Kate gave her a shortened version of the happenings, leaving out names, naturally. She’d become accustomed to telling the short story to everyone who stopped to chat while she was in town.
“I worry so much about you,” Rachel said, frowning as she formed the ribbon bow for the doll’s hat.
“You and Dutch must take care. This gang has millions of dollars at stake, and they’re not going to let a couple of amateurs like you two stop them.” She stared at Kate, tight lipped.
“Hey, hey, we’re not amateurs—we’re professional detectives,” Kate protested.
“Compared to their scam and the money, sweetheart, you’re worthless to them. They’ve killed off three people, blown up a car of another loan officer, shot a hole through your store window and made heavy-breathing telephone calls to your house in the middle of the night.” Rachel stabbed through the doll’s head with a long needle and made a stitch with the heavy thread, making a dimple on the doll’s face. “Then you have the guts to say they’re not after you?”
“You’re right, Rachel. It’s just that I’m in denial. You’ve brought the subject to the front of my brain, though.” Kate laughed and stuck her fingers inside a toy hand puppet sitting on the shelf. “Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly,” she said in a deep voice.
“You’re a scary woman,” Rachel said with a grin.
“Thanks.”
“So, how’s the romance going with Dutch?”
“It’s going. He wants to get really serious, but I want to wait awhile. I have to think of Mum. Where would she go? Live with us in the cabin? Or we could live altogether in Mum’s house. I did get over the feeling that I’m cheating on my husband,” Kate said.
“Good. He’s been dead for years. You have to enjoy life and that could be with Dutch. He’s one of the nicest men I’ve met, and you know I judge men harshly.”
“Well, you came from a broken home and a broken marriage so it’ll take a lot to fix you.” Kate picked up one of the completed dolls about to be packed into a shipping box. “Does making these dolls satisfy your maternal instincts?”
“In a way. But it’s more like the feeling when your dog has puppies and you have to give them away. Handing over my dolls to be sold gives me the same emotion. They become a part of me while I’m crafting them. It’s sad really.” Rachel stopped sewing the fingers into the doll’s hand.
“You’re going to make me cry in a minute,” Kate said.
“You have no feelings.” Rachel chuckled. “Get going. I need to finish these dolls today. Don’t let the door hit you in the butt,” she called out as Kate walked out the door.
Rachel turned the job-light on over her table. It was getting dark inside her dining room. She got up and poured herself a glass of ice water. Sipping the water, she stood and stared out of the kitchen window. Clouds scudded across the sky—tall, dark-bottomed clouds full of rain overcast the weak sun. “Going to rain,” she said out loud to Fritz, her dog.
She walked to her worktable, also known as the dining-room table, when a shadow passed the window. She waited at the door anticipating a knock on it. The doorbell rang, no knock. She opened the door.
“Yes?” she asked. There stood a hulking figure of a man about six feet six inches tall and close to three feet across his shoulders. Nice features on his face were topped off with longish white-blond hair. He resembled a Viking at first blush. Of course, Rachel had never seen a real Norseman, but he looked like the way they should appear, in her opinion.
“I’m assuming you’re a friend of the woman who just left here? Kate Bart?” the man asked in a smooth, deep voice.
“Yes, I am. We’ve known each other for years. What’s it to you?” Rachel answered. “And your name is…?”
“Just call me Gus,” the man said. “You don’t need to know more.”
“That’s a strange statement to make. So why are you telling me your nickname and not your real name?” Rachel demanded.
“You’re a very nosy woman,” he said. He pushed her back inside the foyer. He slammed the door behind him. He grabbed Rachel’s wrist. Rachel panicked. Her breath came in short bursts. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it would leap out of her chest. He pulled her inside the dining room, and pushed her down to sit on one of the chairs.
“Ouch, you’re hurting me,” she yelled.
“I have a message for you and your friend,” he barked at her.
“Let go of my arm.” She twisted her arm in an attempt to free herself. “Ow.” It was painful but her struggles only made the man angrier, making him squeeze her arm tighter.
“I only need a little cooperation from you and then I’ll let you go.”
“What do you want? I haven’t done a thing to you. Who the hell are you anyway?”
“What language from a young woman’s mouth.”
“You haven’t heard anything yet. Who are you?”
“My partners and I are busy trying to make a living in this godforsaken town, but your friend and that private dick, Dutch what’s-his-name, are interfering with our plan. We—and I—want you to tell Kate Bart and Dutch to lay off this investigation. They’ll only get hurt if they continue.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rachel screamed. “Let go of me.” She wriggled around on the chair as she tried to lessen the pain of his huge hand locked around her wrist. “Ouch—you’re going to break my wrist.”
“Okay, okay. I’m going to go easy on you this visit. But make sure you tell your friend. If not, next time I’ll have to be more strict with you.” Gus let go of her wrist. She rubbed it to get the blood circulating. He opened the front door and turned back to say: “Remember to tell Kate Bart—lay off us.” With that he slammed the door and was gone.
Aunt Carmella shuffled down the hallway from the guest room. She blinked at the light like a mole emerging from its hole. “What’s with the door slammin’?” she asked. She took her dentures out of her apron pocket and popped them in her mouth.
“Nothing to worry about, Auntie. Go back to your room. I have to call Kate.”
“I heard that man. Sounds like La Cosa Nostra to me. Ain’t you scared? I am. Had an uncle in it. Lived in Palermo, he did. Sicily, you know.”
“What’re yous guys nattering on about?” Uncle Ralph roared from the guest bedroom.
“Nuttin’ to consoin you,” Carmella screamed back.
“Children,” Rachel yelled at them. “Shut up.”
Auntie shuffled back down the hallway, muttering about disrespectful young people as she went.
Rachel ran to the phone in the kitchen and dialed Kate’s cell phone number. When Kate answered it on the first ring, Rachel, breathless, told her what had happened.
“Have you called the police?” Kate asked.
“Hell, no. I’m not getting involved with cops. I don’t need this in my life. This has got me really pissed off. You report it…and stay away from my house until your case is finished. I have to make a living and have a business to attend to.”
“Rachel, I’m really sorry. I’ll make it up to you,” Kate said.
Rachel slapped the phone receiver onto its cradle. She mumbled to herself, complaining about friends who attract bad elements and how she had to get her product to market without these interruptions. She ranted on until she was satisfied that she had fumed long enough to clear her head. She took a deep breath then had to sit because her legs trembled so much.
Dutch shook his head when Kate told him what had happened to Rachel.
“Damn,” he said. “They’re hitting our friends now. It’s affecting their lives. We have to get this case over as soon as we can so everyone’s lives can return to normal.”
He paced back and forth in the living room while Mildred calmly knitted.
“What are we supposed to do about it?” Kate asked. “Are the detectives interviewing the other loan officers in the banks affected?”
“I believe they are, but I’ll check with the lieutenant
tomorrow.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Kate says: Need a new headboard in your bedroom? A garden-themed headboard can be made from a section of picket fence, painted to coordinate with your wall paint. Or have your lumberyard cut a semi-circle from a piece of paneling. With spray glue, adhere quilt batting to one side and cover the whole piece with a pretty piece of fabric stapled on the back of the board.
Kate sneezed several times. “My nose is totally blocked,” she snuffled into a wad of tissues.
Mildred stirred tea leaves in the large teapot and plopped the quilted tea cozy over it to keep hot. “A nice cup of tea will make you feel better although it won’t help your poor nose,” she said. She dumped three teaspoonfuls of sugar into a rose-decorated cup and filled it with tea.
“Thanks, Mum,” Kate said as she poured some milk into the cup. “I have to go to a lawyer’s office in Roslynn today. He represents the members of the scheming group.”
“How troublesome.”
“Yes, it is. That place is a mess of one-way streets and no U-turns.” Kate sipped her tea. She could feel her body relax. “Then I have to walk through Needle Park to get to his office. They don’t call it Needle Park for no reason.”
“Oh, dear.” Mildred clucked her tongue. “I do hope Dutch is going with you.”
“Yes, I wouldn’t take one step in that town without some guard at my side.” She drained her cup and took it to the dishwasher where she lined it up on the top rack. She picked up her handbag and notebook. She leaned over her mother’s shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll see you later, dear.”
“Okay—I have a ladies’ club meeting today, so I’ll be busy and not too lonely. I hope you’ll be safe. I do so worry about you.” Mildred looked at her daughter with a frown.
A car horn sounded in the driveway. “Bye, Mum. Dutch is here.”
Kate ran out the door and jumped into Dutch’s pickup truck. She pecked a kiss on his cheek and they were off to the city.
They found a parking spot as soon as they arrived—a miracle in that area. Dutch stayed close by her side as they walked through Needle Park, which was crowded with people of all types. Some looked a little cagey, and since it was called Needle Park, a few may have been drug dealers and abusers. They didn’t stop to find out.
The lawyer’s office was on the tenth floor in a fifteen-storey building. The elevator was off to the side in the urine-smelling foyer. It whisked them up to the tenth floor, opening up into a narrow, dark corridor.
“I’m soooo glad you’re with me,” Kate stage-whispered. “This place is scary. It smells of french fries too.” She sniffed.
He squeezed her arm as he held onto her.
“It’s number ten-o-five. Yes, this door,” she said. “You go in first.”
Dutch stared at the door with a frosted glass window marked with a painted name: ROGER M. RHODES, ATTORNEY AT LAW. He turned the handle and entered first. Kate came in slowly.
“Mr. Duchowski and Ms. Kate Bart to see Mr. Rhodes,” he said to the receptionist.
“Would you please take a seat, and he’ll be right with you.” She pressed the intercom button and announced them.
“Show them in,” a man responded.
The middle-aged secretary with steel-grey hair pointed to the only door, and told them to go into the lawyer’s office. Mr. Rhodes rose and shook hands with both the visitors. He turned out to be around Dutch’s age, the late forties, with a shaved head that had a black shadow of the hair roots in a semi-circle monk’s fringe. A small potbelly, clothed in a Brooks Brothers’ shirt, overhung his belt buckle. A sharply pressed black suit completed his outfit. He has a hard-looking face. Looks like a funeral director in that black suit, Kate thought.
“What can I do for you?” the attorney asked as he picked up a legal pad and prepared to take notes.
“We researched a deed registered in the Sussex County Clerk’s office. It was for the sale of some property there,” Dutch said.
The attorney flinched at the mention of Sussex County.
“Your name was on some of the documents pertaining to that transaction,” Dutch continued. “I believe your client is the Valhalla at the Lake Corp.” Dutch knew it was, but he tried to act as though he wasn’t sure of the client’s name.
“Yes, I think—I believe I had some connection with that real estate closing,” Mr. Rhodes responded. He leaned back in his chair waiting for the next question. He crossed his left leg, exposing a portion of white, hairy calf above his socks. Kate stared. Yuck, why do men wear short socks? Ruins their whole appearance.
“We’re seeking the full names, addresses and telephone numbers of the principals of that corporation,” Dutch said.
“I’ll have my secretary pull the file.” He spoke to the woman in the front office on the intercom. “She won’t be long.”
“Thank you.”
“So, you’re a private investigator looking into the bank scams that’ve been in the newspapers?”
“Yes, we are,” Dutch answered. “There’ve also been three murders and one blown-up car connected with this property deal. I’m hoping you can provide us with more information.”
“I will do what I can, but you must realize that I have an ethical duty to protect my client’s personal information, so your trip here to beautiful downtown Roslynn may have been for naught.”
“If that happens, then we’ll have to get the police to serve you with a search warrant or a subpoena duces tecum.”
Kate ran the information through her head, trying to remember the legalese from her days at the old detective agency. She and Dutch would have to submit affidavits, which would supply the judge with information on why a search was necessary.
The legal secretary walked into the office and handed a thick file to the lawyer. He pulled on the strings holding it together and plunged his hand into the pouch. He withdrew several documents while he shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Duchowski,” Mr. Rhodes said. “I cannot help you with further information on my clients. I suggest someone does a search on the New Jersey Corporate search pages on the Internet. The names of the corporate officers will be shown on the site including their addresses as well as the address of the corporation.”
“You know very well that the corporation hasn’t been recorded. In other words, you’re protecting the personal identities of these crooks…” Dutch protested.
“My clients aren’t crooks, as you call them. It’s obvious that I have to protect them. You’re not simple, are you?” The attorney shoved the papers back into the file and angrily tied the strings into a tight bow.
“No need to get childish,” Kate snapped. “So we’ll have to get a warrant or a subpoena.”
“I told you, Miss,” he said loudly. “Go on the Internet and look them up.”
“I would, Mr. Rhodes,” she retorted, “if there was such an entity as Valhalla at the Lake. But like Dutch just said, the corporation hasn’t been incorporated in New Jersey, not in Pennsylvania or Delaware.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t help you. I wasn’t retained to do the incorporation of the company. I have their confidentiality to protect. I hope you understand.”
“Yes, I do. It was silly for us to come here, but at least we do know for sure you represented them in this real estate transaction.” Kate wiped her finger across his desk. “Needs dusting,” she quipped as she exited the office. She heard the lawyer slap his desk with a legal pad.
“Exasperating,” Dutch said in the elevator. “But at least we’re getting somewhere.” Kate knew he was trying to sound upbeat.
They drove directly to the Stonington police department and met the lieutenant in his office. “You need to produce a search warrant,” Dutch advised him.
“Oh, I do, eh?”
“Yes. We found the attorney who represented the group when they purchased the land in Sussex County but he won’t—well, he can’t really—tell us the addresses of these guys.”
“D
id he confirm that he’s the correct lawyer—the one that represented them in the Sussex County land purchase?”
“Yes, he did. His secretary handed him a large file folder marked Valhalla at the Lake,” Dutch responded. “He also told us he didn’t represent them when they incorporated. Although we know it never was incorporated. That’s beside the point.”
“Dutch, I’ll need yours and Kate’s affidavits and copies of the deed and information we’re seeking so I can go before the judge and get a search warrant,” the policeman said. “The whereabouts of these men are a top priority. As the requesting investigator, together with this police department, we need these affidavits in support of a search warrant—write sentences like ‘this is a statement of probable cause,’ et cetera.”
“I know, I know. I’ve prepared dozens in my career in New York City,” Dutch answered.
“When can I get them?”
“Give us a couple of hours. We’ll go back to my office and prepare them. I’ll attach copies of the deed and survey. I have a copier, so it’ll be no problem.”
“Great. That’s really fast. I’d like to catch the judge before he quits for the day. Otherwise, we’ll have to wait for another day.”
Dutch left the office and he, with Kate, drove to his cabin to complete the paperwork. As they climbed the steps to the cabin, his tuxedo black and white cat sat on the top step. When he saw them, he mewed and walked toward the edge of the step. Dutch scratched its head. As he unlocked the door, the cat rubbed its head on Dutch’s legs.
“Hi, Baby,” Dutch said. “Leaving hair all over my pants again. Come on in and have some milk.”
Baby ran through his legs and jumped up onto a kitchen chair.
“He is so cute with his green eyes and a white tip on his tail. Looks like it was dipped in paint,” Kate said, laughing.
“Here ya go, some milk for my Baby.” The little cat lapped at the milk in a saucer.
“I wonder where he came from?” Kate asked. “No one’s ever advertised a lost cat.”
Fleeced in Stonington Page 13