The Cult of the White Owl Page 14

  “Nooo, not this time. I have a load of paper work to get through in my office and I know Jake if anything significant is found you will bring it to my attention. Keep me in the loop.”

  “You got it. Burnsey you will ride with me as well. The four of us will make the trip. ANNIE,” Jake yelled.

  “Yes Boss, you yelled!”

  Jake threw her a look, “Yes I want you to know we,” and he waved his hand around the table to indicate the four of them, “are going to reconnoiter the church in Gladwyne, if there are any calls or visitors we will be back in approximately 2 hours. Take messages. Also have Tom Wilson, Bill, whomever, a detective, to read this newspaper” Jake pointed to the paper on his desk, “to read it from cover to cover looking for clues from the White Owl, something has to be there. Maybe a new location, the church having got to hot. Whatever, find and report to me the minute I get back. Thanks.”

  Burnsey brought the car around and Jake and Priscilla got in the back seat, since he knew where the church was he drove and Murphy rode shot-gun.

  Traffic was light so they made good time and practically flew past Villanova University. “I made lots of money betting on Villanova’s basketball team, not to mention their football team. Gene Filipski is one hell of a halfback. I like college ball way better than pro football. How about you Murphy?”

  “No I make money on college ball but I don’t have a favorite team. The Eagles are my team, so I guess it’s pro ball for me. It’s Sunday at Franklin Field and I’m watching them beat all comers. They defy the odds makers who can’t believe the team is having such a good season.” Murphy was starting to warm up to his subject when Burnsey turned off the road into an old gothic church driveway overrun with crab grass and debris.

  “This is it folks, watch your steps on the cobblestones.”

  Jake helped Priscilla out of the car and held her arm, guiding her over the cobblestones which are precarious even if you are not walking in heels, which she was.

  “Jake this is the place! I remember the cobblestones. I nearly fell flat on my face I was so drunk maneuvering them. Everybody got a big laugh. One of the masked men half carried me into the church and flopped me on a red velvet couch.”

  As they entered the old, empty church their nostrils were assailed by the smell of incense, beeswax and mildew. Priscilla started to sneeze, “Yes Jake the same thing happened to me the night they brought us here. I’m allergic to the smell,” She sneezed a couple times more and took out a delicate lace hanky and blew her nose and mopped her eyes from the tears.

  The detectives, Jake, and Priscilla walked through the deserted church looking for anything out of the way and unexplained. They saw the feces on the altar that were deposited from what had to be; a large bird.

  “I bet money it’s a white owl that made that disgusting mess, and on the altar.” Murphy said viewing the debris on the altar cloth.

  “I don’t think you will have any takers for that bet.” Burnsey said entering one of the side rooms.

  “They probably worshipped the bird, talk about false idols,” Murphy continued fascinated in spite of himself.

  “Anything goes that brings in the money. This is all about greed. Human life is just fodder for the grist mill.” Jake sneered at his surroundings, and was interrupted by Priscilla.

  “Ohhh, the red velvet couch, but it’s a bed. I am never going to take another drink. I was blitzed and on top of that I have no memory of anything that happened.” She ran out of the room.

  “Take the bed covers and sheets, pile them together for forensics, ditto with the dishes and wine glasses if there are any left and anything else you think might have a finger print. Get out your camera and take pictures. Start with the altar.”

  Jake followed Priscilla. He caught up with her in the dining room and led her to the pews. He sat next to her and held her hand. “It won’t be long now, we will clean up a few things and wait for forensics to get here so I can direct them to take impressions for finger prints and such, then we will be gone and you never have to remember this place again.”

  “I will never forget it now.” Grateful for Jake’s presence next to her. “I wish I had never met Tony McCane he started the whole thing, playing on our vanity. Caterina and Daphne both dead now and crumbling in the grave, how important are their good looks now, or should I say gone looks.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Tony McCane was in a panic going through the newspaper trying to find the ad for the new headquarters of the White Owl Cult. A combination of things must have gone wrong, Tony thought to himself, for the Keeper of the Keys to give up the church, an ideal situation for everyone. “Here it is, where’s paper and a pencil, I will never remember it other-wise?”

  The gesture of writing the address on a separate piece of paper showed Tony’s unique temperament. The glaring fact, considering his state of mind, that he didn’t rip the ad from the paper and stash it in his pocket. He first circled the ad and then copied it in his precise, neat, penmanship. He then folded the newspaper and placed it neatly in his IN box on his desk to read later. The newly written note he placed in his inside jacket pocket for tomorrow’s meeting with the White Owl. He then made sure his note pad was centered on his desk, satisfied that everything was in order, he put the desk lamp out and left his study. He started walking toward the staircase when the door bell rang its melodious sound.

  “Wwwhat, who could that be?” Tony went to the door and even though it was past midnight he opened the door without hesitation. “Oh hello, what are you doing here, well come in then. Why are you holding my lawn chair pillow like that? Aghhh.” It was the last conscious sound he made as he was blasted by the snub nose pistol.

  The gun shot was muffled by the makeshift silencer, a pillow the assassin picked up off a lawn chair on his way into the house and placed over the gun’s muzzle. The pillow was blown to bits when he fired the gun and the stuffing fell like snow over the victim, lying unconscious, and presumably dead to this world.

  The shooter dropped the gun obtained from the police evidence locker, next to McCane and did not waste any time looking back down, as he stepped over his victim and made his way to the study and McCane’s desk. He removed the newspaper from the IN box, noted the circled ad, checked the drawers that were unlocked for any incriminating evidence and found nothing. He then turned his attention to the locked center drawer using his knife to force the lock and the drawer although broken, opened. It was empty. That stopped him in his tracks. He stared at the empty drawer perplexed. Then he forced the antique drawer out of its moorings in the desk and shook it hoping to hear something rattle inside. It was silent. Where could the incriminating photos be if not in a locked desk drawer? A safe, where is the safe?

  The killer was running out of time. The detective outside would be waking up. The blow he gave him on the back of his head was not life threatening. He rushed into the kitchen and opened the back door and fired into the back yard, Bam! Bam, bam. He then holstered his Colt 38 and frustrated by the lack of time he had left to finish his search, decided to let it go. The pictures were no where accessible.

  “At least per orders, McCane will not get a chance to bring down The White Owl or the rest of the flock. We only lost our nest, it could have been a lot worse if we had let him live.”

  “God, Tom is waking up. I have to injure myself or I will wind up on death row.”

  He grabbed a butcher knife out of the knife caddy in the immaculate kitchen and turned the knife on himself, he imbedded it deep in his left shoulder, “Now what do I do with the knife,” He then dropped the bloody knife on the floor by the kitchen doorway, then he quickly removed his gloves and shoved them in his back pocket just in time. Tom Wilson, the detective who was on the stake out with Davis came through the front door; stopped and stared at Tony McCane on the floor of his study and Johnny Davis in the kitchen bleeding on the tile.

  “Can you g
et me a towel or something from the laundry, I am loosing a lot of blood here.

  Tom went into the laundry to get a towel. Johnny in the meantime went into the study to retrieve the newspaper from under the desk where he threw it and put it into his shirt by the knife wound, ostensibly to staunch the blood.

  “Johnny what are you doing, come here, don’t pass out. What the hell, tell me what happened while I try to stop the bleeding, come by the sink and tell me what happened?” Tom held his head. He had been bludgeoned pretty badly and the open wound was bleeding on his suit. He sat down heavily, a little dizzy.

  Johnny sat down next to Tom and told him to place a call to headquarters and send an ambulance fast.

  “Okay but what happened? Everything was calm, just a stakeout. Then you were out of the squad car and when I tried to follow you, I saw no one, not even you. Then my head exploded and everything went black until I staggered into the house and saw Tony McCane laid out and you bleeding by the sink. Who were you firing at, did you see the killer? Did you see him when he slashed you?”

  “Johnny, Johnny, God he’s passed out. I hope someone comes soon or there will be three deaths from exsanguination.”

  The series of pistol shots awakened the neighborhood and many calls were placed to the Philadelphia police department who in turn alerted the homicide bureau and Chief Detective Jake Guiliani but he was not available.

  The sirens from police cars and ambulances shattered the silence and porch lights and parlor lamps awaken the street to the commotion. The curious, the people that were awakened by the gun shots, gathered outdoors and stood with their mouths open as ambulances pulled up to McCane’s door and unloaded stretchers for the wounded.

  Police officers with lighted flashlights were combing the back yards of the surrounding area for clues or evidence of the tragedy that had taken place.

  The police medical examiner Dr. Smith was on the scene hovering over McCane’s body, noting the powder burns on his clothing and the smell of cordite on his body.

  “He must have known his would-be killer. The perpetrator got up close and personal with him.” Dr. Smith addressed his assistants. “I’ll know more when I see them in the hospital. All three are lucky to be alive. Leave everything intact. I will strip them personally. Guiliani is not here, but if I don’t do this right I will get an earful, especially since he IS not here. The pillow, the feathers, all come with us, as for the police officer and the detective, put them on the stretchers first and take them to Jefferson hospital, send McCane to Llankenau hospital and place two policeman on guard in his room. Someone wanted him dead all right and they still might get their wish. I want all their clothes, guns, knives and holsters. Better bring their badges also, I don’t want anything to disappear, wallets as well. Bring it to the morgue for me alone. Sam, you are in charge.”

  “Are you hunting for something, Can I help you, Doc?” Sam asked.

  “No one can help me; I just have suspicions.”

  Dr. Smith gave orders to close up the house as soon as the victims were transported. He stationed a guard at the front door so no one would have access and roped off the perimeter. He did not take any fingerprints or investigate the damage to the desk or the rest of the house. He wanted to wait for Jake before he got into any of that. But the whole atmosphere was sinister. An attempted murder of their prime suspect by some one he knew. Dr. Smith was sure of that. The whole situation smelled wrong. Slipshod and rushed, that’s when killers make mistakes and he did not want anything dislodged or missing until the chief arrived, probably tomorrow.

  Johnny woke up in a panic, stripped of his uniform and in a green hospital gown. He was confused and disoriented. “Where am I?

  Where is all my stuff, my gun, badge, where are my clothes. I have to get out of here. I have to report to the White Owl.” He tried to get up and succeeded part-way but he was too weak from loss of blood, so he dropped back on his bed, weak and exhausted. “I am in for it! I made to many mistakes. After the years of ingratiating myself with the chief and Burnsey and in line for detectiveive, yeah passed over again. Too young they said, have patience they said. We have your back, in the mean time I’m on short pay. That Tony McCane recruited me when I did some detail work for him and he showed me the ropes with the models. Expensive! Moving in those circles is expensive, but he was always there to pick up the tab and pass me a couple of hundred for pocket change.”

  His shoulder was heavily bandaged and still blood spots could be seen oozing through. He was weak, and feverish and in no condition to leave his bed.

  “I have no regrets, I had no feeling for McCane one way or another, I fulfilled my mission and eliminated a potential threat to the flock. If I could move, I would make a break for it. Maybe I can get up.”

  With a little practice Davis managed to sit on the side of the bed and then slide off and staggered a few steps holding on to the bed table. “So far so good. Now to escape.” Davis reached the door and sweating profusely he opened it and fell right in the arms of the patrolman standing guard.

  “Where do you think your going? Nurse, let’s get this man back in bed with restraints. We don’t want him hurting himself before he gets charged with attempted murder.”

  “Attempted murder, he is alive, alive.” Davis tossed his head from side to side repeating alive until the nurse inserted the hypodermic needle into his arm rendering him unconscious.

  CHAPTER 15

  Jake turned over on his right side, his favorite side to sleep on and hugged the extra pillow close to his head. Something was ringing and he could no longer incorporate it into his dream the jarring sound morphed into real life, a ringing telephone. There was no hope for it. He was awake. He checked his watch, 6:30 a.m., with a groan he answered, “What, who is this??”

  “Sorry to disturb you Chief. I know you’ve had a hard time of it but there’s been an attempted murder with dire complications to the department.” Doctor Smith said reluctantly.

  “Why are you calling me with this information Doc? Where are the detectives working the case? They should be beating down my door by now.”

  “It’s because the facts of this case are here in my lab, I rescued all evidence before it mysteriously disappeared, intentionally or otherwise. I also closed the house, put a guard on the door and roped off the perimeter. As senior medical examiner I was the highest ranking officer at the scene and I meant to preserve it till you could take a look personally.”

  “Good work, I’m up.” Jake swung his legs off the bed and started for the bathroom, nearly tripping over the telephone extension cord “Where would you like me to meet you, at the lab?”

  “No, at the home of Tony McCane the victim. Luckily he is still alive, I have him guarded at Llankenau hospital.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Jake tried to hide his shock and disappointment. “Where is the house?”

  “That’s okay, Murphy is on his way to pick you up. He will brief you on the way and I will meet you there with forensics in tow.”

  “The well laid plans of mice and men are soon to go astray, just like mine.

  What happened, I had all my ducks in a row, and now what… back to square one? No he is still with us. This might play in our favor.”

  The door bell rang and Jake opened it; fully washed, brushed and clothed ready to face whatever. He put the coffee on and toast in the toaster for both of them. He set orange juice on the table and ignored Murphy asking “Let’s get going?”

  “We are having breakfast first while you tell me right here what happened to my suspect. How was he attacked when he was being guarded by two of our police?”

  “One of our police personnel attacked him.” Murphy answered quietly.

  “Who is that officer and what is our proof that he’s the one?” Jake asked the obvious questions.

  “John Davis!” Murphy answered still calmly, trying to keep the chief from exp
loding. But to his surprise there was no immediate reaction from Jake except for an expletive and, “So that’s the spy.”

  “Yeah, you were right and there was a spy in our department, but Johnny Davis of all people. He was an up and comer, and well liked by everyone including you and me.”

  “The one you least suspect, how did it happen, as far as you know?”

  “The Doc has all the facts relating to Davis’s guilt and all the evidence is in his lab. I think he thinks he broke the case and maybe he did. He is guarding every bit of it like a dog with a bone. So may we please get going so we can start working on this crime.”

  “I’m heading for the door, what’s keeping you.” Jake laughed at Murphy’s groan.

  Murphy pulled into the driveway of the McCane house with no further conversation from Jake who was deep in thought. “I see Smith beat us here with his team. He has it all laid out for you Chief, and I don’t want to rain on his parade. I’ll let him tell you.”

  “Glad to see you,” Doc shook his hand and led him inside the house. “Nothing, like nothing has been touched since we left last night. The debris is still scattered over the study. The desk is in pieces, as you can see. The desk drawer lays under the lamp table and the lamp is broken and the shade crumpled.” The doctor waved his hand, encompassing the debris.

  “It sure is a mess, a hurried mess and I don’t think our killer found what he was looking for. Did you find anything suspicious on the intended victim?”

  “Not really, but I have McCane organized at the hospital, but he’s in a coma. I thought it was best for us to go over the crime scene together first and perhaps we could find something incriminating for either or all of them.”

  While the Doc was talking Jake and Murphy were walking around the room going through the desk and picking up the lamp table that fell on the tossed and broken drawer. Turning the drawer upside down and sideways Murphy saw papers between the broken slats.