THE CLUB - ANGIE BARTONI CASE FILE

by Marshall Huffman

  “SO you think the braces just folded themselves and it toppled over just like that?” he said pointing at the ladder.

  “It could have happened. Maybe he didn’t get them locked. I mean he wasn’t too worried about safety.”

  “Fine, it’s suicide, I’m going home.”

  “No you’re not. I don’t buy the suicide either. This poor bastard was strung up,” I told him.

  “Then let’s get to work,” Sorenson said.

  We spent the next three hours walking the grid, taking measurements, and the thousand and one details that make up a case. The CSI took a few hundred pictures and who knows how many megabytes of film.

  **

  When we were finished downstairs we went up to find Doctor Rotelli sitting in what must have been a family room except he had no family. It was kind of sad in a way.

  “Doctor Rotelli, it looks like we meet again,” I said taking a seat directly across from him.

  “It does seem to be our lot,” he replied.

  “Why don’t you tell me what happened.”

  “I have no idea.”

  “I mean how you came to find Wesley Asher hanging in your basement. The last time we talked you said you never went down there. Suddenly there you are and of all things you find your attorney hanging from the rafters,” I said looking him directly in the eye.

  I wanted him to feel uncomfortable. The guy was starting to really bug me. First his wife is dead and he claims to know nothing about what she is up to and now his attorney is dead as well.

  “I just wanted to see where all of this took place. I heard so much about our infamous basement or theater as some call it. I decided to see for myself.”

  “So you just go down there and find Asher hanging?”

  “That’s right.”

  “How did he get in the house?’

  “I have no idea. I can only speculate.”

  “Please, do that for me,” I said.

  “I would imagine Mimi gave him a key. From what I have discovered, it appears that he was more than just my attorney. As I understand it, he was having some kind of relationship with my wife,” he said, breaking eye contact and looking down at the floor.

  “And you knew nothing about any of this until it all came out in the papers.”

  “That’s right. If I had known, I would have fired him immediately.”

  “Doctor Rotelli, I’m sure you are going to take offense at this but frankly I don’t care at this point. Something is way off here. You let her do whatever she wanted, you didn’t know about the basement and you didn’t know about your attorney’s relationship with Mimi. For a smart guy you sound pretty stupid,” I told him.

  He didn’t answer but just looked at his hands.

  “Do you want to tell me what is really going on here?” I said after a few seconds.

  “My wife and I had an arrangement. She was my wife when I needed her for various events, when it was appropriate for me to have a companion. Other than that, we lived pretty much separate lives. She never asked what I was doing and I never asked about what she was doing. It worked for us.”

  “I sense a ‘but’ in there.”

  “Alright. I found out she had quite a huge amount of money stashed away. Don’t ask me how but I do have resources the average person doesn’t have. The bottom line is that she had been putting away a lot of money. Some of it was hers and some of it was being siphoned off of our joint accounts. We had a big fight about it and I told her that I would throw her out on her ear if this continued.”

  “Go on.”

  “She stopped.”

  “Just like that?”

  “She kept making deposits but not from anything she was skimming off of our personal account.”

  “How much did she have tucked away?” I asked.

  “Twenty-two million and change.”

  I felt like slapping him into next week. The change was probably more than I would make in the next ten years.

  “That’s a hell of a lot of money.”

  “It’s all in your perspective I suppose. Detective Bartoni I have a net worth of someplace around three hundred and fifty million. Twenty-two million is a drop in the bucket by comparison,” he said.

  He wasn’t being smug; it was just the way his mind worked. More was better.

  “So you threatened her,” I said, trying to get back on track.

  “Threatened to throw her out. Not threatened her physically,” Rotelli corrected.

  “And Wesley Asher. You found out about them but not until just yesterday when this hit the papers. Is that what you are telling me?”

  “That is correct. I may have had some suspicions but frankly I was not concerned enough to look into it.”

  “Doctor Rotelli, do you really expect me to believe that it didn’t bother you to have your attorney that you were paying big bucks for, have an affair your wife? Taking part in sex shows in your basement? Give me a break doctor. I may not have three hundred million dollars but I’m not stupid either.

  “Detective Bartoni, I know you find it impossible to believe but that is the way it was.”

  “You know what I really find hard to believe? That you could be such a cold fish.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “And you’re absolutely sure it wasn’t a suicide in reaction to the publicity?” McGregor asked.

  “Absolutely? No. But Dan, Doctor Sorenson, and I all think it was staged to make it look like a suicide. It was too perfect. We didn’t find a ‘goodbye cruel world’ note either. If he was sorry for what he had done he would have left a note. Have you ever know an attorney that could keep their yap shut and not have the final word? I don’t think so,” I replied.

  “The CSI lab said that the chances of the ladder folding up like that after being kicked over were one in ten thousand,” Dan added.

  “But it is possible,” McGregor insisted.

  “I suppose,” Dan acknowledged.

  “Where does that leave us?” the captain asked.

  “Up the proverbial creek without a paddle,” I answered.

  “Excellent. Did CSI come up with anything helpful?”

  “Not yet, but they’ve just begun. I had them start with the ladder. If it was a suicide it will have Asher’s fingerprints on it. He didn’t wear gloves to hang himself.”

  “Could Rotelli have done it?” McGregor asked.

  “It would have been difficult. He certainly wasn’t physically able to lift him up and hang him like that. Not many people will willingly get up on a ladder knowing that someone is going to kill you by slowly strangling you. Even if he had a gun on him, I don’t think so. I mean think about it. If someone said get up there on the ladder or I’ll shoot you, what would you do? Most people would at least try to get the gun away. You know you are going to die one way or the other. Personally, I would rather get shot and get it over with,” I told the captain.

  “Marsha, what do you think?”

  “Pretty much what Angie said. If you know you are going to die, take the fast way out.”

  “So if Rotelli didn’t do it, who did?”

  “I don’t know,” was all I could answer.

  **

  “Where do we go from here?” Dan asked.

  “We need to find out more about Mimi. There is still too much information about her that’s missing. Doing some quick math, her little club could have brought in maybe a shade over a million. Not that that is chump change but it is certainly not twenty-two million. We know she took some from Gill but even he or his accountant would have noticed that much gone. So where did she get the rest of the money?”

  No one said anything for several moments. I waited because I wanted to see if anyone else was thinking what I was thinking.

  “It had to be blackmail,” Brad said at last.

  “That’s right. Nothing else makes sense. So, who could afford twenty million? When I look at the list, the answer is no one. Not one person on the list has that kind of money. If they did
they would have had her killed by a professional. The way she was killed tells me that it was not done professionally. No pro is going to hope he finds a knife handy. Also, the nature of the wounds makes it look personal. A pro would do it from a distance with a gun or bomb, not a knife where too many things can go wrong.”

  “Okay, I can see that. So it was someone who was fed up with being bilked and they put an end to it.”

  “Not exactly. I mean maybe someone actually killed her but I think it was a group decision to get rid of her.”

  “Angie, that’s just a little farfetched. I mean think about that. Anytime you get two or more people together and start talking about killing someone it is going to fall apart at some point. Someone will want to back out. A group decision like that is almost impossible to keep quiet. Someone will blab,” Marsha interjected.

  “I’m not saying they won’t in time but right now they have circled the wagons and are protecting one another. I keep thinking about Asher. He may have been the weak link so he had to be eliminated too,” I told them.

  “You mean it was a group effort to hang him?”

  “I don’t honestly know but we can’t rule it out.”

  “Come on Angie. You think they got together and said, we need to kill Mimi? Later when Wesley started showing signs of cracking they said, ‘Hey, we need to get rid of him too’. I’ve been around a lot of cases but I’ve never had one where a group decision was made to start killing people.”

  “So you weren’t ever in the military service?”

  “What? I don’t get it,” Brad replied.

  “They are a group that says, hey let’s go kill people in another country.”

  “Oh hell, that is not the same thing. Not by a long shot. That isn’t the way it works in the military.”

  “What is different about it?”

  “The President determines that. Not some enlisted man someplace,” Brad replied.

  “Maybe they have their own President as well. Someone who is the leader. Someone they look up to for guidance and direction.”

  “You don’t really believe that do you?” Marsha asked.

  “I don’t know what to believe at this point but I know I’m certainly not going to rule out anything until I have looked at it from every conceivable angle.”

  “Lord. They said you were tenacious.”

  “They said I was hardheaded,” I replied.

  “Well that too, but I was trying to be nice,” Brad said.

  **

  For the first time since my knee was operated on, I felt strong enough to get my car out of the lot and get it cleaned up. The snow was mostly gone and the Healy looked pretty rugged at the moment.

  It wasn’t easy. I had to put my hand on my left knee and help push it for the clutch. It took me a little longer than normal and I took off in second gear a lot of the time to save one extra shift.

  By the time I got home my leg was throbbing and starting to swell up. I limped into the house, made an ice pack, and headed back into the front room. Flicking on the television I caught a caption that said ‘House of Sin Murders’.

  Boy, it doesn’t take long for them to put a tag on something. House of Sin. Who sits around and thinks that crap up? As usual it was mostly speculation, innuendos, and a few down right lies. That is pretty much what Americans have come to expect with today’s reporting.

  I kept the ice pack on my aching knee for all of ten minutes before I decided that was enough of that. I can do the heating pad but ice isn’t my cup of tea.

  I sat and flipped through channels and at some point I must have drifted off because it was going on 3:00 a.m. when I finally woke up. My leg was stiff and throbbing again but I dragged myself to bed and flopped down fully dressed. I simply didn’t have the energy to take off my clothes. It was one of those strange nights. I don’t know if it was my knee throbbing or my mind just racing but I drifted in and out of sleep. It was a long and miserable night.

  CHAPTER S IXTEEN

  I was still groggy the next morning and believe it or not, I decided to call Dan and have him pick me up rather than struggle with shifting gears in the Healy.

  “Hey Dan.”

  “Angie? What’s wrong?”

  “I need you to pick me up this morning.”

  Silence.

  “Dan?”

  “Sorry, I was waiting for the punch line. This for real?”

  “It is. My knee just isn’t ready for the stiff clutch in the Healy.”

  “Okay then, I’ll zip by in about half an hour if that works for you.”

  “That would be great.”

  When I hung up I took a quick shower, washed my hair, and even shaved under my arms. I looked at my legs but decided I could go one more day.

  By the time I was put together Dan was pulling into the drive. I hobbled out to the car and got it.

  “Thanks,” I told him.

  “No problem. I didn’t really see how you were going to drive that thing with your knee like that.

  “I guess I’m not quite as tough as I thought. I’ll check out a department car for a few days,” I told him.

  “I can pick up you up and drop you off. You don’t need to do that.”

  “Yes I do, I need my independence,” I replied.

  “Okay but I would be glad to help.”

  We drove the rest of the way just hashing over the case. Neither of us had a clue as to where to start. We were hoping the lab reports would point us in the right direction.

  **

  “Good morning Angie. Dan,” Brad said when we came up the stairs at the station.

  “Brad.”

  “Angie, do you have a minute. I need to bend your ear about something,” Brad said.

  “Sure. Let me get my breakfast and we can use the conference room.

  Five minutes later I had my coconut donuts and a Diet Coke and was sitting across from Brad.

  “I hope this isn’t what I think it is,” I warned him.

  “Angie. Look I know you like it here. You’re comfortable swimming in this little pool but you really should consider coming into the FBI. You are exactly what we are looking for. The time would never be better. We have a real need for smart, dedicated Agents. Let me ask you something,” he said.

  “It’s your show, ask whatever you want.”

  “Where do you go from here if you stay a Detective? What is your next advancement? You become a captain? Let’s say that happens, how happy will you be sitting in an office like Captain McGregor does every day. You know half his job is smoothing feathers. Often ones you have ruffled. He deals with manpower, budgets, PR, and a lot of other crap that is just not up your alley. You are a field cop. You need to be out in the real world. How is that going to happen if you stay here? At what point are you going to want more and find the road closed? People like you and me are meant to be on the front lines.”

  “Look Brad, I hear you. I really do but I am not ready to make that leap. I enjoy what I do right now but I do understand what you are saying. You’re right; I don’t belong in an office. Hell I wouldn’t last a week sitting on my butt behind a desk. I’ve thought it over several times since we talked last and I realize you are probably right,” I told him, “But I don’t know if the FBI is really the place for me. You guys are pretty structured. I have a certain amount of autonomy where I am now. I dress like I want, come and go pretty much as I feel like it and as much as McGregor makes me crazy at times, he is a good boss. He is fair and that can’t always be said for bosses.”

  “So you are dead set against it?” Brad asked.

  “No, not dead set but I’m just not willing to commit to that at this time. The best I can do is promise that after this case is over, I’ll sit down and draw up a list of pros and cons of both jobs and see where I stand then.”

  “Here,” he said sliding a folder over to me, “This is material that simply cannot get out but in order for you to really compare one to the other, you need to read this. I’ll need it back befor
e we leave. Fair enough?”

  “You bet. Brad, I really do appreciate your thinking that highly of me.”

  “You have certainly earned it.”

  **

  “What now partner?” Dan asked when I came back from talking to Brad.

  I know he was dying to know what we were in there talking about and why it took so long but I just wasn’t ready to share that with him at this point in time.

  “We call in Bobby Finks. He is still on our list and we haven’t talked to him. It’s later than I would have liked, he has had plenty of time to cook up a story but we need to cover all of our bases,” I told Dan.

  “I’ll take care of getting him into the box. You can check with the lab and see if they have come up with anything new,” Dan replied.

  My, my. Dan was taking charge. Giving orders. I wasn’t the least bit put off. In fact, I was enjoying it. Dan was going to be a damn good detective at some point

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Have you ever had someone that you instinctively disliked almost on sight? Yeah, I know. How shallow is that? Nevertheless, when I went into the interview room and saw councilman Bobby Finks I just didn’t like the man at all.

  “Mr. Finks, thank you for coming,” I said trying to be pleasant.

  “Like I had much of a choice,” he shot back with an annoying smirk on his face.

  “Sure you did. I could have had Detective Roberts cuff you and drag you in by the back of your coat.”

  “Right.”

  “Mr. Finks. We pretty much already know your involvement with Mrs. Rotelli. We also know you were there the night of February 6th. Several witnesses place you there that night.”

  “Is there a point to this? If you know that what do you want from me?”

  Easy Angie. Don’t let this guy flip your switch. He is a smartass and that always tends to set me off. I needed to take a deep breath.

  “What time did you leave the Rotelli’s house?”

  “I don’t remember. Late.”

  “Late as in 10:00 p.m.? Eleven, or twelve?”

  “Probably around mid-night. Most of the shows are over by then.”

  “We found your prints on the stage. You were a participant as well?”