The Medusa File by Robert F. Clifton (popular books to read .TXT) 📕

“Yes Mam.”

“Tell me about it”.

“As a result of the information I received I was able to trace a relative of one of the victims killed at 1600 Albatross Lane in 1968”.

“And, is it going to lead to something else?”

“Yes Mam, but I might as well warn you any further information is probably going to cost us more”.

“Why?'

“Because, the deeper I dig, the more I'm going to need the informant”.

Captain Myers turned her high back desk chair allowing her to face the small safe that sat on the office floor. She leaned over turned the combination dial several times then open the safe door. Next, she removed exactly one hundred dollars, closed the safe And handed Kevin the money, taking his typed request in return. “This better be worth it”, she said.

“I'm thinking the same”, Captain,” said Kevin as he placed the money in his pocket.

Later, that afternoon Kevin drove his private Chevrolet into the driveway belonging to Mary Wallace. He rang the doorbell and when it was opened he entered the living room where Robert Wallace sat in his wheelchair. After taking the money he asked Kevin, “How did you make out?”

“Good”, Mckenna answered.

“How good?”

“Let's just say I have the first lead in this case in almost fifty years”.

“Can you tell me about it?”

“Certainly, since I'm going to ask you to have Cool Loo find a hooker or hookers that might have been pimped by Sheldon Holmes back in sixty eight”.

“So Holmes was a pimp huh?”

“Possibly, but it figures. He was a cab driver in a convention city and resort. Salary and tips had to be piss poor then and we both know that men and boys coming into town were always on the look for women and were willing to pay for them. Anyway, he and his sister got into heated arguments on what she thought he was doing and she tossed him out”.

“Interesting. Now, I expect you want more information”.

“Certainly and it goes back to the shoe. Right now and if I'm right I'm looking for a woman who in 1968 was a prostitute, used scopolamine and wore a size ten shoe. Now, if Cool Loo can find her it will answer a hell of a lot of questions”.

“And, if he finds her after all this time it will cost you big”.

“No problem. I saw the wad Captain Myers took the money from. The city can afford it”.

“All right, I'll put Cool Loo back to work”.

“He doesn't mind?”

“Mind? Hell, he's loving it. Doing what he use to do is like taking good medicine. He feels alive again”, Wallace answered.

“How do you know?”, asked Mary.

“Because being involved in this case again even just a little bit makes me feel the same way”.

“Well, I better be on my way. I intend to stop and buy a pizza, go home, eat, shower and spend the rest of the evening reading up on scopolamine”, said Kevin.

“For starters begin with the berundanger Tree. That's what it's made from”, said Wallace.

“Never heard of it”, said McKenna.

“It grows in South America. A lot is used in Columbia. As a matter of fact there are many overdoses there every year. The answer is simple. It grows there and those in the under world use it frequently for larceny and rape,” said Wallace.

“Yet they sell it over the counter here”, mentioned Kevin

“But in low doses usually for motion sickness. There are a few things you should know. First, The berundanger tree, and there are other names for the tree that produces a white, trumpet shaped flower. You and I will probably never come in contact with the bloom because as I mentioned in grows in South America, but should you, just smelling the flower is enough to effect you in a way that you are submissive and able to be controlled. Then, later you will have no memory of what took place. Second you should know that one gram of scopolamine is equal to one gram of cocaine. Also look for drugs such as hyoscine or diazepam which are the same thing but with different names. I saw it once in my career. At that time as I remember, it was the ground up bark which at the time appeared a rust color brown. That's about all I have to offer you on the subject right now”.

“Thanks Uncle Bob. At the same time I'll try and find any relatives of Harry Nichols and Norman Peters.”

Chapter Four

Teeny

At nine seventeen on a Friday night McKenna answered a ringing telephone in his living room. “Hello', he said.

“Kevin? Uncle Bob. I just got some more information from Cool Loo. Seems that Norman Peters had a daughter. Right now she's living over in Pleasant Town. Her name is Norma Ferguson and is divorced. According to Cool Loo he's not sure if she has any information that might be of value, but she could. She lives at 888 West Jackson Avenue. She also works as a waitress at a place called Miller's Tea Room. The Tea Room only serves breakfast and lunch from seven in the morning until two in the afternoon and is closed on Sundays. So, it's up to you when and where you want to contact her. Oh, and by the way, Cool Loo said this one's free”.

“Damn nice of him”, Kevin replied.

“Look out for the next one. I know the son of a bitch. He'll try and stick it to us”.

Late on a Saturday morning Kevin Mckenna took a seat at a table in the rear of the restaurant. As he did he looked around the dining room of Miller's Tea Room noticing that all of the tables and chairs had been painted with white, glossy enamel. The walls also white, were decorated with pictures and baskets of artificial flowers. With his back to the corner of the wall he looked up when the waitress came to his table and handed him a menu. “Good morning”, she said. Then looking at her wristwatch said, “Well, it's almost noon, but morning just the same. Welcome to Miller's Tea Room”.

“Thank you. Are you Norma Ferguson?”, he asked.

Taken by surprise by the question the woman stood for a moment looking at the man who had asked it. Then, she spoke. “Yes, why? Who are you?”

“I'm Sergeant Kevin McKenna of the Nautilus Beach Police Department. Right now I'm investigating several homicides. I think your father was one of the victims”.

“Is that right? I was told that my father was a junkie and died as a result of an overdose of cocain”, she responded.

“Do you believe it?”

“Certainly, what else can I believe?”

“Suppose I told you that with the right evidence I might be able to show you that your father was not a narcotic user or addict.”

“And just how do think you can do that?”

“By asking you some questions”.

Norma Ferguson looked around the dining room then said, “Not here. We close at two o'clock. I'll be free at about three. If you know I work here, then you must know where I live. Meet me at the house. We can talk there. Now, are you going to order or leave?”

“Well, since you are co-operative and I'm hungry I think I'll order. What do you suggest?”

“They say we have the best clam chowder for miles around. Start with that and then a sandwich. I suggest the tuna on rye toast”.

“Sounds good. In the meantime could you bring me a cup of coffee?”

“Certainly”, said Norma as she wrote on the order pad.

Later that afternoon McKenna sat in the living room belonging to Norma Ferguson. After lighting a cigarette she leaned back on the sofa, raised her head and exhaled blue/white smoke towards the ceiling. “So, you say you have something to add to my father's death”, she said.

“I do, but first let me ask you a few questions”, said McKenna.

“Go ahead. What can I tell you. I was six years old when he died. But, ask, I might recall something someone told me a long time ago”.

“Fine, let's start with why did your father live at 1600 Albatross Lane instead of with you and your mother?”

“You have to first know that I was raised by my aunt. I hardly knew my mother. Evidently the two of the split some time after I was born. He lived with me and Aunt Edna, his sister. During the summer he worked at the amusement pier. When the season was over he collected unemployment. From what Aunt Edna told me he was a beer drinker and horse player. Now, I know that they say he died using cocain, but my aunt never mentioned him using drugs at any time”.

“I see. We'll get back to the drug thing in a little bit. Right now I would like to know why he lived at the rooming house”.

“I don't know. One day he was there then suddenly he was gone, out of the house. He would stop by once a week usually on a Sunday and give my aunt money, money that was for taking care of me”.

“Did you ever go to the rooming house?”

“No. In fact I was forbidden to go there at any time”.

“Why?”

“My aunt said that it was a disorderly house. At that time I didn't understand what she was talking about. When I got older I realized that the place was a whore house”.

“I see and does your aunt still live at the same place?”

“My aunt dies two years ago”.

“Oh, I'm sorry”.

“That's alright. You said you were going to tell me something about my father not being a narcotic addict”.

“Yes, Actually right now I have information that perhaps your father was given a hypnotic substance that made him inhale a batch of bad cocain”.

“Some one can do that?”

“Yes, I'm afraid so. I also want you to know that it is possible that two other men living there were killed in the same way”.

“But, why? What did my Dad and these other men do to deserve being killed?”

“Miss, right now I don't know. That's what I'm trying to find out. Well, that's all I can tell you at present. I would appreciate it if you should think of or remember anything about your father that might help the investigation. So, thank you for taking time to talk with me”.

“You're welcome Sergeant”.

On the way back home Kevin stopped at Mary Wallace's place. There he sat again in the living room talking to Robert Wallace. “So far, all I've established is the fact that the house on Albatross Lane was used as a house of prostitution”, said Kevin.

“That's more than you had yesterday”. Wallace replied.

“Now what?”, asked Kevin.

“Now we put two and two together. We have a woman's shoe, size ten and the fact that prostitutes visited at that address. Let's see if Cool Loo can give us the answer”.

“Fine, in the meantime I want to see what I can find out about Harry Nichols.”

“I remember his wife lived in a small ground floor apartment in Lighthouse Lane. She might still be there”, said Wallace.

*************

Helen Nichols sat next to Sergeant McKenna's desk. She waited while he set up a tape recorder. When he was ready he turned to her and said, “I want to thank you for coming in to see me Mrs. Nichols. As I told you on the telephone I'm investigating several deaths that occurred at the rooming house located on Albatross Lane. I'm sure you're familiar with it”.

“Yes I am, unfortunately”.

“Before I start asking you questions about your husband and him being at that address, what can you tell me about him?”

“What's to tell? He was a hard worker. He worked at Bing's Laundry for years. He started working there during summers when he was in high school. After graduating he was hired full time.”.

“I see. What about his habits?”

“Habits?”

“Yes. For instance was he a smoker, a drinker or maybe a gambler?”

“I wish. He didn't smoke, drink or gamble. Instead, he was a philanderer”.

“Really?”

“Oh yes. The only