by C. M. Sutter
It was one forty-five when we parked along the curb two houses down from the small, tired-looking home where Ben Jessup lived. It couldn’t have been more than a two-bedroom, one-bath dwelling. Since we saw a banged-up rusty Dodge Caravan in the driveway, I hoped that meant he was there.
I tucked my badge inside my blouse. I wanted to get my foot in the door before he realized who we were. I smoothed my jacket over my sidearm as I exited the cruiser.
Clayton tipped his head toward the backyard. “I’m going to cover the back in case he decides to bolt. He may be curious enough to answer the front door if he sees a woman standing alone on the porch.”
“Got it.” I held my position until Clayton circled to the back of the house, then I followed the sidewalk to the steps and up to the porch. I rang the bell and waited, and I heard footsteps that stopped before they got to the door. I felt as if I was being sized up. I glanced to my left and right, then I noticed the peephole positioned unusually high on the door. I was sure he was deciding what to do as he watched me. I played along by pulling out my lip gloss and mirror from my purse. I applied a fresh coat and fluffed my hair. The door opened seconds later.
Standing in front of me was a shirtless man wearing droopy sweatpants that barely covered his private parts, although they weren’t that private as I stood there staring. I looked down—somewhat shocked—and then up again and gathered my composure. His hair was a tangled mess, and his eyes were definitely bloodshot. He leaned against the doorframe and grinned as if he had swagger. “Sup?”
Really? Idiot.
I reached for the lanyard and pulled out my badge. “This is what’s up.” Since I had my leg jammed in the door opening, he wasn’t able to close it. The surprise nearly knocked him off balance. He bolted for the back door, where Clayton was waiting. There was nothing he could do but drop his head and shuffle back inside the house.
I gave him my best “bad cop” expression. “Pull up your damn pants and sit down. You have some talking to do.”
Over the next forty-five minutes, we got an earful from Ben Jessup. Most of what he said was drug-dealing gibberish unrelated to our investigation, but my curiosity was piqued when he began throwing out names of other known associates in his world of illegal activities.
“Just give us names of people that you and Charlie both know and deal with,” I said.
“Hell, lady, that’s putting my life at risk.”
“Stumbling around with sack-ass pants also puts your life at risk. You could fall flat on your face and crack your skull. Now start talking.”
“Why don’t you ask Joe? He’s a lot closer to Charlie than I am. Those two do everything together.”
Clayton gave me a quick glance and took over. “You mean Joe Tantor?”
“Yeah, who else? When Charlie is low on cash, he hits up Joe. Joe always has a side job that can make Charlie a few bucks.”
“So tell us about those side jobs,” Clayton said.
“I don’t know the details. Like I said, ask Joe.”
“We’re asking you unless you’d rather change the subject to those outstanding warrants you have in Washburn County.”
Ben groaned as he squeezed his bloodshot eyes closed and then open again.
I smiled. “Need some eye drops?”
“Whatever. All I know about the side jobs is that once every few weeks, Charlie helps Joe with heavy lifting and errands. Sometimes Joe gives Charlie a shopping list of things to pick up.”
“So Charlie is Joe’s personal assistant? Why doesn’t Joe do his own shopping?” I tried to keep my conversation about Joe and Charlie in the present tense rather than past tense.
Ben swiped the air. “Nah—not like that. It’s because Joe needs a lot of the same items, so they go to different stores to buy them. He doesn’t want to attract attention.”
“What kind of things?”
“Stupid shit like bleach and peroxide. Joe’s hands are red and sore. I’m thinking the peroxide is his medicine for that.”
“I bet you’re right. What is the heavy lifting about?”
Ben shrugged. “I know they go to electronics stores now and then. The weird thing Charlie mentioned was as many times as he’s helped load the car with things, he’s never seen any of it at Joe’s house.”
“So Joe is just a delivery guy for electronics of some sort that get delivered somewhere else?”
“Yeah, that sounds right. Like I said, Joe knows a whole lot more than I do. I deal in other types of merchandise.”
“Give us more names. I want heavy hitters,” Clayton said.
“Come on, dude. You’re killing me.”
I hooked my hand under Ben’s arm and pulled. “Never mind. We don’t have time for your BS. Get up and put your hands behind your back.”
“Okay, okay. Damn it, lady. I’ve heard Joe mention a few people by first name only, though. They sounded like the mafia type of guys that you don’t want to cross, if you get my drift.”
“I get your drift. Now give me the names.”
“The only ones I’ve ever heard mentioned were Derek and Juan. As far as the bigger fish in my crew, there’s Pauly Ross, Devon Ash, and Tyree Tremain. They all live in Milwaukee.”
“Those are their real names, not street names?” I asked.
“Yeah, they’re real.”
I pocketed my notepad and stood, then I tossed a card next to Ben on the couch. “Call me if you’d like to help out in the future and earn a few bucks. We could always use more CIs.”
Clayton jerked his head toward the door, and we left.
I programmed the next name into my GPS. “So what’s your take on Ben’s statement?”
“From the bits and pieces he’s heard from Charlie, it sounds right. The electronics could be anything related to counterfeiting money. I don’t know what high-tech things are used in that field, but printers are definitely found at electronics stores, as well as top-notch computers and software programs. Ink, toner, and whatever miscellaneous items would be there too.”
“Yeah, and maybe we should check out those other guys Ben mentioned.”
“Jack will have to make the call on that. We still have to get back to North Bend on time. The names Derek and Juan are interesting, though.” Clayton pulled out his phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“Todd. He can do a search for counterfeiting busts going back ten years, then drop the names Juan and Derek into those parameters and see if anything pops up.”
“It’s worth a shot, but they’d probably be in prison if they were ever busted.”
“True, but we’d still get their last names and the location where it happened.”
My cell phone buzzed as Clayton drove. I pulled it out of my pocket and took a look at the text that had just come in. “Cool.”
“What?”
“Jade’s home, which means I can pick her brain tonight about some of this stuff.”
Chapter 32
Shooters was scheduled to be open that night by invitation only. Hors d’oeuvres and champagne would flow freely to the area’s elite as they got the first look at the newest hot spot in town. Grant needed to mingle with North Bend’s leaders and present himself as a business investor and restaurateur from the Chicago area. That was his cover. Curious business owners and locals alike could conduct as many background searches as they wanted on the parent company. Nothing negative would ever come up, thanks to Frank and his banking skills. On paper, MFG Incorporated, owned by SOG, was about as generic and boring a company name as they came, but it was a squeaky-clean corporation, and that was what mattered to the Moore family.
Drake and Donny would tend to the refreshment needs of the guests that night while Grant mingled with the crowd. As cousins of Grant, Drake and Donny were trustworthy enough, yet knew only what was necessary of the illegal activities being conducted behind closed doors.
McKinley, Frank, and Grant rarely traveled or attended public functions together. Being seen in the company
of each other made them more vulnerable and was bad for business. Keeping the major principals apart and unseen made it nearly impossible to prove a connection between them.
Grant’s anger toward his brother and father had been interfering with his focus all day. He needed to prepare for that night’s party. Everything had to be perfect, yet he couldn’t concentrate. He locked the doors at his back and made the call to Donny.
“Hey, cousin, I’m heading back home to shower and change. The doors are going to open at six o’clock, so make sure you and Drake are here by four thirty. Take a second look at the floor, bar, and décor for dust, dirt, or debris that I might have missed. I want Shooters to sparkle tonight. There should be six cases of champagne in the cooler downstairs, and the caterer is scheduled to drop off the hors d’oeuvres at five thirty. I’ll be back by then. Make sure to dress appropriately—sports jacket and slacks.” Grant hung up and headed to Milwaukee.
Home was an ultra-modern condo on the third floor of a renovated warehouse in the Third Ward. Grant had purchased it five years earlier, and its value had skyrocketed.
I could sell it, move to North Bend, and live a normal life as the owner of Shooters. Pop and Frank can keep the illegal enterprises, and I can separate myself from that lifestyle. The old man is a ticking time bomb, and he’ll eventually get caught and take the rest of us down with him.
With a new life in mind, Grant needed to set up a meeting with McKinley and Frank to tell them his plans.
I’ll do it early next week, but right now, I need to hit the shower and get ready for tonight’s party.
Chapter 33
I placed my cell in my lap after I tapped Speakerphone. “Yeah, Clayton and I are heading back now. We did get some intel from Ben Jessup, but the second guy wouldn’t take the bait. He called his attorney, who I’m sure was on speed dial, then refused to talk to us.”
I heard Jack sigh through the phone line. “Okay, we’ll discuss our findings once everyone is here.”
“Roger that.” I swiped my phone to end the call then checked the time—5:07. “Traffic is getting heavy. It’s a good thing we’re heading back now.”
Clayton agreed and asked if I minded if he turned on the radio.
“Go ahead. What’s your favorite type of music?”
“Classic rock.” He grinned. “Is there any other genre?”
“You are speaking to a millennial, you know.”
He shot me the eyeballs.
I chuckled. “I wasn’t finished talking, Chad. What I was about to say, before you gave me the glare, was that Jade and my old man listened to classic rock all the time. It’s my favorite too.”
A smile crossed Chad’s face, and he turned up the volume just a touch.
We sat in traffic and gradually inched forward. As soon as we’d get a rolling start, traffic would again come to a standstill directly ahead of us.
“This is more traffic than usual. Check the scanner. Maybe there’s an accident ahead.”
I shut off the radio, which had been playing one of my favorite songs, and clicked on the scanner. I found the Milwaukee County police channel, and we listened for updates. The scanner squawked, and Dispatch called out a handful of police codes indicating that officers were needed at the 894 bypass in the northbound lane at Brown Deer Road.
“Crap, it’s definitely an accident, and it sounds like it just happened. We don’t have a choice but to sit through it. We’re kind of stuck.”
“Go ahead and update Jack. You might want to see where everyone else is and tell them to avoid the 894 bypass heading north if they can. We have three miles to go before we reach Brown Deer Road.”
I made the necessary calls. It sounded as if Jack and Kate had reached North Bend before the accident, and Billings and Horbeck were taking I-43 back.
We moved ahead twenty feet then came to another stop. I craned my neck out the passenger window to see how backed up the freeway was. The sea of stopped cars in front of us made it clear we’d be sitting for a while. Five cars ahead, in the center lane, a white 4Runner caught my eye. My heart skipped a beat at the chance of it being the handsome man from that morning. I had my doubts, but seeing a similar vehicle caused him to resurface in my mind. I wanted to tell Clayton to get closer, but I kept silent. It would have been an impossible task, anyway.
We finally passed the accident at five fifty and saw a clear highway to our north. We both breathed a sigh of relief. I looked for the 4Runner and noticed a flash of white a good half mile ahead of us. I resigned myself to stop thinking about that mystery man and turned the radio back on.
We reached the exit ramp for North Bend and turned east. Clayton pulled into our lot at six fifteen.
“I guess fifteen minutes late is acceptable considering the circumstances.” Clayton held the door open for me. We took the stairs and headed directly to the conference room, where Jack was already leading the meeting.
He gave us a nod as we took our seats. “Glad you made it. I was updating Billings and Horbeck on the interviews with the families. Kate and I went to Joe’s parents’ house first, since he appeared to be more directly involved in this case than Charlie was. They’re a husband and wife who took early retirement at fifty-seven when their company moved production to Mexico. They appear to be the usual middle-class family, and nothing stood out that made them seem suspicious of anything. Their lives revolve around a small group of friends who RV camp together a lot. They said they just returned from a week in Yosemite with friends. They had no idea of Joe’s passing and seemed to be truly devastated.” Jack paused to take a drink of water. “Anyway, they said Joe was in plumbing sales and had been for years.”
Kate took over. “From the conversation we had with them, they seemed unaware of anything other than what Joe led them to believe. We didn’t feel the need to bring up his involvement in counterfeiting.”
“What did you tell them about his cause of death?” I asked.
“That he was in the wrong place at the wrong time—a random shooting. At this point, that statement isn’t completely false. We still have no idea who shot Joe and Charlie or why,” Kate said.
The conference room phone rang, and Jack picked it up. “Lieutenant Steele here. Yes, uh-huh, interesting. Okay, thanks, Dan.” Jack cleared his throat. “According to Forensics, Charlie’s clothing showed no evidence of chemical residue.”
“That kind of confirms that he didn’t have a part in the counterfeiting ring,” Clayton said. “According to Ben Jessup, Charlie helped Joe out with errands and heavy lifting when needed for a few extra bucks. He certainly wasn’t privy to anything important.” Clayton gave me a glance. “That reminds me, I need to see if Todd was able to track down those names.”
Jack raised a brow. “What names?”
“Two names Ben said he heard Joe mention in the past—Juan and Derek. I thought Todd might be able to link those names to any counterfeiting rings that have been busted in the last ten years.”
Jack tipped his chin. “Go ahead.”
Clayton set the landline to Speakerphone and called downstairs.
“Technical Department, Billy speaking.”
“Hey, Billy. It’s Clayton. Is Todd around?”
“Yep, hold on.”
“Todd here.”
“Todd, it’s Clayton. Did those two names pop up anywhere?”
“Sorry, but I couldn’t find them in the system. Maybe the Secret Service has that stuff classified.”
“Okay, thanks, anyway.” Clayton hung up. “No luck there.”
Jack wrote both names on the whiteboard. “We’ll keep them handy. You never know when uncommon names like Derek or Juan will land in your lap. Anything else on your end?”
I responded. “A few names of druggies who are acquainted with Ben. We’ll check them out if you want us to.”
Jack faced his right. “Billings and Horbeck?”
“Same as those guys,” Billings said as he looked toward us. “We got a few low-level names from Charli
e’s associates. I think Joe shied away from that group since he was involved in something so much bigger and more dangerous. Druggies are notorious snitches and will turn on a dime if there’s a buck, a pill, or a joint in it for them.”
“So Charlie’s boys didn’t have much to do with Joe and vice versa. The only reason Charlie did was because he and Joe were related, and Joe helped him out financially once in a while.” Jack tapped his pen on the table. “We’re going in circles. I think Charlie has to be eliminated from our investigation. We need to focus entirely on Joe if we want to find the killer. All we have is that Joe may be the guy who bleached the paper and he kept some money hidden for himself after it was printed, meaning he knew where the location of the operation was and had some involvement on the inside.”
I spoke up. “And that might have been what got him killed. Somebody might have seen him pocketing the cash after it was printed. Don’t forget, his house was cleaned out of anything that could incriminate them.”
Billings nodded. “Luckily they forgot the car, or the entire counterfeiting operation would have been missed.”
I smirked. “I feel sorry for that person. They may be the next one getting a bullet to the brain.”
Jack glanced at the wall clock—it was nearly seven. “Go home, everyone. There’s nothing more we can do tonight. If we can’t come up with new information by tomorrow, we may have to let the Milwaukee PD take over the entire case.”
Chapter 34
I wasn’t about to argue with Jack. I was happy to go home and spend a relaxing evening with my sister and a glass of wine. We’d discuss everything that had gone on in our lives during the past week.
I pulled into the garage ten minutes later and parked alongside Jade’s Mustang. I was anxious to get her opinion of the counterfeiting ring and how it could be tied to a double homicide and a body dump in our county. I walked in and saw her sleeping on the couch. Spaz jumped off her lap, waking her in the process.
“Amber, you’re finally home.”