A Conspiracy Uncovered Page 8

  “The same way was used to get mine in. Packed in a box of American history books. On the 19th the box would be delivered then that night James York would enter and move the carton to the sixth floor near the corner window. After they got Oswald out, I snuck in and went about his normal routine. This information was obtained by an unknown individual. We were guessing one of the workers was acting as an inside person. Who, we don’t know.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Okay, moving on. You said you went about his daily schedule. Didn’t someone realize you weren’t him?” Nancy said.

  “This is where the mission took on an interesting twist. Do you recall the show from the mid 1960’s Mission: Impossible and the character Martin Landau played? He had the ability to change his appearance by using latex masks. That is what I did. So not to alert Oswald he was a pawn a sculptor used photographs of him to create a bust of his head. When that was done a disguise was made. In fact, several so I could practice putting them on then off.”

  This was not only interesting but amazing that these people had been able to pull off the impossible and not get caught. Until now.

  The house phone rang, and Nancy answered. She listened for a minute then hung up.

  “That was Edward. He has found the base where you might have trained. Kingsville Naval Air Station, Kingsville, Texas. He’s not doing anything, simply passing the information on especially with you being here, John.”

  “Thank you. I’ll contact the nearest FBI field office and ask that they send a few agents over to see what, if anything, they can find. Since twenty years has gone by, to be honest, I’m not expecting much but right now we can’t leave anything overlooked.”

  “Thank you. With luck they might even find five bodies buried somewhere.”

  “We can only hope they do. As for the three in the different countries, I passed the information up the chain, leaving your name out just saying a concerned individual believes they died under strange and suspicious conditions. I should know within a few days if the request for the bodies to be exhumed and returned here for autopsy will be granted.”

  “John, you sure don’t waste much time, do you?” Walter said.

  “Considering the importance of this case and now that we have you, I’m guessing everything will be done to find the actual shooter. Even though you have said you pulled the trigger I’m not classifying you as the trigger man, only a party with new and damaging information. From what you’ve said, the real assassin is this organization.”

  I’ll bet at some point, most likely after Walter gives us all the information he’s going to want to formally surrender to the authorities. Living with this secret for twenty years and constantly looking over his shoulder must be exhausting. When and if that happens my wife and I will make sure John is the one who arrests him. Considering he committed a federal crime finding the perfect attorney will be easy.

  “I appreciate that. To continue, over the next few days I walked the route the presidential motorcade would take. Even though after examining the depository I agreed that was the best spot, but I still wanted to make sure. For the record, there were no shooters on the grassy knoll at Dealey Plaza.”

  “That’s good to know,” John said.

  “Between looking for a better location what did you do to pass the time.”

  “Since I also had a second cover, that of a news reporter I was told by one of the unknown men the police would be taking Oswald to the Police and Courts Building when he was in custody. I wanted to check out the place because I needed to act like I knew what I was doing.”

  “Let’s take a short break because the tapes will be arriving soon. That will give us a change.”

  “Junior, mind if I hang around?”

  “Sure. Walter is going to try finding one or more of the six unknown men while Nancy and I will be examining the people for suspicious behavior.”

  “I’ll do the same. Three sets of eyes are better than two.”

  When I heard the doorbell ring I hoped that was the delivery vehicle with Bill Hall. I was right. I dug a ten dollar bill out of my pocket and swapped the money for the boxes that were stacked on a dolly. He thanked me then headed back to the university while the detective walked in.

  “Do those have anything to do with the bombs found on the cars the other day?”

  “Yes. Besides that, what else do you know?”

  “Not much really. Why?”

  “Come on back to the kitchen and be ready for the surprise of your life.”

  I dropped off the cartons in the living room.

  “John, what brings you here?” Bill asked.

  “Dean & Dean Detective Agency’s newest client. Detective Hall, meet Walter Johnson.”

  He, Nancy and I were glad that’s all John had said. I guess he didn’t want to say who Walter really is for everyone’s safety. Either that or to let our client, so to speak, tell Bill who he really was.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Detective Hall.”

  “Same here. Considering his specialty, I’m guessing you have something to do with the assassination of President John F. Kennedy.”

  “You might say that. Right now, I’m in the protective custody of Richard, Jr. and Nancy Dean while we go over events leading up to and following the incident which occurred in Dallas, Texas on November 22, 1963.”

  How Walter explained his participation was genius. Not saying he was or wasn’t the shooter all the while leaving Bill totally confused.

  “Mind if I hang around for a little while?” Bill asked.

  “Sure. You can watch the tapes with us and try to find the guilty parties,” I told him.

  Now Bill was even more perplexed, something my parents frequently did to his father, Dan Hall, the former LAPD Captain. Guess this is a family trait. We headed into the living room for several hours of watching video tapes. The one thing we hadn’t discussed, when one of us spots an individual who might be suspicious we need to identify him. I came up with the solution. We take a picture of this person then have the film developed at the Watson Street office.

  “Honey, let’s watch them in order starting with the oldest. While you sort them by date, I’m going to get the 35mm camera from the office and several rolls of film.”

  “Good idea.”

  With the camera loaded with a roll of color film my wife turned the VCR on then handed the controller to Walter.

  “Since you have the most difficult job you stop the player when you think you recognize one of the people you had met.”

  “Okay.”

  Walter started the first of thirty tapes. He stopped the player, went up to the TV to examine someone .

  “The man in the sweater. I think he’s one of them.”

  “You could be right. The way he continuously tried to avoid the news camera to me makes him suspicious,” John added.

  I took a picture of the man.

  This happened several more times with the first tape. Each time Walter pointed to the same person. For safety I still took a picture of the individual.

  Over the next hour we watched two more tapes and I took several rolls of photos of the different men. Even Bill and John agreed that there was something unusual about each one. None of us recognized them which had me curious how was the FBI or LAPD going to identity the people. From what I could tell from the tapes they all had to be about sixty by now. Plus or minus a few years.

  “Richard, do you mind if the bureau handles the processing of the film? I can then send the prints to Washington for identification of the men.”

  “I’d say yes except for one very salient fact. Playing the devil’s advocate, other than you and Bill along with our family we don’t really know who we can trust.”

  “You do have a good point but how would you be able to put a name to the face?” John said.

  “These men must have been known in different social and political circles. My parents, your father and several other connections might have seen them around twenty years
ago,” I explained.

  “Too bad Willie isn’t around. That man had connections all over the country,” Nancy told us.

  “Special Agent Milton recently transferred back here from DC. He’s getting ready to retire in a few years so he wanted to return to LA with his wife. If I’m not mistaken, he was on several presidential details.”

  “Can we trust him? I mean, as you just said, we don’t know who to believe.”

  “Yes, we can. My father saved him from being arrested for a murder he didn’t commit in May of 1941. My parents also helped his wife’s family when they were interred at Santa Anita Racetrack in early February 1942.”

  “We learned about what happened to the Japanese-Americans when I was in high school. If you say this Agent Milton can be trusted then I’ll go along with your decision.”

  “All three of their children are here. One of the boys is an FBI Special Agent, another a lawyer and the daughter is a federal judge,” John said.

  I am going to make sure my dad and mom learn about the Milton’s if they don’t already know. Then again, I am talking about two of the best private detectives in not only the state but worldwide.

  “John, we’ll include Sam Milton but not at the Federal Building. He’ll have to come out here.”

  “Not a problem. When I go into the office Monday, I’ll take him aside and talk to him. I won’t give him specifics but just enough to intrigue him.”

  “That will work. We won’t have everything put together for at least three or four days. The family will be watching the tapes as well. What would be great, if they pick the same people we do. That will help confirm they are somehow involved,” I said.

  Over the next two hours we got through another three tapes and I used two rolls of 36 exposure film before we finally stopped for the day.

  I was kind of pleased we’d made some good progress in identifying several of the possible men who had contact with Walter and the others.

  In the morning I’ll take the tapes we watched over to the main house then we’ll spend most of the time watching the rest of the videos.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  November 26, 1983

  After lunch, and since we needed groceries and the ten rolls of film had to be developed and printed, I headed into the city. With me to watch the car is Thomas. Nancy had wanted to go, but I was able to convince her remaining behind was safer. She could also continue taking pictures of people Walter saw on the video tapes. That satisfied her, which made me happy.

  Our first stop was Watson Street to turn over the rolls to the technician who would run them through the automatic developer and printer. He told me to come back in an hour and the prints would be ready. That meant we wouldn’t have to make a second trip into town to get them.

  At the grocery store I did the shopping first then Thomas took his turn. Pulling out of the parking lot I glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw a dark green car enter the stream of traffic behind me. When we came to a stop light, I took the opportunity to study the car, not so much the vehicle but the individual behind the wheel. This was easy because at the last second the car originally behind me moved into the right-hand lane forcing the other driver to come up right behind us. I couldn’t see anything distinctive about him but something didn’t seem right.

  “Thomas, I think we’re being followed. The dark green Chevy right behind us. The driver had plenty of chances to pull out into traffic but waited until we did.”

  “If you think we are, then we are. Go straight then take a left onto Hollywood. Let’s see what he does.”

  Since my brother was the expert, I did what he said. The car made the same turn.

  “Now what?”

  “Where did you hide the car phone?”

  “Glove compartment.”

  He popped open the door, took out the handset and dialed a number from memory. I kept my attention between driving and keeping an eye on the other car.

  “Bill, Thomas. We’re in my brother’s car and are being followed.”

  I couldn’t hear his reply.

  “On Hollywood. Want us to drive by?” Thomas said.

  “Okay, we’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  Thomas hung up the phone then gave me directions to the police station. As we drove by two black and white police cars came out of nowhere trapping the Chevy.

  “Pull over. Let’s go see who he is?”

  Since I was still new at the private detective thing and I didn’t have a gun, discretion being the better part of valor, I stayed behind my brother as we walked over. The two officers were already out of their car, hands on their service weapons.

  “This guy bothering you, Thomas?”

  “Ned, according to Junior, the man pulled out right after we left the grocery store parking lot. What made his behavior suspicious, this guy had plenty of time before we turned onto the road.”

  “Good enough for me. You Deans have never steered us wrong in the past,” Ned said, then to the driver. “Out of the car.”

  For my own safety I took a few steps back so the others would have more room.

  “Turn around and put your hands on the hood. Tony pat him down,” Ned ordered.

  Tony found a pistol hidden under the man’s coat. From the person’s left hip pocket, he took out a wallet, stepped back then rifled through the contents.

  “Okay. You’re under arrest for carrying a pistol without a permit,” Tony told the man. He handed me the driver’s license since I was now closer.

  “Derek Granger, from New York City,” I told the others.

  “You’re a long way from home,” Ned said.

  “What, I can’t come here for the sights?” Granger snapped back.

  Thomas climbed into the car, started looking through the glove box, and pulled out the vehicle registration and handed the paper to Ned.

  “Sure, if you hadn’t stolen this car. Besides the weapon you’re also being charged with grand theft auto,” Ned told Granger, cuffed him then read the prisoner his Miranda rights.

  “You need us to come over and file a report?” Thomas asked.

  “That won’t be necessary. Make yourselves available when he goes to trial. I’ll talk to the ADA about bail. Most likely that’s going to be really steep since this guy is a flight risk.”

  “Let us know if you can get him to talk. I’m curious why he came out here and not for the sights either.”

  “That we’ll let Detective Hall handle. He has a way with people like that guy.”

  Whomever hired Granger must be getting nervous to have him fly all the way across the country to do what? Kill Walter? Steal the information and photos? The big question…will Granger demand a lawyer before Bill can get any useful information from him. With luck, no.

  Thomas and I waited until the prisoner was taken away, got back in my car and drove over to the office. As promised the photo technician had ten stacks of prints and the film in glassine sleeves. I thanked her then we headed home.

  On the drive my brother started looking through the pictures from the first stack. At a stop light he held up one of them to show me.

  “I think I know, or rather, knew him. He died about ten years ago from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. His name is Jeffrey Timon.”

  “How did your paths cross?”

  “Let’s wait until we get back to the compound then we’ll all meet at the main house. This way I can fill everyone in on the off chance someone has a question,” he replied.

  “To save time, since we’re about ten minutes out, why not call the two houses and have them meet us.”

  “Good idea.”

  After telling the wives and Walter to go to the main house my brother called Edward so he and Sally would know they are coming over. Even Mom and Dad, he said, should be at the meeting.

  Pulling onto the driveway I made sure the gate was closed before heading up to where the others were waiting for us.

  “Thomas, let’s start with who followed us and ended up getti
ng arrested. One of us might know of Granger, specifically Walter.”

  “Good idea. You know, if you ever want to give up teaching you and Nancy would make excellent private detectives,” Thomas told me, and I knew he wasn’t teasing me either. I chose not to say anything but pulled up in front of the house.

  “We got the groceries. They’re in the car. When we pulled out of the lot a green Chevy Malibu started following us. Thomas called Bill’s station and he had a couple of cars ready to stop the person when we drove by. His name is Derek Granger and he’s from New York and being charged with carrying a pistol without a permit and driving a stolen vehicle. Does his name sound familiar to anyone?”

  Everyone, including Walter, shook their heads.

  “Okay, the other reason why we’re here. When we picked up the prints, I started looking through the stacks and recognized one of the men. Jeffrey Timon. Edward, do you recall him? I came across him in one of my first cases with the agency.”

  “Was that the Ponzi Scheme?” Edward said.

  “Yes.”

  He passed the picture around then continued.

  “This is more for you and Nancy. The feds had tried to make a case against him but couldn’t get any charges to stick so they came to us for help. Working outside the restraints of the law, at times, I had developed the beginnings of a case against the man. When I went to his office just as I opened the door, he shot himself rather than face heavy prison time.”

  “Wait a second, Thomas, if he’s one of the men who had met with you, Walter, we might have some information about the organization in the case file,” Edward said.

  “Ten years ago. That will be in the basement. I should be able to find the folder fairly quickly.” Sally headed out to grab it.

  “The name doesn’t sound familiar to me,” Walter said.

  “Don’t worry about that. Didn’t you say they referred to each other by a number? Can you recall his by chance? I’m asking because that might be a reference to how high up in the chain he was.”

  “The trainers always called him Mr. Two. He was the one who arranged for the tailor to come out to us.”