by David Bishop
“Maybe this Norbert at the bank knew? Could be why he hired Gibbons to put him down.”
“Is it possible? Sure. I don’t think so though. I’m tracking things closely and nothing has changed. Norbert has hired our man who is now working inside the bank. The money is still flowing from Pakistan into the same account at the bank. If the terrorists knew, they would, one: stem the flow of funds, and two: transfer their people back to Pakistan and bring over fresh ones in case we had picked up their identities. Perhaps even find a new bank or some other conduit. None of that has happened. If Norbert knew, shooting Crawford would bring the authorities to the bank. No. I don’t see either Norbert or the terrorists being the ones who employed Gibbons.”
“Then who did?”
“Don’t know. Not my assignment, unless you tell me it is. I see that as local cop work. My only concern is keeping them from tripping over what’s going on at the bank. That would really muck up what we’re doing.”
“Can you prevent that, Ryan? Can you keep the local homicide department bottled up?”
Ryan looked around to be sure the couple approaching his position continued on by. They did.
“I think so. Problem is I can’t know every lead the locals find and which leads point toward the bank. As it turns out, our people telling the widow they had been watching her husband on a money laundering case brought the bank into focus for the locals. At the time, it was a fast improvisation. I don’t fault my people for that. They had to act fast. Make it plausible. Confuse the widow enough for her to let them take over her home. We had to take control of the residence to get Sam Crawford’s computer and cell phone out of the reach of the local cops. If the locals had gotten those, the laundering would have been discovered right then, that first night.
“We can use federal pressure to have the local case shut down.”
“I’ve thought about that,” Ryan said. “It may still be necessary. It would come at a price. The locals will know there’s a federal case involving the deceased Sam Crawford. They’ll learn something’s fishy at Nation’s First. They’ll be pissed. We would be too. Do they slip a hint to the banking regulators to do an audit? Does some local congressman or state politician try to make points with this information? Do the local cops, pissed that we lied to them, give an anonymous tip to the media? The voters are soured on bankers. They think they’re all a bunch of fat cat crooks. A politician can gain points by railing against dirty banksters. Using federal muscle to shut down the locals just trades our known set of risks for an unknown set of risks. I think it’s best to stay on the horse we’re riding. We lose a great deal of control if we get politicians and regulators involved.”
“Wrap it up, Ryan.”
“The killing of Sam Crawford came out of left field. I’m containing it. The locals now have the shooter. Gibbons doesn’t know who hired him. I still think there’s a good chance it may dry up right there.”
“Let’s hope so. I want to know if anything changes on this.”
“Yes sir.”
* * *
The next morning, on the patio, Maddie approached her mother, sat down and poured some tea. “Good morning, Mother. So, Ryan ended up coming by yesterday to see Brad.”
“Yes. I’m sure you’ll hear about it as soon as you see the boy. He was on cloud nine all night after Ryan helped him. He is really a good man, Madeline Jane. May I ask where you think your relationship with him is going? Where you want it to go?”
“No. You may not. I can’t really answer that without making decisions I haven’t made.” Rita started to object, but at that moment Bradley came out ready to leave for the bus stop.
“I like your friend, mother. He’s really cool.”
“I take it he helped you with your slider.”
“He sure did. I can’t wait to use it in a game. I threw it for the other kids. I blew them away with it.”
“That’s great. I’m glad he could help.” Then Rita said, “Now, young man, you need to get to school. You don’t want to miss the bus.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Brad picked up his book bag and headed for the door. Then he turned. “Mom, Mr. Testler is cool and not just because he helped me with my slider. I like him.”
After hearing the front screen slam, Rita turned to her daughter. “I agree with your son. Ryan’s cool and not just because he helped with the slider. I like him.”
“I think you two are in cahoots. That’s what I think. Now, I gotta go. I’m up to my elbows in this Crawford murder.” After she went to her room to get her purse and gun, Maddie stopped in the doorway to the kitchen. She stood there until Rita looked up.
“Mother, I don’t know where my relationship with Ryan Testler is going. I might want to marry him. I might need to arrest him. He might avoid my doing either. We need to let this thing run its course.”
* * *
Maddie stopped by Sue’s desk. “You got anything further on either of those names?” When Sue started to reply, Maddie motioned to follow her into her office.
“I called the guy again in the State Department who was most helpful the last time, without really helping at all.” Maddie motioned for her partner to pick up the pace. “Okay. Fast. Here it is. He would say nothing more about the death of Rodger Davis. That is a dead trail. At least it is without some legal authority or some friendly persuasion opening somebody up. As for Ryan Testler, your Mr. Anonymous,” Maddie frowned, “there’s nothing. The CIA shows him as a past employee without knowledge of his current activities. Same for the Department of Defense, however, DOD did acknowledge him as a former Captain in Delta Force. As for Benjamin Gibbons, they show him as a former Delta Force member who left the service to avoid being dishonorably discharged.”
“How long ago?”
“Gibbons about ten years. If you meant Testler, he retired from Delta about that same time, near as I can tell. Their file shows Testler went to work at CIA, but CIA claims he never actually came to work, but that he has done a few odd missions as a contractor. Those assignments, they say, were outside the U.S. of A and are all classified.”
“Testler sure isn’t outside the U.S. of A now,” Maddie said. “That’s for damn sure.”
“What does he say?” Sue asked.
“He’s says he’s on holiday. That he came to visit a friend, and do some sightseeing.”
“How nice,” Sue said, “who doesn’t like a holiday?”
Maddie snorted at her partner’s sarcasm.
“What about your friend in the FBI, can he get you anything more?”
“I don’t like making Linc feel he’s just a source for me to work,” Maddie said, “but, yes, I called Linc last night. He checked around and called me back about seven-thirty this morning. He’s in Virginia, so around ten-thirty his time.”
“And?”
“And, he could get nothing. To paraphrase Linc, the classified CIA stuff is not open to sharing with other federal law enforcement agencies unless that agency, the FBI for example, is working an open case which, to some degree, involves the same matters. Even some departments within the total FBI have the same classified mentality toward its other departments. Need to know kind of thinking.”
“So he couldn’t tell you with absolutely certainly there is no FBI case.”
“Not beyond a routine case. The counterterrorism division of the FBI, for example, doesn’t share much of anything unless, as I said, someone else has an open which involves the same people. And then they share only to shut down that other investigation under the rationale that national security considerations trump all other cases, at least in the short run.”
“So, we still have nothing that confirms or absolutely denies a federal matter, and nothing with any meat on it about your Mr. Testler. Right?”
“That’s correct,” Maddie said. “However, Linc checked with a pal in the Secret Service to see if they had a money laundering or maybe a counterfeit currency case involved either Sam Crawford or Nation’s First Bank & Trust.” Sue spread
her hands and raised her eyebrows. Maddie said, “No. Nothing. It appears the federal government is a dead end to the Phoenix Police Department. Linc summed it up with, ‘Maddie, you got yourself a local murder and federal law enforcement has nothing they can or will share at this point.’”
Five minutes later, Charles Goins from the ballistics department leaned into Maddie’s office. “The tests have been run on that rifle you picked up with your suspect Gibbons.”
“Get in here, Charlie. Lay it on me.”
Goins came in and sat across from Maddie, Sue who had not yet left, moved over closer to the wall so Goins could sit near the door of Maddie’s cubbyhole office.
“A perfect match. It’s the murder weapon all right. No doubt. An exact match with the bullet Dr. Conner dug out of Sam Crawford’s brain.”
Chapter 23
“Paige Crawford is on the phone,” Sue said through the doorway into Maddie’s office. “You wanted to take the calls from anyone on our suspect list.”
“Hello, Paige. This is Maddie.”
“I saw a news item that Bennie Gibbons had been arrested. The media are supposing it has to do with my husband’s death. Carla just left here. She was … unhinged. She wanted to be sure I didn’t think she had anything to do with it, if Bennie did it. Why would Carla’s boyfriend want my husband dead?”
“As you said, the media is speculating.” Maddie looked up at Sue who had stayed. Maddie didn’t give a hand signal to leave, just a gesture to close the door, so Sue took a seat. “Are you asking me to confirm that is why Gibbons was arrested?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m asking.” Maddie nodded her head to keep Sue up to speed on Paige’s end of the conversation. “Sergeant Richards, Maddie, who has a better right to know, me or the media? Haven’t I always candidly answered your questions?” Maddie put her toe on the corner of her desk drawer as she always did when her mind was working at warp speed.
“Okay, yes, I’ll answer that, right after you candidly answer one for me.”
“Me first, eh, Sergeant? Okay. What is it?” Maddie nodded again so Sue would know.
“Paige, tell me about your father’s death in Paris, France. What the official records do not show.” Sue sat forward.
“He was shot in the head from a distance, at night on a corner under a streetlight.”
“That’s in the releases. Who was suspected? Did they pick up and question anyone? Who benefited from his death? Was he working on any case of intrigue that they believe got him killed?”
“I wasn’t in Paris when it happened. If anyone knows more, it would be my mother.”
“I’m asking you. You must have talked with your mother about this many times. You were a grown woman when it happened, and you’ve had decades to hear about it. Tell me all you know and do it now.”
“No spy shit that I know of or heard about. He was CIA station chief in Paris. Security at the embassy was cover. He did run a snitch from the Russian Embassy, but mother said the Russians knew about that and the turned agent was low level. Not the kind of thing either side killed for in the days of the Cold War. Daddy had hoped it would get him to someone higher up whom he might turn. Never happened, mother said.”
“Did the U.S. authorities pick anyone up?”
“Not that I know of and not that my mother knows of. She was there with Daddy, but did not work for the Embassy, the State Department, or the CIA. She was there as a spouse, although she knew everyone there from social stuff among the delegation and from having been an agent herself many years before. I’ve always assumed that what mom didn’t know wasn’t known by our side.”
“How were your mother and father in those days? Happy?”
“Are you asking me what I think you’re asking me?”
“Sure am. You were a grown woman then. You know that marriages get rocky. You and Sam for example, so why not your mother and father?”
“They came close to breaking up a short while before they went to France. Actually, Daddy called in favors to get that assignment. Mother had always wanted to live in Paris. I’m not certain, but it may have been part of how he kept her from leaving him. Like I said, I don’t know. I brought it up to mother once. She said that was the craziest thing she’d ever heard.”
“Still, you believed it?”
“Believed, I’m not that sure. Did I suspect, yes. I think my mother was seeing the shrink because of my father cheating on her while on foreign assignments without her. But my mother has never admitted that to me or anyone I’m aware of. Now, it’s your turn, Sergeant.”
“Fair ‘nuff. Bennie Gibbons was arrested as the suspected shooter of your husband. We’re pretty darn sure he is guilty. He developed a relationship with Carla to give him cover to come and go from your neighborhood. Let him observe your husband’s habits and the landscape. When he was ready or was told to carry it out, he did. Then he dropped his relationship with Carla. It had served its purpose. We are reasonably sure he was about to leave Phoenix when we apprehended him.”
“Thank you, Sergeant. Maddie, I appreciate it.”
“Then show it by keeping your mouth shut. I’ll leave it up to you whether or not you tell Carla. Truth is, regardless of what I say, that will be up to you. So, let me be clear. We do not want that out now. And assuming you don’t want the media camped on your front porch and hounding you when you go to the supermarket or church, I suggest you keep it buttoned up. Even with that, the media will likely be all over a story of a shooter having an affair with the neighbor of his victim. That gets out and the media will be on you like a dog on dinner.”
When Maddie hung up, Sue’s eyes got big. Wrinkles formed on her forehead.
“Okay,” Maddie admitted, “maybe I should have stonewalled her. Like she said, who has a better right to know? Damn near everyone here in the station knows, which means the media will have confirmation within hours. With ballistics tying his gun to the shooting of Sam Crawford, he’ll be dragged before the Grand Jury to determine whether or not there is a basis for holding him over for trial. That’ll be damn near automatic. He has no ties to the community and the D.A. has enough to paint him as a professional assassin. He had false identification in his apartment. He was ready to run. If the court gives him bail, he’d act on that plan. I doubt he has a prayer for bail.”
“Professional assassins don’t kill people because they don’t like the victims. Who hired him to do it?”
“To be determined, Detective Martin. I expect that before too long we’ll have a chance to ask Mr. Gibbons about that very thing.”
Sue left Maddie’s office, reclosing the door when Maddie gave her that signal.
* * *
Maddie spun her chair three-sixty, picked up her phone and dialed. “Ryan Testler. This is Sergeant Madeline Richards. We need to talk.”
“Why so formal Maddie? We can talk anytime. Congratulations, by the way, on your fine arrest of Bennie Gibbons, without firing a shot. I can see the headlines in a few days. They’ll help build the legend of Maddie Richards:
LADY DETECTIVE SINGLE-HANDEDLY ARRESTS INTERNATIONAL ASSASSIN.
I’m proud to know you, ma’am.”
“Okay, enough butter, let’s have some meat. How did you know Gibbons was the shooter and where he was located?”
“Now I can’t be telling you all the tricks of my trade. We have to have some secrets. At least save some things for pillow talk.”
“Ryan, this is serious. What else do you know that you haven’t told me?”
“I know you looked fabulous in that yellow dress. I would’ve opened that door myself just like Gibby. Faster even.”
“You were there?”
“Uh-huh”
“Where?”
“Not important.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it’s not. Trade secrets. Companies have a right to protect trade secrets.”
“You’re not a company.”
“Not important. But let me ask you. The barrel Gibby ha
d just removed from his rifle, did ballistics match it up?”
“Oh. I’m supposed to answer your questions while you don’t answer mine? It doesn’t work like that where I come from.”
“Interesting. Where I come from, you’d be beholden to me. If I hadn’t tipped you, Gibby would have swapped out those barrels, keeping the rifle with the new barrel and ditching the old one. He was leaving town the next morning. He would have vanished, likely outside the U.S.”
“Yes. I owe you. The department owes you. Okay. Thanks. We only got Gibbons because of you. I admit it. Thank you, … no really, I mean it, thanks. And while I’m on the subject of thanking you, thanks for helping Brad with his slider. You blew him away. He’s so grateful.”
“That was my pleasure Maddie. He’s a fine boy. You’re a great mom. And your mother, well, Rita’s a pip. I envy you, your family’s aces. It’s filled with love. Brad told me how you read with him. He’s a little embarrassed and made me promise not to tell anyone, but he loves your doing it with him. The three of you are the essence of America.”
“Thanks, Ryan. Can I ask you something else about Gibbons?”
“Whatever I know is yours. Shoot.”
“Who hired Bennie Gibbons? He had no axe to grind with Sam Crawford. For him it was purely a paid hit.”
“Yes, Gibby was paid. He was nothing more than a hired gun.”
“Who?”
“I have no clue. I’m certain Gibby doesn’t know. He told me how he got hired and paid. Gibby’s not bright enough to ad lib off the cuff all of what he told me. He doesn’t know. Anything else, Sergeant Richards?”
“One more question. Am I going to see you again?”
“Who’s asking? Sergeant Madeline Richards or the warm and lovely Maddie?”
“Maddie. Me. I’m asking.”
“Do you want to?”
“Yes.”
“Good, how about dinner tomorrow night? Meet at my hotel. Whatever time you can make it. Call and tell me a time when you’ve got it figured out.”