“The police claim they are doing everything they can and have pulled in the local suspects to no avail. The bad news is this is the fourth girl of that age bracket to go missing from fairly prominent families. No ransom demands, no nothing to go on.”
“Any young bodies discovered lately to assist any clues to the disappearance of these girls,” asked Moss.
“No nothing and when we step into this case, I’m afraid stepping on toes is going to happen. You both know if some private detectives came snooping around your turf, you would be not happy. I talked to the Captain and he said to beware of detective named Chuck Tompson. He told me Tompson was a fine detective, but was very territorial.”
“Well, I like the area and we are here to stay,” said Stu. Moss nodded his agreement as the salads arrived.
Stanley spent the night and met all three new employees at the office promptly at nine am. If the truth be known, both Moss and Stu had coffee in Stu’s motor a couple hours ago. Ms. Post had been pacing her apartment floor since seven am. She didn’t want to appear too eager, but eight am was a better start time for her.
As it was, Ms. Post was the first to arrive and had the foresight to bring some coffee and paper cups for the first go around. Later she would slip out to the dollar store and buy some real plastic cups.
Meanwhile, Stanley gathered all around the conference table and passed out credit cards to all three. In addition he gave Ms. Post two thousand in cash for expenses. After they got going it was prudent of all three to fill out an expense report. That billing would go directly to the case they were currently working on. Stanley made sure they all understood that no double billing would be acceptable. Everything above board rang like music to Moss’s ears.
Stanley said, “Well, any questions,” as he looked around the table. “If not then I’ll be on my way. Oh, one more thing. We’re going to have a Christmas party here in Phoenix for all to meet the other parts of our company.”
Moss and Stu spent the rest of the morning reading old newspaper accounts of missing kids and with the help of Ms. Post’s friend at the police department, files were obtained and favors were owed. At noon the three of them decided on pizza for lunch.
Sitting around the conference table the three newbies discussed the missing girls. It was mutually agreed that most likely a serial killer was preying on homeless teenage girls. That would probably mean the guy was young, well groomed and drove a nice car; a SUV was mentioned. What it came down to was a lot of shoe leather would be needed and many questions asked of a social class that really hated cops.
Amazing to Moss and Stu, Lee Post was an excellent detective in her own right. She finally admitted she was formally a detective from Canada. Moss waited for more to come, but she left it at that. Now his curiosity was up as well as a stirring in the lower region where all had been quiet since the wife had passed on.
Moss said he would take the first shift on the streets. He was armed with pictures of all four girls and a few hundred dollars if given the right lead. Stu stayed with the computers doing a ten state search of same MO. Ms. Post set up her filing system as Moss drove off to the west side; the seedier part of town.
For the most part Moss saw only Mexicans or Latinos as he cruised the area noted for high crime and drugs. Moss felt handicapped by the language barrier. He really needed a partner who spoke the lingo. He pulled into a strip mall that had more closed stores than open ones. He looked at his watch and it was almost eleven am. Sure it was close to Christmas, but he was not sure if the students were on vacation or not. He watched people of various ages either walking around or sitting on the curb. Moss could tell the drug dealers from the others as they stared at the white man looking them over.
Moss decided to take a risk and wade right into the middle of them. It was time to make or break it. Money talks and bull shits walks in all walks of life.
He drove up and parked one row back from the front of a discount store. The crowd of kids stood or sat silently staring at him as he walked up try to determine who was the leader? Moss had on a sports coat and he took it off to show he was unarmed and not the police. A taller than usual Latino stood up and stuck out his chest to show Moss that he was the one to handle any and all conversation about to transpire.
Moss said, “I’m not the police, but a private investigator looking for some missing kids. I’m hoping you can help me. There’s some coin in it if you can provide me with some good information.” He let that hang in the air for a while and then the leader said:
“We know nothing about any missing kid’s man.” Milo felt lucky as he understood what the guy had said to him.
“Look at these picture and see if anything jogs your memory,” he said while pulling out of his jacket pocket some pictures of the four missing girls. Now Moss was no neophyte and he watched the others closely as they crowded around to see the pictures. He noticed one boy around fourteen open his eyes for just a fraction of a second. Moss looked around and most just shrugged their shoulders with looks of indifference. His eyes came back to the young man and Moss saw him use his eyes to note a fast food restaurant on the corner. Moss thanked the leader and gave him a Ben Franklin for his time.
Moss drove around the drive through and the young man jumped into his Rover with his head down. The kid said, “Just be cool man and order a few tacos and turn right on the main street”
Moss did as he was told and then after turning to the right, he asked, “Where to now young man?”
“When you come to a flashing yellow light, turn left. After that, find a place to park. From there we will take a walk in a park nearby.”
“Well, my new found friend, do you have a name or want to remain mysterious to a stranger?”
“My nickname is Taco. I’m famous for eating ten tacos in one minute.” Milo parked the rover next to a couple of derelict wrecks that the city had failed to pick up.
Moss said, “Is my Rover safe here Taco?”
“Yeah, and do you see that dude over there sitting under the lamppost. He’s my best friend and he will keep an eye on your ride.” Taco jumped out and took a taco to his friend. After that he came and nodded for Moss to follow him. In no time at all they were away from the street and Taco motioned for Moss to sit down on the dry grass. Moss waited while he wolfed down the remaining three tacos and gave off a loud belch after drinking down half a large coke.
Taco said, “I remember two of those girls, but that was some time back. At the time I wondered if they were crazy as they were in a hood where they should never have been. The strange part was a shinny Black SUV pulled up and both girls go in it and the guy drove off.”
“Did you notice any thing special or different about the car?”
“Yes, it had blue lights along the bottom of the side panels. I can tell you this, no one but a white man would drive that around here.”
“Any chance on the plate number?”
“No number but a personalized plate with the crazy name Zorro on it.”
Moss dug out another one hundred dollar bill and handed it to Taco. Then he said, “Taco, if this information pans out, I’d like to make you a proposition. No one needs to know and we can use disposable cells if you so choose. Me and my partner are from back east and have just started working this area for a private firm. As long as you feed us quality information we will pay you with hard green cash.
“Right on dude. If you need me, hang out at the taco restaurant and someone will let me know you are looking for me. Now I’ll snoop around and see what I can find out about these other two.”
The next thing Moss knew Taco was gone like he’d never been there. The only thing left was the empty bag of tacos and the memory of a shinny black SUV with blue lights and a personalized plate with Zorro on it.
He begin to chuckle and then broke down into a knee slapping fit of laughter.
Back at the office Moss was almost afraid to speak of the tale of Taco and Zorro. Then he decided to wing it and shared
it first with Stu and then with Lee Post. No one laughed and Ms. Post hurried to her computer for a make on the license plate.
Meanwhile Stu filled Moss in on any same MO in nearby states and found nothing. Stu quizzed Moss about the Latino experience and then told him why frankly speaking he couldn’t work with them in the orange groves. It wasn’t that they were obnoxious or bad folks, it was just that their English was so poor it drove Stu crazy trying to figure out what the hell they were talking about.
Ms. Post came back with a smug grin on her face and said, “That SUV was registered to a William Blake who reported it stolen. It’s my guess now that a chop shop made short work of that blue lighted Zorro.” All three of them had a chuckle and then got back to business.
Stu took the stolen vehicles and Moss sat thinking about Taco. Taco had played it close to the chest making sure no one saw him as he crouched down on the passenger side of the Rover. At least his information had been fairly accurate. What scared Moss was the possibility that the missing girls wound up as part of a square block of metal. God what a horrible thought. Moss shook his head and walked into the sterile small bathroom and washed his face.
Moss went to Stu’s office and told him what he thought was going on and Stu nodded his agreement. Stu said, “This could get really ugly Moss. Let’s expect the worst and hope for the best. Meanwhile our hope lies on a record taco eater whose nickname is Taco. Hey, at least we have something to go on. Knowing you Moss you’ll be back buying a half dozen more tacos tomorrow.” And he was right on the button.
With a pocket full of money, Moss at around eleven thirty went through the drive around. By the time he’d ordered and picked up a sack full of vile smelling tacos, a small kid, no more than ten years old popped up just under the pick up food window and said, “Go to the park.”
He handed the kid a ten dollar bill and drove off. The day was clear and warm. No coat was necessary. Moss sat down at the same place as the day before and waited for Taco to show up.
Silently with stealth Taco sat down next to Moss. Then as Moss recovered another Latino sat down on the other side of him. He didn’t panic and just looked at both of them. A smile broke out on Taco’s face and he said, while digging out the tacos, “This is my big brother Lanky. We both thought you were not bad for a white man and Lanky wants to talk to you.”
Moss turned to Lanky and he said, “You are in very dangerous territory. These guys you are looking for play rough. So far they don’t know about you. Also the police are looking the other way while their palms are greased. Not all police, but a few of them. I don’t know what they are paying you senor, but it isn’t enough.”
Moss nodded and then he said, “Lanky, I appreciate the advice and I want to thank you for speaking up. However, dirty cops and killers of teenage girls make me sick. Even if I don’t survive, if I can stop them from killing, I’ll do it. I could care less about stolen vehicles, but murder is not acceptable. Can you give me any leads that will propel me to my demise?”
Taco handed his brother the sack and said, “If you are going to stir up the bucket of shit, then we’ll do what we can. When these bastards first started they took some of our Latinos to play with. We let them know that was not a good thing to do. They switched to white girls. This is a syndicate that has its roots down in ole Mex. This gang of thieves stretches from LA to Florida.”
Lanky spoke again and said, “The guy you’re looking for his nick name is Humpty Dumpty. He’s the one that likes little girls.”
Moss dug in his pocket and gave two hundred to each of them. Then he asked one more question, “Where can I find this Humpty Dumpty guy?”
“Where ever there are railroad cars he’s not far away,” Lanky said. But one thing you should know is that it’s near Christmas and they usually close up shop and go back home. You’d best wait until after the first of the year before the set up shop for the new year.”
Well, so much for that, Moss thought. After lunch he was to meet Miles at the Hyatt. Meanwhile, he thought he might just pass through the railroad area and see what was happening.
Chapter VII
Miles felt like a kid again. Here he was flying down to Arizona to record the events that might make history. It was seldom, if ever, a red capped cardinal was assassinated. It would be nice if the serial killer was stopped, but in a perverted sort of way, Miles kind of hoped the got his deserved sentence. It wasn’t that he was sanctioning murder, but how else would you stop a high raking religious leader from preying on the young and unsuspecting. Miles felt Moss would have an idea and he relished the reunion even though it was only a short while since they had last seen each other.
While Miles was flying down, Moss and his two office companions were having lunch in the conference room Ms. Post was quite accommodating and appeared to want to make the partnership a success. Stu gave a report on stolen cars and Moss raised an eyebrow as to the number of high value vehicles that been stolen. Stu said, “I’d guess that all or just the parts of stolen cars either go to LA or down to Mexico. I’ve discovered a small rail road services the west and east coast from Cadiz, California. It seems simple enough. First you take what you want, box it up and put it in a container. What I don’t know is how the system works. I’ve mostly worked homicide in my career and never got involved with stolen cars.”
“Yes, this is a new ball game for me too Stu,” said Moss. However, bad guys are bad guys and usually they make a mistake and if Phoenix has dirty cops, they will go down as well. Now, we must shift gears as Miles is flying in this afternoon and if I’m not mistaken, he’ll have some juicy information for us.”
Moss was sitting in the hotels comfortable chairs waiting for Miles to check in. He was relaxed and feeling good. The one thing nice about Moss and his countenance, he was fairly inconspicuous. Most cops loved the roll so they stood out, but not Moss. He looked like a typical tourist sitting waiting for his wife or a friend.
Moss was watching the door when a young man walked in carrying his golf clubs and one bag. It wasn’t that he looked so out of place, but few people who stayed in a hotel like this carried their own bags. Moss saw a mass of blonde hair and when the guy approached the desk, he set the golf bag down and looked around the area as if to check it out for hostiles, not friends. His eyes locked onto Moss and for a brief moment, Moss thought he recognized the guy. He turned back to the desk and withdrew a wad of cash to pay the room. Nothing wrong with using cash, but few people carried around a lot of cash nowadays. Credit cards worked best and safer too.
Moss was still trying to place the guy when Miles came in with a flourish. Moss got up and went to greet his old friend; completely forgetting the guy with the golf clubs.
Steve Langley wondered who the grey haired old man was that caught his eye. For the life of him he couldn’t place him. Moss was right with Miles as he checked in. he asked the desk clerk of the name of the guy who just checked in with the golf bag. Moss lied and told him he thought he was a professional golfer. The desk clerk said, “His name is Steffen Lewis and will be staying with us for a week or more.”
“May I trouble you for his room number?” Now the desk clerk was smelling something not quite right when Miles jumped in saying:
“We both think we know the guy and would like to send or take him a bottle of champagne. We think he is a member of our country club and here are a few bucks to get the ball rolling. We didn’t mean to appear curious.” Miles very cleverly slipped two one hundred dollar bill to the desk clerk who gave him his room card.
Moving to the coffee shop, Miles didn’t say anything because he knew Moss was deep in thought. At his own time, Moss would fill him in. Meanwhile, Miles was getting his ducks lined up for presentation to Moss. They found a table tucked in the back as requested by Miles. After ordering coffee and pie, Miles opened his brief case to show and tell Moss what he had since discovered.
A half hour later Moss was convinced Miles was on top of it. Vito Guccilio, the cardinal from LA w
as on the list to be assassinated. The evidence from a cover up in first Poland and then while visiting an African nation, a stir was raised, but then the journalist disappeared. Poland was a dead end and not surprising the event was swept under the rug. Moss said, “When do the red cap folks check in and what’s their schedule for however long they are staying here.”
“Their scheduled for four days and three nights beginning the sixteenth. All of them want to be back home by Christmas time. I don’t know the daily schedule of events, but that shouldn’t be hard to obtain after they arrive. By the way have you heard from the FBI Tim guy?”
“No, not for awhile, but I expect him at anytime now. I think we caught him with his pants down with the discovery of a plot here in Phoenix to take out a cardinal.” Moss was still having a nagging feeling about the guy with the golf bag when in walked the same guy only this time without the golf bag. He stopped and looked around, as if to see if expecting to see a friend, then spun on his heels and left. Moss thought that rather strange as the blonde guy had saw Moss looking at him. He was a cool customer trying to make Moss think he was looking for someone, when in fact he knew who Moss was. But how does he know who I am.
Could it be this easy. Does this guy recognize me from back home. Maybe I saw him on a wanted poster somewhere. What we need now is a picture of him and his prints, Moss thought. Miles thought Moss had lost it for awhile until he asked, “Moss, what is going on here?”
“Well, that guy with the golf clubs walks in the coffee shop, sees me, then turns on his heels and takes off. I know I’ve seen his face somewhere and now I’m sure he knows me, but from where is the question.”
“Let me do some digging here. By dinner time I’ll have fleshed this guy out. I love it Moss when you have that nagging feeling about a person. This could be the break we’ve been looking for. A set of fingerprints would be nice. I’ll slip a few bucks to the room keeper to have a glass set aside for me. Hopefully, by tomorrow we can have an ID on this guy.”
“Sounds good to me. We don’t have a lot to go on and we need a complete list of tenants whose view is looking at the Western Convention Building. I think it’s plain enough that to assassinate the cardinal it will come from this hotel. How he would escape is a good question,” Moss said.
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