas stations, newsstands and hardware stores. I want to cover the entire city with them.” Then a long pause. “Well, what do you think?”
“It’s a tough one all right. When do you need this done?”
“You can start on it tomorrow.”
“What do you want printed out?”
“Here’s a list I need printed. I worked it out earlier.”
Honk for Evelyn
Justice for Mama Rhodes
Down with the Downing Company Inc.
“I’ll get into the particulars later. For right now, I need all three printed up separately on 3 x 4 poster boards. To be picked up like yesterday. If you can pull this off, I’ll marry you.”
“Yeah, sure. That’s what they all say.”
When Rachel answered the door, she was completely dressed, well almost. She was wearing a little white halter very short white shorts and white sandals.
“Don’t just stand there gawking, you going to kiss me or not?”
“Honestly Rachel, sometimes you’re just too much,” he said as he grabbed her and pulled her to him giving her a long and passionate kiss. Neither one wanting to break the embrace and walked as one back into the foyer, still lip locked as Clayton closed the door behind them with his foot.
“I don’t think I can perform tonight Dink. I am still too sore,” he said.
“You won’t have to do anything Patch, just lay back and enjoy it. I’ll do all the work.”
Afterward, still in bed, nude and cradled in each other’s arms, they lay there, not saying anything, just enjoying each other. It was Clayton that broke the easy silence.
“I had me a stupendously brilliant idea today Dink. I was having a board meeting with my firm via satellite in California. One of my board members suggested an advertising campaign billboards all over town. He called it the bill board blitz.”
“And?”
“Well, it got me thinking. Why couldn’t we do the same thing here? Of course, only on a much smaller scale.”
“You mean you want to start advertising your business here.”
“No, not for me, for Mama Rhodes. Only instead of billboards, we use flyers, you know, leaflets, handouts. Whatever you want to call them. Something like Honk for Mama Rhodes or Justice for Mama Rhodes or down with the Downing Company Incorporated. We can have these printed and paper the whole city with them. Well, what do you think? That would really get the public involved. Might even stir up some tickets around his other enterprises. Who knows where this will end.”
There was a long pause as she said nothing.
“You don’t like it?” Clayton has been all over his face.
“Why I do,” she exclaimed. “I love it. Are you sure you’re not related to my father in some way? Damn, I think he met his match. In your own way, you’re just as ruthless as he is and there is a plus. The story is getting old and the TV and newspapers are starting to cool toward it. This will pump fresh life into it. If this doesn’t make the major networks take notice, I don’t know what will.”
Another long pause, each one deep in thought.
“How are we going to distribute them, the flyers I mean?” She asked.
“Damn, if I know. I’ve asked Henry to look into it for us with his contacts and all the people he knows he should be able to come up with something.”
That same evening, Henry got home late after a couple of calls. First, he lined up a printer. He went ahead and ordered the three poster sized signs. The printer took the order and said it would take three days to do the job.
“Three days now. No, no, that won’t do. No way. Two days. I must happen in two days. Buck, no!”
“Have you gone crazy, Henry? Three days is the best I can do. I can’t do them in less than that. Buck who?”
“Work all night if you have to. Buck stop it.”
“But, Henry. It takes one day just for the ink to dry. Who is Buck?”
“Using hairdryer, a heat gun shipped double your price. I need them into cities time. Buck, dammit!”
“Who is this Mama Rhodes, anyway? Buck, who?”
“Don’t you keep up with the newspapers or TV? Just do me good. And there might be a humongous order to follow. And if not, you will still get a handsome bonus. Buck no. Now stop it!”
Then he placed another call to a man he knew who was a leader of a Boy Scout troop.
“Mark is Henry Stockton.”
“Who?”
“Henry Stockton, you know. The cabbie, Henry.”
“Oh yeah, Henry, I remember now you still owe me fifty dollars on the prizefight we bet on.”
“I do? No kidding, I thought I paid you a long time ago. Buck not now!”
“Buck who? Henry.”
“I have 100 pound German Shepherd puppy here that thinks he’s a lapdog. Buck, now stop
it. You don’t mind worth a lick anymore.”
“I kinda need a favor, Mark.”
“I kind of need my fifty bucks, Henry.”
“Okay, I’ll make you a sweet deal, you grant me this small insignificant new little favor, and I’ll not only pay you back your fifty bucks, but I’ll even throw in another fifty for you. How’s that?”
“What is it you want, Henry?”
The next day Rachel called her father’s office and made an appointment to see him in his office for a meeting with Clayton and Mama Rhodes present. Now everything was set for the big showdown. All they had to do was pick up the printed posters and be in Mark Downing’s office by 5 o’clock the next day. Piece of cake.
That same night, Ralph Short stopped by the penthouse at the Wilson Arms to make his final report and settle up his account, with Buck closely watching his every move.
“The dog is making me nervous. He’s looking at me like I’m prime rib.”
“Oh bucks harmless enough. Besides, I’ve just fed him the neighbors kids, so he should be okay for a couple of hours or so. What do you have for me this time?”
“Well, these two Lester Howard and Paul Harding were easier than the first one you could investigate one without investigating the other they been a team since the early college days. I mean, the same college. The same classes and the same teachers. Their grades were almost the same. After college, they went into politics stumbled around for a few years until they learn the ins and outs of the trade. Then in the early 70’s, Lester was Paul Harding’s campaign manager. Paul ran for city Councilman and one by a narrow margin. And Paul’s been winning ever since.”
“Harding’s been married twice and widowed twice. The first one was killed in a boating accident and the second had a heart attack.”
“What kind of a boating accident?”
“They figure gas somehow leaked into the bilge and then ca-boom up when the boat.”
“Was she alone?”
“Looks like it. Yes.”
“This Howard character has never been married, lives alone and is a complete mystery. I can’t find anything on him. I mean, he’s there, but he isn’t. He’s like a shadow Harding’s shadow. Wherever Harding is, you look around, and somewhere close by, you will find Howard. He doesn’t seem to have any friends. He has no outside interests. He doesn’t go out, no nightlife at all and no women in his life. I can find no record, not even as much as a speeding ticket and no military service, no nothing.”
“Harding is the exact opposite. Wherever there is a limelight. You will find him in it. He loves the TV and newspaper men, likes to be the center of things. When the cameras are rolling and the bulbs are flashing, he’s at his best. A big practiced smile and easy handshake, a slap on the back. He’s a natural politician. Born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia. Military service war hero given Bronze Star for gallantry. Stafford College was where he graduated, head of his class. Successful in business and politics as well as good looking, nice warm smile. A whole lot of money invested in those teeth though. He comes from an oil family and that spells big money. He’s been cleaned up and groomed for the big race, I believe, and I’m not talking about the racetracks.”
“Do you believe he is presidential material?”
“I believe he believes he is. There is one thing I found very interesting. There’s this big arms contract on the table of the Senate, and I’ll give you one guess who the major bidder is.”
“Frank Wellington?”
“That’s correct, who do you suppose is chairing that Senate committee?”
“Senator Harding?”
“Oh, and last but not least is one more thing you should know. When I tried to hack into Howard’s financials, I got caught. I think I did. He had a tracer installed on his hard drive, and it could lead him right back to me. Then of course to you as you are in my financials. I said all that to say that Lester Howard may already know that you are still nosing around and now are investigating him as well.”
“That’s just great. Well, I can’t worry with that right now. Besides, I kinda like making him nervous.”
Rachel called later that night and told him of the meeting that had been made with her father.
“Good. The poster should be ready in plenty of time,” he said. “And between you and me, I hope we don’t have to use them. But I guess in the long run it is all up to him.”
“I think that’s the big difference to you and my father. You feel a moral obligation to warn him of your next attack. Whereas, he wouldn’t have the slightest compulsion to go right to the jugular. No warning given and none expected, take no prisoners is his creed. I’m just not sure which is the best way to go here. You have to understand that I’ve been under my father’s influence all my life and I fear a lot of his practices and theories have rubbed off on me, Patch.”
“Well, I have to try anyway Dink. Why build a man’s blood. If I don’t have to, figuratively speaking, of course. Buck, go lay down.”
“I understand that’s just the way you are and I love you for it. Did I say that?”
“I’m afraid so. The cat is out of the bag, you little rascal.” We will have to do something about that now won’t we?”
“If you could manage to come over here I’d sure show you what could be done about that.”
“Henry,” Clayton called out, “get the car ready. Be there in 30 minutes. Buck, not my shoes.”
Jeffrey Hunter was a low-life who was having an argument, loud and strong, in a sleazy bar somewhere on the docks near the harbor in San Francisco. One thing led to another and before long, a fight broke out, a real donnybrook with everyone involved.
The boys in blue always kept a keen eye on the place because it was known to be a trouble spot. They came like the Calvary and busted up the fight before anyone got seriously injured. That would’ve been all there was to it, but for downed Jeffrey, still in an argumentative mood, took a swing at one of the officers. This landed him face down on the floor with his hands cuffed behind his back. That would have been bad enough, except the cops, while searching him, found an 3-inch switchblade strapped to his right ankle. Downtown went Jeffrey in the back of the paddy wagon, with his hands still cuffed behind his back.
He was booked for resisting arrest and violence to an officer, carrying a concealed weapon and breaking parole. Afterwards, he was put in a holding cell with six other drunks and their spent the night. Early the next morning a big burly sergeant called out his name and took into what they call an interview room.
The room was sparsely furnished with a metal table that was bolted to the floor in a couple of tears. On one wall hung the looking glass, a one way near that allowed officers into the room without being seen. For 15 minutes. They left him just sitting there at the metal table. He stretched and Jan scratched itself way that the one-way glass mirrors and shot who was ever watching the other side number. He turned around, then over and farted.
Another five minutes passed before the door opened and a detective came in, followed by that big burly officer he saw earlier. The sergeant walked over to him. Got right in his face and said, “sit down, turd.”
“I’m detective Phelps and this is Sargeant Smith. Quite a show you put on for us Jeffrey.”
Jeffrey said nothing.
“Let’s see what we have here Jeff. You don’t mind I call you Jeff, do you?”
Jeffrey said nothing.
“We have here one or two of four felonies, Jeff, my boy. You know what that means, being a three-time loser? That means you don’t pass go, you don’t collect $200. You go straight to jail. Only in this case it’s the state penitentiary.”
Still, Jeff said nothing, just sat there acting bored and drumming his fingers on the table.
The sergeant remained standing behind Jeffrey while the detective took a seat across from him.
“Yes sir, my boy, four felonies.” Phelps repeated as he opened the notebook he brought in. “Let’s count them just to make sure. Number one, paro
le violation; number two, assault on a police officer; number three, concealed weapon; and number four, resisting arrest. You are going away for a long, long, long time, Jeff, my boy.”
Jeffrey just sat there with a silly grin on his face, still drumming his fingers on the table.
“You think this is funny, dummy? You’re going to spend the rest of your natural life in prison and all you can do is sit there and smile? Do you know a man by the name of Robert Orlando? We heard you were pretty tight with him.”
Jeffrey looked puzzled for a moment. “Orlando, Robert Orlando? I haven’t seen him in a year or more.”
The Crawford Chronicles - Book 1 Page 24