Frankly Speaking - A Frank Rozzani Detective Novel (#1)

by Don Massenzio

Morning came quickly, but Frank was surprisingly alert when Lucy nosed him into consciousness. It was time for a run and then time to research the information they had gathered from Cobb's property last night. He thought about possible codes Cobb might be using in the ledger that he would try out.

  Lucy made it the full distance today, but was obviously tired based on the way she flopped on the bed when Frank went to take a shower. She was snoring by the time he was dressed and at the computer. Frank brought up an image of the first page of the ledger. The column they assumed was a date had an entry of 820213 in the first row. Was this for February 13th of 1982? It made sense since the dates, as Jonesy had pointed out, seemed to advance chronologically. The number in the AMT or amount column was 60,000. Was this a dollar amount? Frank contemplated this as he looked at the AP column. The entries were all letters but were essentially gibberish. The first entry was ABLDS. He tried some simple techniques like increasing each letter by one. This yielded BCMET. Not much clearer. He tried reducing each letter by one. ZAKCR. Not much better. When he tried alternating this technique with each letter he found a much more promising result. BAKER. That was definitely a name, but he needed to decipher more entries to be sure. He went on to the next. It read LPQSHT. Using the same technique, MORRIS. He did a few more and ended up with PERCY, LUDLOW, and BROWN. Frank yelled out "Got you, you old bastard!"

  It was loud enough to wake Lucy and earn him a look that conveyed her unhappiness at being disturbed. Frank called Anita to see if any of the names were familiar to her.

  "I don't recognize any of them. What would make sense is to submit them to the national crime database to see if any hits come up for the names and dates," Anita said.

  "Can you do that for me?"

  "I can, but here is the problem. I have to get approval and for accounting, I have to tie the search to an active case. The searches cost about $.50 each. If I tie it to the Bullock case, I'll get all kinds of attention we don't want."

  "That sucks. A civilian Internet search would take a lot of time that we don't have." Frank's frustration was mounting.

  "There is another option," Anita said.

  "What's that?"

  "Have someone else submit the searches, someone with access that's through a back door and is less than official so that it doesn't draw attention. Do you know anyone with those skills?"

  "Jonesy?" Frank asked.

  "See, you're not as slow as I thought."

  They hung up and Frank called Jonesy. Frank told him what he found and Jonesy immediately said, "We need to tap into the National Crime Database."

  "What a brilliant idea."

  "You'll need to help me. You can feed me the information while I look it up and you can record the results. We've got to be in and out before they realize that they've been hacked. You've got over 500 entries so let's do a sample of 50 with dates from 1990 forward."

  "Why 1990?" Frank asked.

  "That's when they established the database and they were less than thorough pulling in data for the prior years."

  "OK. I'll need about an hour to pull 50 of them and decode them. I'll see you when I'm done."

  "Sounds fun. I'll be here.”

  Frank pulled 10 names from 1990-2000, and 20 each from 2000-2010 and after 2010. He noticed that some of the dates were followed by a capital A. He wasn't sure what that meant, but included some of those entries in the sample. Now it was time to head to the surf shop. Dusty waved Frank to the back office as soon as they made eye contact. Jonesy was waiting for him. He had a laptop set up with a waiting Google screen facing the guest chair opposite his own.

  "Are you ready for some nerd power to help you crack this case," Jonesy asked as Frank settled in.

  "That seems to be what we need."

  "OK, the way this is going to work is that you'll give me a name and the date that goes with it. I'll log in to the database using an ID that ties me to some random police department somewhere in the US. If I get a hit, you can type it into Google and do a quick search. If you get some relevant information, we'll flag that one for further research and move on. Once we get to a number of hits that makes you comfortable enough to confront the good doctor, we'll stop. Doing it this way makes it look like a bunch of random cops from random cities are doing a single search. That way we won't show up on anyone's radar."

  "How are you getting logins and passwords for all of these cops?"

  "Let's just say that police departments are less than diligent about deleting IDs when officers leave or retire. I collect them. You never know when you might need to access data like this.”

  "Jonesy, I'm glad you decided to be a good guy. You would be a scary criminal."

  "You have no idea. OK, let's have the first name and date."

  "Adamson, 1992"

  Jonesy logged in and entered the information.

  "I found five traffic tickets and a prostitution charge. Nothing that fits what we need."

  This continued for the next 30 entries over the next hour.

  "I don't think we're going down the right road," Frank said. "I don't think the names are people who are going to show up on the crime database. I have another idea, but this one might be a bit tricky."

  "What are you thinking?"

  "Well, Cobb is running a baby factory, as you so eloquently put it. What if he is supplying babies to families that can afford to pay for them? That would explain the amounts. They are the amount of cash he received for each child."

  "Babies for sale, now that's creepy," Jonesy said.

  "And Cobb's not capable of creepy?"

  "There is a way that I might be able to prove your theory, but it is highly illegal and risky."

  "Is it more illegal than imprisoning pregnant girls and selling their babies?"

  "You have a point. This is a long shot, but in order for Cobb to transfer parental rights for the kids, there would have to be a court involved."

  "Wouldn't those records be sealed?" Frank asked.

  "Whatever is sealed can be unsealed if you know what you're doing"

  "And you know what you're doing?"

  Jonesy gave Frank a look that answered his question.

  "If I find a match it will tell us who the birth mother is as well as the adoptive parents."

  "The what?"

  "The adoptive parents. Why?"

  "Adoptive parents," Frank repeated. "I think I might know what the "AP" stands for in the ledger.

  "Well, let's find out."

  Jonesy tapped away at the keyboard for a few minutes. He then furrowed his brow and tapped away again.

  "OK Frank. I think I have something. One of the names you gave me was WAGONER and the date was 20010505. I have a baby girl adopted by a Samuel and Rene Wagoner on May 5th, 2001. The birth mother was Andrea Smith and the judge..."

  "Stuart Jameson."

  "You guessed it Frankie, in the Clay County Court House."

  “How about a more recent one. I need to be able to confront Dr. Wells."

  "OK. Here's one. BOYLE, 20121009."

  Jonesy tapped away.

  "I have it. Robert and Shirley Boyle adopted a baby boy on October 9, 2012. The birth mother was Karen Munson. Stuart Jameson presiding once again."

  "OK Jonesy, can we put the name Karen Munson in the crime database?"

  Jonesy tapped away on the keyboard again.

  "Karen Marie Munson, 15. Reported missing from Birmingham, Alabama on March 13th 2012. Presumed to be a runaway."

  "Let's try another one," Frank said. "It could be a coincidence with one hit. Two would be hard to explain."

  "OK," Jonesy said. "I've confirmed another adoption with Jameson as the presiding judge. Adoptive parents TAYLOR. Birth mother was Rebecca Springer."

  He switched to the crime database search.

  "Uh oh."

  "What did you find?"

  "Another ugly turn in this case. Rebecca Springer was reported missing in April of 2011. She was found dead in February, 2012...in Dubai."r />
  "Dubai. How the hell did she get there?"

  "Good question. The better question is why."

  "Jonesy, I've got enough to confront Dr. Wells. I need you to go through more of these entries to see if we can find out what happened to these girls."

  "I'm on it. I don't like where this is headed. We need to find Maggie Bullock as quickly as possible before she ends up somewhere that will make it impossible to search."

  "I'm on the same page with you, Jonesy. It's time to tighten the noose around Cobb right after my visit to Dr. Wells. Hopefully we'll not only find Maggie, but will be able to take down Cobb and Jameson too."

  Frank left Jonesy to go through the records while he geared up to go visit Doctor Wells in Green Cove Springs.

  Frank drove to Clay County on the most direct route this time. There was no need to sneak into town. Speed was more important than stealth. When he crossed over the Shands Bridge this time, he didn't have a welcoming party. He drove into town and went directly to Dr. Wells' office. He would take a chance that the doctor was in. Wells' office was in a two story brick building of which the first floor was office space and the second floor was apparently a residence. All the way to his destination, Frank was thinking of how he might confront Wells. He had the girls' names, but Wells might not even know the names of the patients he was seeing. Just as he parked the car, his phone rang. Jonesy.

  "Hey Jonesy, I'm just about to go in. What have you got?"

  "I was thinking about what you were going to say to Wells. I thought you were on thin ice, but I understand why you are there."

  Great minds..., Frank thought.

  Jonesy continued.

  "Wells apparently had some serious malpractice charges brought against him in the late 80's. During a difficult birth it was alleged that his actions led to severe brain damage in the baby. The bottom line is that the case was dropped. The presiding judge once again, Stuart Jameson."

  "Jonesy, I owe you an extended drum solo at the next gig."

  "Wow that will be exciting for everyone. How about you catch the bastards first and find Maggie?"

  "Deal. Thanks."

  Frank now had his strategy.

  He walked into the waiting room of Dr. Robert Wells, MD. He was struck by the high quality decor and furnishings. Even the magazines appeared to be current. The office had the appearance of belonging to a highly successful doctor. One element, however, was missing. There was only one patient who appeared to be leaving. She was standing at the reception window. Frank waited for her to leave and then approached the window which was just beginning to slide closed.

  "Excuse me," Frank said.

  The window slid open again.

  "May I help you?" a voice asked, clearly not in the mood to help him at all.

  "Yes. I need to see Dr. Wells."

  "I'm sorry," the voice said. "Dr. Wells is extremely busy. He only sees medical device and pharmacy reps on Friday mornings."

  Frank was not in the mood to be dismissed.

  "First. I can see by your current lack of patients that, unless the doctor is practicing his golf swing, he is not that busy. Second, I do not sell medical devices or drugs."

  "Well, clearly you're not a patient. So unless you can tell me why you need to disturb Dr. Wells, I will not disturb him."

  Frank was growing very frustrated with the voice.

  "Please tell Dr. Wells that I am here to ask him about the private clinic on Mr. Cobb's property."

  It was a gamble, but from the way the voice's face went white, it was a good gamble.

  "I'll be right back," she said in a much quieter, less indignant tone. The voice belonged to a hefty woman whose name was apparently Dawn-Marie according to her name plate. She heaved herself out of the chair and waddled to the back of the building. Within two minutes, she returned.

  "Robert is in his office. Come through the door on your right and walk straight back."

  Gone was the indignant tone. Frank had clearly scared Dawn-Marie. She must be involved as well.

  When he reached Dr. Wells' office, he found a man trying to look calm and collected as he sat behind his desk. His ashen face and animated hands, however, gave him away.

  "Dr. Wells," Frank said as he entered the office.

  "And you are..."

  "Frank Rozzani. I'm a private investigator."

  "A private investigator. What can you possibly want with me?" he asked unconvincingly.

  "I'm going to cut to the chase. Lives are at stake here. What can you tell me about what happens to the girls that are held on Cobb's property?"

  "Stanton Cobb? I don't know anything..."

  "Dr. Wells. I know about your past malpractice incident. I know you have some kind of business relationship with Cobb. You were spotted on Cobb's property just this week. Now unless there's been some kind of scientific breakthrough, he isn't one of your patients."

  "Just because I was on his property..."

  "Doctor, I'm not in the mood to dance around. I need answers."

  "What did you mean when you said lives are at stake? All of the babies in the clinic that have been carried to term have been delivered healthy."

  "I'm not talking about the babies. I'm talking about the young mothers imprisoned there."

  "Imprisoned? My understanding is that they are runaways or are not welcome in their homes because of their predicament. Mr. Cobb is providing a community service to them and to the adoptive parents."

  Now Frank knew that he was correct.

  "How much of a cut do you get, Doc?"

  "Cut? Cut of what?"

  "Cut of what Cobb charges the adoptive parents."

  "I don't know what you mean. I volunteer my time to repay Mr. Cobb for some legal aid he provided me in the past. I am given a modest stipend to cover expenses."

  "Expenses like the high-end office furniture and medical equipment. I don't think you paid for that with revenue from your massive patient load."

  "Patient volume is off a bit, but I do have a viable practice."

  "For now you do, but you may not have a practice at all if I tie you to Cobb's activities."

  "What activities? What are you talking about?"

  "Dr. Wells, what happens to the girls once they give birth?"

  "Actually, I'm not sure. They go home, I would assume."

  "You don't know? Do you remember a girl named Rebecca Springer? She delivered a baby in November of 2011."

  "Honestly, I don't know the names of the girls. I respect their privacy and don't ask much about them. I will tell you that they don't act like girls who have been imprisoned. Sure, some of them are depressed. I assume that is due to their condition, but most are grateful to have a comfortable place to deliver their baby and ensure it a good home."

  "Dr. Wells, did you know that the majority of these girls were reported missing by their parents and were never heard from again?"

  "Well, if they were runaways, maybe that's not that unusual."

  "Would you think it unusual if one of these girls wound up dead in a Middle Eastern country with evidence of extreme sexual abuse?"

  At this, Wells visibly reacted by wringing his hands and beginning to sweat.

  "What is it doctor?"

  "It's just that...well...Cobb told me they were all here willingly, even the last one. She put up such a fight. He said he was legally bound to see them through to the end of their pregnancy."

  "Dr. Wells, this is very important. The one who put up a fight, what did she look like?"

  At this question, a last bit of indignant tone returned.

  "Under the rules of patient confidentiality, I can't..."

  The end of his sentence was cut off as Frank reached across the desk and grasped his $300 tie pulling it upward.

  "Listen to me, you quack. You can't hide behind the rules when it's convenient. Either answer my question or you can kiss your practice, your medical license, and your freedom goodbye. I'm out of patience and time."

  All
indignant behavior vanished.

  "She was a blond. Very curly blond hair. She had blue eyes and was petite."

  Maggie, Frank thought.

  "Where is she"?

  "I don't know. The last time I did rounds, she was gone. Dawn-Marie said she had miscarried during the night and was gone the next day. I assumed she returned home since that is what she wanted to do."

  Frank came to the realization that Dr. Wells could not be any more help. He had enough information to do his job and nothing more. He also realized that it was likely that only one man could tell him where Maggie was, and that was Cobb himself. He left Wells' office and hurried out to his car. Dawn-Marie was not at her post. Frank jumped into the car and quickly drove to Cobb's property. He called Jonesy on the way and told him what happened with Wells.

  "Sounds like you need to get to the man and ask him about Maggie quickly. Based on what I found, she could be anywhere in the world by now."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I found another case. Another girl who was at Cobb's clinic in 2009. She was found six months after the date in the ledger. She had been strangled in a brothel in Bangkok. Dubai and Bangkok. Two cities that are leaders in the human trafficking trade, especially when it comes to young American girls."

  "I'm almost there. Jonesy, take what you found and go to Travis. We may need his help."

  "Frank, remember, we used less than orthodox methods to get this information. I don't look good in an orange jump suit."

  "Remember, this is his sister. I think he'll likely overlook your special methods if it leads to getting her back."

  "It's going to have to be a long-ass drum solo for this one, Frank."

  "You can have a whole set and I'll force people to stay and listen."

  CHAPTER NINETEEN