On their way back to their room, Rick and A.J. bought photo developing chemicals, photo paper and vats so that they would be able to see what was on the rolls of film right away.
Back at their room in the tenement house Juan managed, the brothers prepped the cramped bathroom to use it as a makeshift darkroom. They put up a clothesline with pins across the shower rail for drying the negatives and the paper. There was only a sink, no counter, in the bathroom, so they placed the vats for developer, stop bath, and fixer in the bathtub. They'd use the sink for washing.
The next few hours, they worked diligently, uttering a few words when necessary. Their hard work came to fruition as the images on the prints started to emerge.
"A.J.?" There was an undercurrent of excitement in Rick's whisper. "Is this…?"
"Yes. It's a ledger, most likely with falsified entries."
They continued working at a brisk pace to make prints for two rolls' worth. They were so absorbed in their work, they did not notice when there was a knock on the door.
"Rick? Are you there?"
It was Juan Suarez.
"Yeah, I'm here. Just a minute, okay? I'll be right out!"
Rick finished the task at hand and exited the bathroom carefully so as not to disturb the darkroom integrity. He opened the door and said to the super, "Sorry, Juan. We've been busy. So, what's up?"
Juan looked at him quizzically. "Didn't you see my note? I left it under the door."
"A note?" He was about to say, 'what note,' but found a crumpled sheet of paper on the floor by the wall. "Oh gee, I'm sorry. We were in such a hurry we didn't see it. What did you want to tell us?"
"A beautiful lady called and left a message for your hermano, Rick. Her name's Janet, she said. Es muy guappa!"
"How can you tell she's pretty over the phone?" asked Rick.
"I just know. I'm right, no?"
"Yeah, she's a real foxy lady, but what's the message?"
"She said, 'Tell A.J. to call me back right away. It's very, very important.' She called many, many times."
"What's so important, Juan?" asked A.J. as he came out of the bathroom with the last batch of prints. "Did she tell you what's going on?"
Juan shook his head. "No. No sé nada. Come down to my unit, you can use my phone. No charge!" He flashed a toothy smile.
Rick and A.J. took up on his offer. It was still four o'clock on the West Coast, so they had plenty of time to call Janet before the quitting time. After Juan excused himself from his apartment to give them some privacy, A.J. dialed the number of Janet Fowler's office.
At the first ring, she answered, "Hello? Janet Fowler."
"Hi, Janet. It's me, A.J…"
Janet did not let him finish his sentence. "Thank goodness, you're safe! Where have you been? I've been on pins and needles waiting for you to call me back!"
"Calm down, Janet, we're okay. Most of all, we think we got whatever it takes to prosecute the guilty party. We have photos of a cooked book and the negatives. All we have to do is turn over the evidence to…"
"No!" Janet cut him off again. "You haven't, have you? I've been trying so hard to reach you to tell you not to do that."
A.J. and Rick, who had been listening on the conversation, stared at each other uncomprehendingly.
"Janet, what are you talking about?" asked A.J.
"Well, have you?" Janet was insistent.
"Turning over the evidence? No, not yet." He hurriedly continued before getting interrupted again. "Do you mind telling me what's going on?"
"I contacted a few NYPD detectives and federal agents there like you asked me to and found a federal prosecutor named Dawson who had closely worked on this case."
"What got you so riled up?" asked Rick.
"According to Dawson, the police and the Feds pressured Rodney Hirsch to produce some evidence for a very powerful crime family's racketeering and money laundering schemes. We're talking about an offshoot of the Gambino family here. They finally got him to tell where the cooked book was hidden and then raided his office. And Hirsch was to be their star witness."
"Then he got killed. But what's the problem? The police and the Feds still have a solid piece of evidence for indictment, don't they?" Rick was uncertain why Janet was so upset.
"That's what I've been trying to tell you, Rick." She sounded irritated or frustrated when Rick interrupted her. "The ledger they had seized disappeared from the evidence room, but that's the least of their problem."
The Simons were no longer sure if they wanted to hear the rest.
"Hirsch must have known or at least feared there might be someone on the force or among the Feds working for the mob, took pictures of the ledger and asked Ira Cohen to keep the film for him without telling him the real reason."
"But Ira put two and two together and called the authorities after Hirsch was killed?" A.J. conjectured.
"Yes. Ira called Dawson's office to let them know about the rolls of film. He was afraid to get in touch with the police because of what had happened to his colleague. He thought there might be a corrupt cop working for the perpetrator. Unfortunately, Dawson and his superior were out of office on a business trip when he called."
"By the time they got back, his wife had been killed." A.J. speculated.
"Yes, but she was only a collateral damage. It was Ira's day off—he was supposed to be at home with her. It happened when he was out running errands, like placing the rolls of film in his safe deposit box at the bank."
Rick and A.J. now fully understood why Janet had been so desperate to reach them.
"So he knew there was an informant on the federal level as well. There was a lot of confusion after the murder and the arson, and it took Dawson's office a few extra days to locate Ira. Dawson did whatever it took to earn his trust, and eventually, he came around and said he'd consider turning over the film and testifying in court. The federal prosecutors promised to place him in the witness protection program."
"Then his brother, David, died, and he skipped town," said Rick. It was a statement, not a supposition.
"Uh-huh. He tried to cover up his track, but he's an amateur. He wasn't mindful of the paper trail and the phone log, so the Feds sent a U.S. Marshal to Portland to protect him though he wasn't in the program officially…"
"But there was a leak in the prosecutors' office, and the mob sent their enforcer, or enforcers to Benson, thinking Gunderson and Ira were staying at the same hotel together. Gunderson was dead by 11:00 a.m., hours before the time for their meeting…"
A.J. felt like he was trapped in a short horror story titled, Monkey's Paw, in which a mummified simian paw wreaked havoc on a hapless family by granting their wishes in the cruelest, most hideous ways. The evidence of Kessler account, whether in the form of ledger or film, seemed to be a harbinger of misfortune and tragedy for whoever possessed it.
"Now you know why I'm so worried about you." Janet said softly, a small chink in her fierceness revealing underlying vulnerability. "Needless to say, Dawson will want the film if he gets a whiff that you got it, and, as a county A.D.A., I should side with him, but, as your friend, I don't want you to give it him. I don't want you to end up in a dark alley with bullet holes in your heads, or knives in the chests."
"We can mail it to him anonymously," suggested Rick.
"Won't work." Janet sounded dejected. "All you got is only photographs, which need authentication. Ira would have been a powerful witness if the case had gone to trial. With him gone, someone—a third party who has no connection with the accounting firm—will have to back up the authenticity by explaining how the pictures have come into their possession and do a damn good job of it. And the best they can do is build only a circumstantial case around it."
"And that means Mrs. Crenshaw has to testify in court as well because she's the one who got the ball rolling."
"Yes." Janet confirmed Rick's comment. "And since you told the gang's underlings about your involvement in this case when you were in Portland, they know you're responsible for dredging up this whole thing. If they learn the Feds received the photos of the ledger, you'll be marked men, if not already, whether you cooperate with the prosecution or not. On top of that, the new evidence could be 'misplaced' again—it happened before."
"What about William Beckett?" asked A.J. "He supervised the team of CPAs on the Kessler account. He must have handpicked Hirsch for this work."
"Yes, the federal prosecutors know that. They did everything to persuade him to cooperate; they cajoled, they threatened to no avail. A.J., he's no fool—he knows what happens if he double-crosses the crime family."
"Oh, that's just great," grumbled Rick. "So you're telling us this is a case of 'damned if you do, damned if you don't'?"
Three of them became quiet contemplating the predicament of the brothers.
"Hey, hold on a sec. Maybe, there is a way out…" Rick had a look that instantly put A.J. in the self-preservation mode.
"I don't like it," declared A.J.
"What do you mean you don't like it? I haven't told you anything."
"I still don't like it. When you smile like that, I get butterflies in my stomach."
"Oh, don't worry. I guarantee you, it's a lot safer than other alternatives."
"Ha! Isn't that what the engineer of Hindenburg said?"
"Hey, guys!" Janet sounded annoyed. "What's going on?"
Rick brushed A.J. aside to monopolize the phone receiver.
"Listen, Janet. I need some more information from you. You may have it already right at your fingertips…"
His tiny smile turned into a full-fledged grin.