“Thanks for talking to me, Sean. As a former cop, you know these types of conversations aren’t easy. But you also know I had to ask these questions to find out more. My cousin is looking at several years in prison if she’s convicted, and I need to do everything I can to help her.” Marlee was telling the truth and also preserving her working relationship with Sean.
“I know. I understand. I haven’t been on this side of the questioning for a long time. I definitely like it better as the one asking the questions,” he said with a smile that left Marlee assured that no harm had been done. Sean grabbed sheet of paper and wrote down the names, addresses, and phone numbers of his three employees and handed it to her.
On her way home, Marlee contemplated how she would contact the security guards employed at Yellow Tail Security. She liked the element of surprise and decided dropping in at their homes would not only throw them off balance a bit, but also give her an insight into them as people. When Marlee worked as a probation officer, she preferred surprise visits to the homes of her offenders rather than scheduled office visits. An unscheduled and unannounced visit immediately put her in an advantageous position and therefore likely to get more questions answered. Plus, she could get a better read on their body language if they were not in control of the situation. Since over ninety percent of communication is body language, Marlee thought she would have a better chance at picking up on any lies or deception with a pop in visit.
The first stop on her investigation was at the home of Sandy Link, the retired FBI agent. Based on her prior career, Marlee found it unlikely that she would be involved in the theft. It was improbable that a federal law enforcement officer would now turn to a life of crime in her retirement. Improbable, but not impossible.
Sandy Link lived in one of the new condos built by the golf course. The area was mainly inhabited by retired professionals and working, childless couples. Marlee pulled up to the condo and looked around, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. Two knocks brought a plain-looking woman in her late 50s to the door. She had short, grayish-brown hair, glasses, and a doughy physique. Sandy was clad in a pink sweat suit and fuchsia slippers.
The professor introduced herself and the general reason for her visit. Sandy seemed curious but not overly suspicious. She invited Marlee inside the comfortable home and showed her to the living room. Marlee sat down, and the former FBI agent began asking questions, quickly turning the tables on Marlee and her investigative efforts.
“Sean just called and said you might be coming by. He said you knew about the theft and your cousin being charged with the crime. What makes you think Bridget didn’t do it? I mean, she had access and she confessed to it.”
“I think any of us are capable of any crime under the right circumstances. What I don’t get is any type of motivation Bridget had for stealing the urn or anything else. She’s not rich, but she makes enough money to pay her bills, live comfortably, indulge in some luxuries, and save for the future. She’s not greedy and there aren’t any big debts she needs to pay right away, so I can’t think what would make her commit a theft,” Marlee said. “I wish the judge hadn’t ordered no contact between Bridget and me because there are so many things I want to ask her.”
“So you think it’s Sean or one of his employees?” Sandy adjusted her pink plastic framed glasses.
“I don’t know who the person or persons are that committed this crime. I just want to talk to everyone who either had access to the urn or a motive for taking it. Do you have any theories on what happened?” Marlee asked, anxious to capitalize on the expertise of a former FBI agent.
“It wasn’t any of us from Yellow Tail Security. I can assure you of that. Aside from your cousin, I don’t know who else it could have been. Why would she confess if she didn’t do it?” Sandy asked.
“That really puzzles me too. I don’t know why Bridget confessed. At first, I thought maybe she was tricked or coerced by the police, but now I’m thinking she did it for some other reason. I just don’t know what that reason would be,” Marlee said.
“Sorry I can’t help you out. We were booked to guard the urn for another two weeks and now that it’s in police custody, there’s no need for us to be at Marymount any more. I’m out three week’s worth of wages. The contract doesn’t pay us if the item gets lost, damaged, or stolen. The urn was the only thing we were guarding, so our work there is finished.” Sandy replied.
“How about the security people provided by the museums and the other private collectors? I heard there were other security guards around campus guarding other items in the collections.” Marlee said.
“Yeah, there are. I never really got to know them very well since Percy and I were always stationed in the viewing room with the urn. Nothing else was in there except the urn. The other pieces for The Showcase were in various other rooms, and that’s where the other guards were located. I know there were twenty other guards and they came from all over the world, but I don’t know any specifics.” Sandy stated.
“How could one of them go about stealing the urn? I know you don’t believe that happened, but give me a scenario, even if it’s unlikely.”
The former FBI agent wasn’t willing to play guessing games. “I don’t know where you’re going with this, Professor, but I can tell you it’s impossible that the other guards could have obtained the urn.”
Marlee gave up on trying to get the former agent to speculate on the possibilities. It was clear she bought in to the theory that Marlee’s cousin was the thief.
Trying to make peace as she exited the home, Marlee asked chit-chat questions about Sandy and her previous career. This took the edge off Sandy’s voice, and she was eager to talk about her job in the FBI.
“I spent most of my career in St. Louis as a forensic accountant. I looked for hidden money and financial abnormalities. After September 11th, I was reassigned to Counter Terrorism and relocated to Las Vegas. I retired a few months ago and moved here. I was bored and a part-time position with Yellow Tail Security opened up, so I applied and got the job.”
“What brought you to Elmwood? Are you from here originally?” Marlee asked.
“No, I’m from, Oakes, a little town just over the border in North Dakota. It’s only an hour away. Close enough to see relatives, but not too close. I like the area and the simplicity of life in this area. And the people are so nice. It feels good to be back in the Midwest,” Sandy said with a smile.
Marlee decided to put her other two visits with the Yellow Tail Security employees on hold. She drove home, mostly because she was tired and hungry. As she threw her book bag on the table, she realized she’d forgotten one of the main things she planned to do that day: pay a visit to Conrad Thayer, the owner of the antique urn. She stuffed a piece of cold pizza in her mouth, grabbed a caffeine-free Diet Pepsi from the fridge, and made her way out the back door, locking it behind her.
As she opened the door to her detached garage, a sharp voice from behind her said, “And where do you think you’re going?”
If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s a liar. Imagine my surprise when I turn into the biggest one of all.
Chapter 11
As Marlee spun around, the pizza slice fell from her mouth, and she dropped the can of pop. She poised the keys to her Honda CR-V between her fingers as a striking tool and took a fighting stance.
Hector roared in laughter. “That gets funnier every time you do it. What exactly are you trying to accomplish?”
“God dammit, Hector! Quit sneaking up on me. One of these days you’re going to surprise me and I’m going to pull a gun on you. And then you know what’s going to happen?”
“You’ll realize your gun is unloaded and the bullets are hidden in your underwear drawer? You hate guns. You told me that a long time ago. There’s no way you’ll be carrying around a loaded firearm.” Hector knew Marlee all too well.
“Maybe I’ll get a Taser. That’ll take the sap out of you!” She meant it as a threat, but now that she th
ought about it, having a Taser would give her a sense of protection without endangering anyone’s life. Plus, it would send a deterring message to people who kept sneaking up on her.
Hector laughed again but wisely did not add any comments. He bent down and picked up Marlee’s pizza and handed it to her.
“I’m starving, and you made me drop the last piece of pizza on the ground,” she wailed as she looked it over, deciding if it was still okay to eat.
“Come on, I’ll take you out for supper, and then we can go visit the guy who owns the urn. I suspect that’s who you were going to see?” Hector said as he closed the garage door behind them and slid into the passenger seat of Marlee’s car.
“That’s sounds like a good plan.” Marlee was salivating already at the thought of a sit-down meal that she didn’t have to prepare herself. After a brief visit in the car about where to go, Marlee drove them to Apollo’s on the edge of town.
Apollo’s was the nicest dining establishment in town, although she frequently saw people dining there in sweat pants and other athletic gear. One thing she liked about the town of Elmwood was that very few people put on airs. If you were wearing a sweat suit and tennis shoes and were invited at the last minute to go to supper, then you were good to go. No change needed. For those who liked to show off or had nice clothes they wanted to wear, Apollo’s was the place for that too. Men wearing suits and ties and ladies in bejeweled tops and long skirts could be seen sitting at a table near a group of people who just finished working out at a local gym and had not yet showered nor changed out of their athletic clothes.
The host seated Marlee and Hector in the back room, out of eyesight and earshot of the other diners. It wasn’t even 6:00 p.m. yet, so the place wasn’t busy. They slid into a booth and both immediately ordered beers when their server came over and introduced himself. The waiter, who identified himself as Chad, asked them about their day, told them a bit about himself, and hurried off to get their drinks.
“Why do waiters and waitresses want to chat so much with their customers?” Hector was annoyed. He was a matter-of-fact guy and did not care for random chit-chat with strangers.
“I know! When I go out to eat, it’s to visit with the person I’m dining with, not the waiter. I bet they’ve been told chatting up the customers gets them bigger tips,” Marlee said, not much of a chit-chatter herself.
“Some people do like the ongoing banter, I guess, but I like to be left alone.”
“Me too,” the professor said and then began to laugh. “We sound like a couple of old grumps.” Hector smiled and nodded.
Chad returned with their requested beverages, a red beer with olives for Marlee and a Leinenkugel for Hector. They clinked their glasses in a toast and sipped on the beers, while Chad rattled on about the featured specials for that evening.
Hector leaned over and said in a quiet tone, “Chad, we have serious business to discuss, so it’s going to be about fifteen minutes before we’re ready to order. In ten minutes, you can bring us another round of drinks.” Chad looked bewildered by the timetable Hector established, but nodded and walked away.
A wide grin spread across Marlee’s face. “That was brilliant! You handled that so well and also made sure we wouldn’t be forgotten.”
“Thanks. I’ve been working on my skills of shooing away pests. Now tell me what you did today.”
“I returned the folder I borrowed from Abby. She suspects something’s going on, since the viewing room for the urn is closed, and she hasn’t seen Bridget around. I didn’t tell her about the theft. I thought I’d wait and see if she hears any scuttlebutt on the subject. Kathleen called and Bridget’s getting out on third-party custody and will be staying at Kathleen’s. She’ll have to wear a monitoring device, and she can’t go to Marymount. She can’t have contact with me either. Then I spoke with Sean Yellow Tail and found out the way he won the contract is because he has a connection to Conrad Thayer. He gave me the names of his employees, and I went to see one of them. She didn’t have any new information for me. I haven’t talked to the other two yet.” Marlee was out of breath by the time she finished her accounting of the day’s activities. She took two enormous gulps of beer and chewed on a green olive which had risen to the top of the glass.
“Did Sean or his employee have theories on who committed the theft?”
“Both of them said Bridget was the only person it could be. Sean was the only one with keys to the viewing room, and he personally opened it every morning and locked it up every night. His employees were there to guard the urn, but they didn’t have a key to the room,” the professor reported.
“What about Sean? He could’ve taken it since he had the keys.” Hector rationalized.
“But then how did it end up hidden at my house? Unless he broke in, Sean’s never been to my home. And I doubt he would break into my house. Or anyone’s house for that matter. He was a cop himself for a few years and is a rule-follower.”
“Did Sean and Bridget have any kind of connection? Any chance he stole the urn and she covered for him? Or that they were working together?”
“Sean and Bridget don’t seem like art thieves. I doubt either one of them would have any clue how to go about selling the urn without being detected. Although, Sean did suggest one avenue I hadn’t thought of when I talked to him. He said somebody may have contacted Bridget and put in an order for this specific item and she grabbed it with the intent of passing it on to them. I don’t think Bridget was involved, but Sean made a good point about someone putting in an order for the urn.” Marlee said as she finished off the last of her beer.
As if on cue, Chad swung by with another round of drinks and placed them on the table without saying a word. He didn’t even make eye contact as he collected their dirty glasses and mopped up the spills.
“Yeah, somebody might have had their eye on this particular antique for a while and decided to make their move when they found out it was going to be out of the owner’s control for a bit. But how does Bridget get involved in all of this if she wasn’t the thief?” Hector picked up his newly-delivered beer and took a gulp.
“That’s the mystery we have to figure out,” Marlee said as she took a drink from her second beer. “So, what did you do today? Sleep in at the motel and then go for a big breakfast and sit around watching TV all day?” Marlee asked, knowing full well Hector would have his own list of details to reveal.
“I hung out at the police station for a bit to see if I could catch any news about Bridget or the stolen urn. Everybody is keeping quiet about it. Either they don’t know much or just aren’t talking around me. I’m sure they know about my connection to Bridget through you.” Hector finally picked up the menu Chad left with them earlier and began to peruse it.
“Then what did you do? That didn’t take all day did it?” Marlee was impatient, and if Hector had some news to share, she wanted to know it immediately. He had an annoying habit of prolonging his stories as a means of building suspense. She hated it, and he knew it.
“I also went to the Sheriff’s Office and jail for a bit and hung out over there too. Turns out they were more chatty than the PD.” Hector turned the page of the leather-bound menu, perusing each selection.
“And?”
“The urn is in the evidence locker that’s shared by the Police Department and the Sheriff’s Office. That locker is in the basement of the Sheriff’s Office, and I used my charm to get a look at it. It looks like a piece of junk to me. I’d swear my grandma down in Mexico had one just like it, and I assure you hers wasn’t worth a million dollars,” the detective reported.
“So what did it look like? I only saw a grainy photo of it.”
“It’s dark green with brown swirls. Narrow at the top and near the bottom with a rounded part in the middle. It only stands about this high.” Hector measured off twelve inches with his hands. “It was ugly, and I wouldn’t give five dollars for it at a garage sale.”
“What else did you find out at the Sheriff’
s Office and jail?” Marlee asked.
“None of them have too high of an opinion of Sean Yellow Tail and the group he’s got working for him at his security company. Guess he got in some hot water at the PD, and he resigned. It was over some missing evidence, and he was forced to either resign or they would fire him. There wasn’t enough evidence to prosecute, but they were able to get rid of him.”
“You’re kidding!” Marlee screeched then covered her mouth so as not to garner the attention of the other diners and staff. “I never would’ve guessed he’d get into any kind of trouble. Sean is so straight-laced.”
“That’s the same thing you said about Bridget. Maybe you just like to think the best of people and have a hard time believing they would steal,” Hector said.
Marlee was huffy over Hector’s assessment of her. “I’m not a cynic, but I’m not naïve either! My instincts always told me Sean was an honest guy. I never would’ve pegged him for a thief. There have been a lot of my students I would suspect of crimes before I would think of Sean. What was it he supposedly took from the evidence locker?”
“Photographs. And it was from a case involving a relative of his, so it was fairly easy to conclude he took the photos or at least hid them somewhere within the evidence locker. The case was dismissed when the evidence went missing, and Sean left the PD shortly after that.” Hector continued looking at the menu as if he were memorizing it.
“That doesn’t sound like Sean. He’s always so fair-minded,” Marlee said.
“Oh, no. Don’t tell me you think it was a filing error or that he was set up by another officer.” Hector threw his hands in the air, letting the menu drop to the table with a thud.
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