Murder Doesn't Figure. Fred Yorg
mall. Just down the road to the right was where I had my first elevator ride at Steinbach’s department store. Sadly Steinbach’s, had also become a casualty of progress in the 1990’s. As a youngster growing up in this area, I thought of this part of town as the Mecca of my universe and now I could barely recognize it. I wondered if the children of today, thought of the MacDonalds and the mall, in the same way as I did of their predecessors. Somehow, I rather doubted it.
The Red Bank that I had first known had long since been lost to the pages of history. The whole make up and feel of the town was completely different from back in the days of my youth. The town served a different purpose back then. Years ago Red Bank, was essential to the residents of Monmouth County. It was the area’s main shopping spot, a place where you went to buy your school clothes, your Christmas gifts, any number of essential sundry items. But that all changed in the late 1950’s, when a Newark realtor named Irving Feist built a 600,000 square foot outdoor mall in a town not six miles from Red Bank. Now, instead of going to Red Bank, everyone went to the new mall. The town suffered horribly for many years. Local businessmen were forced to close down under the weight of the stiff competition from the Eatontown Mall. In the 1970’s and 1980’s Red Bank continued to suffer, it was actually quite painful to watch. During those years Red Bank had ceased to be a happy place for me and a lot of other people who had grown up with her.
But I guess what they say, about everything old becoming new again is true. Red Bank, in recent years had risen from the ashes like the Phoenix. The amazing revival of the old town, was engineered by the mayor, Ed McKenna, and his head of Community Affairs, Lynda Rose. Both Lynda and Ed were casual acquaintances of mine, who had also been raised in the local area, just like I was. The only difference between them and me, was that they had done something to save the old town. They were smart enough to realize that the town of our youth was gone and there was no way she was coming back. The new bustling town that they built, replaced the local clothing stores with cafes, restaurants, antique and specialty shops. At last count there was over a hundred restaurants in town and Red Bank could now boast that over one million tourists came to town each year. The old Red Bank that I knew had successfully reinvented itself and I was glad for her.
As I continued my drive around the old town, I went past the old high school, down side streets that I hadn’t been on in years and eventually to Marine Park. It was a bittersweet ride, but then remembering the past is always a little of each.
I now had the eerie sensation that the ghosts of the old town were trying to talk to me, since it was about 11:15 a.m., I thought it wise to make my appointment with Pamela, before I started answering them.
CHAPTER SIX
I exited Marine Park and made a left hand turn on East Front Street. The drive over to Pamela’s office was less than two miles from the Park and the traffic was unusually light. I pulled into her parking lot with five minutes to spare. I was anxious to find out about the mysterious eccentric client and why Pamela was so flustered and secretive earlier on the phone. Pamela, for her part, had always been confident and straightforward in the past about clients we shared. I was sure that Pamela would explain everything, in due time, but I can’t say I ever enjoyed these little intrigues.
As I got out of the car and walked up the back steps, I thought back to my first meeting with her, two years earlier. At the time I was involved with a company that was being sold to a rather large multi-national conglomerate. My client needed an attorney to protect his interests, and he knew of Pamela from a previous real estate transaction. He asked me to interview her and review her qualifications. I was reluctant at first, since I didn’t know much about her, but after my first meeting, I came away thoroughly impressed. I liked her style. She was in her late thirties when we first met, and had only been a practicing attorney for two years. I asked her why she started her practice so late and she was very candid about her previous career. Pamela didn’t start law school until her early thirties, which explained her late entry into the legal profession. Pamela’s careers and background before entering Law School were actually quite interesting. She was a liberal arts major when she graduated from Julliard, with an emphasis in modern dance. Upon graduation Pamela was a Broadway dancer in several long running shows. In her late twenties she left show biz behind and entered the fashion world, making quite a name for herself.
In the early1990’s a lot of the upscale fashion houses were cutting back, and since Pamela was one of the highly paid, she knew her days were numbered. Rather than hang on, she decided a dramatic career change was in order. It takes a lot of nerve to make a career change of that magnitude in your mid-thirties, and that may well have been what I most admired about Pam. Although I must admit being a former show girl also meant she was some kind of looker and coupled with her fashion sense, she did present a most attractive package. I knocked on the office door and heard Pam holler for me to come in.
Pamela’s office was located in the rear of her home adjacent to the kitchen. I could hear her in the kitchen now, probably tending to one of her cats or pouring herself a second cup of coffee. I have observed through life that beautiful women have a penchant for keeping men waiting and somehow we never seem to mind.
“Fred, do you want a cup of coffee or a drink?” Pamela asked.
“It’s a little early for a drink but a cup of black coffee would work very nicely.”
The door opened and Pamela entered, with the two cups of coffee. This wasn’t the stylish beauty that I expected. The imposter before me had her hair in a state of dishevelment, no make up on and was dressed in a flannel pajama set covered by a worn robe. If that wasn’t bad enough, she was wearing a pair of those oversized bunny slippers. “Pam, is that really you in a bag women’s disguise?” I asked in total bewilderment.
“Yes, it’s me. I had a bad night. I didn’t get much sleep.”
“Christ’s sake woman, don’t you have any pride in your appearance? Is it too late, to change my order to bourbon? After seeing you, I need a stiff drink.”
“Don’t get smart, I was up most of the night worrying myself sick about this meeting, and now Von Klamer doesn’t even want me there.”
“Looking the way you do, who could blame him.”
“Now that’s not very nice and after all I’ve done for you.”
“What have you done for me? The way you’re talking about Von Klamer is starting to make me a little nervous. Just exactly, what does he want with me?”
“I’m not sure I know.”
“You know Pam, in all seriousness, I’m not going in there, totally clueless. Let me see if I can find out what you know. I’ll ask the questions, and you give me your best answer. Maybe between the two of us, we can fill in the blanks and make some sense of this.”
“It sounds stupid, but at this point I’ll try anything. Go ahead and start asking the questions. Maybe I do know more than I realize.”
“First, why did Von Klamer choose you as an attorney? Was he referred?”
“Desmond referred Von Klamer to me.”
“Give me a break, don’t tell me, you mean that duplicitous bastard, Desmond Black?”
“What’s wrong with Desmond? I thought you liked him.”
“Desmond’s okay on a personal basis but on a professional basis he makes me extremely edgy and nervous.”
“Why, because he used to take drugs?”
“Being a former coke head is part of it.”
“Well then what do you know that I don’t? What is it? What’s your problem with Desmond?”
“First of all Desmond is a player, he plays fast and loose with the law. Always on the edge, one step ahead of the police. Second, he’s extremely rich, but nobody knows where the money comes from. Can you tell me what Desmond does for a living?”
“He seems to have a lot of it but no, I have no idea how he makes his money.”
“Exactly,