Murder And Mayham

MURDER AND MAYHAM

  J. M. Davis

  Copyright © 2013 by J. M. Davis

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  MURDER AND MAYHAM

  About the author

  Excerpt: PORTRAIT OF CONSPIRACY

  MURDER AND MAYHAM

  Jack Mayham placed the last of his personal items in a box and turned to take one last look out of his Manhattan office window at a cloudless blue sky. An IRS audit resulted in the Law Firm of Lark, Whim, and Fault having to pay $800,000 in penalties and back taxes. Within hours of the news, the managing partner of the firm had told him to vacate his office. It was the third law firm to do so in four years. Each had suffered the wrath of the IRS within months of his joining the firms. The continued punishment bought on as a result of him being caught naked while sharing a hot-tub with an IRS agent’s sister.

  He turned to pick up the cardboard box. A blonde, wearing a Luis Vuitton low-cut red dress stepped into his office. Her diamond necklace alone, not to mention the Cartier La Dona watch, was probably valued at far more than he’d earned the past five years. She sashayed from the doorway to the front of his desk. Her hip movements appeared to be in slow motion, compared to his heart rate. The sunlight shone through the window behind him reflected off her diamonds. He shaded his eyes from the dazzling array of sparkle.

  The woman appeared to be in her late twenties.

  “Are you Jack Mayham?”

  He lowered his hand and made his way around his desk to greet her.

  “In the flesh.”

  He studied every inch of hers that wasn’t covered by clothing, diamonds, and a Cartier La Dona watch. If there was a more beautiful woman in the world, he hadn’t seen her yet.

  She extended her hand. “I’m Lisa LeRouse Bedford. I need an attorney.”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t handle divorce cases.” He took her hand and gently shook it once before releasing it. “I’m a criminal defense lawyer.”

  “Yes, that’s why I’m here. My husband, Earl, was murdered last week. The police think I had something to do with it. Unfortunately, the attorney I hired to represent me is missing.”

  “That attorney wouldn’t be Harvey Hill Harmon?”

  Her beautiful green eyes widened. “Yes, it was. How did you know?”

  “I read about it in the morning paper.” According to the article, Harvey’s maid found a large amount of blood on the floor of his home, and his office on 42th street had been ransacked the previous night. This sounded like the type of case he might not want to touch. She, on the other hand was a different story. Unfortunately for him the timing was terrible.

  “I would love to help you, but I no longer work for Lark, Whim, and Fault.”

  “Good, that means I will be your sole client.” She opened her Marc Jacobs Carolyn Crocodile handbag, reached in, and pulled out a pen and checkbook. After filling in the blanks, she ripped the check out and extended it toward him holding it at eye level.

  The check was made out to him and not the firm. $250,000 had a way of breaking the ice in any new financial relationship, especially when it couldn’t have come at a better time. In debt up to his blue and white necktie, he couldn’t resist the kind of opportunity that comes along once in a lifetime. He grabbed the check, folded it, and stuffed it into his inside suit pocket. “Lunch is on me. I know a nice place just down the street.”

  After consuming a deli sandwich and a glass of tea, Lisa wove a sad story of lost love. Her husband, Earl, thirty-six years her senior, was found floating face down in their swimming pool.

  Lisa pushed her paper plate to the side. “The autopsy report stated the bruising around Earl’s head and shoulders indicated force had been used to hold my husband under water.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “Who would do such a terrible thing to my sweet Earl?”

  That was a job for the police. His was to keep his client out of jail. Why had the police focused on his client so quickly? Apparently, they believe she had a motive.

  “Why do the police suspect you?”

  She shook her head. “I told the detectives I was out shopping for a new pair of Jimmy Choo heels.” She stuck her foot out and pointed to her shoe. “But after they found out I’m the sole heir to Earl’s fortune they told me I was their prime suspect.”

  He was still staring at her long slender leg with a Jimmy Choo shoe at the end of it, when she continued.

  “With that mean prosecuting attorney out to get me, I did what any intelligent woman would do. I hired Harvey, but now that he’s missing, you’re my only hope.”

  That got his attention back above the table top. Harvey is missing, blood found at this home, and a ransacked law office. How did that tie into her husband being murdered? Maybe it didn’t. Those events might not have anything to do with Lisa’s case.

  “I hope you’re as fearless in the courtroom as you claim to be on your Facebook page.”

  What was he thinking? Mental note to self, never post on your timeline after drinking heavily. First things first, he needed to find out the results of the police investigation. Those shoes looked like a pretty good alibi, if the time of death occurred during her shopping spree. If the shoe fits, you must acquit. It worked for Johnny Cochran. It might also work for him.

  “I’ll speak with the prosecutor this afternoon. Once I know what the DA’s office has in the way of evidence against you, we can plan our next step.”

  “Thank you for believing I’m innocent.”

  He hadn’t said that, but until he knew otherwise, his job was to defend her as if she was. If it turned out she was guilty of killing her husband, he’d still mount the best defense possible.

  After leaving the deli, she led him to her car, a Mercedes Benz SLR McLaren. When he opened the driver’s side door for her, she placed her hand on his arm. “Will you give me a full report at dinner tonight? I would like to know what you find out.”

  Her touch was as powerful as the $450,000 automobile she drove. Even if she wasn’t paying him, he’d find it difficult not to give her anything she asked of him.

  “Of course, around seven o’clock?”

  “Perfect, I’ll meet you at Jean Georges.”

  Apparently, his deli cuisine diet was about to change. Dinner for two at Jean Georges, housed in the Trump International Hotel and Tower, would set him back close to five hundred dollars, if her taste in wine was anywhere near her tastes in clothing and automobiles.

  After seeing her off, he hailed a taxi which took him to the bank where he deposited the check into his account. He withdrew a thousand dollars in cash for walking around money.

  A second cab took him to city hall. Getting pieces of information, from the prosecutor’s office, turned out to be a lot like trying to pull shark’s teeth. From the evasive answers Eli Shenall gave to his questions, he guessed the evidence the prosecutor had against his client was all circumstantial. Every time he tried to extract any evidence the state had against Lisa, Shenall slammed his mouth shut with the force of a man-eating Great White.

  The rule of law demanded every piece of evidence the state had against his client be turned over to defense counsel. He had no desire to do a slow dance with Eli.

  “If you make me go before a judge, you are well aware what the outcome will be?”

  “Give me your card Mayham, I’ll have everything sent to your office tomorrow morning.”

  “My office is in the process of being moved. While I’m here, I’d rather pick up what you have.”

  “That’s not going to happen. As you can see, we’re rather busy today.”

>   At that moment, a young attractive female stepped into his office doorway and tapped on the door jam with the finesse of a tooth fairy.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Eli, but may I have a word with you.”

  The prosecutor waved her into his office. From the smile that spread across Eli’s face, either he was having sex with the tooth fairy, or he hoped to some day.

  He wondered if Shenall would have been so forgiving if a short fat guy had interrupted their conversation.

  She handed him a sheet of paper and whispered something in Eli’s ear.

  Eli glared at him. “Mayham, are you aware your client’s late husband is connected to organized crime?

  Organized crime? Lisa’s sweet Earl, no way. He shook his head. “That is news to me.”

  The prosecutor lifted the computer printout. “Read it for yourself.”

  After reading what one of their investigators had uncovered, he knew the case against his client had a taken a major turn, as in U-turn.

  The police had discovered Earl’s fingerprints were none other than those of Tony Delonzo. Known as The Cleaner, Delonzo washed dirty money for the mob by investing it in large CAP international securities. Five years earlier, The Cleaner had withdrawn sixty million from the mob’s Swiss account and vanished. He became the subject of the mob’s largest manhunt in history.

  Not wanting to ruin an expensive meal, he waited until he and Lisa had finished the main course at Jean Georges before giving her the news about her late husband’s true identity.

  Appearing to be unshaken, Lisa picked up her glass and sipped all that remained of the $180.00 Latour before setting it back on the table. “That would explain why the name Earl didn’t fit his personality.”

  At least she had taken the news well.

  He now had a defense strategy. Tony Delonzo changed his name to Earl Bedford and married an innocent, young, strikingly attractive woman who was unaware her wealthy husband was connected to organized crime. Two years after Tony and Lisa were married the mob finally tracked The Cleaner down and killed him. Lisa had nothing to do with the murder. Those in the criminal defense business would call that reasonable doubt, and so would a jury, case closed. This would be the easiest quarter of a million he’d ever earn.

  The following day, the prosecuting attorney, agreed to meet him for lunch at the highly acclaimed Kurumazushi Restaurant on East 47th Street, as long as Jack agreed to pick up the tab.

  “I appreciate your invitation to lunch.” Eli surveyed the interior of the restaurant. “I’ve often wondered how the food was here.”

  Soon after their orders for the Chirashi Special arrived, Jack laid out his defense case while Shenall saturated what appeared to be a cheap polyester necktie with bits of sauce that dripped from his fork on its way into Eli’s mouth.

  Deciding not to tell the hungry prosecutor about the new color being added to the man’s tie, he stared at his water glass instead. “As you can see Bob, there’s plenty of reasonable doubt to go around for any jury.”

  “Okay, I’ll take the widow off the list of prime suspects, if you agree to make sure Mrs. Bedford doesn’t leave town anytime soon.”

  Although it appeared his client was clear of any possible charges being filed against her, other than the ones she accumulated from parking beside fire hydrants in Manhattan, Eli’s demand would give him an excellent reason to stay close to Lisa.

  “You have my word on it, Eli.” He checked his watch, and then reached for his wallet. “I hate to eat and run. My client is meeting me out front in five minutes.” He’d made a point to check out the location of the nearest fire hydrant, her preferred parking place, prior to entering the restaurant.

  He placed a hundred dollar bill in the center of the table and left the upscale establishment in Manhattan with plans to join Lisa for a celebration. Across the street, he found the widow standing beside her silver Mercedes Benz SLR McLaren talking to two men. From their shabby appearance, he assumed they either worked for the street department, or were beggars hitting her up for money. She did not appear to be happy.

  He approached and drew in a deep breath below raising his voice.

  “Back off guys, the lady is with me.”

  One of the men pulled a gun from his belt. The other one grabbed Lisa and placed his hand over her mouth. At gunpoint the two men forced him and Lisa into a yellow and brown Dodge Minivan which smelled like an Italian kitchen with a serious motor oil leak in the oven.

  There was no longer any doubt. The two guys who accosted him and Lisa were not street department employees.

  The uglier of the two men said, “Da mob boss wants his sixty million back.”

  The other guy, the fat one with a flat nose, pressed a knife below Lisa’s black-pearl necklace and drew a trickle of blood.

  “I don’t know where the money is,” she said. “Earl never confided in me about his finances.”

  Jack attempted to play hero, but was held back by Uglier. He realized they had to give the mob guys what they wanted or they’d both be killed

  “If you’ll let us go, I’ll find the money and transfer it back into your boss’s account.”

  Flat nose applied more pressure with the knife. “Do we look dat stupid?”

  Fortunately, he and Lisa were not under oath. “Please stop, I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “So ya is ready to cooperate?” Uglier asked, nodding his head at Flat Nose.

  “I believe that’s what I said.”

  “Okay den. So here’s da deal. The way da boss got it figured, The Cleaner’s computer holds the key toose the locations of the accounts, but the police has it locked up inna room downtown. Ya has twenty four hours to break into da police headquarters, steal the late Tony Delonzo’s computer, and unravel the twenty-four character password, something about pills.”

  Flat Nose grabbed Uglier by the arm. “What does that word unravel mean?”

  “I don’t know. It’s something da Boss says he can’t do because you killed Tony before wes got the password outta him.”

  Jack needed to find out what, if anything, Tony had told the two bozos. “Hey guys, I have a question.”

  Flat Nose and Uglier stared at him. “Yeah, so what ya want to know?”

  “Did Tony tell you anything, before he drowned?”

  “Yeah, he kept saying something about pills, but we couldn’t find no pills, so I pushed him under one more time to clear his head, if you gets my drift.”

  Flat Nose glared at Uglier. “I tried to tell ya not to hold Tony under water that long. Two minutes I said.”

  Uglier shrugged. “How was I to knows my watch had stopped?”

  Flat Nose turned back to face Jack. “Okay, nows I finish explainin’. Then ya is to locate the whereabouts of Tony’s financial stash and transfer da funds back into the boss’s Swish bank account without the police knowing anything about it, or Lisa’s body parts will be scattered all over New York, along with yours. Any more questions?”

  “Just one. Is Tony’s computer a Mac or a PC?”

  The mob guys dumped him at the curb and drove off with Lisa being held hostage until the money was back where it belonged.

    Realizing it was going to be a long night, Jack found the nearest Starbucks and ordered a large coffee, black. Before it had time to cool, he came up with two plans.

  Plan A: Try to convince his ex-wife, who is good with computers and works for the IRS, to help him.

  Plan B: Learn how to use a Mac computer, break into police headquarters, and steal The Cleaner’s laptop. Then figure out how to unravel a password which had more possibilities than there were stars in the universe, find the secret accounts, and transfer the funds. All within, he checked his watch, 23 hours and twenty-nine minutes.

  He debated which plan might be easier. His ex-wife didn’t believe him when he’d told her he had no idea the woman in their hot-tub was her twin sister from Georgia. Likely story she’d said. She probably wouldn’t take his call anyway. That lef
t plan B.

  He checked his watch again. Twenty-three hours and twenty-eight minutes. There should be enough time to stop by that new shop offering a dozen donuts for three dollars.

  Breaking into police headquarters turned out to be easier than he’d thought. Few employees had remained after midnight and those who did were asleep at their desks. Must have been the donuts he injected with cherry flavored Benadryl and powdered with ground Melatonin before delivering them to city hall an hour earlier.

  Finding the evidence lockup room took him less than three minutes thanks to the fact the words Evidence Room were written on the door. He picked the lock using a hammer to break the glass and then reached inside to turn the bolt.

  Once inside the room, he found four Mac computers, all wrapped in plastic. He checked the tags. None of them were for the Delonzo case. Flat nose and Uglier must have gotten it wrong. The room was full of PCs being held as evidence. It would take him the rest of the night to sort through them.

  On a hunch, he picked up a small plastic wrapped object and checked the tab. Bingo. It was the Cleaner’s computer, an iPad. Those two yo-yos didn’t know the difference between a Mac and iPad.

  He carried it out of the building and tossed it on the passenger seat of his car. On his way home, he tried to think of possibilities for a password Earl might have used that had something to do with pills. He tried to think like a criminal who had married a woman thirty-six years his junior. What word would he have used if he’d been Earl?

  After arriving home, he plugged the iPad into the wall to recharge the battery before he turned it on. A password box opened and he entered Viagra. That didn’t work. Next, he entered Cialis and found that not only did it not work, a message came back.

  You have one attempt left to enter the correct password or access will be permanently blocked.

  He placed the iPad on his kitchen bar, put his head down, and closed his eyes. Time was running out and he was getting drowsy. He wished he hadn’t grabbed one of the donuts on the way out of the building.

  He awoke and looked at his watch. He’d been asleep for hours.

  How would a former mob guy think? If he got the last attempt wrong, he and Lisa would be killed by Uglier and Flat nose. With time running out, he typed in a desperate attempt and hoped for the best.

  Earl, you are one lucky bastard.

  He was in. He opened the App called Money and perused the data displayed. There were two accounts. One was at a local bank and one was in the Cayman Islands. He checked the balance on the local bank first. It showed a balance of $1,400,000 and that was after the check for $250,000 that Lisa had written cleared. The Cayman account better have enough to cover the Boss’ demand or he and Lisa were in serious trouble.

  Eureka!

  The Cayman Bank account showed a balance of $80,000,000.00. Earl had done well on his investments. Now all he needed to do was figure out the password that would allow him to transfer the money to the mob’s Swiss account. Hopefully, something much easier than the 24 character one he had cracked.

  Before he could enter his first try, his phone rang.

  Hello?

  “Da boss ain’t seen no money transfer yet?” It was Flat nose.

  “I still have thirty-nine minutes.” Trying to think like a mob guy, he frantically typed in hotwife, praying that was the password he needed to transfer the money.

  “Hey Boss, your watch must be wrong. The guy says he has thirty-nine minutes left.”

  After what sounded like a gunshot, Uglier got on the phone.

  “Hey, no more messin’ around. Da boss wants that money transferred now.”

  “What happened to Flat nose?”

  “Who?”

  “Your partner.”

  “He’s deceased.”

  He needed more time. “Tell your boss if he hurts Lisa, I’ll transfer the money to the IRS.” He entered his second attempt, mywifeishot.

  “Hey Boss, the guy says—”

  Boom.

  Seconds later, the boss got on the phone.” Okay, wise guy. Here’s how this thing goes down. Ya transfers sixty million to my account now or the girl gets it.”

  In an effort to buy time for one more password attempt, he said, “Are you saying the girl gets the money, if I don’t transfer sixty million to your account?” He entered his third attempt at the password.

  “No, the dame don’t get no money. She gets shot in the head, if sixty million don’t hit my account in ten seconds. Nine, eight, seven—”

  He had no choice but to try the same password that had allowed him to get initial access to the account information. Bingo.

  “Wait. It’s coming. Take a look at your account. All sixty million is back in it just like you asked. Now release Lisa.”

  “Good job, wise guy. Here, keep the phone, doll. I’m out of here.”

  “Jack, how did you figure out the password?” Ah, the sweet sound of her voice.

  “Just a lucky guess.” Idonotneednofrigginpills.