by C. M. Sutter
I added, “Meanwhile, the rest of us should be looking for anything and everything that could be attached to MFG Incorporated.”
We searched the internet for forty-five minutes and couldn’t find anything more than we already had. It seemed that MFG was a smaller piece of the big fish, SOG, which was an invisible company.
I dumped out my cold coffee and poured a fresh cup. “I give up. MFG Incorporated seems to be the lesser of the two entities and is used only for purchases. It’s most likely a shell company owned by SOG, and that’s where we hit a wall. I can’t find properties attached to either of them. There aren’t even tax returns under those company names.”
Jade blew on her coffee and took a sip. “Meaning they were never legally registered as an LLC or a C Corporation. They’re completely fictitious.”
“Then how did they get a credit card for MFG Incorporated?” Mitch asked.
Jade shrugged. “Before 9/11, that type of thing was a lot easier than it is now, and that was for legal entities. For illegal businesses? You can get anything for the right amount of cash, especially if you’re paying for it with fake money. Do you think a crook is going to turn in another crook? That doesn’t happen.” Jade checked the time. “I wonder why Jack hasn’t called with the results yet.”
“I’ll text him.” I tapped the keys on my phone and sent the message. Within seconds, I had a return voice text. “What the heck? Apparently, he’s on his way back. He’ll be here in ten minutes. He said that when he got there, the entire federal building had been shut down due to an anonymous threat that was called in.”
“Great. I guess you’ll have to try again on Monday. Their counterfeiting forensic lab isn’t open tomorrow, and they may still be investigating the threat, anyway.”
Fifteen minutes later, Jack passed through the security door. “That was a wasted trip. I’m sure the threat was bogus, but you never know. Anything new on this end?”
“Dead end everywhere we looked,” I said. “You already know that Grant’s prints didn’t show up on IAFIS, and we searched everything we could think of for MFG Incorporated. Nothing is attached to that name other than the vehicles and the printers.”
“How about the video footage from the electronics store that sold them those two printers?”
“That might work, or they could scan the receipt, and if the signature is legible, they can email it to us.”
“Get on that right now,” Jack said.
I had the name of the business and their number circled on my list. I called them immediately and luckily spoke with the same person I had talked to earlier. “Please tell me you can read the signature on that electronic receipt.” I lowered the phone from my face. “He’s checking.” The wait was likely only a minute, but it seemed like ten. “Yes, I’m still here. Royce Denning? Are you sure that’s the name? Can you take a picture of the receipt and text it to me immediately? Yes, I’ll wait.” I put my hand over the microphone. “Somebody start checking out that name.”
“Already on it,” Kate said.
I heard the beep on my phone that indicated a text had come in. “Okay, yes. Let me take a quick look.” I tapped my text icon and saw the image sent by the store clerk. I spread my fingers over the screen to enlarge the signature. “It certainly does look like it says Royce Denning. Thank you so much.” I clicked off the call, walked around to each desk, and showed the group the image. “What do you guys think?”
Kate smiled. “I just did an online search, and since a guy with that name has a lengthy jacket in Milwaukee, I’d say he’s our man.”
“Did you pull an address on him?” Jack asked.
Kate spun in her chair and faced Jack. “Sure did, and Milwaukee PD can pick him up for questioning on your say-so.”
“Absolutely. Let’s do it.”
Chapter 57
“Frank, we have a problem, and you’re the only person who can solve it. I need to meet with you immediately.”
“Are you at home?”
“Yes. Come to me. It’s more private here.”
“Sure thing, Pop, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
McKinley sat in the solarium of his three-story Tudor-style brick mansion. The estate stood on a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan. He sat on the wingback chair and stared out the leaded glass windows, watching the white-capped waves rush in as they broke against the shoreline. Viewing the waves was almost hypnotic. He held a glass of Scotch and saw the seagulls ride the wind currents above the water. McKinley heard a heavy wooden door open and close several rooms away.
“Pop, where are you?”
“I’m in the solarium, Frank. Join me and grab a drink on your way.”
Moments later, Frank appeared with a glass and the Scotch bottle in hand. “I figured this was what you were drinking.”
“And you would be right. Have a seat, son.” McKinley pointed out the window. “Take a look at those waves. What’s with the wind lately?”
“It’s spring, Dad—it’s always windy this time of year. I’ll call your landscaping crew on Monday. There are a few large branches down along the driveway.”
“That’s why you’re my number one son. You watch out for me.”
“Of course I do. You know I have your back no matter what the circumstances are.”
“Good. Pour us a round. I have a proposition for you.”
Frank tipped the bottle over his father’s glass and then his own. He set it on the marble-topped table at his side.
“So what’s this about, Pop? What’s going on?”
“Juan is dead.”
“I’m not surprised. He betrayed your trust. Who took care of that?”
“Marco.”
Frank nodded. “Can you trust him? He was careless with Joe’s car.”
“He knows the consequences if he messes up again. I gave him Grant’s position. Marco is now second in charge after you. Grant has become a liability, Frank. He’s become too friendly with people from the sheriff’s office in Washburn County, and he might slip up.”
“What? Are you sure?”
McKinley sipped his whiskey. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“That’s not acceptable. He’s going to leave a trail they can follow. He’ll screw up, Pop, and we’ll all get pinched. Grant isn’t as dedicated to the family business or carrying on Granddad’s legacy. He’s lived a charmed life, and this is how he pays you back? His friendliness with law enforcement could put us all in jeopardy.”
“That’s why you’re going to take his place just long enough to divert the attention of the local sheriff’s office so they’ll look for a killer in their town rather than worrying about our counterfeiting enterprise. I know the people Grant has become friendly with are the same ones who searched Joe’s car. They saw the Alpina twice that day, and chances are they’ve already discovered that the 4Runner and the BMW were purchased under the same business name—MFG.”
“Shit. We need to get the fake money out of the bar right away before they pull Grant in for questioning.”
“One step at a time, son. Juan was found in the woods behind Shooters. There wasn’t a connection between Juan and us, so he was dispensable, plus I needed to send a warning to Grant. He’s second-guessing everything we do, and I don’t like it. I won’t tolerate him questioning my actions, and making friends with cops is total betrayal. Now the cops will be watching him because of Juan.”
Frank stood and walked to the window. The wind had calmed, and darkness was setting in.
“So what is the diversion we’re going to create?”
“The locals have to focus on Juan’s murder. That takes priority over them sniffing out a possible counterfeiting operation, and that job belongs to the Secret Service, anyway, not some Podunk county’s sheriff’s office. We have to keep them busy with other tasks.”
Frank rubbed his brow. “So why do I need to step in for Grant?”
“He’s pissed, and he’s not about to let us take over his club. He said he wants out of the bus
iness. I’m afraid he can’t be trusted anymore, and according to Marco, he’s becoming friendly with a particular female deputy named Amber Monroe. With your help, Grant is going to be the main suspect once the deputy turns up dead. Take a look.” McKinley opened an attachment on his phone. “Marco sent me these pictures from last night. Is that a brother you can trust?”
“I see what you mean, and Amber Monroe is the one with the curly brown hair?”
“Yes. From the looks of these pictures, they’re already getting cozy with each other. Who knows what information might spill out of Grant’s mouth in the heat of passion. He appears to be infatuated with her. The woman needs to die before your brother accidentally gets a conscience.”
“So we’re going to throw Grant under the bus?”
“It’s the only way to keep our enterprise safe. Loose lips sink ships, you know. I’ll get Grant here tomorrow by telling him I’m willing to listen to his reasons for wanting out of the business. That in itself will coax him to come without question. You’ll be waiting in the wings.”
“Sure, Pop. Whatever you want.”
Chapter 58
Jack placed the handset back on the base. He walked around his desk and stood against the doorframe. “Milwaukee PD is headed to Royce Denning’s house as we speak. Luckily, he has a few outstanding warrants that fell between the cracks. They’re going to pick him up. They can hold him for twenty-four hours on those old warrants alone.”
I turned in my chair to face Jack. “What happens then?”
“District seven precinct handles the crimes in the area where Royce lives. They’re well acquainted with Chief Ortega in district four, and they know about the shooting of Officer Jacobs a few days back. I explained that two murdered men and the alleged murder weapon that killed Officer Jacobs were found in Washburn County and that Royce Denning is somehow involved in a counterfeiting ring and the murders. They’ve agreed to let us conduct the interrogation since we’ve done most of the legwork already. Sorry, Jade, but we can’t involve you in any of this.”
“I fully understand, Jack, and I wouldn’t expect to tag along. I’m going downstairs, though, to see how long Forensics needs my car.”
I looked at Kate. “Oh, I guess you should know Jade said you can move in right away if you want to. We can ride to work together until her car is released.”
“Seriously?” Kate pushed back her chair and stood. She rounded her desk and gave each of us an enormous hug. “I promise you guys won’t regret it.”
Jade chuckled. “I’m sure we won’t. You know how to cook, right?”
“Sort of, but Amber can teach me a lot more.”
“I’m just kidding.”
I pulled out my keys and handed them to Jade. “I’ll talk to you tonight when we get home. Ready to go, boss?”
“Yep, let’s saddle up. The three of us are riding together. Mary and Mitch, you guys hold down the fort while I show these newbies how to interview criminals.”
It was seven thirty by the time we left North Bend, and I had a feeling we were in for a long night. Jack’s phone rang as we passed through Waukesha County.
“Lieutenant Steele here. Yes, that’s great news. We’re about twenty minutes out. Thanks, Detective Mallory.” He clicked off the call and placed his cell phone in the cup holder. “The city boys picked up Royce Denning without incident. He’s in a holding cell for the time being.”
“Do we know anything about his priors?” Kate asked from the backseat.
“The usual petty but legal reasons to pick him up, I guess. He has numerous unpaid parking tickets, late child support payments, and two offenses for failure to show up for court. I’m sure he’ll be shocked once we start questioning him. Being pinched for counterfeiting is probably the last thing on his mind.”
“Yeah, he either squeals out the main players or he faces a lengthy jail sentence, right?”
“That’s the offer I’m going to put on the table, Amber, but he can lawyer up right away if I’m not careful with how I word things. I don’t want him to feel too threatened, or he’ll clam up. I have to come up with something that would benefit him into telling us about the person in charge.”
“Who says he’s going to believe anything you say? Without a real name to toss at him as proof that we know something, he’d be better off keeping his mouth closed,” Kate said.
I looked toward Jack as he exited the freeway and headed east. “We have one name that might get a rise out of him, and Kate, you’re especially good at reading expressions. Let’s tell Royce we know about Grant and Shooters.”
Jack nodded. “That might work. Let’s just hope Grant is his real name.”
We reached the seventh district precinct and entered the building at eight fifteen. We showed our credentials, and after a brief explanation of why we were there, Jack asked for Detective Mallory. We had a two-minute wait, then a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair headed our way. He stretched out his hand and introduced himself.
“Let’s sit in the captain’s office and review what we have. He won’t mind. He’s already left for the day.”
“Sure thing,” Jack said as we followed the detective down the hallway.
Detective Mallory sat in the office chair behind the desk and pointed at the guest chairs.
“Have a seat, folks.” He pushed an extra chair that was against the wall toward Jack. “We had legitimate reasons to pick up Denning, and we appreciate the heads-up since his warrants fell between the cracks, but how in the hell does he tie in with a counterfeiting ring and murder?”
Jack blew out a long breath and began the explanation of how we’d been working relentlessly all week on the case.
“It started with the two dead men who were dumped in Washburn County and escalated from there. The identification of the men led to searching their residences and finding stacks of money hidden under the tire well of a car belonging to one of the deceased men. The money was handed off to the Secret Service and confirmed to be counterfeit.”
Detective Mallory scratched his cheek. “But what led you to think of the bills being counterfeit in the first place?”
Jack looked at me and tipped his chin. “Go ahead, deputy. Tell him.”
“Thank you, boss. I noticed what appeared to be bleach stains on the clothing of one of the deceased men. We had our forensic team test the stain, and it came up as a combination of acetone, hydrogen peroxide, and bleach. My sister is an FBI agent and has more connections than I do. She checked with reputable sources and was told that that mix of chemicals is often used in bleaching existing money so the bills can be reprinted as higher denominations. That’s why when we found those hidden stacks of older bills, we handed them off to the Secret Service to test. They came back as counterfeit. Royce Denning comes into play because he purchased sophisticated printers several days ago using a shell corporation’s credit card. We’ve tracked several high-end vehicles that were purchased by that same false company as well, and currently we’re investigating a new business in our own county that’s likely connected too.”
“Wow, and your sheriff’s office found all this out in just a few days?”
Jack smiled. “I have a really good team, Detective Mallory.”
“Apparently so.” He tapped the keys on the desk phone and told the guard to move Denning into interrogation room one. “Have at it, guys, but I’d like updates as this case progresses.”
“Of course,” Jack said. “Do you have enough on his current warrants to search his premises? There may be valuable information or even some fake bills in his home that could really tighten up this case.”
“Yeah, let’s see what he coughs up first.” He stood and pointed toward the door. “I’ll show you the way.”
The jail and interrogation rooms were located on the lower level of the building. We took one flight of stairs down and signed in at the desk.
“He’s in there.” Detective Mallory pointed at interrogation room one, where a slider bar attached to th
e door was pushed to the right, revealing the word Occupied. “Want to grab a look at him first?”
“Not necessary,” Jack said. “I’m sure he’s a low-level player—one of the minions, so to speak—and has probably already pissed his pants.” Jack turned to Kate and me. “Are you ready, deputies?”
I rubbed my hands in anticipation. “Absolutely.”
The three of us entered the interrogation room, where Royce Denning sat on one side of a stainless steel table. His hands were free and folded together on the tabletop. He looked up and frowned when we entered.
“It takes three people to discuss a few outstanding warrants? Where’s the guy that dropped me in this box?”
“That doesn’t matter right now. I’m Lieutenant Steele, and these ladies are deputies. We’re from the Washburn County Sheriff’s Office, and we have questions for you.”
“I’ve never had a parking ticket in Washburn County, and I’ve never had a court date set up there, either.” He huffed his disgust. “Apparently you have the wrong guy.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Royce, and we aren’t here about your outstanding warrants.”
“Then what the hell do you want? Am I part of some training program for these broads?”
Jack nodded at me to step in.
“Actually, you are to a degree. Both of us are being promoted to detective in a few months, and we’re learning how to interrogate criminals.”
He snickered. “Remind me to throw you a party.”
“No can do, Royce, since you’ll still be locked up,” Jack said. “We already know you signed off for several high-tech printers using a credit card issued to MFG Incorporated. Who owns that company, and where is the business located?”
“Since when is signing a receipt a crime? I have signatory permission to use that card, and as far as I know, buying printers is legal.”