The House on Timber Lane, Robert F. Clifton [books to read as a couple TXT] 📗

their conversation when they’re in the room. Put a tail on them. Let’s see where they go and what they do. Right now there aren’t any complaints of breaking and entering that could be related to them. They might be looking for a fence or another guy to do business with.”

“You’re the boss”, said O’Neil as he ate the last of his lemon doughnut.

Chapter Three

Captain Wallace placed one of the three tape cassettes in the tape recorder on his desk, then he pushed the PLAY button. He took a cigarette out of the pack on his desk, lit it with his lighter than sat back and listened to the taped conversation of Thomas Shaw and Carl Gavigan.

The first sound that he heard was the door to room 409 of the Emerald Hotel opening then closing. Then came the sound of what might have been the room key being tossed on to the room’s dresser. Next, a conversation began between two men.

“Damn if I ain’t tired of losing.”

“That’s because you’re a dumb ass. Keep betting those long shots asshole. Does the odds thirty to one tell you anything?”

“Hey, you bet your way, I’ll bet my way. Besides, I don’t see you with a shit pot full of money” “Ah, bullshit.”

“Well, we better do something, I’m almost broke.”

“Stop worrying. I’ve got a couple of ideas.”

“Such as?”

“I got some information from a guy when I was in Trenton. Seems there’s an old guy who carries a bowling bag full of cash to the bank every day.”

“How much cash?”

“I don’t know, but it sure as hell is a lot more than we have right now.”

“What does this old guy look like?”

“I don’t know, but how many guys have you seen walking down the street with a bowling bag?”

“Plenty, that’s why they have bowling alleys”

“You are an asshole.”

“And, just how are we going to take this guy?”

“Like I said, he’s old, we just walk up and take it.”

“What happens if he puts up a fight?”

“Then we snuff him.”

“I don’t like it. If he’s carrying cash to the bank every day more then likely it’s dirty money. Sounds like a bookie operation. Bookies mean the mob. We snuff a mob worker they come after us. What else you got?”

“We could hit the rooms here in the hotel.”

“Chicken feed. Why don’t we fence this shit we’ve got piled up in this room??”

“To who?"

“How about pawning it?”

“It’s an idea, let me think about it.”

Wallace turned off the tape recorder and crushed a cigarette butt in a dirty ashtray. Then, using the telephone summoned Bill O’Neil to come to his office. When O’Neil entered the office he took a seat in front of Wallace’s desk. “Well?… What do you think?”, he asked.

“I’m assuming when one of them mentioned Trenton, he’s talking about the penitentiary”, said Wallace.

“That’s the way I see it.” O’Neil replied.

“And, the old man they want to hit is Dago Frank”?, asked Wallace.

“Yep.”

“Dago Frank is an old man who has been a fifty dollar a week errand boy for Macio Gethers for years. All he carries is cash, no number slips, no horse bets, just cash and you can’t arrest a man for going to the bank, in spite of who he works for.”

“How did he get the name, Dago Frank?”, asked O’Neil.

“Many years ago, back in the days of Nucky Johnson, Frank worked for a guy by the name of Nick Fiori. Nick was into bootlegging, numbers, bookmaking, and had a couple of girls on the street. Fiori was Italian and did business in the Italian neighborhood. Frank is a light skin African American with Caucasian features. Many people then and now think he is Italian. When he went to work for Macio the Black’s began calling him, Dago Frank. The name stuck. His real name is Francis Hanson,”

“Interesting, but Shaw and Gavigan are talking about robbing and if necessary, killing him.”

“I’m not so sure Bill. They may be serious about robbing him, but right now I’m thinking these are two shit head punks who think they’re tough. At the same time, how many thieves do you know that hoard their loot? Most criminal types unload stolen goods as soon as possible. To me, they don’t know how or who to unload it with.”

“So, you don’t think they’ll hit Dago Frank?”,asked O’Neil.

“There is that possibility, that’s why you keep the tail on them. Also, put one on Dago Frank. They might know the route he takes to the bank.”

“Got it…Anything else?”

“Not right now…how’s Ann and the kids”?

“Everyone’s fine Cap…thanks for asking.”

For the rest of the summer, Shaw and Gavigan were followed every time they left the hotel. Their routine was the same each day. They slept to nine or ten in the morning. Left the hotel and walked to Koon’s Restaurant for breakfast, After breakfast, they walked to the bus terminal and took the ride to the track which was thirteen miles out of the city. At the race track, they bet on every race, sometimes winning, mostly loosing. After the last race, they got on the bus again and returned to Nautilus Beach. Back at the Emerald Hotel, they showered and changed their clothes. Leaving the hotel neatly dressed and wearing sunglasses they again went to Koon’s where they ate their dinner. The rest of the evening they visited the local bars and clubs. Their routine created an almost identical boring routine for the police and as the weeks passed Sergeant O’Neil and his men became impatient, wanting Captain Wallace to make the arrest, if not now, soon.

Wallace took a long look at O’Neil sitting in front of him. Before he spoke he lit a cigarette, blew a cloud of smoke into the air then said, “Alright, what are you bitching about?”

“I’m tired of following these two assholes up and down the street, day after day, night after night. Nothing new is happening and nothing new is going to happen. I want to take them now. That way we get rid of them and we can get back to our families.”

“Where should we take them, Bill? On the street? In the hotel room?…Right now. As far as we know they’re armed. If we take them on the street, there are at least a hundred people in the way, people that could get hurt…If we take them in the hotel we’re dealing with drywall construction…A stray shot could hit anyone in the next two or three rooms.”

“Then, where in the hell can we take them?”

“The best bet would to take them in their room, but it has to be when they’re in bed, in the dark. Next best would be in the elevator. They’re on the fourth floor. They are not going to use the stairwell. They’re too lazy. You could have two of our men leave our room right after they do and make the arrest in the elevator. That way they’re confined and the walls of the elevator car are made of steel. Have two men in the lobby in case anything goes wrong.”

“Sounds good. What time do you want to meet us at the hotel?”, asked O’Neil.

“I’m not meeting you at the hotel. This is your arrest. Make this a good arrest and the newspapers will put you on the front page. That won’t hurt your chances for promotion.”

“Thanks for the opportunity and the confidence Captain.”

“No problem. I’ve always had the confidence, now you have the opportunity. Take advantage of it.”

On Sunday morning Robert Wallace walked across the carpet in his bare feet. As usual, attired in his underwear shorts he unlocked and opened the front door to the condo then reached down and picked up the newspaper. He then carried it to the kitchen table placed it next to his hot cup of coffee and a plain donut. After taking a seat he opened the Sunday issue of the Nautilus Beach Press and smiled at the headline. Printed in large black letters were the words, “Burglary Suspects Arrested.”

After taking a bite of the donut and a swig of coffee Wallace began to read the column. “After a summer-long investigation the Nautilus Beach Police Department’s Major Crime Squad under the command of Sergeant William O’Neil arrested Thomas Shaw, white male age 27 of Camden, N.J. and Carl Gavigan, white male age 24 of Blackwood, N.J. Both men were charged with possession of stolen property, which included electronic devices, Art paintings, and two fur coats. Also found were United States Savings bonds with a cash value of twenty-five thousand dollars. It is reported that the bonds were taken from a private residence in Blackwood, N.J..

It has been reported that the Blackwood, N.J. Police will file charges against Shaw and Gavigan and the case given to the Camden County Prosecutor.

“Good job Bill”, Wallace thought to himself, as he turned to the sports section. As he read about the opening of the Philadelphia Eagles training camp his reading was interrupted by the ringing of his telephone. He lifted the receiver and answered, “Hello.”

“Robert…This is Elaine. Have you seen the newspaper this morning?”

“I was reading it when you called”, he answered.

“Did you read the society page?” she asked.

“No, I seldom do.”

“Well read it this morning. When you do you’ll see a photo of Grace Hodges and an article announcing her engagement to Doctor Vernon Gray.”

“Then what?”, he asked.

“Then What?..Can’t you see It’s just like I told you…He’s after her money.”

“It’s her money. She can do what she wants with it. Besides, if she’s smart she’ll have him sign a prenup.”

“For someone reported to be so smart you are going to sit and watch this son of a bitch kill another woman, just like he killed Lillian.”

“O.K. Elaine, think what you want, do what you want. I’ve tried to explain to you what I can do under the law. If my explanation fails to satisfy you, I’m sorry. Goodby.”

“Robert, don’t hang up! I’m sorry. It’s just…It’s just that I know deep down inside that he killed Lillian. I don’t know how he did it, but he did. I don’t want to see another person murdered, especially killed for their money. I don’t know who to turn to right now. I need you, Robert.”

Wallace did not respond for a moment or two. He reached for and took a cigarette out of the pack, placed it in his mouth, lit it and then said, “O.K. no problem. I understand where you are coming from, nonetheless, I’m the professional police officer. I don’t try to tell you how to sell real estate, do I?”

“No. No, you don’t.”

“Alright, anything else?”, he asked.

“Could you come over tonight?”, asked Elaine.

“Why?... So we can argue?”

“I said, I needed you didn’t I?”, she responded.

Wallace blew a cloud of inhaled smoke as he smiled. “What time?”

“How does eight sound?”

“Sounds good.”

 

********************

 

The next morning Wallace sat behind his desk. He took a sip of coffee from the Styrofoam cup then smiled as Bill O’Neil walked into the office. “Congratulation…Nice bust…Any problems?” asked Wallace.

“Nothing special…Shaw decided to get physical…He lost.”

“Any injury?” asked the Captain.

“He has a black eye. He was examined, treated and released at the hospital.”

“Are your reports ready?”

“Not yet, but I do have the tape we made before the hit.”

“Good…Good, let me listen to it.”

After receiving the tape Wallace placed it in the tape recorder/ player, pushed the PLAY button and leaned back in his high back chair. He heard the opening and closing of the door after that a conversation:

“O.K. that’s it. We’re broke.”

“No shit…now what?”

“Like I said a couple of times before, we hit the old man with the bowling bag.”

“O.K. by me. I just wish we still had the gun.”

“And do what?… Snuff him? You are an asshole..robbery is one thing, doing life for murder is another. Besides, you are the one who sold the piece to the guy in the bar.”

“You didn’t seem to mind it when you were eating three meals a day.”

“You’re still an asshole…Shut up and go to sleep.”

For the next twenty minutes, all that could be heard on the