NOTHING TO LOSE - Angie Bartoni Case File # 5 (ANGIE BARTONI CASE FILES)

Home > Other > NOTHING TO LOSE - Angie Bartoni Case File # 5 (ANGIE BARTONI CASE FILES) > Page 3
NOTHING TO LOSE - Angie Bartoni Case File # 5 (ANGIE BARTONI CASE FILES) Page 3

by Marshall Huffman


  The other team members, Cynthia, call me Cindy, Marsha the profiler and Eric were all good people. Eric was our techno whizz.

  “So this is a real mess. Homeland is flexing its muscles on this. We kind of had a knock down drag out.”

  “We saw. Actually heard some of it. You didn’t seemed too pleased,” I told him.

  “Have you met them yet?”

  “Do I look crazy? I beat it while you guys were doing your testosterone thing. It was practically dripping off you guys,” I kidded back.

  “All I can say is that you are really going to love this guy. He is a fourteen carrot ass. According to him, he alone holds the country together,” Brad said.

  “Hey then he won’t need us. I guess I’ll just go on home.”

  “No way. He will probably want you to go get his coffee.”

  Oooh. Brad knew how to trip my trigger. All he has to do once is tell me to go get coffee for him. It will be the last time he speaks as a baritone.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Are you ready for this? Purvis Potts,” Brad told us.

  I guess you had to be there to see the humor but I chuckled politely.

  “So what are you guys doing?” I asked.

  “We have the important job of tracking down where the truck came from and hopefully finding it,” Brad said.

  “And Marsha?”

  “She is going to be grilling you about Belk. You know more about him than anyone. She has the file but she really needs to spend time with you.”

  “Honestly, I doubt I can bring much to the table. I put pretty much everything I know about this guy in my report. If you read it, you know it’s extensive,” I warned.

  “You got something hot going on?” Brad asked.

  “No not really. We are tracking down the guard that had to be involved, but we already have a pretty good fix on who it is. That’s probably something Eric and Dan can handle,” I told him.

  “Where is Dan?” Brad asked, looking around.

  I looked at my watch, “He will be coming up those stairs in 7..6..5..almost to the second, the top of Dan’s head appeared. Knowing Dan, he would pass right by without even knowing the FBI was standing there. Until he went to get his coffee, he was oblivious to everything. It made me wonder how he ever got to work without a wreck.

  **

  We were all sitting in the big conference room. By big I mean we were like sardines in a tin can. I noticed that Cynthia was not sitting very close to Dan. The last time we worked together I had to jump on Dan and Brad had a little chat with Cindy about professionalism.

  The Homeland Security Investigator big shot was this Purvis Potts guy that Brad had mentioned earlier. He had gray hair, gray eyes and wore a gray suit. Wow, what a thrilling life he must lead. His voice was like the rest of him, dull. He was totally monotone and I found myself almost drifting off. I know my eyes glazed over.

  For some reason he seemed to think we were interested in HIS history. Get a clue dude. No one cares. According to him, he expected written reports handed in to him every morning by no later than 8:00 a.m. Good luck with that, I thought. I was pretty sure Pendergrass was thinking the same thing from the rolling of his eyes.

  He had three other equally boring people with him but I didn’t even bother to learn their names. In some ways it was comical. They were going to track Belk down without knowing any of his past history. I wondered if that was their standard operating procedure or was this guy just trying to show off.

  I found I spoke too soon a few minutes later. Mr. Gray Man showed up at my desk.

  “I need you to turn over all your files on Belk,” he said.

  “Really? I’ll get them rounded up as soon as I can.”

  “I would like them now,” he said trying to give me a look of intimidation.

  Bad idea. Angie does not play well with others. Especially ones that try to intimidate her.

  “I’ll get them to you in a little while. I have to round them all up,” I lied.

  “Now Detective. I want them now,” he said taking a step closer.

  He was in my personal space, another thing that I’m not real fond of.

  “Alright,” I said, “Wait right here and I’ll go get them.”

  He just nodded.

  I got up, took my gun from my desk drawer, went downstairs and drove off to have lunch. I wondered how long he would stand there before he realized I was gone. Twenty minutes later my phone rang.

  “Bartoni.”

  “Where are you?” McGregor asked.

  “Having lunch.”

  “Where?’

  “La Strada.”

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “Heavens no. What’s up?’

  “Purvis told me to have you and the records for him immediately. I figured I would just join you for lunch.”

  “By all means. I’ll wait to order,” I said as I hung up.

  The captain isn’t real big on being told what to do either. I figured good ole Purvis was striking out on all levels.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “I demand to know where you have been,” Purvis said when we came up the stairs.

  The captain did something I had never seen before. As fast as I could blink he had his hands around Potts’ neck and shoved him against the wall. His face was just inches from the HSI agent's.

  “Don’t you ever talk to me or my people like that again. This is my house. You will not come in here making demands. If you ever disrespect me or my people again you had better have a parachute on because I will personally toss your butt out that window and we are on the second floor. Maybe where you come from, Agent Potts, it is acceptable to try to bully people, but here it’s not done that way. Just shake your head if you understand. The last thing you want to do at the moment is to make me really angry by telling me this isn’t the end of it. Got it?”

  Potts’ eyes were about to bug out of his head as he shook his head yes.

  “Excellent,” McGregor said releasing his hold on the agent’s neck.

  He straightened Potts’ suit lapels, turned and went into this office closing the door. Potts stood there looking at Dan and me. I realized that Brad was standing on the stairs transfixed by the whole thing. No one said a word. Finally Potts walked over to my desk.

  “May I have the Belk files?” he said, his voice raspy.

  “Absolutely,” I answered handing over a cardboard box with everything I had.

  “Thank you,” he managed to choke out and took them to the conference room.

  Brad walked over and said, “If I get too cheeky, just remind me okay? Your captain is not a man to be trifled with, especially when it concerns his people.”

  “And that is why I like working here,” I told him.

  **

  Dan and I headed back to the prison once again. Geez I hate going to that place. I would rather spend the night in a cage full of monkeys than an hour there.

  “Warden Dill, thank you again for seeing us.”

  “I just want this cleared up. If you can do it before the FBI gets here, I’m all for it.”

  “I’ll get right to the point. We are focusing on the night shift. From what we have gathered it is the most lax.”

  “Lax how?”

  “Guards actually sleeping and not watching the monitors. Taking all the cameras off line to change DVD’s instead of the way the manual instructs. Things of that nature.”

  “Is this from a reliable source?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Son of...” excuse me.”

  “I fully understand.”

  “We would like to talk to your night shift supervisor.”

  “So would I when you get finished with him.”

  “Absolutely,” I replied.

  “His name is Donald King. They call him ‘Kingfish’. He loves to go fishing every chance he gets,” the warden told us.

  “So he doesn’t come in until close to midnight?” Dan asked.

  “He is usu
ally here around 11:30 p.m. or so.”

  “We need his address along with a list of all guards on the nightshift. We want to start checking them out as well. If we can narrow it down to the person who helped him, that may lead us to who supplied him as well,” I said.

  “Anything you need.”

  He opened a filing cabinet and came up with the duty roster. His desk held the personnel files. He handed the entire stack over.

  “Just so I get them back.”

  “We can take these with us?”

  “You can. They have all signed a statement to the effect that they can be scrutinized by an investigating authority. I doubt they realize it when the sign it but that’s what it says. I would just like to have them back when you are done.”

  “I’ll make sure they are returned.”

  I’ll say this for the warden; he certainly seemed to be a straight shooter. No fooling around. I think he was embarrassed at the lack of professionalism of his guards and it was eating at him. He wanted this investigated and determinations made so the proper actions could be taken. No sweeping it under the rug. I admire a person like that.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Are we going to go there now?” Dan asked, looking at this watch.

  “Sure, why not?”

  “I doubt he will be home. This is a pretty good time of the day for catching fish.”

  “Are you telling me that you can look at your watch and know when fish are hungry? I have had pet fish. Well, for a while anyway. They always seem to croak. The point being, I can feed the little boogers all day long and all they do is eat and poop.”

  “Real fish don’t like to be out in the sunlight all that much. They eat in the early mornings and late afternoons unless you know where to look for them. Usually you find them in the shadows of logs and around piers.”

  “That’s good. I thought they had these cute little watches made just for fish. I thought maybe they bought them on Amazon since they seem to have just about everything in the world on their site.”

  “Fish watches?” Dan asked.

  “Hey, if you can get gloves for a cat or dog, why not an Indiglow watch for your fish?”

  “Bartoni, you need a vacation,” Dan said, shaking his head.

  When we pulled up in front of Donald King’s house we both did a double take. The place was really nice. It was probably close to three thousand square foot. A big trailered boat sat in the driveway blocking one of the three car garage doors.

  We looked at each other. We weren’t even near the water and we smelled something fishy.

  “Nice place for a prison security guard,” Dan said taking it all in.

  “Maybe he has a wealthy wife?” I replied.

  “Maybe the moon is made of cheese,” Dan shot back.

  Dan, Dan, Dan. Now you are starting to banter with me. He is growing so fast. Next thing you know he will be a real detective.

  “Shall we?” I said and we walked up to the door.

  Dan pushed the bell and waited. We pushed it again and waited some more.

  “You think he is gone?” Dan asked.

  “Asleep probably,” I said and banged on the door with the palm of my hand.

  When that started to sting, I had Dan take over. The door was yanked open so fast that Dan almost smacked the guy in the face.

  “What in the hell do you want? Can’t you read?”

  “Uh...I can read but I don’t see anything to read,” I replied.

  “The damn...ah crap. It’s blown off again. Anyway, I’m sorry but I’m sleeping, come back later,” he said starting to close the door.

  “Mr. King, I think we need to talk now,” I said shoving my badge where he could see it.

  “This is about the escape, isn’t it?”

  “It is indeed.”

  “It happened on a different shift. I can’t help you.”

  “Mr. King we need to sit down and talk to you. Either here or down at the station. Your call,” Dan said.

  “What the hell, I’m up. Come on in,” he said opening the door.

  Not only was the place nice but well-appointed. I don’t know a lot about furniture but this stuff looked expensive. I did recognize one of the two couches. It was by Dunwich. Last time I checked they were running around seven grand. Just for a damn couch. I didn’t know the other one but it was uglier than a sack of bad potatoes and probably cost more than the Dunwich.

  I sat down in the other one. It wasn’t particularly comfortable. So I figured if it was ugly and uncomfortable it probably cost a lot.

  King saw me trying to get comfortable.

  “Can you believe that thing?” he said.

  “Well, it’s not exactly my taste,” I replied trying to be diplomatic.

  “Whoever designed it has crap for taste. All the cushions are a different kind, it hurts my butt and it is just plain ugly.”

  “So why do you have it?”

  “It was a gift from my wife. She hated me.”

  “Divorced.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Why do you have all the stuff and fancy house?”

  “Divorce settlement. She made a few million a year. I make a few thousand.”

  I was thinking he was the gold digger in this case but didn’t say it.

  “Ah,” was all I said.

  “Mr. King. We need to know why protocols and procedures are not being followed at night.”

  “Who says they aren’t.”

  “I do. Did you think we wouldn’t be talking to every guard? Everyone who goes in and out of that place? Do you honestly think you can sit there on that expensive couch and pull the wool over our eyes?”

  “Look. It is a hard shift. Most of those guys work two jobs to make ends meet. They don’t get paid enough and half the time we are understaffed. We need more of everything. Better equipment, better pay, more training. It’s damn hard to even keep that shift filled. No one wants to work the midnight to eight shift.”

  “I understand all of that. Look we are cops too. We work the same long hard hours. Hell, we don’t even have ending times for our shifts seventy-five percent of the time. Still, we don’t sleep on the job or bypass protocol.”

  “I doubt that,” he said.

  “Yeah, I do too but the point is, someone on the night shift supplied Belk with the materials he needed to escape. Now he is on the loose. More people are going to start dying and soon. The guard could help lead us to who supplied the goods in the first place. We need to find out who it was,” I said.

  “We have thirty-one people on the night shift. How do you plan to narrow it down?”

  “First, by cell block assignment. They remain pretty much the same. Sure if someone calls in sick a change is made but most of the time they work the same block. Secondly it has to be someone that is near where Belk’s cell is located. If we watch the DVD’s enough we will eventually spot that person. Unfortunately that could mean watching a year or more of DVD’s to spot the activity. You can probably help in that area. I’m sure you already have someone in mind,” I told him.

  He sat, weighing it out. Someone asking you to be a rat is a difficult choice to make. It sounds easy but it isn’t. I’ve been there.

  “Brian Young or Jeff Adams,” he finally said.

  “Why?”

  “Brian is going through a vicious divorce and Jeff has a gambling habit.”

  “Those are the only ones?”

  “They are the ones with the greatest amount of access. Brian pretty much checks the cells every hour or so and Jeff usually drops off the meds they need to take at 6:00 a.m. Not everyone needs them but some do and we make sure they have them to take.

  “Wouldn’t a doctor do that when they got up?”

  “Ha. Oh yeah. Like we could get a qualified doctor here. They don’t even want to pay the guards what they are worth. The doctors we do have sure aren’t doing it for the money. Trouble is they have rounds to make and that makes it pretty hard to get here on time for meds.”

&n
bsp; “Okay, Mr. King. I’m sure this isn’t all over but if it will do any good, I will tell the warden you were willing to help. He is pretty upset about all of this.”

  “Not to mention the Feds wanting to stick their nose into the picture,” King said.

  “You are lucky. The team they have sent are some pretty good people. Just tell them what you told us and you will be fine.”

  “Right.”

  “She is serious,” Dan added.

  “Whatever,” was his parting remark.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “How is the napalm coming?” Belk asked.

  “Two gallons ready. Another five almost.”

  “That’s good. Very good.

  “We will use the first two gallons while they continue to make more,” Belk told Pete.

  “What is our first target?”

  “Oh, nothing too spectacular. Just a little something to get their attention.”

  “What?” Pete asked.

  Belk went over his ‘nothing spectacular’ plan with Pete.

  **

  The atmosphere at our four o’clock meeting was tense as we all crowded into the conference room. Potts was standing up with a marker in his hand and a white board behind him. I could see the strain on everyone’s faces. At exactly four he started talking.

  “Okay, so far we haven’t uncovered a lot of useful information with the exception of the local police led by Detectives Bartoni and Roberts,” he said.

  Danger Will Robinson. My alarms started going off. A compliment right off the bat?

  “They have narrowed the list of suspects down to two possible people. They will both be questioned as soon as they get off work at 8:00 a.m. tomorrow. Nice job Detectives,” he said.

  Geez, McGregor must have deprived him of oxygen to the brain and caused some permanent damage.

  “The FBI have a line on the getaway truck, I was just informed. It seems it was stolen at an armored car company lot. SafetySure is just a little embarrassed that the keys were left in one of the vehicles. However Agent Pendergrass finds that highly unlikely and is talking to the driver later today. It is just a tad too convenient to be believable. Agent Pendergrass and his team are doing a deep background check on the suspect. That’s why his tech man is not here at the moment.”

 

‹ Prev