“There’s a surveillance camera mounted in a tree in my yard and it’s pointed at my house.”
“Really? No kidding? Is it still there?”
“Yeah.”
“This I’d like to see. We’ll be there in about 20 minutes.”
“We’ll be waiting for you.” I really didn’t have anyone waiting with me, but I figured if he could be we, so could I.
About 30 minutes later, an unmarked police cruiser pulled up in front of the house. A city police van with an extension ladder on the roof followed it. Office Torres climbed out of the cruiser and two other men exited the van. When I saw the ladder, I was hoping one of them would be climbing it to take down the camera. I’m not that keen on heights.
“Mr. Fried,” called out Detective Torres, as he came up the driveway, “these men are from our Crime Scene Unit. They’re going to take a closer look at the camera while you give me some more information.” He took his pad and a ballpoint from his shirt pocket.
“Sure, what do you want to know?” I spread my arms and held my hands open wide.
He clicked his ballpoint pen and looked down at his pad, “When did you first notice it?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
Torres held his pen over his pad and without moving his head, looked up at me. “And you’re just calling it in now?”
“Yes.”
He hung his hands at his sides and looked directly at me. “Do you have to work at annoying me or does it just come naturally to you?”
“Look, Detective Torres, I know you’re a busy guy and you’ve got a difficult job, but like you, I’ve got a job to do too and yesterday, I was out doing it. I didn’t have time to call it in and frankly, until I had a chance to look into something, I wasn’t sure I was ready to report it.”
He waved his hand around. “You mean this camera may have something to do with a case you’re working; a case you can’t discuss?”
“I think it may have something to do with Ray Kenwood’s murder.”
“Then you should have called me right away.”
“Next time, I will. I’ve got your cell number.”
He looked up at the sky. “Please, don’t remind me.”
“This time, I wasn’t sure it was connected. If it is, it seemed that I was safer with it here. I figure that if the killer is content with watching me, maybe he won’t kill me.”
“Then, what changed your mind?”
“This did.” I said and handed him the envelope containing my A. V. Designs ID and my print out.
He looked at me with his head tilted to the left.
“You might want to run prints on the ID card.”
Torres nodded without any facial expression.
“Look, Detective Torres, it takes a long time to call you “Detective Torres”. How about, I call you Leo and you call me Max.”
“No.”
I opened my mouth to utter a reply but was interrupted when the two guys from the van came around to the front of the house. One was carrying the ladder back to the van. The other was holding a large plastic evidence bag and walking towards Detective Torres. He held up the bag with the camera inside. “Leo, we got the camera. No prints on it. Anyone can buy one on the Internet. Transmits a radio signal to a recording device. Range isn’t much, but the recorder could be anywhere. We bagged and tagged it but we’re not gonna get anything more from this.”
Detective Leo Torres turned to the guy, “Thanks, Bob. After you check it in, can you please leave me a copy of the report on my desk? Thanks.”
Bob nodded and went to join his partner in the van.
“Gee.” I said, “Bob calls you Leo.”
Detective Torres turned and walked to his cruiser. With his back to me, he said “Good day, Mr. Fried,” and then both vehicles pulled away.
At least the camera was gone and I didn’t have to climb a tree.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
A little after Torres left, Ed arrived. I got into his car and asked him for the list of Ray’s effects. Ed pulled his cigarettes from his shirt pocket and then removed a piece of paper from inside the pack. He looked at the paper and said, “Oh, crap. I left it on my desk. You want to go back and get it?”
“Nah, it’ll be the same list in an hour as it is now. I want to check out this boat. Somebody got to Ray’s house before we did. I don’t want that to happen again. If there is something on the boat, I don’t want to be beat to it.”
Ed said, “Same here,” and put the paper back along with his cigarettes.
We drove to an industrial park on the mainland, near the airport. Ed parked near a group of three identical buildings with the EFH logo on the side.
We got out of the car, walked towards the middle one and Ed said, “Zorky had a great gift for making money. Do you know how little this property cost twenty five years ago and how much it’s worth now?”
“No.” I said.
“I’m not going to tell you. It would only make you cry.”
The door handle had a keypad on it, the kind with numbered pushbuttons in addition to a knob with a keyhole. I guessed you could use either one to unlock the door. Ed pulled his cigarettes out of his shirt pocket again and then fished out what looked like the same piece of paper he had before. He pressed a few numbers on the lock and then opened the door. He had to lean on the door to make it move. We went inside and I noticed a stale, musty smell.
When Ed turned on the lights, I saw the building was one huge room with a wood and metal frame in the middle. The Leviathan sat on the frame and filled the building. It reached to within a few feet of the roof and the bow and stern practically touched the front and rear walls. I had no idea how they ever got the boat inside.
Ed sighed. “Haven’t seen this in about twenty years. Just after Zorky died. Guess how they got it inside?”
“No clue.”
“Had to take down the back wall, push the boat in and then put the wall back up.”
“Must be nice to have money.”
“Oh, yeah. C’mon. Let’s board.”
Ed walked over to a ladder affixed to the boat. The Leviathan may have looked big on the water, but close up, inside a confined space like this, it looked colossal. As we climbed, I saw a thick layer of grime on the steps and other horizontal surfaces. My hands turned black from the dirt on the rungs. So did my pants knees as I brushed against the ladder on the way up. The stillness, the quiet and the dust made me uneasy. I felt like I invaded a tomb. As we disturbed the dust, Ed started to cough and I sneezed.
On board, Ed fumbled around for something. Then I heard a click and the boat lit up. Ed said, “They’ve got the boat electricity plugged into the warehouse power.”
I looked around the Leviathan and realized I had no idea where to start my search. Ed said, “Looks just like it did when Zorky died,” opened a door and climbed down some stairs. I followed and we entered a narrow hallway below decks. There were five doors. Yellow tape that read “POLICE LINE – DO NOT CROSS” covered the three on the left.
Ed gestured to the far end, “That door leads to the galley and the head.” Then he pointed to the three doors on his left and then the one on his right. “These three are crew quarters. That one is… was Zorky’s. Let’s see what there is to see.”
He approached the first door on his left, sliced the tape with his car key and we went inside. The room was small with a built-in bed and a tiny closet. A monogrammed, olive drab canvas duffel bag sat on the closet floor. I moved closer and read aloud the faded stenciled letters, “RK”.
Ed said, “Ray Kenwood.” We left the room; shut the door and Ed pulled loose the tape from the next door to the left.
I opened the door and this room looked just like the other one. Some clothes hung in the closet and I found an empty, unmarked duffel bag folded on the shelf next to a toilet kit. I took the kit down and opened it. There was a prescription bottle inside. The label said it was penicillin prescribed for Benjamin Horton. I said, “Ben Horton,” shut
the door and we started for the last room on the left. When I reached for the door, I saw there were already slits in the tape covering the opening. I turned the knob and we stepped inside.
This third room was identical to the other two in size, shape and style. The only difference was that this room was empty. Ed said, “This would have been Skipper’s room.”
I asked him, “So, where’s his stuff? Corky told me that when the Police came, he escaped and never came back.”
Ed shrugged, “Maybe he came back after all?”
I opened the next door and as Ed described, it led to a galley and the ship’s bathroom. We looked inside and saw nothing of interest, only cooking utensils and outdated canned goods. We exited back into the hall. Ed took a deep breath and opened the fifth door. “Zorky’s suite. It’s been a long time since I’ve been here.”
Zorky’s quarters were as luxurious as the others were Spartan. They contained a queen size bed, a desk built into the wall and a private head with a toilet, sink and shower. He even had a tiny galley and a small table for dining with a view out a porthole.
Ed sat down at the desk and started opening drawers. When he did, I noticed an old bag style cell phone. I picked it up to look at it. “Wow, I haven’t seen one of these things in ages.”
Ed pulled a few folders from one drawer, looked up and said, “What? Oh, yeah. Zorky loved gadgets. He was the first person I knew that had a cell phone. It weighed ten pounds, but it still made calls.” He looked back down at the files in his hand and said, “This is odd.”
“What’s odd?”
“Zorky had files here on Ray Kenwood and Ben Horton. Employment applications, passport photocopies, social security tax information. You know, personnel type records, but there’s no file here for anybody else. No Skipper.”
“That is strange. Unless… wait, Corky told me the Police showed her a photo of Skipper and asked for him by a name she never heard him use. What if he established a new identity and wanted to protect it?
“What do you mean?”
“How about this? Skipper is on the run so he changes his name and gets some fake ID to match. Zorky hires Skipper, knows his current name, address, even his social security account number. Then Police come to arrest whatever his name was AKA Skipper for murder. Skipper escapes and the only one who knows his current identity is Zorky and the only records are on this boat. Maybe he came back to get them?”
“Well, that could explain the broken tape, the empty cabin and the missing files.”
“You have any other explanation?”
“No.”
I put Zorky’s ancient bag phone back on the desk and when I did, I remembered something I read in Zorky’s obituary.
“Ed, how did Zorky die?”
“He had a heart attack. Couldn’t get to help in time.”
“Did he phone for help?”
“No.”
“Why not? He had this cell phone.”
“Gee. I don’t know.”
I took a closer look at the phone and saw a break in the wire that connected the antenna. It looked like someone cut it. Maybe Zorky didn’t call because his phone was broken. “Ed, what about radio? Doesn’t a boat this size have a two-way marine radio?”
“Sure, up on deck.”
We went up the stairs to the cabin or wheelhouse or whatever sailors called the place where the steering takes place. Ed showed me the radio and when I examined it, I found the antenna wire for the radio cut too. I showed Ed the break in the wire and said, “Zorky couldn’t call for help. Somebody cut his antenna cables. Neither the cell phone nor the two-way would work. Somebody wanted him dead and they wanted it to look natural.”
“Shit. Ray and Zorky both died of heart attacks. Geez, these things are so common, I never thought about it but maybe Kathleen was right. Maybe Ray didn’t die of natural causes. Maybe Zorky didn’t either.”
“We better call Torres.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“What? You again? I gotta learn to look at Caller ID first. What is it this time?” For some reason, Torres didn’t sound glad to hear from me.
I told him, “I’m in the EFH warehouse that contains Zorky Eastwood’s yacht. The boat in that picture Ray Kenwood emailed Ben Horton.”
“So?”
“This is the boat Zorky was on when he died. He had a heart attack and couldn’t call for help. Someone disabled his radio and cell phone.”
“I don’t know about this. When did he die?”
“Around 20 years ago.”
“Jesus, Fried. You’re too much. You call me now about a 20-year-old death that you think might not have been on the up and up? You couldn’t tell me this when I saw you what? An hour ago?”
“I didn’t know this then. I think it ties in with the break-in at my place and maybe with Horton and Ray Kenwood.”
“You think a guy who had a heart attack 20 years ago ties in with a break-in at your home? How long you been living here? One year? Two?”
“I don’t know yet how everything comes together, but I do know this. Ray Kenwood is dead and somebody stole his computer from my house. The computer ties to Ben Horton who bought stolen trade secrets from Ray. Someone killed Ray, and tried to kill Horton and Corky. Corky knew Ray, Ben, and Skipper, when they worked for Zorky Eastwood. Zorky died when he couldn’t get help because his radio and phone were intentionally disabled. Lastly, Ray and Ben’s cabins and employment records are intact on Zorky’s boat but the third crew cabin is empty. There are no records on board for Skipper.”
There was silence on the phone. Then Torres said, “I don’t know what you’ve got but if I don’t come down there and check it out, my luck, there’ll be something to it. I don’t need more trouble. I’ve already got you.”
Ed and I went outside the warehouse to wait. I was glad to get the fresh air. Ed seemed glad to have another cigarette. About 15 minutes later, Torres and Fitzpatrick pulled up followed by a van marked “Crime Scene Unit.” A man and a woman got out of the van carrying equipment cases. We all went into the warehouse and climbed onto the boat. The two techs unpacked their gear and started to work.
Torres stood there watching them. Fitzpatrick said, “They’re going to examine the phone and the radio, check fingerprints and see what else they can find of use.”
Torres finally spoke, “Use for what? I don’t even know what crime or who we’re investigating anymore: Kenwood’s murder, Max’s burglary, the Kenwood break in, the attempt on Horton’s life, Corky’s life or vandalism on communications equipment?”
Torres seemed to be more upset with me than usual so I asked him, “What do you mean you don’t know what you’re investigating? What’s really going on here?”
Torres came closer to me so that we were standing toe to toe. He was too close for comfort and I thought it was a good thing I had big feet or our faces would be touching. He leaned his head back, looked into my eyes and said, “I’ll tell you what’s going on. Everywhere I turn. There you are. Every call I get today, no matter what the crime, there you are.”
“Yeah, well, I’m working on a job.”
“Is that what you’re doing? You’re working on a job? I got a fingerprint report on Horton’s black leather case… where he kept his epinephrine… the drugs that were out of his reach… so he almost died. You know who touched that case?”
“No, who?”
“You did. Your fingerprints were on Horton’s black leather case. The one he needed and didn’t have when he ingested peanuts. What do you have to say about that?”
That surprised me. I said, “I’ve never been to Horton’s house, only his office.” Then I realized what happened. “I visited him at PC Gadgets when he returned from a trip. I lifted a black leather case off a chair when he invited me to sit.”
“A coincidence, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Just like you being at EFH offices an hour or two before someone put a hole in Corky’s brake line?”
I didn’t
like where this was going but he was right. I was there. I said the best comeback I had, “Yeah.”
Torres didn’t seem to care. He shook his head at me. “Now, you’re telling me about sabotaged communications equipment you just found and I’ll probably find your fingerprints on that too.”
He was right. He would find them there. “At the time I picked up the bag phone, there was no reason to think it might become evidence. Same with Horton’s drug case.”
“You were also the last one to see Kenwood’s computer and the only one alive who saw what was on it.”
It seemed that once Torres finished yelling at me, he got free of whatever was bothering him. He calmed down and Fitzpatrick watched his partner in silence for a few moments and then said quietly to Ed, and me “You guys can go now. We find anything, I’ll let you know.” It didn’t seem like a good idea to stick around, so we left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
In the car, Ed asked me, “What was that all about?”
“Dunno, but he doesn’t seem too happy with me.”
“Because you keep finding more work for him without him getting a chance to make anything of what you find?”
“Maybe. I get the idea Torres likes to lead his own investigations but lately, I’ve been finding things that have been keeping him busy. I don’t think he likes that. Do you think he really suspects me?”
“Nah, but if he does, I know a great lawyer. Me.”
I didn’t return Ed’s grin. He stopped smiling and asked, “Now what?”
“Geez, I don’t know.”
“Did you eat yet?”
“No. Why?”
“I didn’t get a chance to give you that personal effects list you wanted and I’m hungry. I’m thinking of going out for a late dinner and I hate eating out alone. Want to join me?”
“Sure. Where you want to go?”
“How about that place on Third Ave? The one with the outdoor seating?”
“You mean The Garlic?”
“Yeah, that’s the place. I think they serve until 10.”
Falafel Jones - Max Fried 01 - Life's a Beach Then You Die Page 15