Evil in the 1st House (8 page)

Chapter Sixteen

They finished their drinks and left the bar.

“Will you walk me home?”

He patted her hand in a fatherly fashion. “Of course.”

She took his arm and they walked west across Twenty-fourth Street. When they reached Seventh Avenue they turned south.

The late August breeze had chilled. Sarah shivered slightly. “Do you mind if I ask you something personal?”

“When have I ever minded?” He laughed. “And when have you ever hesitated? You are an Aries, after all. What is it?”

“How did you live with the loss of Robert?”

“One day at a time.”

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you.”

He put his arm around her shoulder. “It's okay, Sarah. You're family now. You can ask me anything you want to. At first it was unbearable. I couldn't sleep or stop thinking about it. But as the months passed it became a part of me, almost as if Robert still lived in my ongoing memories and had never died. I would think about how he would respond to a situation and often found myself talking to him as if he were there with me.”

Sarah grabbed his arm tighter. “Your marriage…”

Lowell breathed in deeply. “For a long time Catherine blamed me for Robert's death as I think you already know. It became too painful for us to be together. He was always there between us. But as the months turned into years it receded a bit into the background.”

“But you didn't forget him.”

He shook his head. “Not a day goes by that I don't think of him and wish he were here living out the life I know he could have created for himself. But I also finally understood that it was doing nobody any good to wallow in the sadness. Robert wouldn't have wanted that.”

“That's why you became a detective.”

“You think so?”

“I think you had to direct your anger and feelings of impotence into something useful, and helping those who had no other place to turn seemed like a way to do so.”

He smiled.

They were walking down Eleventh Street toward Fifth Avenue when two men approached them.

One of the men had a long scar on the side of his face that appeared to be fairly old. He stopped in front of them.

Lowell was not easily intimidated, but his concern for Sarah's safety limited his choices. “Can I help you?”

The other man nodded silently and took out a gun.

Sarah's body tensed.

The gunman pointed to a double-parked blue Chevy. It looked like the same car Lowell had seen on the highway, but he couldn't be sure. “Get in the car.”

Lowell took a deep breath to center himself. “Now why would we want to do that?”

“You want to die?” The man pointed the pistol at Lowell and turned to his partner. “Grab the girl.”

The scarred man reached out and took hold of Sarah's right wrist. She had only a second to react. She reached over with her left hand, tightly held on to the man's hand, and twisted her right hand around, just as Lowell had taught her. Then with all of her might she pushed down on his wrist. The man went to his knees, and before he could regain his footing Sarah stepped back and kicked him in the groin with her pointed boot. He went down on the sidewalk, grabbing himself in agony.

“Ow, you bitch!”

He lay there moaning and rolling around.

As the other man was distracted, Lowell grabbed the hand holding the gun, stepping out of the way of the barrel, just as two shots rang out. The bullets flew past him, one landing into the side of a brownstone, the other going through the windshield of a white Mazda and setting off the car's alarm.

Lowell twisted the gun from the man's hand and threw it into the street. Then he pulled the assailant toward him and simultaneously slammed the man's chest with an open hand, pushing him backwards onto the ground. He kicked the man in the face, and blood oozed from his mouth. Lowell grabbed Sarah's hand and they ran down the street.

When they were a few blocks away Sarah was still trying to catch her breath.

Lowell looked back, but nobody was following. He turned to her. “Are you alright?”

She was breathing heavily, but smiling. “That was the most amazing thing I've ever done!” She raised her fist. “Women rule!”

“Come on, Wonder Woman, let's get home.” He took out his cell phone and a few minutes later Andy was there.

“What happened, Boss?”

“We were attacked by two men who tried to push us into a blue sedan.”

Andy nodded. “Same car from the highway?”

“I'm not sure,” said Lowell. “But it would be some coincidence if not. We're going to have to watch our backs now.”

Andy unconsciously touched the shoulder holster that held his revolver. “I'm ready.”

They dropped Sarah off at her building near the corner of Sixth Avenue. Lowell walked her to her front stoop. “Will you be alright alone tonight?”

Sarah's eyes opened wide. “Why? You don't think I'm in any danger, do you?”

“No, I just want to be careful.”

“I'll be fine. The building is secure and the super lives right next to me.” She grinned. “He knows karate.”

“Get a good night's sleep. I'm going to need you sharp and alert tomorrow.” He watched as she climbed the half dozen steps to her front door.

She waved and entered her foyer. Lowell entered the limo and waited for a few minutes eyeing the streets, and then Andy drove him to the townhouse.

Chapter Seventeen

Roland looked haggard. “So you were attacked by two strangers last night?”

Lowell and Sarah were in Lieutenant Roland's office at the Nineteenth Precinct. His desk was inundated with piles of papers and haphazardly scattered folders. On the wall behind his chair were framed pictures of Ronald Reagan and George H. Bush. “W's” portrait was noticeably missing. Roland held a cup of coffee with two hands and intermittently blew on it and took small sips.

Roland looked at Sarah. “This isn't the first time I'm giving you this advice…”

“I know Lieutenant,” she interrupted, “I should find another line of work.”

Roland shook his head. “If you were my daughter…” He shrugged. “Would you both mind looking through some mug shots?”

“Not at all,” said Lowell.

They went downstairs and started what Lowell knew was often a fruitless search through the pictures of known criminals.

After almost two hours, Roland came in.

“Anything?”

Lowell shook his head. He stood up and stretched, looked at the time on his phone, and was about to tell Sarah to stop when she shouted.

“That's him! That's the guy I kicked in the…street.” She giggled. Lowell was afraid she was going to raise her arm and shout triumphantly.

Roland stood behind her and looked at the face. “Are you sure? I mean absolutely sure?”

Sarah nodded emphatically.

“I'll never forget the look on his face when he doubled over.” She looked down at the picture. “Call me a bitch, will ya?”

Roland picked up the phone and pushed a few buttons. “Harry, it's Phil. I just got a positive ID on George McFarley…Yes, I'm pretty sure it's accurate…I don't know what he's doing in New York…He wasn't alone. He had some bozo with him. I want a list of known associates ASAP.” He hung up.

Lowell retied his ponytail, and looked Roland squarely in the face. “What is it? What's bothering you?”

Roland looked at Sarah, shook his head, and then looked away.

Sarah caught the look. “It's okay, Lieutenant, I'm a big girl. What is it?”

He looked back at her, and then looked at Lowell. “Okay, I don't know who you pissed off, but this is bad business. This guy's murder-for-hire. And he seems to really like his work. He's accused of chopping up several people, at least one while she was still alive.”

Sarah stood up. “What? I'm not that big a girl. Oh my God!”

“Phil, are you sure?”

Roland stood and stretched. “David, this isn't something I would joke about. This guy's a nut job. But he's very smart. And very elusive, and there's no evidence to connect him to any of the murders he's suspected of. We try to keep tabs on his whereabouts, but it's difficult. He falls off the radar for long periods of time. This is the first lead we've had on him in months. What are you working on that would bring up such a headache?”

“I'm looking into a pretty large embezzlement, and I just finished a missing person case, and a few other odds and ends. But I can't imagine any of them would lead to this.”

“How big an embezzlement?”

“Millions.”

Roland whistled. “That must have been some paper bag.”

Lowell chuckled. “Not that kind of embezzlement. It was a retirement fund for a company. The money was transferred electronically, probably to a dummy account.”

“Well, that's enough money for someone to make sure you don't get too close. Do you know who's responsible?”

“I just figured out who stole the money and told the president of the company a few days ago.”

“And you were attacked last night? I'd look into it if I were you.”

Lowell nodded. “Yes. I plan to.”

Sarah didn't look so good.

“Are you alright?” asked the policeman.

She nodded slightly. “I‘ll be fine in a few minutes.” Her pallor was a pale and her eyes glassy.

Roland's phone rang.

“Roland…Yes, Captain, I've got two witnesses…David Lowell and Sarah Palmer…Yes
that
David Lowell…Okay, I'll tell them.”

He hung up.

“Well?” Lowell's concern was obvious.

“The captain wants you to be careful.”

“I have every intention of staying alive, Lieutenant. But thank him for his concern.”

“You still have that big guy on your payroll?”

“Yes, Andy still works for me.”

“Well, use him. Don't be stubborn.”

Roland's phone rang again. He picked it up, and then waved them off.

Lowell and Sarah got up and left without saying goodbye.

Chapter Eighteen

Melinda and Mort were in Lowell's office watching him pace in front of the windows.

Melinda was seated at his desk, a worried look on her face. “What cases are you working on?”

Lowell stopped to pet Keaton. “Nothing that I thought would put us in danger.”

“Well, someone wants you out of the way.”

He nodded. “I think we have to go into protective mode.”

Mort's eyes opened wide. “You're not going to make us stay at the townhouse again, are you?”

“I don't think that's quite necessary. But I won't take any chances with our safety. We're going to have to flush this problem out into the open.”

“Okay,” said Mort. “What's next on the agenda?”

“We have to shake up these two cases and see what falls out.” Lowell buzzed Sarah.

“Yes, Boss?”

“Get me the marshmallow guy.”

Sarah broke up laughing.

“Sarah!”

“Sorry, Boss, I'm just a little nervous. My life might be in danger because of a marshmallow man. Boy, if I ever write a book…”

She hung up.

Lowell's phone rang. “This is Lowell.”

“It's Buddy. Have you got something for me, Mr. Lowell?” His voice was animated and cheerful. One could hear the smile in every word.

“Are your phones lines secure?”

“Mr. Lowell, we're a candy company, not the CIA. We run an informal business here. I guess someone could listen in on a conversation. Why do you ask?”

“I have some things to discuss with you. I think it would be best to do so in person. Do you have time to see me today?”

“Why, sure. You can come over any time. I'm always here.”

“My associate and I will be there in an hour. In the meantime would you please not discuss this business with anyone?”

“Yes sir, I'll try. By the way, do you like marshmallows? I can send you up a nice mixed selection of our top sellers, if you like?”

Lowell was about to refuse when he thought of his team. “You know what, why don't you. I'm a vegetarian so I can't eat them. But my staff might enjoy them. I'll put Sarah back on and she'll give you an address. Thank you.”

“It's my pleasure. Looking forward to seeing you.”

Lowell switched to the intercom. “Sarah, please give Mr. Ferguson our mailing address and then come in here.”

A few moments later Sarah entered. “So what's up, Boss?”

The astrologer looked at his staff. “I'm not sure what's going on, but I want you all to be extremely careful. Things aren't quite as they seem, and I appear to be a target once again. I take this very seriously. Andy will always be a phone call away. Don't hesitate to call him or me if you see something funny, or if you just don't feel quite right.”

“Dad, do you think we're in any real danger?”

“I don't think so. If anyone is at risk I assume it would be me. But I'm not taking any unnecessary chances, nor should any of you. Take extra precautions and stay alert.”

They all nodded.

Lowell got up. “Mort and I are going to see our client and try to figure this all out.”

Chapter Nineteen

Andy drove Lowell and Mort to the Lower East Side. They entered a gray stone building about one hundred years old, and a rickety ancient elevator with a metal door that had to be closed manually. On the third floor the elevator doors opened to the offices of The Happy Snappy Marshmallow Company.

A huge plastic effigy of a smiling Marshmallow Man stood next to the reception desk. Mort couldn't resist pushing his finger into the statue, which was made of a rubbery substance. His finger went in a good two inches.

They approach the smiling receptionist. A plastic Ziploc container filled with various colored marshmallows sat on her desk.

“David Lowell to see…”

“Yes, Mr. Lowell,” her smile widened, “Buddy is expecting you. Just go down the hall to the last door on your left.”

Apparently everyone did call him Buddy, even his employees.

They walked down the hall past framed pictures of multi-colored marshmallows, giant S'mores, and children sitting around a campfire with marshmallow laden sticks. They passed half a dozen employees, all smiling, and all quite overweight. They must've liked the product.

The door to Buddy's office was open. He was sitting behind his desk. Lowell knocked on the door frame.

Buddy looked up, a huge smile on his face. “Mr. Lowell, please come in.” He stood and extended his hand.

Lowell shook it. “This is my associate Mort Simpson.”

“How do you do, Mr. Simpson?”

“Call me Mort.”

They shook hands, and then they all sat.

Buddy was a short, squat, squishy man. He looked amazingly like the figurine out front, and Lowell wondered if he had been the model for the company's icon, or if was just coincidence.

Buddy opened a plastic container that was sitting on his desk. It was filled with various varieties of the sweet treats. “Please, help yourself.”

Mort took a coconut covered one and popped it into his mouth.

“Now, what can I do for you gentlemen?”

“Have you contacted the FBI yet?” asked Lowell.

“Just spoke to them yesterday.” His voice was cheery, the smile firmly planted on his face. “The agent I spoke with, Bill Jensen, was less than encouraging. He said the evidence was shabby at best. But I insisted, pointing out the gravity of the situation. He said he'd think about it.”

“I might have a chat with Agent Jensen.” Lowell tugged on his ponytail. “Buddy, did you tell anyone about what we talked about?”

There was silence for a few moments. “Well, I told my partner, but I don't think he told anyone.”

“Can you find out?”

“Sure. I'll get him in here right now and you can ask him yourself.” He picked up the phone and pushed a few numbers. “Ralph, would you mind coming into my office for a few moments? Thank you.” He hung up. “Do you mind if I ask what this is all about?”

Lowell considered the question before answering. “There's been some trouble and I need to discover its origin.”

Buddy took a chocolate-covered marshmallow and ate it. “Trouble, what kind of trouble?”

“My assistant Sarah and I were attacked the other night.”

Buddy looked absolutely horrified, the smile gone. “Attacked? Oh my goodness. I hope you're both alright.”

“Yes, we're fine. We managed to dissuade the assailants.”

“Well, thank God for that.” The smile returned. “Are you sure it has to do with our business?”

“No, I'm not. That's why we're here today, to try and uncover the source of the problem.”

There was a light tapping on the door. Buddy waved his hand. “Ralph, come in. I want you to meet David Lowell, the detective I told you about, and his associate, Mort Simpson.”

A tall, extremely thin man entered. He was not smiling. “How do you do? I understand from Buddy that you've got a lead on our missing money.”

His voice was loud and high-pitched. Lowell wondered if there were any secrets at all in this company.

“Do you mind if we close the door?” asked the detective.

Buddy frowned. “Well, I suppose not.”

Ralph closed the door behind him, walked over to the desk and stood next to Buddy. They reminded Lowell of Abbott and Costello. Mort and Lowell exchanged a quick glance.

“This is my partner and brother-in-law, Ralph Murphy.” Buddy ate another marshmallow. “Apparently Mr. Lowell was attacked a few nights ago.”

Ralph looked appalled. “Attacked? Well, Mr. Lowell, what does this have to do with us? We're a family business.”

“Yes,” said Lowell, “a family business with a multimillion dollar thief. Have you discussed the situation with anyone?”

The skinny man replied. “Well, not directly.”

“What do you mean?”

“It's hard to keep things quiet around here.”

Lowell shook his head. “I don't doubt it.”

“I mean, people overhear things, you know?”

“And who do you think overheard you?”

Ralph looked thoughtful. “I guess everyone. We don't have secrets at Happy Snappy.”

Lowell nodded. “I think you should start considering it.”

Buddy ate a green one. “You don't think one of our people attacked you, do you?”

“Not directly. But apparently someone was paid to have me silenced, and until I'm sure who it was I must look at all possibilities. We're dealing with the theft of a great deal of money. If the thieves are caught they will face a very long prison sentence. That's motivation enough for someone to do almost anything to prevent our succeeding.”

Ralph nodded. “Well, I did overhear our receptionist, Martha, talking about what's been happening on the phone to her boyfriend.”

Buddy looked pale. “Why didn't you mention it?”

“I didn't think it was important. I mean, by now everyone knows that something is up. But I don't believe anyone knows exactly what.”

“No,” said Lowell, “nobody except the person who stole it.”

“Ralph,” said Buddy, “they think it was Harriet.”

“Harriet? Oh my God, no. But she's such a competent bookkeeper.”

Lowell nodded. “Yes, it takes a lot of competence to successfully steal millions of dollars.”

Both partners nodded.

“But how could she do it?” asked Ralph.

Buddy reached for another treat, but Ralph grabbed his wrist and stared at him. Buddy put the top back on the container. “They believe her brother was in on it. That he used his office in the bank to move the money.” He turned to Lowell. “Is that about right?”

Lowell nodded. “That's why I insisted that you bring the FBI in. They need to audit the bank's records, and quickly, before the money can be moved. That's the only way we will know for sure.”

Buddy unconsciously reached for another sweet treat, but caught Ralph looking at him and he pulled his hand away.

Lowell stood. “Please let me know what the FBI finds out. And in the meantime I must ask you both to be discrete and not talk about this around the office.”

Buddy stood up and shook hands with Lowell and Mort. “I'll let you know the moment I hear anything. This is terrible business, just terrible.” He reached over and grabbed a red, white, and blue marshmallow before Ralph could react. “These are left over from the Fourth of July. Vanilla, blueberry, and strawberry. They're very popular. I'll send some in your order.”

He popped it in his mouth.

In the elevator Mort turned to Lowell. “What did you think?”

Lowell pulled on his ponytail. “I thought marshmallows weren't very fattening.”

Mort giggled. “I guess if you eat enough of anything…”