Robert registered himself, Dennis and Mario at the same motel the women were staying. He went to his room, unpacked and made a phone call to Detective Jack Maxwell in Atlanta.
The phone rang three times and a voice said, “Maxwell.”
Detective Jack Maxwell was a handsome man with a perfectly formed face. Perfectly formed except for the severely deformed nose he acquired as a result of a short boxing stint while serving in the United States Navy. He was dazed in the fifth round of a match aboard a ship in the Pacific and dropped his guard long enough for his opponent to connect with a wicked right. The blow flattened his nose and sent Maxwell into unconsciousness. The medical staff aboard the ship did what they could but the nose really needed surgical repair to reshape it. Since there was no doctor aboard that ship, he had to wait until they reached a facility that had one. They could have flown him to another ship with a doctor, but a broken nose wasn’t deemed a medical evacuation emergency. By the time he was able to be seen by a doctor, the nose had set and Maxwell was content to live with it.
“Hey, Jack, it’s Bob. I’m in Florida doing some follow-up on the Mason case we’ve been working on. There have been a few new wrinkles.”
“Such as?” asked Jack.
“Looks like I’m going to have to turn our boy Nuxhall over to you and the Secret Service.”
“Secret Service? What’s the guy into?” queried Jack.
“We have his cousin in custody down here. He’s being held on a score of different federal charges. During the course of an interview with me, he alleged that Chad Nuxhall is fencing counterfeit currency throughout the Atlanta area.”
“We’ve gotten several memos on that from the Secret Service. Apparently, bogus bills are turning up everywhere. They’ll be pleased as punch to get the info. I’ll give Special Agent Marston a call as soon as I’m off the phone with you. How’s the case going for you?”
“Touch-and-go, I guess. Do you remember Donna Garrison?” asked Robert.
“She’s your office manager, isn’t she?” responded the detective.
“Yeah. She took a bullet in her left arm. It could be coincidental but my gut feeling says it’s Curtis Blanchard.”
“Is she going to be all right?”
“She’ll recover from the gunshot but she’ll have some physical limitations,” stated Robert.
“That sucks!”
“Yes, it does. We’ve got the whole team down here trying to wrap this up.”
“Wish I could help, but you’re a little out of my jurisdiction now!” stated the detective. He was sincere in his comment because they worked together in an unofficial capacity occasionally and he admired all of the members of the Breson Detective Agency.
“I’ll keep you posted if anything new develops here. Catch ya’ later,” said Robert as he hung up.
Detective Maxwell immediately called the Secret Service and asked for Special Agent Marston. He briefed the agent on the known facts of the case and offered his assistance.
“Do you happen to have any of the serial numbers from the bills?” asked the special agent.
“No serial numbers, just point of origin and the two names I gave you,” replied Jack.
“Thanks, detective. I’ll be in touch.”
Special Agent Marston had a reverent devotion to his job and clamped onto a case like a pit bull locking onto the leg of a trespasser.
The special agent wasn’t off the phone with detective Maxwell for more than thirty seconds when he was on the phone again mobilizing the stagnant task force that had been working the counterfeit case.
“I want Bravo Team to find where this guy lives, get a search warrant and check every speck of dust in his place. Delta Team will mount-up and canvass the mall with me. I’m going to keep Charlie Team in ready reserve to swing with the pendulum. All right, gentlemen, let’s motivate.”
Special Agent Marston and two other agents in the office with him ran to the parking lot and congregated around two, black, government cars. One agent popped the trunk of one of the vehicles and distributed body armor to the others. He unlocked three, small, automatic, submachine guns and handed them out as well. The agents donned their protective gear, radio headsets, locked and loaded their weapons and jumped into the two cars. They sped to the mall and walked at a near run to Chad’s store.
Special Agent Marston went to a salesperson at the front of the store, while one agent went to the rear of the store and the third agent stood point at the entrance.
Agent Marston produced his credentials and asked her where Chad was.
The frightened salesperson told the agent that Chad had already left for the day.
Special Agent Marston produced a two-way radio from his black, trench coat and said, “Delta One to Bravo One.”
“Go ahead, Delta One,” came the crystal clear response.
“The bird is on the fly. Drop back ten and wait for the ball to land.”
“Roger, Delta One. Dropping back ten.”
Marston looked at the girl’s name badge and asked, “What is your position here, LaSondra?”
The girl appeared shocked that the agent knew her name, then smiled and put her hand over the name badge when she figured it out. “I’m just a part-time salesperson. I’m trying to save some extra money for a new car.”
Agent Marston looked the girl over and thought that she didn’t look old enough to drive. “How long have you worked here?”
“I started last year. I was hired by the former manager just before she quit and they put Mr. Nuxhall in here.”
“Who’s currently in charge of the store?” he asked.
“Melody Sanchez, the assistant manager.”
“Where is Ms. Sanchez at the moment?”
“She told me was getting something to eat and that she’d be right back.”
Agent Marston looked at his watch and said, “Little early for dinner, isn’t it?”
The girl shrugged her shoulders and said, “She’s the boss. She can do whatever she wants.”
The other three members of Delta Team arrived with a search warrant and greeted Agent Marston. He assigned two of them to the stockroom office and sent the third to stand point with the agent already there.
Agent Marston told LaSondra to stay near him and point out the assistant manager as soon as she entered the store.
“What if a customer comes in and needs some help?” she asked politely.
“Pay no attention to the customers,” he replied indifferently. “Are you nervous?” he asked.
“Hell, no! This is thrilling! I hope the bitch gets what she has coming to her.”
Agent Marston took a renewed interest in the girl. He removed a small notepad from his breast pocket and began to write. “What exactly do you think she has coming to her?”
“Everyone that works here knows that she’s been screwing the manager and getting special treatment. I think our other assistant manager is jealous of Melody’s special treatment,” replied the teenager.
“What kind of special treatment does she get?”
“She clocks in and disappears for hours. She still gets paid and isn’t even here. Sometimes the manager clocks her in and she hasn’t even been in the mall, let alone the store.”
“How often does that happen?” he asked.
“At least once a week,” she replied.
“Is there anything else you can tell me about Mr. Nuxhall or Ms. Sanchez?”
“I’m pretty sure Melody does drugs of some kind. My guess is that she does favors for Mr. Nuxhall to earn extra money for them.”
“Why do you think she does drugs?”
“One night, after my shift, I was going to a party and went into the bathroom to change my clothes. Mr. Nuxhall and Melody probably thought I’d already left for the night. Anyway, when I came out, I saw Melody stuffing a wad of cash into her purse. You don’t need that kind of money to buy a cup of coffee!” said the girl nonchalantly. “Another girl that works here stopped in one night, when she wa
sn’t scheduled, to tell Mr. Nuxhall that she needed some time off. When she entered the stockroom, Melody was giving Mr. Nuxhall oral sex. Come on, man, put all that together. The bitch has to be hooked on something. Mr. Nuxhall is the last guy on earth I’d consider doing that for, unless I absolutely, positively had to! Even then I’d still think twice.”
“Did you ever see either Mr. Nuxhall or Ms. Sanchez hand large sums of cash to anyone else?”
“Nope.”
“Were you ever asked to do Mr. Nuxhall any favors?” asked the agent.
“Nah. He hardly even talks to me. I rarely work with him either. He always schedules me to work with Melody. He probably does that ‘cause he’s aware that I know how everything works here and with Melody out of the store a lot, he’s confident things will still run smoothly.”
“Do many people, other than employees, come and go from your stockroom?” asked agent Marston.
“Not anymore. They used to be in there all the time,” replied the girl.
“How long ago did they stop?”
“Managers from other stores in the mall used to come and go in our stockroom as much as they did in their own. It stopped when we got the new district manager. She was tough as dried out gum.”
“What’s the district manager’s name?” he queried.
“I’m not sure who it is now. I don’t even know if we have one. The old one just got canned.”
The agent sighed silently and asked, “What was the former district manager’s name?”
“Mackenzie Mason. She was hard as nails and followed the rules. It didn’t always set well with Mr. Nuxhall.”
“Why not?”
“The company would want us to put sale merchandise in particular spots and he didn’t always agree so he put it wherever he thought it would sell best. She’d come in and continually make him change it. The moment she left, he’d give her the finger and then he’d put it right back where he wanted it to be. I don’t think they ever liked each other.”
“That’s quite possible,” offered the agent.
“Can I tell you something confidentially? What I mean is, I’ll tell you something but I don’t want Mr. Nuxhall to know that I told you,” said LaSondra as she inched closer to the agent.
“I can only base my response on the information you provide. If you say something that can be used against him in a formal legal proceeding, I may not be able to withhold that material. It would be obstruction of justice and as such, I could be subject to formal legal repercussions as a result.”
LaSondra looked at him speculatively and then said, “Never mind.”
“I might add, the same law applies to you. If it’s determined at a later time that you were aware of criminal activity and withheld first-hand knowledge of said criminal wrongdoing, you too could be subject to formal legal repercussions. You may even face incarceration as a result of those proceedings.”
“Damn! In that case, I’ll go ahead and tell you after all.”
Agent Marston began to write again.
“One summer morning when I was out of school, Ms. Mason came to our store and made her routine store visit. She had a checklist she used to make sure we were doing what the company wanted. On that particular morning, she burned us really bad. Mr. Nuxhall was furious and when Ms. Mason went to lunch, he took a box cutter and stormed out of the store. I thought he was going to cut her up but he didn’t. He slashed her two back tires instead.”
“How do you know?” quizzed the agent.
“He came back into the store laughing and told me what he did. He also told me to never repeat it, or else!”
“Did you ever tell anyone else?”
LaSondra laughed and said, “You know how it is. You have to pass sh…, er, uh…stuff like that along. I told everyone but Ms. Mason. Everyone I told had a good laugh when they heard it.”
“I take it Ms. Mason wasn’t very well liked here,” commented agent Marston.
LaSondra reflected momentarily and responded, “She wasn’t really bad. She was just strict, like a parent. You know what I mean?”
Agent Marston smiled and replied, “Yes, I guess I do.”
LaSondra yanked the agent’s arm and said, “That’s her! That’s Melody!”
“The one wearing a beige blouse and black slacks?”
“Yep. That’s Melody.”
The agent put the microphone from his headset to his mouth and said, “Vigilance, gentlemen.”
The agents in front of the store focused all of their attention on agent Marston as he approached the incoming assistant manager.
He stopped in front of her, read her name and title on the name badge she was wearing and said, “Hello. My name is Jules Marston.” He produced his credentials and continued, “I’m a special agent with the United States Secret Service. I need to ask you some questions.”
He hesitated intentionally, hoping to provoke a reaction.
Melody’s shoulders plunged like a balloon popping and all the blood drained from her face, leaving a sickly, ashen hue.
Agent Marston turned so that he was standing to her side. He put his hand to the small of her back, intending to guide her to the stockroom and said, “Would you come with me please?”
Melody’s chin dropped and tears formed in the corners of her eyes.
As they started toward the stockroom, her gait was little more than a shuffle. They were about halfway back into the store when panic struck her and she bolted toward the entrance.
The two agents standing point were able to stop her just before she was able to leave. Agent Marston joined the two agents and removed a card from his card case. “You have a right…” He continued reading to the end and asked her if she understood her rights. Melody acknowledged that she understood them and added that she didn’t want a lawyer yet.
She looked tearfully into agent Marston’s eyes and said, “ All of my life, people have used me like a rug. They’ve wiped their feet on me and treated me worse than their dog. I’ve always done what was asked of me, even when I didn’t want to. And what did I ever get for my efforts? Nothing but a hard kick in the ass or a slap in the face. Men have dated me just to use my body and then left me with nothing, except bad memories. I’ve been in trouble before and never gotten a fair shake. If I cooperate fully, I want a deal. I want to walk with no strings.”
“That’s a tall order to fill. You know I can’t guarantee anything until I know what’s going on,” stated Marston.
“Sure you can. You know it and I know it. I can give you a slam-dunk case but I walk, free and clear.”
“Let’s go to the back and talk.”
All three agents escorted Melody to the stockroom. Agent Marston called for a female agent to join them at the mall. Whenever practical, they are required to have a female agent present with a female suspect before the interrogation could begin.
Once she was in the stockroom, the two point agents returned to their positions at the store entrance. Agent Marston made some telephone calls while one of the agents assigned to the stockroom stood guard at the door.
“I need to make a telephone call,” stated Melody emphatically.
“In just a minute, Ms. Sanchez,” offered agent Marston. He was on the telephone with the agents of Bravo Team attempting to get an update. He was informed that they had a search warrant for the premises and that it would be executed when Chad arrived.
Agent Marston spoke briefly with the agent guarding the stockroom door, while the third agent sorted through the store files.
Melody sat on some boxes filled with new merchandise that had just been delivered. She crossed her legs and looked left and right anxiously. “When are we going to get this started!?” she said in a firm, nearly demanding voice.
None of the agents paid her any heed. Melody switched legs but kept them crossed. She began staring at the unlit exit sign over the stockroom door. Whenever someone glanced in her direction, she looked away quickly.
Melody looked at the agen
t going through the office files and said, “Hey, you! I have to use the bathroom!”
The agent continued to examine daily reports and without missing a beat, he replied flatly, “You’ll just have to wait.”
“You guys are crossing my line here. If you want to deal, you better make it quick before I change my mind.”
Melody’s beige blouse was getting darker and wetter under her arms. She found it increasingly difficult to sit still. She remembered her last bitter confrontation with the law. She had been at a party, had a few drinks and a joint or two. She was driving home and was stopped for being fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit. The policeman who stopped her asked to see her driver’s license and registration. Melody shoved her hand clumsily into her purse, grabbed her wallet and whipped it out. When she did, the fold in the wallet snagged the tip of a loose joint and sent it flying onto her dashboard. She was cited for speeding, driving with an expired driver’s license and an expired license tag.
After she signed the citations, she was arrested for simple possession. She had to spend five hellish days in jail before making bail. Her sister had to drive eight hours and ended up missing two days of work when she drove down and bailed Melody out. Her sister also promised that she’d never do it again. Those five days produced a new and committed Melody. She swore she would do whatever it took to remain on the outside looking in.
When she went before the judge, he reviewed her charges, her misdemeanor past and gave her three months probation. She felt reprieved and born again. There was no way she ever wanted to see an inmate named Flo again. Flo had special initiations for new prisoners that were especially humiliating and extremely painful.
Melody called her sister crying with joy and appreciation for her sister’s unconditional love, kindness and understanding. She swore to stay out of trouble and pay back every dime her sister had ever spent on her. Melody’s sister had some reservations about the whole new image she was promising but extended Melody the benefit of the doubt. Privately, her sister didn’t give Melody more than six months.
Sure enough, eight months after her probation ended, she joined with old, bad habits again. Melody spent several of the following years drifting into the path of every storm that approached. It was sheer luck that steered her clear during those tormented times. This time it looked as though good fortune had turned its back on Melody, laughed and sped away. She was about to be sucked into the twisting, and mangling guts of a hurricane of grief.
The thought of going to jail for years terrified her. Fear crept over her body and wrapped it in a million, paralyzing arms. The longer she had to wait, the more time she had to think. The more she thought, the tighter the arms became. Anxiety was her new boss and it made it difficult for her to breathe. Her mouth and throat were feeling like someone had patted them dry with a paper towel. She tried to lick her lips and moisten them but all oral fluid had evaporated.
Melody shot up and shouted, “I need something to drink!!”
Agent Marston looked around the stockroom, saw a water fountain and gestured to it with his hand.
Melody took a sip of water and began to pace from wall to wall. She’d stop after a couple of passes, take another drink of water and start pacing again. Each time she turned and faced the dark exit sign, she’d glance up at it. None of the agents took note of her interest in it.
I can’t go to jail,. I’m not going to jail. Not for Chad. Not for anyone. Not now. Not ever, thought Melody. She recited those words over and over in her mind. It became a mantra of sorts. She would do what she had to do. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to jail, no matter what.
Melody was on the verge of wearing away a path in the stockroom floor tile when another agent joined the group in the stockroom. The agent walked up to Melody and said, “Hello. My name is Janel Burmeister. I’m a special agent with the United States Secret Service. I’ll be conducting an interview with you this afternoon. It is my understanding that you have been informed of your rights and have declined counsel at this time.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Melody replied.
Agent Burmeister asked the agent in the office to move. He moved his pile of daily sales reports to a stack of boxes and continued his review. The agent then plugged her reel-to-reel tape recorder in and prepared to take notes. “Ms. Sanchez, would you please have a seat here?”
Melody walked to the manager’s office and sat on a brown, metal folding chair.
“Ms. Sanchez, please state your full name.”
Routine questions regarding her full name, date of birth, time of employment, etc., followed one after another. With the basics out of the way, the agent began to chew on the meat of the situation. “Ms. Sanchez, when did you first meet Mr. Nuxhall?”
“Before I answer, I want to know if you have the authority to make a deal.”
“What kind of deal?” asked Janel.
“I’ll give you Nuxhall and five others if I get immunity.”
“How will you give us Mr. Nuxhall?”
“Counterfeiting. I’ll give you the whole operation, but I have to walk.”
“Give us a few minutes, Ms. Sanchez.”
Agent Burmeister conferred with Agent Marston by the stockroom door. Agent Marston made a call on his cell phone and spoke with the federal prosecutors office. He made two other phone calls and discussed them with Agent Burmeister.
“The best deal we are prepared to offer at this time is one to five years in a minimum- security prison. Chances are you’ll only serve a year, maybe two. We might be able to sweeten the deal at a later date but it is too early in the investigation to make any guarantees.”
“What if I don’t cooperate?”
“If we determine you were a key player in a counterfeit ring, you could get twenty years or more, depending on the circumstances of the case.”
Melody wanted to scream when she heard she could be facing twenty years but she didn’t. She wanted to cry and tear out of the room but she couldn’t. She felt as trapped as the night her alcoholic “stepfather” held her down in her bedroom and raped her while he was drunk. She was only fourteen and she couldn’t get away or cry then either. Melody’s father fell from a telephone pole he was working on and died. Her mother was a lonely woman who worked two jobs to make ends meet and made a bad choice in her new boyfriend. The man that raped her wasn’t really her stepfather. He wasn’t even married to her mother, but that’s what her mother wanted Melody to call him.
One year, maybe two. Maybe we can sweeten the deal later. …or I can serve twenty years!! What a choice!! I can’t do jail time. I just can’t!!
“All right. I’ll give you most of it then. Give me immunity and you’ll get it all.”
“We’ll see,” replied agent Burmeister. “When did you first meet Mr. Nuxhall?”
“I met him nearly two years ago.”
“What were the circumstances of that meeting?”
“I met him in a bar,” she answered.
“Was it an arranged meeting or a chance encounter?”
“It was a chance encounter.”
“What did you do when you met him?” asked the agent.
Agent Marston moved to the office doorway and began to listen in. He had the microphone to his headset pushed back and held a radio transceiver in his right hand.
“I was unemployed and looking to make some rent money as an escort. I flirted with him and we went on a date.”
“Where did you go on that date?” asked the agent.
Melody looked at the agent, and then looked at the filing cabinet. She thought for a moment and looked back at the agent. “We went to a motel, made love and he gave me a fifty. He said there was more where that came from if I wanted to do ‘little favors’ for him.”
“Did you do favors for him?” the agent asked.
“Yes, from time to time when I needed the cash,” replied Melody.
“What kind of favors did you fulfill?”
“Mainly shoplifting.
He knew a couple of good ‘fences’ to get rid of anything we lifted and it paid okay. Not great, but enough to live on.”
“What was your role in the shoplifting venture?”
“Most of the time I would serve as the decoy. I would wear a low-cut blouse and no bra. I’d also wear a short skirt and no underwear. I would distract salesmen in jewelry departments and electronics departments, while Chad would pocket what he wanted. A couple of times I’d wear a maternity top and shove a colander underneath. Then we’d go into stores as a married couple and pack merchandise into my colander.”
“Where you ever apprehended?” asked the agent.
“I wasn’t but Chad was once. I did the manager a sexual favor and he let Chad go.”
“Tell me about the counterfeiting,” said the agent.
“Chad’s parole agent told him that he had to find a regular job and stick with it or he’d be in violation of his parole and have to go back to jail. We took a break from shoplifting after he was caught and moved in together to save on expenses. He took several part-time jobs but couldn’t get along with some of his bosses. He has a bad temper and would argue about things he shouldn’t and get fired.”
Melody paused and said, “I need a drink.”
Agent Burmeister looked at the water fountain and said, “Go ahead.”
Melody returned and continued. “I started working as an independent escort again and Chad managed the money. That man can spend some money. He always likes the best of everything. Especially food. Anyway, one night I was working as an escort and I met the district manager of this store. He was complaining how hard it was to find good people and I told him about Chad. I offered him some ‘freebies’ if he’d hire Chad as one of his managers and he did. Then Chad hired me as his assistant and gave me the maximum allowable salary for the position. Nobody here knew we were living together, because it was against company policy and Chad had to be careful not to lose his job. We were making okay money and I started thinking that maybe I could be like a regular person and just work here in the store. You know, maybe we could be like a real couple or something and I could quit the escort business. Chad was angry at first and said he’d think about it. In the meantime, I had to stick with the escort job so we could continue to live in a manner that pleased him.”
Melody cleared her throat and looked distant for a moment. She really wanted to live like a “regular” person. She was tired of the escort business, the shoplifting, etc. She used to watch women pushing strollers in the mall and fantasize about having a child. If she could only get out of this mess and start over one more time. She had truly learned her lesson.
“One day a man came into the store and tried to pass some counterfeit currency. Chad busted him but instead of turning him over to the cops, he invited him to our house for dinner. They talked for hours and finally made a deal. Alonzo would bring the bogus bucks from Florida and drop them off at different theatres in town. Nobody watches who comes and goes from theatres. If you’re seen constantly going in and out, they just think you’re a movie fanatic or something.”
“What’s Alonzo’s last name?” inquired the agent.
“You never ask last names and they are never offered. I doubt Alonzo is his real name anyway. He doesn’t know it but I have a couple of digital pictures of him in the new camera Chad stole for me.”
“Where’s that camera located?”
“It’s in a coat pocket, hanging in my closet at home.”
“The counterfeit money is left at theatres, then what?” asked the agent.
“Then different guys from all over were ordered to come in on specific days and times. They’d hook up with the popcorn man and leave. Chad would get his money and bring it back to the mall. Then he made deals with other managers sold it to them. They would launder it by giving it to customers as change, shopping throughout town or depositing it as part of the daily sales receipts. Bank tellers at our bank rarely examined any cash we deposited, for two main reasons. The first reason was because they had to deal with so many deposits and cash coming in from the mall, they just counted it and passed it along. The second reason was because they assumed we already checked the validity of the currency and verified that it was real. We hardly ever deposited cash from the store though. We were always able to move it with ease throughout town. Besides, Chad would keep all the cash for himself, so he could buy more counterfeit money.”
“Are you able to provide an estimate of how much counterfeit currency Chad handled and in what kind of time frame?”
“Chad funneled between ten and fifty thousand a week in counterfeit money. Some he’d keep and some he’d sell. We’d probably cleared fifteen to twenty thousand a week. We had a great operation running when we had the old district manager. He rarely came to our store and when he did, he didn’t want to check the books, he just wanted me to get on my knees and service him. Then we got the new district manager, Ms. Mason. She was tough and it looked like she was going to fire Chad so it got a little scary here for awhile. I’d never seen Chad so happy as I did the day she was fired.”
“What happened to all of the money?” asked agent Burmeister.
“It was spent everywhere. We paid cash for our house and just about everything else. We have a couple thousand hidden in the house and we have a bunch in a safety deposit box at the Thrifty Bank on Walnut Street.”
“Is there any counterfeit currency in the house?”
“Yes,” replied Melody succinctly.
“Approximately how much counterfeit currency do you have in your residence right now?”
“Probably close to sixty thousand. We always had to buy an allotment whether we wanted to or not. We’re a little behind on pushing some of it right now.”
“What are the names and places of employment of the other store managers involved?”
Melody provided a complete list that satisfied the agent’s request. She also provided the exact times each made their pickup, including Chad. She knew where Alonzo lived but withheld that information as a bargaining chip to “sweeten” the deal at a later date. She was savvy enough to know they wanted the whole spider and not just the legs. She was banking on the thought that Alonzo would be her get out of jail card.
Agent Marston left the doorway and called in Charlie Team. He made some phone calls and within the hour, there would be over 100 federal and local law enforcement officers in the mall. They would canvass the stores and round-up as many suspects as possible.
“Look, I gave you what you wanted. Can I go to the bathroom now?”
Agent Burmeister turned off the tape recorder and said, “All right. I have to clear it first though.”
The agent went into the store bathroom and searched for any weapons or objects that could be used as weapons and allowed Melody to go in.
Melody had just put her hand on the doorknob when members of Charlie Team rushed through the stockroom door. “Who’s got the map of the mall?” asked Agent Marston in an excited voice.
Agent Burmeister watched as Melody closed and locked the bathroom door, then she started to rewind the interview tape and make a label for the tape box.
Melody closed the lid to the toilet, snatched the trash can and set it upside down on the toilet lid. She climbed onto the toilet, put her right hand against the wall to balance herself and lifted her right foot to the top of the trash can. Once she was stable, Melody crouched, lifted her left foot and set it quietly on the sink. When she stood upright, she was high enough to push the white ceiling tile from its aluminum frame and stick her head and shoulders into the open space.
Chad realized his counterfeiting efforts were risky and since most of his illegal activity emanated from his store, he decided it would be prudent to have an escape hatch. He used a food sealer to vacuum pack a change of clothing for himself and Melody. He also stashed some “getaway” cash in between the clothing so it would be hidden from view in case anyone stumbled on it. Alongside of the vacuum packs was an ordinary, black, tras
h bag with two pairs of sunglasses, an empty purse, a hat for Melody and a hat for Chad. He also included a facial hair kit, complete with beard, moustache and wide sideburns.
He had two, knotted ropes suspended from the steel ceiling joists to pull themselves into the ceiling. Chad knew that there was only plasterboard separating all stores in the mall so he cut a hole in the one for his store and then cut an identical hole in the plasterboard to the adjacent store. Once in the ceiling of the store next to his, he put a hook into their stockroom ceiling tile, attached a string to the hook and threw it over the top of another ceiling joist. That way, all they had to do was pull the string, lift the tile and drop into their neighbor’s stockroom. The whole escape process took a little over three minutes.
After Melody stuck her head into the ceiling, she clamped onto the knotted rope, pulled herself into the ceiling and went through the hole to the next store. She turned around, reached back through the hole, retrieved both vacuum packs and the trash bag with the hats. She yanked the string attached to the ceiling tile next door and jumped to their stockroom floor. She figured time was of the essence and if anyone was back there, she would just give them the cash in Chad’s clothing to buy their silence.
Lady Luck must have given her a last kiss on the forehead, because no one was back there and everything was going smoothly. Melody ripped open her vacuum pack, pulled her blouse over head, removed her slacks and slid into a full-length, black dress. She put on the hat, sunglasses and then ripped open Chad’s vacuum pack. She stuffed the cash from both packs into her purse and scattered Chad’s clothes on the floor to make it appear as if there were two people involved. She ran to the door and left the stockroom like she owned the place. She got a few looks from the store staff but no one said or did anything. They would occasionally have customers unwittingly wander into their stockroom so they weren’t really startled or suspicious.
Melody exited the store and headed straight for the hallway leading to the delivery entrance. Melody was outside of the mall within seven minutes of closing the bathroom door in her stockroom and had $10,000 in legitimate currency to continue her escape.
Agent Burmeister rewound her tape, placed it in a box, labeled it and put it in her briefcase. She made a call on her cell phone, all the while keeping an eye on the bathroom door. There was a lot of commotion in Chad’s stockroom, with agents coming and going. After Janel got off her phone, it occurred to her that Melody had been in the bathroom an awfully long time. She went to the door, knocked and said, “Ms. Sanchez, I believe you’ve been in there long enough to take care of anything you needed to take care of. Time to come out.” The agent waited a minute or so and tried the doorknob. It was still locked so she banged on the door and said, “Ms. Sanchez, you’re trying my patience!”
Agent Marston became aware of the banging on the door and offered assistance. He lunged against the door with his shoulder and tried kicking it with his foot. Both efforts were met with failure. He summoned another nearby agent to help him and together they still couldn’t get the door open.
Agent Marston looked at the doorknob, then turned to the agent helping him and said, “See if there’s a key to this door in the office.” There was indeed a key. In fact, there were two keys. One was on Melody’s key chain and the other was on Chad’s.
The agent made a quick search of the office and found nothing. Marston thought about shooting the doorknob open but there were a lot of people running around that could be in harm’s way if there was an errant ricochet. He also didn’t want to risk injuring his star witness. He looked at the expressionless agent next to him and instructed him to run to the car and get the portable battering ram from their car.
Agent Marston received an incoming call as the agent left for the car. He instructed agent Burmeister to stand in front of the bathroom door until the other agent returned. A full ten minutes later, the breathless agent returned with the battering ram and together with agent Marston, they broke the bathroom door and gained entrance.
They expected to find a cowering, frightened assistant manager curled in a corner. As soon as the embarrassed agents put everything together, they issued an all-points bulletin and ordered all forms of public transportation to be stopped and searched.
When Melody left the mall, she thought about getting on a waiting city bus but changed her mind and hitched a ride with a truck driver hauling furniture. He offered to take her anywhere she wanted to go, if she would just do him one little “favor”.
Chad was dining in an exclusive Atlanta restaurant with an investment advisor of questionable scruples and had no idea of the frenzied activity taking place at the mall. He wanted to maneuver his capital gains from the counterfeiting business into real property in the Caribbean and retire there within three years. The man he was preparing to do business with was instrumental in Chad achieving his goal.
Chad swallowed some red wine and said, “I’ve got the money for your ‘commission’ and the deposit on the land. Once I’ve actually seen the land you’ll have the rest. I won’t have the money to start building the house until next spring. I won’t have any problem with the deed, will I?”
“Not a bit. The paperwork will all be legal and in accordance with international law. I’ll just be cutting through a lot of red tape and formalities. You’ll have something in ninety days that would take an ordinary customer a year or longer to obtain. Don’t concern yourself with details. I haven’t failed a client yet and I’m not about to start. All you need to worry about is how big your mansion will be and what kind of view you want for the master bedroom.”
“Excellent!” exclaimed Chad as he raised his wine glass to toast the advisor. The clink of the glasses was punctuated by a buzzing sound coming from Chad’s cell phone.
Chad removed the phone from an inside pocket of his custom-made blue pin stripe suit and noted the number of the caller.
“I’ve got to take this call. I’ll be right back,” said Chad as he rose from the table and headed toward the restaurant entrance.
“Hello,” he said as he went to the parking lot. It was a call from one of the managers working in the mall that was heavily involved in Chad’s counterfeit ring. Any conversation with that manager was best kept private.
“Chad?” asked the caller.
“Of course, Asshole. Who else would be at this number?”
“Man, you better motor on out. The mall is full of feds and locals. Your store looks like a cop beehive.”
“Shit!!” blurted an angry Chad. “Where the hell are you?”
“I was coming back from the bank and saw a blue army swarming into my store. Then I saw another group going into Darrell’s and Yolanda’s store. You sure as shit don’t need to be an Einstein to put it altogether.”
“Thanks, man,” said Chad as he slapped his phone shut and returned it to his suit. He rubbed his chin and tried to determine his best course of action. There was no sense going home. With a full-scale raid going down, they’d be certain to have his house targeted. He had the deposit money for his Caribbean adventure in his trunk and he had an acquaintance in Alabama that would provide shelter. All Chad had to do was get there.
He ran to his car and sped off toward the highway. He was smiling as he drove because he had beaten the authorities once again. He had a passing thought about Melody and believing she had most likely been arrested, said, “Sorry about your luck, baby!”
Chad decided to take a shortcut to the interstate and sped through residential streets. He was barreling over one residential road when he saw a dog limping down the middle of the road. The dog heard the approaching car, turned toward Chad and began to angle out of Chad’s path. Chad put his hand to his mouth, like he had a microphone and said, “Dog, this is the tower. You are cleared for takeoff on runway six!” Seconds later he swerved toward the animal, slammed into it and sent its broken body rocketing through the air. The impact shattered his right front headlight and severely dented his right fender.
&
nbsp; “Houston, we have liftoff!” said Chad as the animal disappeared from sight.
Once he made it to the interstate, he called his friend in Alabama and made meeting arrangements. Chad explained that he would only be there for a couple of weeks and he expected to be back on his feet in no time. He also promised to take very good care of him financially.
Sunset was upon him and darkness rolled progressively over the land slowly, like a water drop sliding down the side of a glass. He turned his headlights on and it occurred to him that he’d be driving with only one light. He didn’t want to chance being stopped for the infraction so he decided to move over to the right lane, get off at the next major exit and attempt to track down a new light. While transitioning, he hit a pothole that was big and deep enough to be a well. The impact knocked his lucky leprechaun from the dashboard to somewhere underneath the passenger seat.
He bent slightly and felt around for it with his right hand. At the same time, an elderly woman returning home from a beauty salon treatment was cruising up the entrance ramp. With Chad’s right front headlight out and her weak night vision, she didn’t see Chad’s car. She hit the gas intending to accelerate and merge with oncoming traffic. Instead, she plowed into Chad’s passenger door. The impact sent Chad’s car careening into two other cars. That collision ultimately caused his car to crash into the concrete barrier separating the eight lanes of highway, flip and land on its side with his roof facing oncoming vehicles. He thought he heard tires screeching and he was correct. Unfortunately for Chad, it was the last time he was going to be correct. The sound he heard was an eighteen-wheeler trying to stop his rig before hammering Chad’s car. It was too little, too late for both of them. The truck impacted on Chad’s car roof and crushed it like an empty soda can. Chad was killed instantly.
Detective Maxwell got wind of the fatality a few hours after it occurred and called Robert Munsford in Florida.
“Hey, Robert. It’s Jack.”
“Hey, man, what’s up?” replied Robert.
I’ve got good news and bad news. First the good news. Our counterfeiter won’t be hassling your client anymore. Fact is, he won’t be hassling anyone ever again. He was involved in a fatal automobile accident a couple of hours ago. It was quite a mess from what I understand. The EMT guys said they had to pick parts of him up with a spoon and spatula!”
“How in the world did they ID him if he was squished? Is there any possibility that he switched bodies?”
“His prints were still liftable. Don’t worry, it’s really Nuxhall.”
“What’s the bad news?” queried Robert.
“Well, if I understood you correctly over the past few days, you had three main bad guys involved in your case. This takes care of number two, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Once your team flushes out number three, your case will be closed and you’ll be out of a job.”
“That’s true but I’ve been thinking about retiring anyway. Even if I don’t the agency has several other cases in the wings.”
“Retirement at your age?!” exclaimed Jack.
“I said retire, Jack. I didn’t say join the geriatric club!”
“I know, buddy. I was just messing with you. I’ve got another call. Don’t forget to look me up when you get back to town,” requested Jack.
“Gotcha’,” replied Robert.
As soon as Robert was off the phone with Jack, he called Marcia, who in turn called Mac to let her know the good news.
Mac had mixed emotions when she heard that Chad was dead. She was pleased that her negative involvement with him was over but she wasn’t happy that he was dead.
“Have you considered calling your former employer and bringing him up to speed on the case? Once he realizes you were an innocent victim of circumstances, he may offer you your job back,” said Marcia.
“My relationship with them is over forever. They might understand, but they’ll never forgive.”
Marcia saw a figure coming into view on one of the outside surveillance cameras and said, “I just spotted Shingo. He’s carrying two, large paper bags. Either he’s taking out the trash or it’s dinnertime.”
Mac laughed and said, “With Shingo’s cooking, is there a difference?”
“I find his food to be quite tasteful,” said Marcia.
“I do too. I was just trying to laugh about something for a change.”
“I hear ya’,” replied Marcia.
Shingo knocked on the van door and presented Marcia with one of the bags. “I brought enough for you and Robert. He’ll be here soon, won’t he?”
Marcia nodded and sniffed the contents. “Wow! This smells great.”
“I made something off the menu for a change. There’s corn on the cob with butter and salt packets. A baked potato with sour cream and chives already mixed in and a pork chop cooked to perfection.”
“How about if I eat both of them and tell Robert you forgot him?” laughed Marcia.
Shingo smiled and said, “If you’re still hungry when you’re done, swing by the Shack and I’ll make you some more.”
“This will be fine, Shingo. I appreciate the gesture though. Is the other bag for Mac?”
“Yes. I hope she hasn’t already made anything.”
“She hasn’t,” replied Marcia.
Shingo took two drinks from the other bag and gave them to Marcia. He adjusted the remaining contents, turned toward Mac’s and said, “Enjoy!”
Marcia removed the paper plate and plastic dinnerware from her bag and was laying the food out when she heard a voice on her headset.
“Raven One to base,” said Mario.
“Base, go ahead,” Marcia replied.
“Initiating final sweep of target area. Will continue fifteen minute check-in intervals unless engaged.”
“Copy, Raven One,” she replied.
Dennis and Mario were approaching the section of terrain they believed Curtis was actually hiding. If they didn’t find him there, then one of the two men would stay in that area and maintain it, so that Curtis wouldn’t be able to penetrate it later. Securing the perimeter around Mac’s house and eliminating the only practical sniper position would force Curtis into the open and make it much easier for the team to apprehend him.
Dennis was moving east and Mario was maneuvering to the west when Dennis spotted a slight, unnatural movement in some brush. He made a clicking sound with his tongue into the headset and alerted Mario. They had established a sound code prior to setting out on their search, so they could direct each other’s movements without having to speak and jeopardize their location.
Mario stopped and awaited the next signal. Dennis made a few more sounds and Mario began moving slowly in a southerly direction.
Dennis brought his binoculars up and scanned the area. He saw a man resting in a prone position about twenty feet in front of him. He figured Mario would be coming into view anytime and waited. Dennis looked to the south and could see the surveillance van parked in front of Mac’s house. Curtis was almost exactly where the team predicted he would be.
Dennis heard a clicking sound in his headset and swung his head to his left. He brought his binoculars back up and located Mario. They both had Curtis in their field of view and began closing the noose around him.
Dennis and Mario were so stealthy that Curtis didn’t realize they were there until they were literally on top of him. He struggled to get free but he was no match for the two men. Curtis earned a broken nose and some bruises for his efforts but nothing else.
Curtis was brought to his feet by the pair and said, “You guys won’t get much from robbing me. I only have a few bucks in my wallet and no credit cards. It’s hardly worth your effort.”
“You know we aren’t here to rip you off,” said Mario as he collected Curtis’ rifle, hunting knife and other paraphernalia.
Dennis handcuffed Curtis’ hands behind his back and said, “We’re placing you under citizen’s arrest.”
“For what!
?” exclaimed Curtis.
“Well, attempted murder, to start with.”
“Bullshit!! You guys can’t prove a thing. When my lawyer gets through with you, you’ll be lucky to be cleaning garbage cans for a living,” boasted a confident Curtis.
Mario held up the rifle and said, “And what were you planning to use this for?”
“I was out hunting,” he replied.
“Wrong answer,” said Mario.
Dennis read Curtis his rights, turned to Mario and said, “Do you have everything?”
“I think so. I marked the spot with the red flag so we can come back if need be.”
Curtis felt blood running from his nose over his lips and asked, “Would one of you guys wipe this shit off of my mouth and nose? I’m having a helluva’ time breathing.”
“Too bad, Asshole.” Dennis yanked Curtis’ arm and said, “Let’s go.”
Mario spoke into his headset and said, “Hey, Marcia. We got the son of a bitch!”
Robert was opening the van door when the announcement came over the radio. Marcia had a mouthful of baked potato and couldn’t respond immediately but held her thumb up to Robert and handed him the headset.
“Raven One, this is base. Say again your last, over.”
“Hey, buddy. It’s Mario. We just bagged Curtis and are headed back to the highway to transport. How about calling the locals so they can prepare his suite at the gray bar café?”
“Damn! Great job, guys. I’ll take care of the call. Everyone okay?”
“Everyone who counts is fine. I think Dennis broke a fingernail in the scuffle!” Mario looked at Dennis, who was looking back with a frown and just smiled.
“Our bad guy in Atlanta is deceased so that puts a wrap on the case. Yet another great resolution for the agency record books.”
“You expected anything less? Hey, how did the dude in Atlanta cash in?” asked Mario.
“He was crushed in a car accident while trying to avoid apprehension,” replied Robert.
Mario smiled and said, “Chad in a can! Catchy phrase and proper ending for the asshole.”
“Marcia and I will shut things down here. I think we can wait until tomorrow to start packing our gear and gathering all the surveillance equipment. Why don’t we meet you guys at the hospital after you transport and we can share the good news with Donna?”
“Good idea,” replied Mario. “When are they going to cut her loose from there?”
“The hospital is going to keep her one more day and then her husband is planning on driving her home.”
“Wish we could have nailed this guy before she got hit,” said Mario in a somber voice.
“I hear ya’,” said Robert.
“All right, man. I’ll give you guys a call just as soon as we trade bracelets with the locals. Raven One out.”
Marcia wiped her mouth with a napkin and started pushing all the buttons and switches on her equipment to the off position. She removed her headset, wrapped the cord around the earpieces, smiled and said, “I’m glad this is over. I was getting blisters on my butt.”
“You want to tell Mac the good news?” asked Robert.
“Let’s both go,” said Marcia as she stepped from the van.
The two walked to Mac’s front door and knocked softly. When Mac opened it and saw the two standing there, she first thought something had happened to Shingo or to another team member.
“Hey guys. I sure didn’t expect to see both of you. Has something happened?”
“We have some good news to share with you,” stated Marcia.
“Well, I’m always in the mood for good news!”
Marcia walked to Mac’s dining room table and shut off all the monitoring equipment. She turned to Mac with a serious face, paused momentarily to build suspense, smiled and said, “They’ve captured Curtis. He was hiding in some brush, almost exactly where we thought he would be. They’re taking him to the local police department for processing.”
“That’s not good news…that’s great news!” exclaimed Mac with a smile. She gave Marcia a hug and simply shook Robert’s hand.
“The feds have tied him into the big counterfeiting scheme and are building a case against him in Atlanta. He won’t be bothering anyone for quite awhile,” added Robert.
Mac suddenly had a sinking feeling. “It’s going to seem empty with you guys and all of this equipment gone.”
Marcia had been on a prior case that required close surveillance for several weeks. The client in that case bonded with Marcia and had a similar emotional response when her case was terminated. Marcia and the client remained in contact for a few months and then went their separate ways. The investigators always have to maintain a certain distance from their client or risk recurring emotional pain. “There’s no reason why we can’t keep in touch,” stated Marcia.
“Yeah, we’ll do that. No need to give you my address and phone number!” mused Mac.
Marcia looked at Robert and the two smiled.
“When are you going to gather all of your gear?” asked Mac.
“First thing in the morning. We’re going to meet the rest of the team at the hospital and visit Donna tonight. Would you like to join us?” asked Robert.
“Yes, I would. I owe her a lot. I actually owe all of you guys more than I can say or ever repay,” said Mac as a single tear formed in the corner of her right eye.
Robert saw the tear and felt the weight of the emotion. He smiled, put his hand on Mac’s shoulder and said, “Really? Just wait until you get the bill! It’ll take the whole team just to carry it in!!”
Mac wiped the tear away with her finger and laughed. She shifted gears and said, “Would you guys like some coffee or something?”
“No thanks. We’re going to put a wrap on things here and head to the hospital. Do you want to ride with us or drive your own car, Mac?” asked Marcia.
“I think I’ll take my car,” said Mac. She thought for a minute and said, “Good grief. I almost forgot. I still have to get a car. I can’t wait to get my rental car bill!”
“All right, Mac. We’ll see you there.” Robert and Marcia smiled and left through the door.
Mac looked at the closed door, then at the silent equipment in her dining room. It was going to be very different from that point on. No job. No more panicky phone calls from frantic managers. No more e-mails begging for more payroll. And no more surveillance. Just peace, quiet and solitude.
Marcia got into Robert’s rental car and closed the door. She looked over at Robert as he slid in behind the steering wheel and said, “It’ll take some adjusting but I think she’ll be fine.”
“I agree,” he replied.
Dennis and Mario were pushing brush to the side and at times, nearly dragging Curtis to their car.
“You know, I think it would have been better if we had only taken one car,” said Dennis.
“And if we had taken one car, we would have needed two and then we’d have been wishing we would have brought both of them,” replied Mario.
“You’re right. I wonder why it always works that way?” responded Dennis.
“Because you’re both idiots, that’s why,” interjected Curtis.
Mario spun around and slapped Curtis’ face with the back of his hand, looked toward Dennis and said, “What do you feel like eating tonight?”
“I saw a steakhouse on the way from the airport. Why don’t we try there?” Mario replied.
“Sounds good. I could go for beef right about now. Are we caravanning our rentals back to Atlanta?” asked Dennis.
“Robert’s going to turn the cars in here and rent an SUV. Two of us will ride in it and two will ride in the surveillance van. It’ll save us a ton on air fare,” stated Mario.
They got to their rentals and loaded Curtis into the back seat of Mario’s car. Dennis looked at Mario and said, “You want to drive?”
“Doesn’t matter. Let’s flip for it,” suggested Mario.
“Okay,” said Dennis as they yanked C
urtis out of the back seat. Dennis unlocked one wrist from the handcuffs so that Curtis’ arms hung free.
“Is this where I try to escape and get shot?” said Curtis flippantly.
Dennis pushed Curtis to the ground and grabbed his right wrist and ankle. Mario grabbed the left wrist and ankle. They lifted Curtis from the ground and started swinging him back and forth. Dennis looked at Mario and said, “On three. Remember to call it in the air!”
“One, two, three!” counted Dennis. They let Curtis go and watched as he somersaulted through the air. “Heads,” shouted Mario.
Curtis cleared the tops of some infant pine trees and landed on his butt. “Damn!” exclaimed Mario. “It’s tails! You win. Why do I always lose?”
The two walked over, fastened Curtis’ handcuffs again and brought him back to the car. Mario pushed Curtis into the back seat and stepped aside to let Dennis get in back with him.
Dennis handed Mario his pistol, combat knife and handcuff keys and got in next to Curtis. He tied a piece of rope around Curtis’ arm and tugged. Curtis wasn’t going anywhere.
“What’s the big deal about who drives?” asked Curtis.
“This is a regular car so one of us has to ride in back with you to make sure you don’t try to escape while we’re driving. If you make one false move, I get to beat the crap out of you. The one in back has all the fun.”
“Won’t be much fun if I puke all over you!” said Curtis with a smile.
Dennis laughed and said, “Wanna’ bet?”
Mario loaded the trunk with their gear, their evidence and gave one last look around. Satisfied that he had loaded everything, he got in and started the car. He backed the car up and turned it around, driving slowly back to the highway. He looked ahead and saw several civilian cars parked on the shoulder of the road. He stopped the car, clicked the safety off of his pistol and set it in his lap. Without turning he said, “We have company ahead.”
Mario edged their car closer to the highway and saw men swarming everywhere.
Three men appeared in his rearview mirror and were pointing automatic rifles at them. Seconds later, the entire car was surrounded by men dressed in various civilian garb and each was brandishing automatic rifles. Mario threw his pistol to the floorboard and exclaimed, “This ain’t the Little Big Horn and I’m sure as hell not Custer!”
A burly man dressed in a sport shirt, black slacks and a windbreaker approached Mario’s window. He lit a cigar, took a few puffs and said, “Evening, gentlemen.”
Mario nodded but remained silent.
“You’re hard working, honest and intelligent men. I’m sure you’re looking forward to a nice dinner, warm shower and uneventful trip home to your families. Am I right?” asked the stranger.
Mario nodded and said, “Yes, all of that sounds really good.”
“Then all I need to make that happen is three things. The first thing I need is your ignition key and the ignition key to the other car parked over there,” said the man, pointing with his eyes.
Mario turned the car off, handed him the ignition key, fished in his pocket, retrieved the other key and handed it to the man as well.
“The second thing I need is your cell phones. I know that you have one in your pocket and your friend has one in the trunk.” The burly man tossed the car keys to a man standing next to him and nodded. The man ran to the trunk, searched through everything and removed the other cell phone. He also removed all the weapons he could find.
Mario handed the man his cell phone. The stranger took the phone and gestured toward Mario’s pistol.
“You don’t see any need for that, do you?”
Mario shook his head, bent over and picked it up gingerly with his thumb and index finger. He stuck it out the window and another man ran up and snatched it quickly.
“That just leaves us with the third and final thing and this will all be over.” The stranger raised his hand and three of the men surrounding the car ran forward, opened the back door and yanked Curtis out. They dragged him kicking and cursing to another car on the highway. The three men got inside that car and sped off with Curtis.
“The only reason you guys are still alive is because of that man sitting in the back seat. I’ll extend a courtesy to you that I ordinarily wouldn’t waste my time on and explain why you lost your prisoner. Curtis made a few transactions with me that involved considerable dollars. Unfortunately for him, the money he used to conclude those transactions was counterfeit. That, obviously, is unacceptable.” The burly stranger looked at Dennis in the back seat and said, “We are even.”
The man began walking away at a brisk pace. As he did, he raised his hand over his head and waved it in a circular motion. All of his men lowered their weapons, returned to their waiting vehicles and sped off.
“That was weird!” said Mario as he sighed deeply. “I didn’t think we were going to walk away from this one. What did he mean when he said we’re alive because of you?”
“Beats the hell out of me but I’m glad I did whatever I did.”
What Dennis didn’t know, what he couldn’t know, was that he was being repaid for an act of kindness and heroism stemming from a case that he was on four years earlier.
Dennis was conducting surveillance on a man suspected of insurance fraud. The man supposedly injured his back and was no longer able to work. He was suing his former employer and collecting thousands from his insurance company. The former employer hired the agency to investigate and Dennis was assigned to the case.
One summer day, Dennis was videotaping the man coming and going from his house. The man just parked his pickup truck in his driveway and was about to unload a new dishwasher, when a woman came tearing down the street screaming. Her hair was disheveled and looked like she had just finished a round of tag-team wrestling. Her white blouse was torn, the pieces being held firmly to her chest by fresh blood gushing from open wounds. Her skirt had blood splatters that ran to her legs and bare feet. A short distance behind the woman was a raging man with a bloody butcher knife. He was shouting obscenities at her and ordering her to stop.
Dennis saw a woman walking a dog and thought the woman might help. Instead, she stooped down, picked up the dog and ran in the opposite direction. A man watering his front yard dropped the hose and ran inside his house. Another man washing his car ran into his garage and slammed the garage door.
Dennis cursed and jumped from the van. In the process, his foot caught a leg on the tripod being used to videotape his suspect and it fell over. He glanced at the disabled camera, then at the man unloading the dishwasher and ran to the woman’s aid. He tackled her assailant and after a brief struggle, was finally able to subdue and handcuff him to a chain hanging from a fire hydrant.
He sustained a couple of bruises and a cut to his foreman but was otherwise okay. The woman wasn’t as lucky. She collapsed a few feet down the road and was bleeding profusely from multiple stab wounds and lacerations from the butcher knife. Two of the cuts were actually life-threatening. Dennis stopped the bleeding and rather than wait for an ambulance, he rushed her to the hospital in the surveillance van.
The woman was rushed into surgery and was officially dead twice, before they were able to stabilize her. She eventually recovered fully and testified against her jealous husband in court. Seems the husband thought she was cheating, got into an argument with her and totally lost control. His temper earned him enough points to get ten years of free room and board at the gray bar motel. The woman was the burly man’s younger sister.
“I’m really pissed about losing my gun,” said Mario. “I just had those new custom grips put on. They weren’t even broken in yet.”
The two got out of the car and looked up and down the highway. Dennis felt his pocket and said, “Damn!”
“What now?” asked Mario.
“I feel naked without my cell phone. Five years ago, I never thought I’d own one. Now I feel lost without it!”
Mario shook his head and said, “We won’t get
anywhere just standing here.”
“Why don’t we cut back through the brush, go to Mac’s house and call the team. It’s not that far a walk,” suggested Dennis.
Mario agreed and they started walking. “You know what sucks?” asked Mario.
“What?” replied Dennis.
“We declined insurance and towing on the rentals. They’re either going to be towed or we’ll have to break into them and hot-wire them. No matter what we do, it’s going to cost some change,” stated Mario.
“Well, maybe the cigar man will bring us our keys back,” said Dennis.
“Shit, I hope not!” laughed Mario.
They laughed and exchanged small talk along the way and reached the clearing in time to see Mac getting into her car and driving off.
“If you would’ve walked faster, we could have caught up with her before she left,” said Mario.
“Me? I was slowing down to keep pace with you!” replied Dennis.
“Let’s try the restaurant on the pier. It’s sure to have a phone,” said Mario.
When they reached the Cuda Shack, the smell stimulated their empty stomachs. “Hell, we might as well eat since we’re here,” stated Mario.
“Might as well. I’ll give Robert a call and explain what happened. He’s in charge of the rentals anyway. Order me a burger with the works, would ya’?” requested Dennis.
Dennis walked to the pay phone by the restrooms, felt around in his pockets and soon realized he had no change. He reached for his wallet and remembered it was still locked in the trunk with the rest of their personal belongings.
“Hey, Mario“, shouted Dennis. “I need some change!”
Mario nodded, went to the counter and asked Shingo if he could get change for the pay phone.
“No problem,” replied Shingo as he extended his open palm to receive Mario’s money.
Mario repeated Dennis’ actions and he too realized what Dennis did.
“We seem to be out of funds at the moment. Is there any way you could advance us enough change to make a local call?” asked Mario.
“No,” said Shingo. “Just use my phone over on that wall.”
“Thanks, mister.” Mario waved for Dennis to come back and said, “This gentleman said we could use his phone. It’s over there.”
Dennis followed Mario’s eyes to the phone and when he reached it, he said, “Damn. I can’t think of Robert’s or Marcia’s cell numbers. I’m used to scrolling down my menu and hitting enter. Do you have any idea what they are?”
Mario thought for a minute and shook his head. “Now what?”
Shingo recognized Robert and Marcia’s names and asked, “Are you guys with the detective agency that’s working the Mackenzie Mason case?”
“Yes, we are. We’ve, uh, become separated from our transportation and need to contact either Robert Munsford or Marcia Labonte.”
“Why not just walk down to the surveillance van in front of Mac’s house. One of the two should be there,” said Shingo.
“Not anymore. That’s the problem. Everyone, including Ms. Mason, is meeting at the hospital to visit with one of our wounded teammates,” stated Mario.
“Everyone? Who’s watching Mac’s house?” asked Shingo in a worried voice.
“No one. The case is closed. We rounded up the last of the bad guys tonight.”
Shingo smiled wide, like he was in a smiling contest and then stopped abruptly. “Let me call Mac first and verify it,” he said suspiciously. Those two guys could have been the assassins for all Shingo knew.
Shingo stayed at the counter and decided to use the old push button phone next to the potato chip rack. He put his left hand on the handle of a baseball bat under the cash register and dialed Mac’s cell phone with the right one. Within two rings, he heard a soft, familiar, “Hello.”
Shingo switched hands on the baseball bat and tightened his grip. “Hey, Mac. It’s Shingo. There are two guys standing in front of me that say they’re with your detective agency and that your case is closed.”
“They’re correct, Shingo. It’s probably Dennis and Mario. I don’t know what they’re doing there already. They’re supposed to be on their way to the jail with a prisoner.”
Shingo removed his hand from the bat and recalled the one guy calling the other guy Mario. “That’s fantastic, Mac!! You have no idea how happy that news makes me feel!! That’s cause for celebration!!” He looked at the two men standing in front of him and said, “Hold on just a second, Mac.”
Shingo put the phone to his chest, looked at Mario and said, “I assume your name is Mario.” Mario nodded and then Shingo looked at the man standing next to him and said, “And your name is?”
“My name is Dennis. I’d show you ID but it’s, uh, misplaced as well.”
Shingo put the phone to his ear again and continued. “Sorry, Mac. Are you on your way to see Donna?”
“Yes. I’m meeting Robert and Marcia there.”
“Well, Dennis and Mario need to get in touch with them,” stated Shingo.
“I’ll ask one of them to call the Shack when I get to the hospital. Is it all right if I come over tomorrow at lunchtime and explain all the details? It’s a very long story.”
“Of course it’s all right!” replied Shingo in an excited voice. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Goodbye, my friend,” said Mac in a relaxed, warm voice.
Shingo hung the phone up and said, “Mac’s meeting your friends at the hospital and will have one of them call here when she sees them.”
“Thanks, mister,” said Dennis.
“My name is Shingo,“ he said as he shook their hands. “I already know your names!“
Shingo rubbed his hands together and said, “I’ll bet you guys are ‘burger men’.”
“Yes, sir, that’s correct. Unfortunately, like I said, we’re strapped for cash right now,” reminded Mario as his stomach growled.
“I’ll put it on your tab. I’m guessing you could each handle two burgers, some fries and a drink. Am I right?”
They both smiled and said yes.
Shingo threw four patties on the grill, served them the drinks they requested and said, “You have no idea how happy I am for Mac. I’ve known her since she was just a kid.”
He flipped the burgers and walked hurriedly to his picture gallery. He removed one of Mac that he took during her first summer there and brought it to Dennis and Mario. “I know you don’t care, but I’m going to share this with you anyway. This is what she looked like when I first met her.”
He handed the photo to Dennis and Mario, who briefly glanced at it and set it on the counter, while Shingo ran to flip the burgers and drain the simmering fries. He was right, they really didn’t care. They could barely remember what she looked like as an adult.
Shingo beamed as he told them of his first meeting with Mac and what a wonderful person she was. Then he fixed the burgers with condiments of their choosing, dumped two mounds of fries on separate plates and served the works to the grateful men.
Shingo sized the two men up and thought about introducing one of them to Mac as a date but then changed his mind. He tried matchmaking with her once before. She went out with the guy that Shingo had selected but it was only to humor Shingo. She had absolutely zero interest in the man.
“Enjoy, gentlemen,” said Shingo as he picked up the photo of Mac. “If you need anything, just ask.”
As he was returning the photo to the wall, he heard a whispering voice say, “Tell her goodbye.”
Shingo slammed on the brakes and was so startled, he nearly dropped the photo. He looked at it and then the area immediately around him. He collected himself and put the picture back in its original position. He looked at Dennis and Mario and when he was certain they weren’t looking, he said, “Tell who goodbye? Do you mean I should tell Mac goodbye?”
He was answered with silence and the solitude of his own thoughts. “Is something going to happen to me? Is that why I need to say goodbye?”
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“Hey, Shingo. When you get a chance, would you mind getting me some more water?”asked Mario.
Shingo looked at Mac’s picture and without turning replied, “Yeah…sure thing…I’ll be right there.”
“No hurry,” said Mario.
“Is something going to happen to Mac?”
Shingo returned to the counter answerless and filled Mario’s glass. “Did you want some more ice tea?” he asked Dennis.
“That would be great. Thanks.”
Shingo filled Dennis’ glass and said, “Is there any chance someone else could be out there trying to hurt Mac?”
“I guess anything’s possible, although our intelligence doesn’t indicate any further threat. Why do you ask?” said Dennis.
“Just a feeling. Could you have missed something or someone?”
“All of our suspects have been accounted for. You can check with Robert or Marcia when they call. They have more details of the case than we do. Besides, if they thought a serious threat was still present, they wouldn’t have terminated surveillance. I wouldn’t worry.”
“I suppose you’re right,” said Shingo as he started analyzing the whisper he had heard.
What if the investigators missed someone? Mac was in the open once again and with the team leaving the next day, she would be a simple target.
What if the comment was directed at him and he was about to meet his end? Maybe someone associated with the case would seek revenge and not only target Mac but himself and Naomi as well.
Shingo walked to his front door and looked up at the sky. It was like in the movies when the bad guy walks up to his intended victim and says, “Say goodbye, sucker!!” The comment was meant for him. Otherwise, why was he told to say goodbye. Maybe he was going to meet his end and it had nothing to do with the case at all. Maybe it was just his time to go and some friendly ghost wanted to warn him.
Shingo was going back and forth with the comment and was about to ask Dennis and Mario what their opinion was, when Shingo’s phone rang.
When he answered it, he heard Marcia’s voice. He handed the phone to Mario when he noticed that Dennis had a mouthful of food. “Tell her I want to talk to her when you’re done,” said Shingo softly.
Mario nodded, took the phone and explained what happened with Curtis. Shingo couldn’t help but hear and his concern for Mac’s welfare escalated. Curtis was still out there somewhere and as such, could still be considered a threat.
Mario finished the conversation with Marcia and handed the phone to Shingo. “Hey, Marcia, it’s Shingo. I just have a couple of quick questions and I’ll let you go. Is there any possibility that Curtis or another associate of his could still pose a threat to Mac’s safety?”
“I doubt very seriously if Curtis is still alive, Shingo. I’m nearly positive his body will show up in a day or so. The guys that kidnapped him want to make an example of him and they need his body to be found in order for that to happen. Even if his corpse doesn’t show up, he’s a dead man and won’t be a threat to anyone ever again,” said Marcia.
“What about friends seeking revenge?” asked Shingo in a concerned voice.
“People like Curtis rarely have any friends. He had one business associate that he socialized with and that associate is dead. His counterfeit ring has been dismantled and most members involved in a major way have been apprehended. There are some ‘bit players’ still out there but they’re hiding under rocks right now and trying to be invisible,” she said.
Shingo turned his back to Dennis and Mario and moved as far away from the counter as the phone cord would allow and then whispered, “The ghost spoke to me a few minutes ago. Don’t tell Mac but it told me to say goodbye to her. Now do you understand my concern?”
“Yes, I do, Shingo. Your apprehension is justified but I’m at a loss for advice. All I can tell you is that we have no intelligence that warrants our continued presence here. The voice could have meant something entirely different or nothing at all. So far it’s just been a frustrating nuisance…like now!” she exclaimed.
“You’re probably right,” said Shingo. “Would you mind putting Mac on before you hang up?”
“Sure thing. Everything will work out okay, Shingo. Take care of yourself. Here’s Mac.”
“Hey, Shingo. What’s up?” asked Mac.
“I was wondering if you were planning on dining here tonight.”
“I’ll skip tonight, Shingo. We’re all going to a steakhouse they saw on the way in from the airport. I think they’re talking about the Wine Garden.”
“Well, please be careful,” requested Shingo in a compassionate voice.
“I will.”
“Goodbye, Mac,” said Shingo.
“Goodbye, Shingo. See you tomorrow,” Mac replied.
Shingo hung up and thought, I hope so. And by the way, Mac…I love you.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ATLANTA -