About a week after we bought our house, Mariel encountered a land crab in our garage and started screaming. Ever since Diane heard that noise, she has acted as if Mariel were a delicate flower. While it’s true Mariel claimed she saw an octopus in the garage, I like to think that her reaction was simply due to her unfamiliarity with Floridian fauna and flora.
I chased the crab out with the pool net, but to be fair, the crab wasn’t the only incident. For example, since we arrived six months ago, there was also:
1. The lizard that scooted in under the dishwasher when Mariel opened the front door. Later found dead in a cabinet (The lizard, not Mariel)
2. The lizard Mariel found in the garage sink. I washed it down the sink drain.
3. The lizard that Mariel found on the garage floor. I blew it out with the leaf blower.
4. The GIANT grasshoppers (bigger than the lizards, even bigger than her fist) that hung on the outside of the pool screen. I blasted them with the water hose.
5. The black snake that found its way into the pool cage. Pool net to the rescue again.
6. The orange peel on the kitchen floor that someone (Mariel) thought was a lobster.
7. The piece of lint on the garage floor in front of the clothes dryer that someone (Mariel) thought I should kill.
Hence Mariel’s “Door Rules”. Rule number one stated that the garage, front and patio doors must remain closed at all times except for the time actually required to move something in or out. Rule number two applies only to the front door and the foyer door to the garage and it states one must open the door only a crack before opening fully. The intent of rule two is to startle the geckos so they run from the door instead of through it.
After thanking Diane for her concern about Mariel and our misfortune, I walked down her driveway toward Clara’s.
When I got to the curb, I saw the garage door opening on the house next to Karl’s. As it opened, a blue car pulled onto the driveway and into the garage. I didn’t know the folks who owned that house. Karl told me they lived about an hour and ½ away near Orlando and used an agency to rent their place to vacationers. A man got out of the car carrying a hardcover book and a shopping bag from the Publix Grocery store. I called out to him.
“Hi.”
He turned to look at me. He was tall and slim, slimmer than I was but not quite as tall. Probably in his late forties, he had medium length blond hair and a neatly trimmed moustache. As I approached his car, he walked out of the garage towards me and said, “Hello?”
“Hi, I’m Max Fried. I live across the street.” I pointed over my shoulder.
The man shifted his shopping bag and his book to his left hand and offered me his right. As he extended his hand, I noticed an anchor tattoo on his forearm. “Nice to meet you, I’m Ralph. We’re renting the place for the week.” He gestured with his head towards the house behind him.
For some reason he felt the need to explain using the word “We” because he went on to add, “My wife and kids are down the block at the beach. I got stuck with lunch duty.” He held up his grocery bag and smiled.
“Nice to meet you, Ralph. I don’t want to put a damper on your vacation, but earlier today, someone kicked in my door and stole some computer equipment. I was wondering if you saw anything.”
His smile disappeared. I was developing a real knack for spreading holiday cheer. “Really? Here? Geez, I asked about this kind of thing. The realtor told me this was a safe neighborhood.”
“Did you see anything suspicious?”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “I was here most of the morning on the phone with clients back home until I had to go out and run some errands. I’m really sorry to hear about this. I saw a patrol car on the street when I went out, but I thought he was just driving through. I really didn’t stop to think there was a crime.”
I thanked him. He told me some more how he couldn’t believe things like break-ins could happen here, closed the garage door and went inside the house. I was willing to bet his vacation plans for next year would be different.
I walked back across the street to Clara’s, rang her bell and waited. It took a few minutes but then I heard a cane on tile and movement behind the door. The door opened just a crack so she could see out. When she saw me, she opened it all the way and looked up.
“Oh, Max. How are you and Mariel doing? The police were here earlier asking me if I saw anything. Unfortunately, I didn’t. The only time I went out today was to get my mail and I’m not one to sit by the window staring out. How can I help you?”
“Thanks, Clara. You just did. I appreciate it. Bye.”
She gave me a puzzled look, not the first I earned from her, and closed the door. I walked down her driveway, went home and into my office. Questioning more neighbors wasn’t going to help. I had already spoken to the closest ones. Besides, the police seemed to be canvassing the neighborhood. On the other hand, Clara gave me an idea.
Perhaps, Eileen, the mail carrier saw something. I met her several times when she hand delivered packages too big to fit in my mailbox. I also spoke with her a few times when she delivered while I was doing yard work. She seemed to be a bright woman who didn’t let much get past her. Hopefully, she was driving up and down the block about the time of the break-in. Since she didn’t live on the street, I didn’t think it likely the police would speak with her. I looked up the phone number for the local post office and called.
“New Smyrna Beach Post Office,” a man answered.
“Hi, I’d like to speak with Eileen, the mail carrier please.” The phone was silent for a minute. Then he said, “I’m not sure if she’s back yet. Hang on. I’ll check.”
After waiting a minute or two, I decided they forgot me. I was about to hang up when I heard a woman’s voice. “Hello?”
“Hello, Eileen?”
“Yes. Who is this please?”
I told her who I was and my address.
“Oh, yes. How can I help you?”
I told her about the break-in and asked if she had seen anything unusual.
“Well, there was this one blue car parked for a long time. It was there long enough for me to visit all the houses on the block. It seemed odd because the driver sat slouched down in the driver’s seat with the engine off. I had to maneuver my truck around it to get to a mailbox. For a while, I thought the driver may have been hurt or asleep, but as I passed the car on my way back up the block, the driver sat up.”
“Thank you, that’s very helpful. Do you know the plate number or what type of car it was?”
“No, I’m sorry. Just that it was blue. I think it may have had four-doors. I’m not sure. I’m sorry I don’t recall. Next time I see something off, I’ll write down the plate number.”
“Oh, it’s OK. Thank you very much. You’ve been a big help.”
“OK, thanks. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I didn’t get much for my efforts, but you never know. I didn’t think this information would help much, but I decided to keep it in mind.
Now that I exhausted my canvass, I was finally ready to take a closer look at the data on my iPod, a much closer look. Now, I had a reason to think there was more there than I had originally found.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ray Kenwood, the dead owner of the now stolen notebook, seemed to do quite well financially. He also traveled a lot and his notebook computer contained documents and presentations regarding specifications for some of his employer’s products. I guessed he must have made the rounds of trade shows, sales meetings and such, but I still didn’t see anything that would explain the theft – or his murder.
While I was searching Ray’s disk copy, my phone rang.
“Hello?”
I could hear female voices laughing in the background and then, “Max? Ed.”
“Ed, I’m glad it’s you. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“We were out on the boat. When I’m on the water, all business stops. I just got back, turned on my cell and got your v
oicemails. It’s not that easy to sail a boat while you’re talking on the phone. Hard to believe pal, I’m just not all that coordinated. Now what’s this about a theft?”
“Someone broke into my house and stole Ray Kenwood’s notebook computer. They also took the desktop computer I was using to examine it.” When I finished speaking, I heard more feminine giggling over the phone.
“Shush, you two. Max, your first message said you finished with it. So you finished the examination before it was stolen?”
“Yes, and I think that’s why my desktop was also taken. It contained my report.” I told him about the financial information I found on the disk and about the break-in. “Ed, all of the personal information I found on Ray’s notebook will also be available to whoever stole it. Ray’s wife is going to need to contact some banks and credit card companies, take steps to protect their accounts.”
“But she doesn’t know about any of that stuff. That’s why we hired you.”
“I know, but it’s OK. I still have a copy of my report here. It details all of the account information I found. I’ll email it to you and you can forward it to her.”
“No, print it out and we’ll bring it over to her this evening. I’ll pick you up around five. This way, you can explain everything. Thank goodness, you still have that report.”
“Yeah, and it’s probably a good idea to meet Kathleen. Maybe she’ll know something that might explain the break-in.”
“Maybe. You can ask her when you see her. How’s Mariel? Is she OK? Are you OK?”
“Mariel’s worried for my safety because I’ve seen the disk contents.”
“Why would that put you in danger?”
“Well, according to her, someone stole the disk to keep anyone from seeing what’s on it and whoever took it knows I’ve already seen it. She thinks if it was important enough for someone to steal, it may be important enough for someone to kill. She thinks it may have something to do with Ray’s death.”
“Well, geez, I don’t have any clue why anyone would want to steal Ray’s notebook or even why somebody would want to kill him.”
“Me neither, but I’m taking a closer look.”
“A closer look at what? If they stole the notebook, the disk and your computer, how’re you going to do that? You’ve got nothing to look at.”
“Actually, I’ve got everything to look at. You know when you make a forensic image of a computer; you’ve got the entire disk contents in a file, right?”
“Well, yeah, but…”
“I’ve got a copy of that file on my iPod along with my report. I’m going to use it and try to find out why the notebook was stolen.”
“Wow.”
“Ed… the cops weren’t pleased with me. They seemed to think there might have been something on the disk relating to Ray’s murder. I got the impression they thought I screwed up by not finding it.”
“Did you?”
“Well, no. I don’t think so. I didn’t see anything unusual, but then I was only looking for assets.”
“Are you going to look again?”
“Yeah, and this time, I’m going to look for anything that might explain the theft or the murder. Any reason I can’t share my findings with them?”
“No, no reason In fact, I think you should, but let me know what you find before you give them anything. I’ve still got to protect my client’s estate.”
“OK, but in the meantime, what can you tell me about Ray’s death? Do you have any details as to what happened?”
“Well, Ray died from a heart attack while driving, went off the road into a fence. Poor guy was only about 45. Even though he didn’t do much to take much care of himself, he was healthy. He just passed an insurance physical. This is despite the fact he was overweight, smoked like a chimney and ate like sugar, salt and grease were three of the food groups. The only things unusual about his death were he had no history of heart disease and no one seems to know why his car was found where it was.”
“Where did he have the accident?”
“State Route 44, they call that stretch, East New York Road. It happened on 44 right by Damascus Road. They found his car up against the fence by the electrical towers.”
“Who knew I had Ray’s notebook computer?”
“No one else knew. I didn’t tell his widow. I figured I’d wait and see if anything turned up. I didn’t want her disappointed if we didn’t find anything. The only ones I discussed this thing with were Jack at the bar, you, and Mariel.”
“Then, the only ones who could even know there was a computer are Jack, someone who could have overheard about it at the bar, you, Mariel and me.”
“You don’t think that Jack…”
“No, but that doesn’t mean anything. Let’s keep looking at the facts. What about the woman you were with at the bar?”
“Nope. I didn’t mention anything about it to her and she wasn’t around when I talked to Jack.”
I thought it was odd Ed glossed over the woman’s presence at the bar. I thought at least he would have mentioned her name, but he didn’t. I tried to dismiss this, thinking maybe she was a client and Ed was just being discreet. Then I remembered the kiss she gave him when he left her at the bar. Maybe, I’m too suspicious, but I mentally filed this information for later. “I’m going to exclude you, Mariel, and myself because we already had access to the notebook. We didn’t need to steal it.”
“Right, and except for Jack, there wasn’t anyone else at the bar close enough to hear.”
“Was the bar the only place you discussed this?”
“Yeah, except for when we talked in my office.”
“Ed, whoever took the notebook needed more information than just the fact there was a notebook. They would have also needed to know where it was and when it was there.”
“Let’s see. The police took the notebook from the accident scene. I only had it long enough to bring it to you. The first opportunity to steal it didn’t come until I left it with you. Someone would have to know you had it, when you had it and where you’re located.”
“Even we didn’t know when I’d have it until you phoned the police from your office. It was only after you hung up that we knew you’d be picking it up in the morning.”
“Yeah, and we were also in my office when you gave me your address.”
“Add to that me leaving a message on your office machine saying I was finished with the notebook. Someone hearing me would know I still had the notebook but not for much longer. Your office must be bugged.”
“Jesus! I have confidential client consultations there!” Ed exploded.
“Yeah, OK. Look, until I get a chance to get over there and sweep for bugs, let’s assume there is one. Until we clear this, don’t say anything in your office you don’t want overheard. If we need to, we can try to use this to our advantage. In the meantime, talk to me only on your cell and only talk when you’re out of the office. OK?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Sure. OK.”
“Good. First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll drive to Orlando, pick up something to find hidden transmitters. It’ll probably take about three hours there and back. I’ll call you when I’m done and we can meet at Bobbi and Jack’s, go to your place, and see what we can find. OK?”
“Yeah, sure. Fine.”
We hung up and I turned to my notebook computer. I launched Google Earth and looked at the corner of SR 44 and Damascus Road, where the Police found Ray’s car. One of the nice things about Google Earth is it not only shows you pictures of a location complete with roads and buildings, but you also get to see the names of businesses located in those buildings.
One of the local business names on the Google map, PC Gadgets, looked familiar. Ray had sent emails to someone at PC Gadgets. I remembered the name because they’re a small, local outfit. They make and sell computer peripherals like mice, keyboards and so on. Their products were standard. They didn’t make anything someone else didn’t already make, but their products were decent quality and
inexpensive to buy. I actually owned a few. Ray worked for a much larger company in the same field, A. V. Designs. They not only made and sold similar products, but they also designed and developed new technology.
I looked again at the emails Ray had sent to PC Gadgets. Each one contained a photo of men on a sailboat, more like a yacht. I don’t know how many feet it was but I never saw one this big before. Maybe Ray and the email recipient were sailing buddies who worked for different companies in the same field.
A couple of things seemed odd, though. The photos looked like someone took them all on the same day yet Ray mailed them one by one over several weeks. In addition, the hairstyles and clothing looked dated. I hadn’t seen hair like that since the mid 80s.
I wanted to know more about these old pictures, but I didn’t have much hope of learning more from the photos themselves. These styles predated consumer market digital cameras. If they were shot with a modern digital camera, I would have been able to determine not only the date and time, but also the camera model, shutter speed and aperture settings.
I searched Ray’s data for graphics and I found the scans of the original film photos. Possibly, because there was handwriting on the backs of the original prints, whoever scanned them scanned both sides. Someone marked each photo backside with a date in 1984. Each date was the same and unfortunately, the only thing written on the back.
These emailed photos probably meant nothing, but they were all I had. I created a time line of emails from Ray to the competing company and then searched Ray’s drive for activities that took place between the day before and the day after each of the emails.
The search was worth the effort. Ray’s banking records showed large deposits each day after his emails to PC Gadgets. Also, one of those encrypted spreadsheets came up again. This one contained three columns. The first column listed dates, the second column, six-digit numbers and the third a combination of letters and numbers. This time I noticed the dates in the date column were in the date ranges I had searched. I imagined the six digit numbers could be dollar amounts but didn’t know for sure. I still had no idea what the letters and numbers in the last column were.
Falafel Jones - Max Fried 01 - Life's a Beach Then You Die Page 4