Lady Justice and the Devil's Breath Page 3

  Suzanne listened intently as I related what I had learned from Rocky and the Professor.

  “Does this help Jerry’s case?” I asked, expectantly.

  She rose from her chair, pulled a thick book from a shelf, and thumbed through the pages.

  “Ahhh, here it is,” she said. “Missouri law 562.076. It’s called the involuntary intoxication law.”

  She began reading. “A person who is in an intoxicated or drugged condition, whether from alcohol, drugs or other substance, is criminally responsible for conduct unless such condition is involuntarily produced and deprived him or her of the capacity to know or appreciate the nature, quality or wrongfulness of his or her conduct. Generally speaking, you are involuntarily intoxicated if one of two things happen. You consumed the drugs without knowing you were doing so or someone forced or tricked you into consuming an intoxicating substance.”

  I was elated. “That’s exactly what happened to Jerry!”

  “Don’t get too giddy,” she replied. “There’s more to the statute.”

  She continued reading. “The defendant shall have the burden of injecting the issue of intoxicated or drugged condition.”

  “What does that mean exactly.”

  “It means that we have to have irrefutable proof that Jerry was drugged.”

  “What kind of proof?”

  “Either a tox screen showing the presence of the drug in Jerry’s system which we couldn’t get because too much time had elapsed, or a statement from the people who actually drugged him.”

  My elation was short-lived. “So, we’re right back where we started.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” she replied. “I’ll talk to the prosecuting attorney. Given the fact that Jerry is an old codger with no priors, and what you’ve told me about this Devil’s Breath, maybe he’ll give us a break.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Later that afternoon, I received a call from Suzanne.

  “Bad news, I’m afraid. I talked to the prosecutor. He wouldn’t bend. He said giving Jerry a free ride would open Pandora’s box. Every scumbag would start claiming that he wasn’t responsible because the drugs made him do it. He did say that he would be open to reevaluating the case if we could prove Jerry was drugged.”

  “Then we are right back where we started.”

  “It looks that way. If you want to get your friend off the hook, you’ll have to find the couple who drugged him.”

  “Great! Now all I have to do is find a guy with a Clark Gable Moustache and a woman with Bette Davis eyes!”

  CHAPTER 5

  Andre and Marcia waited expectantly.

  They had just told Ramon Dias about their encounter with Penny Adams and handed him an envelope with Carlos Moreno’s share of the loot.

  Dias shook his head. “You only got five thousand from the old broad! Our share is barely enough to pay for importing the drug into the country. You’re going to have to do better than this.”

  Andre winced at the rebuke. “We’ll do better, Ramon. I promise. We just have to find the right mark.”

  Ramon gave him a scornful look. “I may have something for you, but you’d best not disappoint us again.”

  “Just tell us,” Andre replied. “We can handle it.”

  “Angus Anderson,” Ramon said, handing Marcia a photo. “He’s widowed, lonely, and he’s starving for affectionate attention. He hangs out at the Drum Room Lounge at the Hilton President Hotel on Baltimore, hoping to hook up with some sweet young thing. Marcia, find a dress that shows some cleavage, paint those pouty lips, and you should have the old codger panting like a puppy.”

  “Piece of cake,” she replied, smiling demurely.

  “I hope so --- for your sake,” Ramon replied, handing her a slip of paper. “Here’s his address. Once you get him drugged. Make me proud.”

  “We will,” Andre said. “We will!”

  At eight o’clock, Andre and Marcia entered the Drum Room Lounge. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dim light.

  “There,” Andre said, glancing at the photo. “At the end of the bar.”

  “Time to go to work,” Marcia replied, loosening the top two buttons on her blouse.

  “Hold on a minute,” Andre said, pointing to a woman eyeing Angus from across the room. “Looks like you’ve got competition. Dollars to donuts that gal is a hooker sizing up her prey. I’ll handle this.”

  Andre pulled a fake badge from his wallet and approached the woman.

  “Hey sweetheart,” he said, quickly flashing the badge. “Detective Fallon from vice. You don’t want to be working here tonight, trust me.”

  She looked at him suspiciously. “Really? Why the head’s up?”

  “You’re small potatoes. We’re after bigger game tonight. Better make yourself scarce while you can.”

  She gave him a wink. “Thanks for the tip. I owe you one.”

  As she left the bar, Andre gave Marcia a nod.

  Marcia took a seat at the bar a couple of stools away from Angus, hiked up her skirt, and crossed her shapely legs, paying no attention to her mark.

  It didn’t take Angus long to notice the sultry female two stools away.

  “Uhhh, excuse me Miss. I don’t mean to be forward, but if you’re alone I’d love to buy you a drink.”

  She looked him over. “Sure, honey. Why not?”

  Angus slid over beside her. “What would you like.”

  “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

  Angus signaled the bartender. “Two more of these,” he said, pointing to his glass.

  They chatted through one round, then, after the bartender set two fresh drinks in front of them, Marcia dropped her purse on the floor.

  “Oh dear! Clumsy me!”

  “Let me get that for you,” Angus said, hopping off his stool.

  The moment he was bent over, Marcia pulled the packet from her bra and slipped the powder into his drink.

  “Here you go,” Angus said, handing her the purse.

  “Thank you so much,” she gushed. “You’re such a gentleman.” She picked up her glass. “Thank goodness chivalry isn’t dead.”

  They clicked glasses, Angus took a long drink, and that was the last thing he remembered.

  The next morning, I received a call from Rocky Winkler.

  “Walt, we got another one. Last night a senior was drugged and robbed. Looks like the same M.O. that got your friend Jerry. I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Thanks, Rocky. Who was the victim?”

  “Angus Anderson, a widower, sixty-five. They got him at the Drum Room at the Hilton President Hotel downtown.”

  “That’s a break. There should have been surveillance cameras.”

  “There were, but they weren’t much use. We have the two suspects coming into the hotel, then leaving with the vic a half-hour later, but all we have is their backsides. Somehow they avoided looking into the cameras.”

  “I suppose that by the time Mr. Anderson woke up it was too late for a tox screen.”

  “It was, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. I had a visit with our lab boys. The bad news is that there’s no tox screen that can detect scopolamine.”

  That was indeed bad news. Now the only way to prove that Jerry was drugged was to catch the wily pair of con artists.

  “How much did they take him for?”

  “Twenty grand plus some jewelry.”

  “Wow! Nice haul. Any chance you could text me the information on Anderson? I’d like to compare notes.”

  “You got it. I hope you come up with something. It looks like these two are just getting started. We’ve got to get them off the street.”

  As soon as Rocky sent the information, I gave Angus Anderson a call.

  “Mr. Anderson, my name is Walt Williams. I’m a private investigator. I was an officer for five years and I work closely with the Kansas City Police Department. I understand you had an unfortunate encounter last night.”

  “I certainly did.
Why are you interested?”

  “I have a personal friend who was victimized by these same people. I was hoping we could talk. The more information we have, the better our chances of catching these crooks. May my partner and I come by your home?”

  “I told everything I know to the police.”

  “I’m sure you did, but we’d still like to chat. If we don’t catch these people, my friend will be in deep trouble. They didn’t just rob him, they drugged him and compelled him to hold up a convenience store.”

  “Dear Lord! Of course you may come over. I’ll give you my address?”

  “Thanks, I already have it. We’ll be there within the hour.”

  My next call was to Kevin. “Saddle up. We’ve got another victim.”

  Angus Anderson lived in one of the stately mansions in Sunset Hills just south of the Country Club Plaza.

  “Nice digs,” Kevin commented as we pulled into the driveway. “Something tells me the missing twenty grand won’t plunge old Angus into bankruptcy.”

  The old gentleman who opened the door was the spitting image of Walter Pidgeon, the actor from the 1960’s.

  “Please, come in,” he said, stepping aside.

  The interior of the home was as opulent as the well-manicured exterior.

  “So how can I help?” he asked once we were seated.

  “Why don’t you start from the beginning and just tell us what happened last night.”

  He took a deep breath. “I went out to dinner and then stopped by the Drum Room for a drink and hopefully some companionship.” He looked around the room “It’s so lonely here --- now that Esther has passed. I was sitting alone at the bar when a very attractive woman took a seat two stools away.”

  “Did she come on to you?” Kevin asked.

  “No,” he replied sheepishly. “It was I who approached her. I asked if I could buy her a drink. She said yes and that’s how it all started.” He shook his head. “I’m such an old fool. I should have known that a woman so alluring would have no interest in an old codger like me.”

  “Alluring,” I repeated. “Can you describe her?”

  He closed his eyes. “Oh, yes! She looked to be in her mid-forties, but very fit if you know what I mean. Nothing sagging yet. In fact they were quite perky. The top buttons of her blouse were undone so I got a good look. Her hair was the color of spun honey, and her eyes --- I don’t know how to describe them ---.”

  “I don’t suppose they were Bette Davis eyes?” I ventured.

  “That’s it! How did you know?”

  “That’s how her other victims described her. What happened then?”

  “We chatted, finished our first drink, then I ordered another. Just after the bartender delivered the second round, she dropped her purse and the contents scattered on the floor. Naturally, I retrieved everything for her. It must have been while I was occupied that she slipped something in my drink. She thanked me for my chivalry, we toasted, and the next thing I knew I was in my bedroom, my safe was open, my cash was gone along with my Rolex and Esther’s jewelry.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, sympathetically. “Can you describe the man she was with?”

  “I never saw him --- at least during the time I wasn’t drugged. He must have come along after she slipped me the mickey.”

  “Do you have a list of the items they took?” Kevin asked.

  “Yes I do. I made one for the police. I have an extra copy. Why would you want that?”

  “Undoubtedly they’ll try to fence the jewelry and the Rolex. We have some contacts who know the local fences. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  “I certainly hope so,” he replied, wistfully. “The cash --- it’s only money. The Rolex --- I can buy another one. But the jewelry --- it belonged to my beautiful wife. I just hate to think of someone else wearing the things she loved so dearly.”

  “I understand,” I said, handing him my card. “If you think of anything else that might be helpful, give me a call, and I promise if we have any news I’ll call you.”

  I could only imagine the anguish he felt, and it made me even more determined to find the heartless creatures who had taken advantage of a lonely old man.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Holy crap!” Kevin exclaimed as he read the list of items taken from Anderson’s safe. “The Rolex was a Submariner. That baby is worth at least twelve grand!”

  “What else is on the list?”

  “Let’s see. The rest was Esther’s jewelry. A brooch in the shape of a butterfly with diamonds encrusted on the wings, a pearl necklace, and a heart-shaped locket on a gold chain that held her mother’s picture. I’d say that the Rolex and jewelry would easily be worth another twenty grand. That’s quite a haul.”

  “Indeed it is,” I replied, “but it might be a break for us. “They’ll have to turn the stuff into cash, and if we get lucky we might be able to catch them in the act.”

  “They’ll need a fence,” Kevin said. “I don’t suppose you have a list of local fences in your wallet.”

  “I don’t, but I know someone who does --- Louie the Lip.”

  My friend and maintenance man, Willie, was a street con before giving up the life and working with me on my apartment buildings. One of his contemporaries was another con by the name of Louie the Lip.

  Even though Louie operates on the shady side, he is basically a good guy and has helped us on several tough cases.

  I knew Louie’s current hangout was The Blue Moon Lounge, so we headed there first.

  Before our eyes could adjust to the semi-darkness of the lounge, I heard Louie’s voice from the back of the room.

  “Well, well, Frick and Frack. What are my favorite gumshoes doin’ at de Blue Moon?”

  “We’re looking for the slickest con man in Kansas City,” I replied. “You know where we could find him?”

  “You lookin’ at him,” he said, as his huge lower lip curled into a smile. “Come. Sit. What can I do for you boys?”

  Kevin handed him our list. “If a couple of crooks wanted to turn these into cash, any idea where they’d go?”

  Louie looked at the list and grunted. “Damn! Dis is some serious shit! Only one guy I know who could handle something dis big --- Freddy Francoeur. Dey call him Freddy de Fence. He’s got a pawn shop on Eighteenth Street. De pawn shop is legit, but it’s just a cover for his real business --- turning hot property. Anybody I know jack dis stuff?”

  “I doubt it,” I replied. “Ever heard of Devil’s Breath?”

  He shuddered. “Yeah, I’se heard of it all right. Don’t want nothin’ to do with it! Dat’s nasty stuff. You tellin’ me someone in town is usin’ it?”

  “I’m afraid so. Three times that we know of, and one of the victims was Jerry.”

  His eyes grew big. “Our Jerry? De funny little dude what lives in your building?”

  “Yep, they drugged him at The Comedy Club and got him to rob a convenience store. A cop just happened by. Now Jerry’s in deep doodoo. If we don’t find the couple who’s using the drug, Jerry could go to prison.”

  “Damn! Dat ain’t right! I’ll ask around and give you a call if I hear somethin’.”

  “Thanks, Louie. We appreciate your help.”

  The sign in the window read, Poor Boy’s Pawn. It was a grubby storefront sandwiched between a used car lot and a tattoo parlor.

  “Not exactly Tiffany’s,” Kevin said, sarcastically. “Who, in their right mind, would come to this dump to buy a Rolex?”

  “I doubt Freddy puts the good stuff in the showcase. He’s just the middle man between the crooks and the buyers. Let’s go have a chat.”

  A little bell tinkled as we entered the shop.

  A short guy with slicked-back hair who could have been Danny DeVito’s twin emerged from a back room.

  “What can I do for you boys?”

  We decided before we went in that we’d play it straight up.

  I handed him my card. “My name is Walt Williams and this is my partner, Kevin McBride. We�
�re private investigators.”

  “Congratulations,” he said, tossing my card on the counter. “You got something you want to pawn? If not, beat it!”

  “We’re not here looking for trouble,” Kevin said. “In fact, we’re trying to keep you out of trouble.”

  “Don’t need no help. I run a legitimate business here.”

  “Oh, then we must have the wrong guy,” Kevin said sarcastically. “We were looking for Freddie the Fence. I don’t suppose you’d know where we could find him.”

  “Okay, okay! What do you want?”

  Kevin handed him the list. “A couple of con artists will be trying to move this stuff. We just wanted to give you a heads up. It’s not something you want to get involved with.”

  Freddy gave a low whistle. “Pricy! How’d they get it?”

  “They’re using Devil’s Breath to drug seniors. The cops are all over this thing. It’s serious business.”

  Freddy handed the list back to Kevin. “Okay, I get your drift. What do you want with me?”

  “We were hoping you would cooperate,” I replied. “If anyone contacts you about anything on that list, we’d like you to give us a call.”

  “Why would I do that? What’s in it for me?”

  “A generous reward,” I replied. “The jewelry belonged to an old man’s dead wife. It has sentimental value. He wants it back and would be willing to pay.”

  I had no idea if that was true, but it was certainly a possibility.

  Freddy was skeptical.

  “Look,” Kevin said, “wouldn’t you rather have a nice reward and stay clean or would you rather go down with the con artists as a co-conspirator?”

  “Okay, I’ll play along. I don’t want nothin’ to do with that devil’s stuff. I got a reputation. You know what I’m saying?”

  Yeah, Freddy, I thought. You’re a prince!

  Marcia was skeptical. “Do we really want to hold out on Ramon? If he finds out --- well, you remember what Carlos said about consequences.”