“Everything you said makes sense, but if he was in need of money he could’ve just sold the urn. I saw it and it’s nothing I would have in my house as a decoration. If it was beautiful or had a long, symbolic history, then I could understand keeping it for display. But I’m telling you, it is UGLY!” Hector said.
“Do you think we could see it tomorrow? I saw a picture online, but I’d like to get a close-up view of it and see what all the fuss is about.” Marlee hoped Hector would be able to use his cop connections again to gain access to the urn in the evidence locker.
“We can try. Something I’d like to know more about is the company Conrad and Rita owned and how Rita ended up working as a maid for her brother. That whole thing seems fishy.” Hector said before he finished his last beer.
“Let’s go over to Conrad’s tomorrow. With any luck, one of us can talk to him while the other talks to Rita separately,” Marlee said.
Hector pushed back his chair, rose to his feet, and stretched his arms out wide as he did a side twist. “Good plan. Let’s go to bed.”
Putting me in charge is like asking a lumberjack for a manicure. I have no business running this operation.
Chapter 24
“Morning, Sunshine!” Hector shouted as Marlee walked into the kitchen, still clad in her flannel sleep pants and heavy metal concert t-shirt. She grabbed her favorite mug from the dish drainer and poured a cup of the coffee that Hector had made earlier. “How did you sleep?”
“Not very well. Some guy kept pestering me all night long,” Marlee laughed.
“You loved it,” Hector said with a grin and a wink. He pushed two slices of bread down in the toaster and took a plastic jug of orange juice from the refrigerator.
Marlee smiled as she took her first sip of coffee. “Did you go shopping this morning? I don’t usually have bread in the house.”
“Yes I did. I bought scrambled eggs and sausages from the grocery deli, and I’m making the toast myself.” He stepped to the side to show two Styrofoam containers on the counter.
“Homemade toast? Yum!” Marlee joked as she grabbed plates and cutlery and took them to the table. “Thanks for doing this. I’m starving.”
“Me too,” Hector said with a goofy grin. He balanced the juice jug and two glasses in his left hand and carried the Styrofoam containers stacked on top of each other in his right hand.
The crime chart, still on the table from the previous night’s discussion, was pushed to the side as they sat down to eat. The take-out Hector brought consisted of ten link sausages and a heap of scrambled eggs. Within minutes, they consumed it all plus toast.
“I think we should go over to Conrad’s right away this morning. Let’s hit him and Rita with the element of surprise,” Marlee suggested.
“You realize it’s noon, right?” Hector motioned toward the clock in the living room.
“No, I thought it was a bit earlier. Well, I still think we should go over there first. We can split them up and talk to them apart from each other.” Marlee detailed her conversation with Rita, including Rita’s body language when asked about her employment with Conrad. “Something’s going on that’s not being talked about. Abby even seemed puzzled by it, if she was telling the truth, that is.”
“Okay if I use your computer?” Hector walked into Marlee’s spare bedroom that doubled as her office, and pulled the curtain to allow for some light in the room. Without waiting for a reply, he began a search for Tech Solutions. By the time Marlee had showered and dressed, Hector was back at the table with a stack of papers he’d printed from his Internet search.
“Take a look at these.” He slid the papers across to Marlee, not even noticing she was wearing a new dark blue sweater and tight black jeans.
She grabbed the papers and rifled through them. Most were obtained from technology websites, so they made little sense to her. An article about the sale of Tech Solutions, however, caught her eye. The story read, in part, that Conrad Thayer, after having bought out his sister Rita’s portion of Tech Solutions, then went on to sell it to a larger company. The sale brought 4.6 million dollars to Thayer.
Marlee thought for a moment, processing what she’d read and trying to incorporate that information with what she learned from Rita and Abby. “So Conrad buys out Rita and then sells the whole thing for a big chunk of change. I wonder what he paid Rita for her half of the company. And where did that money go? Maybe he took advantage of her poor financial condition and only paid her pennies on the dollar for her shares. Or maybe all the money Rita received from the sale went to settle her debts.”
“Check out this article,” Hector said, as he handed her the last of the documents. “This will blow your mind.”
It was an article from a newspaper in California detailing Rita Thayer’s conviction for embezzlement and subsequent punishment. “She got five years’ probation and had to pay $700,000 in restitution to Tech Solutions. Wow!” Marlee exclaimed. This was big news, but she was unsure how it fit into the bigger picture.
Hector cleared his throat. “I bet Conrad bought her out of the company and Rita used the money to pay off the restitution to Tech Solutions, which was now solely owned by Conrad.”
“That makes a lot of sense. Rita gets her debt paid off, but she’s financially destitute, so she moves to Elmwood with Conrad and goes to work as his servant. No wonder she’s bitter.”
“This article was only written three years ago, so Rita must still be on probation. Why didn’t Vince recognize her when you were at the Thayer house? Doesn’t he remember everybody on his caseload?” There was more than a hint of disdain in Hector’s voice as she spoke about Marlee’s ex.
“Vince is a Federal probation officer. I bet Rita is supervised by the state probation office. He wouldn’t have any knowledge of her supervision status in Elmwood.” Marlee felt the need to set the record straight, although she wasn’t necessarily defending Vince.
The muscles in Hector’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak. “Let’s go over to the Thayer house now and see what we can find out.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were on the front step of the Thayer house listening to the loud DING DONG of the doorbell. Conrad himself opened the door, clad again in his tight, tan, zip-front jumpsuit. He was on his cell phone, so he didn’t even bother to greet Marlee and Hector; he just motioned them inside with his head. As they followed Conrad to the sitting room, Marlee observed the visible outline of a dark thong beneath his all too-tight jumpsuit. Eww, I didn’t need to see that.
After finishing the call, Conrad extended his hand to Hector and introduced himself. Today he was attempting an Australian accent, which was almost as off-putting as this jumpsuit and thong combo. “Sit down, mates,” he said, extending his arm toward the love seat.
“So what brings you here today?”
“Just had a few questions for you. Is Rita around?” Marlee kept her eyes and ears alert for any sign of Rita since they entered the home and hadn’t observed any sign of her.
“She ran out to the market. Had to grab a few things for dinner tonight. She should be back any minute. Why?” Conrad asked.
“We just wanted to visit with you both,” Hector stated matter of factly. “I understand you sold your technology company not that long ago. Do you miss it?”
“Not really. It was fun while it lasted, but I was ready to move on to something else,” Conrad said.
“And what is it that you’ve moved on to?” Marlee interjected, not meaning for the question to sound harsh, but realizing after she said it that it did. “Um, I mean, are you doing anything in Elmwood besides collecting art, or are you basically retired?”
“I wouldn’t consider myself retired, really. Retirement is for old folks, and I have many interests and things I want to achieve before I sit down in my rocking chair and while away the days.” If Conrad was offended by Marlee’s question, he didn’t show it. He also didn’t really address the heart of her question.
“Conrad, help me unload t
he groceries!” Rita bellowed, entering the room through the kitchen. She looked none-too-pleased that Marlee was back.
“I’ll help you,” said Hector jumping to his feet before Conrad could respond. “I’m Hector, by the way.” Marlee smiled as she realized the detective was using his “good cop” approach on Rita. Within a few minutes, Rita might be in tears when he switched to his bad cop routine.
The puzzled looks on the faces of both Conrad and Rita were priceless. Hector shooed Rita out of the sitting room in a hurry, and Marlee scooted down on the love seat, closer to the chair that was occupied by Conrad. “So you were telling me what you did now since you’re too young and vibrant for retirement.”
“Collection, mostly. Like you said. I still do some consulting for my old company, but less and less over time. Not everyone can keep as busy as you, Ms. McCabe, with your professor position and your amateurish sleuthing.” Conrad’s Australian accent had disappeared and a snotty American one had appeared.
Marlee let the barb slide off her back. “I suppose you’re right. There’s something I’ve been wondering about. Who sold you the urn? I understand the ownership information is contained in the provenance.”
“That’s right. The provenance details ownership as well as authenticity,” Conrad said, again, not fully addressing the question.
“And who did you buy it from?”
“From whom did I buy it?” Conrad asked, condescendingly correcting her grammar.
Marlee nodded, not taking the bait.
“From my sister, of course. I thought everyone knew that.” Conrad stood, motioning Marlee toward the door. She followed, stunned at the revelation.
“You seem to have acquired a lot of things that once belonged to your sister,” Marlee sniped. No need being nice now since she was being shown the door. Plus, he started it.
“Let’s just say I got a really good deal,” Conrad spat, slamming the heavy door in her face.
Marlee sat in her SUV, waiting for Hector to finish his conversation with Rita. The day was bitterly cold, and the threat of the Thayer dogs kept her from scouting around the side of the house to join Hector. After what seemed an hour, but was more like fifteen minutes, Hector hopped in the passenger seat, his face aglow.
“You’ll never guess what I found out!” Hector was like a little kid with a new toy.
“Me first,” Marlee interrupted, sure her news was bigger and better than his. “Conrad bought the urn from Rita. He said he got a good deal on it, which leads me to believe he bought it for little or nothing. Just like how he bought Rita’s half of the company. Conrad was almost bragging. Plus, he lost his Australian accent and went back to American.”
“Wow,” Hector said without much enthusiasm. Clearly he thought his news topped Marlee’s. “Rita isn’t on probation anymore. Since she paid off the restitution before she moved here, she was released early. So when she moved to Elmwood from California, she was as free as a bird.”
“What kind of read did you get on her? She seemed emotionless until I brought up her employment with Conrad then she got very tense.” Marlee knew Hector was an ace at reading body language, so she was anxious to hear his interpretation of Rita’s actions and expressions.
“She’s pissed at Conrad and this whole servant thing, that’s for sure. She looked like she was going to explode when I brought it up. Rita made a comment that leads me to believe that Conrad not only ripped her off by buying her out for a cut-rate price, but that he may have set the whole thing up just to get the company away from her. Or at least that seems to be what she believes. Whether it’s true or not, I couldn’t say.” Hector was turned toward Marlee, and she could feel the energy radiating off of him.
“So what do you think this means?” Marlee asked. “Does it have anything to do with the stolen urn, or is it just quirky details from an eccentric family?”
“I wish I knew. Let’s go get some lunch. I’m hungry for French fries for some odd reason. Were you eating fries in here recently?” Hector sniffed, looking around.
“No,” Marlee fibbed, hoping Hector didn’t see the fast food bag with a few remaining fries in the back seat.
While eating fries and chili at Wendy’s, Hector made a call in an attempt to get them into the evidenced locker to view the urn. The officer was off duty for the day, so there was no chance of them getting a look at the antique.
“What now?” Marlee munched on a salty French fry and reached for more.
“I don’t know. Tomorrow is the earliest we could get into the evidence locker. We already wore out our welcome with Conrad and Rita. I guess we could go back to your house and dig through the file you copied.”
“That sounds like a good plan. And we could work on the crime chart too.” Marlee also had an ulterior motive. The due date for her tenure application and supplementary materials was fast approaching and she needed to get organized. If Hector helped her, she’d be several steps closer to finishing the damn project.
After going through the papers dealing with the urn and finding nothing new, Hector and Marlee studied the crime chart. “In my mind, Rita Thayer moves up a few notches as a possible culprit in the whole urn-theft scheme,” Hector said.
“Me too, but I don’t think she’s in cahoots with Conrad, since she obviously has such disdain for him. My money is still on Conrad. He has the tech capabilities to hack into Bridget’s bank, he would financially benefit if the urn was stolen, he insisted that Yellow Tail Security guard the urn at Marymount, and he had some access to the urn on campus. Plus, Abby is his niece and could get him full access to the urn and any information he needed.” Marlee finished with a shake of her head, convinced that she’d set forth a solid case.
“The monkey wrench in that theory is the unnamed caller who reported seeing Bridget take the urn into your house,” Hector said.
“I believe someone else was initially involved in the plan and got cut out for some reason, so they struck back by calling in a tip to the police. I had a message from my lawyer earlier today. Denny said that according to the police report, the call came from an anonymous person. I bet if we could figure out who called it in, we’d be a lot closer to figuring out this whole mess and getting Bridget off the hook.”
“Do you know any of the dispatchers at the Police Department?” Hector asked. “If you do, we might be able to find out who took the call and talk to them.”
“I don’t, but I know someone who does!” Marlee jumped to her feet and located her cell phone in the kitchen. Moments later she returned to the dining room table. “Mission accomplished. We should have our information on the dispatcher in a few minutes.”
“How?”
“I just called my friend Bettina. You’ve met her before. She’s a detective here in Elmwood. She’ll find out about the call and get back to me,” Marlee crowed, proud of herself for utilizing her contact within the Elmwood PD.
Not five minutes later, Bettina called back. “It was a woman who called in the tip. She didn’t leave her name. I’m going to play the tape of the call for you over the phone. Tell me if you recognize the voice.”
Marlee motioned Hector over and put the phone on speaker, so he could hear the taped call. After the fourth word spoken by the anonymous woman, they looked at each other and said, “Rita Thayer!”
“What’s that?” Bettina asked over the ongoing taped message.
Marlee relayed their suspicions to Bettina and thanked her for her help. “Now we need to get Rita alone and confront her on her call to the police reporting Bridget.”
I tell people what they want to hear. Occasionally it matches up with the truth.
Chapter 25
Marlee and Hector spent the first half of the afternoon devising a scheme to talk to Rita without Conrad hovering around. They orchestrated a plan, but couldn’t put it into effect until that evening.
“We’ve got some time to kill. Wanna watch TV?” Hector asked.
“I’ve got a better idea. How about if you help me
work on my tenure file,” Marlee suggested with a false level of enthusiasm.
“That sounds boring. How about if you work on it and I’ll watch a movie?” Hector moved toward the living room.
Marlee grabbed his arm and swung him back toward the table. “The TV isn’t working. Guess you’ll have to help me with my project,” she said with a smile.
Hector knew the television was in good repair, but decided to help Marlee with her paperwork for tenure. How hard could it be?
After three trips from the basement with cardboard boxes and portable files, Marlee settled in at the table and explained the process to Hector. “I need to make a case for why I should get tenure. If I get tenure then I have job security. If I don’t get it, then I’m out of a job and I’ll have to dance on a pole at Shaker’s.”
Hector burst out laughing. “I think there might be some middle ground between college professor and stripper.”
They spent two hours sorting through material Marlee had amassed in preparation for her tenure application. By 6:00 p.m., they had all documents sorted into three piles: teaching, research, and service.
“Now I need to put these documents into a large binder, write up a long winded letter about why I deserve tenure, and that should about take care of it,” said Marlee, pleased with the amount they accomplished in just a few hours.
“I had no idea it was this intense. Why all the fuss just for…?” Hector wisely stopped before adding “teaching” onto his question.
“Because the university wants to make sure I’m a good fit, not only in teaching my classes, but also doing research in my area of expertise. Basically, it’s a way to get rid of professors who aren’t doing a good job, or who got on the wrong side of other profs or administration,” Marlee explained with a calm voice. She’d been through this same discussion with non-academic relatives and friends many times.
Art of Deception Page 21
