LaToya: Episode XXVI - Politicians Fix Everything

 

As soon as I entered Captain Wilkens house and sat down on one of his chairs, I said to him, “I was being followed by Sergeant Montgomery’s boys, but I managed to shook them off before coming here.”

“You angered him too fast, didn’t you,” Captain Wilkens asked as he fixed two brandies. “How come?”

I told him what happened at the Golden Triangle club. He stood, holding his glass and looking at me with a concerned face.

“What do you know about Mrs. Tara Graves, Captain?” I asked when I had finished my tale.

“She got me retired from the Alexandra Police force,” Captain Wilkens, sitting down. “At least, it was through her, and I’m very sure she was the one that demanded for it.”

“Very interesting,” I said. “This has something to do with her husband’s murder, I believe?”

“I can see you’ve been very busy gathering information since our last meeting,” he replied. “Who told you about the murder?”

“Latasha,” I replied. “She was my date at the Golden Triangle club. Can you tell me more about this murder?”

He stretched out his massive legs, to get himself comfortable and then said, “I don’t think it has anything to do with your case though. But I will tell you anyway. Do you prefer the outline or the details?”

“I want the details,” I said. “You may be right: his murder may not have anything to do with my case. However, some of the characters appear in both cases, and I am convinced there may be some connection somewhere. So, tell me all you knew about the case.”

Screwing up his face and starring up at the ceiling, Captain Wilkens narrated the story of Mr. Anthony Graves’ murder.

“Mr. Anthony Graves was shot to death on August 6 of last year. He went riding over his estate early in the morning, as he often do. His horse came back to the house after a while without him. His staff searched for him and found his dead body on the top of a hill in the open country. Someone had killed him with a shot gun.” He paused to look at me. “It was mayhem. Anthony Graves was wealthy and well known. The press and the Alexandra  politicians raised hell. The African American politicians in particular made so much noise about him being killed by the white supremacist just because he was a rich black man who had such a big estate a state like Virginia. I knew I had to do something very remarkable real fast or I will lose my job.” He took a drag off his cigarette. “Well, as it turned out, I lost my job.”

I was looking at him silently and attentively, and after a pause he went on, “Anthony Graves’s wife was in California at the time of the murder. Anthony Graves had business in California, and a month before he died, he had made arrangements to go over there with her. But his plans changed at the last moment because he had to attend two board meetings in Washington D.C. and this delayed his departure. However, his wife went on ahead of him. Anthony Graves’s secretary called her immediately and she flew back.”

“Who’s the secretary?” I asked.

“His name is Timothy Wright,” he replied. “He quit after the funeral and he’s working with the Old Town Construction Company now. If you are planning to talk to him, I would say you will be wasting your precious time. He’s tighter than a clam.”

“Did you come across any clues during your investigations?” I asked.

“It was a very strange case,” he explained. “The use of a shot gun for the murder got me confused. Why would an assassin use a shot gun with only a killing range of thirty yards? See what I mean? To me, the fact that a shot gun was used at a close range means that the killer was known to Anthony Graves. He was murdered out in the open: he wasn’t ambushed. This fact again is a proof that he must have known the killer or he wouldn’t have got within range. Anyway, this was my theory about the case at the time.”

“Latasha said it was a hunter,” I said.

“I know,” he replied. “They all said it was a hunter, but I don’t really believe that.”

“You thought it was his wife?” I said, looking at him.

He shrugged.

“I am a policeman, right?” he said. “So I work on motives. And Mrs. Tara Graves had a hell of a motive. She was twenty-two years younger than Mr. Graves after all. There’s no way they could have had anything in common. Before she married Mr. Graves, she was just a model and lived in a two-room apartment. I think she married him for his money. Period. You have seen her, haven’t you? She wasn’t the type of woman to be bossed around, and Mr. Graves could be like that. Maybe she got frustrated and impatient. Women of her  type  would want to handle the money themselves, as she is handling it now. She’s pretty smart for the way she handled this job.”

“But she was in California when he was shot!”

“Yeah,” he said. “She had a good alibi, no doubt. I’m not saying that she shot him. My theory was that she could have planned it with someone’s help.”

“Was there another man in her life?”

“She is a good friend of Saul Bolton,” he said. “I am not sure if they are romantically involved with each other though. But a guy with Saul Bolton’s background must kill sooner or later. He was a good fit for the job too. And, what did she do when she got control of the estate? She sold the club to Saul Bolton. He had always wanted it, but Mr. Anthony Graves wouldn’t part or else his price was too high. That was a nice motive. She might have bribed Saul Bolton with the club to get rid of Mr. Graves.”

“Did Saul Bolton have an alibi too?”

Captain Wilkens laughed mirthlessly.

“Saul Bolton’s alibi was cast iron,” he said. “He was in Washington D.C. playing poker with three of the most respectable men in town: one of them was a district court judge. They all swore he was with them all the time. Just like my theory about Mrs. Tara Graves, I don’t say he did it himself. What I am saying is that Hwang Yun, his hitman, or any of his thugs could have done it on his command.”

“You didn’t get anywhere with that theory?”

“No,” he replied. “As soon as I began to snoop around, Commissioner Lawson pulled me off the case and tossed me off the Alexandra Police force. Commissioner Lawson also happens to be a great friend of Mrs. Tara Graves. He thinks she is a sweet and lovely lady.”

“What made the Alexandra newspapers go for the hunter theory?”

“Mrs. Tara Graves had that all tied up,” he began. “Her story was that a few weeks before the murder,  Mr. Anthony Graves caught a hunter into the wood in his estate. She named the hunter: a guy who lived a few miles from the estate, very close to Farm Road. His name was Reuben Hightower. We knew him. He is a black man and an army veteran of the Vietnam war. But his mind have been messed up by his war experience. He also was a tough guy and he lived on his own. He was one of those strange war veterans who only worked when they had to, and he had been in trouble off and on for stealing and fighting. He was the ideal guy for Mrs. Tara Graves to pick on. She claimed her husband horsewhipped him, and she was positive Reuben Hightower had come back to even the score. The Alexandra newspapers liked the idea, and they liked it still more when we couldn’t find Reuben. Commissioner Lawson liked the idea too, but it sounded fake to me. Anthony Graves couldn’t have horsewhipped or handled Reuben alone. Anyway, we hunted for Reuben. We found traces of his flight. He was seen around the time of the killing riding his bike away from the back entrance to Anthony Graves’ estate – at least, a man on his Harley-Davidson XLCH Sportster, wearing a crash helmet and googles was seen, and the witness swore it was Reuben Hightower. A crash helmet and googles make a good disguise. The problem is that no one bothered to consider that angle except me. We finally found Reuben’s Harley-Davidson XLCH Sportster. It was in a shed near the harbor, but we never found Reuben.”

“Did this guy on the Harley-Davidson motorcycle have a gun with him?”

Captain Wilkens shook his head.

“We found the gun later in the wood, and we traced it. We found that the gun had been stolen a couple of months ago from Humphrey Saddleman, the local banker. Mr. Saddleman and four friends had gone out shooting. They left their guns and bag in the cars when they had lunch at a restaurant. The gun was missing when they returned to the cars.” He looked over at me, and then said, “Saul Bolton was one of the party, and he left the restaurant during lunch to make a phone call. My theory then was that he could have gone to Mr. Saddleman’s car, took the gun and hid it in the trunk of his own car. You do the math.”

“So, what did you do?”

“I started to check Mrs. Tara Graves’ alibi,” he said. “I asked her for her airline ticket, which I also verified with the airline. There’s no doubt she went to Hollywood, California, on the day she said she did. The airline ticket proved it. But then, that was as far as I got. She must have called Commissioner Lawson and told him I had been asking questions. Before I knew it, I was retired and through. Meanwhile, they never found Reuben Hightower and they’ve never cracked the case.”

“So you think Mrs. Tara Graves persuaded Saul Bolton to have her husband iced?” I asked. “Is that your theory?”

“That’s right,” he replied. “And I still believe that was what happened.”

“But you haven’t got any proof?”

“No,” he said. “But the motive was there. Saul Bolton could have stolen the gun, but that’s all except a hunch, and my hunches are often right.”

“Any idea what could have happened to Reuben Hightower?”

“I believe he was at the bottom of the Potomac River now in a cement overcoat, but that’s only my guess,” he said. “And I’m sure you are thinking the same thing this very moment, right?”

“I will need more facts to be able to answer that,” I said. “But thanks, for briefing me on this case. You may be right: Saul Bolton may have killed Mr. Graves to please Mrs. Tara Graves. I wish I could see how this murder hooks up with my case. If I could only hook LaToya Young with Mr. Anthony Graves. Suppose, while Mrs. Tara Graves was in Hollywood, California, Mr. Graves got LaToya over for the night? It’s been done before and many rich men still do it. LaToya might have seen the killing, got scared and bolted. This might also explain why she took another name. The killer – your pal Saul Bolton – traced her to West Baltimore and iced her too. I don’t say it happened like that, but that is the kind of connection I’m looking for.”

“Forget it,” Captain Wilkens said. “You’ll be wasting your time if you follow that angle. Mr. Graves wasn’t that kind of man. So, get that idea out of your mind, for it will only confuse you.”

I shrugged.

“You may be right,” I said. “Well, I will be on my way now. I still have a lot to do.  But I will be in touch.”

I got to my feet.

Captain Wilkens stood up too, and went with me to the front door. Before opening the door, he turned off the light and said, “Be careful, son. If you ever need a good hideout, go to Godson Arora. He runs a bar on King Street and he’ll keep you under cover if you mention my name. This investigation you are doing is very risky and you may need to duck out of sight in a hurry. That will be when you will need Godson Arora.”

“I hope it won’t come to that; but thanks anyway,” I said, and stepped into the dark, warm night.

 

 

END OF EPISODE 26

P.S. Stay tuned for Episode 27, which  will be published here next Sunday.