The Blackmail Club (32 page)

“Which payoffs did you pick up?” Jack held up his right hand, his index finger pointing toward the ceiling. “And Artie, I have solid information on this, so don’t try to stroke me.”

Tyson spread his hands as if he were a TV evangelist. “I never got told names, but I picked up a payoff of one million. I shoulda just grabbed that one and kept going. I also picked up a half mil and a quarter. That’s it. You say the quarter was Chris Andujar. I never knew that. Chris was an okay guy. I got no clue why I was told to force Donny into pushing Jena Moves to spread her legs for that pipsqueak, and I can’t help you on Jena gettin’ bumped off. The word is the biker did it for his own reasons. This town’s full of hookers, so we got one less. No big deal.”

Jack clenched his fists and leaned closer, his knuckles pressing white against the table. “You didn’t even know her name, you bastard. It was Phoebe Ziegler, a young woman with a mother and a future.”

Max put a firm hand on Jack’s shoulder and took over questioning Tyson. “How do you know the blackmailer knocked off Haviland?”

“He told me.” Jack sat down while Tyson embellished his answer. “He kept telling me he’d plug me too if I didn’t do exactly what he told me every step of the way. And Jack, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had a thing for Jena. Hey, but get in line. Guys all over town were walking with stiffies every time they saw that broad.”

Jack wanted to slug the soured ex-cop, but he fought down the urge. He was not about to hand Tyson a defense that he had been beaten and intimidated.

“You knew Benjamin Haviland.” Jack made it sound like a statement of fact, not a question.

“Yeah,” Tyson freely admitted. “A good while back the blackmailer told me to meet a guy who would get me in Chris’s office. That guy was Benny.”

“How did you pass the surveillance tapes to the blackmailer?” Jack asked.

“Benny handled all that. I showed him how to put in new tapes and take out the full ones. He did it during his visits to the buildings as janitorial supervisor. The only thing Benny ever told me was that he left the tapes at drops like he was told. One time he said he was ordered to go behind the building and give them to some guy on a motorcycle. My guess is that was the same biker who iced Jena.”

“Did Benny know the blackmailer’s identity?” Max asked.

“I asked him once and Benny got all freaky. ‘Listen, man,’ he said, ‘I don’t know and I don’t wanna know.’” Tyson snorted. “In his college days Benny was one of them smart-ass, I’ll-save-the-earth hippies. That bum never even made it to flyspeck on the ass of the earth.”

Jack looked at him askance. “Artie, you’ve taken calls from this guy for a long time. You can’t tell us you don’t know his identity.”

“What name did the blackmailer use to refer to himself?” Nora asked.

Max tagged on, “What did he sound like?”

“He sounded different all the time,” Tyson said while bobbing and weaving his head to add a visual illustration. “Sometimes muffled, sometimes with one of those vibrator gizmos against his neck, and other times he just whispered. Sometimes he sounded like Donald Duck. About once a week he’d call me while I was in a restaurant, to remind me his guys were always watching me.”

Tyson spread the towel open and held it using both hands, covering his face.

“A name!” Nora barked. “What name did he give you?”

Tyson slid the sweat-soaked towel up his face and over the top, his straight damp hair matting to his head. “Moriarty! Okay? He called himself Moriarty. And every time that looney tune said ‘Moriarty,’ he chuckled. I’m telling ya, this asshole is fuckin’wacko. I only went along ‘cause he threatened to shoot my ass.”

He’s working on his defense again.

“And the money was good, right Artie?” Nora asked in a disgusted tone.

“Moriarty was the name of Sherlock Holmes’s archenemy,” Jack said.

“I know that,” Tyson protested. “I tried reading Sherlock Holmes once, but it was too old-fashioned. I don’t know why the blackmailer picked that name … Can Nora get me a dry towel?”

Jack stood up. “I’ll get it.” Jack went into the washroom off the conference room, dropped the sweat-soaked towel into the trash and washed his hands. When he returned, he slid a clean towel across the table to Tyson who grabbed it and again started talking.

“The blackmailer once said, ‘Holmes often prevented Moriarty from getting the loot, but Holmes could never catch Moriarty.’” Tyson ran the fresh towel over his forehead and neck before continuing. “Then the guy said, ‘I’ll top Moriarty. I’ll get away with my spoils.’ … I‘m telling you, he’s one weird motherfucker. This is the only guy who’s ever scared me, and I ain’t never even met him.”

“You said he told you he killed Benny Haviland?” Nora asked.

“He bragged about it. Said, ‘Benny disobeyed my orders.’ He warned me not to do the same or I’d end up lying next to Benny.” Tyson snuffed loudly and cleared his throat. “Moriarty told me half his gang used to tail Benny and the other half me. Now they was all watching me. And I’m here to tell you, those guys were good. I’ll give ‘em that. I never saw nobody.”

Jack brought it together. “We can tie you directly or indirectly to the blackmailing of eight people and several deaths. Do you want us to have the cops come now, or do you wish to keep talking with us?”

“I’m talking, ain’t I? Hell, the only guy I know ain’t Moriarty is you, Jack. If you was, I’d already be dead.”

“Why did you remove the electronic surveillance equipment from Donny’s Club and from the offices of Andujar and Radnor, but not from Dr. Karros?”

“After Moriarty silenced Benny, he ordered me to remove my equipment from Donny’s club and Radnor’s office. I had already cleared out Andujar’s office right after Chris took himself out. Moriarty told me I should toss the equipment and the keys to them buildings into the Potomac. I kept the equipment. Maybe I shoulda done what he said.”

Tyson had stopped just answering questions; he was now telling his story.

“Benny got gunned when Moriarty no longer needed him. I knew that once I removed the electronics, he’d no longer need me. Things were getting hot and the cops knew nothing about nothing. The heat was coming from you, Jack. Enough heat that Moriarty was pulling the plug. He wanted to get away from you. I wanted to get away from him.

“The same night I took my gear outta Radnor’s office; I stuck it in Karros’s. Both them shrinks are in that same building and they both see lots of rich patients, and being a cop taught me rich folks usually got more skeletons in their closets than the lowlifes. I figured even if Moriarty’s guys were watching me, they’d be outside the building with no way of knowing I had bugged Karros to get the goods on one of his nut jobs. Just my luck it turned out to be your client, the Robson broad.”

“Where did Moriarty have you leave the payoffs?” Jack asked.

“He kept changing it. One time a lockbox in Union Station, another time in an airport locker, then under the bench in a try-on room at a department store. Like that. Always public so I had no solid chance to spot him. There ain’t nothing there for you to follow. He’s smart and careful.”

Tyson looped the towel around his neck and clung to the ends with his elbows down and continued spilling his story. “With Candy Robson’s mil, I’d be long gone. Moriarty would never find me. That’s my only blackmail job. The rest is a little B&E, illegal surveillance, and money pickups. I doubt the D.A.’ll buy into accessory to murder.”

“Bottom line,” Jack said, “if we don’t catch this Moriarty, maybe he doesn’t exist. Maybe the jury will see your entire Moriarty story as bull.”

Tyson yanked the ends of the towel hard enough to snap his head back. “Jesus. Jack. I didn’t snuff Benny. I got a solid alibi for my time the afternoon Benny got wasted. Me and Agnes Fuller were doing a threesome with Semisweet Connie from Donny’s Club. Them two’ll tell you. They’ll testify for me.”

“Arthur. Arthur. It’s not my call. The only way I can help you is to catch Moriarty. Will you help me do that?”

“What the hell I been doing here? I don’t know anything else. Gimme a break.”

“You haven’t come clean yet; I can’t help you yet.”

“I wear size fifty-two pants. What the hell else you wanna know? Tell me, so I can tell you. Christ all mighty.”

Jack smiled. “You and Engels are fifteen-percent silent partners in Donny’s Club, just like you were for Tittle. The third investor with the same percentage gets his cut through you. Who is it?”

“Some rich, politically connected local snob. Name’s Dean Trowbridge. The bastard thinks his shit don’t stink, but the sonofabitch was not too pure to take his cut—not too lily white for that.” Tyson said while rubbing the inside tips of his index and middle finger with the pad of his thumb.

When Tyson looked down, Jack glanced quickly at Nora and Max, who were also trying not to show their surprise from hearing the reference to Allison’s father.

“Did Trowbridge know he had been a silent partner with Tittle?” Jack asked.

“That dickhead didn’t wanna know from nothing. Just as long as I brought him his bag of bills each month, he never asked. He got the dough and got to keep feeling superior.” Tyson finished with a snort of disgust. Then he wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

“Why,” Nora asked, “why would a wealthy respected man like Trowbridge invest through a crooked cop? Come on, Artie, that’s bull.”

“It’s not bull! Them white collar guys might look, talk, and smell better than two-bit smash-and-grabbers, but they’re still crooks through and through. No matter how much they got, they always want more, particularly that asshole Trowbridge.”

Nora came back at Tyson. “That doesn’t explain why a rich crook like Trowbridge, if he is one, would invest through you.”

“Years ago I covered up a thing involving that jerkoff and a couple hookers. He was afraid that if it got out his rep would be mud. I let him go and held onto the evidence. Later, when I needed money to invest in Tittle’s Place, I went to Trowbridge to remind him he owed me. He came across on condition I get a piece for him too, but he didn’t wanna know what the investment was. When I needed dough for a slice of Donny’s club, I tapped Trowbridge again. Only that time he was eager. Why not, after the fat tax-free profits I’d brought him from his end of Tittle’s place?”

Jack slid a yellow pad across to Tyson, followed by a pen. “Write a list of the people in the Metro PD, City Hall, and the Feds to whom you’ve delivered payoffs for Tittle, Donny, or both. The amount each got, how often, and for how long.”

Sweat beaded on Tyson’s forehead. “Christ, I can’t do that.” He ran his sleeve under his nose, then across his forehead. “They gunned Tittle. They’ll kill me too. You was with the Feds, Jack. Can you get me in the witness protection program? If I stay here, I won’t make it to trial.”

“It’s all up to you, Arthur. If you don’t want to provide that information, just say so. But think about this: Until you ID them they’ll be trying to prevent you from talking. Once you’ve named them, their identities are out. They’ll be into damage control. It’s your decision though. If you don’t want to do the list we’ll call Metro and you can take it from there with them.”

Tyson sat staring at the pad, turning the pen in a tight circle with his fingers.

Chapter 48

Tyson’s list of payoffs included several detectives assigned to Metro vice, and some liquor and health department people, but Mayor Patrick Molloy and Chief of Police Harry Mandrake were not on his list.

While Tyson had been writing his list, Jack had called the two federal fugitives, Carl Anson and Joan Jensen, a.k.a. Mr. and Mrs. Clark, owners of Clark’s Janitorial. They professed no desire to again become fugitives. They agreed to come to MI at ten-thirty the next morning, Monday, knowing they would be taken into custody by the Federal Bureau of Investigation. As a precaution Jack had Max take his guys off watching Tyson, and put them onto the Clarks.

Next, Jack called Suggs and requested that he come to MI and pick up Tyson. The Sergeant was none too happy about the call for this had been the first Sunday he had taken off in over a month. But after Jack filled him in, Suggs agreed to come right over.

While Jack had been talking with Suggs, he saw a note Mary Lou had left on his desk late Friday. The mayor’s office had called requesting that Jack meet with Mayor Molloy on Monday at two.

Twenty minutes later Sergeant Suggs walked in with three uniformed officers and took Tyson into custody. Jack gave Suggs the bribe list along with the tape and film of his interview of Tyson. Jack retained copies.

Mayor Molloy was behind his desk when Jack arrived the next day. His shirt open through the first two buttons, a small cross nesting in the gray hair on his upper chest.

“Hello, Jack.”

“Hello, Your Honor.”

“Last Friday, Chief Mandrake told me you’d brought in Curator Harkin for aiding and abetting in an art switch at the National Portrait Gallery. Then yesterday, I heard you asked Metro to come to your office to pick up Arthur Tyson for blackmail and murder. Now, this morning, the media has reported the FBI picked up two federal fugitives at your office. Your business is certainly booming.”

Jack smiled. “It has been busy, Mr. Mayor, but I don’t think Tyson is the end of that story.”

The mayor pinched the loose skin of his neck between his fingers, and then pulled outward before releasing it to find its own way back. “Oh! There’s more?”

“Yes, Sir. Tyson is guilty of accessory to blackmail, possibly even to murder, but he’s not the main man. As I understand it, for now, Tyson is being held only on the charges he admitted to in our interview. The blackmailings are not yet official police cases because the victims, other than Harkin, have yet to admit they were blackmailed. The two fugitives the Feds picked up agreed to cooperate about their being blackmailed. I expect there are quite a few others, but I doubt most of them will ever step forward.”

“Why not?”

“The blackmailer demanded payment only once from each victim, so when they were not blackmailed again, and having paid to protect their secrets, those victims will continue to keep quiet.”