Chapter 3

A Friend in Need

He was sure he had pressed floor 8 for his office, but the elevator was carrying on and on, 11 12, 13… Finally it stopped. The door opened but there were no sounds. Jack walked out into a long corridor, lined with police officers in blue uniforms who stood silent as he walked past them to the end, which was a blinding white light. It was open to the air.

When he arrived at the void, a judge in black robes and a black hood, placed a noose around his neck. “This is the punishment you have deserved for what you have done in your life. All the deaths, all the disruptions of lives and civility. There is blood on your hands and now you must pay.”

The Judge pushed him out into the void, and he was falling, falling, waiting for the noose to tighten and jerk him up short. Then Jack awoke in a sweat, and immediately knew that something was wrong. Oh yes, he was in jail, in the jail he had placed countless people over his long career on the force. And now it was he, there.

The hard sounds of the jail reached through to him. The sounds of men and shouting and loudspeakers squawking instructions. Jack had been here many times before, on the other side of the thick steel door, looking in to the barren rooms with a narrow bed and simple toilet in the corner. And the odor now hit him along with the noise. He realized, all things considered, he preferred being on the other side of the door. But all he could do now was wait. Events would take their course.

He began to reflect on his experiences of the last couple weeks. Of his re-involvement with his ex wife Rachel because she had come to him with a story about her current husband and how he was trying to set her up for divorce, by using Jack as the correspondent even though it had been over a quarter century since he had last seen her. And he had been sucked in.

He had used all his contacts and experience to track down the details of Charles Gordon’s life as a cheat and a manipulator. And he believed that Gordon was going to harm Rachel and put her on the street with nothing. And when he got the call from Gordon to come and see him, he went. He knew that Gordon had placed all his assets into a bewildering array of dummy companies, based in Panama, and was preparing to execute his plan to leave the states and leave his local affairs behind, leaving companies, and employees and Rachel, holding an empty bag.

Jack realized he should not have gone to the meeting but he knew Rachel would be with her attorney, Jacks friend, Skip. So he parked his classic black Studebaker GT Hawk down the block from the Gordon mansion and waited for Rachel’s Jag to pull away from the drive and head to the rendezvous with Skip. He then drove through the gate up to the front of the golden stone covered castle of a house.

As he waited for the answer to the ringing of the door bell, he turned and looked at the front grounds to this mansion in the nearby suburb of Carmel where all the rich and powerful lived, away from the reality of dirty daily life of Circle City. The grounds were meticulous, all one would expect from the scion of one of the City’s oldest and wealthiest families.

He heard steps coming and someone yell, “I’ve got it” and the door opened. Charles Gordon was perhaps a decade older than Jack. He was in excellent shape, His well trimmed hair still thick and only slightly grayed (probably professionally colored) crowned the tanned face. He was wearing a crisp white button down cotton shirt and striped tie with a deep blue blazer, crest on the pocket , a red silk square elegantly poufing out from it. The tan tailored slacks ended with cuffs perfectly draped down onto soft brown Italian loafers. This was a man who paid attention to every detail of his image. Jack instantly registered all this as he heard Gordon’s deep baritone.

“ Ahh, Driscol, right on time. I’ll assume you are not up for shaking hands with someone who is going to hurt your precious Rachel, so just follow me and we will get right to the business at hand.”.

He turned without waiting for Jack’s reply and strode down the dark parquet floor of the huge entry hall toward the large carved wooden door that was his office/library, the heels of his shoes clacking loudly on the wood and reverberating off the plaster walls of the high ceilinged foyer which ended with a grand staircase mounting up to a landing before making the turn to the second story. A large stained glass window, an obviously expensive antique taken from some foreign ruin, extended up to the double height back wall of the staircase sending a rainbow of light streaming down into the hall. Jack studied the furnishings and wall coverings as he followed Gordon into the large paneled and book lined room that was Gordon’s study. It was obviously a house where family taste and money had been well invested.

Gordon walked over to the heavy oak desk framed behind by a wall of leather bound first editions. Sitting down in his leather desk chair, he motioned Jack to the one in front. The door had been left slightly ajar. Charles Gordon was in his element and in control. This was his place. The desk had a leather pad with dark green felt insert. An antique pen and ink set centered in front. A fat black Mont Blanc fountain pen was aligned on the felt. On the left corner was a richly waxed wooden box, lid open, exposing an exquisitely polished and engraved Colt 45 Peacemaker pistol. Otherwise the desk was bare. Jack decided to take the initiative.

“So Mr. Gordon, you’ve been a busy man recently. Making all sorts of plans from what I can gather. I can’t imagine what you would want from me.”

Gordon was nonplussed. “I’m always busy. I have a lot of things to manage. And at the moment, I’m tying up some loose ends so to speak. And I believe you can provide me a service. Isn’t that what you do? Provide service to your clients, such as my wife, Rachel. I have quite the file on you and your recent contacts with her.” With that, he opened the large bottom drawer of his desk where there were hanging files, riffed through them, opening one, pulling out a sheaf of papers.

“You are not the only PI in Circle City you know,” he said with a slight sneer of a smile. “And some of them are not necessarily fans of you. But getting to the point. I have enough information here to incriminate you as the lover of my wife. It would make compelling evidence in our divorce case.”

“Gordon, you know that I had not seen my ex-wife in 25 years until recently. And ours has been only a professional relationship. As is her right, she is trying to protect herself and asked my help, my professional help. That’s it.”

“Perhaps so,” Gordon said as he shuffled through the pages, stopping to read here and there. “But there are those long lunches at St.Elmo’s and dinners at La Maison Blanche, which always seemed to occur when I was out of town. Who knows where you ended up? But then imagination and a lot of money can do a lot of things to convince a judge.”

Jack felt himself getting angry, something that rarely happened. Obviously Gordon was willing to do anything to cut Rachel out of his fortune. “Look Gordon. You may think you have her over a barrel here, but we are not exactly without information of our own. As in, where has all your money and corporate identity gone? And why do you have such a big interest in Panama? It will not be so easy as you think to put the blame on Rachel.”

Gordon, put the papers down on his desk, leaned back into the high backed chair and sighed. “Oh my, we are invested in Mrs. Gordon now aren’t we. Well, Mr. Driscol, I think you and your attorney friend, Skip, are in over your head. You’ll never stand up to the firm of Porter, Liston and Reed and their resources, well, my resources.”

Trying to regain his composure, Jack put a wry smile on his face. “Well, I guess Skip and I will just have to do our best. Not every day you get to beat Charles Gordon. And I have an idea the perhaps the District Attorney might be interested in what is happening to some of their Circle City major employers controlled by you.”

“So now are you threatening me, Mr. Driscol?,” Gordon said with exaggerated emphasis. “Can we add extortion and defamation to your list of vulnerabilities?”

Leaning forward, Gordon’s face became serious. “Look here Driscol. It doesn’t have to be this way. We dont need each other as enemies. That’s why I asked you here. I just want to get Rachel out of my life and have control of my property without a big messy scene in the papers and courts. I propose that you work for me. I’ll give you a $25 thousand cash retainer and you can bill me at $2000 a day until we get through this. All you have to do is help me prove my wife’s infidelity. It would be best if it were with you as that is the easiest to set up. But you can choose how you do it. That is not my problem. I just want to be, shall we say, unentangled from Rachel ”

Jack stood up. “We’re done here. I have a client and there is something about me, I don’l like to have more than one client at a time. Also, I dont work for anyone I dont like. And I’m just starting to enjoy this game. You’ll just have to find yourself another patsy for your scheme. Or better yet, why not live up to your agreement with Rachel and pay her what she is rightfully owed as your wife these last years. She certainly deserves it from putting up with you.”

“Oh Mr. Driscol. I’m so sorry you wont be helping me. It’s too bad what is going to happen to you and your reputation. I doubt if there will be anyone willing to hire a broken down old PI who compromised his client. The state licensure bureau will be very interested in this case I would think.”

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll be going now. Don’t get up, I’ll let myself out.” Jack stood up and strode to the door opening it fully. As he moved into the hall, he heard steps on the staircase suddenly stop. But he did not turn around, closing the door behind him. He got into the Studie and drove back downtown to his office.

He did not know at the time, that just an hour and a half later he would be back in this house and in that study with Rachel, looking at the dead body of Charles Gordon, shot with his own superb antique pistol.

As he sat in his cell, playing all those events of that day out in his head, he realized his biggest mistake. Why had he lied to Lieutenant Detective Lew Martin about his whereabouts at the time of the murder.? Yes, it was technically true, that he was not there at the time of the murder. But he should have told Lew right away about the meeting in the morning. “I guess I was just so caught by surprise and there with Rachel and the shock of seeing the body and all the other stuff playing out in my head at the time. But it was the most fundamental mistake a suspected guilty party makes.”

The door to his cell clicked open. Lew Martin put his head in. “Jack, come with me. Bail has been arranged.” As they began to walk through all the doors which sectioned off the jail, Lew said, “Jack, things dont’ look too good for you. First of all, while Skip managed to get bail posted, he cannot represent you. It would put him in conflict with Rachel as an existing client, and anyway homicide cases are not his thing. So you are going to need to get yourself a good attorney. I think you probably know Ralph Crum. He’s the best there is in my opinion. I’ve lost several clearly certain convictions to him. Doesn’t make me like him, but I respect him.”

They got to the main desk where Jack was signing the process papers. Lew continued, :”Your preliminary hearing is next Thursday. Be on time. And I’m sorry to tell you, Rachel has said she does not want to be connected to you in any way. It seems that now that she has control of the estate, Milton Porter is advising her in behalf of the estate and feels it would be unseemly for her to be associated with the killer of her husband.”

As they walked to the door of the police station, Lew handed him his keys. “I made sure the Studebaker was cared for, it’s out front. I see why you like it so much. From now on though, I’m going to have to be doing my job and keeping my distance from you too. You know that. I’m going to do my damnedest to try and prove who the killer was, even if was you. Why the hell didn’t you tell me initially about the meeting with Gordon?”

Jack shook his head. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing this last week. I wish I knew and once the words were out of my mouth, I couldn’t take it back.”

Lew reached out for Jack’s hand. “One last bit of info, from a friend, before I turn back into being a Homicide Detective. I’ve done some checking around of course. Rachel and Charles’ son William, Will. He did not attend classes on the morning his father was shot. Wabash is pretty strict about those things. He said he was studying in the Library, alone. He did lunch at the fraternity house at noon.

“And his sports car, a red ferrari convertible, was not seen in the parking lot at his fraternity, the night before, nor does anyone remember seeing him that evening either. In that car, with it being mostly on interstate to his family house, he could easily make it in less than 45 minutes. I’m trying to see if we can find any video footage of that car. It’s not like there’s going to be a lot of them around. Now go home and get some rest. You got a lot to get ready for. And by the way, Melba misses you. I been feeding her instead of Rachel.”

Jack looked over at his old colleague. “Lew thanks for everything. I realize, I have a real mess on my hands, a lot from my own making. I’ll just have to see it through. It’ll turn out as it does, just like always.”

Jack walked down the steps, got into the Studie and rumbled the souped up V8 to life. On the drive back to his house his detective brain engaged and he began making a mental check list of things to do. The most immediate was to call Ralph Crum.

For the first time in his life, he felt all alone. He was now cut off from Rachel and Skip. And being under indictment, there would not be clients for a disgraced PI.

As he opened the door to his house, there waiting in the entry, was Melba, as she always was upon hearing the distinctive sound of the Studie when he returned. She came over and rubbed up against his leg giving him a loud hello meow. He bent down and scratched her behind the ears as she liked and heard her purr start up. “Well, at least I have you Melba, and that’s a start.”

Chapter 4

A Fool for a Client

Jack’s mind was totally taken over by what Homicide Detective Lew Martin had said to him, the day he was accused of the murder of Charles Gordon, “It’s all about motive and opportunity.” Every waking moment was now engaged in thinking about those questions. It had taken over his mind. It’s not as if he had anything else to do these days. There were no paying clients. He had never really made a lot of money in his life. He did finally receive his pension for his 30 years on the force so at least he would eat. But there would be not much else other than that and rent on his office and gas for the Studebaker.

His small craftsman brick house in the Broad Ripple section of Circle City had long been paid for. It had not cost a lot when he first moved there, This was before that in-town area became a highly yuppiefied and desirable place to live. It was now quite valuable, his only asset really. He was facing up to the reality he might have to remortgage it to pay for his Attorney Ralph Crum. It had taken all his savings to pay Ralph’s initial retainer. And to save money, Ralph agreed to let Jack do all the detective work himself. And the first task was to find out who had been in the house when Jack had his meeting with Charles in his study.

His office in the Brill Building downtown was now totally dedicated to laying out all the evidence in the case. One wall had a corkboard that he always used to post notes and thoughts and details of the cases he worked on. It helped him to visualize linkages and see gaps and lay out next steps. At the moment it was pretty sparse of anything concrete.

Name Motive Opportunity

Rachel Gordon Divorce/Reputation With Attorney Skip/Jack

Contact with Son

Money!

Son William Gordon ? Mother? No verifiable alibi

Estranged from Father?

No clear motive

Business Partners? Closing of businesses ????

Bankers In Circle City/

Attorney Milton Porter Moving resources to Panama

P I investigator for Extortion?

divorce

Person in the house ????? Likely killer

when Jack was there?

Jack Driscol Connection to/ Alone with Gordon until

protect Rachel approximate time of death

With a grim smile Jack thought to himself, “Well only one guy has a clear motive and opportunity and it’s me. I hope I’m a good enough detective to get me off”

As he tried to make sense of what little detail he had, his mind kept taking him back to the moment before Charles opened the door. He had said, “I’ve got it”. Could it have been more a warning to get out of sight rather than a statement of who would answer the bell. It was obvious, that Charles knew who was there. So it would rule out some stranger or random attacker.

And then there was the fact of the murder weapon, the special revolver in the open wooden display box on his desk. It would have to be known that the gun was loaded and ready for use. It wasn’t just a museum piece for looks. Maybe Gordon did keep it loaded for protection in the house, in any event, the killer had seized it for the crime. But there were no fingerprints on the gun other than Charles’.

And could it be possible that the crime was actually a suicide. The angle of the mortal wound and blood spray behind on the bookcase was consistent with that. But then what had the other person in the house done upon hearing the shot and who was it and why did they not report it?

Now Jack made a list of things to do.

1. Check out Will Gordon alibi. Is there a motive why he would kill his father?
2. Get a copy of the PI report on Rachel and Jack that went missing and had been given to the prosecutor by Milton Porter. Ask Ralph Crum to demand it as evidence. Who was the PI.
3. Get a copy of Charles Gordon’s final will. Who stood to gain or lose?
4. Which local businesses and partners to Gordon would lose by the shift in his assets to shell companies?
5. Find out what was going on with Rachel. Why had she cut him off from contact with her?

After finishing his list and making some other notes, Jack began to feel better. Now he had something positive to do. It would get him out of his office and out of his mental cul de sac of thinking about the case over and over and getting no where. And he knew where he wanted to go first, up to Crawfordsville and Wabash College and look into Will Gordon’s alibi. And best of all, it made for a road trip in the Studebaker. He always did some of his best thinking in his time behind the wheel with the big V8 rumbling along.

Jack pulled the Studie into a public parking spot at the edge of Campus. It had taken him less than 40 minutes to reach the campus from where Will Gordon would have entered the interstate from his home. So if he had been the killer it would have been easy for him to show up for lunch at his Fraternity house, Phi Gamma Delta, or Fiji as they are called.

Wabash College is a small college with a big reputation. Known as “An “A” school for “B” students” It is both exclusive and expensive with less than 900 total students, all men, on its picture perfect campus. Many of the state’s wealthiest families sent their sons to Wabash. It is reputed to lead to the best business connections for its students after graduation of almost any College in the US. So totally fitting that Will Gordon would go there.

Walking along the mall in the center of campus around which radiated lecture halls and departmental buildings, it was almost like walking back in time. While the men no longer wore robes or uniforms to class, they still maintained wearing of “ pots” – beanies denoting their fraternity or social club. Jack felt distinctively out of place as he walked into the Lily Library, one of the largest buildings on the campus mall.

Passing through the heavy bronze doors, Jack was faced by a large circular desk presided over by a woman with gray hair done up tightly in a bun. She was wearing a crisp white blouse and a brown wool skirt and eyed him circumspectly as he entered. It would seem impossible not to have been noticed by whomever was on the desk the day of the murder.

“May I help you?”

Jack smiled as he approached and read her name tag, “Yes Mrs. Stengal. You see, my grandson is a junior in high school, in Johnson County and I ‘m helping him identify some potential colleges. He;s a terrific kid and I think would benefit greatly from the chance to attend Wabash.”

She was unmoved. “Then I think you should go to the admin building and contact the registrar.”

“Oh, I will. But I always like to check out the Library first. It is where he will spend the most time doing research and writing and preparing for classes and tests. To me the library was the most important building at my school. I’ve loved being in Libraries all my life”

The severe look faded from her face and a hint of a smile showed. “Well, ours is one of the best you could find. We have a wonderful collection and many private spaces for the young men to find a place to study. I’m sure your grandson would appreciate the resources we make available. Is there any particular area of study he would take?”

“I must admit, like many of his age right now, he is still trying to make up his mind. But one thing, can you show me some information about campus life, the organizations and sorts of things the men here do to enrich their studies. And perhaps issues of the recent Annuals that show clubs and activities? And perhaps information on successful alums. Having future opportunities is important these days.“

An hour later, Jack returned to the desk with the armload of books he had reviewed. “You have been so helpful Mrs. Stengal. I do hope my grandson has the chance to come here. I’ve made lots of notes about things to think about.”

And in fact, Jack had found some very interesting information. It seems young Will was quite an active member of several clubs in addition to his fraternity. The most important of which was the Sphinx Club, the most exclusive group on campus. Very few students were invited to be a member. And as with the school itself and the Fijis, you almost certainly had to have been a “legacy”, someone who was either of a family member who had been a member, or who had a recommendation by a prominent former member.

The remarkable thing Jack thought, was that there was no mention anywhere of Charles Gordon being either a student or benefactor which was striking considered that Gordon was one of the wealthiest men in the state. However, prominent in the information on important alums, impossible to miss, was Milton Porter, Charles Gordon’s long time attorney and current executor of his will. He had been the previous chairman of the Board of Trustees and still a member. Additionally , during his days at the school, he had been president of both the Fijis and the Sphinx Club and was listed as alumnae advisor to both. Milton Porter had been, and remained, a big man on campus.

As the Studebaker made its way back to the capitol, Jack let all this information ruminate. Will would have been hard to miss going into the Library. And what was the connection, if any between the deceased’s attorney and his son? And why was Rachel letting herself be guided by this same man after he had tried to implement Gordon’s effort at breaking her pre-nup and out of his will. Jack knew there was one man who would know anything on Porter, it would be George Washington (“no relation” he would always say), the longtime gatekeeper, doorman, Maitre De of St. Elmo’s steakhouse, a Circle City landmark since the late 1800s..

Since it was just a few blocks from the statehouse, the courts and banks, St Elmo’s was the place all the powerful, and wealthy went to make their deals. And the steaks were the best in town too. The staff at St Elmos worked their entire lives at the place. The tips were the best and often, sons replaced fathers as waiters and cooks. George knew everyone. And waiters may sometimes seem invisible to the clientele but their ears are always open. What they heard, George knew. Jack had been introduced to George by the future governor of the state when he was still in High School. He had been useful to George many times over the years and the feeling was reciprocal.

George was still an imposing figure after all the years since taking on the job of doorman just after the Korean War. A black man in a white establishment town made him a unique and visible individual. His smile was genuine as he saw Jack approach the entry.

“Hey Jack. I aint seen you ’round lately. You been eating at some other table?” and the deep laugh followed.

“Yeah, you might say I was otherwise occupied and wasn’t getting out much.”

George grew serious and lowered his voice, “I was sorry to hear ’bout all that. That Gordon, he warn’t no good man for sure. Never tipped much even though he been coming here for 30 years. We just people to take orders and bring him food. I heared he was pulling up stakes before he got it. He wont be missed for sure. How you doin with all this?

“I’m ok. Just trying to put some pieces together. What can you tell me about Milton Porter.”

George eyed Jack a bit before replying. “Well, he be a real smooth one. Always smilin’, and tips good. Always has. He joined that big firm of Liston and Reed right out of law school. Very well connected from the beginning. And then he became the lead partner and put his name first on the door They got big offices, lots of attorneys in the First National Bank building over there, He comes reg’lar.”

Then after a moment, “They’s one thing you should know. He meets up here with Ms. Rachel. They’s been having lunch here for many years,even before she married Mr. Gordon. They’s quite friendly like. Though Victor, Porter’s regular waiter’ said they went through a rough patch a couple months back.”

Jack thought for a minute. “Rachel told me that Porter had been her attorney since her marriage.. That’s why she came to me saying that he was trying to help Gordon freeze her out.”

George stood up straighter, his large frame then leaned over to near Jack, his casual accent disappearing. “Jack. You know I don’t tell tales out of school. But you have to know, that their relationship was more than typical attorney- client privilege. There were a lot of privileges being shared… on both sides, for a long, long time.”