Buying Time

by Pamela Samuels Young

  Angela read the email again. “Maybe we’re reading too much into this. This email says it’s only a temporary shutdown until Becker can conduct a review.”

  “I don’t buy it,” Zack said. “You’ll note that the three other viatical investigations aren’t on the list. What do you want to bet ours will be the only one getting the ax?”

  The phone on Angela’s desk rang. Zack waited as Angela took the call.

  “Barnes wants to see both of us,” Angela said, standing up and slipping into her jacket. “Right now.” Todd Barnes was Chief of the Major Frauds Section.

  “What does he want?”

  “He didn’t say. But it sounds urgent.”

  Angela followed Zack out of the door and down the hall to Barnes’ office.

  “Close the door,” Barnes ordered, when they stepped inside, “and have a seat.”

  Barnes was overweight and wore wire-rimmed glasses and wrinkled plaid shirts. It always seemed as if his mind was someplace else. “I need you to prepare a memo summarizing the status of Operation Buying Time. I’m sure you saw that email from our new deputy AG. He’s in town and wants to meet the two of you.”

  Angela and Zack traded glances. They’d never met with Justice Department brass at Becker’s level before.

  “When?” Angela asked. “And why?”

  “Three o’clock in the twelfth floor conference room,” Barnes said. “And he didn’t tell me why. Make sure your memo really pumps up your operation. He’ll probably use it as a basis for deciding whether to shut it down permanently.”

  “Is Becker meeting with anyone else while he’s here?” Zack asked.

  Barnes nodded. “He’s also talking to three other teams.”

  “I really hope we don’t get canned,” Angela said. “I think we could be close to figuring out who killed Jon.”

  “I’m afraid your task force is probably first in line for the chopping block. The viatical investigations in the three other states already have enough evidence for indictments. The charges against The Tustin Group in those cases will still reach the people operating Live Now. Anything you get would be icing on the cake.”

  Angela and Zack had previously advised Barnes that they thought Waverly Sloan might be killing his clients, including Jon, but they had decided not to disclose Lawrence Erickson’s connection to Sloan or their suspicions that he may’ve had something to do with his wife’s death. They feared that an attorney with Erickson’s kind of connections could easily find a way to squelch their investigation. Apparently, that was about to happen.

  “Were you invited to the meeting?” Zack asked.

  “Nope. I offered to tag along,” Barnes said, “but I was politely told that wasn’t necessary.”

  Zack and Angela left Barnes’ office and finished the memo with time to spare. They waited in the conference room for nearly twenty minutes before Becker arrived.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Becker gave each of them a firm handshake. “It’s been a busy few days. I’ve been meeting with AUSAs all over the country. Tomorrow I leave for Chicago.” He took a seat on one side of the conference table with Zack and Angela facing him.

  “Here’s the memo you wanted.” Zack slid the document across the table.

  “Great.” Becker took several minutes to read it. “First let me apologize. I know how much work you’ve put into this investigation and I hate to put a kibosh on it. But funds are tight. Why don’t you tell me a little more about it?”

  Normally, Zack would have jumped at an opportunity like this. He looked over at Angela and waited. Neither of them wanted to start. Something told Angela they were on target about Erickson. Becker was simply fishing around to find out how much they knew. Well, he wasn’t going to reel in a big one today.

  Angela finally responded. “As you know, federal indictments are forthcoming against Live Now’s parent company in Las Vegas, Syracuse and Miami. We suspect that the same fraudulent activity going on in the other cities—pressuring dying policyholders to sell—is happening here.”

  Becker glanced down at their report again. “Have you found any evidence that the company is doing the same thing here?” The memo neglected to mention that Jon hadn’t been pressured by Waverly Sloan.

  “Our investigation is just beginning,” Zack said, “but it’s taken an unexpected turn. We lost our lead case agent. He died in a car accident, but we think he may’ve been murdered as a direct result of selling his phony insurance policy. And he’s not the first victim.”

  “Really? Is the D.A.’s Office looking into his death?”

  “Yes,” Zack said. “And so are we.”

  Angela could tell from Becker’s expression that they weren’t scoring any points.

  “What can you tell me about—” Becker paused to peruse the memo. “What’s the company’s name again?”

  “Live Now,” Zack offered.

  “Yes. Have you found any admissible evidence that anyone connected with the company is actually knocking off their clients?”

  “Not yet,” Angela said. “We’ve been looking at one of their brokers.”

  Becker leaned his head to the left and cracked his neck. “I see that in your memo. Tell me more?”

  “His name is Waverly Sloan.”

  “Got anything on him yet?”

  Angela crossed and uncrossed her legs. “No, not yet.” She didn’t want to reveal that Waverly had in no way pressured Jon to sell his policy.

  “Have you identified any other clients besides your case agent and the four people listed in your memo who you think died under suspicious circumstances?”

  They had intentionally excluded Claire Erickson’s name from the memo. When Angela didn’t step up to the plate, Zack expertly avoided answering the question like the skilled politician he might one day become.

  “The D.A.’s Office may have some additional victims. A high number of Waverly Sloan’s clients died in accidents, rather than from their illnesses. Too many to dismiss as a coincidence.”

  “I understand that,” Becker said. “But is there any hard evidence pointing to foul play?”

  “We’re still looking into it,” Angela said.

  Becker folded his arms. “As you know, we’re under serious budget constraints. It sounds like the other jurisdictions already have enough to nail these guys on the fraud allegations. And if these deaths do turn out to be homicides, the D.A.’s Office can pursue them. We need to conserve the extremely limited resources we have.”

  “Does that mean our investigation is history?” Zack asked.

  Becker smiled. “I haven’t made a final decision yet. Give me a chance to speak with all the teams.”

  “How long will that take?” Angela pushed.

  Becker shrugged noncommittally. “A few weeks at the most.” He leaned forward and planted his forearms on the table. “For the time being, your operation is on hold. That means no further investigation. Thanks for meeting with me on such short notice.”

  Zack and Angela exited the conference room and walked somberly down a long hallway. They didn’t speak until they were back behind closed doors in Angela’s office.

  “That was a bunch of bull,” Zack said.

  Angela nodded. “I would have to agree.”

  “Then I guess Operation Buying Time is a done deal.”

  “No way.” Angela sat on the edge of her desk and folded her arms. “I’m determined to find out if Waverly Sloan and Live Now had anything to do with Jon’s death. And if I have to do it on my own time, so be it.”

  CHAPTER 47

  I’m in trouble. Big trouble.”

  Waverly peered across the table at Vincent, who responded with a cautious gape.

  “I’m listening, man. I’m here. What’s going on?”

  After ducking out on Deidra and spending a couple of frantic hours at his office, Waverly asked Vincent to meet him for a drink.

  Waverly decided to just put everything on the table. “I’ve been selling a few policies on the side.�
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  Vincent looked utterly perplexed. “And why in the world would you do that?”

  “I had no choice.”

  “We always have choices, man. You might not like them, but you definitely have them.”

  Vincent took a sip of his Coke. “Tell me exactly what’s going on. You’ve been raking in mountains of dough. Why would you risk your license by doing something like that?”

  Waverly stared down at his drink so he wouldn’t have to meet Vincent’s chastising gaze. He started with the day he found his brother in his office building garage, lying on the ground like a bloody rag doll. When he recounted his first call from Rico, he had hoped to see compassion in Vincent’s eyes. But he only detected shock.

  “Why didn’t you call me then?” Vincent asked.

  “For what? They threatened my wife. There was nothing you could do about it.”

  “And exactly what do you think I can do for you now?”

  Waverly did not like the condemnation in Vincent’s tone. But he was right. He wasn’t sure why he’d called him. Probably because there was no one else he could call.

  He hesitated, afraid that if he spoke what was in his head, it just might make it true. But he needed a sounding board.

  “I think this guy Rico may have murdered one or more of the clients he bought policies on.”

  Vincent’s body lurched backward and he gripped the edge of the table. “Man, that’s a hell of an accusation. And if it’s true, it puts you in a very bad place. It also puts me and Live Now in an equally bad place.”

  Waverly offered no response to his statement.

  “What makes you think this guy is killing your clients?”

  “He called me right after Jon Billington died, asking for his money. How would he even know the guy was dead if he didn’t have anything to do with it?”

  “You gave the guy the name of the policyholder?”

  Waverly looked down at his hands. “I had to.”

  It took a while before Vincent asked another question. “You don’t have any proof that this guy killed him, do you?”

  “Sometimes you just know,” Waverly said. “And a few days ago—” He paused, wondering if he should just keep this to himself. “Two prosecutors with the U.S. Attorney’s Office dropped in on me.”

  “For what?”

  “They asked me a bunch of questions about the policies I brokered. They insinuated that my clients were dying prematurely and that maybe I had something to do with it. Today’s story in the L.A. Times certainly doesn’t help.”

  “L.A. Times? What story?”

  Waverly opened his briefcase, pulled out the newspaper and slapped it on the table in front of him. He waited while Vincent read it. The only good thing about it was that Jill Kerr had not mentioned Jerry Billington or Claire Erickson. If she’d had any information about his link to Erickson, Waverly figured she would have used it.

  Twice, Vincent stopped reading and glanced up at him. He finally put the newspaper down and pushed his Coke aside. “I’m going to need something a little stronger than this.” He hailed down the waitress and ordered a vodka twist.

  “Live Now is mentioned all throughout this article. We need to contact Bellamy and Cartwright and let them know what’s going on,” Vincent said. “The fallout could seriously hurt the company. I’m surprised they haven’t already called you. And when you do talk to them, just make sure you tell them I had nothing to do with this.”

  Waverly didn’t know why he had expected any help from Vincent. “What should I do?” he asked, simply to kill the silence.

  “I would’ve advised you to go to the police, but in light of this whole money laundering scam you’re tied up in, you’d be asking for some guaranteed jail time. And by the way, if your bribe to the Department of Insurance comes to light, leave me out of it.”

  Waverly chuckled and lowered his head. Vincent fronted the money and paid the bribe, but now it was his bribe.

  Vincent looked at him and Waverly read the lack of sympathy in his eyes. They communicated that greedy people got what they deserved.

  But this wasn’t about greed. He wouldn’t be in this predicament if it hadn’t been for the threat to his family. His actions were dictated by fear, not greed. There had been no other option.

  But now he had to find one.

  CHAPTER 48

  Angela eyed the clock on the dashboard of her Saab. She was meeting Dre for drinks at The Dynasty Restaurant & Lounge in Inglewood and she was fifteen minutes late. She had to circle the block three times before finally spotting an open parking meter around the corner on Hillcrest.

  When she stepped inside the club, she spotted Dre sitting at a table overlooking a small dance floor. He leaned over the railing and waved.

  “You lookin’ mighty fly,” Dre said, checking out her legs when she reached his table.

  “Sorry, I’m late,” Angela apologized.

  “Calm down, baby. You ain’t late. Why you stressin’?” He stood up, kissed her on the lips, then pulled out the chair next to him.

  Angela immediately relaxed. Cornell would’ve been lecturing her about the importance of time management by now. Dre just seemed happy to see her.

  “What do you want to drink?” he asked.

  “Apple martini.”

  “They make a bomb caramel apple martini here. Wanna try it?”

  “Sure.” Angela gazed around the club. “This is where you hang out, huh?”

  “Yep. The music is slammin’ and the fried chicken is better than my Mama’s. But don’t tell her.”

  Angela laughed and took the paper napkin underneath Dre’s wineglass to wipe the lipstick mark she had left on his lips. A worried expression suddenly distorted Dre’s face.

  “Shit!” he said under his breath.

  Angela looked over her shoulder in the direction of Dre’s gaze, but couldn’t see what or who he was staring at. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothin’. Just somebody I really don’t wanna see.”

  She could feel Dre’s body grow taut and wondered what was going on. Before she could ask again, Angela saw what had attracted his attention.

  A shapely, dark-skinned woman of medium height was prancing toward their table. The look on Dre’s face had now changed from frustration to embarrassment.

  The woman boldly pulled out a chair and took a seat across from them. “Hey, Dre, how you doin’?”

  “Nobody invited you to sit down,” Dre said.

  “Don’t worry,” the woman said, “I ain’t stayin’. I just came over to say hello.”

  She had a long, reddish-brown weave streaked with blonde. Her bangs were angled across her face, shielding her left eye. The woman’s hoop earrings were the size of lunch meat and her sheer lace top left nothing to the imagination. A red, spandex skirt barely covered her gargantuan ass.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” The woman looked Angela up and down.

  Dre pursed his lips. “It’s a weeknight. Why aren’t you home with Little Dre?”

  The woman put a hand on her hip and tossed a handful of her fake hair over her shoulder. “Oh, so you can hang out during the week, but I can’t?”

  “I asked you who’s takin’ care of my son?” Dre demanded.

  “He’s at my sister’s, okay?” She gave Angela another appraising look. “Stop being rude and introduce me to your little friend.”

  “Angela, this is Shawntay. My son’s mother. Good-bye, Shawntay.”

  “If I hadn’t seen y’all lockin’ lips a second ago, I woulda thought you were his lawyer or something. Is that how y’all hooked up?”

  Dre shot up. “I need to talk to you outside.”

  Shawntay ignored him and directed the conversation to Angela.

  “If y’all gon’ be an item, you’ll probably be hangin’ out with my son. So we need to get to know each other.”

  “Oh, hell naw.” Dre gripped Shawntay’s upper arm. “C’mon. We need to step outside and talk.”

 
“Why we can’t talk in front of your little friend?”

  “Don’t make me cause a scene up in here,” Dre threatened.

  With Dre’s help, Shawntay grudgingly rose from the chair.

  “Do Ms. Prim and Proper know what you do?” Shawntay asked, as Dre dragged her away.

  Angela watched them weave their way through the packed club and out of the door. She pretended not to notice the curious gazes from other people in the club who had watched Dre leave with Shawntay. It was another ten minutes before they returned and headed in opposite directions.

  “Sorry about that,” Dre said, sitting down again. His face still had a stern expression. “Now where were we?” He tried to take Angela’s hand, but she locked her arms across her chest.

  “What was that all about?” she asked.

  “Nothin’. Absolutely nothin’.”

  “Excuse me? I think you owe me more of an explanation than that.”

  Dre exhaled. “Hey, I’m sorry. I just got a little baby mama drama going on.” He leaned over and kissed her, but Angela did not reciprocate. “She’s just tryin’ to cause me problems, which she’s pretty damn good at. I swear she’s psycho.”

  “She’s the mother of your son. She must not be too psycho.”

  “Shawntay was never my woman, okay? You have nothin' to be jealous about.”

  “Who said I was jealous? I’m not even sure I can compete. I see you like your women a little rough around the edges.”

  Dre appeared genuinely embarrassed. “Let’s just call it a lapse in judgment on my part. She was just something to do.”

  “What did you do? Take her outside and scold her?”

  “Basically. I kick her down with way more child support than she needs to take care of my son and I’ve also agreed to pay her rent until Dre either graduates from high school or comes to live with me. She knows I ain’t about to stand for no ghetto girl crap.”