Colton Banyon Mysteries 1-3: Colton Banyon Mysteries (Colton Banyon Mystery Book 20)

by Gerald J Kubicki

  “My favorite kind of dancing,” he replied honestly.

  Previne continued to entertain Banyon, who hung on her every word. “But we had to stop. We’d grown too old. No one wanted us to dance for them anymore. That’s when we came to America.”

  Calculating in his head, Banyon said, “That was about three years ago, right?”

  “Yes,” she said with a shake of the head. “It is wonderful here in America.”

  Banyon decided to dig a little further. “How old were you when you stopped dancing in India?”

  “We were twenty-five years old,” she explained then she spoke again, as though hearing the next question in Banyon’s mind. “We started when we were twelve.” When shock registered on Banyon’s face, she quickly added, “Things are different in India. We have to grow up faster than people here.”

  “And you are the wild one?”

  “Most definitely,” she agreed and nodded her head.

  Banyon had read that people grew up at an earlier age in Asian countries, but it was still hard to think of these beautiful women as being old at twenty-four. Quickly he asked, “Pramilla said that your father deals with guns in India. What did she mean?”

  “Pramilla is somewhat of a kidder.”

  “Well, she seems to know a lot about guns.” Banyon pressed the issue as he sipped his tea.

  “Oh, that,” Previne said and hesitated. “A friend of ours is a journalist for the largest newspaper in New Delhi. He covers much crime. There is a Mafia in India you know. It is much larger than here. He learned much about guns and taught us to be aware of such things.” Something about the statement didn’t seem right to Banyon, but he ignored his feeling.

  Banyon realized he enjoyed talking to Previne. She was a good conversationalist. Pramilla was a lustful, aggressive woman; Previne was sensitive, understanding, and equally as beautiful. What a choice. “If I can ask, who is Pramilla calling?” Banyon wondered why she had not returned after the near sexual assault earlier.

  “She’s the American correspondent for the human interest section of our friend’s paper.” It came as a proud answer from Previne. “She wants to do a story about ghosts. Your talk of ghosts has got her excited — she can hardly control herself.”

  “You can say that again,” Banyon replied.

  Previne was quiet for a few seconds, and then she said nervously, “I have a confession to make to you Colt.”

  “A confession about what?” He felt she was very charming but something about her didn’t seem to fit the character he had built in his mind.

  “I’m not married either,” she said with her head down in shame.

  “What?” Banyon exclaimed. “Are you telling me that neither of you are married?”

  “Yes, I am,” she said honestly and looked him directly in the eyes. He thought he must be mistaken, but he saw yearning in her eyes.

  “Then who is Keri and whose kids are running around the house upstairs?”

  “Keri is just a friend from India who has been living with us until he finds a home. The children are his,” she answered as she rubbed the dot on her forehead. It was soon gone. “They are leaving for their new home today.”

  Banyon was shocked. “So it is just the two of you that live here?”

  “Yes,” she answered sweetly. “And now my sister and I can get to know you better, Colt.” There was more than friendship implied in her voice.

  “But…”

  “We are very good at sharing,” she said seductively.

  “I…”

  Just then his cell phone rang. It was a recruiter friend. The recruiter just got off the phone with the owner of a corporation. The man had just bought a general merchandise housewares company and was in the process of firing the president. He had asked for Banyon, by name, to interview for the position. The owner wanted Banyon to fly to New York to interview at the Hilton Hotel in Manhattan on Tuesday of next week. The recruiter felt this was a hot prospect and Banyon stood a good chance of getting the position — that is, if he was modest in his salary requirements. Banyon inquired as to what the opening offer was. The recruiter replied, “Somewhere around three hundred thousand dollars.”

  “Book it, Danno,” was Banyon’s reply.

  Chapter Twenty

  Detective Heinz left the bathroom for the second time in the morning and returned to the kitchenette to pour more coffee. He had just filled his cup when Agent Chen came bounding out of the next room. She took a flying leap and slammed into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She seemed to scramble up Heinz’s much larger body and planted a hard kiss on his lips. He spilled his coffee on his pants again. He was confused.

  She whispered in his ear while hanging from his neck like a necklace, “He’s right behind me, been chasing me around desks for five minutes. Where have you been Carl?”

  Officer Dean leaned on the doorjamb; a leer was on his face. He was clearly enjoying seeing Loni hanging there, micro-mini and all. “I didn’t know this one belonged to you,” Dean said in his sleaziest voice.

  Agent Chen dropped down, ran behind Heinz, gripped his large bicep in a strong hold, and peered around his body. Heinz felt she needed protection and rose to the occasion. “What are you doing here Dean?” he demanded. “And why are you chasing my girl?”

  “Sorry Chief,” Dean muttered. “I thought she was a hooker needing a little love.”

  “Don’t talk stupid talk to me.” Heinz was now past being civil. He was angry. “You apologize to Loni right now.” The implication was clear.

  “For what?” Dean didn’t back down.

  “Now, Dean.” This was said with thunder.

  “I’m sorry, Loni, I was just kidding,” Dean said evenly, realizing he had bigger fish to fry right now and didn’t need to have a hassle with his boss. But he had decided that someday, when Heinz wasn’t around, he and the little slant-eyed chick were going to play Okinawa.

  “What’re you doing here? Your shift ended hours ago!” Heinz raged.

  “I needed to put in some paperwork, so I came back to the station. Remember, I found the stolen van and the plates too. But since I’ve found you as well, I’m telling you that I’m taking a week off, starting now. I have the time coming.”

  “Why now all of a sudden, Dean,” Heinz asked curiously.

  “I already told you I have a big meeting at the church tonight and then some friends and I are going off for a couple days to a retreat. We’re going out of town.”

  Nails dug into his arm, but Heinz had already put two and two together. “You wouldn’t be going to waste your money in Las Vegas, would you?” Is he going after Banyon?

  “Never been and never going,” Dean said, shaking his head. “No, we’re heading up to Wisconsin and camping out. You can’t stop me, I have the time coming.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it, Michael. We’ll really miss you, though,” Heinz said through gritted teeth. Dean nodded his head and backed out the door as if he couldn’t trust anyone in the room.

  “I could have taken him,” Agent Chen said while examining her nails.

  “Sure, that’s why you were standing behind me.”

  “I was playing my part,” she said as she looked at him with now clear almond eyes. “I have acting skills.”

  “Well, next time, kiss better. You were so clumsy you spilled my coffee again.” He said this as he headed to the bathroom one more time.

  ***

  She was standing by the bathroom door, tapping her foot like an impatient wife does when hubby is late. Heinz opened the door, looked out, and went back in.

  “You can’t stay in there forever,” she fussed.

  “You can’t come in here either.”

  “I’ll hurt you,” she all but screamed.

  “What’re you going to do — pull my hair? That is, if you can reach it.” Then he started to laugh. When he opened the door, she was bent over laughing too, and the tension had vanished. They returned to his office to talk. After all, there wer
e other people around and they were acting like they were having a lovers’ spat.

  Heinz spoke first. “Come on, we have several places to go. We need to go see the tattoo parlor, and we’re definitely going to stake out the church in Aurora tonight. In between, we have to interview a friend of Dean’s.”

  “I thought he only had three friends. We know they’ll be at the church,” Agent Chen questioned.

  “Well, in analyzing the report you gave me, I discovered the name of Ula Woods,” he explained. “She not only lives next to Dean, but her name has come up rather frequently. I don’t think it is a coincidence.”

  “I’m going to change into pants first. I don’t want to run around in this skirt.”

  “That would be a good idea.”

  “Can I bring my guns?” she asked in a serious tone.

  “Just one,” he replied with a smile.

  About two hours after they walked out the door, the fax machine rang. A single piece of paper was printed. It had some notes on it and a picture of a man with a “shit-eating grin.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Dean entered the storefront door of the Altar of the Creator. The church was located in a small strip mall in downtown Aurora. He was feeling satisfied and relaxed as he casually headed to the backroom where the others awaited.

  Earlier, the confrontation with Heinz and Agent Chen had made his blood over boil. As he left the police station he changed his priorities. He needed some relief, and he knew where to go for that problem. He had driven to the next town over where he knew a girl. He needed to pay a sexual visit to Patty Rowe.

  Patty was the FBI clerk who had accessed the FBI databases in an attempt to locate the fingerprint on the picture he gave her. He had met her when she had been stopped for driving under the influence of alcohol. It was her third arrest and she was very fearful of losing her job. Dean quickly saw the opportunity to blackmail her. He promised to make the arrest go away, but she would have to do some things for him. The things he wanted were both personal and professional. She recognized that she had no choice and agreed. He had visited her several times since then.

  Patty was a quiet mousey woman who was in her mid-thirties. She couldn’t keep a boyfriend because of her drinking, but craved any attention any way she could get it. Dean gave her some attention, but mostly he liked to humiliate her, and treat her roughly whenever he came over. On this visit he had gone too far. He had used his fists and beaten her during his visit.

  From the emergency room at the hospital, Patty called a friend at work, and asked her to send a fax.

  Love had turned to hatred in a heartbeat.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  They stopped at a local restaurant and had a quick lunch. Agent Chen ate twice as much food as the detective. He wondered where she put it. She didn’t appear to be more than a hundred pounds. He decided to pry.

  “Can I ask you a question Agent Chen?” He noticed she had changed into black skintight leotards with a white top. She also had added an oversized police windbreaker, just like he wore. The windbreaker came nearly to mid-thigh.

  “Is it about the case?” she queried as she spooned food into her mouth.

  “No, actually it’s personal,” he replied.

  “Then, no,” she said dismissively.

  “Why are you such a hard-ass?” he asked with slight irritation.

  “Let’s not bring my ass up again,” she quipped.

  “Cut the crap, you know what I mean,” he said hotly. “I can tell that you’re very competent, yet you approach everything like a fanatic. Why is that?”

  “I do my job,” she said. “Nothing else matters.”

  Heinz didn’t let go. “You jump into situations and don’t seem consider about the consequences. Your antics last night worry me a lot. What would happen if on one of your little adventures, someone decides to rob a bank or even something worse? I’m not too sure you wouldn’t go along just to get the goods on the bad guys.”

  “Look, Carl, I would never do anything illegal. I’m a cop remember. Personal sacrifices are part of the job. I accept that. I am not a martyr.”

  “So why do you try so hard to be a tough guy?”

  She put her fork down suddenly and looked him straight in the eye. “Here is how it is for me. I’m a minority woman not a man. I’m cursed by my looks, with no one respecting my brain. Everyone is either protecting me or attempting to use me. I don’t get to be one of the boys.”

  “Why do you have that kind of an attitude?”

  “I come from a traditional Chinese family. My father wanted a boy, they are revered in my culture — he got me instead. I have tried to make him proud of me, but he still feels unlucky because I’m a girl.” She was talking so fast and with such force Heinz felt he had touched the nerve which was the center of her tough attitude.

  “I like your brain,” he said sheepishly.

  Agent Chen glared at him and added one more statement. “Stop talking now or I will pull out your hair.” They both began to laugh. From then on, they had a switch that could stop any conversation without penalty.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A little while later they entered the front door of the Ultimate Tattoo Parlor. A man stood behind a glass counter and greeted them. He was about forty years old with long, shaggy hair and a full beard. Tattoos covered thin arms which protruded from an Italian undershirt. Heinz guessed correctly that he was the owner.

  The eyes of the man twinkled as Agent Chin approached the counter. She had discarded the winderbreaker because it made it hard for her to walk she said. “Hey Loni you’re looking good babe. Want another tattoo?”

  He then looked at Heinz and realized he was a cop. He became wary. “No refunds. She came in here on her own. I did nothing wrong. She wanted the tattoo. I only touched her where she wanted the tattoo. I checked her driver’s license, and she is over twenty-one, man. You can’t hassle me, man, I know my rights. You got a warrant? I’m a respectable businessman.”

  “Have you exhausted your vocabulary of legal clichés?” Detective Heinz said wearily “What’re you afraid of?”

  “Relax, Timmy, we’re not here about my little tattoo,” Agent Chen said with a soothing voice and a smile.

  “Good,” Timmy said shaking his head up and down. “Because it was righteous work, man — all the guys thought so.” Heinz fumed when he heard that statement.

  Chen walked over to a wall where many tattoos were displayed on paper. She pointed to a particular tattoo. “You get much call for this one?” Her slender finger was pointing to an exact replica of a swastika.

  “No, man, I don’t get calls for that one; it’s just there for show.” It was obviously a statement made from fear and paranoia. He didn’t want to give up any information about the tattoo.

  “I saw at least two people with that tattoo in here last night Timmy,” Chen remarked sweetly. “Are you telling me those guys know a better place to have their tattoos done?”

  Timmy quickly responded. “No, man. I’m the best, the best there’s ever been.”

  “So I think you are saying they had them done here then,” she asked. “Am I right?”

  “Well, how about it, punk?” Heinz was playing the bad guy. “Maybe we should go down to the station house and have a little chat and I’ll sweat you a little.”

  “If you promise not to take me there again, I’ll talk,” he said nervously. “What is it you want to know?”

  “You’ve been to the police station before?” asked the detective. He didn’t remember ever seeing him there.

  “Let’s just say it was late one night and wasn’t a good experience.” It looked to Detective Heinz like Timmy wanted to say more.

  “How many people have you tattooed with a swastika?” Agent Chen interrupted. “You want to look up your records?”

  “No need,” Timmy replied. “I’ve done a total of five of those tattoos.”

  “Do you have the names of those men?” Chen asked.


  “What do you need the names for Loni? These people play real rough. If they find out, I’ll be in real trouble.”

  “What people play rough? You’d better explain, or we’re taking you in, got it?” Detective Heinz shifted his posture to look more aggressive.

  “Okay, first of all, they weren’t all men. One was a woman, and one is a policeman,” a suddenly submissive Timmy said with his hands up in the stop position.

  Both Heinz and Chen spoke at the same time. “What policeman, what woman?”

  Timmy looked hard at both cops. “What’s this really about?”

  “We can’t tell you, its official police business right now Timmy,” Agent Chen said. “But we need the names.”

  “You’re a cop? I don’t believe it, especially the way you were prancing around here flirting with the guys and showing off your tattoo last night. Are you some kind of undercover honey pot or something?”

  Heinz’s fist started to clinch. “Give us the names Timmy.” There was rage in his voice. “I’m not going to ask twice.”

  “Okay, Okay, keep your shorts on. You’ve got to protect me, man. Dean will kill me if he finds out. Some of his friends will too.”

  “I want the rest of the names. Write them on a piece of paper. Then maybe we’ll talk about protection while we decide if we should shut you down.”

  Quickly Timmy grabbed a piece of paper from on the counter and began to write from memory.

  Finished with his writing, Timmy waved the list of names in the air and said, “I need witness protection.”

  “Why would you need that?” questioned Chen.

  “I know more about what is going on in the village than you think I know,” he said in a reedy voice.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Loni and Carl piled back into the patrol car and were once again back on the road. They were on their way to their second planned stop, the house of Ula Woods. After Timmy had filled them in on what he knew, Detective Heinz called a number and soon two state police officers showed up and took Timmy with them. They promised to take Timmy to the lockup in Streamwood and stand guard until Heinz returned.