by Jean Martino
Despite Scott’s warnings that someone could be watching them she no longer cared. She was no threat to anyone, she decided, because she knew nothing. She got into Linda’s yellow Ford and drove over to the Seven Eleven store a few blocks away.
The parking lot was full so she parked on the street a half a block away, careful to check that no one was following her despite her bravado, looking around her before getting out of the car. Everything seemed normal, she decided, shrugging off her concern. No one was going to abduct her she was sure of it.
Inside the store she grabbed a basket and wandered around putting several things besides the bread into it, deciding that tonight for dinner she wanted to make a tuna casserole. She was tired of steaks and chicken. Tuna sounded great.
The store was crowded and when she got to the line up at the cashier’s counter, there were five others ahead of her. It felt so good to her to get out and feel normal again she didn’t mind the waiting. She looked around her, enjoying the Californian feeling again, realizing she had missed it all more than she had thought she had. The customer at the counter, a very tall, slim man in a gray suit turned and walked towards the door and the line moved up a space. Linda moved up with them, then something made her turn to look at the man and she let out a gasp as she caught a side glimpse of his profile when he went out the door. He looked like Benny, the boy Cindy used to play with when growing up on Beechwood Avenue in Costa Mesa. He was tall like Benny and very slim too, and something about him made her adrenalin race.
Placing her basket on the floor nearby where no one would trip on it, she hurried out of the store looking for Benny. Then she saw him driving off and called out. “Benny! Benny!” But he either didn’t hear her or ignored her as he darted out into the traffic and drove off.
She stood staring after him for a long time, remembering how close he and Cindy had been, and how he had gotten married and moved away when Cindy and Michael had married. Then, according to Cindy, his parents had bought a house down the coast and he had bought his old home from his parents to live in; the house right next to her house that she was renting out. Cindy had told her in emails that they often had Benny and his wife Rosie and their three little kids visit them. They had remained close. And, she thought, her mind racing, Benny was a stockbroker at Merrill Lynch and Cindy had mentioned a year or more ago that Michael had talked him into moving to McLean’s to work. Oh my God! It had been Benny then who had left that disc on Scott’s windscreen. Benny knew where Michael and Cindy were. He knew about her investment there. Michael would have told him. He must have seen her there when she went to see Wainwright. But he had been afraid to approach her. Why? What in God’s name was going on in that company?
CHAPTER 14
“You’re looking tired, Dad,” Dan said, as he rummaged through his stock and found the laptop computer his father needed. “You getting enough sleep?”
“Don’t go there,” said Scott, suppressing a grin at Dan’s insinuation. “I’m getting plenty.” Then he frowned. “It’s just this case is turning into a real conundrum. Every time I turn up something it makes it worse and I’m concerned that Linda is reaching a point where she can’t take much more.”
“Why don’t you just let Detective Grant and his team work on it then?”
“I am. They know as much as I do about it now. I’ve been just one step ahead of them trying to figure it out. There are so many things that aren’t tying together right now. I think I see the picture and then something else comes up. It’s a puzzle.”
“Here,” said Dan, opening the laptop. “This one should do it.”
“Can you set it up with AOL on it so Linda can access her Australian internet from here? She would feel better being able to check her own emails every day rather than waiting for her sister in Australia to do so.”
“Sure. Take a few minutes so grab some coffee and bring me a mug too.”
Scott went into the kitchen and poured coffee into two mugs, stopping for a minute to admire the back yard which he could see through the kitchen window. Just where Dan found the time to work on it was a mystery too with all the other work he had piling up from his computer job. It didn’t feel like a regular job to Scott, because Dan worked out of his electronically set up garage that hooked into the computer network at the A to Z Computer Company in the valley. But that was the way of things these days he knew. Dan called it a satellite job. And Jocelyn was off at the Child Care Center working now on weekdays. She always took Mark with her and he wondered if she had taken the job to allow Dan to work at home in peace.
He carried the mugs out to the garage and sat watching Dan expertly typing in commands to set the programs up. Where he got his skills, Scott would never know. Computers were something he could do without; he was always crashing some program and calling Dan to help him restore it.
“Almost finished,” said Dan, still concentrating on typing commands into the computer. “Linda can connect to the internet using her cell phone instead of a conventional phone line when I’m finished. All I need to do is download the auto dialer now and change the configuration to LAN settings and enable Automatically Detect Settings then disable Use a Proxy Server.”
Scott watched in total amazement as Dan rapidly did all he was telling him and more, not understanding any of it but knowing it would work when Dan had finished and that was all he cared about.
“You’ll need to use this cord to connect the computer to the wall jack and then all you have to do is turn it on and bingo!”
“Are you sure that’s all we have to do?” asked Scott. “It seems much more complicated than using my desktop computer.”
“It’s not,” said Dan. “I’ve typed out the instructions for first use and after that it will be as simple as rain.”
“I doubt that,” said Scott watching him.
“OK.” Dan said when he had finished. “AOL is all set up in there, the U.S. version that will let Linda gain access to her Australian version. You said she was going to get someone in Australia set it up for International access?”
“Her sister.”
“Then as soon as she does that, Linda can go into her Australian AOL internet.”
“Let’s hope so,” said Scott, looking doubtful.
Dan looked at him for a second. “How about I come back with you and help her?” he asked. “I don’t want to push myself in knowing what she’s going through but it would be easier to do than explain.”
“I was hoping I could get you to do that,” said Scott heaving a sigh of relief. “Linda and I just aren’t computer literate at all.”
Leaving a note for Jocelyn, Dan followed Scott in his car back to the beach unit. When the door opened, Linda got out of the chair and hurried to meet him. “Hi Dan,” she said, recognizing him immediately from his uncanny resemblance to Scott and the photos Scott had sent her through the internet. She held out her hand, “I was hoping your Dad could talk you into coming back with him and helping.”
Dan shook her hand. “Nice to meet you finally, Linda,” he said. “My dad talks about you all the time.”
Linda and Scott laughed at Dan’s dry sense of humor, and Dan walked over to the wall socket and plugged the jack in connecting it to the computer then Linda’s cell phone. “This should do it,” he said, setting the computer on the dining room table and turning it on. “You’ll just have to type your password to open your Australian internet.” He stepped back and let her sit down and she typed her password and the AOL Australia internet opened immediately.
“Looks like your sister did her job,” Dan smiled. “Is that the disc Dad told me about?” he asked, seeing it lying on the table.
Linda nodded and handed it to him.
“Want me to try it?”
“Please,” said Linda, getting up and letting him sit down at the table and watching as he inserted it in the side of the laptop. Clicking on My Computer, he then clicked on the CD/RW icon. It opened as a data base with only one account in it; Rossi, Linda, and t
hen several other pages with dates on them only. He opened the one with Linda’s name and gave a yelp as WordPad showed its contents. “This is it I think. McLean’s Investments! Rossi, Linda. Investment record!”
Linda started shaking with excitement as the screen opened and she saw her name on the top.
“Shit!” cried Dan, staring at it. “It’s showing zero balance.”
The room started spinning as Linda grabbed Scott’s hand fearing the worst.
“Hey wait!” cried Dan, opening one of the other saved documents that showed dates and times only. He spun around in his chair. “You better look at this,” he told her. “It looks like all your stock has been sold over the last two days.”
“Oh no!” she cried, collapsing on the chair as Dan and Scott stood behind her.
Then Dan leaned over her and opened more documents as her head started spinning again. “It’s been sold,” he said. “But the proceeds seemed to have gone in and out of McLean’s Trust fund and into a bank account with Wells Fargo in San Francisco... over a million dollars worth! Wow! Is that right?”
Linda almost fainted. “My last statement from them showed almost that amount in value,” she said. “But how could this be? Wainwright never said anything about them selling my stock, and how could they have sold it all like that, every bit of it without telling me?”
“Well it seems like someone got some great prices on the stock,” said Dan, studying the transaction history.
“Does it give the name of the account holder at Wells Fargo?” asked Scott as Linda stood up and Dan returned to the seat.
Dan clicked around some more. “It only gives a number for the account, no name.”
Scott went over to where Linda had collapsed on the couch, her face mirroring her shock. “It’s ok, honey,” he said sitting down next to her. “Michael has to have done it. He must have set the sell orders in advance before he left. And he must have opened a bank account before he left also with Wells Fargo in San Francisco. Do you have an account with that bank?”
She nodded weakly. “I’ve some IRA’s in it. But Michael doesn’t know my account number, and that isn’t the number on the screen.”
“Well I wouldn’t worry about it for now,” said Scott. “I believe Michael has set it up somehow to protect your money and no one else can get into it. We’ll have to go to San Francisco and talk to the bank manager and find out if your name is on it somehow, or at the least you are on it as a beneficiary.”
Dan wrote down all the details for her and then stood up checking his watch. Jocelyn and Mark would be home by now looking for him. “Congratulations, Linda,” he said beaming at her. “Looks like your son-in-law took real good care of you.”
Linda grabbed her purse. “Please let me pay you for the laptop,” she said, taking out her traveler’s checks.
“That’s OK,” said Dan. “I got it for free anyway. When people buy new computers they usually dump their old ones and most people I know just give them to me to fix and sell.”
“Then I want to buy it from you,” she insisted.
Scott took her hand and stopped her. “I’ll take care of it with Dan later,” he said.
Linda put her traveler’s checks back in her purse. “Then at least let me give you a hug,” she said.
“Now that I can handle,” laughed Dan, leaning down to hug her back. “When you are up to it,” he said, straightening again, “you and Dad can come by for dinner. Jocelyn would love to meet you too.”
“I will,” she said. “I promise you I will.”
When Scott returned after seeing Dan off he walked over and drew her to her feet and hugged her. “Well, my lady, that’s one problem off your mind for now. Tonight I am taking you out to dinner at a nice restaurant to celebrate this win over McLean’s. I don’t think you have to worry about Michael. Anyone clever enough to have done what he did to protect your investments can take care of himself and Cindy.”
“I would have given it all just for some word from them,” she said, feeling disappointed there was no message.
He hugged her tight. “I know, honey. But I think this was their message. I think it was their way of telling you they were ok as well as protecting your money.”
“I’d like to believe that,” she said. “I hope you’re right.”
* *
They sat at a table in the restaurant overlooking the ocean and Scott couldn’t take his eyes off Linda in her slate blue silk dress, the neckline low enough to show her cleavage and her skin glowing in the candle light. “I think you’ve been lying to me,” he said seriously.
“What?” she cried. “Never! I’m as honest as the day is long.”
“I mean about your age. You look ten years younger than 49.”
She burst out laughing as he clasped her hand in his. “Thank you kind sir,” she said. “I think it’s the soft lights though.”
“Whatever it is I like it,” he said.
“And you look more relaxed too,” she said, turning her hand over in his grasp and squeezing his. “Tonight I am happy though. Not just because of the money because I would give it all up just to see Cindy and Michael again, but because we’re together right now. I never thought I would ever meet you. I can’t believe we are sitting here holding hands, when for a year we talked through headphones and on video and couldn’t even touch each other.”
“Well for now let’s just enjoy it and not think of the past or tomorrow. Tonight is ours, only ours.”
They both could feel the change in their feelings for each other but neither of them wanted to delve too deeply in it for now. The complications of discussing them staying together would have ruined a perfectly wonderful night together, and both needed it after the trauma of the last four days. Tomorrow would be soon enough to deal with the problems of finding Michael and Cindy. Tonight was theirs.
* *
Saturday morning June 21, 2003:
They slept late the next morning, both exhausted after doing the town the night before. They had arrived home around 2 am, Scott carrying Linda’s shoes, understanding how sore her feet must be after all the dancing they had done, and both feeling tired but happy. It was going on 8 am when Scott got out of bed, letting Linda sleep in. He kissed her forehead lightly and dressed before leaving the unit to go downstairs and buy a paper.
“How is everything in the unit?” asked the woman, remembering still how they had both insisted on paying half each of the rent when they moved in and finding that refreshingly sweet.
“Just great,” he said, paying her for the LA Times. “We love it.”
Leaving the office he opened the folded paper and then stopped dead in his tracks, seeing the photo of a man’s face on the front page with the name Roger McLean under it. He walked a few paces and then stopped to read it.
“Roger McLean, 48, of Newport Beach Brokerage house, McLean’s Investments Inc., was found murdered yesterday in the California desert area. Some bike riders found his body with a bullet in the back of his head and his hands tied behind his back. McLean’s Investments was founded by Roger McLean’s father, Roger senior, thirty years ago, and their incredible success has seen them rising to become a close competitor to Merrill Lynch.”
He didn’t read anymore, hurrying up the stairs to prevent Linda hearing it on the news. She hadn’t woken up yet and he quickly hid the paper behind the couch and walked down the stairs to the beach area before calling the Newport Beach police department, identifying himself and asking for Grant.
“He’s not in today,” said the officer answering. “Is it urgent?”
“Damn right it is,” said Scott. “It’s about the Michael and Cindy Brampton missing person’s case. I have to talk to someone right now.”
“I’ll transfer you to Detective Stamford,” said the officer. “He’s working on the case with Detective Grant.”
Scott paced along the boulevard waiting for Stamford to come on line. The beach was crowded already, people milling around with their blankets a
nd umbrellas, preparing to spend the day there and soak up the sunshine.
“Detective Stamford speaking,” came a deep voice.
Again Scott identified himself and Stamford said he knew who he was. “I read in the paper this morning that Roger McLean had been found murdered,” Scott said. “Anyone know yet who did it or who is suspected or involved?”
“At this point, no,” said Stamford. “I’m sure you know the FBI is investigating McLean’s Investments for money laundering by now. So it appears there are some underworld figures involved, and from the way McLean was killed it sounds like a vengeance killing for some reason.”
“Can you tell me the name of the FBI guy who is handling it?” he asked.
“Burton... Thomas Burton,” said Stamford. “But I have to warn you the guy’s a prick. He is trying to get us off the investigation into the missing person’s case altogether and wants to run the whole show. Grant is fighting him on this but Burton has the authority to override him.”