Fleeced in Stonington

by Rosemary Goodwin

  The board members exchanged looks. Dutch couldn’t interpret them. Either way, the agreement was passed from member to member as each one solemnly signed on a separate signature line. Finally it came around to Dutch who countersigned the document with a flourish. A secretary took the document and made several photocopies. Dutch took down telephone numbers of each member and made arrangements where Eric Tonald would be the main contact for the group. After clarifying the fee schedule, Dutch gathered up the documents, placed them in his briefcase, stood and shook hands with Tonald and left the conference room.

  Paul was told to stay.

  Dutch was ecstatic as he drove his Jaguar slowly back to his cabin. His business was well on the way to success. He could barely wait to tell Kate about the meeting. He sang all the way home.

  Chapter Twelve

  Kate says: In love with your armoire? Do you know how it got its name? The furniture design dates back to the 16th century and was built to store arms and armor. The word armoire is the French version of the Latin armârium. Today an armoire may become an entertainment center, a clothes closet or be used as a home for pots and pans in your kitchen.

  The seller’s attorney, Frank Judge, called Dutch early the next day. “We’re prepared to close the sale whenever you’re ready,” he said. “That’s on the property located at Magnolia Road, Stonington.”

  “Great. I’ll have to check with my lawyer. Hopefully, he’ll be able to close tomorrow,” Dutch said.

  “I already checked with Gordon Belfast, and he’s okay for a three o’clock closing.”

  “Fantastic.” Dutch was glad the real estate deal was finally coming to a conclusion.

  Later in the day, his lawyer called and went through the numbers with Dutch, which told him how much money, in a certified check, he needed to take to the closing. Dutch also informed him that he wished to do a final inspection of the property—just to be sure nothing had been removed or damaged since the last time he’d seen the house.

  Dutch insisted that Kate attend the closing with him. “You’re my partner, business partner right now, but life partner in the future, I hope,” he’d whispered into her ear as they cuddled in his kitchen while they waited for the kettle to boil. She didn’t answer. Only snuggled closer to his body.

  They arrived at the lawyer’s office around two thirty p.m.—earlier than the set time for the closing at three—to go through the mortgage documents and closing statement before the seller arrived with her attorney. Once the paperwork had been signed and completed, they joined the others in the conference room.

  Finally, the seller handed him the keys and the transaction was completed. Dutch shook hands with everyone involved, and he and Kate left the law office. Once in his car, she leaned over and kissed him. “Congratulations on your new office.”

  “Thanks, sweetie,” Dutch said. “Let’s go make love.”

  “No. I think we should go to your new office first. Just to get a handle on what we need to do, such as paint and colors.”

  “You’re so sensible. What did I do in my life to deserve such a perfect woman?”

  Kate smacked his arm. “No need to be sarcastic.”

  “No, I’m serious. I have a great woman at my side as well as a private office.” He laughed. “What a lucky boy am I.”

  They sang Beatles songs all the way to the property on Magnolia Road. Dutch pulled his Jag into the driveway of the house and walked quickly up to the front door. Kate followed down the pathway, trying to catch up with him. He had a key in the door lock. “Hold my hand,” he said, “and we’ll both open the door.”

  “You should unlock it yourself the first time.”

  “You’re my partner so you have to open it at the same time.”

  She shook her head in disagreement.

  “I insist.”

  Resigned to his suggestion, Kate stretched her hand over Dutch’s large fist. “One, two, three.” They turned the key, pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway.

  “Welcome to D&K Investigations,” he said.

  “When did you make up that name?”

  “Today.”

  “What does it mean?” She walked into the middle of the living room.

  “D means Dutch, and K means Kate. Simple.” He closed the door.

  “That’s sweet of you, but if we have a falling out, you’ll have to change the name or face it every day.”

  “That’ll never happen.” He took her hand and led her into the kitchen.

  “These cabinets will have to be replaced,” she said.

  “And this countertop,” he added as he hitched her up onto the counter. She was now level with him. Her skirt had inched up, revealing her undies. She felt flushed as she placed her arms around his shoulders. He took her face in his hands and ran his finger over her lips. A shiver travelled down her back, into her legs. “I’m glad I’m sitting down—my legs wouldn’t hold me,” she whispered.

  His mouth covered hers, wet, probing with his tongue, seeking, plunging. She gasped as he slipped off her blouse. He unhooked her bra, releasing her large breasts. The cool air made her exposed nipples perk up—the pink circles pursed around them. She sucked in a gasp as he cupped the round, firm breasts in his large hands and fingered the erect nipples. “I love you,” he whispered.

  His touching made her body burn and throb with anticipation. He unbuttoned his shirt, which fell sensuously down his arms. She was fascinated by his suntanned-body. His abs were firm, rippling with each movement he made. She traced lingering, small circles with her fingers over his chest and stomach. He tugged at her panties. She helped, then wrapped her legs around him. Her body surrendered to him with abandonment.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kate says: Install the lighting appropriate for the use of that room. Work lights should dominate in the kitchen while reading lights would be provided in a library. To control the intensity of the lighting, use dimmer switches.

  The police provided him with a copy of the Medical Examiner’s autopsy report on Andy, the realtor. Dutch was now known by the Stonington Police, and they regarded him as a professional. He’d proven himself when he uncovered the murders in his last job in town. Of course, Kate was successful in the last case too. He didn’t want to hog the limelight but, after all, he did have the private investigator’s license. She was just an assistant. Of course he’d never say so in her presence, though. It would be the end of him—in more ways than one.

  While he was at the police station, the sergeant had handed Dutch the real estate file, which was in the broker’s office. He was told that they’d finished fingerprinting it. He drove back to his cabin and put the folder on the kitchen table.

  It was Sunday, and Kate had come over early to discuss the case. Her mum had gone on a bus trip with some of the Old Biddies to Atlantic City to gamble for the day. She’d brought her slow cooker with her and started a big beef pot roast. By suppertime, it would be finished. Meanwhile no one had to watch it.

  Baby, the black and white cat, rubbed around Dutch’s legs. “Hello, handsome Babycat. Want some dinner?” The feline flopped onto the floor and gave a long, lean stretch as his response. Dutch pulled the tab on a can of cat food. Air and the aroma of the salmon meal escaped. He dumped half of the can into a dish decorated with navy blue cats. “What’s new, pussycat?” he sang, swinging his hips like Tom Jones. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You and your pussycat cat eyes.”

  “Dutch.” Kate got up from the kitchen table and folded the newspaper she was reading.

  “What?” He stopped sashaying around. “Oh, yeah. Back to reality.”

  Kate giggled. “You’re entertaining today.” She reached up and kissed him soundly on the mouth. “I love you,” she declared.

  He ran his hands over her bottom. “I’ve always loved you.”

  “Not just for the sex?”

  “I’d love you even if you were a chaste nun.”

  He released her and pulled a chair out from the table and sat. He opened
the folder in front of him. Dutch emptied the folder. Inside was one of his cards he’d given to Andy, and the yellow legal pad with the details of the property they had been seeking. He turned back the pages of the pad and his eyes opened wide. A low whistle escaped his lips. “Bingo!” he said with a tinge of excitement.

  “What is it?” Kate looked around from the sink where she was peeling potatoes.

  “I turned back the pages of Andy’s legal pad and look what’s there.” His face grew red with excitement. He jumped up out of his chair. “Look. He must have forgotten they were on the pad when he wrote down my information.” He laughed—more like a cackle. “There are two pages of names of banks and cities where they’re located.”

  “No. I don’t believe our luck,” Kate said, surprised. She dropped the potatoes into the crock-pot and rushed over to look at the legal pad.

  “These must be the banks they’re hitting with their nasty scheme.” Her hands shook with excitement as she took the list from Dutch.

  “You know what this means, don’t you?” he asked her.

  “Is that a hypothetical question? It doesn’t require an answer, does it?” she teased.

  “Be serious.”

  “I am being serious. What does it mean then?”

  “It means we have the key to the puzzle. We’ll be able to break this case ourselves. We know all of the banks they’ve scammed or are about to scam.”

  “I don’t know about that. I think we should take this information to the police,” Kate said.

  “I agree. I’ll make an appointment with the lieutenant. We’ll need a strategy. No one else must know about it either—they could unknowingly divulge information before the investigation is completed.”

  “True. We don’t want to ruin the case before it’s completed.” She walked back to the counter and stirred the contents of the pot.

  “I’ll make a copy of this list and keep the original in my safe.” Dutch said, getting up and running the list through his small copier.

  “Better make two copies. One for our use and one for the police.”

  “Good idea.” He added more paper to the copier and made another copy of the pages.

  “Now, don’t forget, on the originals, put your initials and date obtained on the top too.” Kate was more efficient when it came to the details.

  “Thanks for reminding me. See, that’s why I need you around.” He kissed the nape of her neck.

  Dutch initialed and dated the two original pages and turned the numbers on the safe lock. The thick door swung open and he placed the pages on the top shelf. He pushed the door closed and twirled the dial, locking the safe from theft and fire.

  “I can’t wait to get into my new office,” he said to Kate. “I’m going to have the safe imbedded in cement in the back room. It’ll be harder to steal—that is, if someone wants to steal a heavy safe.”

  “I have a feeling you may need it cemented in place if we carry through on this job.” Kate looked serious.

  “Yep. You could be right.” He ran his hand through his hair.

  “I believe organized crime is involved.” The thought scared her. She’d run into a few tough guys when she was working for the detective agency. “Your feet may end up in cement too.”

  “I’m not worried. We have the Holy Grail,” he said, holding up the pages of names. “The police will have a copy, too, so that’ll be our life insurance. Why kill us off to get the list if the cops also have a copy?” He looked solemn.

  “So you think it’s going to be very dangerous?” Kate asked.

  “Stop and think, young lady.”

  “You’re right. Murder equals very dangerous.”

  Dutch nodded. His mouth was set into a grim line. “I’ll have to begin wearing my firearm.”

  “A gun? I’m afraid of guns.”

  “Then I won’t show it to you.”

  “Where will you hide it on your body?” She knew nothing about handguns.

  “I usually carry it in an ankle holster. My handgun isn’t big. Just big enough to convince people.”

  “Guns are dangerous,” Kate said.

  “I worked with them all through my job as a cop in New York,” Dutch countered. “It’s like a part of my body.”

  “Hope you don’t have to use it though.”

  “Me too. Not only because a person gets hurt, but there’s usually a scandal while the local constabulary does an intense investigation,” he said sarcastically.

  They both pulled chairs up to the kitchen table. Dutch spread out the paper marked Autopsy. “The Medical Examiner’s report on Andrew Giamgello,” he said.

  “The Keystone Cops didn’t say it was a suicide, did they?” Kate asked.

  “Now, now, don’t run our police force down too much. Give them some credit. They surprise me on how efficient they are sometimes,” he said.

  “Well, did they?”

  “No. Don’t be silly. It’s reported as a homicide.”

  “Okay, I promise I won’t make fun of them again.” She rubbed his thigh, which touched hers under the table.

  “Plus the ME found tissue under Andy’s fingernails. He said it’s sufficient to get DNA from it,” Dutch said.

  Kate got up and walked over to the stove. “So we run all over town looking for people with scratches on their face or hands?” Kate poked a potato in the pot. Good, they’re done.

  “No, but it will cinch the case when they compare the DNA from his fingernails with a suspect’s DNA.”

  “Don’t you love it? Modern technology takes out all of the guesswork now,” Kate mused.

  “Fingerprints were found on the cigar box and files on the realtor’s desk.”

  “So if the killer has a record he’ll be identified from the prints, hopefully.”

  “Let’s look at this list,” Dutch said. He ran his finger along the paper. “Quite a few in Jersey, one in southwest North Carolina and one in New Mexico. If any detective work is to be done, it’ll have to be the FBI because of the different states involved.”

  “The big boys again. They got involved in our last case too. We’ll be well-known by them soon.”

  “This could be good or bad—depends on how well we handle this case.”

  “Ready to eat?” Kate asked. “I’m starving. All this talk about murder, fraud schemes and stuff has made me hungry.” She took the bottle of horseradish sauce out of the refrigerator.

  Dutch set two places at the table and took plates out of the cabinet. Kate served the pot roast and vegetables. “Looks delicious,” Dutch said.

  They enjoyed their Sunday dinner while they made plans for the next step in the investigation.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kate says: Paint doilies to complement your shelves. Then cut them in half. Line them up on the edge of your shelves using double-sided tape. Overlap them a little for a pretty touch.

  Kate mixed the potato salad and then used the kitchen mandolin to shred cabbage for the coleslaw. Outside on the deck, Dutch scrubbed the barbecue grill to ready it for the cookout that afternoon. Paul, with his wife and boisterous kids, arrived on time and everyone enjoyed the impromptu get-together. Dutch had thought it would be a good idea to get to know Paul’s family and, most of all, it would be an opportune time to discuss the progress of the investigation.

  After playing kickball with the children, Dutch told Paul about the list of names discovered on the broker’s legal pad. Paul was ecstatic at the news. Apparently relieved at the report, he played horseshoes enthusiastically and won the game, soundly beating Dutch who happened to be the local pitching champion of the shoes. The family left for their journey home, happy and satisfied.

  “Nice guy,” Dutch said as they waved to the departing guests. “Pity he’s got himself into a tangled mess.”

  With dinner over, Kate and her mother relaxed in front of the wood fireplace, which had flames licking at the large logs they’d loaded on top of the snapping kindling.

  Kate’s cell phone rang. �
��Hello,” she said.

  “It’s Dutch.” He sounded breathless—like he’d just run a marathon.

  “What’s wrong?” She straightened up, nervous at the tenor of his voice.

  “Just got a call. Are you sitting down?”

  “Yep. Why? Tell me.”

  “Paul’s dead.”

  “No. What? How awful,” she said. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Believe it. Meet me at the bank—Paul’s bank—or what was Paul’s bank,” he gasped.

  “For what?” Kate was dressed in her pajamas, ready for bed. She wasn’t looking forward to leaving her nice warm armchair where she was curled up watching her favorite TV show.

  “He’s helping with our investigation for crying out loud,” he yelled. “I’m going now so meet me there. We may pick up some clues.”

  “Oh, all right. No need to get snotty. I’ll meet you at the bank.” Kate was reluctant, but she quickly changed into her jeans and a sweatshirt. It was chilly out.

  Wonder what’s going on? It only took a few minutes to cross the town and arrive at the bank. A crowd of people were gathered on the sidewalk and overflowed onto half of the street. Groups were huddled together, swapping facts they’d picked up from the cops. Several police cars and an ambulance stood parked with the lights flashing. Kate’s heart missed a beat. She was panicked for no reason. She always had those feelings when police, or anyone in authority, made an entrance. She was innocent but had to force her actions to appear that way, pretending to be nonchalant. I’m silly, she told herself.

  Dutch saw her arrive and ran over to her vehicle. “Take my digital camera,” he said. “You look through here and when the little red dot stops flashing, push this button.” He pointed to the different areas on the camera.

  “Okay. I think I can handle that. What do you want me to photograph?” she asked. “What’s the hurry? Paul’s already dead.”