The Last Clinic (21 page)

“It turns out Conway collects the tip money from the girls and divides it up equally. When I confronted Conway, he admitted that Reverend Aldridge had been shaking him down for three large a week for over a year. That’s where the mystery money came from.”

“Yeah, well, cunt hound Conway has been a liar all his life,” said Tommy.

Shelby patted Darla on the hand.

“You need some background here, Detective Cavannah. Tommy went to the same high school as Mr. Boudreaux and they never was exactly friends. Later in life, Tommy was somewhat of a regular at Conway’s establishment until they had a disagreement over the conduct of a young dancer with a stage name of Vicksburg Vickie.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything about that, seeing as how I wasn’t there on official matters. And it was private conduct between two consenting adults. But you brought it up, so just to clear my good name, this is my side of that. The little cheat, Vickie, wanted to charge me fifty bucks for a full lap dance, and all she did was shake it in front of me. Not to get graphic here, but she didn’t give me no lap massage. No sliding up and down my body, no licking her lips, no groaning in my ear, none of the good stuff. So I gave her a ten, just to be nice. That’s when…”

“To return to the money,” said Darla, “Reverend Aldridge had a checking account at Parish State Bank, a small bank in Northeast Louisiana, in the name of RJA Enterprises. He kept the account secret from his family as well as Ralph Higgenstone, the treasurer at the church. He made weekly cash deposits of three grand for close to a year. This matches up perfectly with Conway’s shakedown story. Right, Uther?”

“Interestingly, they were always night deposits. We assume it was so he wouldn’t be seen,” said Uther.

 “It ain’t exactly your job to be assuming anything, Luther,” said Tommy.

“That’s Uther, not Luther,” said Darla.

“If there’s any assuming to do, a trained investigator will do it,” said Tommy, but then got a sheepish look on his face, realizing what he’d said hadn’t come out quite right.

“So how much of the hundred fifty thousand is left?” said Shelby.

“Very little” said Darla. “Reverend Aldridge signed for a six hundred dollars a day limit when he opened the account. The deposits have been and are still being withdrawn from ATMs on a daily basis in large amounts—from one hundred dollars up to the six hundred dollar limit. Three cards were issued, all in the name of James Aldridge. But only one of the cards has ever been used, so it’s fair to assume—and as a
trained investigator,
it’s okay if I do some assuming—it’s fair to assume that one person is making all the withdrawals. One of the cards is probably a spare in case the user was to lose the first card. I wouldn’t be surprised if Reverend Aldridge has the third card at his house or office, hidden away somewhere.” She paused for a second and looked at Uther. “Uther did the background on this.”

 Uther saw this as his turn to speak. “The usage pattern also suggests that the user is on some kind of a road trip, moving from one part of the country to another. The card has been used as far away as Montana, but never closer than three hundred miles from Jackson.”

He opened his laptop and sat it in front of Shelby, showing him the list of withdrawals.

“The sequence of withdrawals starts out West a year ago in Salt Lake City. Then up to Billings, Montana. It took approximately three days to get there. Whoever it was stayed in Billings for a week and then traveled down to Denver. A week in Denver, one week exactly, then he or she drives to Kansas City. We know he or she was driving because of the pattern of usage. From Denver, the user heads to Milwaukee.”

“This was in early December. They get snow in Milwaukee,” said Darla. “You don’t go to Milwaukee in December unless you have to.”

“It continues on like this until two days ago,” said Uther. “Up, down, crisscrossing the country. The last known location is a gas station ATM in Hawkins, Illinois, outside of Saint Louis.”

 “What about the ATM photos?” said Shelby.

“I’ll have them by tomorrow. At the very least we’ll be able to tell if the card is being shared,” said Darla.

“Any pattern that you can recognize, Uther, in the places the card is being used?” asked Shelby, his tone of voice more respectful now.

“Not in a way that would be helpful to your investigation— at least not yet. We do know that the withdrawals are always from ATMs. It’s used strictly for cash withdrawals. Whoever this is, if it’s one person or more than one person, it would appear he or she has a three thousand a week stipend.”

“Get out of here,” said Tommy.  

“Sounds like a pretty good deal, don’t it? Three thousand a week pocket money,” said Shelby.

“My guess is it’s going to support Reverend Aldridge’s political agenda,” said Darla, “but it might be something else. We simply don’t know who is getting the money or what they’re doing with it. And we don’t know why Reverend Jimmy went to the trouble to create this ruse. We need another day or two. Uther believes he can discover what’s going on here.”

“I’m just a country boy, but maybe you could explain how’s he gonna do that?” said Tommy.

“Oh, he can explain it,” said Darla. “Don’t worry about that. But I’m not sure the three of us would understand what he was talking about by the time he finished.”

“I’ll take your word on it,” said Shelby. “Anything else?”

“We’ll need another three thousand dollars,” said Darla. “The RJA Enterprises account is almost empty and is due for a scheduled deposit. Whoever is using the card hasn’t stopped using it or changed the pattern of usage. It’s a fair guess whoever it is doesn’t know about Reverend Aldridge’s death. We need to make another deposit this coming Monday so we don’t tip our hand before we discover their identity. And another three thousand every Monday until we find out who’s making the withdrawals. Either we make the deposit or risk the trail going cold.”

Tommy shook his head like this was the craziest notion he’d ever heard.

“Pardon me there, but if the person using the card didn’t know about Reverend Jimmy being killed, then what do we care about them for?”

“But ain’t you just a little bit curious about who’s been spending all this moola and what they’re up to, Tommy boy?” said Shelby.

“Tell you what I think,” said Tommy. “This here money thing is nothing but a distraction from the real crime, which is a homicide. It could be that Reverend Jimmy was paying somebody to do the Lord’s work behind the scenes. Like the job corps thing the government does.”

“Fine,” said Darla. “Think of the three thousand a week as going for the Lord’s work.”

“I’m not wild about giving away three thousand dollars of the taxpayer’s money every week,” said Shelby, “especially since we ain’t ever going to get it back. We’ll take this on a week-to-week. I’ll authorize the first three grand, but that may be all.”

“There’s another angle we’re beginning to look at. I found out yesterday Reverend Aldridge had dealings with the people at the Hemings Mansion,” said Darla.

“Shut the front door,” said Tommy. “I’m not even sure that place exits. It’s probably just a damn urban legend. I’ve lived in Mississippi all my life and I ain’t ever met anybody who has actually been there.”

Shelby, the corner of his mouth turning up, said, “Could be you don’t know everything that’s going on in this state.”

“I’ve been there,” said Darla. “It’s very real. Reverend Aldridge was making arrangements to…Christ, I don’t ever know how to describe what it is he was going to do.”

“Don’t you dare go to the press with any of that filth about deflowering so-called black virgins,” said Tommy. “We got the widow to consider.”

“The going rate at the Hemings Mansion is two hundred fifty thousand. Reverend Aldridge had his name put on the waiting list. The man that runs that place, DelNegro, told me Reverend Aldridge said the money wouldn’t be a problem.”

“DelNegro, a most interesting name for a man who operates such an establishment. Do you suppose it’s a coincidence?” said Uther.

“Figured you’d pick on that,” said Shelby.

“With a name like Uther Pendragon you ain’t got any business making fun of somebody else’s name,” said Tommy.

“Reverend Aldridge didn’t have that kind of money, not personally. And he was paying out all the money he’s extorted from Conway,” said Darla.

“First of all, you haven’t proved it’s extortion,” said Tommy. “Didn’t Conway say it was a gift?”

“My point is, maybe Conway isn’t the only source Reverend Aldridge could tap into. Maybe there were other people he was planning on shaking down.”

“And
my
point is, smearing Reverend Jimmy don’t get Nicoletti off the hook.
My
point is to hold a press conference and announce that we’ve charged that bastard Nicoletti and close the damn books.”

“Ain’t no need to go all rash and close the books,” said Shelby, “but a murder charge sure would look good right about now. On the other hand, maybe we wait a few days and give Detective Cavannah here a chance to fill in all these empty spots on her dance card.”

“I talked to the DA,” said Tommy. “Even if the defense uses the money angle to discredit Reverend Jimmy, the worst it could do is convince a sympathetic jury to reduce his sentence to life without parole.”

“What’s our hurry here? Darla said. “Dr. Nicoletti is no threat to anyone. Even if he is guilty, he’s not going to kill anyone else.”

“Sure he is. I know for a fact he’s got another murder planned this afternoon,” said Tommy.

“Abortion is still the law of the land, Tommy, even if you don’t approve. Even if you think it’s a sin,” said Darla.

“We only got a couple more hours. Then we’ve got to charge him or let him go,” said Tommy. “I got Josh Klein over at WJAK and the other stations ready to do a news conference. The mayor said he’d come over, but he said he’d let you make the announcement, Sheriff. Course, when it comes to the photo part of it, I’d favor a group shot, maybe with Nicoletti between you and me, with the little lady here and her assistant in the background. Something like that. We can get lead story on the mid-day news if we hurry.”

“You sure your uncle said I could make the announcement?”

“There’s just too much we don’t know,” said Darla.

“Set it up,” said Shelby, “but let me go home and change into my dress blues first.”

Darla’s cell notified her that she had a text. She checked the number. It was Lulu, saying Urgent. With Lulu, you could never be sure. Darla stepped out of Shelby’s office and took the call. The meeting was over anyway, the important part.

“You got any plans for lunch, Lamb Pie?” Lulu asked.

“Actually, it looks like I’ll be going to a press conference.”

“What I’m saying, Little Sister, is I need for you to come over here right now.”

“This can’t wait?”

“It’s about Dr. Nic.” Lulu’s voice sounded shaky. “I’ve got proof. He didn’t do it.”

21

Growing Up In A Hurry.

Lulu’s living room, usually party-ready, was a mess. There were dirty cups on the coffee table, a couple of half eaten pastries, and wads of crumbled up tissue strewn about. A soft
covered suitcase with pink flowers printed on it sat next to the couch. Lulu was in a cotton nightgown and looked as though she hadn’t bothered to wash the makeup off her face from the night before.

“The poor thing’s in the bedroom, pulling herself together,” Lulu said. “She’s a real mess. Ashamed, guilty, terrified. I guess mostly she’s just confused.”

Darla sat across the couch, listening.

“She’s got some tough decisions to make. But before she does anything, I wanted her to talk to you about Monday morning.”

“The morning Reverend Aldridge was killed, you mean.”

“Be back in a sec,” she said and disappeared down the hall. A moment later, she returned with a slender, chestnut-haired girl behind her, hanging on to her hand.

“This is my goddaughter, Beth Aldridge.”

Lulu helped the girl to a chair. Beth crossed her legs at the ankles, bowed her head, and folded her hands in front of her like she was about to pray. Lulu stood behind the chair, her hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“Honey, this is my friend, Darla. She’s with the Hinds County Sheriff’s Department. She’s investigating your father’s murder.”

“Hugh’s wife,” said Beth. “Hugh the Glue.”

“I’m afraid so,” said Darla.

Lulu squeezed Beth’s shoulder encouraging her.

“You can talk to her, the same as you talk to me.”

Beth lifted her head and looked into Darla’s eyes.

“It’s me,” she said.

For a second Darla thought she was hearing a murder confession. She glanced up at Lulu who signaled that Darla should wait for the story.

“I’m the one Dr. Nicoletti’s covering for—the one he won’t name. I was with him the morning my father was killed. He didn’t do it. He was with me at his office out in Madison.”

She didn’t need to say the words, but she did. “I’m pregnant. I’m going to have a baby.”

The tears came—big-time waterworks. She turned and pressed her face against Lulu’s nightgown.

Darla waited until the girl had stopped crying. Then took out her recorder and sat it on the table.

“This machine is going to record our conversation Beth. You’re being very brave. I’m sure this is a very difficult for you, but what you’re telling me is very important. It could save a man’s life. I’m going to have what we say transcribed later, and I’ll let you read it so you can be sure it’s what you said. Okay?”

Beth nodded. Lulu supplied another tissue and the girl wiped her eyes, then shook her head, trying to compose herself.

Darla lifted the girl’s eyes to hers.

“Beth, listen very carefully to what I’m about to say to you. Whatever you tell me from this point on has to be completely truthful. You can’t lie, even a little lie, or exaggerate, or leave anything out. It’s doubtful that I’ll ever be required to make these statements public, but it’s possible. Some day you might be questioned on a witness stand about what you’ve said. Okay?”