Fatal Encounters, Chapter 28
by Irv Pliskin
Carl awakened at 7:20. He was instantly aware of the sounds people make when they are using the bed to the fullest. He was aware of the rhythmic sounds of a bed rocking and the pleasure gasps accompanying it.
The sounds came from the room next door, and he was sure it was that activity that had awakened him. He was feeling somewhat rested, not completely, but somewhat. The sound was getting to him, so he turned on the TV pushed up the volume and watched the Today show broadcast on the Philadelphia NBC network: Channel 10.
He was about to go to the bathroom, when the five-minute local segment came on. First news bite on the screen was the picture of him that he had seen the night before at the Day's Inn in Cherry Hill. The announcer said, “Police are still looking for the man in this picture. He is wanted for questioning in a series of serial murders. He is considered dangerous and is probably armed. If you should know the whereabouts of this man, please contact your local police. Do not approach under any circumstances.”
Carl watched until the announcer started talking about a shooting in the middle of Arch Street in Philadelphia the night before. Leaving the TV on, he walked into the bathroom to take care of his morning needs.
This, he thought, was much more notoriety than he needed. He really wanted to remain anonymous. Although he had taken lots of precautions, like his spider hole, he never expected to be identified and run to earth the way he was at the moment. He had to think it through, find a way to get out of the limelight and get away from the damned relentless police pursuers.
He could certainly afford to do whatever he wanted to do, and go wherever he wanted to go, unless of course all of his money was compromised. That seemed to be something of the case, he reasoned. The only way they could have found him was to know that he had used credit cards at the ATM’s in the Cherry Hill area, and that seemed to indicate they knew more about his finances than he would like.
He didn't know the law, of course, so he did not know if the cops could seize his money. He thought they could not, at least not until he was caught and arraigned. But, they could, apparently, find some way for the credit card companies and the banks to report where he was when he made ATM withdrawals.
“Shit, that's not fair,” he muttered. “Fair?” he asked himself. “Nothing is fair in this kind of a war. And, you can bet, I'm at war with these guys and the whole frigging world. I really am.”
He was reasonably sure that the old man who had registered him had not looked at him well enough to be able to identify him. The office had been very badly lit, just one of those brass desk lamps with a green glass shade. So he had not been seen at all. But, if he walked outside, it was quite possible that some nosy person had seen his picture and might remember him. He had to change that, certainly.
He opened his bag and took out the two costumes. He decided he would have more liberty and mobility as a Chassidic Jew than as a priest. But he realized he had to be careful what he ate and where he ate if he was masquerading as a religious Jew.
Those people ate funny and he had to be sure he didn't create suspicion if he ordered the wrong things at a restaurant. He wondered, could he go to a restaurant even?
He started to get dressed and then he thought about the afternoon before when he had bought the costume. What had he told that girl?
What was her name? Oh Yeah. Hannah.
He tried to remember the conversation he had had with her. Had he asked for directions anywhere? He knew he had told her that he was working on a play somewhere on the Eastern shore. Then he remembered she had told him how to get to the airport. Oh Christ!
If she had seen his picture on the TV she might have called the cops.
His stomach was suddenly upset. He sat down on the toilet and considered the various ramifications. He decided he couldn't afford to take chances.
On his fingers he enumerated the possibilities.
One. Hannah called he cops and spilled her guts.
Two the cops got to the airport yesterday or this morning looking for him.
Three, they were able to trace the car he turned in, and possibly the car he rented. He remembered asking about how to get to the Marriott or the Hilton.
Four, they went to both hotels and somebody there recognized him from the pictures they had. He remembered he had used a credit card. Which one? Oh yeah the Steubenville Ohio one.
Five, if they had gotten that far then they knew he had the Lincoln and they knew what the plate number was. So what the hell was he to do?
His gut was really churning. He had to have some sort of a plan. He thought about it and came up with what he hoped would be some workable ideas.
His first thought was to abandon the Lincoln in a parking lot somewhere, and take a bus and get the hell away. But that would be limiting, and he was not sure that whatever disguise he was going to use would work for him.
He decided that his most important need was to get something to eat, and find some way to change the license plate. That would help a little. If he wore the hat he had bought for the priest's outfit and sunglasses, he might be able to obscure his appearance to get by and not be recognized by anyone. He dressed casually, pulled out the fedora, put on the sunglasses and went out to the car. He drove down the road until he saw a 7-11 convenience store. He went in, and bought a 16- ounce container of hot coffee, a breakfast sandwich, a blueberry muffin, a doughnut, a box of large Band-Aids and from the auto section a screw driver and a pair of pliers. He gave the situation some more thought, and added some cookies, a bag of chips, some luncheon meat and a hoagie roll to his purchases. He would have lunch at least, and with luck, he might be out of effective TV area by suppertime.
So far as he could see, no one even turned a head. He got into the Lincoln, and drove casually, watching carefully in his rear view mirror for someone following, down the road to the motel. No one followed.
He dashed into the hotel room and devoured his breakfast. Then he opened the box of Band-Aids, and carefully put a large band-aid on his cheek, coming almost down to his mouth. He knew that people would see the band-aid, and not his face. It was, under the hat and the sunglasses, a very good disguise. He picked up the phone and called the motel operator. When a young woman came on the phone he said, “Hi, I'm Jake. I'm in room 21, and I paid through today at eleven. But I ain't feeling too good, and would like to spend the day here in bed, and sleeping off this flu bug. How much will the room cost until tomorrow?”
She told him “Fifty dollars.”
“Look,” he said, “That's okay. Can you send someone down here and I'll give them the cash. Just have them knock on the door, and I'll hand the money through the door. Will that be okay? No need to clean the room today. It'll be okay the way it is. If I need something, I'll call. Will that be okay?”
“Yes,” she said, “that will be fine. I'll come down there right away and get the money.”
He stood behind the door with the money in his hand, and when she knocked, he opened the door, slightly and handed it to her.
“Thanks,” she said. “if you need anything, like food or something, call and I'll send out for it and you can pay for it when it gets here. Okay?”
“Thanks,” he said. And then he coughed. “Thanks very much.”
Carl sat at the motel room window, listening for traffic in the hotel parking lot. The room he was in, along with several others faced the back of the motel, away from the road and the front entrance. it was fairly secluded back there, and he sat waiting, trying to decide what to do and how to find a car with which to change license plates. He was sure that the plate numbers on this rental were now in the possession of the cops...only a truly alert cop might notice, but he didn't want to take any chances, none at all.
He sat and waited, and after about an hour he heard the door to the room next to his open and a couple come out.
“God, Al,” he heard the woman say. “I'm so hungry I could eat a horse.”
“Okay. Do we take your car or mine?”
“Let's go in ours. Leave the Caddy here.”
“Sure, when does your husband get home today?”
“Not until late. His plane comes into the Allentown Airport at about
4: 30. We'll have the whole day. Isn't that delicious?”
Carl didn’t hear the answer. But he could guess what it might be.
He watched the couple get into a racy convertible, and drive off, rattling the gravel driveway of the motel.
As soon as they were gone, he decided that that would be his chance to find a plate. He left his room door open and walked to the Eldorado parked next to his Lincoln. He looked around. He was hidden from the road, and he was sure he would be able to hear any approaching vehicle on the gravel surface. Good. If he heard a car, he could scurry to his room, close the door and still not be caught. The timing seemed ideal.
He quickly opened the trunk of the Lincoln and took out the pliers and screwdriver he had bought earlier. He bent in front of the Caddy and in just a few moments had the front plate removed.
He had a little trouble getting the plate screwed onto his car, but he finally managed. He was sure he needed only one plate. The danger, if there was to be any, would come from some cop behind him, not in front. There was very little chance that someone would compare the front tag with the one in the rear. He had things to do and he really didn't want to hang around in the hotel room, and listen to those two people carry on during the rest of the day. So long as the Town Car had a different tag on it, he was sure he could go on his way and get some of his money, so he would have some ability to do whatever he decided was the thing to do.
He went back into the room, closed the door, packed his bag and then got into the Lincoln. No one in the motel would be looking for him. So far as they knew, he was dead to the world, sleeping off the flu.
Making sure he kept to the side of the building that had no windows on it, Carl pulled to the front of the building and then turned into the main road away from the hotel and the North East extension of the turnpike.
He was wearing the priest's fedora, dark glasses and the large Band-Aid that obscured half his face. He had also put on the mustache he had bought at the costume store.
He was sure that no one could look at him and determine who he was or connect him to the picture he had seen on the TV. At his first opportunity, he pulled into a gas station and filled the car with gasoline, at the fill it yourself pumps. He did not mind using the more expensive pumps with an attendant, but he felt that an attendant might, just might, be able to get some sense of who he was. If he did it himself, as most people did, he was really quite anonymous.
He paid for the gas with cash, and then, turned back onto the highway headed back to the pike.
He needed to get to Lenhartsville, so he could get to the Mail Service store he owned and his private lock box. His plan was to get some safe deposit keys, and replenish his money supply. He wasn't sure how much he wanted to take, but he had an idea that he might need as much as a couple of hundred thousand dollars which he would hide in the lining of his luggage.
That much money was heavy, he knew, but thank goodness, his luggage had wheels and he could move it around easily. Did anyone, he wondered, ever worry about how much money weighed? He had once checked it out and he knew that a million dollars in dollar bills weighed about a ton, so he knew he would have to have large denominations. A million dollars in hundreds, that was a lot of weight, too, at least several hundred pounds. He didn't think he needed a million dollars at the moment, and if he needed that much cash he could always get it from one of his overseas accounts, but he would really be on the run by then. And if he were, how would he transport it?
'You know, Carl,' he thought out loud, 'You are really on the run now.
Maybe it is time to set up somewhere else completely. Take one of those fake passports and get the fuck out, before you find yourself in a pokey you won't be able to get out of'. The little ego leprechaun in his head said it was time to cut and run, but something, he didn't know what, told him to stick it out a little longer. Maybe he could get even with the guys who were after him. If he could turn the tables on them, shove the results up their ass, sideways, that would be delicious. Then he could take off and get the hell out of the US. It was about time, anyway.
He drove up the North East extension of the turnpike to the Allentown exit, making sure, dead sure, that he violated no speed limit and broke no laws. He kept his car just three miles an hour above the posted speed, and all sorts of cars whipped past him, but he felt certain he was secure in that speed. He half expected to see a kid on roller skates speed past him, since most cars whooshed by, shaking the Lincoln and rattling the windows as they did, but that was to be expected if he insisted on driving in the right, slow, lane. He checked his rear view mirror at one point, and could see a state police car charging down the highway hugging the divider on the left lane. He experienced a momentary fright. Could the bastards be after him? Then he relaxed. The car was on cruise control, and it moved without any fluctuation in the speed. The world was full of Town Cars the same color, and the license plate matched nothing they knew about. Why should he be concerned? He drove along, listening to the radio and apparently paying no specific attention to a patrol car coming down the road. If the cops were to pull behind him, then he could be scared: but then it might be too late, anyway. The cops whizzed by, without a second glance. Carl relaxed and continued his reasonably sedate drive up the road toward Allentown.
Frank Godowsky turned to Hallen as they left the room in the Hilton.
“We couldn't have missed him by much, boss. We almost had him, I think.”
“You're right Frank. But what the hell could have spooked him?”
“Sixth sense,” Frank said. “Sixth sense. Guys like that, they have built in antenna, and they get feelings and move quickly when they do.
I bet that's what happened here. He probably figured something like us getting to Hannah and finding out about his plans. That's what happened I bet.”
“You could be right. We'll never know of course. It's back to square one, and waiting for another clue, don't you think?”
“I'm afraid so, Jerry. I'm afraid so. Well, what do we do now?”
“What we're going to do I think is get a room here, and spend the night. Do you object to spending the night in a room with me?
”No, why should I?”
“Some guys might. We should be able to get a room with twin beds, and in the morning we head up to Lenhartsville and take care of some unfinished business with that Frauder guy. Is that okay with you?”
“Yes, sir. I think that's a darn good plan.”
Neither ferocity nor intimidation was an essential part of Hallen's nature. He had encountered lots of cops in his time that took great pleasure in scaring the public half to death, and in intimidating people. He seriously disliked that kind of man, and what they seemed to think was the essential part of police work.
Hallen had not planned to be a cop. As a kid he had not dreamed of a life as a policeman or a fireman or as an airline pilot. It was his intention to become a college professor, teach English at a prestigious college like Lafayette or even Swarthmore.
But, he took an elective one semester in Criminology and was hooked.
Hallen was a big man, big and strong and athletic so he fit the profile and was able to pass the tests and become a State Trooper. But he was generally restrained and used intellect rather than intimidation to get his cases solved. That tendency had been recognized quite early in his career, and it was valued. So he progressed quickly through the police roles, and moved within just a few years from a patrol car to solving crimes as a detective.
But, he felt that when dealing with Frauder he would have to change his tactics. He would have to be forceful, threatening and overbearing.
His first decision was to let him sit in the interview room for a while, alone and isolated with the threat that Frank had made about gagging him hanging in the air. He would, in the meantime, deal with Jimmy and Roger.
One of Hallen's college interests had been theater. He had loved to act, and had done very well as the lead in several of the college plays. He would also like to act in the little theater group in his township, but his schedule was so erratic that he just could not plan to take a part and then be forced to disappoint everyone because he had to work.
So, he catered to his desire by attending acting classes at the local college and when he could, play a role in the student plays. His acting experience was useful he felt. He could, if needed, act in ways that were not natural to him, and he had used this skill from time to time in interrogations and in interviews with witnesses. Acting, was, he believed, a truly great, and sometime necessary, police skill.
He began to psych himself up for the role he had to play in dealing with Arnie's boys, those two miscreants who were locked in the building. He knew he would have to handle each of them differently. He had called for copies of their records, the rap sheets, while he was en route to Sheriff Amos's office. The records where faxed there and waiting when he arrived. He had examined them carefully on the way up into the Poconos and he had some idea of the type of thugs he was dealing with.
Roger Malissi, had had, according to his rap sheet, a lot of trouble with the law. He had spent at least ten years in the various Commonwealth prisons. And now, at 32 he had a reputation as an enforcer and a very hard-nosed guy.
Hallen felt that talking to him first, would give him some clues as to how to work with Jimmy Frankstone, who had spent only a few months in the county jail. and that only for D&D. If he could push the right buttons, Hallen thought he might get some worthwhile information from Frankstone. His intuition told him that Jimmy was terrified of prison, and that would work very much to Hallen's advantage as he interrogated the man.
Jimmy had been the driver, and he had not made as many overt threats to Regina as Roger had. Jimmy had been the easier one to handle, too.
He called over to Godowsky. “Hey Frank. Come look at this guy Roger Frankstone's rap sheet. We got ourselves a habitual offender here. It may not be too easy to break him down, but you and I are going to have a real private conversation with him. Okay with you?”
“Yes sir. Anything special you want me to do?”
“No, I think you familiarize yourself with his career, and then follow my lead in the interrogation. Okay?”
“Yes sir.”
At that moment Frank's cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, and flipped it open.
“Yes. Oh, hi darling. Is everything okay? Hold on a moment, please.”
He covered the mouthpiece with his hand, “Detective Hallen, are we going in right now, or can I take a moment to talk to Regina. She's on the phone here?”
“Take your time, give her my warm regards, please.”
“Yes, thank you.”
He took his hand off the phone mouthpiece , and walked to a corner of the room, speaking in almost a whisper.
“How are you? Good, good, I'm happy to hear that. By the way, Detective Hallen sends you his regards.
Yes, I miss you too. You sure everything is okay?
Your mom is she okay?
Great. Listen, I should be finished here this evening, and I should be back in time for supper. We can go to that steak house out on 22. Would you like that. Good, I'll call you when I can. Yes,” he said. “I do very much.”
Hallen smiled at him. “You sound like a guy who has been married forever.”
Frank blushed. And was about to answer when Hallen said.
“No, no. That's fine. I think that that's fine. Just relax officer, I wasn't making fun of you. Not at all.”
Hallen then walked and looked at the empty rooms that lined the large hall in the center of the building. They were all fairly small, solid cinderblock walls, no windows and a hanging light overhead. Each of the rooms held a bed and a chair. There was no other furniture in any of the rooms.
Hallen turned and looked at Godowsky. “Listen, I don't want to put these two guys into the system just yet. I think I want to interrogate them here, if I can. Let's set up one of these rooms as an interrogation room. We'll have to get the bed out, and put in a table and a couple of chairs. Let's use that room in the far corner, it should be the most sound proof of the lot, don't you think?”
“That should be fine,” Godowsky said. “I'll get it ready for you.”
It was slightly after 9 AM when Hallen pulled the unmarked unit on to the main street of Lenhartsville. Traffic was heavy, and he moved along the street at a slow pace. They got to the police station, pulled the unit around the back, parked and went in.
Hallen rapped on Sheriff Amos' door and was greeted with real joy.
“Holly Christ, Hallen, I was wondering how long you were going to leave that noisy bastard here with me.”
“He been a problem Perry?”
“Nothing we can't handle. Makes a hell of a lot of noise though. Keep shouting about how important he is, how he knows the governor personal and how he is gonna have my ass, your ass, and the entire police operations thrown in jail. He's been screaming for a lawyer too, swears he's being denied his rights.”
“is that so? Anybody close enough to hear him?”
”Hell no. I dumped him in our isolation cell. He can scream and rant as loud as he wants to, nobody is gonna hear him.”
“Okay, then. We're home free. No one ever heard him ask for a lawyer, and we will all say that he never did. Why, as I recall, when we caught him with the high school girl we read him his rights and told him he could have counsel He refused. You remember that don't you officer Godowsky?”
“Yes sir, I certainly do. It surprised me, because I thought he really needed a lawyer. But then, we heard about the lynching party being formed and decided we better get him out of sight to save us trouble and protect him. “
“You guys really got it worked out, dontcha?” Amos asked. “Good routine. How are ya Godowsky. How are they hanging?”
“Fine Sheriff. Busy town you got here. Pretty surprising so much traffic early in the morning.”
“It's bird watching season, sonny boy. Watching them birds over on Hawk Mountain is one of the things that keeps this town alive. So long as they keep migrating, we'll be busy as all get out. Once the birds go, things get quiet here for a few months and then they start up again, when the birds come back and fly north.”
”Keeps you going, doesn't it sheriff?”
“Sure does, and it keeps me on the payroll, too. A guy's gotta be realistic about where his priorities are, and mine are with those birds.
Long may they fly. Now, how are you guys gonna handle that noisy scum bag we have locked up downstairs?”
Hallen reflected for a moment and then he said, “Perry, here's what I think would work best. I'd like your opinion. Bring him up the back way, so no one can see or hear him, and put him in the interrogation room you've got next door. Let him sit there, for maybe ten minutes, maybe even cuffed to the chair in there. Then the three of us, if you can spare the time, that is, will go in to talk to him. We'll have a cup of hot coffee for him, and even some donuts. And we'll all three insist that he never asked for a lawyer. As a matter of fact, we wondered why. We'll let him make the call, and tell him that if the girl's father finds out where he is, we won't be responsible. And play it from there. Meanwhile, we have a list of charges from fraud, to statutory rape and attempted murder that I am sure will get him locked up while he awaits trial. We can prove that he is flight risk, so how does that sound?”
“It sounds okay with me,” Amos said.
“How about you Frank?”
“Yeah, It's okay with me. Listen will it be okay if I pee in that bastard's coffee?”
“I'll send for him.” the Sheriff said. He called a number and gave instructions and suggested that one of the men go across the street to the Dunken Doughnuts and get coffee and doughnuts and bring them to the interview room.
When the deputy delivered Frauder to the interview room he was sputtering and complaining.” I shouldn't be here. You have no right to keep me here, I want to get out of here.” He complained even more loudly when the deputy made him sit down, and then snapped a wrist cuff to him and the chair that was secured to the floor.
Amos, Hallen and Godowsky watched through the one way mirror as he sat in the chair, dropped his head in dejection and sat there, apparently sobbing in frustration.
“Let him fret for a few more minutes,” Hallen said, “and then we'll go in.”
The deputy came with a tray of hot coffee and doughnuts and after a few minutes, Hallen picked it up, and walked into the interview room.
Frauder looked up and saw Hallen and began to shout as loudly as he could.
“You, you son of a bitch. You are going to regret ever having seen me. I'm going to have your badge, your career is toast...I'm gonna get everything you own. You are going to be charged with false arrest and I am going to pillory you. I am. I swear.”
Sheriff Amos and Godowsky walked into the room after Hallen. Frauder looked at them and shouted some more. “Both of you are going to get the same treatment this bastard is going to get. I'll get you all for false arrest.”
When he stopped to take a breath Hallen said, “Would you like some coffee Mr. Frauder and perhaps a doughnut?”
Frauder shook his head, no.
“It's here if you want it. Now you should listen to me, before you carry on any more. Until this moment you have not been completely charged, you have not been put under arrest. You've been in protective custody to protect your from a mob that would tear you apart for what you did to that young girl. Her father was on the way to tear your limb from limb when we took you to our car and brought you here for your personal safety. Now, however, I am going to put you under arrest, and I want you to listen very carefully while officer Godowsky reads you your rights. Officer Godowsky”
“You are under arrest Garth Frauder, you are charged with fraud, attempted murder, violation of a minor woman, attempted rape, statutory rape and sundry other crimes. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney, if you can not afford an attorney one can be appointed for you...” Godowsky read the entire statement of rights as ordered by the courts. When he finished he asked. “Do you understand these rights?”
Frauder spluttered some more and shouted, “Yes, damnit I do.
I want a lawyer, and I want one now.”
