Dead Wrong

by Patricia Stoltey

  Glades, Florida

  Sunday, January 26

  Maggie knew when Lynnette bought her ticket. But two tickets? She did a search on the passenger’s name, Grace Foster, and found nothing helpful.

  Since Foster’s flight wouldn’t arrive in Fort Lauderdale until Sunday afternoon, Maggie still had time to look for the girl, Laura, who claimed she knew Mrs. Foster did not kill her husband. Maggie decided to start by talking to the kid who was still in a Miami hospital, most likely a safer place to visit than the kid’s home. She didn’t take anyone with her, and she didn’t tell Detective Prince.

  Maggie tried to hide her surprise when she walked into the hospital room and found Prince sitting in a chair by one of the two beds in the room. He chatted with the kid who seemed in good spirits in spite of the I.V. in his left arm, the cast on his right arm, and the bruises and lacerations that covered the visible parts of his body. There was a bandage over his left eye.

  The room was packed with Latinos, most milling about the tiny space, talking and laughing. A heavy-set woman in a flowered dress sat at the end of the bed, one hand on the injured kid’s foot. She listened to the conversation between the kid and the detective.

  Prince looked up when Maggie walked into the room. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. He merely said, “Come here. I want you to meet Eduardo.”

  Maggie crossed the room, shook hands with the boy’s mother and winked at Eduardo when they were introduced.

  “Eddie’s one of my P.A.L. club boxers,” Prince said. “He’s also a straight-A student. He and his younger sister are going to college.”

  Eddie’s mother didn’t say anything, but she looked away from the detective and scanned the room as though searching for someone.

  “He’s not here,” Prince said. “He left when I walked in.” He looked at Maggie. “Eddie’s brother. He used to be one of my kids, but he got away from me. He’s a gang man now.”

  “You can’t get him back?”

  “I tried. He won’t listen.” Prince stood, patted Eddie on the shoulder and shook hands with Eddie’s mom, then joined Maggie at the foot of the bed. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “Looking for the girl?”

  “Sort of. I thought this kid might know something.”

  Prince took hold of Maggie’s elbow. Instead of moving her toward the exit, he guided her to a door that stood ajar. When he took hold of the doorknob and pulled it open, the girl inside the bathroom covered her face and began to cry.

  “Laura?” Maggie looked at Prince. “You know Laura?”

  He looked around to make sure nobody stood within earshot. “This is Eddie’s sister, the one I said was college bound. She’s one of my kids.”

  “Did you tell her to come to me?”

  “We need to talk.” He pulled Maggie out of the doorway as he said, “Laura, you stay safe. You’re going to be fine. Officer Gutierrez has everything under control.”

  “Where’s your car?” he asked when they were in the hall.

  “Parking garage. What’s the deal? What does Laura know about Carl Foster’s murder?”

  “She knows her brother did it, along with two of his buddies. Carl Foster hurt Eddie and Eddie’s brother was honor-bound to get revenge.”

  “Why did they kill Foster? Why didn’t they just beat the crap out of him?”

  “That will be one of the questions we ask when we pick him up.”

  “Is Foster’s wife completely off the hook then? Do we even need to talk to her?”

  “Haven’t you found her yet?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “We need to ask her a few questions. Have her come on in for a chat. No need to go to Fort Lauderdale this afternoon and meet her, though. There’s no arrest warrant.”

  Maggie stopped in her tracks. “You know she’s flying into Fort Lauderdale? How did you know that?”

  “You honestly think I’d turn something like this over to a rookie? Not a chance.”

  Maggie didn’t know what to say. She stared daggers at the detective as he walked away. The last thing he said before he walked through the sliding glass doors was, “By the way, Gutierrez. You did a good job. Keep it up and you’ll make detective someday.”

  Miami, Florida

  Sunday, January 26

  Benny’s lawyer accomplished one thing on Sunday. He arranged for Benny to move to a private cell after his cellmates beat him up.

  Denver, Colorado

  Sunday, January 26

  “My dad’s going to be mad,” Grace said.

  “I know. I’ll talk to him and explain what happened when we get to Florida.”

  “What’s going to happen to me if the police arrest you when we get there?”

  “I don’t know. But you’ll be safer with the police than you’ve been with me. And if they know your dad is on his way to get you, they won’t call Social Services or anything like that.”

  “They’ll call my mom.”

  “Maybe not.” She reached over and patted Grace’s arm. “Don’t worry. All this will be over soon. You’ll be fine.”

  Grace said very little until they landed in Fort Lauderdale and were given permission to use their phones. When she called her father’s number, she listened for a long time before she finally spoke. “We saw one of the bad guys who chased us—”

  Lynnette could hear Agent McCoy’s voice from Grace’s phone but couldn’t understand what he said.

  “Lynnette was afraid—”

  Lynnette took a deep breath when Grace handed over the phone. “Dad wants to talk to you.”

  “Agent McCoy, I—”

  “I’m in the airport in Denver, Mrs. Foster. I’m catching the next flight to Fort Lauderdale. You and my daughter will be met at the gate and you will be taken into custody by the FBI. Do not try to run again.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  “If anything happens to Grace, I will hold you personally responsible.”

  CHAPTER 42

  * * *

  Fort Lauderdale, Florida

  Sunday, January 26

  Maggie sat near the arrival gate for Lynnette Foster’s flight. A couple of minutes after the plane pulled up to the jetway, two men strode into the waiting area and spoke to the man at the desk.

  Suits. She wondered who they were after.

  The man at the desk picked up his phone and spoke into it briefly, then beckoned the two men to follow him through the door and down the jetway. A few minutes later, the agents returned, one walking beside Lynnette Foster and the other holding the hand of a young girl.

  Maggie jumped up and hurried toward the men, pulling out her badge as she went. “Wait,” she said. “I need to speak to Mrs. Foster.”

  The men stopped and looked at Maggie’s badge. “We’re taking her in,” said one.

  “Who are you?”

  The two agents displayed their identification. FBI.

  Feds. She was right. “I need to tell her something,” Maggie said. “Mrs. Foster, we’ve apprehended the gang members who killed your husband. There’s no warrant out for your arrest. But we do need to ask you a few questions.” She shifted her attention to the agent at Foster’s side. “Where are you taking her? Why? Who’s the girl?”

  Lynnette pulled away from the agent. “It’s true?” she said. “I’m not a suspect?”

  “It’s true. Why are they taking you in? Who’s the kid?”

  “It’s a long story. For now, I need to make sure this little girl gets back to her dad.”

  “When can we talk to her?” Maggie asked the Fed.

  “It’ll be a while, I’m afraid.” He handed Maggie a card. “Call that number in a couple of hours and I’ll see what I can do.”

  West Palm Beach, Florida

  Sunday, January 26

  As soon as Lynnette and Grace entered the FBI resident agency office in West Palm Beach, the second agent took Grace away in spite of her protests. The man who introduced himself as Agent Samuels guided Lynnette into an office and
assisted her into a chair. He placed her purse and laptop case on a desk and asked her permission to examine the contents.

  “I guess Thomas told you everything,” she said. “What you’re looking for is in the laptop case. Inside the brown envelope.”

  Samuels went through everything in Lynnette’s case before removing the envelope and examining the checks. “Where did you get these?”

  Lynnette told him the whole story, starting with Carl’s assault and ending with her flight from the man in the tweed jacket at the Denver airport.

  “Stay here,” Samuels ordered.

  When he returned he carried a laptop. “We’re going to the field office in Miami,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Benito Ortega is in police custody in Miami. I need to talk to him.”

  “What about Grace?”

  “She’s coming with us.”

  When they met by the front door, Lynnette hugged Grace to her side. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” Grace said. “He gave me a soda and a candy bar. And we called my dad again. He’s going to meet us in Miami.”

  Miami, Florida

  Sunday, January 26

  Benny had been stuck in the interrogation room at the FBI field office in Miami for over three hours before the FBI agent named Samuels returned with a laptop.

  It only took a couple of minutes for him to open the computer and power it on, tap a few keys, wait a couple of seconds, then type something else. He turned the computer around so Benny could see the screen.

  The image of a check for over $500,000 appeared. Benny reached out and used the touch pad to scroll down, examining the six checks one by one. They would have been worth more than three million dollars if all had gone as planned. Maria had done a fine job putting contacts in the company’s accounts payable departments and then timing the thefts. “I’ve never seen these before,” Benny said.

  Samuels tapped a few more keys, then let Benny see the screen again. “There were three more checks inside the front pocket of your wife’s day calendar. They turned up during the search conducted by the FBI after Mr. Getz talked to agents in Denver. Does that surprise you?”

  Benny could have sworn his hair stood up on the top of his head. Maria held out on him? He wondered how long that had been going on. Maybe she deserved to die. He tried to look dumfounded, but he couldn’t control his facial muscles. He figured shock and surprise showed all over his face. He began to laugh—stupid uncontrollable laughter.

  “There was also considerable cash in Sammy Grick’s laptop case. Do you know anything about that?”

  “No,” Benny said, almost choking on the word. He covered his face with his hands and bit his lip in an effort to stop laughing. When he finally took his hands down, he avoided making eye contact with the agent.

  “I have to leave for a while, Mr. Ortega, but I’ll be back. You’ll be busy though. Officials are lining up to talk to you this afternoon. The Internal Revenue Service. Maybe Homeland Security since one of these checks is drawn on a company based in Havana. Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, because one of the payees is a distillery. Can you think of anyone else who might want to talk to you, Mr. Ortega?”

  Benny shook his head.

  “Oh, yeah,” Samuels added as he shoved back his chair and stood. “There’s a homicide detective who’s anxious to have a crack at you. He says they found a Luger in Mr. Grick’s car at the airport.”

  Benny’s shoulders began to shake.

  Samuels frowned. “This is no laughing matter, Mr. Ortega.”

  Benny placed his elbows on the table and cradled his forehead in his hands. There had to be a way he could hang this whole mess on his wife and that big-mouth bastard, Albert Getz.

  Denver, Colorado

  Sunday, January 26

  Albert watched the two FBI agents who looked on with interest as the doctors examined the X-rays of his knee.

  “Looks broken, Getz,” Agent Bailey said. “Bad luck.”

  “What happened to the woman and the kid? Did you get them?” Albert asked.

  “Nope. They got picked up when they arrived in Florida. Mrs. Foster told agents there how you tried to chase her down in Denver and again in Fort Collins. And Mr. Ortega says you must have been in cahoots with his wife to steal those checks. He says Sammy Grick worked for the two of you. He also said he heard his wife mention you were a hit man. Is that true?”

  Ignoring Bailey’s question, Albert shook the rails of his hospital bed. “It’s been hours since I had a shot for this pain! I can’t stand it!”

  “Looks like you need surgery on that knee,” Agent Bailey said, his voice oozing fake sympathy. “After the docs are done with you, we’ll be back for a nice long chat. There are at least three police departments that want their turn at you, too. Denver P.D. sent someone to sit outside your door and make sure you don’t hobble off on your own.”

  CHAPTER 43

  * * *

  Miami, Florida

  Sunday, January 26

  Lynnette sat inside the Miami FBI field offices and waited. Grace had been whisked away again, this time by a female agent. The first visitors to show up were Officer Maggie Gutierrez and Detective Mark Prince from Glades. The good news? They weren’t there to arrest her. The bad news? They filled her in on everything that had happened to Carl. When they finished, she felt drained. She put her head in her hands and wondered why she wasn’t sobbing her heart out. Was she in shock? Would she fall apart later?

  “You don’t want to go in there by yourself,” Maggie said. “There are services that clean up crime scenes. We can send someone.”

  “I’d appreciate that. What about Carl’s body?”

  “His mother said she’d arrange a funeral. She’s waiting for the coroner to release the body.”

  “Did she say anything about me?”

  “No.”

  Carl’s mother would grieve for a long time over her only son. She would have no sympathy for the daughter-in-law who had walked out on Carl and left him to face his killers alone. Lynnette rubbed her forehead. She’d still have to go to the funeral. Facing Carl’s mother would be one more test of her resolve never to run away from a problem again.

  After Officer Gutierrez left, Agent Bob McCoy paid Lynnette a visit. He didn’t have Grace with him.

  In spite of her exhaustion and apprehension, she paid close attention to Grace’s dad, trying to figure out if he was the good guy Grace said he was. He seemed nice enough, although a bit on the stern side, until Lynnette had told him more than half of her story. At the point she described Grace’s threat to run away in downtown Denver and her fear of Social Services and foster homes, McCoy’s shoulders visibly relaxed and he leaned back in his chair.

  “I know I blew it,” Lynnette said, “but I was scared for myself and worried that Grace would take off on her own and something bad would happen to her. At the time I didn’t know Carl was dead. I thought he had put the Denver police on my trail. I figured if they caught me and I had Grace with me, I’d be charged with kidnapping. She got caught up in my paranoia . . . well, you know the rest.”

  “Grace said there were people who helped you in Colorado. Thomas Young and his daughter . . . Blue?”

  “Yes. I think Thomas has already been in touch with the FBI in Colorado. He wanted to help us by getting the checks to the authorities without telling them about Grace. Thomas’s plan got messed up when that guy showed up at the truck stop in Fort Collins and I took off with Grace.”

  “Yes, she told me how you put the guy out of commission. To tell the truth, before talking to Grace this morning I intended to file kidnapping charges against you. After hearing her version, however, and then talking to you, I reconsidered. You didn’t make the best decisions along the way, but I’ll concede that you tried to protect Grace in spite of her tall tales and willfulness and in spite of your own fear. Thank you for that.”

  “What happens to Grace now?”

  “Her mother gets back tomorrow.
I’ll meet with her and see what she intended when she took Grace to the airport. We already have a joint custody arrangement, so we might be able to work it out without going to court. I’d love to have Grace live with me. She’s a great kid and I love her like crazy.”

  “Do you have to travel a lot?”

  “I do now, but I can change that.”

  “If Grace’s mother lets her go, when will you and Grace go to California?”

  “Tuesday at the latest.”

  “I’ll miss Grace very much, Agent McCoy. After I get my life together, would it be okay if I called to see how she’s doing? Or come out to see her?”

  “Get your affairs straightened out first, and then call me.”

  He stood up and walked out of the room. Ten minutes later the door opened again. McCoy stood aside to let Grace into the room.

  She ran to Lynnette and threw her arms around her neck. “We’re going to be okay now, Lynnette. My dad promised.”

  Lynnette hugged Grace and whispered, “I know. You take care of yourself, okay?”

  “I will.”

  “Come on, Grace,” McCoy said. “The agents need to talk to Mrs. Foster.” As he ushered Grace out of the room, he looked back and said, “You’ll be okay. I wish you the best of luck.”

  CHAPTER 44

  * * *

  Miami, Florida

  Sunday, January 26

  Agent Samuels rejoined Lynnette and told her she needed to tell her story one more time, beginning to end. A second agent came in to man the digital camera and record the interview. Samuels asked an occasional question but mostly listened.

  When Lynnette finished, she glanced at her watch and realized she’d been sitting in that chair for more than four hours. “Okay if I stand up and stretch?” she asked.

  “Sure. Actually, you’re free to go, Mrs. Foster. Where will you be staying?”

  “In a motel. I won’t be able to live in my . . . Carl’s . . . that house.”