Bayou Pierre Book II: Chapter 21

"So does this wrap it up, Lover?" Governor McClellan's assistant asked Phil.

"No, we still have a loose end, a murder expert in Chicago called Tommy the Moose," Phil answered.

"You made that name up," Nita challenged.

Phil laughed.

"Real name is Tomaso Musso," Phil said.

"Was he the fourth member of the hit team?" Nita asked.

"We don't think so. We think he hired Nickie and Jackie. We don't know whether he had anything to do with procuring Bozo," Phil teased.

Nita laughed.

"I take it Bozo is what they call Wilfred Bozarth?" Nita asked.

"Yeah, that's a name got pinned on him in prison and it stuck. Though from what I've heard about his propensity for violence, I doubt I'd call him that to his face without help close by or a weapon aimed at his nose," Phil admitted.

Nita laughed.

"This is all well and good," she said, "but the reason I called was to tell you that Daddy is in Dallas."

Phil noted the time. It was almost 11:30 in Baton Rouge.

"What did he drive there, too?" Phil asked.

"No," she said.

"I flew him on the governor's plane."

"Any particular reason?" Phil asked cautiously.

"To keep the governor from going over there. Ever since he got the news, he's been storming around saying he wanted to go to Texas to handle the extradition himself," Nita explained.

"Oh my God, that would be a disaster, a complete circus," Phil said.

"As soon as he started, I sent the plane to Lakefront to pick up Daddy. But Daddy and I and Mrs. McClellan spent the whole day and way into the night talking the governor out of going," Nita said.

"He couldn't see what a potential catastrophe for the case his involvement might cause?" Phil asked.

"All he could focus on was Aubrey. He still blames himself for Aubrey's death. And you know he thinks of Aubrey as a son," Nita answered.

"Is he now permanently disabused of the notion of going to Dallas?" Phil asked.

"I hope so, but I guess we'll have to see what tomorrow brings," Nita replied.

At four-thirty the next morning, there was a knock on the door of the room in the BOQ shared by Phil and Mo.

"I'm sorry to wake you, but we have a call for the inspector from a state policeman in Louisiana. The trooper says the governor wants to talk to him," the airman told Mo.

"Boss wants to talk to you, Sunshine," Mo told Phil, laughing as he made his announcement.

"Can the operator put the call in here?" Mo asked the airman.

"Sure," the airman answered.

"Good morning, Governor," Phil said into the telephone about thirty seconds later.

"Guess Nita's already told you I was causing trouble, yesterday?" Governor McClellan responded.

"Those weren't the words she used, but I talked to her last night," Phil admitted.

"And you told her my coming to Dallas and sticking my nose in would be a disaster?" the governor followed up.

"More or less," Phil said, a small smile crossing his lips.

"Well, you're both right, but it's killing me to sit down here while this scum thumbs his nose at us in Dallas. I just feel so useless. I guess I wanted to relive my past. I convinced myself that I could kick-start this whole business if I appeared in court. Nonsense, I know, but I'm just frustrated," John McClellan confessed.

"Buster will get the job done as efficiently as anyone, even you," Phil soothed.

The governor laughed.

"I know he's a better lawyer than me. Though before a jury in North Louisiana, I used to have my moments. Never practiced much in the city.

"I talked to Captain Porter already this morning. He says you've got the case headed in the right direction, says you're a born cop. Who would've thought?" Governor McClellan teased.

"Certainly not I," Phil conceded.

"You're not kidding anybody but yourself. I knew the first time I talked to you that you could do anything that needed to be done. You're a born investigator, too. These thugs just love telling you things they wouldn't tell anyone else. I've been keeping track. Don't you worry about that.

"You're a damn fine politician, too. As good as they come, except maybe for Nita and me. Who am I kidding? No one can hold a candle to Nita.

"Well I've gone on enough. How long before you get this bum back to Shreveport? I'm just itching to sign his death warrant," the governor added.

"Governor, we're going to need Bozarth to roll on the two old men from Connecticut. We're going to have to make a deal with him, which means we're going to have to take the death penalty off the table at the very least. As for how long, I'm hoping for the best, but we've got to be prepared for the long haul on this one. I learned last night that our suspect has hired Joe Tonahill, a guy who's got a lot of tricks up his sleeve. Of course, a lot of how long this gets strung out is going to depend on the judge," Phil explained.

"Buster tells me most of those judges in Dallas County are Republicans," Governor McClellan interjected.

"A few of them anyway, but there's one thing I hope you'll do for us," Phil suggested.

"What's that?" the governor asked.

"Call the governor of Texas and tell him Aubrey's story," Phil replied.

"Preston Smith is an idiot," McClellan said.

"Maybe, but he's a fine courthouse politician and the kind of man who would appreciate and probably expect your call," Phil said.

"I'll call him as soon as the sun comes up," the governor teased.

There was quiet on the phone line for a few seconds.

"I know you'll do this right. I just had to talk to you," John McClellan added.

Phil was going to say thank you and goodbye, but the governor was already gone. He turned to Mo.

"I guess after a shower, I'd better check in with Sam and Captain Porter and see what they've got up their sleeve for this interrogation," Phil said.

It had already been decided that Danny would stay on the sideline, at least in the preliminary stages.

"I called Aubrey's mother this morning," Patty told Phil after delivering her good morning kiss at the table in the Officers Club where they were meeting for breakfast.

"That was a nice thing for you to do. How was she?" Phil asked.

"She was quite pleased that there have been three arrests, but concerned when she read that the guy in Texas was going to fight extradition. She told me that she and Aubrey's father were probably going to Dallas to be in court for the hearing," Patty reported.

"That ought to help put a face on this thing for the media," Phil observed.

"I suppose I should give Danny a call, so he and Sam and Buster can help arrange for their visit."

"Is there really any chance that Texas would not send this guy to Shreveport for trial?" Patty asked.

"I don't think so," Phil answered, "but that doesn't mean that Bozarth's lawyer won't use the hearing to slow down the inevitable. That's a lot of what lawyers do, drag things out as much as possible."

"But, why?" Patty asked.

"If they know they're going to lose, why wouldn't they just just get on with things?"

"Because so long as you're in court, anything can happen and every so often it works. This attorney is a shrewd character. He knows that nothing good is going to happen for his client in Shreveport, so it's to the defense's advantage to keep away from there as long as possible," Phil answered.

"I would like to be in court with Aubrey's parents," Patty said.

"Can I go?"

Phil looked into her eyes and took Patty's hand.

"I know they would appreciate your support and it would probably look good for our case in the papers to have you at their side, but it's just too dangerous. Not only would you be placing your own life at risk by appearing in public, but the lives of anyone who happened to be around you, like the Brauds, would be endangered as well," he said.

Phil hoped that Patty wouldn't cry. He knew he was asking her to be a lot stronger than anyone could realistically expect of a person as young as Patty. Instead of crying, she bit her lower lip for a moment.

"I can't go to Dallas for the same reason," Phil added, hoping that would make a difference to Patty.

"Then the only other thing we can do is let Sam shoot this guy," Patty teased.

"Sam's got more sense, but don't suggest it to Mo. You could wind up being an accessory to Mo's extralegal activities," Phil said with a laugh.

He was glad to see Patty laugh with him. He had apologized several times for being responsible for putting her life in danger and resisted the temptation to do that again. Instead he asked a question and tried to pose his query playfully.

"Did you ever dream in your wildest imagination that you would be caught up in something desperately dangerous like this?"

Showing once again how truly remarkable and amazingly strong she was, Patty replied immediately, her eyes dancing with mischief and love.

"Of course. This was exactly what I had in mind that first Sunday afternoon when I showed up at your house and caught you wrapped in a bath towel. I knew if I played my cards perfectly, I could wind up on the lamb with you in Idaho," Patty said.

She managed to keep her facial expression totally controlled until she had spoken the last word, when they both erupted in roaring laughter. Neither said anything for more than a minute. They took sips of water and a couple of bites of their breakfasts before the conversation resumed.

"Looking at his picture, it's easy to visualize Bozarth as Aubrey's killer. But those two old men from New England, they look like a couple of kindly grandfathers. I just ask myself over and over how they could possibly have done something so horrible," Patty said.

"Interesting," Phil responded.

"Earlier, I was reading the reports Danny sent up. A stewardess in Dallas told two of the deputies that Venezia and Sinatra were 'very sweet.' An Eastern Airlines ticket agent in New Orleans said they had 'beautiful smiles.'

"The whole time I was reading these reports from people who encountered these 'cute' old men, my mind kept flashing back to the crime scene photos and the horribly burned bodies of Aubrey and Trooper Fitzmorris," Phil confessed.

It was totally out of character for Phil to talk with Patty like this. He was almost always careful to protect her against the ugly details of this awful work that had consumed their lives. Patty didn't really understand what point Phil was trying to make. She had never looked at the crime scene photos, but she had seen the pictures in the paper and on television newscasts. She knew what he was talking about. During the long silence between them, Patty reached over and took Phil's hand.

"You're trying to make sense of nonsense," she suggested.

"That's what my grandmother would say."

Phil smiled at this wise young woman who had been along with him on his journey through Mafia hell.

"Ever since we spent time with Vinny and his family, I've never been able to look upon him as a bad man. He's a great father who loves his children and those kids adore him. He's become like a big brother or loving uncle to me," Patty admitted.

"Vinny's different," Phil said.

"So far as we know he's never killed anyone."

"But what he does for a living takes the livelihood away from countless families who pay their gambling losses to him instead of buying school clothes or food for their children. Isn't that right?" Patty asked.

Phil nodded his head to confirm what she was saying.

"And some construction worker or longshoreman who can't pay Vinny winds up in the hospital or worse don't they? That happens whether Vinny does the actual beating himself, doesn't it?" she continued.

"Probably," Phil admitted, "but Vinny's still a special case. Danny said that he almost never has collection problems because he carefully manages his customers, has a good sense of what they can afford to lose. But you're right. These are mitigating details. Vinny's a thug, pure and simple. He may not be a violent maniac, but there's nothing benevolent about what he does for a living."

Phil stood and Patty rose to meet him. They embraced and kissed.

"I've got to pass on the word to Danny and Buster about Aubrey's parents' plans," Phil said.

"Hope I get to see you tonight," he added before turning to head back to work.

A few minutes later, after Phil finished talking with his colleagues in Dallas, Mo had a suggestion.

"We need to call Nita," he said, "to see if the Brauds need help with their travel to Texas or if they need someone to go with them."

Within hours, Aubrey's parents were driving out of Shreveport in a state police car with Captain Nate Porter at the wheel. At three-forty that afternoon, the captain pulled into the underground parking garage of the county's sparkling new courts building on Commerce Street in downtown Dallas. The Brauds were given a few minutes to freshen up. Then, right at four o'clock, they entered a big room filled with waiting reporters and cameras. A uniformed city police officer began passing out press kits containing newspaper photos of the scene of Aubrey Braud's and Billy Fitzmorris' murder. Television crews also received a small roll of video tape of news footage taken at the time of the killings. The Brauds took their seats at a table at the front of the room. Standing behind them were Captain Fritz, legendary Dallas County District Attorney Henry Wade and Captain Porter.

"We want to ask the people of Texas for their support in bringing our son's murderers to justice by seeing to it that this man Wilfred Bozarth is extradited to Shreveport for trial," Aubrey's mother announced in a strong, clear voice.

When she opened her mouth to continue, no words came out. In seconds, she had broken down completely and buried her face in a clean handkerchief her husband had quickly put in her hands. District attorney Wade and Captain Porter answered the questions from the reporters. But it was Aubrey's crying mother, whose picture led all the evening newscasts that night and was featured in papers from Dallas to New Orleans to Chicago the next day.

Phil and Mo had difficulty holding back tears the next afternoon when they were shown the cover photo on a copy of the Chicago Tribune that had been flown to them. Long before they saw the paper, Phil and his state police guard knew that the Brauds had sat directly behind Bozarth during his first court appearance in Dallas that morning. They also knew that Bozarth's attorney, Joe Tonahill, had shown up in court with a briefcase stuffed with legal tricks.

"We're winning the PR war in grand fashion," Buster LeClaire told Phil when they talked by phone late that afternoon, "but this country clown defending Bozarth is going to make us try the whole case in a hearing here in Dallas before we ever get him to Shreveport."

"Are you telling me you can't win?" Phil asked.

"I'm saying this is going to be a tough process. He's got three guys who swear he was helping them scrape paint off an old house in East Dallas at the time we know he was in Louisiana.

"Captain Fritz's guys want to sweat the man who owns the house, but he's in the cardiac care unit at Baylor hospital and his doctors won't let the cops see him. There's no telling how long Tonahill can drag this out," Buster answered, unable to hide his frustration.

"Well it could be a lot worse," Phil suggested.

"Governor McClellan could be over there trying to relive his glory years as a trial lawyer," he teased.

"That he's not doing that is certainly something to be grateful for," the New Orleans attorney admitted with a chuckle.

"The only thing to do here is to stay prepared and on our toes, guarding against Tonahill's tricks and work our way through the process," Buster asserted.

"Do you have enough research and investigative help?" Phil asked.

"I think so, between what you've already sent and the local assistance we're getting from the Dallas County DA," Marcel LeClaire answered.

"Well, don't hesitate to ask. This case has turned high profile in Washington. With the New York and Chicago involvement, I can get you anything you need," Phil said.

Phil remembered that Chicago was setting a plan in motion to apprehend some Outfit members in Omaha as they were seeking to harm him or his witnesses or both. As he reached for the phone to call Eddie, the instrument rang.

"Is Inspector Adley there?" the male voice on the other end of the phone asked.

"Who's calling please?" Phil responded, not recognizing the voice.

"I'm sorry," the man apologized.

"This is Sergeant Thomasson at the security police desk."

"Certainly, sergeant. This is Phil Adley. What can we do for you?" he asked.

Mo quickly became more attentive, straining to determine what was going on.

"Just got a call from the main gate. There's a man named Sylvan Pratt who just arrived in a cab from Boise. He has credentials from the Chicago Police Department identifying him as a reporter for the Chicago Tribune and he's asking to see you.

"What do you want us to do?" the sergeant asked.

"Wow," Phil said, allowing the phone line to go silent while he thought for a minute.

"Well, we don't want to leave him up there. I guess we'd better try to find out what he knows. Could you have someone drive him to your office? And, do you have a room you could put him in where we could talk with him? We wouldn't want him to come here with us," Phil explained.

"We have an interview room or I guess we could use the conference room," Sergeant Thommason answered.

"I guess we'd better go with the conference room," Phil said, resisting the temptation to put this unwanted guest in a room used to investigate crimes.

"What about the cab? What do you want to do with that?" the policeman asked.

"What's your usual procedure?" Phil asked.

"I don't know that we have one. I don't remember a cab ever coming to the gate before. They don't have any cabs in Mountain Home (the closest town to the base) and Boise's fifty miles away," he said.

Phil laughed and covered the mouthpiece of the phone with his hand.

"There's a reporter from Chicago at the front gate. Came in a cab from Boise," Phil explained to Mo in a low voice.

"I guess you'd better escort the cab to the security office, too, then," Phil said, "but don't let the driver around anyone he could ask questions."

A few minutes later, Phil and Mo walked into the conference room.

"How did you find me?" Phil asked Sylvan after the three had shaken hands, but before they sat down.

"Confidential source," the reporter answered.

"That means one of two things: the Outfit or someone in the justice department," Phil asserted.

"My money's on the Outfit," Phil continued before motioning to indicate that the reporter should be seated.

"The fact that you found us means that we and some other people important to our investigation are in serious danger," Phil explained as he and Mo sat down.

"In light of that, could we go off the record?" Phil asked the man from the Tribune.

"I'd really prefer not to. The only way I would agree is in exchange for a promise that you would give me a lengthy interview on the record. And part of that interview could involve me asking you questions about the conversation we had off the record," Sylvan answered.

"Fine," Phil said, hoping to show no outward sign of his disappointment at the reporter's answer.

"Keep your notebook open," he added, watching as the reporter quickly wrote down some words, probably Phil's admission that Sylvan's presence meant that Phil and others involved in the investigation were in danger.

Phil knew there were black reporters working for major news organizations, but could not remember having met one until Sylvan Pratt showed up.

"Why'd you take a cab all the way from Boise?" Phil asked, smiling.

"I don't drive," Sylvan explained.

Phil and Mo both laughed.

"I guess that makes sense."

"How does it feel being hunted by two or is it three organized crime families?" the reporter asked.

"It's not always comfortable," Phil admitted, "but it must mean that we're doing some things right. And don't forget, we're not just sitting idly by. We've got a good number of gangsters locked up and more in our sights. This is not one-sided."

"There's been a lot of speculation in Chicago that you're replacing Ed Aimes as head of the Chicago task force. Is that true?" Sylvan asked.

"Absolutely, positively not. Special Agent Aimes is doing an outstanding job. The excellent work his task force has been doing for years is paying off in countless ways right now. His people are making arrests and those arrests are going to result in convictions and a lot of long sentences for important organized crime figures in the Chicago area," Phil said, then changed course.

"I told you earlier that the fact your paper sent you here means that the lives of some very important people in this investigation are in danger. I would hope that you would reconsider and tell us how you found out where we are. Knowing that could help us protect the lives of those people I mentioned who are vital to this investigation," Phil said gently.

There was silence for several moments, then the reporter asked another question.

"Are you going to seek the death penalty for Giacomo Venezia, Nicholas Sinatra and Wilfred Bozarth?" Sylvan asked.

"Absolutely," Phil responded, "but keep in mind those trials will take place in state court."

"And can you get Bozarth extradited to Louisiana for trial?" the Tribune reporter followed.

"Without any doubt," Phil said with more confidence than he actually felt.

"Are there more arrests coming in Chicago?" Sylvan asked.

"Bet on it," Phil said without hesitating.

"Do you intend to arrest Sam Giancana?" the reporter fired back.

"We know he made the arrangements and gave the orders that resulted in the murders of Sheriff Braud and Trooper Fitzmorris. We also know that he arranged and ordered the attacks in Shreveport that led to the serious wounding of Inspector Preston MacGregor of the US Marshals Service. As soon as we develop evidence we can place before a grand jury to support what we already know, we will arrest Giancana," Phil said, making certain that Sylvan Pratt was witness to the look of dead certain determination in Phil's facial expression.

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