Foregone Conclusion: Malone Mystery Novels, #4

By Larry Darter

When two private investigators team up to recover some ridiculously expensive stolen jewels, together, they must push their skills - and their lives - to the ultimate limit. And along the way, they discover the true meaning of loyalty and friendship...

 

When a single diamond surfaces fifteen years after an armed robbery crew pulled a daring daylight heist, the biggest jewel theft in LA history, the insurance company that absorbed the costly claim, hires Malone to look for the rest of the missing $68 million worth of the rarest and most valuable gemstones on the planet.
Finding the diamonds means Malone must first find Kyle Murray, the sole surviving member of the crew who recently completed his fifteen-year prison stretch for his part in the robbery. But Malone finds it isn't easy to find a man determined not to be found. Murray's trail takes Malone through California, then to Toronto, Canada, and finally to New Zealand.

 

While looking for Murray, Malone suddenly finds himself drawn into a deadly game of cat and mouse - and he's already several moves behind - with two other people determined to find Murray and the diamonds before he does. And their first attempt to kill Malone to rid themselves of the competition is only the beginning...

 

Malone and his former protégé, Honolulu P.I. and New Zealand ex-pat T. J. O'Sullivan, team up once again. And they must find Kyle Murray and the diamonds fast - while heading for a showdown that may well be their last.

 

Foregone Conclusion is the fourth novel in the thrilling Malone Private Investigator Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers. If you like breathtaking action, and laugh-out-loud humor, with a hint of romance, then you'll love this edge-of-your-seat detective story. Perfect for fans of Robert B. Parker's Spencer, Raymond Chandler's Philip Marlowe, and Ace Atkins' Quinn Colson. You may enjoy reading the Malone series in any order.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Larry Darter
• Release date: Sep 11, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386663072

Larry Darter

Larry Darter is an American author best known for his crime fiction novels written about the fictional private detective Malone. He is a former U.S. Army infantry officer, and a retired law enforcement officer. He lives with his family in Oklahoma.

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Larry Darter

Foregone Conclusion

Malone Novels, #4

First published by Fedora Press 2018

Copyright © 2018 by Larry Darter

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Larry Darter asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Larry Darter has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

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This book is gratefully dedicated to my cherished friend Jessica, without whose encouragement, good advice, and good cheer, none of the Malone books would have been written. Her friendship makes this world a much better place. Thanks Jess.

"Othello:

O monstrous, monstrous!

Iago:

Nay, this was but his dream.

Othello:

But this denoted a foregone conclusion.

Iago:

‘Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream,

And this may help to thicken other proofs,

That do demonstrate thinly."

— Shakespeare (Othello: Act 3, Scene 3)

Contents

1. The Heist

2. Let Her Buck

3. Dinner for Two

4. To the Hunt

5. The Halfway House

6. Collecting Intel

7. Torture and Murder

8. Prison Visit

9. Ojai

10. An Alias Uncovered

11. A Lead

12. Hello Mickey Finn

13. Hospital Visitors

14. Toronto

15. Interview Gone Bad

16. Getting Out of Dodge

17. Back in LA

18. Good News and Bad News

19. Legal Advice

20. Delgado and Hawkins

21. Auckland, New Zealand

22. Gun Shopping

23. The Ferry

24. The Search Begins

25. Skippers Road

26. Rescued

27. Macetown

28. Kyle Murray

29. Chaos

30. Solving a Riddle

31. The Diamonds

32. Back to Queenstown

33. End of the Line

34. Gay Paree

About the Author

Also by Larry Darter

1

The Heist

It was 4:45 on a Friday afternoon in 2003. A black Ford cargo van stopped out front of the Los Angeles Diamond Exchange on South Hill Street. Three men wearing expensive business suits got out of the vehicle. After glancing around, they walked into the showroom. Concealed under the suits, their automatic weapons aroused no suspicion. The diamond wholesaler was due to close for the day in fifteen minutes. The expensive suits helped deflect any suspicion about that, too. Each member of the trio carried two spare magazines for their weapons. They planned to do a lot of shooting during the next few minutes.

Once inside the lobby, two of the men took up the positions they had planned in advance. Both stood near the armed guard stationed at one end of the showroom. The men pretended to examine the loose diamonds displayed in long glass and metal cases. The third man walked up to an employee standing behind one of the display counters near the front. He asked to speak to the manager on duty. The employee nodded and left the counter to get the manager. The man at the counter gave a small cough. That was the prearranged signal for the three to don the black ski masks they had brought with them.

The security guard was eyeing the man at the front counter. After slipping on his ski mask, the man closest to the security guard pulled a small sap from his hip pocket. Without warning, he whirled around and struck the guard on the side of the head. The guard dropped unconscious to the floor. At the same moment, the other two men whipped out their Heckler & Koch MP5 sub-machine guns. Both turned to face the few remaining customers and the exchange employees. They fired long uninterrupted bursts over their heads.

The men fired weapons, having a cyclical rate of fire of eight hundred rounds per minute. It required only about two seconds for the men to empty the thirty-round magazines. The noise from the two sub-machine guns firing inside the enclosed space was deafening. Spent brass cartridge cases skittered along the marble floor. One man shouted for everyone to get on the floor. Most of those in the showroom had already done that when the shooting had started. And the rest followed suit in a hurry. The two shooters reloaded their sub-machine guns with fresh magazines. The third man menaced the customers and employees on the floor, waving his MP5 at them.

One man disarmed the unconscious security guard. He tucked the guard’s service revolver into his waistband. Then he bound the guard’s hands behind his back with a plastic zip tie. Another of the men strode to the glass front doors. He locked the doors and then closed the mini blinds installed on them. In less than a minute, he had closed all the blinds covering the plate-glass windows at the front of the showroom too. Afterward, there was no risk of passersby seeing inside the showroom. No one would alert the police to three armed men wearing ski masks inside the diamond exchange.

The man who had asked to speak with the manager announced the trio did not intend to harm anyone. That was as long as everyone stayed on the floor and kept quiet. He was the one who seemed in charge witnesses told the police later. He then walked over to the manager and demanded the woman’s keys. She removed a blue plastic coil wristband that held a ring full of keys and handed it to the man.

Two of the men focused their attention and weapons on the employees and customers. The third man unlocked the display cases one by one. He started dumping the trays of loose diamonds into a gray nylon bag that he had pulled from one of his pockets. The man palmed the contents of one small tray and put the gemstones into the front pocket of his pants. He then finished emptying the rest of the cases. It took less than three minutes for him to empty all the display cases. Once all the diamonds in the showroom were in the nylon bag, he announced the trio was leaving. He warned everyone to remain on the floor. He warned them he would shoot anyone who tried to be a hero by following them out of the building.

The crew then unlocked the front doors and left the showroom with the diamonds. After exiting the building, all three men took off the ski masks and put on sunglasses. They strode to the van, got in, and the vehicle drove away.

The driver drove the van to a parking lot six blocks from the diamond wholesaler. He parked the van, and the men got out. One man placed a firebomb in the van’s rear cargo hold. The trio exited the parking lot in three different cars moments before the timer triggered the bomb. They had staged the vehicles in the lot before the robbery. The explosion and fire destroyed the van, weapons, and any evidence left behind. The men had agreed to meet up at a prearranged location in San Diego three days later to divide the diamonds.

2

Let Her Buck

Waldo’s restaurant is on North Canyon Drive, a street that runs north from Wilshire Boulevard. It’s just down from the Golden Triangle. It is Beverly Hills, the same way that Rodeo Drive and the Greystone Mansion are Beverly Hills. The decor is modernistic. It’s California Chic with a sleek black-and-white dining room and glassed-in patio. The waitstaff wears uniforms that look like tuxedos, minus the jacket. Sans jacket is a nod to the typical warm and balmy Southern California climate.

Locals regard Waldo’s as one of the best spots in town, not only for celebrity sightings but also for luxury dining. It’s a shrine to the excesses of Beverly Hills and a tribute to how exhilarating those excesses can be. I’d never dined at Waldo’s before. The scuttlebutt was it wasn’t uncommon for the check for lunch and drinks for two to run to several hundred bucks. I wondered if they took American Express. Or was the restaurant one of those supercilious establishments that only accepted Visa?

It didn’t matter. I didn’t need American Express or Visa. I wasn’t paying. Stewart Wilkins was paying. He probably didn’t need a credit card either. He was paying with his company’s money. I ordered the grilled prime rib eye steak, the cowboy cut, as those in American restaurants term a bone-in rib eye. I had roasted carrots, grilled haricots vert, and sauce bordelaise to go with it. Wilkins ordered the cod.

Wilkins’ company was Great Western Marine and Casualty, a commercial insurance company. They made twenty-five billion bucks a year insuring precious, but risky, property. They insured things like ocean-going oil tankers and very expensive gems like diamonds.

And two more drinks, if you please, Wilkins said to the server.

Certainly, sir, the server said, before taking our menus and scurrying away.

Wilkins finished his scotch and soda. Do you only drink beer, Mr. Malone?

Not always. I’ll have a cocktail or wine sometimes, but not at lunch. Drinking spirits or wine in the middle of the day makes me sleepy. Besides, I like beer.

The server returned with another bottle of Steigl for me and another Chivas and soda for Wilkins.

I see, Wilkins said. So you’re the type of man who only does what he likes?

Mostly, except when I can’t.

Wilkins sipped some more Chivas. I wondered whether that was his usual manner when drinking liquor or whether he didn’t wish me to think him a lush.

Except when you can’t?

In my profession, you can’t always do what you like. Sometimes you have to do things you don’t like to do things that are necessary.

Wilkins smiled. Ah, I see, he said. I doubted seriously that he did.

While it seemed he was making small talk, I knew he was sizing me up. I expected that. Most people didn’t have a clue about hiring a private detective. A new prospective client always avoided coming to the point immediately. They delayed getting to the reason they felt the need to hire someone like me. They avoided that until they decided whether they could trust me to solve their problem.

Do you carry a firearm?

Yes, I said.

The server brought a salad for me and wild mushroom soup for Wilkins.

How tall are you? he said.

Six-three.

How much do you weigh?

Two-twenty, this morning when I weighed at the gym after my workout.

You seem quite fit. How often do you work out?

I run most days and hit the weights a few times a week, I said.

I suppose staying fit is important for a man in your line of work.

Indispensable, I said.

Wilkins swallowed a spoonful of soup and then washed it down with the rest of his scotch.

You were with the Los Angeles Police Department for a time?

Yes, I said.

Why did you leave law enforcement?

My supervisors thought me incorrigible, I said.

Were you?

I prefer to think of it like this, I said. I wasn’t afraid to bend the rules when they needed bending to get the job done. My supervisors found that unsettling.

Were you dismissed from the force?

No, I resigned, I said. But to be fair, the movers and shakers at the LAPD weren’t sad to see me go.

The server brought our entrees.

I’m told you’re a very tough man.

You betcha, tough as old boots, meaner than a junkyard dog.

I was also told that you are—and I’m quoting here—a sarcastic son-of-a-bitch who can be a real pain in the ass, Wilkins said. Though my source added you could be relied upon to get the job done when hired to solve a problem that required your unique set of skills.

Whew, I said. For a moment, I thought you had been speaking with my ex-wife.

Wilkins ate a couple of bites of cod. He appeared to be mid-fifties and fit for his age. A swimmer perhaps, or maybe a cyclist. I tried to visualize him wearing tights and one of those silly helmets. He wore designer steel-gray metal half-rim glasses, the style you see a lot of in Europe. He had a square-jawed face and a salt-and-pepper buzz cut like Brad Pitt sported a few years ago. Even with his not-quite-British, not-quite-American accent, that affected Faux-British elocution taught in east coast finishing schools or learned for use in the theater, it was clear Wilkins was no softy.

Is Great Western Marine and Casualty planning to commission my biography, or did you want to hire me to rough someone up? I said.

Wilkins smiled again, but not like he planned to invite me over for Thanksgiving dinner. Actually, there is this insurance regulator that works for the State of California that I find annoying. I’m kidding. To answer your question, no, I didn’t ask you to lunch for either of those reasons. He ate a couple of bites of lotus root from his plate. Do you know much about diamonds?

Not much, I said. My crown is in my heart, not on my head; not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, nor to be seen. My crown is called content, a crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.

King Henry the Sixth? Wilkins said.

Yep. I have an intellectual friend, a psychiatrist, and she reads to me sometimes.

Wilkins frowned for a moment. He seemed unable to decide whether my remark had been frank or sardonic. Well, no doubt you know they are very valuable.

Yes, I said. I guess that’s why Mark Twain said, let us not be too particular; it is better to have old secondhand diamonds than none at all.

Yes, anyway, among other property, my company insures diamonds. That is to say, we insure jewelry stores and diamond dealers against losses from theft, that sort of thing. The reason I asked you here is this. I wish to discuss the possibility of you undertaking an investigation into the theft of some very rare and valuable diamonds. My company had insured them. When a band of armed robbers stole them, we absorbed a very significant loss.

A recent robbery? I said.

Actually, no, Wilkins said. Have you ever heard about the Los Angeles Diamond Exchange robbery that occurred in 2003?

Actually, I have, I said. It was a little before my time on the cops, given that it happened over fifteen years ago. I must have been about sixteen when it happened. But, I recall the news stories on television from back then. The robbery got a lot of press coverage. After all, wasn’t it the biggest jewel heist in the history of Los Angeles?

Indeed, it was, Wilkins said. It still holds that dubious distinction. At any rate, that is what I wished to talk with you about. My company paid out a small fortune to cover the loss from that robbery.

Correct me if I’m wrong, I said, but I seem to recall that the police got the crew that pulled that robbery. I thought the cops recovered those stolen diamonds. You mean to say that your company has paid a recent claim connected to that heist?

Oh, heavens no, Wilkins said. You have an excellent memory recalling what you saw on television over fifteen years ago. But, the authorities did not release to the media all the information about the theft, or robbery rather. The police thoroughly investigated the case back then, the LAPD, and so did our own internal fraud investigators. At one point, even the FBI got involved. The authorities quickly identified the three perpetrators. Two of them subsequently died in a shootout during a confrontation with the California Highway Patrol on the I-5 north of San Diego. The police arrested the third man, a Mr. Kyle Murray, a short time after that. Murray went to trial, and the court convicted and sentenced him to prison.

Ah-ha, I said.

Excuse me?

The reason behind your invitation to lunch is taking shape, I said. The robbery suspects were all accounted for, but the cops didn’t recover all the stolen diamonds. Hence, the loss your company absorbed and the reason you’re looking to employ me. A search for the missing diamonds and an attempt to recover them.

I sipped a little beer. I couldn’t have Wilkins thinking I was a lush either.

Yes, exactly, Wilkins said.

But, I guess I still don’t understand something, I said. I assume the authorities and your company must have done a thorough search for the diamonds back then. What I don’t understand is why you’re thinking of mounting a new search now, fifteen years after the fact.

Actually, here is what happened, the part that was not fully reported in the press, Wilkins said. Yes, the authorities recovered the bulk of the stolen diamonds. They recovered most of them from the vehicle driven by the two suspects killed by the state police. But, despite the very thorough investigation and search years ago, they never recovered an even dozen diamonds taken in the robbery. Those are the gems my company paid out the large claim on, and the ones we wish to employ you to search for.

But if you didn’t have any luck finding them back then, what makes you believe you can find them now? Why pay someone like me to look for the diamonds after over fifteen years have passed?

A recent development makes us believe a reasonable chance to recover those diamonds exists, Wilkins said. After all the years that have passed, there has been a break in the case. Someone with your skills might find and recover those missing diamonds."

What development? I said.

Let me explain, Wilkins said. Mr. Kyle Murray, the third suspect that the police captured alive, received a fifteen year prison sentence for the robbery. When the police questioned him, he insisted he was the junior member of the robbery crew. He claimed his accomplices had possession of all the diamonds from the time of the robbery until they died in the shootout with the authorities. Murray told the police the three of them intended to meet up in San Diego three days after the robbery to divide the diamonds. That was the day the state police found them and his accomplices died. Afterward, Murray did his time, always denying any knowledge of what happened to the diamonds that remained missing. During those years Murray was in prison, none of the missing diamonds ever surfaced.

So, based on that, that the missing diamonds never surfaced while Murray was in prison, you’re assuming Murray lied to the cops? You believe he had the diamonds all along and stashed them somewhere before his arrest.

Actually, it’s far more than only that, Wilkins said. Murray’s sentence is up. The state paroled him three weeks ago. Coincidentally, ten days after Murray’s parole, one of the twelve missing diamonds surfaced.

Where? I said.

Toronto, Canada, Wilkins said. "The stone came into the possession of a Toronto man. The Toronto authorities charitably describe him as an unscrupulous dealer in jewelry, gemstones, and precious metals."

A fence, a thiefspawn? I said.

Yes, exactly, Wilkins said. "In fact, the man was already under surveillance by the Toronto police. He was a suspect in other nefarious activities unrelated to the diamonds we’ve been discussing. Based on the intelligence collected, they executed a search warrant on the man’s establishment in the unrelated matters. During the inventory of the seized property,