Falafel Jones - Max Fried 01 - Life's a Beach Then You Die

by Falafel Jones

  I wanted to investigate further but after Horton’s death and my M. E. visit, I knew I was getting too close to a murder investigation. It was time to call in the pros so I looked forward to tomorrow’s meeting at the D. A.‘s office. I didn’t want to surprise Ed at the meeting so I called and told him what I had learned.

  I was facing yet another dinner alone. I missed Mariel, but now that Horton was dead and I suspected that Ray was possibly murdered, I was glad she wasn’t here. It seemed likely whoever killed Horton and Ray planted the bugs and broke into our home. It was good that she was somewhere else. I didn’t even want to call her. It made no sense, but I believed that if I ignored her, maybe the killer would too.

  I tried to get excited about dinner. I love to cook and here was another opportunity to make whatever I wanted. I had no appetite, so I nuked a veggie burger, poured some wine and called it a night.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Once again, I slept poorly. I must have been in constant motion all night. Investigating misdeeds is one thing. Dealing with a killer is another. I was out of my league. I didn’t even belong to a league. Hell, I didn’t even own a gun. I probably had fifty dreams about this case that night. They were vague scenarios where bizarre things happened. In one snippet, I was looking at a case file on line and when I clicked a link with my mouse, a gun went off. Someone shot me, but clicking again somehow saved me. When my alarm finally went off at 7:00 am and I woke with minimal sleep, I was glad to get out of bed.

  I dragged myself into the bathroom, showered, shaved, and got dressed. I went to the kitchen, made coffee and a cheese omelet with sharp shredded cheddar and waited for Ed.

  The doorbell rang at 8:25. I put my dishes in the sink, went to the door and looked through the peephole. How the hell can anyone see anything through these things? All I could make out was a blurry, round shape smoking a cigarette. I knew it had to be Ed so I opened the door, “How’re you doing?”

  He exhaled some smoke out of the side of his mouth and said, “A lot better than you. What’d you do? Stay up all night?”

  I shook my head. “Gimme a minute to brush my teeth.”

  Five minutes later, I grabbed my briefcase, stepped outside, shut and locked my door. Ed was still standing there smoking. He put out his cigarette and said, “Let’s go.”

  We got into his Mercedes and drove to the D. A.‘s office in Deland. As we crossed the bridge over the Indian River to the mainland, Ed said, “I spoke with Torres.”

  “Detective Torres? When?”

  “Early this morning. Supposedly he called me in regard to his report on the break-in at the Kenwood house.”

  “What did he want?”

  “He’s not buying it. Ever since he learned a client’s computer was the target of the break-in at your place, he’s known you weren’t telling him everything.” Ed took his eyes off the road a moment to look at me. “Torres likes to know everything, especially when it involves a murder victim.”

  “Yeah”, I sighed.

  “Then the very next day, you mysteriously develop this case against Horton. He sends guys to pick up Horton and they find him poisoned. Right after that, Torres sees you again when they send him to yet another break-in. Then Horton gets killed. Add to that, the camera you had Torres remove from your tree, the business on the boat, Corky’s car and well… you get the picture. He knows you know things he wants to know.”

  “Ed, It’s too early for complicated sentences. I just got up and I didn’t sleep much.”

  “Well, he knows you’re holding back. He thought I might give you up.”

  “So now that you’ve talked, what does he think?”

  “He didn’t say, but now I think he thinks I’m involved, too.”

  I shook my head. I was still trying to absorb ‘He knows you know things he wants to know’ and now Ed was throwing ‘I think he thinks I’m involved, too.’ at me. If Ed’s going to continue like this, I’m going to need more sleep… or more coffee. Maybe both. I was fantasizing about the idea of somehow having coffee while sleeping, when Ed asked, “Were you discreet when you checked out Kathleen?”

  “Yeah, all I did was look at Ray’s marriage certificate, deed and mortgage.”

  “…and Kathleen’s name just happened to be on them.”

  “Yup,” I said. “Actually, they support a case for her innocence. The marriage appears legit. It was the first one for each. They lived together before they were married. She owns half the house and it’s all paid off. Plus the documents on Ray’s computer show joint ownership of all of his assets.”

  “I hope you’re happy now, Fried.” Ed shook his head and drove on in silence.

  The drive took about 30 minutes and we had about 20 to go so I tried to use the time to try to figure a few things out. I needed a plan.

  When we got to the office building where the D. A. was located, Ed parked the car and we went in. In the lobby, there was a uniformed officer leaning against a desk in front of a metal detector. Next to the metal detector was a table with a scanner. A second officer sat at the scanner controls. A third officer was on the other side of the detector with a wand in his hand. They were apparently discussing some ball game and waiting for the next visitors to arrive. Ed and I approached the metal detector and the leaning officer stood up in front of the detector entrance. He looked at Ed and lifted his head inquisitively.

  “I’m Ed McCarthy. I’m an attorney. I’ve a 9:00 with A. D. A. Stronberg.”

  The officer moved his head to look past Ed at me.

  “Max Fried. I’m with Ed.”

  “ID and sign in, please.” The officer held out his left hand for our ID and pointed with his right to a book on the desk.

  Ed pulled his driver’s license out of his wallet and showed it to the officer who nodded and gave it back. As Ed was signing the book, I showed the officer my P. I. license. He looked at me, tilted his head back, looked at the license and then handed it back. I probably shouldn’t have shaved my beard until my new license photo was due. I signed the book after Ed. We put our metal objects in Rubbermaid dishes. I put my briefcase on the scanner conveyor belt and we walked through the metal detector.

  After we passed through without incident and reclaimed our belongings, Ed turned to the officer with the scanning wand. “A. D. A. Stronberg?”

  The officer pointed with the wand. “This hall, on the left, 109.”

  Ed nodded his thanks and we went down the hall. The door to Room 109 had a frosted glass panel so you could see if you were opening the door into someone on the other side, but you couldn’t see who. All the gold lettering on the door glass said was “109”. Ed opened the door and we walked into a reception area. Behind the reception area were a number of cubicles and a few offices with doors. Ed turned to the receptionist. “Ed McCarthy. I’ve got a niner with Stronberg.”

  She nodded and picked up the phone on her desk. “Dave, your nine is here.” and hung up. Just as she finished telling us to have a seat, a man appeared at the reception desk and said, “Thanks Sara.” He turned to us. “Ed McCarthy?”

  Ed nodded. The man reached out his hand. “I’m Dave Stronberg. Nice to finally meet you. This Mr. Meade?”

  “I’m Max Fried.” I shook his hand.

  He nodded and pointed with an open hand. “This way, please.”

  He showed us into a conference room and closed the door behind us. When we got inside, I recognized Linda Davis from the M. E.‘s office sitting at the conference table reviewing a file. “I think you both know Linda Davis from the M. E.‘s office?”

  We assured him we did and said how good it was to see her again. She smiled at Ed, but just nodded at me. Ed sat down across from her. I took the chair next to him. She and Ed looked happy to see each other.

  Stronberg sat at the head of the table with Davis on his right and looked at his watch. “We’re waiting on just one more person, so please, just relax for a few minutes.”

  I looked around the table. Everyone seemed to be in
terested in whatever papers they had in front of them. I had no papers so I just stared off into space and wondered if the D. A.‘s office had good coffee. After just a few moments, the door opened.

  “What are these two doing here?” Detective Torres glared at Ed and me as he entered the room.

  “And here he is,” said Stronberg. Torres sat down next to Davis and scowled across the table at me.

  “We are here,” Stronberg began, “because Attorney McCarthy has information regarding criminal activity. He’s doing his duty as an officer of the court in bringing this to our attention. Mr. Meade, a private investigator, is here because he has possession of evidence supporting Mr. McCarthy’s information. Mr. McCarthy?” Stronberg held out his hand palm up in Ed’s direction.

  “We are here today because the D.A., the M. E.‘s office, the police and I each have some information which is inconclusive when viewed separately but when viewed together presents a clearer picture of recent criminal acts.” Torres and Davis looked at each other. Ed and Linda Davis smiled at each other… again. I was beginning to suspect some extracurricular activity between them.

  Ed continued. “I represent the estate of Ray Kenwood. We all know Ray was murdered but here’s what else we know.” He paused and looked around the room. “Someone bugged my office.”

  Torres reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. I could hear the buzz as the phone vibrated. He looked at the display, and then left the room opening his phone as he walked.

  Ed watched him leave and then said. “The bug is still there. Whoever planted it doesn’t know we know about it. We believe the bug was an attempt to locate and take Ray Kenwood’s property. We think so because someone broke into Max’s office and stole Mr. Kenwood’s notebook computer. That notebook contained proof Ray Kenwood was selling trade secrets from his employer, A. V. Designs to a competitor, Ben Horton, owner of PC Gadgets. We don’t know for certain if there is any connection here, but somebody also tried to poison Horton and somebody eventually succeeded in killing him.”

  Linda Davis interrupted, “Excuse me Ed, I’m not familiar with the Horton case, what kind of poison?”

  “Horton had a peanut allergy. Someone put peanuts in his food.”

  Davis nodded and wrote something on her pad.

  Ed continued, “We don’t think the computer thief found everything he wanted. I say that because at some point, someone broke into Ray Kenwood’s home and tossed the place. Also, because A. V. Designs Corporate Security was surveilling Max and lastly because Max found a hidden camera at his home.”

  Stronberg spoke up, “Anything new that proves the sale of secrets?”

  “Just the stuff I emailed you the other day,” said Ed.

  Stronberg nodded and then turned at the sound of the door opening. Torres came back into the room and sat down.

  Davis leaned forward and asked, “What stuff is that?”

  I answered, “Emails from Ray Kenwood to Ben Horton contained hidden specs from A. V. Designs products. Spreadsheets detailing Ray’s sales to Horton and Ray’s bank records showed matching deposits. Plus, they knew each other from prior criminal activity.”

  Torres added, “Fried’s information enabled us to get warrants which led to documents on Horton’s computer and bank records confirming what Fried said. We interviewed Horton but didn’t get anything useful from him except he was out of town when the Fried break-in took place. His alibi for that checks out. He was killed before we could get more.”

  Stronberg paused for a moment as if he were considering the information. “So, what have we got? A theft where both thieves are dead, two murders and one attempted murder all possibly connected with the theft. Let’s work the theft connection on the first homicide and see what comes up.” He looked around the room for a consensus.

  Ed lifted his hand off the table, “Wait. There’s something else. Mr. Kenwood had his induced heart attack on the road leading to PC Gadgets. However, all of his transactions with Horton were electronic. We don’t see why he would go there unless he had something to drop off. We think that when he was killed, he had not only the notebook but also something else in his possession.”

  This time Torres interrupted, “Why are you so sure he was dropping off and not picking up?”

  Ed responded, “Because we found the missing object. It was still in Ray’s possession when he died.”

  Torres and Stronberg looked at each other and then Ed.

  Stronberg asked, “What is it?”

  “This.” I said and pulled the prototype out of my briefcase. “This is a working prototype of an A. V. Designs product yet to hit the market. It was among Ray’s personal effects.”

  Davis looked confused. She asked, “What is that thing?”

  “A computer interface.”

  Davis shook her head so I said, “A new product. Nothing like it on the market.”

  She still looked confused.

  Stronberg turned to Ed. “So, you think maybe Horton killed your client?”

  “No.” Ed looked at me. “Max?”

  “Horton was out of town when Ray died. It’s possible he hired someone to kill Ray. It’s even possible a hired killer killed Horton to cover his own tracks. However, I don’t think Horton killed Ray.”

  I looked around the room. They were still looking at me so I continued. “You see, Ray Kenwood had access to the documents he sold Horton, but he didn’t have access to the prototype. He needed assistance from someone else at A. V. Designs. Also, it didn’t make sense for Horton to kill Kenwood until he had the prototype. Ed and I think Horton is only a thief. We think someone else is involved. Someone who planted the bugs, stole the notebook, stole the prototype and then killed Ray to get the prototype back.”

  “Why would someone do that?” Torres asked.

  I answered. “We don’t know, but we do know Ray couldn’t have gotten the prototype by himself. I think when we find out who helped him, we’ll find out why.”

  Stronberg spoke up. “We need to notify A. V. Designs. We need to alert them to beef up their security and we need them to file a complaint.”

  Torres opened his mouth and sat forward as if he were going to say something. Then he closed his mouth, sat back, and looked up at the ceiling.

  When it became apparent he wasn’t going to say anything, I suggested, “If we notify the wrong person we’re in trouble. Ray’s killer could be working there and notifying them could alert him or her we’re onto them. On the other hand, their Security Chief, Clive Howard, already told me he was looking for something he thought I might lead him to. I think I’ve found it. How about I bring him in on this?” I asked. I was thinking about my last visit with Howard and an idea was starting to form.

  When I mentioned Clive Howard, Torres stuck his tongue in his cheek and started nodding his head.

  Stronberg grunted his approval, but his expression made me think he wasn’t completely sold on the idea.

  “How about this?” I said. “We use the prototype to flush out the thief and possibly a killer.”

  Torres looked interested. “How?”

  “Well, we can use the bug in Ed’s office, if we want to get them to go someplace or go after something, we can use that to tip them off.” I suggested.

  “Where are you planning to send them?”

  “They already stole the computers from my place, so we know that’s one place they would go. I’m thinking that if I’m right about the prototype, it might be enough on its own to flush them out. Just in case it’s not, let’s also mention I have a forensic image of Ray’s notebook computer on my IPod. We just need a way to make their need for action immediate. I mean, we can’t just wait around for them to act at their convenience. We need to set it up so they have to act within a time frame we control.”

  Stronberg looked at his watch. “It’s about nine thirty. How about this? At 1:00 p.m., Ed calls me at the D.A.‘s office, from his office phone. He tells me you’ve recovered a stolen prototype. You’re keepin
g it safe along with your iPod and that the iPod contains a copy of Kenwood’s notebook. I’ll tell Ed I’m coming over to your place at say, three o’clock to get them.”

  “Sounds good, I’ll call, Clive Howard, the Security Chief, from A. V. Designs and I’ll tell them I found what they’re looking for and invite him to come over too.”

  Everybody nodded their heads in approval, gathered up their things, and started filing out the door. Only Torres and I were still in the room and he said to me, “Before you go…”

  I was with him for about five minutes. When I came out of the room, Ed was waiting for me. “What did Torres want?”

  “He checked something out for me. If you tell me about you and Linda Davis, I’ll tell you about it in the car.”

  Ed grinned. We left the D. A.‘s office and got into Ed’s car. As soon as we closed the doors, he asked. “OK. What’s going on? What did Torres say?”

  I told Ed about the Miami Herald article about the missing murder suspect.

  He started the car and said, “So?”

  “It took a while to track down the case in the paper but when the Miami Police found it their records included their suspect’s fingerprints. The prints matched some found on the Leviathan. They sent a copy to Torres and he matched them to prints from my ID badge. Clive Howard is not Clive Howard.”

  Ed’s mouth opened as if to say something. Then it closed. Then it opened. Then it closed. Finally, he said, “What? You’re inviting a killer to your home. You’re going to tell him that you have the thing he wants, the thing that’s keeping you alive. Are you nuts?”

  “Maybe, but I’ve had enough of this.”

  “What about Zorky? Did the bastard kill Zorky too?”