* * * * *
I woke up the next morning feeling somewhat human, but still sore about the ribs from the beating Bradshaw had given me. Ernie and I ate breakfast, and he made the prediction that our job was going to be two-fold. The first part was to prove who, other than Sonny and the Bowman woman, had been in the house that night. The second task would be to dig up dirt on Bowman so Swinson could do a hatchet job on her in court if we couldn’t find out who else had been in that house.
As we drank our coffee, I talked to Ernie about a few things that were bothering me.
“There're a couple of items hanging out there that have got me confused. It doesn’t make any sense. According to the Slatterson kid, Susan Bowman was the instigator of the drug use; she was the one providing it. On top of that, the kid also said he was doing cocaine and PCP. Why suddenly did he switch to heroin, especially on the night someone decided to visit and kill his girlfriend? Hell of a coincidence, if you ask me.”
“Who knows?” mused Ernie. “It’s hard to say what broads will do, especially old ones carrying on with guys young enough to be their son. Maybe the drugs and booze were her way of keeping him with her. May-September romances between a young guy and older woman start off hot, but they cool fast, usually because the guy gets tired of it.”
“Yeah, I guess so, but you got to admit, Sonny Slatterson is an ugly bastard. The Bowman lady still had some of her looks. She could have done better.”
“He is a rich, ugly bastard—that makes up for a lot.”
“Well, his Dad is, but I’ll concede the point for argument’s sake. But what about the switch to using smack on the very night of the murder?” I said. “That sends off alarm bells in my head, especially since it almost killed the kid. Hell, if I hadn’t been there, it would have and this case would have been closed already.”
“Good point,” Ernie lit his fifth cigarette of the morning, “but I can see how the D.A. can turn that against us—argue the kid wasn’t used to using the shit, went off the deep end after he ran it up and wound up killing the bitch.”
“You forget I know I heard another person there that night.”
“I didn’t forget that, but you forget that you can’t prove it—at least not yet.”
With that, we paid our tab and left for Swinson’s office.
The lawyer was alone when we met him. He explained that Slatterson and his wife were at the hospital with Sonny and that their presence wasn’t needed while we plotted a course of action. Swinson had been Slatterson’s personal attorney for years and had his complete trust. We got down to business.
Just as Ernie predicted, Swinson’s plan of attack centered around us finding out who else had been there that night and to dig up any dirt we could concerning the Bowman broad. The formal arraignment of Sonny was going to take place as soon as he was released out of the hospital. Swinson said he knew the judge who had been assigned the hearing, and he felt there was a good chance he’d grant bail to Sonny, no matter what the charge was, even murder. Anderson would fight it, but the Slatterson family would be willing to put up a huge bail if needed.
Ernie and I wanted access to all the evidence that had been gathered, as well as being allowed to examine the murder scene and house. I made it clear to Swinson that I wanted to do it without having to worry about Bradshaw getting in my way, physically or legally.
“Don’t worry about that. I think the D.A. and Bradshaw are going to find out that by making a big deal of this case with the TV folks and newspapers is going to prove to be a two-edge sword,” said Swinson. “Sure, it counters some of Eric’s and my pull in the county and state somewhat, but it also limits their ability to pull strong-arm stuff or conduct a sloppy investigation and get away with it.”
“Just make sure that they know that. I’d hate to get in a fight with Bradshaw. It’d look bad for the private investigator you hired to get arrested for beating the hell out of the lead cop in this,” I said with a straight face—I hoped.
“I’ll let Sheriff Crump know we expect full cooperation,” said the lawyer. “He might not be actively helping us in our case, but he can keep Bradshaw in line.”
So with marching orders in hand—and exorbitant fee agreed upon—Ernie and I sat out to investigate the circumstances and mystery behind the death of Susan Bowman.
Chapter 13
Scrambled Hard-Boiled Page 29