Bikini Baristas: Ted Higuera Series Book 4

by Pendelton Wallace

  Well, ol’ Teddy would do the same thing. He’d planted a Trojan horse in Anderson’s home computer and in his company’s network. He’d hacked into Anderson & Associates and made himself system administrator. As far as their systems were concerned, Ted was God.

  Now he had to sort through the mountains of minutiae to find the kernels of truth. Somewhere in there, Anderson had been sloppy. He’d saved a file, entered an expense, downloaded a picture that would blow the case open.

  Ted needed to find it and find it fast. He had arranged to give Leah Sykes a dump of his findings. She’d use her accounting Sherlock Holmes skills to sort through his records and find out what the bastard really was up to.

  But Ted needed something else, something that would tie Anderson to the hunting rifle that had gunned down his partner and friend.

  “Mr. Higuera,” Abiba’s voice came over the intercom. “I have a call from Detective Wainwright. From the San Bernardino Sheriff’s office.”

  “Right. I’ll take it.” Ted grabbed for the phone.

  “He’s on line one.”

  Ted pushed the flashing button.

  “Detective, this is Ted Higuera.”

  “Mr. Higuera. How’s Mrs. Flaherty? Is she going to be okay?”

  Ted grabbed his Surface tablet from a desk drawer. “Thank you for asking. Yes. She’s doing better every day. The doctors say she’ll recover. There should be no lasting damage.

  “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that. She seemed like a stand up lady.”

  “That she is, my friend. But why did you call? Do you have something for me?”

  “Yeah. I’m not sure that this is what you want to hear or not, but I’ll just give it to you.”

  “Go ahead.” Ted poised his fingers over the keyboard.

  “Okay. We got the DNA report back. As you know, the bones we found were badly scattered. The coroner says we only have about twenty percent of the bones from the body. They couldn’t recover any DNA from the long bones, they’d been too badly damaged by the fire. We didn’t find any small bones. I’m guessing the coyotes got them. Anyway, the bones weren’t any use to us.”

  “We expected that.”

  “Yeah. We couldn’t get anything from the teeth either. They had been broken out of the skull. The coroner says that they were knocked out by a tool like a hammer. The animals didn’t get to them. But we didn’t find most of the teeth, so, we can’t match dental records.” Wainwright paused.

  He’s one hell of a story teller, Ted thought.

  “But we got lucky. We found one tooth. A molar. Funny thing though, it didn’t have any fire damage. How could the body have been burned so badly, and yet this one tooth not be affected? That has me scratching my head.”

  “So?”

  “So, the good news is that we got some DNA from the tooth. It’s a match.”

  “Randall?”

  “You betcha. The coroner is ready to rule that the body was Randall’s and that it was a homicide. Cause of death was a gunshot wound to the head. The Sheriff says to continue the investigation, but we really don’t have anything to go on. I think this one will be put on the back burner. It’s going to end up a cold case.”

  “Thanks, detective. You’ve made my day. I can close this case out. Our client will be able to apply for the life insurance. Cat’s going to recover. I guess this all ended up okay. Thank you for the call.”

  Ted hung up the phone, leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.

  Karen’s going to be a rich woman. She’ll get the two-million dollars from the double indemnity life insurance policy.

  A gunshot wound to the head. They found a .45 slug in Randall’s truck. Did Anderson have a .45? Ted hadn’t been able to find any gun permit for Anderson. If he had a .45, it was an illegal weapon.

  Was Karen in on it? Had she conspired with her brother to kill her husband? She didn’t seem like the type. Ted’s instincts told him that she wasn’t capable of such a plan, but you never knew.

  If I wanted to get my hands on a .45 without anyone knowing it, where would I go?

  Ted thought a minute. In Mexico, he and Chris had been able to buy illegal pistols on the black market. There surely was a black market in Seattle. He missed Jeff. As an ex-cop, Jeff would know about this kind of stuff. Cat would too.

  Note to self, Ted thought. If I’m gonna be Cat’s partner, I better learn more about this stuff.

  He could ask Bremen, but then he’d have to share everything he knew, something he wasn’t ready to do yet.

  When Cat was better, he’d ask her. He’d track that bastard to the gates of Hell and back if necessary. In the meantime, Anderson was as OCD as they get. He had every receipt since high school recorded in his accounting system. Ted would start there. Maybe, even if the .45 was a black market purchase, he bought the bullets legally. No way a baboso like Anderson would toss that receipt.

  ****

  Ted shoved the half eaten breakfast burrito from Taco Del Mar to the side of his desk. Abiba kept his coffee cup full, so he had been running on mainly caffeine and adrenaline. The adrenaline was wearing off and there was a buzz inside his head. It was definitely time to head home and crash. How long could he go on like this anyway? It was worse than his worse finals week in college.

  Was any good coming out of this? His mind was so tired that he probably couldn’t put two and two together if they bit him in the ass.

  “Got a minute?”

  He looked up to see Leah Sykes standing in his doorway.

  “Yeah. C’mon in.”

  Leah plopped her long, tall body down in one of the chairs across from Ted’s desk. Her arms were full of folders, books and papers.

  Ted cleared a spot on his desk and Leah sat her load down.

  “I’ve been going over all the stuff you sent me,” she said.

  “You doin’ any good?”

  “It smells fishy. Something isn’t right. First of all, it looks to me like Karen is paying her brother way too much for his services. He’s an accountant and bills by the hour, we all do, but the number of hours he’s charging her for? He might as well be on the payroll.”

  Ted turned that over in his tired mind. Okay, so he’s over charging his sister. “What does that prove?”

  Leah brushed back her kinky red hair. “By itself, nothing. But I’ve been putting two and two together.”

  “Um-hm.”

  “He’s making substantial deposits after every time he visits Karen’s coffee stands.”

  “Yes?”

  Leah rummaged through the pile of papers on Ted’s desk. “Here it is.” She handed Ted a copy of an invoice. “He charges her for a visit nearly every day. Why does an accountant need to visit her coffee stands every day? And why make a bank deposit every time he goes there?”

  Somewhere, in the far distance, Ted felt the gears clicking together.

  “He’s robbing her, he’s... what do you call it?”

  “Skimming. That’s what I think too. Karen isn’t exactly the most astute business woman. He’s probably got her convinced that he’s looking out for her best interest, and he’s robbing her blind.”

  “Okay, but why wouldn’t Anderson want Randall found?” Ted grabbed his coffee cup. It was empty, only a dark sludge in the bottom.

  “Well, he’s got a good thing going. If Dick showed up again, he’d probably put a stop to Dan’s thievery.”

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Ted said. “There’s something else I wanted to ask you about.” He turned to his monitor and hit a few keys then turned the monitor to face Leah.

  “I’ve been going through Randall’s files. The man’s absolutely compulsive about saving everything. I think he’s got every email he’s sent or received since Noah launched the ark.”

  “Okay.” Leah put on her reading glasses and leaned forward to look at Ted’s screen.

  “I found a folder in his email account. It’s named American Life.”

 
“The life insurance company?”

  “Right.” Ted felt the gears clicking into place a little faster now. “He has a long series of correspondence going back and forth with Joyce Lovejoy, the insurance investigator.”

  “So?” Leah ran her finger down the list of emails, reading the subject line of each one.

  “So, why so much interest in his sister’s insurance?” Ted leaned back in his swivel chair and tented his hands over his stomach. “Is he just looking out for her, or is he expecting to get something out of it?”

  “At the rate he’s bleeding off her money, she’s going to need the insurance settlement just to keep solvent,” Leah said. “But if she brings in two-million more dollars, think of the heyday he could have, like a kid in a candy store.”

  “Do you think Karen knows what he’s doing?” Ted felt little birdies flying around his head like in the cartoons.

  “She doesn’t seem like the sharpest pencil in the box.” Leah took off her reading glasses and folded them into a red metal cylinder suspended around her neck on a lanyard.

  “But she was always nagging Randall. Saying she could run the business better than him.”

  “Yeah,” Leah said, “And I’m always complaining about the president, saying I could do a better job. Does that mean you want to put me in the White House?”

  “Good point. So Randall’s ripping her off. Along comes Cat and starts poking around, looking for Randall. He’s afraid she’ll bring him home and put an end to the gravy train.” Ted drummed his pencil on the desk blotter.

  “At first, he just tries to scare her off, with the little bomb. It wasn’t big enough to do any real damage.”

  “Uh-huh.” Ted tried to focus on Leah’s logic. “And he called and warned her to get everyone out of the building so no one would get hurt.”

  Leah pointed at him. “But things got out of control. Cat must have found something.”

  “Let me ask the big question. Is that enough motive to blow up Catrina’s office, to try to blow me up? To shoot her? What did Anderson hope to gain?”

  “Cat must have found something that incriminated him...” Leah stopped to think a moment then she went on. “Then he had to get rid of her because by then he had his eyes on the big prize: Randall’s life insurance.

  “But until today, there was no proof that Mr. Randall was dead.” Ted slid forward in his chair. “How could he collect, or that should be, how could she collect on the insurance if they didn’t have a body?”

  “Anderson’s a patient man, a long-term thinker. He’s a conservative accountant. Maybe he was taking the long-term view of things. Maybe he figured that if Randall stayed disappeared for seven years, his sister would cash in.”

  Ted scratched his head. “Seven years is a long time.”

  “Yeah, a lot can happen in seven years. Let’s say Karen has some kind of unfortunate accident, who would receive the insurance payout?”

  “Dan Anderson. Her loving brother.” Ted slapped his hand on his desk. “I think it’s time ol’ Teddy paid a little visit to Mr. Anderson.”

  Chapter 27

  “Chris, you need to see this.” Candace burst into Chris office. “Turn on the TV.”

  Chris grabbed the remote and pushed the “on” button. “What’s going on?”

  “Your client’s mother is in the news. Channel Seven.”

  Chris pushed one zero zero seven on his key pad.

  “Good afternoon and welcome to the Noon News,” the TV news anchor was saying. “Today we have a follow up to the Fly Away Bandit story.”

  A picture of Clayton Johnson-White filled the screen. Clayton was lounging back in a hard backed chair, with a look of defiance on his handsome face.

  “As you may remember,” the news anchor went on, “Clayton Johnson-White, the so-called Fly Away Bandit, who terrorized Island and San Juan Counties, was apprehended in the Bahamas, extradited to Island County where he pled guilty to first-degree burglary and grand theft auto.”

  The picture on the screen changed to a still shot of an airplane crashed in the trees alongside a tarmac runway.

  “Mr. Johnson-White stole a series of airplanes to make his escape from Camano Island, all the way across the country, finally ending up in the Bahamas. His left his trademark calling card, a fanciful picture of a bird flying away and the catch phrase ‘Catch Me If You Can” at each of the houses he burglarized.”

  On Chris’s TV a photo of one of Clayton’s Dr. Seussian birds appeared.

  “The kid got better each time he drew the picture,” Candace said.

  “He’s got lots of talents.” Chris grinned.

  “Today, Mr. Johnson-White’s mother, Natalie White, announced that she has sold the rights for her story to Fox NewsCorp.”

  The picture changed to a video of Natalie White, in a trim blue suit, standing next to two solemn looking men on the steps of an office building. Chris didn’t recognize the building; it definitely wasn’t in Seattle.

  “Mrs. White reportedly sold the rights for her side of the story to Fox for two million dollars. Albert Corbet, spokesman for Fox Studios, announced that Fox would make a made-for-TV movie based on the exploits of the so-called Fly Away Bandit.”

  Chris turned down the volume. “That can’t be. Clayton signed an agreement. It’s part of his plea bargain. He can’t profit from his crimes.”

  “I think his mother’s found a loop-hole. Clayton didn’t sell his story. She sold hers. They’ll make the movie based on her story, but it’s the same movie. With all the publicity Clayton has gotten, it will be a ratings smash hit. I wonder who’s going to play you?”

  Chris shook his head. “I doubt if I’ll even be in the movie. I’m not that important to his story.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Big, handsome young attorney, fighting to keep his client out of jail, from turning to a lifetime of crime. I think it has a good ring. I’m thinking Chris Evans. I wouldn’t be surprised if Fox doesn’t contact you. I can just see a TV series based on your life. ‘By the people who brought you Breaking Bad.’”

  ****

  Ted needed sleep; he couldn’t do the next part of his plan running on empty. The sunlight penetrating his room awoke him. As usual, Oscar, his somewhat tattered Burmese cat, lay curled up on his chest.

  “Hey, little man, we need to get going.”

  Oscar opened one eye, checked Ted out then closed it again. It wasn’t time for him to get up yet.

  Ted lifted the small brown bundle off of his chest, settled him on the pillow then climbed out of bed.

  A shower, coffee and a cinnamon-raisin bagel smeared with peanut butter and Ted felt like a new man.

  Ted pulled on the brown shirt and pants of a UPS driver, slid his Glock 17 into the holster at his back, and grabbed his brown jacket. He poured himself a travel mug of Starbucks’ Sumatra and headed out the door.

  The previous night, Ted left his Beemer at Catrina’s office and drove home in the battered panel delivery van. He had some subterfuge to engage in today.

  Driving down off of Capitol Hill, he turned north onto I-5 at the Denny Way on ramp and headed for the U-District and Maria’s place.

  He thought this through last night. He needed back up for this operation. Normally, Cat would have his back, but she was still in the hospital. Chris was his first choice, but he was tied up in court all day and couldn’t get out of it. Ted didn’t want to put this off another minute.

  The young Latino thought about asking Hope to help, she had been hell-on-wheels down in Mexico, but didn’t want to put her in harm’s way. Mama had too many sorrows, too many disappointments. He couldn’t stand the thought of her going through the loss of a daughter on top of everything else.

  Loss of a daughter? What the hell was that about? This was a milk run. There was no danger involved here. Even if Anderson had shot Catrina, he wouldn’t be home. No one would see Ted.

  It was safe enough to take Maria along with him. She’d just be a look out. Not in any real danger. Ted f
elt the Glock at his back. If that were true, then why did he need a gun?

  “Good morning, beautiful. Ready to go for a ride?” He gave Maria a peck on the lips.

  “Almost ready, double oh seven.” She threw her arms around him. “C’mon in.”

  Maria looked hot as usual. Even in jeans, a sweater and boots, she looked like a runway model.

  “Let me get my coat.” She turned back into the house. “Popo. Come.”

  “Wait a minute,” Ted said. “You’re not going to bring that beast with you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, he might bark or something. Give us away.”

  “I can guarantee you that won’t happen.”

  “But why do you need him? You usually leave him at home when you go to work.”

  She slid her arms around Ted again then dropped them to his belt. “Why do you need this?” she said, patting the pistol at his back.

  “Just insurance. We’re not going to be in any danger. No one will be home.”

  “Well, Popo is my insurance. He’s my gun.”

  Ted should have known he couldn’t win the argument. Soon Maria was in the passenger seat and Popo settled himself down in the back of the van.

  The mid morning the traffic wasn’t bad and in less than an hour, Ted was exiting the East Valley Highway to Kent. He drove past the Anderson & Associates building and verified that Dan Anderson’s blue Mazda MX-9 SUV was in the parking lot.

  If Anderson’s car was at work, his house would be empty. Anderson had been divorced for five years and lived by himself.

  Ted drove to a nice neighborhood in the hills overlooking the Kent valley. The GPS in his Delphi sunglasses brought him to Anderson’s address.

  The house was nice, very upper middle class. A circular drive cut through a well-maintained lawn. The front of the house was a yellow-tan brick halfway up then finished with cedar siding. Giant rhododendron plants flanked the entry way.

  Ted pulled the van up to the front door and grabbed the package and clipboard on the floor next to him.

  “I’ll ring the doorbell. If no one answers then I’ll pick the lock and go in. You pull the van out of the driveway and down the street where you can see the house. If you see Anderson’s car, call me on my cell.”