Secret Undertaking

by Mark de Castrique

  “Everything is good to go. I got the confirmation the ownership has changed to the company. We’ll drop the Santona names from the listed officers and leave only Sinclairs.” He paused. “Now it will just be Janet. She wants the death certificate and the beneficiary and cash surrender forms.”

  “Beneficiary? Doesn’t the name of the insured still have to be Robert Santona?”

  “It does.”

  “How’s she going to use a Robert Sinclair death certificate to collect on the death of Robert Santona?”

  “She told me the marshals would straighten it out. I just need the death certificate and claim forms.”

  She’s going to use them to create a forgery, I thought. Change the name from Sinclair to Santona.

  “How are you going to get them to her?” I asked.

  “I’m supposed to text her. She’ll tell me where to leave them. A friend will pick them up.”

  A friend? I wondered if Janet was still in communication with Luther Brookshire. Was he the marshal that would enable Janet to collect the death benefit that would be much higher than the cash value? He certainly could arrange a name change on a death certificate.

  “But I told her the documents haven’t come back to the office yet,” Archie said. “I didn’t want her to know I’m in Weaverville. I expect to get them here later this afternoon.”

  “So, you could wait until tomorrow to deliver them?”

  “Yes. And I need to get the death certificates from Fletcher. I spoke with him a few minutes ago and he expects them later this afternoon. I’ll be so glad when this is over. All I want is to get the ten thousand dollars from Janet Sinclair for the Boys and Girls Clubs and be done with it. Barry, never encourage me to do something like this again.”

  Me? Encourage Archie? “I won’t. You can count on it. But do me a favor. Let me know what Janet Sinclair arranges to get the death certificate and forms.”

  “Sure. You want me to give her your number?”

  I took a deep breath and suppressed my better judgment. “No, Archie. This is our secret. It’s even more important than when I told you not to tell anyone about your conversation with Sonny. Remember how that turned out.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve learned my lesson. Mum’s the word.”

  We disconnected. I looked at the manila envelope on the seat beside me. Soon Collier Crockett would be trying to decode those records; Lindsay Boyce would be searching through Robert Sinclair’s bank records. At the moment, both were still viable avenues for my investigation and I had no other leads. I pulled out of the parking garage and headed for Gainesboro.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  I found Cindy Todd alone in her glass-walled office in the Bank of America branch. She spotted me immediately as she must have been watching the lobby for any congestion in the teller lines. She waved and I beelined straight for her open door.

  Cindy stood up from her desk, her face pale as parchment. “Barry, Fletcher told me about Mr. Sinclair. I can’t believe such a thing would happen in our town.”

  “I’m afraid so. Can we talk a few minutes?”

  “Yes.” She motioned me to a guest chair.

  I first closed the door and then sat across from her.

  “Is this about the Sinclairs?” she asked.

  “Yes. You’re going to get a visit from the FBI.”

  Cindy’s eyes widened. “Have we done something wrong?”

  “No. But they’ll come in with warrants for the safe deposit box, account records, and anything else tied to Robert Sinclair. Janet Sinclair is being held in protective custody for her own safety, but if she should come in here before the federal agents, I want you to call me immediately.”

  “She was just here yesterday. I waited on her myself.”

  “What time?”

  “A little after noon. One of the tellers was on lunch break and another called in sick. I covered a window for about thirty minutes.”

  “What did she do?”

  Cindy wet her lips, uncomfortable with my question.

  “Cindy, this is a murder investigation. You’re going to have to cooperate with the FBI, so you may as well start with me.”

  “She got a cashier’s check for nine thousand dollars from the Sinclairity Sales account.”

  “How much did that leave?”

  “I think it was around a thousand dollars and some change.”

  “So, she could have deliberately kept it under a ten-thousand-dollar withdrawal.”

  “I guess so,” Cindy said.

  “Had she ever withdrawn that much before?”

  “Maybe. I don’t wait on her that often. We’d have to go back through the records. I think most transactions are commission deposits and then transfers to the Sinclairs’ personal account. As I said before, sometimes there are cash deposits as well.”

  “Who was the payee on the cashier’s check?”

  “She wanted it made out to cash. That’s a little unusual. Most of the time the payee is someone who wants to know the check is good.”

  “Anything else?”

  “She also went to her safe deposit box. I saw her leave with a couple of manila envelopes under her arm.”

  “Taking things out, not putting them in like the other day?”

  “That’s correct.”

  Janet Sinclair’s actions didn’t necessarily mean she was involved in her husband’s murder. She had a history of reacting to perceived threats. Her July visit to the funeral home and her concern for the life insurance policies had been triggered by her husband’s ill-fated, secret attendance of his father’s funeral. She also could have been aware of Robert’s criminal enterprise and been spooked by the spate of killings, anticipating the jeopardy created for her and her husband. Was she organizing a financial life raft for both of them, or was she bailing out on her own? Or with someone else?

  “You said Janet had an account at Wells Fargo,” I said.

  “Yes. Where my friend Tina works.”

  I looked at my watch. It was a few minutes before eleven. “Do you think she would meet me for lunch?”

  “Maybe. She usually goes early. Sometimes she skips the meal and runs errands.”

  “Would you do me a favor and call her? An introduction from you might put her at ease.”

  Tina Logan didn’t have time for lunch but agreed to meet me at eleven-thirty for a cup of coffee at the Cardinal Café. I used the extra time to phone Tommy Lee and brief him on my conversations with Special Agent Boyce and Cindy.

  When I’d brought him up to date, I asked, “Do you want me to report to Lindsay?”

  “No. Let’s wait till she gets us the information from her forensics team. If Janet’s at a safe house, then she’s not a flight risk. What’s your plan after you meet Tina?”

  “I thought I’d make an unannounced visit to Buddy Smith at Wilmer’s Convenience Corner. I hope he’ll have some records like Rufus Taylor did. Lindsay gave me photocopies of what we think is Robert Sinclair’s master list. Can you also scan and send a photo of Sinclair that I can show him? The one on his driver’s license is certainly preferable to anything taken at the crime scene.”

  “You’re stepping on Crockett’s toes,” Tommy Lee warned.

  “Crockett never said he’d successfully flipped Buddy. Maybe showing the photo to the man and telling him that Sinclair is dead will take away his fears. At this point any other stores in the fraud network are of no interest. Crockett’s welcome to them all.”

  “All right. Go ahead. We’ve got a pair of murders. That’s two aces in my book. Lindsay’s got one, while Crockett’s only holding an EBT card. He’s not even in the game.”

  At eleven-twenty, I slid into the back booth at the Cardinal Café. I wanted to beat the lunch crowd and claim the spot that offered the most privacy. I’d told Tina Logan what I was wearing so she ha
d no trouble finding me as soon as she entered.

  Tina looked to be in her mid-twenties, an attractive African-American woman with a bright smile and slim figure.

  I stood to greet her.

  “Deputy Clayton?”

  “Yes. But I’d prefer you call me Barry.”

  “And I’m Tina.”

  I gestured for her to sit on the booth bench across from me. Helen Todd, owner of the cafe and Cindy’s mother, immediately came to us with a pot of coffee and two cups.

  “Well, Tina,” she said. “Couldn’t find a better lunch date?”

  “I’m a new diet,” I said. “Women see me and lose their appetites.”

  They both laughed.

  “Oh, Barry’s not so bad,” Helen said. “And he’s married. His wife’s trained him well.” She set the pot on the table. “I know y’all want to talk, so I’ll leave you to it. If you decide you want something else, just holler.”

  She left and Tina grabbed two packets of Sweet ’N Low.

  “How long have you known Cindy?” I asked.

  “A couple of years. I moved here from Asheville for my job. I met Cindy through our book club.”

  “As she told you on the phone, I’m working on an investigation tied to yesterday’s murder of Robert Sinclair. Cindy told me his wife Janet also has an account at your branch.”

  She nodded, and then shook her head. “I can’t believe it. Mrs. Sinclair must be devastated.”

  “Yes. Right now the best thing we can do is find out who killed her husband.”

  “Why do you want to know about their banking?”

  “Standard procedure.” I tried to make it sound like it was no more unusual than finding out their age. “And you might be asked some similar questions by the FBI.”

  “I’d much rather talk to you.”

  “Thank you. Let me assure you the agents will be very courteous. But I thought this would be a more relaxed setting.”

  She took a sip of coffee. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”

  “Did you know Mr. Sinclair?”

  “No. I never met him. I only knew his signature.”

  “His signature?”

  “The endorsements on his checks. Evidently, Mr. Sinclair set up the account over three years ago. That’s before I came. It’s in his name along with a DBA name.”

  “DBA?”

  “Doing Business As. The account number that is tied to Mr. Sinclair receives deposits to a doing-business-as company name.”

  “Sinclairity Sales,” I said.

  Tina shook her head. “No. His account was for Staples Sources.”

  Her words struck like a flash of lighting, illuminating the path from Rufus’ records of bogus EBT charges to the master ledger in Robert Sinclair’s car to the deposits in a bank account named Staples Sources. We could potentially trace funds from Rufus to the final deposit, but the stronger case would come from Buddy Smith and his testimony as to exactly how he was threatened into participating.

  “Did these checks always come made out to Staples Sources?” I asked.

  “Yes.” Tina thought a moment. “Although once Mrs. Sinclair brought in several checks in an envelope that was addressed to that Sinclairity Sales you mentioned. The double S caught my eye.”

  “Double S?”

  “Sinclairity Sales—Staples Sources.”

  Barry, you idiot, I thought. I’d never noticed the alliteration.

  “Do you remember the address on the envelope?”

  “No. But I’m pretty sure it was their home address. I could look it up.”

  So, the dummy invoices that transferred money from fraudulent EBT card purchases had a phony address, but the stores mailed their payments to the Sinclairs in envelopes addressed to Robert Sinclair’s legitimate company. A double layer of insulation. Staples Sources sounded like some grocery supplier. A simple audit probably wouldn’t look past the invoices and canceled checks.

  “What payments went out of the Staples Sources account?”

  “A few times Mrs. Sinclair made withdrawals by a check her husband had written to cash. I can review the statements when I get back to work.”

  I remembered Cindy Todd said Janet sometimes deposited cash into the Sinclairity Sales account at Bank of America. Something Janet denied. Were the cash withdrawals an untraceable way to get money from Staples Solutions into their personal accounts?

  “Yes,” I said. “Please review the statements.”

  Tina looked at me with concern. “This is okay, my talking to you?”

  “Yes, but I wouldn’t want to cause any internal policy problems between you and the bank. When the FBI comes, don’t mention we talked unless they ask. Believe me, they’ll find your information very useful.” I handed her my card with my cell phone number. “Call me once you’ve checked that account.”

  “And if Mrs. Sinclair comes in again?”

  “Help her. You’ve got no reason to treat her differently.”

  She nodded, reached for her purse, and opened it.

  I held up my hand. “Coffee’s on me. Thanks for making the time.”

  “You’re welcome.” She slid out of the booth and left.

  Helen came over and I ordered a grilled ham and cheese sandwich. I needed to eat and to chew over what Tina Logan had told me. We now had the provable link between Rufus Taylor’s checkbook and Janet Sinclair’s deposits. Also, Rufus’ itemized list of the amounts of the fraudulent EBT purchases could be examined against Robert Sinclair’s master ledger. I wanted to find those connections, and then, armed with that confirmation, visit Buddy Smith at Wilmer’s Convenience Corner where I hoped he’d confess to a similar setup. If he could identify Robert’s face as the person who intimidated him, our circle would be complete.

  I returned to the Sheriff’s Department and booked one of the conference rooms where I could work undisturbed. I spread out the ledger we found in Rufus Taylor’s safe, his checkbook stubs, the photocopies of the book from Robert Sinclair’s Infiniti, and a legal pad for jotting down any notes.

  I started with the last page of Rufus’ entries and then worked backwards through Sinclair’s ledger looking for a match. Each page had a five-digit number as a heading, a list of dollar amounts, and their total sum. About five pages in, I found a page with numbers identical to Rufus’ last page, including the total amount of four-hundred-seventy-five dollars. I noted the heading number 00027. I flipped forward till I found the number recurring again. This page total was three-hundred-eighty-six dollars and thirteen cents. Both numbers matched checks Rufus had written to Staples Sources.

  I flipped through the master ledger and found twenty-four unique coded headings in all. Probably the identifying numbers for the individual stores in the fraud network. We had store names from the list I’d found in Sonny McKay’s saddlebag, but without the key, I had no way of knowing which store corresponded with which heading without going through each store’s fraudulent purchase records. And those records might be destroyed once Sinclair’s death went public. If there was a key sheet, it wasn’t in any of the materials I had. Could Special Agent Lindsay Boyce have missed it when the book was copied?

  I called the Asheville office of the FBI and was put through immediately.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  I told her I’d matched sums on Rufus Taylor’s checks to records in the book from the murder scene, but that I couldn’t decrypt how the heading numbers identified the stores.

  “Sorry I can’t help you. I express-shipped the book to Quantico for analysis right after I made copies for you and Crockett.”

  “Where’s it going after that?”

  “If nothing seems relevant to our case, it will go to Crockett. Maybe he can figure out that key.”

  “Do me a favor,” I asked. “If the lab results yield something promising
like prints or DNA, have the book come back to me. We are talking about a double homicide.”

  “You know Crockett’s a federal investigator. He won’t want it going to a local sheriff. He wasn’t too thrilled when I told him I’d given you a copy.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s a tight ass who fears you’ll screw up his case. I told him he’s lucky I held onto the book long enough to make him a copy and that it didn’t go to Quantico last night.”

  I shared her assessment of the FNS investigator, but I had an ace to play. “All right. Who would you rather face? Tight ass Crockett? Or your hard ass uncle, Tommy Lee?”

  She laughed. “Okay, you’ll get your damn book when we’re through with it. I did send the gun and Sinclair’s floor mats to Quantico last night. I expect to hear something back this afternoon. A murdered federal witness gets everyone’s attention.”

  I thanked her for her help and disconnected. No sooner had I laid my cell phone on the table than it rang.

  “Barry Clayton,” I said.

  “Deputy Clayton. It’s Tina Logan.”

  “Yes, Tina.”

  “Sorry to be late getting back to you. We were slammed after lunch.”

  “No problem. Have you had a chance to look at that account?”

  “Yes, sir.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s empty.”

  “What?”

  “The funds were wired out yesterday afternoon. Nearly half a million dollars.”

  I stood up from the table, too agitated to sit. “Wired where?”

  “The Cayman Islands.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “And you’re sure about the time?” The speakerphone in the middle of the table vibrated as Special Agent Lindsay Boyce asked the critical question.

  Tommy Lee had called her from the conference room where I’d spread out the ledgers, check stubs, and Staples Sources invoices from Rufus Taylor’s store.

  “Yes,” I said. “The bank employee told me the funds had been wired out at four-fifty-five yesterday afternoon. We know Janet Sinclair was with you. Did she slip into the bathroom with her phone or have access to a computer?”