Deadly Deception

by Rayna Morgan

  Toby came to greet Warren and Maddy when they entered. As they followed him through the office, Warren saw only three desks with signs of being occupied.

  He remembered Don’s comment about the kind of operation fraudsters run. An office with half a dozen desks and the appearance of a legitimate set-up.

  Toby was the only one in the office besides the receptionist, who was now busy filing her nails.

  “Looks like a quiet day,” Warren observed.

  As usual, Toby had a ready answer.

  “There’s a staff meeting at a restaurant up the road. Thanks to you, I don’t have to attend.”

  “That’s too bad. I was hoping to meet the owner,” Warren said.

  Toby jerked his head toward one of the glass-enclosed offices.

  “Ed’s rarely here. His main office is in San Fernando Valley where he spends most of his time. If you want, I’ll arrange a meeting during his next scheduled visit.”

  Toby spent the next twenty minutes showing them a video on investing and reiterating the selling points discussed during their first meeting.

  At the conclusion of the presentation, Warren decided they would gain nothing spending additional time at Toby’s office.

  “Can we see the safe now?” he asked.

  “Of course, but I’ll have to meet you there. My sports car isn’t big enough for three.”

  After jotting down an address, he winked at Maddy. “I have room for one.”

  Warren snatched the paper.

  “No problem. We’ll see you there.”

  • • •

  When Warren and Maddy arrived at the storage facility on Victoria Avenue, they found an electronic gate which required a key card. They pulled to the side of the entry and waited.

  Moments later, Toby drove up in a black two-seat Miata.

  “Not big enough for three, indeed,” Warren scoffed. “I’ve never understood the good of cars like that other than feeding a person’s ego.”

  Toby waved for them to follow and slid a plastic card into the device on the gate. They drove past rows of buildings to one marked with the letter D.

  “Don’t forget to look for a chance to set our plan in motion,” Warren reminded Maddy as he parked behind Toby’s car.

  Their escort opened a door at the end of the building and led them down a hall with storage units on either side. They waited while he pressed the keypad beside unit six.

  “Who has access besides you?” Warren asked.

  “Ed and his daughter, Danielle. No one else gets in. We take pride in the level of security we provide.”

  Inside the room was a steel safe perched on a pallet above the concrete floor. Metal shelves filled with cardboard boxes lined the back wall.

  “These storage units are state-of-the-art,” Toby explained. “Individually alarmed and monitored twenty-four hours a day. There’s even an electric outlet.”

  “How convenient,” Maddy said, sounding bored.

  Toby pointed to the center of the room. “Our safe is climate-controlled for protection from the elements.”

  “Can we see the contents?” Warren asked.

  “Sorry. I can’t open the safe. Ed sleeps better at night knowing he and his daughter are the only ones with the combination. He’s somewhat of a security junkie. His own home resembles a fortress.”

  “A common trait of wealthy people,” Maddy observed dryly. “They’re overly concerned with loss of possessions.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Toby said, with a deadpan expression. “I’m not in a financial bracket to warrant such concerns.”

  He motioned toward the exit. “Unless you have further questions, I’d be happy to buy lunch.”

  Warren turned to Maddy. “I have a doctor’s appointment. You’re welcome to go.”

  She started to decline before noticing her father’s subtle nod.

  “Thank you, Toby,” she said. “I’m game, if we get seafood.”

  He patted her hand. “Your wish is my command.”

  She steered Toby toward the exit. “Can you drop me somewhere after we eat?”

  “I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

  Warren pulled Maddy aside while Toby secured the door.

  “Try to find out who furnishes his leads before you spring the trap. When you finish, have him take you to the furniture store. I’ll pick you up. We can’t let him know you work at the agency.”

  Maddy saluted. “Your wish is my command.”

  • • •

  The restaurant was perched on a hill above town with a stunning view of the ocean.

  “The lobster ravioli is delicious,” Toby commented, reviewing the daily specials.

  “Do you come here often?”

  “Only with clients.”

  “What do you do when you aren’t schmoozing clients?”

  He grinned smugly. “I don’t eat. I sit at my desk and work.”

  “You sound ambitious.”

  “I know where I’m going and what it takes to get there.”

  “Did your family inspire such lofty goals?”

  His laugh had a hollow ring. “My old man worked for the same company his whole career. He was content with a small annual salary increase and a bonus every few years. That’s not for me. I plan to be set by the time I’m thirty-five.”

  “You wouldn’t be satisfied with your parents’ life?”

  “Their best days are the day they got married, the day I was born, and the day they paid off their mortgage.”

  “What’s wrong with that? Those are highlights in the lives of most people.”

  “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with my father’s life, but it’s not what I want for myself. Our goals and the things that make us happy are different. It doesn’t mean one of us is right and the other is wrong. It means we’re not the same.”

  “What things would make you happy?”

  He stared out the window.

  “A house with views like this, expensive cars, traveling where I want, and buying whatever suits my fancy.”

  “I don’t hear mention of marriage or children. You don’t want a family of your own?”

  “Marriage and family are overrated. I consider that lifestyle bourgeoisie. Those are my old man’s values.”

  “I see. You prefer to be a playboy.”

  His laughter filled the air.

  “Let’s say I’d never be content with what he has.”

  Her father had been right to set the stage for her to be alone with Toby. Another side of the man came out when he was with a woman he wanted to impress.

  She sized him up as a perpetual striver who would always want more or better. A man with many acquaintances but few friends. Like her ex-husband, someone who knew how to impress people but not how to be close to them.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, what are you doing in Buena Viaje? This sleepy beach town hardly supports the lifestyle you describe.”

  “I’m not ready to make my move to the big city.” He straightened his shoulders. “But I’m close. It’s within my grasp.”

  Maddy shook her head. “My ex-husband provided the kind of existence you describe.”

  “When was that?”

  She allowed herself a small smile. “In a previous lifetime.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  “Not at all. Eric thrived in that environment, but it was never right for me. I’m happier now. Living at a slower pace, enjoying a simpler life, feeling free to be me.”

  “Still, you must have given up a lot.”

  She snickered. “Yeah. Plastic friends, a spouse concerned more with business than our marriage, and an environment filled with smog and stress.”

  “If you ask me, you were crazy to leave it behind.”

  “As you said earlier, to each his own.”

  She became thoughtful. “One word of caution. Don’t pay too steep a price to achieve your goals.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s one thing to se
ll yourself short. It’s far worse to sell yourself out.”

  His voice got edgy. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Professions dealing in large amounts of money aren’t always conducive to ethical conduct. It’s easy to cross boundaries between right and wrong.”

  He glared at her. “Are you implying I’ve done something wrong?”

  She changed direction, employing his tactic of saying things a person wants to hear.

  “Why would I? I only know you through Marge and she can’t stop singing your praises. According to her, you’ve been a godsend. She relies on your good judgment.”

  His chest puffed with pride. “I’m happy to give comfort by ensuring her financial future.”

  She was filled with an urge to strangle him. Not trusting what words might spill out, she remained silent.

  Failing to notice her aversion, he rambled on.

  “What’s the story on your father? He didn’t say what work he did before he retired.”

  She gulped and sipped her beverage, composing her thoughts.

  “Dad was in civil service.”

  “He doesn’t look old enough to retire.”

  “He had a stroke which required him to get out of the stressful environment.”

  Toby looked puzzled. “I didn’t know government work was ever stressful. People take those jobs to avoid the tension of competitive environments.”

  She twisted a strand of hair. “I guess it’s all in your approach. One man’s challenge is another man’s stress.”

  He tilted his chin. “I thrive under pressure.”

  “You chose a field which provides plenty of that. I could never do what you do. I’d worry about how to advise people.”

  “The trick lies in not letting it become personal. I consider myself merely a purveyor. I don’t control the amount or the outcome of customers’ investments.”

  “But aren’t you remunerated based on the size of their investment?”

  He studied her intently. “Your father underestimates your knowledge of business.”

  She hastened to explain. “I work on commission myself. Furniture sales.”

  His jaw relaxed. “We earn commissions on buys and sells, plus administrative fees for every portfolio. So, yes, the size of investments affects my income.”

  “I depend on leads and referrals. How about you? Where do your leads come from?”

  For a moment, he didn’t respond.

  She rushed on. “A salesman I work with buys lists of wealthy people and sends them promotional material.”

  He looked at her indignantly. “My company doesn’t work that way. We get leads from a reputable, private source.”

  “Who might that be?” she asked innocently.

  His eyes narrowed and he looked at his watch. “Look at the time. I’ve got to get back.”

  He signaled the waiter for the bill. “I’ll take you to your car.”

  Afraid she was scaring him off, she decided to bait the trap.

  • • •

  Rather than his usual effusive self, Toby was quiet during the ride to the furniture store.

  She got back on track by stroking his ego. “My father is quite impressed with you.”

  A smile spread across his face. “That’s good to hear.”

  He stopped at a light and looked at her. “I hope you’re impressed as well.”

  The driver behind them honked.

  “More impressed with your business skills than your driving,” she said.

  He turned his attention back and moved through the intersection.

  “Does that mean your father will do business with my company?”

  “He’s waiting to get my opinion.”

  He glanced in her direction. “Is your opinion favorable?”

  At the parking lot in front of the store, she pointed to a space reserved for customers. “Park the car, and I’ll show you.”

  The smirk on his face suggested he misinterpreted her intent. He shut off the engine and faced her, filled with anticipation.

  Instead of moving closer, she reached into her handbag and pulled out a leather case. When she opened it, his amorous interest waned.

  Cushioned in blue velvet were gold and silver coins of every size and hue. He gasped and reached for the case. “May I see?”

  She watched as his bulging eyes scanned the collection. His face lit up when his eyes landed on one particular coin.

  “I can’t believe it! Your father has a copper penny.”

  She expected his reaction, but feigned ignorance. “Is that good?”

  “That’s fantastic. The 1943 copper penny can be worth five to six figures.”

  “You’re kidding! What makes it so valuable?”

  “During the war, copper wasn’t used to create coins because it was needed to produce ammunition. Most pennies were made of steel. But a batch of copper pennies was accidentally created that year.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “Copper plates were left in a few machines when production began on new pennies using steel instead of copper.”

  “Are you saying they fetch high prices because there are so few in circulation?”

  “Exactly. It’s a classic case of supply and demand.”

  “I thought it was merely a hobby for dear old dad. That sly codger.”

  “It’s a beautiful collection. I understand why your father is concerned about keeping it safe.”

  “You have no idea how concerned he is,” she said, thinking of Don Ellis. “Are you up to the task?”

  “I would be honored to take care of this collection. Rest assured, it’s in the best of hands.”

  She pulled out the receipt Don required. “Sign this for my father and the coins are yours.”

  He pulled a pen from his pocket and signed with a flourish.

  After placing the receipt in her purse, she issued a warning.

  “Don’t let anything happen to those coins.”

  “I’ll guard them with my life.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  It was a little after three when Warren parked at the Burger Stop.

  “This is exciting,” his passenger said. Dylan slid down in the seat and pulled his baseball cap over his eyes.

  “Don’t get wild ideas, young man. This isn’t a game of cops and robbers.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Warren took the opportunity to make his pitch.

  “If you want to learn how this is done, you could enter the Explorers program.”

  Dylan raised his hands. “Whoa. I never said I want to be a cop.”

  “That’s not required. The program educates young people in police operations and interests them in law enforcement whether or not they enter the field.”

  Dylan looked away. “I couldn’t get in something like that.”

  “I have connections at the police department. Let me talk to Lieutenant Elliot and see—”

  “There he is!”

  Dylan pointed to a short, wiry man with a goatee who was climbing out of a truck.

  Warren grabbed his camera and snapped a half dozen shots as the man walked into the restaurant.

  Dylan’s voice filled with excitement. “Let’s go inside and get a close-up.”

  “We have enough. I don’t want him to see us together.”

  He handed the boy his camera.

  “Take a picture of his truck as I drive by. And write down the license plate number.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Pat was overcome with apprehension as she drove into the parking lot of the gambling establishment.

  She had hoped sessions with the psychologist had neutralized her feelings about her abduction. Her reaction proved otherwise.

  The sight of the barman preparing drinks created a further sense of déjà vu.

  The doorman stopped her. She hollered at Tim. He looked up and waved her in.

  Taking a stool at the bar, she said, “I wasn’t sure of my reception after you found out I
’m a cop.”

  He smiled. “I admit I was surprised. You sure fooled me.”

  “I hate deception, but I had no choice.”

  “I don’t fault the profession you’re in. We all have to make a living. Besides, I was glad you ran my boss out of town. It created a nice opportunity for me.”

  She looked around. “I heard one of Mickey’s employees took over. I figured it had to be you. You always had a head for business.”

  His smile widened.

  A cocktail waitress summoned him from the end of the bar.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  Pat looked down the hall toward Mickey’s former office and her stomach turned over. For all I know, Mickey’s lurking there this very moment.

  When Tim returned, he adopted a casual tone. “Are you here in an official capacity? I hope I’m not in trouble.”

  “Not at all. I’m looking for a guy who missed a meeting with his parole officer. I went to his apartment, but he’s not there. Someone informed me he’s a heavy bettor. I thought you might have seen him.”

  She gave Ronnie’s name and description.

  Tim’s response was guarded. “As you know, this place is for legalized card games. I may have seen him once or twice but if he’s a heavy bettor, he’s more likely involved with underground gambling.”

  “The kind of illegal gambling Mickey carried on?”

  Tim shrugged. “Like I told you and the lieutenant, I was in the dark about that stuff.”

  She lowered her eyes. “Thanks anyway, Tim. I’ll tell the probation officer I struck out.”

  He sensed her disappointment.

  “Did you ask his neighbor? Bald-headed guy in apartment 2C.”

  Bingo! How does Tim know about Ronnie’s neighbor?

  “Thanks for the tip. I’ll check it out.”

  She pushed her chair away from the bar.

  “One other thing. I’ve been plagued lately with threatening messages. It makes me wonder if Mickey is back. Are you sure you haven’t seen him?”

  Tim answered a little too quickly. “Not since he blew town.”

  “He didn’t come to handle the sale of the club?”

  “All the negotiations were handled through his attorney. I haven’t laid eyes on the jerk since he dragged you to that airfield to dump you in the ocean.”