“He was a gift from cat heaven. I needed someone waiting for me at home, so the gods sent him down here. It’ll be years before I have kids.”
Dutch smiled at the little creature now curled up on the couch.
“I got the hint. And I’m ignoring it,” Kate said. “Let’s have a quick sandwich before we start typing up affidavits. I’m hungry.”
“That’s right, change the subject. When are you going to take me seriously?” Dutch asked.
“Some day.”
“Soon, please,” he pleaded while opening up a package of salami and placing it into a sliced roll with mustard. “Pardon zee garlic,” he said, munching on the sandwich.
Kate made a sandwich and balanced the plate on her knees as she signed onto the computer’s word processing program and began typing. She had typed many affidavits for a search warrant in her job at the detective agency, so she quickly typed up the document with the pertinent information in it, printed it and handed the paper to Dutch. “Please check this one before I replicate it for me. Make sure I have everything mentioned.” She chewed her sandwich while Dutch read over the document.
“Looks good to me,” he said, handing it back to her.
“All right, I’ll use the same text but with my signature in the signature line instead of yours,” she said.
She printed out three copies, and they signed all of the copies. She handed one copy to Dutch. “Put this in your safe, please.”
Finished, they returned to the lieutenant’s office and handed him the affidavits where they swore to their correctness. “Great,” he said, “I have an appointment with the judge in about an hour. There shouldn’t be any problems getting the warrant. Then we have to get it served on the lawyer. I have a feeling he’ll be a little slippery.”
“He looked like it. A little slick,” Kate added. “Come on, Dutch, we’ve done our duty for the day, drop me off at my store. I have to make sure it’s locked up properly.”
“At your service,” Dutch called back over his shoulder. “If you have any questions, Lieutenant, give me a call on my cell phone. Gotta run.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kate says: Instead of painting a nursery in pink or blue, why not paint the room in bold colors such as turquoise and chocolate with splashes of pure white? Makes the room more interesting and retro.
Kate knocked hesitantly on the pink door.
“Hi,” Rachel said quietly. “Come in.”
“Hello. I’m so glad you’re home. I’ve been so upset because of what happened to you,” Kate said.
“I was rude the other day,” Rachel admitted. “Sorry. It’s not your fault.”
“This case we’re working includes some nasty characters. I apologize to you.” Kate kissed her friend’s cheek. “So what’s new?” she asked.
“Got a big order for twenty teddies from a store in Avalon, so I have my hands full for a few weeks. Also have some of the cuties on an Internet auction site. They sell really well—I’m not complaining.” She picked up a finished teddy and jammed a six-inch-long threaded needle through the teddy head, pulled it out the other side and sewed on a shoe-button eye. “Ouch,” she said out loud as she pricked her finger. “I sent out a nice big teddy to this woman in Verona, New Jersey,” she mumbled as she sucked her finger. “I haven’t heard whether he arrived okay.”
“I have a cousin who lives there, and she collects teddy bears. What’s the buyer’s name?”
“I’m not sure. The name was Pat the Teddy Bear Collector on Grove Road.”
Kate shook her head. “Not my cousin—her name’s Julia.” She gathered up her purse. “Well, it’s getting late. I’ll be going and let you get on with your work.”
“Come back tomorrow, and I’ll make lunch for us.”
Kate let herself out of the front door.
Rachel turned on the lights, made a cup of tea and sipped it while she signed onto the Internet. Mail was waiting for her so she clicked on the note, which appeared to be from a Pat Harvey. It opened up with a picture of…okay…close-up of scary black teddy-bear eyes hypnotically staring out at her. She glanced at the note:
Hello, Rachel. I arrived here today and I’m having fun with all of my brother and sister teddies. Pat, our owner, is out right now so I decided to send you an email. Don’t tell Pat that I wrote to you. It’s our secret.
Strange. She returned to her sewing. She thought about the weird email while she stuffed polyester batting with a long hemostat into a teddy bear leg. She stuffed teddies for the next hour when, ding, her computer told her an email had arrived. Another email from Pat Harvey was on the screen above the last note.
The same spooky eyes stared out at her. Creepy.
Hello, Rachel. We’re all alone. Pat hasn’t come home from work yet. But we send emails to our friends anyway, Pat won’t find out. I saw your friend leave, and I saw you prick your finger with that long needle. Are you hurt? I hope not. Bye for now.
She pushed herself back from the computer, horrified. This is frightening. I’ll call Kate. See what she has to say about these emails. I can’t call the police. They’ll think I’m nuts.
Rachel telephoned Kate who was about to change into her PJs and was brushing her hair. “I’ll be right over,” Kate said. “It’s alarming. This Pat must be watching…”
“…or the teddy bears are watching—those eyes on the email just bore right through me.” Rachel hung up and quickly closed the dining-room curtains. She leaned on the wall—terrified. Her heart pounded. Maybe I’m losing my mind, she thought.
The minutes ticked by loudly on her tall grandfather clock in the hall. She stayed clung to the wall. Where’s Kate? It’s been fifteen minutes.
Red and blue flashing lights reflected through the curtains. What’s going on? Fear gripped her chest. A fist banged on the front door. “Is that you, Kate?” she called out.
“Police,” was the deep-voiced response. “Open up.”
Rachel opened the door slowly. A large police officer stood aside as she stepped out to see Kate standing next to another police officer who was taking notes. “What’s going on?”
“Your friend arrived in time to see that gentleman over there,” he said, pointing to a man in handcuffs leaning on the patrol car, “Mr. Patrick Oldham, looked like he was attempting to break into your house.”
“Patrick? He’s Pat.” Rachel’s knees gave way as she slowly fainted into a crumpled heap.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kate says: Want to turn your basement into a home theater? Paint the walls and ceiling black and choose dark-colored Berber carpeting. The lighting should be recessed with a dimmer switch and wall sconces. Make two levels of easy chairs so everyone has a good view of the screen. Use recliners or purchase theater seating. Decorate the area with old movie posters you can find on the Internet or craft stores. Roll that video!
The judge signed the search warrant that evening and arrangements were made to have it served the next morning. It was to be executed by the Essex County Sheriff’s department because the lawyer’s office to be served was outside Stonington’s jurisdiction.
Dutch hoped the Essex sheriffs didn’t drag their feet. He needed to track down the revolver and rifle used, and it would be impossible without the addresses of the suspects.
The results of the test on the tissues taken from under Paul’s fingernails were in. It showed that a good sample of the DNA was obtained. It was run through the DNA database, but it didn’t match anyone in the system. The police forensics team told Dutch that now all they needed is the person to whom the DNA belonged, and once they discovered the identifications of all of the buyers on the deed, they could get swabs from them and compare their DNA to the tissue recovered.
The police crime profiler, a craggy-faced man with thirty years of policework, suggested that the members of the gang were probably merely consiglieres, or advisers, if this was the work of the mob. The consiglieres, he said, try to keep the family looking legal, which they us
ually can attain because they’re quite often lawyers or stock brokers—the brains of the group.
Kate and Dutch disagreed. They believed it would be a stretch to consider these men as the brains. They’d made some blunders, which were about to trip them up.
Kate was at the store receiving a large shipment of decorator accessories. She was excited all morning about the delivery of Victorian-styled birdhouses, bejeweled pillows, prints of famous pastoral paintings, large tassels for tying back drapes and so many more pieces of bric-a-brac, which the local ladies adored.
Dutch dropped by and helped her rearrange the vintage furniture in order to showcase the new products. She chatted on and on about the gift trade show coming up in New York. She was anxious to add even more of a variety of objects to sell.
His cell phone rang. It was the lieutenant with the news that the sheriff in Essex County had served the warrant and obtained the names and addresses of the principals in the real estate transaction. Dutch felt like jumping up and down. He was ecstatic at this news. It meant they could begin tracing the weapons, hopefully, with luck, leading to arrests in the murders and the fraudulent loan applications.
Dutch grabbed Kate around the waist and hugged her. “Happy now your store is full of new inventory? Pleased with the result from the warrant?” he asked her.
“Oh, yes, rather,” she replied.
“You sounded really British just then.”
“Is that bad?”
“Absolutely not. Hey, can you come to my house after the store’s closed? We’ll order pizza. We should do a diagram of all of the events we’ve followed so far. I’d like to make up a board for each person involved. We did that in our last job. It’s a visual layout so we know where we have to troubleshoot. It’ll make it easier to see this whole case in one spot.”
“I thought you were going to order a blackboard for that purpose,” Kate said.
“I’ll have one in my new office when the place is ready. Meanwhile, can you come over tonight?”
“Yes, only for a couple of hours. Mum has Bingo at the Legion tonight, and I want to be there when she gets home.”
He took her in his arms and nuzzled her neck. “I’ll get you there before Mildred gets home,” he murmured. “There’ll still be time for a quickie.”
“Ooh, yes, please.” Several shoppers entered the store. She pulled herself out of his embrace.
“Okay, I’ll leave so you can attend to your customers.” He took the truck keys out of his pocket. “See ya later.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kate says: Your bedroom has plain doors or just plain ugly doors? Using mastic, glue mirror squares on the door, making it reflect light back into the room instead of sitting there, bored.
She arrived at the same time as the pizza delivery. Dutch paid the young man and set the box on the kitchen table. Several large white poster boards leaned on the back of a chair. Dutch placed two large black markers next to them.
Kate dumped her bag onto a kitchen chair. He opened up the box and passed a paper plate with two slices of pizza to her. She took a bite.
“Thanks. I’m hungry,” she said with her mouth full.
Dutch poured cold cola into two glasses. He passed one to her. “Eat up. I’m anxious to get these facts down on the boards.”
They quickly ate the whole pizza, washed down with cola drinks.
Dutch wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Right, let’s begin,” he said, leaning the boards along the kitchen wall. “We have Andy the broker, Paul, Sidney and Patricia.” He wrote those names along the top of each board.
“I hope we have enough space,” Kate noted. “So much has happened in the past few weeks.”
“I’ll write small.” He frowned. “Let’s begin. Under Andy…let’s see.” He took the marker and began to make the list.
ANDY THE BROKER
Was the real estate broker – he held the license.
Salespeople worked for him.
Business had been bad.
Hinted that he’d faked an appraisal for a group. Boasted he’d received a large amount of money and wanted his office decorated.
Showed them a large colored rendering of a townhouse community, which was called Valhalla at the Lake.
Blond man seen in waiting room right before he was killed. Andy was shot through back of the head.
Qs: Who shot Andy?
PAUL—LOAN OFFICER at STONINGTON NORTH EASTERN BANK OF NJ
Lent the corporation 2 million dollars.
Money gone offshore to Grand Cayman Islands.
He was shot through the back of the head.
Shot mob style same as Andy.
Bullet was recovered—shot from same revolver as Andy’s bullet.
Qs.: Who shot Paul?
SIDNEY—THE LOAN OFFICER at STONINGTON S&L
Gave corporation $500,000 credit line.
Immediately full amount sent offshore to St. Vincent.
Was shot by rifle in the parking lot—fell next to his car.
Qs: Who shot Sidney?
PATRICIA—THE LOAN OFFICER at STONINGTON STAR SAVINGS BANK
Gave million $ loan.
$ transferred to Nevis Island then to Bahamas.
Dutch protected—remote car starter – car exploded.
Qs: Who blew up Patricia’s car?
KATE
Bullet through her store window.
Heavy breathing calls on phone late at night.
Rachel told to warn Kate to stay off case. Man lurking around her house.
Qs: Who shot the store window?
MISCELLANEOUS FACTS
VALHALLA REAL PROPERTY CORP not incorporated.
Seller of land provided names of principals.
Buyers were the corporation but attorney refused names of officers.
Warrant produced addresses of gang.
Qs: Were any of the weapons registered?
Get a warrant to search their houses?
“It’s such a good idea to do these boards,” Dutch said, “but when the office is completed, I’m having one wall made as a blackboard. They make blackboard paint now—easy to make a whole wall a blackboard.”
“Last year, you said you were having a whiteboard installed when you get your own office.”
“Changed my mind. Decided I like the old-fashioned black.”
“Then we won’t have to have big pieces of cardboard sitting around the living room walls.” Kate laughed. “Kidding aside though, it is so much easier to see where we have to go next.”
Dutch enveloped her in his arms. She raised her head to meet his kiss then pulled away. “Sorry. Have to go. Mum will be home any minute. I promised I’d be there.”
The police lieutenant sounded excited on the phone. “We have approved search warrants for those addresses we obtained from the lawyer’s office you visited.”
“Great,” Dutch said while he scratched Baby’s head. The cat had decided he wanted to live at the cabin and had to be forced off the couch to go outside occasionally.
“You’ll let us know when the first one is executed? Kate’s very nervous, and her shop is nearly empty. Customers are jittery too—they’re afraid of getting shot.”
In fact, Kate was, right at that moment, at the shop rearranging the front window. Luckily, the bullet that had been shot through the glass had missed a beautiful antique chiffonier. Abigail was helping her move the large piece into the store.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw a large black car with darkened windows. The driver’s side window was down halfway. It drove by the store slowly. She could see the driver was swarthy or suntanned and had black, shiny hair. The vehicle seemed to float by like a ship in the night. It disappeared at the end of the block but within seconds, it was back again.
Abigail put her end of the furniture down and waited for Kate to drop hers. Kate was staring at the car outside on the street. “Come on, Kate,” she said. “Drop your end.”
Kate bent down to place th
e piece onto the floor gently without dropping it. Psssst. Something whizzed by her ear. She dropped to the floor. “Get down,” she yelled at Abigail. “I can’t believe it! He’s shooting again. Look at the window—it now has two holes and it could have killed me. I felt the air pass my ear.” She could see part of the license plate—KML—but from where she was on the floor, she couldn’t make out the numbers. Damn.
The car disappeared as fast as it had shown up. Kate immediately phoned the police. “It’s gone, but I now have a second bullet hole in my store window. Where’s a cop when you need one? Send someone over to find this bullet.” She slammed down the phone. Pisses me off. Wish I had the plate number. Something to trace this shooter.
Within minutes a policeman arrived. Flashing lights reflected on all of the mirrors inside the shop. The place looked like a disco. The cop wrestled his belly out of the patrol car, holding onto his holster as he did so. He strolled, à la John Wayne, into the store. “What happened here?”
Kate looked him in the eye. “Look at the store window. There’s another bullet hole in it,” she said, exasperated at his attitude.
“Did you see where it went?” He wandered around the store, looking at the walls.
“It whizzed by my ear, and I was bending over, so it probably went into a wall. The last one was high and ended up in the ceiling.” Kate walked directly across the store. She found the bullet hole in the wall in between two oil paintings. “Luckily it didn’t pierce my favorite picture in the store.”
The rookie cop followed her and dug the bullet out of the wall and put it into an evidence bag. “We’ll take a look around town and the area in general to see if we can locate the car you described. This is the only drive-by shooting in town, ma’am.”
“What do you mean by that remark?” Kate snapped at him.
Abigail stifled a giggle.
Fleeced in Stonington Page 14