Shoe Leather

2007-12-31T13:56:00.000-06:00

Chapter 001
Chapter 002
Chapter 003
Chapter 004
Chapter 005
Chapter 006

SHOE LEATHER 006

2005-07-01T13:09:00.000-05:00

“Door’s open.” A voice from inside calls out. So I go right in. She seems a bit taken aback, I guess she was expecting someone else too. She’s a sweet old lady though, smiles and invites me right in. I’d say she’s about the same age as Pallas, not quite his weight, still pretty heavy. She’s got a motherly thing about her, ending every other sentence with “hun” or “sweety” like a late night waitress bucking for a tip. If she had curlers in her hair you’d expect her to offer you a cup of coffee, but she’s dressed well, just what you’d expect an older professional woman to wear. Some kind of blazer and matching skirt. Not the newest fashion, but still looking good.

So she invites me in, I sit down at her desk and she asks me what I need. I tell her I’m doing some legal work for Mr. Pallas and need to ask a few questions. She looks me up and down and wrinkles her nose. I’m obviously no lawyer, I look more like am old-time hobo I guess. But she doesn’t ask any questions, just folds her hands on her desktop and nods. I figure, screw it, I’m laying it all out, so I ask her if she wants Pallas to retire. She nods quietly and tells me Pallas isn’t really a healthy man and thinks that retirement would be good for him “maybe he could get a little exercise and some fresh air for a change.” I can’t tell if she is laying it on thick or if she really is concerned for the man. She goes on about how the company wouldn’t run the same without him, maybe he could just take a couple days off a week and work part-time yada yada... I have to interrupt her. I tell he I’m not concerned for his health, I’m worried that someone is trying to put him out of business. Of course she knows the whole Rick Black story and doesn’t really have anything new to add to it, just that she begged Pallas not to send that bottle of champagne.

I ask her if there isn’t anything else she can think of. Here she gets quiet and confidential. It seems that there are people within the company who might want to take over. People who want Pallas’s job. This is it I think, come on Ruthie let’s have it. “I’m not one to talk out of school.” She says. Shit.

I’m pleading on the inside, “Please Miss Bunis, give me some names.” On the outside I’m just acting like I could care less. She’s coming across like a gossip with a guilty conscience, and I’m sure she won’t be able to keep it in for long. But I was wrong, she wanted me to be breathless with anticipation, hanging on her every word. I played this hand poorly. “I’m sure you won’t have to look far to find him.” She says dismissing me, rising to shake my hand. I guess this is goodbye so I get up and step to the door.

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SHOE LEATHER 005

2005-05-10T04:20:00.000-05:00

Obviously he was expecting someone else. “Who the hell are you?” he wanted to know. I told him I wasn’t a cop and let him in on basically everything his wife told me about the letter she got. He wasn’t surprised. From out of his desk drawer he pulled a stack of similar letters he had received. There were four of them, each sent a week apart, each more insistent than the last. Pallas hadn’t taken them too seriously, but now that he knew his wife was involved he sure as hell was. He was ranting and raving, stomping around the office. “Who do these punks think they’re dealing with!?” He actually said that. It sounds lame, but this guy’s regular speaking voice is like a gunshot at a funeral. When it was raised, you want to get out of his way.

You could tell he was an asshole just by looking at him. I’d say he’s about five foot eight, at least three hundred pounds. Don’t hold me to that, I don’t work at the carnival or anything. His hair is going to grey and his mouth hangs open when he breathes in. And out. His suit jacket was flapping open and I got the idea that it hadn’t been buttoned up for a long time. I did the best I could to calm him down and explain what I wanted to do. These kind of things are pretty much always perpetrated by close acquaintances. I wanted to know about anybody he might have pissed off, who wanted him out of work. The guy wasn’t stupid and wasn’t afraid to be candid. He had made a lot of people angry over the years and was willing to admit what an asshole he could be. He had plenty of competitors who’d like to see him go under.

He focused on Rick Black, of Blackbird Boots. I knew a little of the story from his wife, but wanted more detail. Blackbird was a bigger company than Pallasson and was getting bigger everyday. Rick Black took over the company from his father, had spread it out over 5 or 6 states. He planned on eventually going national. Pallas knew that the man most responsible for Blackbird’s success was Randy Oldemeyer. So a few years ago, Pallas arranged to be at a cocktail party he knew Oldemeyer would be at. The man can be pretty persuasive. Within four months, Oldemeyer had left Blackbird and was working at Pallasson. Blackbird has been struggling ever since. To make matters worse, the day Oldemeyer started work, Pallas sent Rick Black a bottle of champagne and a smart-ass thank you note.

Then he got a little quieter. Like he was worried someone would hear. He had a few connections with organized crime. Anybody who does business, unionized or not, gets involved at least a little with criminals. They always want to shake down anybody who is making a bit of money. Protection or whatever. Some business owners fear the mob, some hate them. Others, like Pallas, love them. He pays his monthly “dues” plus a little bit more. He invites them to his parties. He gives out free shoes. Whatever he can do to make his friends happy. Then when he needs a little help with something, he knows right who to talk to. His connection was a pair of crooked cops working both sides. These guys aren’t that unusual. Detective Scott Benedict and Detective Arnold Arnold. I know. Arnold Arnold. That guy’s parents must have been real comedians. His friend call him Doctor cause his middle name is Michael. Think about it.

Pallas was expecting one of these guys when I walked through his door. I guess he’d been taking their advice concerning the threatening letters. But now Pallas was thinking they might be involved somehow. I wasn’t going for that because the mob doesn’t usually work in anonymous threats. If they want something, they just make it happen. And, anyway, Pallas seemed to be in pretty good standing with them. I was putting my bets on Rick Black.

The next thing I wanted was free reign to talk to Pallasson employees. Pallas gave his consent but asked me not to make any of them nervous or let on to any of them what was really going on. I assured him that I’d do my best not to stir things up. The guy was trying to run a business after all. I got Xerox copies of the letters from his desk and excused myself from the inner sanctum. As I shut the door, Pallas was leaning back in his chair, loosening is tie, and sweating like a bastard.

I hate walking over my own footsteps, it’s a quirk I have, like talking on the phone, so I started at one end of the hall and worked my way to the other, stopping at each office along the way to speak with whoever was inside. The first door I knocked on was marked Ruth Bunis.

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SHOE LEATHER 004

2005-05-03T23:14:00.000-05:00

I got out my phonebook after she left and looked up the address of Pallas’s company. I could have called ahead, but I don’t really like to use the phone too much. Sometimes I have to, but if I can avoid it...

The first person I see when I walk in is the receptionist. She’s your stereotypical receptionist. Young and cute, chewing gum and talking on the phone. The way I handle this type is to show them my badge. I don’t say I’m a cop, but I don’t say I’m not either. That way they assume you are official but you can’t get busted for impersonating an officer. So there I was with my badge in my hand asking to see the owner of the company. Most of these girls freak out in this situation. They get nervous or want to know what the problem is. This one’s cool as could be. She just calls up the boss and tells him a cop wants to see him. I guess it isn’t rare for cops to show up there.

She gets out of her little chair and leads me through a maze of shoe making machinery. There’s a lot of people working, people of all races and ages. And its loud. There’s huge presses stamping out leather uppers and toe boxes. Rubber soles and heels. There’s guys with hammers pounding away shaping steel toes and attacking grommets. A whole line of women are stitching suede insoles together. At first glance it seems chaotic, but I can see the order in it all. Work is getting done, and getting done efficiently.

We get all the way through the factory floor and at the back wall they have a bunch of cubicles set up. I guess these are for factory foremen, I notice one has Larry Hunty’s nameplate on it and make a mental note, Past these cubicles a door opens in the back wall and we enter a hall way. Lining each side is a series of office doors. The further down the hall we walk the quieter it gets. I figure whoever gets the office closest to the factory is lowest on the totem pole. I’m looking for names I recognize as we walk down the hall. They’re all at the end, Randy Oldemeyer, Ruth Bunis, Dan D’Minte and at the very end, Cyrus Pallas. The receptionist knocks twice and holds the door open for me.

And there he was behind his desk. The fat fuck. Just sitting there doing nothing and he was pouring sweat.

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SHOE LEATHER 003

2005-04-29T18:57:00.000-05:00

She started in on telling me what she wanted me to do. I had to interrupt her. I don’t let my clients tell me what to do. I can’t work that way. I got into this business so that I wouldn’t have some nagging boss hanging over my shoulder. So I sure don’t need some middle-aged house wife telling me how to do my job. And I like to get payment matters out of the way before we discuss anything about the case. I guess it is kind of crude, but I need to pay the bills just like everyone else. So I asked what she wanted to spend.

I always ask my customers what they expect to shell out for my services. Sometimes you get a sucker who goes way over what you would have asked for. Usually though, they hem and haw about it until you just get bored and quote a price. The number Helen Pallas gave me was exactly what I would’ve charged, so I added five percent to avoid looking like an easy mark. She wrote a check and we were on our way.

The first things I wanted to know were about her husband. Did he have debts? Nothing major. Did he gamble? Occasional poker nights. What about enemies? Not that she know of. Where could he be contacted? - This was a dead end. - Mrs. Pallas didn’t want her husband to know anything about this matter. Wives never want their husbands involved and husbands never want their wives involved. Who know why? I always agree to this stipulation, but go behind the clients back as soon as possible. The first person I wanted talk to was Cyrus Pallas. If anybody would know who wanted him out of business, he would. And, once the case was wrapped up, his wife would forgive me. If not, so what, I already had her money. She never got a chance to forgive me, I guess.

Anyway, this is what I found out;

Cyruss Pallas age 62. Greek immigrant. Came to America over 30 years ago. When all his buddies were starting up greasy restaurants, he got into the shoe business. First he was just hammering soles and heels on, but he saved his money and within 6 years had his own factory, within ten he was a millionaire. Has a son, Adrian, from his first wife who died over 15 years ago. Pallas is larger than life. He thinks he is outgoing and bold. Many people consider him pushy and obnoxious.

Randy Oldemeyer. Sits on the Pallasson board of directors. Pallas hired him away from his largest competitor, Blackbird Boots, years ago. Oldemeyer oversees the financial aspects of the company. He’s neat and organized, not well liked by Mrs. Pallas. She considers him a “cold fish.” Blackbird Boots owner, Rick Black, never forgave Oldemeyer’s defection. A professional rivalry became a personal one.

Ruth Bunis. Started out with Pallas from the beginning. She was hired on as his personal secretary the day the company opened for operation. In twenty-four years she has gone from secretary to vice president. Pallas puts his complete trust in her, taking every opportunity to express his gratitude for her loyalty. Although unschooled, she is incredibly savvy and has an almost supernatural sense for business. I got the feeling Mrs. Pallas was jealous.

Larry Hunty. This guy’s a mystery to me. He’s a big old redhead. Runs the warehouse. I guess he does a good job, cause he’s worked for Pallas for years. He isn’t officially on the board, but Pallas always listens to his advice. He has a wicked temper. I‘ll tell you more about him later.

And the final member of the board. Dan D’Minte. They call him Danny Dynamite. Hired straight out of college to run the design and marketing divisions. He’s young and full of piss. Wants to lead the company away from work boots and get into basketball and running shoes. Calls his ideas “the march of progress."

So this is basically all she gave me to work with. I mean, she talked about a lot of other stuff too, but most if it was bullshit. Disgruntled gardener, some driver she fired last month. I pretended to listen, but figured the group at Pallasson was enough for a good start. As she left, Mrs. Pallas stressed how much she wanted to keep he husband out of it. I assured her that I could do my work without involving him. “I’m sure he’s a busy man and doesn’t need this extra stress. Yada yada. "

Guess who I went to talk to first.

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SHOE LEATHER 002

2005-04-23T00:08:00.000-05:00

I was just sitting back there in my office when she walked in. Maybe one of these days I’ll be able to hire a secretary or receptionist or something, but till then, people just walk in.

She was an alright looking woman, mid-forties I’d say, wearing one of those pantsuit-type outfits all the professional ladies wear, but quality. I could tell she was doing fine, financially. She walked right in and sat down. Didn’t wait for me to offer the seat. I didn’t even have to ask her what she wanted she started into it right away. She was over acting confidence, but I could tell she was nervous and a bit worried about having to deal with someone in my line of work. “I’m here about my husband,” She said. I just nodded, “This is the kind of thing I hear all the time,” I thought. But I was wrong. He wasn’t running around on her, at least not that I know about - I haven’t looked into his personal life. She was worried about a letter she had received yesterday. That’s Tuesday the 12th, for the record. The letter arrived at the Pallas residence with no return address. Inside was a single sheet of paper, typed. “If you don’t want to get hurt, you’ll convince your husband to step down as president of Pallasson Shoe Works. You have 30 days.” It was, naturally, unsigned.

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SHOE LEATHER 001

2005-04-16T10:13:00.000-05:00

Like almost all my cases, this one started with a woman. Her name is, or was, Mrs. Helen Pallas, wife of Cyrus Pallas. If you don't know that name, I'm not really surprised. He's big shit, though. Owner and president of Pallasson Work Shoes. You've probably seen their trucks. And if you've ever had a working man's job, like in a factory or some kind of construction, you've definitely dealt with them.

The way their business works is pretty ingenious. Say you're working on an assembly line in some factory. There's heavy metal shit running down a conveyor line and you're bolting something to it. That's your job, OK? As small as the chance may be, one of those parts might fall off the line and break your big toe. The company you work for is afraid of lawsuits, so they make you wear steel toed boots. Here's the kicker: They want you to wear only one brand of shoe. Pallasson.

Once or twice a year, your boss gets on the phone and calls up Pallas. They send over a truck filled with shoes in different sizes. The driver doubles as a, I shit you not this comes right off the Pallasson website, "Footwear Comfort and Fitness Expert." Everybody in the factory goes out on break gets sized for a perfect fit and goes away with a new pair of boots. Pallasson charges your company and next week the cost is taken out of your paycheck. I don't know what kind of schooling you have to get to become one of these "experts," but I bet dollars to doughnuts it takes place during the first 20 minutes of your Pallasson employment in the back of some warehouse. Anyway, you're obligated to wear these shoes if you want to keep your job. And these guys aren't cheap. I mean, they're quality boots sure, but they start at about $175 a pair, and can go a lot higher. The thing is - and this is definitely not on the website - at the end of the day, your boss gets a little handshake and an envelope filled with cash. A percentage of sales. It's like 2-3 percent depending on the number of shoes sold. It isn't exactly legal but it isn't really Corleone type stuff either. It’s underhanded, though, and it’s at the expense of the working man. I mean go to Costco or whatever and you can get a decent pair of work boots for like 35 or 40 dollars or something. Pallas has made a fortune off this racket, you should see his "estate." Actually, I'll be getting over there eventually, so if you stick with me, you'll see it later today.

So, I knew all about the way Pallas ran his company before his wife came to visit, but what she had to say was news to me.

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Shoe Leather

TABLE OF CONTENTS

SHOE LEATHER 006

SHOE LEATHER 005

SHOE LEATHER 004

SHOE LEATHER 003

SHOE LEATHER 002

SHOE LEATHER 001