Pramilla changed the subject. “Colt, do you really believe there were ghosts in your house back on Long Island?”
Banyon said nothing for a few seconds. “Everyone in my family is convinced. I know there was something unexplainable there. In truth, the fact of actually having ghosts in the house had been a key factor in my decision to leave home and go to school as far away from Speonk as I could get. I may even have spent my life traveling and moving to make sure they never found me again. The ghosts have had a profound effect on my life.”
“I want to hire you,” she said. “I want to hire you to take me to your old house and look for the ghosts.”
Chapter Ten
Meanwhile, Detective Heinz was having a revelation back at the police station. As he came out of the bathroom after he cleaned the spilled coffee from his pants he was once again accosted by Officer Dean. Officer Dean was beginning to bug him more and more.
“I got Joe to man the phones. He just came in from the fire scene.” Dean informed his superior that the huge fire on Barrington Road had been put out.
“That’s good,” Detective Heinz acknowledged as he took a sip from his mug and nodded his head.
“Joe said he thought the fire was set by some black punks. I want to interrogate them so I’m on my way out to find them,” Officer Dean said with zeal.
“I didn’t know you were in charge,” a sarcastic Detective Heinz replied. “Nor are you qualified to interrogate anybody.” He’s trying to manipulate me, Heinz thought.
“I know how to handle black punks better than you do,” Dean replied with equal sarcasm.
“You seem to be having an attitude problem today Officer Dean,” the detective noted. “What’s up?”
“I don’t have time to get into that now,” Officer Dean replied in dismissal. “Right now I’m in a big hurry and need to get out of here.”
“Hurry?” questioned Detective Heinz as he rubbed his chin. “Is your shift over already? You just got here a little while ago.”
“I’ve got to go to church tonight and need to be prepared,” Dean said evasively. He turned to leave.
“Get back to your desk and finish your shift officer,” Detective Heinz bellowed. “Then you can go to your church.” He continued into his office and slammed the door before Officer Dean could answer.
Heinz had already decided that Dean was a problem. He was overzealous, didn’t like authority, and clearly didn’t follow orders. Heinz resolved to pull his personnel file. But first Heinz decided to check on the stolen van and plates, they were part of an active case, and he suddenly didn’t trust the accuracy of Officers Dean’s work.
He started to review the reports. The first victim had been a seventy-five-year-old woman. She reported her van stolen in the afternoon. He dialed her number to inform her that the police were working on the case. He noted the listing was for the Streamwood area and the address was kind of familiar.
“Hello,” answered a rather shaky female voice.
“Mrs. Kleinschmidt, this is Detective Heinz from the Streamwood Police Department. I wanted to talk to you about your stolen van, and to assure you we are searching for it.”
“Oh, I am not worried. Michael will find it again,” she replied in a confident voice.
“Mrs. Kleinschmidt, has your van been stolen before?” He prompted her as he frantically tried to acces her file on his computer.
“Yes, it happened once before. Your officer Michael brought it back right away. He even had it washed. I hope this isn’t about the reward I gave him.”
“Reward?” Detective Heinz sat up straight in his chair.
“Just a small one — I’m on Social Security, you see.”
“You said Officer Michael. Is Michael his first name?” A furrow was now burrowed deep into the detective’s brow.
“Dean is his last name, of course. I’ve known him most of his life. He comes from a very good German family. He lives just down the block, next door to Ula Woods, the colored woman with all those boys with all different last names.”
Detective Heinz stared at his monitor. His computer was now telling him the woman’s van had indeed been stolen six months ago. A day following the report, Officer Dean had located the stolen vehicle. There was no record of the van being kept for evidence of a crime. He had simply returned it to her.
Heinz quickly wrapped up the call and dialed the number of the person who had reported stolen plates. At the same time, he accessed the files on Glen Minor, the second victim. The phone rang only once.
“Mr. Minor, this is Detective Heinz of the Streamwood Police Department. I’m calling about the stolen plates you reported today.”
“I don’t want any trouble,” the man replied nervously. The voice was high-pitched. Heinz pictured a small, fearful man.
“We are looking for your plates. Any idea who stole them?”
“I can’t say.” It was once again a very nervous reply.
“Can’t or won’t?” an irritated Heinz asked. He sensed that Mr. Minor was purposely being vague.
“Officer Dean always takes care of it — why are you calling me? I usually just talk to him.”
Detective Heinz had finally accessed the victim’s file on his computer. Mr. Minor reported stolen plates an incredible three times in the past two years. Officer Dean returned all of them in less than two days every time. As before, the plates were never used for evidence in any trial. What the hell? Detective Heinz thought.
“Mr. Minor, I am Officer Dean’s supervisor. Has he helped you before? Your license plates appear to have been stolen several times in the last two years.”
Minor began to stutter. “I, I, I … do I need a lawyer?”
“Why would you need a lawyer, Mr. Minor?”
A small click told Heinz that he was now talking into an empty phone line. He sat back in his chair to consider what he now knew. What is going on with this case? Was there a tie between Banyon and Mrs. Patel? Who are the bad guys? What do they want? How is Dean involved? Every time I turn over a stone, Dean’s name pops up.
As he sat at his desk, a shudder went down his spine. At least one of my officers is involved in something illegal. What should I do about it? He nearly jumped out of his chair when he heard a squawk on his walkie-talkie.
It was Officer Dean. “Send backup to 312 Bartlett Drive. I found the van.” Officer Dean had left the station house without Detective Heinz knowing it. Why did he do that? Did he already know where it would be stashed?
***
Detective Heinz now stewed in a dilemma. He had been acting captain for three years now — ever since the real captain had died of a heart attack. He’d been a custodian, put off making changes, and avoided waves with the town board. He had just been babysitting until the village hired a new captain rather than managing the station. Some had taken advantage of his lack of action and now this — corruption. He was slowly reaching a decision.
With new resolve, he announced to the empty stationhouse, “That time is over. I’m going to get to the bottom of this mess. I’m going to find out how deep this corruption runs, and clean up this house.”
He began working on a plan. He would start with Officer Dean and his arrest jacket. He could cross-reference his arrests, tickets, and all the cases where Dean had been involved. Next he would find out the names of Dean’s friends, both on the force and in Streamwood. He would then collect information on Dean’s mysterious church. Heinz decided he did not know if he could trust anyone in the department. He needed help.
Whenever a small-town police station needed help, it turned to the state police. They had the manpower to help, Streamwood didn’t. An hour after Detective Heinz made a call to the Illinois State Police Department; Agent Loni Chen was dispatched to Streamwood.
Chapter Eleven
Heinz had arranged to meet Agent Loni Chen at a breakfast restaurant away from any prying eyes in the village of Streamwood. The state police commander had promised that Agent Loni Chen was fully qua
lified to help with the analysis of the crime data, but she had never been a field agent. He had agreed to the timing of the meeting.
“She is a little different” was how he put it. Heinz was still organizing his notes when she suddenly appeared at his table. He had not noticed her enter the restaurant. She appeared to be good at a stealth entry.
“Agent Loni Chen,” she said professionally, flashing her badge. She stood at attention and did not sit down.
Detective Heinz looked up and noticed that she was Chinese. She stood about five foot one, with long straight black hair which traveled all the way down to her small waist. She had deep brown intelligent eyes and a slim figure accented by a big black gun on her hip. She was dressed in silky black pants that flowed as she moved. A small red suit jacket covered her white T-shirt. She is definitely a fine-looking woman, he immediately thought. Detective Heinz was dressed in his usual jeans and white polo shirt covered by his ever-present blue police windbreaker. He felt severely underdressed.
He waved her into the seat across from him and signaled the waitress who was covering their table to come over. Agent Chen was all business with her order. “Green tea,” she said to the waitress in perfect English.
“That’s rich,” the haggard looking waitress laughed. “We only get that color on St. Patrick’s Day honey and today ain’t that day. We just got old-fashioned yellow Lipton tea today,” quipped the waitress.
“That will be fine,” Agent Chen said softly and brushed the hair away from her face. Her eyes told Heinz she often had to deal with women who treated her with a bit of disdain and smugness. Heinz was sure men treated her differently.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Agent Chen,” Detective Heinz started and held out his hand for her to shake. “How are you?”
Apparently Agent Chen didn’t do small talk. She quickly gave his hand a limp shake and got right to the point. “What information can you provide about your situation? I’m a little unclear about the case.”
“I’m just getting started myself, but it looks like at least one of my officers, Officer Michael Dean, may be shaking people down. Then there is an alleged assault on a woman. This all seems to be tied to a break-in, illegal listening devices, stolen property, arson, and maybe even bad manners.” The last part was a joke that was totally wasted on Agent Chen.
“And you want me to do what exactly?” She stared at him with a blank face. “I’m not typically a field agent you know.”
Feeling a little uncomfortable because of her abrupt approach, Heinz said, “If there is a conspiracy at my station, I want it stopped.”
“Conspiracy? You want me to work on a conspiracy with you? Wow, why didn’t you just say so?” a now animated singsong voice replied. She appeared to be suddenly enthused and tilted her head in thought. Her long hair spread on to the table top.
“I need you to do the background work involved. Can you do that?” Carl Heinz asked as he examined her silky long hair on the table.
“It will take me three days of investigation to determine the facts and I’ll help with the arrests too. Is that acceptable?”
“How do you know it will take only three days?” a surprised Heinz asked.
“This is a small town and a small department.” She calculated in her head. “It will take me eight hours to view your case files, three hours to do the background on Officer Dean — I already know about his church.
“You do?” Heinz asked incredulously.
“Oh yeah,” she quickly answered. “We have been tracking them for years,” she said dismissively. “It will take approximately seven hours to interview everyone involved.” Her head was tilted again, deep in thought. “I’ll want to have access to a cot so that I can get four hours of sleep per night. I only need that much sleep.”
“Agent Chen, why the big rush?” asked a bewildered Heinz. I wonder if she does everything this fast?
Ignoring his question, she continued. “We need to find a reason for me to be at the station, something which will not alert the conspirators. Let’s see, maybe I could be your girlfriend doing some secretarial work, you know, to catch up. Of course, you’d have to be in the stationhouse when I’m there. How does that sound to you detective?”
“Girlfriend?” Heinz repeated.
“I believe that will work. You can call me Loni. The other officers are not in the station all the time, are they? I mean, they are out in the field, right?”
“Shouldn’t we plan our approach a little more? You seem in such a rush,” Heinz noted. Loni’s eyes narrowed like she was angry. But she replied logically.
“You do want to end this conspiracy quickly, don’t you? We should move with great haste to stop these people.”
“I’m sorry, you’re right,” the detective said sadly. “It’s just that I’m not very experienced with dealing with a conspiracy in my own department. I don’t know how to proceed.”
“I’m sure that if we work as a couple, we can stop these guys,” she confidently replied with a smile. “So are we a go boyfriend?”
“How do you know I’m not married?” a cynical Heinz asked.
“Well that is easy,” Agent Chen replied with a laugh. “You don’t wear a ring, you dress like someone who hates doing laundry and you didn’t stand up when I came in the door. You are untrained.”
“Are you real smart?” It was the only thing Heinz could think of to say.
“Yes,” she spoke without a touch of ego.
Heinz was grinning inside, but he dared not show anything to the beautiful machine like woman across from him. “My girlfriend, huh? I haven’t had a date since moving up here from St. Louis three years ago.”
She did not react to his comment. “Is the timing acceptable to you?” she asked, sipping on her yellow tea and watching him from over the rim of the cup.
“You’ll have to conceal that gun,” he responded, wondering where that bulky sidearm could be stored on her hundred-pound frame.
“I’ve brought others.”
“Well, let’s get started then, girlfriend.” He paid the check and when he got up he realized how much taller he was than his new partner. He walked behind her as they left the restaurant and admired the soft sway of her hips.
She had come by train from downtown Chicago, and had grabbed a cab to the IHOP. She carried one small bag, a briefcase, and no purse. During the ten-minute ride to the station house, Agent Chen decided to fill Detective Heinz in on the Altar of the Creator church.
“We’ve been aware of their activities for some time. They have twelve branches throughout Illinois. They’re fascist.” Her voice was vehement.
“I can believe that,” Detective Heinz replied as he thought of Officer Dean.
“They’ve done very little we can pin on them. We know about a record company they own, and a distribution company too. Their leader is, Joe Kroll. Kroll is the ‘pope’ of the church. He is very smart, Carl.”
Recognizing that they were on a first name basis Carl replied. “They also have sold some clothes with the 88 logo on them Loni.”
“You’re right,” she responded and pointed a finger at him. “The church is actually a cover for other actives though.”
“Why are they a church? That makes no sense to me,” Carl asked.
“It’s simple,” Loni explained. “If filed properly, a church is exempt from much scrutiny from many government agencies, even law enforcement, and can evade taxes.”
“That sounds complicated,” Carl said.
“Not really,” Loni answered. “Anyone can start a church and become an ordained minister. There are advertisements on the Internet to start a church for under a hundred dollars. There are many court cases involving fake churches. Some we win, some we don’t.”
“What about the Altar of the Creator church?”
“The state police haven’t been able to pin any drug connections on them, but we know they’re thugs for hire. We’re cooperating with the FBI. The FBI has jurisdiction over any interstat
e crime. The main church in Peoria is a storefront for anyone who wants something done, especially something illegal. They’re also into extortion, burglaries, and working people over. Some of their members, if not all, have neo-Nazi white supremacist tendencies. Unfortunately, whenever any of them is arrested for a crime, they never roll over on the church but take the rap in silence.
“Where does Dean fit in?”
“Dean is listed as a deacon at the local church in Aurora, about ten miles from here. I wanted this assignment to get more data on the church. Isn’t this exciting? Maybe you and I can shut down the church.” She was all but bouncing in the car seat. Agent Chen had turned into an overexcited little girl. Detective Heinz kind of liked that.
***
True to her word, as soon as Agent Chen was shown to a desk at the police station, she went to work investigating Officer Dean. Heinz stood and watched her fingers fly over the keys for a few minutes.
He’d given her a desk in the open space in front and visible from his office. Agent Chen worked in full afterburner. She was very intense. She called state headquarters with information requests — state
headquarters had bigger computers she said.
She read Dean’s file while she reviewed the arrest history of the Streamwood Police Department and all the while appeared to be doing some routine task. She worked with her head down. Her black
hair covered her slightly oval face. Her pencil flew over the paper making notes and calculations.
She took no breaks — no coffee, cigarettes, or bathroom. Whenever someone approached her desk she informed them that she was Carl’s girlfriend without looking up. Within three hours, she appeared at Heinz’s door with a report, a pad of paper and a smile that said, I told you I could get it done in my timeframe.
“Come on in and close the door,” Carl Heinz said. “What have you got?”
“Your Officer Dean is quite a character,” she said as she slid onto the chair in front of his desk. She only took up half the seat.
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