by Douglas Hall
“When do you want it?”
“The autopsy is scheduled for tomorrow. I need it by the end of the day so I can get it to the lab, first thing in the morning. Are you aware that ever since Cindy disappeared, and the monthly deposits were made to her account by your company that withdrawals were made the day after leaving a balance of $100 until the next deposit?”
Madison reacted with surprise. “No, I wasn’t,” he replied emphatically, “and how do you know what went on during those months?”
“I had a look at her bank statements from the day she went missing.”
“You would have to have a warrant to do that.”
“I had a warrant.”
“I won’t ask you how you got it because I am probably better off not knowing.”
“Thank you for that.”
“I assume you are following up to see who is taking the money out?”
“I am.”
“Do you think it could possibly be Cindy?”
West thought for a moment before replying, “Far too early to tell. I will get to you the moment I have anything.”
Under normal circumstances, West would have told Madison about him and King teaming up to work on the investigation but, with the negativity that permeated at the mere mention of his name, now was not the time. He could also have told him that the investigation would not be this far along if it wasn’t for King.
“Sounds like you have your connections and know how to use them, not like King, I’m impressed. In the meantime, as soon as I get home this afternoon, I’ll have a look for a hairbrush, or whatever, and get it to you before the day is out. If I find anything, I’ll bring it to your office before six. Don’t come to the house as it would only raise questions.”
West had carefully compiled the list of questions he and King drew up before he placed his call. How many he asked decided upon the reception he received and Madison’s willingness to cooperate. He still had two which he had underlined as priority when a change came into Madison’s tone of voice. He knew his time was coming to an end so decided to get them in and leave the other question until next time.
“Does Child Waiting mean anything to you?”
“Should it?”
“I am asking you, sir. Have you ever come across Child Waiting or heard of it?”
“Means nothing to me.”
“Will you please ask your wife if she ever heard of it and tell me what she says when you bring me what you can find in Cindy’s room.”
“If I have never heard of it, I can’t imagine Martha ever hearing of it. If she had, I am sure she would have mentioned it to me. She tells me everything.”
“One more question, sir. Does Cindy have a passport?”
“Yes, curious question to ask.”
“Not really, I like to check out everything that comes to mind.”
“I like that. You leave no stone unturned.”
“Did she have it with her the night she disappeared?”
“All our passports are kept in the bedroom wall safe.”
“Is Cindy’s still there?”
Madison thought for a moment, “Come to think of it. I remember giving it to her.”
“When was that?”
“She asked for it a few months before she went missing.”
“Did she say what she wanted it for?”
“No, and I never asked. She and Amber Ferguson used to go cross-border shopping, and I just assumed that is what she wanted it for.”
West made notes and underlined responses of interest. The passport question received a double underline. It was the only one to do so.
“That is all I have at this time. You have been most generous with your time and I thank you. I’ll look forward to seeing you shortly.”
LIKE MOST POLICE OFFICERS, and especially homicide investigators, King loved to ask questions, and when he didn’t get the answers, he wanted his short fuse was lit and he became unrelenting. Angus Mackenzie was to find himself at the epicentre of an experience he couldn’t control unlike his total domination of the bank he managed.
“Let me get this straight, Mr Mackenzie. You are the manager of this bank where Miss Cindy Madison still has an active account even though she went missing over two years ago. All you can tell me is the monthly withdrawals are being forwarded to a numbered account in either Liechtenstein or Switzerland. Is that correct?”
Mackenzie moistened his lips and was decidedly uncomfortable. Next to bank examiners, he abhorred the police. When examiners came calling, it usually spelt trouble because it was virtually impossible to intimidate an examiner, especially if an irregularity was suspected. This time, it was a homicide officer who was challenging, but Mackenzie had the shield of bank confidentiality to hide behind when questions were asked about client accounts that he didn’t want to answer. From the moment King walked into his office and showed the self-important over-weight bureaucrat, the warrant the judge gave him to access Cindy’s account records a barrier went up and it didn’t lower with the next comment.
“This makes my call official police business.”
“I made a call to head office immediately after you left yesterday,” Mackenzie said. “I apologise. I got busy and wasn’t able to call you. What I told you then is all I am allowed to say regarding the monthly transfers of monies. We have a signed authorisation for the transfers, so everything is in order. We are just following Miss Madison’s instructions,” Mackenzie pompously said as he opened a file and removed a sheet of paper. “Here is the authorisation signed by Miss Madison.”
King scanned the document, “I’d like a copy.” There was no ‘please’ attached to the request.
“Normally, I would have to say I cannot do that, but under the circumstances, I will bypass procedure.” Mackenzie picked up the phone and asked his secretary to come in. He handed her the paper and asked for a copy immediately. It took but a few moments before she returned and Mackenzie handed it across the desk. Without any acknowledgement, King put it in the inside pocket of his suit coat.
Feeling satisfied that he held the advantage Mackenzie said, “I am sorry, inspector, I am just following orders. This bank prides itself on its reputation of confidentiality, and I am not about to lose my job by breaking it which would most certainly happen if I gave you the information you are seeking.”
King pursed his lips, “I, too, have orders to follow and a warrant to back them up.”
“I would like to make a copy of your warrant for our records.”
“I am sorry, but this is a police document, and I am not authorised to give you a copy. I don’t want to lose my job either,” King’s tone dripped sarcasm.
Mackenzie waved a hand of dismissal and shifted in his chair. The springs twanged in response to the two-hundred-plus pound weight. “Please understand I, too, am just following orders.”
King leaned forward and locked eyes, “You don’t seem to understand. I am investigating the disappearance of a young woman, and it is more than possible her disappearance could be tied into the monthly withdraws from her savings account. You might get a medal for protecting your client, but what will you get if I arrest you and lay a charge of obstruction in a homicide investigation. Should that happen, I shall take you out of this office and march you across the bank floor in handcuffs. Furthermore, it will certainly hit the front page of tomorrow’s edition when the reporter who covers police headquarters gets wind of it, and I’ll make certain he does.”
King was enjoying watching Mackenzie squirm. He was a master of playing hardball.
“Really, inspector, we don’t have to stoop to theatrics.”
“I assure you I have the legal authority to do precisely what I just described if it becomes necessary. Now, shall we begin again at the beginning?”
Before answering, Mackenzie took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead, it came away damp. He looked intensely at King who stared back at him. Had it been West asking the same questions without the authority of a police offi
cer, he would have been told to leave his office, and bank, immediately, or he would be the one being charged.
“What exactly do you want?”
“Now we are getting somewhere.” King enumerated the questions he wanted answered: name and country of the bank, holder of the numbered account and a bank contact. “I shall expect this information by the end of the day. Here is my card with my cell phone number.”
“You are not giving me much time,” Mackenzie, pleaded.
“Who do you report to at head office?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“If I don’t hear back from you by the end of the day, I shall be visiting your head office in the morning and have a word with him. Name and phone number!” No ‘please’ was attached.
“Winston Pennington. Just call the main number and ask for him,” Mackenzie’s face went ashen. He knew he would be in for a difficult time if Pennington was contacted by the police.
“I don’t go through a switchboard. Give me his direct line.” Again no ‘please’. There was no ‘thank you’ as King wrote the number in his notepad. “One thing more. Have you ever heard of Child Waiting?”
Looking puzzled Mackenzie asked, “What is Child Waiting?”
“I was hoping you might be able to tell me.”
“If memory serves, I don’t believe I have ever come across it.”
“When you are talking to Mr Pennington, run Child Waiting by him. If it doesn’t ring a bell, ask him to run it through the bank’s data system along with the answers to my questions.”
Mackenzie was not one to be given orders, he was the master of issuing them not taking them. “Very well, is that all?”
King stood up and looked at his watch, “For now. If I haven’t had a call from you by three this afternoon, I shall be back here before closing time, and we can have a conference call with your Mr Pennington.” Without a further comment, he turned and left a perspiring Mackenzie who was reaching for his phone.
EYEBROWS WERE RAISED when Madison walked through the door mid-day. Neither Martha nor the cook could, recall the last time it happened and their curiosity spiked especially Martha’s as she put her book down on the chaise lounge and asked for an explanation.
Madison told her that he needed to get something out of the safe for a business meeting. It was a weak excuse to hide the real reason, but it was all he could think of and, thankfully, Martha bought it. He took the cook aside and told her to keep his wife occupied while he went upstairs. Being alone in Cindy’s room was stressful. To be there looking for anything with Cindy’s DNA on it was unnerving for a man who never showed his true feelings. He found nothing and was about to give up when he remembered that as a little girl, she always admired her mother’s sterling silver hair brush, comb and mirror set that he had given her for as an anniversary present. Cindy liked to play with it as a young girl, and when she turned sixteen, she was given a matching set which she proudly kept on her makeup table. He was sure it had to be in the room somewhere. It was one thing that she treasured and probably put it somewhere for safekeeping. He began by going through the closet and came up empty. Next came the two-door, six-foot, armoire with six drawers behind one door and closet space behind the other. He opened the closet door and stared at the neatly hanging dresses. Each one brought memories of the last time he saw Cindy in them, and for moment, his eyes misted. Closing the door, he pulled out the bottom drawer. It contained shoes, and it was easy to see that was all it contained. Working his way up the drawers, he found nothing until he pulled out the middle one that was three parts filled with cashmere sweaters. Patting the top sweater, he thought he felt something and carefully removed the neatly piled sweaters which he placed on the four-poster bed. The last one covered the mirror, comb and brush. Heeding West’s instructions, if he found anything, he picked the brush up by the handle and dropped it into a large zip lock freezer bag which he had taken from the kitchen when the cook left for the living room to keep Martha busy as instructed. Returning the sweaters on the bed to the drawer, he closed the armoire door. Next came a call to West to say he had found a hairbrush and would drop it off on his way back to the office.
West immediately called King who said to call him the moment Madison dropped off the brush and left. He would come to get it and immediately take it to forensic for DNA profiling.
Madison didn’t stay long as West said he had nothing definite to tell him at the moment. He purposely didn’t tell him what King had learned at the bank until they could decide their course of action which they needed to have in place for the next day.
HARDLY A DAY WENT BY that West didn’t appreciate King’s contribution to the investigation, accessing Interpol was critical. West had used the International Criminal Police Organisation a number of times during his career as a police officer and knew its value. Its mandate focussed on public safety and battling transnational crimes including white-collar crimes and money laundering. It is responsive to any request from a police force in one of the 192 countries in its membership. Civilians can ask for help but their requests do not always receive the same preferential attention and response.
King supplied a detailed history of the money transfers along with an attachment of Cindy’s statements for the past two years. Within two hours of emailing, he received a reply confirming that his request would receive immediate attention and asked for any additional information that he could supply. All King had to give was the Canadian bank manager who was less than forthcoming about identifying the receiving bank…it could be either a Liechtenstein or Swiss bank. He was leaning on the bank’s head office for more information and would forward anything more it might supply immediately.
He was also asked what his suspicions were about the money transfers and offered that it could be a scam, but he had nothing solid as yet to go on, but he and a private investigator were working on the file, and he would advise the moment either of them came up with something solid. He ended by asking if Child Waiting could be run through Interpol’s system.
MADISON’S VOICE BROKE when West said, “Forensic just confirmed that there was no match between Cindy’s DNA and the DNA of the human remains found in the bush.”
“Then Cindy is still alive! I knew it, my daughter is still alive.”
“That is something I can’t confirm at this point.”
“Find our daughter and bring her back to her mother and me!”
Five
WEST AND KING were not like the police, or private investigators, that are seen on TV dramas. There were many things that set them apart. For one thing, cork or magnetic boards, with pictures of persons of interest for all to see with names underneath, lines connecting them and post-it slapped on with brief notes were not in view. West and King had everything computer files, including pictures that they could bring up at any time.
West had given Mandy instructions to create a file for Child Waiting and scan each page. It was on the agenda for their upcoming meeting. They would go through each page together to see if there was anything useful. King arrived on time with three steaming cups of coffee and three donuts in a bag. “Take your choice but leave the chocolate for me,” he said to Mandy with a wide grin.
THE E-MAIL KING RECEIVED FROM INTERPOLE was concise, and he couldn’t wait to get it to West. It raised questions that, when answered, could take their investigation far and beyond just searching for a missing girl and tracking down the person who was going to such lengths to drain her account on a monthly basis.
“You are such a darling,” Mandy teased when King walked through the front door and she saw him carrying a box with three coffee and donuts, “The master is waiting for you. Go right in.”
King handed West a copy of the Interpol e-mail in response to his query and said, “Have a read. It asks more questions than it answers and could shed a whole new light upon our investigation in a way that we could never anticipate.”
CASE FILE NUMBER: 26543768
Further to your inquiry, we
have the following information: The monthly withdrawals from the account of a Cindy Madison are deposited into a Bank Swabian Jura’s (Lichtenstein) numbered account the first of each month in the amount of 1,000 CAD$. Upon instructions, the day following each deposit, the $1,000 is converted to US dollars and transferred to numbered account 1702-0369995 in The Agronomy Bank of Alabama in its Moody Brook branch. A pattern has been formed over the past two years, and it begs the question why the funds aren’t transferred directly to the Alabama bank instead of Bank Swabian Jura only to be retransferred to the Alabama bank? Up to 1980, Lichtenstein and Swiss banks would never reveal any information about unnumbered accounts. That changed in 1980 when the Council of Europe mandated that numbered bank accounts be subject to international and domestic regulations pertaining to the verification of the account holder’s identity and activity. To get this much information, we had to apply for a court order. We trust it helps with your investigation. Should you discover that money laundering, kiting, or suspect fraud has taken place, please advise, with details. Child Waiting was run through our data system. We haven’t much other than it is US publication that we flagged. Evidently, it is used by an organisation named Sammy Pines located in Alabama to raise donations to help African children suffering from juvenile conjunctivitis and going blind. It is similar to a publication that was used by a television evangelist named Pastor Sammy Proctor who was shut down by the US authorities circa 1980. Fraud charges were laid when it was found that less than 10% of monies raised went to any identifiable relief work in Africa. The rest ended up in the pockets of the evangelist and his family. He was convicted of fraud, conversion of funds and money laundering. He was sentenced to fifteen years in federal prison. After serving five years, he was paroled. We have nothing more on him following his release other than an address The Bethesda Senior Retirement Home, Boca Raton, Florida. We would appreciate being apprised of your investigation to add to this file.
Feel free to contact us at any time using the case file number.