Gifts From The Kasbah, Robert F. Clifton [suggested reading TXT] 📗

Politics

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Gifts From The Kasbah

by

Robert F. Clifton

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The reader is advised that this is a work

Of fiction. Any similarity of any persons or the names, places or events are purely coincidental.

 

R.F. Clifton

 

 

 

 

 

 

TITLE Gifts From The Kasbah

 

Copyright © 2013 by Robert F. Clifton

 

 

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1.

Chapter One

 

Robert Wallace lay reclined in his favorite chair. His eyes were closed as he listened, enjoying the sounds of the flamenco guitars emitting from the stereo. It was almost nine P.M. On a Friday evening and he was now off duty for the weekend, away from police headquarters, away from his office where he was assigned as the commanding officer of the Major Crime Squad, off duty unless someone was murdered, raped, or robbed of over ten thousand dollars.

Tomorrow was Saturday and Saturday meant driving to and picking up Doc Edwards early in the morning and heading for the empty beaches of Schooner City. There, they would put on their waders, select their bait and cast their lines into the dark, early morning waves of the Atlantic Ocean as they tried their luck at catching the elusive striped bass.

Fishing was one of Wallace favorite things to do. He enjoyed all types of fishing, fresh water, salt water, from a boat, from the bank of a stream or up to his hips in the ocean. With surf fishing he relished watching the sun as it came up over the black horizon. When it did white capped waves would appear. Gulls would materialize and begin their constant search for food. And, as they did Sand Pipers darted in and out of spreading water and foam staying just in front, but not in the water as it spilled out on the sand.

For him fishing was medicinal. It took his mind off of the retained memories in his psyche, memories of victims, most killed, others in pain. Most of all remembering reinforced his theory that man, despite being referred to as civilized, was in reality still an animal, an animal that by nature

for the most part, at times became a predator, a stalker, hunter and killer. He had seen their work. Gathering facts and evidence he had met them head on pitting his intelligence against that of the criminals. Most of the time he succeeded in his

 

2.

investigations. Arrests were made. Convictions were rendered and sentences imposed. Yet, even with every success there still remained a victim and it was the victims and their pain that he constantly remembere and those memories continued to stay with him making him hard and calloused. As a result of this conditioning, although not anti-social he became somewhat paranoid, not trusting too many. He had many acquaintances, but few friends. Of those few friends he considered Doctor Manfred Edwards to be his best friend.

Wallace had his relaxation abruptly interrupted by the ringing telephone. He sat up quickly, got out of the chair, walked to his desk and picked up the receiver. “Hello”, he said.

“Robert?..Doc here...I have to cancel the fishing trip”.

“Why?”

“It seems the daughter of a well connected citizen expired at the hospital. The family wants an autopsy and they want it quick”.

“Why?”

“What don't you understand about the words, well connected”?

“Aren't you the head pathologist?”, asked Wallace.

“Yes, and I also have a boss, a boss that wants an autopsy done as soon as possible”.

“Who is the deceased?”

“Elizabeth Kerr”.

“Is she related to the Kerr fudge people on the boardwalk?”

“Yep”.

“O.K. Fortunately the stripers will be around next Saturday. We'll hit the beach then, according to the tide”, Wallace responded.

“Sounds good. I'll call you later Robert”.

“O.K. Doc. Goodby”.

After hanging up the receiver Wallace went to the stereo, removed the record, placed it in the album cover sleeve turn off the system then turned and walked to his small, private library. There he selected “Alexander The Great”. He then returned to his favorite chair and began to read.

3. The next day, Saturday he gathered up his dirty laundry, opened the front door to his condominium and let in Esmeralda Green, his cleaning lady. Then, he took the elevator down to the laundry room. There as his clothes tumbled in the washer and dryer he sat and read the morning paper reading the sports section first. There was nothing really new. The Phillies were out of the running for the National League Pendant months ago and the Philadelphia Eagles continued their loosing ways.

By the time he had finished with the entire paper his laundry was finished so he removed his things from the dryer and placed them in the basket, walked to elevator and returned to his condo. He spent the rest of the morning dodging Esmeralda's vacuum cleaner, broom and dusting cloth.

At four o'clock he paid Esmeralda then went to the kitchen. Something was bothering him. “Why is there a rush for an autopsy on the Kerr girl?”, he asked himself. “Sure, she was from a prominent family, but that didn't necessarily require immediate attention to her death...Or did it?. The family wants to know why and how she died. So far, there's no sign of foul play. If there was I would have been contacted and a homicide investigation started. The same would be true if there had been an accident, however as far as I know there was no accident. That only leaves an illness, but what kind of illness?”

Wallace made himself a sandwich, poured a glass of milk and carried both to his study. Placing them on the desk he picked up the telephone and called Doc Edwards.

“Hello?”, asked Edwards when he answered the ringing telephone.

“Doc?..Wally. How did you make out with the Kerr girl?”

“Fine...Right now it appears to be a case of heart failure. It's a shame too. She was only nineteen years old'

“You said, right now it looks like the heart. Do you have something else in mind?”

“Not really, there's still the toxicology study to be done. I want to take a closer look at her liver and at the same time try to figure out what caused her to have a rash ”.

“A rash?”,asked Wallace.

4. “Yes, however it could be dermatitis. I'll look at her stomach contents later, that should tell me something. Why are you asking so many questions? Did you know the girl?”

“No. but it's strange that the family is pushing for information about her death so soon.”

“I agree, but to me it's no big deal. Take my advise and relax. Her death does not appear to be a homicide. If it turns out to be I'll be the first to let you know”.

“Alright, I'll talk to you later. Good by”

“Good by Robert

 

Monday seemed to come too soon, but Wallace made his way to his office as he did every Monday carrying a white paper bag containing two cups of black coffee, creamers, plastic stirrers, envelopes of sugar and two lemon filled donuts, one for himself and one for Bill O'Neil. He unbuttoned the blue blazer he wore, removed it and placed it on the clothes tree that stood in the corner. Taking a seat at his desk he open the paper bag removed a Styrofoam cup full of hot coffee, then the lid covering it, added creamer and sugar, stirred it and finally took a sip. He left the donuts in the bag waiting for O'Neil to arrive.

How he wanted a cigarette. He was trying to quit smoking, but it was difficult. Nonetheless, he was determined to kick the habit. His thoughts and desire for a cigarette were dismissed as Bill O'Neil entered the office.

“Good morning, my good man”, said Wallace.

“Good morning Captain”. O'Neil responded.

“Why so damn formal this morning Bill? Do you have something on your mind?”, Wallace asked.

“I'll come right to the point. Captain Perone is pulling the pin. The Chief asked me if I wanted to command the vice Squad”.

“What did you tell him?”, asked Wallace.

“I asked for time to think it over. Captain Perone has another month to go, besides I wanted to talk to you first”.

“For what?”

“I want your opinion”.

“You want my opinion? Hell, that's easy. When you take

5.

command you also take on a lot of enemies. Every narcotic dealer and user, bookmakers, pimps, and hookers instantly become your enemy, not to mention bartenders ans taxi drivers.

Crooked politicians on the take will come after you to get you removed or fired. The social elite will scream to the chief and commissioner that you framed their debutant daughters and Ivy League sons. If you fail, you were on the take. Succeed and those you arrested refused to pay a bribe and that's the way the public you're trying to protect will think of you. However, although I know what you are in for I couldn't think of a better, qualified, guy to command the vice unit. Just watch your ass. They'll be trying to set you up”.

“Thanks Wally, that means a lot to me”.

“Forget it. Right now you're still assigned to me. Drink you coffee, eat your donut , then get your ass back to work”.

After O'Neil left Wallace read and re-read reports on two cold cases. At ten fifteen A.M. The telephone on his desk rang.

Picking up the receiver he said, “Major Crime Squad, Captain Wallace.”

“Wally? Chief Monahan.Come to my office”.

“Yes sir, on the way”.

Wallace placed the cases he was working on in the file cabinet. He put on his blazer, left the office and took the elevator down to the first floor. He entered the outer office and was told by a secretary to go right in.

When he moved through the office door he was surprised to see Meredith Maxwell, the police commissioner seated in front of Chief Monahan's desk. “Come in Captain”, said Maxwell.

“Yes, come in and have a seat Bob” said the Chief

Wallace was instantly on guard finding it unusual that both men were present, but he took a seat and looked at both men waiting for them to begin the conversation.

“I'll get right to the point Captain, but first what do you know about a young lady named Elizabeth Kerr?”, said Maxwell

“If she is the kid that's in a refrigerated drawer in the morgue I know that she's dead”, Wallace answered.

6. “Do you know what the cause of death was?”, asked the Chief.

“My information is that she died from heart failure”, said Wallace

“That might be true, but what caused the heart failure?”, asked Maxwell.

“I'm sure that when all the medical examiners reports are in you'll know commissioner”, Wallace responded.

“I want to know as soon as possible. I want you to investigate her death and report directly to me or Chief Monahan”

“Is her death a homicide?”, asked Wallace.

“I don't know Captain. Is it?”. Maxwell replied as he got up out of the chair to leave.

“From the information I have received so far from Doctor Edwards who conducted an autopsy on the girl there is no indication of a homicide”, Wallace explained.

“ Captain, I want an investigation done and done by you. That's an order”.

Wallace fought the anger growing inside of him and remained silent. He watched as the commissioner left the room, then turned and faced the Chief. “Just what the hell is this all about?”, he asked.

“Donald Kerr with all of his money is bored. He recently decided to enter politics and he intends to run against Maxwell. If Maxwell can dig up any dirt on Don Kerr or his family...Well you get the picture”, said Monahan.

“Yeah, I get the picture and it's rotten”, said Wallace as he turned and left.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

Robert Wallace pushed the doorbell button at the front entrance of the Kerr residence. He heard the melodic sound of the chimes somewhere