The Blackmail Club (31 page)

Two minutes later the farmer came back into view, limped in the direction of the fountain, and went inside the walled area. Jack quickly rotated his binoculars in time to see Nora climb the last few stairs and enter the cathedral. Then back to see the farmer take out his camera and snap two pictures of the fountain.

After another minute, the farmer came out of the fountain room, looked both ways, and quickly stepped around the north side of the wall enclosing the fountain, disappearing into the bushes. He had been out of sight only seconds when he reappeared holding Nora’s black bag by its hand grip, the shoulder strap dangling close to the ground. He casually strolled to one of the benches near Max’s position. When he bent down and reached for the zipper, Max stepped into the clear.

“Freeze,” Max said.

The farmer let go of the zipper bag and stood slowly, raising his hands.

The farmer could be some shill the blackmailer hired to pick up the bag.

When Jack dropped the last few feet down from the tree, he heard Max’s command: “On your knees.” The farmer obeyed without favoring his gimpy leg.

The limp had been a ruse. Maybe he is the blackmailer.

Max put handcuffs on the farmer who jerked against the restraints and finally, after thrashing about, gave up.

“Hello, Blackmailer,” Jack said from behind, “I see you’re eager to look at the million.”

“There ain’t no million, is there McCall?”

Jack knocked the farmer’s straw hat off and looked down at a blank face reminiscent of a fish with a hook firmly set in the corner of its mouth. “Tyson! Why am I not surprised?”

“What’s in the bag, McCall? Not no million bucks, right?”

“No, Mr. Tyson. Or is it yes? Yes, there’s no million dollars, but maybe you’ll get a million years for blackmail and murder.”

Tyson twisted on his knees to face Jack. “I ain’t killed nobody. You got me on attempted blackmail. That’s it. I’ll do the time standing on my head. Fuck you, and you too, Max. You’re scum to turn on a fellow cop.”

“You’re no cop,” Max bellowed. “When you were, you disgraced the department. I’ll enjoy coming to your trial, wouldn’t miss it.” He turned to Jack. “Boss, you think you can arrange for me to throw the switch? I’d like to watch his ugly mug while the electricity slams through his shaved head, the smoke rising from his burning brain.”

“Go to hell, Max. Your melodramatic shit won’t work on me. There’s no death penalty in DC, and nothing I’ve done is a capital crime in any jurisdiction.”

Drummy had moved closer, taking pictures as he approached to show they were not abusing Tyson.

“Listen, damn it. This is my only attempted blackmail. I tell you I ain’t killed nobody. Have a heart you guys.”

“Have a heart?” Max snorted. “I’m more sentimental about the bacteria living in my toilet. You want me to call Metro, Jack?”

Jack liked the thought of Tyson rotting in a cell just for being an all-around crud, but not just yet. He jammed Tyson’s straw hat back on his head. Interrogating Tyson offered their best chance to find the real blackmailer.

Chapter 46

Jack and Max herded the handcuffed Tyson into the elevator and brought him up to MI’s office. Drummy had left from the cathedral for his workshop to develop his pictures. Nora had rushed back ahead of the others to change her outfit, so Tyson would not learn that Candy Robson was not a real person.

Jack twisted the thin plastic rods that rotated to close the Venetian blinds over the windows in the conference room; then he called for Tyson to be brought in. Max shoved a spare straight-backed chair near the table and sat Tyson down so the chair back would be between his cuffed hands and his body.

Tyson violently twisted his head, the force dislodging his dirty straw hat. It fell to the floor. Max kicked it toward the wall. Jack stood waiting across from Tyson on the other side of the table. After Tyson had exhausted his spare energy, Jack spoke.

“Arthur Tyson, this interview is being recorded and filmed.” For the record Jack stated the date, time, and their location. “Mr. Tyson, you are not under arrest. In fact, we have no authority to arrest anyone other than as a citizen’s arrest, which we are not exercising at this time. We deny any responsibility to Mirandize you. You may refuse to answer any or all of our questions. At any time, upon your request we will cease our questions and call the Metropolitan Police Department of the District of Columbia to report you blackmailed our client Candice Robson. I anticipate the police will arrest you at that time, but that will be their call. As a retired career police officer you understand the dynamics of that process and your attendant rights.”

Tyson squirmed hard enough to rattle the handcuffs against the chair.

“When you were a cop,” Jack said, “you had a history of excessive force. You are handcuffed to protect us from that. These handcuffs are not intended to intimidate you or create the impression you must answer our questions. In addition to myself, Jack McCall, a DC licensed private investigator, and Nora Burke, a DC licensed private investigator, both partners in McCall Investigations, Max Logan, a retired DC homicide detective employed by McCall Investigations, is present. Arthur Tyson, are the terms of this interview agreeable to you, or would you prefer we contact the police department and all wait in silence for their arrival?”

Tyson grimaced and nodded before he spoke, “Okay. I’ll talk with you so you’ll see this beef is bogus. As for the Robson broad, I’m betting she’s been pinched for hooking. If I’m wrong, I’ll shave my balls and paint ‘em pink.”

Jack glanced at Nora who was fighting back a smile.

“In the event you are not aware,” Jack said, “McCall Investigations is looking into the death of Dr. Christopher Andujar, which the Metropolitan Police Department has ruled a suicide. In the course of our investigation we have come to learn the following: You were a bag man for Luke Tittle. You disbursed bribe monies on behalf of Mr. Tittle to insulate the illegal activities of Mr. Tittle’s business, known as Luke’s Place, from the lawful activities of both the DC police and various regulatory agencies. You owned a fifteen percent interest in Luke’s Place. We have a witness who will testify to this fact. You now function in that same capacity in the employ of Donny Andujar with respect to protecting the illegal activities of his business, known as Donny’s Gentlemen’s Club. We have a witness who will testify that you own fifteen percent of Donny’s club.

“During your years as a police detective, you maintained Metro’s files on old federal fugitive warrants. Benny Haviland, one such federal fugitive, worked as a supervisor for the Clark Janitorial Service. As such he had after-hours access to Donny’s club, and also the buildings in which the following psychiatrists had offices: Dr. Christopher Andujar, deceased, Dr. Phillip Radnor, and Dr. John Karros, whose patients included MI’s client, Candice Robson.”

“Except for Robson I got nothing to do with none of that.”

Jack continued. “The curator of a major art gallery has been blackmailed into switching forged paintings for works of art. The leverage over the curator included photographs of him having sex with a lap dancer at Donny’s club. Available witnesses include the forger of the paintings, the curator at the gallery, and Donny Andujar. We allege that the murdered Benny Haviland gave you access to install that camera. Said lap dancer has also been murdered. Donny Andujar will testify that you pushed him to get that specific lap dancer to have sex with that curator.”

Tyson’s body language indicated he was getting the picture. All of it pointed to him.

“We have other prominent locals, patients of the deceased Dr. Andujar, who are ready to testify they were blackmailed about issues they discussed only with Dr. Andujar. We believe it can be proven that Benny Haviland got you into Andujar’s office where you illegally installed surveillance equipment. Dr. Andujar’s patients were blackmailed for a total of one-and-a-quarter million dollars.

“Dr. Andujar had private treatment sessions with Dr. Radnor, in whose office we also found indications you had installed surveillance equipment. We are confident the equipment used for this and these other instances of illegal surveillance will tie to equipment the police will find in your office. Before his death Dr. Andujar paid a quarter of a million dollars. That blackmailing contributed to the death of Dr. Andujar. Two federal fugitives are ready to testify they were also blackmailed.”

Perspiration worked its way down Tyson’s grainy skin to spill into the deep crevices along each side of his nose. The trail of sweat followed those creases until it flowed in at the corner of his mouth. Annoyed by the sensation, Tyson swung his head fiercely. The sweat flew from his face.

“I believe that the police, using the information we’ve uncovered, can establish that you illegally installed surveillance equipment in the office of Doctor of Psychiatry John Karros that led to your attempt to blackmail one of his patients, our client, Ms. Candice Robson, for one million dollars.”

“I swear, other than that Robson thing I didn’t shake down nobody, and I didn’t rub out Haviland or hire Rockton to kill the whore.”

“You just blackmailed Robson. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you get the dirt on Candice Robson?”

“Like you said, I bugged her shrink’s office.”

“Dr. Karros?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on, Tyson. You expect anybody to believe that you bugged Dr. Karros’s office, but that you didn’t bug the office of Doctor Radnor who is in the same building? Also Dr. Andujar’s building for which Benny Haviland also had keys. The equipment in your own office will smash that lie.”

“Okay. I bugged them too. But the real blackmailer made me do it. I just put the recorders in the offices. I don’t know nothin’ else.”

Tyson twisted his head to the side and wiped the coagulated saliva from the corner of his mouth onto the shoulder of his denim shirt.

Max spoke for the first time. “You’re an ex-cop, Tyson. How many years you think you’re gonna do for all this?”

Tyson again jerked his head, his flailing hair flipping perspiration into the air.

When he didn’t answer, Max prodded him again. “I got no sympathy for you, Arthur—how many years?”

Tyson just sat there with sweat dripping from his nose onto the thighs of his overalls.

Max slammed the flat of his hand on the table. “Right, Artie, the number of years won’t matter. These charges will get you into a prison where there’ll be lots of your old friends. Fellows you worked over when you carried a badge. Fellows you sent up, who hold a grudge.”

Except for a tic just left of his mouth, Tyson’s posture hid his being alive. Then he blurted, “I can’t go in one of them prisons,” his voice beginning to crack.

“Tyson.” Jack said sharply. “Intelligence work has taught me that justice comes in lots of forms. Some are unconventional, but still effective.”

Tyson hunched forward and then turned his head to each side, using his hunched shoulders to wipe the sweat from his cheeks. “If I cooperate,” he said. “If I help you solve them other blackmailings and murders, can you get the charges against me knocked down to just Robson, with any time served to be in minimum security?”

“Artie,” Jack said, “you know I can neither control nor speak for Metro or the D.A.’s office. If what you’re saying is true and you help slam the cell door on the blackmailer and murderer, at the least you’d be free of those charges. I would also agree to use my influence with Ms. Robson. I may be able to get her to ask the D.A. to drop that charge.”

Tyson sat erectly. “Yeah. That’s the only real charge against me. Robson lost no money. Maybe a few nights sleep, but hell, that’s nothing. Right?”

“I want to ask you more questions, Mr. Tyson, but before I do, let’s go back over the terms for this interview. At your instruction I will call Metro to come here. If you wish I will stop asking questions and you may at any time refuse to answer any or all questions.”

“Yeah. Yeah. What I’m saying I’m saying of my own free will. I wanna cooperate. So ask. Go on for Christ’s sake. Ask.”

Chapter 47

Jack turned to Nora. “Please get Mr. Tyson a towel from our washroom. Max, remove the handcuffs.” While Max moved around behind Tyson, Jack said, “Tell us if you need to go to the head. Otherwise, don’t get out of that chair.”

Tyson nodded. “Sure. Okay.” He rubbed his wrists and watched Nora walk back in.

She threw the towel at him. He caught it, grinned at her, and wiped his face. During this brief break, a let’s-get-it-done attitude had replaced Tyson’s tough-guy act.

“So ask.”

“How have you sustained your standard of living over the years? Oh, before you answer, I want to again remind you this is being recorded and filmed.”

“No way, McCall,” Tyson raised his hands above his shoulders, stretching from side to side. “I’m here to talk about the blackmailer. I ain’t about to rat on myself.”

Jack was pleased by Tyson’s reply, it had confirmed he understood his right not to answer, and that Jack would respect his decision.

“Then tell us about the blackmailer.”

“He paid me to put the bugs in the offices of them shrinks.”

“Andujar. Radnor. Karros. And Donny Andujar’s club?”

“Not Karros, but, yeah … the rest of ‘em.” He swabbed his neck with the towel before adding, “Nobody else.”

Max and Nora had glanced at Jack when Tyson split out Karros, but Jack shook his head. He would let that pass for now.

“Lemme tell you something else.” Tyson looked at Max, then Nora and finally, Jack, his silence building suspense. “You know as well as me the big risk in blackmail, like in kidnapping, is picking up the dough. I took that risk.” He shook his head. “I hope you nail the sonofabitch.”

Max pulled out the chair next to him and put his foot on the seat. “That brings us to the big question, Artie, who’s the blackmailer?”

Tyson shrugged. “Search me. He gave me instructions by phone. He was always reminding me I didn’t know his identity, and that I would die if I took one dollar more than my cut.” Tyson looked up and pleaded, “I just picked up the loot a coupla times. Not from all them pigeons you mentioned. I took my end and left the rest at a drop like he told me. I don’t know who he is. That’s how he kept me in line.”