The Crossing Page 2
My associate, Joe Richardson, had been working the case for weeks and was running into that same wall. Joe was getting nowhere, until he observed Mr. Truett during one of his weaker moments!
Mr. Temple Truett seemed to be happily married and had two grown children with families of their own. His wife, Harriet, didn’t work, and they led a very simple, normal life from their home in Germantown; however, things were not as they appeared. Mr. Temple Truett had another life, one which his family and Jarrett Savings, was not aware of.
During Joe’s surveillance, he had followed Mr. Temple Truett to numerous Memphis nightclubs; one particular club was a favorite of mine, the Starlight Lounge. His rendezvous were always with a very attractive woman, Sandy Scarlet Rogers. Scarlet had previously had some minor troubles with the law, but never anything serious. But, finally it seemed she had found a ‘sugar daddy’, and had set her sights on finally landing the ‘big fish’.
Now, all this was good news, but where was the money? If Mr. Temple Truett had the money, it was well hidden. Also, if he were ever going to make use of the money, it probably wasn’t going to happen in Memphis or with his wife, Harriet.
Joe is the best and his surveillance was relentless. It paid off.
On Wednesday of last week, Mr. Temple Truett used his lunch hour to visit an ‘out of the way’ travel agency on Front Street. There, he purchased two train tickets – one for a Mr. Tommy Brown, travel from Memphis to New Orleans and a second for a Mrs. Sandy Brown with travel from Jackson, Mississippi to New Orleans. These were booked on the City of New Orleans for travel on Tuesday - tomorrow. Then, he purchased two airline tickets for Mr. and Mrs. Brown from New Orleans to South America. We had him, maybe. We just needed to find a way to catch him with the money!
My office address is officially listed as 149 Union Avenue – L6, which means I occupy office 6, located just off the lobby of The Peabody Hotel – Memphis, Tennessee. I actually would consider my address to be 3 rd Avenue – not Union, but the address has its perks.
The location itself is also handy. All my phone calls come through the hotel operator, which is also my answering service. I eat lunch and breakfast in the employee dining room at a great price. I have a beautiful lobby to greet potential clients - and please don’t forget the duck show, it happens twice a day. Aside from the perverts who hang out in the lobby restrooms, I can’t find a lot of fault with my office arrangements.
Besides, these are the 60’s and people are accustomed to the modern ways of doing business. Appearance is everything, or at least a close second to whatever is first. The new real estate buzz is ‘location, location, location’ – I think I have one of the best.
The hotel directory and telephone yellow pages show L6 occupied by ‘The Drake Detective Agency’. That can be confusing, because the name on my office door reads:
Carson Reno – Private and Confidential Investigations
I am Carson Reno and always have been. There has never been a Drake working from this office, or any other in Memphis, that I am aware of. However, when I opened the agency I just could not find any rhyme or rhythm in ‘The Reno Detective Agency’. Besides, everybody who has watched Perry Mason knows Paul Drake, and who knows, people may think this is a branch office or something! A little free publicity and promotion never hurt any business, just as long as they call or show-up with money.
A large number of my clients consist of damaged spouses looking for dirt and evidence on the unfaithful partner. It is possible that infidelity has made me what I am today – not a rich man, but I can pay my bills. Occasionally, I get some insurance investigation work – searching for someone who has successfully snookered the insurance company for their own goodwill, or some poor schmuck who filed false claims and skipped. But mostly I deal with the underbelly of our society – where you find some very bad people and never make friends with anyone.
When I’m not specifically working on a case, I try to spend as much time as possible in or near the office. Another advantage of the Peabody is having access to restaurants, bars, shops and the downtown activity. So staying close is never a problem.
Afternoons and early evenings will usually find me at the Starlight Lounge – just off Winchester. Not only is it a good place to ‘hang-out’, it is a great place to look for clients or, in fact, look for those my clients have hired me to find! The Starlight has live entertainment starting at noon daily. Yes, I said noon. Everyday it is loaded with housewives who use the early part of the afternoon and evening to visit The Starlight for some drink and dance before the husband comes home from work. They cook dinner early, put it in the oven and dance on over to the Starlight for an afternoon of wine and martinis. I have a friend who calls the place "Club Menopause” – I think that is an appropriate name.
Of course with the ladies come the men, generally just in search of some companionship, but sometimes in search for much more. Regardless, these are my clients, or potential clients, and I see no harm in getting to know as many of them as possible.
Rita is the head hostess at the Starlight and works some unbelievable hours. In fact, I don’t remember a time when she wasn’t the first to greet me – regardless of the time. She was once crowned Miss Memphis and, as I understand, had a brief acting career. This lady hasn’t lost a thing with age; she still has those terrific looks and manner that won her so many awards and titles. No question, she is one knockout and a classy lady who knows her stuff and knows her customers. Rita always makes sure I get an opportunity to ‘meet and greet’ those who are in ‘distress’ and might need my services. She’s so good at it that I should put her on the payroll – assuming I had a payroll! However, I do make sure she gets tipped properly – whenever I get the opportunity.
My other hangout is home, or close to it. Home is a 12th floor, one bedroom apartment at the 750 Adams Complex on Manassas. A great place to call home - they have a small grocery/deli on the ground floor and a little bar in the basement called ‘The Down Under’. Regardless of your condition, it is always just a short elevator ride home, and sometimes that makes good sense. Every weekend they offer live entertainment to a usually packed house. Being small, space is always limited. But my friend, ‘Andy’ the bartender, can always seem to find me room.
~
M y current lady friend is an airline stewardess named Elizabeth Teague. She flies for Chicago Southern/Delta Airlines and maintains an apartment in both Memphis and Humboldt. We met during one of my recent adventures involving a ‘Murder in Humboldt’. Liz is one classy lady. Frankly, Liz is a little ‘too classy’ for my ‘down to earth’ and ‘hardheaded’ ways, but her looks overcome any handicap I could possibly think of. Liz is taller than I am, and she actually accents that by always wearing heels, but I didn’t care. Her long blonde hair, hourglass figure and a tan you could almost smell, make Liz a strikingly beautiful woman, to hell with the height!
Today is Monday, and Liz had already informed me that she had no work scheduled and would be in Memphis all week. She also informed me that I needed to plan on ‘being around’ and offering entertainment during her week of leisure!
I wasn’t sure how this case with Black Diamond Insurance would interfere with Liz’s plans, but I was confident that she probably wouldn’t be pleased with the most recent developments. As usual, I was wrong.
~
M ason ‘Booker-T’ Brown is the headman around the Peabody, and nobody questions that. The labor union just describes him as ‘Head Porter’ – but Mason takes care of everything. In addition to being totally responsible for the ducks, he makes and coordinates all work schedules for the doormen, elevator operators, porters and parking garage workers. If you aren’t a maid or a cook, you best look to Mason for instructions – he is the man.
When I entered the lobby, Mason was cleaning around the duck fountain, and I stopped to chat. As always, Mason was wearing his ‘Peabody’ uniform of gray coat, gray slacks with red leg stripes, white shirt, black tie and a polished gold nametag – r
eading MASON BROWN– PEABODY HOTEL
“Mason?” I asked looking around. “Where are the ducks?”
I normally pay little attention to this well-known attraction in the Peabody Hotel lobby, but this morning their absence grabbed my attention.
“Well, Mr. Reno,” Mason answered still cleaning the fountain. “All the ducks have gone to see the doctor today.”
“What? Are they sick?” I was surprised.
“I sure hope not, Mr. Reno. They’re just getting their monthly examination by the veterinarian. I can’t believe that you noticed they weren’t here,” Mason laughed.
“I can’t believe I noticed either, but I also didn’t know they got a monthly physical! Does the veterinarian come over every month?” Now I was curious.
“Yes sir, he sure does. We have to make sure them ducks are healthy, but we also have to make sure they’re not carrying some kind of disease that might affect our hotel guests.”
“Damn,” I exclaimed. “Maybe we should have him examine some of the other creatures who hang out in this lobby! I’m sure they are much sicker than those ducks!”
“Ha,” Mason laughed. “You sure got a good point there! I’ll talk to the veterinarian when he finishes with my ducks.”
“Let me know what he finds!” I said laughing as I walked toward Marcie’s desk.
Marcie is the switchboard operator for the hotel and she also doubles as my secretary and answering service. She was on the phone when I approached and quickly held up one finger, letting me know that she would be available in a minute and she needed to speak to me .
“Carson,” Marcie said hanging up her phone. “Bert Sappington is in Joe’s office and they both need to see you immediately.”
“Yeah, Joe has already called me this morning. I guess this might get interesting,” I said to no one.
“Well, they sure seem excited about something,” Marcie offered.
“Marcie, I need you to call Liz Teague and tell her that I’m in a meeting and won’t be available for several hours.”
“It’s too late.” Marcie was shaking her head.
“Too late? What do you mean too late?”
“She has already called and left a message. You want it now?” Marcie asked peeking over her glasses.
“Oh shit,” I frowned. “Okay, what was the message?”
“She said to tell you to meet her for lunch at the Rendezvous at noon. That’s exactly 45 minutes from now!”
“Great. That’s just great!” I said as I headed to Joe’s office.
~
B ert Sappington represented Black Diamond Insurance and I had successfully handled several cases for them. They paid a 10% recovery fee plus all expenses, whether a recovery was made or not, and it was good work when I could get it.
Bert and I exchanged greetings and I sat down on Joe’s couch. They wasted no time, and quickly brought me up to date with the latest on Mr. Temple Truett and the events of the last few days.
“So what do you think?” I asked when they finished.
“I think he’s running,” Bert answered. “Since we have been unable to find any evidence or trail of the money, then it makes sense that he has an accomplice to help him hide the money. Based upon Joe’s investigation, I believe Sandy Scarlet Rogers is that accomplice, and I believe if he ever gets on that plane to South America, we’ll never see them or the money again.”
“But why the funny games with the train tickets? I don’t get it.” I asked them both.
“He’s being cautious,” Joe answered. “It will be the early morning hours when he boards the train in Memphis and that will make it easy for him to spot a tail. I believe Sandy Rogers has the money, and has already left town headed to Jackson, Mississippi. If Truett spots a tail or smells a rat, he’ll somehow signal her and she’ll never board the train. In that case, we are right back where we started.”
“Why not just pick up this Sandy Rogers?” I asked them both again.
“What if we are wrong?” Bert answered. “In that case, we would still have nothing. But I’ll bet my pet Labrador that if she boards that train in Jackson, she will have the money with her. Make sense?”
“Yes, it does,” I said, “and I bet you two guys have already formulated a plan, right?”
“We’ve got a dandy!” Bert exclaimed. “Tell him about it, Joe.”
“Boss, the chances are good that Temple Truett would recognize me if I were on that train. I’ve been tailing him for two weeks and he’s had plenty of chances to get a good look at me. However, he has no idea who you are and you should be able to watch him without giving him or Sandy Rogers a concern. However, to be safe, we really don’t want to risk your boarding the train in an early morning hour here in Memphis. So, our plan is to take my father’s plane and fly you to Chicago to board the City of New Orleans this afternoon. That way, you will already be on the train when he gets on early Tuesday morning. We know he’s suspicious and cautious, but he would never figure this one! Then, Bert and I will fly directly from Chicago to New Orleans and meet the train when it arrives on Tuesday afternoon. If it all goes according to plan, you will have retrieved the money, and Bert can take them both into custody when they get off the train. What do you think?”
“What!” Was all I could think of to say!
“We’ll discuss it on the way to the airport,” Bert said hurriedly. “We’ve already got your ticket and Joe has his father’s plane fueled and ready to go. But if you’re going to make that train, we need to get moving.”
“Oh shit,” I said for the second time this morning. “Okay, pick me up in the alley in front of the Rendezvous. And before you do, have Marcie get another ticket for Liz. Either she’ll kill me or be coming with me; I’ll know which one in the next five minutes!”
~
I survived the initial conversation with Liz, and I’m not sure if it was the shock or the fact that I made her leave her lunch on her table – untouched! However, between the Rendezvous and the airport, I heard the same two words repeated over 50 times – MAKE-UP and CLOTHES. Meaning, she had neither and was simply not prepared to travel – PERIOD. But, when our plane was somewhere over southern Illinois, she finally settled down and agreed to listen to the story and plan.
“Carson, now let me get this straight,” she asked in a very serious voice. “You and I are flying from Memphis to Chicago to get on a train and travel back to Memphis?”
“Right, but then we are going on to New Orleans.” I was trying to smile.
“And while we are on the train, you are going to be working and trying to catch a bad guy?”
“Right and I need your help. We are traveling ‘undercover’ and we don’t want the bad guy to know who we are.” I was trying.
Liz sat in silence for several minutes and then looked at me and nodded. “Okay, but only on my conditions. Do you want to hear what they are?”
Bert Sappington interrupted, “Liz, whatever you want, we will make it happen.”
“First, we travel first class and have a private sleeper compartment on the train. Second, you give me time in Chicago to get some make-up and a change of clothes. Finally, in New Orleans, I want breakfast at Bennnan’s and a night at the Montelone Hotel. If you can’t handle my terms, then I’ll be riding this plane back to Memphis!”
“Consider it DONE, Miss Teague,” Bert laughed.
~
W e actually had an hour at Chicago’s Grand Central Station before time to board the train. I didn’t know it was possible to spend that much money in an hour, but I got some first hand experience. Clothes, make-up, luggage, purses, jewelry, and lots of soft silky things I didn’t recognize, were all purchased, bagged and entrusted to a ‘Red Cap’ for transfer to our train. Compartment 6 on Pullman Car D of the southbound City of New Orleans was completely full of Liz’s new purchases when we finally pulled out of the station. It was Monday evening at 5:15 PM.
Trying to travel ‘unnoticed’ with Liz is impossible. For dinner, I wore tan
slacks, a white polo, a blue blazer and loafers without socks. Liz, on the other hand, chose a (newly purchased) red dinner dress, which left very little to a viewer’s imagination – if you know what I mean! Liz and the dress, along with matching red heels and dark silk stocking, caught the attention of everyone on the train, she liked that. That’s my girl!
Regardless, we had a wonderful evening, exploring the various amenities on the City of New Orleans and eventually sharing an overdue dinner in the dining car. Finishing our day at the bar, I promised to enjoy myself and have some fun. This profession usually didn’t offer these opportunities, and I was going to take advantage of the situation.
What I wasn’t aware of were the frantic, excited and urgent phone calls that Marcie was receiving from Henry Walker. Sheriff Leroy Epsee was being extremely nice in giving Henry the opportunity and latitude to try to locate me. Finally, in desperation, Leroy contacted my lawyer/partner Jack Logan. Jack wasn’t really my partner, but we did work together on numerous cases and were the best of friends. Unfortunately, Jack didn’t know how to reach me either, but at Leroy’s suggestion, he did speak with Henry and promised to find me and get involved as soon as possible.
However, this was nothing more than sticking a finger in the dike and Sheriff Leroy Epsee knew it. Leroy had a situation that neither Jack nor I was experienced with and he didn’t have a lot of time to make decisions. Decisions that could possibly split a community, and would certainly expose feelings that nobody wanted exposed. Leroy and I have been friends for years and I have the highest respect for him and that friendship. I’m sure Leroy feels the same way about me. We were going to need all that respect and friendship in the coming days.
While having laughs and drinks with Liz in the bar, I would have never imagined that my fun would soon turn into something much more serious and extremely dangerous.
~
I awoke when the train stopped in Memphis for the routine crew change and loading of passengers – it was 12:30 AM. I peeked out the window in an effort to see the boarding passengers, but my view was blocked by another railcar on a sidetrack. If Temple Truett boarded the train, I was unable to see him. I guess I would find out at breakfast.