The Dead Don't Talk Read online

  THE DEAD DON’T TALK: A TALE OF MURDER AND MYSTERY

  by

  Lawrence J. Epstein

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  The Dead Don't Talk (The Danny Ryle Mysteries, #1)

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Copyright © 2019 by Lawrence J. Epstein. All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, stored in retrieval systems, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recorded, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.

  Trademarked names appear throughout this book. Rather than use a trademark symbol with every occurrence of a trademarked name, names are used in an editorial fashion, with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

  The information in this book is distributed on an “as is” basis, without warranty. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this work, neither the author nor the publisher shall have any liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Suffolk County, New York

  Fall 1982

  I was late for work because I had to get rid of a corpse. Choo-Choo Pascal called me just after ten at night and told me to get over to his house immediately. Choo-Choo got his nickname because as a teenager he had pushed people in front of oncoming subway trains. I went over to his house.

  One of Choo-Choo’s “assistants” let me inside. Choo-Choo was smoking a cigar and sipping brandy. He gained more weight every time I saw him, which was as infrequently as possible.

  “You did good, Danny,” he said. “I was timing you. It’s a Sunday night and you got here quick.”

  I nodded.

  I said, “What’s the mess you want me to clean up, Choo-Choo?”

  He laughed. “You was always like that. I like it. Right to business. I got a dead guy who is just lying around in my living room. He’s bleeding all over my red carpet and the colors of the blood and the carpet don’t match. The pity of it is I think I need to get a new carpet.”

  “I assume you are asking me to remove the gentleman.”

  “I am.”

  “Can I have some help?”

  Choo-Choo shook his head. “I don’t want none of my boys involved. It wouldn’t look good for me to have someone from here driving around with a dead guy in the trunk.”

  “Of course not. And you want me to take the gentleman where?”

  “Now there I can help. You know the potato farm I got out on the East End?”

  “Of course. You had me go out there last year.”

  “Yeah. Old Man Gifford who runs the place for me has got a bad back. You’re going to have to do the digging.”

  “Do I have to join the Undertakers’ Union?”

  “If I tell you to.”

  “Look, Choo-Choo, it’s a long drive. And digging and burying and then covering the grave is not only hard labor. It will take a lot of time. I’ve got work in the morning.”

  He shrugged. “And this should bother me why?”

  I sighed. “It shouldn’t bother you at all. At least get two of your men to wrap him in a sheet and put him in my trunk.”

  “This I can do.”

  Choo-Choo tapped the side of his head.

  “You got brains, Danny. I could use you in my outfit.”

  “I prefer to work for the Congressman.”

  Choo-Choo waved his hand.

  “You know I could get rid of him at any time.”

  “The Congressman told me about the pictures you have.”

  “I got more than pictures. He don’t ever cross me. He likes his job, and I like what he can do for me.”

  “That’s why I’m here, Choo-Choo. You got a special problem, the Congressman wants me to fix it. The Congressman wants me to fix all your problems.”

  Choo-Choo smiled. It was a smile that would make a little kid scream in horror.

  “You remember that. I like you, Danny. You always got a job with me.”

  “I appreciate that, Choo-Choo. I’d better get going.”

  When the body was in the trunk, I got on the Long Island Expressway and drove to Exit 70 and got off. I went past Southampton and Bridgehampton and kept going. I finally got to the farm.

  Gifford was waiting for me. He was holding a shovel. He walked to the window and tapped on it. I rolled it down.

  “Follow me. Only go slow. I can’t walk very fast cause of this back problem. You get old all you got is problems.”

  I followed him and we got to the dead man’s final resting place.

  Gifford handed me the shovel as I stepped out of the car.

  I began digging.

  It was after three before I got home, and it wasn’t so easy to fall asleep. I kept thinking maybe my mother had been right. Maybe I should have become an accountant.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Congressman I worked for rented part of a building on Main Street in Port Jefferson for his District Office. The Harbor was a five minute walk from the office. I used to walk down there to see the boats and the Ferry departing and arriving. I would stare at the rhythms of the water, feel my body sway to the movements, and wish for more moments of peace.

  I stood outside for a moment, inhaled the warm air, and walked into the office.

  Ennis found me immediately.

  “Mr. Ryle. It is twenty minutes past nine. Do you think General Eisenhower was twenty minutes late to D-Day?”

  I shrugged. “Eisenhower must have had a better watch than I do.”

  “Maybe not today, Mr. Ryle, but one day soon you will be spending your last day in this office.”

  It was time for me to surrender.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Ennis. It won’t happen again.” I had to talk that way to the Chief of Staff. Even the Congressman was scared of him. I think Ennis’ family greeted the Indians when they showed up on Long Island. His family was very rich and very powerful. I couldn’t afford to cross him. He didn’t need his job, but he liked the power. He magnified the power he had in real l
ife in his mind. He thought he controlled the world from Port Jefferson.

  “Just watch yourself,” he said.

  Ennis had gray hair cut so as to appear pasted to his head. Maybe he had smiled at his birth, but I doubt he ever did after that. I did my best to avoid talking to him at all, but you can’t avoid someone who’s in charge.

  “The Congressman is in his office. He is with Rabbi Benjamin London. Why they

  wanted you to be at the meeting exceeds my capacity to understand. You have kept the Congressman waiting. That is despicable.”

  “I’m on my way in,” I said.

  He turned his back to me.

  Congressman James Foster Miles was tall, with silver hair that was never out of place. I bet his ancestors had left footprints on Plymouth Rock. Those ancestors were, however, not very good at earning or keeping money. But they transmitted looks, a family name, and an enviable rolodex of contacts so that their descendant could be elected to Congress in the First Congressional District of New York, which covered both the North and South Forks all the way to Smithtown. The Congressman needed people to provide funds for his races. Compared to media-expensive cities, the First C.D. wasn’t the most expensive place to run for office. But you had to pay for ads in Newsday and rent a re-election headquarters, which in our case was a trailer around the corner from the District Office. Congressman Miles had to donate to people. He had to attend weddings, christenings, and bar mitzvahs. He had to give a lot to his church and to charities. He needed a place to live in Washington. It’s expensive to be a public servant. Of course you also get money that you wouldn’t otherwise have gotten. People invite you to Mets and Yankees games and never let you pay for a meal. Sometimes they bring briefcases which weigh a lot less on their way out. Sometimes you could get people jobs. It all balanced out in terms of money, and the power was intoxicating. They call Washington’s effect on people Potomac Fever. That’s a good expression. I even got caught up in it and was ashamed of some of what I had done.

  I was in the office to help the people who provided funds and anyone else the Congressman asked me to help. Technically I was a speechwriter, but I’ve never written a speech in my life. In private, I was known as a fixer, someone who removed problems. Your son got arrested, I took care of it. The arrest never shows up anywhere. You’re running for office and you need some extra money. I can do that. Of course I’ll come back to you later to ask for favors, but everyone knew the rules of the game.

  I walked into the office. I supposed that I was going to help a Rabbi although I wasn’t quite sure why a man of God would need me. Maybe he looked wrong at one of his congregants and they wanted to sue. Maybe it was worse.

  The Congressman waved hello as I walked inside. He introduced me to Rabbi London, who looked too thin and too pale. His body leaned forward. He was probably in his early fifties but could pass for twenty years older.

  The Rabbi and I shook hands, and I sat down.

  The Congressman had a sad face. I knew how to mimic the emotions of the people with whom I was talking. I got a sad face, though not as sad as the Rabbi’s which was sadder than the Congressman’s. What an odd trio we made.

  The Congressman cleared his throat.

  “I’m going to let the Rabbi explain, Danny. But let me preface what he has to say. The Rabbi and I have been close friends for twenty years. He came to see me when my mother died. Lots of people came to visit me, but Benny here was the only one who could see my soul and who gave me the comfort I needed to continue. Obviously, I wasn’t one of his congregant since he didn’t lead the Presbyterian church I attended. He read about mom’s death and on his own came to see me. I was a County Legislator then, and not his. I couldn’t do him any favors. So when the Rabbi asks for some help, I want to give it to him. And you’re the only one in this office who might be able to do what he needs.”

  “I’ll do what I can, Rabbi.”

  He coughed. Three times. He was striding quickly toward Death. I guess if anyone is ever prepared for that meeting, it would be a religious leader.

  “Thank you. What should I call you, Mr. Ryle?”

  “Danny will be fine. I’m going to call you Rabbi, though.”

  He tried to smile, but he couldn’t quite make it.

  “Jim, here,” he said pointing to the Congressman, “tells me you know your way around the County. I confess I asked about you. It turns out you have a mixed reputation, Danny. But everyone says if they were in trouble or needed some problem to go away you were the person to see.”

  “Mostly what I can do comes because I work for the Congressman. And because of my father. People think I can fix any problem. I’m more of a fixer-in-training.”

  “Your reputation is greater than your self-assessment, Danny.”

  “What’s your problem, Rabbi?”

  He shrugged. “Whatever problems I have won’t last long. I’m dying.”

  “I’m sorry.” I almost told him that death was a problem I couldn’t solve, but I kept quiet. I wasn’t sure how to talk to a Rabbi.

  “I’ve had a good life. A wife I only fight with once every couple of hours, two sons who take a few minutes out their lives to call me every couple of weeks, and three grandchildren. They are the ones I’ll miss. I read to them and I make them laugh. They make me laugh. That’s my advice to you, Danny. Have as many grandchildren as you can.”

  “I need to start by getting married,” I said.

  “That’s not very modern of you,” he said.

  I was surprised, but I laughed. He was pleased.

  I wanted him to get to his problem, but the talking was a kind of final prayer he was speaking, and I wasn’t going to stop him.

  “There is only one unresolved part of my life. Were you here in Suffolk County eighteen months ago, Danny?”

  I nodded. “I was, but I wasn’t working for the Congressman.”

  “Do you remember there was a murder near the Mall? A man was murdered in his home. The man was Gerald Siegel, the rabbi at Temple Gate of Hope which is in Lake Grove. I was the Assistant Rabbi then and I am now the Temple’s Senior Rabbi.”

  “I remember the murder vaguely, but I’m afraid the details have faded in my mind. I wasn’t paying much attention to the world then.”

  He nodded.

  “I think about it every day of my life, Danny. Sometimes every hour. The police never found the killer or killers. Gerry haunts me, Danny. He was seventy-one, quite a bit older than I am now. He didn’t look good at the end of his life. I’ve been thinking about it. Maybe he was in trouble, something I don’t know. A gambling problem perhaps. Or, God forbid, another woman, though that I refuse to believe. It’s impossible to believe anything bad about him, but then he was killed in cold blood. I feel as though I have somehow failed him. I failed to see if he had any problem. If he did have a problem, I failed to help him. I failed my congregation, failed my community, and failed my self. I dread the thought of dying with the murder still unsolved.”

  I moved around a bit in my seat.

  “The police in the County are and were very professional, Rabbi. A lot can happen in eighteen months. Witnesses die, move, or forget. Maybe you should trust the universe. Maybe the killer is locked up somewhere. Maybe the killer suffered and died the sort of death he deserved.”

  “Maybes don’t make for a satisfying meal, Danny.”

  He paused.

  “I was raised in a more traditional way than I now live. But I say all three daily prayer services. The Mourner’s Kaddish is mentioned in all three. It’s an odd prayer to say in memory of the dead. It’s in Aramaic and doesn’t mention death. It praises God and asks for peace. I keep saying it, but I have no peace.”

  He started coughing again.

  “Will you at least try, Danny? Will you try to find the killer?”

  I looked over at the Congressman. He gave a slight nod.

  “You understand I can’t make any promises.”

  “Oh, but you can. You can promise to g
ive me hope because that is exactly what you’ll be doing if you try.”

  “It would be my honor to help you find peace, Rabbi. With no promises I will set out and do my best.”

  The Rabbi took a cane which had been hanging on his chair. I hadn’t seen it. He stood up. The Congressman went over to see him.

  They hugged.

  I spoke up. “Before you go, Rabbi, do you have any suggestions?”

  “No. But come to me if someone at the Temple won’t talk to you.”

  The Congressman added, “And come to me if someone in law enforcement won’t talk to you.”

  I shook the Rabbi’s hand.

  He walked out.

  I turned to the Congressman.

  “Mr. Ennis will be furious, sir. You need everyone to help with the election. How do I divide my time?”

  “Danny, listen to me. If there is some political work you can do, sneak it in, but I want you to spend the next few weeks examining this murder. If you get no leads in that time, we’ll figure out where to go from here. Rabbi London is a good man on his way out of this vale of tears. If we can ease the passage, I want to do it.” He paused. “My wife likes him very much. You understand?”

  I nodded.

  “There will be expenses, Danny. I’ll work on that.”

  The Congressman paused.

  “There is one matter you can’t neglect, Danny. I found out today that Governor Alden will be speaking for me in a few weeks. I want you to coordinate with his security staff. I want him to be very happy when he’s here.”

  I had to be careful.

  “Congressman, we both know that Governor Alden is running for President in 1984. May I speak freely?”

  “Only in here, Danny.”

  I nodded. “You know I’ll do anything you want. I will coordinate with his staff. I will make his visit a pleasant one. But I don’t think he’s the kind of candidate you should be associated with. He demands total support whether he’s right or wrong. He’s a win-by-doing-whatever-you-have-to-do kind of guy. He destroys the lives of everyone who comes in contact with him. Too many people associated with him have discovered the shocking reality of being locked up. I don’t want you to get caught up in his world. He wants to win and if anybody stands in his way, he’s going to push the person overboard. Honestly, I don’t know how far he’ll go.”