M. Forsythe - While Rome Was Sleeping

“Now for the little talk,” he paused, “I know you were at the hospital with the victim when he died, but I don’t think I’m getting the whole story. You know how intuition keeps prodding? Well, that’s what mine is doing.

“It would be very neat to wrap this whole thing up and just write it off as some unknown derelict getting mugged and stabbed. Unidentified assailants get clean away, Father Ben gives last rites, fine’, end of story. But we both know it’s not as simple as that; and the fact that you and Ben were with Kelshaw when he died tells me there is more, maybe much more. Oh yes, before I forget, I also know that the guy placed a call to Mrs. Thayer yesterday. Now do you want to share a little more or do I have to make this harder? It’s your choice!”

Andrew nodded and then looking directly at the detective responded, “You’re right, Jim, there is more to it, but I can’t tell you right now because I don’t really know anything. I have a couple of hunches and a whole lot of questions of my own.

“I think we can help each other. It will be very interesting to see whose prints turn up in Ben’s office. I have a couple of leads that may pan out. Give me some breathing room will you?” He hoped his sincerity would buy him some time.

Jim’s dark eyes scrutinized Andrew’s face with a penetrating look and finally he nodded. “Okay, but remember, this is not just breaking and entering—there is a homicide that I don’t believe for one minute was a simple mugging and I will get to the bottom of it one way or the other. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Andrew sighed. “Can I go now?”

Jim Savalza shrugged, “Sure, for now, just don’t forget what I said. I’ll be seeing you later,” he remarked over his shoulder as he walked toward his car.

Charlene opened the door and stepped out saying to Andrew, “I have to go and pick up my car. Can you drop me or…?”

“Of course, just let me tell Father Ben,” Andrew stuck his head back in and Charlene heard him say “I’ll see you later, Ben. Sister Ruth, why don’t you call some of the other volunteers on the list and see if you can get some help cleaning up?”

Glancing at his watch, Andrew shook his head, “Wow, look at the time and I am employed. I was hoping to finish our conversation before all this happened, but I guess you probably have figured out that there’s a lot more to talk about, huh?”

“I would say so, yes. But for now, Andrew, just drop me by the garage; we’ll talk later, right now I just want to get my car, go home, and think about this.” She spoke the words softly. It was almost like last night only this time she wasn’t running away, just retreating.

8:00 AM

Monte arrived for work on time Thursday morning but he was tired. The late hours of last night plus his explosive temper tantrum and physical exertion had almost got the better of him.

His partner, Ed Peterson, looked at him. “What’s the matter, Monte, you sick? You look terrible.”

Monte, who had been looking through papers on his desk, sat down and drew in a deep breath. “I’m all right, just tired. I’ve been working long hours on this case—I just need some time off.” His voice dropped as he examined a report.

“What case is that, Monte?” Ed was puzzled at Monte’s behavior lately. “Anything I should be helping with? After all, I am supposed to be your partner you know. What case are you talking about?”

“No, nothing,” Monte answered hastily. “It’s—its personal, just something I was looking into on my own,” he responded lamely, “but thanks, anyway,” he added.

“Maybe you should go home,” Ed told him. “I can hold things down here.”

“Yeah, maybe I will after awhile,” Monte agreed. He had made a couple of routine calls and then pushed away from his desk. “I’m going out for awhile; gotta’ meet a guy,” he told Ed, who by this time was buried in writing reports.

Ed just shook his head thinking, “There he goes again.” He didn’t even raise his eyes from the desk. “Yeah, okay.”

Monte decided he had to call Ramsey. He couldn’t put it off any longer. Instead of using a pay phone downstairs, he left the building and walked a couple of blocks to another public telephone booth and dialed Ramsey’s private line. He heard the cold, formal voice,

“Ramsey.”

“It’s Monte, Mr. Ramsey.”

“I’m very eager to hear your good news, Detective Maxwell.” He said dryly.

Monte felt sick to his stomach. His belly was on fire and his mouth was dry.

“I’m waiting, Detective.”

“Well, you see, Mr. Ramsey the news isn’t so good. The merchandise cannot be found.”

“Explain that, please.” Ramsey’s voice became even colder.

“The men searched the Center, but there wasn’t anything there. I even went and searched their room; I thought they might be holding out on me. There was nothing in the room so I waited for them and beat the crap out of them, but even then, they swore they hadn’t found anything of Kelshaw’s and I gotta’ believe them.”

Ramsey was silent for a minute or two. He sighed, “That is too bad for you, Monte.”

Monte was coming apart. Wiping his face with his handkerchief, he started to shake. “I’ve got to make one last stab at this,” he thought. “Listen, Mr. Ramsey, we might be looking in the wrong place, maybe even at the wrong guys,” he paused.

“Go on,” Ramsey said with forced patience.

“Well, our two guys maybe didn’t have time to get the merchandise when they hit Kelshaw. I guess the priest came running out pretty quick. The guys barely got away. Maybe the priest got the stuff and hid it some place besides the Center.”

“And if that’s the case just how do you plan to retrieve it and when? My client is getting impatient and so am I.” Ramsey emphasized.

“I have a plan, Mr. Ramsey,” Monte went on nervously. “See, I plan to call on this Father Ben Lee in a professional capacity. I mean I’ll just have a little talk with him about Kelshaw and the merchandise he was carrying. I want this Father Lee to be aware that by keeping the merchandise he is in danger of obstruction of justice and it will not bode well for hi…”

“Don’t be an idiot!” Ramsey interrupted. “You can inquire, but don’t try to intimidate a priest, for the love of…”

“But, Mr. Ramsey, he could have hidden it some where other than the Center,” Monte insisted, his anxiety escalating.

“Why would he do that, Monte? I repeat, DON’T BE AN IDIOT!” Ramsey raised his voice in exasperation.

“You’re right… you’re right… what if I ask him if Kelshaw might have left something behind or said something to him about something?” Monte babbled on in desperation.

“Now you listen!” Ramsey cut Monte off, his words came slow, deliberate, and venomous. “I don’t give a damn what you ask, but I want whatever possessions, that’s everything, that Kelshaw had on him. Is that clear?? I want it and I want it NOW! Do you understand me?”

Ramsey with forced self control continued the verbal attack on Monte in a final instruction. “I want you to consider Andrew Kincaid as another possibility. Oh yes, and you get rid of your other two loose ends! Today is Thursday; I’m giving you until next Monday to come up with the rest of the deal. I expect to hear from you before then. Don’t disappoint me!”

“I…” Monte began, but Ramsey had hung up. “He didn’t let me finish,” he muttered to himself. He had to come up with something… soon. He thought about the money, he only had half and that was likely all he would get. Maybe he could get out of town, out of Ramsey’s reach if he could just get his hands on more. Jake and Leo may not have spent all the cash they had but he didn’t find it when he tossed their room. What did they do with thirty thousand dollars? “They won’t need it.”