Deadman's Bluff

37

It was quitting time, and Mabel was heading out the door when the phone on Tony’s desk rang. Glancing at the Caller ID, she saw that it was Special Agent Romero of the FBI.

“It’s about time,” she said aloud.

She’d called Romero earlier, gotten an impersonal voice mail, and left a message saying she urgently needed to speak with him about George Scalzo. She’d expected a prompt call back, having done Romero a huge favor a few days ago. The fact that he’d taken over half a day to respond was annoying to say the least.

“Grift Sense,” she answered.

“Hello, Ms. Struck,” Romero said. “I apologize for not getting back to you sooner, but I had to testify in court today, and they don’t permit cell phones at the federal courthouse.”

Mabel smiled into the receiver. An immediate apology, and a believable one to boot. “Thanks for calling back. I need your help.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Romero said.

She settled into her chair. “I’m assisting my boss with a case which involves a murder I believe George Scalzo was involved with.”

“A recent murder?”

“Yes. It took place two weeks ago at the Atlantic City Medical Center. I’m trying to determine Scalzo’s whereabouts during the time of the murder. When we spoke a few days ago, you told me that the FBI watches Scalzo, which I assume means you follow him whenever he goes out in public.”

Romero cleared his throat. “That would be a logical assumption.”

“Good. I realize that this is all hush-hush, but figured since we’re both trying to accomplish the same thing—”

“Which is?”

She hated when men turned dense, and she let her tongue slip. “To put the murderous bastard in jail.”

Romero laughed softly. “Yes. That’s the FBI’s goal as well. Please continue.”

“I was hoping that you could look at your records and see if Scalzo visited the Atlantic City Medical Center the night of the murder. It would be a tremendous help in putting another piece into this puzzle we’re wrestling with. Of course, it would remain strictly confidential.”

There was silence as Romero weighed her request. Mabel picked up a pair of misspotted dice lying on Tony’s desk and rolled them across the blotter. The dice had the numbers 2, 4, 6 printed on both sides. Because the human eye could see only three sides of a square, the duplication went unnoticed, allowing the cheater to win 90 percent of the time that he used them in a game of craps.

“I will need to speak with the agent in charge of monitoring Scalzo,” Romero said. “It will be his decision whether or not to release the information you’re asking for.”

“Of course,” Mabel said. “Should I give you the date?”

“Please.”

Mabel gave Romero the date and time of Jack Donovan’s murder.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Romero said. “Good-bye, Ms. Struck.”

“When should I expect to hear back from you?” Mabel asked.

There was another silence on the line. Then Romero said, “Is this an emergency, Ms. Struck?”

Tony and Gerry were tangling with a man who wanted them both dead. If that wasn’t an emergency, she didn’t know what was. “It most certainly is.”

He exhaled into the phone. “How about twenty minutes?”

“Twenty minutes would be perfect,” she said.

Mabel had once bought a pamphlet off the Internet that detailed all the free stuff you could get from the government. It included the obvious health care benefits and food stamps, and the not-so-obvious government grants. What the pamphlet didn’t mention was free help from the FBI, which to Mabel’s way of thinking wasn’t as outlandish as it sounded. The FBI were civil servants, no different from the working folks who picked up the trash and worked at the post office. They needed to be reminded of that every now and then.

She heard the front door slam. “Yolanda, is that you?”

“Yes,” Yolanda replied from the front of the house. “I was out taking a walk and saw the light was on.”

“Come on back, I could use the company,” Mabel said.

Yolanda appeared, holding her sleeping baby. The office was small, and she settled on the floor, sitting in a lotus position. She wore cut-offs and a T-shirt, no makeup, her hair topknotted carelessly. Mabel thought she’d never known a woman as comfortable in her own skin.

“Any luck with the FBI?” Yolanda asked.

“Matter of fact, that’s who I’m waiting to hear from,” Mabel said. “I spoke with Special Agent Romero and explained your theory about George Scalzo being involved with Jack Donovan’s murder.”

“Our theory,” Yolanda corrected her.

“Our theory. He promised to look into it and get right back to me.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Me too. Stay put, and I’ll whip something up. Do you mind holding the baby?”

“Of course not.”

Yolanda put the child on Mabel’s lap and headed for the kitchen. Lois was fast asleep, yet Mabel felt compelled to sing to her. Six months old and the picture of innocence. It was hard to believe we all started out this way.

“Does Tony have stock in Subway?” Yolanda asked a few minutes later. Finding several Subway sandwiches in Tony’s refrigerator, she’d cut them up and put them on paper plates. She returned to the floor and took the baby. They started to eat.

“I’ve tried to convince Tony to cook for himself, but it’s a lost cause,” Mabel said. The phone rang and she snatched it up. “Grift Sense.”

“Ms. Struck, I think I’ve got something for you,” Special Agent Romero said.

Mabel scribbled on a legal pad while Romero talked.

When he was done, she had over a page of notes. He reminded her that the information was confidential.

“Of course,” she said. “Thank you for going to all this trouble.”

“No problem. Good evening, Ms. Struck,” he said.

Mabel hung up feeling goose bumps on her arms. Yolanda put down her sandwich and wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “Something good?”

“Yes.” Mabel squinted at her own handwriting. “On the night of Jack Donovan’s murder, Scalzo’s bodyguard drove Scalzo from his home in Newark to Atlantic City Medical Center. While the bodyguard stayed in the car, Scalzo went into the hospital and stayed for thirty minutes. The FBI agent who was tailing Scalzo went into the hospital and talked to the receptionist at the main greeting area. According to the receptionist, Scalzo said he was seeing a sick friend.”

“So our theory is correct,” Yolanda said. “Scalzo met up with the killer at the hospital, and took Jack Donovan’s secret out with him.”

“It certainly appears that way. Now, here’s the odd part. According to Special Agent Romero, Scalzo also visited the hospital the following morning carrying a bouquet of flowers. The FBI agent thought it was odd and this time followed him inside.

“Scalzo went to the cancer ward and talked to a nurse on duty. The nurse went on break, and they both went downstairs to the cafeteria. He bought her breakfast and gave her the flowers. They talked for about fifteen minutes, then Scalzo left.”

“Did the agent get the nurse’s name?”

“Yes. Susan Gladwell. She’s a senior nurse, worked at the hospital for ten years. The agent checked her out, said her record was clean.”

“Until now,” Yolanda said.

Mabel looked up from her notes. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you see? Nurse Gladwell is in cahoots with George Scalzo. That’s how Scalzo was able to sneak Jack Donovan’s secret out of the hospital without being spotted. She covered it up.”

“That would make her an accessory to Jack Donovan’s murder,” Mabel said.

“It most certainly would.”

Mabel chewed reflectively on the eraser end of her pencil. It was a good theory, only it wasn’t logical. Why would a veteran nurse risk her career to help a mobster? And the flowers. Why had Scalzo brought those? There was something else going on here, a thread running beneath the surface that neither of them were seeing.

“You don’t agree?” Yolanda asked.

Mabel shook her head. “I think we’re both missing something.”

“What?”

“The connection between Scalzo and this nurse.”

Yolanda bit her lip. “What should we do?”

“I think I’ll call Gerry and tell him what we’ve found,” Mabel said. “Maybe he can make sense of it.”