Silenced by the Yams - By Karen Cantwell Page 0,56
days: How Kurt Baugh had vomited on me, then died, and how Frankie was arrested the next morning.
Everyone wanted to know why Kurt Baugh ate Randolph’s yams, so I had to explain that Jorge Borrego had set up an elaborate system for killing Baugh and framing Frankie Romano. According to Randolph Rutter’s testimony, Jorge had met with Baugh earlier in the day to assure him that he was done dealing drugs and working with crooked politicians. When they kissed and made up, Jorge appealed to Baugh’s love of pulling pranks. It was well known among the long-time college friends that Randolph had a particular pet peeve: he hated it when people ate off his plate. So Baugh agreed he’d annoy Randolph at the screening. He’d been taking bites from his plate all night.
On the other side of the prank, Randolph would pretend he was displeased with the yams—a known favorite of Baugh’s—and ask for more, which Jorge knew would be tainted with syrup of ipecac and three poisons by his “cousin” in the kitchen.
In truth, the “cousin” worked for Juarez. He was also the waiter who told the police that he saw Frankie pouring something into the pan of yams. Because Kurt loved candied yams, Jorge figured that even if he didn’t follow through and grab at least a couple of the tainted yams on his own, Randolph could offer them to Baugh and see if he took the bait. After all, Randolph had nothing to lose; he just thought he was pulling a prank. Jorge on the other hand, was counting on his plan to succeed. Which it did.
“Boy,” Roz said finally, looking at Peggy. “This is as hard to follow as one of your stories.”
The syrup of ipecac was the true murder weapon, intended to cause Baugh to vomit, which would then burst the esophageal varices. Jorge was betting on DC’s notoriously slow emergency response to give enough time for him to bleed to death. The three poisons were too slow acting and ineffective in the low quantities necessary to be sure that Kurt didn’t taste them when he ate the yams. The poisons went into those yams for one purpose only: to frame Frankie for the murder—the infamy of his mob ties and the conspicuous nature of Baugh’s death would bring publicity to the ACL and Randolph Rutter, whose job had been hanging in the balance for some time.
“So Jorge only planned this murder after you recommended Frankie for the catering job?” Judi asked.
This was a difficult reality for me to bear. “Terrible, isn’t it? I feel so guilty.”
I sipped from my water glass. “Next,” I continued, the faces at the table completely engaged, “Jorge had to convince Andy Baugh to request a murder investigation. It wasn’t hard to do since he knew how sensitive Andy was about keeping Kurt’s drug and alcohol abuse quiet from his parents and the press. He would be more than glad when the police and press focused their attention on Frankie and not on Kurt’s questionable lifestyle choices.”
“And why did Jorge want Kurt dead?” Peggy asked, completely enthralled.
“Jorge didn’t want him dead,” I answered. “Juarez did. During the filming of his documentary, Kurt started to put two and two together regarding Jorge and Juarez’s partnership—they were utilizing Jorge’s drug cronies to build a network designed to bring unregistered voters to the polls by the thousands and vote for their man. The unregistered voters were paid handsomely, and Juarez looked the other way when drug abuse bills came up for vote. It didn’t hurt that Juarez was, oh by the way, also addicted to prescription pain killers.”
Roz still looked confused. “But I thought that Jorge told Kurt he’d give it all up—the drugs and working with Juarez.”
“That didn’t matter to Benito Juarez who had his sights set on the presidency. According to what Jorge told Randolph, Juarez didn’t trust Kurt not to talk later down the road.”
“Wow,” said Judi Horner.
“I know. It’s terrible,” I said. “In the end, poor Kurt Baugh was silenced by the yams.”
*****
As we were leaving that night, I met the new President of the DC Chapter of the ACL, Penny Drexel. She’d been there to make sure our event went smoothly. She stood with a tall man who appeared to be in his fifties. He wasn’t dressed for the occasion. “Barb, this is my husband, Bud Drexel. He’s the program director at Channel 3.”
We shook hands and I eyed him suspiciously, wondering what was up. “Nice to meet