Date: Fri 04-Dec-1998

Publication: Bee

Author: CURT

Quick Words:

Laslo-Briscoe-history-fiction

Full Text:

From the Case Files of Detective Laslo Briscoe -- Installment 13

By Andrea Zimmermann

No. 862 -- The Case Of

The Tattletale Bullet Wound

Had Harry Gomberg's son not hit his man when he fired down upon him about

midnight last Friday, this would be yet another in a string of unresolved

burglaries at Gomberg's automobile accessory store. Although resolution was

quickly affected, it happened not in Botsford where the intruders were

surprised as they gathered their spoils. But my pen rushes ahead of the facts.

For a month now, Gomberg's son has kept vigil and camped in the loft above the

store, a simple one story affair. He recognized it was no trio of rodents

rustling through the store in the dark that night, and our young hero wasted

no time in firing at them through the trap door. While he admitted his hair

seemed to straighten out wonderfully, his aim was good. The bandits fled in an

automobile, and young Gomberg raced to his father's house. The elder rang me

and we three travelled to Bridgeport, while Sheriff Beers notified the city

police to be on the look out.

Just into the city, we spied a car similar to the one seen at Botsford. A

policeman standing on the corner was asked who was traveling in the car; he

responded that three young men had parked the vehicle and gone up to a

doctor's office. When we related our suspicion, the cop was most

accommodating. He went up to investigate and discovered one man being treated

for a bullet wound. Not being satisfied with the trio's explanation, he took

them to the police station for further questions and, later, turned them over

to Sheriff Beers and the state police. The men were identified as Julius

Kindley, Myron Dickson, and George Spencer, the latter of whom was taken to St

Vincent's Hospital for treatment. It is likely the other two lament they were

not hit by bullets, as they have been committed to the Bridgeport jail until

their companion heals enough to appear in court.

No. 877 -- The Case Of

The Crooked Step-Brother

A true test of a man's nature is not generally met through daily toils.

Rather, introduce a foreign element into his life or remove him to less

familiar environment, and observe how he fares. One of our citizens in the

Palestine district recently failed such a test, when he made it an elementary

exercise for a con artist to make way with $3,700 of his money.

Known about town as a thrifty and successful farmer, Woosie Wychowski was also

proved to be guileless when his wife's step-brother arrived for a visit with a

New York City friend in tow. The two were carried about town in an automobile

quite a little by Woosie, as they pretended they were interested in acquiring

a farm. Convinced he could participate in a grand plan, Woosie went to Newtown

Savings Bank and drew out some $2,800.

He and his friends then drove to Bridgeport with the intent of cashing the

check at First National Bank. The bankers would not accommodate the farmer

unless he was identified, so Woosie sent for Attorney Robert Beecher who did

name him. When Beecher realized Woosie had disposed of some securities and had

on his person a total of $3,700 in cash, he urged him to have a deputy sheriff

or other responsible man accompany him to Newtown. The attorney did not like

the appearance of things and told Woosie as much. But, buoyed by the charm of

his new friends, Woosie did not heed this weighty advice. Rather, he returned

to the homestead and hid the money in a closet.

Two days later, the friends reluctantly took their leave. Woosie carried them

in his auto to the state road, for which the men paid him handsomely. It

wasn't too long before Woosie realized the men had rewarded him with his own

money and disappeared with the balance. The guileless farmer was so dismayed

by having fallen victim to flattery and joviality, that he waited a week

before relating the incident to me. At that point, the crime trail was so

obscured there was nothing for me to do but enter a report with Beers and

Chief of Police Flannigan in Bridgeport. It is believed the man from New York

City, Tony Ponitoski, is a professional swindler.

All but Woosie can relax for a time; having done so well in Newtown, it may be

a long while before our visitor will need to ply his trade again.

No. 889 -- The Case Of

The Obvious Arsonist

Had weather been windy in early morning last Wednesday, Sandy Hook's major

business would now be that of charcoal as an arsonist's work would have

destroyed the Augur block and all the buildings down to the Sandy Hook Hotel.

It was a flagrant attempt at incendiarism, bold and clumsy, as swabs and rags

were found saturated with gasoline. And the compass of guilt points in one

direction alone -- to Nicholas Delala, the man in charge of his brother's boot

and shoe repair.

Fire broke out about 2:30 am and had gained headway when discovered. I was

roused by my fellow members of the corps of firefighters and we quickly

assembled a bucket brigade. Pails were secured in abundance from the stores of

Corbett & Crowe and H.G. Warner & Co., and from the residence of G.F. Taylor.

A hard struggle ensued and we were required to solicit fire extinguishers from

Newtown and the factory of the Fabric Fire Hose Company. After the flames were

subdued, we inspected the building. The west half was pretty well gutted,

which had just hours before been the benign location of the shoe repair and,

on the second floor, the lodge room of the Foresters Court Sandy Hook. The

building was fired in the basement under the Delala shop.

Jack Mallow, who runs the meat market, was asleep in the office connected with

the market at the time of the fire. When one of the corps pounded at the door,

he emerged somewhat dazed. Although he was questioned at length he was assumed

innocent, and it was Nicholas Delala who was placed under $1,000 bond by

Justice McCarthy.

If one was inclined toward the notion of fate, it would be a wise thing to

choose a profession other than that of cobbler in this town.