Once Bitten, Twice Dead Read online

  “I just came from talking with Claire Jones about Ed not wanting to go to college.”

  “That was disappointing to me, also, but Ed never wavered about that. You didn’t argue with Ed once he made up his mind.”

  “Were there any problems with Ed, that you could tell me about?”

  “As I said, he was one of my best players. There were no problems with the actual playing of football. But there were other areas.”

  “Such as??”

  “Ed always stood up for what he believed in, and some of the players didn’t like that. Also Ed was a very serious person, and some of the jokesters on the team didn’t like that part.”

  “Who were these people?”

  “You know, let me look back in my records. I’ve been coaching here for over thirty years, and lately I can’t even remember some of the players I’ve had from three years ago.” Anderson opened his desk drawer and took out a huge scrapbook, with newspaper clippings falling out of it. He paged through it. “From the time I started here, I’ve always made notes when players have had conflicts with each other. Then each weekend I’d check my notes and the next week try to resolve some of these issues. There has to be harmony on a team. Besides for those young kids, learning to get along with each other is more important than winning football games.”

  He paused on a yellowed-out page. “I remember now. The two biggest enemies of Ed Butcher were my running back Craig DeLeon, and one of my defensive backs, Fred Jenkins.”

  “What were the exact problems?”

  “Jenkins was always a bad apple. He had so much violence in him, but when he turned it toward football, he could be a pretty good player. But the boy had trouble keeping anything inside himself, and of course with Ed being as principled as he was, both of them were bound to clash. And clash they did—I had to step in between them a number of times.

  “It was a different story with Craig DeLeon. He was a mild-mannered guy, but apparently both boys liked the same girl. Craig had told Ed to stay away from her, but of course Ed didn’t do that, and some of the hostility exploded onto the football field.”

  “Did it have to do with the girl that Ed eventually married, Larabella??”

  “No, that wasn’t the name. I forget her name, but I can tell you this: Craig eventually married her, and in fact is still married to her. I know all this because Craig owns a restaurant not too far from the school, and he constantly invites my wife and I to his place for complimentary dinners. A lot of my past players keep in touch. I had forgotten about his conflict with Ed Butcher until you brought up that name from the past. I do remember Craig, though, back then telling me he appreciated the talks I had with him because he said it stopped him from putting Ed Butcher in a grave.”

  “He said that?”

  “Those were his exact words. Craig was very possessive of that girl, and, like I said, after all they did get married. There must have been something strong there.”

  “You said Ed didn’t back away when DeLeon wanted him to?”

  “That’s right. So there must have been something strong between Ed and that girl also. Finally toward the end of football season Ed seemed to let go of the whole thing—I don’t know what happened—and Craig and his girlfriend went their merry way.”

  “How about this Fred Jenkins you mentioned?”

  “Fred’s trouble was mainly with himself. After high school he spent some time in prison. I know because I had to write a couple of letters, vouching for him. There weren’t too many good things I could think about him, but also I didn’t fell it would really help him to keep spending that time in jail, so I invented some good qualities for him in those letters. He had been in jail mostly because of bar fights. A couple of times he injured the other person pretty badly. Fred was a pretty big guy, who at times didn’t know his own strength.

  “I had to go to one of his parole hearings to try to give a positive slant on the guy. Soon after that, he did get out, and I think he stayed out; but I did lose touch with him. But Detective Stolle, all those conflicts happened many years ago. You don’t think DeLeon or Jenkins had anything to do with Butcher’s murder, do you?”

  “I’m checking all angles. Thanks for your information.”

  As it turned out, Jenkins was easier to get to see than DeLeon. The couple times I called the restaurant, the curt voice at the other end simply said that Mr. DeLeon was “out,” and when I asked when he would be back, I got a hang-up. In contrast, Mr. Jenkins was always “in.” Contrary to what Coach Anderson thought, Fred Jenkins had not stayed out of prison. In fact he was currently in Graterford State Prison just outside of Philly. Police records indicated that Fred as an adult was doing the same thing he was doing in high school—brawling. This time he had a gun and the other person was wounded. The incident happened a month ago. Checking back into the records, I found that during the time Butcher was killed Jenkins was not in prison. In fact, since high school this current incarceration was only Jenkins’ third. However, the “assault with a deadly weapon” was a serious charge, and Fred Jenkins now had a secure home for awhile behind bars.

  Coach Anderson had said Jenkins was a big guy, and when he stood up as I entered his cell he towered over me. It was intimidating to be in such a small space with such a big guy. The scars on his face didn’t help relax me either. To regain my composure I asked him to sit while I stood. To my surprise, he did as I asked.

  I quickly explained why I was paying him a visit. After my recitation, Jenkins’ first words were, “I’m glad that asshole’s dead. He constantly gave me trouble on the team.”

  “The way Coach Anderson tells it, it was you who gave Butcher trouble.”

  “Ed Butcher was one sneaky bastard. He’d goad me, and then when I’d defend my honor the Coach would catch us, and I’d look like the aggressor. The truth is I never started any of the fights.”

  “But you finished them?”

  “You bet your ass. I never walked away from a fight.”

  “And I guess that’s why you now have this nice comfortable jail cell.”

  “Rub it in, why don’t you. I know I was stupid. I was drunk, but I never should have pulled that gun. I carried it just to scare people I’d never fired it since I bought it two years ago, and when I took it out of my pocket I guess I pressed too hard on the trigger, and the gun went off. I shot the other guy in the leg. I wasn’t even hardly pointing the thing at him.”

  “Of course that’s the story you told the Judge to try to get yourself off.”

  “I didn’t tell the Judge any story. I just pleaded Guilty. I’ve always been able to take my punishment.”

  “How about Ed Butcher? Did you give him his punishment??”

  Jenkins got a good laugh at that one. “Why in the hell would I kill the guy?”

  “You didn’t seem to grieve too much when I told you he was dead. Also you had constant fights with him when you were on the football team.”

  “That was in high school. I may still not be very mature, but at least I’ve progressed from the child I used to be then. All that stuff was a long time ago—in the way back past. My temper does get out of control at times, but I’m not a killer. I’ve never even seen Ed Butcher since high school. I’m stupid, but I’m not crazy. I wouldn’t just go kill a guy for no reason. I react only when people provoke me. After I react, I forget about it.”

  As I walked away from the grey walls of Graterford Prison, I had to admit Fred did have a point. He seemed to have no current motive for doing away with Ed Butcher, and at least on the surface he didn’t seem crazy. Soon, however, I did find someone with a motive.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Craig DeLeon’s restaurant was in the western suburbs of Philly, in Downingtown, Pa. The place was surrounded by an entire forest of trees and appropriately named The Woods. There was a circular porch for outdoor dining, and three spacious rooms inside.

  When I arrived there, even though the dinner hour had just begun the place was full, with people waitin
g in the lobby to be seated. It seemed that Mr. DeLeon was doing well for himself.

  A very attractive blonde hostess escorted me back to DeLeon’s office.

  “Thank you, Julie,” the handsome man behind the desk said. DeLeon looked like he worked out thus matching my “strong person needed to stick cleaver into brain” theory. However, in contrast to Fred Jenkins, DeLeon was quite striking, almost like a leading man movie star. His face resembled one of those Roman statues decorating the outside of arenas. His hair was beginning to turn into older age, but there was enough dark in it to give him a kind of dashing appearance—a man of the world. He wasn’t my type. I think I go more for the quirky looking guys.

  DeLeon rose, gave me a hug, and held on just a bit too long for my comfort.

  “I’m glad you called, Detective, I did remember Ed from school, and just recently he gave me more cause to remember him.” DeLeon’s pleasant face turned into a series of lines to announce his scowl.”

  “What was that recent experience with him, Mr. DeLeon?”

  The scowl deepened into a furrow. “He tried to take my wife away from me.”

  I didn’t know quite what to say, so I kept silent. I figured he would supply me with the story.

  DeLeon continued: “Ed was the same person he was in high school. He still wanted Julie.”

  Julie? That was the name of the hostess who walked me here. But she looked ten years younger than DeLeon. I guessed that Julie was a catch who was still drinking the waters from the fountain of youth. I could see the stimulus for Ed Butcher, but that didn’t mean you had to try to steal another man’s wife.

  “What exactly happened, Mr. DeLeon?”

  “I’ll let Julie tell it. I’ll go get her.”

  When they came back, DeLeon was in front, leading his wife by the hand—I was reminded of a dog on a leash. Julie, though, looked sadder than my dog, Damn.

  “Tell Detective Stolle about Ed Butcher, Honey.”

  Julie turned red. Apparently her husband had not warned her that she was to perform.

  “I. . .uh. . .he came on to me.”

  I tried to help her recitation. “Where was this?”

  “I stopped for a drink with a couple of my girlfriends, and Ed was in the same bar. Maybe he was stalking me, but I don’t think so. He did seem surprised to see me. He came over, made small talk for a few minutes, and then asked me out. He didn’t try to hide the ring on his finger.” She glanced at DeLeon. “He wouldn’t leave—I had to push him away.”

  Julie’s words were convincing as far as the words themselves went, but there was a certain tone to her voice when she talked about Ed Butcher that told me that possibly there wasn’t a “pushing away.” Sometimes high school romances die hard.

  “So Mrs. DeLeon, after this happened, you told your husband about it?”

  “Not exactly.”

  DeLeon interrupted. “She didn’t have to because the next day I caught that bum Butcher sitting in his car across the street from our house. I didn’t know who it was so I went over to the car and saw it was my old friend from the football team. And then the bastard had the audacity to say he wanted to talk to Julie.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him if I ever saw him talking to my wife, I’d break his neck.”

  “Craig!” Julie’s reaction told me that he husband hadn’t told her the details of the confrontation. She then started to defend the now dead man. “He didn’t mean anything by it—he was just flirting. He hadn’t seen me for a long time, and we were just talking in the bar. He just got too friendly.”

  DeLeon ignored her comment. “When I told Julie that Butcher was watching our house from across the street, she told me about the bar incident.”

  “I would have told you the night before, but I didn’t think it meant anything.”

  My devious brain was whirring. Had Julie and Ed Butcher been planning to eventually meet, and would Julie have ever told her husband about the bar incident if Craig hadn’t caught good old Ed in that car the next day? For all I knew, maybe Ed and Julie had carried on an affair, and Craig had caught them at it, and thus ended Ed’s living moments. Even now, Craig still seemed upset about Julie’s connection to Butcher. Possibly thirty years hadn’t changed things. A motive was trying to sneak out of the bushes.

  “Did you know, Mr. DeLeon that Ed Butcher was murdered a few months ago?”

  “I did read about it in the local paper. I felt sorry for his wife and son.”

  “How about for Mr. Butcher, himself?? Did you feel sorry for him? After all, he was the dead one.”

  “The guy was a philanderer in high school, and apparently right before his death he still was one. The world is better off with him gone.”

  I thought to myself what Craig meant was that he and Julie were better off with Ed dead. No more worries about his wife drifting away from him.

  DeLeon turned to his wife. “That’s all, Julie. You can go back to work now.”

  DeLeon seemed to treat his wife just like ordinary help. He always seemed to have to be the boss. Of course I was forming my suspicions of him purely out of my own brain. There had not been one shred of evidence that tied DeLeon to Butcher’s murder. However, now I was going to keep an eye on Mr. Craig DeLeon.

  I did ask him where he was on the morning that Butcher was murdered.

  He gave me a Hollywood smile. “You better tell me the exact date and time—I don’t really remember those details from the newspaper.”

  When I told him, he pulled out a schedule. “I was in town during that time still overseeing the restaurant—sometimes I do make business trips in this eastern area. But at that early hour, I probably was still sleeping. Julie could verify that.”

  I was sure Julie would verify anything her “beloved” wanted her to, especially if she thought her husband had killed her would-be lover. Julie did seem somewhat afraid of Craig. There had been no prints on the cleaver that killed Butcher, and all the other prints found in that room were either Butcher’s or his hired help. Apparently the killer had come in wearing gloves, taken a hefty chop, and departed. Until I could put Craig DeLeon into that meat room, all I had was a theory. But it was more than I had a few days ago. Eventually I wanted to get Julie alone to see if her husband was in bed that morning. That, though, might take some doing because Craig did seem to be keeping her on that short leash. As I left, he came to the door of his office and watched me walk out. That “alone time” with Julie would have to wait.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  My brother Mark’s advice to look more closely at Ed Butcher himself already had opened up some new areas. So I continued to follow that advice by now researching Butcher’s business activities. I discovered that Ed’s entrepreneurial dealings were not always that friendly. Two such examples stood out.

  The first involved Ed’s local meat distributor, Regal Foods. I interviewed Pete Manheim, the manager in his “office,” located in a corner of the plant, where we were surrounded by hunks of beef hanging from huge hooks. There was a chair for him and a chair for me, and that was it. I felt like I was now in an episode of “Rocky.” I hope Pete wouldn’t suddenly get up and start punching the hanging slabs.

  Pete himself, though, was not pulling any punches. “The cops never even checked with me—you’re the first one—so I didn’t tell anybody what I’m telling you now. Now that that shit Ed is dead, I can reveal this. You don’t have to tell his wife this because maybe she still thinks highly of him, and we shouldn’t really speak ill of the dead, but I’m so pissed about it that I have to tell someone.

  “Ed had been doing business with us for eight years with no trouble. But then about a year ago, with business hurting in the whole country, Ed decided to make himself a little discount.”

  “Discount?”

  “That’s what he called it. He said he’d pay me 20% less than we’d been charging him.”

  “That’s quite a drop. Did you agree to it?”

  “I did.”
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  “Why?”

  “Sometimes I would drop over to Ed’s market and we’d shoot the breeze. He was an interesting person to talk to—he always had some new jokes or a colorful story. Well, one day I’m in there, and Ed pulls out a little baggie with white powder in it. I didn’t have to be a genius to know what it was.

  “Ed slaps it on the table and says, ‘Go ahead. Be my guest.’ I was totally surprised: Ed had never done anything like that before—he just didn’t seem like a user. However, I was never one to refuse a gift. So I did a little snorting, and the next hour passed very quickly. Just as I was leaving Ed said, ‘Oh, by the way, I have something to show you.’

  “He went to a back air vent and took out a tiny box. It was a camera. ‘There’s a film I thought you’d like to see,’ Ed said. And there I was inhaling my brains out. He had positioned the camera just right so he wasn’t seen at all. It was just me doing drugs.

  “That’s when he proposed the discount, or a copy of the film would be sent to my supervisor. I wanted to grab the film away from him, but Ed’s a big guy—and I go at the most 150 pounds, soaking wet. So for this last year I was charging Ed his ‘discount.’ I’ve juggled the books so my boss doesn’t see the loss.”

  I said the obvious. “Ed’s death, then, for you was quite a happy event, wasn’t it?”

  “I didn’t shed any tears.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  “I wanted to, but about two years ago my wife got into this New Age Christian stuff, and I did accept it. I’m not a perfect guy. I do drugs occasionally and go beyond other boundaries, but murder is a definite no, no. If I did that, I would never be saved. Also I figured if Ed would go to all that trouble to set me up like that, the guy probably was not very honest with other things in his life. I thought he’d eventually make a misstep and cross someone with less of a conscience than me. And I think that’s what happened. Ed pushed someone too hard and got paid back. But it wasn’t me who did it.”

  I don’t know if I believed Manheim one hundred per cent, so I kept him on my suspect list. Maybe the guy did get some religion a few years back. Condemnation to Hell can be persuasive.