Where's Ellen? (Mystery) (MPP A JOE MCFARLAND / GINNY HARRIS MYSTERY Book 1)

by Stuart Safft

  “Chief, we’re sorry if we got you in hot water. We didn’t mean to; we were just…,” said Ginny.

  “Don’t give me any of your great reasons. I will say it only one more time: Stay off this case unless the FBI asks you to do something. This is their case. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Joe and Ginny in unison as they looked at each other and then at the chief.

  “Good. One more incident like this, and I’ll suspend you both for a week without pay. Now get back to work.”

  “OK,” said Ginny as she and Joe hurriedly left the chief’s office and returned to their desks.

  “Wow,” said Joe. “That’s about as mad as I’ve ever seen him.”

  “Yeah. The Feebies must have really ripped him a new one,” replied Ginny. “Wait till he finds out we were back to see Sanders again.”

  “Yeah, I can’t wait. And, I think we should skip our plans to go back to Tycon and talk with Mrs. Sanders’ boss.”

  “No argument with that. We’d be dead meat if we went back there and then the FBI found out and called the chief. Plus, we basically got what we needed from the HR lady.”

  “Full agreement. I think we’ve had enough grief for one day. I’m sorry I dragged you into this, Ginny.”

  “No need to apologize. Some of this was your idea, but you didn’t drag me along. I’m as intrigued with this as you are, and I was a willing participant.”

  “OK. Thanks for easing my conscience.”

  “You’re welcome. And now you owe me one.”

  “I owe you a lot more than one, Ginny.”

  “To show you how much I trust you, Joe, I won’t ask you to put that last statement in writing.”

  Both detectives chuckled as they turned their attention back to the piles of paper on their desks.

  Nothing else of importance happened that day as both the police detectives and the FBI agents worked on other cases while waiting and hoping for something to pop from one of their wire taps.

  CHAPTER 13

  Aimlessly roaming from room to room, Steve didn’t know what to do with himself. He tried watching television, he tried reading a book, he even tried doing some work from the office, but he was unable to concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes. He took a few short walks, but by the time he returned home he couldn’t remember the route he had taken nor what or whom he had seen. His mind kept analyzing and reanalyzing what might have happened to Ellen, but he failed to come up with any new thoughts. Checking his watch every five minutes did nothing to help. Rather than sitting at home going crazy and just waiting for who knew what, Steve decided to go into work the next morning, just to keep busy and to try to keep his mind off his missing wife.

  At about 11:30 that next morning, the phone on Steve’s desk rang and he picked it up. “Hello, Steve Sanders.”

  “Don’t say anything to anyone. Meet me at 8:30 tonight in the restaurant where we celebrated our last anniversary. And make sure you’re not followed. I’ll explain everything. Love you.” And the call ended before Steve could respond.

  Steve was dumbfounded. He sat there staring at the phone in his hand, then slowly hung up. Never in a million years had he expected to hear from Ellen this way. He was totally confused, but relieved — she sounded as if she was OK, and she was clearly alive. He had no idea what was going on, but presumably he would find out everything when he met Ellen that evening. He managed to get through the day, looking like he was working, but, in fact, unable to keep his mind on business for any length of time. He had a tangle of theories crowding his mind, and the result was total confusion, coupled with a huge sense of relief.

  The two sets of wiretaps bore the same fruit. The two Jasper Creek police detectives had also picked up the call. They didn’t recognize the caller’s voice but assumed that it was Ellen Sanders. Joe and Ginny high-fived each other, pleased that they finally had what looked like a solid lead. The FBI agents got the very same info from their tap on Steve’s office phone. With their more sophisticated capabilities, the FBI used voice matching software to quickly confirm that the call was from the same voice that was on all of Ellen’s earlier recorded cell phone calls; there was no doubt that this call came from Ellen Sanders.

  Joe and Ginny went to talk with the chief.

  “Got a minute?” asked Joe as he thrust his head in the chief’s doorway.

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “We have a confession,” answered Joe as he and Ginny entered the office.

  “Super. Which case? Confessions always make our lives easier.”

  “No, not that kind of confession,” replied Ginny.

  “Huh? What the hell are you two talking about?”

  “We mean that we have a confession to make,” continued Ginny.

  “Uh, oh. Out with it. What the hell did you two do now? Whatever it is, I’m sure Joe was the so-called brains behind it.”

  “Chief,” jumped in Joe. “We’re sorry. And it was all my idea. We set up wire taps on Steve Sanders’ phones after you told us to stay off the case. But it paid off; we picked up a call to him from his missing wife.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you? Wasn’t I clear enough about staying off that case?”

  “Yes, but …,” started Joe until he was interrupted by the chief.

  “And you, Ginny, I’m very disappointed. I expected better from you. You were supposed to be the one grown-up on the McFarland/Harris crime-fighting team.”

  “Chief, it was all me; not Ginny,” said Joe.

  “That’s not true, Chief. It was both of us. Sorry.”

  Joe jumped in, “Before we spend too much time apologizing and falling on our swords, let’s not forget that the wiretap paid off. Big time.”

  Joe and Ginny repeated verbatim the call from Ellen to Steve. After bawling Joe and Ginny out for a good five more minutes, the chief smirked, shrugged his shoulders and then gave his approval for a three-car surveillance of Steve Sanders for that evening. By rotating the three unmarked cars, they were reasonably certain they’d be able to tail him to the meeting place without Steve spotting them.

  The Feebies were better resourced. They checked the statements of the credit cards used by Steve and Ellen and, knowing the date of their marriage, quickly identified where they had had dinner on the date of their last anniversary. No need to tail Steve; they’d just have a few of their colleagues waiting in the restaurant when Steve and Ellen met there that evening.

  CHAPTER 14

  The work day finally ended for Steve. He had tried getting some work done, but found himself repeatedly focused on Ellen’s phone call and what it might mean. Steve was back home by 6. He took a long, hot shower, dressed and left home just before 7:00. Steve had no idea what this was about, but he wanted to follow Ellen’s instructions, at least until he had the chance to talk with her. He didn’t know how to spot and, if need be, lose a tail other than what he’d learned from watching TV police dramas. He headed toward Dayton, taking mostly the smaller roads, circling back a few times to try to identify any tail. But with three unmarked cars switching on and off following behind him, Steve did not realize he was being followed.

  As he was approaching Dayton, Steve got onto Route 35 and followed it northwest. A few minutes before 8 p.m., just after reaching the Dayton city limits, he pulled into the parking lot of the Blue Swan Restaurant. A large, sprawling building, with a wide porch across the entire front, the restaurant looked like it should be in Georgia, not Ohio. As he slowly drove toward an empty parking space close to the front entrance, Steve fondly recalled the anniversary dinner he and Ellen had eaten here. A happy and carefree evening — it seemed so long ago and very foreign compared to Steve’s current state of worry and confusion. Steve parked, entered the restaurant and looked around. No Ellen. He wasn’t concerned as he was 15 minutes early. He
requested a table for two, took the seat facing the door and ordered a gin and tonic while he waited.

  This Steve and Ellen meeting had brought a small crowd to the restaurant. Two FBI agents had been inside at the bar for the past hour and were on their third round of club sodas. Martin and Florio had arrived, parked in a far corner of the parking lot and sat in the car waiting. Two of the three Jasper Creek detectives who had followed Steve to the restaurant parked, went inside and, like the FBI agents, sat down at the bar and ordered club sodas. After being radioed the restaurant’s name and location, Joe and Ginny drove there, parked, coincidentally in the corner furthest from where Martin and Florio were sitting, and sat in their car waiting.

  After about 45 minutes and two gin and tonics, the waiter came to Steve and asked, “Would you like to order now? The kitchen is getting ready to close. If we don’t get your order in soon, you won’t be able to have dinner.”

  “That’s OK,” responded Steve. “It looks like my wife may not be able to make it. I’ll move over to the bar and wait there awhile longer.”

  “OK,” said the waiter, who started clearing the table as soon as Steve stood up. The waiter was clearly not interested in “waiting”; Steve was his only remaining customer, and now he was free to head home. The Blue Swan obviously served only an early-dinner crowd on weekdays.

  Steve sat at the bar for almost a half hour. Finally deciding that Ellen would be a no-show, like he wasn’t worried and upset enough up until now, he paid the bill, left the bar and headed for his car. But he didn’t even get close to reaching it. He wasn’t 10 feet outside the restaurant door when two pairs of serious-looking people came running at him, one pair from the left and one from the right.

  Surprised, Steve, Martin and Florio, and Joe and Ginny all recognized each other at the same moment. “What are you doing here?” spilled from almost everyone’s lips almost simultaneously. Not even noticed by Steve, there were an additional four law enforcement folks who, having followed Steve out of the restaurant, were standing awkwardly on the restaurant porch unsuccessfully trying to appear inconspicuous.

  “Why are you here?” yelled Martin at Joe and Ginny.

  “Why do you think?” responded Joe.

  “Why are any of you here?” asked Steve as he glared first at the FBI agents and then at Joe and Ginny. “What? Did you follow me here? Why?”

  “No, we didn’t,” responded Martin just as Joe answered, “Yes, we did.”

  “What the hell is going on?” fumed Steve.

  “How about letting us ask the questions,” said Florio, more as a statement than a question. “What are you doing here?” he hurled at Steve.

  “I came for a couple of drinks,” quickly responded Steve. “Is that a crime?”

  “Maybe. It depends,” answered Florio. “Why would you come all the way out here for a couple of drinks?”

  “I like it here.”

  “Sure there’s not more to it than that?” asked Florio.

  “Yes, I’m sure. Why?”

  “One of our colleagues spoke to your waiter and then called us. Your waiter told him that you said you were waiting for your wife for dinner until you finally concluded she wasn’t coming.”

  “Well, uh, uh, he must have misunderstood me. I was just missing her and worried about her. This is one of our favorite restaurants, and I had the urge to come here. I mentioned this to the waiter, who clearly confused what I said to him.”

  “Are you sure there’s nothing else you should be telling us?” interjected Joe.

  “Like what?” asked Steve.

  “Like a phone call earlier today,” said Joe.

  “What kind of phone call?”

  “I think you know exactly ‘what kind of phone call,’ ” said Joe.

  “I have nothing more to say,” stated Steve firmly.

  “You may not want to admit it, but it doesn’t matter,” said Martin. “You know that we placed taps on all your phones, so you must also know that we heard the call you received from your wife.”

  “Uh, as I said, I’m not answering any more questions.”

  “Maybe you won’t here, but you might downtown. We’d like you to come with us,” said Joe.

  “Hold on. That’s a good idea, but the wrong direction,” interrupted Martin. “I’m sure you two detectives recall that this is an FBI, not a local police department, case. Mr. Sanders will be coming with us to Cincinnati for further questioning.”

  Joe mumbled and groaned but he was only too aware that his hands were tied and it was, in fact, the FBI’s call. Martin and Florio walked Steve to their car, helped him into the backseat and were quickly on their way to the interstate and Cincinnati. Joe and Ginny were left in the parking lot, empty handed and looking at each other. They were disappointed and frustrated, but there was nothing for them to do other than return to their car and head back to Jasper Creek.

  CHAPTER 15

  Martin and Florio finally gave up after more than two hours in one of the FBI interrogation rooms with Steve. Steve refused to answer anything other than very general background-type questions. The FBI agents learned nothing they didn’t already know.

  “OK, Mr. Sanders,” said Martin. “You’re free to go, but do not leave the state without contacting us first. We’re not happy with your lack of cooperation, and it clearly raises questions about your involvement in your wife’s disappearance.”

  “Well, you’ll obviously continue to think whatever you want. But I had nothing to do with her disappearance. You’re wasting time screwing around with me instead of doing something to find her. She may be in real trouble.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Sanders. We’re quite capable of pursuing multiple avenues at once. Our suspicions about you don’t prevent us from continuing to investigate several other possibilities. In fact, if you’re willing, we’d like to arrange for you to take a polygraph test with one of our colleagues.”

  “You mean a lie detector test?” asked Steve. “You are totally, 100 percent mistaken in thinking I had anything to do with my wife’s disappearance.”

  “We haven’t concluded anything yet,” said Martin. “We’re just continuing to check out all the possibilities. As a minimum, this test might allow us to eliminate one or two of these possibilities.”

  “Sure. OK then, let’s do it. I have nothing to hide.”

  “Mr. Sanders, even though the results of the polygraph test most likely won’t be admissible in court, we have to advise you to get legal counsel before agreeing to this.”

  “That’s bull. I don’t need a lawyer for the stupid test. As I already said, I did nothing wrong, and I know nothing about my wife’s disappearance.”

  “OK then,” said Martin. “Frank, see if we can get this scheduled for tomorrow morning.”

  After a brief call to the polygraph office, Florio said “OK” to Martin and Steve. “The test is scheduled for 10 o’clock tomorrow morning.”

  Martin tersely concluded the meeting. “Now please follow me, Mr. Sanders. We’ll arrange for someone to drive you back to your car at the restaurant. And we’ll see you here tomorrow at 10 for the polygraph test.”

  After being driven back to his car, Steve headed home, still confused and worried about his wife and why she hadn’t showed up at the restaurant. And now he was also worried about being a suspect. Would I get a fairer chance from the local police detectives? The FBI agents clearly see me as a suspect, with Martin leading the charge and Florio tagging along behind. And the two police detectives had accused me of being a suspect, with money as my motive. Or, more accurately, it was Detective McFarland, with Detective Harris more or less silently acquiescing. Reaching no conclusion, he arrived home and was quickly in bed. After what felt like several hours of tossing and turning, Steve fell asleep and stayed that way until his alarm clock woke him at 6:15.
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br />   Steve called his office to say that he wouldn’t be in until after lunch. He spent the first part of the morning worrying about the upcoming polygraph exam. What if the test doesn’t confirm my innocence? What if my nervousness about the test or my worrying about Ellen results in readings that the examiner interprets to mean I’m lying? Does yesterday’s phone call from Ellen make them think that she and I have planned her disappearance together? Should I not have agreed to this test? Damn. It’s too late now, they’ll only be more convinced I’m guilty if I back out now. Continuing to worry, Steve showered, dressed, had a quick breakfast and headed to Cincinnati.

  While Steve was getting ready to go back to the FBI office, Martin received a fax with some interesting news from Interpol in Brussels. “Hey, check this out, Frank. It turns out that Ellen Sanders’ parents, still living in Brussels, have taken one or two vacation trips each year for at least the past five years to Turkey. There’s nothing overly suspicious of this by itself. Many Belgians flee to the sunny south to escape the constant clouds or drizzle of Belgium. But it does raise some interesting possibilities.”

  “Definitely. Turkey is an ideal meeting place for transferring secret information. Right on the dividing line between East and West, between Europe and Asia,” said Florio. “How come this wasn’t even mentioned in the investigation for Mrs. Sanders’ security clearance?”

  “It sure reinforces what you hear about the huge logjam of security clearance applications and the increasingly shoddy investigative being work done. I bet this problem wouldn’t exist if they’d use the FBI to conduct the investigations instead of farming out most of them to private firms.”

  “Bite your tongue,” said Florio. “That’s the last thing I want. It’d be my luck to be assigned to spend three-quarters of my time doing these boring background checks. Just what I need!”