Sixteen — Detective Mother

 

 

Mudd was still sound asleep when Mother left. The Parkway had the usual traffic. He would be in Atlantic City by noon. James hadn’t called and until he did, Mother, wouldn’t know where to go for lunch. He leaned back in the seat and tried his best to enjoy the drive.

As Mother drives his mind goes back to Dartmouth College. It was February, 1964, Winter Carnival.

We were booked for the weekend. Five of us were in the station wagon as we pulled a trailer with our instruments. There was so much excitement in the car I forgot to check the gas level and before I knew it the car stopped running. Fortunately, we were on a slight down grade and I was able to pull over. We could see an exit with a gas station close by. But could we coast there with a trailer? I didn’t think so. We were in a fix. Within 5 minutes of pulling over, a car stopped the driver got out and in a stern voice said to me.

“Have you ever been towed before?” I answered “Yes,” but not with a trailer.

“Make sure you keep up with me, keep the tension on the tow line.”

He hooked up his car to the front part of my car. He knew what he was doing.

His wife told me. “Don’t get the impression he’s a grump. It’s just how he is. He will get you to a gas station.”

“Are you all ready?” he hollered.

I told him, “Yes.” I was a nervous wreck. He took up the slack and got us moving and moving and moving. Now I was really nervous. I did the best I could and we managed to get to the gas station. He unhooked the cars while the tank was being filled. The man, who never gave his name, went inside to wash his hands. I spoke to his wife and told her I would like to pay him for towing us. She told me not to do it, he wouldn’t like it. Just thank him. We all got out of the car. Some of us shook his hand while the others cheered him. What a nice person, came out of nowhere helped us out of a big mess and went his way without giving his name. The closest thing to acknowledging us was to beep his horn as he left. After all these years, the memory of him still reminds me there are many good people in the world whom you meet when you need them most.

We had a successful weekend working three different frat houses; Friday night, Saturday night and the big party on Sunday afternoon. We packed quickly and headed home. We wanted to get to our favorite stop. It was a small bar and restaurant just across the border from Vermont entering New York state. We called it, the tequila stop, the owner called it, Spardella’s. We arrived there just before eight o’clock in the evening. The Ed Sullivan Show was about to go on and the Beatles would perform. We were in luck and got five seats at the bar. The Beatles were fantastic. As we watched we had six rounds of tequila.

The owner knew us as we usually stopped on the way up and back whenever we worked the college circuit in New England. He insisted we have something to eat before we get on the road again. “It’s on me guys.” When we left all of us felt a lot better. Especially me, as I had to drive. The owner got me off to the side and gave me two six packs. “Let the guys have a beer on me, but you drive.” I thanked him. I was glad he had us eat and the beer was a nice gesture. Home we went. A long but safe drive. One of the great weekend’s playing with the fabulous Norsemen. Oh yeah, the Beatles were great too!

James called Mother to tell him where lunch would be. He was glad he called or his daydreaming would have caused him to miss Exit 40 and the White Horse Pike. Now it was only fifteen minutes to Atlantic City.

It was good to see the guys and even more exciting to be able tell them what Muddy had overheard from the Brown twins.

“Are you telling us Lou, Herb and Freddie went back to look at the dead body and found him alive?” Asked Vince.

“Yes, exactly.” Mother said.

“By the way which one messed his pants?” asked Chuck.

After they all finished laughing, Mother said, “No one ever told me.”

They laughed again.

“It’s a shame the guys were in the accident. I miss them,” James noted.

“Here, here!” James continued, as they saluted their friends.

Chuck, changed the subject, “What about the music for the movie? I know things have been hectic but have you and Muddy worked on the sound track?”

“We have. We’re almost ready to finish the theme song, The Long Road Back.”

“Super.”

“Also, we’re ready to hire musicians to record the tracks.”

“I’d love to come to the session,” Vince said.

“I’ll let all of you know the recording schedule as soon as it’s set.”

“Looking forward to hearing the music move forward,” Vince confirmed.

“The building Mudd and I found will work for the big scenes. It’s centrally located and could also be a storage place for the sets and other equipment. And the price is right. How about the director has he agreed to terms?”

“The bum is giving us a hard time. He thinks we have an endless amount of cash,” Chuck, told Mother. “I want to dump him if ya’ll agree,” Chuck snarled.

Mother could always tell as Chuck’s southern accent would come back whenever someone was pushing him too hard.

“I was talking to Carl, about some of the changes in the script when he asked about the possibility of directing the picture. He told me he has learned a lot just being around some good directors. I understand if you don’t want to use him but I thought I’d mention him to you especially now when the director is being a hard head.”

“Why don’t you have him call me and we can set up a meeting. If we feel he can do the job, I’m good with hiring him,” Chuck concluded, everyone agreed.

“I’ll have him call you in the morning.”

The guys relaxed and talked for the next hour about how much better they were feeling since they found out the guy wasn’t killed, about the FBI and the situation with Muddy and Jewel. Many things were still up in the air but the pressure was off. They agreed their lives would have been a lot different had they known the whole story. They wondered why Lou, Herb or Freddie hadn’t told them they found the guy alive.

It was late afternoon. Mother told the guys he was leaving before the rush hour traffic. The goodbyes were different. Everyone had a positive sound as they said goodbye. Hugs all around and Mother headed home.

On the drive home, he called his son Carl and told him to get in touch with Chuck. They’re looking for a new director. Give it your best shot he told him. Noodles should be getting back to him soon with the information about Gerald. There was really nothing he could do until he heard from Noodles. He missed the heavy traffic and was back in his office by 6:30, sat down in his heated chair and took a deep breath thinking the day was done. The phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Hey, it’s me,” came Noodle’s voice.

Noodles had a tone in his voice which sounded like someone was strangling him.

“Noodles, take a deep breath,” Mother told him.

“I can’t,” he replied. “My company’s reputation is at stake. How could this happen?”

“If you tell me maybe I can tell you.”

“I’m sunk.”

“Noodles, tell me what you’re talking about.”

Noodles proceeded to tell Mother, what he had found when he rechecked Gerald’s employment and credit records. The complete file had been removed from the servers with no trace of how it was done. Last year when Noodles checked Gerald’s records he had a complete file; a lifetime of work and a 780-credit rating. Noodles company also checked to see if the records have been looked at recently and found no evidence of any such thing. His records were so clean a red light should have popped up. Very few people have such squeaky-clean credit reports. Noodles felt he should have dug deeper; he repeated it was his fault.

“No, don’t blame yourself. We had the same responsibility here at Chateau 54. He looked so good to us we jumped when he passed wind. You’re absolutely right, he was too perfect. We should have taken more time,” Mother spoke calmly.

“Thanks, but my company is at fault,”

“Listen, Noodles, let’s stop blaming each other and see what we can do to correct this.”

“Where do we begin?” Noodles asked.

“Solly can help.”

“Good, I’ll continue my search, his name has to pop up somewhere.”

Mother found Solly and explained the problem.

“I don’t think he has a record, the office checked everybody when we put Lundgren here. Was Gerald here at that time?” Solly asked.

“I’m not sure let me check. Wouldn’t you have if he came after the fact?”

“You would think so,” Solly replied. “It could have been missed. I’ll check with Weisman.”

Solly went to call from his office. Mother waited and tried to think if he had missed anything.

Solly returned, “Nothing on file. Agent Weisman is going to do a thorough search. He’ll get back to me in the morning.”

“How old is Gerald?”

“Around 55,” Mother told Solly.

Solly left the office in a rush. As fast as he could move. He had come up with something.