***
Boyd asked a damn good question. One for which I did not have a good answer. It was my opinion Shelley and her brother were guilty of faking a kidnapping, collecting a three-million ransom, and then killing an innocent woman to make it appear the kidnappers had killed their hostage. I believed Evan Baxter asked Bill Lewis and John Wood from Oklahoma City for assistance in their diabolical scheme, then killed them when they were no longer necessary.
From everything I’d learned about Shelley Baxter, she was a genius. An engineering degree and law degree by 21. Top of her class in both pursuits. Practically aced her bar exam without even studying according to Mansfield.
And if Mansfield was right about her, then Shelley Baxter was also a planner who thought of everything. She manipulated her husband into assaulting her so she could use the domestic abuse charges against him once she kidnapped herself. She figured out how to launder three million dollars so there was no trace. She came up with a nearly perfect alias. Her only mistake, if you could call it that, was buying a BMW 7 Series from a dealership. If she was so smart, if she planned everything so thoroughly, why would she have felt the need to cut off her ring finger?
“L.T., care to share what you’re thinking there, bud?” Boyd asked.
“Baxter had Stephanie Woodson, a body double so convincing it fooled even her husband. Why not use Woodson’s ring finger when they left the first note at Mansfield’s house?”
Jessica and I looked at Boyd.
He responded defensively. “Don’t look at me. Shelley Baxter was missing her ring finger. I naturally assumed it was because the kidnappers cut it off as reported by the newspapers. And I believed Mansfield was behind the kidnapping. Part of me still feels that way.”
“What about DNA testing?” Jessica interjected. “Shouldn’t the FBI have been able to tell the DNA from the finger didn’t match the DNA from the body they found?”
“Not if they were too stupid at the time to test it?” said a female voice from behind us. All three of us whipped our heads around to see Special Agent Marshall standing a few feet away. She was dressed like an FBI Special Agent in a ladies’ pantsuit with her badge affixed to her belt.
“Don’t stop on my account. Dr. McCain, Jessica, good to see you again. Thank you for having Lt. Giggs contact me.” She extended her hand toward Boyd. “Special Agent Ann Marshall of the FBI. Boyd Dallas, I presume.”
“I am,” Boyd replied as he extended his hand to greet Marshall.
Marshall leaned in, grabbed Boyd’s hand in a firm handshake, and then unexpectedly and expertly brought her left hand down to handcuff Boyd’s wrist. “Glad to know I’ve got the right man. Boyd Dallas, you are under arrest. The full detail of the charges will be explained once we get you to back to headquarters.”
I started to protest, but a quick wink from Marshall stopped me before I got started. Boyd seemed to take the arrest well. He nodded in admiration as if he were impressed by her move.
“Wait a minute. What the hell?” Jessica loudly proclaimed before I cut her off with a firm glare.
Marshall motioned for Boyd to turn around so she could handcuff his hands behind him. “Furthermore,” Marshall continued in a loud, formal voice, “Dr. and Mrs. McCain, you and your friend over there are to meet us at the J. Edgar Hoover building for our wave of questioning once you have finished with Lt. Giggs.”
The lieutenant walked up to us as Marshall said her name.
“I think she has a few more questions for you, and you need to do something about your damaged rental cars. Thank you and see you soon.”
We expressed our desire to cooperate with the FBI and Lt. Giggs before watching Special Agent Marshall lead our friend away in handcuffs.
Lt. Giggs also watched Special Agent Marshall lead Boyd away. She did not look pleased. “I’m not sure you did your friend any favors calling the FBI, Dr. McCain. She seemed like one very upset Special Agent when I talked to her.”
Boyd left with Special Agent Marshall, which seemed like a good thing considering how badly the local police force wanted to arrest someone. However, I couldn’t suppress the nagging notion that Boyd was out of the frying pan and into the fire. Marshall was crafty. She was going to have unfettered access to Boyd and what he knew about Shelley Baxter. I hoped Boyd was careful with the information he volunteered.
With Boyd arrested, Lt. Giggs turned her attention back to us, forcing us to repeat the story once again. This time, Lt. Giggs took copious notes. She realized she couldn’t officially charge us with anything, but made it clear she felt it was our actions that caused all the mayhem in the first place. She firmly informed us we should have called our FBI friends for help. Jessica, LeClair, and I took the scolding and did our best trying to look sincerely contrite. I wasn’t sure we pulled it off.
After the police finished with us, we walked back to the Wienerschnitzel parking lot. Virgil had left long ago, leaving us a note on our rental car to meet him at the hotel. I stopped and looked at LeClair. “You okay, my friend?”
LeClair smiled. “The crazy bastard that tried to run us over, if you catch him, I’d like to have a go at him. Other than that, I’m fine. Dealin’ with the police was the most painful part.”
“And you, Jessica. I walked over to my wife and hugged her. “You sure you’re okay. No whiplash or anything?”
“At the moment, I feel fine. I had a friend who was in a car accident while in college. She said she didn’t hurt until the next day. She ended up seeing a chiropractor for three months by the time it was over.”
“Car crash, Jessica. Most crashes are caused by negligent behavior and are not accidents. Well, except this one, which was purposeful. And I’ll be damned if I let you see a chiropractor. Geez.”
CHAPTER 31
Jessica and I drove to the J. Edgar Hoover building on Pennsylvania Avenue in D.C. after dumping LeClair off at the hotel. Larry questioned us for a little less than an hour before sending us on our way. We did not see Marshall or Boyd during that time, which caused my uneasy feelings concerning Marshall to return. When pressed for details, even Larry was tight-lipped about Boyd’s status.
Larry called our hotel room near midnight to inform us they were finished interrogating Boyd...for now.
“Does that mean you are releasing Boyd?” I asked.
“No. It means we’re tired. Don’t worry, L.T. We haven’t filed any charges against him, and it doesn’t look like we’re going to at this time.
“You guys have had him for over 12 hours. That’s a lot of questioning for no charges.”
“You know how it is. It seems everyone here wants a whack at him, especially any of the agents that worked on the Baxter kidnapping case seven years ago.”
“Meaning he’s had to answer the same questions over and over and over and over. How’s Boyd holding up?”
“Pretty damn good, actually. As you said, we have grilled the hell out of him, making him repeat his story looking for any holes. He told us everything, including what happened in Wisconsin. It sounds like self-defense to us, but that doesn’t mean the authorities in Wisconsin have to listen to us. They can file their own charges. Go to sleep, L.T. Maybe you can talk to Boyd tomorrow.”
Sunday morning was nearly over before I woke up from a much-needed rest. The hotel room was empty except for a note from Jessica informing me she didn’t have the heart to wake me and that she was in the restaurant talking with Special Agent Marshall. I quickly cleaned up, dressed, and walked down to the hotel restaurant to find Marshall and Jessica talking over coffee. From a distance, they looked cordial, like two friends getting together for a Sunday brunch. As if someone like Marshall could ever be our friend. She was no Shelley Baxter. She didn’t go around using people then killing them when she was done with them; however, she was still an opportunistic pain in the ass.
“Hello, ladies.” I wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries with Marshall, but did my best to fake a warm smile as I approached the table.
�
�Hey, sleepyhead. Ann was telling me there’s some arguing about whether Boyd is to be released today or if the U.S. Marshall Service is transporting him to Wisconsin.”
Marshall said, “Eleven hours of sleep, and you still look tired.”
I waved my hand dismissively. “You’ve been talking to my wife.”
“She’s worried about you. By the way, your friend was cool as a cucumber yesterday. He never rattled once.”
“Telling the truth gives a man the peace of mind he needs.”
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you, McCain, but it’s not up to me. Special Agent Armour called Sheriff Jessup in Wisconsin. The Sheriff and the District Attorney in that county are arguing about filing charges. Either way, they want Boyd there ASAP for questioning. Armour is calling the D.A. early tomorrow. We tried to get him to talk to us today, but the Sheriff stated the District Attorney wasn’t willing to talk to us on a Sunday. Don’t worry, though, your friend Larry is quite the dynamo, and he knows how to schmooze. He’ll have his own field office one day.”
Marshall was right about Larry. Last year, Jessica, Boyd, and I caused quite a ruckus. All told, Boyd killed four men, Jessica killed one man, and I killed one, although it could be argued I killed two since I caused an assailant to shoot one of his colleagues in the head. Personally, I refused to take responsibility for that one; I didn’t pull the trigger. Also, four more men were killed by an FBI Special Agent in a gun battle in front of my apartment. Larry was there for us all the way, defending our actions, directing the investigation towards those responsible. He had been a wonderful ally, and I had no doubt he could, and would, be again.
Marshall stood up to leave.
“You taking off?” I asked.
“I’ll let you and your wonderful wife have a nice Sunday brunch without a pesky FBI agent tagging along. By the way, Dr. McCain, congratulations, you got your boy back, which was your goal all along. Although if Boyd is telling us all the truth, we had less to worry about than we previously thought.”
“You mean if we believe he was only in D.C. to gather intel on Mansfield instead of coming here to kill him?”
“Exactly. And for the record, I believe Boyd is telling us the truth.”
“Thanks for that, Marshall. I believe he’s telling the truth as well. So what’s next?”
“Special Agent Armour and I have started our search for the Baxters. In the meantime, I’m heading over to see Mansfield in a couple of hours. I’ll tell him you said hello,” Marshall said with a chuckle. “Maybe I’ll drop by and see you guys back in Memphis once we wrap this up. Jessica, it’s been a pleasure...finally. L.T., thank you for brightening up my life the last couple of weeks.”
She smiled, or more accurately smirked, and left. I wasn’t sorry to see her leave.
“Were you snarky enough to Ann?” Jessica scolded as soon as Agent Marshall was out of earshot.
“So, it’s Ann now, not Marshall?”
“Yes, she did tell us that’s what she preferred. Is that a problem?”
“I don’t like her.”
“You still getting an uneasy feeling about her?”
“Yes, I am. Did you notice that she never really helped us? Sure, she got us some good seats on a plane to D.C. from Chicago, but that’s about it. Oh, wait, she arrested Boyd.”
“We both knew that was probably going to happen.”
“Sure, but after she hauled him away, she never once met with us. Not a word from her yesterday. She wanted our help. She wanted to be part of our team, but she left us in the dark. Two minutes. That’s all it would have taken. Two minutes to pop her head in or call us and let us know everything was going fine.”
“I got the impression she went to bat for Boyd.”
“Where did you get that impression? From Marshall herself?”
“Yes. That doesn’t mean I think she was insincere. Besides, she did more than get us plane tickets from Chicago. She discovered that the body the feds found seven years ago belonged to Stephanie Woodson.”
“Big deal. We already knew that Shelley Baxter was alive, so all Marshall did was prove what we already suspected.”
“How about the help with the phone records?” Jessica asked.
“Larry dug that up. Agent Marshall had to give us the information. If she didn’t, then, well...”
“Well what, Legend? You seem like you are beating around the bush about something here. What is it?”
“Jessica, have you considered the idea that Agent Marshall is not on our side on this one? Think about it. Who found the cargo van? You did while she ran off to investigate Stephanie Woodson. Who asked me to investigate some guys in Oklahoma?”
“You know Marshall needed to get evidence. Proving that Stephanie Woodson was killed as a fill-in for Baxter only helps Boyd’s case in the end. The same as finding out that Evan Baxter knew the two dead men from Oklahoma.”
“Or maybe,” I said, “Marshall just wanted me out of the way for a while. And maybe she never thought you’d be able to find Boyd on your own. Or she did think you’d be able to find him, which is why Shelley Baxter moved the van to begin with.”
“Let me get this straight. You think Special Agent Marshall was only pretending to help us when, in fact, she was spying on us for the Baxters?”
Hearing it out of Jessica’s mouth made my theory sound even more ridiculous than it sounded in my head. At least my wife was sensitive enough to my frustration not to laugh. Neither of us wanted another awkward silence like the last time I questioned Marshall’s true intent in helping us, meaning we quickly dropped the subject to talk about traveling back to Chicago to pick up the BMW we left at O’Hare International Airport.
An hour after breakfast, I called Larry to check on any progress he had made in getting Boyd released. Unfortunately, nothing had changed since we last talked.
“Good news,” Larry added, “we finally found a connection between Evan Baxter and the two dead men at the gas station. Financial records indicate Potter and Rigdon frequented the same gun range as Evan. We’re talking over two dozen times on the exact same days.”
“That’s hardly a coincidence,” I said.
“I agree. It’s doubtful they didn’t know each other. It’s all a little confusing, though. Two probable acquaintances of Evan were dead near a meeting site picked by his sister. But Boyd only recalls seeing Pomeroy, the private security consultant the police found dead outside. Do you think the Baxters planned on ambushing Boyd, but Pomeroy got there first, forcing him to have to deal with Potter and Rigdon while he waited for Boyd and Shelley Baxter?”
“That would be my guess. I’m sure forensics will support Boyd’s recollection of the events. This should be enough for you to get Boyd released so he can travel to Wisconsin on his own. You know, without a Marshall Service escort.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Talk to you later, L.T.”
Jessica overheard everything Larry told me over the phone. Halfway through the conversation, her expression changed. She wanted to tell me something.
“What’s up, Jessica?” I asked after hanging up the phone.
“I think we’ve been looking at this all wrong. Days ago, you joked about Evan Baxter’s role in the kidnapping.”
“I wasn’t joking. There is something about Evan that I’m missing, but...”
“But, you miss your inner voice.”
“Yes, I do. I’ve got no one to brainstorm with.”
“Legend McCain, don’t make me kick your butt. Maybe I’m not as quick as your little voice, maybe it’s better company, but you’ve got me. Just say everything you are thinking out loud. Maybe the two of us can make sense of things.”
I stepped toward Jessica, grabbed her, and passionately kissed her. “Thank you. It’s worth a try.”
“You’re my husband, for better, for worse. Besides, if there was still a little voice in your head, our marriage might be polygamous.”
More of Jessica’s levity at just the right time.
I sai
d, “Evan Baxter is into guns. I didn’t see that one coming. All along, I thought of him as a supportive, caring brother sharing a common lie to protect his sister. Nothing more.”
“But now you are thinking about the way he examined his surroundings when he exited the hotel in Dubuque. How he evaded you. The aggressive manner he displayed yesterday protecting his sister.”
“Exactly. Now he seems to be more than a good-looking bar owner who likes to flirt with girls. He tried to run me over. Twice.”
Jessica was quiet for nearly a minute before speaking again. “You might think I’m crazy, but what if Shelley wasn’t using Boyd to gather information on Mansfield to use against him? What if she was using Boyd for reconnaissance?”
“And Boyd only thought he was on an intelligence-gathering mission?”
“Exactly. What if for the last seven years, Shelley was content with stealing three million dollars from her husband. Then, when Mansfield tried to kill her a couple of weeks ago, she and Evan decided to take the gloves off and kill him? Since Boyd didn’t even know Evan was in town, maybe they were planning on framing Boyd for Mansfield’s murder once it was all over.”
“None of this explains Baxter’s missing ring finger. Nor does it explain why Mansfield hired Pomeroy to take out Boyd and Baxter.”
“I realize that, Legend. Maybe it was never a long con game. Maybe Shelley Baxter told Boyd the truth about why she fled and adopted an alias. We can figure all that out later. For now, we go with the idea that Evan, not Boyd, is here to kill George Mansfield.”
“Say you’re right, why do we care if the Baxter’s kill Mansfield?”
“For no other reason than we don’t want Boyd fingered as an accomplice to Mansfield’s murder. He has enough on his plate dealing with the dead merc in Wisconsin.”
Deadly Promise Page 37
