Colton Banyon Mysteries 1-3: Colton Banyon Mysteries (Colton Banyon Mystery Book 20)

by Gerald J Kubicki

  “I been lookin’ for you,” she continued. “Been here every day, lookin’ for your black Lincoln. The police been lookin’ for you, too.”

  Banyon was stunned. She had come to the mall every day for a month looking for him. True, the card that he had given the boy only had his new Streamwood address on it. But she had never called his cell phone number. Why not? He wondered if this was a shakedown or whether she was righteously vengeful.

  The boy hadn’t appeared to be hurt at the time, but then again, he was no doctor. Banyon saw that he wasn’t hurt now as he watched him dribble the ball around the parking lot. He seemed embarrassed by his mother’s ranting.

  “I gave your boy my card. You didn’t call,” he stammered. “My cell phone number was clearly listed.”

  She was now in his face, spewing all kinds of accusations. “My other boys said you was flying down the road and hit him, didn’t even stop. The law gonna get you brother.” She now stood back and crossed her slim arms in defiance.

  Banyon was beginning to panic. This didn’t add up properly.

  “Look, you have this all wrong. I filled out an accident report with the police a month ago. I’m going to call them as soon I drop these letters in the mailbox.” He turned on his heel and headed into the building.

  ***

  As he left the post office, he encountered a police officer with his hands on his hips. He straddled the roadway near Banyon’s car. He wore dark sunglasses and was looking very mean. Banyon recognized the man, it was Officer Dean.

  The slim woman was standing behind the tall policeman. She pointed at Banyon from around his muscled shoulder. “That’s him — that’s the man that done hit my boy. He was gonna hit me too, right here in the parking lot.”

  “What?” Banyon screeched. “I never threatened her in any way.”

  “That’s not what she says,” the officer said calmly. His hand moved to the holster of his gun as he talked.

  “Look there is some mistake officer. I’ve done nothing wrong,” Banyon pleaded.

  “Okay, let’s go straighten this mess out. We’re going to the station house,” the officer announced menacingly and waved his arm. “It’s only a half-block away. Can you drive there, or do I have to cuff you and take you in?”

  “I’ll follow you,” a shaken Banyon replied.

  At the station, he was put into an interrogation room. He was told to sit and wait.

  He had seen enough true-crime shows on TV to know that there was someone watching through the glass window in the room. After ten minutes Officer Dean came in and said the detective handling the case would be there soon. In the meantime, would Banyon mind if they took his fingerprints? He was very polite now.

  Banyon told Officer Dean that he had filled out an accident report and reminded him that Dean had helped. Dean said he didn’t remember, but he would look for it. Banyon started to say something but bit his tongue. It seemed that every time he opened it, something bad happened. He knew he had nothing to hide, and he had a witness, his employee, to back up his story. “You can fingerprint me then,” he muttered.

  As they were rolling his fingers, Banyon tried to remember if he had ever been fingerprinted before. Had the government done it at the army induction center? That would have been over thirty years earlier and he didn’t remember.

  Soon after being fingerprinted a detective entered the room. He introduced himself as Detective Heinz. “I’ve just got a couple of questions,” he said professionally. “We had a hard time finding you. It took a while to run your plates, and the license bureau gave an address of a vacant lot. We thought maybe you were a fugitive or something, and, of course, we had Mrs. Woods calling my captain every day. You care to explain all of this?”

  Banyon had already started to feel better. “Well, I changed all my records before moving into my brand-new house. The house had delays of almost three months. The last four weeks were spent at my girlfriend’s. I moved into the townhouse on August 31. I had no idea that anyone was looking for me; I wasn’t hiding.”

  “Okay,” the detective said with a nod. “Let’s talk about the accident then. Were you going east or west on Irving Park when you hit the boy?”

  “First of all, I was at the curb of Park Avenue, south of Irving,” Banyon replied confidently. “I was stopped when the boy came out of the alley and hit my car. I didn’t hit him.”

  Detective Heinz took out the accident report that had been filled out by the boy’s family and read the report. “They have several unbiased witnesses, including two other people, who saw you run down the boy according to this report.”

  “Look,” replied Banyon, “those boys are related. One said he was his brother. They were not there at the time of the accident and I have an adult witness who was in the car with me. I even filled out an accident report with Officer Dean.”

  “Funny,” Detective Heinz remarked. “We don’t seem to have a record of your report on file. Do you have a copy?”

  “Officer Dean said the department would send me a copy,” Banyon said defensively.

  “That’s not department policy,” the detective said as he shook his head. “Are you sure that you completed a report or are you attempting to cover up your crime.”

  “Something is not right here,” Banyon said with concern. “I did fill out a report, and the boy ran into me.”

  “Do you have anything else to support your claim?”

  “Well check out my car. You’ll see that the boy ran into me,” Banyon quickly replied.

  “Let’s do that now,” Detective Heinz said as he stood up. As they passed through the lobby, Banyon noticed Mrs. Woods talking to the desk cop.

  “I wants his full name, where he live, don’t dis me, I’s the one caught him.” Apparently she feels that there was a bounty on me, Banyon thought as they passed by.

  Outside the office, Carl — on a first-name basis now — looked over Banyon’s car. There were no scratches on the front and only a small smudge on the fender by the right wheel well. “This, of course, means nothing as you have had a month to have your car repaired,” the detective commented. He and a frustrated Banyon returned to the interrogation room.

  “Can you fill out an accident report now? We are going to have to check out everything,” Detective Heinz informed him.

  “But I did fill out a report last month,” whined Banyon.

  “Yeah? Well, as I told you, we can’t find it,” the detective said a little too harshly. Banyon sensed that he was annoyed.

  “Fine,” said Banyon. He knew he had a good driving record. Hadn’t had a ticket in over nine years, ever since he had gotten rid of the 911 Porsche. Banyon completed the form and handed it to the detective, who then left the room.

  A few minutes later, Detective Heinz came in with two tickets in his hand. One was for failure to yield right-of-way, and one was for leaving the scene of an accident. “Your court date is September 16,” he said with a smirk. “Just make an appearance and plead guilty. There’ll be a small fine — you have a good record.”

  Banyon was incredulous. “What? You don’t believe my story. You’re saying that they are right. I’m being railroaded.”

  “Look, Ula has many hospital expenses on record. The captain says that this has been on the books for a month. Ula Woods has driven him crazy and tickets need to be issued. Take it up with the judge.”

  Chapter Four

  Banyon sat in Cook County Court, awaiting his case. He noted that most of the cases involved repeat offenders, and the black female judge was handing out small fines one after another. No one was getting jail time. He felt a little better.

  After about an hour his name was finally called. He headed to the front of the court room. A mass of people at the other end of the court stood up and started to the front as well. The group included Mrs. Woods, her son, and the two other boys from the accident, along with a scary looking thug like knuckle-dragger. Banyon had never seen the man before, but he seemed to be related to Ula Woo
ds as their facial features were the same.

  The judge looked up and asked, “Who is the defendant?” Banyon raised his hand. Before he could speak, Mrs. Woods said, “He hit my boy, Judge, he hit my lovely, sweet boy.” And then she proceeded to cry.

  “Sit down and be quiet,” the judge ordered roughly, but it was too late; it already had registered in her brain.

  “Mr. Banyon, you are charged with leaving the scene of the accident and failure to yield right-of-way. How do you plead?”

  Banyon had talked to his lawyer and longtime friend before coming to the courthouse. The lawyer had advised him to plead guilty and to pay the fines.

  “The woman wants you guilty so she can sue your insurance company. People do this every day. If you plead innocent, they will have a trial right there, and you will probably lose anyway. You would be responsible for the trial costs and maybe get a jail sentence as well.” Banyon realized that Mrs. Woods had set up a good strategy, and would probably win. The boy now wore a neck brace and had a limp. He had not been wearing the items earlier. The group also included a man wearing a sharkskin suit which screamed “ambulance chaser.” In all, six people comprised the “Woods group” — six to one. Not good odds.

  But Banyon was innocent, and this was wrong. He had raised his own children to believe that if you were right, you stuck by your guns. He opened his mouth to speak and noticed Officer Dean. He had entered the courtroom just as Banyon was about to reply. He leaned against the wall and had a smirk on his face. Seven to one.

  “Guilty, Your Honor,” was all he could muster.

  “Since you have a clean record Mr. Banyon, the court will give you ninety days supervision,” Her Honor said.

  Hey, not bad, thought Banyon.

  “And I’m including fines totaling six hundred dollars. Pay the bailiff. Next case,” she said as she pounded her gavel.

  Banyon’s heart sunk when he heard the verdict.

  ***

  Later, after he had paid the fines and was subjected to three hours of waiting for the signed documents, Banyon finally headed for the restroom in the courthouse. As he started to leave the bathroom, the knuckle-dragger from the Woods gang appeared in the doorway. He blocked his way out.

  “You were very lucky, man,” he said in a deep voice.

  “I don’t see it that way,” Banyon replied sadly.

  “You don’t understand, man,” the bear of a man explained. “If you had pleaded innocent, I was going to have to jump you before the trial later today.”

  “Why?”

  “To make sure that you would lose, man.”

  Banyon was scared although he tried not to show it. “Right here, in front of the police? Why would you do that?”

  “Man, it was all set up. The lawyer would walk in and swear you started it — after all, I am Ula’s little brother. He would have said you are a vengeful guy and wanted to hurt someone. Nobody would believe you,” the bear said.

  “But I pled guilty,” Banyon stated.

  “Yeah, good thing, now we can sue your insurance company. We get our money.”

  “What happens now?” asked Banyon.

  “I’m going to let you leave.”

  Banyon headed to the front door of the courthouse, feeling defeated, punished, and lower than a snake in wagon tracks. Officer Dean stood leaning on a wall near the entrance. He grinned at Banyon. I wonder if he is part of this or just some “I-don’t-give-a-shit” cop who wanted to get the bad guys without trying to find out the truth. Banyon knew that if he had another run-in with the Streamwood police department, he would not get a fair shake.

  Chapter Five

  A year had passed since the incident. The fact that he was forced to declare that he was guilty of causing the accident still gnawed at Colton Banyon. It had left a bad taste in his mouth for law officers and distrust in the legal system. Banyon now believed that it didn’t matter if someone was guilty or innocent when it came to the law, what mattered was how well people manipulated the system, just as the Woods group had done. He had been raised to believe in justice and fairness. He wondered if his beliefs were changing.

  Banyon entered the Streamwood police station and walked up to the bulletproof-glassed counter. He was not surprised when he noticed who was behind the glass. He stared at Detective Heinz. Detective Heinz looked up and recognized him immediately. A grin quickly spread across his face.

  “Have you been playing in a drainage ditch or something,” The detective quipped. Banyon suddenly realized he had not changed his clothes. He looked down and noticed his tan slacks were caked with mud and his green golf shirt had tar in several spots.

  “I didn’t have time to change,” Banyon replied seriously.

  “Well, what can I do for you, Mr. Banyon?” the police officer asked.

  Banyon didn’t know where to begin but remained stoic. “I want to report a crime,” he said in a clear voice.

  “Another car accident?” asked Detective Heinz as he reached for an accident report form. Banyon winced.

  “No, nothing to do with cars,” Banyon replied a little sarcastically. “There has been a break-in at my house.”

  “And when did this alleged break-in occur?” asked the detective curiously as he began to write on the form.

  “About a half-hour ago,” Banyon replied.

  The detective’s eyebrows rose. “And what was taken?”

  “Well, that is the problem. As far as I can tell, nothing was taken from my house. But there was a break-in.”

  Before Banyon could tell him about the bugs, Detective Heinz said, “Listen, I don’t have time for pranks. All my officers on duty are currently busy with a large suspicious fire that was started over on Barrington Road, and some of my men have not shown up for work. I’ve got no one to send to investigate a break-in where nothing was taken. It was probably some kids having fun.”

  In that split second Banyon learned two important things: first, Detective Heinz was the boss. He was the captain. All that bullshit last year about the “captain” was baloney. The second was that the fire might have been started on purpose to cover up his break-in.

  “Was the fire an arson job?” Banyon asked.

  “What do you know about the fire?” Heinz demanded in a loud, suddenly suspicious, voice. “You look like you were in the woods.”

  “Nothing,” Banyon quickly responded and threw up his hands. “But the men who were at my house didn’t seem to be worried about the police showing up anytime soon. Also, even if they didn’t take anything, the men did leave some electronic devices, you know bugs.”

  Detective Heinz’s grin had now disappeared. He looked Banyon straight in the eye as if trying to figure out if he believed him. He was about to ask another question, but just then the police hot line rang. Detective Heinz grabbed the phone.

  “Streamwood Police, can I help you.” After a few seconds, he asked, “Ma’am calm down, are you hurt?” There was another pause. “Okay ma’am, just stay in the Blockbuster Store until I get there. I’m on my way,” he said soothingly. A few seconds later he added, “Ma’am, I don’t understand any Indian dialect, slow down please.” Frustration appeared on his face and he slammed the phone down. He started to get up from the desk and yelled out. “Joe, get over here and cover the front desk. I need to go out and investigate a 245.”

  The alarms were ringing inside Banyon’s head. My neighbor is an Indian woman.

  “What happened?” asked Banyon with a little panic in his voice. Had he put the poor woman in jeopardy?”

  “A woman was assaulted in the Blockbuster parking lot, at gunpoint no less,” Detective Heinz said without a hint of humor. This is turning out to be a shitty day.”

  “Did she give a name?” asked Banyon, starting to hyperventilate.

  “You have something to do with this?” yelled the detective.

  “I think the Indian woman might be my neighbor. It could have been the men looking for me,” Banyon confessed

  “Why do y
ou say that?”

  “I put one of the bugs on her car.”

  Shock registered on the detective’s face. “You’d better come with me then. You have some explaining to do.”

  Chapter Six

  During the short trip along Irving Park Road, Banyon explained why he put the tracking device on his neighbor’s car.

  Detective Heinz glanced at him in disbelief. “What kind of stuff are you into? Why would you put a neighbor at risk?”

  “I didn’t think she would be going out. I’m sorry. I just wanted to hide the device in case the men came back — you know, it was evidence.”

  “What do you do for a living Mr. Banyon?” the cop asked. The veteran police officer was beginning to believe that Colton Banyon was involved in something illegal, like drugs or maybe some scam and his partners were after him.

  “I’m just a business consultant,” Banyon shrugged. “I help people with problems in their business. I have no idea why the men were at my house, no idea why they would put bugs and tracking devices in my house, and no idea what these people want from me.”

  ***

  As they cruised into the Blockbuster parking lot, Banyon recognized his neighbor’s Honda. Almost before Detective Heinz had stopped, he was out of the car and looking under his neighbor’s car. The tracking device was gone.

  K. P. Patel was standing in the window of the store as Heinz walked toward her. She gave a friendly wave and came out the front door. Banyon watched as the woman walked regally towards the officer. She moved as if she was trained to be a runway model. She was tall, maybe 5’ 7” and very slim, but well proportioned. She had high cheek bones and dark shiny hair. Her eyes were also dark and penetrating.

  Detective Heinz was six foot two and had a big barrel chest. He was very intimidating and towered over the slight, frail-looking young woman. But she didn’t seem to be the least bit concerned, and showed no fear.

  “Mrs. Patel?” Detective Heinz asked and removed his hat.