Mike Mulligan would have confessed to being Jack the Ripper if they had asked him. They read him his rights, but he said he didn't want an attorney present during his questioning. Lester Crockett gently suggested it might be a wise thing to do, but Mulligan insisted: No lawyer.
So they had him sign a statement that he understood his rights but didn't wish any legal assistance. Just to make sure, they videotaped the reading of the rights and the banker's disclaimer.
Then he started talking.
Crockett did the questioning, with Anthony Harker and Henry Ullman as witnesses. The entire session was videotaped, and later Mulligan read the typed transcript and signed it. All this took place over the Christmas weekend.
Mulligan confessed that as an officer of the Crescent Bank of Boca Raton, he had accepted deposits of cash in excess of $10,000 from James Bartlett for the account of Mitchell Korne Enterprises, Inc., of Miami. In return, he had been supplied with cocaine by Mr. Bartlett. Mulligan had never used the drug himself-he was insistent on that- but had given it away to 'friends.'
He described how the deposited funds were eventually moved out of the Mitchell Korne account to a bank in Panama. He named the other officers of the Crescent Bank who were aware of these deals. But he bravely accepted complete responsibility for the money-laundering scheme and stated his intention to take his punishment 'like a man.'
'I think, Mr. Mulligan,' Crockett said gravely, 'that your punishment may prove to be milder than you anticipate. It all depends on your cooperation.'
'You mean I won't have to go to jail?'
'Possibly not. What we want you to do is return to your job at the bank and carry on as before. Do not- I repeat, do not- inform your co-conspirators at the bank of your arrest. What we require is that you inform us promptly when James Bartlett calls to arrange for another deposit. Is that clear?'
'Yes.'
'You will agree to accept that deposit, and then tell us the date and time. Meanwhile, Mr. Ullman will move into your apartment temporarily. He will also accompany you to and from work. In other words, Mr. Mulligan, you will be under constant surveillance. Understood?'
The banker nodded.
'Good,' Crockett said with a bleak smile. 'We appreciate your assistance.'
Ullman and Mulligan left the office, with the agent's arm about the banker's thin shoulders.
Crockett waited until the door was closed, then shook his head softly. 'No fool like an old fool,' he said. 'But at least he seems determined to make amends.'
'Yes, sir,' Harker said, 'but we may have a king-size problem. When we nail Bartlett making the deposit, we'll have to scoop up all the other perps at the same time. Otherwise they'll hear of Bartlett's arrest, and the roaches will disappear into the woodwork. I think we better start working on the logistics of the crackdown right away. We'll have to make sure every suspect is covered, plus have enough men to confiscate the records of Rathbone, Coe, and Sparco. We'll also want to arrange for a coordinated DEA raid on Frank Little's warehouse, and pick up Herman Weisrotte and Irving Donald Gevalt. Then there's the problem of Mitchell Korne in Miami.'
'I'll inform the Miami DEA office about that gentleman,' Crockett said. 'I presume they'll want to initiate their own investigation. Yes, I think you'd be wise to begin planning the roundup immediately. Then when we get the word on the Bartlett deposit, we'll be able to move quickly.' He paused, stared at the other man, then asked curiously, 'What role do you have in mind for Rita Sullivan?'
'I don't know,' Tony said. 'I'll have to think about it.'
Simon Clark came into Harker's office and dumped a thick file on his desk.
'That's it,' he said. 'Everything I've been able to dig up on Mortimer Sparco's penny stock swindles. I can't do more without subpoenas.'
'Got enough for an indictment?'
'More than enough. But it's all raw stuff. It really needs a staff to organize it and follow the leads.'
Harker thought a moment. 'I've got plenty on my plate without this,' he said. 'Besides, as I told you, this penny stock scam is a sideshow. I want to nail Sparco for dealing drugs. He'll do heavy time on that.'
'Good,' Clark said. 'He's a slimy character.'
'What I think I'll do,' Harker went on, 'is ship this file up to my old buddies in the SEC. They've got the manpower and contacts to handle it.'
'That makes sense,' Clark said. 'Can I go back to Chicago now?'
Tony looked at him in surprise. 'In the middle of winter?' he said. 'That doesn't make sense. Don't you like Florida?'
The agent shrugged. 'It has its points, I guess, but I prefer the big city.'
'Well, I have another job for you before you cut loose. There's an old guy named Irving Donald Gevalt involved in all this. He claims to be a rare book dealer, but he's really a paperman. He's supplied David Rathbone with phony ID, and I suspect the others in the gang use him, too. See what you can find out about his past history and present activities.'
'You want me to try making a buy?'
'It wouldn't do any harm. And if Gevalt gets spooked and tells Rathbone, it might make him sweat a little. I'd like that.'
'All right,' Clark said, 'I'll see what I can do. When are you going to bust everyone?'
'Soon,' Harker said. 'I'm working on the details right now. I'll probably want you to lead the team that takes Sparco.'
Clark did a good job of covering his shock. 'Whatever you want,' he said casually. 'Meanwhile I'll get to work on Gevalt.'
'He's supposed to have a wife one-third his age,' Harker said, smiling. 'I hear she wears the world's smallest bikini.'
'I couldn't care less,' Simon Clark said. 'I'm a happily married man.'
They sat around a littered table in the Burger King and worked on double cheeseburgers, french fries, coleslaw, and big containers of cola, using up a stack of paper napkins.
'Jack Liddite is handling the file,' Roger Fortescue said, 'and he's not happy about our nosing around.'
'You're a smoke and I'm a spic,' Manny Suarez said. 'Why should he be happy?'
Harker grinned at both of them. 'Screw Jack Liddite,' he said. 'Whoever he is.'
'A homicide dick,' Fortescue said. 'And he wanted to know what our interest was in Termite Tommy. I mumbled something about his being involved in pushing queer, but I don't think he believed me.'
'Homicide?' Tony said. 'So it was murder?'
'Well, Tommy had enough alcohol in him to put the Foreign Legion to sleep, and when he went into the canal, he smacked his head a good one on the dash. But what actually killed him was that someone stuck a sharpened ice pick into his right ear. It took the medical examiner awhile to find it, but that's what did the job.'
Suarez started on his second cheeseburger. 'It would be nice,' he said, 'if he was out cold from the booze before he got stuck.'
'Yeah,' Roger said, 'that would be nice. So where do we go from here?'
Harker slopped ketchup on his french fries. 'You said Tommy left Lakeland on New Year's Day?'
'That was the last his motel owner saw him.'
'Could he have been murdered that night?'
'Possible,' Fortescue said. 'It falls within the ME's four- or five-day time frame. He couldn't be more exact than that. After all, the guy had been marinating in canal water awhile.'
'Let's figure he drove down here from Lakeland and got it that night,' Tony said slowly. 'The last time he came down he went to the Palace Lounge on Commercial.'
'Right,' Fortescue said. 'Met David Rathbone.'
'Well, on the evening of New Year's Day, Rathbone got smashed in the Palace Lounge. So drunk that the bartender had to call Rathbone's woman to come collect him.'
The agents didn't ask how he knew that. They munched their burgers in silence.
'It's theen stuff,' Manny said finally.
'Sure, it's thin,' Harker agreed. 'But what else have we got?'
