Lack of Candor: Carson Reno Mystery Series, #18

By Gerald Darnell

All Carson Reno Mystery Series Books are standalone novels. It is not necessary to read them in any particular order.
It's spring 1962 and a Sergeant with the Memphis Police Department is found dead only hours before his scheduled testimony before a grand jury.
Was it suicide or was it murder? What was he going to testify about?
A handwritten note left by the Sergeant and addressed to the District Attorney disappears. What was in the note? Was it a suicide note with information regarding his pending testimony or something else?
A woman claiming to have information related to his planned testimony comes forward and seeks protection.
Carson is hired to look into the matter and provide protection to the mysterious woman, but protection from whom?
The situation gets out of hand quickly, and Carson finds himself in trouble with most everybody involved. A dark cloud hangs over the truth, as he tries to determine the 'good-guys' from the 'bad-guys' from the 'bad good - guys'.
This old fashion crime story takes Carson Reno and his crew on a complicated adventure, where it seems that no one is looking for a solution.
Join our Cast of Characters and come along to help Carson find the clues and discover the truth, while he tries to understand why everyone has a serious:

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gerald Darnell
• Release date: May 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393207863

Book preview

a novel by

Gerald W. Darnell

http://www.carsonrenomysteryseries.com

http://www.geraldwdarnell.com

https://carsonreno.wixsite.com/website

Copyright © 2019 by Gerald W. Darnell

Published by cr press

ISBN: xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews, without written permission from the publisher.

Gerald W. Darnell

[e-mail]

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to a real person, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Be sure to check out Carson Reno’s other Mystery Adventures

Murder in Humboldt

The Price of Beauty in Strawberry Land

Killer Among Us

Horse Tales

SUnset  4

the Crossing

the Illegals

the Everglades

Dead Men Don’t Remember

The Fingerprint Murders

Reelfoot

Justifiable Homicide

Dead End

Murder and More

Deadly decision

Shadows & lies

Murder my Darling

Cast of Characters

Carson Reno - Private Detective

Joe Richardson – Associate Drake Detective Agency

Lydia Longstreet – Associate Drake Detective Agency

‘Carson’ – The English Bulldog

Nickie and Ronnie Woodson – Owners of Chief’s

Rita - Hostess Starlight Lounge

Marcie – Peabody Hotel Operator/Secretary

Andy – Bartender ‘the Down Under’

Leroy Epsee – Sheriff Gibson County

Captain Chip Falstaff – Tennessee Highway Patrol

Jack Logan – Attorney /Partner

Martin Greene – Sergeant Memphis Police Department

Mary Ann Greene – wife of Martin Greene

Adele Adora – Martin Greene’s girlfriend

Cicero Grimes – retired detective Shelby County Sheriff’s Office

Captain Claude Langley – Captain Fourth Precinct

Clarence ‘Pearly’ Gates - Informant

Louie ‘Lucky’ Canetto - Gangster

Lucy Chapman – photographer at the Silver Slipper

Theodore ‘Spider’ Webb – cab driver

Danny Diamond – Owner/operator of the Silver Slipper

Payton Day – Attorney

Detective Keith Gamble – Memphis Police

Tommy Gunn – Gangster

Doctor Phillip Collins - Coroner

Dedication

Linda H. Donoho

8/25/47 - 8/3/18

Contribution Credits

Mary Ann Sizer Fisher

Judy Steele Minnehan

Elizabeth Tillman White

Material Credits

Humboldt Public Library

Gibson County Historical

Courier Chronicle

Strawberry Museum

Libby Lynch

Hank Salyer

Lack of Candor

Can-dor  (kan`dēr),  n  1.  the quality of being open-minded or fair.  2.  honesty in expressing oneself; sincerity.

It’s spring 1962 and a Sergeant with the Memphis Police Department is found dead only hours before his scheduled testimony before a grand jury.

Was it suicide or was it murder?  What was he going to testify about?

A handwritten note left by the Sergeant and addressed to the District Attorney disappears. What was in the note? Was it a suicide note with information regarding his pending testimony or something else?

A woman claiming to have information related to his planned testimony comes forward and seeks protection.

Carson is hired to look into the matter and provide protection to the mysterious woman, but protection from whom?

The situation gets out of hand quickly, and Carson finds himself in trouble with most everybody involved. A dark cloud hangs over the truth, as he tries to determine the ‘good-guys’ from the ‘bad-guys’ from the ‘bad good - guys’.

This old fashion crime story takes Carson Reno and his crew on a complicated adventure, where it seems that no one is looking for a solution.

Join our Cast of Characters and come along to help Carson find the clues and discover the truth, while he tries to understand why everyone has a serious:

Lack of Candor

...truth is not always the right answer...

Prologue

Beginning

Adele Adora

Lost

Bad Guys

Found

Silver Slipper

Party

Sunday

Mary Ann Greene

Slip of the Lip

Candor

About the Author

––––––––

‘Life is Cheap – Make Sure You Buy Enough’ ®

Carson Reno

Prologue

It started with a woman – it always starts with a woman.

~

Her makeup was running, her lipstick didn’t look right, eye shadow wasn’t working its magic and the dress she was trying to wear didn’t fit. But, it really didn’t matter.

Regardless of how she looked, that no-good husband of hers was going to take her out tonight or he’d find his belongings scattered across the front yard tomorrow morning.  She’d had enough of his actions, attitude and neglect. All the bastard ever did was work, and now it was time for him to pay some attention to her.

Her first husband hadn’t been any better, and now that she thought about it – he’d probably been much worse. But she’d made him pay for his transgressions, and then used his ashes for fish food. The poor bastard never saw it coming. And if things didn’t improve between her and Martin, he’d find himself in a similar situation. She had already started with plans to make that happen.

~

Today was their tenth wedding anniversary and he’d not so much as mentioned it. It was just another day for a man who worshiped his work and friends more than his wife.

He made good money, which was most unusual for a police Sergeant – but she never asked questions. The mortgage got paid, they each had a car to drive and there was usually a few extra dollars in their small bank account. However, she always had the suspicion that there was more...more money somewhere. Regardless, she never saw more than what it took to buy groceries and maintain the house. Other than her whiskey, cigarettes and an occasional trip to the beauty parlor, not one damn dime was ever provided to her to use for HERSELF.

There were other women – she knew it, just couldn’t prove it. Lipstick stains on his shirt collar, perfume aroma on his suit jacket, late nights that were excused by work, and of course he always had a good reason for everything – police work. She knew better. This was going to stop, and tonight was the night that was going to happen.  It was time for Mary Ann Greene to stand her ground, stand up for herself and demand something from this stinking marriage - something that had been a long time in coming.

His job as Sergeant with the Memphis Police Department’s Fourth Precinct had about as much glamor as his dirty underwear, which she washed regularly without ever getting so much as a ‘thank you’. He was a cop because his father had been a cop and because his father’s father had been a cop. He wasn’t a cop because he wanted to catch bad guys or ‘Protect and Serve’. He was a cop simply because that’s what he was supposed to be, there was no other reason.

But she knew he did enjoy his work, at least the parts of it she got to see. There were always tickets for ballgames, boxing matches or concerts (provided by some unknown citizen), and she would occasionally get to ‘tag along’ if it was convenient or another cop was bringing his wife. She got to ‘tag along’ provided she didn’t talk too much, drink too much or interfere with their silly police games – which usually involved pushing some innocent civilian around.

As reward for her obedience she might get a lousy $10.00 to buy more laundry detergent – or perhaps an extra $5.00 to get her nails done.  But she never saw any real money...any real money to spend on herself.

~

She leaned back in her chair, retrieved a burning cigarette from an ashtray and glared at the aging face staring back at her from the dresser mirror. These past few years had been hard, and despite being only thirty-five, what she saw in the mirror reminded her of her mother – dead at fifty and looking like she was eighty. That wasn’t going to happen to her; she needed to find a way out of this mess – a way to be something more than the wife of a cop. A cop who would never be anything more than a cop - a nobody.

Drinking the last swallow of whiskey, she looked down at the glass and the remains of her lipstick smeared on the rim.

Damn, she said, before throwing the glass against the wall and watching it break into hundreds of pieces. Damn Martin Greene, damn those bastards he works for and damn you world for taking away the best years of my life!

She stood, clutched the robe covering her ill-fitting dress and took a step toward the door.  It was time to confront Martin, tell him her feelings and get these problems out in the open. Time for him to live up to all the promises he’d made, but forgotten to deliver. It was time for things to change.

Then she heard the sound – a loud sound.  It echoed through her bedroom and she froze for a moment as a cold chill ran up her spine. It was a sound she’d heard before, but never so close and never in her house. It was a gunshot!

~

Racing down the stairs, across the hallway and then into her husband’s study, she stopped at the open door – staring at what she saw. Her first thought was disbelief; somebody was playing a joke. What she was looking at could not be real.

Continuing to stare, the realization of the moment slowly became clear – but still unbelievable.  Taking a step back and a deep breath her body quivered in fear for just an instant, before being overcome with an emotion she didn’t fully understand. Her husband, Martin Greene, was lying across his desk with blood rushing from his head - blood flowing around the desk and then onto the carpet and floor. A gun lay nearby and an envelope was clutched in his outstretched right hand.

The world seemed to stop for a moment, and she continued to stare at the lifeless body sitting in a chair with their arms extended across the desk.  She was not really thinking, just staring.

That was her husband.  That was his gun and it was definitely his blood rushing out onto the desk, floor and carpet.

What was this feeling – the emotion she didn’t understand?  It wasn’t shock, it wasn’t remorse or sadness and it wasn’t fear – fear that perhaps this wasn’t a suicide but instead a murder, and the killer could still be in the house and maybe in this room.  What she was feeling was absolutely nothing – no emotion at all.  Not even anger at Martin for ruining her beautiful carpet and making her deal with what lie ahead. And all this happening on their wedding anniversary - how could he do such a thing?  How could he be so cruel?

It took a few moments, but her mind slowly returned to the present and conscience thoughts began to race though her head. Things had to be done, people had to be notified, the police needed to be called, reports had to be made, friends and neighbors must be told.  Then everyone would know what had happened here – what had happened to her husband. 

She reached for the phone on the edge of the bloody desk, but stopped before picking it up.  Maybe it would be better to use another phone – the one in the kitchen might be safer.  That’s what the police on television always said ‘Don’t disturb anything at the scene of the crime.’ ‘Leave everything as you found it’, and ‘Just the facts mam...just the facts’ is what Joe Friday said on Dragnet every Saturday night.

But, was this really a crime? Is suicide a crime? Did he shoot himself, or did someone else do it for him?

She wanted to leave and make the phone call, but simply could not take her eyes off the envelope clutched in her dead husband’s right hand. Was this a suicide note?  What did it say? Was it a reason for killing himself, or just another way of putting more hurt and pain on her?

Maybe he’d written something that she didn’t want the world to know about.  Maybe it was something about her.  It would be just like the bastard to use his dying words to inflict more pain. This would just be more proof that he didn’t care what happened to her.

She had to know, and know without some policeman telling her about it.  He was dead, but he owed her that and she wasn’t going to let it happen.

Grabbing the blood stained envelope, she took a few steps backward before looking at it. The envelope wasn’t sealed and written across the back was ‘For the District Attorney’ – it was definitely Martin’s handwriting.

Removing the multiple pieces of paper inside, she read the first page, sat down on a nearby chair and read the others. Could this actually be true?   Could these people he wrote about be real? Could Martin Greene, Sergeant with the Memphis Police Department actually mean for this information to go to the District Attorney?  Is this why he had taken his life...or was there another reason?

Giving it a little more thought, she put the pieces of paper back in the envelope and then stuffed it in the pocket of her robe. The police weren’t going to see what Martin wrote; they weren’t going to see his last words.  Mary Ann Blackwood Greene had different plans for this information. It was dynamite, and just the dynamite she needed to open up a path for a whole new life for herself – one that Martin Greene could have never imagined.

~

Our story begins several hours later and 1200 miles away. I’m in Miami, Florida chasing a case for my good friend and lawyer, Jack Logan.

––––––––

Beginning

This muggy and warm day in Miami sent most people searching for ocean breezes, sandy beaches and cool drinks with little umbrellas in them. My search was for a man named Iaam Trouble. Not sure where he got his first name, or his last name, but I did know the name fit. This guy was bad news.

My associate Joe Richardson was working in Mississippi on a case for Black Diamond Insurance. My other associate, Lydia Longstreet was...well...I’m sure Lydia was doing something, I just didn’t know what that something was.

Using airplanes and rental cars I had traveled through the Southeastern United States – finally ending up in Miami. I was searching for a person suspected to be heavily involved in a case being handled by Jack Logan. Jack’s client was accused of murdering his business partner, but my investigations had uncovered a blackmail plot by the murdered business partner.  He was blackmailing a fellow named Iaam Trouble. The reasons for the blackmail were a little sketchy, so I needed to find Mr. Trouble and get his side of the story.  Also maybe find a murder weapon, and perhaps recover some money and documents missing from the murder scene. Documents that I believed were relevant to the blackmail, and money I suspect had been paid to Mr. Iaam Trouble.

~

Jack Logan is my lawyer and partner; he’s also a good friend.  He’s not ‘officially’ my partner; however, we do work together on a number of cases, and the business he brings the Drake Detective Agency is always welcomed.

Jack’s law practice is small when compared to most of the firms in Memphis, but he’s always busy. Because it’s small, Jack is able to provide the kind of personal service that the larger firms can’t, and that was important. Besides, he’s also a damn good lawyer.

Ocean drive Miami

I’d chased Iaam Trouble from Memphis to Mobile to Pensacola to Jacksonville to Orlando to Miami and finally to South Beach. He’d left a lot of clues with his travels, so I was pretty sure that he wasn’t aware he was being followed.  He was also dropping a lot of cash as he traveled – mostly on women and booze.

This guy was definitely not hard to trail, but it seemed every time I got close, he pulled up stakes and was on the move again. I was pretty sure he was the killer and had information that would clear Jack’s client - I just needed to pin him down and somehow get that information. So far I had not been successful in doing that.

When he finally landed in South Beach and checked into a sleazy hotel on Collins Avenue, I knew it was time to make things happen.  Jack’s client was running out of time and I was running out of patience.

After getting myself a room at the Beacon Hotel on Ocean Boulevard, I took a cab over to Collins Avenue and made camp in his hotel’s downstairs bar. Trying to pace my drinking, I was struggling to remain anonymous and not bring any attention to myself.  Considering all the distractions found in South Beach, that wasn’t an easy task.

I needed Iaam Trouble occupied for fifteen or twenty minutes,  giving me an opportunity to get into his room and search for missing documents and perhaps a murder weapon. However, he wasn’t cooperating. For some reason he had remained in his room since checking in. I suspected maybe a prostitute or someone else had joined him and my idea of camping