The House on Timber Lane by Robert F. Clifton (top business books of all time .txt) 📖

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