text: Robert F. Clifton The House on Timber Lane  To   Kim and Erica 
   
   
   The House On Timber Lane 
   
   The House On Timber Lane 
   
     
     
     
   
   
   
     
     
   by 
   
   Robert F. Clifton 
   
   
   The House On Timber Lane 
   
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
   __________ 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
   by 
   
   Robert F. Clifton 
   
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
   
   The reader is advised that this is a work of fiction. Any similarity of any person or the Names, places or events is purely coincidental. 
   
     
     
     
     
   
   The House On Timber Lane 
   
     
   
   Copyright © 2013 by Robert F. Clifton 
   
     
   All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author. 
     
   
   Chapter One 
   
   Robert Wallace sat with his feet up on the desk, his ankles crossed and with a lit cigarette in his hand. He gazed through the plate glass window of his office seeing seagulls in the distance riding wind currents that came in off of the ocean. From time to time he brought the cigarette to his mouth and took a deep drag from the burning tobacco, inhaling, then exhaling the blue-white smoke into the air. Reaching for the half-full ashtray on his desk the burnt ash fell missing the receptacle by inches. He swore to himself as he brushed away the powdery substance from the desktop. Then he picked up the white pages that contained his reports and using his breath blew away the residue that had landed on the paper. 
   From the doorway of his office came a feminine voice. “Captain Wallace?” 
   Wallace turned abruptly at the sound, spinning around in his high back desk chair. When he did he saw a woman, a woman who looked very familiar to him. “Elaine, Elaine Rogers?”, he asked. 
   “How nice that you remember me. It‘s Elaine Benson now”, she said. 
   “How could I forget someone as pretty as you?”, he said as he stood to greet her. 
   “It has been over twenty years Robert”, she replied as she took a seat. 
   “Yes, now that I think of it, it has been that long since our high school days”, Wallace responded. 
   “Speaking of high school do you remember Lillian Moore?’, she asked.” 
   “Certainly…You two were always together. A lot of people thought that both of you were sisters…I haven’t seen her in years either:” 
   “She‘s in the hospital, in a coma. That’s why I’m here”, said Elaine Benson. 
   “Something wrong?”, asked Wallace. 
   “Like you said, we are like sisters, even after both of us married. She married Vernon Gray, he’s a physician. I married Paul Benson, a Realtor, unfortunately, Paul passed away two years ago.” 
   “I’ m sorry to hear that”, said Wallace. 
   “Thank you. As I was saying, Lillian and I were together twice a week, knew everything about our husbands and family and then all of a sudden she becomes ill. Robert, she was as healthy as a horse.” 
   “Healthy people some times are stricken, stroke, heart attack. It can happen to anyone”, Wallace replied. 
   “I understand that. Nonetheless, I think someone is trying to kill her.” 
   “And just who do you think it is?”, asked Wallace. 
   “Vernon…Her husband.” 
   “Why?” 
   “Vernon is an addicted gambler, horses mostly, occasionally he plays poker…He doesn’t often win at either. Lillian had told me that he is in deep with the bookmakers:.” 
   Wallace wrote that fact on a yellow lined notepad.”Other than being concerned about his financial situation why would he want to kill his wife?” 
   “Just that, finances…Six months ago he took out a new insurance policy on Lilian, making him the beneficiary” 
   “Do you know how much she is insured for?” 
   “I seem to remember it being, two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.” 
   Wallace tossed the ballpoint pen he had been using on to the desktop. “Well Elaine, I can understand your concern, however, at this point, there is little that I can do for you. Lillian is still alive. I’m assigned to Major Crimes which I’ll admit includes attempted homicide, but from what you have told me, as a police officer I don’t have enough information for probable cause. In the meantime, I’ll give you my card. My home telephone number is on the back of it. Call me anytime. I’ll contact a few people I know at the hospital and make sure that Lillian receives quality care.” 
   “Thank you, Robert. Unfortunately, I have the feeling that I will be calling you”, Elaine said as she got up out of the chair. 
   “As I said, call me anytime and it was good seeing you again”, said Robert. 
   After Elaine Benson left, Wallace tried working on some old, cold cases reading and re-reading old reports and going over evidence, but he found it difficult to concentrate as the thoughts of Lillian Gray, in the hospital and in a coma filled his mind. Even though he had no probable cause at the moment Wallace decided to look into the private life of Doctor Vernon 
   Gray. In particular, he wanted to know about his gambling habit and how much he owed the bookmakers. At the same time although he hadn’t socialized with Elaine Benson in years he always 
   considered her as intelligent and level-headed. Her apprehension about the health of her friend only added to his curiosity about Lillian Gray’s condition. 
   Wallace looked at his wristwatch and noticed that it was almost three o’clock in the afternoon. Three o’clock in the afternoon was almost quitting time and it being a Friday meant that he was off for the weekend. He got up from his desk walked out of his workplace stopping only to lock the office door. 
   The elevator took him to the ground floor. Stepping out into the vestibule he returned salutes to two uniform officers stopping long enough to briefly chat, inquiring how they were then he walked outside and to his private automobile, a 1972 Ford Thunderbird. 
   Driving down Ocean Avenue, the main street of Nautilus Beach, New Jersey he noticed that the traffic was light. 
   Usually, by late afternoon visitors, mostly from Philadelphia were in town checking into hotels for the weekend. “Still, it’s early”, he thought to himself. 
   He saw a parking place near the Greek Coffee Shop owned by Isidoros Sarkos. Isidoros street name was “Harry The Hat.” He was called that because he was ashamed of being bald and wore a Panama hat every day to hide the fact. Harry was not just a bookmaker. He was the big guy that backed the small time bookies that sat in the coffee shop all day taking bets from their customers who walked in and made their wagers. Besides taking horse bets and number plays Harry also ran the no-limit poker game that operated sometimes from eight in the morning until midnight. Just about every hour on the hour Harry or one of his trusted employees would reach into the game and take the house cut. Still, he was smart enough to never write anything down on paper, remembering who made the bets and on what. The poker game never showed cash, only chips and to anyone, including police officers, the game appeared as a friendly, neighborhood game even though it was rumored that some of the pots paid in the hundred thousand. 
   Captain Wallace parked his car, locked the doors of the vehicle and walked into the coffee shop. Harry got up from his chair and walked behind the counter. Wallace took a seat on one of the high back stools. 
   “Well, well, Captain Wallace. I haven’t seen you in a long time…Must be about a year now…What’s on your mind? You got a beef?”, asked Harry. 
   “Nope...I need two things…A cup of your famous coffee and some information.” Wallace answered. 
   “The coffee is easy…Information from me to a cop is somewhat difficult…Right now I’m listening. While you’re talking I’ll make a fresh pot for you.” 
   Harry reached for a clean, brass briki. “since it’s just you and me I’ll make two cups”, said Harry. 
   “Fine”, Wallace responded. He then sat and watched as 
   Harry took one scoop of coffee out of a container. 
   “I like mine sketes, that means unsweetened”, suggested Harry. 
   “No problem”, Wallace answered. 
   Harry turned on the heat under the pot and continued to stir. When the coffee dissolved he stopped stirring. Heating the brew slowly foam began to rise in the pot. When the foam reached the top of the pot Harry removed the briki from the heat. He then divided the foam equally into two Demitasse cups. When that was done he filled both cups with the remaining coffee. 
   Wallace raised the cup to his lips and took a sip. “Excellent Harry, excellent”, he remarked. 
   “It’s the kaimaki. My mother taught me how to make the foam when I was just a boy. The richer the foam, the better the coffee”, Harry explained. 
   “Well, she must have taught you right…It’s great”, said Wallace. 
   “Thank you…Now, let’s cut the bull shit. You didn’t come in here for my coffee. You said you wanted information.” 
   “I hear the word on the street is that a local doctor, Doctor Vernon Gray owes some of the bookmakers in town a lot of money”, said Wallace. 
   “You hear right’. 
   “How much and to who?” 
   “Nice try…I’ll tell you the amount, but not who he owes.” 
   “Fair enough” 
   “He owes a total of one hundred grand.” 
   “Horses?” 
   “Mostly. He has sat in on some high stake poker games. The word is he’s a lousy player.” 
   Wallace took another sip of the Greek coffee. As he set down the cup he said, “Is he into you?” 
   "Listen, Captain, if I was to answer that question I’d be admitting that I might be breaking the law. Look around. What do you see? Do you see any illegal activity going on here? I’m just the simple proprietor of a coffee shop. Besides, do I look stupid?" 
   “No Harry, you don’t, and no one can ever say that you’re stupid. How much do I owe you for the coffee?” 
   “On the house.” 
   “You know me better than that. How much?” 
   “One dollar…The reason I like you, Captain, is that you never chisel or try to shake me down, otherwise I wouldn’t even talk to you…Now, listen, you be careful out there.” 
   “Thanks, Harry…I will.” 
   At home that evening Robert Wallace sat at his small kitchen table eating from a frozen dinner that he had heated in the microwave oven. As he ate he thumbed through the yellow pages. When he found “Physicians” he ran the tip of his index finger down the alphabetic column of doctors listed. Finding the name Vernon Gray he read, “Physician, Endocrinology (Internal Secretion Glands)”, He closed the telephone book and finished his meal. 
   After cleaning up the kitchen following his dinner Wallace walked into the small library located in the middle room of his condominium. Walking to the shelves that held his collection of Encyclopedias he removed the book with the designated letter E. 
   He took a seat in the overstuffed, leather recliner and opened the red leather volume. Finding the word endocrinologist he read, Endocrinologist treats the following conditions, hormones, diabetic mellitus, thyroid disorders, menopause, high blood pressure, high cholesterol and lipid abnormalities associated with heart disease. Getting up from his chair he walked to his desk, on using a lined tablet wrote the information on the paper. 
   Wallace then walked into his living room turned on the stereo and was his habit listened to classical music, As he listened to Ravel’s, “Pavane for Dead Princess”, he took a seat in his favorite chair closed his eyes and listened to the music. It came to him as a slow rhythm, soft, relaxing and as it did he thought again about Vernon Gray. Why am I thinking about him? As far as I know, he has not committed any crime, especially murder. Yet, my thoughts continually go back to what Elaine said, that Lillian was 
   a healthy woman who now was an admitted patient in the hospital and in a deep coma”, he thought to himself. 
   He reached for the telephone, removed the receiver and dialed the number he had memorized sometime last year. The telephone number that he had dialed rang six times and he was just about to hang up when a female answered with a dull tone in her voice. 
   “Hello?” 
   “Hello yourself”, he responded. “Wally?… You son of a bitch, you must want something.” 
   “Well, I was just sitting here listening to some beautiful music and it made me think of you”, he replied. 
   “Knock it off Wally…The last time I saw you we made a dinner date and you stood me up.” 
   “They called me in on a shooting in the Inlet.” “And, you couldn’t call me?” 
   “No, seriously Mary I couldn’t at the time. Tonight I said to myself I think I’ll give Mary Higgins a call and apologize. Long time no see.” 
   “Alright, what is it you want to know?” 
   “Well, now that you mentioned it and you being the head nurse of the ICU at the hospital, what can you tell me about a patient named Lillian Gray?” 
   “She’s in a coma.” 
   “I know that, what else?” 
   “She’s married to Doctor Gray” 
   “Yeah, yeah, what caused it.” 
   “No one knows and even if I had that information I wouldn’t give it to you. I could get fired and the hospital sued. You’re known for your professional ethics, well I have mine.” 
   “Can you tell me how she is doing?” 
   “Let’s just say that the patient is comfortable” “That’s it?” 
   “That’s all you’ll get from me, Wally” 
   He heard the sound of the receiver being placed on the telephone base as she hung up the phone. After getting up out of the chair and walking to his desk Wallace pushed the record button on his tape recorder. “Send Mary Higgins Flowers”, he said. 
   Saturday morning Wallace sat again at his kitchen table reading the morning newspaper. The donut he was having for breakfast was stale so he dunked it in the cup of coffee in front of him. As usual, he read the sports page first, local news next and national along with world news last. 
   With breakfast finished he showered, shaved, got dressed and gathered up his dirty clothes placing them in a large laundry bag. Most residents in the condo complex used the laundry room in the basement. Although convenient, Wallace found that he is the only bachelor living in the building it meant smiling while fending off dinner invitations from women who wanted him to meet their daughters or their friend's daughters. He found it easier to take his dirty clothes to a woman who took in washing for a living. It was a little expensive, but considering that Esmerelda Jenkins ironed his shirts, to him it was worth it. 
   After delivering his laundry he next headed for the supermarket. He tapped his shirt pocket making sure the grocery list he had prepared the night before was there. He felt it, then pulled into the large parking lot. Seeing a cart that someone had left after placing their groceries in a car he took it and pushed across the tarmac and into the store. When he entered he saw the 
   usual amount of female shoppers, young mothers, old women and a few men of various ages. He also spotted Wayne Hopkins a petty thief and shoplifter who was wearing a heavy overcoat on a nice day where the temperature was in the sixties. Wallace walked up behind Hopkins and pushed the shopping cart into the young man, who when being hit turned and said. “HEY!” 
   “Hey, your ass Wayne. Now, here’s what I want you to do. Whatever you’ve got in those overcoat pockets I want you to put in your cart. Then, you’re going to get your ass out of here. Do you understand?” 
   “I didn’t take anything Wally”, said Hopkins 
   “Wayne, don’t ruin my day. Do as I say because If I have to go into your pockets and find anything in there, large or small I’ll toss your ass in jail and that means I’ve got to go to headquarters and book you and that will piss me off Now, do as I say.” 
   Hopkins slowly placed a wrapped slice of ham, a can of tuna fish and a bag of gumdrops in the shopping cart. “That’s all Wally.” 
   “Bull shit”, Wallace replied. 
   Hopkins then dropped a tube of Ben Gay and a bottle of aspirin in with the other items. 
   “Alright, now get out of here and keep you hands where I can see them. Don‘t even think about grabbing something on the way out”, said Wallace. 
   After Hopkins left the store Wallace did his shopping. He bought six frozen meals, meatloaf, chicken, lasagna, pepper steak, and fish. At the fish counter, he ordered a half a pound of scallops. To those, he added fresh vegetables, potatoes, cabbage for coleslaw, fennel and fresh yellow beans. In the bakery, he placed a loaf of French bread and a lemon pie in his cart then headed for the checkout line. 
   Back at his condo after putting away his groceries Wallace checked his answering machine. He saw that he had one message. He pushed the play button and heard Elaine Benton’s voice. “Wally, please call me. Lillian died in the hospital at ten O’clock this morning.” 
   He dialed the telephone number listed for the realty office but received no answer. “Damn it!... She has my number but I never got her home telephone listing”, he thought to himself. After dialing the number for police headquarters he waited for someone at the Sergeant's Desk to answer the telephone. Then he heard, “Nautilus Beach Police Department, Sergeant Nolan.” 
   “Sergeant?…Captain Wallace… Give me the home telephone number listed for Elaine Benson of Benson Reality. It should be listed with the ADT system there at the desk.” 
   “Yes sir…I’ll get it for you”, said Sergeant Nolan. Wallace waited patiently while the Desk Sergeant looked for the information. Finally, Nolan picked up the receiver and said, “Captain…The number is 734 0829. Do you need anything else?” 
   “No…Thank you.” 
   After dialing the number Elaine answered. “Hello.” “Robert Wallace”, he said. 
   “Robert, I need to talk to you. I know I told you that Lillian has passed away, but something strange is going on and I don’t know what to do. Could you come here to my home?” 
   “Certainly, however, I don’t know where you live.” 
   “It’s three sixty Timber Lane.” 
   “Is that in the Bungalow Park area?” 
   “Yes.” 
   “Alright, I’m on the way.” 
   Twenty minutes later Wallace pulled up into the concrete driveway of Elaine Benson’s home. He got out of the car and as he was walking to the front door Elaine opened it. “Robert, hello…Please come in.” 
   Wallace wiped his feet on the welcome mat and entered the home. “What seems to be the problem?”, he asked. 
   “Please have a seat…Something strange is about to happen”, she said. 
   “Such as?” 
   “I called Vernon shortly after I learned of Lillian’s death. I offered my condolences and asked about the funeral arrangements. It was then that he informed me that Lillian is to be cremated tomorrow.” 
   “Wallace remained silent for a moment, then spoke. Quick, but not unusual. Many people are turning to cremation rather than the traditional burial.” 
   “Lillian was a devout Catholic. Neither she or her church would condone a cremation”, offered Elaine. 
   “The church looks upon cremation with disdain because of the early Christians, those they refer to as the martyrs were burned to death in the arena and their ashes scattered by the ancient Romans. I can see Lillian and her church’s viewpoint. What bothers me is why no viewing for her family or friends and why so quick?.” Wallace replied. 
   “That’s why I called you. Can you stop him?” “Elaine…I’ve got to have a reason. A husband has the right to handle his dead wife’s funeral anyway he wants, just as long as it’s legal. Right now all I have is your suspicions and I can’t get a court order on that.” 
   “I know that he killed her Robert. He murdered her just as sure as you are sitting here.” 
   “You might be right. If you are, eventually he’ll make a mistake. For now, let me ask you a few questions. Was Lillian diabetic?" 
   “No.” 
   “How about high blood pressure, heart disease?” 
   “No…I told you she was healthy.” 
   “Was she starting menopause?” 
   “We are too young.” 
   “I had to ask.” 
   “You indicated that her husband killed her for the insurance money. Did Lillian have any assets of her own?" 
   “Just the house across the street. It was left to her by her mother. Vernon wanted her to sell it, but she refused. She grew up in that house. Her living across the street from my family caused us to become best friends…Now, she’s gone.” 
   Wallace removed a pen from his shirt pocket. “Do you have a piece of paper or something I can write on?”, he asked. 
   Elaine got up left the room, then returned with a notepad. 
   “Thank you..What is the address of Lillian’s house?” 
   “It’s three fifty-seven Timber Lane…My number is three sixty.” 
   “Alright, like I said, there’s not too much I can do at this point. I will promise to look into the good doctor, such as his practice, his background etc…Meanwhile, will you be alright?” 
   “I’ll be fine...Thank you, Robert.” 
     
   
   Chapter Two 
   
   Spring turned into summer and Wallace was kept busy investigating crime and criminals that came into the city. He had learned a long time ago that if he needed to know what was happening in the city he had to have people who would give him information. 
   Since Nautilus Beach was a resort town with many hotels and motels Wallace had secured the trust of some of the hotel’s head housekeepers and the occasional front desk clerk. The housekeepers would tell him what they observed in the rented rooms. The desk clerks would provide him with the names of those who checked in as they registered, who they were with, what room they rented along with a list of telephone numbers they called from the room. 
   Near the end of July, Captain Wallace received a telephone call from the housekeeper of the Emerald Hotel, located one block from the beach. Marie Headly told him that while checking the condition of room 409 she noticed that different items, such as portable televisions, tape recorders, radios, golf clubs and silver bowls and goblets were placed on the floor next to the walls of the room. She also stated that as the room was rented by two men, two mink coats were hanging in the closet. 
   “What do these guys look like?”, asked Wallace. 
   “Both of them are white, average height, maybe five foot eight or nine. Each one of them is about twenty-five years old, dark hair. They told one of the maids that they deal in sales of merchandise they purchase from estates, but none of us has seen anyone arrive to make any purchases. At the same time, there has been a lot of race track tickets in their trash. I talked to Harry Williams the night Desk Clerk. He told me that both men always leave together and they wear sunglasses at night.” 
   “Anything else?", asked Wallace. 
   “Not that I can think of at the moment” 
   “Alright, I’ll take care of it. Thanks, Marie.” 
   Wallace lit a cigarette, reached for the telephone on his desk and dialed three numbers. He waited a moment then heard, “Major Crime, Sergeant, O’Neil’. 
   “Bill, come to my office. I think we’ve got something”, said Wallace. 
   “On the way”, O’Neil replied. 
   Three minutes later Bill O’Neil walked into the office of Robert Wallace. “What do you have?”, he asked. 
   “I got information that two guys staying at the Emerald Hotel might have a stash of stolen property. I want you to go there. I’ll have the housekeeper open the door to the room. Take a look inside. I want you to see if we have enough probable cause for a search warrant. At the same time, if they’re dirty, we might want to bug the room, just to see where they’ve been or where they’re going. I want this to be legal Bill. Take Stiles with you, he’s level-headed.” 
   “Yep, no problem.” 
   “Go there about two-thirty or three o’clock. Seems these guys hit the track every day. The first race has a two pm post time.” 
   “Got it.” 
   “Good, have you heard anything from Civil Service on the lieutenant's test?” 
   “Not yet.” 
   “Well, good luck. You deserve to be promoted.” 
   “Thanks, Cap.” 
   When O’Neil left the office Wallace dialed the telephone number of the Emerald Hotel. When the switchboard operator answered with, “Emerald Hotel”, Wallace asked for Housekeeping. Marie Headley answered her telephone. 
   “Marie?…Captain Wallace. I’ll have two men there between two thirty and three o’clock this afternoon. I’d like you to open that room you have told me about. Would there be any problem?” 
   “No Captain, none at all”, Marie replied. 
   “Good, if you can think of anything else, talk to Sergeant O’Neil.” 
   “I will.” 
   “Thanks, Marie.” “You’re welcome.” 
   Wallace no sooner hung up the telephone when it rang. He answered it with the usual. “Major Crime Squad, Captain Wallace.” 
   A female voice said, “Wally?..This is Elaine. I just heard that Vernon Gray is involved in an affair with Grace Hodges.” 
   “Who is Grace Hodges?”, asked Wallace. 
   “She is the owner of Shelby Bakery in Philadelphia. I’m sure you have heard of Shelby Bread.” 
   “Yeah, I buy it once in a while. So what’s the problem? Gray is a widower, single, it’s not like he’s cheating on his wife and even if he were, adultery is no longer a criminal act in New Jersey." 
   “Don’t you see…He’s after this woman’s money” 
   “Elaine, that’s your opinion. There is nothing I can do at this time.” 
   “So, what are you going to do, wait until he kills this woman, just like he murdered Lillian?” 
   “Again, it’s your opinion that he killed Lillian.” 
   “What do I have to do to make you believe that Vernon Gray is a murderer?” 
   “You can start by having dinner with me tonight, over a glass of wine and I’ll listen to what you have to say.” 
   “If that’s what it takes, pick me up at seven.” 
   “Any place special?”, he asked. 
   “Any place except, Chinese or Mexican”, she answered. 
   “Please, give me a little credit. How about the Glass Menagerie?”, he asked. 
   “That’s pretty exclusive. They say you need reservations weeks in advance.” 
   “You did say seven?” 
   “Yes” 
   “See you then.” 
   At three forty-five P.M., Sergeant O’Neil walked into Captain Wallace’s office. He took a seat and looking at Wallace said, “Well we can make an arrest right now for possession of stolen property, or we can begin a surveillance of these two guys and see where it takes us. Personally, I’d like to see where it takes us”, he said. 
   “What’s in the room?”, asked Wallace. 
   “You name it, TVs, stereos, even some expensive looking artwork.” 
   “Enough probable cause for a bug and a warrant?” 
   “Yep.” 
   “OK. you write up the warrant request. You know what is needed. Meanwhile, send Stiles back to the Emerald and see Jack Collins. He’s the desk clerk on duty from four pm to midnight. Find out as much as possible about the two guys in room 409. At the same time have Stiles tell him that I want a room either next door to 409 or across from it. He might have to move another guest, but he’ll do it. Also, pick your surveillance teams and write up their schedule. When you get time submit a report.” 
   “When I get time?… I don’t have any time left”, said O’Neil. 
   “And you want to be a lieutenant”, Wallace replied. On the way home Wallace ran his Ford through the local car wash and made sure the attendants vacuumed, emptied the ashtray and sprayed a pine scent mist to cover up the smell of stale cigarette smoke. 
   At eight that evening he sat looking across the table at Elaine Benson. As he did he smiled. 
   “And, just what are you smiling at?”, she asked. 
   “Just, the thought that as a high school kid, I never realized how pretty you are.” 
   “And, I’m supposed to believe that?” 
   “Believe what you want, but it’s true.” 
   “I have a question”, she said. 
   “And, it is?” 
   “How is it, that people wait sometimes a month before they can get a reservation here, but you walk right in and sit down?” 
   “Simple…A few years back, Marty Hoffman, the owner was accused of arson and homicide from a fire that killed a drunken customer that had passed out in the men’s room after closing. I was assigned to investigate. Later, I found that the drunk had accidentally caused the fire. Marty was cleared and as a result, I have a standing invitation at any time.” 
   “For free?” 
   “The table is free. Everything else is cash, my cash.” 
   “I wasn’t implying anything”, said Elaine. 
   “Forget it, lets’ dance.” 
   As the orchestra played Robert Wallace took Elaine in his arms and held her close. 
   “Who is that singer and what is the name of the song. It’s beautiful”, said Elaine. 
   “The singer is Linda Ono and the song is “Dahil Sayo” or “Because Of You.” Right now she’s singing it in Tagalog, the language of the Philippines. The words in English are, Because of you, there’s a joy in living. Because of you, life is heavenly. I’ve never lived before, never felt a single thrill before, my heart stood still.” 
   “Robert, how do you know these things?” 
   “Appreciating music is one of my hobbies”, he answered. 
   “What else do you like?.” 
   “Well, let’s see. I like gourmet cooking, women, fishing, history and teaching. Listen, the waiter is looking at us, let’s go back to our table.” 
   Once seated, they gave their order to the waiter. Robert could see that Elaine was still upset about her opinion of Vernon Gray so he decided to explain what he had done so far. 
   “Alright, here’s what I got so far. Vernon Gray graduated from Nautilus Beach High School two years before our class. He then entered Rutgers, studied pre-med and graduated with honors. He then went to Saint George’s University in Granada and graduated with an M.D. degree. He then did his internship in a hospital in Camden, Cooper Hospital, I think. Once he was certified and licensed, he returned here and set up his practice. His specialty is endocrinology. He was doing very well, but his addiction to gambling began to drain his bank account and ruin his credit. In between all of that he met and married Lillian Moore your best friend and you think he murdered her. Is there anything I’m missing?” 
   “Yes, Grace Hodges.” 
   “Oh, yes, Grace Hodges. You believe that Vernon Gray is after her money.” 
   “He is.” 
   “Has he taken any of her money yet?” “I don’t know.” 
   “You don’t know, yet I’m supposed to take police action on a supposition.” 
   “I know that I’m right, Robert.” 
   Wallace took a sip from the glass of Pinot Grigio he had ordered with their meal. Then, he spoke to her again. “Listen. I believe everything that you have told me, but there’s nothing I can do. I promise you this. I’ll watch what he does and when he does something that breaks the law I’ll take action. How’s that?” 
   “I guess that will have to do for now”, she answered. 
   Their conversation was interrupted when the waiter returned with their entrées. Elaine had ordered squab with wild rice. Wallace had ordered the salmon with dill sauce. 
   “Oh, this looks lovely”, said Elaine admiring her plate. 
   “Glad you like it…I think that one on your plate sat on my office windowsill this morning.” 
   “Thanks a lot, Robert…Thanks a lot.” 
   “You’re welcome.” 
   “So tell me, how did you clear the owner of this restaurant?” 
   “It wasn’t too difficult. The customer had too much to drink. He went to the men’s room just before closing, sat on a toilet and fell asleep. No one checked the restrooms at closing. Marty has two cash registers at the bar and one for the restaurant. At closing, the circuit breakers supplying electricity to the cash registers are flipped, acting as additional security. At the same time, the interior lighting is shut off. You see, at closing after a long day Marty and his employees lock up and head for home. Marty comes in the next morning, goes over the previous night's receipts, counts the money and prepares his banking. The drunken customer woke up in the dark. He felt his way out of the men’s room and entered the restaurant. Wanting a drink he made his way to the bar. He pushed the keys of both cash registers trying to get them to open, figuring that there was money in the machine. Then, again operating in the darkness, he took a cigarette lighter out of his pocket and looked for a bottle of Everclear.” 
   “Everclear, I’ve never heard of it”, said Elaine. 
   “Everclear is similar to vodka. Actually, I think it’s more or less related to moonshine. It’s one hundred and ninety proof or ninety five per cent alcohol by volume”, Wallace replied. 
   “I’m sorry. I interrupted you. Please continue”, said Elaine, apologizing. 
   “Well, the drunk then found what he was looking for. He opened the bottle and in doing so spilled about half of the bottle on himself. When he went back to work on the cash registers, he lit his cigarette lighter again. This time the flame from his lighter ignited the fumes emitting from his clothes and he became a human torch. Like many people who are set on fire, he made the mistake of running. As he ran he either fell against or touched tables setting the tablecloth on fire. The Fire Investigator’s determined that since they found several places where fires had started in the dining room it indicated arson. The overzealous prosecutor then charged Marty with arson and homicide. Since there was a charge of homicide my squad got the case. To make a long story short, we found the victims fingerprints on the keys of the cash register, the bottle of Everclear, along with his cigarette lighter behind the bar. Marty was exonerated. As a result, I don’t need reservations, but neither does Sergeant O’Neil or Detective Stiles.” 
   Elaine smiled. “Robert, you are a very intelligent man.” 
   “If that’s true then why have I made so many mistakes in life”, Wallace replied, as he paid the check and gave the waiter a tip. 
   At the front door of Elaine’s home, she looked at him and said, “Thank you for a lovely evening. I really enjoyed your company and the dancing. I’d like to do it again sometime.” 
   “I’m glad you enjoyed it and I’ll hold you to the next time. I’ll say goodnight now”, he said. He turned and left after Elaine was safely in the house. 
   The next morning Wallace walked into his office carrying a bag containing two cups of coffee and two donuts, He took a seat and lifted the plastic cap off of the container, mixed the creamer and two packs of sugar by stirring the liquid brew with a small wooden stick. Taking a sip and satisfied with the taste he leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette, then he waited for Bill O’Neil to join him. 
   When entering the office O’Neil made a face, then said, “Do you have to smoke those damn things first thing in the morning?” 
   “Yep and keep in mind that rank has its privileges and right now I outrank you”, Wallace responded. 
   “What kind of donuts did you buy?”, asked O’Neil. 
   “Lemon…Pick the one you want.” 
   After O’Neil took a seat Wallace looked at him and asked, “Well, what do we have?” 
   “We have two hoods holding a shit load of stolen property. Seems these two sleep late, go to the track all afternoon and since the hotel doesn’t have a restaurant they dress, wearing sports coats or blazers and always cover their eyes with sunglasses. Where they go no one can tell us.” 
   “What else?” 
   “They registered as Thomas Shaw and Carl Gavigan. I’m running a check on both of them with N.C.I.C.” 
   “And?” 
   “We are now the proud occupants of room 407.” 
   “And?” 
   “The bug was placed high on the inside of the drapes. That way since it is solar it gets charged during the day.” 
   “And?” 
   “ Warrants have been issued for the bug and search and seizure when the time comes to execute the arrest.” 
   “Signed by who?” 
   “Signed by his honor Judge Douglas Pierpont” “How did you manage that. Pierpont doesn’t like to sign warrants.” 
   “Seems like he was meeting someone. Maybe it was the blond hostess from the Pony Club he’s been seen with. Whatever, I showed him the papers. He glanced at them and used my back as a writing table as he signed them. There they are, all nice and legal.” 
   “Good job Bill.” 
   “When do you want to take them?” 
   “Let’s take this nice and slow. We’ll tape their conversation when they’re in the room. Put a tail on them. Let’s see where they go and what they do. Right now there aren’t any complaints of breaking and entering that could be related to them. They might be looking for a fence or another guy to do business with.” 
   “You’re the boss”, said O’Neil as he ate the last of his lemon doughnut. 
   
   Chapter Three 
   
   Captain Wallace placed one of the three tape cassettes in the tape recorder on his desk, then he pushed the PLAY button. He took a cigarette out of the pack on his desk, lit it with his lighter than sat back and listened to the taped conversation of Thomas Shaw and Carl Gavigan. 
   The first sound that he heard was the door to room 409 of the Emerald Hotel opening then closing. Then came the sound of what might have been the room key being tossed on to the room’s dresser. Next, a conversation began between two men. 
   “Damn if I ain’t tired of losing.” 
   “That’s because you’re a dumb ass. Keep betting those long shots asshole. Does the odds thirty to one tell you anything?” 
   “Hey, you bet your way, I’ll bet my way. Besides, I don’t see you with a shit pot full of money” “Ah, bullshit.” 
   “Well, we better do something, I’m almost broke.” 
   “Stop worrying. I’ve got a couple of ideas.” 
   “Such as?” 
   “I got some information from a guy when I was in Trenton. Seems there’s an old guy who carries a bowling bag full of cash to the bank every day.” 
   “How much cash?” 
   “I don’t know, but it sure as hell is a lot more than we have right now.” 
   “What does this old guy look like?” 
   “I don’t know, but how many guys have you seen walking down the street with a bowling bag?” 
   “Plenty, that’s why they have bowling alleys” 
   “You are an asshole.” 
   “And, just how are we going to take this guy?” 
   “Like I said, he’s old, we just walk up and take it.” 
   “What happens if he puts up a fight?” 
   “Then we snuff him.” 
   “I don’t like it. If he’s carrying cash to the bank every day more then likely it’s dirty money. Sounds like a bookie operation. Bookies mean the mob. We snuff a mob worker they come after us. What else you got?” 
   “We could hit the rooms here in the hotel.” 
   “Chicken feed. Why don’t we fence this shit we’ve got piled up in this room??” 
   “To who?" 
   “How about pawning it?” 
   “It’s an idea, let me think about it.” 
   Wallace turned off the tape recorder and crushed a cigarette butt in a dirty ashtray. Then, using the telephone summoned Bill O’Neil to come to his office. When O’Neil entered the office he took a seat in front of Wallace’s desk. “Well?… What do you think?”, he asked. 
   “I’m assuming when one of them mentioned Trenton, he’s talking about the penitentiary”, said Wallace. 
   “That’s the way I see it.” O’Neil replied. 
   “And, the old man they want to hit is Dago Frank”?, asked Wallace. 
   “Yep.” 
   “Dago Frank is an old man who has been a fifty dollar a week errand boy for Macio Gethers for years. All he carries is cash, no number slips, no horse bets, just cash and you can’t arrest a man for going to the bank, in spite of who he works for.” 
   “How did he get the name, Dago Frank?”, asked O’Neil. 
   “Many years ago, back in the days of Nucky Johnson, Frank worked for a guy by the name of Nick Fiori. Nick was into bootlegging, numbers, bookmaking, and had a couple of girls on the street. Fiori was Italian and did business in the Italian neighborhood. Frank is a light skin African American with Caucasian features. Many people then and now think he is Italian. When he went to work for Macio the Black’s began calling him, Dago Frank. The name stuck. His real name is Francis Hanson,” 
   “Interesting, but Shaw and Gavigan are talking about robbing and if necessary, killing him.” 
   “I’m not so sure Bill. They may be serious about robbing him, but right now I’m thinking these are two shit head punks who think they’re tough. At the same time, how many thieves do you know that hoard their loot? Most criminal types unload stolen goods as soon as possible. To me, they don’t know how or who to unload it with.” 
   “So, you don’t think they’ll hit Dago Frank?”,asked O’Neil. 
   “There is that possibility, that’s why you keep the tail on them. Also, put one on Dago Frank. They might know the route he takes to the bank.” 
   “Got it…Anything else?” 
   “Not right now…how’s Ann and the kids”? 
   “Everyone’s fine Cap…thanks for asking.” 
   For the rest of the summer, Shaw and Gavigan were followed every time they left the hotel. Their routine was the same each day. They slept to nine or ten in the morning. Left the hotel and walked to Koon’s Restaurant for breakfast, After breakfast, they walked to the bus terminal and took the ride to the track which was thirteen miles out of the city. At the race track, they bet on every race, sometimes winning, mostly loosing. After the last race, they got on the bus again and returned to Nautilus Beach. Back at the Emerald Hotel, they showered and changed their clothes. Leaving the hotel neatly dressed and wearing sunglasses they again went to Koon’s where they ate their dinner. The rest of the evening they visited the local bars and clubs. Their routine created an almost identical boring routine for the police and as the weeks passed Sergeant O’Neil and his men became impatient, wanting Captain Wallace to make the arrest, if not now, soon. 
   Wallace took a long look at O’Neil sitting in front of him. Before he spoke he lit a cigarette, blew a cloud of smoke into the air then said, “Alright, what are you bitching about?” 
   “I’m tired of following these two assholes up and down the street, day after day, night after night. Nothing new is happening and nothing new is going to happen. I want to take them now. That way we get rid of them and we can get back to our families.” 
   “Where should we take them, Bill? On the street? In the hotel room?…Right now. As far as we know they’re armed. If we take them on the street, there are at least a hundred people in the way, people that could get hurt…If we take them in the hotel we’re dealing with drywall construction…A stray shot could hit anyone in the next two or three rooms.” 
   “Then, where in the hell can we take them?” 
   “The best bet would to take them in their room, but it has to be when they’re in bed, in the dark. Next best would be in the elevator. They’re on the fourth floor. They are not going to use the stairwell. They’re too lazy. You could have two of our men leave our room right after they do and make the arrest in the elevator. That way they’re confined and the walls of the elevator car are made of steel. Have two men in the lobby in case anything goes wrong.” 
   “Sounds good. What time do you want to meet us at the hotel?”, asked O’Neil. 
   “I’m not meeting you at the hotel. This is your arrest. Make this a good arrest and the newspapers will put you on the front page. That won’t hurt your chances for promotion.” 
   “Thanks for the opportunity and the confidence Captain.” 
   “No problem. I’ve always had the confidence, now you have the opportunity. Take advantage of it.” 
   On Sunday morning Robert Wallace walked across the carpet in his bare feet. As usual, attired in his underwear shorts he unlocked and opened the front door to the condo then reached down and picked up the newspaper. He then carried it to the kitchen table placed it next to his hot cup of coffee and a plain donut. After taking a seat he opened the Sunday issue of the Nautilus Beach Press and smiled at the headline. Printed in large black letters were the words, “Burglary Suspects Arrested.” 
   After taking a bite of the donut and a swig of coffee Wallace began to read the column. “After a summer-long investigation the Nautilus Beach Police Department’s Major Crime Squad under the command of Sergeant William O’Neil arrested Thomas Shaw, white male age 27 of Camden, N.J. and Carl Gavigan, white male age 24 of Blackwood, N.J. Both men were charged with possession of stolen property, which included electronic devices, Art paintings, and two fur coats. Also found were United States Savings bonds with a cash value of twenty-five thousand dollars. It is reported that the bonds were taken from a private residence in Blackwood, N.J.. 
   It has been reported that the Blackwood, N.J. Police will file charges against Shaw and Gavigan and the case given to the Camden County Prosecutor. 
   “Good job Bill”, Wallace thought to himself, as he turned to the sports section. As he read about the opening of the Philadelphia Eagles training camp his reading was interrupted by the ringing of his telephone. He lifted the receiver and answered, “Hello.” 
   “Robert…This is Elaine. Have you seen the newspaper this morning?” 
   “I was reading it when you called”, he answered. 
   “Did you read the society page?” she asked. 
   “No, I seldom do.” 
   “Well read it this morning. When you do you’ll see a photo of Grace Hodges and an article announcing her engagement to Doctor Vernon Gray.” 
   “Then what?”, he asked. 
   “Then What?..Can’t you see It’s just like I told you…He’s after her money.” 
   “It’s her money. She can do what she wants with it. Besides, if she’s smart she’ll have him sign a prenup.” 
   “For someone reported to be so smart you are going to sit and watch this son of a bitch kill another woman, just like he killed Lillian.” 
   “O.K. Elaine, think what you want, do what you want. I’ve tried to explain to you what I can do under the law. If my explanation fails to satisfy you, I’m sorry. Goodby.” 
   “Robert, don’t hang up! I’m sorry. It’s just…It’s just that I know deep down inside that he killed Lillian. I don’t know how he did it, but he did. I don’t want to see another person murdered, especially killed for their money. I don’t know who to turn to right now. I need you, Robert.” 
   Wallace did not respond for a moment or two. He reached for and took a cigarette out of the pack, placed it in his mouth, lit it and then said, “O.K. no problem. I understand where you are coming from, nonetheless, I’m the professional police officer. I don’t try to tell you how to sell real estate, do I?” 
   “No. No, you don’t.” 
   “Alright, anything else?”, he asked. 
   “Could you come over tonight?”, asked Elaine. 
   “Why?... So we can argue?” 
   “I said, I needed you didn’t I?”, she responded. 
   Wallace blew a cloud of inhaled smoke as he smiled. “What time?” 
   “How does eight sound?” 
   “Sounds good.” 
     
   ******************** 
     
   The next morning Wallace sat behind his desk. He took a sip of coffee from the Styrofoam cup then smiled as Bill O’Neil walked into the office. “Congratulation…Nice bust…Any problems?” asked Wallace. 
   “Nothing special…Shaw decided to get physical…He lost.” 
   “Any injury?” asked the Captain. 
   “He has a black eye. He was examined, treated and released at the hospital.” 
   “Are your reports ready?” 
   “Not yet, but I do have the tape we made before the hit.” 
   “Good…Good, let me listen to it.” 
   After receiving the tape Wallace placed it in the tape recorder/ player, pushed the PLAY button and leaned back in his high back chair. He heard the opening and closing of the door after that a conversation: 
   “O.K. that’s it. We’re broke.” 
   “No shit…now what?” 
   “Like I said a couple of times before, we hit the old man with the bowling bag.” 
   “O.K. by me. I just wish we still had the gun.” 
   “And do what?… Snuff him? You are an asshole..robbery is one thing, doing life for murder is another. Besides, you are the one who sold the piece to the guy in the bar.” 
   “You didn’t seem to mind it when you were eating three meals a day.” 
   “You’re still an asshole…Shut up and go to sleep.” 
   For the next twenty minutes, all that could be heard on the recorded tape were the sounds of someone supposedly twisting and turning in bed. Then, silence and occasionally the sonancy of breathing. Then, suddenly it could be heard that a door opened. This was followed by loud voices, voices shouting, “Police!…You are under arrest!…Get out of bed and keep your hands up!" Then came the noise of someone screaming, the sound of someone running, a scuffle and then the screaming stopped. 
   Wallace shut off the recorder. “Who the hell was screaming?”, he asked. 
   “Gavigan. He thought we were a mafia hit squad sent to kill them.”, said Wallace. 
   “You said that Shaw was the one that resisted?” 
   “He thought he could escape by rushing out of the room. I don’t know how far he could get wearing just underwear, but he tried. He also took a swing at Stiles.” 
   “And?” 
   “Stiles lumped him.” 
   “Alright, good job, anything else?” 
   “Yeah, you were right. So far, these are two of the most stupid bastards I’ve ever run into. We found the bonds in the pocket of one of the mink coats. Naturally, the bonds had the 
   name of the victim they were stolen from. No professional criminal in his right mind would hold on to stolen items they can’t use, sell or cash.” 
   “Well, they’re off the street. Again, nice work Bill.” 
   “Thanks, Cap.” 
   With the arrest of the two subjects that they followed throughout the summer the Major Crime Squad found practically nothing to do. When this happened they usually reverted to reviewing cold cases, hoping to find either new leads, evidence or information. The only thing that made them deviate from the cold case files was an alleged rape that happened on Labor Day Weekend. The case involved a young attractive blond woman, one Jane Morsey, white female, age twenty-four who stated that she had been raped in the heater room of the Paddock nightclub. Witnesses told police that at about twelve thirty A.M. they heard screams coming from the rear of the building. Several men rushed to the door leading to the heater room. Upon opening the door they found the woman and what they thought being attacked by a man. The man was identified as one, Stanley Lippman, a white male age twenty-seven. The men pulled a naked Lippman off of the woman who was nude at the time and suffered from abrasions. They held Lipka until the arrival of the uniformed officers. 
   Under questioning, Lippman stated that he had met the woman at the bar in the club, bought her drinks and they danced. Finally, he persuaded her to leave the club. Together, outside, there was much touching and feeling and the subject walked the woman through a side alley that took them to the rear of the nightclub. He saw a door, turned the doorknob and found that the door was unlocked. The pair went inside and again after more lovemaking they both removed their clothing. Lipka then stated that during intercourse Jane Morsey began screaming and twisting her body on the concrete, heater room floor. The next thing he knew he was pulled off of her and held for the police. 
   Wallace took notes, then played back the recorded tape of Lippman’s statement. Looking at the accused man Wallace said, “Alright, right now you are accused of being a rapist. At this moment you are not being charged or arrested. Sit tight. If you are innocent, you have nothing to worry about. However, if you did it you’re more or less up Shit’s Creek. Do you understand?” 
   “Yes sir, but I’ve told you what happened. She wanted it, sir…She wanted it”, said Lippman. 
   Wallace walked out of the room and then entered an interrogation room further down the hallway. When he came into the room he saw Sergeant O’Neil and a uniformed female police officer talking to Jane Morsey. 
   O’Neil handed Wallace the file involving the case up to this point in the investigation. The Captain browsed through one typewritten report and free handwritten accounts submitted by officers at the scene. 
   “I.D. is printing photos taken in the heater room”, said O’Neil. 
   Wallace nodded. Looking at Jane Morsey he asked, “Is it, Miss or Mrs. Morsey?” 
   “It’s Mrs. Morsey”, the woman answered. 
   “What brings you to Nautilus Beach?”, he asked. 
   “Just a weekend getaway”, she replied. 
   “And, where are you staying?” 
   “The Drake Hotel.” 
   “Is your husband with you?” 
   “No, I came with a girlfriend.” 
   “And what is her name?” 
   “Gloria Swain”. 
   “Was she with you at the Paddock?” 
   “For a while.” 
   “For a while? I take it then that she left the club.” 
   “Yes…She did.” 
   “Alone?” 
   “No…She left with a man.” 
   “I see…what is his name?” 
   “I don’t know. She didn’t introduce him to me.” 
   “You don’t know? This is your friend and she’s leaving with a man you didn’t even meet. Didn’t you worry about her?” 
   “No…She’s a big girl…She can take care of herself.” 
   “I see”, said Wallace as he read another report. “I see you live in New York City.” 
   “That’s correct. Actually in the Bronx.” 
   “And, what does your husband do for a living?” 
   “He’s a policeman.” 
   “He’s a policeman in New York?” 
   “Yes.” 
   “How do we get in touch with him? You know we look out for each other in our profession.” 
   “I don’t want him to know about this.” Wallace’s questioning was interrupted by a soft knocking on the door. O’Neil opened it and took four eight by ten photographs from a Crime Scene Investigator. He looked at them and then handed them to Wallace. A frown formed on the Captains forehead as he viewed the photos. Turning to the woman again he asked. “Isn’t it true that you told one of the uniformed police officers, a Patrolman Johnson that the man who raped you told you to disrobe and when you refused he pulled your clothes off of you?” 
   “Yes…that’s correct.” 
   “What did he take off first?” 
   “My dress” 
   “The one you are wearing now?” 
   “Yes, of course.” 
   “Where were you standing when he did this?” 
   “Right where the patrons found me…with him on top of me.” 
   “I want you to look at this photograph and tell me what you see”, said Wallace as he handed the woman one of the photos. 
   Jane Morsey looked at the black and white print and said, “I see a picture of my dress”, she replied. 
   “Yes you do and it’s hanging on a nail in the wall” 
   “That’s correct” 
   “Who placed the dress on the nail?” 
   “He did.” 
   “I see…Then, Stanley Lippman, the man you say raped you, took you to the heater room of the Paddock Club. There he ordered you to remove your dress, which you did. Either you handed it to him or he took it from you and then he turned, walked across the heater room and hung your dress on a nail on the wall.” 
   “I suppose he did. It’s all so confusing.” 
   “I’m sure. Now, what happened next?” 
   “What do you mean?” 
   “Mrs. Morely you were found nude. What article of clothing did you remove next?” 
   “I think it was my shoes.” 
   “Did you take them off or did Lipka remove them?” 
   “I took them off” 
   “What did you do next?” 
   “I think I handed them to him.” 
   “Please take a look at this photo”, said Wallace handing her another photograph. 
   “It is a picture of my shoes”, replied Mrs. Morsey. 
   “Notice that they are placed neatly on the floor, left shoe and right shoe, one next to the other.” 
   “So?” 
   “I’m trying to understand how Mr. Lippman forced you to remove your dress and when you did he then left you to walk to the far wall in the heater room and then come back to where you stood and you didn’t run, scream or try to escape. Then, you removed your shoes, handed them to Mr. Lippman who again walked to the far wall and you remained stationary and silent. Can you explain your actions?” 
   “I was afraid.” 
   “You were afraid. Let’s see just exactly what you are afraid of Mrs. Morsey. I need the number of your home telephone. I think its time we called your husband.” 
   “I don’t want him involved in this. We’re separated at the moment.” 
   “Sorry to hear that, but I’m sure as a police officer he would like to be assured that we here are doing our utmost to gather evidence and that we have your attacker in custody.” 
   “No…I won’t do it”, said Jane Morsey. 
   “Very well...We’ll just call the N.Y.P.D. have him alerted and he can call us.”, Wallace responded. 
   After a long silence Jane Morsey, in a low voice said, “Don’t do that…I wasn’t raped…I went with him willingly. When all those people rushed into the room and pulled him off of me all I could think of was my husband and my reputation so I accused Mr. Lippman of rape." 
   “I thought so. Now, at this time I could arrest you for filing a false police report, but I won’t. what I do want is a statement from you exonerating Mr. Lippman of all criminal charges. That should satisfy Mr. Lippman, nonetheless, I have no control over any civil matters that might arise. Do you understand?” 
   “Yes…May I speak to Mr. Lippman?” 
   “Of course…right after I talk to him. Meanwhile, Sergeant O’Neil will take your statement.” 
   Wallace left the room and walked to the area where Stanley Lippman sat with his head bowed. Wallace looked at the man and said, “Mr. Lippman, you are one, lucky, son of a bitch.” 
     
   
   Chapter Four 
   
   After the Labor Day weekend, the tourist season in Nautilus Beach ended and the convention season began. Conventions meant extended business for the bars, taverns, pimps and whores and dumb conventioneers fell victim to the tourist traps. Some paid marked up prices for souvenirs. They were the lucky ones. Others were duped into getting drunk in the local watering holes, ending up paying for bottles of cheap champagne with a Don Perione price tag. At the same time, the hookers were plying their trade and rolling as many johns as they could. 
   During the same time, Robert Wallace continued to date Elaine Benson and the price he paid for her company at dinner, movies, concerts, and the theater was her insistence that Doctor Vernon Gray was planning to kill his fiance, Grace Hodges. Although he thought her ideas absurd, Wallace did, for some reason unknown to him questioned why a man, would have the body of his dead wife cremated when he knew it was against her religious belief’s. 
   At three thirty on a Friday afternoon, Wallace dialed the telephone number of the County Medical Examiner and was surprised that after three rings Doctor Edwards was the one that answered the telephone. 
   “What the hell happened doc? Where’s your staff?” 
   “Robert!…It’s Friday. I sent them home early and don’t tell me you have a homicide that I have to look at?” 
   “No…Nothing like that. I just need some information and I’d like to pick your scientific mind.” 
   “What about?” 
   “The ability for someone to commit a murder using either medications or chemicals, preferably the types that can go undetected during an autopsy.” 
   “Hmmmmn. An interesting subject. What’s you schedule for tomorrow?” 
   “I’m free.” 
   “Good…Has your golf game improved any?” 
   “No.” 
   “Meet me at the country club in the morning. Let’s make it at nine. We’ll play a round and I’ll beat your ass while we talk. Afterward, we’ll have lunch.” 
   “Sounds good.” 
   “How does a dollar a hole sound?” “Twenty- five cents sounds better.” 
   “You are a cheap bastard, but it’s a deal.” 
   “Hey, I’m just a poor cop, a civil servant, if you will.” 
   Doctor Edwards laughed, “Alright, see you in the morning”, he said as he hung up the telephone. 
   The next morning Wallace, using a driver sent the golf ball straight down the fairway. He watched the ball bounce once, twice and after the third bounce it rolled up next to the rough. 
   “Well…I see you still hit it straight. Too bad you can’t hit it long”, said Edwards as he bent over and placed his golf ball on the tee. 
   “Just hit the ball doc…Hit the ball”, Wallace replied. He then stood and watched as Doctor Edwards drove the golf ball forty feet further than his with the drive. 
   As Edwards took a seat in the electric powered golf cart Wallace asked, “Have you forgot why we’re here?” 
   “Not at all. My object is to beat your ass at golf and at the same time answer your questions about the use of chemicals in a homicide which can go undetected in the human body during an autopsy.” 
   “Correct.” 
   “Do you have such a case?” 
   “Maybe yes. Maybe no.” 
   “Meaning in the first case any evidence has been destroyed”, Wallace continued. 
   “And, in the second case?”, asked the doctor. 
   “It hasn’t happened yet. In fact, it might not happen at all. Right now I just want to know how someone can kill in the way I described”, Wallace answered. 
   “Very well. The easiest manner in which to kill someone and leave no trace of the obvious crime having been committed,, would be to cause a heart attack by using chemical substances that break down as naturally occurring compounds that would normally be found in anyone’s body. The process is relatively simple to anyone with knowledge of medicine and procedures involving those medicines.” 
   “Alright, how do they do this?”, asked Wallace. “Well, one would look at two substances that would break down into ordinary bodily chemicals. Of course, these are prescription drugs, and the only barrier preventing such a crime is gaining access to a doctor’s prescription pad. Once that relatively minor detail has been worked out, the commission of the crime is contingent upon getting the drugs into the victim's body. Two particular chemicals come to mind. Two that could be used to create a heart attack is Potassium Chloride and Calcium Gluconate”, said Doctor Edwards as he brought the golf cart to a stop next to Wallace’s golf ball. 
   “What happens?” asked Wallace. 
   “Suppose you take your second shot and remember this is a par four”, Edwards replied. 
   Wallace removed a four iron from his bag, approached his lie, looked towards the flag on the first green, swung the club, hit the ball and watched it land fifty feet short of the green. 
   “Should have used the three iron”, Edwards said. After the doctor took his second shot that landed on the green, he climbed back into the cart and started towards the green. “What was I talking about?”, he asked. 
   “Chemicals”, Wallace answered. 
   “Oh, yes. You see Potassium Chloride is in many prescription drugs. When it breaks down it turns into both of its individual components, potassium, and chlorine. Both are found in the human body and the presence of either or both of these will not raise suspicion by either the attending physician or the medical examiner who will carry out the autopsy.”, Edwards explained. 
   Doctor Edwards stopped the cart and after Wallace selected a nine iron watched as the police captain sent his golf ball over the green. “Son of a bitch!”, said Wallace. 
   “You should have used the pitching wedge”, said Edwards. 
   “Yeah, yeah, how does death occur?” 
   “The compound breaks down into both potassium and chlorine. What happens then is the chlorine binds to the human body’s naturally occurring sodium to create sodium chloride. To you, that’s common table salt. The result is a heart attack that is found to have no known cause. This is because all that is found in the body is a slightly elevated level of sodium chloride. However, too much potassium in the body causes what we call tachycardia. That is a fast heart rate. This then leads to something known as ventricular fibrillation, which is one of many types of cardiac arrest.” 
   Doctor Edwards stepped out of the cart, walked up on to the green lined up his putt and Wallace watched the ball travel eighteen feet, stopping next to the hole. 
   “That’s a gimme”, said Wallace as he picked up his ball. For the rest of the morning, the two men continued their game. Wallace ended up with a score of one hundred and nine, while doctor Edwards shot an eighty-two. 
   After registering his score with the club pro the doctor led Wallace into the men’s restroom where they washed their hands and faces. Then they left and went into the dining room. Seated at the table Wallace examined the menu handed to him by a waiter. Doctor Edwards did the same. 
   “Hell, I don’t know what I want. I guess I’ll go with the cheeseburger”, said Wallace. 
   “Something that one could purchase at McDonald's”, replied the doctor. 
   “Then what would you suggest?”, asked Wallace. 
   “I’m having the conch chowder, grilled shrimp, and a salad”, Edwards answered. 
   “I have never had conk of any kind.” 
   “Then you’re in for a treat. The chef here is originally from Florida...he brought the recipe with him. I think you will enjoy it.” 
   “Sounds good”, Wallace responded. 
   “By the way Robert, you owe me four dollars and fifty cents. Our bet was for twenty- five cents a hole and I kicked your ass for eighteen holes straight.” 
   “I might need the money to pay for my lunch.” 
   “You can’t pay for your lunch. Only members of the club are billed. A member of the country club is required to spend a certain amount of money here in the restaurant. So, it’s my treat.” 
   “Then, I’ll leave the tip.” 
   “Once again, The gratuity is included in the bill." 
   “The club thinks of everything doesn’t it?” 
   “Yes, due to the fact that a lot of the members are a bunch of cheap bastards.” 
   The waiter arrived with two cold bottles of beer and two glasses. As Robert Wallace poured his drink he looked at Doctor Edwards and said, “It seems to me that you haven’t told me about, what was it?… Calcium gluconate something?” 
   “Ah yes. Calcium Gluconate and how it causes a heart attack. Well, let’s see now. Calcium gluconate is available in a ten percent intravenous solution which simply means that the concentration is higher than what normally appears in the human body. The process by which this works is known as osmosis. The solution removes the water and glucose from the body’s cells replacing it with Calcium Gluconate. The calcium and the glucose are deposited in the body to be used as energy, or fuel if you will. The glucose is used for fuel, while the calcium remains in the body.” 
   “O.K.. but how does it kill?”, asked Wallace. 
   “The Calcium Gluconate removes chlorine and replaces it with calcium. This creates an electrolytic imbalance. Three compounds that become imbalanced are sodium, potassium, and chlorine. This imbalance then interferes with the normal heartbeat impulse. The heartbeat impulse can then be regulated, either too fast, or too slow, creating a heart attack.” Doctor Edwards stopped talking as the waiter arrived with the two cups of conch chowder. 
   Wallace took a taste. “Damn that’s good”, he said. 
   “What did I tell you?” 
   “Now, it seems to me that anyone who wanted to use Calcium Gluconate as a murder device would have to be either a physician, nurse or someone familiar in how to use it”, Wallace mentioned. 
   Doctor Edwards wiped his mouth with his napkin and answered, “More than likely…do you have someone in mind?” 
   “Only someone who bears watching from now into the future.” 
   “You only asked me about chemical compounds that can be used to commit a homicide and go undetected. There is another way, a third completely undetectable manner by which to murder someone by a forced heart attack. A direct injection of sixty milliliters of air in a syringe into any vein causes the chambers of the heart to fill with air, which causes a heart attack. This type of attack is known as Pulse-less Electrical Activity. Here the problem is from leaving a needle mark on the skin. Nonetheless, with a little creativity, a vein in an unusual body location will do the trick. If a small enough gauge needle is used, the associated needle mark would be barely noticeable. If the coroner or medical examiner are not as careful as they should be, the tiny needle mark could avoid detection. A tuberculin needle or an insulin needle could do the job.” 
   “And once again the use of those needles points to someone familiar with medical science”, said Wallace. 
   “True, but how many amateurs’s out there read medical books and conduct experiments, say experiments on animals until they perfect the desired results?” 
   “I don’t know doc. I do know that the individual that I have in mind is no amateur that needs to experiment.” 
   “Can you tell me who?” 
   “Not yet doc, but you’ll be the first to know if and when the time comes.” 
     
   ********************** 
     
   The rest of the weekend Wallace spent time at his desk at home writing, putting down notes and information that he had ascertained from Doctor Edwards. When he wasn’t writing, he read. He studied. Although he concentrated on heart attacks he was still familiar with the fact that Lillian Gray had spent several hours in a coma, something that did not seem to coincide with a heart attack. Nonetheless, it could have been the cause of death. A death that the cause of went undetected. Vernon Gray was a physician. He could have caused a heart attack that killed his wife with a simple I.V. using Calcium Gluconate while she was in a coma. 
   He was about ready to close a reference book when he noticed a paragraph. Potassium chloride is a “salt substitute” available in any supermarket and calcium gluconate is available as a dietary supplement at health stores. “Damn, this means he didn’t have to use an I.V in the hospital. He could have purchased the ingredients that he needed and killed her at home. So much for the hospital chemical compound theory ”, he thought to himself. 
   He shut off his tape recorder than placed his handwritten notes in a folder. He was placing the folder in the filing cabinet when the telephone rang. He answered it. “Hello?” 
   “Hello, your self. What are you doing?”, asked Elaine. 
   “Just doing some writing.” 
   “Am I interrupting you?”, she asked. 
   “Actually, I just finished.” 
   “I have some news.” 
   “And it is?” 
   “Vernon Gray called me yesterday at the office.” 
   “And?” 
   “He wants to put the house on Timber Lane on the market and he wants me to handle the sale.” 
   “Interesting…Will it be multiple listing or exclusive?” 
   “Exclusive.” 
   “What is his asking price?” 
   “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.” 
   “Is it worth it?” 
   “No, of course not that house was constructed in 1948.” 
   “Can you sell it?” 
   “Certainly.” 
   “Do you have the key?” 
   “I’ve always had the key. Lillian asked me to keep a check on the place.” 
   “Good…I want to go inside. I’m looking for something.” 
   “What?” 
   “If I told you, you’d pester the shit out of me. Just unlock the door and let me in.” 
   “You don’t have to be profane.” 
   “And you don’t have to be a pain in the ass. Do you want me to investigate Lillian's death or don’t you?” 
   “Yes.” 
   “Then let me do my job and just do what I ask you.” 
   “Fine…When do you want to go in?” 
   “Tomorrow, Monday, when he’s having office hours.” 
   “Let’s make it ten in the morning. I’ll call his office and make sure he’s seeing patients. Then I’ll call you.” 
   “Don’t bother. I’ll be parked in your driveway.” 
     
   ************************ 
     
   At ten o’clock the next morning while seated in his private automobile Wallace watched Elaine leave her house and after walking up to where he sat she said, ”Vernon is having office hours. You won’t be disturbed by him this morning.” 
   Wallace exited the car and asked, “Do you keep a list of people you show these homes to, maybe a journal of sorts?” 
   “Not, actually, however, I do keep a list of those that show potential. For instance, if they turn down a purchase of one home, I can then notify them later if I have something else available.” 
   “Good. List me as a potential buyer.” 
   “Why?” 
   “I’m looking for something that might be in that house across the street. I don’t have a search warrant. If I find what I’m looking for I need an excuse to say I found it either in plain view or while I was examining a future purchase of the house.” 
   “I’m telling you right now, there is nothing there. It is bare wall to wall.” 
   “I still want to look inside.” 
   “Alright let’s go.” 
   Together, they walked across the street to 357 Timber Lane. When they got there Wallace waited patiently while Elaine unlocked the door. As they entered he looked around, saw where the kitchen was located, walked to it and began opening and closing cabinet doors and drawers. He found nothing. As a result, he turned to Elaine and asked, “How many bathrooms?” 
   “Two, one off of the master bedroom and one at the end of the hall.” 
   Wallace checked both bathrooms, finding the medicine cabinets empty. Elaine watched him and he turned to her and said, "If he gets the price he wants for this place, combined with Lillian’s insurance money he’ll have half a million dollars before taxes. All I have right now is a motive. I didn’t find what I was looking for.” 
   “What did you hope to find?”, asked Elaine. 
   “A couple of chemical compounds. Tell me, did Lillian take any calcium supplements”? 
   “No, I told you she was healthy, If she took anything it would have been iron when she had her period.” 
   “Alright, I’m finished here. I hope you made coffee. I need a cup and a cigarette.” 
   “Smoke outside, then come in for the coffee. Is there anything else you would like?” 
   “No, just coffee. First I want to take a look outback.” 
   “What for?” 
   “I want to check the garbage cans.” 
     
   
   Chapter Five 
   
   On Saturday, May 12, 1973, Grace Hodges, the heir to the Shelby Bakery Corporation fortune became the wife of Doctor Vernon Gray. The announcement was carried in all the Philadelphia papers and the one newspaper of Nautilus Beach. Wallace sat at his kitchen table reading the article, noting that the honeymoon would be in the Greek Islands and the happy couple would reside in Nautilus Beach, New Jersey. 
   The society editor of the Nautilus Press wrote an unflattering piece, wondering if the new Mrs. Gray would be happy and content living in the home of Doctor Gray’s house with its mere four bedrooms and three baths. The writer made it a point to mention that the former Mrs. Hodges was used to living in luxury in a mansion with servants. Now, it was said that she had reduced her staff to only her social secretary, a Miss Joan Applewhite, who would reside in a residence supplied for her. 
   Attired in just his boxer shorts and tee shirt, Wallace walked barefoot into his living room. To him, the room reeked of cigarette smoke and he opened the drapes and sliding glass door, allowing the ocean breeze to enter the area where it hopefully would remove the odor of stale air. He stood looking down at the shoreline seeing early tourists beginning to fill the sandy beach as they put up their umbrellas to protect themselves from the sun. Others spread their blankets and coated themselves with tanning lotion. Small children raced to the water only to stop short with delightful screams when they stepped into the frigid water. It was the locals who knew that the ocean temperature would only reach seventy degrees near the end of June. 
   As the gentle wind circulated through the room Wallace, addicted to nicotine reached for a pack of cigarettes, removed one from the pack, placed it in his mouth and lit it using a cheap throwaway lighter. As he exhaled his telephone rang. He walked to his desk and lifted the receiver. “Hello?” 
   “Cap?…O’Neil…Judge Pierpont was gunned down at his home. Looks like a deliberate hit.” 
   “Are you at the crime scene?”, asked Wallace. 
   “No, sir. Stiles is there and uniforms. I figured you would want me to pick you up.” 
   “I do…Make it in about twenty minutes. I have to get dressed.” 
   “O.K. Cap…I’ll be out front...Take your time. The judge isn’t going anywhere for a while.” 
   “Wait…Radio Stiles tell him the body is not to be touched or moved until I say so...Understand?” 
   “Yes, sir.” 
   Wallace dressed hurriedly. On his way out he holstered his Colt Detective Thirty- Eight Special, two packs of cigarettes and a lighter. He rode the elevator down to the lobby, exited the building, saw O’Neil, walked towards the unmarked radio car, opened the door and entered. 
   “Anything new?”, asked Wallace. 
   “Not right now.” 
   “O.K….What do we know about the late Judge Pierpont?” 
   “Other than that he was dirty?… Well, he was tapping the blond hostess at the Pony club. There’s the rumor that he was on the payroll of Guido Macaluso”, said O’Neil. 
   “Macaluso probably wanted his Philadelphia family members protected, just in case they got into trouble down here in Nautilus.” 
   “Possible, but if that’s the case Macaluso wouldn’t order a hit on a judge, particularly one he had in his pocket.”, said, Wallace as O’Neil double parked the car in front of Pierpont’s home. 
   Wallace exited the unmarked car and walked quickly up the sidewalk that led to the front entrance of Judge Douglas Pierpont’s home. From a distance, he saw the shoe soles on the feet of the body. As he got closer he saw the puddle of blood, a dark, , red, pool of gore coagulating on the white marble floor of the foyer. A uniformed police officer guarded the dead body. Plaiclothes detectives were interviewing family members. 
   Wallace stepped around the body of the Judge, avoiding The blood on the floor. He looked down and visually examined the corpse. Looking at O’Neil he said, “Bill take notes. First, there appears to be a wound, directly over the heart. However, that doesn’t appear to be the fatal shot. By the amount of blood that flowed out of the wound to the head. The headshot seems to be the mortal wound. He didn’t die instantly. His heart had to be beating to create that much blood. Also, the headshot is a sign of a mob hit. If the victim does survive the hit, he or she is in a vegetative state due to the trauma to the brain and can’t testify to anything. Right now, my guess is that when the judge opened the front door, the hitman fired one shot into the chest area. The force of that bullet knocked the Judge off of his feet. He fell to the floor. The gunman then took two, maybe three steps inside placed the muzzle of the weapon he used directly over the head of his victim and fired at close range. Notice the gunpowder residue where the bullet entered the head. That means the second shot was at close range.” 
   “Do you want to talk to the family members?”, asked O’Neil.” 
   “No, what can they tell me? The doorbell rang, the Judge went to answer, he opened the door and they heard two shots. I’ll read Stiles report. Have the body removed after the coroner releases it. Have our crew in my office at eight in the morning. Bring coffee and donuts.” 
   “You paying?”, asked O’Neil. 
   “Don’t I always?” 
   “Yep, every time. Every major crime. Every homicide, every rape, seems there’s no end to it.” 
   “Appears that way, but it beats the hell out of being in uniform patrol. See you in the morning Bill.” 
   The next morning Wallace met with his squad. As he sipped his coffee and smoked cigarette after cigarette he listened to the thoughts and suggestions of his men. When they were finished expressing their ideas Wallace looked at them and said, “Alright, right now it appears that the hit man might be a soldier in the Guido Macaluso Family in Philadelphia. Guido Macaluso’s interest in Nautilus Beach at present is narcotics, tax free cigarettes that they hijack and cigarette vending machines where they place them. It is thought and rightfully so, that he had Judge Pierpont in his pocket, just in case he ever needed him for a favor. So, right now it seems that someone made the hit on his own. The only connection we have with the Judge is the broad working at the Jockey Club. What I want now is for all of you to talk to your informants find out as much as you can about her. I want to know who she’s hangs with. Is she a hooker? While you’re doing that I’ll concentrate on Philadelphia. Any questions? No? Talk to you later.” 
   After the men left his office Wallace glanced at his wristwatch and noted the time. It was ten past nine A.M. he decided to wait for a while before he made a telephone call to Philadelphia. While he waited he reached into the white, paper bag and removed the last Styrofoam cup containing coffee. It was lukewarm, but he drank it anyway. Looking in the bag his eyes searched for any remaining donuts. The bag was empty. “Free loading bastards ate them all.”, he said to himself. 
   Wallace lit a cigarette, inhaled, exhaled ,then placed the burning tobacco in an ashtray which was filled with old butts that was ready to spill over. He picked up the receiver of the telephone on his desk and dialed the number of the Philadelphia Police Department. After three rings a female voice said, “Philadelphia Police Department, Nineteenth District, how may I help you please?” 
   “Detective Sheldon Hamilton please”, said Wallace. 
   “May I ask who is calling?” 
   “Captain Wallace, Nautilus Beach Police Department, Nautilus Beach, New Jersey”, 
   “One moment please.” 
   Wallace reached for the burning cigarette and placed it in his mouth. As he inhaled a voice came on line. “Robert!.. What’s up at the seashore?” 
   “Hello Sheldon. I’ve got a county judge who right now should be on a marble slab in the morgue.” 
   “A homicide?” 
   “Looks like a mob hit.” 
   “Any suspects?” 
   “That’s why I’m calling. What can you tell me about any of Macaluso’s soldiers?" 
   “How was the hit made?” 
   “Two shots, one to the chest, one to the head.” 
   “Sounds like Nuncio Vergasi. Here’s what I can tell you. He’s been arrested multiple times, two times for murder. He is definitely a mob soldier. The first homicide arrest we made he received ten years at the State Correctional Institute Fayette. That’s in La Bell Pennsylvania. He was out in two. The second arrest we made he was found guilty and sentenced to twenty years at the state Prison in Frackville. He was out after eighteen months. In each case our charges were down graded from first degree homicide to involuntary manslaughter. So, just between you and me the fix was in, both in court and in the penal system.” 
   “Anything else?”, asked Wallace. 
   “In both of our cases he killed because he was pissed off because the guys he killed made passes at his girlfriends.” 
   “Sounds like a sick son of a bitch”, said Wallace. 
   “He is, but he usually surrenders meekly when arrested. He knows the family will take care of him. And, that’s about it Bob.” 
   “Thanks Sheldon, I appreciate your help.” 
   “No problem. Talk to you later. Bye." 
   It was after lunch time when Detective Stiles knocked on the office door of Captain Wallace. Wallace looked up and seeing Stiles told him to come in. 
   “Do you have anything?”, asked Wallace. 
   Stiles removed a small notebook from his inside blazer pocket, opened it and looking at his notes said, “The woman working at the Jockey Club is one June Florio, Italian American female, age twenty-six, born Philadelphia Pennsylvania, July fifteen, ninety forty-seven. She is five foot four inches tall, weighs one hundred and twenty pounds. She has naturally brown hair, but is at present a bleached blond. She is currently a B-girl receiving a hundred dollars a week salary, plus a return on how many drinks she can get patrons to drink. She’ll turn a trick if she likes the guy and he can pay. The word is her price is high.” 
   “Anything else?”, asked Wallace. 
   “Oh yeah…Seems the Judge set her up in an apartment, mink coat, groceries, the whole bit.” 
   “Where?” 
   “The Golden Arms, apartment three zero seven” “And she lived happily ever after, a faithful mistress”, Said Wallace. 
   “Not really. Seems like a guy named Nuncio Vergasi was there when the judge was away. My informant says that the judge found out about Vergasi and raised hell with June. He might have even slapped her around a bit. On his way out he threatened to toss her out of the apartment.” 
   “So, let me guess. Our girl goes crying to Vergasi shows him her bruises and complains. Vergasi being the sociopath son of a bitch that he is decides to go after the Judge.”, said Wallace. 
   “That’s the way I see it”, said Stiles. 
   “Well. Right now we have a victim and a suspect. I just got off of the telephone with the Philadelphia P.D. They think our hit man is Vergasi. Probably he did it, but we haven’t the evidence. Looks like we have to keep working…nice work Stiles.” 
   “Thanks Cap.” 
   At home that evening and after eating his supper, Wallace sat in the dark, living room of his condo. As usual his mind was constantly going over the facts he knew and things he wished to know. The Stereo was playing a recording of Ravel’s Bolero, one of his favorite classical pieces of music. The song relaxed him. As he reclined in his favorite leather chair with his eyes closed he occasionally brought the cigarette he held in his hands to his lips. When he did he drew in the tobacco smoke. Drawing it deep into his lungs he held it there then slowly exhaled, hating the fact that he was addicted to the nicotine that was destroying his lungs and the fact that when he got involved in an investigation he tended to smoke more. Still, it was the nicotine that kept him going, kept him concentrating, kept him going for hours never tiring, kept him thinking, allowing him to mentally cut through the words, words that were answers to questions, words that were suggestions, some good, some bad. Then, there were the reports, written reports, some important, most trivial. Then, eventually, maybe seventy-two hours later his body would rebel. His lungs would ache. The many cups of coffee he downed gave him indigestion. He had headaches and the aspirin he took to combat the pain increased the acid in his stomach. It happened time after time, investigation after investigation. He knew that it would, but he never changed. He just vowed that with the next case he would be different. 
   When the record stopped playing he got up out of his chair and shut off the stereo. He made it a point ot examine the ashtrays, insuring that no cigarettes were burning and as he did the telephone rang. He lifted the receiver and said, “Hello.” 
   “Where have you been? I haven’t heard from you in two days”, said Elaine. 
   “If you’ve read the newspaper you would have known that I’m busy trying to solve Judge Pierpont’s murder.” 
   “You’re not too busy when you want to spend the night with me.” 
   “Did you call to break my balls or do you have something worthwhile to say?” 
   “Well, I see you are in a foul mood, nonetheless for your information, guess who moved into the house on Timber Lane?” 
   “I haven’t the slightest idea” 
   “Miss Joan Applewhite.” 
   “Mrs. Gray’s social secretary?” 
   “Correct.” 
   “Interesting. When did that happen?” 
   “This morning. Vernon called to tell me to take the house off of the market. I was removing the for sale sign on the lawn when Miss Applewhite drove up into the driveway, followed by a truck load of new furniture.” 
   “And?” 
   “It seems that Grace Gray decided that the house on Timber Lane would make an excellent residence for her secretary. Now, if you would like my opinion I believe that there is another reason.” 
   “And, what would that be?” 
   “She is very beautiful Robert. I think that the new, Mrs. Gray doesn’t want this young woman in the same house with her husband.” 
   “You base this theory on what?” 
   “The fact that I hear through the grape vine that the former Grace Hodges is the jealous type and very possessive. Add to that the fact that she is as plain as mud and Vernon is a man.” 
   “Did he ever cheat on Lillian?” 
   “Who knows what happens at those medical conventions?” 
   “I take it then that you don’t know.” 
   “Take it any way you like…good bye.” 
   Wallace heard the sound of the receiver being slammed. “what a pain in the ass”, he thought to himself. 
   At eleven o’clock on the morning of the next day Robert Wallace watched as a young woman entered his office escorted by Detective Stiles. Out of professional respect he stood as Stiles said, “Captain, this is June Florio.” 
   “Good morning Miss Florio…I am Captain Robert Wallace. Please have a seat and make yourself comfortable. May I offer you a cup of coffee?” 
   “No thank you.”, the woman replied. 
   “At this time may I introduce you to officer Mildred Andrews. Officer Andrews is present due to police department regulations. There must be a female officer present during an interview with girls or woman.” 
   June Florio looked at the police woman but did not say anything. 
   “Allow me to get right to the point. You are aware that we are investigating the murder of Judge Pierpont?” 
   “Yes” 
   “It has been brought to our attention that you knew Judge Pierpont. Is that true?”, asked Wallace. 
   “Listen…Am I being accused of anything?”, asked the woman. 
   “Miss Florio if you were a suspect in this case you would have been given your rights under the law. No one is accusing you of anything. This is not an interrogation we just want to ask you some questions. Do you understand?” 
   “Yes.” 
   “Good, now allow me to repeat, did you know JudgePierpont?” 
   “Yes, he was a frequent patron of the club where I work.” 
   “Is that the Pony Club? “Yes.” 
   “What is your position there?” 
   “I am a hostess.” 
   “And, where do you live?” 
   “The Golden Arms.” 
   “Apartment three zero seven. Is that correct?” 
   “Yes.” 
   “Could you tell me just how much the rent is for your apartment?”, asked Wallace. 
   “I believe it’s three or four hundred a month.” 
   “You believe. Don’t you know?” 
   “The rent just went up. I forget what I paid last month. It might have been three or maybe four hundred. Right now I’m not sure. You have me confused.” 
   “Take your time. Think carefully before you answer.” 
   “Thank you. I will.” 
   “Good…Let me help you a bit. Isn’t it true that Judge Pierpont was the one paying the rent for your apartment at the Golden Arms?” 
   June Florio sat in silence. Wallace watched her hand trembling. Her face turned red. “Take your time Miss Florio. While you do I hope you don’t mind if I smoke”, he said. 
   As Wallace exhaled cigarette smoke from his lungs June Florio looked at Wallace and said. “Yes.. The Judge paid the rent. He liked me. He bought me things, things that I couldn’t afford. He cared for me.” 
   “And, you cared for him?” 
   “Yes…He was like a father to me.” 
   Wallace smiled at her answer. “What ever you say Miss Florio. Let’s move on. I have another question. Do you know a man named, Nuncio Vergasi”?” 
   Once again the woman became upset, disturbed perhaps even scared. Wallace could see the fear in her eyes and by the expression on her face. “I…I…I have nothing more to say. I know my rights and if you ask me any more questions I want a lawyer.” 
   Wallace leaned forward and crushed the cigarette butt in the ashtray on his desk. “That won’t be necessary at this time Miss Florio. However, the next time we meet it might be advisable…You’re free to leave…Thank you for your co- operation.” 
   After June Florio left, Stiles looked at Wallace and said, “She knows something.” 
   “You bet your ass she does. Alright. No one said it would be easy. We’ll just keep working on it”, said Wallace. 
     
   
   Chapter Six 
   
   Summer was over and, the resort town of Nautilus Beach returned to normal. Reduced traffic made driving enjoyable again. The stores and super markets catered to the local inhabitants where service was given with a leisurely smile and prices returned to 
   what was typical. It was mid September. Daytime temperatures 
   kept at a comfortable temperature and the ocean was at its warmest. Wallace an avid fisherman waited for the annual run of the striped bass feeding in the surf. 
   Elaine Benson had flown to Las Vegas to attend a realtor's convention and Wallace had agreed to keep a check on her house and water the lawn while she was away. He stood on the grass of the front yard attired in tan shorts, a white tee shirt and a pair of old boat shoes that he had placed on his bare feet. As he held the rubber hose he cursed under his breath as the water leaked from behind the nozzle giving off a mist like spray that landed on his hand, forearm and shoulder, wetting his tee shirt. “Bastard needs a new washer”, he said aloud. His concentration was broken when he heard the sound of a female voice. 
   “Good morning.” 
   Wallace looked toward the sound of the voice and saw a young woman across the street. “Good morning”, he responded. The woman began walking towards him. He twisted the hose nozzle shutting off the stream of water. He tossed the hose letting it fall on the lawn and he turned to her. 
   “You must be Mister Wallace. Elaine told me that you would be looking after her place while she was gone. My name is Joan Applewhite.” 
   Wallace took a long look at the young woman. What he saw standing before him with her hand extended was a small, petite oriental woman. She had long, dark brown hair, oval brown eyes, pink lips and was wearing a shoulder less white, summer dress. He took her hand in his and said, “I’m pleased to meet you, is it Miss or Mrs. Applewhite?” 
   “It’s Miss, but please call me Joan.” 
   “Then Joan it is.” 
   “Good. Then that’s settled, all the formalities are over I hope. Elaine told me that you are a police officer.” 
   “Yes, I am.” 
   “That to me is a dangerous profession.” 
   “It can be at times. More often it is very boring.” 
   “Really?…Nonetheless, I imagine at other times it can be rather exciting.” 
   “At times. How do like living in Nautilus Beach?” 
   “I must say that it’s different. I’m used to the big city, the museum’s, the theater, art, music, those things I miss.” 
   “What type of music do you like?” 
   “All kinds, classical, jazz, country western, but not too much rock.” 
   “A girl after my own heart.” 
   “Oh are you a music lover too?” 
   “Yes, I am.” 
   “Have you ever attended the Philadelphia Orchestra concerts?” 
   “I’m ashamed to say that I haven’t.” 
   “That’s too bad, Eugene Ormandy is a great conductor.” 
   “ I understand that you are the social secretary for Grace Gray.” 
   “Yes, I am.” 
   “That must be interesting work.” 
   “It is, when I work. Grace has been sick in bed ever since she returned from her honeymoon.” 
   “What seems to be the trouble?” 
   “Doctor Gray is treating her for the flu. She has all the symptoms vomiting, diarrhea and chills.” 
   “Sorry to hear that, still, I imagine you’re still kept busy.” 
   “At this time it is responding to her correspondence.” 
   “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you Joan.” 
   “Same here, Mister Wallace.” 
   “Robert, the name is Robert.” 
   That evening Wallace walked to his desk and checked the audio tape in his recorder. He picked up the small microphone, pushed the RECORD button and spoke. “Researching symptoms of flu like conditions and poisoning. Possibly consult with Doctor Edwards.” 
   He stood and walked to his small, private library. There he searched for and found the book he was looking for, “The Poisoners Handbook“, by Deborah Blum. He took the book and walked to his favorite leather chair and sat down. He looked at the table of contents and turned to the chapter containing Arsenic, and read: “Arsenic as it turns out is fairly tasteless, and if you give it at just the right dose…you can make it mimic a gastrointestinal illness…there are of course other options, morphine, mercury, carbon monoxide, all virtually undetectable.” 
   Wallace smiled, stood and walked back to his library and placed the book on the shelf. Walking to his bedroom he shut off the living room lamp by flipping the wall switch. He then went to bed. 
   The next morning after breakfast Wallace dialed the telephone number of Doctor. Manfred Edwards. Surprisingly to Wallace the doctor answered on the first ring. “Hello?” 
   “Good morning doctor. And, how are you this fine morning?” 
   “It was fine until I answered the telephone and heard your voice. What do you want?” 
   “As usual, your medical opinion.” 
   “Can it wait? I’m late for a foursome.” 
   “Tell me when and where.” 
   “My place…I’ll pop a couple of steaks on the grill..you bring the beer.” 
   “What time”? 
   “Any damn time after four. Now get the hell off of the telephone and let me go play golf.” 
   At four thirty that day Wallace walked into the backyard of Doctor Edwards. He found the man using a wire brush on the gas grill, removing the charred remains of other meals cooked at other times. Edwards turned at looked at the man holding a six pack of bottled beer. 
   “About damn time. Put the beer in that cooler over there”, he said pointing to a red, fiberglass ice cooler that had been placed on a redwood picnic table. 
   “Well, you sure as hell appear to be in a lousy mood”, said Wallace as he replaced the lid on the cooler. 
   “So far it’s been a shitty day. First, I was late to tee off. Second, I shot an eighty five and third after all of that, I end up having to entertain your ugly ass.” 
   Wallace laughed. “By the time you get that grill cleaned we’ll be eating at midnight.” 
   “Alright, stop the bullshit. What’s on your mind?” 
   “Arsenic.” 
   “What about it?” 
   “I have a suspect, who might be on the verge of killing his wife. At this time I believe he might be using arsenic to poison her.” 
   “What makes you think that he’s using arsenic?” 
   “The suspect lost his wife to a mysterious ailment last year. There was no autopsy and she was cremated within twenty-four hours of her death.” 
   “And?” 
   “Now, recently married, his new wife, after returning from her honeymoon has taken to bed with flu like conditions. I have information that she was in perfect health before her marriage.” 
   “And, now you suspect the use of arsenic.” 
   “Correct.” 
   “Let me advise you that even if arsenic is found in your so called victims body, it doesn’t necessarily mean that her husband poisoned her. Arsenic is prevalent in the world. Most cases of arsenic poisoning is the result of drinking ground water. Arsenic affects one hundred and twenty-seven million people a year worldwide. Do you like rice?” 
   “Yeah, once in a while”, Wallace answered. 
   “Rice is one of the food sources in the world that contains large amounts of arsenic. Let me ask you this. Where did the unlucky bride have her honeymoon?” 
   “The Greek Islands.” 
   “That tells me that in all probability she ate a lot of seafood, from the Mediterranean which also contains arsenic. You might have a suspect and you might believe he is using poison, but at present you will have one hell of a time making a case, let alone getting a conviction with an arrest.” 
   “That may be. My problem right now is how to stop him from going any further and I don’t know how to do it.” 
   “I can’t help you with that. As you know as the Medical Examiner I come in at the end of the play, after I receive the body.” 
   “This guy cremates the body.” 
   “In that regard there is a solution.” 
   “And it is?” 
   “Wait a minute. I have to go inside and get a book, just to be sure that I’m correct. While I do that open two bottles of beer. I’ll be right back.” 
   Wallace open the two bottles and took a swig out of the one he held in his hand. Doctor Edwards returned holding a book in his hand. He sat down next to Wallace took a sip of beer, opened the book and said, “Here we are. Now, listen to this. What Warrants Mandatory Autopsy… Any death occurring suddenly and unexplained or from an unexplained cause, this includes deaths of individuals who are found dead without obvious cause and medically unexpected death which occurs during medical therapeutic or diagnostic procedure. Deaths due to obvious natural causes wherein the previous medical or biological mechanisms are unclear need to be reported. Deaths related directly to previously diagnosed infectious disease need not be reported, unless they fall under the previous listed categories.” 
   “Is that the law?” 
   “Yep.” 
   “I doubt if the court would allow me to warrant an autopsy. The court would find me unqualified as an expert.” 
   “True, but the court must listen to either the county coroner or the medical examiner.” 
   “Then, you can do it”, said Wallace. 
   “I could, but I won’t, not in this case anyway.” 
   “Why not?” 
   “Professional ethics. From what you have told me your suspect is a physician, Doctor Gray. You forget, I too read the newspaper and I remember that he and his wife went to the Greek Islands. However, what I can do is talk to Charlie Warren, the County Coroner and alert him. He then can request an autopsy in court.” 
   “All well and good if and when he kills her. My question is how to I prevent her murder?” 
   “Isn’t she originally from Philadelphia?” 
   “Yes.” 
   “Then, I’m almost certain that she had a physician there. Have her return to that doctor and have an analysis done on her blood and urine. That way they can see the amount of arsenic in her system.” 
   “Sounds like a good idea”, said Wallace. 
   “How do you like your steak?.” asked Edwards. 
   “Medium well.” 
   “Anything new of the Pierpont murder?” 
   “We’re making a little progress.” 
   “I gave one of your men the projectile I found in the chest of the victim.” 
   “Yeah, I got it, but you can bet the firearm is long destroyed. It was probably a stolen weapon anyway.” 
   “Still, we must work with what we have Robert. Now, the baked potatoes should be done. Mildred made a nice salad before she went home and there’s more beer. We’ll eat soon.” 
   Two days later Wallace sat in the living room of Elaine Benson. “So, how as Vegas?”, he asked. 
   “Fun, interesting, rewarding in some ways”, Elaine answered. 
   “Did you win?” 
   “I think I won three hundred dollars on the slots.” 
   “Pretty nice, and were you a good girl?” 
   Elaine smiled, “As a matter of fact, he said I was marvelous.” 
   Wallace laughed at her response. 
   “And, what brings you here today. You must have something on your mind. What is it”, she asked. 
   “You finally convinced me that your friend, Doctor Vernon Gray is slowly killing his wife.” 
   “And, just what convinced you. It certainly wasn’t my nagging about the fact was it?” 
   “Not really. It was the result of a conversation I had with your neighbor across the street. Seems that Grace Gray has had the flu ever since she returned from her honeymoon and she is being treated by her husband.” 
   “So?…That’s not unusual.” 
   “No, it’s not, except he might be giving her poison.” 
   “What kind of poison?” 
   “Arsenic.” 
   “How terrible…What can we do?” 
   “How well do you know Joan Applewhite?” 
   “She is just a young woman who lives across the street, a neighbor, why?” 
   “It might be a good idea to have her convince her boss to see her doctor in Philadelphia to have, let’s say, a second opinion. That way, she might have her blood and urine tested .It might reveal arsenic.” 
   “Wouldn’t that tip off Vernon, that someone is on to him?” 
   “Possibly, but if Grace is made aware that arsenic is prevalent in the waters of the Greek Isles then she should more or less want the testing done.” 
   “Don’t you think that once he hears the word arsenic, that he would want to do the testing. That way he could falsify the results.” 
   “I’m betting, that when he hears the word arsenic one or two things will happen. If the good doctor in innocent then he will support the idea of a second opinion. If he is attempting to kill his wife with poison and hears the word arsenic he will stop. Then I expect a gradual, healthy recovery will ensue.” 
   “So you want me to convince Miss Applewhite to talk to Grace Gray.” 
   “Exactly.” 
   “Then what?” 
   “We sit back and wait to see what happens”, said Wallace. 
   “I don’t know how to approach her.” 
   “Well, what do you know about her?”, he asked. 
   Elaine thought for a moment, then spoke. “Actually what I know is that she is the daughter of a Japanese American mother and a American father. Her mother is referred to as Nisei.” 
   “That means she was born after the second generation of her family in the United States”, Wallace explained. 
   “Anyway, her mother was in an interment camp in Colorado during World War Two. When the war was over the family moved to Bridgeton, New Jersey and went to work for SeaBrook Farms. While working there the mother met and married Henry Applewhite. They had two children, Joan and a boy three years younger than her. Evidently the Japanese genes of her mother were much more dominant than her father’s English genes so she was born with a pure Japanese appearance. She graduated from Bridgeton High School and entered Temple University where she majored in journalism with a minor in communications. After two years she quit college, but she stayed in Philadelphia. She was working as a sales girl at Macys when she met Grace Hodges. Overtime they struck up a friendship that resulted in Joan being hired as Grace Hodge’s social secretary.” 
   “Did you miss anything?” 
   “What do you mean?” 
   “You sure as hell know her pedigree.” 
   “Oh, I learned all of that over coffee. But I still don’t know how to approach her about mentioning arsenic poisoning to her boss.” 
   “Very simple. Mention the fact that the Greek Isle’s drinking water has high concentrations of arsenic and it might be what is making her boss sick.” 
   “That’s it?” 
   “That and the fact that a second opinion might be warranted.” 
   “Well, if you think it will work.” 
     
   
   Chapter Seven 
   
   On a late Friday afternoon, Robert Wallace signed a vacation card and handed it to Lieutenant William O’Neil. “There you are Bill, you’re now officially in charge. While you’re running this circus I hope to be up to my ass in a good book.” 
   The following morning after a quick breakfast, Wallace opened the book “ Serial killers and Their Reasons and Methods.” as a police officer Wallace had long held the position that when a convicted criminal was incarcerated, many inmates took the opportunity to learn. Some learned from their mistakes, returned to society and became useful citizens, Others unfortunately, learned how to correct the mistakes they made in order not to make that same mistake again. Some graduated from petty larceny into the big time burglary, from purse snatchers to safe crackers and they took their lessons from the cons in prison who with nothing but time on their hands gladly educated their students. 
   To Wallace one way to stay ahead of the professional criminal was to do what they did, study and learn. As a result he would take time each year to take what he called his “retreat.” While some went on spiritual retreats to reconnect with God through prayer Wallace went on learning retreats to reconnect with his study of criminology. In that, the scientific study of the nature, extent, causes and control of criminal behavior in both the individual operating in society helped him in his investigations. And, at this time he had two crimes on his mind. The first, the assassination of Judge Pierpont. The second, the attempted murder of Grace Hodges Gray. It was his hope that the books he had purchased would shine some light on the likes of Nuncio Vergasi and Doctor Vernon Gray. 
   Robert Wallace reached for the pack of cigarettes, took one out of the package, placed it in his mouth, lit it, inhaled, and began to read. He was particularly interested in the mental makeup 
   of professional killers hoping to understand how hit men like Vergasi operated. What caused them to be the way they were? What were their methods? He read, “Childhood abuse is often a trigger for aggressive behavior in a child and heinous crimes in adults.” Wallace placed the burning cigarette in an ashtray and wrote those words on a writing tablet. He began to read again. “ Antisocial Personality Disorder or ASPD is a total disregard for law and social norms.” 
   The case study of contract killer Richard Banaszek caught the attention of Wallace and he read with dedicated interest the findings of the psychiatrist that interviewed Banaszek in prison. When he was finished reading he again wrote notes. “It is apparent that a contract killer such as Nuncio Vergasi that is thought to be the murderer of Judge Pierpont at this time kills without remorse. In fact, it is probable that like Richard Banaszek, Nuncio Vergasi considers caring or remorse as a weakness. 
   Banaszek’s killings were often triggered by the challenge of the hunt for his victims. In the case of Vergasi it is possible that the challenge is a threat to his manly hood . We have the judge maintaining a luxury life style for June Florio. Then we have a confrontation between the judge and Florio. This then presents the challenge to Vergasi who must, in his mind react in order to maintain his dominant male image to Florio. 
   “What we have now, is a sociopath killer on the streets of Nautilus Beach.” 
   Wallace closed the book, got up out of his chair and went to his desk. There he read his notes aloud, recording them on tape. He shut off the recorder, went to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. As he sipped the hot brew his mind and thoughts returned to Vergasi. “The son of a bitch will hit again. It could be on orders or by something or someone that pisses him off.” 
   Walking back to his living room Wallace placed the cup of coffee on the snack table he kept next to his chair. He read his notes again then tore off the written page and crumbled it into a ball. He opened the book again and returned to the pages containing information about Richard Banaszek. As he read he learned that the contract killer used a variety of weapons and devices in his dealing with his victims. 
   Wallace found it interesting that where most of Banaszek’s killings were brutal such as the use of a shotgun or knife, he also used poison. To be exact, he used cyanide. He placed it in food. He gave lethal injections and at times simply poured it on the victims skin. In all cases death was quick. “Poison…There it is again. Seems like this book is leading me back to the good doctor Gray. It says here that cyanide is difficult to detect in toxicology tests. If that’s true then why would someone like Banaszek who used shotguns, revolvers and knives even to the extent that he cut and dismembered his victims bodies resort from time to time to the use of cyanide?”, he thought to himself. “It certainly wasn’t because he wanted to be humane. Most likely when he used cyanide it wasn’t a mob contract. When he killed for the mob he was to send a message to others. The message would keep others in line. His other contract killings did not require a message, just a victim.” 
   Now, if I am right and Doctor Gray is trying to kill his wife by using arsenic he must be getting it from some place, but where? Think, think, think. Wallace selected another book from his library turned to a chapter entitled, “Medical Use of Cyanide” He read, “Cyanide as a compound, sodium nitroprusside is used mainly in clinical chemistry to measure urine keytone bodies as a follow up to diabetic patients. An emergency use would produce a rapid decrease of blood pressure in humans.” 
   Very interesting. Joan Applewhite had only spoke about Grace Gray having flu like symptoms. There has not been any mention of diabetes. Still, as an endocrinologist treating diabetics Gray would have a legitimate right to sodium nitroprusside. Then why did he use arsenic?. Ah. Yes, cyanide is quick. The good doctor wanted Lillian’s death to appear to be the result of a lingering illness.” 
   Wallace placed the book back on the shelf. He then wrote that fact on his notepad. “We’ll just have to sit back and see where the doctor takes us”, he said aloud. 
   He took the empty coffee cup into the kitchen washed it and placed it in the dish drainer allowing it to air dry. Next, he unplugged the coffee maker and washed it placing the glass pot next to the cup. As he walked back into the living room his mind then left his belief and judgment of Vernon Gray and focused back to Nuncio Vergasi. “There was a time when Nautilus Beach was neutral territory to the mobsters, back when the Jews, Irish and Italians were involved in bootleg whiskey. At sometime they decided it was stupid to be killing each other when it was easier to sit, talk, and negotiate, but they needed a safe place to meet. Wherever that place would be there had to be a guarantee that no violence would take place. Nautilus Beach was the chosen spot and from that time on until recently no mob violence occurred in the resort. 
   Nautilus Beach then became the “Playground” in the nineteen twenties where illegal booze, prostitution and gambling was offered without interruption by law enforcement. The people came to party and so did the mob. However, with the repeal of the Volstead Act alcohol was available to everyone, nonetheless, conventioneers were supplied with bars and saloons making drinking obtainable twenty-four hours a day...All that was required was a city ordinance permitting the hours of sale for alcoholic beverages. That was easy. One word from the political boss and the ordinance was created, voted on and passed. The result was the city of Nautilus Beach continued to operate with business as usual except booze was now legal. 
   The business people were happy, the pimps, whores and bookmakers were happy and most important paid for politicians were in control of the city and the county. With the merchants and vice operators in their pocket and the working poor contended to work for the wages that were kept low and under control, elected officials were able to stay in power with managed elections. 
   It was the people that allowed and kept the political organization in power. They remembered the old days of prohibition. Bookmakers were their friends. Prostitutes were a necessary evil and it was the common cause of both merchants and workers now without prohibition to make as much money as possible between Memorial Day and Labor Day and neither cared how they did it. 
   The local police department in any community is only as strong as the people want it to be and the populace wanted weak enforcement except naturally when they became the victims. As for those who complained about political corruption, the politicians were aware of one thing, people do not cry out for clean elections, only for jobs and money. 
   At the end of summer many of the unemployed lived off of what they had managed to save, borrowed, begged or stole until the beginning of the next tourist season, and so it went year after year. As it did, the worldwide Great Depression came and began to have its effect. The working people of Nautilus Beach suddenly with unemployment and hotels without customers began to suffer. Nonetheless, the political bosses saw to it that the people had food on the table and a ton of coal in the bin. And, the people loved them. 
   If there was any organized crime it was organized with the bookmakers, tavern owners, madams and pimps paying kickbacks to the political organization for protection. Politicians kept their hands clean by allowing Roland “Shifty” Gorman to be the enforcer. Gorman saw to it that the payments were made on time, were the correct amount agreed upon, and any quarrels were settled quickly and without violence. 
   Becoming a bookmaker was easy. After a meeting with Shifty Gorman most operators opened small candy stores in locations that were available to pedestrian traffic. Those pedestrians were the working class who on their way to work could stop and wager either on horses or numbers. Others simply called their bets in to the bookie via the telephone. Number operators also had operators in the field who went house to house door to door collecting wagers and money. All bases were covered. 
   And so it went, the majority of the population were the working poor. The best job one could have would be working for one of the utility companies, the electric company, gas company or telephone company. Next came jobs working for the city. Even there the politicians assured themselves of political control. Police and firemen were expected to vote Republican, while other city workers were required to vote Democrat. The only problem was the Republican party over saw the operation of the Democratic Party, dictating who would be a candidate and who would win. 
   Those elections that were too close and near defeat always saw the Republican candidate win due to the count of the absentee ballots. Often the source of those ballots came from the local cemetery. 
   Under those conditions Nautilus Beach began to die. No longer was it the “playground.” It was like a drowning man struggling to stay a float as it sank deeper and deeper into insolvency and as fate would have it another life was offered, World War Two. 
   The war offered two things. First, the United States Army Air Corp took over all the major hotels in the city and used them to house troops. Second, the war brought rationing. Gasoline, tires and other essential goods became scarce. This meant that those on the home front were limited when it came to travel. Most public transportation, trains and buses were being used to transport the military. This then meant that in many cases any vacation or recreation place had to be by automobile in the immediate vicinity of the home. Philadelphia was only sixty miles away from Nautilus Beach and between the army troops and the vacationing Philadelphians, the city was reborn. And, it was reborn with a flourish. The bars and taverns gladly sold to G. I's. 
   The pimps and whores prospered and the bookmakers didn’t miss a beat. The Nautilus Beach Press even printed the race results from Santa Anita each day in the sports section of the paper, even though California was on the west coast. 
   At the same time with illegal bootlegging gone and a thing of the past the war offered another opportunity, the “Black Market.” Gasoline, rubber tires, butter, sugar, meat all rationed by the federal government still could be purchased from those who by one way or another had and controlled the sale of those products for the enhanced price. Once again the corrupt of the city and county reaped the rewards just as they had during Prohibition. However, all good things eventually come to an end. The war was over and the economy of Nautilus Beach that expanded in corruption decreased when those criminal opportunities ended and illegal financial opportunities dwindled. 
   Although Macaluso’s Philadelphia family was making money off of their cigarette, narcotic and a piece of the illegal gambling watched over by “Shifty Gorman”, Malcaluso wanted more. He then decided to get involved in the hotel and restaurant unions. Once involved and in control he could have the power to demand kick backs to assure that conventions would proceed without labor difficulties. To guarantee that this new operation in Nautilus Beach would succeed he sent a new type of supervisor, the enforcer, The enforcer known as a soldato or soldier would deal with and use any force necessary against any opposition. This soldato was Nuncio Vergasi. With his appearance and his actions it was now evident that Nautilus Beach was no longer a safe zone. Anyone stepping on the toes of Guido Macaluso or his associates could expect retribution. 
   His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing telephone. Wallace walked to his desk and lifted the receiver off of the cradle. “Hello”, he said. 
   “Robert…This is Elaine…Joan just left here…She is very upset…Seems she mentioned the idea of Grace having a second opinion by her doctor in Philadelphia for the possibility that she ingested arsenic while on her honeymoon. Grace then mentioned it to Vernon and Vernon got angry and threatened to fire Joan. Evidently this created a serious argument between Grace and Vernon and Joan left the house in tears.” 
   “Interesting, however, I expected as much. So the good doctor is upset about a test for chemical compounds in his wife’s body is he? Alright, now we sit back and see if Grace Hodges Gray’s medical condition improves.” 
   Wallace returned to those thoughts he was having before Elaine’s telephone call distracted him. “At this point Vernon Gray was only a potential murderer. Hopefully, at this time I have prevented the death of Grace Hodges Gray. What is important now is the arrest and conviction of Vergasi. What I need is more evidence, the proof that he shot and killed Judge Pierpont. The only thing I have right now is mere suspicion. I have no witnesses. The only thing they can testify to is a masked man shot the Judge. I have no weapon, the firearm used is now in all probability destroyed. What I do have is a psychopath killer in Nautilus Beach.” 
   Robert Wallace returned to his small library, he reached up and removed the book, “New Clues To The Causes Of Violence”, by Gene Bylinsky. Wallace went again to his favorite chair, sat, opened the book and began to read. “By tradition, students of aggression and violence have been divided into two separate camps that hardly ever communicated with each other. On one side stood the ethologists, students of animal behavior in the wild, many of whom held that man is biologically fated to violence. At the other extreme were social scientists, who knew, or cared, little about biology. They argued that violent crime is strictly a social phenomenon, best dealt with by eliminating slums, urban crowding, and racial discrimination and by alleviating poverty and improving the prison system.” 
   Wallace closed the book and reached for a cigarette. As he sat and smoked he thought about what he had just read. “I side with the ethologists. Man is an animal and has an inherited trait that causes violence. That trait in all probability comes from a gene inherited from early man. Science has learned that the brain reacts from the genes that determine behavior. The Neanderthal and later tribes of early man hunted for food, most often he killed the animals he ate, so he killed out of necessity. Most mammals kill either for food or for self defense. The fact that man became civilized did not erase the characteristic of killing, just as the domestication of cats and dogs did not do away with the natural instinct to hunt, stalk and kill their victims. As a result killing became a part of life. If it is true that man descended from the apes then look at the primates. Armies of baboons or chimpanzees attack other groups. African tribes, American Indian tribes, and European tribes fought wars and developed weapons of destruction. There were no urban slums, no urban crowding and while there might have been poverty there was no prison system. Yet, man, killed, raped, robbed, burnt and many times he did it with increased violence and he did it to send a message, a sign to others. Just like Vergasi sent a message, one that said, do not challenge me. If there was any debate on whether or not man was biologically fated to violence then all one has to do is return to the scientific findings. Among the findings of anomalies discovered so far is that there is a connection with violent behavior and the famous extra Y chromosome. A normal male has an X and Y chromosome. A female has two X chromosomes. Yet, the XYY male who is usually tall are said to have a natural propensity for violent crime. Interesting. If I ever arrest this son of a bitch I’m going to have him tested.” 
   The homicide rate here in Nautilus Beach is low, averaging two or three a year with most of those resulting from domestic disputes or atrocious assault and battery. Nonetheless, when anyone, particularly a county judge is murdered in his own home the public wants answers. It also wants an arrest and conviction. And, in case the public begins to overlook the crime the media is always ready to remind them of the lack of answers by the police. In this case they wanted answers from Captain Robert Wallace. 
     
   
   Chapter Eight 
   
   The days, weeks and months passed quickly by. The anniversary of the Pierpont murder came and went with no results. In fact, after a year there was no new evidence and the case now considered cold was even getting colder. Fortunately, after all that time the press had found new interests to complain about and had let Wallace and his men alone. Still, the Major Crime Squad continued working on the case. 
   Surveillance of Vergasi failed to find him in any violation of the law. They did record the many times that he visited June Florio at her apartment, but that wasn’t against the law. When Wallace finished reading the latest observation reports he looked at Bill O’Neil and asked, “How about visits to him by members of the Philadelphia family?” 
   “None that we know of. Macaluso probably considers it still too hot to send anyone down here to see Vargasi even though it’s been over a year. In all probability he’s sending someone down here, but if he is we don’t see him.” 
   “Do we have Vergasi leaving town?” asked Wallace. 
   “Nope…In fact he doesn’t drive.” 
   “Macaluso won’t use the telephone or mail. He’s afraid of federal wiretaps and any school kid knows how to steam open an envelope. Still, he could have someone else drive. He doesn’t have to go to Philly, just out-of-town and up the road, meet who ever the messenger is and get his orders. According to the reports I just read we’ve been putting him to bed between ten and midnight.” 
   “Right, as you know it’s a question of manpower and of course the overtime.” 
   “So my theory is a possibility”, said Wallace. 
   “Hey, anything is possible”, answered O’Neil. “What about June Florio?” 
   “Nothing new there either, unless Vergasi paying the bills now is relevant to the case.” 
   “Not at the moment…Alright, let’s stay with it. Sorry I can’t give you more men Bill. Hell, we’re lucky that we’re still in business. We don’t have enough cases to justify our squad. The Chief is an ex-detective and is under the opinion that the Detective Bureau can and should handle our cases, particularly homicides.” 
   “I know, but he can’t argue with success can he?”, asked O’Neil. 
   “Right now that’s all we’ve got going for us. We have to close this Pierpont case”, Wallace answered. 
   “Well, I suggest we keep the tail on. I don’t expect anything to happen, but if it does where will you be tonight, just in case I have to call you?”, asked O’Neil. 
   “I’m dining at the Le Bristol. My reservations are at eight. After that who knows?” 
   “I didn’t know you liked French food”, said O.Neil. “I don’t, but the lady does.” 
   “Elaine?” 
   “Yep.” 
   “Are you two getting serious?” 
   “Nope…She’s keeping me up to date on a private matter I’ve been working on. If this thing develops as I think it will, then I’ll bring you in on it. Right now it’s just mere speculation on my part.” 
   “Hey…you know me, what ever, when ever. Right now I’m concentrating on Vergasi. Have a nice dinner Cap.” 
     
   ******************* 
     
   At exactly eight P.M. Elaine Benson and Robert Wallace were seated at a window table in the Le Bristol Restaurant. Elaine ordered her usual whiskey sour. Wallace order coffee…decaf. As they both read the menu three violinist’s dressed in white tie and tails played softly as they walked through the dining room. 
   Wallace placed the menu on the table and took a sip of coffee. “Do you see anything that you might like?”, he asked. 
   “Not really Robert. Why don’t you order for both of us.” “Alright, I think I know what you might like. So tell me What’s new with the Gray’s?” 
   “I hear that Grace is having health problems.” 
   “What kind of problems?” 
   “Joan told me that Grace has been diagnosed as having something called…Let see I f I can get this right...Trans…Transient Ischemic attack.” 
   “By who?” 
   “Vernon of course.” 
   “Did Joan say how doctor Gray was treating his wife?” 
   “No, she didn’t.” 
   Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of the waiter. “May I ask if you are ready to order?” asked the waiter. 
   “Yes we are. For the first course we will have the blue lobster, chilled with tomato gazpacho along with the slightly spicy avocado cannelloni.” 
   “The avocado is not too spicy is it?”, asked Elaine. 
   “No Miss, just enough spice to tempt the taste buds”, answered the waiter. 
   “Fine”, Elaine responded. 
   “For the second course we would like the saddle of lamb from the Aveyron roasted in nori crumbs along with the kohlrabi puree and the wild herb gnocchi.” 
   “And for desert sir?”, asked the waiter. 
   “If we want desert I’ll be sure to let you know”, said Wallace. 
   “And, your wine sir?” 
   “ Is the Sauvignon Blanc French or from New Zealand?.” 
   “French sir.” 
   “Excellent, a bottle please, now after you place our order please bring me another cup of coffee and an ashtray.” 
   “Very good sir.” 
   After the waiter left Wallace sat in silence, deep in thought. “What’s on your mind?”, asked Elaine. 
   “Oh, excuse me…I was just thinking. It has been just a little over a year since Grace Gray recovered from arsenic poisoning. And, now she’s ill again”, said Wallace. 
   “Yes Robert, but this time it is a disease, not a poison”, said Elaine. 
   “Ah, but is it a malady or something created by the good doctor?” 
   “I don’t know. I never heard of what ever she has.”, said Elaine. 
   “That’s the medical term for Minnie strokes. I can’t remember all the symptoms, but I’ll look it up later.” 
   “Tell me Robert…What is the name of the song the musicians are playing?” 
   “Variation Of The theme From Paganini.” 
   “It’s beautiful.” 
   “Yes, it is.” 
   Later, Wallace walked Elaine Benson to her door. “Thank you for a lovely evening and dinner Robert. Would you like to come in?” 
   “If you don’t mind I’ll take a rain check. The information you gave me at dinner has my mind racing and investigative juices flowing. I want to get home while I still have the ideas I have in my head. I hope you understand.” 
   “Of course…Why would a woman who had a lovely dinner and looked forward to the rest of the evening being romantic lack understanding.” 
   “Thanks…I’ll call you…Good night." 
   “Good night Robert.” 
   Wallace started his Ford and backed slowly out of the driveway. He beeped the horn as he drove away. 
   He sat at his desk smoking a cigarette dressed only in his underwear and dialed the number. Looking at his watch he noticed that it was nearly ten thirty P.M. Listening, he counted the number of rings knowing that the doctor never answered his telephone quickly. Finally he heard the receiver lift and then a voice, “HELLO!” 
   “I’m going to give you several symptoms. When I’m finished you tell me the medical condition they exhibit”, said Wallace. 
   “You son of a bitch…Do you know what time it is? I’m getting ready to go to bed and you’re playing telephone games…If you were right here I’d kick you square in the ass!” 
   “Alright Doctor, here are the symptoms…Blurred vision…Nausea…Vertigo…Burning or tingling…Trouble with balance and confusion.” 
   “Wallace, you keep this shit up I’ll go to the chief of police…I’ll go to the Mayor…I wish the hell I never laid eyes on you." 
   “Answer the question doctor what is the medical condition?” 
   “Transient Ischemic Attack.” 
   “Excellent…You win a cigar…anything else?” 
   “Yes, diabetes.” 
   “What?” 
   “Diabetes.” 
   “I’ll be a son of a bitch”, said Wallace softly. “Yes you are…Why do you need to know this information especially when I’m getting ready for bed?” 
   “You might have just solved a murder and prevented another Doc. I’ll get back to you…Thanks and good night." 
   “What murder?” 
   “Good night Doc.” 
   “Wallace you rotten bastard, now I’ll be up all night trying to figure out what the hell you’re talking about.” Click. 
   
   
   
   After talking to Doctor Edwards Wallace walked over to the small filing cabinet he kept in what he called his office. He pulled open the lower drawer where he kept, old, outdated information, information that he was certain could be used at another time. He moved file cover after file cover until he found the one he was looking for, “Use Of Insulin In Homicides.” Removing the file he closed the cabinet drawer and went back to his desk. He took a seat, lit a cigarette, opened the file and began to read: Journal Of The Royal Society Of Medicine. “William Dale Archerd was found guilty on March 15, 1968 of murdering his nephew and two of his seven wives...On July 24, 1956 Archard contacted the Los Angeles Police to report a robbery at his home. Archard told the responding officers that two men had come into his home armed with guns and hypodermic syringes which they used to inject him and his current wife, Zella in the buttocks. They made off with five hundred dollars. But none of Zella’s jewelry which was in plain view in her bedroom. At the scene of the crime the police found two puncture wounds in Zella’s buttocks (later amended to four upon examination after her death) but none in William. Zella was dizzy, but not comatose when the police arrived and she corroborated her husband’s statement about the robbers, although she never saw them, as they put a pillow case over her head. After the police left she gradually lapsed into a coma and had convulsions, from which she died the next day without gaining consciousness. During a search of the house and surroundings the police found a hypodermic needle in a bathroom drawer and a half-used vial of long-acting insulin in a nearby field. The investigating police officer in Los Angeles, Sergeant Harry Andre drew the coroner’s attention to the insulin vial. However, because no poisonous substances were found in Zella’s body and no method of measuring insulin was readily available except in research laboratories he had no evidence that she had died from insulin poisoning. Zella’s death was officially attributed to bronchial pneumonia.” 
   Wallace closed the file folder and then placed it in his briefcase. He turned off the desk lamp, got up from the desk and went to bed. 
   The next morning he walked into his office at headquarters carrying the usual bag containing two containers of coffee and two donuts and his briefcase. He took off his blue blazer and hung it up then took a seat and read the reports that awaited his approval. As he did lieutenant O’Neil walked in and took a seat. 
   “Nothing to report of any interest Cap”, he said. Wallace pointed to the white paper bag on the desk. “The lemon donut’s mine. You get the jelly donut.” 
   “What again? You always get the lemon.” 
   “As I told you before, I suggest you stop at the donut shop and get what you want, you cheap bastard.” 
   “Hey, you know I have a large family to support.” 
   “That’s not my problem. That’s what happens when you’re an Irish Catholic playing Vatican roulette with your wife.” 
   O’Neil laughed as he reached into the bag and took out the coffee and donut. “Anything new?”, he asked. 
   “Yeah… Remember I told you that I might be on to something?” 
   “Yeah, and?” 
   “Right now I’m almost certain that Doctor Vernon Gray murdered his first wife and is getting ready to kill his second wife.” 
   “What evidence do you have?” 
   “None…That’s my problem.” 
   “How does he do it?” 
   “He uses overdoses of insulin.” “How does that work?” 
   “Insulin reduces the amount of glucose in the blood. If the brain is deprived of too much glucose the body goes into shock, resulting in a coma and then, death.” 
   “Sound’s nasty.” 
   “It is.” 
   “And, you think the doctor killed his first wife that way?” 
   “The information I have is that she was in excellent health, went into a coma and later died in the hospital.” 
   “Wasn’t an autopsy done?” 
   “No…In fact Gray had his wife cremated less the twenty-four hours of her death.” 
   “Alright…That gives you suspicion, but not probable cause. You mentioned that he’s trying to kill his present wife.” 
   “He did and he’s doing it now.” 
   “I’m playing devil’s advocate. Give me the evidence.” 
   “Again. I don’t have any, but I’m certain that he tried killing her with arsenic. Her secretary saved her by insisting that she be tested.” 
   “Looks to me that right now, you’ve got nothing, but a bunch of suppositions”, said O’Neil. 
   “Right. But I’m sinking my teeth into his ass and I’m not letting go until he’s convicted.” 
   “Good luck…Any orders?” 
   “No.” 
   “Then I’ll be in my office. Thanks for the coffee and donut.” 
   “Get the hell out of here.” 
   “Good luck” 
   Wallace open the brief case and took out the printed copy of the Journal Of The Royal Society Of Medicine. Placing it on his desk he found the place he had marked with pencil and began to read: 
   “The second death to come to the attention of the authorities was that of Juanita, William’s fifth wife. She and William had lived in Las Vegas, Nevada where William had gone to live soon after Zella’s death. Junita was discovered in a coma on March,12, 1958. Only two days after she and William were married, and less than two years after Zella’s death in los Angeles. Like Zella, Juanita was taken to the hospital but died only a few hours after being found and without gaining consciousness. Her doctors attributed her coma to a self-administered habituate overdose. This was not confirmed by blood analysis as the methods for measuring barbiturates were too difficult to do routinely. She also had a low blood sugar for which there was no obvious medical explanation. In light of what subsequently emerged Junita’s coma was almost certainly due to insulin, but once again, the crucial test was not done.” 
   Wallace butted the cigarette he had been smoking. “All well and good. I know the bastard killed using insulin. They mention tests…Where in hell is the information on the tests?”, he said aloud as he thumbed through the copied pages of the case he was studying. Finally he found what he was looking for, Immunoassay. He lit another cigarette and began to read again. “Immunoassay uses antibodies to measure substances in blood in a test tube. It can be used to detect substances in thin sections of tissue removed at operation or autopsy without measuring their actual concentration. This technique is known as immuno histology and identifies substances that react with the antibody to the exclusion of everything else.” 
   Wallace reached for the telephone, dialed the number and waited. A female voice came on the line. “Nautilus Beach hospital, how may I help you?” 
   “Give me the morgue please, Doctor Edwards.”, said Wallace. 
   “One moment please.” 
   Robert heard the receiver being lifted, then he heard the doctor’s voice. “Doctor Edwards.” 
   “What do you know about immunoassay?” 
   “You again…Will you please find someone else to bother.” 
   “Answer the question. What do you know about immunoassay?” 
   “As much as I have to know.” 
   “Can you do a test using it?” 
   “Certainly, do you have a victim?” 
   “Not yet.” 
   “Then call me when you do and stop bothering me.” 
   “Are you busy tonight?” 
   “Why?” 
   “How about I pick you up and we have dinner together?” 
   “I shouldn’t. I hardly know you and I don’t know what your attentions are. People might talk.” 
   “You crazy bastard, what time?” 
   “Make it eight and good by.” 
     
   
   Chapter Nine 
   
   Robert Wallace sat at the table in Elaine Benson’s kitchen. As he listened to her, he occasionally alternated taking sips of coffee then a draw on a cigarette. It seemed to him that he had heard the same words from her over and over. Nothing that she was telling him was new. Grace Hodges Gray was bed ridden, too sick to socialize, let alone pay attention to her Philadelphia enterprise. 
   “I’m telling you Robert, he’s killing that woman. What are you going to do about it?” 
   “What can I do about it?” 
   “So, you’re going to sit there and let him kill again”, said Elaine. 
   “May I remind you that we saved her once before when he was trying to poison her with arsenic.” 
   “Then, I guess I’ll have to talk to Joan again.” 
   “I wouldn’t if I were you. We were successful that time. This time he’ll be watching her, trying to see what she knows. Sending her back to question his medical practice with his own wife again is putting her in jeopardy.” 
   “Nonsense…all she has to do is suggest that Grace see Doctor Parlin again in Philadelphia…You see Robert…I don’t need probable cause.” 
   “Suit yourself…If anything happens to that young woman it’s on you, not me.” 
   “Well, I can see that I can’t convince you that I’m right. By the way I’ll be away for a week or ten days. At least during that time we won’t be arguing.” 
   “Hey, have a nice time”, said Robert as he got up out of the kitchen chair. 
   “Aren’t you going to ask me where I’m going and why?” 
   “O.K…Where are you going?” 
   “Las Vegas.” 
   “Again?” 
   “Yes…Remember I told you I met a guy at the convention.” 
   “Vaguely.” 
   “Well, he sent me a ticket…I fly out tomorrow.” 
   “Again, have a nice time.” 
   “Will you keep a check on the house?” 
   “Yeah.” 
   “Thank you Robert.” 
   “Bye…I’ve got to get to work.” 
   “I’ll see you when I get back.” 
   Elaine turned to the sound of the ringing telephone. “You’d better wait. This might be for you”, she said. She picked up the receiver and said, “Hello. I was right it is for you”, she said handing him the telephone. 
   “Hello?” 
   “Cap? Bill. A patrolman walking his beat found a dead body hanging on a chain link fence, Care to guess who it is?” 
   “No, tell me!” 
   “Nuncio Vergasi.” 
   “No shit?...How did he die?” 
   “Right now it looks like he was strangled.” 
   “A mob hit?” 
   “Everything points that way.” 
   “Alright, I’m on my way. Where’s the body?” 
   “At the morgue.” 
   “I’ll meet you there.” 
   As Wallace drove his own car to the hospital morgue his thoughts again returned to Grace Hodges Gray. “Just as soon as I wrap up this Vergasi case, I’ve got to get her away from her husband. If I don’t…She’s dead.” 
   At the morgue Wallace stood looking at the now, naked body of Nuncio Vergasi. A thin, black silk cord used to kill him was embedded in the soft tissue of his throat. In death his face was a combination of red and purple, indicating that the man had suffered as he tried to breath, Wallace looked at the sightless, bulging eyes and the dried spittle on his lips. 
   “He doesn’t look so tough now, does he?”, asked O’Neil. 
   “No…That type of hit was probably made inside an automobile. They had him sit in the front passengers seat. The killer sat behind him. After he was dead they drove down this wide alleyway, removed him from the car and hung his body on the fence.”, said Wallace. 
   “Why the fence?”, asked O’Neil. 
   “They wanted him found. They are telling us that in their opinion they have settled the score for the death of Judge Pierpont. This way in their minds the investigation of Vergasi and the Macaluso family should end, at least here in Nautilus Beach.” 
   “Well, at least they saved us a lot of work. The Pierpont case is closed.”, said O’Neil. 
   “Just about. Wrap up all the loose ends, photos, fingerprint the body and gather all reports. I’ll be back at the office trying to figure out the Philadelphia connection.” 
   Wallace left the morgue and took the elevator to the main lobby of the hospital. Walking out of the elevator he noticed a nurse heading for the revolving doors. He hurried to catch up with her. Once outside he called her name. “Mary! Mary Higgins!.” 
   The nurse stopped turned around and smiled. “Well, well, fancy meeting you here”, she said sarcastically. 
   “Hey are you still angry about that dinner date? Believe me I got called out on a case”, said Wallace. 
   “And, I’m the Mother Superior” Mary responded. 
   “Where are you headed now. How about we have breakfast”, asked Wallace. 
   “Breakfast, instead of dinner? How thoughtful of you. Knowing you...you must want something. Now what is it? The last time you called me you wanted to know the condition of Doctor Gray’s wife. What was her name? Lillian? Now you probably want to know about Doctor Gray’s wife that was admitted last night. Well, once again Robert, you can go to hell”, said Mary Higgins as she walked away. 
   Wallace raced back inside the hospital and took the stair steps two at a time as he hurried to the morgue. When he got there he saw Doctor Edwards seated at his desk. “Doc…I just got word that Grace Gray was admitted here last night. I need you to check on her condition and if it’s what I think it is you have to contact Charlie Warren.” 
   Doctor Edwards picked up his telephone and dialed a number. Wallace stood and listened as the doctor spoke. After he was finished. He hung up and dialed the number for the County Coroner. “Charlie?…Doc Edwards here…Remember the case I told you about?…One Grace Hodges Gray?…Yeah, that;s the one. Well, if and when she dies I want you to get the autopsy warrant…And, Charlie, If I was you I’d do it now, because it’s just a matter of time…Thanks Charlie.” 
   “How bad is she?”, asked Wallace. 
   “It’s bad. She’s in a coma. Two doctors are working on her. One believes she had a stroke. The other seems to think she’s in a diabetic coma.” 
   “What do you think Doc?”, asked Wallace. “Her blood sugar is extremely low, somewhere around thirty nine. They’re pumping glucose into her right now, but it doesn’t look good.” 
   “Will she make it?” 
   “She could. Anyway, there’s nothing either one of us can do right now. I’m sure you have other things to do. I sure do. I’ve got to cut open that guy over there that was strangled. You’d think the cord around his neck is the thing that killed him. But, no. The State wants to know everything about his condition at the time of death. Listen if anything happens to Mrs. Gray I’ll call you. Will you be in your office?” 
   “Yeah Doc…Like you, I’ve got to follow up on the guy on the slab, Vergasi.” 
   Back in his office Wallace called Sheldon Hamilton in Philadelphia. When he was connected Hamilton came on the line. “Hi Bob, whats up?” 
   “Vergasi bought it.” 
   “No shit, how?” 
   “Right now it appears he was strangled.” 
   “What do you need?” 
   “Information if it was his family that did him in.” 
   “I’ll get right on it, give me a couple of days and I’ll get back to you.” 
   “Thanks Sheldon, bye.” 
   Wallace called the photo lab. “This is Captain Wallace. Are the photo’s ready that were taken of the dead body this morning on Houston alley?” 
   “They’re in the dryer right now Captain.” 
   “When they’re ready send them up and I mean all of them.” 
   “Yes sir.” 
   Bill O’Neil walked into the office. “Everything's done at the hospital as far as the Vergasi case”, he said as he placed a white paper bag on the Captains desk. 
   “What’s this?”, asked Wallace. 
   “Coffee.” 
   “I don’t see any donuts.” 
   “They were out.” 
   “Bullshit…you’re just too cheap to buy any.” 
   “No, really, they were making a new batch, but I figured you wanted me back here as soon as possible.” 
   “You know I’m going to check. I’ll call and see if you’re telling the truth.” 
   “Go right ahead. Anything new on Vergasi?” 
   “No. I got feelers out in Philly. I might hear something in a couple of days.” 
   “What about the Gray woman?” 
   “I guess she’s hanging on. Doc Edwards seems to think she’ll die.” 
   “If she does, do you have enough evidence to arrest her husband?” 
   “That’s going to depend on the autopsy. If the examination of her body comes up negative, then we’ve got nothing.” 
   “Alright, if you need me I’ll be in my office. At least there I can drink my coffee without inhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke”, said O’Neil as he left. 
   “Bitch, bitch, bitch, you’re worse than a woman.” 
   As O’Neil left, Sergeant Kelly entered. “Here’s the photo’s you wanted Cap.” 
   “Good let me seem them.” Wallace examined each eight by ten glossy black and white print. He saw Vergasi’s body draped over a chain link fence, hanging there like a limp sack of garbage. Another picture showed a close up of the man’s face. Vergasi had a look of pain combined with disbelief as if he couldn’t understand what had happened to him. Another photo revealed the agony as he attempted to breath, to fight to live. 
   Wallace handed the photographs back to the Sergeant. “Give these to Lieutenant O’Neil and tell the I.D. Officer he did a great job.” 
   “She, Captain. That I.D. Officer is Shelly Camp.” 
   “Fine, Tell Officer Camp.” 
   “Yes Sir.” 
   Wallace reached for the Styrofoam cup filled with coffee. He took a sip, found it lukewarm, made a face then decided to drink it anyway. To him coffee gave him an excuse to smoke and he reached for another cigarette and as he did the telephone on his desk began to ring. He picked up the receiver and said, “Hello.” 
   “You might be interested to know that Grace Hodges Gray died approximately one hour ago”, said Doctor Edwards. 
   “Damn, damn, damn. Where’s the body?” 
   “Still in her bed. Right now Doctor Gray’s lawyer is protesting the autopsy warrant. Charlie Warren called for one of the prosecutors to examine and enforce the warrant.” 
   “Will the prosecutor enforce it?” 
   “He should, you have the probable cause. Two wives, both dead after being in a coma. Besides, no prosecutor is going to go against a court order signed by a judge.” 
   “Let me know what happens.” 
   “No problem, just stay close to your telephone.” 
   For Wallace time seemed to stand still. He tried to keep his mind off of Grace Hodges Gray and her death, a death he felt certain he should have prevented, but didn’t. Now, he sat, waiting for a legal decision on a autopsy warrant. Much depended on the autopsy. In fact, the findings would either indicate murder, or another wife of Doctor Vernon Gray dying of natural causes while in a coma. 
   In order to kill time and keep his mind off of waiting for Doctor Edwards telephone call Wallace opened the Vergasi file and wrote a reminder to review all reports, photographs and intelligence information necessary in order to close the cases of Judge Pierpont and Nuncio Vergasi. When he was finished he got up, went to the window and looked down at the street below. Then, he paced back and forth occasionally glancing at the silent telephone on his desk. Then it rang. Its ring startled him, but he quickly reached for and lifted the receiver. “Major Crime Squad, Captain Wallace.” 
   “Robert?…The county Prosecutor enforced the autopsy warrant. I can’t get to an examination of Grace Hodges Gray until tomorrow morning. Do you want to be here or do you want to tell me what to look for in particular”, said Doctor Edwards. 
   “What time tomorrow morning?”, asked Wallace. “I like to start early, say seven thirty.” 
   “I’ll be there. But if I’m late I’m under the opinion that her husband used insulin to kill her.” 
   “I’ve got her chart right in front of me. Doctor Gray was treating her for Transient Ischemic Attack. Alright, needless to say, I’ll be checking for everything. See you in the morning.” 
   It was dark as Captain Wallace walked to his car parked in the police parking lot. As he unlocked and opened the door to the Ford, the offensive smell of stale cigarette smoke reminded him to buy a new air freshener. He then placed the key in the ignition, started the automobile and drove slowly off of the lot. He then headed for Timber Lane to check on Elaine’s house. 
   Wallace walked slowly through the back yard checking the back door and rear windows. Finding everything secure he walked to the front of the house. He tried the front door, checked the windows and satisfied began to walk to his automobile. When he reached the Ford he looked across the street at Joan Applewhite’s and noticed that it was dark. There wasn’t a light on anywhere. “Poor kid. Now she’s out of a job. Still, she’s young, intelligent and good looking. She’ll be all right. Wonder where she is tonight?”, he thought to himself. 
   On the way home he stopped and bought two cheap, strong cigars. He planned on smoking them as Doctor Edwards opened the corpse. Wallace hated the smell of body acid as it left the cadaver. 
   Once at home Wallace showered then dressed in a tank top and kahki shorts. He walked into the kitchen barefoot. There he selected a frozen dinner, read the cooking instruction, placed it in the microwave oven, entered the desired time and pushed the start button. As the time ticked off he walked to his small library and removed a folder. Opening it he removed the case called, “Kenneth Barlow, The First Documented Case of Murder By Insulin”, he then carried it into the kitchen. 
   Wallace took a seat at the table and began to read. He had read this case three times. Still, he wanted to not just read this time, but to study. In particular he wanted to study Kenneth 
   Barlow. He knew that Barlow had killed his wife, using insulin. Hopefully, his study would give him an advantage if and when he arrested Vernon Gray. He did notice a similarity between William Archard who killed his wife in 1956 and Kenneth Barlow who murdered his wife in 1957. They both injected the insulin in the buttocks of their victims. Yet in Barlow’s case the injection of insulin into his wife’s buttocks is what helped convict him because scientific examination of tissue from Elizabeth Barlow’s buttocks resulting in the pathologist finding large amounts of insulin. 
   “The question is, does Doctor Gray have knowledge of the Barlow and Archard cases or, like most murderers believes that he is smarter than the police and medical science?”, Wallace asked himself. 
   He closed the folder,and placed it across the table. Taking the now hot dinner out of the microwave oven he sat and ate. As he was eating his telephone rang and he got up and answered it. 
   “What are you doing?” 
   “I’m trying to eat my dinner.” 
   “Oh…Am I disturbing you?” 
   “You know damn well you are.” 
   “Good…Now you know how I feel…Anyway I just called to tell you don’t eat anything greasy for breakfast tomorrow. When I open Mrs. Gray I don’t want you puking while I’m trying to work.” 
   “You love to bother me don’t you, you bastard?” 
   “Just getting even…See you in the morning.” 
   “Good night Doc.” 
     
   
   Chapter Ten 
   
   Robert Wallace walked into the hospital morgue at seven fifteen in the morning. He carried the usual white paper bag, only this time the bag contained three Styrofoam cups of coffee and three donuts. When he entered he saw Doctor Edwards seated at his desk reading the autopsy report he had written on Nuncio Vergasi. 
   The pathologist looked up when he saw Wallace. “Good morning. Just the man I want to see. Do you have any idea what I’m supposed to do with Vergasi’s body?…Normally, we hand the remains over to the family, but in this case it is my understanding that it was the family that killed him”, said Wallace. 
   “How come you’re so damn chipper in the morning?”, asked Wallace. 
   “Normally, I’m not. But, this morning I get to have the cheap ass breakfast you bought and later I get to watch you retch and hopefully vomit as I do my work.” 
   “You are a mean spirited son of a bitch.” 
   “True sir…Very true”, said Edwards as he reached into the bag and removed a coffee and donut. 
   “There’s a lot riding on this autopsy Doc.” 
   “Well look at it this way. A person is not normally healthy one day and dead of hypoglycemia the next.” 
   “I thought she was suffering from something else.” “You mean the Minnie Strokes? As far as I know that condition does not cause hypoglycemia.” 
   “I see that you think the same way I do, that the victim died with an overdose of insulin”, said Wallace. 
   “No. You think as a policeman. I think as a pathologist. I ran a blood test when her body arrived yesterday. It’s called a C- Peptide Test. It’s used to measure and to tell the difference between insulin produced by the body and insulin injected into the body. You see because man-made synthetic insulin does not have C- Peptide a person with low blood sugar level from taking too much insulin will have a low C-Peptide level. In Mrs. Gray’s test the level is low enough to produce hypoglycemia.” 
   “Excellent.” 
   “Well, at least I know what I’m looking for. I need further tests and of course examination of her organs. Anything you want me to look for in particular?” 
   “Yeah…The injection point on her body.” 
   “Well rule out her arms. They ran I V’s in her. I don’t think the mark will be in a place that is noticeable. I’m thinking he tried to hide the fact that a needle was used”, said Wallace. 
   Doctor Edwards walked over to where the body rested on a metal table. He pulled back the sheet that covered the cadaver. Wallace noticed that the remains lay face down. “How come you have her in that position?”, he asked. 
   “I’m going to start with her kidney’s. The kidney’s clean the blood. If she has any glucose at all it should show up there. Before I start, examine her buttocks for any signs of a needle mark. Insulin is usually injected in the part of the body having fatty tissue.” 
   Wallace looked carefully but found nothing that indicated an injection had been made in that area. “Nothing there.”, he said. 
   “Alright…Take a seat at my desk. I’m going to start slicing and you’ll start trying to keep your coffee down. Just as soon as Moss gets here we’ll start.” 
   “Where is Moss? I brought him a coffee and donut.” 
   “He’s always late, but he’ll be here soon. I only need him to turn over the body when I’m ready. Of course if he isn’t here in time you can help.” 
   “Like Hell.” 
   “Well if you’re not going to help sit over there out-of-the-way and keep quiet.” 
   “Tell you what. While you’re cutting and slicing I’ll be outside having a smoke. How long will you be removing the kidneys?” 
   “I don’t know. I never timed myself. Come back in thirty minutes.” 
   Wallace stood near the entrance to the morgue. It was going to be a nice day. Even now, at eight o’clock in the morning the sun was shining and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. He turned to see Moss Jacobs, Doctor Edwards Morgue Assistant coming towards him. 
   “You’re late!”, said Wallace. 
   “That’s because the doctor scheduled this autopsy too early in the morning. By rights I shouldn’t be here until nine. Is he mad?” 
   “Well, I can’t say he’s happy.” “He’ll just have to get happy again” 
   Wallace followed Jacobs into the morgue. Doctor Edwards turned and looked at both men. “If either of you two would like to get to work, I’d appreciate it.”, he said. 
   “Be with you just as soon as I change boss”, said Jacobs.” 
   “What do you want me to do?”, Wallace asked. “I’ll be recording my procedure as I do the examination. Usually, you record at the same time. If you’re recording this is the time to set up.” 
   “Normally, I record when I don’t have the evidence or identity of the body. In this case I’m counting on you to give me the evidence. Besides, when it comes to the pathology report, you’ll be the one testifying on the witness stand. What I’m here for is to find the injection mark on her body.” 
   “And, you’re sure that there is such a place?” 
   “Just as sure as I know you cheated the last time we played chess.” 
   “As bad as you play I don’t have to cheat. Now shut up so I can do my work.” 
   Doctor Edwards placed one of Grace Hodges Gray’s kidneys on the white metal scale that hung from a pole. Using his foot he stepped on the pedal that started the tape recorder. “The subject, a white female, approximately fifty years old case number 7615072 and a body held in evidence for the County of Atlantic the result of a warrant for autopsy in compliance with the laws of the State of New Jersey said autopsy performed by Doctor Manfred Edwards, pathologist and Medical Examiner for the city of Nautilus Beach, New Jersey. On this date, October 12, 1973, both kidneys were removed from the subject with each kidney being four inches long, two and one half inches wide and one and one half inch thick. Each kidney weighed one hundred and fifteen grams. A visual inspection of the kidneys does not reveal any signs of chronic renal disease. However, microscopic examination to follow. In addition testing will be done to determine the amount of glucose in said kidneys.” 
   Doctor Edwards then placed each kidney in a stainless steel bowl. Turning to Moss Jacobs the doctor said, “Moss, roll the body on to its back. And you Captain, start looking for your injection mark. If and when you find it show it to me.” 
   Wallace waited until the morgue attendant had the body ready for his inspection, then he started walking to where the body of Grace Gray lay on the steel table. 
   “Wait a minute Robert!…Put on rubber gloves. There’s a box of them hanging on the wall over there”, Doctor Edwards ordered. 
   Embarrassed for being too much in a hurry to examine the dead body Wallace walked meekly to where the box full of rubber gloves were hung on the wall. Reaching into the box he removed a pair and began to put one of the gloves on his hand. He found it difficult. 
   “Powder your hands. When you do that the gloves slides on easily”, said Edwards. 
   Finally, after following directions Wallace now with his hands covered with latex walked to the body. He stood in front of the feet of the corpse. Then, very carefully, slowly separated all ten toes, looking for a mark that might be between them. Not finding what he was looking for he said, “I want you to examine her vagina. I once had a stripper who was hooked on heroin. That’s where she took the needle.” 
   “Only someone badly hooked on narcotics would do such a thing”, Doctor Edwards replied. 
   Moving along the table Wallace checked each one of the woman’s breast’s Lifting each one looking at flesh on the under side. He found nothing. Next, he checked each arm with the same result, nothing. Finally, he took a grip on the woman’s wrist and with some difficulty, due to rigomortis raised an arm. There in her arm pit was a minute pink mark. “I think I found something”, he said loudly. 
   Doctor Edwards walked over, stood next to Wallace and said, “Where?” 
   “Right there”, he said almost touching the mark. 
   “Moss, bring me the magnifying glass on my desk. If that’s a needle mark then you are damn lucky the victim is a woman that kept her axilla shaved. You would have missed if there was a hairy armpit.”, said Edwards. Doctor Edwards took the magnifying glass from the attendant and made a visual examination. “You are one lucky, son of a bitch Robert. That’s where he injected her. Notice anything else?” 
   "No.” 
   “There’s a slight bruising on the same wrist. He probably held her wrist tight as she struggled. Then, he more than likely injected her with insulin. The question is, if he did, how much? Was it enough to cause hypoglycemia and was it enough to put her in a coma?” 
   “When will you know?” 
   “These test will take some time. I have to examine other organs, blood and urine. On top of that I will do a toxicology study to try and see what drugs she might have been given. My advice to you is go back to headquarters and wait for my final examination and findings.” 
   “Alright…I’ll talk to you later.” 
   Arriving back at headquarters he entered his office. Taking a seat he checked the small pile of pink memo slips that has been placed on his desk. Most of them had to do with the time of the autopsy at the hospital. None of them were important now so he placed them in the wastepaper basket. Anxious to hear from Sheldon Hamilton Wallace fought the urge to call him in Philadelphia. Aggravated,, he lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair. His thoughts then went to the autopsy. Doctor Edwards findings were the essential elements of the case at the moment. Without scientific evidence of insulin being used as a murder weapon and administered by Doctor Gray he had no legal reason to make an arrest. His limited study of insulin in criminal cases resulted in his knowledge that in the entire world only sixty six cases of homicide caused by insulin have resulted in an arrest. Of those sixty-six cases only thirty three resulted in a conviction. At that rate it appeared that the odds of a jury convicting Doctor Gray were not very good. That meant that Vernon Gray even if arrested could walk free. Yet, Manfred Edwards was an excellent pathologist. He had testified in over a hundred cases and of those at least twenty five homicides. His only draw back was the fact that he was meticulous in his work. When other pathologist would render an opinion in hours, Edwards would render an opinion in days much to the frustration of both police and prosecutors. 
   Wallace was beginning to feel that frustration set in as he stared at the telephone hoping that doctor Edwards would call telling him would he needed to know as evidence in order to make an arrest. Nonetheless, the telephone on the desk remained silent. 
   Four o’clock came at last. Still, Wallace resisted the temptation to call the morgue and ask Doctor Edwards if he had any findings that indicated large amounts of insulin in Grace Hodges Gray’s body. However, just as he was getting ready to leave for the day the telephone rang. “Major Crime Squad, Captain Wallace”, he said speaking into the receiver. 
   “Robert?.. Doctor Edwards here.” 
   “Did you find anything?”, asked Wallace. 
   “It’s what I didn’t find that’s important to you at this time.” 
   “Don’t tell me you didn’t find insulin in her system.” “I wasn’t looking for insulin. I was looking for glucose.” 
   “Listen Doc, you’re driving me nuts. I’m tired, hungry, and frustrated and all you are doing is confusing me.” 
   “Tell you what…Stop at the Golden Dragon. Get two dinners to go. I want the Kung pao chicken…then come to my place and over a nice Chinese supper I’ll explain what I found.” 
   “Sounds good…I’m on my way.” 
   “And, don’t forget the egg rolls.” 
   Later, the two men sat at the kitchen table of Manfred Edwards, both eating out of cardboard containers. Edwards ate with chop sticks. As he ate he watched Wallace using a fork. “You would think by now you would know how to use chop sticks”, said Edwards. 
   “Oh, I know how to use them. I don’t use them just to aggravate you.” 
   “That right?…Well, you’re doing a good job of it right now.” 
   “Good, now what did you find in the autopsy so far?” 
   “So far I have examined the kidneys, and the heart for signs of glucose.” 
   “And?” 
   “I didn’t find any.” 
   “Meaning what?” 
   “Meaning there was a lack of glucose before death.” 
   “That means he used insulin”, said Wallace. 
   “Not so fast Robert. We’re presuming that he did, but we want positive proof that insulin was used.” 
   “So that means more testing.” 
   “Certainly. I have to examine the brain. However, in order to conduct the test required I first have to prepare an antiserum.” 
   “Another delay?” 
   “Why in hell are you in such a hurry? Gray isn’t going anywhere. Right now he’s home thinking of how he out smarted the legal system. If he’s concerned about anything it’s about how soon he will receive the insurance money and we’re only assuming that was his motive.” 
   “Yeah?…Well I’m assuming that’s right. Enough about him. What did you find in her heart?” 
   “In analyzing the blood from the left ventricle I found no signs of glucose.” 
   “That’s good, right?” 
   “Maybe. Blood taken from the right ventricle revealed an elevated reading of glucose.” 
   “Why the difference?” 
   “Normally this occurs with death and the breakdown of liver glycogen. Usually that produces an artificial elevation of glucose.” 
   “Why?” 
   “Because glucogen is a part of the body that is a storage form for glucose. Let’s say you are exercising. As you do the muscles in your body need energy. Glucose gives energy and the glucogen sends the glucose to where it is needed in the body.” 
   “Wonderful…I still need evidence that Gray killed his wife with an injection of insulin.” 
   “I can only give you what medical science, examination and tests give me.” 
   “When will you examine her brain?” 
   “After I formulate the antiserum, I should be able to examine brain tissue several hours later…Tomorrow, say about two or three in the afternoon should prove your case one way or another.” 
   “Good, your findings will either make or break my case. You give me the probable cause and I’ll make the arrest. Knowing his type he’ll have a lawyer within an hour. So. I’m going to take him nice and legal like, with a warrant. I’ve had the affidavit written for the last week. All I have to do is date it, and serve it.” 
   “Anxious aren’t you?” “You’re damn right.” 
   “Alright then, I’ll call you at your office when I have something.” 
   “I’ll be waiting.” 
   When he got home Wallace showered then put on fresh underwear. He then walked into his living room and turned on his stereo. After placing a record of the works of Tchaikovsky he walked to his leather covered recliner, took a seat, leaned back and after lighting a cigarette closed his eyes and listened to, “Piano Concerto Number one in B flat minor.” As he relaxed he felt the built up tension leave his body. He was enjoying his music and his cigarette when his solitude was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. “Son of a bitch!”, he said aloud. Dressed only in his underwear shorts he shouted, “Be with you in a moment. I have to get dressed!.” 
   Quickly he grabbed a bathrobe from the bedroom closet and hurried to the door. Then opening it, he stood in complete surprise as he gazed upon Mary Higgins. “Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch”, he uttered. 
   “You won’t get any argument from me on that point”, she said. 
   Wallace stood and looked at her. He saw a young woman maybe twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old. She stood maybe five feet, four inches tall and weighing about a hundred and twenty pounds. Her brunette hair was styled with a page boy cut and she was dressed in blue jeans, and a gray sweatshirt that was covered with a light blue windbreaker. She looked at him with large blue eyes. “Well, are you going to ask me in?” 
   “Certainly, but how in hell did you know where I lived?”, he said as he followed her into the foyer. 
   “Let me tell you something Captain. All a woman has to do to get a cop to tell her what she wants to know is ask, smile, bat the eyelashes, wiggle the ass and the information just pours out of them.” 
   “Ordinarily I’d be pissed off. Now, let’s knock off the bullshit. Why are you here?” 
   “I’m assuming you want information on doctor Gray.” 
   “What kind of information?” 
   “Let me tell you this. Your condo smells of stale cigarette smoke and you haven’t offered me drink. At the same time you’re standing there in a bathrobe like some exhibitionist. I expect you to flash me at any moment.” 
   “Wallace laughed. “Excuse me, when I say your visit here is a complete surprise I mean it. Allow me to put on some clothes and I’ll be right with you.” 
   “Take your time. I see the bar. If you don’t mind I’ll mix myself a drink. Can I make one for you?” 
   “No thanks, but if you need ice the kitchen's that way.”, he said pointing. 
   Wallace dressed hurriedly putting on walking shorts and a tee shirt. He slid his bare feet into a pair of brown loafers. Walking back into the living room he found Mary seated on the sofa sipping a gin and tonic. “Did you find everything O.K.?”, he asked. 
   “Yes. I hope you don’t mind, but I shut off that dreadful, dreary music.” 
   “OK, beautiful, I’m waiting for the information on Doctor Gray.” 
   “Impatient aren’t you?” 
   “Most of the time.” 
   “Well, the only reason I’m telling you this is because Mrs. Gray died on my ward. In fact I was assigned to her. Naturally her death under certain circumstances might reflect on me.” 
   “What do you mean, under certain circumstances?”, he asked. 
   “Come on…Everyone at the hospital knows that the autopsy being conducted is on a court order.” 
   “I’m still waiting for the information about Doctor Gray.” Wallace replied. 
   “After Grace Hodges Gray was admitted in a comatose condition and diagnosed as a sympathetic nervous system problem. Glucose intravenous therapy was prescribed and given.” 
   “Wait a minute, you’re losing me. What is the sympathetic nervous system?” 
   “In her case it was the brain”, answered Mary. 
   “O.K. go on.” 
   “Anyway when I was on duty Doctor Gray and a woman came to visit his wife. I didn’t know it at the time because I was in another room tending to a patient when he arrived. When I finished I decided to check on Mrs. Gray. When I entered her room Doctor Gray and the woman appeared to be startled. He had been sitting on her bed and when I came in he got up suddenly, mumbled something and they left as in a hurry. After they left I checked the I.V.. I found that the drip had been turned off.” 
   “And you think doctor Gray shut it off?” 
   “Who else could have done it? One of them surely did it. Mrs. Gray was in a coma so we can rule her out. I sure didn’t turn off the drip on my own patient. That leaves only one or the other person…Doctor Gray or the woman that was with him.” 
   “What did this woman look like?” 
   “Oriental, either Chinese or Japanese.” 
   “Interesting, would you testify in court?” 
   “No…I’m telling you first as a favor and second to protect my professional reputation. Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll have another vodka and tonic.” 
     
   
   Chapter Eleven 
   
   The morning sunlight filtering through the blinds in the bedroom caused Mary Higgins to open her eyes. Bewildered, she suddenly realized that she was in a strange bed and also that she was nude. She sat up in bed and looked around the room. As she did she saw her clothes scattered on the floor. Confused, apprehensive, worried and hesitant she called out, “Robert? Robert?.” Receiving no answer she got out of bed slowly and walked to the wall closet. There she found one of Wallace’s sweat shirts. She pulled in on, then slowly walked barefoot and bare ass Into the living room. No one was there. Next, she made her way into the kitchen. The aroma of fresh brewed coffee greeted her and as she went to the coffee maker she found a handwritten note: 
   “Good morning. Hope you slept well. Coffee is made, bacon, eggs, frozen waffles in the fridge or freezer. Help yourself. Sorry I’m not there had to get to work. Robert, P.S. Aspirin in bathroom medicine cabinet.” 
   Wallace sat typing his report in relation to the on going autopsy. He was interrupted by the ringing telephone. 
   “Major Crime Squad, Captain Wallace.” he said as he answered the call. 
   “Robert…I have a lot of questions to ask you.” 
   “Good morning Bright Eyes. How do you feel this morning?”, Wallace asked. 
   “Ashamed, embarrassed, bewildered and confused on top of that I have a headache.” 
   “You have nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about. As for the headache that’s from too many vodka and tonics.” 
   “I apologize." 
   “That’s not necessary.” 
   “Next question, who undressed me?” 
   “You must have. You were plastered and I wasn’t going to let you leave and attempt to drive home so I steered you into the bedroom. I left and closed the door.” 
   “Then, where did you sleep?” 
   “On the couch.” 
   “Then you didn’t take advantage of the situation?” 
   “Only a cad would do such a thing. Besides having sexual intercourse with a woman of age without her consent is and can be considered as rape.” 
   “Then, thank you.” 
   “No thanks needed. I didn’t do anything.” 
   “That’s why I’m thanking you. So thank you again.” 
   “Don’t mention it. Can you get home alright?” 
   “Yes, and Robert?...Call me.” 
   “I will. I still owe you a dinner.” 
   Wallace hung up the telephone and returned to his typing. He included the date and time that he discovered the needle mark on the body of Grace Hodges Gray and the fact that he alerted the Medical Examiner who confirmed that it was indeed an injection site in the Axilla. Finished with that report he pulled the papers out of the typewriter and signed the original and three copies. Next he called Bill O’Neil to come to his office. In a few minutes the lieutenant entered and took a seat and waited for Wallace to speak. “Bill we’re closing in on Doctor Gray. Here’s the affidavit for an arrest warrant. I just signed it. Hold on to it. I’m going to the morgue. When Doc Edwards tells me that I have probable cause to make an arrest I’ll call you. Date it and take it to a judge. Then, serve the warrant and arrest the good doctor. Take two men with you and a police woman. I want to talk to a Joan Applewhite so bring her in. She might be involved in this case.” 
   “How so?”, asked O’Neil. 
   “I got information last night that Gray and Miss Applewhite made a visit at the hospital.” 
   “And?” 
   “Someone tampered with Mrs. Gray’s medication.” 
   “Interesting, is this information reliable?” 
   “Yep, unfortunately I can’t use it in court.” 
   “Damn!” 
   “Yep…Looks like it’s all up to Doc Edwards.” 
   Wallace walked into the morgue at a little after one P.M. When he did he saw Doctor Edwards seated at his desk. Absent Was the long, black rubber apron he always wore when conducting an autopsy so Wallace assumed that Edwards was done for the moment. Edwards looked up over the rim of his glasses. “Did I call for you?”, he asked. 
   “You know damn well you didn’t.” 
   “Then what the hell are you doing here?” 
   “I miss your ugly face, you old bastard.” 
   “Bullshit!.. Well since you’re here sit down” 
   “I hope you got something.” 
   “Well Robert, I examined pieces of Mrs. Gray’s brain and I found high quantities of insulin in the tissues.” 
   “How much is a large quantity?” 
   “About eighty-four units.” 
   “Damn!” 
   “That should give you probable cause Robert.” 
   “Thanks Doc. Can I use your telephone?” 
   “Go right ahead”, Edwards answered. 
   Wallace dialed O’Neil’s office number. It rang three times then O’Neil came on line. “Major Crime Squad. Lieutenant O’Neil.” 
   “Bill?…Captain Wallace…Execute the warrant. Bring him in.” 
   When Wallace returned to headquarters he met Bill O’Neil outside of one the interrogation rooms. “Any problems?”, Wallace asked. 
   “No…He seemed surprised, demanded his rights. We gave him the Miranda warning twice, once in his office and once here. Naturally, the first thing he demanded was a lawyer. Right now Harold Ginsberg is representing him.” 
   “Where’s Ginsberg?” 
   “I do believe that he’s petitioning the court to allow bail”, O’Neil answered. 
   “He’ll probably get it too. Where’s the woman?” 
   “Couldn’t find her. Gray’s nurse said that she hasn’t seen her in a couple of days. His receptionist said the same thing.” 
   “Alright. We’ll pick her up later. Stay with him. He isn’t going to talk, but just in case he does we need someone here. Meanwhile let me take a look at him.” 
   Wallace walked into the room. As he did he observed a man approximately fifty years old, balding short, and overweight seated on a chair. He was still attired in a physician’s smock . The man appeared to be agitated, but not scared or worried. Handcuffs were around his wrists and when the Captain entered the room he looked up at him. “You must be Captain Wallace”, he said. 
   “That’s me. Are you being treated all right doctor?”, Wallace asked. 
   “If you mean being treated like a common criminal then I guess I’m all right.” 
   “Good…Would you like to tell us the location of Miss Applewhite? I understand that she was your wife’s social secretary.” 
   “My lawyer has advised me to remain silent, so no comment.” 
   “O.K. certainly that is your right. Bill you can remove the handcuffs from the doctor. I don’t want him treated like a common criminal. In fact, I want him to have special treatment while he’s in our custody.” 
   “How special?”, asked O’Neil. 
   “Well, the doctor has chosen to remain silent which is his right. That means there will be no questioning by us at this time…So, the rules and regulations dictate that the subject should be incarcerated until such time that he either is arraigned or post’s bail. Book him and turn him over to the turnkey.” 
   “Yes Sir.” 
   Wallace walked into his office removed the blue blazer he was wearing and hung it on the clothes tree that stood in the corner of the room. Next, he adjusted the position of the Colt Detective Special on his right hip, took a seat, lit a cigarette and reached into a desk drawer for report paper. As he did his telephone rang. He lifted the receiver placed it on his ear and spoke. “Major Crime Squad, Captain Wallace.” 
   “Wally? Hamilton here. How the hell are you?” 
   “Alright I guess.” 
   “I think I have the info you wanted on the Vergasi murder.” 
   “What is it?” 
   “Seems the Philadelphia brotherhood was pissed that Vergasi snuffed the Judge. Him doing so brought unnecessary heat on the family. So, he had to go. It seems they brought a guy in from Covington, Kentucky. He met with the family then took a bus to your town, He made the hit on Vergasi then came back here to get paid.” 
   “How much did they give him?”, asked Wallace. “Two thirty two caliber rounds in the Back of the head. Duck hunters found his body in the marsh near the airport.” 
   “Well, that seems to wrap things up here.” 
   “Hey, if you need anything else yell”, said Hamilton. 
   “Thanks Sheldon…Later”, said Wallace. 
   Wallace no sooner got off of the telephone when O’Neil walked in. “The good doctor has been booked and now is in the protective custody of the Nautilus Beach P.D.”, he said. 
   “Any problems?” 
   “No…Ginsberg raised hell, but he’s no problem. What do you want next?” 
   “Keep looking for the Applewhite woman. Send someone to the house on timber lane, and keep checking there. She has to show up sooner or later.” 
   “Why is she so important?” 
   “She might be the only person who can tell us who tampered with the glucose drip in the hospital room.” 
   “Will do.” 
   One hour later Doctor Vernon Gray posted a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar bail and with his attorney walked out of the police departments jail and headquarters. 
   The news that a prominent physician had been arrested and charged with murder brought a throng of media reporters to the office door of Robert Wallace. He greeted them with a prepared statement then fended off the rest of their questions with, “No comment.” 
   A civilian employee handed Wallace a pink memo slip. He looked at it then tossed it in the wastepaper basket. After reaching for the telephone he dialed the number of the County Prosecutor. Someone answered the telephone and Wallace asked for Mr. George. After he identified himself he was connected. 
   “This is William George.” 
   “Captain Wallace.” 
   “Good. I’ll be brief. How solid is your case?” 
   “If you are referring to probable cause, I have it.” 
   “Based on what?” 
   “Based on the Medical Examiner’s autopsy.” 
   “Anything else?” 
   “Not at the moment.” 
   “How soon can I have your reports?” 
   “I’ll send them right over.” 
   “Excellent…Good by.” 
   In the following weeks, Vernon Gray obtained the services of Daniel Kaplan, a criminal case lawyer out of New York and New Jersey. Kaplan had a reputation of winning tough cases and it was said that his success was due to the way he handled a jury. Harold Ginsberg was retained as co-council. Kaplan studied the evidence in the case against his client and as was his right called for a quick trail by jury. The case was placed on the docket for the first week in April. 1974. On Monday, April 8, 1974 Captain Robert Wallace took the witness stand and after being sworn sat comfortably as James Mason, Assistant Prosecutor walked towards him. “If it pleases the court your honor I would like to dispense with the normal procedure of verifying the professional qualifications of the witness”, said Moore. 
   “Is there any objections Mr. Kaplan?”, asked Judge Harvey Anderson. 
   Kaplan stood and said, “None your honor.” 
   “You may proceed Mr. Mason”, said the judge. 
   “Thank you your honor. Captain Wallace would you please tell this court and the ladies and gentlemen of the jury why you arrested Doctor Vernon Gray?” 
   “My squad began investigating Doctor Gray when his wife, Grace Hodges Gray was hospitalized in a diabetic coma.” 
   “Objection!…The Captain is not a doctor, therefore can not render an opinion on Mrs. Gray’s medical condition.” 
   “Sustained…Captain do not relate medical opinions. The jury will disregard the mention of a diabetic coma by this witness. You may proceed Mr. Mason”, ordered the judge. 
   “Same question Captain.” 
   “I made the arrest on the basis of the Medical Examiners report.” 
   “Which indicated what sir?” 
   “Which indicated that Grace Hodges Gray died as a result an over dose of insulin.” 
   “Objection…The witness once again is offering medical opinion”, said Kaplan. 
   “Over ruled. Council for the defense has the medical examiners reports as does the prosecution and the witness. Therefore the court takes in account that the witness rendered an opinion based on those reports…Continue.” 
   “No further questions”, said Mason. 
   “Your witness, Mr. Kaplan.” 
   Wallace watched Daniel Kaplan stand and then walk towards him. He saw a small man, unusually short, with long white hair, black horn-rimmed glasses attired in a dark blue suit. Kaplan stood in front of Wallace and said, “Captain I just heard you tell the jury that Mrs. Gray died as a result of an overdose of insulin. Am I correct?” 
   “Yes sir.” 
   “Could you tell the court just how this overdose of insulin occurred?” 
   “My personal examination of Mrs. Gray’s body resulted in me finding a place which indicated a hypodermic needle had penetrated her skin.” 
   “And, just where on her body did you find this so called place of injection?” 
   “In her axilla.” 
   “Captain, for the benefit of us here in court who lack your expertise in anatomy, please define the word axilla.” 
   “Certainly, the axilla as we know it is the arm pit.” 
   “Now, as you have from time to time related to the field of medicine, don’t you think that the arm pit, or axilla if you prefer is an unusual place to inject not only insulin, but any medication?” 
   “Not if one is attempting to hide the place of injection.” 
   “You honor, I object and ask that that last statement be stricken.” 
   “Over ruled. You asked the question Mr. Kaplan and opened the door.” 
   Ruffled, Kaplan turned his back, walked away and said, “No further questions.” 
   “The witness may step down”, said Judge Anderson. 
   Wallace left the stand and walked back to where Doctor Edwards was seated. “I think we scored a point with that last question”, he said as he took a seat next to Edwards. 
   “I’ve been watching the jury. So far they don’t understand a thing that has been said. The prosecutor should be fired for allowing Kaplan to put these dumb asses on the panel”, said Edwards. 
   “You can tell him that when you take the stand.”, said Wallace. 
   “Shut up.” 
   James Mason then called Doctor Norman Miller to the stand. After Miller took a seat Mason asked for Doctor Miller’s educational and professional background. Then, with no objections began his questioning. “Doctor Miller, please tell the court and the jury about the first time you saw Grace Hodges Gray.” 
   “Certainly it was October 9, 1973.” 
   “And under what circumstances?” 
   “Mrs. Gray had been rushed to the hospital by ambulance and as I was on duty in the emergency room I had the opportunity to examine her.” 
   “And what were your findings?” 
   “I diagnosed Mrs. Gray as one suffering from hypoglycemia.” 
   “And would you define the condition, hypoglycemia?” 
   “Certainly. Hypoglycemia is an abnormally diminished content of glucose in the blood. For a lack of a better definition it is low blood sugar.” 
   “And what does this condition do to the patient?” 
   “There are a variety of symptoms but the most serious problem that can arise is the lack of glucose to the brain.” 
   “And if this lack of glucose to the brain occurs what happens to the patient?” 
   “Well, the effects can range from impairment of function, seizures, unconsciousness, permanent brain damage and death.” 
   “Is hypoglycemia a rare or common disorder?” 
   “It is prominent with diabetics and somewhat rare with non-diabetics.” 
   “How does hypoglycemia occur in diabetics?” 
   “Normally it occurs with too much insulin in the blood. The patient may overdose or over exert, such as with exercise or stress and there are times when the patients pancreas works or over works.” 
   “Have you ever in your practice worked with diabetics?” 
   “Yes” 
   “And how many have died as a result of hypoglycemia?” 
   “None…Most diabetics die from hyperglycemia, or diabetes. In those cases high blood sugar reaches a point where a heart attack may occur or the kidneys shut down. Then, death is considered a complication of diabetes.” 
   “Thank you doctor. No further questions.” 
   Daniel Kaplan stood and from behind his table asked, “With this death, a result of complications from diabetes, isn’t one of the causes of death, stroke?” 
   “Yes, sir, it is. I’m sorry that I didn’t include that condition.” Can you tell the court that Mrs. Gray was a diabetic?” 
   “No sir.” 
   “Thank you doctor, no questions your honor.” 
   “Very well. Call your next witness Mr. Mason.”, said Judge Anderson. 
   “The State calls Doctor Milton Silverman to the stand.” 
   After Doctor Silverman was sworn, James Mason began his questioning. “Doctor please tell the court where you were on the evening of October 9, 1973.” 
   “I was on duty at the Nautilus Beach hospital.” 
   “And on that date did you have an occasion to examine a Mrs. Grace Hodges Gray?” 
   “I did.” 
   “And during your examination what did you observe?” 
   “I saw a white female approximately fifty years of age, sweating profusely and comatose.” 
   “Did you at that time diagnose her ailment?” 
   “I did.” 
   “And what was your conclusion?” 
   “That the patient was either suffering from hypoglycemia or that she had a stroke.” 
   “Would you, for the benefit of the court explain just what is a stroke.” 
   “A stroke or a cerebrovascular accident is the rapid loss of brain function due to the disturbance in the blood supply to the brain.” 
   “And what causes this disturbance.” 
   “Normally a blood clot.” 
   “Did you check the patient for a blood clot?” 
   “No” 
   “Why not?” 
   “Because in consultation with Doctor Miller he convinced me that Mrs. Gray was indeed suffering from hypoglycemia.” 
   “May I ask what were the contributing factors in you making your decision?” 
   “Doctor Miller had Immediately ordered a blood test. The results were that Mrs. Gray’s blood glucose was at thirty nine ml.” 
   “Anything else?” 
   “The profuse sweating was another indication of hypoglycemia.” 
   “Thank you doctor. No further questions.” 
   “Mr. Kaplan, your witness”, said Judge Anderson. 
   “Thank you your honor. Doctor Silverman, you have stated that your first diagnoses of Mrs. Gray was that in your opinion she had suffered from a stroke. Is that correct?” 
   “Yes sir.” 
   “And that you did not render a test for the possibility of a blood clot.” 
   “Yes sir.” 
   “Did you also hear Doctor Miller say that hypoglycemia is caused by too much insulin in the blood?” 
   “Yes.” 
   “Did you then or do you now know personally if Mrs. Gray was in fact a diabetic?” 
   “No sir.” 
   “Did you then or do you now know personally that Mrs. Gray was being treated for Transient Ischemic Attack?” 
   “No sir.” 
   “Please define Transient Ischemic Attack doctor.” 
   “In layman's terms it is mini strokes.” 
   “Mini Stokes…There’s that word again...Stroke! No further questions”, said Kaplan. 
   “Thank you doctor. You may step down”, said the Judge. 
   “You honor, if it pleases the court I would like to request a delay in the proceedings. It is my understanding that the State intends to present Doctor Manfred Edwards as its next witness. At some time in this trial we will offer evidence from our own pathology expert Doctor Frederick Riser. However, Doctor Riser is in the hospital recovering from an appendectomy. He should be able to travel from California and make himself available to the court in a week or ten days”, said Kaplan. 
   “Mr. Mason do you have any objections?”, asked Judge Anderson. 
   “May I remind Mr. Kaplan that he was the one that requested a speedy and swift trail for the defendant. The court obliged Mr. Kaplan. Now, the State is prepared to go forward only to be asked to wait for the expert witness the defense wishes to produce.” 
   “I agree Mr. Mason. Nonetheless may I remind you that the wheels of justice at times turn very slowly. Mr. Kaplan I will give you one week. This court will convene at nine A.M. on Monday, April the fifteenth. Court adjourned.” 
     
   
   Chapter Twelve 
   
   At ten am, on Monday, April the fifteenth, Robert Wallace sat in the rear of the court room and watched his friend, Doctor Manfred Edwards take the witness stand. After the pathologist was sworn James Mason rose from the prosecutors table and approached the witness chair. “Good morning Doctor.” 
   “Good morning.” 
   “Would you please tell the court your present, professional position.” 
   “At present I am the head of the pathology department of the Nautilus Beach Hospital. I am also retained as the medical examiner for the City of Nautilus beach, New Jersey.” 
   “I see. Do you at times work with the Nautilus Beach Police Department?” 
   “Work with?…No.” 
   “Then what is your relationship regarding your work and the local police.” 
   “Usually, my relationship comes as a result of a request for autopsy from the County Coroner.” 
   “I see. And did you receive a request for autopsy from, Mr. Charles Warren?” 
   “Actually I was served with a warrant for autopsy from Mr. Warren, a court order if you will.” 
   “A court order you say.” 
   “Yes.” 
   “And who was the subject of this warrant for autopsy.” 
   “Grace Hodges Gray.” 
   “Did you perform the autopsy?” 
   “I did.” 
   “And what did you find Doctor?” 
   “Where would you like me to start?” 
   “The beginning please.” 
   “I began by reading the medical records supplied by Doctors Miller and Silverman. According to their findings their opinion was that Mrs. Gray had suffered from hypoglycemia. As a result my first postmortem examination was to either verify or disprove their findings.” 
   “And did you verify their findings?” 
   “Not at that time. Many examinations and clinical test have to be performed before a professional opinion can be rendered.” 
   “Of course. Please continue Doctor.” 
   “Both kidneys were removed surgically and examined.” 
   “And what did you find?” 
   “Mrs. Gray had no signs of renal disease.” 
   “What was next Doctor?” 
   “I looked for and failed to find any traces of glucose in the kidneys.” 
   “What would that indicate?” 
   “That in all probability Mrs. Gray had indeed suffered from hypoglycemia.” 
   “And how would this, this hypoglycemia attack occur, in your opinion.” 
   “A result of a high dose of insulin.” 
   “Was Mrs. Gray a diabetic?” 
   “I have no information nor did I find any evidence that she was.” 
   “I see, what did you do next?” 
   “I prepared an antiserum, then taking thin slices of the brain I applied the antiserum to the brain tissue.” 
   “And what were the results?” 
   “The brain specimen’s from Mrs. Gray reacted to the antiserum where as normal brain specimens did not.” 
   “Interesting….Anything else?” 
   “Using other samples from Mrs. Gray’s brain I then made an extract. I then injected the extract into two, different white mice. Then later, my test on the mice resulted in the lab animals having lower blood glucose.” 
   “Meaning What?” 
   “Meaning that Mrs. Gray had a large amount of insulin in her brain.” 
   “In your examination of the brain Doctor did you find any evidence of glucose?” 
   “I did not.” 
   “But you did find evidence of insulin.” 
   “Yes.” 
   “In your opinion how much insulin?” 
   “It is not possible to measure the amount of insulin in the brain and be accurate”, 
   “But, you did find insulin.” 
   “Yes, by examining the tissue from the Axilla.” 
   “And what did you find?” 
   “I judged the amount to be approximately eighty-four units of insulin.” 
   “And, I’m assuming that is a large amount.” 
   “It’s enough to treat one or two diabetics for an entire day.” 
   “And since Mrs. Gray, to your knowledge was not a diabetic how would that much insulin get into her body.” 
   “By injection.” 
   “Do you have any evidence that an injection was made?” 
   “I do.” 
   “Please explain.” 
   “Captain Robert Wallace of the Nautilus Police Department had brought to my attention that it was possible that an injection of insulin used as a murder weapon could be placed where it would be difficult to find. As a result I allowed him to prove or disprove his theory.” 
   “Did Captain Wallace find such a place on Mrs. Grays body?” 
   “He did.” 
   “Where exactly.” 
   “In the right Axilla.” 
   “And did you examine that area?” 
   “I did.” 
   “And what did you find?” 
   “I found a mark, representing an entry which could be described as being made by a hypodermic needle.” 
   “So, what you are telling the court and the jury is that in your postmortem you found an absence of glucose in the kidneys, but a concentration of insulin in the brain and it is your opinion that the insulin was deliberately injected into Mrs. Gray by a hypodermic needle.” 
   “That is correct.” 
   “Thank you Doctor…No further questions.” 
   “Mr. Kaplan, your witness”, said Judge Anderson. 
   “Thank you your honor. Good morning Doctor.” 
   “Good morning.” 
   “If it pleases the court the defense recognizes that Doctor Edwards is very well qualified.” 
   “Then, you may proceed Mr. Kaplan.” 
   “Doctor, I listened to your answers to Mr. Moore. I must admit that I found the fact that you allowed a police officer to assist you in you duties as the Medical Examiner rather odd.” 
   “I never said nor did I imply that any police officer assisted me.” 
   “Did you or did you not say in this court room not ten or twenty minutes ago that, and I quote you sir, “Captain Robert Wallace of the Nautilus Police Department had brought to my attention that it was possible that an injection used as a murder weapon could be placed where it would be difficult to find. As a result I allowed him to prove or disprove his theory.” Isn’t that what you just testified to?.” 
   “Yes.” 
   “Then you admit that you allowed Captain Wallace to assist you in your examination?” 
   “No…Captain Wallace is the commanding officer of the Major Crime Squad of the Nautilus Beach Police Department. The death of Grace Hodges Gray was determined as a homicide. Captain Wallace in his duties has the right to examine the victim either in an outdoor environment, an indoor environment or if necessary the examination room of the Medical Examiner, which he did, under my supervision.” 
   “Meaning what?” 
   “Meaning he could not possibly tamper with the evidence, the evidence at that time being the body of Grace Hodges Gray.” 
   “And you are saying that by showing you a mark in the underarm of Mrs. Gray Captain Wallace was not assisting you?” 
   “No more than when he or any police officer attending an autopsy points out particular facts to the examiner, such as the type of weapon used or a particular poison administered.” 
   “Now, you testified that your examination of the kidney’s resulted in an absence of glucose.” 
   “Correct.” 
   “Please tell the court the other test you did on the kidney’s.” 
   “As I mentioned, there was no sign of renal disease.” 
   “Condition Doctor, what were the condition of Mrs. Gray’s kidney’s?” 
   “Normal, healthy.” 
   “No signs of decomposition?” 
   “None.” 
   “How long had Mrs. Gray been dead before you began your examination.” 
   “Possibly ten maybe twelve hours” 
   “And you found no signs of decomposition? Didn’t you think that odd Doctor?” 
   “Not at all. When a patient dies in the hospital as Mrs. Gray died in the Nautilus Beach hospital the body is quickly moved to the morgue where it is immediately refrigerated, thus preventing decomposition.” 
   “I see, but suppose, just suppose that decomposition no matter how slight did occur how would that affect the kidneys?” 
   “Decomposition would destroy any glucose in the kidneys.” 
   “And you testified that you found no glucose in Mrs. Grays kidneys.” 
   “Correct” 
   “Lets move on. Did you test blood and urine samples?” 
   “I did” 
   “And what did you find” 
   “Traces of warfarin , glyburide and insulin.” 
   “Warfarin…please tell the court just what is Warfarin.” 
   “Warfarin is a medication used by patients suffering from strokes or Mini strokes.” 
   “Mini strokes, or Ischemtic Attack. Is that correct?” 
   "That is correct." 
   “And, glyburide, what is that?” 
   “A medication given to diabetics.” 
   “And you testified that you had no knowledge that Mrs. Gray was a diabetic?” 
   “That’s correct.” 
   “Yet, you found insulin.” 
   “Is it not possible then, Doctor that Mrs. Gray suffered from both Mini stokes and diabetes?” 
   “It’s possible.” 
   “Thank you Doctor. I have no further questions your honor, however I reserve the right to call this witness at a later time.” 
   “Granted, Mr. Mason do you wish to cross examine?” 
   “Thank you your honor. I do have one question if I may. Doctor Edwards with warfarin and glyburide both in the system what if any reaction occurs?” 
   “The warfarin causes a reaction to the glyburide resulting with the glyburide accelerating its removal of glucose in the blood stream.” 
   “Then someone injected with large amounts of insulin and also given warfarin plus glyburide would have what kind of reaction?” 
   “Hypoglycemia.” 
   “And, in relation to the needle mark. Did you find anything else?” 
   “Yes a bruising of the right wrist.” 
   “Like someone had held on to that wrist in a struggle?” 
   “Objection…no evidence has been submitted about bruising or a struggle”, said Kaplan. 
   “Sustained, stick to your chain of evidence Mr. Mason”, said the Judge. 
   “Yes sir. I have no further questions your honor”, said Mason. 
   “Very well. You may step down Doctor Edwards.” 
   “Your honor the State has one more witness to be called, one Joan Applewhite. However, all attempts to locate or contact her have failed. As a result the State rests.”, said James Mason. 
   “Very well Mr. Kaplan you may proceed.” 
   “Thank you your honor. We call Doctor Nathan Riser to the stand”, said Kaplan. 
   Wallace and Doctor Edwards sat and watched a man in his sixties, beginning to stoop with age walk slowly to the witness stand. The man wore glasses and was attired in a rumpled grey suit a white shirt with a worn collar and a stained floral print necktie. After he was sworn he took a seat and placed a thick file of papers within reach. 
   Kaplan walked to where the man sat and said, “Good morning Doctor Riser. Would you please tell the court of your professional background?” 
   “Certainly, I graduated from U.C.L.A. where I took my premed, then received my Doctorate of Medicine from the University of Southern California.” 
   “I see and what was or is your specialty?” 
   “Pathology.” 
   “Would you please tell the court you previous professional positions.” 
   “I was the medical examiner for Los Angeles County California for twenty five years.” 
   “And your current position Doctor.” 
   “Professor of Forensic Science at the University of California.” 
   “Thank you. If it pleases the court I submit that the witness for the defense is well qualified. Now Doctor Riser I ask you now did you review the pathology reports submitted in this case by Doctor Manfred Edwards?” 
   “I did.” 
   “And what did you find?” 
   “I found examples of oversight and inaccuracy.” 
   “Really, please explain.” 
   “Doctor Edwards pathological and toxicological findings do not support his opinion that Mrs. Gray died from hypoglycemic shock caused by an insulin overdose. You see a person’s vitreous glucose level can drop to zero after that person dies. Therefore, the lack of glucose in Mrs. Gray’s vitreous fluids does not prove that she died of hypoglycemic shock.” 
   “Then you are saying sir, that in your opinion Mrs. Gray did not die of hypoglycemia.”, said Kaplan. 
   “Yes.” 
   “Please continue Doctor.” 
   “The necrosis of the proximal tubules in Mrs. Gray’s brain and the necrosis in the kidney’s could be attributed to postmortem changes rather than hypoglycemic shock.” 
   “Doctor for the benefit of the ladies and gentlemen of the jury please define necrosis.” 
   “Certainly, decomposition, or decay." 
   “Thank you, please continue." 
   “Very well…In reading Doctor Edwards reports I noticed that his examination of the Mrs. Gray’s heart resulted in his finding, a lack of glucose in the left ventricle. However he stated that he found elevated levels of glucose in the right ventricle. It is my professional opinion that Doctor Edwards failed to take into account the fact that Mrs. Gray had been given intravenous glucose solution.” 
   “The intravenous glucose was prescribed by the attending physicians at the hospital when Mrs. Gray was admitted”, said Kaplan. 
   “Unfortunately there appears to have been a missed diagnosis. Of course by this time it is too late for someone or myself to re-examine Mrs. Gray’s heart, but if we could I am sure that we would find that the cause of death was not hypoglycemia, but heart failure.” 
   “Heart failure…How do you make that assumption Doctor?” 
   “Mrs. Gray was being treated for high blood pressure and Transient ischemic attack, or Mini strokes. Either condition overtime would put pressure on the heart. It is the right side of the heart that pumps blood to the lungs and unfortunately the heart finally failed to do this and death occurred.” 
   “Then it is your opinion Doctor that Mrs. Gray died as a result of heart failure and not by an large amount of insulin injected by her husband…Is that true.” 
   “Yes it is.” 
   “He’s full of shit.”, said Edwards to Wallace. 
   “Did you discover any other oversights, as you call them?”, asked Kaplan. 
   “I did. I noticed that immunuassay tests were not rendered.” 
   “Again Doctor you have the court and the jury at a disadvantage. Please define immunassay for us.” 
   “Immunassay uses anti-bodies to measure substances in blood in a test tube also in thin sections of tissue removed at autopsy.” What it does is identify substances that react to the anti-body to the exclusion of anything else.” 
   “And if immunassay testing had been done what in your opinion would have been the result?” 
   “In all probability sufficient amounts of glucose would have been found.” 
   “Meaning?” 
   “Meaning that there was no hypoglycemia.” 
   “Anything else Doctor.” 
   “No sir.” 
   “Thank you Doctor. No further questions. Your honor, the defense rests.” 
   “Really?…Mr. Mason?”, asked Judge Anderson. 
   “Your Honor, the State recalls Doctor Manfred Edwards to the chair.” 
   When Edwards approached the bench Judge Anderson said, “Doctor you are still sworn. You may be seated.” 
   Edwards sat waiting as James Mason approached him. “Doctor Edwards were you in this court room while Doctor Riser was on the stand?” 
   “I was.” 
   “And did you hear his testimony on the subject of immunuassay and your lack of using it?” 
   “I did.” 
   “Would you explain why you did not use immunuassay?” 
   “Certainly…I don’t use immunuassay because it is relatively crude and can create false artifacts.” 
   “For the benefit of the jury Doctor, please define artifacts in relation to the use of immunoassay." 
   “In this case artifacts would be the undesired alteration in data introduced by a technique and or technology.” 
   “I see, a undesired alteration of data. Can we preasume then Doctor that if Doctor Riser was given the opportunity to test your results using immunuassay that he would risk the chance of receiving altered data as a result?” 
   “Yes.” 
   “And did you hear him testify that in his opinion the lack of glucose in the kidneys of Mrs. Grey was due to decomposition of her body?” 
   “I did.” 
   “And how do you explain his conclusion?” 
   “His conclusion is based on his viewing of colored eight by ten photo prints and not the actual examination of the organs.” 
   “One more question Doctor Edwards. Are you aware that Doctor Riser is a member of The American College of Pathologist’s?” 
   “So am I.” 
   “Thank you Doctor, no further questions your Honor”, said Moore. 
   “Mr. Kaplan?”, asked the Judge. 
   “No questions your honor.” 
   “Very well. Are both parties ready to present their case to the jury?” 
   “The State is ready sir”, said Mason. 
   “As is, the defense”, said Kaplan.” 
   “Very good…Then, I will adjourn court until tomorrow morning at nine A.M…Court is adjourned.” 
   “All rise!”, called the bailiff and Wallace and Edwards stood next to one another as the judge and jury filed out of the court room. 
   The next morning Wallace and Doctor Edwards listened as first Mason and then Kaplan addressed the jury, each man laying out the facts of why Doctor Vernon Gray was either guilty of murdering his wife or innocent of the crime. When they were finished Judge Anderson then instructed them on their duties and responsibilities and charged them to render a verdict. The jury then went to the jury room and the people of New Jersey, Doctor Edwards and Captain Wallace waited to hear their decision. 
   “The jury will be awhile Doc. Let’s hit the diner across the street. I could use a cup of coffee”, said Wallace. 
   “Yeah, that’s better than sitting here for who knows how long”, Edwards replied. 
   At the diner both men slid into a booth. Edwards lifted the menu from the napkin holder and looked through it. “Same old thing, eggs, hot cakes, bacon, sausage, nothing new”, he said. 
   “This is a diner, what the hell do you expect?”, asked Wallace. 
   “Pan Perdu.” 
   “It’s there only they call it French Toast.” 
   “No shit?..What would I do without you?” 
   “You’d have to find someone else to put up with you. You old bastard.” 
   Their friendly banter was interrupted by the waitress who arrived at their table. “Are you ready to order?”, she asked. 
   “I’ll have the French Toast, sausage and coffee”, said Edwards. 
   “Make mine bacon and eggs over easy, toast and coffee and I’d like the coffee just as soon as you can get it to me”, said Wallace. 
   “Listen, I know you’re going to smoke those damn cigarettes, so smoke it now before my meal comes”, said Edwards. 
   “Hey, thanks a lot I. knew I was missing something”, said Wallace as he lit a cigarette blowing the smoke up towards the ceiling. 
   After the two men finished a late breakfast they went back into the court room. At exactly eleven seventeen A.M. the jury informed the court that they had reached a verdict. 
   “Damn, that was quick. That usually means guilty”, said Edwards. Wallace remained silent as he stared at the door that led to the jury room. 
   At twelve fifteen in the afternoon Judge Anderson asked for the jury’s decision. “We find the defendant, Vernon Gray…Not Guilty”, said the foreman. 
   “Son of a bitch…I told you that panel was a bunch of shit heads. How in the hell could they let him off?”, asked Edwards. 
   Wallace did not answer, instead he watched Vernon Gray hug and then shake hands with Daniel Kaplan and Harold Ginsberg. Then, when he was done celebrating Gray looked for and found Captain Robert Wallace standing in the court room. When he did he looked long and hard at the police officer and then laughed. Wallace turned slowly and walked out of the room. Doctor Edwards followed. 
   
   Chapter Thirteen 
   
   Robert Wallace sat at his kitchen table smoking his fourth cigarette with his third cup of coffee. In his hands he held a copy of the Nautilus Beach Press and the headline of the daily edition appeared in bold print for all of its readers to see: LOCAL DOCTOR ACQUITTED OF MURDER! He then read the article written by Herman Walker a staff reporter. “Yesterday, Friday, April 19, 1974 Doctor Vernon Gray a local endocrinologist faced a jury of his peers and was acquitted of murdering his wife, Philadelphia socialite, Grace Hodges Gray. Assistant Prosecutor James Mason stated that the people had spoken and justice had been served. He also stated that the defense presented strong evidence that convinced the jury, enabling them to reach their verdict. When asked about the evidence submitted by the State Mr. Mason more or less admitted that any homicide where insulin is used as the weapon causing death is difficult to prove. When asked why, Mr. Mason acknowledged that since insulin is a natural product of the pancreas in the human body it is very difficult to measure and determine the amount that could or would cause a death. Attempts to question Captain Robert Wallace, the lead investigator in this case were fruitless and the press reporters were referred to Mrs. Victoria Cummings, the Information Officer of the Nautilus Beach Police Department, leaving this reporter to question why Captain Wallace refused an interview by this reporter. Perhaps, the Captain enjoys positive press when there are convictions, but avoids negative print when his investigations are failures. Hopefully, the Captain could solve this quandary in the immediate future. And, Captain if you are reading this I’ll still be asking questions.” 
   Wallace was interrupted by the ringing telephone on the kitchen wall. He got up from the table and answered. “Hello.” 
   “Robert. Did you see the paper this morning?” 
   “Yes, Elaine I just finished reading it.” 
   “What went wrong. I thought that you had him.” “I did have him. The people let him go.” 
   “Why is Herman Walker acting so nasty towards you?” 
   “Let’s say that it’s a mutual dislike for each other.” 
   “Really, well what I called for is I have some very important information I want to give you. Can you come over?” 
   “Can’t you tell me what it is on the telephone?” 
   “It’s rather personal.” 
   “You’re not pregnant are you…We haven’t been together in months.” 
   “No. you idiot…Are you coming over or not?” 
   “Yeah. Yeah. Any special time?” 
   “Come for lunch.” 
   “Sounds OK…See you then.” 
   Wallace then called Doctor Edwards and the doctor answered with his usual gruff, “Hello.” 
   “What are you doing?”, asked Wallace. 
   “You?…Let me tell you something when they invent something that identifies who is calling me I’m going to run out and buy it. That way I can ignore you. What the hell do you want?” 
   “Nothing special. Did you read this morning's newspaper?” 
   “Yeah? So?They mentioned you and Mason, nothing about me.” 
   “That’s because you did a wonderful job.” 
   “Are you trying to be funny?” 
   “Nope, I’m dead serious. Your testimony was great. The problem was the jury didn’t understand the evidence.” 
   “I told you Mason allowed Kaplan to load the jury. They were next to morons.” 
   “Well, thanks for the effort Doc.” 
   “You’re welcome and don’t let that asshole reporter get you down. Now get the hell off of the telephone.” 
   “Good by Doc.” 
   “Good by.” 
   An hour later, Wallace drove his Ford into Elaine Benson’s driveway. He got out of the car and as he headed for her front door the door opened and Elaine said, “I hope you like tuna fish, I made a large salad.” 
   Wallace walked into the house and as he headed for the kitchen he said, “Tuna is fine, now what is so important that you couldn’t tell what it is over the telephone?” 
   “Don’t be in such a hurry. Sit down. Would you like a beer or do you prefer ice tea?” 
   “Tea”, he answered as he moved a large paper bag that was on the table." 
   “That bag has your things in it?” 
   “My things?”, said Wallace as he slid the bag towards him. He opened it and looked inside finding a pack of cigarettes, a bic lighter, tooth brush and toothpaste, razor and blades, a Yardley soap on a rope, a pair of old, black, flip flops and his bathing suit. 
   “Had enough huh?”, he asked. 
   “Do you remember the guy I told you about? The guy I met in Vegas?” 
   “Yeah.” 
   “Well, he proposed and I said yes. The way I see it you are not interested in marriage, at least not to me. Our affair, if that’s what it was, meant arguing and sleeping together. That’s not too much security for me Robert. Together we have nothing in common except maybe the arts. With Tim we’re both Realtors, we’re both Catholic and we have both lost our spouses. I hope you understand and I also hope that we can remain friends.” 
   “Hey, congratulations. Of course we’ll remain friends. When's the big day?” 
   “He’s flying in the day after tomorrow. I’ll pick him up at the airport. While he’s here we’ll make our plans.” 
   “Are you staying here or are you going to live in Vegas?” 
   “I haven’t decided yet, Vegas maybe.” 
   “I don’t think so. You’re a Nautilus Beach girl, born and raised here. You have sand in your shoes. You can’t leave.” 
   “You may be right. Well enough about that. let’s have lunch”, said Elaine as she go up and went to the refrigerator.” As she removed the bowl of tuna salad she changed the subject and said, “I hope you don’t mind, but can you tell me just how you lost that case against Doctor Gray?” 
   “I had everything except a key witness, Joan Applewhite. Try as I might I couldn’t locate her. She could have testified that Gray shut off the glucose I.V. in the hospital room.” 
   “That’s a shame. I haven’t seen her since I got back last month.” 
   “No one has. Her parents filed a missing persons' complaint with the Bridgeton Police. As far as I know they’ve come up empty.” 
   “She’s probably scared Robert. It’s such a shame. She’s a lovely young lady.” 
   “Well, there’s nothing to be scared about now. The case is over. She can come out of hiding.” 
   After lunch Wallace picked up the paper bag with his belongings inside and walked to the front door. He stopped and kissed Elaine on the cheek and went outside. Walking to the rear of the Ford he opened the trunk placed the bag inside closed the trunk lid and turned around. Then, he noticed something. Looking across the street at the house where Joan Applewhite lived he noticed a small, red sign stapled on the garage door. “How long has that been there?”, he asked Elaine. 
   “What are you talking about?”, she asked. 
   “That sign on the garage door.” 
   “I never noticed it before”, said Elaine. 
   Wallace walked out of the driveway, crossed the street and passing high hedges that almost hid the entrance to the house proceeded to the garage. There, stapled on the 
   door was a red, “STOP WORK” sign. And, it was issued by the Code Enforcement Bureau of Nautilus Beach. Wallace read further. “Owner is in violation of building codes and found to be lacking required permits.” “What the hell has been built?”, he asked himself. Walking past the row of hedges that grew on the side of the house Wallace made his way to the back yard. He stood and looked at a new, concrete slab he figured that it measured eight by ten feet that had been poured maybe two or three months ago. He walked to the slab and looked down seeing a stamped logo that read, “Fabi Concrete Inc.” 
   Walking back to the front of the house he passed between several manicured hedges that were so large they hid most of the front door from sight. Wallace walked up on to the covered entrance and stopped. “Damn!”, he said out loud. Turning he hurried back to where Elaine stood. 
   “I need to use your telephone and I’m afraid, your house for a little while. I need a command post.” 
   “Did you find something?” 
   “I might have found Joan Applewhite”, he answered. 
   “Oh, Dear, where?” 
   “I can’t stop and talk right now Elaine. I need to use your telephone.” 
   Wallace dialed a number, heard the ringing on the other line and finally a man answered. “Hello?” 
   “Bill, Walley, what are you doing?” 
   “Trying to enjoy my day off.” 
   “That’s not going to happen. Who’s on duty?’ 
   “Stiles.” 
   “Call him. Tell him to prepare a search warrant for 357 Timber Lane, Nautilus Beach, New Jersey. And to make sure the warrant includes house and grounds. Have him get it signed by a judge and bring it to me at Elaine’s house.” 
   “Does he know where she lives?” 
   “Tell him it’s right across the street from three fifty-seven.” 
   “Got it.” 
   “Good, get here as soon as you can.” 
   “Do you mind telling me what we’re doing?” 
   “Not at all. We’re looking for Joan Applewhite.” 
   “No shit?” 
   “Yep.” 
   Wallace got off of the telephone and reached for a cigarette. 
   “Knowing you, you’ll be wanting coffee. I’ll put the pot on”, said Elaine. 
   “Thank you. I’ll be outside having a smoke.” Thirty five minutes later Bill O’Neil parked his car in front of 368 Timber Lane. Wallace walked out to meet him. 
   “So what have we got, Cap?” 
   “A possible homicide. Have you heard from Stiles?” 
   “The last I heard was that he was heading for the country club. Seems that two county judges and their wives are attending a fashion show.” 
   “Alright let me show you what I’ve found.” 
   Together the two men crossed the street and after passing through the two high hedges that stood like sentinels guarding the place they walked up on to the tiled floor in front of the entrance. Wallace stood for a moment and then said, “Do you notice anything?” 
   “Nope. Not yet.” O’Neil answered. 
   “Look down.” 
   The lieutenant lowered his eyes. “Do you mean the shoes?” 
   “Yes, what do they tell you?” 
   “Other than someone left their shoes outside, nothing.” 
   “Try this. Joan Applewhite had a Japanese mother and was raised with Japanese customs. One of the customs is that when entering the home, one removes their shoes and places them with the toe of the shoes pointing out.” 
   “So?” 
   “So the position of her shoes meant that after putting them there, where you see them, she remained inside the house until something happened to her.” 
   “How can you be sure?” 
   “If there is a pair of soft slippers near the door inside, then I’m wrong. But, if there isn’t then we can assume that following tradition Joan came home, opened her front door, removed her shoes and placed them as you see them there. Then she reached in picked up the slippers put them on her feet and walked in. Had she left the house, her shoes wouldn’t be where they are and I’m betting the slippers are still on her feet.” 
   “Anything else?”, asked O’Neil. 
   “Oh yeah, follow me.” 
   Wallace left the front portico and after turning left walked past the tall hedge and garage and then headed for the back yard. O’Neil followed him. When they got to the place where concrete covered the ground Wallace stopped and pointed to it. “If I’m right. Joan Applewhite is buried right here”, he said. 
   “What makes you think so?”, asked O’Neil. 
   “Shortly after Lillian Gray died, the good doctor put this house up for sale. Elaine was the Realtor handling the sale. She took me on a tour of the place. At that time there was no concrete slab in the backyard. Now there’s this.” 
   “Interesting”, said O’Neil. 
   “Isn’t it. Come on. I could use a cup of coffee. Elaine put the pot on. We can watch for Stiles while we wait.” 
   As Wallace and O’Neil sat drinking coffee in Elaine Benson’s living room O’Neil asked, “Why would Gray kill the girl?” 
   “I haven’t determined why just yet. But, if I had to guess I’d say either they were having an affair and Joan Applewhite was putting the pressure on him, wanting to know when he was going to marry her, Or, and this is the theory I like best, he knew that she could testify that she saw him turn off the glucose I.V. in the hospital room.” 
   “It’s a damn shame that piece of evidence wasn’t presented at the trial”, said O’Neil. 
   “Well, it was a case of the necessity to protect the witness. I could have forced testimony, but Kaplan could have also countered that the witness was on the stand under duress. That would have nullified the evidence.”, Wallace explained. 
   Their conversation was interrupted when O’Neil said, “There’s Frank. He just pulled up out front.” 
   “Go find out if he’s got the warrant. I’ll be right out,”, said Wallace as he picked up the used coffee cups. He found Elaine in the kitchen. “Sorry to have to take over your house, but I need a place with a telephone, otherwise everyone listening to a police scanner will be down here getting in the way.” 
   “Don’t worry about it Robert.” 
   “Thank you”, said Wallace as he turned and left. Outside Wallace took the search warrant from Stiles, read it and satisfied that it was proper and correct, began walking across the street. 
   “Do you have a key?”, asked O’Neil. 
   “No. We’ll go in through the back door”, Wallace answered. 
   Arriving at the back entrance to the house Wallace removed the Colt Detective Special from his holster and using the butt of the revolver like a hammer broke a small glass window pane in the back door. Reaching in through the opening he unlocked the door and walked inside. The two other men followed him. They walked into the kitchen. There Wallace stopped and looked around. “Notice the smell?”, he asked. 
   “Yeah, smells familiar”, said Stiles. 
   “That’s the smell of Mr. Clean. Whoever used it used a lot”, Wallace mentioned. 
   Wallace looked at the floor, then the counter tops and cabinets. “All right you two. What do you see?”, he asked. 
   “Everything looks natural to me”, said Stiles. 
   “How about you Bill?”, asked The Captain. 
   “Nothing seems to be out-of-place”, O’Neil answered. 
   “The two of you look, but you don’t see. Look at the knife block on the counter top. One of the knives is missing. The chef’s knife is not there”, said Wallace. 
   “Frank, go over to Mrs. Benson’s and ask her if she has a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. If she does, bring it to me. If she doesn’t, call in for a radio car to pick one up and bring it out here.” 
   “Ten minutes later Stiles returned with the peroxide and handed the bottle to Wallace who removed the cap and filled it with the solution. As the two men watched the police Captain tossed the contents of the bottle cap on to the kitchen floor. The three men then stood and watched as a hundred tiny drops of foam formed on the linoleum . 
   “I’ll be damned. What’s causing that?”, asked Stiles. 
   “Blood. What you are seeing is a chemical reaction caused by the peroxide coming in contact with an enzyme in blood called catalse. The reason the peroxide foams is that there are two hundred thousand reactions per second.” 
   “Where in hell did you learn that technique?”, asked O’Neil. 
   “An old police Captain of Detectives taught me that trick many years ago. OK, now we’ve got blood and we can consider that it is probably human blood. So now we have a mistake that the killer made. He didn’t clean all the blood off of the floor. Now, let’s look at something else.” Wallace walked across the floor and knelt down. At the place where the linoleum touched the baseboard of the wall he poured the peroxide in the minute space. Instantly, foam formed. Rising, he said, “Just as I thought. If the killer had to clean this floor then it shows that there must have been a lot of blood on the floor. What happened was some of it ran into this crevice. He either didn’t think about it and if he did he would have had to rip up the floor covering. OK. Frank, I want you to find Mr. Fabi. When you do bring him here.” 
   “Yes sir, but where do I find him?” 
   “Look in the yellow pages under concrete. If you still need an address go to the traffic division. They have to have at least a hundred traffic tickets made out to him. He’s been involved in a hell of a lot of accidents. He’s a terrible driver.” 
   “Yes sir.” 
   “And, call in and tell headquarters I need two uniformed officers here.” 
   “Will do.” 
   “Bill, I want you to go next door. See the property owners. Just tell them that the backyard here is a crime scene and that we might have to move heavy equipment on the edge of their ground. And, tell them that if there is any damage the city and county will cover the cost of repair. Meanwhile, after the uniformed officers get here I’ll call in. I want I.D. people at this place.” 
   Twenty minutes later Lieutenant O’Neil walked into the kitchen. "The uniformed men are here. I placed one out front and one here at the back door. I told them no one is to enter without my or your orders. I also took care of next door. They have no problem with crossing their property with men or equipment. While I was there I called out the rest of our squad. I assigned two men to watch Doctor Gray, one at his house the other at his office. I figure sooner or later he’ll get the word that we’re here. I figured he might run.” 
   “Good thinking Bill”, said Wallace just as Detective Stiles walked in.” 
   “Captain, here’s Mr. Fabi.” 
   “Mr. Fabi. I’m sorry to bother you sir but I have to ask you some questions. It shouldn’t take very long.” 
   “Am I in trouble?…Do I need a lawyer?”, asked Fabi. 
   “You’re not in trouble with the police, unless you lie to us. The only trouble you may be in is with code enforcement. You neglected to get a work permit for the concrete work you did here”, said Wallace. 
   “Permits? Code enforcement is a pain in the ass. When a customer wants a job done they want it done as soon as possible. Filing for a permit means waiting until someone in that office gets off of there ass makes it out and issues it. It could and often does take weeks. I can’t wait weeks.” 
   “I understand…My first question is when did you do the work here?” 
   “I don’t know, two, three or four months ago.” 
   “How about five or six months ago?” 
   “It could have been.” 
   “And, who hired you?” 
   “Doctor Gray.” 
   “How did he pay you, check or cash?" 
   “Check.” 
   “Very good. Bill, make a note of that. Check Gray’s checking account. Mr. Fabi what bank do you use?”, asked Wallace. 
   “First Federal, down on Bay Ave.” 
   “Thank you. I only have a couple of more questions. That concrete out there in the backyard, did you use re-bar?” 
   “No. I didn’t think it was necessary since it wasn’t going to hold too much weight, maybe a portable grill and a couple of lawn chairs. Besides Doctor Gray said to keep the job as inexpensive as possible.” 
   “I see. What kind of equipment will I need to break it and move it?” 
   “A few men with sledge hammers and a couple of wheelbarrows. My crew can do it if you want.” 
   “Excellent, have them here at eight tomorrow morning.” 
   “Eight o’clock, no problem.” 
   “Thank you Mr. Fabi you’ve been very helpful. I’ll have Detective Stiles take you home.”, said Wallace as he shook hands with the man. 
   “After Fabi left Wallace turned to O’Neil and said, “Let’s get everything and everyone in place for tomorrow. Keep the surveillance on Gray. While the crime scene technicians are working inside, we’ll supervise the crew outside…With a little luck we’ll find Joan Applewhite.” 
   “See you then”, said O’Neil. 
   “Wait, one more thing”, said Wallace as he walked into the living room and towards the front door. “Just as I thought, no slippers”, he continued. 
     
   
   Chapter Fourteen 
   
   At eight o’clock in the morning on April 21, 1974 the house on Timber Lane was inundated with uniformed police officers, plainclothes detectives, crime scene investigators and civilian workers. Wallace walked back and forth, first inside, watching technicians removing blood samples from the kitchen floor, blood samples they found after removing the linoleum away from the wall. Then, he was outside watching Fabi’s men swinging the heavy sledgehammers raising them above their heads and bringing it down sharply, each blow creating first one crack, then another. As pieces of concrete broke off of the slab they were picked up, loaded in a wheelbarrow and moved out-of-the-way. By noon what had been a smooth cement slab had disappeared. It now was a pile of broken pieces. 
   “That’s it Captain”, said Joe Fabi. Anything else you need?” 
   “No, I can’t let you dig. What I think is down there I have to protect as evidence. But, thanks a lot. You’ve been a great help. Send your bill to the city. I’ll be sure you get paid”, said Wallace. 
   After Fabi left O’Neil handed Stiles and Johnson a shovel. “Start digging. You two are first. When I think you’ve had enough the Captain and I will take over. Now dig.” 
   At three fifteen P.M. O’Neil up to his hips in a created ditch lifted a shovel full of soil and tossed it in the growing pile. As he looked down ready to dig again he stopped. “Here she is Cap. I see a foot. A foot and slipper.” 
   Wallace tossed his shovel and then walked to a position where he could see for himself. “Stiles, tell I.D. to come out here and take photo’s.” 
   “Yes sir.” 
   At six P.M. Captain Robert Wallace walked into the interrogation room where Doctor Vernon Gray sat with his hands in handcuffs. He looked up when Wallace walked into the room. 
   “Let me tell you something Wallace. This is harassment. You falsely accused me of murdering my wife and now you’ve arrested me again. Maybe you’ve never heard of double jeopardy.” 
   “Well Doctor. If I had Joan Applewhite available as a witness against you then you might have been convicted. But, you see, this time I have Joan Applewhite and this time she will bring evidence against you.. In a way. So her and the house on Timber Lane is just about all the evidence I need. I also have the knife you killed her with. A knife with her blood on it and your fingerprints. Do you want to know what your problem is Doctor? It’s greed. You killed two wives for their insurance money. And after you Killed Joan Applewhite you were too cheap to even file for a work permit, Vernon Gray, you are under arrest for the murder of one Joan Applewhite, Lieutenant you can read him his rights, but I don’t want to question him…I don’t need to.” 
   At eight o’clock P.M. Wallace poured a glass of red wine, lit a cigarette and making a call dialed a number. He listened to the ring and the voice that answered, “Hello?” 
   “Is this Doctor Frankenstein?” 
   “You simple bastard!.. What now?” 
   “I want you to know that I saw Joan Applewhite” 
   “Really?..How is she?” 
   “Not so good, she’s on the way to meet you.” 
   “Me? Why?” 
   “She’s Dead.” 
   “How?” 
   “Knife wounds one, maybe two pretty deep. We got the weapon.” 
   “Was it Gray?” 
   “Certainly.” 
   “Hey nice work Robert.” 
   “Thank you.” 
   “Now get the hell off of my telephone.” Wallace laughed as he placed the phone in the cradle. 
   Mary Higgins was painting her toe nails when she was interrupted be the ringing telephone. Standing with cotton placed between her toes she managed to hobble to the end table where the telephone was placed. “Hello?”, she answered. 
   “It seems to me, that we have a dinner date”, said Wallace. 
   “Hi…I’ve got the radio on. All they are talking about is the arrest of Doctor Gray…Congratulations.” 
   “Thank you…Now, let’s talk about the dinner date..What’s a good time for you?” 
   “How about tonight…I’m off for the next two nights.” 
   “O.K. What time do you want to eat?” 
   “How about seven or eight?” 
   “Pick one I have to make reservations.” 
   “Make it eight that gives me time to get ready.” 
   “Then eight it is. I’ll be at your place about seven fifteen.” 
   “Where are we going?” 
   “Does it matter?” 
   “A girl has to know how to dress.” 
   “The Glass Menagerie.” 
   “Oh…Get off the phone…I’ve got a million things to do.” 
   “Good by.” 
   At five past eight a waiter held the chair as Mary sat down. “Thank you” she said. 
   After he handed the menu to Mary and Robert the waiter asked, “And would you like something from the bar?” 
   “I’ll have a vodka and tonic”, said Mary. 
   “Wait”, Wallace said to the waiter. Then, turning his attention back to Mary said to her. “If you would like something that’s pretty good and different try a St. Charles Street Car.” 
   “What’s in it?”, asked Mary. 
   “Pear vodka and champagne.” 
   “I’ve never heard of it.” 
   “Comes out of New Orleans.” 
   “I’ll try it.” 
   “And you sir?”, asked the waiter. 
   “Bring me a cup of coffee and an ashtray.” 
   “You’re not drinking?”, asked Mary. 
   “I seldom do, besides I’ll probably order wine for dinner.” 
   “I didn’t know they had performing musicians here”, said Mary. 
   “Yep, anything to please. Right now there’s a guy on the piano. When he takes a break three violinists play as they walk around the tables. The late diners get the dance orchestra.” 
   Their conversation was interrupted when the waiter brought their cocktail and coffee. “Are you ready to order sir?”, asked the waiter. 
   “Not quite. Give us time to look over the menu. This is the lady’s first time here”, said Wallace. 
   “Certainly sir.” 
   Mary took a sip of her drink. “Oh very tasty”, she said. 
   “I thought you’d like it. Do you have any idea what you would like to eat?” 
   “Wally, I’m a little uncomfortable. Do you see these prices?” 
   “Order what you want and don’t embarrass me by worrying how I’m going to pay the bill. If I couldn’t afford this place I would have taken you to some hamburger joint.” 
   “I’m sorry. What are you going to have?” 
   “Well, I’ll probably start off with a cup of the crab bisque, then the, La Plateau de Fruits de Mar.” 
   “What’s that?” 
   “Sea food. There’s twelve oysters, eight shrimp, five clams, twelve mussels, and crab”, Wallace explained. 
   “I think I’ll have seafood. The “court-bouillan sounds good, red fish, crab, shrimp, oyster and rice. I don’t like oysters. If you don’t mind I’ll give them to you”, Mary suggested. 
   When the waiter took their order Wallace said, “The lady does not prefer the oysters. Instead tell the Chef to increase the amount of shrimp.” 
   “Very good sir. May I ask if you would like wine this evening?” 
   “Yes, a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc please” 
   “Yes sir.” 
   As Wallace lit a cigarette, Mary looked at him and said, “You’re a strange guy Wally. Rough and gruff as a cop, yet well versed in the arts and music. On top of that you enjoy the finer things in life, such as fine dining. I can’t figure you out.” 
   “Wallace smiled and said, “Then, don’t try.” 
   “I also see you as a loner. I’ve asked around about you. To my knowledge you have no close friends. It seems odd when men, particularly you don’t have at least one close friend, a buddy so to speak. And, at the same time your relationships with women seems to be that after you seduce them you dump them.” 
   Wallace smiled. “Dump. is a very harsh word. Actually the women dump me.” 
   “Really?” 
   “Yep.” 
   “Well, this is one woman that you will find extremely hard to seduce. I don’t jump in bed with just any guy.” 
   “I don’t recall ever asking you to jump in bed with me”, said Wallace as he took a sip of coffee. 
   “And, it’s just as well”, Mary replied. 
   “Still, you must admit that I have the right to try.” 
   “Oh, you can try, but you won’t succeed.” 
   Marty Hoffman walked up to their table. “Robert, congratulations on solving the Applewhite murder. The story is all over the television”, he said. 
   “Thank you Marty. May I introduce Miss Mary Higgins. Mary, meet Marty Hoffman, the owner of the Glass Menagerie.” 
   “Miss Higgins, it’s delightful to meet you. Is this your first time with us?”, asked Hoffman. 
   “Yes it is.” 
   “Then, I hope you enjoy your meal and do come back and visit us again.” 
   “Thank you, I will.” 
   At two o’clock in the morning, Mary Higgins opened her eyes. She instinctively looked at the alarm clock on the night stand. The red letters on the dial told her the time. Then, raising up on one elbow she turned her head and looked down at Wallace sleeping soundly beside her. She lowered her head to get a closer look at him. When she did she noticed a contented smile on his lips. 
   “You smug son of a bitch!”, she whispered, then rolled over and went back to sleep. 
   
   
   Text: Robert F. Clifton Editing: J. William blackmore All rights reserved. Publication Date: May 12th 2018 https://www.bookrix.com/-shibashi