by Diane Rapp
Paxton pointed at the evidence bags just collected. “The suspect sat on this stool and left prints on the counter. He also dropped an empty syringe in a bush outside the front door as he carried the victim to a car.”
Sterling narrowed his eyes and surveyed the room. He ordered, “Let’s get those prints downtown and search databases for his identity.” Staring at Paxton and the dog, he added, “Very well. I assume you’ll keep the witness secure until we can put the culprit behind bars.”
Paxton nodded. “It’s my plan. We’re also working to find his accomplice. There are at least two people involved in this scheme, one who provides the muscle and one who gained access to records from the Board of Realtors.”
Sterling’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “How do you surmise those facts?”
Tamara explained, “The kidnapper knew my deceased husband’s name but not the fact he died two years ago. When I joined the board six months ago, I included his name as my spouse in the records, but I didn’t divulge he was also deceased.”
“Therefore, someone accessed your records but didn’t know you personally,” Sterling said, rubbing his chin. “Perhaps information on the other kidnap victims was obtained in the same manner.” He stared at Paxton expectantly, waiting for a reply.
“My team is combing the records from each board for suspects.” Paxton added, “We will compare names of people who had access to records from all four cities.”
“Good! Keep me in the loop, Johnson.” He nodded at Tamara and said, “Sorry for your stressful experience. We’re all working hard to catch the man.”
Tamara stroked Bentley’s head as he leaned against her leg. “Bentley has been trained by experts to keep me safe,” she said. “I trust him.”
He scrutinized the dog once more and mumbled, “Never thought I’d see the day when a poodle would become a guard dog.” He marched toward the door, checking to see if his officers were working hard before he left the house.
Tamara exhaled a pent up breath. “He always seems friendly at realtor meetings, but I get the feeling he’s ready to wring someone’s neck.”
“Yeah, he’s embarrassed that he couldn’t prevent an attack in his city. He was warned and implemented an adequate plan, but it didn’t work.”
Paxton headed back to the car and opened the doors for Tamara and Bentley. Before climbing inside himself, Paxton gazed across the street. “Pardon me a moment,” he called to the neighbor, who was watering plants. “Could we ask you a few questions?”
“Sure.” The man shut off the hose and strolled across the road. He smiled at Bentley, who poked his head through the open car window. “I was wondering when someone would talk with me.” He was dressed in a Jimmy Buffett T-shirt hanging loosely over tight bicycle shorts.
Paxton gestured at a very expensive bike which was parked just inside the man’s garage. Tamara heard their conversation through the open car window. “Did you see anything suspicious earlier today at this house?”
The man shrugged his thin shoulders. “Everything seemed pretty normal, an attractive realtor hammered signs into the grass, and cars stopped along the road. People walked in and out of the house for a few hours.”
“And?” Paxton waited for the juicy information he knew was coming.
“You got me, chum. People don’t normally drive up and park real close to the front door, so I wondered about the two men who arrived in a van. They angled it so the sliding door stayed open next to the front door.”
Paxton wrote notes in a small notebook. “What color was the van?”
“Cranberry or maybe a wine color. I rode in just after my afternoon training session, so I parked my bicycle inside the garage.” He pointed toward his own house. “The sun was in my eyes, but I did notice the large guy had white bandages on his face and right hand.”
Paxton’s heart pounded. “What did the other man look like?”
The neighbor rubbed his curly hair and grinned. “A realtor. The gent dressed in an expensive dark suit and carried an MLS book. He looked like an agent getting ready to show the house, but the guy with him looked wrong for this price range. I doubt he could afford to buy it. This place has been swarming with buyers and we hope the house sells soon.”
Tamara leaned over and asked, “Did you see anything before the two men drove out of the driveway?”
“Yeah, it was very strange. They shut the front door of the house and helped that realtor lady get into their car. She looked pretty sick, walking really wobbly, so I assumed they were helping to get her to a doctor. After all these cops showed up, I guess something bad happened to her.” He glanced sideways nervously at his home. “Are we safe? I don’t want anyone to harm my wife or kids.”
Paxton shut his notebook. “Those men won’t be back, so don’t worry. Please take my card. If you think of anything else to help with the case, give me a call anytime.”
Settling into the driver’s seat, Paxton sighed. “Two men. Phyllis didn’t have a chance to get away this time. We’d better get you back to your aunt’s place.”
Tamara gazed out the window and began to tremble. “How could something like this be happening to us? Santa Barbara has always been such a safe place to live.”
Bentley poked his head between the seats and licked her cheek. Paxton said, “We’ll figure it out, believe me. A scheme involving multiple people in several different cities makes them vulnerable. They can’t cover their tracks for very long.”
“I hope you’re right.” She placed a cool hand on Paxton’s arm with determination in her eyes. “Don’t take me back yet. Let’s return to the Board’s office and look through those files again. If I’m stuck with nothing to do, I’ll just keep remembering the incident.”
He nodded and drove down the road toward the freeway. “Okay, I understand. Work is the best way to keep an imaginative mind at peace,” he said. “It was my mom’s favorite saying when she handed out chores to my sister and me. Moms are usually right.” He decided he should take more time to visit his mother when the case was wrapped up.
Chapter 11—Follow the Money
Paxton stopped at a fast-food restaurant to buy lunch for his crew. The staff applauded as he walked into the conference room carrying burgers and drinks. “I get this reaction all the time,” Paxton said to Tamara.
“I’d applaud too if you brought me lunch,” she replied. Bentley cocked his head as Tamara opened her bag. “I’ve got doggie snacks for you, boy. You don’t need to beg for fries.”
She handed him a bunch of dog cookies and the poodle sat happily on the floor crunching. After the cookies were gone, he stared at the other humans until several hands snuck fries under the table.
Troy swallowed a gulp of coke and said, “We’ve narrowed the short list down to four possibilities.” He shoved files across the table. “All of these names are registered as brokers in all four cities, and they joined the Santa Barbara board this past year. You should take a look.”
Paxton chewed the burger and flipped fries into his mouth as he read the files. Tamara leaned over and examined the files herself. “I remember this guy, Travis Jenkins,” she said. “He stares at pretty women in a predatory fashion, made me feel creepy.”
“Can you show me a few of the listings he has in town?” Paxton asked Shirley.
She typed commands on her laptop and a short list scrolled down the screen. “Either he’s not very interested in signing up listings, or he just represents buyers.”
Paxton said, “Let’s start to…”
The other four workers said in unison, “Follow the money!” They all laughed as he tried to look stern.
“Am I that predictable?” Paxton asked, taking another bite of his burger. He pointed at the stack of files. “Don’t ignore the other three suspects, but I’d like to know all about Travis Jenkins, his business dealings, and where he gets his money. Does he buy property and hold onto it or fix it up to flip?”
Tamara turned pages in her MLS book. “It looks like
he’s been buying and not selling anything.” She pointed at a sold listing in the book. “I had a buyer for this house and Jenkins swooped in to buy it out from under us. It’s a beautiful house with three stories near the Santa Barbara Mission.”
“Really?” Paxton examined the picture. “We should go for a drive this evening, don’t you think?”
Bentley sat up, obviously eager to go for another ride. Tamara said, “He said this evening, Bentley. Not right now. Sit and stay.” She murmured to Paxton, “He has no concept of time, so be careful when you say ‘d-r-i-v-e’ or even if you say the word ‘g-o’ in front of him.”
Bentley cocked his head and whined.
“I thinks he’s learned to spell, Tamara,” Paxton said and laughed as Bentley put his paw on her knee.
Tamara tried to ignore the poodle and kept reading through the other files. “I don’t remember these men, but it doesn’t mean much. We should take time to meet each one and see how Bentley reacts to them.”
Jerry said hopefully, “I’d be happy to drive the little lady and her dog around to each office if you’re too busy.”
“I’d bet you’d be more than happy to drive her in my Datsun 280Z as well, but there’s no room for Bentley in the back,” Paxton said. “I guess I’ll just keep driving Tamara and Bentley myself.”
“The Sacramento office just sent us information about the first three victims,” Jerry said, handing three files to Paxton.
“Charlotte Baxter has been a top selling real estate agent in San Francisco for the past five years. She came from a middle-class family but joined upper crust society when she married Rockwell J. Baxter III eight years ago. He never got over his habit of being a rich playboy, who dated lots of women. She filed for divorce after a private eye she hired delivered photos of Rockwell snuggling up with women at several expensive restaurants. Charlotte passed her full broker’s exam last month, so she can hire agents to work under her.” Paxton looked at the photos in the file and shook his head. “Her husband was crazy. He had a beautiful and intelligent wife, but he couldn’t control his libido.”
Paxton opened the next file. “Bonnie Jamison, who was kidnapped in Sacramento, lives with her brother, Sam. They were raised by a single mother who wanted her children to become professionals. Sam is a stock broker, still single. Bonnie is a new real estate agent and has no connection with Charlotte Baxter. They don’t travel in the same social circles. Bonnie worked various low-level jobs growing up; she was a waitress, a clerk in a department store, and recently cleaned houses. When she passed the test for her real estate license, Bonnie started working for a national chain of real estate brokers. She’s beautiful but never married. People in her office say she always wears a wedding ring to keep men from flirting with her. Bonnie is determined to have a successful career.”
He passed the two files around the table and opened the final one. “Maureen Collins, our third victim was kidnapped from outside Paso Robles. Her husband, Frank, works for a construction company in town. They own a small family farm on the outskirts of town, raising cattle and small livestock. The kidnapper grabbed Maureen as she was setting out open house signs, left her truck along the side of the road with its motor running. People in her office say Maureen was down to earth, worked hard on the farm, and helped the kids in a local 4H group. There is no connection between Maureen and the other two women.”
As Paxton handed the last file to his team, he looked pensive. He finally said, “Tamara’s aunt pointed out a fact that we may not have noticed. These three women resemble famous movies stars of the past. Charlotte resembles Marilyn Monroe, Bonnie is a dead ringer for Natalie Wood, and Maureen looks just like Rita Hayworth.”
Tamara said, “My Aunt Jessica deals with picky collectors all the time. She thinks these women are part of a collection for a rich collector. The creep who tried to kidnap me kept calling me Suzanne. When you compare pictures of Suzanne Pleshette to me, there is a similarity. I wish I’d never had my hair cut short.”
Paxton added, “Phyllis Rodriguez, the woman kidnapped today, also resembles Suzanne Pleshette. She has been a successful real estate agent for three years and her husband currently serves as a Marine. We have found no connection between any of the women kidnapped, other than a striking resemblance to film stars. We may have a human trafficking ring working to assemble a collection of lookalikes for a rich buyer.”
“Here are the addresses of the four brokers.” Paula handed Paxton a printed list of names and office addresses of the suspects. “The team in Sacramento is still doing background checks on the names we have identified, so we should know more this afternoon.”
As Paxton stood, two stray fries fell onto the floor. Bentley gobbled them up efficiently and Tamara frowned at Paxton. “What?” he said. “I didn’t know those fries were on my lap. He’s really good at cleaning up after humans.”
“Yes, much too good. I just hope it won’t disrupt his digestive system,” Tamara added as she followed Paxton out to the car. Bentley happily trotted at her heels, licking salt from his nose. “Do you want me to arrange the best route to visit each office? I always arrange addresses in a systematic order when I show properties.”
Paxton started the engine. “Go for it. I’m not really familiar with all the street names in town, so I’m happy to be guided by a pretty realtor.”
Outwardly, she ignored the comment but secretly felt pleased. “The closest office is on State Street, so turn right just ahead.”
The office was on the second-floor suite in a bank building. Paxton turned into the city parking lot and they entered the lobby together. When a security guard objected about the dog, Paxton flashed his credentials and pointed at the “service dog” label on Bentley’s harness. The guard waved them through to the elevator. Bentley, who did not fear riding in the moving room, sat calmly by Tamara’s side.
“He’s quite a dog,” Paxton murmured.
“The first time we rode in the elevator at Aunt Jessica’s house, he hit the floor and quivered until the door opened. After the experience no elevator fazes him, besides he believes he’s really a human.” Tamara rubbed his ear and grinned into the chocolate eyes gazing adoringly up at her. Soon they all left the elevator. Bentley’s nails clicked on the marble floors as he trotted down the hall.
The office was luxurious with several rooms visible through glass walls from the outside hallway. A lot of money had been spent to decorate the office with original oil paintings and custom furniture. They pushed open the heavy glass doors and walked to the receptionist’s desk. Tamara noticed Bentley lift his nose to inhale new scents, but nothing inside the rooms seemed to attract his attention.
Seated at a glass-topped desk, the receptionist looked bored as she stared at a computer screen. Her jet-black hair was tightly pulled into a high bun, but a strip of purple hair ran from the right side of her thick bangs and continued into the bun. Her long fingernails were painted with a matching purple and were tipped with sparkling white gems. Tamara wondered why such a high-class real estate office employed a girl like her.
The receptionist waited until Paxton displayed his credentials. “We’d like to speak with the owner, Dana Thompson.” The woman’s dark blue eyes grew round, but she nodded, raised the handset on her phone, and pushed a button.
“Ms. Thomson, there is a policeman out here to see you,” she said in a low tone of voice. “Yes, I will.” She glanced up at Paxton and pointed to the glass door of a large corner office. “You can go through that door to reach her office.” She studied Tamara and Bentley for a moment but did not ask questions or object to the dog’s presence.
Paxton swung the door open and held it until Tamara and Bentley were safely inside. A very pale woman with white-blonde hair, cut in a short angular style, sat behind a modern teak desk. “Dana Thompson, Broker” was engraved on an ebony nameplate displayed on the lavish desktop. She appeared to be in her early forties but plastic surgery could accomplish miracles.
Introducing hi
mself and Tamara, Paxton handed the woman a business card and eased himself into a curved teak chair matching the desk. Tamara took her own seat and eyed the photos of celebrities displayed across the shelves of the teak bookcase underneath a wall of windows.
Dana listened as Paxton explained their reason for the interview. Bright red lips curled into a wry smile as she commented, “You obviously thought I was a man. People get confused all the time, since the name Dana can be male or female. As you can see, I’d have no incentive to kidnap women realtors. Our brokerage firm caters to an exclusive clientele. We discreetly seek properties throughout the state and maintain memberships in the boards of all four cities to accommodate our buyers. We plan to open an office in Beverly Hills and La Jolla by the end of the year."
Paxton nodded and jotted notes. “Have you hired male agents to show property for the brokerage firm recently?”
Leaning back in her chair, Dana stroked the creamy leather arm with long red nails. “We hired female support staff at this location but no other agents. We comb through MLS listings, looking for high-end properties, and show property by appointment only.”
“Do you have a partner?” Tamara asked. “I noticed you use the word ‘we’ when you describe the business.”
Casting an annoyed glance in Tamara’s direction, Dana curtly replied, “My husband, Harold, works out of the San Francisco office and our son, Peter, just opened the Paso Robles office. It’s a family enterprise.”
Paxton shook Dana’s hand before walking out of the office at Tamara’s side. She murmured, “The woman doesn’t look old enough to have a grown son. Do we know anything about her family?” Paxton shook his head and texted the question to Paula.
The receptionist stood at a copy machine as they left the office. Paxton smiled but the girl didn’t respond. As they walked toward the elevator, Bentley happily trotted up to the door and waited. Tamara said, “He doesn’t seem worried about anything in the office.”
