Fatal Encounters, Chapter 22
by Irv Pliskin
As Hallen and Godowsky drove down Pa. Route 22 in the unmarked state police car, Godowsky turned to Hallen and said, “Boss, where are we gonna park this scum bag?”
“Well, I was thinking of Allentown, but I think they can find him too easily there. I think we’ll go to a less likely jail to keep him on ice for a while.”
“Do me a favor, Frank, see if you can reach Perry Amos over at Lenhartsville and see if he can put this guy away for a few days. Do it on the cell, rather than on the radio.”
“Sure will, boss. You got his number?”
“It’s in the address book in my case, probably under Amos, rather than the town name.”
“Great,” Godowsky said. “I’ll look it up and call him now.”
He opened Hallen’s case, found the address book and dialed the number.
Perry Amos was in his office. He took the call, and was pleased to hear from Hallen.
“Can you put him on?”
“Love to,” Frank said, “but he’s driving and with the new rules about talking on hand-helds while you’re driving, you know. I would hate like hell to have us pulled over by a state cop on traffic patrol.”
Amos chuckled. “Yeah, that would be a real bummer. Tell me what you’ve got.”
“We’ve got a scum bag rapists, wife beater and child molester we have to put on ice for a little while. Got room in your place for him?”
“You bet. We love to get that kind a guy in here. Maybe he’ll learn how to behave if some of our inmates get a hold of him. Yeah bring him over.”
“Thanks. We’ll be there in about half an hour or so. Okay?”
“Sure.”
Sitting in the back seat of the unmarked state police car , Frauder was getting more and more uncomfortable. He had been quiet for a time, but now he began to complain.
“Listen,” he said, “my hands hurt me cuffed behind my back. Stop- this damn car and undo my hands, goddamn it.”
They ignored him.
“Don’t you guys know who I am? I have a lot of clout. I’m a very important public official. You can’t do this to me, you can’t do this. I’ll have your badges, both of you. I’ll have you thrown in jail for this. This is kidnapping.”
They ignored him.
“I’m going to make you pay for this,” he shouted. “You will pay. I’m gonna sue you both for everything you have. You're gonna pay, you're gonna pay!”
They continued to ignore him.
Finally, tired of the noise, Frank turned in his seat and looked at the man. “Shut up” he said. “Just shut the hell up.”
“No, I won’t I won’t shut up. I want a lawyer and I want one right now.”
“Well, we’ll see about that,” Frank said. “But if you don’t shut up now, you won’t need a lawyer. You'll need an undertaker.”
Frauder thought for a moment and then he said, “Bull! You won’t hurt me. You're cops, you won’t hurt me. You’e just trying to scare me, that’s what frigging cops do. ”
“Don’t count on it,” Frank said. He moved slightly, and pulled his pistol from his holster and pointed it at Frauder. “Get this straight you punk. If you make another sound I’ll put a bullet right through your head...because we took the cuffs off you and you tried to escape and grabbed the driver by the neck. Just like that, I shot you for self preservation and to avoid a traffic accident. Isn’t that right Detective?” he asked turning to Hallen and cocking the pistol.
Hallen grinned, “You bet,” he said “that’s just the way it went down. We had taken the man into custody because of some bench warrants, and he tried to attack us so you shot him to protect us and avoid an accident."
“Absolutely,” Frank said.
He stifled a grin and a chuckle. Frauder looked terrified and sunk back into the seat, mouth closed.
“Detective,” Frank asked, “What do you think would happen to me if I shot this SOB right now?”
“Nothing much. We have a strong story. He was babbling and making threats when we took him from his office, and I am sure that the people would certify that. And then, once we got him in the car, he began to beg to have his cuffs removed, and we did out of the conviction that he would behave. And when he tried to strangle me, you had no choice. I'm sure we can get away with it. But you have to do it right.”
“What do you mean, right?”
“Well, you have to be pretty close to his head, for instance. We need to have powder burns on his head, because if he did as we suggested in our story, he would be up against the seat, and you would be only about l8 inches from him. Right?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Well, If I lean over the back of the seat, and extend my arm, that would be close to l8 inches. Let me check it out and see.”
“Okay, Let me see how it works.”
“I’ll pull over to the right and slow down. That will make it easier for you.”
Hallen pulled the car into the right lane, and slowed to just under the speed limit. Frank unbuckled his seat belt, took his gun out of the holster and leaned on the seat. He knelt on the seat faced the back and stretched his gun hand toward Frauder. The muzzle of the pistol was about eighteen inches from the man’s head.
“Hey, it’s in a perfect position, like you said. We’d get the right gun powder pattern from the muzzle, what do you think? Shall I pull the trigger? I’d bet the commissioner will reward me with a medal for pest control. ”
“Why not, the scum bag would do it to you if he had a chance. He’s already threatened to get you in trouble, take your job away and put you in the pokey. Can you take that risk? Look what he did to his step daughter , his wife and other people! Save the state a lot money if we can skip a trial.”
“Ok, that’s right boss. Say goodbye, Frauder” Frank said and cocked the pistol.
“Oh my god, Oh my god! Don’t! Don’t! Don't!!”
Frank squeezed the trigger
Frauder had been staring at Godowsky’s finger on he trigger. He took a breath as he saw the finger squeeze and threw himself to one side, as the hammer slammed onto air. The pistol was empty. Frauder collapsed, fainted, and lost control of his body functions, wetting himself.
“He's out cold Jerry. He pissed himself, too.”
“Well, he won't die from that, will he?”
“No, guess not.”
“Jesus, for a moment there, I thought you had the gun loaded.”
“Nah, I took the shells out of it a while ago. I knew this might happen, and I just wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine.”
“You can bet we'll hear about this,” Hallen said. “He'll complain so loud it is apt to get in all the papers.”
“No, he won't. I just put the fear of God in him, and secondly, how can he prove anything? We've got him by the short hairs. He was ranting and raving when we took him out, and we'll say that all this was his over heated imagination. We took him to Amos' for his own protection. We had heard that the Zabronski girl's father was furious and was out to kill him. Go prove otherwise.”
Hallen thought about that. “I guess you're right.”
“Look, Jerry, we were the essence of decorum. Who is going to doubt the word of a decorated detective with an unimpeachable reputation like yours? Believe me, he won't say anything anyone will believe.”
“I hope you're right. How's he doing?”
“I think he's still out. I don't think he's playing 'possum, but I'll check it out now. “
Frank reached into his pocket and took out a small pen knife. He opened it to a very pointed blade and leaning over the seat, stuck it through Frauder's pants into his thigh. He was sure he had drawn blood, but the man was decidedly unconscious.
A few minutes later, Hallen turned off Route 22, and took the off ramp for the state road to Lenhartsville. He pulled up to the police station, and then drove around to the back of the building.
Frank made the call on the police radio, and the sheriff said he would. “Sheriff,” Frank said, “Can you send a couple of big guys down here? We may need help getting this guy out of the car. He's passed out back there.”
“Sure will.”
The garage door rolled up, and Hallen drove in. By the time he pulled it into a space marked “Visitors,” the sheriff and two burly cops were standing nearby. They opened the door and the two cops reached in and pulled Frauder out of the car. They held him upright while Godowsky unlocked the cuffs and then they duck-walked him to the steel doors that indicated the jail cells.
“Put him in the isolation cell,” Amos said. “I don't think we want anyone to talk to him or hear him for a while. Isn't that right Jerry?”
“That's right. Keeping the crud incommunicado might be a good idea.”
“Let's go upstairs and have some coffee,” Perry said, “and you can tell me all about this. Okay?”
“Sure. Perry, shake hands with Frank Godowsky, he's one of ours and I think he'll have a great future with the force. The kid is smart as hell.”
Godowsky looked embarrassed. He shook hands with the sheriff. Good to meet you, sir.” he said.
Carl had no luggage or personal stuff in the Day's Inn, but he checked very carefully to make sure he left nothing of the woman's that could prove to give the cops a clue or incriminate him.
He used one of the plastic bags in the box he had bought and used when he killed Betty Louise. He went through the room very carefully. He filled the bag with all the stuff he had bought for the bacchanalia, and carried it out to the car. He stowed it in the trunk. He left the door key to the room on the dresser, with a three dollar tip for the maid, and left the room, going through the corridor to the outside door. The sliding glass patio doors were securely locked. He decided that he would do what he could to avoid the Adult Book store. The crowd of police cars had attracted attention and the highway out front had a serious gaper block going, as passersby tried to see what was happening in the parking lot.
He had no idea where he was going, but coming out of the hotel parking lot, he turned right instead of left. to avoid the growing traffic jam. Although there was a traffic light there, he felt he might draw attention to himself if he didn't gawk and stare like everyone else.
'Americans are such fools,' he thought. 'Dumb sheep, follow whatever anybody else does. What the hell do these people think they're going to see? If they saw what was in that trunk, they'd puke like babies and moan and wail. People, phooey.”
After a few blocks on a very uneven road, he came to a major road that seemed to follow the contours of the river. Great, he could dump all of the incriminating stuff in the bag in the trunk in the river and be done with it. Turning to the right, he kept looking for a place to stop and park and dump his plastic bag. He didn't think there was any problem with the stuff he had with him, but taking those kinds of chances and hanging on to it would be stupid. He saw a place where there was a public parking overlook alongside the water. He pulled in, got out and walked around like a tourist.
He knew, now, he was going in the right direction. If he looked to his right he could see the gossamer strands and structure of the Walt Whitman Bridge.
From where he stood, the bridge was romantically beautiful. He put his elbows on the brick overlook wall and looked out at the river. There were some ships moving sedately upstream, a tug towing a barge, and a sleek gray Coast Guard river patrol boat.
The river was tidal here, of course, but it was pretty low tide now, and the ship made waves burst against the wall, and made spray. It must be pretty deep where the wall had been built. Perfect spot to drop his stuffed plastic bag. He would do that, he decided, as soon as he was alone at the lookout site.
There was a young family with two kids standing there looking out at the river watching the airplanes land on the international airfield across the water.
'Maybe it's time for me to get the hell out of America,' Carl thought. 'But I don't feel the heat yet. And the chase is just beginning. I'll have to think about it. Staying around might be pretty dumb. But I'll see. I’ll see.'
He waited watching the action on the water and the air traffic across the river. After a while, the couple and their kids climbed into their car and left. Carl looked around the parking lot, and found a half of an abandoned cinder block that looked heavy enough to sink the bag permanently. He put it in the bag, tied the top, and carried it to the wall overlooking the river where he dropped it into the water. It made a very satisfactory plop as it sank to the bottom.
The cops didn't lower the trunk lid in the bookstore parking lot. They got some sort of jollies looking at the dead naked woman. They waited until the coroner arrived taking glances at the body as they arranged to walk casually by. No one commented, but it seemed as if the corpse turned some of them on in a grisly way.
The coroner took a quick look, checked for a pulse, looked at the assembled cops, sized them up, and said “Sorry Boys. This poor kid needs some privacy.”
Then he closed the trunk on the staring eyes and ordered the body to be moved to the morgue so he could perform an autopsy. The angry marks on the woman's neck seemed to indicate that she had been strangled, but he needed to know more than that, a hell of a lot more.
When the meat wagon techs arrived, the coroner carefully removed the body. He watched as the techs struggled the body into a body bag, onto the gurney and then into the truck.
Once the body was gone, most of the cops began to disperse and go about their business, and the traffic jam ended very quickly.
Two police cars remained at the book tore, gathering evience for the investigation. There was work in store for the department investigators, hard work in order to get a picture of Betty Louise. The hope was that by delving into her life, such as it was, they would be able to find her killer. They needed to interview the people who worked at the Book store, and those who may have known her, intimately and casually.
One of the first things the doctors did at the morgue was to examine the body for sexual activity. The fact that body had been discovered with an object inside her vagina led them to believe that she had had more than casual sexual relationships prior to her death. They found traces of sperm on and in various parts of her body. They collected it all carefully and reserved it for DNA tests. They had an idea that this was some sort of serial sex crime, even thought their cursory check of their records, the web and other sources showed no crime that matched this one in details.
Once they began the in-depth autopsy, they soon discovered that although death was the result of strangulation, that there were enough sleeping pills in her system to knock out a horse. This death the doctor said, had been carefully orchestrated: it was not accidental. It had been planned, he said by some sort of devious killer. There had been food ingested, and the sleeping pills along with it. There was more attention dedicated to Betty Louise now that she was dead than had ever been devoted to her during her life.
After Hallen and Godowsky locked Frauder in the jails at Lenhartsville, making sure he was in the isolation cell, far enough away from the rest of the inmates so no one could hear him scream or rant, or get his story for later use, Hallen and Godowsky went home. It had been a long, long day.
Regina was waiting for Frank with the enthusiasm of a bride. She threw her arms around him and ground herself into him, kissing him with joy and vigor. Frank could feel himself responding to her, but she held him off after her warm, enthusiastic welcome.
He felt disappointed. “What's the matter. Regina, don't you like me any more? Stopped caring In just one day?”
“Sweetie. I worship you. I'm crazy about you. I've missed you terribly. I'd make love to you right now on the sofa, but my mother is in the spare bedroom, and I don't think we will have time to do anything without distressing the hell out of her.“
“Yeah, you're right. Well, I guess I have to wait.”
“Don't despair, Frank, we'll find a way to make up for lost time. How was your day, what happened?”
“I've got a lot to tell you about. Make some coffee. and I'll tell you all about the day I've had. It's been very interesting.”
Frank told Regina everything that had happened during the day. She was an attentive listener, shocked when he told her about the girl in Frauder's office and amused when he told her about the incident with the revolver in the car.
When he finished, she looked at him seriously, and asked, “Honey, tell me something. Could you have really shot him in the car? Do you know?”
"That's a good question, darling. Am I capable of it? Yeah, I think so. Would I have done it? I don't know. Had he been in a position to threaten us, yes, I would have. But in cold blood like that? I don't think so. He's a scumbag, that bastard, but I don't think I have the right to be judge and jury. I'm really too civilized, I think. If I had, how would you feel about it?”
“Well, I'm civilized too. i think the jerk needs to be punished, and he has done me real dirt, but I think I would be unhappy with you. I know that someday you may have to shoot somebody to survive, but not like that.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but you're right, I don't think I would think well of myself if I did do something like that. But I feel good that I taunted the SOB. He deserves a lot worse of that.”
“Well,” she said “what is going to happen now?”
“I think a couple of things. I think we have to tell your mom about what was happening in Frauder's office. She may not want to believe it, but even if she is in total denial, which seems likely, we have to tell her and try to make her understand what a scumbag Frauder is. And then we have to go to the insurance company and see what we can do to get your money sent to you. I have a lawyer friend who may be able to help. But that has to be done, so you can get what's coming to you.”
“Okay, where do we start?”
“Let's see what happens when he is arraigned. And we can take it from there. I hope high enough bail will be set that he can't come up with it, and he'll be sitting in jail for a while. It will take a while, I'm afraid. I’m going to ask the DA to try to get the bail set really high, since I think he may be a real flight risk. We’ll see. Go see if your mom is awake, I think we have to tell her about Frauder and what is going on.”
“Yes, okay,” Regina said and walked to the door of the guest room and knocked gently opening it slightly to look in.
“Frank,” she gasped, “Frank, come her quickly, I need you.”
Angelina Fruader was immobile on the bed. She was lying rigidly staring a the ceiling Her eyes were open unblinking and her limbs were twitching. She was drooling and had obviously had some sort of a physical problem.
Frank took one look and raced to the phone. He dialed 911 and asked for help, and then went to the bathroom, took a towel from the rack, wet it and went back to the bedroom. Regina stood immobile, while he loosened her mother’s shirt, sponged her face and made sure she was breathing. Her breath was shallow, but regular.
Frank stood there and did what he could while they waited for the EMT’s to arrive. Five minutes after his call, they could hear the sounds of the siren and a minute after that, they heard the ambulance pull up to the door. Regina, still shocked, opened the door, and the techs came in.
They took one look at Angelina lying on the bed, checked her respiration and went for the gurney.
“Hard to tell,” the senior tech said, “but it looks like a mini-stroke to me.” He examined Angelina's face and head. He saw the marks of the beating she had taken from Frauder earlier that week and said to Godowsky:
“What happened to this lady, officer? Who’s been beating up on her? Looks like someone really worked her head over, and this could be some sort of response to that.”
“Well,” Godowsky said, “this is my girlfriend’s mom. We just brought her here from her house, where we think her husband has been beating her.”
“We’re going to take her to the hospital ER. Why doesn’t her daughter follow us there so we can get all her information."
“Go ahead,” Frank said. “I’ll follow you there.”
In the car on the way to the hospital, Regina could hardly control her sobs. “When we got her out of the house yesterday,” she said to Frank, “she acted funny, very funny. I just thought it was the reaction of finding me alive and so on. But now it looks like she was having a response to the beatings.”
She blew her nose, and then wiped the tears from her eyes. “Oh Frank, you should have had a bullet in the gun when you pulled that trigger. You should have killed that bastard.”
“Easy, honey. Easy. You know better. We’ll get him, the legal way. He’s going to suffer one hell of a lot for the things he’s done. I’m going to make sure of that. You have no idea what the boys in the joint can do to a guy like that. When the word gets out that he molested kids...watch out, he won’t have an easy time of it, I promise you. And the word will get out, I’ll see to that.”
They arrived at the hospital just a few minutes after the ambulance. Frank closed and left the car where it was. No body would bother a cop’s vehicle, and they had seen him come in. He and Regina walked into the emergency reception room and asked about the comatose woman.
“You go with your mom,” Frank said, “I’ll take care of the details, as best I can.”
When Regina pushed through the large double doors to the ER, the receptionist nurse was about to object, but when Frank said to her: “She’s with me,” she sat down and waited for Frank to tell her about the circumstances. The hospital employees rarely gave the uniformed state police a hard time.
Frank sat with the triage nurse and told her what he knew about the situation. He told her that he would get insurance cards and other such material to her as soon as he could, but since Angelina was the wife of a public official, he was sure she had excellent insurance.
Inside the ER, the young doctor was bending over the unresponsive Angelina. He lifted back her eyelid, and was not pleased with what he saw. He turned to the nurse and said, "Let’s get an MRI right now. I think there may be a problem, cranial bleeding, or something like that. If that's the case, we have got to get in there and relieve the pressure as soon as we can.
He examined her head carefully, “Look here,” he said, “here are signs of some sort of contusion. Do you think she could have been hit by a baseball bat? It sure looks like it.”
Regina stood gasping and sobbing uncontrollably as she explain her mother's condition to Frank who had appeared as they moved Angelina's gurney down the hall. They sat in a corner of the waiting area knowing until the results of the MRI were read, there was little to be done.
After half an hour, the doctor motioned them into an exam room where he showed them the x-rays. “It isn’t very good news, I’m sorry to say. We have a problem here,” and he pointed out a dark area of the film, “there is bleeding. Someone gave this lady a hell of a hit on the head, I think, and the blood has been seeping in here. We need to get in there right away and stop the bleeding. I just hope that there has been no brain damage, but we won’t know that for a while. I need a next of kin to sign the forms permitting the operation. How about her husband?”
“Forget that,” Frank said. “He's in jail, now. And he may never get out. His daughter Regina will give permission. Is that okay?”
"I guess it will have to be."
“I’ll vouch for her: she’s her daughter. She’s been estranged, but she’s her daughter. Give her the forms.”
