by Jean Martino
Jocelyn smothered a giggle as Dan walked into the kitchen and Mark turned his attention on him with a loud singsong voice. “Dada! Dada!”
“Want me to try?” he asked, as Scott grabbed a dish towel Jocelyn had thrown at him and tried to wipe off the food.
“Both of you forget it,” said Jocelyn, grabbing Mark out of the chair. “I have to clean him up and get to the Child Care Center. You,” she punched Dan playfully on his chest, “can feed your father instead.”
As she hurried out of the kitchen with Mark screaming his protests, Dan finished scrambling the eggs. “We can look at those discs after breakfast,” he said. “But, dad, are you sure you’re not getting too involved in this whole thing? I mean from what you told me last night about Benny it sounds like hell is breaking loose in this case.”
“I know,” Scott nodded. “But it’s too late to back out now.”
“I don’t see that,” said Dan, spooning scrambled eggs onto their plates and sitting down. “Linda wouldn’t expect you to put yourself on the firing line anymore than you have. Why not let the FBI or Detective Grant take over.”
“First I want to see what’s on those discs,” said Scott. “Perhaps Benny missed something I can pick up.”
When Jocelyn had left for her job and the dishes had been rinsed and placed in the dishwasher, Scott followed Dan out to his garage and sat close to him as he opened his computer and inserted the first disc.
“Michael and Benny sure seem to know a lot about computing,” Dan said, as they studied the instructions Michael had given Benny. “All the instructions are in computer code that a stock broker would not normally understand.”
“Linda said Michael was a whiz kid,” answered Scott. “He got his masters degree at UCLA where he met Cindy. Majored in business and computer programming, then he went into the stock brokerage business. I don’t know much about Benny, but obviously he has similar talents to Michael.”
“Well it sure shows from this disc. Let’s look at the other one.” He removed the first disc and inserted the second one.
When it opened both men stared stunned at the screen. Dan was the first one to break the silence. “My God!” he almost whispered. “It looks like McLean’s Investment’s data base.”
Scott watched as Dan scrolled downwards and opened attached pages and felt a shiver pass over him. “No,” he said shaking his head. “It’s not the whole firm’s data base, just the data base Michael set up for his own clients. According to Benny, Michael kept it apart from the other accounts and changed his password every week to stop anyone hacking into it. Because of the nature of his client’s identities he also had access to a separate Trust Fund account too that was used for money transactions in and out of his special clients’ accounts.” He studied the list and then leaned back in his chair.
“But the FBI must surely by now have found all this,” said Dan, shaking his head in wonder and admiration for what Michael had done.
“According to Benny,” Scott said, pointing to the third disc, “that disc is some kind of stripping software that removes all that stuff from the hard drives and no computer expert can ever bring them back up again. He said after clearing out all the stock on those client accounts of Michaels, the accounts were sent to the main data base and into the dead zone.”
“Wow,” cried the excited Dan. “Incredible! So this disc is the only thing in existence now that proves those accounts ever existed.”
“That’s right,” said Scott. Then he frowned.
“What is it?” asked Dan.
“Those client names,” said Scott. “Except for Carl Denholm, the other names don’t look familiar to me. I thought there would be some there I had dealt with before or at least heard about.” He leaned forward studying the list further. “What confuses me is why Michael put all those client’s into the same mutual fund as Carl Denholm, as if there was a link there somewhere. Linda’s account he kept totally separate even though her stock was similar to the ones these held. And he sold hers first, because, Benny had said, he wanted to get the best price for Linda before selling the mutual funds stock, which apparently he sold in blocks every fifteen minutes that sent the stock spiraling downwards.”
“So he deliberately didn’t sell it all at once, hoping the price he got for them would decrease as other brokers jumped on the wagon and sold those same stocks?”
“I got the impression from Benny that that was what he was aiming for.”
“But was that fair to other investors out there?”
“It wouldn’t seem so, but when the sell orders stopped, those astute enough would have picked those stocks up again at bargain prices. If its good stock then it will only be a matter of time before they reach the old prices again and maybe even go higher with all the interest they got.”
“Except these accounts,” said Dan. “Because there was no one handling them when Michael took off.”
Scott nodded.
“Dad,” said a now worried Dan, “you have to give this to the FBI. You can’t get into this. It’s too dangerous.”
Scott leaned back in his chair again, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes with his thumbs. “The FBI won’t give a shit about Michael and clearing his name on this,” he said. “They’ll get so damn excited at uncovering all this they’ll leave Michael to be fed to the wolves.”
“But you can’t take these guys on either,” said Dan.
“I’m not gonna take anyone on,” said Scott, patting Dan’s knee. “Besides, right now I don’t know who the hell they all are except for Denholm.”
“Didn’t you say Denholm owned several hotels in Vegas?”
“Four I could uncover. But not one hundred percent. They’re syndicated.”
“Syndicated? You mean like a group of people own them?”
“Yes,” said Scott, frowning. “It’s like a consortium.” Then his hand came down on the desk hard causing Dan to jump. “Shit!” he cried. “That’s it!”
“What is?” asked the startled Dan.
“The consortium! I need to find out who is included in that.”
“How?” asked Dan seeing the excitement mounting in his father’s expression.
Scott thought about Max and how excited he would get with this information. But now he wanted in too. He hadn’t felt such a rush for a year since his retirement. He had thought he was over it all, the adrenalin rush, the challenges of uncovering hidden clues to homicides. He had thought checking out simple cases for that law firm he was freelancing for had been enough; all those divorce cases, and other mundane stuff that bored the hell out of him. This was now the biggest thing he had ever been confronted with and he didn’t want to let it go. He knew somehow this information held the key to finding Michael and Cindy and proving their innocence.
“Can you print all that out for me?” he asked. “Account names, addresses, account histories, and bank contacts?”
Dan frowned. “I can but it will run quite a few pages. And what are you gonna do with it when I do?”
“At this point,” said Scott, “I’m gonna sit on it. I need to think it out first. Don’t want to do anything until I’m sure what the right direction is to take.”
Dan nodded, knowing when his father made up his mind there was no stopping him. He hadn’t seen him so excited now for years. Maybe it was a good thing. Maybe not. But whatever was happening in his father’s mind he knew he would make the right decision. He wasn’t about to jump into anything feet first. His father was no fool. He turned on the printer, checked to make sure there was enough paper in it, then hit the print button.
* *
“It needs a cut badly,” said the young woman, whose own hair was so many different shades of red and so many different lengths that Linda was beginning to wonder if she should trust her to work on hers. She glanced at Maggie who was studying her hair also and just hoped she hadn’t put herself into a vulnerable position where she could come out of that beauty salon looking like some middle aged hippie.<
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“And the bangs should be more straight across her forehead,” added Maggie. “You know, kinda straight and sassy looking.”
“It could do with a good highlighting,” Linda said quickly. “Is that still in now?”
“Anything’s in now,” said the hairdresser pursing her lips. “But the color,” she pulled a face then shook her head in mock dismay. “We have to get rid of that beige color. It does nothing for your complexion.” Then she nodded vehemently. “Leave it to me. I know just what you need.”
“But it’s always been beige blond,” protested Linda, but no one was listening, and before she knew it she was draped in a hot pink silk wrap and led to the wash basin amid a flurry of activity. While the hairdresser worked on Linda’s hair, Maggie brought the manicurist over to give her a manicure and pedicure. Linda felt like she had been kidnapped by a gang of overzealous young women all dressed in hot pink pants and tops, their hair all different shades and colors and styles as they chatted constantly and worked on her. It was no good protesting, she decided, feeling her hair being shampooed and cut and rinsed. All she could do now was hope she didn’t end up looking like one of them when they had finally finished with her.
When she walked out of the beauty salon, with Maggie telling her how gorgeous she looked, she felt dizzy and a bit light headed. It had all happened too fast for her to assimilate it objectively. Her hair was now cut in layers that fell softly around her face, the bangs shorter and wispier, and she had to admit that the honey blond color it now was did make her skin look warmer too, and her silvery pink fingernails now matched her toenails poking out in front in her tan strap sandals.
Maggie took hold of her arm and led her into a boutique. “They have the greatest clothes here,” she whispered almost reverently. “A bit on the expensive side, but worth every cent. I often come in here just to try them on.” She led Linda down aisle after aisle, choosing tops and pants and dresses off every rack until they both staggered to the dressing rooms with eager sales staff fluttering attendance.
Two hours later, laden with carry bags, they headed for the food court for lunch. Linda had wanted to buy Maggie a yellow blouse she had been admiring but Maggie wouldn’t let her. But at one time when Maggie left to go to the ladies room, Linda had snuck back and bought it for her. After lunch as they finished their drinks, Linda lifted one of the bags and handed it to Maggie. “This is for you and I don’t want to hear any arguments about it,” she said grinning.
Maggie went ballistic when she saw the blouse, laughing between her "you shouldn’t haves” until Linda picked up another bag and handed it to her. “This too,” she grinned. Maggie’s eyes opened wide as she opened the bag and found the beige slacks she had admired also. “My God, Linda,” she shrieked loudly causing other diners to turn and look at them. “I’m not letting you out of my sight for another minute. Oh my gosh! I love them. Thank you so much.”
After lunch Linda wanted to buy something for Matt and the boys and despite Maggie’s telling her not to she ended up getting them all shirts that Maggie told her they would like. Then she went into a special men’s store and picked out a navy blue sweater for Scott. “Do you think he’ll like it?” she asked Maggie.
“He’ll love it,” said Maggie smiling broadly.
CHAPTER 20
Wednesday evening, June 25th:
“Dad, they’re all outside on the street,” said Maggie into the phone, peering through the drapes in the living room. “One of them came to the door and said she was from the Sacramento Courier and just wanted to talk to Linda. I told her she wasn’t here and I didn’t know who she was talking about and slammed the door.”
“Where’s Linda now?” he asked.
“She’s right next to me. She said she would talk to them but didn’t know what about. That’s why I called you. What should we do?”
“Ignore them,” he said.
“There are five of them out there now,” insisted Maggie, “and a TV truck and a guy holding a television camera. Matt is working late and hasn’t arrived home yet. I called him on his cell phone to warn him and told him not to talk to any of them. And the boys are at their friend’s house for the night thank goodness. They’ll be sleeping over so no problem there.”
“Better let me talk to Linda,” he said. “You did the right thing, baby. Just keep ignoring them and they’ll go away eventually.”
When he heard Linda’s voice he heard also the tension in it. “Hello Scott,” she said. “What’s going on? Why do these reporters want to talk to me? Has something happened to Michael and Cindy?”
“No Linda. Nothing has happened. Obviously some of them got wind of McLean’s Investments being partially closed down and the FBI investigation and they’re just looking for a story.”
“But how did they find me here? How would they have known about me?”
“It’s not that hard, honey. They would have checked with the NBPD and possibly one of them got hold of the missing person’s report and linked it to McLean’s closing. From that they could have gotten my name and found out about my involvement with you and it wouldn’t have been hard to track me back to Sacramento. As far as finding out you are at Maggie’s, and where she lives, that’s something for the books. I don’t know how these people operate but know they have spies everywhere.”
“Scott,” said Linda sounding alarmed. “This could make it look even worse for Michael if that’s what they want to ask me about couldn’t it?”
“It could,” he said somberly. “But there’s really no way to avoid this. They’ll just camp out there until they talk to you. I’m so sorry to have left you to deal with it alone.”
“I can handle it,” said Linda. “I just am not sure how much if anything to tell them.”
“Just use the old politician’s ploy of ‘no comment,’” he said. “Eventually they’ll get tired of it and move on.”
“What’s happening down there now? I know you talked to Benny but you didn’t tell me what he said.”
“He said to give you his love,” he replied. “The rest can wait till I see you again.”
“When?”
“I’m flying back in the morning. Got some things I want to discuss with Max first then I’ll be over at Maggie’s as soon as I can. Try to relax, honey. I have a feeling things are gonna start looking up again real soon.”
“I hope so,” she said, feeling a knot in her stomach. “I... I miss you.”
“Miss you too, sweetie. Talk soon.”
She hung up and Maggie rushed out from the kitchen. “Did he tell you what to do?” she asked.
“Not really,” said Linda. “But I refuse to let those people out there upset me. I have to go out and talk to them and hopefully get rid of them once and for all.”
She opened the door, Maggie right behind her, as flashbulbs popped and microphones were shoved in her direction. “What do you want?” she asked in a steady voice.
Everyone started yelling questions at once until she held up her hand. “If you don’t speak one at a time,” she yelled at them, “I will return inside the house and not say anything.”
The voices quietened down to a murmur. Then a woman pushed forward. “Is the disappearance of your son-in-law and daughter linked to your son-in-law’s work at McLean’s Investments in Newport Beach that the FBI is now investigating for money laundering?” she asked.
“If I had the answer to that I would tell you,” said Linda.
“Have you any idea why your daughter and son-in-law disappeared then?” asked a male reporter.
“No,” she said.
“As a mother,” yelled another woman, “aren’t you concerned about your daughter being involved with underworld figures?”
“My daughter has no involvement whatsoever with any underworld figures.”
“Are you sure of that?” asked another.
“Yes,” she said.
“How can you be sure?”
“I know my daughter. She’s a clean living prou
d American who would never do anything to hurt anyone.”
“And your son-in-law?
“The same,” she replied.
“You don’t seem to be too upset that they are missing. Aren’t you afraid something might have happened to them?”
“No comment,” she said.
“Then can you tell us at least, if you know where your daughter and son-in-law could be now?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. If I knew that I would be with them.”
“You live in Australia now,” one said. “Are you planning to return there?”
“That’s all I have to say,” she said. “I am asking you to please not bother me anymore.” Then she turned and walked past Maggie into the house and Maggie was right behind her slamming the door closed.