by Charley Lynn
“Yeah, I talked to that jerk, too. He pretty much verified that he didn’t check Grandma’s story. It makes me so mad that someone who has so much power to hurt someone else didn’t do their job and check out what they were writing.”
“Me, too, honey. Nora went to John and Margie after she talked to the reporter—they told her what I’d told them about Jean and Mrs. Bakker. She came over last night and we talked for two hours.”
“What is she going to do? I hate the idea that she might write something that would hurt Rosemary again.”
“I don’t think that’ll happen, but I told her you might feel that way. She was going to Pella, to see if she can find people who remember what happened with Mrs. Bakker and Jean. If she finds enough information, she wants to write a piece not only refuting the things that have been said about Rosemary, but about the effects of bullying that can linger for generations. She would like to talk to you, too.”
“I don’t know if I want to do that.”
“Think about it. She’s going to call me Monday; she thought by then she would have a sense about whether she’ll go forward with the idea for the article.”
On Sunday, Mike spent all day doing homework. The group had decided to suspend activity for the day because the modeling agency wasn’t open, although Mark was still monitoring Smith’s cyber movements. Later in the afternoon, he checked his email. John had emailed Archibald Taylor IV about the libel as a cybercrime question.
On Monday, Mike’s assignment was to do his best to find out Tashina’s last name and address. He changed his disguise to Chicago Cubs gear and parked on the bench in the plaza. When the girl walked out in the afternoon, her eyes were glued to her phone. Smith wasn’t with her, but Mike kept an eye out for him. Following Nat’s instructions, he stayed as far away as possible from the girl. She made it easier by being almost completely focused on her phone. She never saw Mike get on the same El train or trail behind her while she walked to a well-kept apartment building in a residential neighborhood. After she checked the mail and went upstairs, Mike tried the door and checked the mailboxes. He took pictures of the names labeling the three empty mailboxes.
Back out on the street, Mike headed to a Starbucks and pulled up the pictures of Tashina. She was a little taller than Rosemary and not as fit, but she was a truly beautiful-looking girl—her eyes were huge and dark brown, rimmed with long, thick black eyelashes. He looked at the pictures of the mailboxes and did a double-take. One of the labels said: “T. Brown”. He thought about the police detective he had spoken to—he had eyes much like Tashina’s.
Mike sipped his coffee and sent a text to Jason. A few minutes later he got a reply. Trayvon Brown was a divorced dad with a fifteen-year old daughter named Tashina. Mike sent off a second text and received an immediate response. Tashina had very large brown eyes with long eyelashes. Mike tossed the rest of his coffee and ran for the El station.
It took him a full two hours to retrieve his car and make his way back to Trey Freed’s office. Bursting into the office, he said, without preamble, “You’re not going to believe this.”
“Get some water, Mike. Take a breath.”
Mike ignored him. “The girl Smith is working on is Trayvon Brown’s fifteen-year old daughter, Tashina.”
“Are you sure?” Trey looked incredulous. Mike explained that he’d followed Tashina, and watched her empty her mailbox before he’d asked Jason about Detective Brown’s family and found out the information. Trey swore.
“Isn’t that a good thing? I mean, not for the girl, but so we can go to Detective Brown?”
“No, not really,” Nat said. “If we go to Detective Brown now, he might overreact by pulling his daughter out of the situation and blowing our cover.”
“Oh.” Mike dropped into a chair. “I didn’t think about that. What are we going to do?”
Nat spoke up. “I think we need reinforcements. If I get a couple of my guys to watch Tashina, I think we could keep moving forward with our plans without tipping off the detective just yet. What do you all think?”
“Let’s talk about that.” Mark reported that Smith was still tracking Rosemary by her phone and she hadn’t moved from the apartment. Smith texted her three or four times daily.
“That’s interesting.” Nat scratched his chin. “According to the security notes, the Taylor family hasn’t been home since Saturday morning. A male staff person of the Taylor family is in the apartment alone. The Taylors found a way to keep Smith away from Rosemary. Unfortunately, now we don’t know where she is, either.”
Mike slumped in his chair. “Let’s trust them, Mike.” Trey thumped him on the shoulder.
Mike nodded. “I’ll try. When is Rosemary supposed to go to Hong Kong?”
“They’re supposed to leave Friday. I saw the e-tickets.” Mark kept tapping keys.
“So, we have three days and four nights before she leaves the country. Is that enough time?”
“I hope so,” Nat said grimly.
Chapter 45
Later that night, Mark sent a group text. Smith had been blowing up Rosemary’s phone for over an hour, demanding a meeting. He accused her of going home and had started threatening her family. Rosemary was trying to placate him, but Smith was getting more threatening. Rosemary finally agreed to meet him at a public place the next morning.
They decided that Nat and his partner would watch at the coffee shop and follow Smith afterwards. Trey and Susie would wait outside and follow Rosemary after the meeting. Mike chafed at not being included, but he knew it was safer for Rosemary if he stayed hidden.
After the call, Mike called his mom. “Nora really wants to talk to you, Mike. She found several people in Pella who were willing to talk about the feud between Jean and Mrs. Bakker. She hopes to talk to everyone, even the two of them.”
“She’s brave. Mrs. Bakker is intimidating,” Mike said.
“I don’t think she could do that kind of work if she wasn’t brave. She gave me her number for you. She’d love to talk to you before the end of the day tomorrow.”
“I’ve been thinking about it, but I’d only talk to her if it was good for Rosemary. I’m not sure how it would.”
“You have to decide that for yourself, but I think it might. Nora understands that you’re reluctant, but she’d like to talk to you.”
“Okay. I’ll probably call her.” Mike said goodnight to his mother and asked her to kiss Miranda for him. Pacing restlessly, he finally sent a text to the journalist.
Mike: Hi, I hope it’s not too late. This is Mike Studor.
Nora: Mike, I’m glad you contacted me. I’m interested in speaking to you about Rosemary and her situation.
Mike: Mom told me. I don’t want anything negative written about Rosemary.
Nora: I understand. I want to present her situation and refute the allegations from the first article. And to talk about the effects of bullying. Short-term and long-term. According to your mom and Rosemary’s parents, she has been bullied by her grandmother and yours, peers and a man she knows from Chicago.
Mike: That’s pretty accurate.
Nora: Could we talk in the morning? Perhaps by video chat? I understand you’re out of state, looking for Rosemary.
Mike: Yeah. Is eight-thirty too early?
Nora: No, that’s perfect. I’ll call you then. Thanks.
Mike: Thanks.
Mike talked to Nora for two hours that morning. Impressed, he answered all her questions. As they wrapped up the call, she complimented him on the way he was handling such a tough situation.
“I can’t just sit and wait. Rosemary is used to handling things on her own; her parents are great, but they’re used to her taking care of herself and they have several other kids.”
Mike looked thoughtful. “I know her mom’s friend is looking out for her, but I’m committed to Rosemary. I don’t want her to think she has to handle everything on her own.”
“You’re a unique guy, Mike.” Nora said.
�
��Not really. I might know a little more about loss than the average eighteen-year old guy, but other than that, I’m just in love with the girl.”
“I think you’re underestimating yourself. This might make you feel a bit better. Do you remember the reporter who wrote the article about Rosemary?”
“Yeah. Rick Hewlett.” His voice was flat.
“Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but Rick is out of a job. Also, it’s rumored that the legal department scurried around all day yesterday.”
“Why?”
“They’re expecting to be hit with a lawsuit about the article, I imagine.”
“Do you know who the lawsuit is from?”
“Nothing known about the plaintiff, but the attorney is a guy from Chicago who is rumored to be a heavy hitter, Archibald Taylor IV.”
“Yes!” Mike punched the air and grinned for the first time in days.
“Do you know Mr. Taylor?”
“I don’t, but Rosemary does. He’s married to her mom’s best friend.”
“Interesting. I didn’t ask any questions, but I’m told the staff attorneys went very green when they heard his name.”
“All I’ve heard is that he’s an international expert in cyber-law,” Mike said.
“Which includes libel when it goes out over the internet.” Nora Singh was no dummy.
Nat was already at Trey’s office when Mike got there; he and his partner had followed Smith back to his apartment. When Trey walked in half an hour later, he was grinning. “Susie and I followed Rosemary back to the Taylor’s apartment building. After a car picked her up, we followed them to Winnetka—to Judge Taylor III’s gated estate.”
“That’s probably the safest place in Chicago,” Mark said.
“Her conversation with Smith wasn’t pleasant,” Nat spoke up. “He practically screamed at her because her hair was in braids, she wasn’t wearing makeup and she had on overalls. He accused her of purposely making herself ‘ugly and unattractive.’ She told him she didn’t care what she looked like and if she was ugly and unattractive it was his fault. I thought for a minute he was going to slap her. He told her she’d better be dressed and made up appropriately when they left for Hong Kong. She was very pale. I don’t know her, but she looked physically ill.”
“She probably doesn’t feel well,” Susie said. “Speaking from experience, it’s demoralizing being under Smith’s thumb. All the more reason to get her out of the situation and home. And get him in jail.”
“Jail…or something.” Nat said quietly.
Trey smiled grimly. “Don’t get my hopes up, bro.” Trey leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “Maybe it’s time to turn up the heat a little on old Armand.”
“Do you have an idea?” Mark asked.
“Maybe.” Trey told them his idea. “It would take some coordination.”
“The guy we saw today is starting to unravel. I think he’s been concentrating on Rosemary for months and her very minimal cooperation is pushing him to the edge,” Nat said.
“I don’t think it’s only Rosemary.” Mark looked up from his laptop. “I’ve been going deep into Smith’s finances. He’s broke. He isn’t working much—he’s been blackballed at every modeling agency in Chicago except JB Modeling. There are letters of complaint in his personnel files at every agency in town about his behavior with the younger models.”
“Maybe he’s unraveling because Rosemary is his ticket out of financial ruin. Since he’s almost unemployable in Chicago,” Trey mused.
Susie sat down next to Mark. They talked quietly for a minute before Susie started to text furiously. Mark hacked into Smith’s cloud account and printed about a dozen pictures. He quietly tucked them into his computer bag.
“Why does JB Modeling still let him work there?” Mike asked.
“His two half-sisters own the agency.” Mark didn’t look up.
“Do the sisters know about what he does?” Mike wondered.
“They would have to know. He’s easily twenty years younger than they are; they’re both childless and single. I suspect he’s spoiled and protected by his sisters,” Trey answered.
“Let’s keep an open mind about turning up the heat on the low-life. If anybody comes up with an idea, just group text tonight. Mike, I’m going to see Trayvon Brown tomorrow, want to go with me?”
“Yeah, I’ll go, Trey,” Mike answered.
Mike was working on homework at Jason’s when the flurry of texts started. Susie, Tina and Susie’s friend Marcie wanted to drop in to JB Modeling’s offices the next day. There were auditions scheduled for child models early in the morning and the three women suggested informing the parents about Armand. They decided to go ahead with the idea.
Detective Brown escorted Mike and Trey to a small conference room. “What did you want to see me about?”
“We’ve been watching Howard Smith the last few days and we’ve discovered something that you should know,” Trey offered.
Mike took out his phone. “I hung out in the plaza outside the modeling agency the other day. I took a picture of Smith walking with a young girl who models for JB Modeling. There’s nothing alarming about the picture, but we were concerned because of Smith’s history. I followed the girl home the next day. You should see the picture.”
When Mike handed over his phone, Detective Brown swore. “What the…? That woman. My ex-wife. I told her no modeling!”
“There’s more, but I can’t tell you how I know.” Trey stared at the detective.
“Does it concern my daughter?”
“It does.”
Brown swore again. “My ex does exactly the opposite of what I want her to do, especially when it comes to Tashina.” He looked at Trey. “Does Smith have pictures of my daughter? Don’t tell me how you know, but does he?”
Trey nodded. “Not nude. Not even semi-nude. But, provocative.”
“Does she look drugged?”
“No, I don’t think so. But some of the props and backgrounds are the same as some we’ve seen of Rosemary and my sister Tina. So, it appears she has been to his private studio.”
“Hang on. I’ll get the guys in here who’ve been working on the Smith case.”
He returned thirty minutes later, shaking his head. “I was sidetracked. We had a nine-one-one call from JB Modeling. About ten very young girls were there with their parents for auditions. Three women showed up carrying pictures of themselves as young girls. All of the pictures showed them in provocative poses. The women told the parents that Armand Francois had drugged them and taken the pictures without their consent. They further claimed that the photographer was still employed by the agency. You can probably imagine that caused a stir.”
“When the photographer showed up, there was a confrontation, first with a couple of fathers and then with the owners. Smith pulled a gun and threatened the staff before he took off. The receptionist who called is willing to file charges but the owners, who are the photographer’s sisters, refuse to file charges.”
Detective Brown excused himself again; he was still trying to reach the detectives who had handled Rosemary’s case. While they waited, there was a group text from Mark. Smith had texted Rosemary that they were going to fly to San Francisco immediately and leave for Hong Kong from San Francisco.
“That’s exactly what we don’t want,” Trey said quietly to Mike, before he began texting furiously.
When Brown returned with two detectives, Trey asked if they had been keeping track of Rosemary.
“As far as we know, she’s at the home of Rosemary Davis Taylor on Wacker Drive.”
“No, she’s not. She’s at the home of Archibald Taylor, III, in Winnetka, Rosemary Taylor’s father-in-law. Smith forced Rosemary to sign a contract for a modeling job in Hong Kong by threatening her family. We just heard he is trying to move up the timeline and leave sometime today for San Francisco and wait there until Friday.”
Detective Brown frowned. “We don’t want him to take her out of Chicago. We also
don’t want Smith to get out of the country.”
“I’ve been told by sources that Smith has hundreds of photos of young girls in various states of undress stored in the cloud. Have you heard that?” Trey asked bluntly.
“We’ve heard something like that. We didn’t have a strong enough reason to ask for a warrant.”
Trey’s eyebrows raised. “Assaulting people, pulling a gun within the city limits? I’m sure that’s just the beginning.” He glanced meaningfully at Detective Brown. “Pictures of your daughter, taken without parental permission, in provocative poses? I would think you could find something there to use as grounds for a warrant.” Trey leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the three detectives. “You do remember that Archibald Taylor III is a federal judge.”
“Ah.” The detectives took out their phones.
An hour later, Detective Brown looked up at Mike. “Would you like to see Rosemary?”
“Yes.”
“You can follow us to Winnetka. The judge is waiting for us at his home. We also spoke to Rosemary Davis Taylor; she told us the whole family, including Miss Bakker, has been staying there. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”
Forty-five minutes later, they were admitted through the gates of the judge’s estate. Trey glanced over at Mike. “This is how the other half lives, huh?” Mike nodded. The estate was beautiful, but he didn’t care.
The judge’s personal secretary escorted them to the judge’s library. The judge, a tall, portly man, was sitting behind his desk. When he reached for Mike’s hand, he smiled. “Son, I know someone who’ll be very glad to see you.”
