by S F Bose
Five minutes later, Goodman called. When Sam put the call on speakerphone, the lawyer asked, “Is it just the three of us?”
“It is. Liz Bean is here in my office,” Sam replied.
“Very good. Has she explained that I want to retain your firm?”
“Yes. You want us to find whoever killed Steven Meagher,” Sam replied.
“I do. I know how local police often work and don’t want my son railroaded,” Goodman said.
“Mr. Goodman, I have to reiterate what I believe Liz has already mentioned to you. We may be able to track down the woman Mac was with on the day of the murder. That would give him a solid alibi. It could be a more timely and less expensive investigation,” Sam replied.
“I understand that. However, the young woman gave my son a false telephone number and probably used a false name,” Goodman replied. “Furthermore, she hasn’t contacted him. I’m not confident she would help Mac, if we did find her. There’s also the question of her believability. I want to find the killer. It’s the best solution.”
“All right. I understand,” Sam replied.
“Can you take the case?” Goodman asked. Sam looked at me and I nodded.
“We can, Mr. Goodman,” Sam replied.
“Excellent. I’ve instructed my son not to answer any more questions without counsel present. I’m also retaining a lawyer from Madison to represent his interests. Martin Penny. Do you know him?”
Sam’s eyes widened. “Martin Penny is an excellent criminal defense attorney. He works at Bainbridge, I believe.”
“He does. He’s an old friend as well, so he’ll take a personal interest in protecting Mac’s rights. I’ll inform him that you’ve accepted the case. Thank you very much for taking this on.”
“It’s our pleasure,” Sam assured him.
Sam and Simon Goodman discussed the retainer and fees. Sam agreed to Fax him the contract and Goodman would Fax back a signed copy. He also agreed to wire the retainer to our bank.
After they ended the call, Sam smiled. “We have a case.”
“Thanks to Mac,” I replied and laughed. “I was surprised to hear Bainbridge come up again.”
“Me too. Who knows, it may be a sign that Adrian will get the account,” Sam replied.
“Could be.”
“Okay next steps,” said Sam. “I’ll follow up with Mitch and see where’s he’s at with the profiles you requested. I’ll also go to the Shrunken Head tonight with Mac’s photo. Maybe we’ll catch a break there. Goodman may not like it, but if we did verify Mac’s story, it would take him off Matt’s radar.”
“I agree. I’ll set up a new electronic case file. I can transfer the information over from the original case,” I replied. “I’ll also add the information Newmont shared at dinner.”
“Sounds good,” Sam agreed. He twirled his pen, nodded his head, and grinned. “I love a good mystery.”
The beginning of a major investigation always energized Sam. For me it was more a mixture of excitement and unease. It was like opening a brand new jigsaw puzzle and hoping you had all the pieces and the correct picture on the box. You never knew until it was too late.
Chapter 12
The next day I arrived at the office at 7:45 a.m. I was happy that Sam was already in the office. I wanted to talk to him before Neville Greenwood, our part-time, summer helper, arrived for training.
“Morning,” I said, walking into Sam’s office. He stood by his desk reading something. As usual, he was monochromatic in a gray shirt and black pants.
“Morning,” he replied, distracted.
I shed my jacket and dropped my bag to the floor. Then I sat in the nearest chair. Flip sprawled on the floor next to the desk. He raised his head, blinked at me, and went back to sleep.
I smiled. We really need to get a doggy bed for Flip
Sam grunted, finished reading, and sat in his office chair.
“Neville’s going to be here for training at 8:00 a.m. so I wanted to touch base,” I said.
“Oh, thanks for reminding me. I totally forgot. Well, we have a signed contract and Simon Goodman has wired the retainer to the bank,” Sam said. “I also called Newmont to let him know we’re officially on the case for a client.”
“That’s good. Did you get a chance to go to the Shrunken Head last night?”
He nodded. “I did. I showed Mac’s photo to the night manager and two bartenders. They were both working the night Mac said he was there. They didn’t recognize him. However, the manager said most of their customers were from the university and after a while they all looked alike.”
“Any security footage?” I asked.
Sam shook his head. “Goose egg there too. Their security system has been down for three weeks. They’re in the process of replacing it.”
I groaned. “I was hoping we’d luck out and there’d be video footage showing Mac and the woman.”
“Yeah, I was disappointed too. It would have been nice to confirm that Mac was telling the truth. But I do have some good news,” Sam agreed.
“What’s that?”
“Mitch wants to have a conference call at 11:00 a.m. He completed the rest of the profiles and wanted to review them with us. He’ll email copies to us before the meeting.”
“That’s great!” I replied. “We’ll be able to start setting up interviews.” Sam gave me a thumbs-up.
I checked my watch. It was almost 8:00 a.m.
“I’d better get some caffeine into me,” I said and jumped up. Sam laughed.
I hurried to my office and dropped off my jacket and bag. Then I made a beeline for the kitchenette and looked over the single-serve coffee selection. I picked a light roast and added some sugar and cream. I heard the front door chime and returned to the front of the office.
Sam and Neville chatted near the reception desk. Neville wore an orange and gray plaid shirt with a gray tie, black pants, and motorcycle boots. As a former screenwriter and current mystery writer, Neville gave off an artsy vibe. In the fall, he’d be entering the MFA program at the university.
“Hey Neville,” I greeted him.
“Morning Liz,” he replied and smiled.
“You’ll be working twenty hours a week, right?” Sam asked.
Neville nodded. “Yes, but I can work more hours if you need me.”
“That’s great. I’ll let you two get at it. Welcome aboard, Neville,” Sam said and they shook hands.
“Thanks for the opportunity, Sam,” Neville replied.
I gave Neville a quick tour of our office space. He made a cup of tea in the kitchenette and followed me back to the reception desk. After he completed the new hire paperwork, I gave him a brief overview of the Steven Meagher murder case. Then I introduced him to our online case management system.
My plan was for Neville to be the gatekeeper of our online case management system. The majority of his work would be on the Meagher case. He’d listen to each interview audio file and write a summary. Then he’d enter the summary into the case system and would attach the audio file. He’d also summarize and scan in any handwritten notes we gave him.
It only took Neville an hour to pick up the details. When I emailed him the profiles for Dom Fontana and Larissa Meagher, he completed a brief summary for each profile, and attached the profile to the correct person in the online case file.
“You’re a natural,” I said and Neville’s face turned bright red. He adjusted his wire-rim glasses and smiled.
“Thanks, it’s a pretty easy system.”
“Let’s take a break,” I suggested. We got more coffee and tea and returned to my office.
We discussed the Meagher case. Neville had absorbed the details and asked some good questions.
“I researched a lot of murders before I started writing mysteries. In real life, whether it’s a quick crime of passion or a premeditated murder, killers tend to make stupid mistakes. They’re not usually very bright. Finding the mistakes will eventually to the killer,” Neville said.
“Sam said something similar,” I agreed.
After chatting for a few minutes, I asked, “So how are things with you and Chloe?”
Neville’s face dropped. “Not so good.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked. “Maybe I can help.”
Neville shrugged. “I’m not sure what’s going on, Liz. We argue a lot more. She’s quiet and…angry. Sometimes it seems like I can’t say anything without upsetting her.”
“Have you asked her what’s wrong?” I asked.
“I’ve tried, but she won’t discuss it.”
“Do you want me to ask her what’s wrong?” I offered.
“No! No, please don’t,” Neville replied in alarm. “That would only make her angrier. Things were going so well a few months ago. I don’t know how we ran off the rails.”
“Well don’t give up,” I said. “I think the two of you make a great couple.”
Neville smiled. “Thanks, Liz. I haven’t given up. In fact, I’m going over to their herb shop at noon. Chloe and I are helping Olivia with some sort of herbal tea tasting.”
“Sounds like fun,” I replied. The look on Neville’s face suggested he wasn’t so sure about that.
***
At 11:00 a.m., Sam and I sat in the conference room. Mitch Shepherd was on the speakerphone and we had the profiles he’d emailed displayed on laptops in front of us. I forwarded the original email and attachments to Neville so he could update the case file.
“Sorry I couldn’t send the profiles earlier. My staff was adding some last minute updates,” Mitch said.
“No problem. Liz, I did let Mitch know that Meagher was “found dead this week and that it was likely murder.”
“Okay,” I replied.
I have to say that after researching this guy, news of his death wasn’t surprising,” Mitch commented.
“Can we start with his profile?” Sam asked.
“Sure thing,” Mitch replied and the speakerphone amplified the sound of paper shuffling. “Okay, background stuff. Steven Meagher was born in Madison and has lived in the area all his life. He came from a poor family and had two brothers. His father and mother struggled to make ends meet. Then the father ran out on them and the mother and children moved in with the maternal grandmother.”
“Are any of his family members still living?” I asked.
“Just a younger brother, Paul, who lives in Mystic Grove. The mother, grandmother, and older brother are all deceased. We also confirmed the father died in California years ago.”
Mitch paused to drink something. Then he continued. “After graduating from high school, Meagher left home. He knocked around for a while as a teenager doing odd jobs. He finally got a good job in a warehouse, earned an associate's degree, and landed a job as a deputy sheriff. Eventually, they assigned him to community policing. He became a contract deputy sheriff, first in Corliss and then in Braden.”
“Why did he move from Corliss?” I asked.
“After a while, the village of Corliss hired a full-time sheriff, so Meagher was reassigned,” Mitch replied. “He was clean until he became a deputy sheriff. After that, he had problems with drinking and fighting. Sam, you mentioned on the phone that you both already knew about the boating incident?”
“Yes, we learned he was a person of interest there, but no charges were ever filed,” replied Sam.
“That’s true,” Mitch confirmed.
“Mitch, did you find anything that indicated there was alcohol on the boat?” I asked.
“Alcohol? No, nothing in the reports I saw, Liz. As far as the accident, they never found his wife or children. As a result, the insurance company delayed paying out on the wife’s life insurance policy. There were no policies for the children. After seven years, Meagher filed to declare his wife dead. That was in 2002. Then he collected three hundred thousand dollars in insurance money.”
“Any idea what he did with the money?” I asked.
“Well, he had married Larissa Kay in 2000. When he got the insurance money, he paid off the mortgage on their house with part of it. He also bought a new boat. He had sold his original boat in 1996. After that there wasn’t much insurance money left.”
“Interesting. Did Meagher and his wife have kids?” asked Sam.
“No, they don’t have any children,” Mitch replied. “Financially, he and his wife were doing well. There was a pattern to their larger purchases. He owned a 2014 Lexus that he financed and then paid off in full after a few months. His wife bought a 2015 red Cadillac ATS in January of this year, financed it, and paid it off early. Finally, he and his wife bought a cabin in Crawford County 5 years ago. They had a mortgage but paid that off early as well.”
“Must be nice,” I said.
“How were they able to do that?” Sam asked. “Did they have a lot of money in savings?”
“Not really. He and Larissa both had separate checking and savings accounts in Mystic Grove. They did share one joint checking account, also in Mystic Grove. Danvers Realty direct deposited Larissa’s salary and commissions into her checking account and she occasionally moved some funds to her savings account. The county direct deposited Steven Meagher’s salary into his checking account. Aside from both of them transferring modest amounts into the joint checking account each month, they kept their finances separate.”
“Did Larissa come from money?” Sam asked.
“No, not at all,” Mitch replied.
“So how did they manage to pay off those purchases early?” I asked.
“I think it was from a different bucket,” Mitch replied.
Sam frowned. “A different bucket?”
“Yeah, we found that Steven Meagher controlled several checking accounts at another bank in Madison. One was a personal account and the other was a business account.”
“A business account?” I asked.
“Yes, it was for a company called S.M. Trading,” Mitch replied. “According to the paperwork Meagher filed years ago, it was a company that was established to buy and sell collectibles. Every month, he deposited anywhere from one to ten thousand dollars into the business account. Then each month he would draw some money out of the LLC and deposit it into his other checking account in Madison. The current balance in the other checking account is a little over a hundred thousand dollars.”
Sam whistled. “That’s a lot of money. How much did he have in the S.M. Trading account?”
Mitch cleared his throat and we heard some paper shuffling. “Currently two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
“Unbelievable,” Sam muttered.
“Was S.M. Trading a legal business?” I asked. “Meagher didn’t sound like a collectibles kind of guy.”
“You’d have to do a complete audit of S.M. Trading’s bank account and their accounting records. That would tell you if it was legal or not,” Mitch replied. “In other words, is there proof that the business deposits came from the sale of collectibles or anything else that was legal? Sales receipts and tax records for example. The other possibility is that we may be looking at money laundering. Maybe Meagher deposited illicit money of some sort into the S.M. Trading account and then transferred funds back into the personal checking account.”
“So Meagher made deposits into the Madison account that may or may not have been legal,” I said.
“That’s correct,” Mitch replied.
“And you think he used money from S.M. Trading to pay off the cars and the cabin?” Sam asked.
“I think it’s a strong possibility, but I can’t give you the cancelled checks to prove it. Also, making those payments wouldn’t necessarily be illegal,” Mitch said. “Among other things, an audit would show you the money flow in and out of those accounts over the years.”
“Okay, that’s helpful information, Mitch. Anything else on Meagher?” asked Sam.
“Yes. I called a friend who used to work in the county sheriff's office and knew Meagher. He told me the public filed quite a few complaints agains
t Meagher over the years, but they all evaporated,” Mitch replied.
Sam frowned. “Evaporated?”
“Yes. There were cursory investigations but Meagher was never disciplined,” Mitch said. “Some complaints were withdrawn. Others were decided in Meagher’s favor.”
“That’s strange,” Sam said.
“It is. My friend said there were many rumors about Meagher. Some thought he had dirt on some important people and they killed the complaints. Others thought he threatened or paid off the people who filed the complaints.”
“Did your friend have any other information about Meagher?” Sam asked.
We heard Mitch shuffling papers. “Only that Meagher had a reputation for having a hot temper, drinking, and flashing a lot of money. The other deputy sheriffs disliked him and kept their distance. When you add it all up, Meagher was a guy who probably had a lot of enemies.”
“Did your friend know the source of the money Meagher flashed?” Sam asked. “Or was that from his business?”
“He wouldn’t talk to me about that on the phone, but he said he does have some more insights. If you’re willing, he’ll talk to you.”
I looked at Sam. “Sure,” we both said.
“Good. His name is Doc Marsden. He’ll be at the Purple Pig outside of Black Earth at 10:00 a.m. tomorrow. You have to give him a code phrase.”
“A code phrase?” I asked.
“Yes, he’s cautious about who he talks to. Paranoid actually. The code is ‘blood oranges.’”
“What’s he look like?” I asked.
Mitch chuckled. “Doc will be hard to miss. He has a white walrus mustache and wears a big brimmed cowboy hat. He’ll be sitting with his back to the wall.”
“We’ll be there,” I said.
“Okay, that’s it for Steven Meagher. In short, there’s a shady story there somewhere,” Mitch said. “Next up is Dwight Reed. Mr. Reed is twenty-nine and comes from Madison. He's a Marine veteran who served in Iraq and Afghanistan. He received an honorable discharge. Reed is married and works as an EMT-paramedic. Everything about this guy looked clean and legitimate. He was literally an Eagle Scout. His wife works as a teacher. They’re living within their means and haven’t made any expensive purchases.”
