Third Chances

by Dan Petrosini

  “What was the argument about?”

  “Some programs and the focus of the church’s resources.”

  “Can you get more specific?”

  “There are some people on the leadership council that feel some of our efforts are, let’s say, a distraction and are pushing to eliminate certain outreach programs. Joe Chapman and Hannah were talking about it, and it got a little heated.”

  “I’d say throwing a book at someone qualifies for more than a little heated.”

  “We all lose our cool at times.”

  “Was Hannah Booth for the changes?”

  “Yes, she’s been pushing to refocus our efforts.”

  “You mentioned a leadership council. Who makes up this group?”

  “Minister and Mrs. Booth, me, Stokes, Carol Black, Ester Pasquale, Ronnie Sales, and Marty Corbin.”

  I jotted down the names. “What was the nature of the change that resulted in the fight?”

  “It wasn’t a fight. Mrs. Booth was concerned, as others on the council have been, that we’re spread too thinly. That we should reduce some programs, refocus our mission.”

  He said the same thing twice. What was he hiding? “What programs were going to be cut?”

  “The financial support we offer to those battling addictions and those being released from jail.”

  It made sense in my book. Hannah and the others were tired of walking uphill. It was also natural that Chapman, a felon, would object. There probably was nothing more to the argument.

  “With Hannah being the minister’s wife, she’d be able to get the policy changes she wants.”

  He shook his head. “Not really. Minister Booth is a very compassionate man. He has the last word on what we do here, and I can tell you, he’s pushing back at the attempts to curtail our outreach.”

  “How did the others feel about the proposed cuts?”

  “I agreed with the minister and so did Carol and Ester.”

  “I’d guess Mrs. Booth’s frustration got the better of her.”

  “Yeah, but I can tell you she wasn’t alone. Ronnie and Marty got pretty vocal with the minister.”

  “Any Bible throwing?”

  He smiled. “Fortunately, no.”

  “Tell me a little about the other men on the council.”

  “Marty’s a little older but a great guy with an inspiring story. Minister Booth ran Bible classes at the prison, and Marty studied like mad, turning himself around. He was the first guy Minister Booth helped when he got out of jail, and that’s what started the prison outreach program.”

  Every now and then you win one, but as a beneficiary of a program, why’d he want to shut it down?

  “How old of a guy?”

  “I think he’s in his late sixties or so.”

  Checking my notes, I asked, “What about Ronnie Sales?”

  Santangelo shrugged. “Not much to say. He’s kinda quiet. I gotta be honest with you, he doesn’t have much of a personality.”

  I cringed at ‘I’ve got to be honest with you.’ So, everything else people said before they invoked the stupid saying was bullshit?

  “What’s his role at the church?”

  “He takes care of the books for the church and helps with outreach.”

  Was there a financial angle to the killing spree? Maybe an embezzlement scheme that got discovered and needed silencing?

  “How are the church’s finances?”

  “I think okay, but I wouldn’t really know.”

  “Why wouldn’t you know? Doesn’t the council have access to the church’s finances?”

  “Minister Booth and Ronnie handle all of that themselves.”

  Chapter 24

  Distracted by the voices from roll call, I shut our office door.

  “You know, Vargas, the more I think about it, we got to drill down on the church’s books. Maybe Booth is hiding something.”

  “You think so?”

  “You know what I say, ‘More people have been murdered over money than love.’”

  Vargas crumpled a piece of paper and tossed it at me. “Thanks for reminding me. You do know that Minister Booth will probably go to the sheriff if you start asking about their finances.”

  “Why? It’s a legitimate line of inquiry.”

  “Come on, Frank, it’s circumstantial at best. How do you link any financial problems to the killings? That is, if the church even has a money problem.”

  “These churches are nonprofits, so I can’t see how they can try and hide. Don’t they have to file a return or report with the IRS?”

  “I’d think so, but you know McDonald up in FCU. Why don’t you go see him?”

  “We’re on the same wavelength, Vargas.”

  Embarrassed by my childish refusal to give her credit, I headed to the Financial Crimes Unit.

  It was so quiet in the room where FCU operated, you’d have thought you weren’t in a police station. I had thought the seven-person unit was large for a place with the population of Collier County. But there were quite a few heavy hitters in Naples and no shortage of scammers looking to separate them from their money.

  FCU officers were more like accountants than cops, and there were more than their spreadsheets separating them from the frontliners. Other than McDonald, I’d barely spoken to anyone else in the room in the four years I’d been down here.

  McDonald was a good ten years older and twenty pounds heavier than me. Like me, he’d also gone to John Jay but was a lot more ambitious, leaving with a double degree in law enforcement and forensic accounting. Maybe it was the fact he was originally from Queens that created a touch of a bond. He waved me over to his desk.

  “How you doing, Frank?”

  “Good, you?”

  “All’s well. What’s going on?”

  “It’s early, but I’m working an angle on the Aquatic Assassin case. There seems to be a connection with a church called The Spirit of Fellowship, and I’m getting the vibe something may not be quite right with their books. I’d love to get my hands on whatever financial reports they put out.”

  “Well, you’d need a subpoena, and unless you have more than you’re telling me, there isn’t a judge around who’d sign one. You have anything concrete?”

  My phone pinged, and I snuck a look. It was a text from Vargas, ‘Where are you?’ Where am I? She knew I was up here.

  “I wish I did. Any suggestions?”

  “If they borrowed any money and the lender filed a lien, it’d be on file in the public domain.”

  I lowered my voice. “Can you run a search for a fellow John Jayer?”

  “No problem.”

  “I owe you a brew.”

  I stepped back into the buzz of the station, and before I closed the door behind me, my phone rang.

  “Vargas, what? are you getting dementia or something?”

  “Get back to the office. There’s a match on the hairs.”

  I took the stairs two at a time and ran into my office. Vargas picked up a forensics report and handed it to me.

  “Holy shit, Vargas. this is huge. I’m telling you—when Luca’s got a hunch, it’s like gold in the bank.”

  “How are you gonna tell Chester you got the samples?”

  My smile crumpled. “I’ll just tell him.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to go over well.”

  “Why not? We’ve got her. Chester can’t say shit.”

  “Hold on. We have her hair on a corpse—nothing more, nothing less.”

  “Let her explain how it got there, then.”

  “All I’m saying is, Chester is a stickler for the rules. He gave you a direct order that you ignored. You may win this one, but you’re going to pay hell for it. I wouldn’t put it past him to sanction you.”

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

  “I’m only telling you how I see it, Frank. I don’t want you to pay a price for this.”

&nb
sp; I slammed my chair into the desk. “So, we got solid evidence, and I gotta keep it in the drawer?”

  “Why don’t we get Haines to help us out?”

  “Haines? What—are you, crazy? You’re nuts if you think he’d help us. He’d be riding in on a white horse.”

  Vargas exhaled loudly and headed for the door. “Would you listen to yourself? You sound like a five-year-old. Do what you want, okay?”

  “Hold on, now. Take it easy, will you? If you think we should talk to Haines, then we will.”

  Haines was working out of the FBI field office on Gateway Boulevard in Fort Myers. There was no way I was going to him. Vargas read me like a card and said, “I’ll give him a call and tell him we need to see him.”

  ***

  Haines came down from Fort Myers an hour after Vargas reached out. It was quicker than I expected, increasing my wariness. He was wearing a grin, and a dark blue suit, and greeted us like old friends.

  “How are you guys doing?”

  I said, “Grinding it out. How’re things in the ivory tower?”

  Vargas laughed nervously and shook Haines’s hand, who said, “Tell you the truth, it’s been boring. I’ve been going through satellite images of the crime scenes but getting nothing out of it. Plus, I’m starting to really miss my kid.”

  “Well, maybe we got something that’s going to get you back home.”

  “What do you have?”

  I handed him the forensic report. “The hairs found on the fourth body, Shaun Parker, are a match with Hannah Booth.”

  “The minister’s wife?”

  Vargas said, “Yep. Tough to believe, but there could be several reasons. Maybe she was having an affair with him.”

  “Come on, Vargas. You're reaching.”

  Haines said, “Doesn’t seem to be any doubt they’re hers. Most of the time, hair samples can be tricky, but both of these had more than enough of the follicles intact, and there was ample DNA collected. You want me to have the bureau’s guys look it over?”

  Vargas said, “No, the lab down here is top-notch. We’re going to need some help with Chester.”

  “The sheriff?”

  “Yeah. you see, when we started taking a look at the church, Frank focused on Hannah. The minister felt it was unfair and complained to Chester.”

  “And he backed off?”

  “Yeah, at the time. it was nothing more than Frank’s intuition.”

  I said, “Chester told me to stay away from her.”

  “It was a direct order.”

  “How’d you get a sample of her hair?”

  “You see, I was at the church interviewing someone else, and I used the bathroom. I noticed a hairbrush, and the hairs on it were a color match.”

  Vargas said, “Chester’s a good man, but he’ll settle the score once this case is closed. Frank will pay a price for ignoring a direct order.”

  Haines cupped his chin with a palm. “First off, we’ve got to establish that the hair was hers without a doubt. We need an independent source of her DNA. I have no knowledge she is off-limits. Let me take a ride to see her under the guise of cross-checking the profile we’ve built. I’ll find a way to get something with her DNA on it.”

  I didn’t want him near Hannah, but before I could object, Vargas said, “Perfect. We’d really appreciate it.”

  “No problem. I’m here to help you nail this bad guy, or girl, as it may be. Once we can confirm the DNA match with the hairs on the victim, I’ll go see Chester.”

  “You’d be some hero in his eyes.”

  “Nothing’s getting solved with just the match, Frank. Besides, I’ll tell him you kept whispering in my ear about her, and I took action based on your instincts, which, by the way, are damned good.”

  Chapter 25

  Haines informed Sheriff Chester that the DNA he lifted from a water bottle Hannah Booth drank from matched the hairs found on the fourth corpse.

  Chester steepled his fingers. “Interesting. If you don’t mind, I’d like to know what made you even consider testing her?”

  “It’s the training, sir. We don’t like to say it in public, but the bureau likes to treat everyone surrounding a crime as a suspect until cleared.”

  “Are you aware that I specifically ordered Hannah Booth to be off-limits?”

  “Yes, sir. Detective Luca advised me to seek your permission beforehand, and I had every intention to do so, but seeking feedback on some of the associates of the church, the perfect opportunity arose to obtain a sample without upsetting anyone.”

  The room was getting too warm, and I reached to loosen my collar as Chester trained his eyes on me.

  “Did either of you put Agent Haines up to this?”

  “No, sir,” rang out in stereo.

  “Good. My order was an attempt to focus the investigation, and in no way was I trying to protect her. At this point, the directive is lifted, and Mrs. Booth has some explaining to do.”

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this, sir.”

  “I don’t have to tell you how urgent this is, do I?”

  Haines said, “Everyone is aware of the urgency, sir, and if I may say so, you have yourself two very qualified detectives.”

  ***

  Mary Ann and I took the same booth we always did when we went to Naples Flatbread. I wasn’t a big fan of the food, but she loved their Southwestern salad. She ordered her usual, and I took a chance on a flatbread with figs on it.

  Sipping an inexpensive Brunello, I said, “We have to tread carefully with the minister’s wife. There’s no doubt there’s a connection between the church and the killings. But if it turns out that Hannah isn’t it, we’ll need allies inside the church.”

  “The file Haines sent down raises a bunch of questions, especially the suspicions on the death of her son.”

  “I kinda feel bad for her. It’s gotta be hell to have a kid addicted to drugs.”

  “Look at you. getting soft, are you?”

  “No, seriously, can you imagine what these parents must go through? How the hell do they even sleep?”

  “Total disaster; it must consume them.”

  “Maybe she did the kid in. Save both of them a shitload of misery.”

  “I don’t know, Frank. A mother killing her own kid is super rare.”

  “Rare as an adult, but not unheard of.”

  A waitress with a tee shirt that read ‘What the Flatbread?’ delivered our food.

  I picked up a piece of flatbread, and after trying to find a fig, said, "you remember the woman up in Charlotte County whose daughter was a prostitute? She ended up taking a shotgun to her and her pimp.”

  Mary Ann put her fork down. “Can we not talk about this while we’re eating?”

  “Sorry.” I smiled and finished my slice. In search of my first fig, I picked up another piece. “You think this million-dollar loan the church took out has anything to do with anything?”

  Mary Ann finished a forkful of salad and said, “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Is this a date, or not? Because if it’s a date, I don’t want to talk about work.”

  It wasn’t easy, but I made it through dinner without mentioning the case. It got easier once we started walking around Mercato, where there were plenty of distractions to occupy my mind.

  ***

  It was a tough call, but I decided to take a run at Hannah on her own turf. Even though her husband was sure to be there, I was hoping to get something before hauling her in, which would result in her getting a mouthpiece. Haines called the minister requesting a meeting under the guise we wanted information about two people connected to the church, insinuating they matched his profile.

  Minister Booth stood, did a double take, looking over my shoulder when Vargas and I were shown in. He rescued his smile and shook our hands.

  “I was under the impression Agent Haines was coming.”

  “He was supp
osed to, but something came up in DC. He had to fly up this morning.” It sounded like bullshit, even though it happened to be true.

  “Oh, I hope it’s nothing serious.”

  I scanned the top of his desk, and there were documents with the Fifth Third Bank’s logo on them. McDonald said the loan was from Wells Fargo, what was this?

  Vargas set her valise beside her chair and said, “He mentioned something about a case he was working on, said it was coming to a head.”

  Booth smiled. “The FBI always gets their man.”

  Before I got into law enforcement, I used to think the G-men were invincible. The truth is, they’ve got as many pimples as any other organization.

  Vargas said, “Is your wife, Hannah, coming?”

  “Yes, she’ll be right in.”

  I said, “I couldn’t help notice the papers from Fifth Third Bank. I use them as well. You ask me, they have the best customer service.”

  “We have our checking account with them. Oh, here she is.”

  Hannah’s black jeans hugged her curves, and she topped off with a gray chiffon blouse. She was carrying a blue seat cushion, and her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, revealing earringless lobes. It could have been the lack of makeup, but her face seemed puffy and lined.

  We stood, and she nodded in acknowledgment, snaking her way to a chair next to her husband.

  Vargas said, “Before we begin, I’d like to thank both of you for making time for us.”

  Minister Booth reached for his wife’s hand, saying, “We’re always happy to help.”

  I said, “A connection with your church seems highly probable. With that in mind, Agent Haines believes there might be a financial aspect motivating the killer.”

  Booth said, “I don’t understand. Can you elaborate?”

  Vargas said, “How are the church’s finances, Minister?”

  “We’re doing fine. It’s always a challenge to raise the funding we need to execute our mission, but God always provides what we need.”

  I wanted to ask him if there was a Wells Fargo loan officer whose last name was God, but said, “Is it customary for the church to borrow money?”

  Booth shifted in his chair. “From time to time we may need to take a small loan out.”

  “Do you consider a million dollars small?”