Bury Me When I'm Dead

by Cheryl A Head

  “Yes, but we think he may be ready to disappear. He bought a boat this week, a small yacht actually, and he’s been loading it with goods. He knows he’s being watched and he thinks we’re closing in on him. The only way to be certain he doesn’t give us the slip is to have him at the scene.”

  They brainstormed for ninety minutes about logistics, manpower, and contingencies then settled on a week from Monday for the rendezvous. Monday was the least busy day at Belle Isle and by three o’clock, the rowers, cycling groups and lunch goers would have had their fun and dispersed.

  Charlie left the conference room to make her calls because phone frequencies were blocked in most areas of the field office. She would call Leonard Abrams first and tell him that Joyce would meet him. Then she’d make the call to Owens. She was escorted to the phone area and the others listened to the calls from the conference room, thanks to agent Berman in the audio booth.

  “If Joyce doesn’t want to be seen, shouldn’t it be an evening appointment?” Owens challenged Charlie.

  “A meeting during business hours would be best for Abrams, and that’s what Joyce prefers. Besides, cars in that area of the park after dark are more likely to get the attention of the police patrols,” Charlie explained.

  “Well. I guess that’s okay. Abrams probably wouldn’t want to go to Belle Isle at night anyway,” Owens admitted.

  “I was thinking you might drive Leonard in for the meeting,” Charlie said.

  “Really? I figured you or one of your associates would do that.”

  “Well, we could, but Joyce asked me to accompany her to the rendezvous. She doesn’t want to do this by herself. And I think it would be good if Leonard also had someone he knew to drive him in. This is sure to be an emotional meeting for both of them. Don’t you think?”

  “Of course,” Owens said.

  When Charlie disconnected the call, the agent in the booth played back the recording for those in the conference room.

  “He was kind of nervous about a daytime meeting, wasn’t he?” Gil noted.

  “Roaches prefer the dark,” Don quipped.

  “Well, at least now we can lock in some plans,” James said.

  Charlie was visibly shaken, when she was escorted back to the conference room. She began gathering up her belongings.

  “I’ve got to get back to Detroit right away,” she announced.

  “What’s wrong?” Gil asked.

  “It’s my mother. I picked up a message that was left an hour ago. She went out this morning to do some shopping and never returned.”

  Don checked his watch. “It’s just after four o’clock in Detroit. She probably just got caught up in shopping and lost track of time.”

  “No, Don. She’s never away this long and she’s not answering her phone. Besides, she was alone. I’ll need a ride to the hotel and then to the airport,” Charlie demanded of James.

  “There’s not another direct flight to Detroit until six,” James said.

  “I don’t care. I can’t sit around here or at the hotel.”

  “Look, Ms. Mack . . . Charlie. I know we’ve mostly been a pain in the ass for you, but the Bureau can be of some help to you now,” James said.

  Charlie considered James’ offer, nodded, and dejectedly sat in her chair. James sprang from his seat. “Tell Agent Griggs, here, everything you know about where your mother was going today,” he said before hurriedly exiting the room.

  “What’s your mother’s address?” Griggs asked and within a few minutes the white board had a satellite photo of Detroit’s New Center area. “Okay, here’s a live street view of her building.”

  “Yes, that’s the place,” Charlie said.

  “What time did she leave this morning?”

  “It was almost ten o’clock. She took a cab.”

  With some very fast typing and a few clicks of her mouse, Griggs projected another view of the building’s entrance and within two minutes a taxi pulled into the horseshoe drive in front. Ernestine came out of the building and got into the cab.

  “That’s her,” Charlie said excitedly, standing at her seat. “She told Gloria at the front desk that she was going to the Renaissance Center.”

  “Okay,” Griggs said, punching her keyboard, and up popped a satellite view of Detroit’s most iconic landmark. She moved her finger over the mouse pad, zooming into the Jefferson Street Plaza entrance. “So, she left in the cab at 9:55 a.m. ET and it would take her about twenty minutes to get to the RenCen building,”

  “Do you know Detroit?” Gil asked.

  “Yes, I was assigned to the Detroit field office for three years,” Griggs said.

  “You don’t look old enough to have worked for the FBI three years,” Gil noted.

  Emily Griggs smiled. “I’ve been told I look fifteen, which has come in handy for some undercover assignments, but I’m a lot older than that.” Griggs quickly shifted gears: “Okay, here’s the view of the entrance at 10:15 a.m. This is where the cab would likely drop off your mother.”

  The group in the conference room watched the screen intently. Taxis picked up and dropped off passengers. Private vehicles occasionally moved through the circular drive and if they stopped, one of the police officers patrolling the entrance approached the driver.

  “I guess cameras are everywhere these days,” Gil observed.

  “People are always crying about the loss of privacy but that’s the price we pay for even a modicum of security,” Don said with emotion.

  “And compared to other countries, like England or Israel, we’re way behind the curve when it comes to satellite surveillance,” Griggs acknowledged.

  “There. That’s her getting out of the yellow cab,” Charlie shouted.

  Griggs hit a button to freeze the screen then advanced it in slow motion.

  “Okay. She entered the RenCen at 10:22 a.m. She’s wearing dark slacks and a black sweater over an orange blouse,” Griggs said, punching the information into her computer. “How tall is your mother?”

  “She’s five-foot-five,” Charlie said.

  “And how old?”

  “Sixty-nine.”

  Griggs punched more keys. “Okay, we’ve forwarded this information to the Detroit Police with a general BOLO. Now, let’s see if we can find out where your mother went after she got inside. If she purchased something would she have used a credit card?”

  Charlie opened a small address book to retrieve her mother’s Visa card number. Agent Griggs glanced at Charlie, raised her eyebrows and then quickly looked away.

  “We’re a little behind when it comes to technology, Agent Griggs,” Gil said. “Don has a rolodex and he’s still trying to figure out the camera on his cell phone.”

  Don wasn’t the least bit embarrassed. “I pay attention to the technology stuff that matters, like that board. I really want one of those.”

  Griggs pulled a Blackberry from the front pocket of her jacket. “Pretty soon, everyone will have one of these. They’re already standard issue for every agent. You can send and receive email, access the internet and hold all your contacts in electronic form,” she said looking at Charlie who had finally found the page with her mother’s account numbers and passwords. “I can access a database and show where that particular credit card was used today,” Griggs said as she typed. “Okay, here it is. Used at 11:15 at Carol’s Boutique and again at 11:40 a.m. at an accessories store. Small purchases, under twenty dollars. Wait, here’s another charge at 12:45 p.m. at the Eastern Market Sandwich shop.”

  “So she left the RenCen and went to Eastern Market?” Charlie asked.

  “It appears so. Let’s see what vantage point I have for Eastern Market around lunchtime,” Griggs said, furiously pressing her keypad. They watched the screen for almost fifteen minutes. Shoppers were crammed into the market.

  “Isn’t that your mother sitting in front of that restaurant?” Gil said. “See, at the top right of the screen?”

  Griggs zoomed into the area. First the picture blur
red, then became sharper.

  “Yes, there she is!” Charlie stood again.

  “She looks fine. Enjoying herself,” Don said. “Is this live?”

  “No, it’s recorded from 12:30 p.m. Eastern Time.”

  “What does she do after that?” Charlie asked.

  Griggs toggled the picture forward at twice the normal speed, then four times normal. People moved quickly like characters in a silent movie. The group watched Ernestine leave the café and meander around the market, stopping at several stalls. At one of the flower vendors she picked up a bouquet of lilies and abruptly put them down and walked out of the frame.

  “Where is she going?” Charlie asked frantically.

  Griggs fired off a set of rapid keystrokes, bringing another angle of Eastern Market into view, and zoomed into the middle of the screen. “This is a minute later. There she is heading back toward the restaurant.”

  Ernestine was nearly back to the sandwich shop when she was intercepted by two men. They chatted for a moment and then the three exited the market at the Russell Street entrance.

  “What just happened?” Charlie shouted. “Why did she leave with those men?”

  “Wait a minute, maybe it’s not something bad,” Don said. “Go back. Let’s see that again.”

  Griggs pushed a couple of buttons and they all re-watched the video. Ernestine was walking hurriedly back in the direction she had come from. The two men approached her and the three talked for a half minute before one took her elbow and they walked out of the market.

  “She didn’t look in distress,” Don observed. “But that guy is clearly leading her away.”

  Charlie slumped into her seat and clasped her hands together to stop their shaking. Gil circled the conference table to sit next to her.

  “Let’s go back to before she left the restaurant,” Gil said. “Can we get a closer look?”

  The footage of Ernestine eating at the restaurant popped back onto the screen. They all watched in real time as she ate, used her credit card to pay her check, and relaxed at the outdoor table, sipping from a cup. Finally, she stood, gathered up her small shopping bags and left the restaurant.

  “Uh oh,” Gil said, pointing at the screen. “Look, her purse is still hanging over the back of the chair. She must have been going back for her purse.”

  The two men came into view. They were both dressed in jeans, sneakers and hoodies. They loitered on the walkway adjacent to the sandwich shop. Then one nonchalantly walked over to the chair, lifted Ernestine’s purse from the back, tucked it under his sweatshirt, and the two slowly walked out of the camera’s view.

  The conference room was still. The silent video continued to show the activity at one of Detroit’s busiest weekend attractions. Griggs grabbed her Blackberry, using her thumbs to pound out a message on the keyboard.

  “If they have her purse, why do they confront her? Were they returning the purse?” Charlie posed, then shook her head in disbelief of her own question.

  “More than likely, they rifled through the purse, grabbed the wallet and any cash and dumped the purse,” Don said matter-of-factly.

  “If she had a photo ID in her wallet, and they recognized her as she was walking around the market, they might have gotten the idea to have her withdraw money from an ATM,” Griggs said soberly.

  James returned to the conference room with an earnest look for Griggs. “You got something?”

  Griggs played the two pieces of video. The first, of Ernestine leaving the restaurant without her purse and the men removing her purse from the chair. The second, of the two men intercepting Ernestine in the center of the market and leading her out of view. On a Saturday, with thousands of people in Eastern Market, no one seemed to take notice of the two young men and the older lady as they left the market.

  Chapter 33

  Ernestine stood on the curb, looking left and right, trying to spot something or someone familiar. She pulled her cardigan sweater tightly around her and tucked her hands under her armpits. The self-hug wasn’t much help against the brisk wind that sent pieces of paper swirling around her ankles. She made a 360-degree turn. She wasn’t downtown, there were no buildings over two stories, and the only houses she saw seemed to be several blocks away. She spied a large black cat, heavy with a litter, lumber across an alley and disappear into the open door of a garage. She thought about joining the cat to get out of the cold, but a blue pickup truck turned the corner and headed in her direction. The two white men looked at her curiously as they passed but didn’t slow down.

  She wondered what time it was. The two boys had taken her wristwatch along with the earrings and two scarves she’d purchased. They drove her around for what seemed like hours in one of those big vehicles that was part car and part truck. They had the credit card Charlie had given her and wanted her to withdraw money from an ATM. Finally, she remembered the piece of paper in her wallet with all her PIN numbers and computer passwords. When they looked at the paper they laughed and fist pumped, and pulled the car to the curb. Ernestine watched the two on the sidewalk arguing some point for about ten minutes and then they got back in the car.

  “We’ve decided to let you go,” the boy who sat with her in the backseat said. His name was Robert. He gave instructions to the boy driving and when they stopped the car again he held the door open for her to get out.

  “You go that way about ten blocks,” Robert said, gesturing with both hands toward the houses. “That’s Woodward Avenue and that’s where you can find a bus or a cab.” Then he jumped into the passenger seat and the two drove away, leaving her alone and lost. She didn’t have money or her phone or her keys, they were all in her purse.

  Ernestine wanted to cry. I was having such a good day. She looked in the direction Robert had pointed. About ten blocks he said and she began moving along the sidewalk. I wish I could call Charlie.

  “How much money did you get?” Jerry asked.

  “All I could get was four hundred dollars. It must be one of those cards with a daily cash limit. We can wait until midnight and pull another four hundred out,” Robert said.

  “It was some good luck getting that purse. With the cash in her wallet and the cash from the ATM, we got about four-fifty, right?”

  “Right.”

  “What do you think we can get for the watch and the other stuff?”

  “Probably not much,” Robert said. “We should just divide it up. I could give the watch to Kim, she’s always complaining I never buy her anything. You want the earrings and scarves to give to your moms? It’s kind of old lady stuff,” Robert said.

  “Why do you get the watch?”

  “Because, I grabbed the purse,” Robert recited one of the unwritten rules of thieves.

  “Alright, alright, but we’re gonna divide the cash fifty-fifty, right?”

  “Yeah, man. You know you’re my boy. Come on, let’s fill up your tank,” Robert said.

  The two used the credit card at the gas pump, then Robert swiped the card inside the convenience store to buy chips, pickles, Black and Mild cigars, a couple of Hustler magazines and a six-pack. The store clerk looked at Robert with suspicion but it wasn’t the first time the boy had taken a credit card off some sucker. He had memorized the PIN and didn’t show a bit of nervousness as he punched in the number. He studied the card after he settled into the SUV. Her name was Ernestine Mack. He kind of liked the old lady, she reminded him of his grandma. The plan was to crash at Jerry’s crib for a few hours, maybe order a pizza, and at midnight try to score another four bills. In his experience, they had only a few more hours before the card was reported stolen and deactivated. After they hit the ATM, they’d dump the card. Robert handed Jerry a beer and they both popped the tops. “It’s been a pretty good day,” he said.

  “I’m surprised you accepted my invitation for dinner, this time. I was beginning to believe the rumors.”

  “What rumors?”

  “That you were off the market.”

  Mandy smirked. D
etroit had a healthy grapevine, and in the gay community, the vines were long and intertwined. Word was the woman sitting across from her in one of Bloomfield Hills’ poshest restaurants was a real estate broker, recently separated from her partner of twelve years, and was boorishly conceited. That’s why Mandy hadn’t accepted her three previous invitations for dinner. But it was Saturday night, and she needed to occupy her time so she wouldn’t think about Charlie.

  “A friend of mine says people with big minds talk about ideas, and those with small minds talk about other people.” Mandy meant her comment as a slight. She swirled the brandy in her snifter, giving the light-brown liquid her deep attention.

  “Well, okay, here’s a big idea for you. Why don’t we drive out to the marina and take a ride in my boat? It’s a thirty-footer. I’ll be putting her away for the season in a few weeks but tonight’s a beautiful night to be on the water.”

  “I don’t think I’m in the mood.”

  “Are you always led by your moods?”

  Mandy gave a smile. The woman liked to be called by her nickname, “Missy.” It was a girl’s name and Missy was no longer girlish in any way. She wasn’t unattractive. She wore her silver hair in a close-cropped style and her skin looked tanned and healthy. She’d arrived late for their dinner date without offering an apology, and in the hour and a half they’d spent on dinner, she’d talked only about herself and the flaws of her ex-girlfriend.

  “Not always by my mood. I’m usually an analytical person.”

  “What’s your analysis of me?” Missy said flirtatiously.

  “You don’t really want to know.”

  “Oh, but I do.”

  “I think you want to impress me. I think you want me to be one of your conquests, because up to now I haven’t given you the time of day.”

  Missy’s face shifted from flirty to highly offended.

  “Oops, I’m afraid the brandy is making me truthful,” Mandy said to further insult.