Ed remembered how startled the little girl had been when he spoke to her this morning. He knew that look. She was hiding. She, too, had gone invisible.
After court, and back in his office, Cat attached the flash drive to his office computer. He entered the security pass code and began his search into the Edward Meyer case file, again. It was Cat’s practice to ‘map’ a case and code each section based on relevance. What he was looking at was clearly the work of Ted’s entire team saving data as they each saw fit. The case had not gone to court, which explained some of the random naming of the folders. This was going to be a big job.
Cat went to the background data on Edward Meyer and saw a file labeled ‘press’. He opened the file and saw notes from Steven Marks, Senior Assistant Attorney General. Marks had a reputation for being a detail guy. He still worked out of the New Orleans office, but had transferred to the fraud division before Cat had come to New Orleans.
Cat scrolled past the first few pages Marks had scanned to the folder. A few headline stories after Meyer’s arrest described Ed as a conspiracy theory nut and a crazy professor.
Marks’s Note: Press release 7-4-2005 / Two days before murdering Molly Jarvis / Evidence of Meyer’s mindset about establishment/
Times-Picayune article: interview of Loyola University Political Science professor Edward J. Meyer:
Interviewer: What response do you have for the comments made by Molly Jarvis yesterday on Meet the Press? She claimed it was evident from your ranting that you should not be in a position of molding young minds.
Edward Meyer: She has to say things like that. Look who she’s married to. I like Molly, we have a friendly agreement to disagree on some topics.
Interviewer: The rumor is that the University has taken her suggestion seriously. Does that concern you?
Edward Meyer: Does it concern me that a private citizen can suggest to an institute of higher learning that a professor may need to be censored? What do you think? Have you offered to let her censor your articles?
Interviewer: You have given your permission for this paper to print your manifesto. In light of these criticisms, are you still comfortable with that?
Edward Meyer: That brief statement suggesting there is a design and plan that controls everything but the weather could hardly be called a manifesto. People who read it and think I’m a nut have either chosen not to think for themselves or have a stake in the design. Why should I care what they think?
Marks’s Note: Manifesto is evidence of Ed Meyer’s ability to construct devious schemes. A physiological analysis of underlying character issues is recommended prior to trial.
Cat scrolled down the page and found a reprint of the so-called manifesto:
If I represented the richest interests in the world, namely oil, and I wanted to ensure that no politics or people would get in my way, I would do the following: First, I would obtain full control of the U.S. Armed Forces. (I would own the Secretary of Defense) No way around it. I would need a hawkish political party in charge of defense and I would want to control the spin and quality of the ‘intelligence’ given to the people in power. (namely the President) I would ensure only my men were appointed to the top positions at the CIA and NSA.
I would want to foster a fear mentality in the American people, so when I said we were being threatened, everyone would climb on my bandwagon and be less likely to object to an unfounded war.
I would cripple the effectiveness of law enforcement through legislation (ATF dismantle policy) and I would do nothing to slow the flow of illegals into the U.S. After all, they are the workers for my drug business. I would lay the economic foundation for a society that is dependent on the government, uneducated and without hope of changing their circumstances. They will be easier to manipulate for future use. Simply threaten their entitlements.
I would get the Supreme Court to reinstate the opportunities for my businesses to contribute unlimited monies to my favorite political agendas and spend billions promoting the premise that ‘clean energies’ are too expensive. I can afford to spend millions for decades discouraging any energy source that isn’t mine to control. Like the sun. Imagine an entire world that looks up and sees the sun every day has been taught to believe it is better to drill our earth. The advertising of ‘clean coal’ being a perfect example of absurd thinking that sells.
I would look at an aging boomer population and promote their use of prescription drugs to the point of dependency. I would confuse the health care system to the point that only the wealthy have adequate care, the rest is all business profit. I would brainwash them with as many commercials for drugs as fast food and then slowly introduce adequate poisons in the pharmaceuticals to ensure large numbers of shortened life spans. (Census shows declining life expectancies already.) This will substantially reduce the threat that Social Security and other social program costs actually start to risk the sacred budgets of my military. (Notice the conversations about reducing SS benefits only got serious when defense spending cuts hit the table.)
I would make sure that my news agencies never reported that the gun manufacturing companies are the only entities currently protected by Congress from any kind of liability litigation and coincidently account for ninety percent of the contributions that fund the NRA. (Contrary to the grass roots propaganda the NRA spouts.)
I could easily accomplish all of this by decades of carefully hand- picked politicians, long term special appointments and legislation that is virtually ineffective. As insurance, I would carefully insert just enough fringe personality types into Congress to ensure a perpetual stalemate. My interests are best served if nothing happens and I have the money to make sure those are the people elected.
Alas, there is only one threat to my design. Free Speech. If I could just find a way to silence those people who challenge conventional wisdom. Thankfully, they seem to do this to each other.
Cat finished reading the manifesto for the second time. Edward Meyer certainly left no one out of his tirade. Cat could see why Molly Jarvis may have found his opinions too hardened for young minds.
Cat marked every file he found for copy to his flash drive. He scanned the documents and photos Reuben had given him into a folder, transferred that to his flash drive and deleted the file from his hard drive. Until he had a chance to review them in private, he wanted to keep them secret. Cat dropped the flash drive into his briefcase to rest next to Reuben’s file and the flash drive of Edward’s arrest. He had no sooner zipped his briefcase closed when Ted knocked on his office door as he opened it.
“Got a minute?” Ted was already taking a seat across from Cat and held a stapled pile of papers in his hands. Cat nodded and Ted continued, “I have six attorneys being assigned to this office effective immediately.” Ted pushed the papers over to Cat to review. “I think you’ll be impressed with who I was able to get for you.”
Cat scanned the names, his eyebrows raised. “How did you get these guys? This is great!”
Ted smiled, “I’m glad you’re pleased. I feel bad leaving you in the middle of this consent decree mess. I know your case load is already heavy.”
Ted shuffled in his seat and said, “I took the liberty of making some case assignment changes there on page two. Anything you don’t like, change. I figured you might appreciate clearing your desk some before the tide rises.”
Cat glanced over Ted’s changes. The people coming in would have no problems picking up these cases and taking them to finish. Cat’s workload had virtually disappeared, if only until the expected storm hit from enforcing the consent decree cases.
Cat exhaled, “Much appreciated. We’re going to miss you once you’re Governor.”
Ted stood to leave and waved his hand in the air, “Hopefully these guys know what they’re talking about. I about crapped when I heard how much money we have to raise.”
Cat pulled out his money clip, “I’ve got a couple of twenties you can have.”
Ted shook his head and looked at the briefca
se on the desk, “You going back to court this late?”
“Taking some work home.” Cat was tempted to ask Ted a couple of questions about Molly’s case and then changed his mind. He really needed to do more research before he began asking questions.
“Has Martha seen these?” Cat had held up the papers Ted had given him.
Ted chuckled, “You know how much she enjoys changes. I thought I’d let you have that pleasure.”
We had been told to wait for Ellen in the park at Transition College in Heaven. Mary and Linda got there first. Teresa had attempted to train me on our GPS watches, but I kept getting lost. This part of my angel training has not gone well. As a mortal, I was considered transportation challenged. Can’t see at night, won’t turn left without a traffic light, no driving on snow. Since we are graded as a group, everyone is doing their part to bring me up to speed.
Mary looked at Teresa, “Well? Where’d you finally find her?”
“Iraq.”
Linda frowned at me, “Why did you go to Iraq?”
Teresa interrupted, “I told her it was time to head back.”
Mary started laughing. “And you heard…?”
I frowned at Mary, “Time you to Iraq. I never flew so fast in my life!” In my defense, I have hearing issues.
Teresa sighed, “I turned around and she was speeding off in the wrong direction.” Now she looked at me, “By the way, why did you keep going back and forth there at the end?”
“I always get Iraq and Iran confused.”
Ellen appeared on a bench across from us and started laughing. “Boy, that last little bit was a riot to watch. Okay, gals, we have to talk about your next assignment.”
Linda raised her hand, “Don’t we have to do more training now? I thought Betty said we still had two classes to finish.”
Betty was one of our angel trainers that Heaven had assigned us. She looked and acted just like Betty White. Ellen was our other angel trainer that looked and acted like Ellen DeGeneres. Heaven decided to allow us to keep a portion of our mortal thinking processes. This is supposed to assist in our assignments helping mortals. Our thinking like mortals and angels at the same time has proven to be a challenge for all involved. Since as mortals, we all loved Betty White and Ellen DeGeneres, Heaven felt it would be comforting for our trainers to appear as them.
Ellen smiled, “You do have more classes to finish, but Vicki’s daughter, Kim, has asked if we could help Roger again. The FBI is sending his whole team back to New Orleans.”
Ellen looked at me, “I know you’re happy to hear Kim will be helping us again.” Ellen was right, Kim had been the only mortal Heaven allowed to see and hear us. Whenever we helped Roger, I got to visit Kim.
Teresa asked Ellen, “What kind of help does Roger need?”
Ellen answered, “Right now I only know about a Senator that was dropped into a sinkhole.”
Linda and Mary looked at each other. Mary gulped, “Uh oh.”
Ellen slapped her knee and laughed. She had read Mary’s mind. “I don’t think you have to go into the sinkhole. Of course things might change…” Oh goody.
Ellen said she was going to let Roger know that we were available to help. She told us to look up Spicey and Sasha at the Voodoo shop.
“Spicey has a little project that will probably involve Roger a little later today. This way we can have a head start.”
Linda raised her hand. “Betty said we can show ourselves to people like Spicey now. Is that right?”
Ellen answered, “You can show yourselves to mortals that have been chosen by spirits. Not just anyone. You can show yourself to Spicey. She can only hear you in her crystal ball. Keep in mind she is still new to all of this and fairly fragile.”
I remembered Spicey and Sasha from our last trip to New Orleans. They are too much fun. This could be a hoot.
Ellen frowned at me, “You keep forgetting we can read your mind.” I don’t forget. I just haven’t figured out how to hide it yet.
Marla watched the video from Reuben’s file on her monitor at work. What the hell just happened to that man? Who is he? Holy shit! Why does Reuben have this? What does it have to do with Catahoula? Marla nervously glanced toward Reuben’s desk. He looked up at that moment and saw her. She bent her head down and cleared her screen pretending to work.
Reuben knew something was wrong. Marla looked guilty. Reuben sent a message to her screen. “What?”
Marla answered, “Nothing.”
Reuben messaged back. “BS.”
Reuben checked his activity log on his computer and saw where Marla had finished his article and sent it to the deadline desk. Then he saw where she had copied a file. Reuben paled when he realized which file she had copied.
He messaged her, “We need to talk. NOW.”
Cat sat clicking his pen as he reviewed archived news articles on Molly Jarvis. He was impressed with the number of community groups that Molly actively supported. He saw photos of her at the food banks, the homeless shelter, and front and center in several public demonstrations. Cat smiled to himself that William probably had his hands full with her. She looked to be in her early fifties but Cat knew she was actually a year older than William’s sixty two.
If Ed Meyer didn’t kill Molly than who did? Cat kept scrolling stories and stopped. Headline: Jarvis v. Boggs, Righteous to clean up Raunchy? The article detailed the relentless war Molly had waged against the strip clubs in the Quarter and surrounding area. She had organized a citizens group of community leaders from the churches, education, and a few political supporters to circulate a petition to limit the activities of the clubs. The petitions had gained enough signatures to be placed on the next ballot.
In addition, she had pressured city officials to enforce penalties against the owners of those establishments for building and conduct violations. Molly had volunteers that provided videos of offenders and offences. She demanded local city officials diligently prosecute and fine the violators whenever warranted, and went public when she believed injustices escaped penalty.
Cat was impressed with the passion Molly brought to her causes. Her comments criticizing Ed Meyer certainly paled to those she made of Dillard Boggs. Boggs, according to the Times-Picayune was the owner of five establishments Molly had vowed to shut down. Cat made a quick note on his pad. A search of court records disclosed that Boggs was no stranger to the New Orleans courts. He also was a named defendant in a class action suit Molly had filed a week before her death. Mr. Boggs had a motive.
Cat was certainly interested in meeting Boggs. Cat ordered a background check and financials and returned to his online search on Molly. A woman this vocal may have angered more than one person enough to wish her dead. The more Cat searched, the longer his list of suspects grew.
Cat knew that dropping the charges against Ed didn’t mean he had to find Molly’s killer. It could be years, or never, for that to happen. Detectives would reopen the files and do exactly what he was doing now. Cat felt almost a sixth sense about this case now. Something was driving him to keep digging.
Tuesday 5:00 pm
Roger and Thor were reviewing the city maps of the cemeteries when SSA Paul Casey stuck his head in the room. “Nobody’s going to welcome me back to New Orleans?”
Roger stood and patted Paul’s back. Roger and Paul were often a team. Thor called them Batman and Robin when they weren’t around to hear. Roger stood back and gave Paul a ‘once over’ glance, “Good to see you. Looks like you got a nice tan on your vacation.”
Paul grinned and shook Thor’s hand, “Best vacation in years. Mexican beach, bikinis, and booze.” Paul looked at Roger, “Then you called.” Paul was such a handsome man the FBI actually had his picture on their recruiting brochures. He had the looks of a young Robert Redford. Aside from being handsome, Paul’s accomplishments with the agency were nearly as impressive as Roger’s. If Paul had a weakness, it was probably his reluctance to commit to a serious relationship with a woman. He claimed there were far
too many to choose from.
Roger chuckled, “Pablo and Nelson are due any minute.”
Pablo appeared in the doorway, “Already here boss.”
Roger told Pablo to gather everyone in the conference room for a briefing about Senator Dalton’s murder.
Thor added, “Don’t forget the field trip to the cemetery.”
Acer knew Stone’s habits like he knew his own. Stone’s rental car was at the casino in New Orleans. It only took Acer a few seconds to determine Stone’s overnight bag was not in the trunk. Stone would be gambling for a day or two: celebrating another job well done. Stone would stay near so he could watch the local news feed. Stone’s ego was his vulnerability.
Acer took a seat in the casino lobby. He used his phone to hack into the hotel’s system and then the registration records. There it was, one of Stone’s aliases, Michael Williamson, Room 427.
Acer rode the elevator to the fourth floor, located Room 427 and unlocked the door with his electronic device. Stone’s open bag rested on the credenza. There was evidence that he had showered. Acer fished the Senator’s ID from his pocket, wiped it clean and dropped it into Stone’s bag. He thumbed through the pictures on his phone, selected two and attached them to a message: Stone Carson, alias Michael Williamson, Room 427 casino. Last to see Senator Dalton alive.
The message had been sent to the New Orleans FBI office. Acer’s New Orleans contact would regret ever placing a hit on him. This was just the beginning. Acer knew the moment he was told he would ‘partner’ with Stone, they wanted him dead. Acer now knew his days with the company were over. Stone would find the FBI a credible nuisance is all. The company would soon tell Stone that Acer had survived, if they hadn’t already. Stone’s ego would put him on the road to revenge. Acer would be waiting.
Catahoula: Shallow End Gals (A Shallow End Gals Book 4) Page 5