by Steve Levi
“So Steigle used the United States Post Office boxes. Why not UPS and FedEx?”
“To get the UPS and FedEx shipments, you have to be physically available. So the Jacksons had to be in the hotel in Freeport to get the packages. That’s why they had to fly to the Bahamas. Steigle wanted to disappear. With the money. The best way for him to disappear with the money was to mail it to himself at some address where he did not have to be physically present when it arrived. Maybe a pension where records are not kept for short-term residents. He arrives at the pension, has a note from the post office to pick up a package. Picks up the package and puts the money in a bank or a safety-deposit box in Europe. Most likely Switzerland, a land where bankers ask no questions. Steigle might have flown out of the Untitled States on a fake passport, but at this point, as there is no crime, Steigle can go back to his own name. But his bank account, if in Switzerland, is numbered, so his name is immaterial.”
“This is all fine and good, Heinz, but there are some questions remaining. If the ten million dollars really was stolen, then RMD, LLC is out of the money. It doesn’t have the money. The feds don’t have the money. And Swensen sure doesn’t have the money.”
“That’s what stumped me for a while. I could see the robbery angle but not what it did for RMD, LLC. I did some creative thinking. What would RMD, LLC get out of this? I got the answer very late in the game. The FinCEN agents took legal paper possession of the cash in the vault, so when it went missing, the feds had to cover the loss. That was no problem for the feds because ten million dollars is not even chicken feed in their world. They controlled the money, and it was gone. So the feds had to compensate RMD, LLC for the loss. They could not admit the money was gone, so the agents did an end-around-run. The legal beagles in their department got North Carolina Mutual Indemnity to cover the loss, and the feds would quietly compensate North Carolina Mutual Indemnity for the ten million dollars. Suddenly the problem went away. No money was stolen. No insurance fraud was suspected. The Swensen Armored Car Company was not on the hook for any loss.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I was thinking the same until yesterday. Doing my due diligence, I asked to see the paperwork from North Carolina Mutual Indemnity for the loss. The paperwork was very interesting. The check was drafted on a North Carolina Mutual Indemnity financial certificate, but the recipient was the First Sandersonville Bank of Trust. In essence and on paper, the money from RMD, LLC jumped over RMD, LLC’s head. He went directly from North Carolina Mutual Indemnity to the First Sandersonville Bank of Trust.”
“So?”
“RMD, LLC money was marijuana money. Since marijuana is a Schedule One drug, banks cannot handle marijuana money. So RMD, LLC was in the difficult position of having ten million dollars in legal money that it could not put in a bank. But, and this was a big but, if the known marijuana money could be converted into a legal financial instrument, banks could handle the money.”
“So?”
“So everything this past week has been to convert legal marijuana money into legal federal money, into a legal financial instrument a bank can legally handle. Legally. That’s what the entire dematerializing armored truck matter has been about. It has been a cover to convert ten million dollars legal marijuana money into a ten-million-dollar check that could be legally invested. Everyone got a piece of the pie. Steigle and the Jacksons walked away with ten million dollars. Charlie got the Swensen mechanical shop, and Harry Sandusky got his loss covered. Your nephew and Ramon had nothing to do with the scam, but they are going to end up with the Swensen business.”
“What about me? What do I get out of it?”
“Now that is a good question. I wondered about that because I view you as an honorable man. I don’t know, but I can guess. Your nephew said you had cancer, but it’s in remission. That might be what you told him, and it might not be true. If you are not in remission, stated bluntly, you are on your way out, and there is no need for you to scramble for dollars. Or you are in remission, but don’t trust the doctor’s prognosis. Either way, you want out of the business. You’re older than me, and, like me, you know you don’t have many more years left. Money is not a motivator in your life. You’ve got enough money. Even more important, there are people like me who figure things out. The last thing you want is to spend one second behind bars for stealing a few dollars. As long as you did not end up with money, you cannot be charged with anything.”
“And no crime has been committed.”
“No crime has been committed.” Noonan pointed at the logbooks in the box by the door. “So I’m returning your logbooks and wishing you the best of whatever time you—and I—have left.”
Swensen just smiled as Noonan rose to leave the office. Noonan stalled for a moment and then turned back to Swensen. “Funny thing,” Noonan said with a false look of puzzlement on his face. “When I came here last Monday, one of the things you told me was the drivers of the armored truck that was never missing had communicated with the garage that they were being foamed.”
“And?”
“That conversation never made it into the logbooks,” Noonan said, pointing at the cardboard box of logbooks next to the door. “Neither Ramon nor your nephew knew anything about foam, so the call could not have come in over the Swensen Armored Car Company regular communication system. Those two are quite competent. If the call had been logged in, they would have found it. But when I asked them about foam, they didn’t know what I was talking about.”
“I guess the call came in on my private cell phone.”
“I thought that might be the case,” Noonan said. “Probably a short call. Hmm, yes, a short call. Very short. Just short enough if any law-enforcement organization asked for everyone’s cell phone and traced numbers for that day, someone would have a very good answer as to why he—or she—received a short phone call just about the time the armored truck vanished into the ether.”
“It’s a wonderful theory,” Swensen said, smiling. “But no law-enforcement organization has asked for any cell-phone records because no crime has been committed.”
“True. I have one last item. There is a security camera in the vault. I saw it when I counted the RMD, LLC money. FinCEN told me yesterday’s tape was missing.”
“Odd. I had not heard that.”
“Interesting. You see, that tape would have recorded all the activity in the vault from the time the missing armored truck showed up until the moment Steigle left on his run. That would reasonably have been the time when the RMD, LLC money disappeared.”
“I thought the RMD, LLC moneys had been seized by FinCEN.”
“So they say. But the security tape for the time period is missing. Gone. Steigle could not have taken it because he was on the road. The Sandersonville Police do not have it because the security tape they are examining is from the garage. To see if we can figure out how the dematerializing armored car reappeared.”
“How unusual. What do you think happened to the tape from the vault?”
“Gremlins. I think the gremlins took it. It’s not in the recording machine or the vault. FinCEN does not have it, and the Sandersonville Police do not have it. The vault personnel have been in lockdown, so they do not have it. Steigle was on the road when it went missing. None of the police or FinCEN people have access to the vault. You, of course, were whisking around the garage and offices responding to questions.” Noonan continued. “I guess a Gremlin took it. But, actually, and in reality, the tape is not needed. No crime has been committed. The RMD, LLC moneys were legally seized by FinCEN and transported by the agency to a location unknown to me. Or you. North Carolina Mutual Indemnity is going to cover the seizure with a check to RMD, LLC. The dematerializing armored truck—I like that adjective—has been returned. The Jacksons are in the Bahamas and not about to return any time soon. The only missing piece of this puzzle—if it is a puzzle at all—is Steigle, and there is not a shred of evidence he committed any crime. He’s just missing. When he return
s, he may talk with you. But then, again, he’s a lawyer. And a very good one.”
“What you have said is true. A Gremlin must have taken the tape. But since no crime has been committed, there is no reason for the security tape to be considered as evidence.”
“It would only be evidence if a crime had been committed. Which, everyone says, has not happened.”
“True, true,” Noonan said. “But a word to wise. There’s an old adage in the law-enforcement business I recall. It goes something like this: ‘Robberies are like peanuts; you can’t stop at just one.’”
“How quaint. I’ll keep it in mind in my retirement.”
“A good attitude. I’d hate to see you again under similar circumstances.” And with that last comment, Noonan was gone.
Chapter 41
Joseph Richiamo was neither displeased nor annoyed when he arrived at the Sandersonville Coffee Shoppe for a mug with Noonan. Richiamo had a vacation tan—in his case, ruddy.
“I’ve never been here,” Richiamo said as he took his skinny vanilla latte and sat down. “Has it been here long?”
“I’m not a coffee drinker,” Noonan admitted. “So I don’t know. I just wanted to have a chat with you in an out-of-the-way place.”
“Well, you chose well. What can I do for you? As far as I know, everything is settled.”
“True, true. As far as the law is concerned, everything is settled.”
“And the insurance company. We were very happy with our check.”
“But you didn’t get a check. First Sandersonville Bank of Trust got the check.”
“That is correct. You are diligent in your homework, I must say.”
“Do you mind if I ask what the check paid for?”
“Well, you know, it’s a matter of confidentiality. I represent a number of clients who have made investments, and they don’t want their names bandied about.”
“Especially if the money is marijuana money.”
“Not true. Not a dime of the check that went to First Sandersonville Bank of Trust was marijuana money. It was a North Carolina Mutual Indemnity check guaranteed by the United States government.”
“True. And very clever, I must say.”
“I,” Richiamo gave a look of perfect innocence, “do not know what you are talking about. Everything has been done is legal and above board.”
“Oh, I agree with you,” Noonan said, and Richiamo relaxed.
A bit.
“Why are we having this conversation?”
“Personal interest,” Noonan said. “There’s no question what has transpired is legal. But there is a lingering question. All the activity—”
“Legal activity,” Richiamo cut in.
“True,” responded Noonan. “All the activity, legal activity, has taken place here in Sandersonville. Yet you, and presumably the legal marijuana money, are from out of Colorado.”
“So? The money is legal in Colorado, and it is legal to cross state lines with legal money. That’s right out of the United States Constitution.”
“True. But I’m not maneuvering down that road. I punched up RMD, LLC on the State of Colorado web page and discovered it has only been in business for two years.”
“True. I have only been in business for two years.”
“It’s also the first time the name Richiamo pops up on the web.”
“Well, I guess you could say I’m two people. I’m the R in RMD, LLC—legally, let me add. And I changed my name recently to become Joseph Richiamo.”
“Do you speak Italian?”
“No. Where did that come from?”
“Out of thin air. You don’t have to answer, but I’m betting you had legal help with the name change and setting up the corporation in Colorado.”
“Well, yes. You can’t be too careful these days.”
“I agree with you there. Did you happen to get legal help from a law firm by the name of Inganno?”
Now Richiamo was antsy with suspicion.
“Why?”
“No particular reason. And nothing to worry about because nothing illegal has happened.”
“You got that right.” He was emphatic.
“I just find it interesting someone from Colorado would have connections in a little town on the North Carolina coast.”
“Well, these things do happen.”
“Uh-huh. What was your name before it was Richiamo?”
“George.”
“George what?”
“Sandusky.”
“Any relation to Harry Sandusky of North Carolina Mutual Indemnity?”
“He’s my brother.”