DIRTBAG CHAPTER 24

    Strange circumstance: the Junk Yard Dogs were not registered with any law enforcement agency in America, or Europe, the article on them has disappeared from view.  Lan was able to trace it back to Mike Aaron, but he denies setting up the website and he’s no web master.  Although they can prove the address for the web site originated on his computer and the jacket with Cecil’s blood on it was found in his crawl space, Cecil still had some lingering questions: Why did they find a Suzuki motorcycle in his garage and not a Harley, like he saw the Junk Yard Dogs riding?  What if the motor cycle gang was a front?  A deception, a way to lure him to Half Moon Bay where they abducted him?  It would explain why the motorcyclist suddenly appeared on the scene when he was in the tattoo shop.  What if it was all an act, the jackets, just costumes?  And on the night of his abduction, they used Nigel Mann to lure Cecil back to the cafe, staged an incident to draw attention to himself, only they lost control of Mann; he tried to get away from them, the same men who got Cecil and took a piece of his skin.  Who were they?  Weiss?  The men in black, could they be for real?
    If the Junk Yard Dogs never existed, then Mike Aaron, the man Lan and Stuart arrested in Daly City, who admitted being a member of the gang was lying.  Who was he covering for and why?
    Thinking back over the evidence, he remembered the runes, the whole magical element to the crime, combined with Nazi insignia: the Totenkopf and the swastika.  If they weren’t related to the biker gang, then who?  Then he remembered something they found in Nigel’s apartment, a torn poster: one corner of it.
    He talked on the phone with the lab that was working on that piece of evidence and made an interesting discovery.



    Armed with this new information, Cecil waited for Lan to get off the phone, so he could speak with him, then he asked Stuart for a moment of her time and they were both looking at him.
    He said, “As you know, I can’t leave the station, so I need your help.  This criminal organization that we’re up against, that apparently was responsible for my abduction, was also responsible for the double homicide and Nigel’s murder, making it look like a suicide-”
    “No,” said Lan, “the note was authenticated, no evidence of foul play.  And we’re not supposed to be talking about this case any longer.”
    “Wait Lan, just indulge me for a moment, to see if I can’t convince you-”
    “We’ve already been through this.”
    “The distance the body fell was too short to break his neck.”
    They couldn’t argue with that, but they still weren’t convinced.
    “All right,” Cecil said, “what we have to consider here is… the facts that don’t add up with the official theory: 1. If Nigel Mann was trying to hide evidence, then why dump one body in the ocean and leave the other body in the basement to be found?  If he was acting alone, then why leave his car in the driveway-”
    “He may have used his car to move the first body, but was too late in coming back to move the second body.”
    “You think he couldn’t get a second body in the trunk of a Ford Fairlane.  There was plenty of room, I checked.  But there’s more.”
    Lan sunk into himself, crestfallen…
    “Recently,” Cecil said, “I discovered something new: remember that poster fragment you found in Nigel Mann’s apartment in San Jose, well, it turns out to be Masonic in origin: the Masonic eye and a picture of Benjamin Franklin and the Masonic credo, to believe in God, so I checked with a number of lodges in the area, getting a court order to obtain their membership lists and guess whose names are on it: Nigel Mann and not only him, but Dan Murdock and Gerard Donaldson too.”
    “So,” Stuart said, “the Junk Yard Dogs were really Masons?”
    “They no doubt invented the motorcycle club as a ruse, a way to throw us off the scent and prevent us from getting the true bad guys.”
    Lan nodded, thinking the point Cecil made was valid.  That was strong circumstantial evidence he found hard to ignore.  “Still…”  He had his reservations.  “That certainly doesn’t prove Nigel had any help.”
    “Consider the possibility that this murder is part of a larger conspiracy,” Cecil said, “now that we know Nigel Mann was a Mason.  We need to take a closer look at them, beginning with this Masonic lodge, where Nigel was a member.”
    Deep in thought, Lan remained noncommittal, “I hope you’re not planning on breaking any laws.”
    “It’s a promise.”
    Lan had to admit, Cecil had an amazing track record for solving cases.  But were they with him?
     “We can trust Elaine,” Stuart said, “we-”
    “No,” Cecil said.  “She’s dead set against me, I can tell.  She won’t even hear my ideas, she doesn’t want to listen to reason, or even consider new evidence, so we may have to go against Elaine and disobey a direct order and God knows… I’d be the last one to advise you to do that, but in this case it may be necessary to convince her she’s wrong.  Will you help me?  I need you on my side.”
    For a moment, Lan’s stoic face was unmoving as stone, and yet, the lead detective’s words reached him and he nodded his head in agreement.
    Cecil had him and Stuart too, they were both with him on this.  “Great, let’s crack this case wide open,” he said, eager to get things rolling, “We’ll need to speak with Mike Aaron; he has a connection to Nigel Mann and the Junk Yard Dogs; we need to find out if he’s a Mason.  I’ll look into that myself.  I want you to bring in Gerard Donaldson for questioning.”


    Donaldson was just coming home from work, when Lan and Stuart pulled in behind him, blocking his rear end.  They got out of their car, displaying their badges.
    “What’s this about?”  Donaldson asked, closing the door to his black Lexus.
    Lan said, “Mr. Donaldson, we need to speak with you.  Would you mind coming with us?” …indicating the back seat of his unmarked car, even opening the door for him.
    Bewildered, Gerard said, “Sure,” and went along for the ride.

    At the drug rehab clinic, Woodman looked around as if he wanted to make sure he was alone, then he opened his locker and pulled out a packet of white powder he was hiding in a gap between the metal surfaces.  He snorted some of it and dabbed a finger full around the gums.
    He closed the locker and a black security guard was standing behind it and his big goon was standing in back of Woodman, while the smart guy was getting in his face, “I get you the product, but your’e not coming through with the money.  Now I expect to be paid Mr. Wood-man.  A lot of people are counting on me.  I’m part of a whole organization and I can’t let them down, which means you gotta pay.”
    Woodman smiled and chuckled nervously, “Of course, I’ll have your money by tomorrow.”
    He punches the cop in the gut.  “Not soon enough.”
    Woodman slammed his back against the locker and held  him there until the other security guard pulled out his taser and gave Woodman 50 thousand volts.  He collapsed in a heap on the floor.
    “Lets get him back to his room.”  The security guard said.
    Meanwhile, Carlos was in a counseling appointment at the same facility with a female counselor he found attractive.
    He was talking about the sexual urge being intensified by the drug: cocaine and he said, “I mean, this society is so repressive, people need drugs to break out of their shell.”
    She thought that was interesting and waited to hear more.
    “I bet you’re repressed in ways you wish you had the freedom to express yourself.”
    He caught her in a rare mood and his words were reaching her inhibitions and setting them free.
    “If I were to come over there and rub myself up against you, I would be crossing a line, but something tells me, you wouldn’t mind so much Angela.”
    Angela didn’t say anything, but she did smile and that smile spoke volumes.

    Back at the station, Gerard Donaldson was getting fidgety, waiting in the interrogation room for Cecil to wonder in when he felt like it.  For Gerard, time was money and time was being wasted.  The detective finally entered the room carrying something in his hand he showed Gerard.
    His tired resentful eyes said, why are you showing me this?
    A torn piece of cloth that was used as a runic talisman was in a clear bag and Gerard had no reaction.  Perhaps he had no connection to it, Cecil wasn’t sure.
    “What do you know about this?”  Cecil asked him.
    Gerard said, “Nothing, really.”  He pushed it away.
    “You know where this was found?”  Cecil asked, “In a basement where those two girls lost their lives, one of the girls had these figures carved into her face.  Now start talking!”
    After some consideration, Gerard said, “I’ve never seen it before in my life.” He was serious and Cecil knew it.  The detective ran his fingers through his thinning hair, then said, “We know you’re into magic.  Dan was into the runes, wasn’t he?”
    He shrugged.  “I don’t know about Dan, but as for myself…”
    Cecil pounded the table top and shouted, “Tell me the truth.  You practice magic just like Dan and you were there that night, the night those two girls died in Nigel’s basement.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    The two men stared intently at each other, neither one blinking first.  Maybe Gerard was telling the truth, then again, maybe not.
    Cecil said, “Tell me your shoe size?”
    “Why?”
    “What’s your shoe size?”  Cecil screamed.
    “Ten and a half,” he said perplexed.
    Too big to fit in a size 9 shoe.  Maybe he didn’t kill those two girls.  Still, Cecil had a feeling he knew something.  After all, Nigel was a Mason and so was Gerard.
    “You belong to the same lodge as Nigel Mann and Dan Murdock.  Now don’t sit there and play innocent.  I know you know something.  Tell me what it is.”
    Gerard had nothing to say.
    Cecil decided it was time to turn up the pressure and let the suspect sit for a while, thinking about how much “time is money” he was wasting by not saying anything.  He left Gerard sitting in an interview room, pursing his lips in anger.
    He had a strong urge to tell the detective to wait, but he resisted that urge and the door closed.  Feeling weak, he was ready to cave and tell them everything he knew.



 Copyright 2016  William Leslie