by R Weir
Chapter 17
If I had any brains at all, I’d bail on this now. This was a no-win situation and living in witness protection was not on my bucket list. Walking away was the only option and yet, I couldn’t do it. He was not likely leading his family to the promise land in this FBI scheme. No matter how much it worried me, even scared me, I had to see it through.
Deep down I knew there had to be more, especially after our confrontation with the James Brothers and their claim of him owing them money, but it was all Flynn would tell me for now. We went over it again and again, and each time he said it the same and wouldn’t give me any more. We agreed he should go and see Casey tonight since it had been several days and she was anxious for his loving touch. I had a meeting with Detective Sterling Frakes this evening. So we parted, him on his Harley, me in his Mustang.
I had not talked with Melissa for nearly a week, and needed to hear her voice. Text messages had come through, but were basic in nature, as if my mother was talking to me from beyond.
“Take Care.”
“Hope you are doing well.”
“I miss you.”
My last voicemail and text encouraged her to call me, as I had something important to tell. She finally called me late afternoon, her day and work nearly ending.
“All of us are about to go out and celebrate,” Melissa said, sounding rushed. “What is so important you need to talk?”
“Flynn.”
“Did something happen?”
“Not yet, though likely soon…” I gave her a quick rundown on the events of the last couple of days, leaving out the Roni details.
“So, Flynn is seeing someone else and it led to all of this?”
“Well, the money troubles likely came second. The issues with women have been ongoing for some time.”
There was a silent pause.
“I’m not sure I like hearing this after what happened last year.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would take more than a few days. Now, I’m likely going to be here for a while.”
“How long?”
“I can’t say for certain. But I feel I can’t run away, for the sake of Helen and Jolene. If it was only Flynn I probably could. I have to see this through, hopefully to a viable conclusion.”
“I’m busy now, but I should have a break coming soon where we could spend some time together. I hope you can come home by then.”
“If there is a break, I’ll fly home. If not, maybe you can come and visit me. I have a nice hotel room with two beds and a recliner to make love in.”
“Going to Iowa in the humidity is not high on my must-do list.”
“There is a nice pool and Jacuzzi on the first floor as well. Though they might frown on us making love in them. And there is a large mall down the street. What more could a woman dream of?”
There was a small laugh, though a cautionary one. I hadn’t convinced her. After last year’s fiasco, she had a fear of being near me on a potentially dangerous case.
“We’ll see. If I get desperate, lonely and horny enough, I might show up for the sweet corn. Of course, there is always phone sex.”
“My phone camera might distort my manhood proportions.”
This time she laughed more enthusiastically.
“I’ve had enough close-ups to know its true size. Please take care.”
“I will. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
And she was gone. Again, I wanted to fly home and see her. But business before pleasure.
My meeting with Sterling was going to be at the Fleming’s Prime Steakhouse Wine and Bar, which was down the road from my hotel. It was on the same large expansion of land in front of Jordan Creek Mall. Walking in, I gasped at the niceness of the place. I was happy this would go onto my expense report for the prices would be out of sight. I was led to the table that Sterling had reserved, since the place was always packed. He stood up with a decent smile for a cop and shook my hand. He was in a nice three-piece brown suit and tie with freshly polished brown shoes. He was around fifty or so, with a full head of blonde hair parted in the middle, a pale face from too much time inside behind a desk, a trimmed mustache, and rectangular glasses on his nose. One couldn’t argue with his taste in restaurants, but you had to wonder how he could afford this place on a cop’s salary. Once I saw the prices on the menu, I gasped again.
“Wow. Do you eat here often?” I asked.
“Not on my pay scale,” he answered. “I’m easy, but not cheap. Since you were paying…”
The waiter stood before us, dressed sharper than I was. I ordered Blue Moon Belgian White, while he ordered an expensive red wine I’d never heard of. He might wipe through my entire up front money in one sitting.
“So, Bryer says you are looking for some information?” Sterling said.
“How long have you known Bryer?” I said. “He had nothing but good things to say about you.”
“Many years now. I’m surprised he said that about me.”
“Well, to be honest he said ‘Pain in the ass’ but very good at what you do.”
“That sounds more like what he would say. He brought me through the ranks, teaching me a lot. He was a mentor.”
“So you worked in the sheriff’s department?”
“For many years. He encouraged me to move on and shoot for being a detective. I’ve been on the West Des Moines force about twenty years now.”
“I imagine not a lot of crime here.”
“It’s quite low. Maybe a murder every few years. Most of my caseload is rape, assaults and burglaries when there is a violent incident committed during the crime.”
The waiter returned with our drinks and I wanted to ask him how he could afford to be dressed as he was on a waiter’s salary. Probably the restaurant provided their clothes, or maybe they were paid on commission. Sterling tried the wine and was satisfied. No taste testing on the beer, but it was good. He had pre-ordered the prime rib. I wanted to ask to eat off of his plate, but resisted, so I ordered petite filet mignon and baked potato. Petite didn’t mean petite in price, though.
“Bryer tells me you are a PI out of Denver. What brings you to Iowa?”
“My brother. He has gotten himself into a bit of a situation with a local FBI agent. I was wondering if you may know him. Name is Bart Wilson.”
“A little bit, mostly from hearsay. The FBI and the West Des Moines police don’t cross paths much. I believe he was a marine before becoming a fed. He is a bit of an ass himself, and will do anything to close a case, even if it’s against the rules and the law. Mostly true of anyone in the Bureau since 9/11.”
“He has two muscle guys working for him, one named Fred. Do you know them?”
“No.”
“Anything else you can tell me about Wilson?”
“Not really. Only that if you are on his bad side, watch out.”
Dinner was brought out, and though the price was out of this world, the food was as well. The filet was as good as I’d ever had. I felt guilty dipping it in ketchup. This was about as gourmet as I ever got.
“If I give you a name, would you be able to give me info on her? I have some basic stuff, but need more detail. Name is Casey Gaines. I have her home address and know what she drives, and can give you her license plate. I know she is divorced, but uncertain if this is her maiden or married name.”
“What else would you need?”
“I’d like to know who her father is. Ex-husband would be good. Anything else you can dig up. If not, no problem and I’ll track it down myself. It would save me some time, though.”
“Sure, text me the info. I’ll see what I can give up. Tell me more about your connection to Bryer?”
“Well, it was a long time ago and I was a kid heading in the wrong direction. My dad and him were old friends and had gone to high school together. He helped me find a better direction than the life of crime and destruction I was leading at the time.”
“And now you�
��re a PI. A monumental shift from where you were. I checked into you some before agreeing to the meeting. Seems you were famous last year. Your ten minutes of fame.”
“Believe me, it wasn’t something I sought or planned on. Though the end results did help my clients, so I live with it.”
“We would prefer not having a bloodbath here. Folks here won’t stand for it.”
“I understand. Sometimes shit happens. Just know, I’ll protect those in my family I care for.”
Sterling cut through his prime rib with ease, enjoying sips of wine in between bites.
“For Bryer, I’ll help all I can, but keep me informed if all hell breaks loose. I’d like to know in advance when I’m going into the doghouse for helping someone I shouldn’t.”
“Absolutely. When it’s about to go south, I’ll call you for dinner. Only one request?”
“What would that be?”
“Let me choose the restaurant. I don’t think my pocket book can handle another fifty dollar prime rib dinner.”
He smiled. “We’ll see.”
Bryer took me inside and ran through the whole routine with me. I was finger-printed, photographed, and even strip-searched, along with everything else which went with it. They found a prison outfit my size and soon I was dressed, with a new number assigned to me. With leg irons chained to the handcuffs, I was taken to a room for questioning. They sat me down on a metal chair, all my restraints now connected to a bolt on the floor. There was one other guy standing behind Bryer, who glared at me. I was scared beyond anything I’d ever encountered before. I had no idea what was coming next.
“We understand you’ve been committing some crimes,” he stated.
I began to answer but he shushed me.
“Please don’t speak until I address you to answer me back.”
He pulled out his nightstick and began patting his legs with it.
“Stealing money from people is illegal. Stealing coats, hats and bikes is also. Over time, what you have stolen amounts to a felony. And felons end up here in our prison system. Someone your age will be quite popular. And not in a way you will enjoy.”
His meaning was quite clear and unsettling.
“Jarvis, you have two choices here,” he said in a booming voice which echoed in the room. “Continue to steal, to get into fights, to lie and cheat, and you will have a new home here with the other criminals. Or learn and understand the right way to act and live; respect others’ property, their rights as citizens, so they can respect you. Be the person your parents want you to be, raised you to be. If not, you have a uniform with your number on it waiting for you, a small 8x10 cell you’ll share with someone who’ll make you his bitch any time he damn well pleases. And believe me, you won’t like what he’ll want you to do, and the guards won’t give a rat’s ass when you’re screaming for help when he sodomizes you.”
He swung the nightstick downward and I thought he was going to hit my leg, my scream in fear filling the room, when he stopped short, then tapped me with it on the thigh. I wanted to leave and go home, ready to think long and hard about where my life had been heading, and what I was going to do to correct the course. When I finally walked out of there, I could barely stand on my wobbly legs, riding home in silence, with not one word heard from my father during the drive.
Chapter 18
I woke up the next morning in the hotel and Flynn hadn’t made it back. Now that the cat was out of bag, he didn’t need to get home and spend the night. I didn’t see him at all over the next couple of days. I checked up on Helen and Jolene and got an occasional message from Flynn telling me things were in motion. On the third day away he called.
“I’m in,” he said. “I have a meeting with her father over drinks tonight. She has put in a good word for me and I think I’ve got a good shot. I’m coming in with an eye on his investments, looking to convince him I can run his operation on the accounting side. She says he is always looking for investors and good people to work with.”
“Should I be there with you?”
“No, I will do this part alone. If I need backup, I’ll let you know.”
Didn’t sound great, but I let him run with it. He did tell me when and where they were meeting so I could be available if necessary.
Detective Frakes got back to me about Casey. Mostly, he had nothing more than what April had dug up, other than she was divorced and the ex was killed in a car accident little more than a year ago. He was drunk at the time. Also, he was able to find out her father was Edward Wyche, since he was there when she identified the body. He had no arrest record and only a couple of traffic tickets. He lived out in Urbandale in an expensive home, for which Frakes provided the address.
I went to the first floor of my hotel and used their workstation computers to access the web. I put in Casey’s name first and didn’t come up with much. She did have a profile on Facebook, but there was no juicy information there, other than she was seeing a mystery man, to judge from some of the conversations. I looked up information on her ex-husband’s death and found accident scene photos of what was left of his car and the final verdict on the cause. He and Casey had been divorced for a year with no children. Divorce records were sealed and I learned little else. I needed to learn more about her and her ex. He still had family in the area I planned to visit.
After this, I looked into the father, Edward, and found he ran a hedge fund worth tens of millions of dollars. It had not performed as well over the last few years, but still was pulling six percent earnings, which was pretty good in a flat market. He was divorced himself. His Facebook showed him hanging with a younger woman, about half his age. There were comments from her on his page and I found her name, Tina Bailey. Her page showed a wild drinking woman who loved to party with whoever wanted to party with her, whether it was her sugar daddy or younger men and women. I added much of this information into OneNote on my phone. I now had people to contact, talk to and follow.
I tracked down the younger brother of Casey’s ex and he agreed to meet me at the Valley West Mall, where he worked at Foot Locker, which was on the lower level. When I got there, he was dressed in his black and white striped shirt with jeans, like all Foot Locker employees. He yelled to another employee that he was taking a break. We sat outside the store on one of the benches. He was a tall guy, about 6’3”, quite skinny with long blonde hair, probably in his thirties. His name was Jeff Gaines and he seemed talkative when it came to his brother.
“Mentioned you were a private eye,” he said. “That is so cool. I would love to have a job catching bad guys.”
“Nothing like it in the world,” I said.
“You carrying a piece now?”
“No, I left it behind. Figured I could risk it in here.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty boring in this mall. As you can see, half the space is empty. A lot of businesses come and go here.”
“So, I’m mostly interested in your brother, specifically related to his ex-wife, Casey.”
“Oh yes, the sweet-as-honey trust-fund woman. My brother was always the lucky one with chicks. And man, was she a looker!”
“How long were they married?”
“Not too long, maybe six years, if I recall right.”
“Any kids?”
“Naw. He wanted them, but she didn’t. Was afraid it would wreck her figure.”
“Was this the reason they got divorced?”
“Not really. They fought a lot. She spent money like it was going out of style. Her dad’s money paid for much of it, but still Taylor wanted to be the provider. He could never pull her away from daddy.”
A security guard walked by and gave Jeff a high five. I smiled as he looked me over before moving on. My dangerous face.
“Do you know where the father got his money?”
“Some financial bank stuff, I think. I never cared about that shit. My bro didn’t mind having the money, would have loved to spend it too, but her dad forbid her to spend any on him. Never seemed to like him m
uch. As I recall, he paid for the wedding, but didn’t attend.”
“Did you ever meet her father?”
“No.”
“What about the accident which killed him? Any thoughts on it?”
“Damn shame. I loved my bro and I cried like a baby when I heard. But yeah, I thought it was weird because he never drove drunk. Actually, I don’t think I ever saw him drunk my whole life. I was the drinker. He’d have a beer with dinner and nothing else. Never anything hard. But hey, he was pretty depressed when she left him. So something like that can lead a man to drink.”
“So, she left him?”
“Oh, yeah. Stupid me, I didn’t mention that, did I? She had a new man in her life, some slick guy who threw around money like it was going out of style. Came home one day and said she was leaving him, out of the blue. With her dad’s money and power, he didn’t stand a chance, and it was over, just like that.”
“Any idea who the guy was? Did you ever meet him?”
“Nada clue. Taylor said he was a high roller and a slick talker. Maybe he sold used cars. Well, I need to get back to work. And if you need any new sneakers, stop in and I’ll get you a discount.”
He put his hand out and I slapped it. Apparently it was the seventies again, or had it simply come back into vogue? I sat there and thought over what I’d heard. It appeared Casey might be a bit of a gold digger, hopping from one man to another. The high roller didn’t sound like Flynn, so who was it? I needed to crawl a little deeper into her past. I sat there a minute, looking at my shoes, then walked into the store to see what deal Jeff would give me.
Chapter 19
Sporting my new Nikes, I spent that afternoon digging deeper into Casey’s past. She had been a member of Facebook for several years, so I paged down further through her profile, waiting for each section to refresh on the screen. I went back more than a year, writing down each name I found, both male and female. One looked promising: Samuel Rivera. They appeared to have been involved for many months after she left Taylor. There were some others, but no full names were listed. As I went through, I thought it was strange there was no mention of the car wreck and her ex’s death. Even if you didn’t like the guy, you still wouldn’t be happy he died unexpectedly. Or did he? His brother did mention he’d never seen him drunk before.