مدرک

Chapter three

Evidence

News of Jerome Clifford’s death travelled fast to the Mafia in New Orleans. His client, Barry Muldanno, was not sorry, but he was worried.

Barry the Blade, or simply The Blade as he liked to be called, wore shiny suits and a lot of gold. Barry enjoyed a fast life, and liked people to be afraid of him. His lawyer certainly was, and that’s why he killed himself.

Barry liked to spend hours on his long, black hair. His face was often in the newspapers these days, because of the trial. He had killed a senator, and his trial for murder was to take place in four weeks. Barry was not worried about the trial, because nobody could find the senator’s body. Without the body, who could prove a murder?

Jerome Clifford was a good Mafia lawyer, but Barry had frightened him. He told Romey where the body was hidden. He told him the body was under Romey’s own boat, in his own garage. What a joke! But then Romey had disappeared, and now he was dead. Barry needed a new lawyer quickly.

Roy Foltrigg also knew about the death, and was already on his way to Memphis to find out more. He hated flying, so his car was fitted with phones and television and even a fax machine. He had a driver too, so that he could work as he travelled. He hoped to arrive in Memphis by midnight.

Foltrigg was a US government lawyer. His job was to prove that Barry Muldanno killed the senator, but where was the body?

Maybe there would be some evidence in Memphis. Maybe Clifford had known something, said something.

Another man wanted to know more about Jerome Clifford’s death, too. He was a crime reporter who worked on the Memphis Press. He wanted a story for the morning newspaper, and he didn’t care how he got it.

Slick Moeller’s real name was Alfred, but nobody knew it. Everyone called him Slick. Crime was his life. He knew everyone, talked to everyone, and never named anyone who trusted him with secrets. He often knew about a crime before the cops. He knew them all, and drank coffee with them in all-night coffee bars. He had spent the morning at their head office, and now he was in St Peter’s hospital.

Slick knew there was something interesting about this death. He knew Clifford was Barry Muldanno’s lawyer. He knew Roy Foltrigg was coming to town. He knew about the two boys, and that one of them was in shock. And he knew some things that Mark didn’t know. Jerome Clifford had left a note which nobody could read. And there were strange fingerprints on his whisky bottle.

The FBI now controlled the case. Two FBI detectives waited for Roy Foltrigg. One was Jason McThune, FBI Memphis, and the other was Larry Trumann, FBI New Orleans. They had the dead man’s car and all the other evidence. They knew someone had been in the car with Jerome Clifford because there were fingerprints on the whisky bottle.

‘Whose are they’ said Trumann.

‘Maybe the kid’s,’ said McThune. ‘How can we check?’

‘I’ll get you his Coke bottle,’ said one of the cops. ‘You can check that.’