by Jean Martino
“Want you to do something for me though. Not sure how. Is there some way you can get into the beach unit and get that laptop out of there? We forgot to bring it with us and it still has that disc in it.”
“Dunno,” said Dan. “Would the manager let me in?”
“We paid for two weeks, still another week and a half to run. I’ll fax her authority to let you in if she needs it. Tell her you need to pick up the laptop you loaned us. See if you can get there this morning and she might just let you in to pick it up. But don’t tell her where we are. Just say, if she asks, we drove up to Vegas for a few days. See what you can do, son. If the FBI track Linda to that unit and pick up that laptop and the disc they would find her account and might construe it as her being involved with something to do with their investigation.”
“Will try,” said Dan. “How can I reach you?”
“I’ll be staying at my home for a few days but will be in and out so you can leave a message on the answering machine and I’ll get back to you.” His home would also be on the FBI watch list he knew. Grant would have told them about him being with Linda by now but he had to take that chance.
He hung up and returned to the car. Linda was getting fidgety and wanting to do something but didn’t know what. They hardly spoke on the drive back to his house. He didn’t know what to say to her to comfort her. Better she work it out in her own mind for now, he decided, glancing at her every now and then and noticing her staring out the window as though in a trance.
It was almost noon when they arrived back at his house. Parking the truck and van on the street, he opened the garage roller door and told her to get in the Cadillac.
“Where are we going” she asked in surprise.
“San Francisco,” he said. “Wells Fargo bank.”
* *
The bank manager kept them waiting for an hour and Linda was feeling faint. They hadn’t had lunch yet and neither of them ate much breakfast just a slice of toast and coffee. Finally he had his secretary call them in.
Scott showed his ID as he and Linda sat down facing the man over a massive desk. He then let Linda explain why they were there.
“I had an investment in shares at McLean’s Investments in Newport Beach,” she said. “Almost a million dollars. The stock was being managed by my son-in-law, Michael Brampton, who worked there, and I’ve since learned that it has all been sold and the funds were transferred to this bank. I have an IRA account here also, but I don’t think the funds were deposited into that account because the number in the computer is a different account number.” She handed him a piece of paper with the account number Dan had written the funds had been transferred to. “This is my passport to prove who I am and the IRA account is in my name with the address in Australia.”
He looked at the passport and then, satisfied it was her, said, “I am aware of the account and the monies transferred into it.”
Linda let out a sigh of relief that was short lived.
“However the FBI was here this morning and has blocked anyone from having access to it. They had a warrant which stated they had authority to keep it from being touched. And the IRS was here also and has frozen the funds until they decide how much is due them for taxes on the stock sales.”
“But that’s my money,” cried Linda. “There’s nothing illegal about selling stock is there?”
“Of course not,” said the man. “But before the FBI got here, who said they were investigating the Investment Company where your stock was held for money laundering activities, seven hundred and fifty thousand of it was transferred to a bank in Australia. The balance left of two hundred and fifty six thousand dollars has been frozen by the IRS.”
“Do you have the name of the bank and the account name the money was transferred to?” asked Scott, realizing Dan had not gotten to the unit in time and somehow the FBI had tracked them to it and found the disc in the laptop.
“I can’t give that to you right now,” said the manager. “The account and any information in it are frozen. As it was all done through the internet I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.”
When they left there Linda was furious. “Damn it!” she cried. “First McLean’s wouldn’t give me access to my account and now the damn FBI and IRS and Wells Fargo are freezing me out.”
They walked down the street to a café and ordered lunch. “I’m sure Michael got it to the right bank in Australia,” said Scott. “He was smart to leave some in to cover any taxes. But you’ll need to get a damn good tax accountant to make sure they don’t cream you.”
After lunch they drove back to Sacramento to his home, unpacked the van of their clothes and food and went inside. The answering machine was flashing and Scott pressed the button. In seconds Dan’s voice came over the machine.
“Dad, it’s me. I went to the beach unit and told the manager I needed to pick up the laptop and she told me the FBI had already been there and taken it. Will wait till you call and tell me what else I can do, if anything. Take good care of yourself. Luvya.”
“Those bastards,” Scott said, losing his patience as he flipped off the machine. “How in hell did they find out where we were staying so fast?”
“Who cares,” said Linda, feeling disgruntled. “They can’t accuse me of anything related to that damn money laundering scheme anyway. It was my account and it’s my money and I will damn well get it back somehow.”
“Was there anything you left at the unit that you’ll need?” he asked.
“Besides Cindy’s car, not much, just a few articles of clothing. I can do without them. Brought all my documents with me, thank God. I don’t care if I never get the other things back.”
“The car will be ok for now,” he said. “We still have over a week’s rent paid on the unit so I’ll make arrangements with Dan if necessary to pick it up and take it to his home. I can FedEx him the key for it.” Scott had brought all his stuff too except what he had at Dan’s and that wasn’t much.
“But what about Michael’s car at that house?” she asked. “Can’t we somehow get it out of that garage too? I still have the key to the house.”
“Right now,” said Scott, “we’ll have to stay away from that house in Newport Beach. The feds will be crawling all over it looking for clues to where Michael and Cindy went. Lot of good it will do them. Give me the keys though to it and the cars and I’ll think about it for now.” Flipping the machine on again he listened to more messages, mostly from fishing buddies asking him to call so they could set something up. The last call was from Max.
“The reporters,” Max said, “are looking for you both. A couple of them even called here but got nothing from us.”
He looked over at where Linda was standing at the window her back to him, but he could see from the straightness of her back how tense she was. He couldn’t let her stay here. The reporters would soon track him down and find her. She was furious right now and scared for Michael and Cindy, but for now he didn’t want to expose her to questioning by the FBI or reporters and any criminals looking for her. There was only one place he could think of where she could feel safe for now.
She turned around and stared at him with worried eyes. “I feel so awful, Scott, for getting you involved in this. I never expected it to turn out like this.”
“It’s not your fault, honey,” he said walking over and putting his arms around her. “And I’m glad you got me involved. I want to help you.”
“Why are you so kind to me?” she asked her voice muffled against his shirt.
“Because I care about you,” he said, then added, “very much.”
Love; she had wanted him to say the love word, but he was too cautious and perhaps he didn’t feel that for her either.
He knew she was suffering exhaustion and needed to rest. Despite her objections she finally gave in and dozed off quickly on his bed. When he was sure she was asleep he closed the door and went back to the living room and dialed a number.
“Hello,” said Maggie.
“It’s dad,” he said.
“Dad! Where are you? Dan called a couple days ago and said you had flown back and taken Linda to Tahoe fishing. I tried to call your cell phone but---“
“Batteries died,” he said. “I’m at the house right now and need a favor from you.”
“Sounds serious,” she said. “What?”
* *
Linda was furious when she woke up and Scott explained he wanted her to stay with Maggie for a couple days. “I appreciate your wanting to protect me, Scott,” she said. “But I can’t just sit around letting you do everything when there are some things I could do too.”
“Like what?” he asked patiently.
“I could talk to Benny,” she said. “Perhaps he knows more than he would have told the FBI and would tell me. And I have to call Michael’s parents in Arizona. They must be going out of their minds with worry right now. And... and...” She stopped, realizing there wasn’t a hell of a lot that she could do. She felt like she had been dropped into a quick drying bucket of cement and the more she struggled the harder it was to get out of it. She was totally dependent now on Scott and his expertise in the investigating field. She couldn’t go off half cocked, flying back to LA and walking right into a trap that would see her picked up by the FBI for questioning about things she knew nothing about. What would that accomplish? She groaned and put her hands over her face. “God, I feel so bloody helpless.”
He took her hands and pulled them away from her face. “I understand,” he said, gazing into her troubled eyes. “I am not trying to exclude you from anything, Linda. You must understand that. The FBI isn’t interested in me. I can go places where you can’t right now and if we want to find out where Michael and Cindy are we have to circle around them and try to dig up information before they do.”
She nodded. “I know. I’d be just extra baggage you don’t need right now.”
“I didn’t mean that,” he said groaning.
“I know you didn’t,” she rushed to assure him. “But I am not that stupid that I don’t see it is a fact. A week ago when I left Australia I thought it would be over by now, that there would be some reasonable explanation why Cindy had not taken her trip to Australia and we’d all be laughing about it now.” She shrugged. “I guess I was being unrealistic, but I never expected all this.”
“How could you have,” he said. “I didn’t either. It’s become a hornet’s nest. Every time we turn around something more is happening to complicate things. But I will say this, Linda, and I want you to hold onto it and believe it with all your heart right now.” He took her face in his hands and locked eyes with her. “We will find Cindy and Michael somehow and when this is all over we will all go out for the biggest celebratory dinner you have ever known. That I promise you.”
Her heart went out to him. He was her rock right now and she wanted to believe what he was saying even if there were some lingering doubts still in her mind. He was thinking positive and she had to start doing that also or they could not carry on and all hope would be lost.
“Promise me,” he said.
“I promise,” she replied.
CHAPTER 17
Newport Beach, Tuesday, June 24, 2003:
Scott had spent the night at Dan’s home after flying back to LA as soon as Linda was welcomed into Maggie’s large house. She had wanted to get a hotel room but he didn’t want her sitting around in a room on her own thinking thoughts that would destroy her. He knew Maggie would be good for her, she needed female companionship right now more than him, and Maggie’s husband, Matt, who worked in the trucking business as a dispatcher, was an amiable type of guy who took everything, as Maggie did also, with a pinch of salt and made the best of it.
Their two teenage sons, Matt junior, sixteen, and Scottie, fourteen, got up to the usual teenage pranks, but Maggie and Matt made them tow the line, and he had made sure they showed respect to others. He had loved watching them grow up and taking them fishing and teaching them things that he hoped would make them appreciate life and the finer things in it.
He had been a bit doubtful about the marriage when Maggie and Matt had married right out of high school, Maggie just turned eighteen and Matt nineteen. At the time he had tried to dissuade them and talk them into waiting a couple years, but their minds had been set and he had known if he tried to stop them they would have taken off for Reno or Vegas and gotten married anyway.
“You and mom were only twenty when you married.” Maggie had reminded him. “And twenty one when I was born. So what’s the big deal in my being only two years younger than you were?”
At nineteen, Maggie had presented him with his first grandchild and it had been one of the happiest days of his life. Now, at thirty five, Maggie was still, in his eyes, that little girl he had adored so much with her blond hair and blue eyes and sunny disposition. She never let anything get her down, always extending a helping hand to anyone who needed it, never asking for anything in return. It was her nature and he was so proud of her, and Dan, that at times he felt like bursting with joy that he had been privileged to have them as his kids.
And the best thing was how she had welcomed Linda into her home without any formality, as though they had been friends all their lives. Linda had been put in Matt junior’s room, which Maggie had hastily moved all his junk out of and into the garage and gotten everything looking nice and comfy for her, and Matt jnr had been bunked in with Scottie. When he left there, Linda and Maggie were sitting at the kitchen table talking up a storm and didn’t even seem concerned he was leaving them.
* *
Grant had seemed pleased to see Scott when he walked into the Newport Beach police department. “Our hands are somewhat tied right now on the Roger McLean murder investigation and the Brampton’s disappearance,” he told Scott. “We are still working on both cases, but The FBI is putting up roadblocks everywhere we turn due to their own investigation into the money laundering. They are really muddying up the waters for us. I’m sure you’ve heard the FBI has partially closed down McLean’s Investments and understand the problems they can cause us.”
“Yes, I do,” said Scott. “That’s their style isn’t it?” They both laughed, knowing from experience how the FBI worked and looked down on the police forces. Scott had no fear that Grant would tell them he was back in Orange County. There was honor amongst the law enforcement men and women. They never ratted on one of their own.
“I’m not going to even ask if you know where Mrs. Rossi is,” said Grant. “I’m sure you know the FBI wants to locate her for questioning.”
Scott nodded. By now he would bet on it that his house had been staked out in Sacramento. But they wouldn’t find Linda there and he knew they wouldn’t get any information out of the Sacramento Police either; Max would make sure of that. As far as them finding Maggie’s home that was something he didn’t worry about. Like Dan, Maggie knew how to cover her tracks and would keep them at bay. He had taught them how to protect themselves since they were little kids. Linda was safely tucked away for now, out of the reach of inquisitive reporters and FBI interrogators.
They chatted for a half hour, going over the aspects of the missing person’s case and how baffling it had become.
“Wherever they are now,” said Grant, “they had better keep their heads down. It’s not just the FBI looking for them. Our homicide division has uncovered more than just a money laundering scheme at McLean’s Investments. They think Roger McLean was murdered for something a hell of a lot more than that, and there are certain people out there who would like to get their hands on Michael Brampton besides the FBI and the police.”
“Can you give me a clue?” asked Scott, knowing he couldn’t but deciding to ask anyway.
Grant shook his head. “I’ve told you as much as I can. You will have to work the rest out yourself. I just want you to understand though that if you do find out where Brampton is I would expect you to let me know.”
Scott stood up without answering. There were some thi
ngs that didn’t need to be vocalized between detectives. Grant knew he wasn’t hiding any information about Michael’s whereabouts. It was a matter of trust and honor. They shook hands and Scott left the building.
* *
The two FBI agents sat in Wainwright’s office as he attempted to explain to them that he knew nothing about any money laundering scheme, and that the last time he had seen Roger Mclean had been to advise him that Michael Brampton had left on a two week leave of absence.
“I was shocked to learn of Roger’s death,” he said. “I learned about it when I was in the hospital being treated for a bleeding ulcer. I had no idea whatsoever about any money laundering scheme.”
The agent, who identified himself as Warner, nodded sympathetically. “We heard about your illness. I hope you are feeling better again.”
“I am,” said Wainwright, “but it was touch and go there for a while. My doctor decided against operating for now but has told me to consider getting a job with less pressure than this one.”