by Joe Pulizzi
“Hell yes, you are. And for good reason. Remember yesterday when we had to hide out in a bookstore for an hour and then sneak around town?”
“You’re right,” I said. “Just checking.”
We walked up the cement stairs that led to a small brick patio. I decided to ring the doorbell instead of knocking.
“Ten bucks I bet you they think we’re Mormons,” Robby said.
“Who is it?” asked a woman’s voice from behind the door.
“Hi. My name is Will Pollitt. I’m Alan’s old college roommate. I’m trying to track him down,” I called through the door.
“Hold, please,” the woman said.
After a couple minutes, there was a man’s voice. “Who is this?”
“Alan. It’s Will Pollitt. I didn’t have your phone number, and I was hoping to talk to you about something.”
The door opened. Alan was in a Notre Dame T-shirt and sweat pants. Still in pretty good shape. Still had all his hair, and whatever FBI training regimen he was on was working. “Normally I’d be happy to see you, but this is a bit irregular. We’ve been having some break-ins around here, and Jules, my wife, has been a little more tentative lately.”
“I’m sorry, Alan,” I said. “Oh, by the way, I think you know Robby, right?”
“Yes,” Robby said. “We met at the funeral.” They shook hands.
“I wouldn’t bother you unless I thought this was extremely important. Is there a place we could talk? I need at least twenty minutes of your time.”
Alan turned around. “Honey, I’m going to talk to these guys in the man cave. I won’t be long.” He shut the front door and made sure the screen door was closed. Even though there was no one in front of him, Alan looked like he was clearing a path when he walked. He made a left just beyond his front hedges and another left down his driveway, toward the backyard. Robby and I walked a few steps behind him.
“I’ve been working on this little man cave project for a few years now. Just put in the dart board. It’s got a big-screen TV and a mini fridge, but everything in there is pretty cheap just in case someone wants to rip it off.” He led us to the back of his garage. The structure looked like an old converted shed. Alan tried the door and it wouldn’t open, so he leaned into it a bit with his right shoulder and popped it free. Then he flipped the light switch on the right wall and led us in.
“All I got is beer. Cool?” Alan asked.
“Perfect,” I said. Alan pulled three Coors Lights out of the mini fridge.
“Have a seat,” Alan said.
The room was small and had a bar on the right side with a mounted fifty-inch television behind it and a dart board on the wall to the left. Alan was sitting in a small sofa chair, most likely something he picked up off of someone’s lawn, while Robby and I were on stools. Alan tossed us two Koozies for the beers. When he leaned back, I could easily see the gun bulge in the side of his sweat pants.
“Talk,” he said.
“You know the first part when we talked at the funeral. My dad left the funeral home to me in the will. I’m considering it. And then we started doing some digging. Financials and embalming records. We found some things. And now we’re really concerned. We actually believe our cars or our phones are being tracked. Before I tell you everything, the reason we’re here instead of the Sandusky police is because we think they’re involved in some way.”
“Okay,” Alan said. “Can I ask you some questions first?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Are either of you on drugs or heavy medication right now? Have you been drinking?”
“Shit, Alan. No, we are not on drugs, and yes, we just came from a bar but we aren’t drunk,” I said.
“Just checking,” he said. “Now before we go any further, I have to ask if you are recording this conversation.”
“No,” I said. “Are you?”
“I am not.”
“Anything else?”
“You may proceed.”
I took the next fifteen minutes going over the situation. My dad’s apparent suicide, found on the hidden camera. Xena’s description of the SA meeting about minorities. The rampant case of life settlements in Erie County, and that those settlements targeted minorities. That we had tissue samples from about thirty residents that we were having checked. The SUV following us.
He listened intently and asked no questions while I was describing the situation. A few times he scribbled notes on a small notepad he grabbed off the bar. I ended by asking him, “What should we do?”
“First off, if someone has your cell phone number and the phone is on, they can find your location, so make sure your phones are off. Second, I’ll have to make a couple calls, but if the life settlements are happening over state lines, say it’s a Delaware corporation or any of the companies involved are headquartered out of state, the FBI can get involved.”
“You believe us?” Robby asked.
“Well, I believe that you believe you are telling the truth. And that’s a big deal for me. Once one of our tech folks can dig into the six insurance companies you mentioned and find out what they are doing, it should tell us a lot.” Alan rose from his sofa chair. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to step outside for a second and make a call. I’m pretty senior at the Cleveland bureau, but I don’t make the final decision and I don’t normally deal with financial schemes.”
“What do you normally deal with?” I asked.
“WMD. Weapons of Mass Destruction,” he said and closed the door behind him.
“We should probably text Sam with the new phones so she can find us,” I said. I pulled out the burner phone and texted Sam. Hi, Sam. It’s Will. This is my new number. Robby will text you from his in a bit.
Three seconds later the burner phone rang.
“Hello?” I said.
“Shit,” Sam said. “What took you so long? I didn’t know how to get in touch with you with your phone off.”
“I’m sorry, Sam, but you’ll never guess what Robby and I found by using your data.”
“You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“I’d rather not say, but I’ll text you the link and then you can call me back.” She hung up.
A few seconds later, Sam sent me a link from the Sandusky Register. I clicked on it and a video frame appeared, but the image was blurred, and a circle kept going around and around on the phone. No Wi-Fi.
“What is it?” Robby asked.
“I don’t know. Sam sent this to me. It can’t be good.”
We both waited for the video to finish buffering, and finally it played. It was a woman in her late twenties. Thin. Looked like a weather girl. On-screen she was standing behind a Sandusky Register News logo. I didn’t even know the Sandusky newspaper had roving television reporters. Times have changed.
In the background, people walked on the Sandusky Pier, almost in exactly the same location as Xena and I were yesterday.
This is Rebecca O’Hara with Sandusky Register. We just received word of a warrant out for the arrest of this man [cuts to a picture of me from the PT Marketing website] William Pollitt, son of funeral director Abe Pollitt, who passed away last week. According to the warrant, Mr. Pollitt assaulted this woman [cuts to a picture of Xena with her eye swelled shut and a deep gash on the side of her jaw] Xena Anthony, proprietor of Tony’s restaurant just a block from where I’m standing. According to Ms. Anthony, the assault happened last night. The location of the assault was withheld. If you see this man or know his whereabouts, you are to call Sandusky Police at 911 immediately. Subject is considered extremely dangerous. This is Rebecca O’Hara reporting for Sandusky Register.
“Holy shit,” Robby said.
“They know we know,” I said.
“I take it you didn’t do this to her.”
“You’re joking, right? That’s the lowest form of man.”
“Good,” Robby said. “Just checking.”
I started pressing numbers on the phone and
hit dial. “I’m here,” Sam said.
“We have to call Jess and get her to safety. Have her call you back from a pay phone or a friend’s phone. Shit, I don’t know. We’re trying to tiptoe around all this, and they obviously found out we know something.”
“So you didn’t do it?” she asked.
“Sam, under the circumstances I understand you asking me this, and dickhead Robby asked me the same thing. No, I did not do it. Someone is trying to set me up.”
“Good. I had to ask,” she said. “Yes, I’ll talk to Jess.”
“Can you contact my sister as well? I have no idea how far this reaches, but Robby and I figure these guys are protecting hundreds of millions of dollars and trying to save their way of life.”
“I’ll contact Denise,” she said.
“Robby and I are at FBI Alan’s house now figuring this out. In the meantime, you need to get lost. Where can you go?”
“I don’t know. Let me take care of Jess and Denise, then I’ll let you know ASAP.”
“Be careful. Talk soon,” I said, ending the call.
Robby and I just sat there looking at each other.
“Now would be a great time for a joke,” I said.
“I got nothing, man. Nothing,” Robby said.
The door opened and Alan came back in. He stood in front of me. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“What?”
“Do you know a Xena Anthony?”
“That escalated quickly,” I said to Robby. “I literally just found out there’s a warrant for my arrest. I know you’re going to ask, so the answer is no, I did not do it.”
“What happened?” he asked.
“I had a meeting with her—”
“It was a date,” Robby said.
“It was not. Anyway, I walked her from downtown Sandusky to her condo a few blocks away and left her there. It was about midnight last night.”
“Can anyone corroborate your story?”
I bit my upper lip and shook my head. “No. I don’t think so. There were no other people. I left her and went to my car. It’s pretty much her word against mine.”
Alan stood thinking. “By law, I’m supposed to turn you in, but you’re in luck. The initial parts of your story show promise. We called in one of our tech guys on the phone and had a quick con call. We got hits on two of the insurance entities you gave me.”
“What does that mean?” Robby asked.
“It means someone in the bureau found something shady and marked it in the database. We have a meeting first thing in the a.m. to discuss. It will be me, my superior, the white-collar lead, and a couple tech guys.”
“That’s great. But what do we do until then? I don’t know what you call it, but I’ve got an X on my back the size of New Jersey, and I’m concerned for the safety of my family. They probably want to kill him, too,” I said, pointing at Robby.
“My momma always said never to trust your white ass, and here we are. I got a bunch of rich white racists that know technology coming to get me. It can’t get much worse.”
“I can get you some police protection, but that’s going to take a few hours. Is your family in a safe location?” Alan asked.
“We are working on it,” I said.
“You guys can hang out here and wait it out a bit if you want.”
“You have Wi-Fi out here?” Robby asked.
“No,” Alan said.
“In the house?”
“No.”
“Shit. It’s like 1985 around here,” Robby said.
“Any ideas where we can safely watch the videos?” I asked Robby.
“Possibly.”
Chapter 29 – Uncle Rod
We gave Alan our burner phone information and walked out the door, snuck around the hedge, and took a right into the alley. I peeked around the corner of the laundromat. There were no cars that we could see. Pretty standard for a Sunday night on the west side. We hustled to the car and took off.
“Where to?” I asked.
“I have to stop at my house and grab a few things first,” Robby said. The drive to Robby’s condo took less than five minutes. He pulled into the lot on the back side, parking next to a dumpster.
“Stay here,” Robby said. “I’ll be back in two minutes.”
Robby inserted his left foot into a hole in the chain link fence and pushed himself over. He’s in better shape than I am. Then I lost him in the darkness.
It was almost impossible to sit and wait. I wanted to text or call Sam. And then Denise. How was Jess doing? But I decided to let Sam take care of that. And then there’s Xena. It didn’t take them long to go after her. They wouldn’t think twice about hurting the people I truly cared about. Every additional step of this fiasco was making me think my mother’s death was not so accidental anymore. And now I was in way over my head. How could I be so reckless as to try to unravel my father’s puzzle without help?
Robby returned with a black Nike duffel bag and set it between our seats. Some of the smell from the dumpster followed him inside.
“Are we going to the gym?” I asked.
Robby unzipped the bag and pulled out a gun.
“Holy shit, man. I didn’t know you had a gun.”
“There’s one in here for you as well.”
“Why would you own a gun?”
“That’s an ignorant question. I’m a black man in white America. And before you ask, yes, I have a license for them.”
“I’ve never held a gun in my hands, let alone fired one.”
“It’s just in case. Seems like they’re beginning to get their hands dirty. We found something big. Now they’re in protection mode.” He held the gun in his hand, displaying it for me. “This is a Colt M1911 pistol. It’s fairly popular and has been for years. It’s semiautomatic, so you don’t have to load bullets or anything.”
He turned the gun to the other side. “This button here is the safety. In this position, with this piece sticking out, the gun won’t fire. Once you push it,” Robby pushed the button and it disappeared into the pistol, “then you can fire the weapon. Just point and shoot.” He held the gun out for me. “Take it, Will.”
I reluctantly took the pistol in my hand. It was heavier than I imagined.
“There’s a new magazine all loaded up,” he said. “It has seven rounds, just in case we get into some kind of shootout.” He looked at me and smiled. “I’m just kidding. Anyway, I have an extra magazine for each pistol. All you have to do is pull this release when you’re out and then insert a new magazine for a fresh seven.”
“Have you used this before?” I asked.
“Just at the range over on East 55th. Takes some getting used to. When you fire, you get a little pushback as it spits out the empty cartridge. But after that it’s pretty easy to use. Hopefully, we won’t have to use it, but if you do, aim at center mass.”
“This is perfect. Before, I was just a fugitive. Now, I’m an armed fugitive. I don’t look guilty at all.”
I gave the gun back to Robby, who put it back in the duffel. Then he took out what looked to be a large computer router with a USB charger attached to it. “This little baby I bought last month and have been dying to give it a try. This is portable Wi-Fi. Basically, it takes cell service, makes it wicked fast, and you can take it anywhere.”
Robby plugged it into the car’s USB jack, put on his seatbelt, and started the car.
“Since we don’t have anywhere safe to go that we know of, I figured our best bet is to stay mobile. While I drive, you can watch the rest of the videos.”
“I like your thinking,” I said.
Robby pulled out his burner phone.
“What?” I asked.
“I need to text Sarah at PopC. We’re going to have to cancel our meeting for tomorrow.”
“Good call,” I said. “Probably not a good look to walk in to our marketing pitch carrying pistols.”
Robby looked at me. “You know, with that news piece, there’s no way we’
re going to get the business now. They’re going to see it.”
I considered his comment. “I know, but right now I’d like us to get out of this alive. And I’m especially concerned about Jess and Denise.”
Robby texted.
“She’s already replying,” he said. “People are so attached to their phones today.”
He read the response. “Sarah said she was just going to call me. They just received word from PopC corporate that their offices are closed tomorrow. Someone got shot outside their building about thirty minutes ago. So no meeting, and she’ll email me a reschedule time.”
We looked at each other.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” I said and pulled out the burner phone. I went to Google and typed in Cleveland shooting PopC. There were three articles, one each from Cleveland’s three major news outlets.
“Oh God. Read this,” I said to Robby, showing him the news brief on my phone.
A man was shot and killed Sunday night in an apparent mugging outside PopC corporate headquarters. Cleveland Police are currently on the scene. The man, whose name is known but cannot be released until family is notified, worked at the Cleveland Clinic, located next door to PopC. There were no witnesses.
“Jared?” Robby said.
“Of course Jared,” I said. “It has to be.”
“But how did they know?”
“Oh my God, I killed him,” I said. “I texted him from my other phone before I switched to the burner.”
Robby put the car in drive and peeled out of the parking lot.
“Where are we going?”
“To my uncle’s to ditch this car and get a different one,” he said. “And you need to call Sam and then Alan.”
I dialed the burner phone.
“Will!”
“Sam. What’s going on?
“Jess is safe. She’s with a friend. She left her cell in her room and borrowed her friend’s phone.”
“Is she rattled?”
“A little, yes. I didn’t tell her much. I just told her to trust me.”
“Great. How about Denise?”
“She’s going to her friend’s house in Port Clinton. She left her phone in Sandusky as well. I have a number I can contact her if needed.”