by Blair Howard
“This way,” India said, and walked across the big room and through the door next to Billy Dickerson’s office. Oh, she was pissed.
The room was sparsely furnished, just a table, a half dozen one-time dining chairs, a credenza, and two tall, steel file cabinets. She was right. There was almost nothing for the transition period in 2005. In fact, there wasn’t much for any of the years from then until now. The whole lot was contained in a single drawer.
“There,” India said, angrily. “Satisfied?”
“There’s almost nothing here,” Kate said. “You must have taken in hundreds of people. Why have you not kept proper records?”
She simply shrugged, didn’t answer.
“Mrs. Dickerson, I do not believe you have been running this facility for more than ten years and you have not kept records. Now, let’s try again. Where are your records?”
“This is it. There are no more. Billy,” she said, as she looked at her husband, “isn’t the most professional manager... he just didn’t bother.”
Billy Dickerson said nothing; he just stood and glared at his wife.
“Sergeant Guest.” Kate turned to Lonnie. “I want this place taken apart. Tell the uniforms what we’re looking for. I also want any computers, including the one Tim is searching. We’re looking for desktops, laptops, tablets, and especially external drives and data disks. Seize them all. We’ll take them with us.”
“Oh my God,” India said. “You can’t do that. How will we be able to run this place without the computer?”
“I can, and I will. You’ll manage. You have so far.” Kate turned to me. “Mr. Starke. Do you have anything you want to say?”
“That I do, to both of them. I have some questions. Shall we sit?”
We sat. Kate and I on one side of the table, the Dickersons on the other. Willett and Donavan stood behind them, leaning against the wall. Billy clasped his hands on the table in front of him, his face twisted into a snarl. India did her best to retain her composure, but it was easy to see it was a fight she was already losing: her lips were pursed, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed in a frown. She tapped her fingernails on the tabletop. She was both angry and nervous.
I have always found that the best way to get a reaction to a question is to assume the person or persons being questioned knows the answer.
“Tell me about Brinique Williams, Billy.” I watched their eyes: nothing.
“Tell you about who? I don’t think I know anybody with that name.”
“Yeah, you do. She was one of the waifs and strays you took in back in the day, when you were at Hill House.”
I could see that the name Hill House bothered him, but I was still not sure about the girl.
He slowly shook his head, looking puzzled. “It doesn’t ring a bell. There were so many. Why do you want to know?”
Her parents were here. They wanted to know what happened to her. I think you took her in. I also think you put her out on the streets. Hell, Billy, you may even have sold her on, you or your pal Sal De Luca.”
That got to him.
“You son of a bitch,” he yelled, raising himself up on his hands. “What kind of operation d’you think I’m running here? I’m saving these kids, not destroying them.”
India grabbed his arm and pulled him down.
“That you are, Billy,” I said. “I know exactly what you’re doing. You’d better calm down. I wouldn’t want you to have a heart attack, especially with so many needy kids relying on you.”
He took a breath, looked round at the two heavies, then at me, and nodded.
“I have another question for you, Billy. Tell me what you know about Ricky Jessell.” This time I caught it. It wasn’t much, but it was there. I can always tell, and he wasn’t the only one. Willett’s mouth also tightened.
Dickerson thought for a minute, as if he was racking his brains, then he shook his head. “Can’t say that I do. I see so many young people during the course of our endeavors; can’t remember all of them.”
I smiled at him. He tried to hold my gaze, but he couldn’t.
“I didn’t say he was young, Billy. What makes you think he was?”
“I, I, I,” he stuttered. “I just... well... I assumed, you know. All the kids I deal with are young.”
I nodded. I did know.
“Where is he, Billy?”
He looked at me, his eyes narrowed, his lips clamped together in a tight line, his face flushed as anger once again pushed its way to the front.
“Screw you, Starke. I told ya, don’t know any Ricky Jessell, nor no Brin... whatever her name is. Now get the hell out of here.”
There was a knock at the door. It opened and Lonnie poked his head inside.
“We found something,” he said.
Kate beckoned him in. He placed a stack of $100 bills in front of her. She looked up at him, then at the money, touched the stack, and looked at the Dickersons. They showed no reaction.
“More’n $100,000,” Lonnie said. “It was in a small safe in one of the back rooms.”
“That’s a lot of money,” Kate said. “Where did you get it?”
“If I remember correctly,” India said. “Your warrant states you may only look for files, records, and such. It makes no mention of money. I suggest you put it back where you found it. I do not have to explain it.” Hell, she’s right.
“That’s true,” Kate said. “Put it back, Sergeant.” He did.
I looked at Kate. She said nothing. Her eyes were focused on the two Dickersons. I leaned forward, placed my elbows on the table, clasped my hands together in front of my chin, and stared at Billy. For a moment he held my gaze, then he looked away, shifted in his seat, looked at his wife, then back at me.
“Whaaat?” he asked.
“You know what I think, Rev?” I said. “I think that money is a payoff for services rendered. I think you and De Luca are in bed together. I also think you have quite an operation going here: you find the girls, and boys, and he handles the practical side of things.”
“You stinkin’ piece of... of... garbage.” He was so angry he could barely spit the words out. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. We run a legitimate charitable institution here. We do a lot of good, provide homes, food, and help. That money was from donations. You... you...you.” He ran out of air, gulped and was about to begin again when India stopped him.
“Stop it, Billy. Calm down. They have nothing. There’s nothing to find. Let ‘em have their fun. They’ll soon be gone, and we’ll still be here.”
Hmmm, I wonder. It’s all a little too pat. Where are their records? There must be some; more than the little we’ve found. How can you handle hundreds of people and not know who, when, where, what and how? There has to be records for the money; he said donations. If this is a 501c3, that money has to be accounted for, to the IRS. And she has a funny look on her face, a smirk.
I sat, befuddled. Yes, he was upset, and so had she been, but now, not so much. I had to wonder.
Finally, Kate broke it up. She pushed her chair back; it scraped noisily. She stood, looked down at them both, and said, “This is not yet over.” Then she turned and, without waiting for me, walked out of the office door.
“She’s right, Billy,” I said. “You know something. What, I don’t know, but I’ll find out. I think a call to the IRS will loosen things up a little.” That got him. “Oh, and by the way, it was Brinique Williams we found under the floor.” I watched them both as I said it; there was no reaction from either one of them, or from the two clowns leaning against the wall. I decided to throw a little more bait into the pond. This time it was Willett I watched.
“We found another body at Hill House, Billy.” It seemed like everyone had stopped breathing, it was so quiet.
“Not interested? Now that is strange. It was a male, about eighteen or nineteen years old. He’d been stuffed into the drain in the basement. We think it was Ricky Jessell.” Nobody moved. Billy glowered at me through narrowed eyes. Donavan a
nd Willett were all attitude, defiant, challenging. I smiled, rose to my feet. “Have a nice day, Billy,” I said, with a smile. “I know I will.”
Outside the office, at the far end of the community room, by the desk, Lonnie, Kate, Tim, and three uniforms were making ready to leave. They had nothing, except a single laptop and the desktop computer, and a few paper files; no drives or disks.
We made our way back down the stairs and along the corridor to the outer door. Again, I wondered about the doors.
“Did anyone get to look inside these rooms?” I asked Lonnie.
“Yep, all of them. They’re empty, no lights, couldn’t see anything, had to use flashlights. Just some old broken furniture. Must have been living places back in the day.”
I nodded. Back in the car, as Kate drove me back to my office, I reran the interview in my head. I had a feeling we’d missed something, that the Dickersons were hiding something, maybe a lot.
“What about the top floor?” I asked.
“There were a dozen bedrooms up there, Lonnie said, all of them occupied. Some had girls, three were for males, I think. Looked clean and tidy. Didn’t find anything.”
I shook my head. Something was missing. I could feel it. Damn. If those two aren’t as crooked.... The bastards are trafficking. I know they are, and they’re in deep with De Luca. What the hell are we missing? I gotta figure it out!
Chapter 25
When we left Cherry Street, I was in a blue funk. I had them drop me off at my office. Tim went with Kate, Lonnie, and the computers to the PD on Amnicola. He would copy anything he found onto thumb drives and we’d go ever everything together. It was after four o’clock when I banged against the front door. Wow. It’s locked. That’s a first.
I waited until Jacque turned the lock and then I pushed through into the outer office; Jacque was alone, and that upset me; no, it made me damned angry.
“What the hell is going on around here?” I asked. “You’re not supposed to be here by yourself; no one is. Where’s Bob?”
“Calm down, Mr. Starke.” She never could bring herself to call me by my first name, even when we were alone. “I’m fine. The door was locked. I wouldn’t have let anyone in I didn’t know. Bob was called out. Something to do with his daughter. He said he’d be back.”
I nodded; she was right. She was safe enough, short of an all-out attack on the office, which wasn’t likely, even though De Luca was one crazy son of a bitch. Bob? He was a law unto himself, could come and go as he pleased. I shook my head and went to my office.
“Hey, Jacque,” I yelled through the open door. “You busy?”
“Not so much. What do you need?”
“A cup of coffee. Would you mind?” Now that was something I never did, ask Jacque to wait on me. In fact, this was a first.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, as she set the cup down in front of me and then sat down in front of the desk. That was another first. In all the time she’d worked for me, she’d never sat down without being asked.
“I dunno. I feel kinda... I dunno, kinda washed out, I suppose. And this thing with De Luca has me all knotted up, which is exactly what he wanted.”
I looked at her. The concern was etched deep on her face. She knew I was never one to worry much about anything. I sat there for a moment, sipping my coffee.
“Harry,” she said. Wow, this is a day for firsts. Now she calls me by my first name.
I smiled at her, but didn’t answer.
“You need some time off,” she said. “You need to get away. My folks have a place on the island. They’re here for Christmas. They would be pleased to let you have it for a few days. You could relax, chill out, swim, fish, sleep. I’ll call them.” She started to get up.
“Wait. Just like that? It’s a bit sudden, don’t you think? It’s a great idea, but....”
“Give me a minute,” she said.
I heard her in the outer office, on the phone, talking, her soft Jamaican accent more pronounced than usual. She must be talking to her father.
She hung up the phone, and I heard her rummaging around in her desk drawer.
“Here,” she said, placing a set of keys down in front of me. “Those are mine. It’s all fixed. All you need do is get there. They won’t be going home until after the New Year. The house is yours until then.”
“Wow, Jacque. You are something else, but I dunno. Give me a minute alone. Do you mind?”
She smiled, nodded, and closed the door behind her.
I picked up the keys and turned them over between my fingers, thinking. Damn. It would be nice. Sun, sea and sand, and... Amanda? But first....Well, I have to get there. Too late to book a damn flight.
I picked up my cell phone and dialed the number. It rang a half dozen times. “You’ve reached August Starke. Leave a message.”
“Hey, Dad. I know you’re there. Pick up the damn phone.” And he did.
“What’s up, son?”
“Are you using the Lear over the holidays?”
“No, not until I leave for New York on the second. Why, do you want to use it?”
“Depends on Joe and Sarah. I want to go to Jamaica, but I’ve left it a bit tight. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. We’d need to go this evening if they are to be back tomorrow, in time for their Christmas.”
“Give me a couple of minutes. I’ll call him. See if we can make it happen. It will cost you: two round trips. Not so much as last year, though. Fuel is down by more than forty percent. I’ll call you right back.” Click. I looked at the phone, shook my head. Why does he always do that?
Less than ten minutes later, he called back. “Harry, the Lear is fueled and ready to go; it always is. Joe says they can go tonight, but he needs to know when. He has to file a flight plan. You have his number. Why don’t you give him a call?”
I thanked him and said I would do just that. Hah, even though he can be an ass sometimes, my old man never fails to come through for me. That’s one hell of a perk.
I called Amanda and told her to pack for a week. Next I called Kate and told her I was leaving for a few days and that I’d be back on the 29th, or whenever Joe was available. I wanted to be home for the New Year. It wasn’t an easy call. She wanted to know the ins and outs of a duck’s... well, you know.
I told her to work with Tim, if she needed him, while I was gone, and that Bob would be on call, too. I couldn’t see her needing Bob, but Tim, for sure.
I had just finished my call to Kate when Bob walked in through the front door; he was followed a minute later by Heather. I sat them down and explained what I was about to do. It always had been my intention to close the office that night, to give everyone Christmas Eve and the following week off, and I saw no reason to change any of that. I did, however, warn everyone to be vigilant and take extra care when out and about. Then I called Tim and told him that under no circumstances was he to spend time in the office alone, and that I would fire him if I found out that he did. I wouldn’t, but he didn’t know that.
Finally, I looked around the office, picked up Jacque’s keys, hugged her, and walked out to the lot where the Explorer was parked. It was but a small chance that I happened to look across the street just as a black BMW cruised slowly past the gate. The windows were dark tinted, and I couldn’t see who was driving, but I had a good idea. Goddamnit. Well, can’t do anything about it now.
I went back into the office and made sure Bob would see everyone safely off the premises, and that everything was secured, the alarms turned on, etc.
“For Christ’s sake, Harry. Get the hell out of here. Go have a good time. I’ll take care of everything. Okay?”
I grinned at him, and did just that. By six-thirty that evening, I was seated beside an excited Amanda, sipping on three fingers of Laphroaig heading east to Montego Bay at 520 miles per hour.
The next seven days went by quickly, too quickly. We had a ball: we scuba dived, swam, sailed, even played nine holes of golf on the White Witch at Rose Hall. I always wanted to do that.<
br />
Amanda was amazing. She looked like a goddess, day or night, no matter what we were doing. She was like a kid. She played in the sand, splashed in the shallow, emerald waters of the Caribbean, nibbled her food, drank copious amounts of wine, and, well, you don’t want to know the rest. It was the best Christmas I’d had since I was a child.
By Tuesday morning, the 29th, I was getting antsy, and was ready for the flight home. Joe was due into Montego Bay at noon, and we were there waiting for him. I bought him and Sarah, his co-pilot, lunch, and we were in the air and heading west by one-thirty. There was an hour time change, to the good, and we landed at Lovell Field at three-thirty. An hour later, we were safely back at Lakeshore Lane, a fire burning, drinks in hand, and on the sofa enjoying the view.
Good times they had been, but they were behind us, and I already was experiencing forebodings of the nightmare that was surely to come.
Sooner or later, I would have to deal with De Luca face to face.
Chapter 26
The next few days also flew by quickly. I heard from Kate. The case was almost at a standstill. They were still combing through the files, from both organizations, and Kate was awaiting results on any possible DNA match that might throw some light on the identity of the body in the drains.
I called Jacque, made sure all was well with her. It was; the office wasn’t due to reopen until January 4. Next, I called her parents and thanked them for the hospitality and the wonderful time we’d enjoyed. I called Bob; all was well there, too. Tim, however, had spent most of his time at the PD, going through the files. What time he did take off, he spent with Sam. Hah, I knew that was coming. Good for you, Tim.
Next, I wrote a check to my dad for almost $16,000 to cover the costs of the Lear and Joe and Sarah’s time, and I considered it worth every penny. Finally, I settled down again, relaxed, and let Amanda cook lunch. Now when I say cook, what she actually did was make sandwiches.
For the New Year, we went to the club and spent it with my mother and father, and my idiot brother, Henry, who prefers to be called Hank. The more he had to drink, the more Amanda had to fight him off, a task she thoroughly enjoyed. During one quiet moment, I took the old man aside and handed him the check. He looked at it, smiled, and tore it up.