Baby Brother Blues (Sammy Dick, PI Series: Book 1)

by Trudi Baldwin

  “I agree. So I suggest I dig deeper into the doings of dear old dad, while you dig deeper into the doings of dear young Liang and middle-aged Karl.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Only, please do me a favor, and keep digging into the accounts of all three of these dudes.”

  “Follow the money. I’m on it, Sammy. Like a hound dog on a fresh scent.” With that said, Geo stopped stroking Snack’s brow, stood up, and pressed his cell phone to his ear. A man on a mission.

  As he strode down the hall, I heard him say, “Kathy? I’m wondering if you’d be interested…” and then his voice became unintelligible as he slipped into his bedroom, closing the door softly but firmly behind him.

  I smiled and sighed simultaneously. Then decided to hop on my Ninja and head to the gym. It was just too damn hot to run outside. Besides, maybe Montaigne would be there and I could ogle his biceps and flirt some. It might ease the sense of loss I was feeling now that Geo’d gone and fallen in love. I wondered what kind of girl could win the heart of my partner, and in such a short time.

  Chapter 24

  By the time Geo dragged into the kitchen the next day, I’d already been out for an early morning run with Snack. I’d jogged the mile and a half to my parents’ house to see if anyone was up and found Mom tossing flakes of alfalfa hay into the feed bins for the horses as the first rays of dawn filtered through the bars of the stalls. The horses stuck their heads out over the half-doors and nickered for Mom to hurry up with her deliveries. Snack and I helped her finish, checked to see that Easy was healing well. He was. I chatted with Mom a bit, sipped a cup of her caramel latte coffee which fueled the mile-and-a-half jog back home down the pleasant, wide streets of Sunburst Farms.

  The farms were built in the 70s on large, irrigated one and two-acre lots. The homes were set back from the road, and, for some reason, there are no sidewalks. This gives the streets a wide, spacious look. Enormous, twenty and thirty-year-old trees hang out over the road, bestowing intermittent pools of shade that I stepped into like puddles as Snack and I jogged home in the rising heat. What a great day to be alive and making an obscene amount of money doing investigative work!

  Geo, however, did not look like investigative work was his favorite thing to do, at least not this early in the morning. It was now about 5 P.M. in Brussels, Belgium, where Tonja Zaiid, Karl’s ex, lived. Our plan was to call her up and pretend we were potential investors in some new deal with Karl. We would be ascertaining if he was free and clear from her to engage in our pseudo-deal. Between Geo and me, I was the far better liar, so it was a foregone conclusion that I would do the talking.

  First, I jogged over to the fridge in my cute little track shorts, grabbed a plastic glass off the shelf and filled it to the brim with ice. Ice is popular in Phoenix. Then I sloshed a ton of Diet Coke over the ice until the bubbles sizzled at the top, and slid the sizzling bubbles underneath Geo’s nose. His half-mast eyelids rose a little higher in surprise and then a kind of wanton look creeped into his eyes as his nose discerned my bribe. He grabbed at the plastic cup, drew it to his lips and downed five long gulps of icy Diet Coke in quick succession. I watched him carefully, like a surgeon watches a patient who was flat-lining but is now in the early stages of revival. With each gulp his half-mast eyelids raised a little more, until, voila, on the fifth sip the patient had been saved. Geo was now officially ready to begin.

  Geo showed me how to dial the weird long European phone number—

  well, I guess, not weird to them—on our landline because it had the best speaker phone. The ring sounded surprisingly close.

  On the third ring a female voice answered in German, “Hallo?”

  “Hallo!” I responded heartily. “Is this Tonja Zaiid?”

  “Ja.”

  “Do you speak English?”

  “Ja, yes, I do. Who is this?”

  Time to improvise. “This is Linda Lassiter of the Fanhurst, Brown and Lassiter Law Firm. We deal exclusively in business acquisition law.”

  “Ja,” Tonja suddenly became hesitant.

  “Don’t worry, our call with you today has nothing to do with you. It concerns your ex-husband, Karl Zaiid.”

  Tonja’s voice grew animated. “Ja, you mean that Kriminell!”

  “Does Kriminell mean criminal in English?”

  “Ja, ja. Criminal, how do you say it in America? Bastard! Ja!”

  “You seem heated on this subject, Ms. Zaiid.”

  “I raising two childs by self on secretary pay. Ja! Ja! I be heated. Heated on flaming broil! Karl hopping with bed mate to U.S. of America! Steal savings account. Karl never pay me not once supports of childs.” At this point, Tonja took a deep breath and slowed down. Her words became much slower, more conscious and spaced. “I am sorry. I speak good English,” her pace increased, “when I am not on flaming broil.”

  I had been quickly jotting down some of her remarks so I could return to them later in the conversation if I could get that far. “I completely understand, Ms. Zaiid, and I sympathize. It must be quite difficult to raise those children alone with no savings account and on a secretary’s pay.”

  Tonja’s words remained slow and measured. “Thank you for your understanding, but I do not see how I can help you.”

  “You say the word kriminell. Is that just a figure of speech, or was Karl truly involved in other criminal activity besides stealing your savings account and not paying child support?”

  “Ja, he involve with kokain. Karl, he love the kokain.”

  “Ah, cocaine. As in illegal drug cocaine?”

  “Ja, yes. Much illegal drug kokain.”

  “Did he just use it or deal it?”

  “Deal, like cards? Not understanding.”

  “Deal like buy and sell cocaine.”

  “Oh, ja, sure, he buy and sell kokain. Much buy and sell of kokain.”

  “Was he arrested? Picked up by the police? Put in prison?”

  “No, no gefängnis. No prison for Karl. Karl have high Q. How do you say high quotient. Karl is smart man. No gefängnis for Karl. Not ever.”

  Not yet anyway, I thought and plunged onward. “You’ve been very helpful, Tonja, and Karl is not sounding like a good choice for a business partner. At least not a legal business. You have been very helpful to our law firm of…” I tried to remember the bogus name of the law firm I’d invented and was drawing a blank. Geo, now fully awake and engaged, began mouthing silently over his nearly empty glass, Fanhurst, Brown and Lassiter. I continued on, almost without a hitch, “Very helpful to the law firm of Fanhurst, Brown and Lassiter. One more thing, Tonja, and then I will let you go. Just before you told us Karl had absconded with all of your life savings, you mentioned something about Karl, and I’ll quote this exactly as you said, ‘hopping with bed mate to U.S. of America.’ Could you please elaborate on that?”

  “Oh, ja, ja, that also make me flaming broiler mad! Karl hop skipping, not with woman bed mate, but man bed mate he met on plane and hop skipping to U.S. of America. Never see him again. No childs support. Never. Ja, you bet I flaming broiler mad!”

  “I can well imagine, Ms. Zaiid. That must have been very hurtful. Do you, by any chance, remember the name of the man he hop skipped with?”

  “Hu.”

  “Who?”

  “Hu.”

  “What?”

  “Hu. Hu was the name of the man he hop skipped with.”

  “Oh, Hu! I see, Hu.” Geo was cracking up in silent laughter over his drained Coke. I was beginning to feel trapped in some strange game of Who’s on First and What’s on Second. “Did Hu have a last name, Tonja?”

  “No, no, never heard last name. Hu is all I know.”

  “Well, you know a lot, Ms. Zaiid. Extremely helpful to our law firm. Rest assured that we are going to recommend our client find a different partner to do business with.”

  “Can you help me collect the childs support?”

  “No, I’m sorry, Ms. Zaiid; we deal strictly in business law. Good luck with that, th
ough. Take care,” and I clicked off the speaker button and set the phone back in its cradle.

  “Good job, Sammy. This Zaiid dude is some character, and I’d bet something is going down here soon. We need to know enough to catch Zaiid in the act. So far my research hasn’t revealed anybody by the name of Hu. I’m heading back to bed for a little more shut-eye now. We have a long evening coming up tonight, and I’m going to have to wear a tux and some shiny black shoes that are bound to pinch when and if I dance.”

  Geo had put a heavy emphasis on the word if and then trundled on back down the hall for some more shut-eye.

  Chapter 25

  Kathy Keach hung her phone up in the living room of the condo. She was glowing in anticipation. She and Geo planned to meet in an hour to help him pick out a tux to rent, so they could attend the Swann Annual Charity Ball that evening. Kathy thought it sounded romantic and fun. She’d never attended a ball before. Plus, she had to admit, she could barely wait to see Geo again, even though they’d only parted yesterday when he’d installed her computer.

  On the phone, she’d shyly told Geo they’d need to rent her a ball gown too, since she’d left Delaware with only one suitcase of clothes. She hadn’t owned a ball gown anyway. Kathy assured Geo she’d pay him back just as soon as she got her first paycheck. Geo said he’d be more than happy to pay for her ball gown. In fact, it would give him immense pleasure.

  Kathy thanked Geo profusely over the phone. Geo imagined her little dimples showing and the sweet brightness of her blue eyes. Snapping his cell shut in his own bedroom, Geo scanned through his clothes, some on hangers and some on the floor, for some black jeans and t-shirt that were relatively clean. He eventually found some, laid them on the bed and hopped in the shower.

  Meanwhile, Kathy sat back in the comfy, burgundy-colored stuffed chair in Doreen’s living room, flipping on the midday news to distract her while she waited for Geo. Suddenly, a face flashed up on the screen that Kathy recognized, or thought she recognized. Then she was sure of it when the newscaster boomed out in his authoritative voice, “Police are still searching for the killers of Franklin Leary who was shot to death in his home at approximately 4 A.M. this Thursday. Police suspect a gang-related murder possibly tied to drugs. The weapon was an AK47 and multiple intruders appeared to have entered the home. Evidence of cocaine was also found at the scene. Franklin Leary lived alone in the desert in the Carefree area, not normally a hot spot for gang activity, so police are still researching the case. Anyone with more information is requested to contact the police immediately. Franklin Leary was the office manager for the Western U.S. Division of American and International Title, located in Phoenix.”

  Kathy gasped as the news flashed onto other morbid tales that had occurred in the hot city, but none of it registered with Kathy. Her full concentration was on the Leary story. The rest of the news just flew by in a blur. American and International Title was her company! Well, the one she’d abandoned when St. Pierre blew it up, just before he brutally killed her cat, Peepers. She had known Franklin Leary. His photo, the exact same photo they used in the newscast, always popped up on the screen when Kathy accessed information on their website about the Western Division of American and International Title. Kathy’s operation in Delaware that she had managed single-handedly was called the Eastern U.S. Division. There was also a European Division, centered in Madrid, where St. Pierre claimed to have come from. Kathy regretted being so trusting. St. Pierre had dropped by her office and with a haughty air proffered his business card that read, James St. Pierre, European Division, American and International Title, with the address and telephone number. Kathy never thought to check up on him.

  At least not right away, but Kathy’s style was to check up on everything. She’d been so proud to be the sole manager and employee of the Eastern U.S. Division. Now she realized she’d probably been chosen because she was young and less experienced. They had been counting on her inexperience, but after St. Pierre’s first visit, Kathy had retraced his steps electronically. She did find a photo of him on their website attached to the Madrid Division, so that part of his story, at least, was legit, but she still regretted all the free access she’d given him without thinking twice. After his visit, Kathy revisited St. Pierre’s electronic activity on her computer he’d asked to borrow. Given the circumstances, there was no reason not to give him free access to her computer and the hard files. St. Pierre had explained that he seldom traveled with a computer because he always just dropped by a local office to conduct his business. At first, Kathy had felt honored that such an important figure in the company had dropped in and wished to use her computer.

  But when she backtracked his steps after he’d left, Kathy discovered that he’d been working on a file called The Obsidian Towers Project. He had requested that he be made the sole escrow officer on the project. At the time Kathy had questioned the change. After all, he came across as a globally-traveled, cosmopolitan executive of her firm. Who was she to question his request to manage the file all by himself?

  Kathy was only vaguely familiar with the project, but she decided to dig deeper just to keep abreast of current projects. She discovered that the Obsidian Towers Project was occurring simultaneously in three different cities, Phoenix, Madrid and Dubai. All three locations used the same architectural drawings, and since the architectural design was one of the most amazing structures Kathy had ever seen, she could see why. Kathy had accessed the website for Obsidian Towers displaying the drawings and the picture of the projected finished high-rise. The website had a very luxurious look, all black with gleaming gold cursive letters at the top spelling out ‘The Obsidian Towers Project.’ Clearly, the website was designed to attract the wealthiest buyers in the world, or at least the wannabees running about willing to toss around extra money or acquire extra debt. Kathy had scanned through the hype: Tower above the Rest. The finest views in the city. Live and play among the wealthiest people on the planet. Click here to see your new living arrangement.

  Kathy had dutifully clicked. A magnificent structure had emerged on her screen. The black background washed to gold and a hundred-story, black pyramid-shaped tower built itself right before her eyes, floor by floor, as amenity after amenity flashed on the screen beside it. These were obviously some of the most high-end condos in the world today. Then the coup de gras appeared at the very top of the pyramid, an all-glass penthouse with a 360 degree view. A crystal palace in the sky clearly designed to attract those who wished to be the king or queen of all they beheld. Phoenix had been the first one constructed and was only fifty stories high, followed by successively grander versions in Madrid and Dubai, each listing higher priced condos and more stories, topping out at a hundred stories high in Dubai.

  Being practically minded, Kathy had wondered how you’d hang drapes within a pyramid shape and how you’d keep an all-glass penthouse like that cool in the heat of the Phoenix sun. She had no idea how hot it was in Dubai either. She was pretty sure it was cooler in Madrid. Oh well, those were problems for the very rich to ponder, not her. She’d given up thinking about those issues and had dug down deeper into the website details and into the title company records.

  She’d learned that independent construction firms were building the projects in each of the cities. In all three cities, the basic shell of the Obsidian Towers was complete, and had been complete for three years now. However, most of the internal build-out and finishing was not yet started, ostensibly because the owners of the Obsidian Towers Project needed to sell out all of the condo locations within the Towers before they had the necessary funding to complete the project build-out. Kathy’s suspicions arose when she began to dig even deeper into the records that St. Pierre had accessed.

  First of all, in most locations, all of the condos appeared to have attracted buyers who were now sitting in escrow, their $500,000 deposits residing with American and International Title. So why hadn’t the project been completed? Secondly, the more she studied St. Pierre’s records fo
r the penthouses on all three properties, she’d found those to be even more baffling. The penthouses appeared to have been sold and resold, not just once or twice, but seven or eight times, and then canceled out. Each time, an escrow deposit of a million or more had been submitted to American and International Title to hold the location until the build-out was complete. It just seemed strange to Kathy that the penthouses had been canceled so often. Perhaps the buyers had simply lost patience and gone elsewhere to invest their money. After all, these had to be very wealthy people and perhaps waiting for years to finally move into a penthouse had lost its appeal.

  The other very confusing tidbit of information Kathy had discovered in her research was that the escrow agent’s name on all of the properties had been changed recently. During his visit, St. Pierre had withdrawn the name of Franklin Leary on some of the escrow accounts and substituted his own name. Thus, every single Obsidian escrow account was now under St. Pierre’s name. All of this activity combined had left Kathy feeling uneasy on that fateful day in Newark. She hadn’t wanted any shady dealings to take place in her office. She’d taken great pride in the careful management of all title issues that had come her way. So on the morning the office in Delaware blew sky high, Kathy’s uneasiness had driven her to download all of the records St. Pierre had accessed onto her flash drive and slide it into her shoulder bag. She still had the little shadow drive tucked safely away in her underwear drawer. For such a tiny device, it was starting to feel a lot like a huge time bomb just waiting to explode.

  Of course, now, with Franklin Leary’s murder, her suspicions shot through the roof. By the time the doorbell rang and Geo stood at the front door of her condo dressed all in black and bearing flowers, she’d decided to tell him her new suspicions. She trusted him and knew he had all kinds of investigative skills. Besides, if she didn’t unload her worries right away, she’d be unable to enjoy the trip to the tux and gown rental shop and she really wanted to enjoy every minute she had with Geo. Having lost both her parents at an early age, Kathy always carried with her a sense of how fleeting life can be, so when Geo shyly handed her the bouquet of multi-colored daisies, she leaned in and kissed him gently and at length on the lips. When she drew back, Geo was blushing from head to toe. They both broke into smiles at the same time. It promised to be a lovely evening.