Chapter 37 – Back on the Farm
At the end of the evening Matt offered to drive Lynn back to wherever she lived. She hesitated, but then agreed. On the way over she explained that the classy apartment she lived in belonged to the company and was way above her pay grade. She didn’t want him to think she was too rich for him – which of course she was – but she didn’t want him to know that.
Matt looked over at her, trying to assess her mood. Did she enjoy being with me? I wish I knew. I want to ask her out again, but not if she didn’t have a good time. Maybe I should just come right out and ask her.
“I really enjoyed our evening together, Lynn.”
“Me too, Matt. You’re comfortable to be with.”
“Can we do this again – soon?”
“That sounds great, and I really want to but . . . I’m leaving town tomorrow.”
“What, for a few days?”
“No, I’m actually moving in with some friends in Virginia. They have a large gentleman’s farm west of Leesburg. Harriet and Rick are my two closest friends. I might not be here today if they hadn’t rescued me from my depression after Jack was killed.”
Lynn could see the look of disappointment on his face. “It’s not far, less that a four-hour drive. I’m sure I’ll get back here now and then. We can get together then.”
Matt was silent for a while after that. “But what about your job with Dave?”
“I’m actually starting my own business that I’ll run out of the Farm.”
“What’s the business about?”
“Private computer investigations, stuff like that.”
“Oh . . . you’re good at that. I’m sure the business will do well. What are you calling it?”
“Rev . . . I haven’t really picked a name yet. Maybe Preston Investigations.” If I tell him the real name he might wonder if what I’m doing is illegal. I can’t forget that he’s a cop.
“That would make sense.”
“Take a right up ahead and we’ll be there.”
Matt stopped in front of the apartment building and walked around to open her door. She got out and patted his arm. “Thanks again for the great time, Matt. Call me sometime.”
He answered with a curt “Sure.” Like she really wants to see me again, he thought.
Lynn was up early carrying boxes of her things down to the truck. After a last look around and a re-check of her mailbox in the lobby Lynn headed for the parking garage. Thirty minutes later she was out of the city following I-95 to Baltimore, then to Leesburg. As her thoughts wandered she recalled the evening with Matt and smiled. I really like that guy. But with me gone he’ll get buried in his work and forget about me. Maybe it’s for the best. I don’t really want to get involved . . . I don’t think.
Three hours later she pulled up to the front gate of The Farm and punched in the key code for the security gate. As the heavy steel gate opened Lynn thought it looked strong enough to stop a direct frontal collision by a vehicle. She also noticed they had added a chain link fence behind the six foot tall shrubbery fence of hawthorn bushes Senator Underwood planted when he built the place fourteen years ago. The house was magnificent; built to impress the Washington elite when they came out for frequent social functions. As she approached the house she could see the chain link continued around the entire perimeter of the 80-acre property. “That’s new. They must have put it in for my protection. I’m not sure it would slow Zarah down much, though.” She pulled the truck under the drive-through portico and tooted the horn to let them know she was here.
The massive front door swung back and Harriet ran out to greet her. “Finally. We were looking for you an hour or two ago.”
“I had to finish packing my things. Most of my clothes are still in drawers and closets back at the apartment. I just brought some casual stuff to hold me until I can go back for the rest.”
Rick came out and wrapped his arms around her in a warm hug. “Drive the car around back and I’ll open the garage doors. I have a surprise waiting for you.”
As she approached the front of the six-car garage Rick opened the door to reveal her surprise.
“My Miata! You guys brought my Miata back from the cabin. Thank you! I really love driving that beauty.”
Harriet said, “I know what you mean. I got to drive it back from the cabin. It really handles great on those West Virginia mountain curves.”
“I couldn’t keep up with her in my Escalade. She beat my home by twenty minutes. You’ll have to let me take it out sometime.”
“Consider it community property. We can all drive it.”
“You and Harriet go on upstairs and pour us a drink. I’ll put the boxes and luggage upstairs.”
Lynn said “Oh no. I’m not letting you do the work by yourself.” as she pulled a box out of the truck.
“I won’t. Bring the box over here and put it in this cabinet.” When he opened the door she saw that it was a small elevator – like a dumb waiter. “Henry here will carry them up for you.”
“Now that’s neat. The senator thought of everything.”
“Yes he did. Henry is large enough to hold a person sitting down and has inside controls . . . in case someone needs to sneak away from an upstairs bedroom.”
“With all the people who showed up for his weekend soirees it was cheaper than another butler. It stops at the kitchen and in the upstairs hallway. You two go on up and I’ll load your stuff.”
A short time later they were all sitting on the rear deck enjoying the crisp autumn air. Lynn surveyed the countryside laid out below them. “This is so peaceful and lovely. I don’t think I’ll ever live in a city again. Short visits when necessary. But otherwise I’m declaring myself a country girl.”
Rick added, “Wait ‘til the leaves turn color. Now that’s real beauty. The trees at Jack’s cabin have already turned. In the Mountains the color show is three dimensional. Takes your breath away.”
“I used to get some of that in Colorado. They don’t have the variety of colors, but the gold of the aspen patches mixed with the dark evergreens is a whole ‘nother kind of beautiful. There’s a narrow gauge railroad that winds through the mountains from Chama in northern New Mexico to Silverton in Colorado. In the fall when the aspens turn thousands of people take that ride. They have to reserve a seat on the train and a room in a local motel almost a year ahead of time. But the aspens only stay at their peak for a week or so, and when that will occur depends on the weather and nighttime temperatures. Making reservations for the right time is a crap shoot.”
“We all should go out there next year to see it.” Harriet commented.
Lynn added, “If we time our trip right, we can also go to the International Balloon Fiesta in Albuquerque. That’s another beautiful sight.”
After a few minutes of silence, Harriet asked Lynn how her date with the detective went.
“How did you know about that?”
“Dave called yesterday to check on the new security fence. He arranged for the installation. . . . He worries about you, you know. So, what’s up with Detective Murdock?”
“We both enjoyed the dinner get-together.”
“It was a date, Lynn. Call it what it was.”
“Well, at first I didn’t think of it as a date, but by the end of the evening it definitely seemed like a date.”
“So when is the next ‘date?’”
“That will be tough with me living out here. If Dave needs me back in town for some consulting, maybe we can get together.”
“Don’t let the fire die down, dear.”
“What fire?”
“I saw your eyes light up when I mentioned him. You can’t fool a woman about these things. Right, Rick?”
“Not being a woman I can’t confirm that hypothesis. I’m just a silent bystander. But maybe you can invite him out to The Farm for a weekend sometime. . . . I’m getting hungry, Harriet. When’s supper?”
“I’ll get started on it dear. Give me an hour.”
“An hour! I’m talking starving, here.”
“I can provide a good chicken and dumplings dinner in an hour, or you can have a meat loaf TV dinner in ten minutes. Or, if that’s not fast enough, I can have a bowl of cereal in front of you in two minutes.” Lynn laughed at that. “I love the way you two banter back and forth.”
Two days later Lynn was sitting in front of her laptop, in the office Rick created in one of the downstairs bedrooms, searching for her first case as Revenge, Inc. There were a couple of wife beating cases in Alexandria, but local law enforcement was moving aggressively on those. Lynn put them in a pending file to check on later. Then there was a child kidnapping case in Maryland. They found the girl little unharmed in the middle a state park, but they were still searching for the kidnapper. The poor six-year-old spent a cold night all alone in the wild before a hiker found her. “If they catch the guy, I’ll add my own form of justice to whatever the courts dish out. . . . Time for some more coffee.”
Harriet was in the kitchen cleaning up after breakfast. When she heard Lynn, she stopped what she was doing and turned to talk.
“I don’t know if this is a case you can do anything about, Lynn, but let me tell you about it anyway. I help out at the Lynchburg Seniors Center – where the older folk, mostly poor older folk, gather for free meals, bingo, conversation, and sharing their dislike of the Government. I spoke with a couple yesterday, Larry and Eugenia Adams, who are having a problem with their son and daughter-in-law. They are both in their early seventies and living on nothing but his social security. She stayed home to raise a family so she has no income.”
“That must be tough to live on just that single income.”
“She said they live simply, own their fifty-year-old home, which is now in a run-down neighborhood ignored by the city. They have lived on that income since he retired. But the problem is their oldest son and his wife. They come by their house with a sob story about how he lost another job and is broke and needs cash, or something they can sell – like her jewelry or his stamp collection. If they don’t give in to his demands, he yells at them and threatens to have them committed as mentally incompetent. So they give him whatever they can and leave the bills unpaid. Their power has been shut off for the past two months, and they need $1,342 to get it restored. But even if they did that, they would come up short again the next month.”
“Wow. How can children treat their parents like that? That’s awful. Can I pay their power bill for them?”
“I offered to do that, but they refused. They’re too proud to accept financial help. So I outsmarted them. I went to the power company and prepaid their account for the next two years – anonymously.”
“How nice of you, Harriet. But where does Revenge, Inc. come in?”
“I thought maybe you could check up on their son and his wife. See if he’s lying about his financial situation. Or maybe he’s supporting a drug habit. There’s got to be something you can do to get him off their back.”
“Great idea! My thinking has been too limited about the kind of cases to look for. Give me the son’s name and I’ll go start on it now.”
Lynn was excited as she sat down at her desk. It took her most of the afternoon to find the son, John Edward Adams. Quite a few people shared the same name. She finally found him by accessing the parents bank account. There was only a few dollars left in it, but she found that the son was a co-signer on the account. When she looked at the activity over the past two years she saw that Johnny boy had made regular withdrawals from the account. Right after the Social Security direct deposit came in, John would take half of it out. Even worse, he had the monthly statements sent to his mailing address. The parents never saw what he was doing to them.
Lynn felt her anger flare. “That bastard! He’s robbing his parents into poverty. And there’s not much that can be done about it legally. He deserves the worst thing I can figure out. Time to learn more about this jerk.”
It was after midnight when she finally found what she was looking for on the Darknet. John E. Adams had a sealed court record, and a Federal one at that. He was caught smuggling cocaine from Central America into the U. S. using a power boat – a 53-foot HydraSport fishing hull with four 600 hp outboards. It could outrun anything the Coast Guard had, so he made several runs before they finally stopped him – from a helicopter with 50 caliber sniper rifle rounds through three of the motors. When Adams’ son was questioned by the FBI he claimed he was just the driver; that the boat belonged to the Puerto Rican drug lord, Jose Agosto, a.k.a. Junior Capsula. He agreed to give up information about Agosto’s location in exchange for probation without jail time for his part in the operation. Two months later Agosto was arrested by U. S. Immigration and Homeland Security agents. But part of the bargain was that Adams had to give up the cash he earned for his illegal activities, which left him broke with no marketable skills.
“Hmmm. I wonder why the cartel didn’t come after him. Snitches usually don’t last a week once they turn on the organization. What’s protecting him? I’m surprised he’s not in witness protection.”
To answer that question Lynn hacked into the Government investigation records which, although ordered sealed by the court, gave Lynn no problem. And there she found the answer. While he was working for the drug cartel, he assumed the name Miguel Ortiz. With his dark complexion and fluent Spanish learned in the Navy he was able to pull it off. Especially since that was the name of one of his Navy buddies who disappeared just before Adams was released from the Navy. Adams stole his identity, which probably means he killed Ortiz and hid the body.
“So the cartel people couldn’t find him because they were looking for Miguel. What if they found out who he really was? It’s been a couple of years, but drug Lords have long memories, and a long reach, even from prison.’
Lynn ruminated on this for a bit. If I give them his real name, they will definitely kill him – probably slowly. Is that too harsh? Does he deserve to die because of what he’s done to his parents? He’s stolen their life from them. That’s a tough one. Let’s see what other damning information I can find about him. But not tonight. I need to sleep on this decision.
Lynn was up and 6:30 the next morning, anxious to follow up on the Miguel Ortiz search. She started by hacking into the Navy records to find personnel files on both Adams and Ortiz. They were serving together at the San Diego Naval Base when Ortiz disappeared. They were both assigned to the same crew of a Mark VI high speed patrol boat used to chase down smugglers running drugs from El Salvador into San Diego Bay.
“Hmmm. Adams was the pilot. That’s where he got his experience driving fast boats.”
As she read down the file on Adams she found a notation that he was once charged with ‘Using a Navy craft for transporting contraband,’ with a reference to a court martial case covering the incident. She switched her search to the Navy Staff Judge Advocate database to get a transcript of the proceedings. Ten minutes later the picture started to come together. Ortiz had reported Adams to his superior officer for hiding packages of drugs in the engine compartment, which led to the charges. Ortiz was to be the prosecution’s star witness, but before he could be put on the stand he disappeared. Without Miguel’s testimony there wasn’t enough evidence to convict Adams, so the Navy forced him to accept a ‘less than honorable discharge.’ Though not as damning as a dishonorable discharge, finding civilian employment with that on your record was difficult.
Lynn switched back to Ortiz’s file and paged down to his disappearance. He was on shore leave, drinking heavily at a wharf-side bar. Another sailor told him it was time to get back to the ship and helped him out the door. That was the last time he was seen. At the board of inquiry other bar customers were called as witnesses, but they all said it was too dark to identify the sailor Ortiz left with. Since a body was never found, the board officially declared Ortiz absent without leave - AWOL in military speak.
Lynn jumped back to Adams’ file and found he was also granted s
hore leave on the night Ortiz disappeared. “I can’t believe it! Any idiot could put two and two together and see that Adams should have been a prime suspect in Ortiz’s disappearance. Don’t the different parts of the Naval legal system share information? That just doesn’t make sense. . . . Oh wait. I forgot about Jack’s first law of logic.
Logic and reason have no value when dealing with (a) a bureaucracy , (b) a zealot, or (c) an angry woman. The Navy, indeed the entire U. S. Government, falls into category (a), so of course it doesn’t make sense.”
Lynn leaned back and thought about what she had found. The chances are very high that Adams killed Ortiz to keep him from testifying. That left Miguel’s identity up for grabs. If Adams took Ortiz’s identity documents when he killed him, no one would know. But what about the fingerprints? The coast guard surely would have fingerprinted Adams when they caught him smuggling cocaine. How could that play out? . . . Oh! Sure! Adams reverted back to his true identity when he was arrested – discarded the Miguel Ortiz I.D. and pulled out his own. So the fingerprints matched.
Lynn copied the documents and stored them on her laptop. “I think I’ve answered last night’s question,” she said to herself as she went into the Darknet to find a mailing address for inmate Jose Agosto at the Lompoc Federal Penitentiary. She typed an anonymous note to Jose, informing him where Miguel Ortiz was living under the assumed name of John Edward Adams. The wording had to be something that would mean something to Agosto, but not to the prison staff who checked incoming mail:
Miguel Ortiz = John Edward Adams at 4912 Jefferson in 20176
With the street address and zip code, Jose’s men will have no trouble finding him. Lynn attached it to an email and sent it to a Darknet web site that would print it, mail it, and erase any connection to her. Then she leaned back and smiled at the pleasant feeling she got from getting revenge on really bad people.
She got up from her desk and saw she had been at it for almost three hours. “Time for some bacon and eggs.” She hummed as she entered the kitchen. Harriet was sitting at the bar watching the morning news on the TV over the sink.
“And what are you so cheerful about this morning? Did you have a sexy dream about the detective?”
Lynn laughed. “No, it was better than that. I just nailed my first bad guy as president, founder, and chief investigator for Revenge, Inc.”
“Well, don’t let it go to your head, dear. What was the case about?”
“Larry and Eugenia’s terrible son. I found a drug connection from his past – he ratted out a big-time Puerto Rican drug lord. It turns out that he wasn’t only stealing money from his parents, but he killed someone a couple of years ago when he was in the Navy.”
“So, what did you do to him?”
“I sent a letter to the drug lord and told him where to find John Adams.”
“Wow. . . Serious stuff, Lynn. Are you sure you want to go that far?”
“Yeah, I do. With what he’s been doing to his parents, his own smuggling, and the dead sailor in San Diego, he has it coming. The Navy justice system had their chance and did nothing.”
“Alright. I’ll go along with you on this one. But do you think the three of us should be involved in decisions like this in the future?”
“That’s a good idea. I guess we need to come up with some procedures that will keep us all in the loop. . . . That way, you two can join me in prison when they catch me,” Lynn added with a smile.
“I can see one problem you overlooked on this case. What happens to his parents? Is there any way they can get back some of that money they lost?”
“You got me on that one, Harriet. That part of the deal slipped my mind. I’ll look at his assets this afternoon and see if he and his wife have been saving the stolen money. Then I’ll channel it into their bank account a little at a time so they won’t notice.”
“What about their son’s death? As bad as he was, they might be heartbroken if he’s killed.”
“Maybe in the short term, but in the long run I think they’ll realize he was slowly squeezing the life out of them with his stealing.”
Rick, Harriet, and Lynn were once again enjoying the autumn evening out on their deck. Lynn told Rick about the Adams case and he agreed that the kid had it coming. “I also like Harriet’s idea of reaching a case-by-case consensus on the choice of revenge actions. We have to be careful that we don’t get carried away with our power as a self-appointed judge and jury.”
“You’re right about that, Rick,” Lynn answered. “Have you two got anything planned for the weekend?”
Harriet smiled. “It’s our thirty-sixth wedding anniversary. We’re planning a couple of days in the Poconos. We spent our honeymoon there and as a surprise gift Rick booked the exact same cabin for the weekend.”
“How sweet, Rick. Every woman needs a husband like you.” That immediately brought back thoughts of Jack and choked Lynn up. She ran for her room as the tears started flowing. Harriet looked over at Rick and said “I’ll give her a few minutes then see if I can comfort her.”
Lynn didn’t want to be comforted. She locked her door, curled up on the bed, and let the self-pity take over – again. She was having these crying spells less often now, but every now and then something would trigger one. Finally she let herself drift off to sleep. Her last thought was Maybe Jack will come and visit.