David Bishop - The Original Alibi

“I’m glad you told me of your eavesdropping system, General.”

“As I told Charles, we shall trust your integrity, Matt. I wanted you to know in the event you wished to make use of it in some manner. My only concern is that you don’t alter what you say or how you say it in deference to my feelings. I want you to handle things without concern for my possibly hearing them. Agreed?”

“Agreed, General.” I finished my last drink.

The general licked his lips.

I walked out.

I left the general’s home without being certain if I was mixed up with a normal family or one that was completely dysfunctional. Part of that confusion is I’m not all that sure what constitutes a normal family. Are you? What I knew was I liked the general, lusted for his daughter, and neither liked nor respected his grandson. But that did not mean Eddie was guilty of anything more than being a popinjay. I also suspected I didn’t have much time if I was going to find the answer for the general while he was still able to hear it.

I had alerted Charles that I would be sending someone by to look at the records on the five old soldiers whose care the general had paid for until they each passed away. I asked him to compile what he had, also to prepare a letter of introduction to the assisted living facility and nursing home where they had resided. The general had donated enough to the facility that concern for the access rules under HIPAA regulations were not mentioned; the patients were all deceased. My representative would be allowed to speak to the administrator and look over their records. I didn’t yet know who I would send or the significance of doing this. This plan constituted little more than what the attorneys object to as a fishing trip into records looking for God knows what.

I had been on the case for only a few days and, as yet, had picked up no bones that had meat on them. Met some people and learned some secrets, but nothing that pointed me anywhere in particular. I needed to pick up the pace, multiply my efforts. Have more people sift through more haystacks in the hope that one of us might find the proverbial needle.

I got home late in the afternoon and immediately labeled and secured the three baggies I had filled in the general’s bathroom together with some items, secretions, if you must know, that Karen had left at my place the night we had our sleepover. I also had a piece of gum she had chewed and a measure of my dental floss she had used in the morning.

I also assigned Axel to follow Eddie. I wanted the general’s grandson shadowed twenty-four-seven with pictures taken of everyplace he went and everyone with whom he came in contact. Twenty minutes later he said it was all arranged. Buddha, his driver’s ed teacher would handle the driving while Axel handled the picture taking. Using Buddha had a strange feel to it, but then a former wheelman for the mob should be able to keep up with a popinjay. So, I decided to feel guardedly optimistic. Axel had not yet identified who he would use for the graveyard shift, but he expected to have that arranged by the time it was needed.

“Can Buddha still handle the driving?”

“Boss, that’s a silly question.”

“Well, can he?”

“Can Kellogg’s still make corn flakes?”

I repeated to myself about feeling guardedly optimistic.

“You’ll have to pay these guys, boss. But don’t worry, I’ll set it up. They’re good men. I won’t be able to be here at all hours like I’ve been. Can you handle things at the house without me?”

Axel had already become the indispensable man, at least in his mind.

*

We met Axel’s friend, Hildegard, in front of an apartment building several blocks from our condo on the opposite side of Mackie’s. She was around five feet, a little taller perhaps, with a medium build and a smile that could melt butter or men’s hearts. Her blond hair was bleached, the roots brown.

Hillie, as I was told she preferred over her full name, had turned eighteen since leaving home. I didn’t ask what she was doing in Long Beach. I had an idea, given where Axel said he first met Hillie. If she chose to share that information I would know, officially. If not, it was no business of mine. Hillie appeared to trust Axel, yet she remained wary.

Over the next two hours, we ate and talked at Morton’s Steakhouse in Anaheim, a short drive south from Long Beach. I mostly let Axel and Hillie talk; they were developing a great rapport. It always amazes me how much more one can learn by listening, rather than talking, beyond asking stimulating questions in a non-probing manner.

Hillie had grown up in Gridley, California, a small, mostly farming town north of Sacramento and south of the twin cities of Marysville-Yuba City. Her father was a certified public accountant and she spoke proudly of having worked for him all the way through high school. Her job had been to help him prepare financial statements and tax returns for his small business clients, which included several ranches and farms. Her goal had been to follow in her father’s footsteps. She had planned to join her father’s firm after going to college to major in accounting. Her mother was a different story. Of course, we were getting only the young lady’s opinion of her mother. Hillie saw her mother as an intolerable shrew. When she could stand no more, she left home. Hillie and her father stay in touch with the understanding he not ask her where she is or when she will be coming home. They talk Mondays, late in the afternoon while he is still at his office. She said Monday afternoon was a slow time in the work she was doing here in Long Beach. She didn’t put a label on her job. And like I said, I didn’t ask.

Axel had already told her he had been in prison for a very long time, along with Mackie whom she had met. He had also disclosed the story of my having shot the thug on the steps outside the courthouse, and that we had spent four years together inside. That I had been pardoned and Axel paroled. She seemed unconcerned by any of that. I liked her. But then I expected I would. In prison, Axel always sized up the new cons and new bulls right off and he rarely pegged them wrong. He had made a good choice in befriending Hillie.

By the time dinner was finished I had employed Hillie to go to the Whittaker’s and meet with Charles to go through the information on the old soldiers. I had a hard time explaining to her what I wanted her to look for. Without being sure it would prove true, I told her the old standby adage: you’ll recognize it when you find it. When it came time for her to meet with the nursing home administrator, Axel would go along. I felt certain she could handle it if the people there gave her an even break. Given her youth, I couldn’t be certain she’d be viewed as an adult, so Axel would ease that part of it. Axel also told me that for those few hours Buddha alone could handle keeping an eye on Eddie.

After we got home from dinner, I called Fidge to see if I could meet with him for coffee in the morning. We agreed on eight. I suggested a coffee shop not far from his house. Fidge suggested his kitchen table. By eight-fifteen his two teens would have left for school.

The morning began at seven with my expanded plan in full blossom. Axel and Buddha were in position ready to tail Eddie Whittaker. I called Charles prepared to apologize for waking him, but it turned out the general had experienced a difficult night and they had both been awake since four. He said the doctor had just left and at the bottom of the stairs had shaken his head and said, “maybe a week, maybe.”

I told Charles that Hillie would be there at ten. Then I called Hillie to get her on her way. She seemed excited for the opportunity to do something akin to what she used to do for her father. I would be meeting with Fidge in a little over an hour to fan the flames on another idea.