PRIVATE DETECTIVE ERNEST COLE WAS ON the phone. “Damn, Randel. All I have to do is mention your name on the streets and all kinds of doors open for me.”
“Hey Butch,” I greeted my old friend, a retired policeman that did local detective work to supplement his retirement. “How you doin’?”
“Great, just great, thanks to a friend of yours. Mrs. Kathleen Atherton-Smythe has hired me, and she told me to let you know anything that I find out, even before I tell her. She must trust you implicitly, Hawk.”
“I believe she does. She’s one heck of a trouper and a snooper, too. Have you learned anything I can use, Butch?”
“As I said, the street people love you and Mrs. Smythe. So when I spoke with Gramms, she got right on the band wagon and has filtered back a good bit of information to me. Things that even the FBI or DEA probably don’t know yet. It’s strange how the streets have a beat and a life line of their own.”
“We’d better meet somewhere and talk, since telephones have ears too, Butch. Remember the last restaurant hold-up that we were both at. Meet me there in ten minutes.”
“Gotcha Hawk.”
I was beginning to feel like an undercover cop, all mysterious and secretive. Usually I’m direct, run in and kick butt and run out again, ready for the next event. But this was getting more interesting as time went on. I watched my back for any sign of a tail, made frequent twists and turns, went up an alley and arrived at the Peppermill, on Las Vegas Blvd. South. Butch was already there, seated in the back, his back to the wall, facing out watching everything. Damn, that’s how I like to sit. I hate having my back to the door. Oh well, Butch is like I am, very cautious. I can trust him. It didn’t matter, however, I still felt tense and uneasy. I moved and settled at a ninety-degree angle, next to Butch. My ice tea was already on the table and that made me feel better.
“Hawk,” Detective Cole began, “I don’t know why you’re involved with such a motley crew as this Devereaux dame and her side-kick Christian, which, by the way, is an AKA. His real name is Nicholas Russo. He’s from Buffalo, New York. He’s a made man, and a hit man. Anyone associated with him is in deep doo-doo. And…” Butch looked around, “it appears that Luella Devereaux and he are in cahoots together. I haven’t found out just how deep yet, but it looks bad.”
“Should I assume that Caitlan and Ms. Kathleen could be in danger?”
“I’ve put a man on each of them, twenty-four-seven, Randel. I know that someone else is following Caitlan Devereaux everywhere she goes unless she’s with that Russo, AKA John Christian. He has a tail all the time, possibly DEA or FBI.
“So what’s going on?” I was in the dark, knowing less than I had before and curious as could be.”
“Well, money has passed hands between Luella Devereaux and Christian, large amounts. The last transfer from her account to him was for two-hundred thousand. That’s no small change. Remind me to tell you where that money came from. The day after the Devereaux plane crash, Nicholas Russo deposited that same amount into a New York bank account. Interesting, huh? However, it seems that Luella, the sweet thing that she is, ugh, owes the mob one big hunk of dinero, something like one point five million. She’s a heavy hitter at the gambling tables and is in way deep. Christian was sent to collect from her sometime last November, but the two of them have struck some kind of deal. She pays some to the mob and some to him to keep him happy, so he hasn’t made an example of her. She apparently set her own son up at the card tables last November to be taken to the cleaners so they could get their hands on his assets, which was supposed to be credited somehow to what she owes.”
“Why wouldn’t she just tell Maitlan Devereaux that she owed a lot of money and ask him to bail her out?”
“Because he’d done that several times in the past. Also, they always fought over money. I guess when his father died about two years ago, Maitlan inherited the majority of the estate, much to Luella’s chagrin, but there was nothing that she could do about it. She’s been miserable since then; she drinks a lot, gambles and tries to besmirch Maitlan’s good name as a senator. She was even trying to set up another candidate to run against him in the next election. She is one mean, evil and devious bitch.”
I agreed, chuckling, “My feelings exactly, and I hardly know her.”
“So Hawk, I’m convinced that Luella and Christian set up that plane crash, number one because he flew Maitlan Devereaux’s plane to South America during Christmas, brought back drugs, a blackmail deal he forced on Luella for the use of the plane, and they wanted the Devereaux family out of the way, and looking like the guilty parties. I don’t think Luella is at all happy that Caitlan survived. Now she has sic’ed Russo-dash-Christian on Caitlan, and he may try to kill her. I think that he wants to find out what all she remembers about the days preceding the crash and the actual crash.
“Mrs. Smythe is aware of this, and is guarding Caitlan and keeping her very close to home. However, one of your officers, Gray Senega, seems to be smitten with Caitlan and vice-versa, and they are seeing each other occasionally. Mrs. Smythe is pleased with that relationship. They do make a handsome couple.”
“You said to remind you about where the two-hundred-thousand came from.”
“Oh yeah, lovely Luella borrowed against one of Maitlan’s life insurance policies. She was the owner of the policy so it was appropriate that she was allowed to borrow. Apparently, these policies were taken out while Luella’s husband was alive and they took out big policies on Maitlan, his wife, Darlene and Caitlan. Caitlan is the beneficiary on all the policies, except that Luella is the beneficiary on Caitlan’s. Now get this, Hawk, the policies that would pay to Caitlan are borrowed to the maximum and have no cash value, which leaves Caitlan Devereaux shy five million dollars. The only policy that has any cash value is the one on Caitlan for two point five million.”
I interrupted, “And the beneficiary of course, is Luella ‘the vulture’ Devereaux? So she’s out everything as long as Caitlan’s alive. Hmm! I assume everything that Maitlan and Darlene had would go to Caitlan.”
“It would, unless the DEA has confiscated all assets of the Devereaux estate. Then Caitlan will be left penniless, because of the debts on the life insurance. Sad thing for that young woman.”
I felt exhausted just listening to Butch’s story. “Where does that leave us then, Butch? I have to think about the consequences of all this. I’m supposed to be on the tail of Christian and Luella, ‘the vulture’ Devereaux. What good is it going to do Caitlan if I tell any of this to the DEA or the FBI?”
“The only thing that I can see, Hawk, is that you need to prove that Maitlan Devereaux was not involved in that drug deal. If he’s exonerated, then the estate would be freed up and would go to Caitlan.”
“Hell, Butch, that’s why Ms. Kathleen Atherton-Smythe hired you. I’m no detective.”
“Maybe not, but you have the clear, practical mind of a good police officer. Let’s put our heads and our skills together and come up with a plan.” And we did.
NOT YO MOMMA
WHEN I RETURNED TO MY DUTIES, I had a call from dispatch. Frank-3, Jasper Murdock has been belly stabbed and is in ICU at UMC. They brought him in from Indian Springs for surgery. He wants to talk with you.”
I cleared with Sgt. Blake and headed to UMC. “Jasper, what the hell happened to you?”
“I told you they were gonna try to kill me, Randel. It wasn’t Benito; they got him too. He’s in the morgue, but I know it was one of his bunch. Those street thugs that he ran with are in the pen now, and they know that Benito talked. They shivved me in the belly with a dirty blade. The doc says I’ll be all right, but I may always have trouble with my food. Hell, that’s about all I have to look forward to at the big house, a good meal.” Man I hope that Johnson from Ernie’s ain’t flippin’ burgers at the pen, I thought. “Randel, I don’t wanna die in Indian Springs. Can’t you see about getting me transferred to minimum security somewhere?’
“Well Boy, I’m not yo’ momma, but I do know some of the people that sit on the board.”
“Hawk, if you get me outta there and to a safe place, I’ll spill my guts about everything that I know.”
“Looks to me like you’ve spilled enough blood and guts for a while, Jasper. I’ll see what I can do for you, but you have to promise that you’re not gonna cause anymore trouble.”
“You’ve got it, Officer Randel. I remember, ‘a promise made is a debt unpaid’, so I will owe you.”
The nurse walked over and advised me that my five minute’s visiting time was finished. “Okay Boy, take care of yourself; I’ll catch you later.” That could mean a couple of things.
As I heard the clank of the metal door and the click of the lock on the door in the hospital, I wondered if Jasper Murdock would ever really be free again.
Then I heard Jasper’s weakened voice call after me, “Hey, Officer Randel, tomorrow is my birthday. I’ll be twenty-one.”
I shook my head in disbelief. How could so much happen to one kid in so little time? “Happy Birthday, Boy,” I called back through the door.