A Dangerous Job

By Drew Banton

A Paranoid Left-wing Mystery Featuring Detective Ed Iannucci.
Detective Ed Iannucci begins his investigation of a seemingly simple theft case. Before it’s over it will lead him down twisted pathways to criminals, law enforcement officers and a disturbing question; can he tell them apart?
More description: Genre is police procedural mystery with a pro-working class, left leaning slant. Setting is a small city south of Boston, in particular, a shipyard in that city. The time is the early 1970's, an era when it was hard to be too paranoid. The characters include cops, good and bad, shipyard workers, political activists, an array of criminals and a psychotic dog. (No animals were harmed in the making of this novel.)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Drew Banton
• Release date: Dec 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310636578

Drew Banton

Drew Banton has published novels, novellas and stories. He has had pieces appear in Event Horizon online magazine and Bicycling Magazine. He has worked as a printer, welder, auto mechanic, bicycle frame builder, industrial mechanic and manufacturing engineer. He lives in Brookline, Massachusetts. When not writing he can usually be found walking his dog or trying to keep up with his grandson.

Book preview

A Dangerous Job

by

Drew Banton

The Industrial Strength Press

©Copyright 2014 Drew Banton

All Rights reserved

Smashwords edition

Also by Drew Banton:

The Jack (short story)

The Gurry Room (novella)

The Mascot (short story)

e-mail: [e-mail]

web: http://dbanton77.wix.com/industrialstrengthpr

blog: http://theindustrialstrengthpress.wordpress.com/

Dedication

For Tony and John

Authors Note: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidental.

Acknowledgment: I would like to thank Lee Lofland, Leslie Budewitz, and D.P. Lyle for their books on police procedures, criminal justice and forensics, respectively. They have given me a much better understanding of the realities of those fields. Any departures herein from those realities, and there remain many, are of course solely my responsibility.

I also want to thank my editors, Corry and Deb, who saved me from many embarrassing errors. Those that remain are wholly on me.

A wise person may have once said It is not paranoia if they really are out to get you. The illegally wiretapped recording of the phone conversation during which this statement was allegedly made was of poor quality so the exact wording of the quote is in doubt.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

About the Author

Chapter One

He called it the Bad News Hotline. When one of the lights on Ed Iannucci’s phone was blinking quickly, it meant that Philomena, the sweet but marginally competent switchboard operator, had directed an outside call in his direction. It might only be his wife asking if he would pick up something for dinner on the way home but it was always possible that something bad had happened in his small city of South Adams, something bad and interesting. He kept his hopefulness under control as he answered on the second ring.

Iannucci here.

Ed, good morning, this is Bill O’Brien over at Consolidated Enterprises.

The Consolidated Enterprises shipyard was the largest employer in town. Bill was the director of security. Ed had worked with him on a number of cases.

Bill, good morning, how are things over at my favorite shipyard?

Could be better this morning. Seems a load of titanium shafts has gone missing and nobody can say exactly when it might’ve happened.

Titanium? What do they use that for over there?

Beats the hell out of me. I just worry about keeping the stuff from disappearing. Any chance you could make it over here to check out the situation?

Shouldn’t be a problem. He looked at his watch. An hour from now OK for you?

Sure. You know where my office is.

See you in an hour.

He could have been there in fifteen minutes or less but he didn’t feel it was a good idea to let the general public know just how eager he was to attend to their crimes. It would also give him time to track down his partner John Fernandes. He found John chatting up Vicki Nunes, one of the newer female Patrolmen (Patrolwomen?) There was no more fervent supporter of increased numbers of women on the force than John.

* *

Bill O’Brien gave them visitor’s hard hats, white with a wide red stripe down the middle, meant to indicate Watch out, these people don’t know what they’re doing.

O’Brien took them to the materials storage area. Among the racks holding stacked tubing, shafts and huge steel plates was a forlorn empty space.

Used to be about fifty titanium shafts sitting right there. You can see they just mix everything together, no special security for the more expensive stuff. There’s a guard posted round the clock at the gate. They’re supposed to check badges and update a log each time someone comes in and out but, frankly, they get pretty lax about it. The guards get to know the faces and half the time they only give a quick look and a wave. We’ll have to tighten up again but that won’t get us our titanium back.

How big were the shafts?

About twenty feet long, maybe four inches in diameter.

How much were they worth? John asked. A large number would excite his interest.

I asked but they told me, ‘Don’t worry about that, just find out what happened to it.’ I’m just guessing but I’d say in the several million dollar range.

John was interested.

Ed asked, When was the last time anyone knew for sure it was here?

Got delivered about two weeks ago. I checked the shipping manifest to make sure. Wouldn’t be the first time missing material never got here in the first place. But it did. I talked to the guy who signed for it. He saw it put in place here. I talked to several of the yard guys and no one can remember noticing it being here or not since then. I haven’t talked to all of the night guys yet.

I guess we’re going to need to talk to all of them.

I figured. I’ll get you a list.

How big a truck would you need to get all of the titanium out of here? John asked.

Medium sized flatbed. The stuff is light for its size, that’s what makes it so special. We probably have half-a-dozen trucks a day in here that could carry it.

Ed spoke. So a truck could come in to deliver a load. After the load got dumped, the titanium got loaded in its place, someone sneezed when it rolled past the guardhouse and bye-bye titanium.

Bill looked pained as he nodded. Could’ve been something like that.

How detailed are the background checks on the guards?

Not very.

OK, we’ll want to take a look at what you have. And the records of all deliveries since the titanium arrived.

I got someone pulling the files now.

* *

Bill had given them a vacant office to use for examining files and questioning suspects.

We could be at this for weeks and still get nowhere, John said when Bill had left them. John had come with his family from the Cape Verde Islands when he was a boy. He had a slight accent from his Cape Verdean-Creole first language but had the facility and ease in English of one who has learned the second language as a child.

You know we still have to check out every one of these. The first thing Tremblay is going to ask is, did we check out all the basic stuff.

John nodded, smiling. He affected Chief Tremblay’s gruff, sandpaper growl. ’There are damned few criminal masterminds. There are lots of criminal simple minds. Don’t make it more complicated than it needs to be.’

They had both heard the speech numerous times.

None of the files showed any history of trouble with the law but they didn’t expect any would. They would have all the names run through the national database but they didn’t really expect anything to come of that, either. Ed used two criteria to narrow the field. First were those who had been hired within the past year. Maybe someone had been placed in the job specifically to enable the theft. Second were those who came from other states. It was somewhat easier to falsify a background when you weren’t local. Out of twenty-six guards and yard workers from the stock area, this gave them four names for special attention.

The first three interviews revealed nothing beyond what was documented in the records. The fourth person on the short list came into the small office, sat down in the straight-backed wooden chair and exhaled slowly. Ed estimated his height at about five foot ten and weight at about one hundred sixty pounds, a middleweight. He had thinning light brown hair and wore a closely trimmed beard. His eyes were gray. His name was Michael Brooks.

I’m gonna save you guys some time and trouble, he said, his voice wavering slightly. He was trying to be cool and matter of fact but wasn’t quite managing it. When you start doing background checks, if you put any effort at all into it, you’re gonna find I have a record.

Ed did well to seem unsurprised. John couldn’t quite keep his eyebrows from rising.

Your employee record says you come from Indiana. Is that where you have the record?

Nah, Illinois. I moved to Indiana after.

Where in Illinois?

In and around a town called Parnassus. No place like home.

What were you arrested for?

First time, Grand Theft Auto, second time, B & E. Year plus the first time, three years plus the second.

I guess I can see why this information didn’t make it onto your employment application. How come they didn’t pick up on that when they checked on you?

In Illinois I was Michael Brooke with an ‘e’

Interesting. Is there something you’d like to tell us about the missing titanium shafts?

Brooks held up his hand. Before we get into that, let me just tell you something. You know how hard it is for an ex-con to stay straight. You probably know as well as anybody, dealing with repeat offenders all the time. Nobody wants to hire someone with a record and the few that will only do it ‘cause they know they got him by the short hairs and they can treat him like shit. The brother of a friend had some construction work for me here and eventually I was able to get myself into this real job. I got a girl, she knows what I did and doesn’t care, we’re gonna get married. I’ve been clean for four years. This comes out and I’m back to scratch. I worked too hard to get to this point.

You wouldn’t be asking us to keep your record quiet, would you, Michael?

Brooks looked at the floor and shook his head. Then he looked up again, first at Ed, then John. I been around. I know how it works. Nothin’ for nothin’. What if I tell you I might still know some people who might be able to find out some things?

What sort of things?

We gonna throw around the bullshit or do you wanna talk straight?

OK. You give us some useful information on this case and we’ll do what we can to help you keep this job. That straight enough?

Give me a week?

Three days.

Sheesh. OK, three days.

Ed gave him his card with the number to call. No one shook hands as Michael Brooks/Brooke left them.

Think he’ll come up with anything? John asked when they were alone.

Ed shrugged. No telling. Worth a try, anyway.

What if he skips?

Then I guess we have a prime suspect, even if it’s a missing one.

* *

More interviews and record checking had produced nothing further of interest. They were just beginning to work their way through the trucking company deliveries.

Ed picked up his phone on the second ring.

This being recorded? a voice asked. Michael Brooks.

Not that I know of. Does that make a difference?

I guess not. I talked to a guy who knows a guy. He got back to me today. Wouldn’t tell me much. Said I should tell you two words. ‘Repair records.’ Don’t ask me what that means, I asked him for more and he just repeated ‘Repair records.’ Said if you had half a brain, you’d figure it out.

Repair records.

That’s it. You tell the shipyard anything about me yet?

As far they know, we’re still investigating all leads. You’re still just one among many.

Is it gonna stay that way?

Let me see where this very sparse bit of information takes us. Then we’ll decide. I don’t suppose you’d like to put a name alongside it?

Not gonna happen. My health is one thing more important than the job.

OK. Call me again in a few days and we’ll have another nice chat.

He told me one other thing, said I could tell you or keep it to myself, up to me.

Oh? What did you decide?

I decided to tell you. Maybe it’ll help me, I don’t know. He said you’re in over your head.

Ed leaned forward. Is that so?

That’s what he said.

Any more details?

None. I asked but he said I was better off not knowing. So maybe I’m doing you a favor or maybe I’m just pissing you off, but there it is.

OK, well, thanks, I guess. Talk to you in a few days. He hung up. He had a possible lead and what sounded very much like a warning. Ed Iannucci never reacted well when someone told him he couldn’t do something. In over his head? What the fuck was that shit?

John was looking across from his desk. He couldn’t quite read the expression he saw. It was enough to make him wait a five count before he spoke.

Well?

Ed shook his head. Let’s go over to the shipyard. We need to ask them about repair records.

* *

Bill, what sort of repair records do they keep for the stock area?

Repair records?

That’s right. When something gets fixed how do they document it?

Bill O’Brien looked out the window of his small office for a few moments. His expression spoke of indigestion. The crane.

What about it?

The forklifts and stuff like that we service here but sometimes we’ll have an outside contractor come in for the crane. Sorry to say it didn’t occur to me. Let’s go check.

The crane in question was an inverted U shaped device that sat on rails. It was about twenty feet high. The truly huge cranes that could move entire sections of ship had control booths for the operator to ride along with the crane. This smaller version was controlled by a pendant with green, yellow and red buttons. The operator held the pendant to control the crane’s actions and walked along with it as it creaked along on the rails.

Bill O’Brien asked to see the maintenance log book. It showed that a service call had been made by New England Crane and Hoist the previous Thursday. The repairmen had checked in at 10:45 AM and had left at 3:30 PM, just around the time of the shift change. The control pendant had been replaced and some welding had been done on a cracked brace. Bill went to get a man named George Spiros who had been on duty in the yard at that time.

George looked uncomfortable sitting in a wooden chair in the small hut that served as the material yard office. George was a wide man and didn’t fit into the chair very well. This suited Ed’s purpose. He never considered it a good idea to let people under questioning get too comfortable. They were not supposed to be having a good time.

After Bill had introduced him, Ed took over. George, we’re interested in the work that was done on the crane last Thursday. Do you remember that happening?

Sure. What about it?

Was there anything unusual about it?

What do you mean?

Anything out of the ordinary, something that caught your attention?

No, nothing in particular.

How often do these sorts of repairs happen?

Maybe a few times a year.

How many people were involved?

Two guys, a main guy and a helper.

Is that typical?

Yeah. Almost always just two guys.

Did you know them?

I knew the helper, a kid named Tommy, but I didn’t know the other guy. Tommy introduced him but I forget his name. B something, maybe. Bernie, Benny, I’m not sure.

Would you be able to recognize him if you saw him again?

Yeah, probably. Nothing special about him but I think I’d recognize him. He do something?

We don’t know. That’s what all these questions are about. Let’s try to fill in a little more detail about last Thursday. What exactly were you doing that day?

Same as most days. Guys come into the shed with orders for stock, I take the orders and fill them. Sometimes it’s small stuff they can carry out, more often we load up a forklift and deliver it to the site. Once in a while, the big stuff needs a flatbed. Since the crane was down in the afternoon, we had to put off the big stuff for the second shift. They piss and moan when that happens but tough shit on them.

Did you see the two men working on the crane repairs?

Yeah, a few times as I was passing by filling orders.

And nothing seemed unusual to you?

No, like I said, it looked about like it always does. I saw them doing some wiring stuff and then later some welding. Typical stuff.

What sort of vehicle were the repairmen driving that day?

They got this stake bed truck they always use.

Do they drive it right into the yard?

Yeah, right next to where they’re doing the work. Has all their tools and stuff.

How big is it?

Pretty big. I don’t know the tonnage. You could ask them.

We will. How long is it?

I don’t know exactly. Pretty long.

Could it handle a twenty foot long piece of bar stock?

George’s brow furrowed. Yeah, probably. Might stick out the back a little but it could probably handle it.

* *

The guard house had two windows, one on each side for incoming and outgoing traffic. Typically one person manned both sides, shuffling back and forth as needed. The guards were part of the security organization and reported directly to Bill O’Brien. The first and second shift guards working today were the same ones as had been on duty last Thursday.

Craig Donaldson was thin and balding. He had a narrow, lined face and watery eyes.

Craig, we’re interested in reconstructing some events from last Thursday. Were you on duty then?

Yes. First shift.

What time does the shift end?

Three thirty.

And you’re in the guard booth until then?

Well sometimes the second shift guy will show up a little early and he’ll tell me or whoever else is on duty, it’s OK to go wash up. Never much traffic around then ‘cause the rest of the yard has the shift change, too. Nobody really minds as long as somebody’s covering.

Do you remember if that’s the way it worked last Thursday?

Craig pondered. The days kind of run together, you know what I mean? There was one day last week where Fred, he’s the second shift guy, was running a little late and just made it by three thirty. Might’ve been Thursday.

There was a crew from New England Crane here last Thursday repairing the crane. Do you remember that?

Sure. The kid Tommy and some new guy. So that was Thursday?

Ed nodded.

OK, then, that was the day Fred just made it on time. The crane guys were heading out just when Fred showed up.

Can you describe to us what happened then?

Fred wasn’t really late, just cutting it closer than usual. So Fred says to me ‘Everything OK with these guys?’ Meaning the crane guys. So I say yeah, some repairs to the crane, that’s all. So he tells me to take off, he’ll sign them out. So I did.

Can you describe the sign-out procedure?

If it’s stock, we check the order against what’s on the forklift or truck, sign it, give one copy to the driver, put one copy in the stack to be filed and then enter the time in the log. For the repair guys, we just sign the work order and enter the time.

You don’t go check that the work has been done?

No, I wouldn’t know what I was looking at anyway. If the work wasn’t done right, whoever ordered the repair will know soon enough and the crane guys will have to come back on their own dime. Hardly ever happens. That company has been pretty reliable for us.

Do you check the truck on the way out?

I might glance in the back as they drive past the window but there’s never been a problem with the crane guys.

Do you remember glancing in the back of the truck last Thursday?

Craig shook his head. Like I said, Fred told me he’d sign them out.

Ed took it in. Craig, can I ask you a personal question?

Craig sat back in his chair and paused a moment before answering. I guess so.

Do you gamble? If people had money troubles, it was usually related to gambling or drugs. Donaldson didn’t strike Ed as the drug type.

Me, no, never have. Well, maybe buy a lottery ticket once in a while but that’s it.

What do you do with your spare time then?

Well, there’s my coin collection. I stay up way too late looking at the coins sometimes. I got some good ones.

Ed thought about it. Would someone become a criminal to finance a coin collecting habit? Anything was possible.

Craig cleared his throat. Would you do me a favor?

What’s that?

Show me whatever coins you have on you?

Ed spread the coins in his pocket out on the desk. Craig scanned them quickly and shook his head. Ed motioned to John. Come on, show the man your change.

Craig examined John’s change and shook his head again. Thanks anyway. Always a long shot but I can’t help asking.

* *

Where Craig had been thin and angular, Fred Partridge was round. He had rosy cheeks and a valiant comb-over. Ed wondered if they had a stamp collector this time.

Fred, we’re interested in the events of last Thursday, particularly around the time of your shift change with Craig Donaldson.

Oh yeah, that was the day I was almost late. Some damn fender bender had traffic all backed up. Just did punch in on time.

Was there anything else going on at the time of the shift change?

Yeah, truck from that repair company was ready to leave.

Can you describe what happened?

Not much to tell. I asked Craig and he said they were all set so I signed their repair order, waved ‘em through and entered the time in the log.

Did you examine the truck?

No. Didn’t see any need to. Craig said they were all set.

How long have you worked at the yard, Fred?

’Bout twelve years, give or take.

Did you notice anything at all unusual about the repair truck?

No, not really. Didn’t recognize the driver but that’s not all that unusual. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t.

Can I ask you a personal question, Fred?

Don’t see why not.

What do you do to fill up your spare time?

Oh, not much. Watch TV mostly. There’s my weekly poker game, of course. Matchsticks only, you know what I mean. He didn’t actually wink but there seemed to be a wink in his voice.

Those matchsticks ever get you into trouble? Like owing interest on matchsticks to the wrong people?

Fred sat up straight. Nothing like that. I got a limit and I stick to it.

Good policy. We may need to talk to you again.

You know where I am, every day three-thirty.

* *

Francis Lavoie, the owner of New England Crane & Hoist, had to remove stacks of folders from two straight-backed chairs to make room for his visitors. His brown hair was sticking up in spots as if he had been trying to pull it loose and there were purple half-moons under his eyes. It looked like it would take more than one good night’s sleep to make them go away.

Can I get you guys some coffee or something? It isn’t very good but it is coffee.

Nothing for me, Ed said. John just shook his head.

You said you had some questions about repairs at the shipyard?

Ed spoke. Yes, last Thursday a truck from your company made a service call to the stock area at the yard. Were you aware of that?

Yeah, sure. We’re not that big a company. I know where all my people are on any given day.

How many people work for you?

Twenty-two.

How many trucks?

Eight.

How do you decide who to send over to the shipyard?

Different guys have experience with different equipment. I see who’s the best matchup and send them.

Is that how it worked last Thursday?

Yeah, they got an old Dearborn gantry crane over there that one of my guys had experience with so I sent him along with Tommy Glenn as a helper.

What’s the name of the guy you sent?

Bernie Ascari.

How long has he worked for you?

Not that long. About six months.

Any problems with him?

None at all. Shows up, does the work, goes home. Not much of a talker but who cares? Good all around, mechanical, electrical, welding, you name it.

Where is he today?

Wish I knew.

Ed shifted. He sensed he had arrived at an Uh-Oh moment.

What do you mean?

Haven’t seen him since last Thursday. He brought the truck back late, after I’d left, nothing unusual about that, but then he didn’t show up Friday, no call in, no nothing. Haven’t seen him this week either. I called his home phone but it just rings.

Has this happened before with him?

Never. I don’t think he missed a single day before this.

Do you have his home address?

Francis got up from his desk and pulled a pile of folders off a sagging shelf. The walls of the office were wood paneled but most of the paneling was obscured by unpainted shelves stacked with manila folders.

I know it looks like a mess but I actually know where stuff is. He pulled one folder out of the stack and brought it back to his desk. He opened it and copied an address and phone number onto a scratch pad. He handed the piece of paper across to Ed.

Thanks. Would you mind me taking a look at the folder? Without permission, he would have to get a warrant.

Can you tell me what’s going on?

Some material is missing from the yard and there’s a possibility the person driving your truck was involved. In any case, we want to speak to him so any information that might help us find him would be very useful.

Francis was shaking his head. Oh man, not what I need, not what I need at all. He handed the folder across to Ed.

He leafed through some payroll records and health insurance forms. He came to Bernard Ascari’s original employment application to New England Crane & Hoist. The second page had his previous employment record. His last place of employment was in Parnassus, Illinois. A passport style photo was paper-clipped to the corner of the page. A dark-haired man with thick eyebrows scowled out at him.

How thoroughly do you check an applicant’s background before you hire them?

Francis’s head was still shaking. The half-moons under his eyes seemed to be getting darker as the color drained from his face. I call one or two of the numbers from the references and past employers. When I called for Bernie, the people at the other end backed up what he wrote, good enough for me. The main thing I do is talk about the machines, maybe have them do a sample weld. You can fake a reference but you can’t fake if you know how to weld or not. Bernie could weld.

It would be very helpful to us if I could take this photo. Would that be all right?

Francis was beginning to look like he might be ill. Yeah, sure. Take the whole thing if you want. I’m sorry I ever met the bastard.

* *

Tommy Glenn shifted uneasily in the hard chair. His father had accompanied him to the police station and was sitting in a corner of the room, quietly observing. Ed had assured him that Tommy was not being charged and, while it was up to him if he wanted to bring a lawyer along or not, he doubted it would be necessary. Harry Glenn decided, as long as he could be present for the questioning, he’d rather not pay for a lawyer’s time.

Try and relax, Tommy, Ed said. Nobody is accusing you of doing anything wrong. We just want you to help us fill in some details about what happened when you and Bernie Ascari went to the shipyard last week to do some repairs.

Tommy swallowed. What do you want to know? He tried to control his voice but it quavered in spite of his efforts.

What time did you and Bernie arrive at the shipyard?

I’m not exactly sure. It was the middle of the morning sometime. We had a few things to do around the shop and then we loaded the tools and stuff on the truck. Then Bernie wanted to stop for some coffee and donuts on the way over. I waited in the truck while he went in and got the coffee and donuts. I don’t drink coffee so he got me some chocolate milk. He kinda makes fun of me for that but I don’t mind much.

Was there anything about Bernie that was out of the ordinary that morning?

No, Bernie was about the same as always. He never talks much.

Where did he get the coffee and donuts?

Ma’s.

On Front Street?

Yeah.

Think about it for a minute Tommy. It might not have seemed important at the time but anything you noticed might be of some use in our investigation.

Tommy wiped a hand across his crew-cut hair to show he was thinking. He did spend a while in Ma’s. I could see him through the window. He was talking on the pay phone.

Ed nodded encouragement. That’s exactly the sort of thing I’m talking about. Anything else?

No, I don’t think so.

OK, so you got to the shipyard mid-morning. The shipyard log says you signed in at 10:45. Does that seem about right to you?

Yeah. Something like that.

What can you tell us about the work that was done?

Well, a bracket on the crane had come loose and it took out one of the wires running to the electrical junction box. So we welded on a new bracket and ran a new wire. When it happened it must’ve shorted out the pendant ‘cause that was no good so we replaced that too.

Do you know anything about some titanium rods that were in the stock area?

Harry Glenn spoke up from the corner. I’m not so sure I want my boy answering that.

Ed turned to him. Mr. Glenn, I want to be clear that no one in this office has any intention of bringing charges against Tommy. We do believe a crime was committed but that Tommy was simply doing his job and wasn’t aware of the implications.

No charges?

None.

What about later?

If it became obvious during the course of the investigation that we were wrong about Tommy and he was somehow involved, then it would be a different story but I don’t think that’s going to be the case. Do you?

No. He might not be the sharpest tool in the shed but he’s honest. He didn’t commit no crime. Go ahead. Answer the man.

Tommy rubbed his head again. Sorry. What was the question?

Ed repeated. Do you know anything about some titanium rods that were in the stock area?

Well, yeah, sure. After we got the crane working again, I helped Bernie load them into the back of the truck.

Ed paused a moment. He told himself to keep it matter-of-fact. Is that a typical sort of thing to happen? Loading stock from the yard into the truck, I mean.

No, not really. Bernie said Francis had contracted a side job to move some material. The shipyard hadn’t been able to find a trucker on short notice so Francis had agreed to help them out.

Did he tell you anything else?

No, not that I remember. It was pretty cool stuff. Has this kind of gold glow to it, silvery but gold, too. And light for the size. Didn’t take long to get it on the truck.

Then what?

Well, we covered it with a tarp best we could, got the rest of our tools and stuff together and left.

Do you know what time you left the yard?

Well, the shift change was going on so it must’ve been about 3:30.

Did anyone check the truck when you left?

No. We just signed out and left.

OK. Then what?

Well, Bernie said he had a couple of stops he had to make but he’d drop me back at the office and bring the truck back there later. So that’s what he did.

What did you do after he dropped you off?

Nothing. I didn’t even go inside. That was it for the day so I just went to my car and drove home.

Did you see or hear from Bernie again after that?

Nope. The truck was there the next morning but no Bernie.

And the titanium?

Well, I guess Bernie had delivered it wherever it was supposed to go.

Yes, I imagine he did.

* *

Ed asked Michael Brooks to meet him at the Bridge Diner, south of the shipyard on Route 3A. The rusted drawbridge that inspired the diner’s name spanned the Slough River. It opened to let completed ships from the shipyard float past into the world beyond. The width of the bridge opening determined the maximum width of ship that could be built at the yard. In some cases, the clearance was a matter of a few feet. More than once, a slight pilot error had battered the old structure and caused it to be out of service for weeks. The locals were used to it.

Know this guy? Ed handed across the picture of Bernard Ascari.

The unsettled look that came over Brooks’ face gave Ed his answer. Brooks stared at the picture for awhile and then looked out the window of the diner. His untouched coffee steamed in front of him.

Well?

Why do you want to know?

We want to question him about the missing titanium. He was at the yard last week repairing a crane.

I know him as Louie Palermo.

Louie Palermo? Is that some kind of joke?

I don’t know his real name. I think maybe the Louie part is real but everybody called him Louie Palermo, so that’s what I called him, too. I never knew his real last name and I didn’t try to find out. You don’t with a guy like Louie.

Where do you know him from?

Back home. Parnassus. I never had anything to do with him directly but we knew each other well enough to nod hello in a bar, that’s about it.

When’s the last time you saw him?

Brooks now took a sip of coffee. He added some more sugar from the dispenser on the table and stirred. He left town maybe a year or two before me. So it’s at least seven or eight years. I’m not sure exactly.

You know where he went?

No idea. People said Chicago, but that’s what they usually said. Could’ve been anywhere.

What kind of things was Mr. Palermo into in Parnassus?

I don’t know anything specific but you hear stuff. He was what you might call mechanically inclined. Like if the brakes on a particular person’s car were working well and you didn’t want them to work so well for one reason or another, you could have Louie adjust them for you. Like I said, I never knew any details so don’t go leaning on me for that but you hear stuff, barroom talk, some people don’t know how to shut up when they have a snootfull.

Did you ever do any business with him?

Never. Did some of the cars I boosted end up being chopped by Louie? That’s possible but I never would’ve known it. We were at different ends of the operation.

Ed took a sip of his coffee. Sometimes you ran out of questions and had to pause for a while to wait for the next one to come to you. Other times you had plenty more questions but wanted to give the suspect a break to ponder on his predicament. Ed looked to his side and spoke to his partner. What do you think, John? Is Michael being completely open and honest with us?

John snorted. It was one of their versions of good cop/bad cop. Ed was direct and sincere, John was cynical and disbelieving. Mighty strange coincidence that two buddies from Bumfuck, Illinois end up in the same place at the same time that a load of very expensive metal disappears. I’m allergic to coincidences like that. They give me hives.

Anything to say to that Michael?

Brooks cradled his head in his hands and spoke down at the table. I went home for a visit about a year ago. That was my first fucking mistake. Now he looked up.

Ed thought he might detect tearing eyes. Either he was emotionally distraught or an excellent actor.

Brooks continued. Mainly, I went to see my sister. She’s the only one in the family who isn’t a drunk. If not for her I’d be dead or locked up somewhere, rotting away. Anyway, I went out one night to some of the old places. That was my second fucking mistake. Stupid, very stupid. I talked too damn much. I was bragging how I could steal all kinds of shit if I wanted but didn’t touch a god-damned thing ‘cause I was now the god-damnedest fucking boy scout on the planet. So I can’t tell you who it was for sure or how the word worked its way along but I’d bet anything that’s how Louie Palermo ended up at the fucking shipyard.

Michael, you have to understand that we are very far out on a very thin limb in terms of not telling them at the shipyard about your background. In fact, I doubt that it’s going to be possible to withhold that information much longer. But you have to give us some names.

Can’t do that.

Ed waved for the waitress to bring their check.

Wait. I’ll give you one name. Franklin Gibbs. Call him in Parnassus and talk to him. He’ll tell you what you need to know.

Who is Franklin Gibbs?

The Chief of Police.

* *

Franklin Gibbs. How can I help you?

Chief Gibbs, this is Detective Ed Iannucci of the Major Crimes Unit in South Adams, Massachusetts. I’m wondering if you could give me a few minutes of your time?

Gibbs looked at his watch. Fifteen minutes until his next meeting. Sure, Detective. What can Parnassus do for Massachusetts today?

I’m investigating a theft from the shipyard here in South Adams. A couple of the people involved have connections to Parnassus. One of them suggested I give you a call. He’s now known as Michael Brooks with an ‘s’ but he spelled it Brooke with an ‘e’ when he lived in Parnassus. Do you know him?

Franklin Gibbs leaned back in his swivel chair. He was a large man and the phone was small in his hand. Oh, yes, I know Mike Brooke. In fact, I’ve known him since he was in grade school. I’d heard he’d gone east and had gotten himself straightened out. I hope he hasn’t gotten himself in trouble again.

That’s part of what I’m trying to figure out. What can you tell me about him?

Gibbs exhaled slowly. "Mike grew up in difficult circumstances, alcoholic parents. When I was a patrolman just starting out, I was over at the Brooke residence so often I was practically part of the family. The social workers got Mike out of there and into foster homes, for all the good that did, which wasn’t much. Started with the cars, he went away for a while for that, then B & E. I arrested him myself for a warehouse job. We caught