Follow the Money

25


We met in a carnicera east of Broadway on Fifth. Though it was less than five blocks from the office, the streets were strewn with trash and crowded with sweaty, unclean bodies that stood on the corners, sat on the curbs, lingered at bus stops, and leaned against walls. Idle and hapless human beings who had drifted or were dumped there by society, circumstance, or steady and consistent bad luck. This was the stretch of Fifth known historically as “the nickel” — skid row — the literal and figurative end of the line.

But the air inside the carnicera belied the blight outside with its smells of peppers, molé sauces, slow cooked pork and refried beans. Despite the desperate starvation on the surrounding streets, the food in this tiny lunch spot was good and plentiful.

A skinny white guy in his late twenties approached me the instant I arrived. “Mr. Olson?”

“Yeah.”

“Ed Snyder,” the man said, offering his hand and a glowing smile. “Man, it’s good to meet you.” He went on, shaking his hand and nodding his head, sending his overgrown curly hair into a bobbing wave. He wore vintage clothes and stood with a relaxed posture, suggesting he was never concerned about much. A hipster journalist with a cultivated go-with-the-flow air, but always on the lookout for his big break.

“Good to meet you,” I replied, glancing at the long counter where they took the orders.

“You ever eat here before?” Ed asked.

“No.”

“Oh man, this place is the best. I mean it’s great.” Ed immediately began rattling off his order in Spanish and joking with the cooks. Ed was a regular. When it was my turn, I ordered with as few words as possible to hide the fact that I knew no Spanish whatsoever. The food was served on plastic plates on orange plastic trays, cafeteria style. Ed chose a table in the back where no one would hear us.

“So,” Ed began, “I was wondering if I was ever going to hear from you.”

“Yeah, well, the only reason I’m even talking to you instead of going straight to the police is because I’m not sure I’m safe. I need to make sure someone else knows what’s happened.” I handed Ed the copies I’d made of the documents and photographs. “I’m giving you this because I’m worried about my safety. I’m being followed and someone’s already been through my apartment looking for this information.”

Ed took the file and slid it under his tray. He never took his eyes off of me. He wore no expression. He had the air of a man who’d had many of these kinds of conversations and knew exactly how to behave. He took a bite of his enchilada and waited for me to continue.

I told him the story, from the beginning up through my trashed apartment and the file full of pictures, deeds, and notes. Ed never so much as flinched. He smiled a few times, but otherwise showed no reaction one way or the other. By the time I finished my story, Ed was done eating. He pushed himself back from the table and leaned his chair against the wall.

“So it sounds to me like Steele did it.”

“Well, yeah, it’s definitely a possibility.”

“So what’s the problem? Not that I’m complaining, I’d love to scoop this story, but why not just go to the police?”

“Because even if they do arrest Steele, Andersen’s still out there. The guy who’s been following me is still out there. I’m still in danger as far as I can tell.”

“Hmmmm.” Ed leaned his head back and thought for a second. “You’ve got a point, but it only seems to make sense if there’s something more to it. I mean, yeah, Steele wants to protect his career, but Andersen doesn’t seem to have much to lose and has probably kept his fingers clean enough to stay out of trouble. So what, he was sleeping with Steele, it’s not his fault Steele killed his wife.”

“Yeah, but you should have heard him on the phone. He sounded like—” I struggled for words. “Like a guy who had something to lose. I don’t know.” I wolfed down half a taco and waited for Ed to speak.

“Well, what if it’s not about Steele?” Ed sat forward and leaned in, talking low. “I mean, what if there’s something more to it? Okay, if we get rid of the whole Bishop story, right? Forget about Bishop, let’s assume that whole thing is just coincidence, just people confused about timing, right?”

I nodded and finished the taco.

“Alright. Well, that doesn’t change the rest of the facts. For example, we know that grandpa found the door open when he came out a couple days later. Assuming that’s true and grandpa’s not just senile, then someone went into that house. Maybe they were trying to f*ck up the crime scene, but maybe they were looking for something.” Ed raised his eyebrows and leaned back again, obviously impressed with his own suggestion.

“But what?” I stirred the refried beans on my plate with a plastic fork.

“Shit, I dunno, maybe they had a Van Gogh hanging on the wall. All I’m saying is that the police seemed to have completed most of their investigation on the night of the murder. To me that means that anyone going back in the house wasn’t interested in the crime scene. I mean, if you really thought there was still an investigation going on, you’d be f*cking crazy to go in there. You’d only go in there if you knew the investigation was over and you were there for something else. Who knows what the history between Andersen and Steele is? Maybe they had some kind of shady shit going on that Andersen was going back in to cover up? Maybe he’s afraid of that shady shit coming back to haunt him.”

I was trying to process everything Ed was saying, but he was on a roll and speaking fast.

“Look, I’ve been doing a lot of research, asking a lot of questions. It seems to me that Steele was mixing with some pretty sketchy business people. I mean, he was getting ready to propose legislation to open up the Alaskan Wilderness Preserve for drilling. That was a position he never would have taken even six month earlier. It was a complete turn-around. So who knows what he was into? Hell, maybe the wife found something else entirely and that’s why he killed her.”

I watched Ed’s excitement build and suddenly got the feeling that Ed was about to launch into a massive conspiracy theory. I’ve gotten involved with a nutcase, I told myself, and resolved to get the hell out of there if Ed so much as whispered the word “Kennedy.”

“Maybe.” Ed paused and pointed as he spoke. “Maybe.” I could see that Ed’s mind was getting ahead of him. “Just, maybe, there’s something else out there, some other information. This is really a big story. I mean, this is huge.”

Ed was rambling now and I could see I needed to control the conversation. “Look,” I interjected. “I don’t know if there was something more going on here. Frankly, I don’t really want to know. I just want out of this thing. I need to get a handle on Andersen, I need to know that I can go to the police with what I’ve got and come away from this thing clean. You know? I’m not trying to be a hero here. I’ve got a life I’m trying to get back.”

Ed listened with an expression of disappointment. “Wait a minute, man. You’ve gotta check under every rock before you go public. You can’t just know half the story when you go to the cops because they’re certainly not going to do the legwork. I mean, they already convicted Steele once, if you’ve got half the evidence you say you’ve got it’ll be a slam dunk to convict him again, regardless of whether he’s really guilty. Shit. Did it ever occur to you that you’re not really in any danger? I mean, they don’t know what you know. They went through your place to see if they could find anything. They’re watching you to see if you do anything crazy or if you turn up any real evidence.”

“I hope that’s all it is. I mean, Andersen’s a rich lawyer, why would he get mixed up in something like this?”

“Exactly.” Ed was back to pointing again when he spoke.

“Well, shit, so what’d’ya think? What now?”

“Okay, look, what’s going to protect you is publicity. If everyone is paying attention to you, then these guys won’t risk anything, they’ll have to leave you alone. What we’ll do is double team them. I’ll write the story. I’ll take what you’ve got here and I’ll write it. I may not be able to make tomorrow’s paper, so you might have to hide out for a couple of days, just lay really low. But the morning the story comes out, you go straight to the police and hand them all the evidence. They’ll arrest Steele and the media frenzy will focus on you long enough to keep you safe while the cops haul Andersen and anyone else they can think of in for questioning. Trust me, whoever the goon is they’ve hired to follow you ain’t going to do a damned thing with that much attention on you — and especially not without orders from whoever the boss is.”

It sounded good to me.

“So look. To make that happen we’re both going to have to move quick. I have to take what you’ve got here,” he patted the file, “and go through it, check facts, put something together, and talk with the editor. You need to go out to that place in Topanga and see what’s there.”

“Whoa! Whoa! I’m not about to—”

“Don’t worry, man. No one’s following you right now. No one knows you’re here. I’ll drop you off at a rental car place, you rent some four door Chevy or something and cruise on up and check it out. No one knows she bought this place. It’s cool. Look, it’s the only thing we don’t know a damned thing about. Shit, the place probably isn’t even there. But we need to know. It’s gotta be checked before we go to the press. I’m not gonna have time to go out there.”

Ed was the first one who’d made any sense in quite awhile. I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and shook my head. “Alright, if we gotta do it, we gotta do it. You’re right, no one knows I’m here. I’ll just run up there and then lay low.”

Ed smiled. His eyes were wide and bright. His curly hair stuck out like a fluffy halo around his head. I could see his excitement, it radiated from him. It was at that moment that I realized I’d just handed a hard-working young reporter his first huge story.

Ten minutes later, Ed dropped me off at Hertz so I could rent an appropriate car. I lingered by the open door as I got out of his car.

“Okay, man. Sneak on up to that place in Topanga and let me know if you find anything. I’ll be shocked if there’s anything there at all. Call me as soon as you get back, leave me a detailed message if I’m not there. We gotta move quickly if we’re gonna get this story out in the next day or two.”

“Will do. I’ll call you as soon as I get back.”

“Alright. I’ll be in touch later today. Thanks a lot, man.” Ed patted the file on the seat. “Good thing you got this to me. It’s always best to spread information around. And besides, it’s never safe to keep all your eggs in one basket. Know what I mean?” I nodded, unsure but playing along.

“We’re gonna blow this thing wide open.” Ed laughed as I closed the door and stared at a long row of identical four-door sedans.