Shadows of the Stone Benders (The Anlon Cully Chronicles Book 1)
Page 24
“Interesting. Who’s the alleger?” Gambelli inquired.
“A woman named Anabel Simpson, lives in Bennington, Vermont. She learned about Dobson’s supposed thefts from Devlin Wilson himself, the night before his alleged accident. She said Wilson told her he and Dobson had a big argument a few days before Wilson died,” Jennifer replied.
Gambelli’s face adopted a mildly annoyed pose. He said, “I thought I told you to stick with Dobson. The Wilson case is not our concern and there is no evidence that his death was anything other than a tragic accident.”
“Yep, and I’ve followed your orders. I didn’t speak with Anabel Simpson directly, Dr. Cully did, Wilson’s nephew. He passed along his conversation with Miss Simpson last night. It seemed relevant to me, so I wanted you to know about it,” Jennifer answered.
Even though Gambelli challenged Jennifer hard at times, he was in fact a big supporter of hers. She was thorough, diligent and resourceful at collecting evidence in his eyes. She also had good instincts and possessed strong deductive reasoning. Her greatest weakness was exhibiting myopia when it came to suspects and motives. If she crafted a theory in her mind, it became hard to get her to consider other alternatives. He was worried it was happening with the Dobson case, despite his earlier cautions. Yet, he had to give her room to maneuver. She might be right after all. He said, “Okay, let’s play it out. What’s your theory?”
Jennifer braced for a tirade when irritation flashed on Gambelli’s face, so his question was somewhat unexpected. She replied, “Um, okay, let’s start with motive. If Miss Simpson is telling the truth, I’d say money is the core of the crime.”
“Alright, seems reasonable. Now let’s consider the murder itself. We agreed before that it was a reckless and risky killing, correct? Which implies it was not premeditated. So what are the possible reasons for a spur of the moment murder over money?”
“Double cross? Someone expected him to deliver and he didn’t, ala the gold in the safe,” Jennifer speculated.
“That’s one option. What other motive could there be besides money?”
“Um, let me think…okay, try this on…Dobson is called out by Wilson for stealing and selling artifacts. Dobson feels guilty, decides to stop. Possibly even tells his buyer or buyers that the gig is up. If he did, maybe one of the buyers gets scared the trail will lead back to him. Kills him to cover his tracks.”
“Plausible. What about the will?”
“Haven’t found it yet. As soon as we wrap up here, I’m on the way to his two banks. I’m praying he had a safe deposit box at one of them.”
“What if there is a will? It still might mean money is at the heart of it, as you suspect, but the crime might have zero to do with Wilson’s death or artifacts,” Gambelli suggested. “Could be someone trying to move along an inheritance.”
“That’s fair,” Jennifer allowed. “I agree it’s a possibility. It’s why I’m following up looking for the will. I also have the cell phone records, and we have Dobson’s laptop. I’m hoping we’ll get some more information from those that will push us in the right direction.”
Gambelli said, “Good, just keep an open mind. My gut tells me your instincts are on the right track. The timing of Wilson and Dobson’s deaths are too close to be coincidental, especially now that an artifact in Wilson’s possession, the stone you mentioned, has an identical marking on it to Dobson’s large stash of gold coins with the same marking. Add to that the confrontation Miss Simpson described and Wilson’s allegations about Dobson’s theft and you have ingredients that definitely are in murder recipes. But there are two big unanswered questions standing in your way.”
“Okay, what questions?”
Gambelli explained, “If it was about the artifacts or gold or both, why didn’t the killer break into Dobson’s home to search or to steal? The house alarm never was turned off, there was no sign of entry, nothing appeared disturbed or missing. Why not wait for Dobson to get inside and then confront him? At least then the killer would have the opportunity to search or steal.
“If, instead, the murder was meant to silence Dobson from revealing the buyer, why kill Wilson in the first place? From what you’ve described thus far, Wilson suspected Dobson of theft. He laid a trap to prove it and then confronted Dobson once he knew for sure. But nothing you’ve found or been told would indicate Wilson had any idea who the buyer or buyers might be. So why kill him? It unnecessarily draws attention, and when combined with Dobson’s murder so closely afterwards, it sends up huge flashing signs that shout, ‘look this way.’ Not very smart for someone concerned about covering tracks.”
Jennifer’s vision was trained on Gambelli’s Patriot bobble-head collection during his dissection. They actually moved at the tone of his booming voice. She had to admit, he poked some gaping holes in her theories. Gambelli watched her process the inconsistencies he pointed out and then said, “I’ll tell you what. I can think of a motive you haven’t considered yet.”
Her eyes arched and her mind raced. What did I miss, she thought?
“Revenge.”
“How so?”
Gambelli proposed, “What if there is only one murder here? Someone blamed Dobson for Wilson’s accident, right or wrong, and killed him in revenge. It would explain why the killer didn’t attempt to take anything from Dobson. It would explain why the killing was so reckless and risky — an emotional response, not a calculated one.
“I’ll go you one more crazy idea…what if Wilson was murdered as you suspect, by Dobson himself or someone at Dobson’s direction? Dobson then gets whacked in retaliation by someone convinced he was behind Wilson’s death.”
As she jotted his comments down in her notepad, she nodded in acceptance of the fact that she’d overlooked those two possibilities. On the surface, each sounded very possible. But there were two unexplained events Gambelli’s revenge theory didn’t satisfactorily address.
She rebutted, “I’m with you. Revenge could be a strong possible motive here. But what about the theft of Cully’s copy of Wilson’s will? And the later break-in of Wilson’s home and the likely theft of his laptop during the break-in? Why would someone who already satisfied their revenge do these things after the fact?”
“Good questions, Detective,” Gambelli conceded, “I don’t know the answers, other than to say they may be completely unrelated to Wilson’s death or Dobson’s murder. Might be vultures seeking to clean up leftovers. Or I could be wrong and they might be directly related to Dobson’s murder and possibly support the contention Wilson was murdered. The point I’m trying to make here is the soup’s thicker than you think right now. Examine each piece of evidence you find against all these theories, not just one.”
When Jennifer presented her badge and business card to the lobby receptionist of the Great Barrington branch of Massachusetts First Trust Bank, the gum smacking, 20-something blonde lazily lifted her gaze from admiring her manicure and yawned.
Without saying a word, “Beckie” as her nametag read, slowly rose from behind the reception console and wiggled down the hem of her way-too-tight skirt. Shooting an annoyed look at Jennifer, she snatched the business card from the counter, twirled on her way-too-high heels and stalked away with a slight stagger. Jennifer quietly snickered as Beckie teetered towards the manager’s office with her nose aloft.
A few moments later, a spindly but well-dressed Asian man emerged from an office and strode with purpose towards Jennifer, extending a friendly greeting along with his business card. “Good morning, Detective. My name is Min-Jun Cho; I am the manager for this branch. How may I be of service?”
“Good morning Mr. Cho. Thank you for seeing me without an appointment. It’s a confidential matter. Is it possible we might speak in private?” replied Jennifer, taking Mr. Cho’s card and discreetly motioning towards Beckie, who hovered nearby smacking away on her gum. The assistant crossed her arms and rolled her eyes in a manner intended to communicate, “Whatever, bitch!”
“Of course, ple
ase follow me,” answered the amiable Mr. Cho.
As they walked past Beckie, the assistant huffed, tossed her blonde locks absently and sashayed away. Jennifer wondered how long it would take Beckie to regain her post, given her skirt’s tourniquet-like constriction.
When they arrived in his office, Mr. Cho offered Jennifer a seat and closed the door. With sincerity, the manager studied her business card and replied with a slight bow, “It is impressive to meet a Detective so young. You must be among the department’s elite.”
Jennifer smiled at his compliment and replied, “It’s actually Detective Lieutenant, and I wouldn’t consider myself among our elite, but I appreciate your kind words.”
Given the tenor of Mr. Cho’s ceremonial greeting, and aware of the importance in many Asian cultures of recognizing one another formally before conducting business, Jennifer inspected his card and said, “Your family must be proud of your accomplishments, Mr. Cho. Bank managers carry heavy responsibilities.”
Mr. Cho lit up. He bowed and said, “Thank you, Detective Lieutenant. I have worked hard; I hope they are proud. Now, what can I help you with?”
“I am investigating a murder, Mr. Cho, and the victim was a customer of your bank, a Mr. Matthew Dobson. There are certain documents and possibly certain items relevant to the crime that we suspect may be stored in a safe deposit box. I am here to find out if Mr. Dobson maintained a safe deposit box at your bank. If he did, I need to access it to determine its contents. Here is the search warrant,” Jennifer said, presenting the official document.
Bending over the document, Mr. Cho rapidly scanned the contents and turned to the computer on his desk. His fingers tickled the keys with lightning speed. He removed a pair of reading glasses from his suit pocket and tilted them on the tip of his nose. He nodded and said, “Yes, yes, Matthew Dobson. It appears he does, or I should say did, have a safe deposit box here. Do you have his key?”
Jennifer gave an embarrassed shrug and said, “No, I’m afraid we didn’t find a key that looked like it might fit a safe deposit box.”
It would have been closer to the truth if Jennifer had said she and Pebbles hadn’t thought to look for the key. She internally admonished herself for the oversight and made a note to revisit Dobson’s house to specifically search for keys. So much for ranking among the elite detectives, she frowned!
“Oh,” he said, “Hmmm…”
“Is there a problem?”
“No, not really, but a safe deposit box requires two keys. We keep one for each box at the bank, but if you don’t have Mr. Dobson’s, we have to drill through the lock where his key would have been inserted. It just means there will be a small delay while I track down our security officer,” responded the helpful Mr. Cho.
“Ah, I apologize for the inconvenience. I don’t mind waiting. It’s very important,” Jennifer answered.
Mr. Cho left the office in search of his assistant and returned a few minutes later. Straightening his suit jacket and tie before lowering himself on the chair, Mr. Cho said, “He will be with us shortly.”
The pause gave Jennifer the opportunity to sneak in her other purpose for visiting the branch. She queried, “Mr. Cho, while we are waiting, I have another question. We did find statements for Mr. Dobson’s checking account, but they are incomplete and contain nothing significant as far as we could tell. I wondered if it would be possible to get a full set of his bank statements for the past year, and verify whether he had other accounts here?”
Mr. Cho nodded definitively, “No problem at all.”
He flicked off a quick message to Beckie. From the slightly ajar office door, Jennifer heard a loud sigh echo from the hallway. Apparently, Beckie was put out by the request. Don’t chip a nail, sweetie, Jennifer mused to herself!
Refocusing her attention on Mr. Cho, she asked, “Based on your experience, Mr. Cho, when you look at Mr. Dobson’s account online, does anything jump out at you as unusual? Something that seems out of the ordinary from a banker’s point of view?”
Without further discussion, he returned to his computer and examined the results of his keystroke flurry. Jennifer distinctly saw his eyebrows shift upwards. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath and engaged in several more bouts of rapid tapping, pausing every so often to adjust his glasses and review the oversized monitor.
Jennifer leaned forward, excitement building as she observed Mr. Cho’s succession of puzzled facial expressions. There was something obviously unusual about Matthew Dobson’s account. She queried, “Have you found something of interest?”
Mr. Cho slumped back against the chair and intertwined his fingers in his lap and said, “Your instincts, Detective Lieutenant, are rewarded. Yes, there are some unusual transactions in one of Mr. Dobson’s accounts.”
“Accounts? So he had more than one at your bank?”
“Yes, he had three accounts. The checking account you referenced earlier, a savings account and a money market account,” Mr. Cho itemized before continuing. “As you have observed already, the checking account looks completely average. Nothing out of the ordinary. The savings account is small and there have been no transactions in the account over the past year.”
Jennifer flipped open her notebook and scribbled away. Without lifting her head, she added, “But the other one is a different matter. Let me guess, there are some large transactions that moved in or out.”
Mr. Cho cracked a wry smile and nodded his head, “Precisely.”
“By any chance, did any of those transactions occur within the last month?”
His smile grew wider, “You are indeed among the elite of detectives.”
Inside, Jennifer did a double fist pump. In response to Mr. Cho’s compliment, she looked at him and blushed involuntarily. Edging further on the chair, Jennifer lowered her pad and pen and said, “I wish my Captain felt the same way! Before you elaborate on the transactions, may I guess?”
He chuckled, “I have such a boss as well. Yes, I’m very interested to hear your point of view.”
Thinking back to Anlon’s description of his meeting with Anabel, she knew that if Matthew Dobson had been stealing and selling artifacts from Devlin’s collection, there would be a payment trail somewhere. Initially, Jennifer thought the trail might lead to the gold coins she and Pebbles found in Dobson’s home.
But the more she considered the coins, the less they seemed viable sources of payment, given they were impressed with the Master Stone fish symbol. Rather, she reasoned, Dobson was more likely trying to sell them and stored them in his home for safe keeping.
So that left two options in Jennifer’s mind. Either Dobson used his bank accounts for the payments or she would find cash in the safe deposit box. Given Mr. Cho’s reactions, she surmised the bank accounts must have been used for payments.
“I’m going to guess large transfers were made into the money market,” she confidently conjectured.
Wagging a finger back and forth, Mr. Cho said, “No, you are incorrect.”
“So, the money flows the opposite way?”
“Yes and no. What’s curious about Mr. Dobson’s accounts is that he made three sizeable deposits over the past six months in the money market account, not transfers.”
“Hmm, how large?”
“All three deposits were $250,000 dollars. One in December of last year, another in February, and the last, only three weeks ago,” Mr. Cho catalogued.
Jennifer furrowed her brow, “You said the deposits weren’t transfers. Are you saying he walked into your bank with checks or briefcases stuffed with cash?”
“Checks. But he didn’t deposit them into this branch, I would have been notified of a deposit that size if he did. I never met Mr. Dobson, nor do I recall hearing his name before today. He deposited the checks into one of our Manhattan branches on Park Avenue near the Waldorf Astoria Hotel. All three checks were from the same company, Atlas Gem Traders. I have an electronic copy of one of the checks up on my screen. Have a look.”
“Yes to both questions,” Mr. Cho answered, “and I’m certain we did report the deposits. It’s an automatic process that is centrally managed at our bank’s headquarters. Why?”
Jennifer began to question her previous conclusion about the gold coins. Was Dobson paid with the rare coins and then did he periodically cash them in?
“It’s possible the deposits are payments connected to illegal activity. Do gem traders deal in gold?” she asked.
“I don’t know, it’s possible. Our Park Avenue branch does a fair amount of business with the diamond and gem exchanges. Many of them are within a two block walk of the branch,” Mr. Cho explained.
While Jennifer pondered the implications of the deposits, the security officer knocked on Mr. Cho’s door. They rose and followed the security officer to the vault area.
Inside the gated area, the security officer punched in a code to retract the vault’s interior glass door and the titanium grate beyond it. Mr. Cho extracted a key from his pocket and opened one of the first boxes inside the safe. Inside were the bank’s keys for each of the deposit boxes. Finding the number for Matthew Dobson’s box, he searched and pulled the box’s key.
The security officer, drill in hand, followed Mr. Cho to the box. It was one of the larger boxes in the vault, about waist-high from the floor. The security officer drilled through the lock intended for Dobson’s key. When finished, the bank manager inserted his own key, and the door shielding the box was opened.
The security officer slid the box out carefully and huffed when the full weight of the box rested in his hands. The box shifted slightly in his grip and a clatter of moving contents inside the box filled the air. Mr. Cho led Jennifer to a private room to examine the contents.