McKenna by Robert F. Clifton (best android ereader TXT) 📖

are out to close down his reason for living”.

“Not both brothers. Steven has helped the Mission several times. He has donated money and from time to time he sends left over food from the hotel kitchen, food that we can use instead of it being tossed in the garbage”.

“What kind of food?”

“Bread and rolls all of the time. Salad greens and dressing some of the time. Once in a while left over soup or stew”.

“That's nice of him. I imagine that the reverend appreciates all the help he can get”.

“He does and Reverend Simon and Mr. Barnett have become good friends”.

“That's interesting. I have another question”.

“What is it?”

“Are you ever going to tell me where you live or at least give me your telephone number?”

“I live with someone, so you visiting me at my home would be, how do I say it? Difficult”.

“Oh, I see. I didn't know”, said Kevin, disappointment in his voice.

Whitney smiled. “Let me explain. I have a young mother and her baby living with me. I took her in because the Mission House is no place to have an infant. You visiting me at home would be difficult for both of us. In order to enjoy each others company we would have to deal with diapers being washed and dried in the laundry room, formula being prepared in the kitchen and a young woman using a breast pump. I hope you understand”.

“Understand? You don't know how relieved I am knowing there's no guy living with you”.

“A guy? What kind of girl do you think I am?”

“I think you are, kind, considerate, a perfect lady and beautiful, just beautiful”.

“Good, and I can see how in our conversation one could jump to conclusions as you did”.

“Sorry”.

“Don't be sorry. Instead, why don't we spend time at your place”.

“Excellent. I was afraid to ask”.

“Here's what I suggest. Why not a quiet, little meal, during and afterward we talk and really get to know each other”.

“Just say when”.

“No. you say when. You plan the meal and the time. I will give you my telephone number. It's 609-500 4484. Do you want to write it down”.

“Nope, I just engraved it in my mind”.

The next day, Kevin met with Cordella Jenkins, his cleaning lady and housekeeper. “I want this place spic and span as they say. I'm having company at the end of the week and just between you and me, I want to impress”, he said.

“Now let me tell you something. When I finish cleaning, this place is always spic and span. It ain't my fault if you mess it up again. As for you wantin to impress your company and I'm supposin it be some young gal. Don't go tryin to get her between the sheets. Which incidentally I'll be sure to put on fresh one's once you tell me when this here rendezvous is takin place”.

“Kevin smiled. “I won't be trying to get her into bed Cordella. She's a lady”.

“Ummm hmmm. Heard that stuff before. You be a man and you men are all alike. You given this lady supper?”

“Yes, I plan to”.

“Whatcha got in mind?”

“Right now I don't know”.

“Tell you what. Once I get this place empty of the foul mess you made I'll cook you up a supper that will make her mouth water”.

“You would do that?”

“Certainly. This gal a down to earth woman or one of those fancy pants type?”

“She's one of us Cordella”.

“Good. I'm thinking my fried chicken, either hot or cold.

My homemade coleslaw, mashed potatoes, gravy and my sweet potato pie. How's that sound?”

“Sounds great. Naturally I'll pay you for your trouble”.

“Bet your ass you will. I'll show you how much I spend at the market”.

“That's not necessary. I trust you.”.

“Alright then. Get out of my way and let me get to work on cleaning this place. How much laundry you got?”

“The hamper in the bathroom is only half full”.

“Alright, clothes can be washing while I be sweepin, Go now and let me do my thing”.

At seven o'clock that Friday evening Whitney and Kevin sat at his kitchen table. He watched her as she buttered a biscuit.

“How is everything?”, he asked.

“Delicious. Now be honest. Where did you get it?”

“Are you suggesting that I didn't prepare this meal?”

“I'm not only suggesting, I'm telling you that you didn't do the cooking”.

“Actually, my housekeeper did this for me”.

“The chicken is out of this world”.

“She tells me the secret is lard”.

“That doesn’t surprise me. Lard has been and still is used in much of the world for frying food”.

“Yeah? Well I made the coffee”.

“Good for you Kevin. Good for you”, Whitney replied with a laugh.

After dinner Kevin filled the dishwasher and he and Whitney went to the combination study and living room. Whitney went immediately to the bookshelves that cover one wall from floor to ceiling. “That is quite a collection. I never suspected you to be an avid reader”, she said.

“Actually, I'm not. The books are the result of my godfather, Robert Wallace acquiring them over a period of years”, Kevin replied.

“I notice that the majority of them deal with criminal investigations and law”.

“Yep, that's why he was a legionary criminal investigator”.

“So, the books are not yours”.

“Nothing you see here is mine. Everything belongs to Captain Wallace, the books, the furniture and his collection of recorded music. I'm just the caretaker until he returns”.

“Where is he?”

“In Australia, a place called Rockingham”.

“When is he coming back?”

“No one knows”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five

The Informant

 

Thanksgiving dinner was served to the homeless beginning at eleven o'clock in the morning. The early serving time was necessary due to the large number of people that began standing in line at nine thirty A.M. As usual families with children were served first.

Kevin McKenna stood behind a large, wicker basket filled with fresh rolls. Armed with long tongs he placed a roll on each persons tray as they stopped and stood in front of him. Behind him, back in the kitchen Whitney Nelson carved turkey meat, placing it on platters for the other volunteers to take to the food line to feed the needy. As the people in the line moved slowly from one station to another a man stopped in front of Kevin and after the roll was placed on his plate said, “You the cop they say is investigating Mason's murder?”

McKenna looked at the man noticing right away that he was one of the homeless. He had a two day growth of whiskers on his face and the watery eyes of a chronic alcoholic. In addition he was dressed in summer attire. He wore tan trousers that were too short and a Hawaiian shirt with its bold design on Thanksgiving Day. He wore no socks and a pair of what use to be white, canvas boat shoes. The toe of the left shoe was frayed.

It was evident that the clothing the man was wearing came from

those that were donated to the charitable organizations in the city. “Yes, I'm Sergeant McKenna”, said Kevin.

“Good, Harvey Mason was a friend of mine. When you got time I might have some information you can use”.

“First, who are you?”, asked McKenna.

“Names, Sam Wilcox”.

“And how much is it going to cost me for your information?”

“How about a couple packs of cigarettes and twenty bucks?”

“Fine, but as you can see, right now I'm a little busy”.

“No problem. I'll eat my meal and when I'm done I'll wait for you outside”.

“I'll be a while. I have to help clean up when we close”.

“Like I said. No problem. Besides, I don't want to be seen talking to a cop. I'll be in the boardwalk pavilion at Ocean Avenue. Take your time”.

When everyone was fed Kevin left the serving line and walked back into the kitchen. Whitney was spooning bread stuffing into large plastic containers. Seeing Kevin she smiled. “Did everything go alright?”, she asked.

“Everything was fine. Right now I have a problem”, he replied.

“What kind of problem?”

“Let's just say that duty calls. I have to leave. It has to do with the investigation I'm conducting”.

“I see. Naturally I'm disappointed. I was looking forward to spending the rest of Thanksgiving with you”.

“Whitney, I shouldn't be too long. Here's the key to the condo. Go there. Park in my spot in the garage. I'll call the doorman. Let yourself in and wait for me”.

“Are you sure?”

“I'm positive”.

“Then you go. Do what you have to do”.

“First, let me help you clean up this place”.

“No, the quicker you do what you need to do the sooner you'll be finished.”

“O.K. I'll see you in a while”.

Sergeant McKenna parked his automobile on the end of Ocean Avenue. As he walked up the ramp leading to the boardwalk he was met with a cold November wind coming in off of the ocean. At the top of the ramp he saw Sam Wilcox seated on a bench that faced the small crashing waves that in the distance rolled up on to the sandy beach. Kevin walked into the pavilion and sat next to Wilcox. “Alright. What have you got to tell me?”

“Where's my twenty?”

“In my wallet and it stays there until I decide what you have to say is worth it”.

“Let's talk about my friend Harvey”.

“What about him?”

“What do you know about him, like where did he come from?”

“I haven't had time to look into his background. Someone else is doing that”.

“I see. Well, for your information Harvey Mason was from Philadelphia”.

“Lot's of people end up here from Philadelphia”.

“Just between you and me there's more than you think”.

“What do you mean?”

“I'm sure you are aware that Charles Barnett has been raising hell about the homeless and the Mission House in Nautilus Beach”.

“I do”.

“But, I bet you don't know that he's the one that's bringing them into town from Philadelphia and Camden”.

“And just why and how would he want to do that if he's against the homeless in town?”

“Because he wants that new casino bill in Trenton squashed”.

“Charles Barnett seldom leaves his hotel let alone Nautilus Beach”.

“He don't have to. He's got others doing it for him?”

“Who, and how?”

“The fellow running the actual operation is a guy named Frank Bitterman. Once or twice a week he and two of his goons drive up to Philly. They ride up and down Race Street talking the homeless into moving to Nautilus Beach where they will have a place to stay and two meals a day”.

“There has to be a gimmick. What is it?”

“Gimmick my ass. It's a scam. In return for the place to stay and two squares per day those who decide to take the trip have to sign over their social security or pension checks”.

“And just where do they stay here in town?”

“The old Flemington Hotel”.

“That's really not in Nautilus Beach. That place is located in the Township outside of the city”.

“That may be, but it's close enough for those people to wander into town, walk the boards, visit the Mission and panhandle”.

“That's true, but what proof do you have that Charles Barnett is involved in this, what you call a scam?”

“Actual proof? None, but Harvey Mason was brought here just like I told you. On the trip down he heard this Bitterman fellow running his mouth saying how much he was making money wise being paid by Barnett”.

“How do you know this?”

“Harvey told me”.

“Harvey's dead and although I believe you, in a court of law your information is hear say”.

“That means in my way of thinking I'm about to get screwed out of the twenty dollars”.

“Not really Sam. Like I said, I believe you. As for the information you just gave me, I'll keep it in mind”, said Kevin reaching for his wallet.

Wilcox took the money and put it in his trousers pocket.

“I want you to know, that I'm no damn snitch. I only decided to talk to you because Harvey was my friend. I want the son of a bitch that killed him caught and punished”.

“Yeah, yeah. I understand Sam. If you want to help then keep your eyes and ears open. Right now I'm not only interested in who killed Harvey