Riverville Murder - Chapter 20

riverville cover lg

Case of the Riverville Murder

A Short Story by Ernie Whitenack

Chapter Twenty

Previously:

“How are you this morning, Mister Riley?” Scott asked as he slowly turned from the window.

“Never mind my health. Why did you separate me from my friends?”

“It’s very simple, Scott said as he smiled broadly at Riley. We think you are more important than your buddies, actually their boss. So, we figure, in accordance with an important person who knows a lot that we want to know. you warrant special and vigorous treatment.”

Ryan’s face turned ashen as his mind tried to interpret what Scott just said. Visions of what “special and vigorous treatment” might mean, caused his adrenaline to serge, and he felt his heart pounding in his chest.

“OK, what do you want and what kind of a deal can we make?” Ryan asked, while trying to stop his voice from trembling.

“To start with, where is the money for both the C Street and the Compton Hill gangs kept; cash, bonds, stocks, annuities – anything? And, I don’t want to hear any hedging. You have been too close to Goddard, for too long not to know some, if not all, of his hiding places. Secondly, just who does he hire to take care of his finances?”

“Maybe I can help you – maybe I can’t. I haven’t heard any offerings of a deal yet,” Riley said, mustering all the courage he had left.

“Well, to start with, there are murder charges, as well as attempted murder, vicious harassment, illegal gambling, arms smuggling, extorsion and another dozen, or so, related to immigration and gangsterism. With closer examination it is possible that you are not responsible for the murder and attempted murder acts. This would leave you to answer for only associating with a known criminal, and various illegal activities.”

“Is that a guarantee” Riley asked.

“Nothing is guaranteed. We just investigate crime and enforce the law. It’s the District Attorney’s place to set the charges for which you will be judged. Of course, I work closely and advise the D.A. on such things.”

Riley sat looking at Scott for several minutes, as if trying to see inside him, attempting to determine how much truth was there.

“I can only give you one answer, because Goddard was very secretive about everything; especially his money. Everyone got paid in cash, handed out in an envelope. That answer is, Global Mortgage and Loan Company, in New York city and a man named Connors. I was introduced to Connors a couple of years ago in New York. We, the boys and I, sat a table away from Goddard and Connors. Anything we heard was very muffled by restaurant noise. Envelopes were being passed back and forth between them when one was dropped and sailed over to my foot. I retrieved it and handed it back to Connors. I briefly noticed that, written on the envelope was “Gladstone Builders ---- Goddard”. If I were you, I would find out if Global Mortgage and Loan makes construction loans to Gladstone, or if it is a dummy company. You can be sure Goddard does some kind of business with Global. He made a lot of trips to New York and always to Global.”

“Another thing – if you catch his lieutenants, where ever they are, I think they will know particulars. One of them is next in line, in case Goddard meets a bad end, and will have all of his secrets. That’s all I can truthfully tell you.”

At the mention of Global, Allan jumped off his, corner of a table, seat and was about to make a comment,

when Scott gave him a hard look. He understood the message and sat on the corner of the table again.

Scott continued his questioning, “What is Mister Connors first name, and are there other financial firms who work with Goddard? I also want names and rank of Goddard’s lieutenants, and just where they might be hiding.”

“Give me a pencil and paper and I’ll write it all down, but I have no idea where they might be, or their rank. All I know is, they scattered early-on; a week before you started this. I never heard Connors’ first name and do not know of any other money people working with Goddard,” Riley said as he retrieved the writing material from Scott.

Scott studied the information Riley wrote, recognizing in the list of lieutenants, a couple of the four names. He grabbed another sheet of paper and wrote on it.

“Allan, please make three copies of this sheet, then fax it to all state police forces in the surrounding states, along with this cover letter. Bring back the original and the copies. On your way, drop Mister Riley off at his cell and then, after you have faxed everything, bring Captain Callan back with you.”

Scott sat back in his chair and relit his pipe, blew a mass of blue smoke to the ceiling and starts the mental task of putting information in order, and considering the next step.

 “I couldn’t find out anything regarding who leaked the planned raids, Callan said as he entered the room with Allan. One guy hinted at the judge’s office. When I pushed him for more, he closed right up. You might want to talk to Judge Millstone about it. How is everything going with you, Scott,”

“Quite well, I’ve discovered that Global Mortgage and Loan Company might be deeper involved with Goddard than previously thought. Global is probably laundering money for Goddard. It wouldn’t surprise me if Goddard is the power behind Global.  I’m beginning to think he is one smart cookie, and that his reach is much wider than Boston and Sommerville. I think it is time to conference with the ATF and Internal Revenue again, and perhaps the FBI. This whole thing, other than simple gangster activities, might just be taken away from us and put entirely into federal hands. I don’t know if I am disappointed at the prospect or relieved. I suppose we will have to see what the state attorney has to say.”

“With the sale of arms, the murder, and attempt on another FTA man, potential Internal Revenue violations, and interstate gambling, I can’t see how anything else can happen. For your sake, considering the work you have put in on this crazy case, I’d be sorry if you got bumped off of it,” Callan replied.

“Oh, that doesn’t bother me. I’ll be with the case for a while yet. I’ll be needed for consultation, at least, and there is my, somewhat secretive, relation to Inspector Frank Sullivan and his part in it for Interpole. In any event, I wanted to tell you that I’ll be working at my law office for the next several days. I want to use my secretary for dictation of my reports. Here is my phone number. Call any time if you need me. On that note, are you all set for help on your reports?”

“Yes, I have plenty of help to call on. I’ve completed questioning all those hoods and will get on it in the morning. I’ll courier the reports over to you in batches, as I complete them, Callan said.”

Scott entered his law office, a little after eight-o’clock Saturday morning, to find Annie already there, and coffee waiting. Scott had called her before leaving BPD headquarters yesterday, and asked her to help him out Saturday.

“Hey, Annie! I appreciate it, but you don’t have to come in before your normal time, “Scott told her.

“I don’t mind, and I know how important these reports are to you and the arraignments to follow. I wanted to be ready when you got here. And, I hope you don’t mind that I have a lunch date with Michael. We’ll keep it short.”

“Not at all. I’ll be glad to see him. As soon as you get settled, please get Judge Millstone on the phone.”

Scott made a mental note to add a bonus to her over-time pay and to think about giving her a raise, then opened his brief case to retrieve the vast number of sheets comprising his interrogation notes.

A short while into his notes, Annie buzzed him and announced, “Judge Millstone is on the line, sir.”

“Good morning, Judge. I sorry to call you at home, and this early, but I have a very touchy subject to discuss.  Frankly, I don’t know where to start.”

“You’re a good man, Wadsworth and I trust you. So, whatever it is, just go ahead and blurt it out.”

“Yes, Sir. There was a leak in the Goddard camp regarding the warrants and the raids. It came to the gang via a stranger on the street who told one of Goddard’s numbers runners. It’s certain that the stranger is, or was, on Goddard’s parole – weekly or paid by the job. I’m sorry to say that I can’t think of a possible place the leak could come from other my driver, state policeman Sergeant Allan Rockford, or from your office. Sergeant Rockford is with me daily, for seven years now, and I trust him with my life. That leaves your office, sir.”

The phone went silent for, as it seemed to Scott, a couple of minutes before the judge replied, “I’ve been quickly going over those in my office, and there are a couple of my employees I’ll look into. If I consider one or both of them suspect, I’ll give you what information I have regarding them. You can investigate more thoroughly than I. What about Sommerville and The Compton Hill raid. Could the leak come from anyone associated with Chief Grant’s office. You said you two synchronized the time of your raids.”

“I Suppose that is possible, although I doubt it. To the best of my knowledge, his raids went very smoothly and all known gang members were arrested. Had they known; I doubt the raid results would be so complete. However, I’ll talk to Grant about it.” And, Judge Millstone, thank you for being so cooperative. Approaching you with this was not easy.”

“Don’t mention it,” and the click of the hang-up followed quickly.

Scott returned to his reports, called Annie into his office and started dictating. He stopped when someone knocked on his inner-office door. Annie opened the door to find Mic there, sporting a big smile.

“Is it lunch time already? Scott asked, not really expecting an answer.

He continued, “Mic! Come on in. I’m happy to see you. Now, don’t keep her too long. We have a lot to do today – can’t imagine where the time went; and without a break. Sorry. Annie, you should have stopped me.”

“OK, I will this afternoon. You were on a role, and this is important to you, Annie said in a motherly voice. If we finish up today, I’ll come in tomorrow and have everything ready for you Monday morning.”

“Be gone with ye,” Scott said, waving them out the door, and feeling somewhat embarrassed by her loyalty.

Returning to the hill of paper on his desk, Scott realizes he is three-quarters through his notes and will certainly finish dictating the reports today.

Fifteen minutes later, Scott is startled out of his deep concentration by a loud knocking on the outer office door.

 “Henry Reichmann! come on in. This is a surprise, but I’m glad to see you; thought you might have returned to D.C.”

“No, John Guilford, you know, my boss, wants me to hang around to see if anything else develops around the illegal firearms part of this whole mess. I called your home and Nancy told me you were here, so I decided to pop-in -- surprised you’re in today. Hope my being here isn’t an imposition.”

“Not at all. There is one thing we learned that enlightened us. It seems that Connors, of Global Mortgage and Loan, has been tied in with Goddard more tightly than we knew. We thought James Hurley was working directly with Connors and Gus Malone, his Provo contact, in Ulster. However, in questioning one of his bodyguards about Goddard’s money, I was told to look at Connors. The bodyguard accidently saw an envelope with “Gladstone Builders” written on it, followed by “Goddard.” The thinking is that Gladstone Builders is a fictitious company and a holding place for the money. This probably associates Goddard more closely with the guns -- complicating the jurisdiction for prosecution even more.”

“You sure have that right. It might take years to figure this one out. Can I impose even more by asking you to send me, personally, copies of your reports?”

“No problem, Scott replied. I would like to talk to you later about the Dolphin and the case in Portland. I’m interested to know where the captain and crew came from and if there is any connection to Goddard. I’m just too busy to get into it right now.”

“Absolutely. I’ll keep that in mind. Call me any time if you have other questions. But right now, I’ll get out of here and you can get back to the task of the day,” Henry Reichmann said, as he moved toward the door.

Scott sorted out the rest of his notes, and had time to leisurely fill a pipe and get it working, before Annie returned from lunch. they got quickly to the final dictation and finished in time to leave by three-o’clock.

“I’ll leave the reports on your desk tomorrow and you can pick them up Monday, first thing,” Annie said as they reached the Street.

Not wanting to discourage Annie’s enthusiasm, Scott fought the urge to insist she take Sunday off and simply said, “Thanks, Annie. I’ll make it up to you.”

Monday morning, Scott decided to walk to work. “I need the exercise and a casual stroll through the Common            might help get rid of the stress of the last week, or so,” he told Sergeant Allan Rockford on the phone.

“OK, boss, Allan replied. Hope it works for you. Shall I meet you somewhere?”

“Yes, I’ll be a BPD headquarters – should be through there about ten to ten-thirty, so you have some time to yourself.

The promised reports, in a large envelope, on Scott’s desk, were neatly sorted in labeled file folders. He took a couple of minutes to scan through them before dropping them in his briefcase, and leaving for police headquarters.

No sooner than he entered BPD Headquarters, than Captain Callan stepped up and shuffled him aside saying, “Do you have the reports? I’m kind of anxious to see them.”

“Yes, naturally, but the chief gets them first. I’ve tagged a set for you and the chief will pass them on if he wishes,” Scott replied, somewhat aggravated.

Before they passed through the double doors to the office area, Scott noticed Sergeant Mark Simmons had been watching through one of the door windows. As their eyes met, Simmons frowned deeply and gave a negative shake of his head that was almost imperceptible.

Upon leaving, Scott again found Simmons standing the hall, obviously waiting for him, and said, “Is there something you want, Sergeant?”

Yes, sir, I’ll walk you out – can’t talk here.”

“OK. My car is waiting. You walk down the block and turn the corner. We’ll pick you up.”

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Ernie Whitenack was born in 1928 in Springfield, Illinois and moved to Massachusetts in the mid 1930's. He is a Korean War veteran, worked as a photographic illustrator for 43 years and is now retired. Oh, and in case you didn't notice.... he's a pipe smoker too.

Copyright © Ernest N. Whitenack 2020
All Rights Reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

Riverville Murder - Chapter 19

riverville cover lg

Case of the Riverville Murder

A Short Story by Ernie Whitenack

Chapter Nineteen

Previously:

“I’m not sure getting that last warrant and executing it was worthwhile. Scott says, as he sits at a table drinking coffee with Henry Reichmann, Captain Callan, Detective Sgt. Mark Simmons and Detective Sgt. Allan Rockford. What did we net? Sixteen bottom rung gang members; numbers runners, extortion collectors and hard-fisted bullies. Not a lieutenant in the bunch.”

“At the least, we cleaned up the streets, Captain Callan added. Goddard can’t function without them, even if he were free.”

“You are absolutely correct, but we don’t have a single lieutenant. The bums we grabbed are a dime a dozen. Goddard’s next in command can be back in action in a couple of days. We’ll have to exert some real pressure on the people we have in custody and find out just who they are and where they might be holed-up; even if we have to take some extreme measures.”

All at the table grew quiet, as if contemplating the situation.

“In the morning, Scott continues, we must sort these guys out as to level of importance. This way, they will be interrogated from the top down, whatever the top might be. I already know who will be first – the four we found upstairs sleeping, and the woman found in Goddard’s bed. She might be just a one-nighter knowing nothing, or his steady lady and have info we can use. I felt a little sorry for her at first, thinking she just happened to be at the wrong place at a bad time. That was an assumption I had no right making. We can all learn from it. OK, good job men. Enjoy what’s left of the day. I’ll see Captain Callan and Detective Sgt. Mark Simmons at Central Division tomorrow at ten A.M. to help with the interrogation. Any problems with that, speak now. Good, see you in the morning.”

By ten A.M. all prisoners were informed of the interrogation procedure and that they will be escorted, in handcuffs, to a room for the process. Scott made arrangements to have the woman brought to him first. Captain Callan and Sergeant Simmons started with the other prisoners.

Scott started a file on Alice Nadeau just as she entered the room, escorted by a guard.

“Make yourself comfortable, Alice, if that’s possible in these chairs. I see you have no Boston police record, just a couple of traffic warrants. That surprises me in light of your association with Mister Goddard. What is your job in his organization?”

“I am not employed by Nathan Goddard. I am self-employed -- DBA Financials - Plus, as a C.P.A. and consultant, I have offices on Commonwealth Avenue and employ thirteen people.”

“Then tell me about your association with him; how long you’ve known him and the nature of your relationship.”

“Nathan and I are friends and sometime lovers. I’ve known him for twenty-some years – since we were just kids. He has some strange opinions about relationships. He is terrified of marriage, but as loyal as a puppy to me, and I to him. I’ve been in love with him, for what seems like forever. I can’t imagine a better relationship – even if married.”

“I’ll have to check on your business, although I tend to believe you. This is a gun running case with murder and money laundering, so I trust you can understand why.”

“Yes, I do. You will not find one irregularity. I have no business affiliation with Mister Goddard or any of his associates. Oh, I’ve been offered business by some and flatly refused.”

“Well, if you have overheard anything or want to talk about Goddard’s activities you might know about, please give me a call. My department will check you out today. If everything is as you say, you can probably leave

here later today. I’ll call your office and tell them someone from the State’s Attorney’s office will be by to ask some questions.” Scott finished, as an officer took Alice Nadeau back to a holding cell.

Almost immediately, the door opens to admit the four men found upstairs at the pub, escorted by two officers.

“Sit down, please and state your names,” Scott said in an imposing voice.

One of the men continued standing after he directed the other three to chairs, and belligerently said, “We refuse to do that, sir. It’s your place to find that out,” and quickly sat.

“Really! Scott replied. I was hopping, for your sake, you all would be helpful. This gang is through. You must realize that, and there is nothing to gain by four flunkies being uncooperative. You will be going to jail on one count or another. For how long is up to you. You, the leader, if you change your mind, tell an officer and he will bring you all back. Officer, get these guys out of here and back to a cell, please.”

Scott sat at the table writing notations about the questioning of Alice Nadeau and the four thugs. Finished, he picked up the phone and pressed the inter-com button. He heard his own voice boom out of the speaker behind him as he said, “Sergeant Rockford, please report to Interrogation Room One.”

“What can I do for you, boss?” Allan Rockford said as he burst into the room; startling Scott, deep in thought.

“I would like you to please look-up the address and phone numbers of Financials-Plus on Commonwealth Avenue. And while you are at it, try finding a home address and number for Alice Nadeau, the owner of Financials -Plus. Oh yes, run her through State records. I need to know if she has ever been in trouble.”

“Will do. What do you want first?”

“The Business address and phone. Tomorrow is soon enough for the rest. Now get going, and bring a couple of coffees when you come back!” Scott said and immediately returned to his notes.

Allan returned in twenty minutes bearing coffee, followed closely by Captain Callan.

“Sorry captain, I didn’t know you would be here. Can I get you a coffee?” Allan asked.

“No thanks, Allan. I’ll only be here a minute or two.” Callan replied and turned to Scott.

“I’ve been talking to the guys we picked up in that last raid. A couple of them, both numbers, runners said that Goddard’s top men all skipped the state a week ago. There was a leak about this clean-up and one of the runners was given a message to pass on to Goddard. The messenger was a stranger to this runner, but had a strong Boston accent, so probably a local.”

“Well, at least we know. The best we can do is try to get the names of the lieutenants, get individual warrants and notify the surrounding states to keep an eye out,” Scott said as he gingerly removed the cover from the hot paper cup.

Callan waited for Scott to take a sip and said, “We, Simmons and I, will put some pressure on those two and see if we can get these top men’s names. I’ll get back to you in an hour or so

“I wonder who leaked about the raids. I’ll see if I can get that info as well,” Callan added as he closed the door behind him.

Using the information Allan brought back, Scott called his state house office and requested the State’s Attorney do an immediate audit of Financials-Plus and send him a report on any irregularities and suspicious entries.

He sat back in his chair, fished a pipe from his jacket pocket, filled and lit-up before turning to Allan. “How’s it going in the other interrogation rooms? They must be getting near the end.”

“I haven’t been in all the rooms, but in moving around, I haven’t heard or seen any problems – seems to be going smoothly enough. I do know there wasn’t much gained from the four sleeping at the bar. It was like they had rehearsed answers and stories.”

“More than likely, Scott responded. Not much we can do about that. It’s next to impossible to have isolated each prisoner when a haul like that is made. However, I have an idea. The four supposed body guards are together in a cell, and apparently have a boss among them. I’d like you to get the other three back here. The boss is the bald guy in the Glen Plaid suit. You probably won’t have to speak to him, just pick out the others and he will make himself known. I doubt they are much without Baldy and might talk if pushed.”

The three sat automatically upon entering the room, and Scott ignored them. He continued to work on his notes, stopped and lit his pipe, but didn’t look at the three men. After ten minutes Scott looked up to see them nervously fidgeting and said, “You are going to be put away for a long time, if not executed, for the murder of that ATF agent.”

One of the men jumped up and said loudly, “Your crazy. We had nothing to do with that – didn’t even know about it ‘till it was over.”

“That’s not what Baldy says in this note,” Scott said as he retrieved a blank folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket.

“He’s a liar. Looking for a break, he is, the bastard. Well, it won’t work. We have plenty on him.”

“And I want to know just what that is. But first, I need to know where Goddard’s lieutenants are and who leaked information about this raid to Goddard.”

“Come on, man! Giving you that is a death sentence; even in jail,” another man said loudly.

“Look, you help me and I can help you. If you come straight with me, and you don’t have any serious outstanding warrants, you might just be free to split this state while Baldy goes to the lock-up. Now, to start, I want your names and addresses– Baldy’s too.”

Allan stood leaning against the wall, enthralled with Scotts tactics. He never saw him be so forceful before; to the extent of lying about the murder and the note. He had the three men literally frightened and of the edge of their seats.

Scott called for a stenographer, and it only took forty-five minutes of constant talking for the three men to answer every question Scott put to them.

Satisfied, Scott nodded to Allan saying, “Please take these men back and put them in a cell away from Baldy, and bring Allice Nadeau back with you.”

“Alice, I’ve been over your state and Boston police records, and you are free to go. Sign out at the front desk. I’ve OK’d your release. Please do not leave Massachusetts. You might be needed in court.”

As soon as Allice Nadeau closed the door, Scott stood and said, “OK, Allan, let’s call it a day. We’ll stop by and see how Callan and Simmons are doing; then to my place for a needed Scotch. How does that sound?”

“Sounds good to me, sir.”

Their visit with Callan and Simmons was short. “I honestly don’t believe those two numbers guys know a thing about the lieutenants or the snitch who leaked info about the raid, Callan told Scott. They did, however give us a good understanding of the workings of the numbers racket and those in charge in Eastern Massachusetts, New Hampshire and Maine. I have several pages of notes, and will get a full report to you in a day or two. The whole thing is brilliantly complicated. Guess it’s that way purposely to confuse and deter detection.”

“Good. Cleaning up the numbers rackets will take millions a month out of the gangs’ coffers. And, that reminds me, we have to find out just where the two gangs keep their money and who has charge of it. But, that’s for another day. We’ll have a try at Baldy again tomorrow.”

Walnut Street, Boston:

Allan brought the car to a stop in front of Scott’s converted carriage house. Suddenly, the front gate in the high fence burst open, and Scotts two sons ran to greet the men. Allan likes the boys and immediately tucked one under each arm and went up the cobbled walkway to the front door; the boys yelling and squealing with pure delight.

“Mom, Dad’s home and Allan is with him,” the boys yelled; summoning Nancy from the kitchen.

“Well, Allan! it’s been too, too long,” Nancy said and gave Allan a hug, after setting a full ice bucket on the sideboard. “I hope you like beef stew.”

“Anything you cook is just fine with me, Nancy.”

“OK. Enough buttering-up you two. Time for refreshment.” Scott laughingly said, as he poured Dewar’s White Label over the ice in three glasses.

The evening went smoothly and pleasantly, being a restful time from the hectic activities of the day. As the evening passed, the conversation eventually came back to the case.

“I sure hope we can break Baldy tomorrow, Scott said. I would like to get this done and out of the way. I’m hoping the Feds. will take over the prosecution stage. They have plenty of jurisdiction and good reason, especially concerning gun running and money; to say nothing of the murder of a federal agent.

“I think you’re right, Allan replied. I’ve learned a lot working with you on this case. I’m sure a lot of it will help me in the future sometime. I thank you for that.”

“My pleasure, Scott replied. I enjoy it too, and it’s good of the state to have an assigned a full-time driver, but I do have a private practice, and I’m neglecting it. I have a great staff of very competent people, but it’s not good for anyone to have an absentee boss. Most of my work for the commonwealth doesn’t take this much concentrated and uninterrupted time.”

The next morning, Baldy, otherwise known as Norman Riley, was already sweating when Allan ushered him into the interrogation room. Scott stood looking out the window for several minutes while Riley sat in the silence sweating and wringing his hands.

“How are you this morning, Mister Riley?” Scott asked as he slowly turned from the window.

“Never mind my health. Why did you separate me from my friends?”

“It’s very simple, Scott said as he smiled broadly at Riley. We think you are more important than your buddies, actually their boss. So, we figure, in accordance with an important person, who knows a lot that we want to know. you warrant special and vigorous treatment."

Ryan’s face turned ashen as his mind tried to interpret what Scott just said. Visions of what “special and vigorous treatment” might mean, caused his adrenaline to serge, and he felt his heart pounding in his chest.

“OK, what do you want and what kind of a deal can we make?” Ryan asked, while trying to stop his voice from trembling.

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Ernie Whitenack was born in 1928 in Springfield, Illinois and moved to Massachusetts in the mid 1930's. He is a Korean War veteran, worked as a photographic illustrator for 43 years and is now retired. Oh, and in case you didn't notice.... he's a pipe smoker too.

Copyright © Ernest N. Whitenack 2020
All Rights Reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

Riverville Murder - Chapter 18

riverville cover lg

Case of the Riverville Murder

A Short Story by Ernie Whitenack

Chapter Eighteen

Previously:

The patrol plane continues to make a wide circle over the Dolphin as support surveillance. “Here comes another cutter from the south. Looks like the same class, the chief said as he lowered his binoculars, should be here in about an hour and a half, at the speed its going.”

“In case they aren’t watching their radar, we’ll notify the Spencer. Perhaps they don’t need the back-up,” The pilot replied.

The radioman, on the inter-comm, tells the Pilot, “Sir, they will wait for the other Cutter, and told us that we can go on home. A good day wouldn’t you say, Lieutenant?”

The Dolphin’s crew is transferred to the Spencer and locked up, An officer, and several seamen, man the Dolphin for the trip back to Boston.

Men from the Northland, who assisted the Spencer crew, returned to the Northland, which turned about and set out for home; Portsmouth Virginia.

The Dolphin is confiscated by the Coast Guard at Boston and the crew is turned over to ATF agents for transport to Portland, where they will be interrogated and arraigned.

Somerville:

Chief Grant and his crew are making good progress as they stealthily approach suspects on the street, in restaurants and in homes.

One SPD detective is following two suspects walking, as his partner follows in a car. Suddenly, the suspects begin arguing loud enough for the detective to hear one say, “Geeze, Gus. There’s a meeting at the Carter Street warehouse this afternoon. We can’t possibly go to the track. What are you, crazy?”

“Oh yea, I forgot about that. Guess our ass would be in a sling, or worse, if we missed it.”

The detective following, signals his partner to pull over, as he speeds up to get close to the suspects. The car pulls to the curb, and the detective gets out about six feet in front of the suspects, weapon pressed flat to his leg. As the following officer grabs their shoulders, the other brings his weapon into view and proclaims, “You two are under arrest for gang related activities. Hands behind your back, please.”

The two are transported to the station and booked. Then, the detectives go to the communications room and call Chief Grant about the warehouse meeting.

“We might just clean up this operation with a raid on that warehouse. What do you think, Sergeant?” Chief Grant asks his state police partner.

“Yes Sir, I would say you’re right on with that; at least all the top men will be there. Minus Goddard, of course. I feel safe in saying, anyone who isn’t at this meeting is at the bottom of the pile in this gang. Furthermore, whoever is left over will, more than likely, be heading for parts unknown when the news gets out.”

Grant, being relieved at the prospect or a big haul, laughs as he says, “I sure hope you are right, Sarge. I’ve been trying to get a rope around this bunch of bastards for too long now.”

South Boston:

The rest of the morning things are slow for Scott and his crew. His men are getting anxious just sitting and looking at faces as the pass by. It’s beginning to appear that the word might be out, and people are in hiding.

Scott, noticing the men in his car fidgeting, gets on the radio. “We are getting nowhere this way. Car two, take the street to the north and car four, the street to the south. I’ll take this street. Let’s get out and walk, checking any bars, pubs, restaurants, pool halls, gyms, or any establishment you find that can be a place to hang out. Don’t bunch up and be careful and as inconspicuous as possible. You have all been issued the limited range radios. Make sure they are all on the corrected channel. Don’t hesitate to use them should the need arise.”

Two hours later, the results of the tactic are less than gratifying, having bagged only two suspects in a pool hall.

Scott retrieves his short-range radio. “OK, let’s bring it in. We only have two, so meet at Goddard’s bar. We’ll put two more away and see if we can extract any information from the prisoners.”

Shortly after arriving at the bar, Scott directs Detective Qualter to bring John Byrne from the storage room.

“Over here Byrne, and sit down,” Scott demands.

While Qualter cuffs Byrne to the table leg, Scotts says, “Do you have any idea how much trouble you are in, Mister Byrne? You will be arraigned on one count of accessory to murder, one of attempted murder and conspiracy to comment another murder of a young lady. Oh yes, illegal arms trafficking and racketeering too.”

“Yea, yea, your stooge here already told me. But I’m telling you, I had nothing to do with murders. That was a guy named Albert Nunsay, on Mister Goddard’s orders.”

“So, you say, however we have proof that you set up the whole thing, Scott replied. Now, I believe the word is out and people are in hiding, and I want you to tell me where. Cooperation with the authorities is in your best interest.”

Leaning back in his chair, Byrne smiles smugly at Scott, “I don’t think so. Sure and, you’re bluffing, and I can’t see how you can possibly have any proof of anything about me. I’m too smart for you guys.”

“Oh really, I’m glad you think so. You have a big mouth, Scott replies. I have a witness who will testify regarding conversations you’ve had with Nunsay, and between you and Mister Mc Dougal, mentioning Kelly Adams and two ATF agents. You know, one of your big mistakes was not knowing the Miss Adams grandfather is the Riverville Chief of Police and her uncle is a Detective Sergeant. We’ve been on Goddard and his bunch since a couple of days after Miss Adams overheard the conversation between Hurley and Sullivan at the All Erin Pub, and the body of Clarence Anderson was discovered in Riverville by Patrolman Francis Hendersen, who, by the way is Kelly’s cousin.”

The front legs of John Byrne’s chair thump loudly on the floor, as he returns to an upright position. His face is pale and his mouth hangs open in surprise. As hard as he tries, he cannot muster-up a rebuke, or even a faint comment. John Byrne sits, shoulders hunched and head down, in realization that he is in a very bad spot.

“OK, Byrne, that’s it for now, but you better think heavily about cooperation, and what the lack of it can mean to your future. Take him back to his friends, Sergeant Qualter.”

“Hold on there, Byrne pleads. It’s not that I think you have anything on us; and I certainly wouldn’t want it know that I’m tellin’ you, but there is a private social club over near the beach. It has some sort of Italian name out front, but isn’t. Goddard owns it. You might take a look there. And, it’s hopein’ I am, you’ll remember, when the trial comes ‘round, it was I who told you.”

As Qualter returns Byrne to the storage room. Scott beckons to Sgt. Allan Rockford.

“Allan, take a ride along the beach. See if you can find a building with a sign indicating an Italian Social Club. Look around and determine if there is any activity there. Be as inconspicuous as possible.”

As Rockford leaves the building, Scott has Jerry McDougal brought out of the storage room, and follows the same line with him as with Byrne. McDougal wasn’t near as flippant, and revealed information about Goddard’s gambling empire and minor prostitution activity. He obviously had little knowledge of gun running, and put the murders on Nunsay’s head.

From then on, it was a steady procession from the storage, room and back. Most of the questioned are errand boys and bag men for Goddard’s protection racket. One is allotted to keeping the “girls” in line and two men, suspected of being bodyguards, kept silent. Thinking of bodyguards, Scott made a mental note to talk to the four men captured with Goddard at the bar.

Scott is drinking more coffee and conversing with Henry Reichmann when Allan Rockford returns from reconnoitering the Italian Club.

“I found the club right on the beach road, a mile from here, but saw no activity. A few lights are on in the building, but the place isn’t fully lit, like it would be if open. Looks like you’ll need a specific warrant if you want to look inside.”

“You’re right, Allan. Find Captain Callan, please.”

“Captain, I’d like you to take charge of these prisoners, please. I have to get a warrant in a hurry. If you can call for a wagon and haul these guys to the BPD Central Division for holding, we might be able to wind this up today. Have everyone else remain here until I get back.”

“Doesn’t sound like a problem, if I can take Sergeant Simmons away from you?”

“Sure, he’s yours anyway. We will double up where needed.” Scott replies, and heads for the pay phone on the wall next to the hat-check room. He digs into his pockets for change and call Judge Millstone.

After several minutes, the judge’s receptionist comes back on the line and announces, “The judge will speak to you now. I’ll connect you.

“Wadsworth, how is it coming?” the judge’s voice booms over the phone.

“Very well, sir. I’m afraid I have to bother you for one more warrant. There is a social club called simply, “Italian Club”. One of the gang members tells us, after considerable persuasion, it is no such thing. In fact, it is owned by Nathan Goddard and a probable hiding place for his lieutenants. An immediate search warrant seems in order, sir. It is becoming apparent that the word of the roundup has somehow leaked.”

“Your request is quite out of the ordinary, Wadsworth. Yet, under the extraordinary circumstances, I will comply with your request. You can pick up the warrant in an hour or so. Good job, and good luck.”

As Sergeant Allan Rockford stood with him, Scott informed Captain Callan, Sergeant Simmons and Henry Reichmann of the new warrant.

“Captain Callan, forget about hauling the prisoners away. Give the job to a couple of the BPD officers. You and Simmons still take command here. You’ve heard Allan describe the Italian Club building and surroundings. Form a plan for invading the building. We don’t know who, if anyone, is in there, so stress being ready for resistance. Use as many access points as possible and coordinate your entrance. Allan and I are leaving to pick up the warrant. Do not move on the building until we return, However, send a couple of men to keep an eye on it. I can call them back on the limited distance radio when I get here.”

“You’ve got it, Chief Investigator,” Callan said, as he feigned a salute.

On the way to pick up the warrants, the portable bag phone Allan keeps in the car rang loudly. “This is Wadsworth. Who’s calling?”

It’s Mic, Scott. Boy, am I glad I got you – thought you would be near that funny bag phone. The town is buzzing. Everyone knows about all the cop activity. Even here in the shop, people are commenting on it; some for and some against it. If you are having trouble finding people, this is why.”

“I also overheard comments about a social club on the beach and a Rugby Club facility near the end of Telegraph Street. Guess they play at Thompson Park. The consensus is, gang members are probably hiding at one or both places.”

“Thanks for thinking of us, Mic. We know about the Italian Club, but haven’t heard anything about the Rugby facility. Your call is very timely. We are on our way to get a search warrant for the Italian club; maybe I can get one for the Rugby Club spot. Don’t suppose you know the number on Telegraph Street.”

“No, sorry. Good luck, Scott. Call me when this is over. I’ll be interested in how it all turns out.”

Scott immediately got the mobile operator and gave her Judge Millstone’s number.

“Judge Millstone, I’m very sorry to bother you again, but I have received a tip that there are another place Goddard’s gang members are possibly hiding. I’m hoping you can add it to the Italian Club warrant, or issue a second one for the Rugby Club building on Telegraph Street, South Boston.”

“Wadsworth, I’m not going to say it not a bother. I’m so deeply into this action, that bother can no longer be considered. The cause is good, and I have a lot of respect for you and the man who raised you. I want you to remember just how busy I am and make this the end. If necessary, use your initiative and hope you can dig up enough, on whom ever it is, to make an arrest stick. You lawyers sometime carry the word of the law too far. I’ll add it to the Italian Club Warrant. Good bye.”

“We have it, Allan. And I just received the nicest dressing-down of my life. I think the judge is really behind us on this one.”

“I’m not sure getting that last warrant and executing it was worthwhile. Scott says, as he sits at a table drinking coffee with Henry Reichmann, Captain Callan, Detective Sgt. Mark Simmons and Detective Sgt. Allan Rockford. What did we net? Sixteen bottom rung gang members; numbers runners, extortion collectors and hard-fisted bullies. Not a lieutenant in the bunch.”

“At the least, we cleaned up the streets, Captain Callan added. Goddard can’t function without them, even if he were free.”

“You are absolutely correct, but we don’t have a single lieutenant. The bums we grabbed are a dime a dozen. Goddard’s next in command can be back in action in a couple of days. We’ll have to exert some real pressure on the people we have in custody and find out just who they are and where they might be holed-up; even if we have to take some extreme measures.”

All at the table grew quiet, as if contemplating the situation.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Ernie Whitenack was born in 1928 in Springfield, Illinois and moved to Massachusetts in the mid 1930's. He is a Korean War veteran, worked as a photographic illustrator for 43 years and is now retired. Oh, and in case you didn't notice.... he's a pipe smoker too.

Copyright © Ernest N. Whitenack 2020
All Rights Reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

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