by Mike Faricy
We chatted for another hour, then went to bed. Other than Morton poking me with his nose a half-dozen times, the rest of the night passed uneventfully.
Morton gave me a serious poke just before six the following morning and wouldn’t stop until I climbed out of bed. I threw my clothes on and tiptoed out of the room. I let Morton out, put on a pot of coffee, then grabbed a shovel from the attached garage and cleaned up after him. I was just finishing my third mug of coffee when Bonnie strolled into the kitchen area.
She’d pulled on a terrycloth robe that was thick enough to hide all her attributes.
“Is there any coffee left?” she asked, then stood there sort of scratching her head like she wasn’t sure exactly where she was.
“Yeah, let me get you a cup. Can I make you breakfast?”
“You can in a bit. Let me get some coffee down first and see if I can wake up.”
We didn’t talk while she drank her coffee. As I refilled her mug she said, “Did you think any more about what you’re going to do with that idiot Wayne?”
“I don’t think I’m going to do anything unless he comes around again, and then I think I’ll just detain him and call the police.”
“You mean, you’re going to let him get away with it?”
“Get away with what?”
“Well, breaking in, for starters, and…”
“Actually, if you’ll recall, he never got into the house. The only reason the door to the deck was open is because I unlocked it and then slid the thing open, and that was just so I could crack Wayne over the head. He got a goose egg on his forehead and his nose broken. He’s in trouble to the tune of a hundred bucks with that skinny guy who pushed him down in Benny’s. The way it looks to me, if we just leave him to his own devices he’ll probably keep screwing up and pissing people off. Not exactly the best plan for the future.”
“I s’pose,” she said and sipped some coffee.
“Anything from downstairs?”
“You mean Iggy?”
“Is there anyone else down there in the dark?”
“Very funny. No, he sent a note out with his dinner dish last night. Said he felt a series of unusually strong electromagnetic pulses the other night and wondered if I was aware of anything.”
“Really?”
Bonnie looked at me for a moment. “Dev, he probably heard something and either stepped outside and watched or crept upstairs in the dark and watched.”
“Other than you yelling a number of colorful things at Wayne, I didn’t think we made that much noise.”
“”We didn’t, but he often works through the night, I told you he’s on some sort of lunar schedule.”
“Oh, yeah, the moon. How could I forget?”
“Well, like I said, it seems to work. What about that guy you followed?”
“The guy in the Jag? I’ve got a contact in the DMV, I’ll call in the license number and find out who it’s registered to. See if that links with the house address where it was parked and then take it from there.”
“Then what will you do?”
“I’m not sure.”
Chapter Sixteen
I phoned my contact in the Department of Motor Vehicles. We had our standard conversation, except she’d apparently been promoted and had a private office, so now she didn’t have to whisper when she swore at me.
“Department of Motor Vehicles, how may I direct your call?”
“Donna Fenster, please, at extension three-three-one.”
“One moment, please, and I’ll connect…Oh, umm, I’m showing a Donna McCloud at that location. Does that sound right?”
I had no idea. “Yeah, sorry, my mistake, I think that’s her.”
“One moment, please, I’ll connect you.”
Donna answered on the third ring. “Department of Motor Vehicles, this is Donna. How may I help you?”
“Hey, Donna, long time no talk. I wonder if…”
“Gee, now just who did I piss off to get this call?”
“Hey, I don’t know if I ever congratulated you on your promotion. Congratulations. I…”
“Thanks,” she said sounding less than genuine. “Almost a year late, but thanks anyway. Now I can cross that off my list. Do I even need to ask why you’re wasting my time on the phone?”
“The sooner you give me two tiny bits of information the sooner I’m off your phone and out of your hair.”
“And let me just save you the effort it will take to threaten me once again with exposure. Tell me what you need.”
“First of all, what’s with the name change? Did you remarry or go back to your maiden name?”
“None of your business. Now, I’m going to ask you one more time, and then I’m going to hang up if you don’t tell me what you want.”
“Okay, sorry I tried to show an interest in your personal life and maybe move our relationship along, I…”
“Let me be very clear, we do not have a relationship. I’m warning you, you’ve got about five seconds left before I…”
“Can you look up this license number for me, please?” I said trying to sound as sweet as possible and then I gave her the license number from the Jag.
“Hold on for a moment,” she said, then half whispered, “Bastard,” before she put me on hold. She was back about a minute later. “Okay, you got a color crayon and a clean spot on the wall to write this down? Because I’m only going to tell you once. That’s a 2016 ‘F’ type model on the Jag, they go for around eighty grand, if I’m not mistaken. Color is British Racing Green, does that sound right?”
“Yeah, I guess so. I mean it’s dark green.”
“And you’re supposed to be an investigator? My God. The vehicle is registered to a Niles Wegger. I suppose you want a home address.”
“If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Will it get you off the phone?”
“Yes, give me a home address and I’m gone.”
“Oh, if only it were that simple. Niles Wegger, his residence is listed as…” then she read me the cul-de-sac address I’d written down last night. “One more thing, Mr. Haskell, listen closely. Asshole,” she shouted and then hung up.
Nice to know I still had that effect on some people. In Donna’s case, I’d caught her in a passionate relationship with an underage college intern some years back. I wasn’t sure what the deal was with the different surname, not that I really cared. She still gave me the information I needed, and as long as I didn’t call too often I felt I would be able to hold her intern relationship over her head as long as she was employed by the DMV.
Based on the information I’d just received, Niles Wegger had driven home after threatening Wayne at Benny’s. As far as I knew he remained home for the evening. Time to find out what I could about the man.
Chapter Seventeen
I phoned Bonnie first. She answered with “Yeah, Dev, what is it?” sounding rushed.
“Hey, Bonnie, sorry to bother you. The name Niles Wegger ring a bell with you?”
“No, no, not really. Why, should it?”
“Too soon to tell, apparently that’s the guy that shoved Wayne at Benny’s, the guy I followed home. I’m just beginning to check some things out. I was going to send Iggy an email, but I don’t have his address, could you…?”
“Don’t bother emailing him, it will just drop into his junk file. He’s got about a dozen different security setups, not to mention the one he wrote. Were you going to ask him about that name? This Wegger guy?”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact.”
“You mind if I just ask him? Probably get you an answer that much faster.”
“No, please do.”
“Good, you’re here tonight, right?’
“That okay with you?”
“More than okay. Sorry if I was a drag last night. I’ll make it up to you tonight.”
“You don’t have to do…”
“No offense, but I was thinking of my needs just now. If you feel guilty you could go ahead and
bring dinner again.”
“I will, let’s have a relaxing night. I’ll see you a little after seven if that’s okay.”
“More than okay, it’s perfect.”
“What are you hungry for?”
“Other than my earlier request? Go ahead and surprise me. I’m cooking hot dogs for Iggy so don’t worry about him.”
“See you around seven,” I said and hung up. It gave me the better part of the day to see what I could learn about scrawny Niles Wegger.
* * *
“Yeah, Niles Wegger, I looked him up after you called,” Wendy said, then took a sip from her glass of Chardonnay.
We were sitting in Kincaid’s, one of the more trendy restaurants in town, which maybe explained why I wasn’t in here all that often. A few years back Wendy and I had a romance that lasted no more than a couple of weeks. We’d been pulled over for Driving Under the Influence, Wendy was behind the wheel. Fortunately, an old hockey buddy was the officer that pulled us over and, since I was in the passenger seat and Wendy only lived four blocks away, he made us turn over the keys and walk home. We picked up the keys at the station the following morning. Wendy was forever thankful for my involvement and at the same time blamed me for being even more intoxicated than she was. Since she worked for the Attorney General’s office, continued association with me seemed to not be in the best interest of her career. Over time we eventually became friends again.
“He’s a pretty slippery guy. Probably worked a number of scams around the world, through a bunch of intermediaries.”
“Around the world?”
“Yeah. That’s not as big a deal as it sounds with today’s online opportunities. He was suspected of being connected to various scams coming out of India, Pakistan, Russia, Estonia, Brazil. He can do it all from his kitchen counter, he doesn’t actually have to travel there.
“Was he arrested? Did he serve time?”
“No, nothing like that. There’s so many versions and angles these guys run, not to mention the sheer layers we’d have to go through to get them. We have all we can handle just trying to catch the crooks here.”
“But you just said he didn’t travel to any of these places.”
“Yeah, and I also said he was suspected. But nothing we could prove conclusively.”
“So, what exactly is he suspected of doing?”
She sort of looked over her shoulder and scanned the room. “Not like it’s an ongoing investigation or anything, but I still shouldn’t be telling you this.”
“I just want to know about the guy. But if what you tell me has any connection to my clients, I’ll tell you, and it might turn out to be the kind of investigation you could hang your hat on.”
She seemed to think about that for a moment and drained her glass. The bartender stepped in front of us and gave a questioning look. I nodded and he went to get another glass of Chardonnay and a beer for me.
“I probably shouldn’t,” Wendy said, then waited until the fresh glass was delivered and she took a sip.
“So, Niles Wegger?” I asked.
“Okay. He’s a local guy. Studied at the U. Did grad work at MIT and before that something at Carnegie Mellon. You have to be a real egghead to get in those places. Rumor is he went from MIT to some government thing.”
“Government thing?”
“I don’t know, we basically got an access denied sort of reply from the feds.”
“The State Attorney General’s office was told access denied?”
“Yeah, happens more than you’d care to know. Well, that is until some sort of problem becomes public, and then it’s suddenly our fault or local law enforcement.”
I was thinking of Iggy. Bonnie had said that he’d worked for some department in the government with a big acronym. “So you’ve no idea what government agency he worked for?”
“No, but that’s not really here nor there, well, except it might suggest a skill level, a particular capability. The things we attempted to link him to, along with a dozen other states, was a number of fake tech scams.”
“Fake tech scams?”
“Yeah, there are, or were, a number of different versions. One would be a recording that suddenly comes across your screen with maybe a sign flashing that says ‘warning’ and it gives you a number to call. Another version is some guy calls you and says he’s from Microsoft or Windows or someplace and they’ve received an alert that your security has been breached.”
I took a sip of my beer and thought about that for a moment. “I’m not a real savvy computer guy.”
“Except on the porn sites. Remember, you showed me that one.”
“Oh, yeah, but I was just looking around online and ran across that one.”
“Yeah, sure you did. Anyway, the scam, people call the number or talk to the guy if someone called them. They have you download a program, some sort of remote desktop software that gives them access to your computer and allows them to gather all sorts of personal information. Then they try and scam you into paying a couple hundred bucks for a security package that’s probably already on your computer.”
“And Niles Wegger is suspected of making these calls.”
“No, he’s way up the food chain. They’ve got minimum wage geeks making the call from India or wherever. We suspect he’s scammed folks out of millions over the years. He’d set the thing up somewhere outside of the US, then shut it down after a short amount of time and start up the next day from somewhere else in the world. They call using a voiceover IP that costs them absolutely nothing and hides their identity. They can call you from absolutely anywhere in the world.”
“If Wegger set this up, can’t you nail him?”
“We’ve been unable to sufficiently link him to any of this and frankly don’t have the technology or the staff. He’d have to get charged by the feds, and then we would probably ride on their coattails. Anyway, that’s about it on my end. What do you have for me?”
“Something equally as vague, maybe.” I went on to tell her about Bonnie and Iggy and the software they planned to release. I told her about Wayne and his failed break-in and his brief conversation with Niles Wegger the following evening.
“So, based on Wegger shouting something about a hundred bucks, you figure he wanted a layout of this woman’s house?”
“Yeah. The idiot that tried to break in…”
“This Wayne guy, her ex-husband.”
“Yeah, he said someone gave him a hundred bucks, cash. Then Wegger is yelling about it the following night.”
“Kind of thin,” she said and took a sip of wine.
“Well, the other thing is this Iggy character, the guy wrapped in tinfoil. He told Bonnie that he worked for some government agency, a department with some sort of long acronym name. Maybe it’s that top secret joint where Wegger worked.”
“Hmmm-mmm. This Iggy person, what’s his full name?”
“God, I never thought to ask.”
“And you’re the private investigator?”
“Yeah, I know.”
Chapter Eighteen
Morton and I showed up promptly at seven with dinner and two bottles of wine. Morton had already been walked and fed, not that he wouldn’t beg at the table.
“Thank God,” Bonnie said when she opened the door. She tore the bottles of wine from my hand. “Come on, I’m literally starving, afraid I was going to waste away.”
I followed her up the stairs carrying the bag from Fat Daddy’s, the rib place in the same building as my office. “I got you a nice salad.”
She turned and stared at me for a moment. “A salad? Do you have any idea what my day has been like? You better be carrying more than a salad in that bag, Mister, or you’re on the couch tonight and Morton can have your place in the bed.”
“Just kidding, my little bird-dropping, I brought you ribs, from Fat Daddy’s.”
“Ribs? Okay, you’re back in my good graces, at least temporarily, and I’ll just forget that little bird shit remark.”
&
nbsp; She had calmed substantially halfway through her first glass of wine. It was a gorgeous, still evening, just the right temperature with birds chirping their ‘good night’ songs. We were sitting out on the deck chewing on delicious ribs and eating coleslaw from a shared container. The sun was almost down and Morton was under the table gnawing on a bone that Bonnie had given him when she thought I wasn’t looking.
“I never asked you Iggy’s full name.”
“Iggy? I think he goes by Iggy almost exclusively. I’ve never seen anything official like a driver’s license or a passport. I don’t know about a passport, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have a license. Tell you the truth, I don’t even know if he can drive.”
“So you don’t know his actual name?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s Ignatius Arnold. But I’ve always referred to him as Iggy.”
“How is his mail addressed?”
“What mail? He’s never gotten any.”
“Never…How can that be? Everyone get’s mail, even if it’s just junk mail.”
“I don’t recall ever seeing any for him. Think about it, he’s a super computer nerd. He lives here. What expenses does he have?”
“But doesn’t he have a bank account or insurance or something?”
“Not that I’m aware of, Dev, he’s a computer nerd. He does all that stuff online. I mean, no offense, but he just might be a little more tech savvy than you or even me. Hey, pass me that plate of ribs, God, these things are good.”
“So did you ask him about Niles Wegger?” I asked as I passed the ribs to her.
“Yeah, I’d love to tell you he gave me a strange look, but we were talking to one another through the closed door. I just thought there was sort of a funny or maybe a surprised tone in his voice, but I couldn’t be sure.”
“What did he say?”
“Umm, he just said he’d have to get back to me. Why, who is he?”
“I did some checking today. Turns out that’s the name of the guy I think gave Wayne the hundred bucks to get a layout of your home. I talked to someone I know in the Attorney General’s office and they have a file on him, although they’ve never charged or prosecuted the guy. They suspect he’s created all sorts of computer scams, stealing personal information and stuff. The interesting thing is that he worked for some top secret government department or agency, and not even the Attorney General’s office could get info on what it was.”