The Shelton Case and a Peanut

J

jackknife

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Oct 2, 2004
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New York City, 1982.

The young man walked out onto the old fishing pier, and asked around. A man pointed down the line of old men in folding aluminum chairs with fishing rods hanging over the rail, and coolers of beer by their sides. They seemed to be more interested in drinking and talking than fishing. The young man went over to the white haired man that had been pointed out to him.

"Mr. O'Neil? Mr. Sam O'Neil?" he asked.

The white haired old man looked up at him.

"If you're from my ex-wife, I'm broke. If you're selling something, I'm still broke. I'm fishing for my dinner here, kid." said the old man.

"No sir, I'm not selling anything" said the young man, "I'm a student at the university in town, and I'm doing a term paper on famous kidnappings. Your name was very prominent in the Shelton case, and I was wondering if I could talk to you about It.?"

"Jeez, kid, that was before the war. I can't even recall what I had for breakfast this morning." Sam said and turned to an old black man with silver hair in a folding chair besides him. "Hey Mike, just what did I have for breakfast this morning?"

"Same as every morning, bacon and eggs. Keep it up and that cholesterol is gonna kill ya before ya make 100." said Mike, "Of course being the contrary old Irish mug you are, you'll make it just to screw with us who's betting you won't. Hell, we had bets you wouldn't make 80. I lost money on that one."

There was laughter among the old men sitting around, and the student got the impression this was a regular meeting place and clique of cronies. Sam O'Neil looked up at him and the student saw he was being had, and Sam wasn't the kind of man that ever forgot anything.

"Mr. O'Neil, it would mean a great deal to me if I could ask you some questions about the Shelton case."

The white haired ex Private Investigator looked up at he kid, and saw a resolve in the young man.

"You're not gonna go away are you?" Sam asked him.

"No, I'm not." said the student sensing a break in the wall.

"Okay, but stop calling me Mr. O'Neil, everyone calls me Sam." said the old P.I. "As for the Shelton case, I got the call in the afternoon..."


New York city, 1940.

Sam O'Neil drove the old Plymouth coupe up the curving driveway of the uptown mansion. It wasn't very often he got this far uptown, but he'd worked for this man before a few months back. It was home of the Shelton's, of Shelton Industries. He parked under the white columns of the portico, and a butler showed him in. What the butler saw was a medium size man with dark hair and a slight limp, using a knobby Irish Blackthorn stick as a cane. The gunshot that had ended Sam's police career had given him a bum leg for life.

Sam, I'm glad you could make it, we didn't know what to do, but I still had your card." said the tall man in the dark blue pin striped suit. Mr. Barkley Shelton II, head and owner of Shelton Industries, was a rich and cultured man, but now he was beside himself with fear.

"What's happened?' Asked Sam.

Mr. Shelton told Sam that only an hour ago, his son had been kidnapped. Then a call had come and warned them not to call the police, but be ready with 200,000 thousand dollars by nightfall. They would call to tell them where to drop the money.

"I just want to get my son back, Sam. Can you help us? "

Sure, I'll do what I can, but I want to call one cop I know. My old Captain, we worked together before I got shot and gimped up. I'd like to have him in on this."

Sam made the call, and shortly Captain MacAvoy was with them. Sam gave him the run down, and the policeman took some notes on a small pad.

"Okay, Sam, it's going to be your show, but we'll be ready to step in on a seconds notice if things look bad." said MacAvoy.

The phone call came an hour after sunset. The kidnappers wanted the money dropped by the boy's grandfather at the carousel in central park at midnight. It would be deserted at that hour, and MacAvoy voiced his worry.

"Sam, after the Lindberg case, the only reason they want the money there at that hour, is they'll kill the bagman. I can't let that old man do it. "

"He's not going to do it, I am." Sam told him. "You have a phone I can use?" he asked Barkley Shelton.

Sam made the call, and a short while later a young woman showed up with a large make-up case.

"Hello, Precious. Glad you could make on short notice. Gentlemen, let me introduce Brigid Pollowski, one of the best make-up artists on Broadway." said Sam, "can you make me look like him?"

Sam pointed to the kidnapped boy's grandfather sitting on the sofa, and Brigid studied the white haired old man carefully.

"Yeah, I can do it Sam. You got a place I can work on ya?"

Mrs. Shelton stepped forward.

"Please come this way, you can use the parlor."

A short while later Sam had aged 40 years. Brigid had fitted him with a close fitting wig, some make-up, and she'd done wonders.

"No Sam, hunch your shoulders more forward," she coached him, "Put your chin more down toward you chest. Yeah, that's good."

While Brigid was coaching Sam on walking like an old man, a compact man with wire rimmed glasses arrived with a briefcase. Mr. Shelton called Sam aside to check the bag. Sam glanced in and his eye brows went up.

"This the way you want to play it, Mr. Shelton?"

"Yes! I want you to find my boy, Sam. I want my son back, and I don't care what you have to do. Do I make myself clear?"

Sam saw the look of deadly intent in the eyes of the company CEO, and knew he was being given a blank check.

"Okay, you're the boss." Sam said, "I just wanted to make sure."

Captain MacAvoy looked in the case, and exclaimed,

"There's nothing but newspaper in there! No money!"

"My boy may already be dead, and I'm not paying for that. If he's alive, Sam will get him back, if he's dead, then I'll put a million dollar bounty on their heads. But I'm not rewarding some criminal for any harm to my son."

When the time came Sam went out the door to his old coupe. MacAvoy walked him to the car.

You know they'll kill the bagman, don't you? He asked Sam. "Do you at least have your gun with you?

"No, I can't carry it to the drop, they'll likely check. I have this," Sam held up the rough blackthorn walking stick. "I was a beat cop for enough years that I know what to do with a nice hard piece of wood. And my Colt is in the car."
 
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Part 2.


Sam drove off, and by midnight was in the deserted park, slowly limping up to the drop with the briefcase of newspapers in his left hand. It was a chilly fall night, and he had his fedora pulled low and collar of his trench coat pulled up. A figure came out of the dark with a gun in his right hand.

"Open your coat and turn around slow."

Sam held open his coat and turned, showing no gun on him.

"Okay grandpa, give me the dough!"

Sam mumbled something, and weakly held out the case just a little from his body.

"Come on, give me the case!”

Again Sam mumbled something low and unintelligible, while not holding the case out too far.

"Damm it, give me the money you old...” the man stepped forward to grab the case from what he thought was an old man. It's a fact of nature that a right handed man will step out with his right foot if he doesn't think about it. It was the moment Sam had waited for.

Dropping the briefcase, he grabbed the mans gun in his left hand while swinging up between the mans legs with the blackthorn. The man let out a gagging scream and went to his knees, but an instant later Sam's blackthorn came down on the man's right wrist. Sam felt the crunch of bones breaking, and the revolver in the mans hand hit the ground. Sam dragged the now doubled up man to the iron fence around the carousel, and used the handcuffs loaned him by Captain MacAvoy to cuff the man to the iron fence. He then stood on the man's broken right arm and put his knee on the mans chest, pinning him down.

"Where's the boy?"

The man glared up at Sam with hatred.

"Go to hell, I don't know what you’re talking about!" he spat at Sam. "If you’re a copper, go ahead and arrest me for trying to rob you of a briefcase."

"I got good news and bad news for ya punk. The good news is I'm not a cop, and I'm not here to arrest you. The real bad news is, I'm not a cop and I'm not here to arrest you."

Sam reached in his pants pocket and took out his little Case pocket knife.

"I'm gonna ask you one more time, where's the kid. Then I start cutting things off you. “Sam told him.

The man made a very rude answer.

On the other side of the park an old wino was just making himself comfortable in some bushes and opening a fresh bottle of cheap wine. Suddenly, a piercing scream of pain and terror echoed across the park. The wino went scurrying from his place, seeking a quieter drinking spot. A few minutes later, Sam was running out of the park to his old coupe. Down the street, he stopped at a closed gas station that had a phone booth outside. He dialed the Shelton home.

"Gimme Mac...hello Mac, I got a package for ya cuffed to the fence by the carousel...yeah he told me where, I'm on the way now. Here's the address,,,yeah out on Long Island,... if you don't hear from me in one hour, send in the cavalry with trumpets blowing. Oh, and if you have any radio cars between here and the causeway, tell 'em to stay out of my way, I'm gonna be flying low." "

Sam jammed the receiver down on its hook and jumped in the Plymouth. He'd worked over the engine just months ago, and he pushed the Plymouth coupe hard. The little flathead 6 gave all it had, and he crossed the causeway at almost 80 miles per hour. In Sam's head was a clock ticking down, and the time was running out for a young boy. The tires screeched their protest at each turn, but soon he was rolling down a quiet lane with his lights out. Stopping short of the house, he got out and walked the last little way, but not before reaching into the glove box for his long barrel Colt Officers match.

He found the old bungalow sitting back from the road, and made a quiet approach. No lights showed except for in the back of the house. There was a back porch, and he eased open the screen door just enough to get through. In the kitchen he saw two people arguing. A young man and a young woman in a small kitchen.

"It's taking too long I tell you! He should have been here with the money by now. We need to kill the kid and get out of here." yelled the woman at the man.

"I'm not killing a kid, I didn't sign on for a murder." replied the young man. "He can't identify us; he's had a pillowcase over his head."

"He can identify me and John! If you're too yellow, I'll do it."

Sam could see a gun lying on the table by the man's hand, and he knew he needed a surprise or diversion. Leaving the porch carefully, he ran around to the front of the house to see if there was a way in. What he found was an overgrown yard, with the branches of an old oak tree grown close to the front windows. Sam looked at the tree limb inches from the glass of the front window and got an idea. Running back to the rear of the little bungalow, he found a clothes line. One of the nice ones, with a T at the top and 3 lines on it. Thinking fast, Sam took out his little Case two blade pocket knife, and cut the cotton line off the metal stands. He ran back to the front of the house with his three long lengths of line and tied one end to the oak tree limb closest to the window. Then he went to the main trunk and wrapped the line around the tree and drew it back. Slowly he drew back the tree limb like the limb of a bow until it was arched well back, then tied off his end of the line to the tree. Now he needed a way to make sure the line broke while he waited by the back door.

Taking his pocket knife, he picked the strands of clothes line apart till he had a fine string several inches long. Searching his pockets, he found what he needed. Taking a book of matches, he tied them to the underside of the clothes line, and then shook out a smoke from his pack of cigarettes. He lit the cigarette and wedged the unlit end into the pack of matches. He knew this would give him a few minutes until it burned through the clothes line and sent the tree limb breaking through the window. He made his way quickly back to the back door and with Colt revolver in hand waited.

The couple inside were still bickering, and Sam got his left foot ready. Suddenly, there was a crashing of breaking glass from the front room, and the man jumped up from the table looking down the foyer, with his back to the kitchen.

It was the moment Sam waited for.

His left foot kicked hard, and the dry rotted wood around the door shattered, and the man turned to face Sam, who already had him in his sights.

"Don't do it sonny! Drop it now!" Sam yelled at him.

Sam never figured out why the man went for it. Maybe he was too terrified of going to prison; maybe he thought Sam would miss. It was a foolish thought. Sam pulled through the long smooth double action of the Colt, and sent two 158 grain bullets through the young mans chest. The young man staggered back against the kitchen wall, and slid down to the floor dead.

Sam turned to the young woman who had her hand in her purse.

"That hand better come out empty or you'll be taking harp lessons with your boyfriend before you blink twice." Sam told her.

Very slowly the young woman took her hand out, and backed away from the table. Sam reached in the purse and felt a hard cool flat object. He pulled out a .25 auto, and slipped it in his coat pocket.

"Where's the kid?" Sam asked her.

"I... I don't know, they made me go in with them, honest! I didn't want to do it mister. They were gonna kill the poor kid, I wanted to help him. Really!"

Sam took a step forward, closing the distance between them. With no warning, he hit the woman right in the mouth with his left fist.

"I'm not gonna ask you nice again. Where's the kid?! Tell me or you're not going to be near as pretty as you are now when those prison gates shut behind you!"

"He's locked in the cellar. He's still alive."

"Okay, walk real slowly with your hands in sight; we're going to get him out.

Sam found the boy tied up and scared, but soon they were outside in the cool night air with the homicidal young woman locked in the cellar. Sam had tried to shield the boy from seeing the dead man, but the kid and seen enough. They were standing in the front yard, and the boy looked at the broken front window and the tree limb with a long length of clothes line trailing from it. Police sirens were in the distance coming closer by the second. MacAvoy was coming with the cavalry, but it was all over. The cops swarmed over the place, and Captain MacAvoy made some notes.

"Well, you got the job done in your usual way. Oh, and we got the package in the park, he'll be on the way to jail soon as they sew most of his ear back on. Oh, sorry son didn't mean to say that. "

Sam watched the 10 year old boy carefully for any signs of distress as they drove back to the city, but the boy was holding up well.

"I knew they'd send somebody." he said finally. “I knew my dad wouldn’t be blackmailed. I'm glad they sent you Sam. I heard them arguing and they were going to kill me. I knew that. When I heard the shots, I knew somebody was there. I owe you my life, Sam. I'm never ever going to forget that. "

"Aw, it's just something a pal does for ya, okay?" said Sam, "After all, we're pal's right?"

Sam looked over at the boy, and was impressed by the mature look in his eyes.

"Sure," said the boy,” We’re pals for life."

It was quiet in the car for a bit, and then the boy spoke again.

"Sam, how'd you get the window to break like that? I heard you tell that police Captain you were at the back door and made a...diversion you called it. And did you really cut a mans ear off to find me?"

Sam thought about it a minute how to explain it to the boy.

"I didn’t have time to fool around with them. I did what I had to do to get to you. At that moment, I needed him more afraid of me than any prison. He needed to know I was there for business, and I wasn't going to fool around. With a gun, all I could do was shoot him. But a nice sharp knife gives some options. Just like making the diversion. The knife was the tool that let me improvise a bit. Make use of what's laying around."

"Thanks Sam, I'm glad my dad has you on our side." the boy said. "Sam, can I see the knife? You got a lot of mileage out of one little pocket knife tonight. I'd kind of like to see the knife, if it's okay with you."

Without a word, Sam reached in his pants and took out the little two blade Case knife. Barkley Junior took it in his hand and seemed surprised.

"Why, it's...kind of a little thing. I'd have thought it would have been bigger."

"It's sharp, and that's what counts. ‘Don’t have to be big, just sharp.’ I had an old scoutmaster from my boy scout days drill that into me." Sam told the boy. "I'll tell you what, you go and keep it, put it in your pocket. Someday you may need a sharp knife, and you'll have that one. I want you to have it. Really, I got another one home in a drawer. Put it in your pocket and take a handkerchief or a bandanna and wad it up and shove it down on top of the knife. That will keep it from falling out, and also pad the outline. If somebody snatches you again, they may not know you have it. I'll show you how to jimmy a door latch with the little pen blade. And I'll show ya how to sharpen it. I'll clear it with your old man."

“Thanks Sam!”

Then they were at the long curving driveway of the Shelton mansion, and Sam stopped the car at the bottom of the driveway.

Look kid, I know you feel okay now, but later it’s gonna hit ya good. Trust me, you’ve been through a lot. Here’s my card, I want you to call me if you need to talk. Middle of the night, whatever. Bad dreams, anything. Got it? That’s what pal’s are for. Okay?

"Okay Sam. Let's go home."


New York City, 1982

The old white haired ex-private eye finished his story of the Shelton case. He took a long drink from the can of beer in his hand.

“That what you wanted kid?” he asked the young college student.

Just then a black Town Car limo pulled up at the entrance to the old fishing pier, and a tall distinguished looking man in an expecive suit got out and came their way. Dark hair with a bit of silver at the temples. The young student thought he looked familiar, but it didn’t come to him at first.

“Are you ready for dinner Sam” The man from the limo asked.

The old dectective looked up and grined.

“Ah Barkley, always ready for a good meal, just give me a minute to pack up. “ he said.

They got Sam’s folding chair and cooler into the trunk of the Town Car, and then the young student recognized the tall man.

“Why, you’re Barkley Shelton the third, head of Shelton Industries! I recognize you from the newpaper photos. You’re the kid Sam saved from the kidnappers! I’m doing a paper on it, and he’s been telling me about it.”

Barkley Shelton waved his hand as if brushing away something.

“That was a lifetime ago. I’m just stopping by to take Sam home for dinner. It’s a twice weekly event that he comes home with us. He’s like the wayward uncle I never had, and we’ve sort of adopted him. The kids love his stories. Besides, he’s been on Shelton Industries payroll as a security consultant since I was a little kid, and as you say, he saved my life. I told him that night I would never forget it. When I look at my children and grandchildren, my gratitude knows no bounds. That man went to pretty far lengths to save my life, so as a point of honor I intend to make sure he is taken care of in his old age. Sam O'Neil will lack for nothing if I have any say in it."

Mr. Shelton took out a expencive looking cigar, and then took a small serpintine shaped two bladed pocket knife from his pocket and sliced off the end of the cigar. The student stared at the old pocket knife in the mans hand. The dark grey stained blade was well worn, but still sharp judging by how well it sliced the cigar. He saw the young man staring at the knife.

“Yes, it’s the same one. It’s been 42 years since a man gave this to me the night he saved my life. Cut off a mans ear doing it. It’s been a lesson to me in many things. Never underestimate an opponent, no matter how small. And sometimes it’s just handy to have a sharp knife on you.”

“Okay, all packed up and ready to go.” Sam called from the Town Car. “By the way, what’s for dinner?”

“What else would a cranky old Irishman want for dinner? You’re getting your favorite, corned beef and cabbage.”

The Town car pulled off and Sam called out as he was leaving,”Hey kid, good luck on your term paper!”

The young man just stared at the car in awe.
 
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Thanks for another great read
Can't get enough
Please publish these, I like books nearly as much as knives.
Take Care
Graham

PS Please make sure if you do publish them that we can get thenm in the UK
 
Nice story, JK. Enjoyed it. :thumbup:
 
It has been a long work day. Your story was engaging and I just forgot all about the day I had. Great story!
 
For crying out loud man, write a book, have it published ....and I will buy a copy !

On the other hand, you can go right on with what you are doing and keep us entertained.....either way I am well pleased to read your work.
 
Another execellent story! I am never sure which of the eras I look forward to hearing about more, all are great.
 
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