Another Senseless Killing (15) The store itself was small. On either side of the front door were two glass windows with display cases that featured various gold chains, rings, bracelets and all makes of watches. Painted in gold lettering on one window was, QUALITY SINCE 1933. There was a narrow strip of purple tape all around the glass on both sides --- no doubt part of a security system. The only other businesses in this residential district was a Pizza Hut and a Subway shop. The neighborhood looked old and run down. The houses were small and inexpensive with tiny lawns. The sidewalks needed repairs and the streets needed to be cleaned. I couldn’t blame any merchant for being careful. We knocked, then opened the door when the buzzer sounded. A short, thick elderly man with white hair and a frizzled white beard was sitting on a stool behind one of the cases. I knew he closed at eight. It was now eight thirty. I thought it was nice of him to stay open and wait for us. “Come in.” He said. He had a warm smile and a European accent. He wore a black skullcap and fringes showed through his waistcoat. I knew he was an orthodox Jew. “Are you Mister Mendel?” Margo asked. He looked at her and produced a broad grin. “My first name is Mendel. My last name is Solomon. My friends call me Solly.” Margo looked embarrassed. “So,” The jeweler continued slowly. “I thought --- personally that is --- that Mendel’s Jewelers sounded nicer than Solomon’s Jewelers. For me, it had a nice ring to it.” He shrugged. His smile was infectious. “And don’t be embarrassed.” He touched Margo’s arm. “Everyone makes the same mistake. It’s normal.” He walked to the door and pulled the shade. “Now show me the cufflink.” I took it out of my pants pocket and handed it to him. Then he took out his loop and attached it to the right lens of his wire-rimmed glasses. He sat back down on his stool and turned on a light. “This is the third store we’ve called.” “Fourth.” Margo corrected. “So,” Mendel spoke playfully as he continued to study the piece of gold jewelry. Then he put the loop down and looked at us over his reading glasses. “who’s counting.” Margo and I smiled at each other. “Was the cufflink purchased here?” I asked. “Yes. And I also engraved it. See this?” He held it in the air. “From KB to RC. --- never mind. Take my word for it. It was bought here and engraved here --- by me.” “KB.” Margo repeated as we stared at each other. “Kate Blair!” “RC.” I added. “Reid Carlson.” Bingo! Mendel put the loop on the table and the reading glasses in his shirt pocket. Then he walked over to us. “Now, may I ask why you two are so inquisitive?” I finally flashed my ID. The jeweler jumped back. “Oh!” “You needn’t be afraid.” Margo spoke soothingly. “You’re in no trouble. I promise.” He sat back down on his stool. “My father started this business in nineteen-thirty-three. He lived on Squirrel Hill.” I nodded even though I had no idea where the hell Squirrel Hill was. “And.” He went on defensively. “I run an honest and legitimate business here. You can ask anyone in Pittsburgh.” “Solly.” I tried to reassure him. “It’s okay. Really. You’re in no trouble.” “The man who owns that.” Margo pointed to the cufflink. “He’s in trouble.” “I see.” Mendel said as he began to scratch his beard. “Do you by chance remember the person that bought this?” I asked. He shrugged. “I sell and engrave a lot of jewelry here.” His eyes lit up. “I do a very nice business --- since nineteen-thirty-three.” “I’m sure you do.” I said patronizingly. “I could check my receipts.” He offered. “Do you mind?” Margo asked. “Not at all.” He started to walk away, then turned back to Margo. “You know, you have a nice smile.” She flushed and her smile widened. Mendel was right. She did have a nice smile. Solly went to another stool farther back and took the cover off an IBM computer. He turned it on and smiled at us. We smiled back. “Isn’t it unusual for someone to engrave their own jewelry?” I asked. He thought for a moment. “You would think so, wouldn’t you? But no. It happens frequently.” “But if it’s from person --- A to person --- B.” Margo elaborated. “Wouldn’t person A be the one to have it engraved?” “Maybe person A waited in the car.” He responded. “That makes sense.” I interjected. “You knew what I meant.” Margo said. “After so many years --- “ Again he looked at her over his glasses. “ --- you get smart.” Then he began to punch in numbers and letters on the keyboard. “Computers.” He spoke under his breath. “Oy! How did we survive all these years without them?” I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that I didn’t own one. Margo and I walked around the store as Solly’s fingers ran nimbly over the keys. “Look, Manny.” She pointed to a large diamond pendent. The price tag read $1400. I whistled. “That’s the asking price,” Solly spoke to the computer. “not the selling price.” I wondered if he had eyes in the back of his head. “Aha!” His exclamation brought the two of us behind him. A long list of names showed up on the screen. We all looked intensely as he turned the page. “There it is!” Margo pointed. I squinted. Then I saw the receipt. Reid Carlson’s name was on it. “Nice work.” I patted Mendel on the back. “I would like to have a copy of that please.” “You got it --- with pleasure.” He said and punched two keys at the same time. In two seconds the printer produced a read-out. “There you are.” He took it out of the tray and handed it to me. “All the comforts of home --- eh?” He turned off the computer. We had what we came for. “Thanks for everything.” Margo’s smile was large and genuine. “You’ve been an enormous help.” “I’m glad.” He answered modestly as he returned the smile. We both shook his hand enthusiastically and headed for the door. Then I realized it was Thursday night and turned back to him. “I know I’m a day early, but have a good Sabbath.” Solly’s mouth dropped open. Then he burst out laughing. “Thank you. Thank you very much.” He waved to us as we drove away. * XXII “With luck we can get there before it gets dark.” He moved the cigar to the other side of his mouth. “My wife is starting to get pissed at me for being away so much.” “You mean after all these years she’s not used to it?” A motorcycle zipped past us on the berm. “There are some things you never get used to.” He shook his head. “But I guess it comes with the territory.” We drove in silence for nearly an hour. Then Nick pulled to the side of the hidden dirt road and turned off the ignition. One side of the road was a never-ending cornfield saturated with corn ripe for plucking. On the other side, vast acres of flatland were interrupted occasionally by patches of thick forest. Talk about isolation! Nick and I sat stoically watching the cottage on Lake Buck. I lit a Camel, then put the road map back in the glove compartment. “So this is Carlson’s getaway.” Nick said. The small house was all siding with a black slate roof that looked new. A shaky looking screened-in porch in the back was supported on four stilts. The porch also served as a carport. His Porsche was parked under it. The land in the back looked like a jungle and seemed to go on for miles. The front of the cottage faced the lake with only a narrow sidewalk and deck separating it from the water. There was a large bright blue pontoon with a fancy plaid roof and six fixed tables. Behind it was a tan Mark Twain IO motorboat that spanned about twenty feet. Both were tied securely to the dock. The huge lethargic setting made me envious. What a place to escape to! What a place to relax in! “You got the cufflink?” Foley asked. I reached into the pocket of my windbreaker and handed it to him. As we got out of the car a plane flew by with a tremendous roar. I felt the ground shake and was certain the plane was going to land on top of the Honda. I looked quickly qt the porch. It was steady like a boulder. “Isn’t there a law against that?” I took a long drag of my cigarette. “Hell, don’t ask me. I’m on vacation, remember?” Nick took a fresh cigar out of his pocket to replace the soggy one in his mouth. “Come to think of it --- “ he said in deep thought. “ --- I do believe we’re near the airport.” We walked slowly up the path to the door. I hoped it would be a short visit. “He’ll shit when he sees this.” Nick turned the cufflink over in his hand. “Too bad.” I said. “He lied to us.” “How the hell did he expect to get away with it?” Nick asked rhetorically. “I wonder what else he lied about.” “We’ll soon see.” “You gonna lock your car?” Nick shrugged. “What for? Nothing to steal --- except the car.” I had to laugh. “Nick, old buddy, sometimes you set a bad example as a cop.” “I told you,” he said with a grin. “I’m on vacation.” Another plane flew over. This one was higher up causing a softer earthquake. We both watched it disappear into the clouds. “Mansion in town. Second home on a lake.” Nick nodded approvingly as he looked around. “Not bad. Not bad at all.” We could hear the splashing of the water as it pounded up against the dock. It was a sound I could easily become accustomed to. “Nick,” I said philosophically. “he puts his pants on just like we do --- one leg at a time.” “Except his pants are probably custom made while ours are off the fucking rack. On sale!” “Speak for yourself.” I took a final puff and policed my cigarette. Then I knocked with the metal knocker. The wooden door was showing wear and the ‘WELCOME’ floor mat needed to be replaced. “Are you sure he’s home?” I asked after a two-minute wait. A sudden snapping noise made us both jump. Then a small gray animal shot past us. “Possum.” I said. “Otherwise known as an oversized rat with a glandular condition.” I shivered and knocked again. “When I called this private number, whomever I spoke to said --- “ The door finally opened and Reid Carlson materialized. His khaki pants were wrinkled and baggy, and his blue short sleeve shirt was too large. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. There were huge bags under his droopy eyes and his hollow cheeks looked as if they’d been chiseled. His hair was uncombed and he needed a shave. My Reeboks looked brand new compared to his. He looked more like a vagrant than a United States Senator. “Come in.” He seemed overly friendly as he led us through the small kitchen and into the smaller family room. In the family room was a TV, a red love seat and two small chairs. The old ratty throw rug showed every color imaginable. The walls were covered with photos of Carlson fishing and holding the fish he had caught. I recognized the Mark Twain in some of the pictures. “Good fishing?” Nick asked. “Not bad. Some catfish. Some walleye.” “It’s certainly peaceful enough out here, Senator.” I added. “This is my ---” He pointed to the pictures on the wall. “ --- getaway.” Then he lowered his voice almost to a whisper. “I allow few, if any visitors.” “Then I guess we should feel honored.” Carlson ignored my sarcasm. “Hardly anyone knows I have a home here. I find this rustic setting very relaxing --- most of the time.” I looked out the large picture window in front. The lake was a sheet of glass. There was not a boat in sight. I wondered if it were late in the season for boating. “Gentlemen, allow me to introduce Earl Cannon. Earl is my attorney.” Carlson said as he indicated the dapper looking middle-aged man standing on my left. “Earl, this is Lieutenant Foley and Detective Gold.” We shook hands. His grip hurt, unlike Carlson’s limp one. Carlson sat in one of the chairs and Cannon sat in a chair next to him. Nick and I sat on the love seat. Cannon was dressed more for a presidential inaugural than a casual get together. His black suit with a wide suede lapel, matching vest, black bow tie and pleated shirt could easily pass for a tuxedo. With his black hair slicked back and his thin neat mustache, he resembled the old actor, Adolph Menjou. All he needed were spats. He carried an expensive looking leather briefcase, which he set down next to him. “May I ask what my client is charged with?” Nick squinted. “We haven’t charged him with anything --- yet.” Hopefully that situation will change “I see.” Earl said. Nick then filled Cannon in on everything pertinent to Kate Blair and Curt Warner. “I see.” He repeated. “And just where does my client fit in?” “Well --- “ Nick considered the comment “--- your client --- “ “Gentlemen!” Cannon interrupted. “If you think my client had anything to do with those aforementioned homicides, think again. You have no weapons. You have no witnesses. You have no prints.” Then he smirked. “You have no case.” There was dead silence. Cannon whispered something to Carlson. Carlson nodded. Nick stuck his fingers in his vest pocket and turned to me. “I bought a whole new pack of cigars and damned if I didn’t leave ‘em in the car.” “And you said there was nothing to steal.” I quipped. “Those your boats?” Nick’s attention was back to the congressman. Carlson followed our gaze to the front window. “Yes. I prefer the Mark Twain --- especially on a day like today. The wind is calm, the water is smooth and I would have the lake almost all to myself.” Then his tone suddenly changed from blissfulness to anger. “My wife likes the pontoon --- that is, when she is able to go boating --- which is rare these days.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “She can’t take the twenty footer --- for a variety of reasons.” “Where is your wife?” Nick asked as he quickly looked about him. “She --- she’s asleep.” He turned around nervously as he spoke. Then he turned back to us. “We have two bedrooms. Jesse sleeps in --- “ He gestured to the closed door at the other side of the cottage. “ --- that one.” Then he cleared his throat. “And I sleep in the other one.” “Excuse me.” Cannon sat forward in his seat. The smirk was back. “What has this got to do with --- “ He stopped in mid-sentence as Nick casually laid the cufflink on the small wooden table between the chairs and loveseat. Carlson and Cannon both stared at it. “Pick it up.” Foley said softly. The senator hesitated a moment, then picked it up and studied it briefly. “I believe you have the other one.” Nick continued evenly. Carlson looked up. I remained silent, deferring to a more collected and a more experienced Nick Foley. “I don’t understand.” Carlson’s eyes went back to the cufflink. Nick cleared his throat then rubbed the side of his face. “You told us you hadn’t seen Kate Blair in over a year.” “So?” Carlson began to perspire. His eyes remained riveted to the piece of gold jewelry. Nick loosened his collar. “This was purchased five months ago.” Now the attorney looked at Nick. A faint smile crossed his face. “Are you saying this belongs to my client?” Nick took out the receipt. “According to this, it was purchased at Mendel’s Jewelers in Pittsburgh on June tenth.” He tossed the receipt on the table. Carlson waited several seconds before he picked it up. Then he read it over slowly. He handed the cufflink and the receipt to his attorney and looked up. The smile was gone, replaced by fear. “We found that cufflink in Kate Blair’s bedroom just a few weeks ago.” Nick added. “Now, Senator Carlson, either someone is not telling the truth or another person is wearing your cufflink.” A lone motorboat sped noisily by. We watched the massive wake it left behind. The pontoon and Mark Twain were on lifts and remained motionless. “Well --- “ Nick asked impatiently, “ --- which is it?” “So it’s a gold cufflink. A plain gold cufflink. So what?” Cannon said as he put down the cufflink and the receipt. “Lots of people have gold cufflinks.” Nick leaned in closer to the attorney. “Not with ‘to RC from KB’ engraved on it.” There was another period of silence. The sound of the water splashing and smacking the dock became cacophonous. Foley looked up and said as if he had just thought of it. “How does this sound, Senator. To Reid Carlson from Kate Blair?” Carlson’s tan suddenly faded. He took out a handkerchief to wipe his sweaty face. “Now --- ” Nick picked up the cufflink with one hand and the receipt with the other. “ --- would you care to explain?” The Senior Senator from Pennsylvania cleared his throat several times. Then he looked behind him at the closed bedroom door. “I --- I know this looks bad for me.” “Reid!” Cannon’s eyes looked like two cue balls. “Terrible is a better word.” I corrected. Nick put the receipt away, but kept the gold cufflink under the nose of the frightened congressman. “Now! Is this your cufflink or not?” Carlson and Cannon exchanged a quiet word. Nick’s impatience heightened. “I’m waiting, Senator!” The senator and his attorney got up slowly and both walked to the window. Another motorboat zipped by. A large wake followed it. The pounding of the water against the dock resumed. After several minutes the two weary men returned to their seats. They glanced briefly at each other. Cannon nodded slowly. Then Carlson got up and disappeared around the corner. After only a moment he returned and sat back down. He then took a small yellow object cupped in the palm of his hand and laid it on the table. Nick studied it a second then placed the other cufflink next to it. They matched perfectly. “May I?” He asked as he picked them both up. Before he pocked them he turned to Cannon. “Care to see them? Cannon shook his head vigorously and spoke softly. “No. That won’t be necessary.” I was silently praying for Nick to hit this schmuck with a murder one. It was wishful thinking. Carlson continued to look back at his wife’s closed bedroom door. Then he got up and walked over to it. He opened the door a crack and peeked in. The senator was gone no more than a minute. When he returned to his seat, he looked as if he’d aged twenty years. His face sagged and his desolate eyes almost disappeared into their sockets. He acted like he was in someone else’s house. “Senator. Let’s get back to some basics.” Nick quickly glanced at Cannon. “With your permission, of course.” A young boy on a wave runner flew by. The noise seemed to jar Carlson back to reality. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Nick turned his attention back to Carlson. “Your name was in her address book.” Carlson glanced at his attorney who only shrugged as he glared at Nick “Yes. I know.” “So you knew her.” Carlson hesitated. “Yes.” His response was barely audible. “Intimately?” Carlson turned to his attorney who was still glaring at the lieutenant. “Intimately?” Nick repeated louder. Carlson turned back to a worn out Nick Foley. “Yes. I --- I did see her on several occasions.”
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