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

by Gerald J Kubicki

He nodded. “I grew up in that area. I remember the view from the spot. You could see a long way from there. I’m sure I could draw a map to the location, but …”

  Heinz interrupted, “Have you ever found markers like that in other parts of the woods?”

  “Well, no, now that you mention it. Do you think this could have something to do with my break-in?”

  Agent Chen sprinted into the room and skidded to a stop. She pushed a piece of paper across the table to Heinz. It had a name on it. Michael Dean had put a flag on Banyon’s prints. He’d done it a year ago.

  “Oh,” Pramilla suddenly uttered. It was little too dramatic, and everybody in the room noticed.

  “Are you telling me that Dean has been watching me for over a year?” Banyon was shocked with the news.

  “Yes, it appears so,” Heinz replied.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Heinz’s office was quiet for a few seconds as everyone considered the new information. What was the reason for the surveillance they all wondered?

  Agent Chen announced, “There are too many coincidences in this case to ignore.”

  “And this could be another one,” Heinz interjected. “We suspect that Dean and several others are landing at MacArthur Airport on Sunday. That’s in eastern Long Island, isn’t it?”

  “That’s funny,” Banyon said and rubbed his chin. “We’re going there, too.” He turned and glanced at Pramilla. She had arranged the visit.

  “Why are you going to Long Island?” Agent Chen inquired.

  “I don’t know that it is any of your business,” replied Previne.

  “Just answer the question.” Agent Chen was clearly irritated. She looked menacingly at Banyon.

  The Patel twins gave Agent Chen a show of sharp teeth that said — Back off Bitch.

  This was not lost on Banyon. “Actually, I have a job interview on Tuesday in Manhattan. On Monday we are going to have a look at my old house. You remember, detective. I told you about the house.”

  “Is your old house near the site of this picture?” Detective Heinz quickly asked.

  “A couple of miles away,” Banyon answered.

  “Why are you going to your old house?” Agent Chen continued to probe.

  The twins were suddenly staring at her with a look that could freeze water into an ice cube in ten seconds. She didn’t seem to notice or care.

  “Actually, Pramilla is a journalist, and wants to do a human interest story for a newspaper in India,” Banyon explained.

  “That’s right,” Pramilla agreed.

  Switching topics now, Heinz asked, “I understand you have a meeting tomorrow morning at the Marriott?”

  “How’d you find out? I just got the call this morning.” Banyon was indignant; he hated it when everyone knew about his business.

  “Well, that’s another coincidence,” Heinz remarked. “The person you will be meeting with is the wife of Joe Kroll, leader of the Altar of Creator church. Her name is Judy Kroll. She’s posing as an assistant to someone, but we don’t know who or why.”

  “How do you know that?” Banyon could not believe they had this information. Maybe there was a bug on me, he wondered.

  “Her usual driver is part of a gang we’re investigating, and the topic came up during our interrogations,” Heinz said.” So, what did they tell you to bring?”

  “They asked for a report on the future of retailing, nothing that would require a ruse,” Banyon responded. “Wait, Pierce said to bring my old high school pictures. He said he was trying to identify some people from Westhampton. They’re trying to identify Lorenzo, I’m sure of it now. As I already mentioned, only his friends called him Lorenzo.”

  “Does that kind of request usually occur in a business meeting?” Loni asked skeptically. The twins moved close to Banyon as if to protect him from the viper-like woman.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Banyon agreed. “But Pierce brought up Westhampton just when it seemed I wasn’t going to accept the job. Now that I think about it, he knew I would change my mind.”

  “So Pierce is one of them then,” Agent Chen exclaimed.

  “It would seem so,” Banyon said thoughtfully.

  “But maybe not,” Previne blurted out hastily, and quickly looked down at her shoes.

  “What is clear is that whoever Judy Kroll is working for has undoubtedly supplied her with a copy of the picture,” Banyon said. “She may want me to identify Lorenzo or the place in the background. I’m betting it’s the location they’re after. Whoever’s managing this operation is sharp. We know they’ve had the picture for at least two years, but I only become involved in the last year, when my prints were identified. This is a real mystery.”

  “You didn’t by chance get a first name from the man who called you? Even if it’s a false name, it would be something,” Heinz asked.

  Taking out his cell phone, Banyon replied, “He gave his name as Walter Pierce. His number’s also available on my phone.”

  Agent Gamble promised to check out Pierce and the phone number.

  “Colt, let’s discuss this meeting tomorrow,” Heinz said. “I don’t want you to go there by yourself. Agent Chen will accompany you. She’ll pretend to be your assistant. I’ll also be in the lobby somewhere, and I want you to wear a wire. Agent Chen will fit one on you before you go in tomorrow.”

  “We’re going with Colt,” Previne announced as she looked at the cute little Asian agent.

  “No, you are not. These people have a bad track record of violence. You can’t be involved,” Heinz said in dismissal.

  Agent Chen countered with real logic. “I’ll have a gun in my purse. You’ll just disrupt things and be in the way.”

  “How do we know you can protect Colt? You’re so — if you excuse the expression — small,” Pramilla remarked. Sarcasm dripped from her voice.

  “I can vouch for the fact that she can handle almost anything. She can protect Colt, me, and the whole hotel, if necessary,” Detective Heinz commented.

  The twins turned to look at each other. They sometimes could communicate without using words. Previne suddenly commented to her sister, “Oh, Detective Heinz and Agent Chen have a relationship. Colt will be fine.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  While Heinz, Gamble, and Loni discussed the set up for the Marriott meeting in the morning, Banyon wondered. Why have the Patel twins suddenly become so protective of me? His thoughts were interrupted by a question from Agent Gamble.

  “So you think something is buried in the ground on that hill, right? What could it be?” Gamble asked Banyon.

  “I don’t know, but Captain Kidd buried a treasure somewhere on eastern Long Island. And to this day it hasn’t been located. There were other pirates, of course, and they often buried treasure. It could be buried treasure,” Banyon reasoned.

  “Are you telling me that this whole case is about buried pirate treasure?” Gamble stated in disbelief.

  “I don’t know what to think, except what else could it be? There are no landmarks on the hill. That area is called Speonk, and it’s located just below the fork of Long Island at one of the highest land points. The area is all nondescript scrub pine forests for miles and miles. It would be easy to lose track of something buried in the ground.”

  “Speonk is a funny name,” Previne commented and wrinkled her nose.

  “It means ‘high land’ in the local Indian dialect,” replied Banyon knowingly.

  “You’re just full of information,” Pramilla said admirably. She reached over and gently touched his arm.

  Banyon now turned to the big FBI agent. “Agent Gamble, do you think my friend Lorenzo is in any trouble?”

  “Huh, I’m not clear about that. Maybe we should make contact with him,” he replied and looked up at Agent Chen.

  “I’ll get someone to research him on our database,” she immediately said as she turned to leave the room.

  “Wait,” he said and threw up his hand to stop her. “We may want to have a couple of local FBI
agents put a watch on him,” Agent Gamble said. “Call the local office and see if there are agents available.”

  “Okay,” Agent Chen replied. “But where is he located?”

  “He lives in California,” Banyon uttered. “I’m not sure of the town.”

  “This might take a few minutes then,” Agent Chen explained.

  “Why bother with a search, I can call him right now if you want,” Banyon said as he extracted his phone. He hit the speed dial and the phone began to ring.

  “Hello, Larry speaking,” a voiced answered.

  “Bell, what’s happening? It’s Colt.”

  “Hey, Colt, it’s good to hear from you.”

  “Anything going on?” Banyon asked.

  “Well, today I decided to take up golf. I went out and bought some clubs and shoes. It was fun. I didn’t buy any golf balls, though — too expensive.” Larry was legendary for his frugality.

  “How are you going to play golf without golf balls?” Banyon was a ten handicap, and had been one for many years.

  “That’s what I have friends for. I’ll borrow from them, at least until I can find some balls in the woods.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’ll be giving up skiing for golf. You should act your age,” Banyon chided his friend.

  “Who said I’m giving up skiing? I just booked a trip to New Zealand for a month. I leave tonight at midnight.”

  Banyon was only slightly shocked. “That’s great, but let me tell you why I called. I’m at the Streamwood police station with the FBI and I have to ask you if anything strange or unusual has happened to you in the last couple of days.”

  “Define unusual — this is California.”

  “Like strange phone calls or a break-in.”

  “No, nothing like that has happened. Say, what’s this all about?”

  “Remember way back in college when we did the geology project on the glacier on Long Island?”

  “Yeah.” There was hesitancy in his voice.

  “Well, one of the pictures I took of you has turned up in a big-time police investigation. In the picture, you’re standing by one of the holes we dug, and you had the ‘grin.’ In the background, there’s a marker of some kind, and we think it may have something to do with what’s going on here. Do you remember it?”

  “Colt, I’m getting old. Sometimes I can’t remember what I had for breakfast. I don’t recall anything other than our digging the holes and getting an A on the report.”

  After hanging up the phone, Banyon explained that Larry Bell was probably not the target and he had no idea what was going on.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  One of the agents from the outer office came in with details on Walter Pierce. He gave the data to Agent Gamble and left. Gamble began to read out loud.

  “He doesn’t have a record of any kind. There are several lawsuits over business deals, but nothing that says he is any kind of a bad guy.” Gamble continued, “Strange, there is no record of his birth. He just appeared on Long Island in the 1940s. He went on to work for a bank in 1942 as a teller. Nothing is recorded up until then, but that’s not unusual for that time period. A lot of people have parts of their history missing. Interesting, in 1946, he and several friends purchased a large tract of land in Speonk and formed a…”

  “Gun club,” Banyon cut in. “Another coincidence.”

  “That’s correct. He then sold off some pieces of the land on the northern and southern ends while starting a real estate business. In 1960 he bought a restaurant, the Wheel & Tack.”

  Banyon cut in again, “I know that restaurant — it was on Tanners Neck Lane in Westhampton. I worked there for many years.”

  “Another coincidence,” observed Agent Chen.

  Gamble continued, “In 1966, after acquiring a local construction company, he incorporated his business into a stock company. Then a marina, the Great South Boat Bay Company, was added to the portfolio. Finally in 1975, he bought a fastener company, Ajax Fasteners. It’s located in New York City.”

  “What does a fastener company make?” It was Previne.

  “They make nails, screws, anything that fastens things together. Its big volume, if you can keep your price down,” explained the businessman, Banyon.

  Gamble was still reading out loud. “It appears that the Walter Pierce Company, LLC, made a lot of money from buying land on Dune Road and building houses on the land. He’s very wealthy, with over one hundred and thirty million dollars in assets. He resides on Tanners Neck Lane in Westhampton,” Gamble concluded.

  “I’ll bet it’s on the land where the Wheel & Tack used to be. A friend from school told me the restaurant was torn down several years ago,” Banyon pointed out. Then he added, “Another coincidence.”

  Agent Gamble was wondering what all this had to do with the white supremacist movement, and the meeting at the church.

  “I think I need to interview Mr. Pierce and see how he fits into all of this.”

  “Can you have some agents in New York also check the location that’s in the picture?” Banyon asked.

  “How?” The big agent asked.

  “What if I can give you directions?”

  “Can you remember how to get there?” Heinz inquired.

  “I’ll write down the directions and draw a map. I’m sure the area hasn’t changed much over the years, I mean, the hill couldn’t disappear, could it?” Banyon took out a piece of paper from the bag he carried and began to write. “Take the Speonk-Riverhead road north until you pass the fourth fire lane …”

  Gamble asked, “What’s a fire lane?”

  “Well, the forest on eastern Long Island is mostly scrub pine because the ground is sandy. The ground doesn’t retain water and can get very dry in the summer. All of the woods on that part of the island are a big tinderbox. The police are always chasing people out of the woods, but there are many hiding places. Mistakes happen, and fires get started. The great fire of 1980 was started by a lightning bolt and burned over a thousand acres before it was put out. The fire departments use the fire lanes as a firebreak and as a way to reach the remote areas. It’s like a big grid and each section is a big square. I’ve no idea when these roads were built, but they’ve been there ever since I can remember. They may have been built when the area was part of the military base during World War II.”

  Banyon went back to writing. “At the fifth fire lane, turn right and go down the road. Then cross two more fire lanes. Turn left on the third lane and go north for about a half-mile. You’ll see the crest of the hill. Park the car, and head into the woods on your right. Stay on the crest of the hill. When you can see the fork of Long Island directly in front of you, you have reached the spot. If the marker’s still there, you should see it.” He then added a hand-drawn map.

  “Will there be an X to mark the spot?” Gamble asked sarcastically.

  “I don’t know. Maybe you should look for a notch on a tree or skull and crossbones, too,” replied a joking Banyon.

  “I’ll mention it to the agents who have to tramp out into the woods,” Agent Gamble replied with a smile.

  “If your men can’t find anything, I’ll be out there on Monday and then I’ll find it for you,” Banyon added.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Back in Westhampton, Walter Pierce was hosting a rare party. His restaurant catered the affair. Stella, his housekeeper, was his date. All the presidents of his corporation’s seven divisions were there, including the president of a newly bought general merchandise manufacturing company. He had brought the executives together to tell them he was going to divest himself of all his divisions. They would each have a chance to buy their division via an initial stock offering which Pierce arranged to take place within the next week. He would personally lend each of his managers the money. Soon he would have little use for it anyway.

  The president of the new company he had bought was perplexed. He followed the old man out to the patio, where there was no one to hear.

  “You just b
ought my company, and now you want to divest it? I don’t get it,” the man said in an aggressive tone.

  Walter turned to him and waited a few beats before he replied, “You don’t have to worry about it — you are fired. It is no longer any of your concern. You made a lot of money on the sale of your company, so be happy.”

  “You can’t do that; I have a contract,” the irate executive said smugly. The president had been a difficult thorn in the side during the buyout. He had run the company into the ground with micro-management and poor decision-making, usually based on his immense ego. This caused the company to be put on the market by the conglomerate that owned it. Of course, Eddy Dufeey blamed everyone else. His Elvis-like haircut was also annoying. Pierce had promised to resolve the situation during the negotiations.

  “On the contrary, I can buy you out of your contract anytime that I want, and I just did. Here’s your check. Now, please leave immediately.” Pierce pulled an envelope from his inside jacket pocket, and handed it to the red faced man.

  The now former president was furious. He began to call Pierce names and swore up a storm, blaming his old employer for the poor showing of the company. Walter produced a recorder, he had anticipated the outburst. He waved it in front of his face. “You, my friend, will never work in this industry again. This will be to the benefit of humanity. Now get the hell out before I call the cops, and they toss you in jail.” Finally the man left, still in a huff.

  ***

  Pierce was now enjoying himself immensely. One more part of the puzzle has fallen into place, he thought. He had bought a new suit to wear to the party. He decorated it with his new found medals. No one asked him about the medals, but he didn’t care. What did these people know of medals anyway?

  All his other presidents were inside celebrating while Walter stood at the patio wall. He was taking in the view of quiet and lovely Moriches Bay. Only a couple more days and everything will be set right. The thought sent electric pleasures down his spine. The voices were once again singing happily.