The Case of The Deliquent Dad

The Case of the Delinquent Dad

         The box squawked noisily as the attendant asked, “May I have your order please?”

          “Sure,” Spam replied, “give me two of the foot-long chili coneys, a cheeseburger and a couple of cokes.”

         Spam loved those chili coneys. He’d rather have a chili coney than a fifty dollar cut of steak. Cassidy just smiled at Spam. She was well aware of his weakness, and secretly mused that if she ever had to identify Spam’s body, she could do it from the chili stains on his ties. Sitting in the Derby Drive-In and waiting on chili coneys was Spam’s idea of dinner after work. Spam turned the radio on and listened to Bobby Darin belt out “Beyond the Sea.” It didn’t get much better than that as far as Spam was concerned.

         The car-hop approached the car. She placed the tray on the partially raised window and smiled as she said, “That’ll be $2.35 please.”

          “Sure,” Spam nodded as he retrieved his prized coneys and handed her three dollars. “Keep the change.”

          “Thanks,” the car-hop shot back. “You’re Spam Hummer; aren’t you?”

         Spam looked closely at the young girl. She was about seventeen with beautiful auburn hair that bounced around her shoulder. He suspected that there were scores of seventeen year-old boys whose hearts and hormones were infatuated with this young beauty.

          “Do I know you?” Spam questioned.

         Cassidy smiled and kidded, “Spam, shame on you. You could go to jail for this.”

         Spam shot Cassidy an annoying glance and waited for the young girl to answer.

          “No, sir, you don’t know me. But I know who you are. You’re a private-eye. Georgia says you come in here all the time. She’s got a crush on you. She says you’ve got a big gun.” The young girl smiled. Cassidy chuckled.

         Ignoring the crude innuendo, Spam frowned and replied, “Georgia needs to stick with the guys in school. I’m only interested in coneys.”

          “Is it true? Are you really a private-eye?” the car-hop persisted.

          “Yeah, it’s true. Now let me eat my coneys.” Spam considered the conversation over and began to unwrap the first coney.

          “I could use a good private-eye. Are you any good?” the car-hop waited for Spam to reply and when he didn’t she leaned down and spoke to Cassidy across Spam on the passenger side. “Is he any good?”

         Cassidy grinned, “He ain’t bad.”

          “Is he for sale?” the car-hop queried.

          “He can’t be bought, but you can hire him if you need him,” Cassidy shot back.

          “How much does he cost?”

          “That depends on what you need”

         Exasperated, Spam spoke with his mouth full of coney, “Hey, I’m sitting right here. Cass, I can do my own deals. And Miss, you can’t afford me. Anyway, what in the world do you need a private-eye for? What’s your name?”

          “My name is Stacey Stone, and I’ll tell you tomorrow what I need you for. Is it alright for me to come by your office?”

          “Stacey, you come by around ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Spam’ll see you then.” Cass chimed in as she winked at Spam as he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

         Stacey smiled, nodded, and walked back to the pick-up station. Spam turned and spoke to Cass, “Why do you do that? You know that it’s a waste of time. What in the world does a seventeen year-old girl need a private-eye for?”

          “Give her a chance, Spam. You never know; she may be the daughter of an oil tycoon. What’s it hurt to hear what she has to say.”

          “Sure, Cass,” Spam snickered, “I’ll listen—if she shows up.”

****************

         It was a relatively uneventful morning. Cassidy sat dutifully at her desk shuffling and dealing with the piles of papers that were totally a mystery to Spam. He intended to keep it that way. Spam wandered in and out of the office for a number of reasons, none of them very important. However, at ten o’clock he made it a point to be in his office. He looked at his watch as it ticked off on the hour. Right on cue, the door to his office opened and Stacey stepped in. It was as if she had been waiting in the hall outside of the office for the precise second to make her entrance.

          “Well, she’s punctual,” Spam thought.

          “Good mornin’ Mr. Hummer--Bet’ya thought I wasn’t going to show. Well here I am. I’m serious about hiring you. I need a good detective.” Stacey began talking the moment she walked through the door; it was as if she didn’t want to give Spam a chance to change her mind.

          “I’m ready to tell you what I need if you’re ready to listen,” Stacey continued.

          “Doll, I’m all yours. What is it you think I can do for you?” Spam questioned.

         Stacey Stone wore a simple blue, floral, cotton dress that buttoned down the front. Her hair was pulled back in a pony-tail, and she wore only enough make-up to accent her natural beauty. She carried herself with an air of confidence that was unusual for a teen-ager. Perhaps she was a little too serious. Spam concluded that this young woman had experienced some of the harsher realities of life that had stolen some of the carefree spirit of youth.

          “Mr. Hummer, the man that my mother is married to is not my father. I was nine years-old when my father left me. I remember him well. He loved me and told me so often. He called me Pumpkin. We lived in Chicago then. I don’t remember much about him other than the fact that he always smiled at me, and he had a habit of brushing my hair out of my face. I came home one day, and he was not there. The last time I saw him was at breakfast of that morning. My mother said that he left us because he didn’t love us. I don’t believe that Mr. Hummer. I want you to find my dad. I’ve saved five-hundred dollars from my job at the drive-in. I want to use it to find my dad.”

          “Stacey, darlin’, you realize that your mom may be right,” Spam spoke slowly, not wanting to be too aggressive as he pursued the reality and harshness of life.

          “She’s not, Mr. Hummer.” Stacey spoke with conviction, expecting Spam’s response. “My dad loved me. I know that I’m just a kid, but I know genuine love. The love my dad gave me is the only love that I’ve ever had. My mom has never loved me like that, and that’s certainly not what I get from Rob, her boyfriend…I guess I should say her husband.”

          “Has he abused you, Stacey?”

          “No, but I don’t like the way he looks at me.”

          “OK, Stacey, I’ll see what I can do. What can you tell me about your dad?”

         Stacey pulled an old photograph out of her purse and handed it to Spam. “This is a picture of me and my dad.”

         Spam glanced at the photo. He saw a nine-year-old girl with pudgy cheeks. She stood with a handsome man who was smiling and resembled the young woman who sat in front of him at that moment. He was holding the child’s hand; and she was looking at her father. They wore carbon-copy smiles.

          “His name is Jack—Jack Stone. All I know is that he worked in the bank. I remember him telling me about all the money there and how people trusted him with their money.”

         Cassidy set her papers aside and listened to the young girl while she told her story. Spam glanced to Cassidy; she smiled and nodded her head. Cassidy was pleased that he had taken the case. She had good judgment and would do some of the research that was needed on a case like this.

          “Hold on to your money until I see what I can find. Leave your address and phone number with Cass and I’ll get back with you as soon as I’ve got something for you.”

         Cass placed a pen and paper on her desk and motioned for Stacey to use them. Stacey dutifully jotted down her information.

          “I’ve got to get back to school, now,” she said as she finished writing. “I told them I had to do something for my mom this morning. If I don’t get back soon they will be calling my mom.”

          “One thing, Stacey,” Cassidy spoke as Stacey was walking to the door, “how long has your mom been married to her husband?”

          “His full name is Rob Dixon; he has lived with us for eight years. They got married a couple of years ago. I don’t know why. I do know that she is not his only girlfriend. The guy’s a leach. He’s hit on all of my girlfriends. I don’t understand why she stays with him, much less marry him. I gotta go.” With that parting comment Stacey smiled one last time and then opened and walked out of the door, closing it behind her.

         Almost immediately, Spam was out of his seat. He strapped the shoulder holster on, put his 45 into place, and put his dress coat on, adjusting the fit so that the gun rode securely on the side of his chest. He doubted that he needed the gun, but he felt undressed without it.

          “I’m gonna' pay Dave Frisco a visit, Cass. I’m interested in what the cops have on Jack Stone, and maybe I’ll check out Mr. Dixon also.” Cassidy was jotting down some notes as Spam readied himself to leave. “I want you to contact the banks in Chicago. Try to find if they ever hired a Jack Stone. Call all of them if you have to. Tell them you are with the Bank Examiner’s office; they’ll listen then.”

         Before leaving, Spam poured a cup of coffee into a paper cup and grabbed a jelly donut in a napkin. It was the last donut in the box. He was glad that he was going over to Dave’s; the cops always had donuts.

*************************

         Dave Frisco grinned at his friend as Spam walked into his office. “I see you found the coffee pot and the donuts. Did ya’ get the last jelly? I hope not. I’ve had my eye on it all mornin’.”

          “Oops, sorry Dave,” Spam handed the jelly donut with a bite out of it toward Dave. “You want the rest of it?”

          “I don’t think so. I’d probably catch some private-eye disease—think I was smarter than the rest of the world, do every thing my way, sleep in until ten every morning, eat all the jelly donuts--Naw, don’t think I could live with that.”

         Spam shook his head, “Since when did cops become comedians?”

          “I thought that was always the case, folks have poked fun at us for years. We just haven’t gotten paid for it. What brings you down here Spam?” Dave sat back in his chair and turned his attention to Spam. The joking was over; he knew Spam had business with him. Spam never called socially at the office; he saved that for Jocko’s.

          “Dave, I need to find out what you’ve got on a couple of guys. One is Jack Stone. He lived in Chicago eight years ago; don’t know where he is now. I’d kinda' like to find him. The other guy is a real sleaze by the name of Rob Dixon. Can you run those two through the channels?”

         Dave nodded and added, “I need a reason. Can’t just have citizens checking up on law abiding folks just for the fun of it. What do I put on the line for a reason?”

          “Try ‘assault of a police officer’ that always gets special attention,” Spam smiled at Dave.

          “Is there any truth in that or am I fabricating a charge here?” Dave raised his eyebrows as he punched the intercom on his phone.

          “It could happen,” returned Spam as Dave’s secretary came on the intercom.

          “Yes, boss?”

          “Cynthia, I want you to run a warrants on a couple of names—Jack Stone and Rob Dixon. Run them both locally and in the Chicago area. Get back to me as soon as you know anything.”

          “Right, boss, I’ll get right on it.”

          “Thanks, Dave, I’ll be back at the office. Let me know when you get some information. If I don’t hear from you sooner, I’ll talk to you tonight at Jocko’s.” Spam waved to his friend and left him to handle the ever pressing business of running the squad. Dave acknowledged with a nod and turned to his paperwork.

****************

         Spam closed the door behind him and shed his coat with one motion. He haphazardly hung the coat on the coat-rack. Cassidy would straighten it shortly. It took a major effort to keep Spam looking fresh and crisp rather than worn and wrinkled. She gave up on expecting Spam to do it himself. In fact, she doubted if he even knew the difference. Spam walked to his desk and plopped down into the chair. He loosened his tie, rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath. He glanced over at Cassidy and noticed she was smiling broadly at him.

          “What?” he asked suspicious of her smile.

          “I did good, Spam. Wait till I tell you what I found. You just wait till I tell you, you won’t believe it.” Cassidy rattled off and then sat anticipating Spam’s response.

         She was such a child sometimes. He was keenly aware that she wanted him to be proud of her. Cassidy had been new at the world of the private-eye when she came to work for him. Not everybody could put up with this line of work, much less put up with Spam. But, Cassidy had taken to it like a duck to water; she really was very good.

          “Well, Doll, I guess I’ll never know if you don’t tell me, will I?” Spam grinned and invited Cassidy to enlighten him.

          “Nope, I guess you won’t. Well, here’s what I found out. I called all the banks in downtown Chicago like you said. I told them that I was with the bank examiner, just like you said. I told them that they were in deep trouble if I didn’t get some answers fast. It works Spam. I was amazed. Those folks just started to yes ma’aming me like crazy. When I talked to the Chicago Bank and Trust, I hit pay-dirt. Just wait till I tell you what I found. I couldn’t believe it. Just wait till….”

          “Cassidy! Tell me for Christ’s sake!”

          “Oh, OK, well I asked about Jack Stone. Seems as if Stacey has her fact straight. Her dad was a loan officer at the bank eight years ago. They called him a thief, Spam. It seems that Stacey’s dad misappropriated $50,000 of bank funds. He was convicted and sent to prison. The guy I talked to was a vice-president and testified at his trial. Spam, Stacey’s dad didn’t walk out on her; he was locked up and the key was thrown away.”

         Cassidy paused to let the information sink in. Spam nodded at the information and noticed that she was still smiling. She wasn’t finished.

          “What else have you got, Cass?”

          “Well, it seems that leach, Rob Dixon, is a very influential leach. He was Jack Stone’s boss at the time the money turned up missing.” Cassidy paused again.

          “Go on, Cass.” Spam prompted, noticing that she really was quite pleased with herself.

         “Well, after I found this information, I didn’t stop calling the banks. I kept on calling them asking about Jack Stone and Rob Dixon. Only Chicago Bank and Trust had any knowledge of Jack Stone. But, here’s the interesting part, three other banks had hired Rob Dixon. Seems the sleaze-ball Dixon has worked in upper management of at least four Chicago Banks in the last eight years. And, Spam, three of the banks have reported theft of large sums of money by employees. Now, I’d say that’s a little suspicious.”

          “Cass, darling, I’d say you are right.” Spam agreed. “I think I need to have another talk with Dave.”

         Spam picked up the phone and dialed the police department.

         “Hey, Dave, Spam here.....Sure, I can take down some information. But, what I called for was to have you check something out. I think we have the wrong man serving time in prison.....Sure, go ahead and give me what you’ve got and then I’ll tell you what I need you to do for me.....Yeah, I’ve got a pencil, fire.”

         Spam wrote the details given by Dave Frisco. Cassidy watched in interest, catching a piece of information or two. She knew he would tell her as soon as he hung up so she tried to busy herself with other chores as he continued the conversation.

          “…is that it, Dave?.....Thanks, Dave; now here’s what I need you to do. Check the banks to see if anyone had a $50,000 cash deposit within six months from the time Jack Stone was sent up. I’m bettin' there will be. And I think I know who it will be.....I’ll tell you later. Just get the names for me, if there are any….thanks Dave,”

****************

         Spam pulled up to the Gates of Dentonville State Penitentary. The Guard checked the name on his driver’s license with the list at the gate for perosnel authorized to enter the prison. Sam was friends with the warden, Jerry Ford. Years ago they had served on the force together. Both men had left the police force and entered associated fields. Sam was calling in a favor.

         He parked his car in the administration lot and entered the doors of the reception area. His friend met him at the front doors. Jerry greeted his old friend, but was not all smiles.

          “Spam, I’m bending the rules by letting you see one of our inmates. Since this is not according to normal procedures, I’m having Stone brought to my office. I’ll give you thirty minutes with him, that’s all.”

          “That’s good enough, Jerry. I won’t forget this” Spam added trying to be as sincere as he could be.

          “I will, Spam. This evens it with us. From now on, no favors”

         The two men entered the warden’s office. There they found two prison guards and an inmate. Jack Stone was in handcuffs and sitting in a chair in front of the warden’s desk.

          “We’ve got to be in here with you, Spam. Your times running.”

         “Thanks, Jerry.” Spam turned his attention to Jack Stone. “Stone, I’ve met your daughter recently.”

         All pretense was dropped at the mention of his daughter. “Stacey? You’ve met Stacey? My, God, how is she?”

         Spam pulled a photo out of his inside pocket and handed to one of the guards who in turn held it for the prisoner to see. Spam noticed tears immediately filling the man’s eyes.

          “It’s been eight years since I’ve seen her. My God, she’s beautiful. She never returned any of my letters. She must hate me now. How do you know Stacey, Mister?”

         Spam chose his words carefully; he only had thirty minutes. “My name’s Hummer, Spam Hummer. Stacey contacted me. Seems as if she is trying to find you. You see, she doesn’t hate you at all. In fact, I suppose you’re the only one that she really cares about. She’s trying to find you, Stone.”

          “I thought she knew that I was a criminal. I thought she was ashamed of me all these years. And why shouldn’t she be? Her father is a criminal.” Jack Stone spoke coldly.

          “I’m not so sure about that, Stone. You didn’t steal that money, did you?” returned Spam.

         Jack Stone laughed, “No, Hummer, I didn’t steal that money. But every man in this place will tell you that he’s innocent. That and a dime will get you a cup of coffee.”

          “How come you ended up here, Stone? What was it that convinced twelve good people that you stole that money?”

          “Rob Dixon is a smart guy, Hummer. He stole my wife and then he stole my life. I didn’t steal that money. They said that I went back to the office one night, after the bank had closed. They said I disarmed the alarm and cooked the books so that the next day $50,000 transferred to another account. They think I still have that money because I wouldn’t tell them where it is. The account into which it was transferred was closed and all the money withdrawn. I don’t have that money, Hummer. I’d suggest that you talk to my boss at that time, Rob Dixon.”

         Spam asked Jack Stone one last question, “How come they think it was you who stole that money?”

          “They had a photograph. We had a camera installed that takes a photo every time the main door is opened. They said the photo was of me. It wasn’t; I was at home with my family that night. Stacey was in bed and I spent the evening working in my study. The crazy thing is that at the trial, Stacey’s mom testified that I went out between 9:00pm and 11:00pm that night. That’s during the time the photo was taken. She lied.”

         Spam nodded his head, “I believe you, Stone.”

          “Spam,” the warden spoke, “time’s up. He’s going back to his cell.”

         The warden motioned to the guards and Jack Stone rose to go back to his cell. But as he did, Spam noticed something in the man’s eyes that was not there when he first came in—hope. That look pleaded with Spam as the prisoner left the office and returned to the population.

          “Thanks, Jerry. This has been very helpful,” Spam spoke to his old friend.

          “Spam, I’ve got to admit that I was pissed at you for pulling these strings. But, if you can help that man, then maybe this has been worth it.”

         Jerry held out his hand and Spam took it. He was pleased that, at least for a while longer, Jerry would be his friend.


*******************************************

         Stacey knocked on the door and then entered. Spam and Cassidy stopped what they were doing and greeted the seventeen-year old.

          “Mr. Hummer, I’m here like you asked. Have you got something for me?” Stacey asked excitedly.

          “Yes I do Stacey.” Spam decided to just say it. “Stacey, I’ve found your dad. He didn’t leave you he was taken away. He’s been in prison all these years. He said that through those years, he as been writing you. I suspect you haven’t gotten any of those letters”

         Stacey was quiet—stunned. “Prison—my dad’s been in jail? What did he do?”

          “First of all, Stacey, I don’t think he did it. But they say he stole $50,000. I think I’ve located the bank account where the money was stashed." Spam glanced at Cassidy, smiled, and corrected himself, "Actually, Cass found it. In any case, as soon as I can get a court order, we are going to go confiscate that money. I don’t have much more for you, right now. I think you need to talk to your mother. Maybe she can help you through this. That’s all I’ve got Stacey. I wish I had more.”

         Stacey was quiet. She opened her purse and pulled out her money. “Here’s the five-hundred dollars. I asked you to find him and you did. I guess you’ve earned it, Mr. Hummer.”

         Spam shook his head. “You keep your money, Stacey. I’m not finished yet.”

         Puzzled, Stacey replied, “But, I don’t understand.”

          “Don’t worry about it, you'll understand soon enough.” Spam walked to the door and smiled at the young girl. “Go on home now and I’ll be back in touch with you.”

         Obediently, Stacey nodded and left the office. Spam closed the door behind her.

          “Spam, what are you talking about? We aren’t getting any court order to confiscate any money. And he has a lot more than fifty-thousand dollars in there. Why did you say that?” Cassidy furrowed her brow and quizzed Spam.

          “Of course there’s no court order. But Dixon doesn’t know that. And if he thinks we are working towards seizing his money, I suppose he will rush to get it out. Dave has a man watching the bank.”

****************

         It had been twenty-four hours since Spam fed Stacey the information on the bank account. Enough time had passed for her to pass it to her mother and then on to Dixon. Spam and Dave sat in the unmarked police car across the street from the bank. Inside the bank an undercover officer dressed as a janitor slowly swept the floor and emptied trash cans, but kept his eyes pealed on the tellers. Each teller was given the account number and advised that in the event anyone withdrew funds from that account, they were to notifiy the officer, who would in turn notify Dave Frisco. Dave and Spam continued to pass the time, when the radio broke the silence.

          “Detective Frisco, we have a target. I’ve just been signaled that the account has activity. I can’t tell who it is but they’re wearing a blue jogging suit and exiting now.”

         Dave and Spam exited the car simultaneously. Uniformed cops from down the street rushed to the bank entrance. They all arrived at the same location as the blue jogging suit walked out the door.

          “Freeze!” shouted Dave Frisco, “On the ground…get on the ground.”

         The startled jogger turned to flee in the opposite direction but encounterd the uniformed cops. With nowhere to go the culprit collapsed to the ground, face first. The cops covered the suspect pulling arms behind the back and cuffing them. Spam was surprised to hear a female voice cry out in pain.

          “Please don’t, you’re hurting me.”

          “Stand her up!” ordered Frisco.

         The uniformed officers lifted her to her feet. Spam and Dave saw an abundance of blond locks cascade to the suspects shoulders as the ballcap under which it had been secured fell to the ground.

         With his gun still drawn, Frisco asked, “Who are you? What’s your name?”

          “I’m Brenda Dixon, all I did was to withdraw some money from my husband’s account. Please, release me.” She began to cry. “I didn’t do anything.”

          “Ma’am, you just withdrew a lot of stolen money. I don’t know what’s happening here, but you’re gonna have to go downtown with us until we get this sorted out.” Frisco motioned to the uniformed officer and said, “Read her her rights and then take her down to booking.”

****************

         It was a long night. Shortly after Brenda Dixon was arrested outside the bank, uniformed officers arrested Rob Dixon at the Dixon home. Spam stood behind the one-way glass as he watched his friend interrogate Rob Dixon.

          “Dixon, we know about your account at Capital Securities Bank. We have four different deposits of fifty-thousand dollars each. A total of two-hundred-thousand dollars which matches the amount that have disappeared from every bank that you have worked at over the last eight years. It will be easier on you if you go ahead and tell us now, how you did it.”

          “Detective, I don’t know anything about two-hundred-thousand dollars. I certainly don’t have an account at Capital Securities Bank. I’ve never had an account there.”

          “How do you explain this, Dixon?” Frisco tossed a bank card on the table.

         Rob Dixon picked up the card and studied it and then simply stated, “It says Rob Dixon, alright; but that’s not my signature. Check it out if you need to. I never opened that account.”

          “Are you telling me that you didn’t sign this card?”

          “No sir, that’s not my signature.”

          “I’ll send the officer in with a cup of water. I’ll be back momentarily.”

         Spam met Dave Frisco in the hallway.

          “What the hell is this all about Spam? I thought you told me this Dixon guy stole that money and framed Jack Stone.

          “Beats me, Dave. But, I’ve got an idea. Check that signature card with Brenda Dixon’s driver’s license. We may have the wrong suspect.”

         Dave and Spam walked to the booking officer.

          “Let me see the woman’s driver’s license, corporal.” Dave demanded.

         After fishing through the personal effects of Brenda Dixon, her driver’s license was found in her purse. Dave placed the license next to the bank card. The signatures matched. Both men then realized that Rob Dixon did not open the account, Brenda did. They also realized that although Jack Stone had been framed, it wasn’t Rob Dixon that did it. Armed with this new evidence, Dave Frisco returned to the interrogation room where Brenda Dixon was being held. She would break. Before the evening was over, he knew that she would confess. Spam made his way to Jocko's; he had earned his two drinks tonight and was ready to collect.

****************

         Spam, Cassidy, and Stacey sat in the car outside the exit gate of the Dentonville State Penitentary. Shortly, her parents would be trading spaces. Brenda Dixon was sentenced to twenty years for bank theft. Jack Stone was a free man and would be walking out that exit to the waiting arms of a seventeen-year-old daughter who never gave up on him. Stacey left the car and ran to her father’s open arms as he walked out the big gate. Spam and Cassidy waited in the car.

          “Spam, I don’t understand. How did Brenda do it? I mean, she didn’t work for the banks.” Cassidy quizzed.

          “She didn’t have to, Cass. Brenda had all the information she needed. She had access to the keys of the bank, papers that were brought home, and what she didn’t get from snooping she got from pillow talk. She'd dress in their clothes hanging in the closet and tuck all that blond hair under a ball cap. If you hold your head down, you can even fool a camera. She’s been living off of the interest on the accounts. Someday, she would have dumped Dixon and left the country. She is a smart woman, Cass. But you can’t stay smart that long. And she never counted on the love of a daughter for her father.’

          “It makes you feel good to see them together; doesn’t it, Spam?” Cassidy gestured to the father and daughter walking to the car hand in hand.

          “Yup, I guess it’s the best five-hundred dollars that I never made.”