DUMPSITE, Page 25

  Weisman had one of his people set up the laptop and get all the pictures up and visible for Jonas to check. They scrolled through the pictures until Jonas pointed. “There it is, that’s the one.”

  Muddy was looking over his shoulder and said, “I have a similar case.”

  “Could you repeat that Mr. Mudd,” asked Weisman, “and if you do, where do you have a similar case?”

  “I bought it at the furniture store in Chicago. I didn’t know it was called a case. The saleslady told me it was a relic from a Portuguese sailing vessel. She said it would sit in the captain’s cabin. He kept his maps and other important material in the locker. It was a locker; she never called it a case.”

  “So, Mr. Mudd…”

  “Stop calling me Mr. Mudd, my name is Muddy!”

  “Mudd! Where is the case, I mean locker which you supposedly have?”

  “When I purchased the locker in Chicago I was plastered. When I told Helen, I bought it for her, she took a fit telling me I spend too much money on junk. The family needs food and the rent’s due and on and on she went. No fun, when you have a hangover with a throbbing headache. We moved from Chicago shortly thereafter. When we arrived in Fair Lawn and I saw the locker in the trailer, the first thing I did was put it someplace where Helen wouldn’t see it again. It was the last time I saw the locker.”

  “Pray tell, Muddy, where is it now?”

  “Probably where I left it.”

  “Where did you leave it?”

  “In the bomb shelter.”

  “What bomb shelter?”

  “The one in the basement.”

  “We haven’t seen any bomb shelter in the basement.”

  “Oh, it’s behind the mirror.”

  “What mirror? Muddy, my dear friend.” Weisman said in a frustrated tone which sent chills up Muddy’s spine.

  “Come on, I’ll show you where it is; first you have to put in writing, I get the reward.”

  “You’ll get a reward all right, from me if you don’t show us where the bomb shelter with the case, or locker or whatever it is…if it even exists.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “Solly, hold me so I don’t do anything rash!” Weisman in an exasperated voice exhaled.

  “All right everybody, in the basement, except the prisoners you three men remain to guard them,” Solly pointed.

  Slowly everyone made it down the narrow wooden stairs leading to an unfinished basement. The walls had a coat of white paint covering the cinder blocks.

  “A little quiet up there I’m trying to think,” said Weisman. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “Where’s the mirror?” asks Muddy.

  “We also want to know!”

  “Well it used to be right about here. It covered up a hole which led to the shelter directly under the front stoop.”

  “What do you mean it was right here, what happened to it?” Says Weisman.

  “Well I vaguely remember my father always hated the mirror… now I seem to recall he filled in the hole and threw the mirror in the trash.”

  “Oh, you do, do you!” spit out a mentally disturbed Weisman.

  “Wait a minute,” said Jonas, “this saber rattling is getting us nowhere. Muddy, my friend, are you saying there is a room or bomb shelter under the front steps?”

  “Yeah, there used to be.”

  “And you stored the case, I mean locker in the room?”

  “Yeah! You got it.”

  “Can we somehow find out if there is a room under the steps? asked Solly.

  “Call the Real Estate Office,” said an agent, “they would have a layout showing if the room below the steps exists.”

  “Too late, they’re closed and so is City Hall,” Solly said.

  “Why don’t you guys get a sledge hammer and knock a hole in the wall under the stoop,” Mudd suggested, “you have my permission and I own the place.”

  “Can I get it in writing,” asked a suddenly softly spoken Weisman.

  “You want the writing in blood?” Muddy asked.

  Weisman laughed and so did everyone else.

  There was a small sledge hammer behind the oil burner. Two of the agents went outside and measured from the corner of the house to the center of the front steps.

  “We have the measurement sir.”

  “Mark the wall,” Weisman said. “How high would you say the mirror was hanging Muddy?”

  “I could look in it when I was a kid, so it must have been a little lower then normal.”

  “Muddy, when you went into the room with the locker were you able to stand up or did you have to bend a bit to get around?”

  “I had to keep my head down a little. I put three or four cardboard boxes in there along with the locker and there were tires lying on the ground as well.”

  “Okay, makes me think the hole was in the center of the wall as far as up and down goes,” Mother concluded.

  “Let’s try it, so we can go home,” Weisman suggested.

  The first agent gave the wall a whack but the baby sledge bounced off the wall. He tried again and again and finally made some head way. The cinderblock was starting to break up.

  “Here, let me give you a break,” said one of the burley agents.

  He started to break the block where the other agent was working. He pitter patted for a few shots and then he reared back and clobbered the wall. Cinders were flying all over the basement and all over the participants. Finally, a small hole. He suggested a larger hammer.

  “Go ask one of the neighbors if they would be kind enough to lend us a real sledge hammer,” Solly told an agent.

  A few minutes later he returned, and they continued. It didn’t take long with the proper tool. One last hit and there was a hole the size of one of the blocks. Weisman got his flashlight out and peeked in.

  “I see the tires, there are three of them. But I don’t see any boxes. Could your father have removed them, Muddy?”

  “Not without telling me. The boxes were stacked against the house wall about here.” Muddy demonstrated where he thought they would be. “I put the boxes against the wall and the locker on top of them.”

  “Go, make the hole larger.”

  Another fifteen minutes and you could fit your head in the room. Weisman turned on his flashlight and walked toward the opening. He looked in. It seemed like forever before his head came out of the hole.

  “It’s in there! Just the way you said Muddy.”

  A large cheer was heard in the basement of Muddy’s old home for the first time in many years, maybe for the very first time ever. The sledge continued to work until the hole was large enough for a person to squeeze through. Mudd declined, saying he was too old. Solly volunteered. I’m the smallest one here, I’ll go in.

  It made Mudd happy; Solly would be the one.

  FortyOne – Mudd’s Revelation

  The case, or as Mudd called it, the locker came out in one piece. Muddy had wrapped it in an old army blanket. Although the moths had their way with the blanket, the locker had stood the test of time. The case itself had sucked in the moisture of a damp basement room. Over the years the wood had twisted and swelled. The false bottom was bulged and could be pulled out from the inside of the locker. The wax holding the diamonds was visible. It had turned a blotchy black and brown in color but was still holding the diamonds in place. The wax was slowly removed from the bottom of the case. Weisman gave the go ahead to break it up but with caution.

  A suggestion was made to put the wax on a cookie sheet in a low heat oven, not to melt it but to soften the wax enough to remove the diamonds. They were covered with a residue from the wax; the few diamonds they removed didn’t clean up very well. The order was made. M&M went in the kitchen with the agent. Muddy turned on the oven. He found an old cookie sheet. The agent suggested they break the wax into smaller pieces then the heat would get around more of the wax and the melting process would speed up. G
reat idea thought Mother as he started breaking the wax and handing pieces to the agent who gently placed each piece on the sheet.

  “Can you see the Star of LaMar?” asked an anxious Weisman.

  “Not yet sir, give it a few more minutes.”

  The next fifteen minutes seemed like an eternity. The wait, however, gave forth the expected fruit.

  “I think I see a larger stone emerging,” said the agent in charge of wax melting. “Yes, it looks like the picture we have.”

  Weisman entered the kitchen and peeked in the oven, “It certainly looks like the teardrop shape and the size of 2.6 centimeters looks about right.”

  Solly was amazed; after all the years of storytelling and research the diamonds actually existed. He had spent time during his last few years before retirement tracing down leads. He had concluded there was a possibility of the stories being true. The diamond consortiums of Europe had always believed it was and had continued searching for many years as well.

  “Good job Muddy,” said Mother with a sheepish grin.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Muddy responded.

  “Maybe not directly,” Jonas chimed in. “But you certainly had a part in finding the diamonds.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Muddy repeated.

  Well, Mr. Mudd, seems you have saved the day,” a happy Weisman said.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Muddy said once more.

  Weisman asked how long before all the wax could be removed from the remaining diamonds. He was told all would be loosed in a few minutes. They will still need to be cleaned by a professional. Weisman decided to call the Washington office and have them get in touch with the diamond consortium. All was done as directed. Now they would wait for instructions.

  A decision had to be made as to, Jewel and Gerald. Solly called in for a search of records, if there were any outstanding warrants. Solly’s phone rang. He listened intently to the message.

  “There are recent warrants in Atlantic County, two for Jewel, both listed as aggravated assault and one for Gerald under the name Silabus Solinkov aka McGrath, listed as unauthorized use of a stolen credit card.” Solly explained. “They will have to be transported to Mays Landing, New Jersey for arraignment.”

  “Once they’re arraigned the European countries will get their due,’ added Weisman. “They have a list of crimes that will put them both away for good.”

  Weisman received a phone call from the Washington DC, director. He had been in touch with the diamond consortium people. They were anxiously waiting to see the diamond.

  Weisman added. “Let’s wrap things up here. The prisoners will be taken to Newark for an overnight stay. In the morning two cars will be dispatched one will head to Mays Landing and the other directly to Atlantic City.”

  “This means we can get back to writing music,” said an exuberant Muddy.

  “Not yet, Mr. Mudd, we will need you to come to AC with Jonas. The consortium is looking forward to meeting both of you. They want to hear the whole story from the horses’ mouth, so to speak.”

  “I’m not going anywhere without Mother.”

  “Whose mother?” Weisman asks.

  “Not whose Mother, the Mother!”

  “I give up, bring your mother.”

  “Mother, he says you can come.”

  “Thanks Muddy, I needed that.”

  It didn’t take long to get the diamonds wrapped and put back in the case ready for transport. Jewel and Gerald were placed in a separate car. All was ready for the trip to the Newark office.

  “Gentlemen, good work!” said Weisman as he came up with one of his cliché statements. “We have had a day from hell, but it has ended with a bit of heaven.”

  Jonas, M&M went with agent Ben DePenta as they headed back to Chateau 54. They would get picked up for the trip to Atlantic City early morning. They talked about the excitement which had occurred. Jonas thought he would have a long talk with Belle if she was still at the chateau. Mother wanted to get in touch with his old friends, James, Vince and Chuck. They had all gone home, but he wanted to invite them back to AC to share in the excitement. They would be happy to know all was fixed. Sean and his gang had been locked up. The Chicago FBI would prosecute and, when they were done Sean and Michael, would be handed over to the Newark office. Weisman and his office had ample evidence to put Sean and Michael away for a long time. Maggie had talked up a blue storm as well as many of the felons arrested by the FBI. The diamonds had been found and Sean along with his partner in crime were to be arraigned in the morning. Muddy was depressed; he had owned $125,000,000 worth of diamonds and lost them in a few minutes.

  “Muddy, they were stolen property, no way could you keep them and get away with it. Especially the Star of LaMar,” Mother said. “Beside there is a reward and you’re in line for some of the money.”

  “That’s right Muddy,” Jonas chimed in, “I was told that there was $3,000,000 in reward money.”

  “Let’s see what happens tomorrow,” Mother continued.

  “All right but I feel I was cheated out my rightful inheritance.”

  “You want to talk to Mutty?”

  “Not tonight,” Muddy said as he fell asleep in the car.

  The boys got quiet as they continued to the chateau. It was almost midnight by the time they arrived. Muddy as if by an ordained command woke his weary bones when they pulled up to the front door of Chateau 54.

  “Take me to my suite, my good man,”

  “Mudd is dreaming of his millions,” Jonas laughed. “I’ll help him to his suite.”

  “I’ll grab our overnight bags,” Mother said.

  Muddy snored loudly as he rested on his couch. Mother threw a blanket on his 75-year-old body. Jonas went to see if Belle was home.

  “Belle, are you here,” Jonas called.

  He checked her bedroom, but the bed had not been slept in. Jonas wondered where she could be at this hour. He decided to call.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi Belle, it’s Jonas, I was looking forward to seeing you.”

  “Me too, but a friend I met while working in the law office called and asked me to come over. Her husband had been in a car crash and was in the hospital. I babysat for a few hours while she spent some time with him. When she got back home it was late and she asked me to stay. I’m just a few miles away,” Belle told him.

  “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine,” Belle said, “how did everything go today?”

  Jonas told Belle the complete story, as he knew the facts. She listened intently while she asked questions along the way.

  “I’ll be home as soon as I can, looking forward to seeing youz guys.”

  “Goodnight,” Jonas said.

  After the call Jonas wondered why she said, youz guys, not at all like Belle. She was an educated southern lady. The other day, when I asked her about the birthmark she had on her right shoulder, she said it had been removed. Jonas wondered.

  Gerald and Jewel had been locked up in separate cells at the FBI building in Newark. They would be transported to Mays Landing early in the morning with an estimated arrival time of 10:30. The whole thing seemed easy enough. Two agents would be escorting them in one car. There would be no stops along the way.

  The SUV is a new model with many safety features. It’s bullet proof, steel and glass. The tires are difficult to damage. The back-interior section is isolated and can’t be opened until it arrives at its destination. Two codes have to be used to release the lock for the back doors. One code is with the officers and the second code is at the Mays Landing police station. With this special car there would be no need for a second or third escort. A saving of manpower.

  Svetleva (the fake Belle) realized she had to set her half brother and sister free. She had been appraised of the situation by one of Gerald’s paid informants. Jonas unwittingly gave her the information needed. She would get to them before they arrived in Mays Landing.
Svetty had contacted six associates from Philly. She had a plan. They would make it happen.

  FortyTwo — Rolling Down the Parkway

  Dawn was about to break at the FBI facility in Newark. Gerald and Jewel were sleeping in their respective cells. Jewel was having a nightmare about spending the rest of her life behind bars, when she awoke in a cold sweat. She became indignant, yelling obscenities and accusations at all who were, in her mind, at fault for her capture. She called Muddy’s name and yelled loudly, “I should have killed him when I had the chance. If I ever get another chance he’ll feel the wrath of McGrath.” She continued with Solly and blamed him for rescuing Mudd when she was about to cut him up. She wanted to burn down Chateau 54 to get even with the Mother of all Mothers, as she put it.

  Even Lucian Santana Gerald was not left out of her scorn. “My miserable brother would sell me out for a nickel,” she hollered. “Mickey is a low life. He has no gratitude after all the things I’ve done for the brat.” Her ranting became louder as she went through everyone she blamed for her losing ways. Finally, an agent came in. He flatly told her to shut her mouth or she would be gagged. “It’s illegal,” she screamed back at him, “I can yell as much as I want.”

  “Go ahead,” he told her. She was getting tired of yelling anyway. She did her best to see herself a free woman.

  Lucian Santana Gerald is about to get up and stretch. Or should I say Mickey McGrath. He had had so many different names he almost forgot his real name was Mickey. He thought back in time when his mother Betty and father Michael McGrath were living in Ireland, his birthplace. How the kids used to make fun of a nerdy kid they called, Mickey Mousey! I showed them, he thought. But there he was locked up with no place to go. There had to be a way out. He always had his way. He needed to get in touch with his lawyer. “Hey, I want to contact my lawyer,” he hollered…no one responded.

  Around 6:00am, a burly man came into the cell area and told him to get dressed, they would be leaving in an hour. The man left as Gerald sat down and started to think about his incarceration. He needed help, but where would he get it. Maybe this was the time of the end for him. He thought he could hear Jewel yelling but figured it was his imagination. Then again it would be like her.