“Do you believe that all the cats helped Chester insert himself so completely into Minnie’s life?” I asked.
Candace walked over to a stack of boxes in front of what looked like a baker’s rack. “Yes, it seems the cats are telling us the story.”
B.J. followed her, fiddling with his video camera.
“Because of those microchips, right?” I couldn’t help but smile at the idea of kitty assistance.
She nodded. “Thank goodness Shawn matched the microchipped cats to their owners. An added benefit is that his doing this also revealed when the cats disappeared from their homes. Some of them weren’t even outdoor cats. Two of them were apparently taken from outdoor kitty apparatuses after the mesh was cut open.”
“Holy cannoli. That’s pretty bold,” I said. “And who would the owners report this to? Chester Winston, of course.”
Candace nodded again, more emphatically this time. “Exactly. Then he hands them over to a woman who couldn’t say no because she was confused. Somehow Chester convinced her this was a good thing. Obviously he couldn’t take those cats to the county shelter. There would have to be documentation for any cat Chester supposedly found and hauled there. I’m wondering how much money he made on those fake recovery fees. We haven’t got his financials or his phone records yet.”
“Why is it taking so long?” I asked.
Candace checked her notebook and then marked the largest box in front of the baker’s rack with the number twenty. “It always does. But now that we have proof Chester committed fraud, we can get those records today. Just because someone died violently doesn’t mean their bank or credit card records are freely available. Judges are pretty careful about issuing warrants. But Shawn has made our job a whole lot easier because the victim himself committed a crime. He was basically extorting money from those cat owners.”
“Ah. I see. But what about Minnie’s bank and credit card records?”
Candace was about to open the box with B.J. and the camera ready. But she stopped and turned to face me, head tilted. “Minnie’s records? You believe Minnie was complicit in the fraud? We found no evidence that—” She put her hands on her hips and looked at the ceiling. “Wait a minute. We simply collected her financial documents and they’ve been sitting at the station. I never thought to see if she was the one who actually bought a case of cell phones. Or any of this other stuff. In our defense, that’s because until yesterday we had no idea what was in all these boxes.” She waved her arm around the kitchen.
“Those bank and credit card statements are on your desk at the station,” B.J. said.
“Along with about five thousand other things. We ruled out Mrs. Schultz as far as committing murder, but what if Chester talked her into helping with this other scheme of his? Maybe he promised her all the cats she ever wanted if she’d buy stuff he could sell for a profit?” Candace unclipped her phone from her utility belt. As she punched numbers she pointed at me. “Thank you, my friend. I should have thought of this yesterday, but I am overloaded with evidence and suspects.”
I almost laughed out loud at that one. All I did was ask a question. She figured out the rest.
Because Tom wasn’t available, Candace had Grace fetch the documents from Candace’s desk. She listened while Grace apparently read things to her. When she disconnected, she said, “All of this stuff—or let me be careful—a lot of this stuff was purchased with Minnie’s credit card.”
“Oh no,” I said. “Does that mean she’s a criminal, too? Will she be arrested? Because—”
“Hang on to your heart, Jillian. If Chester inserted himself completely into that poor woman’s life, he probably had access to everything, including her credit cards. With her family distanced from her, who was paying attention to her spending habits? No one—including Minnie herself.”
“All this stuff was probably purchased over the Internet, right?” B.J. said. “No signature required.”
“Exactly,” Candace said. “I can’t wait to see how much money Chester made off selling what were probably stolen goods—no doubt bought and paid for by a woman who had no idea what was going on.”
“But where was he selling this stuff?” I asked.
B.J. said, “When I canvassed the neighborhood the day we discovered the body, that guy across the street told me there were plenty of deliveries here. That made sense considering all these unopened boxes. But what if there were pickups, too?”
Candace grinned. “Both of you are geniuses. Getting information out of those delivery companies isn’t easy. But pickups are scheduled and the delivery company would require payment. All we need is the name of one buyer and that might open a floodgate of information.”
“But if you need a warrant for the delivery company records, that could take time,” B.J. said.
“The computer we found here, the one taken to the tech lab, was a new laptop. Grace just told me Minnie’s credit card statement indicates she bought that computer from an online electronics retailer. Maybe those postage and pickup fees were also charged but just haven’t shown up on the statements we’ve collected so far.”
“But she didn’t even recognize what a cell phone was,” I said. “She wasn’t capable of using a computer in her condition, so all of this had to be Chester’s doing.”
“Perhaps with the help of the person who killed him. Maybe this was more than a one-man operation and tempers flared. Along with the laptop, Morris took another one in after searching Chester’s apartment. If he was buying and selling online, the information could be on that computer, on the one Minnie supposedly purchased or both—even if he thought he’d covered his tracks by deleting the money trail.”
My turn to nod in understanding. “I see.”
“Catfishers sometimes use a similar scam,” B.J. said. “Hook an unsuspecting love interest online, create a fake credit card, order merchandise just like what we’re seeing in this house, have it shipped to the love interest, who turns around and ships it overseas as instructed because they think they’re doing a good deed. This is a little different since an authentic credit card account was used, but it’s a similar scam. Or perhaps Chester was using both methods.”
“Right,” Candace said. “B.J., we need Tom’s clout right now. I want you to hunt him down, explain this theory and have him call the computer forensics lab where we sent those computers. Even if Chester or someone else deleted information, knowing what might have been deleted will make the lab’s job easier. Pressure from the police chief will be more effective than if it came from me.”
“I’ll get right on it.” He set the camera on the kitchen table and was gone so fast I hardly had time to blink.
Candace already had box number twenty open.
“Should I operate the camera?” I asked.
“No. That would create problems if this case goes to court. I’ll do it. But you can number boxes. Start in this room with number twenty-one and then all we have left is the living room and dining room, thank goodness. This has been tedious, but evidence work has to be done right.”
“I got that message the first day we met,” I said with a smile.
I finished numbering the boxes in both areas and returned to the kitchen to find Candace dictating into her phone. The particular box she was inventorying was filled with new toasters—and not cheap ones, either.
Candace shook her head and looked down at the toasters. “I swear Chester was starting his own big-box store.”
“There are online stores, you know. It’s not just eBay anymore. I have my own online site for selling cat quilts with ‘buy’ buttons.”
Candace gave me that look again, like her mind was going a hundred miles an hour. “Craigslist isn’t the only game in town, either. This could be nationwide, and that means transporting stolen goods across state lines. If Tom thinks Captain Osborne is a pain about butting in, the FBI is about a million times wors
e. For now, why don’t we keep this to ourselves until the computer forensics come back?”
My heart sank. “If Minnie had knowledge of what Chester was doing, could she be arrested by the FBI?”
“That’s a worst-case scenario, Jillian. A woman with a brain tumor who was so confused she wandered away from her house wouldn’t be considered a criminal mastermind.”
“But that means there is a criminal mastermind. And whoever it was came into this house and killed a man. Why?”
“Because despite that quote from Proverbs about honor among thieves, it simply isn’t so.”
Twenty-two
When B.J. returned to the Schultz house, Tom accompanied him. The two brought sub sandwiches, bottled water, and a carafe of sweet tea as well as a bag of paper cups and plates and a mountain of napkins.
I’d missed Tom so much in the last few days, but if he did end up taking the police chief job permanently, I would have to get used to him spending long hours when cases like this landed in his lap. Thank goodness it probably wouldn’t happen often.
I found a tablecloth in the dining room sideboard and we spread it out on the kitchen floor. Tom and I sat with our knees touching. I was happy to spend even a small amount of time near him.
After I swallowed down the first bite of a veggie sandwich—and it tasted so good—I said, “Any luck on the computer front?”
“Don’t I wish,” Tom said. “I called in a few favors with the bosses and they’ve put a rush on it. We still have no idea if there’s anything of value on that laptop. Chester’s work computer is at the lab, too, so we’re dealing with three computers now. Morris took almost everything from his office and booked it as evidence.”
“Everything?” Candace asked.
Tom picked up the second half of his sandwich. “There wasn’t much to take. I spoke to Sara Jo, the young woman who answers the phones at the county shelter and relays calls to Chester about animals in need of care. She says she found his office unlocked the day he died. That was unusual. So far, we haven’t found his work keys. They weren’t in the jeans he wore the day he died. My guess is, the killer took them and went to the office. Any piece of evidence on Chester’s body that would lead us to our murderer was probably removed by that person—phones, keys, who knows what else.”
“Are Minnie’s sons still suspects? Because I saw them when I went to the hospital this morning,” I said. “I hear you were there, too, Tom.”
“Though I had to talk to those brothers, I didn’t want to interrupt them in the waiting area while their mother was having brain surgery. Thank goodness the hospital that early in the morning is pretty quiet and I was able to conduct a short interview. They both swore they’ve had little contact with her mother since she went—what was the medical term Harris Schultz used? Oh, that’s right. Bonkers.”
I shook my head sadly. “Why are those twins so unkind when it comes to their mother’s condition? Do they think she was confused and taking in cats because she was simply eccentric?”
Candace wiped mustard off her lips. “Mental health issues are so misunderstood. A lot of times I think people are plain scared and don’t know how to react. Even cops sometimes freak out around the mentally ill. It’s because there’s an unpredictable element and cops hate that.”
I shook my head. “That doesn’t excuse those twins’ behavior. I spoke to them and I heard Harris use the word nuts to describe Minnie.”
B.J., who’d been quietly finishing off half a sandwich, said, “I take it you didn’t like them, Jillian?”
“I hate to say I didn’t like them, seeing as how I only just met them. They’re an odd pair, though. They upset me because Minnie is really so sweet. Let’s say they made me uncomfortable.”
“I’ll second that,” Tom said. “But I found out something important when I talked to Greta alone. She believes her brothers were more interested in their mother’s money than her well-being. They kind of abandoned Mrs. Schultz when she wouldn’t write them any more checks for weekend parties at their apartment. But now that they understand how seriously ill she’s been all this time, Greta Kramer saw hints of remorse.”
“Minnie has money?” I glanced around the room. “She lived pretty simply.”
“The daughter might not be the best person to inform on them,” Tom said. “She said her parents always favored the boys. To quote her, they were ‘spoiled rotten’ growing up and she sounded jealous. As far as this money? I’m not saying she was a millionaire, but we’ll know soon enough. The bank promised me a full report of all her accounts this afternoon.”
“Finally,” Candace said.
Tom said, “She’s not dead, so it makes it more difficult to get financial information, especially since there are relatives involved. I had to convince the bank that Mrs. Schultz was a suspect. Now it seems she could still be a suspect considering all this merchandise in the boxes.”
I shook my head emphatically. “I don’t believe it for a second, Tom. She was hoodwinked into whatever was going on here by Chester. She’s not a criminal.”
“I trust your intuition, Jilly. I do. But we have to eliminate Mrs. Schultz with hard evidence. The possibility of the FBI sticking their nose into our business has me more bothered than Osborne being so persistent. I’m beginning to wonder if he knew about this and wants to come off as the hero if the Feds do have to come to town.”
“How would he have known, Chief?” B.J. asked.
“Captain Osborne’s been a cop for a long time. He has an informant network that I can’t begin to access yet. It takes several years to get all your crooks in line—the ones who would be good candidates for informant duty. If he knows something, I sure wish he’d share it.”
I laughed. “Get your crooks in line? Really?”
“That’s how it works,” Candace said. “Unfortunately, most of the idiots I approach to help me out with info either hit on me or declare their sincere hope I’ll become more than just a cop seeking information one day in the future. You don’t know how much I hate that.”
“Oh, I believe I have a good idea.” I smiled at her and noticed B.J. nodding emphatically. He got it, too.
Since we’d finished eating, we gathered the trash and refolded the tablecloth. I opened the drawer in the sideboard, ready to put it away, and then wondered if I should take the cloth home and wash it first. But was I allowed to remove anything from the house? I was about ready to ask Tom, who was still in the kitchen, when I noticed the corner of something in the drawer in the middle of a thick pile of place mats. It looked like paper. Surely they’d gone through all these drawers looking for evidence.
But I remembered this sideboard had been completely blocked off by boxes before we started clearing the room. Could they have missed searching these drawers? I decided whatever it was, I didn’t want to risk touching it.
“Um, Tom? Could you come in here?” I called.
Maybe something in my tone cued all three of them, because Candace, B.J. and Tom responded to my plea.
I pointed at the tiny corner of what looked like white paper. “I didn’t want to touch that.”
Candace was quick to respond. “Could be nothing, but I’ll get my camera.”
She’d brought her evidence satchel into the kitchen this morning so we could have extra gloves as we went through boxes. She fetched her camera and took several shots of the paper. Meanwhile, Tom had pulled gloves from his trouser pocket and snapped them on. Once Candace was finished, he carefully lifted off the ivory quilted place mats.
B.J., craning to see over my shoulder, said, “Those look like the same journal pages Minnie had in those books we carted off.”
“That’s exactly what they are,” Candace declared. “Look at the date on this top page. Last month. Yes.” She pumped her fist and then took more pictures.
Tom picked up the top page with his now-gloved hand and Candace
photographed the second one. It looked as if there were three in total. He was reading the first page and said, “This will take some time. Obviously the woman wasn’t in her right mind when she wrote this—if these pages are hers, that is. She’s writing about naming cats.”
“Wow,” I said. “But could she even keep track of all those kitties in the state she was in?”
“I don’t know. You’ve actually spoken to the woman,” Tom said. “What do you think?”
“Maybe it was a way to cling to her sanity,” I offered. “She only had two things in her life—Chester coming around and the cats. I’d take comfort in the cats, and one way to do that is by making them special, by giving them a name she could recall.”
Candace stared at one of the pages. “Can’t assume, Tom, I know, but I saw the writing in the other journals and though this is scrawled, it’s very similar.”
“And seems to make little sense,” he replied. “Let’s hope we can decipher what she felt she needed to write down.”
“There could be nuggets of truth hidden in these pages, especially since she felt the need to keep these pages separate.” Candace set down her camera and opened one evidence bag for each page. The writing was easily seen through the clear plastic and I was sure Candace would devote all her concentration to deciphering whatever she could.
I said, “Maybe when Minnie is out of that postsurgical coma, she’ll offer an insight. That is, if she even remembers writing any of this.”
Tom put an arm around my shoulder and pulled me to his side. “Nice job, Detective.”
“I’ll bet when I took the tablecloth out of the drawer, the top place mats slipped a little and that’s why I saw what I did.”
B.J. grinned. “Thank goodness for a woman who needs a tablecloth for a take-out lunch.”
But I could tell Candace wasn’t happy these pages had been missed. Her facial muscles were tight and her frown was fierce. “I’m sorry, Tom. We should have found this right away.”
“Are you kidding? Sometimes it takes a half dozen searches to find everything, especially in a house this jam-packed with merchandise. The most important thing is that we did find them. Do you consider yourself perfect, Detective Carson?” He was smiling.
The Cat, the Collector and the Killer Page 16