BA Hammer Mary Ch. 01

B.A. HAMMER MARY CH 1

We returned from our European honeymoon in a refreshed state of mind. Mary was looking forward to being on Broadway in this production. I had developed a position within the Broadway community of being something of a "fixer" of problems. I had now helped two bigtime producers and two topline directors with their problems. I had helped a U.S. Senator out of an embarrassing situation. That could only be good. All in all, we were feeling pretty good. That was before Mary got the best news of her career.

There are 41 theaters listed by the Broadway League. They go from the smallest, the Helen Hays Theater that seats 597 all the way to the Gershwin that seats 1933. The current third longest running show is "The Lion King'. It opened in 1997 and trails only "Phantom of the Opera" and "Chicago".

Ester Blasingame is the director of a long running show on Broadway. She had been there over ten years and was looking for something new when "Chicago" came calling. Casts normally sign five-year contracts, and most move on after that. They sometimes stay on, and sometimes move on. "Chicago" has been on Broadway since 1996 and has gone through several cast changes over the years. Now, however, the producers were wanting to freshen up the production a little. They have asked Ester to become the director when they change the cast. She has asked Mary to take one of the two lead women roles. It would be a huge feather in her career to perform in that historic musical.

We decided to celebrate by going out to a fine restaurant and toast her move up in the Broadway world. It was a wonderful evening until we got home. In that day's mail was an ominous letter. All it said was, "Mary, I know what you really did ten years ago." When she saw it, she crumbled on a couch and began sobbing, hysterically.

"I was afraid of this. I've have wondered if this would happen for the last ten years." It took me a long time to console her enough to get her to stop crying. Finally, after nearly an hour, she sat on the couch with a glass of water and looked at me. "You told me your darkest secrets, and I told you I had some of my own, but I never told you any of them. This is the one I am the most embarrassed about." She stopped talking. I just waited and let her tell it in her own way.

"Ten years ago, I was twenty when I arrived in New York, hoping to make a living in theater. The first few years were like they are for everyone who comes here. I worked in cafes and catering companies while going on auditions. I had a best friend, Elizabeth "Liz" Besson. We worked for a catering company that catered to wall street companies. One day, we went to a big catered dinner for a large company announcing their big new advancement in their industry. Their name was "Unique Computing Opportunities" and the CEO was Wilford C. Rutherford." I vaguely remembered a man by that name. "He was a dirty old man of nearly seventy that liked to flirt and grab the young girls doing their jobs. He was no difference with Liz and me. As the evening was ending, we were cleaning up the dinner when one of his lieutenants came looking for us. He told us Mr. Rutherford wanted to see us two. He was sitting in a side room all alone. When we were alone, he propositioned us. He offered to give each of us one thousand dollars to stay with him that night. We laughed and tried to leave, but he stood in front of the door. He offered us two thousand apiece to stay with him. We were barely getting by, and that was more money than we had ever seen. He had it in his hand, cash. We looked at each other, and Liz said that she was going to do it. To this day, I am ashamed to admit that I stayed also."

"At first, everything was okay. He took us into his study, offered us drinks, and opened his safe to show us things he was proud of. They were old coins. I guess they were famous, I had no idea. For a while, we sat around, drinking and looking at old coins in cases. After a while, Liz went around his desk and sat on his lap. He gave us the money, and we put it in our purses. Liz then took her uniform off and sat back down on his lap. By then I had opened my uniform. He unsnapped her bra and she fell out of it. They were kissing and he was fondling her. He sat her on his desk in front of him and asked me to sit on his lap. I took my clothes off and sat on his lap. We sat there for a few minutes as he fondled each of us until he became bored and told us to follow him. He led us into a bedroom off his study. You know what happened from there. After I figured I had "earned" my money, I told them I had to leave as I had a audition in the morning. I went back to the study, got dressed, and left. That was the last I knew until a couple of days later." She shuddered at this point, and I held her until she could continue.

"A few days later I was at work when Liz came in with the newspaper that said there had been a robbery at his study and the coins were missing. It wasn't long before the police showed up to interview each of us. Apparently, they had been stolen either late that night, or early the next morning. It wasn't long until they arrested Liz. They claimed she was the one that left first and had taken them from the desk as she dressed. They found a fence that claimed she had brought them to him to sell. It was a short trial. She was convicted and sentenced to fifteen years. She has been there ever since."

That was it. She felt embarrassed for what she had done and had not been able to help her friend. But what could the letter mean?

"Don't you see? I left first. Whoever sent this thinks I am the one that stole them. If they waited this long, they must have something new to threaten me with."

We discussed this late into the night. There wasn't much sleep that night. The following morning, I told her to go to work like normal, and I would begin looking into this. After all, that's what I do, right?

The first thing I needed to do was catch up with the details. I called my friend at the Times and went over to look through the files from ten years ago. As I was in the military at this time, I knew nothing about this.

Here are the details I discovered.

Rutherford called the police the next morning to inform them he had been robbed. After a little prodding, he admitted he had the girls there in his study that night. For some reason, he told the police Liz had left first. Mary did claim she had left first, but the police put that down to her trying to cover for her friend. They roused the best-known fences in the area until they found one that admitted Liz had brought the coins to him. It was short trial. Oddly, they did not mention the name of the fence. The other odd thing about this case was, Rutherford died one month later. He apparently had a heart attack.

I headed to Ed O'Sullivan. He is my friend and a Captain of detectives for the NYPD. I explained my question. He looked the case up. "The fence was your old friend, "Pushy" Smith." He was an old "friend". I had helped him once when I was a cop. "This was a quick case. Too quick. Something smelled, but I wasn't involved, so I didn't know the details. It was handled by another old friend, Lt. Baker."

He was anything but. He had tried to stick me with a murder wrap before and didn't like that I was friends with both the cops and the mob. "I don't suppose I could look at the file?"

"You know I can't do that. But I think I need a cup of coffee." He left the file on his desk and went for a cup of coffee. I managed to skim the file by the time he returned.

I got up and headed out as he came in. "Thanks for the info, Ed." Time to go see Pushy.

I found him in his old haunting grounds. He had a small jewelry store in a rundown neighborhood. He frowned as I walked in. "Hey, Pushy. It's been a long time. How's the old profession doing?"

"What the fuck do you want Hammer? You're not a cop now. I don't have to talk to you."

"You are correct. I am a PI now. You don't HAVE to talk to me, but I don't think this will be a problem for you."

"You are always a problem to me, Thor?" He loves that nickname because he knows I don't like it. "What do you want, anyway?"

"Remember ten years ago, when a young girl brought you a few precious coins that you fenced?"

Pushy looked like I had slapped him. "What would you want with old news like that? I haven't thought about that in years."

"Well, you know how bad penny's keep turning up. It's your turn with this one. You are going to have to tell me who really gave you the coins. We both know that girl had nothing to do with it. If you were so sure, why did you clam up at the trial and not talk. You wouldn't repeat what you told the cops originally. Why is that Pushy?" I had moved a little closer, just for effect.

"Don't Hammer. You don't want to get involved with this. It's too late anyway. The girl is getting paroled in the next year."

That was news. How'd he know about that if he hadn't thought about this case for ten years?

"I have a personal interest in this case. The girl got railroaded and we both know it. I will find who did it. I am giving you one chance to tell me who brought you those coins. I will never tell anyone where I got the information, and you know I am good for it."

"Hammer, believe me if I thought it would make any difference, I would tell you. I think it is too late anyway. Old man Rutherford has been dead ten years, and whatever he did, it's dead with him."

I looked at him for a second. "Are you telling me Rutherford was the one who brought you the coins?"

"I am not saying anything. If you figure something out, it was without me." I reached out and patted his shoulder.

"Thanks, Pushy. I knew I could count on you. By the way, why did the police never try to roust the buyer of the coins? Was it because it was a legitimate sale?"

"I told you; I'm not saying nothing." I smiled and left. That was too easy. Was Baker warned off this case? Why did the DA and the police just let this happen? It smells of big money, and something besides a few coins. Why did Rutherford sell his coins, and then call the police? Who directed him to Pushy? That would not be someone he would know on his own.

I headed to Lenny, my friend that worked for a local TV station. I wanted to see what the TV reporters found on this. Lenny hadn't worked for the station back then. In fact, there was only one reporter that was still there. His name was Tom Thomas, and he has been there for nearly twenty years. Lenny gave me his number and I called him.

"Mr. Thomas, my name is B.A. Hammer. I'm a PI. I understand you were a reporter ten years ago?"

"You're the former cop that came back from Afghanistan under a cloud."

"I guess you could say that. You were a reporter then, right?"

"Right, what can I do for you?"

"Do you remember a story about some girl stealing precious coins from some old rich dude?"

"Coins huh? I don't remember anything off hand."

"How about the fact the old dude died one month later of a "heart attack"?"

"Give me a minute to investigate my files. I will call you if I find anything."

"Thanks, man. I am chasing down a few loose ends."

It was late, and I went home. Mary was there. She was feeling better.

"You are right about this case. Liz did not steal those coins. Rutherford sold them himself. He then dies of a heart attack one month later. This stinks to high heaven."

"I knew it. I always knew she didn't take those coins, but I couldn't figure out why he would say that."

"I believe something else was taken out of his open safe why you were in the bedroom. Something far more valuable than coins. I will have to investigate his company to see what they were working on at the time."

We had a quiet dinner. Mary was feeling a little more confident in her situation. She was beginning to watch "Chicago" from the wings as the old cast finishes up their run. She had a couple of weeks to learn the lines and be ready. Normally, the understudies get the chance to move up. She knew there were tensions around her bumping the understudy. She would just have to deal with it, and not look bad when she begins the role.

Just before we fell asleep, I had one more question for Mary. "Does Liz have any family around?"

"Yeah, she has a brother. I think his name is Jeff, or Jess, or something like that."

I would have to look up Jeff or Jess, or whomever.