Murder in Humboldt Page 4

  On the flip side, I have an old friend who does ‘fool around’ here, and especially on Saturday nights. His name is Edgar Woods. He’s here while his wife spends every Saturday and Sunday with their daughter in Little Rock. On Saturday night, Edgar is the king of the dance floor; he never misses a song. However, Edgar does one strange thing. When the night gets late and everyone is ‘pairing up’, he always ends up with someone who just isn’t at the top of the ‘good looks’ food chain, if you know what I mean. I’ve asked him why and he willingly offers his explanation.

  “I don’t come here to fall in love; I come here for one reason and one reason only. When they’re ugly there is no hassle. They are always excited by the attention, and you don’t have to worry about return engagements or getting your heart broken over something that wouldn’t work out anyway.”

  God I love that man!

  ~

  I left ‘ The Starlight’ early and finished my long day at the ‘Down Under’ catching up with Andy. The Box Tops were playing ‘The Last Train to Memphis’. I wonder if they will ever have another hit record.

  DAY FOUR

  Sunday

  S unday is a day of rest. At least that was the way I had planned for it to happen.

  I stopped by the office to pick up my mail and messages. Once again, I had more surprises than I really wanted to deal with.

  Marcie was handling the switchboard this Sunday and just couldn’t wait to share her information. According to the way she was waving at me, I had grown quite popular during my short absence.

  Marcie was on the phone, but she managed to hand me my messages and mail as I walked past her and head to my office. The messages were all neatly written on pink message sheets and my short stack of mail included one small package.

  Taking a seat behind my desk, I started with the messages. Some new client calls and some old client calls, but not anything that looked promising. I also had a call from Attorney Jack Logan, reminding me of a Monday court date. I work closely with Jack on a number of cases, and also do some investigative work for him. Monday was a preliminary hearing for a mutual client, and much of his evidence had come from my investigative efforts. I had another odd message from Leroy Epsee, Sheriff of Gibson County. Leroy was a friend, but somehow I didn’t think this was a social call. However, there WAS a message from Mary Ellen Maxwell!

  She had called on Friday (late) for Mr. Drake, and requested a return phone call. The number provided was a Miami number 305-674-8200, room 454. I put that message on the top of my pile and went back to the mail.

  Mail was the usual window envelopes, junk mail and a small package with a handwritten address to Carson Reno c/o ‘The Peabody Hotel’. It was evidently a shoebox, or about that size, and wrapped in brown paper. No return address and postmarked Memphis, at the downtown post office. Whoever had mailed this to me could just as easily have walked over and delivered the box, saving the $.65 postage.

  I opened the package, and my initial analysis was correct, it was a shoebox. At an earlier point in its life, it had contained ladies shoes from the Peabody shoe store, just off the lobby on Union. Unfortunately, shoes were not inside the box. I wish it had been shoes.

  The box contained a note and cash, a lot of cash. $10,000 cash, in hundred and twenty dollar used currency. The money was wrapped with several rubber bands and had been hastily placed in the container. The note was short, simple and printed on plain white typing paper. It read:

  GET OUT OR GET DEAD

  I leaned back in my chair and stared at the note and the money sitting in the middle of my desk. What could possibly happen next? Now I had $10,100 - and still no idea why I deserved any of this good fortune!

  I put the cash in my safe, and then focused on the message from Mary Ellen. She had called on Friday, but well before JR and I had our confrontation at the Humboldt County Club. I suspected she knew nothing of any events in Humboldt and was just following up on her letter.

  I have a rule to never use my Sunday to return phone calls. In this case, I thought I should make an exception.

  I returned her call.

  ~

  An operator at the Beacon Hotel in South Beach Miami answered my call. I asked for and was connected to room 454 – a woman answered.

  “Hello,” someone replied with a pleasant voice.

  “Hello, may I speak with Mrs. Mary Ellen Maxwell please? I am returning her call.”

  “Just a moment,” she responded. “Mary Ellen is on the patio, she will be right with you.”

  I waited less than a minute. “Hello, this is Mary Ellen Maxwell. How may I help you?” She sounded nice.

  “Mrs. Maxwell, this is the Drake Detective Agency in Memphis. I am returning your call and also responding to your letter and the $100 you sent me.”

  “Mr. Drake, thank you SO much for calling me back,” she said with some excitement. “You have read my letter; will you be able to help me?”

  “Well, first we need to talk, but not over a long distance phone. We’ll need to meet somewhere we can sit down and let me hear your issues, and discuss exactly what it is that you need done. When are you leaving Miami?”

  “We are leaving in the morning on a flight and arriving back in Memphis at 2:00 PM.” I quickly picked up on the WE in her statement and wondered who the WE might be - a man perhaps? “Would it be possible to meet with you sometime around 3 or 3:30 tomorrow afternoon?” she asked.

  Think, Carson, think. “Yes, I suppose we can meet somewhere near the airport, would that be convenient?” I offered.

  “That would be great. Where do you suggest?” she asked.

  “I suggest we meet at ‘ The Starlight Lounge ’ on Winchester,” I answered hastily. “It’s close to the airport, and I’m familiar with the place. I should be able to get us a table where we can talk in private.”

  “But how will I know you?” she questioned.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll know you. Just introduce yourself to the hostess, Rita. She’ll take it from there.”

  “Okay. 3:30 tomorrow then? Let’s say 4:00 just to be safe, is that alright?” she offered.

  “That will work fine, see you then. I’m looking forward to it. Good-bye,” I said putting the receiver back in its cradle

  That was a pleasant conversation and I was looking forward to meeting Mrs. Mary Ellen Maxwell. However, I had not changed my mind and would be returning her money. I needed the work, but it would be best if she looked elsewhere or found some other solution to her problem.

  Staring at the phone after I hung up, I was wondering if I would get to meet the ‘WE’ she was traveling with.

  ~

  Still determined to make this a day of rest, I headed back to my apartment. The $10,000 was troubling me, but I figured if someone was dumb enough to put that much money in the mail, then they would be dumb enough to make sure they got what were paying for. I was right.

  It is only a short drive to the apartment, but I noticed a 1960 Gray Plymouth following and they seemed to be taking the same route as me. They had exited the Peabody parking garage when I did, and remained behind me 3 – 4 hundred yards back. When I turned into my apartment parking area, they continued north on Manassas. Perhaps it was just my imagination.

  I picked up some staple supplies at the deli, and took the elevator up to the 12 th floor. After a change of clothes, I was quickly back on a bar stool at the ‘Down Under’ talking to Andy. The place was basically empty, and the Bears/ Packers were playing football on the small screen TV Andy had at the end of the bar. He keeps it pretty dark in the bar and I like that, most of the time. Today I would have preferred light – a lot more light!

  I had just ordered my second drink when the bar door opened. Momentarily blinded by the light rushing in from outside, I had two bar neighbors before I really saw anyone. Bubba was standing to my left and Bobby standing on my right. I didn’t think they came to watch football. They hadn’t.

  Bubba spoke first. “Carson, how was your trip to Humb
oldt?”

  “Fine,” I replied. “As I’m sure you know, my parents live there and I paid them a weekend visit. I was planning on playing golf, but something came up and I missed my tee time.” I don’t think he found that funny.

  Bobby spoke next. “I’m not sure what your involvement is, but it would be in your best interests to avoid visits to Humboldt, at least for the next several weeks.”

  “Involvement in what?” I still had no idea what this was about.

  It was Bubba’s turn again. “We have some financial business arrangements in Humboldt that are having some problems. Let’s just say they have reached a snag, and we are trying to ‘UN-snag’ them.”

  Now that’s a new word for me – must be some underground or Mafia language – ‘UN-SNAG’. I’m not sure I wanted to know the definition.

  Bobby’s turn again. “Your snooping around, for whatever reasons, will only get in our way - and most certainly be bad for your health. And speaking of your health, I think our office sent over a payment for your insurance premium. I hope you use it to keep your policy up to date. Health insurance is important during these dangerous times.”

  “Look guys. I explained to you at the golf course that my business was with JR Maxwell and his wife. It has nothing to do with your business arrangements.” For some reason I don’t think I made any headway with that approach.

  Bubba turned on his stool and was looking me straight in the eye, “Our business arrangement IS Mr. Maxwell. And if you don’t stay out of the way, your next news headline will be in the obituary section of The Commercial Appeal. Are we making ourselves clear?”

  “Yes, you have made yourself very clear.” What could I say? They had!

  Bobby’s turn, “Look Carson, we have no beef with you. To my knowledge, you have always kept your nose out of our business, and we like it that way. Hopefully, it will only take us a few days to clear up this business matter, and things can get back to normal. Until then, find something else to do, and do it somewhere else – not Humboldt.”

  With that statement, Bubba tossed a fresh $20 on the bar and said to Andy, “Get this guy whatever he needs, his mouth looks dry.” Then he and Bobby walked out the door.

  He was right about that – my mouth was very dry.

  ~

  Andy had stood quiet and speechless during my conversation with Bubba and Bobby. Finally he muttered, “Are those guys friends of yours? Sure didn’t sound like it, but at least he’s buying you drinks – right?”

  “Yes, they are great friends, couldn’t you tell? They give me money, they buy me drinks and they probably have saved my life!”

  Andy went back to talking about whatever it is that Andy talks about. I wasn’t listening.

  The Packers made short work of the Bears, and I made short work of the evening. After a burger with Andy, I took the elevator upstairs to think through this mess and speculate what tomorrow would bring.

  I had an early court hearing with Jack Logan and an early evening meeting with Mary Ellen. I would return the hundred, and explain to her that I was not the right person to handle her issues. That should be that, and I could wash my hands of the whole affair. Good plan.

  Oh yeah, I also had to call my friend, Leroy Epsee, the sheriff and see what he wanted.

  DAY FIVE

  Monday

  T he preliminary hearing went well for our client. I expected the situation to enter one of those appeal cycles where things never seem to get resolved. In summary – it was a good outcome. Sometimes the guilty deserve a break too!

  The heat of summer had not yet arrived, so Jack and I paused on the courthouse steps to enjoy the cool fresh air. Jack could sense something was eating at me and nudged my arm as we stood watching the downtown traffic. “Hey buddy, what’s on your mind? You just haven’t been yourself today. Woman trouble again?”

  “Well, yes I guess you could call it that, but not in the way you’re thinking. Buy me lunch at the Rendezvous and I’ll tell you about it,” I suggested.

  “Okay, I guess I do owe your lunch. Let’s go,” Jack said as we started the short walk to the Rendezvous.

  Head waiter, Jason, greeted us at the bottom of the stairs and rapidly seated us in our favorite booth. We both ordered the lunch rib special and cold glass of beer.

  Jason quickly returned with our beer and I took a healthy sip before looking at Jack. “Listen Jack,” I said. “I need you to do me a favor.”

  “Anything buddy, anything,” Jack offered.

  “If anything happens to me, I need you to go to my office and open my safe. Marcie has the combination, and I’ll make sure she knows that I have asked you to open it. Inside you will find money, a lot of money - cash - all clean cash. Without a hassle, I want you to make sure that money gets to my parents in Humboldt. No questions from anyone, and I don’t want that money to get involved in whatever might have happened to me. Understand?”

  “Wait a minute. Something happen to you? Cash? Keeping it quiet? What could happen to you? Are you in some kind of trouble?” Jack was concerned.

  “Honestly Jack I don’t know. Hopefully, most of this will get straightened out this afternoon, and you can forget we ever had this conversation. But just in case, I need to know that I can count on you. Okay? Count on you with no questions, for now. You know me. When this is over, I’ll buy you lunch and a pitcher of beer here at the Rendezvous. Is that a deal?”

  “Okay, it’s a deal. But, please know you can count on me, for anything.” Jack was sincere.

  “I appreciate that. It helps.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  ~

  From the Rendezvous I went directly to my Peabody office. I had almost the same conversation with Marcie as I had with Jack. If something happened to me, she was to give him the combination, no questions asked. But, before I finished she started crying and you would have thought that I had just died right there in the lobby!

  “Please Marcie – stop crying!” I said patting her on the shoulder. “I just need you to do me a favor that is all.”

  “But why Carson?” she managed through the tears. “You wouldn’t tell me this if something weren’t going to happen. You can’t do this! It just isn’t fair!”

  “Marcie, nothing has happened. Okay? It’s just like insurance.” (Somehow I didn’t like that comparison!) “I just want the best for everyone in case something was to ever happen to me. Understand?”

  “Actually NO, but I will do what you want. But if you don’t come back, I’ll kill you!” She had managed to calm down some and was wiping the tears and running make-up from her cheeks.

  “Back from where, Marcie? I’m not going anywhere, promise. Just do what I asked, please. I love you, call you later.”

  ~

  Yeah, back from where - that was good question. I went into the office and called Sheriff Leroy Epsee, as he had requested. This call did not go down well.

  As I suspected, his was not a social call. According to Leroy there had been a break-in and suspected robbery at the Maxwell home and I had been seen on the property – twice. He wanted to know my involvement. I explained, simply, that I had paid two visits to the Maxwell home, and both were in an attempt to locate and speak with Mary Ellen Maxell about a business matter. I also explained that each time I found no one home. I did NOT say anything about the broken door glass.

  “Carson,” he went on. “There is more to this. We know that you attempted to see JR at his office, and when refused, you later had a run in with him at the Country Club. We also know that you have been asking questions around town about his wife. You want to tell me what this is all about?”

  “Frankly Leroy, no I don’t,” I answered angrily. “How could you think I would rob the Maxwell residence? You seem to have a wealth of information without any input from me, so what would you like me to add?” I was not happy with the way this was going.

  “Carson, I don’t think you robbed the Maxwell residence, but I do think you know more than you are sharing. I’
m going to say this once, and only once. I need you to come in and give me a statement. Chief of Police, Raymond Griggs, is giving me a hard time, and I’m afraid our friendship won’t override my duty. This town is upside down with the strike and labor issues. Raymond is trying to do his job, and your problems are something he or this town doesn’t need at this time. Somehow, JR Maxwell has gotten himself mixed up with the labor unions. We don’t know how, but we know it. And now you are accused of breaking into his home. Earlier this week I had Roger Giltner with the FBI in my office, and now they are camped out in town and in our hair every hour of every day. This shit of yours is at the bottom of the toilet, BUT it is in the toilet, and Raymond wants your personal statement. You are going to do this, or I’ll have my folks come down and drag you to Humboldt. Are we clear?’

  “Yes, Leroy, I hear you loud and clear. Let me take care of a few things here. Is sometime Tuesday okay?” I was confused, but cooperating.

  “Tuesday is fine, as long as I know you are coming. I’ll let Raymond know. Drive careful and see you then.” Leroy abruptly hung up.

  ‘Oh Yeah – See You Then!’ Right after Bubba and Bobby get through with me! How could I explain that I had taken $10,000 to NOT come to Humboldt? I’m sure Leroy and Raymond would certainly understand that!

  What have I gotten into? Can it get worse?

  ~

  It was 2:30 when I pulled into the parking lot of ‘ The Starlight’ ; Rita greeted me at the door. I told her I needed a private table and a place to conduct business and have an uninterrupted conversation. I also told her that a lady would show up about four o’clock and ask for her, not me. However, she would be planning to meet with a Mr. Drake, not Carson Reno. I told Rita to bring her to my table along with a cold bottle of their best white wine and a couple of glasses. Rita gave me her typical Rita response, “no problem.”