Avenged

by Janice Cantore

  “But he injected money into the catering business.”

  “The money came from an offshore account, a foundation. Guess who the trustee of the account is.”

  Carly’s coffee stopped halfway to her mouth. “Who?”

  “Duncan Potter.”

  “Huh? That doesn’t make sense. Potter doesn’t have money. He complained to Alex that he couldn’t pursue a civil case against me because he didn’t have the money for an attorney.”

  Nick arched an eyebrow. “That’s what Mickey and the ATF dug up. They’re trying to find a connection to Barton but have come up empty so far.”

  “Potter is connected to Masters.”

  “But that’s through work, not through Barton.” He sighed. “In any event, Potter is on our list today. We need to talk.”

  After Nick kissed Carly good-bye and left for work, Carly called Harris with the news of her returned memory.

  “Pete, I remember.”

  “Hey, that’s great. Fill me in.”

  Carly did and took a cleansing breath when she finished.

  “Your account fits well with what we found at the scene,” Pete said. “The lab results should be in later. If you don’t mind, I’ll wait until I get them before I go into any specifics.”

  “I guess I can wait. I know what happened and that makes me feel great. But something else I heard yesterday really upset me.”

  “You talked to Martin about Burke.”

  “Yeah! What’s up with that?”

  “It’s politics and it really frosted me. The problem is, we had hard evidence against Drake and Tucker, but the cases against Burke and even Correa were more circumstantial—at least where the murders are concerned. We’ve got Burke and Correa dead to rights on the embezzlement and fraud, so the DA wants to play it safe.”

  “We wouldn’t be in this situation if Drake or Tucker had agreed to testify against him.”

  “Maybe,” Pete said. “At least they could testify about firsthand knowledge. But it would be a struggle not to make their testimony look self-serving. Romo and I are going to pay them a visit, appeal to any conscience we can find. Maybe they’ll change their minds.”

  “There’s nothing in it for them.”

  “I know, but I can’t let Burke get off, so any straw I can grasp, I’m there. Tucker and Drake avoided the death penalty and maybe it was a good thing to spare the city those two trials. But for Burke to get off easy would be the worst miscarriage of justice,” Harris said. “I’ll do everything I can to keep the DA from backing off.”

  “Thanks, Pete.” Carly hung up, glad there was a united front against going easy on one of the biggest criminals in Las Playas history.

  She paced her living room, trying to practice patience, not her strong suit. The phone calls from news organizations had slowed as time had moved Carly and the Barton shooting investigation off the front burner. It was a blessing and a curse for Carly. As long as Masters was screaming about her in print, at least Carly knew what direction she was being attacked from. But when she saw there was no new Masters column in the paper and no new blog posts, she found herself worrying about where and when the next attack would come.

  Her BlackBerry buzzed. Alex Trejo.

  “Hey, glad you called. I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

  “I’ve got some news for you as well. Are you home?”

  “Yeah, but I need to get out. How about meeting at Heavenly Grounds, at church? They’re open.”

  “Sure. What time?”

  “I have to walk the dog and shower. Be there in an hour?”

  Alex agreed. Carly ended the call and grabbed Maddie’s leash. She and Nick had done a devotional that morning in the book of Joshua, and Carly kept seeing the phrase “Be strong and courageous” over and over in her mind. She wasn’t at all superstitious, but she found herself wondering if it was an omen.

  32

  HEAVENLY GROUNDS WAS OPEN whenever the church bookstore was open. There were only a few cars in the parking lot, and Carly figured that since it was early, she and Alex would probably have the fellowship hall to themselves. Alex was waiting outside when she arrived.

  “You look a little less stressed than you did the last time I saw you,” Alex said.

  “I remembered,” she said.

  His eyebrows arched. “Really? I want to hear.”

  Carly gestured toward the coffee shop. Alex held the door open for her.

  Once they’d settled at a table with coffee, Carly told Alex about her memory suddenly returning.

  “Good for you. I knew you wouldn’t shoot someone for just being a jerk. If that were your MO, I’d be dead.”

  “Ha. On a more serious note . . .” She told him what Martin had said.

  Alex shook his head, but his eyes said that he was expecting the news. “That’s why I hate politics. I had a feeling something like this might happen. I told you pressure was building, and when pressure builds in city hall, it spreads everywhere. The big DA would rather see a plea than a loss.”

  “But you and I both know how guilty Burke is. He can’t get off.”

  Alex held up his cup in a mock toast. “Here’s praying that he doesn’t.” He took a sip.

  “Okay,” Carly said, “it’s your turn now. What have you got? Where has Masters been? No column, no blog?”

  “One at a time, one at a time.” He sat back and rubbed his chin. “I’m going to start with the oddest thing first. It doesn’t really have anything to do with the new marina or Masters, but it’s strange. It’s Michael Carter.”

  “Michael Carter? Nick found out this morning that he doesn’t exist.” She told him what Nick had learned about the nonexistent Carter and about Duncan Potter’s unexpected role.

  Alex looked defeated but still intrigued. “Well, that fits with what I found. This guy is a mystery I couldn’t stop thinking about, so I spoke to Pam Sailor.”

  Carly sipped her coffee and indicated that he could keep talking.

  “I saw all the paperwork she’d copied from her lawyers. I could write a novel. This guy calling himself Michael Carter somehow got wind that Keith Sailor had a gambling problem.”

  “How long ago?” Carly interrupted.

  “At least a year. Pam is a sweet person but completely naive. She trusted her husband.” He shook his head. “Anyway, Carter swooped in to rescue him, but Sailor was in too deep. He didn’t stop gambling, and it wasn’t long before he’d dug such a big hole that he lost the company. Apparently he couldn’t face his wife with the news, so he killed himself. The lawyers then dropped the bombshell on Pam that the company was no longer hers, that because of the money Carter gave her husband to keep the business solvent, upon his death Sailor’s Catering became the property of Michael Carter.”

  “But if there is no Michael Carter, how could that be legal? How could a fake Michael Carter take over the company?”

  “He paid all the company’s outstanding debts through the foundation. I didn’t know Potter was the trustee.” Alex frowned. “Hmm . . . Potter a trustee for a lot of money? That just doesn’t make sense. I’ve got to get to the bottom of this. Pam allowed me to copy everything her lawyer gave her, and I sent it to our legal department. I even talked to the city’s community relations division because they arranged the catering contract. But the bid they approved came from Keith Sailor, not Michael Carter. Carter took over after that contract was signed.”

  He shook his head. “And now the bridge dedication has been postponed. They told me they have a call in to Carter to reschedule, but they haven’t heard back from him. Talking to employees of Sailor’s Catering, I learned Carter canceled all their other jobs. He wanted the bridge dedication to be their priority. They’re afraid they’ll lose their jobs because in catering you have to keep scheduling work or . . .” He held his hands out.

  “Business dries up. Why would a guy invest money to take over a catering company just to let it die?”

  Alex hiked a shoulder. “I thought maybe he had a g
rudge against Keith Sailor, but I can’t find any connection. Ditto Pam Sailor. You gave me a true mystery, and I plan to keep digging.”

  Carly drained her coffee and decided she might help him dig after all the dust cleared regarding her situation. “What about Masters?”

  “Ah, interesting news there. She did used to be Virginia Masterson. Apparently Dean Barton started her career as a newspaper reporter.”

  “Started? How on earth?”

  “Patience, Edwards. Let me finish. She wasn’t a journalist; she was something of a community activist. It seems her father was killed in a shoot-out with the FBI—he was a bank robber—about ten years ago. After that happened, she became a one-note song dumping hundreds of letters to the editor on newspaper after newspaper. The topic was always police brutality. She believes her father was assassinated, even though he had a gun and shot at agents.”

  “Well, that explains a lot.”

  “It does. What got her a job at a newspaper was a three-part article she wrote about Barton. She can write—I’ll give her that. After going through her stuff, she’s best when she’s passionate about a subject.”

  “And misguided?”

  Alex cocked his head with a smile and went on. “She happened to be in Yuma when Barton led the entire PD there on a high-speed chase. At one point his car almost hit hers and that so piqued her interest in his case that she followed his arrest and subsequent trial. Coincidentally, he was sentenced to serve his time at the state prison in Florence, where she lived.”

  “Small world.”

  “Yeah. I read the three-part article she wrote. I didn’t agree with her points, but it was actually pretty good. She won an award and a job at a paper in Tucson. I talked to a guy there. Seems Masters considered Barton her good luck charm. Her constant petitioning for him was part of what got him released early—not to mention that he behaved himself while behind bars. Her next big gig was the job at the Times, and I guess she went Hollywood when she got here and changed her name.”

  Alex paused to drink some coffee, his expression telling Carly he had more information. “I nosed around the Times and found out that while she did good work there, it was patchy. Seems the only stories that interested her were police brutality pieces. She always took the side of ex-cons and would say things like, ‘He was probably framed like my Dean.’”

  “So she really did love the guy. I doubt she’s involved in any of the ugly stuff Barton was.”

  Alex crinkled his nose. “What? You think because she loves him, she’s not involved in anything illegal?”

  “You think she helped steal guns, kill an Army reservist, and then came here to start a drug war, all the while wanting to be an award-winning journalist?”

  “I just don’t want to jump to conclusions. The Dragon Lady can’t be trusted.”

  “That’s an unbiased statement if I ever heard one,” she said with a roll of the eyes. “How’d she hook up with Potter?”

  “She met him here. Like I said, he does good work. And I guess the fact that he hates you as much as Masters does cemented their relationship.”

  “Birds of a feather.”

  “I told you I’ve talked to Potter, tried to convince him you’re not the evil person he thinks you are. But—” he shrugged—“he never saw his brother for the dirtbag he was.”

  “Just like Masters can’t see what a dirtbag Barton was.”

  “Yeah, they’re kindred souls in more ways than one.”

  “She’s been quiet lately. What is she cooking up?”

  “She’s gunning for you with all she’s worth. She was all set with a front-page hit piece on you, complete with more quotes from those losers Drake and Tucker, when I came across some information that made the editors ask her to hold off.”

  “What information?”

  Alex got smug. “Well, it just so happens that a guy I know from high school is with the ATF. He’s here looking for the explosives. He leaked part of an unofficial report to me that says the GSR indicates a high probability that while your weapon was fired, it wasn’t by you that night.”

  Carly stared at Alex, who was now smiling. “You should have told me that first thing!”

  “Why? You already knew. You got your memory back.”

  “Yeah, but that makes it official, tangible, probably what Harris was waiting for. And that was quick. I’m amazed all the labs were in so fast. And surprised Nick doesn’t know.”

  “He’ll probably know soon. Apparently they were suspicious because when they found you, your weapon was in your right hand.”

  “What?”

  “Yep, someone was trying to frame you. But your backup officers were close. Maybe in his haste to kill Barton and plant the gun on you, he shoved it into your off hand.”

  Relief flooded Carly’s entire body. Her shooting had just officially become a nonevent. She should be able to get back to work as soon as she saw the occupational health doctor on Monday.

  “I know that’s a relief to you, but it does open up a whole new can of worms, doesn’t it?”

  Carly nodded. “It sure does. But if Barton had a partner, why did he shoot Barton?”

  “And what was going on at the old marina? I’d love to get in there and take a look around.”

  Shifting in her chair, Carly fought the urge to rush right over and do just that.

  33

  AFTER SHE’D SAID GOOD-BYE to Alex, Carly went home to get ready for swim class. Nick phoned and told her about the ATF report.

  “I should have known that that hound dog reporter would find out first. This pretty much clears you of any wrongdoing, but it’s not going to be made official for a while. Can you live with that?”

  Carly knew this was coming. “They don’t want whoever shot Barton to know that they’re onto him.” She made a mental note to tell Alex that. Masters would probably get to publish her hit piece. While Nick talked, she put together her pool bag.

  “Right. We’re investigating Barton as thoroughly as we possibly can. Fernando and a couple of ATF guys are in Rancho Palos Verdes now. Even though we went through everything once, they’re going through it again. They’re combing through all of his prison records, arrest records, contacts, etc. Fresh eyes, that kind of thing. I couldn’t find Potter when I looked for him. Harris and Romo are on his trail now. He’s done a Houdini. They’re working on a search warrant for his boat.”

  Carly remembered that Duncan Potter lived on a boat in the old marina. “I never thought of him as a criminal. He just idolized his brother and couldn’t come to terms with Derek being a dirty cop. I kinda feel sorry for him.” Blowing a silent kiss to Maddie, she locked up the house and walked to her car, phone at her ear.

  “I agree, but they’d like an explanation about the money and Michael Carter. While they’re there, I’m taking another team to the construction yard and the old marina in a bit, turn it upside down. Wanna come?”

  “Oh, Nick, you know I want to!” She sighed and looked up at the sky. “But I have swim lessons today, and I can’t disappoint those kids.”

  “Ah, I forgot about that. What time do you finish?”

  “Around two.”

  “Well, call me. Maybe we’ll still be there.”

  After the conversation ended, a painful thought occurred to her. Would all the publicity about the shooting mean she’d have to cancel her swim class anyway? Most inner-city parents distrusted the police to begin with, and they might be inclined to believe the horrible stories. She prayed not, because she knew the kids did love the pool and their lessons. She arrived at the Y early to swim laps. She’d promised Nick she wouldn’t swim alone, but there was a lifeguard at the pool.

  Everyone greeted her like normal, so she hoped that would be the template for the day. People at the Y knew her. They couldn’t believe all the bad press, could they?

  By one o’clock she’d finished with her laps and was doing a lazy sidestroke while waiting for her class. At five after, she began to worry. At ten after th
e hour, she got out of the pool and grabbed her towel.

  Just then Mary Ellen burst out of the locker room, the three girls in Carly’s class trailing behind her, chatting and giggling like typical ten-year-olds.

  “Sorry the kids are late, Officer Edwards. But they were waiting for Londy. Have you seen him?”

  “No, I haven’t. Maybe he’s working today?”

  Mary Ellen frowned. “No, he wanted to do the lessons. His shift starts after. He told me he was meeting with Victor to see if he could get him to come to the lesson. But when Londy didn’t show up where the van picks the kids up, I called Victor’s house and they told me they hadn’t seen Victor or Londy. Mr. Teagle happened to be off work today and volunteered to help with the boys.”

  “Have you tried calling him?” Carly asked as the group of rambunctious boys burst from the locker room. They were followed by a large black man—Mr. Teagle, she guessed. She recognized him but wouldn’t have remembered his name.

  He came toward her and Mary Ellen.

  “I call his number, but it goes straight to voice mail.” Mary Ellen was borderline hysterical.

  “Officer Edwards.” The man extended his hand, and Carly took it, trying not to show the anxiety she felt. “I’m Marcus Teagle, Jason’s father. I just wanted to tell you that we’re behind you. We don’t believe all that trash in the paper.”

  A lump formed in Carly’s throat as she relaxed. “Thank you, Mr. Teagle. That means a lot.”

  “It means a lot that you take so much of your time and give it to our kids. Thank you.” He turned back to supervise the boys.

  Carly’s attention returned to Mary Ellen. “It’s not like Londy to turn his phone off, is it?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not like him to not show up where he’s supposed to be. I’m scared.”

  Carly put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll call Nick before we start and ask him to have one of his gang officers look for Londy and Victor. Right now, why don’t you head over to your assignment? As soon as the class is over, you and I will look for Londy if he hasn’t turned up by then, okay?”