by Diane Capri
Jess nodded. He was right. “What are you going to do?”
“I can’t go back home and say I did nothing. Not to my daughter. I couldn’t face her and say that.” He angled his head down and looked at her through narrowed eyes. He jerked his thumb up the hill. “If I’m right about you, I expect you’ll keep digging, and I’d very much appreciate it if you repaid the courtesy and kept me informed.”
“I see.” Jess gave a slow nod.
“We understand each other, then.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll do the same for you.”
Jess nodded again and walked away from him, toward the new crew.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Tuesday, May 23
Santa Irene, Arizona
Hades slapped the clock to silence its buzzing alarm. He rolled off the bed fully dressed, as usual. He remained prepared to tackle whatever came up.
Cora had come to bed after her watch less than an hour ago. She turned her head and edged one eye open.
“Get some sleep.” He patted her ass. “I need to get them on it as soon as possible.”
He ran a toothbrush over his teeth and checked the next room. Pony had replaced Cora on watch duty. They grunted to acknowledge each other.
“Find anything?” Hades said, nodding toward the laptop.
“Nothing. They can’t find Melissa, and don’t know squat else.”
“Check every hour. TV stations want to impress people before they go to work. They’ll be reporting as soon as they find out. I need to know as soon as they know.”
He walked downstairs. Shorty was asleep on the couch.
Hades tapped the keyboard on Simon Lawson’s computer. The screen came to life. A small icon indicated there was unread mail.
Hades flipped through the emails, a long string of junk and special offers. Way down in the queue, he found an email from Robertson & Robertson and opened it.
The language was formal, dry, canned. Blah, blah, blah. At the end, the email said Robertson & Robertson did not conduct transactions online and listed the phone number of the first company in Simon Lawson’s chain of brokers for this account.
Cora came down the stairs a few minutes later and started the coffee machine. The noise woke Shorty. He rummaged in the refrigerator and found a bagel.
Hades eyeballed the email. Robertson & Robertson’s phone number was the same as one of the other companies Hades found in Lawson’s paperwork earlier. Otherwise, the email was practically anonymous. Or would have been, to the average person.
Hades opened a tool to examine the email’s header information, the data that routed the message through a long string of servers before it arrived at Simon Lawson’s computer. He noted the details.
The message had come from downtown Atlanta. He found the building, but Robertson & Robertson was not registered at that address.
“Coffee?” Cora called.
“Yeah.” Hades nodded without looking away from the computer screen. The header also contained the bare Internet Protocol address of the server that had originated the message.
He sent the server a basic Internet request to verify. The server responded immediately. He inched closer to the computer screen and typed furiously.
The server responded to each command he sent. Simple commands. Basic Internet stuff. He grinned with each response. By the time Cora had filled a mug of coffee and placed it in front of him, he had compiled contact details for every employee at the mythical Robertson & Robertson, including email addresses, phone numbers, and job titles.
He sorted through the job titles until he found Gordon Ferrari, the vice president of accounts.
He took a swig of coffee. Robertson & Robertson’s standard form reply to last night’s email made clear that they weren’t concerned about customer relations unless that customer was willing to call on the phone.
Cora pushed between Hades and the computer and straddled his lap. He stared at her with his mouth clamped shut.
She turned to the computer screen. “Either the account is empty, or Lawson lied and now the account is locked?”
“Neither.” Hades relaxed his jaw. “The company doesn’t deal on the Internet.”
She frowned. “What financial company doesn’t have a website these days?”
“Robertson & Robertson sends form emails and has a poorly secured server, but no online trading.” He pointed to the screen. “They’re the end of the chain. They referred me back to the first company in the chain.”
She cocked her head, trying to make sense of what he’d showed her. “So they’re laundering the money?”
He shrugged. “Laundering, exporting, hiding. Hard to say. But it’s illegal, I suspect.”
“Woo hoo!” Cora jumped up, a big, toothy smile on her face. She danced around the computer, waving her hands in the air. “Money, money, money.”
Hades grabbed her as she passed by. “Maybe, maybe not. Just chill. I need to think.”
She lowered her arms. “What is there to think about? We get simple Simon up here and do the garden tool thing until he tells us everything.”
“This is complex. Not an everyday set up.” Hades stood, pacing as he drank the coffee. “Lawson went to a lot of trouble here.”
“It’s still just account numbers and passwords. After the last session, he’ll piss his pants at the sight of a garden implement.”
“I don’t trust him. One wrong word from him, and we could be shut out.”
Cora sighed and sat on the arm of the sofa. “What if they use voice recognition?”
“Because they do their dealing over the phone?”
She shrugged. “They have to have some security to protect their customers’ money, and themselves. You said their server isn’t secure. What else could it be?”
“My bet is they protect themselves first,” Hades replied. “That’s what I would do.”
“Can we get him up here? And her? Put them on the phone?”
Hades shook his head. “We keep them secured. And we never, ever, let them talk to anyone.” He thumped his chest. “My golden rule for a happy home invasion hasn’t failed me yet.”
“And we don’t break the rules,” Shorty said.
“Exactly.” Hades looked back at the computer, the email still on the screen. “We have no choice. I have to talk to them. If it goes to hell, we cut our losses, and hang up.”
He picked up a pencil and made a list of numbers and names as he finished the coffee. His notes covered three sheets. Names, dates of birth, and addresses. A family tree from grandparents to the Lawson’s daughter. He laid everything out beside the phone. He listed every account Lawson owned, along with the passwords.
He completed the list with the names, addresses, and numbers for the firms involved with the foreign brokerage account. Finally, he listed the top people at Robertson & Robertson.
He looked over the lists. These were all the details he knew. If someone threw him a curve, like a simple identification question, the lists would give him a good chance of finding the answer quickly enough.
He underlined the number for Gordon Ferrari, Accounts Vice President. The man who, in most organizations, would have the final word. The guy at the top of the pyramid.
He held his mug out for more coffee. Cora refilled it and sat back on the arm of the sofa, silent.
Hades steadied his nerves with several lungfuls of air. He picked up Lawson’s telephone handset. The coiled cord bounced and vibrated in the air and tethered Hades to the connection.
He dialed Gordon Ferrari’s direct line. Exchanges clicked and buzzed as the call was routed halfway across the country.
The phone rang twice before it was answered in Atlanta.
“Yes.” A young woman’s voice.
“Gordon Ferrari,” Hades said.
“Do you have a number?”
Hades looked at his notes. He had masses of numbers. If she required a security code that he didn’t have, it was going to be a short call.
He stabbed h
is finger by the account number. The woman sounded young. Lawson was sixty-three, ancient to her. Hades guessed she wouldn’t be surprised if Lawson were slow to catch on.
“You mean my account number?” Hades said, feigning confusion.
The woman gave a bored uh-huh.
Hades read out the number carefully in six lots, four digits at a time. Twenty-four numbers. No mistakes.
The girl remained silent, but he could hear her keyboard clicking with each digit.
He reached the end of the account number. “Anything else?”
“I’ll put you through,” she replied.
He heard two clicks, and a man’s voice came on the line. “Ferrari here.”
“Lawson,” Hades said. “Simon Lawson.”
“Forgive me, Mr. Lawson. I recognize the number, but not the name.”
Perfect. Ferrari had no idea what Lawson sounded like. Hades relaxed slightly and he scanned down the chain of brokers Lawson used to funnel his money into Robertson & Robertson. “I usually go through McDonald.”
“Right,” Ferrari said. “Good company.”
“Too many middle men in my investments, Ferrari,” Hades said. “I’m going to take a more hands-on approach.”
Ferrari cleared his throat. “Most of our clients prefer to work through advisors.”
“My plans have changed.”
“You’re not unsatisfied with our service, I hope?”
“On the contrary. The arrangement has worked well.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
“So well, that I believe I’m going to adjust my plans. Going forward, so to speak.”
“I see.”
“I would like to cash out my accounts.”
“Cash out?”
“In full. Everything.”
“Everything?”
“Precisely.”
Ferrari’s various strangled groans came across clearly. “Well…you ought to give us time to advise you. To help you manage the tax implications. That sort of thing.”
Hades grinned. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”
Ferrari remained silent.
Hades said, “Please liquidate my investments effective immediately. I have a bank account ready to receive the money.”
“Mr. Lawson. I’m sure you realize, these things can’t be done quickly—”
“You’ve been well compensated for your services. As has everyone else involved. Let’s get this moving.”
“I can arrange for the sale of your investments. Not all the markets are open at the same time. Different time zones and so on.” Ferrari sighed. He pounded a keyboard. After a few moments, he cleared his throat. “There are currency exchanges to be made. We will look for the best spot rates. Then the monies will have to be collected. In one location.”
“I have an account in Panama,” Hades said.
Ferrari grunted. “We will have to prepare closure statements.”
“Thank you.”
“And if expediting fees are required?”
“Pay them.”
More typing. Ferrari cleared his throat again as if the words he uttered were painful. “Then I believe the money could be available to transfer to your bank account tomorrow evening.”
“Then do it. I’ll be waiting.”
“All we require is your signature.”
Hades smiled. He’d found examples of Simon Lawson’s signature. He wasn’t a forger, but he could perfect a passable copy. “I’ll fax it to you.”
Ferrari gave a short laugh. “I’m afraid your signature must be made in person and witnessed appropriately.” He clicked a few keys. “We have a representative in…er…Tucson. Is that close enough?”
Hades shuffled in his seat. “You can’t be serious. I have to drive to Tucson just to sign a piece of paper?”
“I’m afraid—”
Hades gripped the phone harder. “It’s just a signature.”
“We can make exceptions for smaller amounts, but I’m sure you understand. Even we have limits.”
“What is your limit?” Hades said, his jaw hardly moving.
“Twenty million.”
Hades took a long slow breath and let it out. The tension drained from his muscles, and his mouth split open into a wide smile. “Then I guess I’ll just have to drive to Tucson. Send me the details by email.”
He hung up before he burst out laughing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Tuesday, May 23
Bear Hill, Arizona
After she had introduced herself to Mercer’s replacements, Jess drove back into Bear Hill and parked in a small lot in the center of town. Melissa Green had lived outside of Bear Hill for a couple of years, according to the property records. Although she was a recluse, surely she came into town for occasional supplies.
A no-name gas station stood on a corner. Melissa probably bought plenty of gas, but the teen working the register was unlikely to know details.
Further down the road was a tiny grocery market. Jess went inside. The shelves were packed to the ceiling. An older woman sat at the register reading a magazine. Jess collected several bottles of fruit flavored water and a bunch of bananas.
The woman looked up from her reading when Jess approached. “Got everything?” she said, waving the first bottle of water across a price scanner.
“Yes, thanks.” Jess placed her shopping on the counter. “I was wondering if you’re a local resident?”
The woman nodded. “Bear Hill, born and bred.” She put her hand on her heart and, with a grin, spoke in a falsetto voice, “My whole twenty-one years.”
Jess smiled back. The woman was over seventy if she was a day. “I was hoping you might know Melissa Green?”
The woman stopped. “You family? Friend?”
Jess shook her head. “I know Melissa’s missing.”
The woman looked relieved to know Jess was already aware of Melissa’s circumstances. “Police have been looking for her for a while.”
“Did you know her?”
“Well…she didn’t shop here much. Probably not for a good year or so. I hardly ever saw her out and about.” She gestured down the road. “You know about her house?”
Jess nodded.
The woman grimaced. “Terrible situation.”
“Where did she do her shopping, if not here?”
The woman shrugged. “Who knows? She was an odd duck. Never seemed to mix with anyone. Really attractive, though, even without makeup.”
Jess held out a picture of Karen Walker. “Like this?”
“That’s her.” The woman nodded. “I think the only place I saw her was over at the post office.”
“Did she go there regularly?”
“You’d have to ask Dawn. She runs the place.” She winked. “She’s twenty-one as well.”
Jess paid her bill and walked to the small post office. Inside was a counter with two cash registers. There was an island in the middle of the room for completing postal labels and packaging. Seven people were in line. A sign on the counter identified the woman behind the counter as Dawn.
Jess waited her turn. By the time she reached the pole position in line, only one man was behind her. Jess waved him forward and waited until the lobby was empty to approach the counter.
Jess moved closer and spoke quietly. “I understand you knew Melissa Green?”
“Knew?” Dawn said. “I know her, yes. People shouldn’t be so quick to write her off.”
“Like who?”
“You, for starters.”
“Touché.” Jess straightened up. “Actually, I’m trying to find her. I heard she used to come in here regularly.”
Dawn shook her head. “Not regularly, but every few weeks. Just to mail stuff. A letter or a parcel. Bought a book of stamps sometimes. So I guess she used to have a lot of correspondence.”
“I thought you said she posted her letters here.”
“Yeah, but certainly not as many as the stamps she bought.”
J
ess looked out through the windows. “Is there a mailbox nearby?”
“Five. All in town. Nothing down her way. We pick up from everyone’s mailbox, though.”
“Who delivered mail out to Melissa’s place?”
“I’m not sure. She hasn’t had any mail for a while.” She paused and thought a moment as if Bear Hill had a lot of delivery people to sort through. “Bill was the regular carrier, but he’s gone up north. His sister’s sick.”
“Did Melissa pay with a credit card or a check?”
Dawn cocked her head and closed her eyes. “Um, cash, I think. But it was only ten, maybe twenty dollars tops.”
“Did she ever mention her sister?”
Eyes wide open now, Dawn pursed her lips and shook her head. “Never. I never brought her up either. She wasn’t the sort of person you get close to. There was always… I don’t know. A barrier?”
“You know who her sister was?”
“Sure. That doctor’s wife. He killed her.”
Jess was about to say that they never found the body, and thought better of it. “Did she ever talk about the case to anyone in town that you know of?”
“You mean, did I hear any rumors?” She shook her head again. “Few of us, older ones, wanted to offer her some support, but we were scared of how she might react if we brought it up. Far as I know, no one ever did. Better to talk about those sort of things, I always say. But she wasn’t approachable like that, you know?”
“Did you ever see her sister or her husband here in town?”
“Dr. Warner? Don’t think so.” Dawn frowned. “But I would have noticed her sister. They were twins, you know. I would have noticed that.”
Jess thanked Dawn and left. She carried the heavy groceries to the Mustang and stashed them in the trunk. Two women who knew Melissa both said she rarely came into town and they hadn’t seen her in quite a while.
Briefly, she considered trying a couple more of the shops, and then she shrugged. No reason to keep hitting my head against this brick wall.