before he could finish.
“I’m fine. Helen was due to the compound that Abraham had rented around six o’clock. It’s my understanding that there were nearly a hundred guests. Carlton later told me Abraham was furious when Helen still hadn’t shown up by seven. Cocktails were being served and, despite his anger, Abraham soldiered on by opening the gifts his friends had stacked beside his table. I came to learn later that one box, wrapped in red and tied with a velvet ribbon, contained a photograph of Helen along with a ransom note. I’ve since seen the picture, of course. Again, I’m sure it’s in some official record somewhere.” Larry paused. Mort and Rita sat in silence until he spoke again. “Helen was chained to a tree. Her eyes wide and her face tearstained. After all these years I still wake up at night, overcome that her last experience on this earth was one of terror. The note demanded $250,000 in cash be delivered by nine that evening to a certain empty stall at Pike Place Market.” Larry huffed a mirthless laugh. “How fitting. It was a place the Seafood King knew well.” Larry went quiet for a few heartbeats more. “Of course, the note demanded no police. Pay the money and Helen would be released immediately. Fail to meet the timeline and she’d be killed.” He fell silent again.
“How about a break, buddy?” Mort asked. “Maybe a walk around the building.”
Larry shook his head without looking his friend’s way. “Carlton later told me no one at the party would have guessed what was happening. Apparently Abraham excused himself, saying he had urgent business to attend to. Carlton said he urged his friends to continue with the party, promising to join them shortly. True enough, according to the guests he was back at the party in time to hear toasts over his birthday cake. While he was gone, of course, he arranged to have the money, all cash, delivered right where the kidnappers demanded. Knowing Abraham the way I do, I’m confident he wasn’t worried. It was a business transaction. He held up his end and expected the other party to uphold theirs. I’m sure he was stunned when, hours later, two uniformed sheriffs knocked on his door to tell him they’d found Helen. Chained to a tree deep in an Orcas Island forest. Dead.” Larry’s jaw churned at the memory. “Abraham’s personal secretary was among his party guests. He went to her and asked her to call me.”
Mort saw no reaction to Abraham’s callousness register on Chief Willers’s face. She simply wrote a few lines on her rapidly filling tablet.
“Kenny Kamm was arrested the next day?” Rita Willers asked the question, but her mention of the man convicted of murdering Helen Clark told Mort she’d done her homework. She’d probably spent the morning reviewing any official record she could access regarding L. Jackson Clark.
Larry’s exhale was more resignation than respiration. “Kamm was a drifter. Working odd jobs. He’d been hired by Smydon Fish to unload the boats. Brutal work requiring nothing more than a strong back. The prosecutors think maybe he’d seen Helen one day when she was visiting the docks. There was no doubt Kamm delivered Helen’s fatal blows. His blood was found mixed with Helen’s. My wife fought valiantly for her life, Chief. She left bite marks on his shoulder and hands. Kamm initially pleaded he had no memory of killing her. He had a long history of drug use and told the authorities he’d taken a mixture of hallucinogenics, alcohol, and meth that night. Said he remembered nothing. The police gathered their evidence, and we prepared ourselves for the trial. That’s when Carlton and I began to get close. He was devastated by Helen’s death. As I said, they were like devoted siblings. Abraham was crushed, as well, of course. But he had the company…his work.” Larry’s eyes lost the deep compassion so often evident in them. “And that damnable iron will of his. Abraham lifted himself up and
“I’m fine. Helen was due to the compound that Abraham had rented around six o’clock. It’s my understanding that there were nearly a hundred guests. Carlton later told me Abraham was furious when Helen still hadn’t shown up by seven. Cocktails were being served and, despite his anger, Abraham soldiered on by opening the gifts his friends had stacked beside his table. I came to learn later that one box, wrapped in red and tied with a velvet ribbon, contained a photograph of Helen along with a ransom note. I’ve since seen the picture, of course. Again, I’m sure it’s in some official record somewhere.” Larry paused. Mort and Rita sat in silence until he spoke again. “Helen was chained to a tree. Her eyes wide and her face tearstained. After all these years I still wake up at night, overcome that her last experience on this earth was one of terror. The note demanded $250,000 in cash be delivered by nine that evening to a certain empty stall at Pike Place Market.” Larry huffed a mirthless laugh. “How fitting. It was a place the Seafood King knew well.” Larry went quiet for a few heartbeats more. “Of course, the note demanded no police. Pay the money and Helen would be released immediately. Fail to meet the timeline and she’d be killed.” He fell silent again.
“How about a break, buddy?” Mort asked. “Maybe a walk around the building.”
Larry shook his head without looking his friend’s way. “Carlton later told me no one at the party would have guessed what was happening. Apparently Abraham excused himself, saying he had urgent business to attend to. Carlton said he urged his friends to continue with the party, promising to join them shortly. True enough, according to the guests he was back at the party in time to hear toasts over his birthday cake. While he was gone, of course, he arranged to have the money, all cash, delivered right where the kidnappers demanded. Knowing Abraham the way I do, I’m confident he wasn’t worried. It was a business transaction. He held up his end and expected the other party to uphold theirs. I’m sure he was stunned when, hours later, two uniformed sheriffs knocked on his door to tell him they’d found Helen. Chained to a tree deep in an Orcas Island forest. Dead.” Larry’s jaw churned at the memory. “Abraham’s personal secretary was among his party guests. He went to her and asked her to call me.”
Mort saw no reaction to Abraham’s callousness register on Chief Willers’s face. She simply wrote a few lines on her rapidly filling tablet.
“Kenny Kamm was arrested the next day?” Rita Willers asked the question, but her mention of the man convicted of murdering Helen Clark told Mort she’d done her homework. She’d probably spent the morning reviewing any official record she could access regarding L. Jackson Clark.
Larry’s exhale was more resignation than respiration. “Kamm was a drifter. Working odd jobs. He’d been hired by Smydon Fish to unload the boats. Brutal work requiring nothing more than a strong back. The prosecutors think maybe he’d seen Helen one day when she was visiting the docks. There was no doubt Kamm delivered Helen’s fatal blows. His blood was found mixed with Helen’s. My wife fought valiantly for her life, Chief. She left bite marks on his shoulder and hands. Kamm initially pleaded he had no memory of killing her. He had a long history of drug use and told the authorities he’d taken a mixture of hallucinogenics, alcohol, and meth that night. Said he remembered nothing. The police gathered their evidence, and we prepared ourselves for the trial. That’s when Carlton and I began to get close. He was devastated by Helen’s death. As I said, they were like devoted siblings. Abraham was crushed, as well, of course. But he had the company…his work.” Larry’s eyes lost the deep compassion so often evident in them. “And that damnable iron will of his. Abraham lifted himself up and
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