Finding Aaron Laws: A Walter Spotsman (Spots ) Mystery

By Joseph DeMark

When the enthusiastic visions of a bright seventeen year old man catapult him into the dark world of drugs and violence, he negotiates a life changing agreement with the devil himself. Aaron Laws finds himself running for his life with no destination in sight. The blue barrel of a large caliber revolver aimed point blank at his head, and the thermal trauma about to take place in his life, jolt him back to reality.
After Bob and Linda Laws retain case-hardened private detective Walter Spotsman (Spots) to find their son, Aaron, they are brutally assassinated on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. When Spots is informed of the couple’s violent murder, he pledges to find Aaron Laws, dead or alive. Spots’ committed path to finding the young man, hurls him into the intrigue and danger of the underworld’s hierarchy. His unmeasurable tenacity ignites a forceful finale.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Dec 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483422626

Book preview

districts.

CHAPTER ONE

I t was eleven p.m. Saturday. Snow and freezing rain drenched a young man’s body lying in a trash filled alley in southwest Philadelphia. His large, muscular frame lay lifeless from gunshot wounds to his head. His bloodied face was unidentifiable. There were scattered brass bullet casings, and two empty pizza boxes, next to his body, offering the only evidence left behind by the killers. The pizza boxes, with what looked like pizza sauce stains, were torn into large pieces.

The sound of sirens broke through the night’s silence. They became louder as the emergency response vehicles rushed closer to the crime scene. A young woman stood motionless next to the body, awaiting the arrival of the EMS bus and police. Her frantic call to 911, just two minutes earlier, also summoned a crime response team. The alley, which she so often walked, was a shortcut to her apartment. The gruesome find propelled her into a state of shock. She was transfixed by the motionless body, unaware the police had arrived; a deep voice behind her broke the trance.

Miss…Miss, are you all right? I’m Sergeant Bill Strack, Strack said, running to the aid of the young lady. The rain dripped off his plastic covered service hat and poured down the front of his yellow raincoat like little rivers to the pavement. What is your name, ma’am? What is your name? Strack asked, trying desperately to make eye contact. Sergeant Strack is a twenty year veteran of the Philadelphia Police Department. He was born and raised in the Badlands of Philadelphia. He worked his way up through the ranks at the 26th. At the age of forty six, he finds time to work out at the department gym every day and his muscular physique is the envy of many of his colleagues.

The woman looked up at Strack with a vacant stare. The cold rain streaming down from her short brown hair onto her face was turning her skin red. Her eyes were wide with terror, and she was unable to utter a sound. She turned toward Strack and shook her head slowly.

Lead emergency responders, now present at the scene, were shouting out commands to subordinates. Unmoving, seemingly in a state of shock, the young lady still showed no awareness of the chaos occurring around her. Several moments passed, then she said unexpectedly, I’m okay. I’m Teresa…Teresa Meldon. I was on my way home when I saw this shape on the ground. It looked like a big clump of old rags at first. When I got closer, I couldn’t believe what I saw. I called 911 and knelt down to see if I could help him….but there isn’t anything left of his face…..I couldn’t help him….there’s nothing left of his face. Oh my God! Teresa shouted, holding her hands to her face. Oh my God!

Her slim legs started to crumble beneath her. Sergeant Strack lunged forward, catching her limp, slender body before she collapsed to the wet pavement.

I need someone over here. Now! Strack ordered. He cradled her in his arms then, with one effortless move, lifted her gently and carried her to his police unit. She leaned forward in the back seat of the police unit and sobbed into her trembling hands.

An EMS Technician ran to Strack’s car, lugging a medical bag in one hand and a bright flash light in the other.

This is the individual that called in the 911. Her name is Teresa Meldon. She seems to be in shock. I don’t want anyone near her but me, especially the press. You got that? Strack ordered, brushing the rain from his full black eyebrows.

Yes, Sarge. I gotta move her to the bus where I can examine her better. Is that ok?

Yes, Sergeant Strack replied. Strack, the SIC (sergeant in charge) of the crime scene, was well into the procedures of securing the crime scene. The victim was covered with a rain proof tarp. The crime scene was cordoned off with yellow tape. High powered flood lights encircled the area, and casting eerie shadows onto the nearby buildings. The unknown body lay in the alley awaiting Mira Illsop, Medical Examiner (ME) for the city of Philadelphia.

A black SUV drove directly up to the yellow crime scene tape. A plainclothes detective jumped from the driver’s seat and hurriedly approached the rear passenger door. He paused briefly, then opened the door. A well-dressed man, about six foot four, stepped out of the SUV, and walked toward the victim. The word spread instantaneously among the law enforcement personnel that Fred Harris, Chief of Detectives, was on the scene.

Fred Harris, Chief of Detectives, was a decorated Marine with twenty-five years of service in the Philadelphia Police Department. He has earned the respect of his fellow officers by his hands on approach in the department.

Is Captain Rodriguez here? Harris asked, pulling his overcoat closed at the waist. He walked closer to the body, and slowly shook his head. Damn.

Yes sir. He’s over there with Sergeant Strack, one of the uniformed officers said, pointing to the EMS bus.

Harris approached the group gathered around the EMS bus, stopping a few feet short of the vehicle, and waited. It was obvious Strack and O. Rod were interviewing and tending to a witness, who was sitting inside the backseat of the vehicle.

O. Rod looked up and saw Chief Harris. Excuse me, Miss Meldon. I need to talk with that gentleman. Strack, take down everything she can give us. I need to see the Chief, O. Rod said, pointing his thumb in the Chief’s direction. Captain Oscar Rodriguez, ‘O. Rod’, as many of his friends call him, was promoted to Captain after bringing a major crime family to justice. His honesty and integrity are beyond reproach.

Hi, Chief. This doesn’t look good.

Hey, O. Rod, what do we have?

We have a young male, maybe twenty years old. He has multiple gunshot wounds to the face. He has no ID…uh…looks like a pizza delivery guy. We got a couple of torn, empty pizza boxes next to him. There are no names on the boxes. We’ll know more when Mira gets here. Oh, one more thing, he has a fresh tattoo on his right wrist. It looks like a shamrock. It doesn’t look like a gang banger type tattoo.

Tough side of the city for the young lady to be taking shortcuts through alleys. Anyone else around here see anything? Any witnesses? Harris knew finding someone forthcoming in the Badlands was next to impossible.

No sir. No one’s offered up anything. We have a team of uniforms going door to door trying to get something. This neighborhood doesn’t give up much information.

I have a meeting downtown. I’d like to know what Mira has to say. Keep me in the loop.

Yes sir, he watched Harris walk back to his vehicle and drive off."

The mix of rain and snow was falling harder. The cold air caused small traces of snow to form on the ground and on the back door of the EMS vehicle. O. Rod brushed the snow from the window and peeked inside. The EMS techs had placed an oxygen mask on the witness. Strack stepped away, wiping the steaming sweat from his forehead. Looks like I have to wait, O. Rod mumbled. He pulled up the collar of his raincoat around the back of his neck and returned to where the victim was lying. His large frame over-shadowed Mira Illsop. Mira, the Philly ME, was kneeling, hunched over the victim, with a long metal body thermometer in her hand. Mira has covered most of the high profile crimes in the city and been instrumental in analyzing difficult crimes. Mira saw O. Rod approaching, wiped the thermometer clean with a white cloth, and stood to speak to him.

Hi Captain; we got a tough one here. The vic was killed with a vengeance. It’s hard to tell how many times the man was shot. I might be able to tell you that when we get him to the lab. But you can bet he wasn’t shot here. Whoever did this, did it somewhere else and dumped the body here. The shell casings have no pattern from ejecting out of a weapon, and there’s no blood. Even in these weather conditions, the wounds would have bled him out on the spot, and there would be much more blood under his body. They were trying like hell to make some kind of statement.

What’s the TOD? O. Rod asked.

Time of death, by the temperature of his body and the weather conditions, I say about three to five hours ago. I can give more information once I get him to the lab. The Crime Scene Unit is bagging everything in sight, including the two torn pizza boxes. If they find any skin tissue on the boxes, which I doubt, I’ll have it brought to my lab. Mira placed the thermometer in a leather bag and zipped it closed.

Three to five hours ago…uh…that would put the time around four this afternoon…sounds early to be delivering pizzas. Why are the pizza boxes torn? Why aren’t there pizza shop names on the boxes?

It wasn’t because someone wanted the man’s pizzas or his money. He has money in his pocket, Mira replied.

Thank you, doctor. I’ll check with you later at the lab.

CHAPTER TWO

B ob and Linda Laws hesitated before walking into the small, modern office building on Chestnut Street, in Philadelphia. The brass sign on the front door was engraved in large bold letters: ‘Spotsman and Spotsman, Private Investigators.’ Bob Laws walked slowly to the front door and stood motionless. Linda held on tightly to Bob’s hand, as she walked beside her husband to the door. The motion activated door created a swishing sound as it opened, startling Linda and causing her to lose her grip on Bob’s hand. Bob walked through the main entrance and waited for Linda. The front door started a backward motion to close. Linda quickly followed her husband, stepping up her pace. When Bob and Linda entered the reception room, they noticed the furniture was conservative and welcoming. A few water color paintings hung neatly on the walls. Bob slowly approached the mahogany receptionist desk, holding his Cleveland Indians baseball cap in his hand.

May I help you, sir? Amy asked. Amy Klotts was hired as receptionist the day Walter Spotsman, and his wife Holly, started their agency, over one year ago. She has a black belt in martial arts, a PI license, and has helped them investigate several cases. Although Amy’s slender body appears fragile, an aggressor would find himself on the losing side of the confrontation.

Yes, please. My name is Robert Laws…Bob. Is Mr. Spotsman in?

Do you have an appointment? Amy asked, checking the computer date book.

No. My wife and I just drove in to Philadelphia from Cleveland today. We hoped Mr. Spotsman would see us without an appointment. Oh…I’m sorry, this is my wife, Linda. It’s very important that we see him. We know he’s a very busy man and handles a lot of cases, but …..

May I ask what this is about? Amy interrupted.

We would rather speak to Mr. Spotsman, Bob replied. We….

I’ll see if he’s in. Please have a seat. Amy left her desk, walked down a short hall to a door marked ‘Private,’ knocked and peeked in.

Spots glanced up and saw Amy leaning inside the doorway. What’s going on?

There’s a couple in the reception room. The man told me they just drove all the way from Cleveland, Ohio today to see you. They don’t have an appointment. Both of them look worn-out and seem really stressed. They must have left Cleveland early this morning. They wouldn’t tell me why they needed to see you right now. Are you available to see them?

It must be rather important for them to drive here in one day. I’ll walk out there, Spots replied. He closed the file he was reading and placed it in a desk drawer. Spots adjusted his tie, looked at his watch, walked down a short, carpeted hall, and entered the reception room.

Hello, I’m Walter Spotsman, He said, extending his hand. What can I do for you?

Hello, Mr. Spotsman. My name is Bob Laws and this is my wife, Linda. We just came in from Cleveland to see you. We don’t have an appointment. We took a big gamble in coming here without one, but we didn’t know what else we could do, Bob said, his lips quivering nervously as he shook Spots’ hand and stepped back. Spots noted Bob’s salt and pepper hair was matted from wearing the baseball cap.

We’re at our wits end, Linda added, her face cringing with worry.

I have some time. Why don’t we go into my office? Amy, can you ask Holly to come into my office for a minute, please?

Yes sir, Amy replied.

Spots held his office door open for the Laws, slid two extra chairs into his office from another room, and placed them in front of his desk. He walked behind his desk and sat his six foot two inch, one hundred ninety pound frame into the high back leather chair.

Please, have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? Spots asked.

No, thank you. We’re fine, Bob replied.

Ok, what can we do for you?

I’ll start from the very beginning. It’s about our son, Aaron. The problems started two years ago, when Aaron was seventeen. He was always a good boy, very obedient, good marks in school, even made the junior varsity football team….just a good kid, Bob said.

There was a soft knock on the office door. Holly Spotsman peeked through the opening. Holly is an accomplished investigator, having worked on several cases with Spots, as well as solving several cases independently. Her fair skin, attractive face and blond hair seemed to light up the room as she entered. May I come in? Holly asked.

Sure, Holly. Mr. and Mrs. Laws, I’d like you to meet my wife, Holly. Holly is part owner of the agency and is a licensed Private Investigator. Please, continue. Spots said.

"He came home after school one day with another boy we had never met. Aaron told us his name was Jerry Polanto. He was new at school and wanted to study math with Aaron. We didn’t think anything of it. You know, just a new kid in town. That evening, Aaron asked if Jerry could stay for dinner. We told Aaron it would be okay for Jerry to stay, if it was okay with his parents. Jerry used our kitchen phone to make the call. When he hung up, he told us his mother said it would be okay. Jerry seemed like a polite enough kid…uh…almost too polite. Aaron and Jerry started hanging out together for the next couple of weeks, almost nonstop.

Is this Jerry the same age as Aaron? Spots asked.

No, Mr. Spotsman. He is about a year older, Linda replied.

Please, call me Spots. Did you ever meet his parents?

We didn’t meet his mother until about three months after Jerry started coming around the house. We never met his father; I think they’re divorced, Bob replied, sending a confirming glance to Linda.

Sorry for interrupting you. Please, go on, Spots said.

We started to notice a slow change in Aaron, like his manners were changing, and not for the better. His old friends stopped coming around. It was such a gradual change we didn’t think anything of it. We tried to correct the manners thing, and that did improve for a while. Then the first quarter report cards were mailed out to parents, except for Aaron’s. He carried his report card home. Again, we didn’t think there were any issues.

I know we should have been more observant and more proactive, but Aaron never gave us any problems; we could always trust him. Linda covered her face with a hand and broke into tears.

Please honey, don’t… Bob said, handing Linda a tissue. Bob put his hand up to his cleanly shaven face and wiped the tears trickling down his cheeks.

When we opened the report card that night, there was a note in the comments box, written by his football coach. It read, ‘because of Aaron’s unsportsman-like conduct, in and off the field, I am compelled to release him from the football team.’ That’s not the only thing. All his marks had dropped from A’s to D’s, across the board. We were appalled, and honestly didn’t know what to think. When Aaron gave us the report card, he immediately went to his room without waiting for us to open the envelope. We called for him to come out and there was no response. I went to his bedroom and asked him to come talk with Linda and me about his report card. He said it was no big deal. Mr. Spotsman, I….I didn’t know why my son was acting this way. At first, I thought he wasn’t getting enough sleep and was just cranky, or something like that. Bob’s eyes brimmed with tears.

Honey, you were doing your best to help Aaron, Linda said, as she reached out and touched Bob’s hand.

Bob looked at Spots through glassy eyes. I know, but I should have sensed something was wrong; but I didn’t. When he told me it was no big deal, I came unglued, something neither Linda nor I have ever done before – ever. We all got into a screaming match and we grounded Aaron for a week. We also told him he couldn’t have any friends in the house for a month. We thought that would be the end of the problem.

Did you contact the school? Spots asked.

Yes, they told us Aaron had skipped school several times that week…the week we grounded him. Man, I know I’m rambling. Mr. and Mrs. Spotsman, please listen to me for just a little longer?

Certainly, please go on, Spots replied.

We discovered that Aaron was skipping school and hanging with Jerry Polanto. We didn’t find that out until much later on. Our house went from a happy, fun loving family, to rooms full of highly dysfunctional strangers. Linda and I went to the school at the request of the Principal. We were given a verbal warning that if Jerry didn’t improve his grades, demeanor, and his attendance at school, they would have no choice but to refer him to a school system counselor. As you can imagine, we were devastated.

Bob and Linda started to sob. Holly handed the couple a box of tissues.

Would you like to stop for a while? Spots asked.

Have you had anything to eat? Holly asked.

You’re both very kind. We can go on, Bob replied.

Linda and I told Aaron what went on at the Principal’s Office. He told us he would mend his ways, and didn’t want any school counseling. He reassured us that he would improve. Well, it lasted a week. We noticed when Jerry went out of town to visit his father in Philadelphia, Aaron’s attitude changed for the better. When Jerry came back from visiting his father, Aaron returned to his negative ways. The problem was, we didn’t make the connection for a long time. We also discovered Aaron and Jerry were texting all the time they were away from each other. Almost a year went by and then it happened. One morning, Linda went to Aaron’s room to wake him for school. Aaron wasn’t there. Linda searched the whole house. Aaron was gone, along with some of his clothes. We looked everywhere for him….he was gone. We notified the police and told them our story. They told us to come to police headquarters to fill out some paper work. Before we went in, we looked extensively ourselves, checking with all his friends and acquaintances. We hoped he was just upset and would come home, but it never happened.

Bob reached into his wallet and pulled a photograph from one of the flaps. He leaned over to Spots. Here’s Aaron’s picture. It’s the only one I have, he said, handing the wrinkled photo to Spots.

He looks like a fine young man. What would you like us to do? Spots asked.

Please, find him and bring him home, Bob said, wringing his baseball cap in his hands.

He’s a good boy. We think he just got off track, Linda said.

Mr. and Mrs. Spotsman, we were told you are the best detective agency in the Philadelphia area, maybe even the Northeast, Bob said, continuing to twist the baseball cap.

Mr. Spotsman…uh…we don’t have a lot of money. We can sell our home, or get another mortgage to pay…..

Hold on, we can talk about that in a minute, Spots interrupted. How old is Aaron?

He just turned nineteen, Linda replied.

I have to ask you this, Bob…Linda. Was Aaron involved with a girlfriend at the time? You know, someone really close who he may have confided in?

No one serious, Bob replied.

How long has he been out of the house? Why do you think he’s in the Philly area? Holly asked.

He’s been away for about eighteen months. He had a lot of text messages with Jerry just before he left. Mr. Spotsman, please, we need to know how much money you require. We can put our house on the market if we have to, Bob said.

You both look hungry and tired. Why don’t you get a bite to eat down the street? There’s a great little Italian family restaurant a few doors down. They have great food and it’s very reasonable. That will give Holly and me a chance to make some phone calls. We can talk about a retainer when you get back. Can I hold on to the photo?

Yes, of course, Bob replied.

Spots walked Bob and Linda to the front door. He gave them directions to the restaurant, and watched them drive away in their late nineties Chevy. He returned to his office, stopping at the coffee machine on the way. When Spots entered the office, Holly was reading the notes she took during the meeting with the Laws. She had a perplexed expression on her face.

Spots took a sip of his machine made coffee. Blah.…ok, honey. What’s on your mind? You have one of those looks on your face.

Well, these people have a big problem, as far as I can see.

They sure do. What do you think it is? Spots asked.

Reviewing my notes, at first blush, the kid took off to see the world. When he left home, he was a little over seventeen. Now he’s nineteen, with no communication the whole time. I’m guessing that Mom and Dad don’t want to accept that.

I tend to go along with you. But let’s give them the benefit of the doubt. What if the kid’s up to his ears in big trouble? They came all the way from Ohio to see us. Why us, and where did they get our name? Spots asked, taking another sip of coffee. Blah! We need to get better coffee!

Why don’t you dump that stuff? We can go out and get a good cup of coffee. Walter, we’ve been very fortunate with some top clients since we started our agency. Let’s take the case pro bono, at least for a while, Holly said.

Ok. We’ll take one dollar as a retainer, for confidentiality, stipulate that if we find out their son took a hike to get away from Mom and Dad, and they still want us to continue looking for him, the clock starts at our usual fees.

That’s fair enough, Holly agreed.

Bob and Linda Laws were back at the Spotsman Detective Agency in thirty minutes, their eyes still red from the earlier conversation. Hi, Amy, are the Spotsmans in? Bob asked.

Let me check for you.

Before Amy could ring Spots’ phone, Spots and Holly walked into the reception room.

Bob, Linda, please come back to our office, Spots requested. We decided to take the case pro bono. That is, up to a point. If we find out where Aaron is, and he’s ok but wants to be on his own, and you still want us to bring him home, the clock starts at two hundred dollars per man hour, plus expenses.

Where did you hear about us? Holly asked.

When we were searching the Philadelphia Inquirer archives, we saw the article about Chief of Detectives Spotsman arresting some mob members, and then retiring to start a detective agency. We called the Philadelphia Police Department and asked if anyone knew you. We were referred to Captain Rodriguez. He told us you are the best detective agency in the Northeast, with all the latest technology. We thought if you were good enough to put those gangsters away, and a Captain in the Police Department gave you that kind of recommendation, you would have a better chance to find Aaron than the average agency, Linda replied.

Do yourself a favor and go back to Ohio. We’ll give you a call when something comes up, Spots said, knowing the chances of finding Aaron were slim, at best.

We want to thank you for offering your services at no charge, but we won’t feel right if we don’t pay you something. We would like to stay here until you find Aaron. Can we, at least, pay for your expenses? Linda asked.

That won’t be necessary. Where are you staying? Holly asked.

We have reservations at the Bounty Inn. Bob replied.

That’s a pretty expensive place. We know a nice, clean hotel, with all the amenities, for half the price of the Bounty. Amy will call ahead and let them know you’re coming. Why don’t you give us your cell number, go to your room, and get some sleep. We’ll call you tomorrow. There’s nothing we can do at this time of day, Spots said.

We are exhausted. We’ve been traveling all day, Bob said.

Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Spotsman. Linda said.

Please call me Spots, and my wife Holly.

Spots and Holly walked the Laws to the front door. Spots gave them directions to the hotel. On the way back to his office, Spots stopped at Amy’s desk.

Amy, please call the Hotel Marks and let them know we’re sending the Laws over there. Also, first thing in the morning, run a check on Aaron Laws through wants and warrants. We’re looking for a kid about nineteen years old. They gave us a picture of him. Run the picture through the usual databases. If he’s anywhere in the world, we’ll find him, Spots said.

Walter, what if he’s not alive? Holly asked. We better run the information through the John Doe database too. I hope that’s not the case. They seem like such nice people; I would hate to see our search end that way.

I’ll call Fred Harris in the morning. Maybe he’s got something going on with that new unit on missing teens. He’s been able to do some really extraordinary things with that unit. Hopefully, he can help us find this kid.

CHAPTER THREE

W hen Spots arrived at his office the next morning, Bob and Linda Laws were waiting at the front door. He thought the Laws looked refreshed from a good a night’s sleep and prepared to take on a new day.

Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Laws. We didn’t expect you here early this morning. How are you? Spots asked.

Good morning. We’re fine. We thought we would meet you and Mrs. Spotsman here early in case you had any more questions for us, Bob replied.

Holly will be in the office a little later this morning. Let’s go into my office where we can talk. Would you like something to drink? Coffee or tea?

No, thank you, Bob and Linda replied.

Please have a seat in the reception room, while I make a few calls. Can you think of anything you may have left out? That happens sometimes when people are tired or stressed.

No..uh..I don’t think so. Linda, can you think of anything? Bob asked.

No I can’t think of anything right now. Oh, there is one thing. I don’t know if this means anything. When I was going through Aaron’s room, I found a postcard with a picture of the Miami hotels. You know, on the beach. There was no writing on it so I didn’t think anything about it at the time. It probably doesn’t mean a thing, Linda replied.

"Linda, do you have the card with