Harry and I were sitting in his office having a cup of acid, that Harry was trying to pass off as coffee.
“I heard you got lucky with an English teacher the other night. Is that true?”
“What do you think?”
“I hope you aren’t still using that same tired old line you used when we were kids.”
“Which one are you referring to, Harry?”
“That one where you tell the woman to act like her feet hate each other.”
“I forgot that one. No, I didn’t need to.”
Detectives George and Taylor stuck their heads in the door.
“We have something for you, Lou,” Detective George said, “You want us to wait around until you finish?”
“Naw, come on in and sit down. What do you have?” Detective Taylor looked in my direction.
“He’s alright,” Harry said.
He nodded and began, “Okay, we spoke with an Atlanta Homicide Captain by the name of Greg Dorfmeier, a German boy who happens to have relatives living in the Sheboygan area. He brought us up to date on their investigation into the murder of Candi Kane’s parents, Christopher, and Helene.”
“I know Dorfmeier,” I said.
“We served in the South Pacific together. He was my company commander, Captain Greg Dorfmeier. He went to school at Point.”
“Stevens Point?” Chet asked.
“No, West Point.”
“What in the hell is he doing in the Atlanta PD? Shouldn’t he be a General or something?”
“You would think.”
Harry interrupted, “Come on, let's continue with your report, Detective,”
“Ok, Christopher was the managing partner of the firm and it was one of the top law offices in Atlanta. Dorfmeier Telexed us a copy of their report a few minutes ago. “According to their source, they think the murders were orchestrated by the Dixie Mafia, spearheaded by a guy named Darrell “Shotgun” Mason who splits his time living in Atlanta and Albany, Georgia, a town a couple a hundred miles southwest of Atlanta. He is Georgia’s gangland kingpin who owns a string of motels and nightclubs along an area known as "The Strip” in Atlanta that doubles as illicit dens for gambling, prostitution, and drugs; a place where some of Atlanta’s finest go to get their steam released, compliments of a southern style head job.
“Mason’s boy, Billy Bob, who goes by the nickname Junior, ran the operation along with a punk named Bobby Joe Millen. They are close friends and partners in crime. “Mason has club owners carry messages, hold loot, hide fugitives, fence stolen property, and underwrite the expenses for this loose-knit band of criminals in exchange for a piece of the action.
“Shotgun and Junior have been linked to a string of killings that have left twenty-five people dead in six different states over the past four years. They are a couple of bad hombre's and as slippery as a couple of greased pigs.
“What the Atlanta Police have been able to gather so far is that Christopher Kane’s Law firm, Kane, and Crowson, LLC, was the mouthpiece for Mason. They got paid hefty sums of money to get Mason and his cronies off the hook on everything from prostitution to drugs, and murder raps.
“Their investigation so far has turned up some interesting facts about Mr. Kane and his law partner, Lou Crowson. Most of their clients were the kind that was in need of criminal defense. Those with the most money were those whose gains had been illgotten through vice and corruption. The Kane & Crowson Law Firm seemed to thrive on these low life’s.
“Kane and Crowson didn’t simply view their criminal defense work as "just a job," they seemed to move comfortably among the figures of this shadowy underworld. They were well-liked, respected, and welcomed into the fold. Crowson particularly seemed fascinated by this underground culture,