TWO BILLION REASONS TO KILL???
A BURTON JAMES NOVELLA
By James McLaughlin
First Smashwords Edition, 2012
Copyright 2012 by James McLaughlin
Published by Smashwords
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Cover image courtesy of Eti Swinford & Dreamstime.com
Cover by Joleene Naylor
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PROLOGUE
Howdy! Burton James here. A year has passed since we last visited. I thought it might be worthwhile to update you on what’s transpired in the interim. As you may recall, I was successful in recovering fifteen million dollars plus interest fraudulently pilfered from the coffers of my best friend’s mother. To make a long story short, the con artists responsible for this devious act confessed their sins and were all given their just rewards.
Sidney Rush, the man posing as Simon Rappaport, had a lengthy criminal history of investment fraud. The prosecutor petitioned the judge to invoke the habitual criminal act and our perpetrator was sentenced to thirty years hard time in the slammer.
Simon’s accomplice, Simone Rappaport (real name Sylvia Goldstein) got off a little easier. As a repeat felon with a resume that included car theft, shoplifting, and prostitution, plus an outstanding warrant in Florida for passing counterfeit checks, she earned herself a nice little vacation from society for the next ten years.
Melinda Rush, aka Monique Michelle, the murderess whom I discovered to be Simon’s real wife, was sentenced to life in prison without parole. Illinois abolished the death penalty in 2011, so the taxpaying citizens in the state will share in the cost of her room and board until she draws her last breath.
My good friends, the Weber’s, are all doing fine. Mabel still treats me like a son. David is still my best friend, always has been and always will be. Lisa is still the most beautiful female on the face of the earth and no; we have not developed our relationship any further than previously reported. Truth be known, although we have expressed our deep love for each other, we’re still struggling with the brother/sister thing. We agreed to move ahead slowly with our relationship in hopes that we could each resolve the issue in our own way. So far I’ve made very little progress.
David never reimbursed me for all the expenses I incurred recovering his mother’s money. But, on the plus side of the ledger, Dr. Wilson J. Tanner learned of my little charade via the media. He called me a few days after the story hit the networks. I was expecting a real ass chewing at the least and a lawsuit at the worst for borrowing his identity. On the contrary, he was thrilled with my success and pressed me for every detail. We spent two hours on the phone. As luck would have it he really was planning on moving his company to Chicago. He was intrigued about the office park in Barrington and made a trip to the Windy City. I acted as his representative and showed him the property. He ended up buying it, plus two other buildings in the complex. He’s in the process of moving his company and the majority of his employees to the Chicago area from Palo Alto. For my role in the transaction I earned a commission check of a million two. Not bad for a single days work. The dollars earned certainly more than covered my expenses related to the Mabel Weber case, and partially funded a dramatic change in my lifestyle, but I’ll tell you about that later. Suffice it to say, all’s well that ends well.
So, what else is new you ask? Plenty! Get something cool to drink, a bowl full of your favorite snacks, and sit back and relax because you’re not going to believe this one. Oh, and one other thing. You might want to put on your hip boots ‘cause it might get a little deep around here!
~~********~~
CHAPTER ONE
I was sitting with my parents and the Weber clan near the shore of Lake Michigan, enjoying the soft summer night and watching a Fourth of July fireworks display that placed second in grandeur only to the one put on by the City of Chicago near Grant Park the previous evening. My belly was full and I was slightly buzzed, feeling very content and at peace with the universe. Life was good, God was in His Heaven, and everything was right with the world.
The fireworks display had been arranged by Jack and Becky Bender, new but not so popular neighbors in Winnetka. They lived near the home of my youth and just a few doors up from the Weber’s.
I sat on a folding chair between the love of my life, Lisa Weber, and my BFF, her brother David. We were part of a group of eighty or so people who had been invited by the Benders to enjoy a day of snacking, drinking, outdoor games, drinking, swimming, drinking, gorging ourselves on a large buffet dinner of excellent grilled meats, poultry and seafood, followed by fireworks over the Lake, and of course, more drinking.
During a lull in the fireworks, as the company responsible for the display reloaded the mortar tubes for the grand finale, a series of sharp reports cut the still night air. They seemed to come from the direction of the Bender house.
“Did you hear that?” I asked David.
“Hear what?” My buddy was either looped or deaf.
“Those loud pops. They sounded like gunshots.”
David snickered. “Relax. It was probably someone’s kids who got their hands on some ladyfingers.”
A woman’s high-pitched scream suddenly pierced the night. “Jack!” she screamed, over and over. “Jack! Jack!! Somebody help me, it’s Jack!!!”
I looked at David Weber and frowned. “Did you hear that?”
He gave me a concerned look. “Sounds like somebody’s in trouble.”
I leaped up from my chair and sprinted towards the Olympic sized swimming pool at the rear of the new house. David followed close behind. When we rounded the end of the guesthouse we saw Becky Bender, sobbing loudly and pointing at something floating in the pool. “It’s Jack!” she screamed. “He’s not moving!! Somebody please help him!!!”
T. Jackson Bender was indeed floating face down in the deep end of the pool, all five foot six and three hundred plus pounds of him. The water around him was tinted misty red.
“This looks bad. What should we do?” David asked me.
The rest of the houseguests had followed us from the shoreline. They congregated near the shallow end of the pool where Becky stood. Some of the women were trying to comfort her. Some of the men joined David and me.
A lifesaving pole with a hook on one end was hanging on the wall of the guesthouse. I used it to snag Jack Bender’s belt and pulled him over to the edge of the pool. I handed the pole to David and said, “Here, hold this tight and don’t let him float away. I want to take a closer look.”
Somebody handed me a small flashlight. I turned it on and focused the beam on Jack’s head, or I should say what was left of it. No doubt the man was dead. It’s hard to sustain life when the back half of your head is missing.
I stood up and said to no one in particular, “Somebody please call the police.”
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CHAPTER TWO
It was nearly three in the morning before the Winnetka police allowed the six-dozen or so guests of the Benders to leave the property.
When my parents first told me about the July Fourth Bender bash I politely declined the invitation, but I eventually caved in under pressure from the supreme commander of the James family. “Keep in mind, son, the fact that the fee income from loyal clients like Jack Bender allows you to live a very comfortable lifestyle.” My father can be very persuasive.
Jack Bender was one of my father’s biggest clients, both literally and figuratively. Although I didn’t know him well I didn’t particularly care for the man. I found him to be crude, without class.
Many of the guests were from the neighborhood, accepting the Bender’s invitation out of curiosity rather than true friendship, hoping to get an inside view of the modern monstrosity of a house they’d built to replace a beautiful stone mansion that had graced the five acre Lake Michigan lakefront lot for nearly a hundred years. The guest list also included eleven children fathered by Jack with four different wives; some of the children were still children themselves, three are grown, and one with children of his own. His three former wives were not present for the occasion nor were his two oldest daughters.
I stood in the shadows of the guesthouse and watched as the police struggled to remove Jack Bender’s body from the pool. It took six strong men to heft his body from the water to the pool deck, and then finally onto a gurney. As the paramedics wheeled the gurney away I tried to ask one of the officers a question regarding probable cause of death. He didn’t respond to my question but directed me to go stand with the other guests gathered on the upper patio at the rear of the house.
When I joined the other guests on the patio police officers were at work making a record of each attendees name and contact information. When they completed their task we were told as a group we would be contacted individually by investigators within the next twenty-four hours to discuss any information we might have regarding Jack Bender’s sudden demise. The police officer in charge asked that if anyone had anything specific to tell the police to please stay behind. Everyone else was free to leave.
Bender’s family members had been isolated inside the house. Guests were not allowed to enter.
David and I held back for a moment, snagged the officer in charge, and explained our role in the discovery of Jack Bender’s body. The officer jotted down a few notes and then told us we would be contacted soon for more in depth interviews.
I sought out my parents and the three of us walked in stunned silence a block south on Sheridan Road, and then crossed the street to our family home. I had parked my car in their driveway, anticipating a large crowd at the Benders. I had no desire to be blocked in if I chose to take an early leave from the party.
I kissed my mother on the cheek and wished her sweet dreams. She looked completely drained. I turned to give my father a hug and he said, “Burton, I know it’s late but could you come in for a bit?”
“Sure,” I replied.
~~********~~
CHAPTER THREE
We ushered my mother inside and watched as she trudged up the stairs to her bedroom. My father pointed in the direction of his study, just off the entry hall of the house. I followed him in and took a seat.
“A nightcap, Burton?” father offered, pouring himself three fingers of brandy from a crystal decanter he keeps on the credenza behind his desk.
“Just a small one, thanks.”
My father poured another three fingers from the decanter and handed me the glass. I raised my glass in his direction and then took a sip.
“Oh what a night,” father groaned as he lowered himself into his desk chair. “I’m not sure what to make of all this, but it certainly presents me with a myriad of problems.”
“How so, sir?” My relationship with my father, while very loving, has always been somewhat formal. I cannot recall ever calling my father dad or pops. It’s always been either father or sir. But he still welcomes my hugs, just as he did when I was a small child.
“As I’m sure you know, Jack Bender is, or was, a very important client. Not only do we insure his vast business empire, we also insured his life for fifty-five million dollars.”
My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “Wow!” I croaked.
“Wow is right. To further complicate matters, Jack recently drafted new trust documents for his estate. He asked me to serve as his sole power of attorney in the event he was unable to conduct his personal and business affairs. He also told me he was going to appoint me as the sole trustee of his estate. We had a meeting scheduled this coming Friday with his attorney to review and sign all the documents.”
I took a sip of my brandy and studied my father’s face.
“I’m not sure what precipitated these changes. Jack didn’t fill me in on all the details, but he alluded to a degree of marital discord with his wife, Becky. As you know she’s considerably younger than Jack. He was sixty-six, she thirty years younger.”
“Do I smell the aroma of gold digger, father?”
“Perhaps. It’s hard to know. The couple has twin daughters. I believe they just turned three. Becky is Jack’s fourth wife. He has nine other children, some from each of his former wives. Two of his sons are grown and work with him helping to manage his businesses.”
“How did Mr. Bender get along with his sons?”
James squinted his eyes. “He never talked to me about his sons, but now that I think about it I remember Jack mentioning once that he was growing tired of their constant bickering. Seems like they could never agree on anything without a battle. Maybe that was why he was making changes in his estate plans.”
“I know Mr. Bender owned a Mercedes dealership in Evanston. You mentioned businesses. What else did he own?”
“Jack Bender started out working as a mechanic in the Evanston operation. He eventually acquired the business from the original owner, and then parlayed that into a string of luxury automobile dealerships across the country. He also owns a number of large boat dealerships and a couple of marinas. He told me his combined companies employ just over five thousand people. Because of our business relationship I’ve seen his personal financial statement. His net worth is in the neighborhood of two billion dollars.”
I choked on my drink. “Two billion dollars? I can’t imagine having that much money.” Carrying fifty-five million dollars of life insurance suddenly made sense to me.
“Well he does, or I guess I should say he did. And that’s what concerns me. There are two billion reasons why someone would have taken his life tonight. I don’t think for even one moment that his murder is not somehow linked to the revision of his trust documents.”
“Wait a minute, sir. We don’t know he was murdered. He could have fallen and hit his head for all we know.”
My father arched his eyebrows and replied, “It would take a pretty hard fall to knock off the back of one’s head, don’t you think?”
“No doubt about that, sir. What we saw would lead one to believe Jack died from something other than natural causes, but we need to wait for the autopsy results before we start talking about murder.”
“You’re right, but I’ll bet you the price of a steak dinner at Morton’s that Jack was murdered, and probably by someone whose interest in Jack’s estate would diminish or disappear completely as the result of a revised will.”
“I don’t believe I’ll take that bet.”
My father responded with a weak smile.
I smiled back at my dear father. Of course he was probably right. He trusts me to investigate suspected insurance fraud for his firm, and more than once have I saved him a bundle of loot. But if there is one thing I’ve learned from my experience as an investigator, don’t jump to conclusions. Investigate, gather the facts, follow the paper trail, and then boil everything down to a theory. Once an operating theory is in place try to poke holes in it. If it continues to hold water then the case is probably solved, but not always.
I sensed our conversation was at an end. I rose from my chair and said, “How can I help?”
“I believe this situation falls inside the parameters of your job description. I am heavily vested in Jack Bender and I need to now what’s going on. Just work your magic as you normally do. Stay behind the scene, employ your network of resources, and trust your own judgment as much as I do. Keep me posted and let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
I left my parents house and walked to my car. I thought about popping across the street to talk to Lisa, but no lights shone through the windows of the Weber mansion. I presumed they were all in bed, so I mounted my trusty steed and headed back to the City.
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CHAPTER FOUR
To distract from focusing on the ugly events of the evening I tried to think of more pleasant things during my drive downtown. I began by making a mental list of the few remaining things I needed to do to make my new house a home.
After my encounter with Dr. Wilson Tanner I had beans in my jeans. I was ripe for a move so I sold my seventy-eighth floor condominium in the Hancock Center in favor of a century-old four-story brownstone in an area of downtown Chicago known as the Gold Coast. I’ve had my eye on the building for years. I became aware of the availability of the property through my father when the owner passed on. Dad (don’t tell him I called him that) whose primary business is commercial insurance also deals in life insurance and dabbles in real estate. It seems that he had provided life insurance for the extremely wealthy owner of the building, a person who shall remain nameless, as well as commercial insurance for his very successful publishing business. As a known friend and trusted advisor, the next of kin approached father and enlisted his help in liquidating the sizeable estate, including my new digs. Score one for Burton.
The Stone, as I like to call it, faces North Lakeshore Drive and sits directly across the busy multi-lane road from the Oak Street Beach. My views are of Lake Michigan, the beach, and in the distance to the south the Drake Hotel, with the Hancock Center towering above everything else. The best views are from the dormer windows on the fourth floor, a space that was originally an attic that I converted into a home office during the remodeling process.
Over the years the property has been remodeled at least a dozen times. When I acquired the house I decided to make it a dozen and one. I had the interior of the building gutted and started over from scratch. Working with one of Chicago’s leading architects and assisted by a first class interior designer, the finished abode is something straight out of Architectural Digest. I still have a few loose ends to tie up, but my new crib is almost complete.
I’m sure you’re wondering what the cost of a place like this might be. Don’t ask. It’s too painful to talk about. Let’s just say that by the time I finished and moved in, I was essentially penniless. I spent every last dime I had, including the equity I had in the Hancock condo and the commission I earned on the sale of the buildings to Wilson Tanner. I’m still trying to convince myself it was worth it, and I’m almost there.
I do miss the views from the Hancock, but I don’t miss riding up and down the elevators like a yo-yo every time I came and went. And I miss Smith, the Hancock Center’s very excellent doorman for the private residences.
Oh, and, you’ll never guess who bought my condo. Give up? It was none other than Dr. Wilson J. Tanner himself. The evening of the day that Wilson closed on his property purchase in Barrington I invited him up for cocktails with my parents and me before we went out for a celebratory dinner. Wilson was immediately infatuated with my condominium with it’s magnificent views of the city. I’d talked to him about my brownstone purchase, and remembering that, he asked what my plans were for the condo. I told him I intended to stay there until The Stone was in move-in condition, and then I would put the Hancock place on the market.
Wilson offered to buy my condo from me on the spot, furnished of course, at a price that would net me a dandy profit. He agreed that I could live there until the brownstone was ready, and then I would move out and he could move in, sort of. I knew he’d purchased a beautiful home and acreage just west of Barrington, and when I questioned him about why he wanted to buy my place, his answer was simple. As a single man, Wilson knew that the action in Chicago was downtown, and he wanted a place to stay when he was in the city. He also offered to buy my Jag, a vehicle that I rarely use any longer, so I generously made it part of the package. He gave me a personal check in the amount of one million dollars as an earnest money deposit, and we shook on the deal.
And that’s how I could afford to buy the brownstone, gut it, rebuild it, decorate it and furnish it, only to end up penniless.
~~********~~
CHAPTER FIVE
I finally hit the rack around four in the morning for some much needed sleep. I tossed and turned for an hour and finally gave up. Whenever I closed my eyes I kept seeing the vision of Jack Bender’s dead body floating in his oversized swimming pool; an oversized pool for an oversized man.
I donned my running gear and headed for the path that follows the shoreline of Lake Michigan. An hour later I was back at The Stone. I brewed a pot of coffee, poured a cup, and carried it to my office on the fourth floor.
The voicemail light was blinking on my landline. I had two messages. The first was from David Weber. “Burton, I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about Jack Bender. Call me when you can.” The second was from my father. “Burton, I’m at the office. Call me on my private line as soon as you get this message.”
Knowing full well who butters my bread I placed a call to my father first. He answered on the second ring. “Burton, I called you earlier but you didn’t answer.”
“Sorry, father. I couldn’t sleep so I went for a run.”
“I know what you mean. I couldn’t sleep either so I came into the office early. Fortunately your mother was sleeping like a baby when I left home. I think last night was very hard on her.”
“I’ll try and call her later, just to touch base.”
“That would be good. Also, when the police contact her for her interview about Jack Bender one of us needs to be with her. She’s never had to talk to the police before.”
“I think it would be best if you sat in with her, father, but if you can’t make it I’ll be happy to stand in for you. I’m not sure the police will allow either of us to be present during her actual interview. If that proves to be the case we could be as near as the next room. That should provide mother with at least a small degree of comfort.”
“Good. Now, I’ve got some thoughts about the matter at hand. First, we need information about the outcome of Jack Bender’s autopsy. How did he die? Second, if it turns out he was murdered, and I’m quite sure he was, I need to contact the police immediately and tell them about Jack’s plans to revise his will. There could be real motive hidden there. And third, we somehow need to get copies of Jack’s wills and related trust documents from his attorney, both the old and the new. I need to see if Jack was making any changes that would affect his business and life insurance with us. If he was murdered and it turns out a family member was responsible for his death I’m not sure how that may impact the payout on his life insurance policies. Illinois has a slayer statute. In a nutshell, it prevents a beneficiary from profiting from life insurance if it can be proven they are responsible for the unlawful death of the insured. ”
“Agreed regarding the wills. I don’t think his attorney will share any information with us, but I’m sure he’ll have no choice if the police get a search warrant for his office targeted specifically at records related to Mr. Bender. I might be able to gain some early information regarding the autopsy from Patrick Murphy. I’ll give him a call later this morning. In the event the autopsy points to murder, then I believe you should go immediately to the police department in Winnetka and tell them everything you know.”
“We’re in total agreement. Call me back on this line as soon as you know something. And one other thing, Burton, if this turns out to be a murder I want you to exercise extreme caution. If the culprit becomes aware of the fact that you’re looking into the situation you may become his next target.”
Father disconnected from the call without even a simple goodbye.
~~********~~
CHAPTER SIX
I descended to the kitchen to refill my coffee cup. I snarfed down a banana and a glass of OJ then climbed the stairs back to my office. I figured it was just a mite early to find Patrick Murphy at his desk so I called David Weber instead.
David ‘s voice sounded groggy, like he’d just woken up. “I thought you were having trouble sleeping.”
“I must have nodded off,” he said inside a loud yarn. “Have you heard anything new about Jack Bender?”
“Nada. I assume the same holds true for you?”
“I haven’t heard a thing.”
“How did your mother and Lisa handle last nights events?”
“Not well. They were both scared out of their wits. We saw you walking home with your parents from Bender’s house. We were half a block behind you. How did your folks handle it?”
“You know my father, nerves of steel. I think my mother was pretty freaked out. She was exhausted when we got her in the house. She went straight up to bed. I stayed and had a nightcap with my father.”
“What was his take on Jack’s death?”
I filled David in on the conversation I had with my father with as much detail as I felt comfortable telling him at the time. I love the guy, he’s my best friend, but he doesn’t always exercise good judgment when it comes to playing things close to the vest. I told him just enough to whet his appetite. I didn’t know if the need for his assistance might arise, but if it did I wanted to keep him on the hook.
We agreed to stay in close contact and ended our call.
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CHAPTER SEVEN
My next call was to Patrick Murphy. Patrick was my roommate in college at Northwestern University. He is incredibly smart, has a law degree, and currently holds the rank of Captain with the Chicago Police Department. If he chose to conduct a campaign there was little doubt in my mind he could become the Mayor of Chicago, but at this point in his life he’s very happy doing what he loves most, being a cop. I tried his cell phone first. It’s hard to hide when you’re tied to a cell.
Murphy answered his phone and immediately started talking, thanks to the magic of Caller ID. “Let me guess why you’re calling, Burton. Does it have anything to do with the death of Jack Bender on July four?”
“Bingo.”
“And you’re interested in this why?”
“I was at the Bender party yesterday. David Weber and I were the first responders when we heard Becky Bender’s scream for help. I can’t say we were the first to discover the body, but we were definitely the first to have a close up look.”
“How does trouble always seem to find you and David?”
“You know, I’m not really sure. It must be our karma.”
“Karma schmarma,” Murph chuckled. “What would you like to know?”
“Jack Bender was a significant client of my father. Mr. James the elder has fifty-five million reasons to be interested in the case.”
“That got my attention. Please explain.”
“My father’s company holds policies on Jack Bender’s life, total value of fifty-five million.”
“Aha, the plot thickens. Fifty-five million is a lot of dough. Who are the beneficiaries of said policies?”
“I don’t really know but I can certainly find out. I’ll let you know when I do. Is your department involved in the case?”
“As of this morning. We got a call from Chief White in Winnetka. He’s asked us to supply manpower to help interview all the people who were at the party. I was a little disturbed to learn they allowed everyone to leave the scene before taking statements, but he explained to me they didn’t have the manpower to interview everyone on the spot, and since many of the party goers were from an older generation and beginning to show some strain he felt it prudent to allow everyone to go home and get some rest.”
“I can attest to that. My folks were both present. So was Mabel Weber and others from the neighborhood, many of them a little long in the tooth. My mother was exhausted by the time we got her home.”
“She’ll need to be interviewed, Burton. And so will you and your father. I’ll let the Winnetka PD know that I’ll handle your family myself.”
“I was going to ask that favor of you but you beat me to it. Thanks. If you could also interview the Weber’s that would be great. They trust you.”
“Of course. Not a problem. What else can I do for you?”
“Have you heard anything about the autopsy results?”
“Not yet. I know they’re proceeding with the post this morning. I should hear something around lunchtime. The Winnetka PD put divers in Bender’s swimming pool at first light this morning. They plan to search the bottom of the pool, along with the strainers and filters, for evidence. After that they’re going to drain the pool through a large strainer, and then search the pool bottom once again when it’s empty. If there’s anything in that puppy they’ll find it.”
“In the event the autopsy points to foul play I’ll have some interesting facts to share with you.”
“Why am I not surprised? I’ll tell you what, I’ll let you buy my lunch and we can compare notes. Lets meet at Nookies Too around noon. Do you know the place?”
“Near RJ Grunts on North Halsted?”
“That’s the place. I’ll see you at high noon.”
I disconnected from the call and immediately checked my wallet. Whenever I buy lunch for Patrick Murphy my bankroll takes a significant hit. I wasn’t sure if Nookies took the kind of plastic I normally use. Since I was a little short on cash I’d need to hit an ATM to replenish my dwindling supply.
~~********~~
CHAPTER EIGHT
I placed a second call to my father to update him on the Chicago PD’s involvement in interviewing the partygoers from yesterday. He was relieved to hear that Patrick Murphy would interview his bride. I questioned him at length regarding Jack Bender’s life insurance policies and made a list of the particulars to share with Murph. I promised to call him after lunch if I had anything to report about the autopsy results.
I had a couple of hours to kill before meeting Murphy for lunch, so I headed out on foot in the direction of The Magnificent Mile and my bank. When I arrived I used the ATM outside the bank building to withdraw two hundred dollars from my account. The machine printed a receipt for the transaction, which listed my account balance after my cash withdrawal. I was stunned when I looked at my bank balance. I definitely needed a cash infusion. I wasn’t quite sure how my involvement in the Jack Bender situation would improve my cash flow but I couldn’t ignore my father’s request for assistance. I work on a small base salary with a very generous incentive based on my success in proving insurance fraud when cases arise. Unfortunately we’d had a long dry spell in the fraud department, and while that was a good thing for my father’s business it didn’t do much to keep me in tall cotton.
When I arrived back at The Stone I cleaned up my few breakfast dishes, rinsed out the coffee pot, grabbed a quick shave and shower and dressed for lunch.
Parking around Lincoln Park can be challenging at times. I didn’t have the luxury of leaving my car any place I wanted to like my friend Patrick Murphy does, with impunity I might add. He’s been known to park on sidewalks or in front of fire hydrants, but favors marked no parking zones. He drives a powerful unmarked Crown Vic with emergency lights concealed behind the front grill and a light bar on the package shelf inside the rear window. He parks wherever he wants to, throws his Official Police Business placard on the dashboard, and goes on his merry way.
Since I had the time and the weather was not too hot I decided to leave my car in the garage and walk to Nookies Too.
~~********~~
CHAPTER NINE
I spotted Murphy’s cop car a block from the restaurant parked in a restricted delivery zone. A UPS truck was parked in the street next to Murphy’s car, blocking traffic on North Halsted. Drivers honked at the poor guy dressed in brown as he unloaded a large package from the back of his truck. He glared at one of the more persistent horn honkers, then flipped him the bird. Welcome to Chicago.
Captain Murphy was already seated at his favorite table when I strolled into Nookies Too. I know it was his favorite table because he sits in the same place everywhere he dines. He always chooses a corner table furthest from the entrance so he can sit with his back to the wall. It’s a cop thing.
Patrick was dressed casually and wore a light jacket to conceal the Kimber .45 caliber semi-automatic (his latest weapon of choice) he carries in a shoulder holster under his left armpit.
My friend is a small giant. He stands six foot six, weighs two thirty-five, but maintains a thirty-two inch waist. He is strong as an ox, but around his wife Mary and his ten children he is gentle as a lamb. He loves good food and can eat more in one sitting than most people eat in three days. How he keeps his waistline in check is a mystery to me.
I pulled a chair away from the table and plopped down.
Murphy looked at me and smiled. “Hope you don’t mind but I went ahead and ordered for us.”
“That’s fine. What are we eating?”
“Oh, you know, the usual.”
Whatever that was.
“I just got off the phone with the Winnetka PD. The autopsy confirms that Jack Bender was murdered. Not only was he shot in the face at point blank range, the killing shot that blew off the back of his head, but he was also shot eight times in the body, one in his privates, three in his stomach, and four more times in his back for good measure. Whoever killed him really wanted him dead for good.”
“Unbelievable.”
Murphy paused for a moment, looked down at the table, and shook his head.
“You look bewildered. What’s up?”
“The autopsy also revealed something else.”
“And that is?”
“My contact at the Winnetka PD spoke personally with the pathologist who performed the post. The Doc told him that whoever shot Jack Bender wasted their time. It seems someone killed a man who was already dead.”
“Whoa, pal. You lost me.”
“Bender was full of cancer; liver, bladder, pancreas. Apparently his entire abdomen was full of small tumors, all malignant. The Doc said that if Jack Bender lived to see this Christmas it would definitely be his last.”
“This is just too much. I wonder if Bender knew he was about to die?”
“No telling what he knew now. It would be a little difficult to ask him. One thing for sure though, I’m going to need to track down his family doctor to get some particulars.”
“For sure.” I paused for a moment, not quite sure where to go next. Murphy sensed my confusion and continued to share the information he had.
“Winnetka PD searched the pool area. They discovered blood spatter on the pool deck near the edge of the deep end of the pool, between the pool itself and the upper patio. They are surmising that whoever killed Bender first shot him in the privates, plugged him three times in the gut and then delivered the coup de grace to his head. No doubt it was that shot that blew him backwards into the pool.”
“How about the shots to the back?”
“They’re guessing those happened after Bender was already facedown in the water.”
“Did the divers find anything in the pool?”
“Plenty. Bone fragments and hair from Benders head wound. They also found nine, nine-millimeter shell cases, four in the pool, five on the pool deck. The bullets recovered from his body were definitely of the hollow point variety, designed for maximum expansion upon impact. They couldn’t locate the bullet from the headshot. They’re draining the pool this afternoon, and then we’ll see what turns up in the strainers and the pool filter. Once the pool is drained they’ll search the bottom again.”
“Murder weapon?”
“None so far.” Murphy locked eyes with me. “So, give me some detail, Burton.”
“Everyone was down by the lake, watching a fireworks display. There was a lot of noise, explosions from the fireworks and oohs and aahs from the crowd. I heard what sounded like gunfire during a break in the action. I was sitting next to David Weber. He thought the noise we both heard was from firecrackers. The next thing we heard was Becky Bender screaming for help. That’s when we went to investigate.”
“How soon after the gunshots did you hear the screams for help?”
“It wasn’t long at all. Probably more than a minute but less than two.”
“Interesting.”
Our food arrived and we started to nibble on our burgers and cottage fries while we continued to talk.
“You mentioned earlier you had information that might be related to the case.”
I talked nonstop for the next five minutes, explaining my father’s relationship with Jack Bender, the proposed changes in Bender’s will and trusts, and then handed a list of the life insurance beneficiaries to Murphy.
He studied the list for a moment and then summarized, “It looks like Bender was leaving each of his eleven children a million apiece, cash for those over the age of twenty-one, and in trust for the younger kids, five million to each of his three former wives, and the balance to his current wife, Becky. It looks like Becky will receive twenty-four million, and someone named Franklin Bender will receive five mil. Have I got that right?”
“Yes. Most generous of Jack to remember his three former wives in such large amounts, don’t you think?”
“I was thinking the same thing. In a case like this the group that comes under suspicion first is the family. It’s going to take some work to sort through eleven kids and four wives plus this Franklin Bender guy.”
“If we can get a look at Jack Bender’s original trust documents and compare them to the new we may be able to pinpoint who the winners and losers are. The losers would certainly have more motive to kill Bender than the winners.”
“That assumes that the family members were aware of the terms and conditions of the old trust and Bender’s plans to make changes. That also assumes it was a family member who killed him. Remember what assume spells, my friend.”
“Only too well.” I paused for a moment and took a bite of my hamburger. “You’re a lawyer. Will you need to subpoena Bender’s estate documents from his attorney, or can you just march into his office and request to see them as part of an ongoing investigation?”
“I’m a cop first, lawyer second. I don’t believe his attorney would share any information with the police. It’s called attorney client privilege. I’ll need to appear before a judge and convince him we need to get a look at any and all records Bender’s attorney has regarding Jack Bender. I’ll be asking for a search warrant, not a subpoena. In this case it should be a slam dunk, especially with the information from your father regarding Bender’s plans to make changes in his estate.”
“Something else bothers me about this case. Why do you suppose the killer shot Bender in the gonads? That seems a little extreme to me.”
“Extreme but not uncommon. We see that happen from time to time, but it’s usually related to a female on male shooting. The wife or significant female in a man’s life discovers he’s been unfaithful and decides to blow off the obvious target. Psychologists would describe this form of behavior as emasculating. But it’s the total number of shots that bothers me. That points to real rage, a true hatred of the victim.”
“Makes me wonder if Becky Bender may have been the shooter. She was sure on the scene pretty quick after the shots were fired. My father told me Jack Bender had mentioned that he and Becky were having marital difficulties. Maybe she caught Jack fooling around.”
“First thing the Winnetka PD looked at. She started out as the primary suspect. She claimed she had gone up to the main house to use the bathroom. She says she didn’t hear anything that sounded like gunshots, and she was on her way back to join the party when she discovered her husband’s body floating in the pool. The Winnetka PD searched the Bender property from top to bottom looking for the murder weapon. There was not a gun anywhere in the house or elsewhere. They also checked Mrs. Bender’s hands for gunpowder residue and found none. It’s always possible she hired someone to knock off her husband. Plus, if she knew her husband was dying why would she kill him and run the risk of being caught?”
“That’s a big if. Easy to find out, I guess.”
“Right, as long as she’ll tell us the truth.”
We stopped talking long enough to finish our lunches.
I asked Murphy, “So what’s next?”
“I’ll get to work on the legal mumbo jumbo to give us access to any documents Bender’s attorney has. Why don’t you round up your folks and meet me at their house later this afternoon. I can interview the three of you, then pop across the street and do the same with the Weber’s. Also, ask your father if he was aware of Bender’s medical condition. Bad news like that could certainly cause a man to review his will and make last minute changes.”