Murder Happens: CD Grimes PI, #5

By C. D. Moulton

Anyone may someday get a case he/she can't quite get a handle on. At least CD gets to meet a number of very interesting characters

Critic comment
JM asked me to look at this one. He said it was an approach I would  appreciate, considering that I tried to write a story with the type outcome and couldn't pull it off. I had to turn it into a psychological thing that never worked. This was very well done. Moulton has a way to make oddballs human, and they really are. I'd give this one four and a half to five stars. – GL

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. D. Moulton
• Release date: Jul 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201867331

Book preview

Prologue

That was more than a little weird, Cal Jones, FHP officer and good friend stated. I think the whole family needs a psychiatrist!

We had just watched a woman testify in a murder case. She was obviously deeply disturbed, as the judge noted. She was trying to get her brother off on the accessory charge and had ended up getting her father charged along with him. The mother had jumped in and it went downhill steadily from there. Cal and I had stepped out of the courtroom to avoid getting entangled in the noisy brouhaha that followed.

I'm CD Grimes, private detective, billionaire and grand jury marshal for the state. I was there to testify and question for the prosecution about items discovered by the grand jury.

I had to take law courses to qualify for the marshal things on top of the courses I took in Nicely, where I'd lived until bringing my new wife here three years ago. I worked with the police in Nicely and was continuing that policy here.

I've never thought very much of those detectives who consider the police adversaries. That's just plain stupid. Of course, police who automatically consider PIs adversaries are as stupid.

Cal Jones was one of the first people I'd met when I moved down here. He'd introduced me to this case and had requested I investigate for the state. I'd rather do the private detective bit, but the extra education for this stuff came in very handy, at times.

Len Stewart, sheriff, was there. He came from the courtroom after a few minutes, shaking his head.

Far out enough for you? Cal asked.

It happens, Len replied. I said all along that whole bunch were certifiable. They'll probably get away with it. That whole family is about as crooked and scummy as anyone in this state. They'll pull that act, confuse the jury and get away with it! Fifty bucks say they don't get more than misdemeanor pats on the butts!

Maybe they'll put them all in a nut ward where they belong, Ken Sadler, the prosecutor, said. He'd come out just behind Len.

This fiasco really got away from you! Cal chided. I doubt even Solomon could sort out the mess.

I suppose you'd better put off running for the senate 'til next election after this, Len suggested. This one will hurt. Bad!

I'd like to see that whole family fry! Sadler whined. "I hate it when some crud like that can lie to their lawyer, then come to court and make the whole damned system look stupid!

You know what? I think they were all in on it! Donald may have killed Manny, but mama and poppa sure as hell set him up and Phil and Cissie supplied a lot more than information. My money says dear darling Phil actually killed him and they made it look like Adkins did it. Trying to hold them apart, my rusty ass! They didn't know why he wanted to know ... crap!

There was something phony about his outrage. It may be that's he's a politically active ambulance-chaser type, but I could not like him. It was a feeling that he had some hidden agenda. Politicians! Yuck!

Well, they did kill a Dorkin, which act means they'd probably be a lot safer on death row than outside, Len said. Did you check on the family relatives?

Relatives? Sadler asked. I don't...?

The Dorkins are related to the Dorp bunch, Slats Lattimer, coroner (who hates my guts as much as I hate his. No real reason. One of those chemical things) who was standing to the side, said. There are some Fishers on the Norton side.

And? Sadler asked.

The Nortons and Dorps have a good old Hatfields and McCoys style feud going. Have had for generations, Len pointed out. You didn't check something like that? How come you missed that, CD?

I never heard of any of them, I answered.

Manny and Hank Dorkin had a run-in with Orville Dugan over in Arcadia about a month ago, Cal said. Almost did time on that, but proved provocation.

We found that, I said. He had an ironclad. Why bring that up?

He had a violent run-in with Phil Fisher the night before, Dugan, and dropped charges, Cal said. "It was on Route eighty and I broke it up. At the Circle K, the same place Manny was killed.

"What I mean is, why would those two families both be after Dugan?"

Mainly because Dugan is a Norton on his mother's side and is married to Nancy Dorp, Slats said. "He's in the middle of the whole mess. Don't get involved in that. You can't win. You won't get help from the courts, either.

Do you have any idea what Johnson did in there?

Did? What? Cal asked. We came out here as soon as the brawl started.

He released the bunch of them into their lawyer's custody, Slats replied. He recessed the trial.

"He what?!" I demanded.

It was either that or declare a mistrial, I guess, Sadler said. "God! What a damned mess! I think I'll go get drunk. That bunch has set me back four damned years!"

He stalked off.

That one is worse than most he prosecutes, Slats snarled. "He's one even CD and I would agree on – and we don't agree on anything! He's about as corrupt as any politician in the state. It's a good thing this mess will stop his running for four years. Maybe something will happen that'll show people what he is.

Hah! Yeah! And right!

Well, we can meet over at Leelah's? Cal suggested. I've had more than I can take of this place for one lousy week.

Leelah's is also called the Harde Luck CafÉ, a hangout for our little group over on 776.

I'll get back to my job, Slats said, nodded and left.

The Harde Luck's on my way. See you there, Len said.

It was on my way, so I said I'd be there.

After half an hour there I went on home to my wife, Alma. It was early enough that Jim Barrow, my boatman, suggested we go out for pompano. They were running.

We caught three.

CD? Len here, greeted me over the phone when I went in to breakfast the next morning.

Yo! What's swingin'?

That Fisher thing isn't anywhere nearly over. It's just starting. Come on in. You're already in it, like it or not. The whole damned family's dead!

Say what?!

Apparently, somebody pumped their house full of cyanide gas last night. Got the whole damned bunch. Makes who did what to whom a bit irrelevant, hunh?

Cripes! I rejoined, brilliantly.

Chapter one

Someone hooked a cylinder of hydrogen cyanide to their air conditioner. They didn't have a chance, Slats reported. "It's eight forty, they've been dead about seven hours, so midnight to two. Maybe someone saw somebody in the area at that time of the morning, but don't count on it. There's not much close and that road's private for half a mile.

The house is sealed pretty well. It didn't take long. The AC vents feed almost against where most of them were.

Who the hell has cylinders of cyanide laying around? Len asked.

Nobody, but it isn't that hard to get hold of here, Slats answered. It's used in several manufacturing processes with electronic parts, and some exterminators have it. You can get it in little cans to kill ants. All you need is a drop of sulfuric acid, which you can draw from your battery. It's not a very common way to kill, but it's an easy one.

Not hydrogen cyanide! I protested.

"Yes. Sodium cyanide, usually. A very few drops of battery acid, you have hydrocyanic acid gas. Compress it and, voila!

Fiberglass cylinder. Nonreactive. Not distinctive. Get it in any nursery shop or lawn and garden store, plus in any hardware store or the larger department stores. Damned dangerous to work with. One little leak and you're the first to go.

Did the killer have to know anything about the place? Len asked. Did he have to get inside?

"No. Vicki's checking the scene. The stuff was injected into the vent at the blowoff just outside. Nothing odd. A few marbles around, but not just by the AC. Just in the area, so they won't mean anything. Some kid dropped them.

"We aired the place and did a nitrite neutralization, so it's relatively safe, now. It got rid of any bugs or rats, so it's going to stink for a couple of weeks – in fact, it already does. They weren't particularly clean people, among their other more attractive qualities.

I'd like to transport as soon as I can.

Five bodies? I asked.

Six. Mama Carrie was here. She has the place across the street, her and Hank.

Wife Anne's mother, Len said. We'll check it out as fast as we can. Vicki's as good at crime scene forensics as they come.

We spent four hours searching the place. Vicki said the man who tended the groves came to work at seven, none of them were there to unlock the barn, he went to the house, banged on the back door, smelled almonds and called the cops. He didn't have anything else to add. He didn't see or hear anything. He thought they were all over at Carrie and Hank's place until he smelled the gas.

See that dirt road? Len asked, standing by our cars as we were preparing to leave. He pointed to the road about two hundred feet away.

? I looked at him.

"That's the county line marker. Their property is on both sides and the house over there is theirs. Mama and Poppa's. If they'd been in it instead of over here it would be Pete Never's problem, not mine. I don't need this, CD. Not with this bunch!

Aren't you glad you said you would solve any murder in Englewood instead of in the county?

"I'll work on it. This was my case, in a way. I'm involved by the Adkins trial angle.

Any ideas?

He shook his head. It could be a feud thing or even... it just doesn't smell quite right, CD. Nothing seems to quite fit. Something's a bit off center. Everybody's hiding something. Pick your own cliche' for it.

I nodded at that one. Nothing about it fit since they'd walked into the courtroom.

Mr. Dugan? I'm CD Grimes. Just call me CD. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if I might?

You a cop?

Orville Dugan was a big man, reddish blonde wavy hair, ruddy complexion, mid-thirties, affable and ready with a big smile. He also had a reputation as a brawler.

I'd come to Arcadia simply because it was the only starting place I could think of.

Not exactly. Grand jury marshal. I'm investigating the mass murder of the Fisher family.

Heard about that one, he said, cocking his head and grinning. Gonna give whoever did it a gold medal for community service?

A good number of people think it would be appropriate. They seemed to be somewhat unpopular among the gentry.

He laughed. I noticed he had a large jacked black pickup with bar lights and lots of fancy lights all over it, so took a chance.

I'm here because your truck was seen near the place after midnight this morning. Just past that road into the place.

He grinned. How about that?

An almost identical truck came up to park next to his and a striking woman, about his age, very black hair, dressed in tight blue jeans got out. She came over to lean against him.

My old lady, Nan. You over to Fisher's last night, Babe?

No. You? Why?

One of us got seen. The trucks.

I was at Art's until it closed. Two. Had to be your truck. Where were you?

Mmm. Lenny and me was diblin' in the lake 'til mebbe one thirty or so. Got two lunkers. Lenny got one.

Art's? Lenny?

Art's bar on twenty nine. I'm with the band. Singer and rhythm guitar.

She's damned good! Orville said. "Lenny's my cousin. We fish a lot. Lenny Dobbs.

There are a few other trucks like mine around. Mac's had a special order and a bunch of us got a deal. Fleet discount, he called it.

We talked awhile longer, but I wasn't going to get anything from either of them. They were playing with me, but in a good-natured way. I liked them. They had a good sense of fun.

I went to Art's on the way back. Nancy had been there, but she might have left anytime after, say, a quarter to twelve, and nobody would have noticed, because the band stopped by then or they would never get people out by closing.

I asked Fred, the bartender, if he knew Orville and Lenny.

"Orv comes in sometimes. Doesn't drink much. Gets kinda mean so holds off so as not to cause headaches for Nan. She can handle herself, but he causes problems here and she don't work here.

"Lenny Dobbs?

He hangs around here, some. He's a sort of loner. Could be popular with the women, but gets possessive, if you know what I mean. Women don't like that. It scares them off.

Orv has the grove and Nan sings. What does Lenny do?

I don't know. Jack of all trades type, I think. Donna knows him ... hey, Donna! C'mere-a-minute!

An attractive girl came over. Fred introduced her as his head bar hop.

Lenny worked for an agricultural chemicals distributor and did some small engine repairs and plumbing on the side and a bit of electrician work.

I left a few minutes later. Orv could probably get cyanide from Lenny. He or Nan could have used it. Or Lenny.

I went back in and asked if any of the Fishers ever came in and who they hung around with, if so.

The fruitcakes? Fred answered. Now and again.

Anybody talk to or about them?

"They get in some arguments with the Diaz brothers. We sort of discourage them. All of them. Carlos Diaz can get pretty mean.

Well, Lonzo can, too. We don't need that shit around here. We try to keep cops away, except as customers.

Some lawyer came in asking where they lived late last night, Donna said. Creepy 'sue somebody!' TV crumb.

Lawyer?

He claimed he was prosecuting them in that Adkins – Dorkin killing over to the Circle K awhile back and he figured they'd skip. Black hair, sneaky-looking type. Fancy suit. Talked like a preacher or like he was running for mayor or that kind of thing, you know? Phony sincere crap.

Kenneth Sadler?

Didn't say. He showed me a card, but it was too dark to read it if I'd wanted to. He knew the address, but not exactly where it was.

What time?

Oh, maybe elevenish. He said Nancy was a lot better singer than he expected in this kind of place. He was real interested in her, like maybe he could be her agent or something to make a buck.

Yeah. I saw him for a minute. Seemed like those asses who come in here every two years, just before the elections, to make people think they're regular trash like the rest of us, so vote for Joe Blow, Fred put in. Enough to turn your stomach.

That's Sadler!

I went back out a few minutes later, thinking.

What the hell was going on?

Find out anything? Len asked.

No. A few more questions. No answers. Sadler was out there in the wee hours this morning.

Sadler? What the hell for?

There, you've got me cold! Nobody's got any alibi that would hold up for two lousy minutes, to this point. I have to check out the Diaz brothers.

Who?

That's what I have to find out. So what do you have?

A Joseph Beaumont, another bad news character, seems to have been owed a lot of money – or screwed out of a lot, anyhow, by Cissie, with help from papa and Anne. Something about zoning or taxes.

Such lovely people!

A real credit to the neighborhood. So! What was your impression of Dugan and wife?

"They were playing mind games with me, but I sort of like them and their sense of humor. Either of them could do it, I guess. He's the type who's a truly great friend, but a very dangerous enemy, and she's not the kind of person you'd want to cross. That's the trouble with that kind. You don't really know where to start.

Sadler is the one who doesn't fit, but I don't think he would kill off a whole family just because of some run for a political office they messed up. Still ... what the hell was he doing out there? Why was he so interested in Nancy Dugan?

Sadler's a politician, Len said, with a grimace. "He'd kill off his own family to get a seat in the senate!"

Council giving you trouble again?

"Still giving me headaches, he replied, grinning. Maybe the Sadler jerk wanted to set it up to where Mrs. Dugan wouldn't seem to have an alibi?

This is a nasty sort of thing.

I think I'll go on home and work with Alma in the orchids awhile, then go back to Art's tonight. Maybe I'll meet the Diaz brothers.

It might be wise to take Jim along. We're up against someone who would wipe out a family to get one person. He might also be willing to wipe out a whole bar full of people to get someone who's asking too many questions.

Maybe he wanted to get the whole family? To end a feud?

That would take the fun out of the feud. No. Nobody wants to end it. It's entertainment that goes on for decades.

He could be right.

I've been in the place, Jim said, as we parked at Art's. It's quiet. Good people."

Jim would end up with a woman, in short order. He always does. I'd played with bringing Alma, but she doesn't care for bars and I wasn't sure how I'd handle anyone hitting on her. Jim laughed when I told him that and pointed out that Alma could take care of herself.

I greeted Fred and Donna and ordered a Michelob. Jim and Donna took one look at each other and that one was solidly settled. Jim would be around until closing time if I needed him. Tell her Jim won't be around for long, I warned Fred. He doesn't pretend or lie about it, but I don't want anyone getting bad feelings.

She knows it. She isn't looking for anything permanent, either. Why tell me?

I don't know if you two have a thing. I'd try to call Jim off if it bothered you.

He laughed. "No, and he's not the type you could call off.