Calling Card Capers

by Dan Kelly

  Don comes running over to where Janet and I have retreated to try to get away from the smoke with a look of sheer frustration on his face.

  “Did you see where they went?” I lost them in the smoke.”

  I answer with, “Same here. Did you have anyone posted on the doors to the outside?”

  “No, I didn’t think we’d need them.”

  “Well, he’s made it to his truck or they grabbed a cab. Either way they’re gone.”

  Janet says, “I wonder what tipped him off.”

  An agent listening to our exchange says, “I think did. I had my badge clipped to the handkerchief pocket on my suit jacket, so I could easily get it out when we moved in for the arrest. My overcoat was open more than I thought it was and one of the kids spotted it and said, ‘Hey, what’s the FBI doing here? Are you staking out the place?’ I quickly closed my coat and shushed the kid but the damage was done. The kid whispered, he didn’t yell it out, but Aldrich must have heard what the kid said anyway.”

  Ericson voiced his frustration with a few juicy expletives and then whipped out his cell and punched in a number. I got a brainstorm and rushed out to the taxi stand and asked the guy working it how many cabs left the line in the past ten minutes or so and if he knew where the fares wanted to go. “It’s been a slow night so far. Only two have left, one to take a man to a downtown hotel and the other to take a man and a woman to the long term parking lot because the man said he didn’t want to wait for the shuttle. They just left a couple of minutes ago.”

  “Thanks.” I pushed a fiver in his hand and ran back inside.

  “Don, get off the damn phone. I think I know where they’re headed.”

  I tell him and all of us make a dash for the baggage claim area where we parked in the lot just outside because it’s quite close to the United Airlines ticket counter. The Raleigh agents know their way around here, so they lead the way with their portable blue roof lights flashing and sirens blaring while we struggle to bring up the rear. We’re in Don’s rental car, a Kia Optima, which doesn’t have anything but a horn to warn folks to get out of our way, so it’s not the safest way to travel when your moving along at speeds sometimes reaching in access of eighty miles per hour on surface streets and I definitely would not recommend it if you are prone to ulcers or have a splitting headache from a gunshot wound.

  Evidently, Don had been talking to someone in the Raleigh PD when I yelled at him to get off the phone and now I know what he was up to. There’s a police helicopter flying low up ahead assisting us in our pursuit by sweeping its flood light back and forth in a 180 degree arc looking for any signs of a cab speeding or maneuvering erratically away from the airport towards the long-term parking area. If such a vehicle is spotted, the chances are it will be the Aldrichs. My mind is racing a mile a minute and two possibilities cross it almost simultaneously. Aldrich offered the taxi driver a wad of cash if he gets them to the long-term parking area ASAP, traffic lights and cop car lights be damned, or he’s incapacitated the driver or shoved him out of the cab soon after they got underway and is behind the wheel himself. I’m hoping the cabbie is still alive.

  Janet says, “Mrs. Aldrich has to be scared out of her wits. She certainly wasn’t expecting anything like this.”

  Not daring to take my eyes off the road for a second for fear it might somehow result in our doing the twist with a tree I fire back with, “Well, we certainly weren’t expecting anything like this either.”

  Don’s cell rings and he whips it out of his coat pocket and tosses it at me. “You answer it. I have my hands full at the moment.”

  “Hello. Make it snappy. We’re in a hurry to meet up with a wall or a tree.”

  It’s the chopper pilot telling us that he’s spotted a cab hauling ass like he’s a NASCAR driver.

  “Stay glued to it and keep us informed as to where it’s headed.”

  “Will do. Right now it’s heading for the airport’s long term parking area.”

  “Is that above ground or underground parking?”

  “Both.”

  “Damn! Nothing’s going to be easy in catching this guy.” Click.

  I relate to Don and Janet what I’ve just learned and Janet says, “I’m really worried about Mrs. Aldrich’s safety. As we all know, he’s a very smart guy and he probably has put all of the dots together and now realizes that his wife must have joined forces with the FBI. In his state of mind, he’s liable to take out his anger on her with a bullet to the forehead just like he did with his other victims.”

  Don says, “All we can do is our best to prevent that from happening all the while hoping he hasn’t slipped that far down into irrationality. We have to hope his love for her is stronger than his anger over what she has done.”

  On that note, Janet and I button our lips and let Don concentrate on his driving.

  The chopper lead us right to the long term parking facility and the chopper pilot lets Don know that he saw the taxi enter the garage a few minutes ago. Don thanks him for his assistance and then the chopper veers off and heads back to its pad or normal patrol area.

  The Raleigh agents surround us and are waiting for instructions. Asking none of the agents in particular how many exits there are out of the garage, one of them answers with, “Four, one on each side of the facility.”

  “Okay, eight of you split up to cover the exits, two per exit. The rest of you follow me and we’ll split up to cover each level of the garage. Looking at the agent who answered his first question, he asks him, “How many levels?”

  “Only three, but they have a lot of parking spaces.”

  “Okay, the remaining four of you, split up and take the first and third levels. Chet, Janet and I will take the second level. That will put Chet and me an equal distance from either pair of you in case either duo needs assistance. Janet, you must immediately do what Chet or I tell you to do and put the reporter part of you on the back burner for a while, okay? You can’t write a story form the grave.”

  “I don’t have a death wish. I’ll do what I’m told.”

  Looking at her I believe she believes what she just said, but I have a lot of doubt. From what I’ve seen, she’s like a robot when she’s on the trail of a story or massaging it for print and tunes out all outside influences good or bad. That thought doesn’t help my headache any, but short of tying her up in the car there’s not much I can do about it.

  Don and the other agents have communication gear that allows them to talk with each other, but Janet and I are in sans status so Don has to relay to us what has been said.

  Fifteen minutes later everyone checks in with Don and so far there’s no sign of the cab or the Aldrichs. One of the agents says, “This place is going to be impossible for us to search effectively. We need more manpower. I read somewhere that Disneyland in California has 10,000 parking spaces. This hole in the ground must run a close second.”

  Don immediately comes down on the man. “Stop your griping and keep looking. Besides, walking is supposed to be good for your health.”

  A half hour later we find the cab, but there’s no sign of the Aldrichs. Twenty minutes later the truck Aldrich was driving is found, but there’s still no sign of the Aldrichs. We search high and low for the next two hours, but come up with zilch. I no longer think they’re here and say so.

  “Don, I think Aldrich probably found a car he could hot wire and drove it out of here before we had the exits covered or he could have shed his disguise, donned another and drove it right by your guys posted at one of the exits and they wouldn’t have realized what was happening. He could have had his wife shield her face from anyone looking at her until they got out of the garage. He was carrying a gym bag in his lap when he was in the wheel chair. Another disguise could have been in it along with whatever else he thinks he needs to get to his final destination.

  “As much as I hate to admit it, you’re probably right. First the media blitz, then the phony news conference and now this. It’s three strikes and you’re ou
t and I’m batting a thousand in the strike department. The powers that be back in D. C. aren’t going to be too thrilled when they hear about this.”

  This reminds me of what the President said and I’m glad that the only person I have to answer to is me. Politics sucks big time.

  We stay overnight in Raleigh and are planning to fly back to Washington after we’ve had some breakfast. Don purchased a round trip ticket so he won’t be flying back with us. I don’t know how he was planning to get Aldrich back to D. C., but that doesn’t matter now. Janet and I stayed at the Embassy Suites in downtown Raleigh and Don stayed at his folks’ house because he hasn’t seen them for a while, but we all get together in the morning for breakfast at the hotel.

  We’re all in a somber mood. The conversation is sporadic as we’re trying to deal with our frustration which has reached new heights and we don’t know what to do about it. I finally relented and popped a pain killer pill last night before I went to bed and one this morning when I got up, so my headache is gone and no side effects have kicked in, but this hasn’t put the slightest crease in my melancholy.

  Finally, I can’t stand any more of our pathetic self-pity and blurt out, “Enough of this whipped dog crap! This bastard won a skirmish. He didn’t win the bloody war.” I say this louder than I intended as diners around us start shaking their heads and giving me disapproving glares.

  Lowering my voice I continue with, “Look, sitting around here feeling sorry for ourselves is a waste of time and energy. We’ve got to keep the pressure on this man. Sooner or later his luck has got to run out and I for one want to be there when it does. Come on you two. Think! What can we do that we haven’t done already to push this guy into a corner he can’t get out of? There’s got to be something we can do.”

  Before we can put our heads together Don’s cell rings. When he answers it the astonished look on his face has me wondering if another unpleasant surprise is putting in an appearance. He doesn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. He tries to interrupt to ask a question, but the person he’s listening to won’t let him. He finally manages to say, “Calm down. Where are you?

  “Uh huh. Okay. You’re not far from me. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Bye.”

  Looking at us he says, “At least this disaster has been mitigated somewhat. That was Mrs. Aldrich. Her husband left her off at the Crabtree Valley Mall about an hour ago which is not far from here. He dropped her off in the parking underground parking structure which is another nightmare and she got lost. She kept trying to call me but the signal on her cell was weak so she never got through and she couldn’t reach 911 either. When she finally found her way out of the maze, her cell’s battery was dead and needed to be charged, so she wandered around looking for a phone and eventually came across the mall’s security office and used their phone to call me.

  “I’m headed there now. Do you two want to tag along?”

  Jane says, “As much as I want to take my next breath.”

  I say, “That poor woman has got to feel like she’s just paid a visit to the twilight zone; smoke bombs exploding all around her, riding in stolen vehicles, being chased by the police, being abandoned in a strange city. And all of this brought about by a loving husband who has become a killing machine without any conscience. She must have been petrified with fear over the possibility he would be so angry with her that he’d take her life too. He has to be boiling mad over her betrayal. It took a lot of guts to do what that lady did and now I’m sure she needs all the empathy, sympathy and support she can get and I’d like to be there to offer her an emotional crutch to lean on if she wants it. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 40

  When we get to the mall’s security office we find Mrs. Aldrich sitting in a chair in a small waiting area sipping on a cup of coffee. She’s been crying as her mascara has run and there are still tears in her eyes. She’s twisted the strap on her purse so tight that her fingers aren’t getting much blood as they’re a lot whiter than the rest of her hand and her leg is bouncing up and down as though she’s keeping beat to some music only she can hear. She looks so sad and forlorn. The lady has definitely been on an emotional roller coaster.

  Don calls out to her from the office doorway. “Mrs. Aldrich.”

  This gets no reaction. She appears to be lost in thought somewhere down memory lane, but when Janet calls her name she responds. “Oh, you folks got here fast. Does anyone know where Hank took off to?”

  Don answers with, “We were hoping you could tell us or at least give us your best guess.”

  “He barely talked to me. From the time we left the airport until we stopped at some fairly decent motel on the outskirts of Raleigh he didn’t say a word to me. I’ve never seen him so angry. While he was checking us in he made sure I kept my mouth shut by answering for me when the clerk tried to engage me in small talk. He has all kinds of credit cards and phony ID. I couldn’t believe it.

  “When we got to our room he ordered some delivery pizza and Cokes for dinner and after we finished eating he spoke to me for the first time. He asked me if I wanted to take a shower and I said no and he said he didn’t want to either. We watched some TV and then we went to bed handcuffed to each other. That blew my mind, but I wasn’t about to make a fuss and risk getting smacked or worse. Why he has those is beyond me.

  “We used to talk a lot in bed, so I tried to get him to open up to me and tell me what he was going to do now with or without me in tow. He ignored me, so I gave up. Around six this morning he shook me awake, took the handcuffs off and told me to do my morning bathroom bossa nova thing. That’s what he used to call my morning routine because I like to listen to music when I’m getting ready to face the day. When I was done, he did his thing and then we left the motel for a McDonalds drive through for some breakfast which we ate in a small plaza parking lot. From the time he woke me up until we finished our Breakfast McGriddles he didn’t say a thing to me. He didn’t even look at me. By now I’m more perplexed than scared and start to push for some answers to find out what’s next and where I fit in. He continues to give me the cold shoulder, but he doesn’t appear to be angry anymore, just resigned to a course of action only he knows.

  He then drives back into downtown Raleigh and leaves me off in the bowels of the parking garage of the Crabtree Valley Mall. He spoke to me one more time before he drove away and I’ll never forget his last words. He looked me right in the eye with tears in his and said, ‘I know I’ve broken a lot of laws in my quest for justice for our son and I know you don’t agree with what I’ve done, but you’ve broken my heart because I never thought you’d set me up.’”

  Wow. No one could think of anything appropriate to say after that heart rending recount and to make matters worse Mrs. Aldrich has started to softly weep again. Her summary of what had happened during her brief encounter with her husband had erupted from her like lava from a volcano and she now looks completely exhausted from the effort. It was like she had to get it out as quickly as possible or she would explode with the anguish of keeping it in.

  Janet goes over to her and puts her arm around her to console her, but Mrs. Aldrich gently removes it and breaks the silence with a remark that I’ll never forget. “Agent Ericson, the man I spent the last thirteen, fourteen hours with is not the man I married. He died when my son died. I just didn’t know it then. Even though I know that now, it doesn’t make it any easier to live with what I’ve done. For the rest of my life I’ll always wonder if I did the right thing by agreeing to help you capture him.

  “But I want you to know that I hold no bad feelings toward you. You have a job to do and my husband must pay for what he’s done. I want to go home now. If one of you will take me to the train station, I’ll catch the next one back.”

  Janet immediately jumps in and says, “You can fly back with us.”

  “I’d rather take the train. I’ve had enough of hanging around airports.”

  I jump in with, “You won’t have to hang around any airport. Janet
is a pilot and we’ll be flying back in a real nice private plane. Besides, you’ve been through a lot and sitting on a train for six hours is going to give you too much time to think about what has happened. The flight will only take a little over an hour and you’ll probably be back home before the train pulls out of the station. Once you’re there, you can swear a blue streak, throw things, over indulge in comfort food, do whatever you do to put your mental house in order in the privacy of your own home without anybody saying anything or looking at you funny unless you want to surround yourself with family and friends and get back to work ASAP which is another good way to handle stress, but not as much fun.”