by David Bishop
* * *
Maddie showered while her son did the same in the second bathroom. After that they read more from the Hardy Boys Missing Chums mystery. When Bradley went to sleep, Maddie changed her outfit and drove over to the Ritz Carlton on Camelback. A foxy outfit, over a push-up bra and a thong, instead of police garb, made her feel like a new woman. She and Ryan had agreed to meet there in the Club Bar around ten for a drink. She had gotten there first. She sat on a tufted brown leather couch along the sidewall at the far end away from the bar.
After a few minutes, as her eyes adjusted to the lower lighting, she noticed a large man sitting in one of the high-back chairs facing the bar. For a moment, from the back, she thought he might be Ryan. When he turned far enough to give her a view of his profile, she knew he was not. She ordered and sipped a white wine, and found herself trying to make some sense out of the seemingly disjointed assortment of odd data points and claims she had accumulated on the Crawford case.
A voice interrupted her thoughts. “Miss, if I bought you a few drinks and, after an hour or so, you were to accept an invitation up to my room, would I need to later fight your husband?”
Maddie looked up to see Ryan’s smiling face. “I do not have a husband, sir” she said, “so no. No fight.” Ryan sat down. “Why do you want to buy me a few drinks?”
“Without that, it would be rude of me to invite you up to my room.”
Maddie reached over and touched the back of his hand which lay palm down on the table top. “Can I trust you, Mr. Testler?”
“The best way to find out is to trust me.”
“And if I shouldn’t trust you?”
“You will know, and that was your question. Remember, you’re the one with the handcuffs and gun.” Ryan stood up. His room key in his hand.
“Tomorrow will come soon enough. Let’s not waste time.” Maddie stood up, took Ryan’s hand, and led him toward the elevator.
* * *
The next morning was Saturday. After Bradley had finished his cereal, he left to play at the park. Maddie joined her mother on the patio for a cup of tea, a serving of yogurt, and a piece of buttered rosemary herb toast.
“Would you feel uncomfortable if I invited a man over for dinner?”
“Why should I, Madeline Jane? This is your home. I’m your mother. Besides, I’ve always enjoyed being able to take a gander at the men my daughter is seeing. When were you thinking of this invite?”
“Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Can I let you know by noon?”
“Sure.”
“Whatever meal you have planned for that night will be fine, nothing special.”
Rita harrumphed. “Nothing special? Don’t kid me, girl. We’ve been living together a few years now. This is only the second time you’ve brought a man home for dinner. The other time was a co-worker. Is this another of those platonic things from work?”
“No, mother. It’s not platonic. He’s a man I know.”
“That certainly tells a mother a lot.”
“I just thought it might be nice for him to meet you and Bradley. That’s all. If you’d rather I not do it, it’s okay.” Maddie got up. “I gotta get out of here. Crime stopper work, you know.”
Rita watched Maddie rinse her cup and plate before putting them in the dishwasher. Then she spoke. “Madeline Jane. I think that’s a fine idea. Obviously, this man has made an impression. So, sure, tonight is fine, or tomorrow. It’s the weekend. Let me know.”
* * *
Maddie had barely shut her desk drawer after putting her purse in it, before she noticed Lieutenant Adam Harrison standing in her doorway. “So, you’ve found your body, but don’t know how it got there. That about sum it up?”
“Pretty much, Lieutenant. The way it adds up, Sam Crawford’s body was likely delivered to the ME’s place and put in one of their bins a week ago Thursday night, not long after Crawford was killed.”
“Sounds like you’re hunting a smart cookie.” Maddie nodded. “You got the body formally ID’d?” Maddie nodded. “Wife?” Maddie nodded. “Nice chatting with you, Sergeant Richards.” Maddie nodded. This time she looked up and they swapped smiles.
A few minutes later, Maddie walked down the hall to get a diet soda. On the way she passed Arthur Dinkins, the brother-in-law of the police chief. Monday, Dinkins would formally return from vacation. Apparently, he wanted to come down and get back in the feel of the place before returning to work officially. Arthur Dinkins had a vague job description. He ran errands for the chief, did odd jobs, and studied Maddie’s butt—that part he did for himself. The Dink was already in back-to-work mode. She felt his eyes on her as she passed him in the hallway, heard his salacious grunt or slurp. The man’s eyes worked her like a thirsty dog’s tongue worked a puddle. One day she would kick The Dink in the balls, but being the chief’s brother-in-law dictated some discretion. That alone also ruled out filing a formal complaint. A detective sergeant does not do things which will embarrass the chief of police. The large view said she could manage the situation. The dumpling man lacked the confidence to try and act out the mental images that accompanied his grunts and slurps. Maddie refused to allow even consideration of what those images might be.
As soon as Maddie was back in her office, Sue walked in. “I got us some background on Carla Roth, the RN, and Mr. Banker, Maxwell Norbert.”
“I don’t know how you do it, Sue. You are amazing at this digging into people’s past and present. Let’s go over that, and then take some time away from this place. It’s Saturday, and instinct tells me we’ll be going at it hard next week. Start with the nurse.”
“Carla Roth keeps busy nursing the men in her circles who may be suffering from a case of the hornies. She’s been married before, a doctor, and the rumor is she’s actively looking for the next one. Nancy, a lady who lives across the street from Carla and the Crawfords, says she had not seen any inappropriate conduct at the Crawford residence. She also said Carla has been seeing a soldier for the last few weeks, but this Nancy hasn’t seen the soldier in over a week. She wasn’t sure whether he’s a marine or army of some sort. She has seen Carla hop up on the guy outside and let him walk into her house with her in that position, her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. That sounds pretty good to me, actually,” Sue said with a laugh which somehow sounded off color.
“Aside from a reason for us to be envious, what else did you learn?”
“Ms. Roth has worked at the same hospital for over ten years. I know two nurses there pretty well and have a third friend who works in personnel, two of the three grew up in my old neighborhood. One of the nurses didn’t know Carla. The other said she was a top nurse. My friend in personnel said her file shows no problems. Nobody knows the name of Carla’s soldier, but they’ve heard Carla tell some wild stories about the two of them together. Apparently Carla likes to kiss and more, and tells. This generally fits tight with what the neighbor, Nancy, had to say so I think we’ve got a solid profile of the lady.”
“Norbert?”
“Our pudgy banker is as vanilla as they come. Never in trouble, married nearly thirty years. My guess is he’s enjoying some of the women who get hired at his bank, but, suspicions aside, that may only be visually. No driving tickets even. The guy’s squeaky clean.”
“It’s a long shot, but let’s find Carla’s soldier’s name so we can learn what his military skill is, and whether or not he was in town the night Sam Crawford was shot.”
“Paige Crawford may know.”
“She could. But if there’s a connection between Paige and the murder of her husband, this guy could have been hired as the shooter. It’s all supposition, but it’ll move up the scale of possible if he’s a marksman. So, at this point, let’s not let Paige know this soldier’s on our radar.”
With that Sue and Maddie headed out the door at a few minutes after eleven.
While driving home, Maddie called Ryan Testler’s cell phone to invite him over for dinner. After talking for ten minu
tes about this and that, she asked.
“I’m sorry, Maddie, I’ve got something I need to do tonight. Had I known, I might have been able to schedule a few things differently. I’d love to tomorrow evening, just tell me what time and what I should bring.”
“Six-thirty, okay? We tend to eat earlier on weekends. There’ll be you and me, my mother, Rita, and my son, Bradley.”
“I’d love to meet them both. Six-thirty would be great. What may I bring?”
“Nothing. Do you need directions?”
“Just the address, I’ll use my GPS.”
* * *
By early afternoon, Ryan was in place behind shrubbery to the side of Maxwell Norbert’s garage. He had come down from behind the house, along a small meandering wash that traversed a hill dotted with teddy bear and cholla cactus. He had chosen the path three weeks ago when he first decided that an assault on Maxwell Norbert would eventually be needed. The desert wash allowed him to reach his current position without being seen from the street or the neighboring houses. One stretch of about fifty yards left him exposed to one window of a neighbor who lived behind the Norberts, on an angle off to the north. He had watched that house and when they weren’t home he approached and determined that window to be in a spare bedroom. Today, he quickly moved through that short sightline confident he would not be seen.
One of the advantages of an assault on the homes of wealthy people was the lots were generally larger, with money having been spent to improve privacy—and thereby the attacker’s security.
Two weeks ago, Ryan had tapped the Norberts’ phone by getting into their home the same way he would get in today. The tap had revealed that Mrs. Norbert, Joan, would be leaving around one today. Joan had promised her mother who lived in Green Valley, south of Tucson, that she would come down to share an early dinner and a movie, spend the night, and attend church with her mother before driving back to Phoenix on Sunday afternoon. She had explained to her mother that her husband would again not be coming with her. That Maxwell had plans to eat out, and then spend a quiet night at home catching up on some personal correspondence and bill paying.
Ryan had originally wanted to confront Norbert sooner, but decided to wait once he learned Joan would be gone for most of this weekend. As it turned out, Sam Crawford was killed while Ryan was waiting for this opportunity. He guessed that Maxwell Norbert had more plans for the evening than what he had told his wife. Ryan would go in after Joan left and be ready whenever Maxwell did get home. The possibility existed that Maxwell might stay out all night or bring someone else home. If the banker stayed out all night, Ryan would be forced to deal will him in the morning when he got back. There would be time. Joan would not be home until the afternoon. If Maxwell did the latter, and brought someone home with him, Ryan would have to adapt and improvise.
At one-twenty in the afternoon, the garage door rose and Joan Norbert backed out in the habitual manner she always did. At the right moment, with the garage door down halfway, Ryan stepped around the front corner of the garage in a crouch, tossed a bag of tools under the lowering door, and, in nearly the same motion, dove inside just high enough to keep his body above the safety beam which, if impeded, would stop the descent of the garage door.
Inside the garage, with the door down, he immediately rose to watch through the window in the side of the garage. From that angle he saw Joan Norbert drive to the intersection at the bottom of the hill. After that he took his bag and moved behind a row of storage boxes to one side of the garage where he waited ten minutes to be sure Joan had not forgotten something and returned.
The next order of business was the alarm. The door from the garage directly into the house was on the alarm. That door entered a laundry room which had a second door which accessed a short hallway leading to the kitchen. Alarm shutoffs are usually close to an entry door front or back. The Norbert’s alarm shutoff was located in the laundry room.
The first time, Ryan had entered the garage as Mrs. Norbert drove up the driveway coming home. That entry was actually easier than when they left the house. Because of the rather steep incline up the driveway, the impulse from the remote did not connect with the garage opener until they were nearly up to the garage. This would require them to stop and wait for the door to ascend so they could drive into the garage. To avoid the delay, the Norberts always pressed the remote to open the garage while they were at street level before coming up the driveway. After that first-time entry, Ryan had secreted behind the storage boxes and waited for Joan Norbert to close the garage and enter the house. He waited two minutes, knowing she would have to promptly turn off the alarm to prevent an automated report of a breach of the house security. Next, he cracked the door far enough to hear her leave the kitchen and walk across a tiled floor. After a minute or two of quiet, he eased in and confirmed she was no longer on the first floor. He had quickly found the alarm shutoff in the laundry room and positioned a tiny, sensitive recorder near the alarm system shutoff. The second time he came in as Mrs. Norbert drove away, he recovered his recorder which had by then captured the sounds of the shutoff sequence. A small device he brought along listened to that recording and reported the shutoff sequence which he had then used to shut off the alarm. With the deciphering of the alarm shutoff, Ryan had become a secret part of the Norbert household with one exception. To gain entry, he still had to wait for one of them to come or go from the garage. To address that, he had positioned a small camera to scope out the combination keypad mounted on the outside frame of the garage. The key pad combination turned out to be the same numbers needed to disengage the inside alarm at the shutoff in the laundry room.
Like many people who spent money for security, the Norberts had diminished that security by choosing procedures which would simplify their use of the very alarm protection they had bought.
Outside keypads were used by homeowners outside the house on foot, to open and close the garage from the driveway without having to carry along a remote garage door opener. Today, Ryan could have entered by either the method he had used or later by opening the garage using the outside mounted keypad. He had chosen not to use that keypad after Joan had driven away because garage doors are somewhat noisy. He didn’t want to risk engaging the senses of one of the Norberts’ two closest neighbors who might hear the garage door go up without seeing either of the Norberts’ cars coming up the driveway.
Late one night, while waiting for Joan’s sojourn to Green Valley to visit her mother, Ryan had discovered a hidden key. Like many homeowners, the Norberts cached a hidden key outside the house in one of the not very imaginative places folks tended to hide their spare outside key. The Norberts’ key had been left atop a beam that ran along the front porch at a height Joan Norbert could reach on her tippy-toes. Ryan had chosen not to enter that way during the day because the front door was somewhat visible from the two houses across the street.
With the alarm now off, he returned to the garage and rerouted the alarm tape on the side window in the garage which was out of view from the homes of all the neighbors. He left the old tape in place, but inoperable. This way he would be able to raise that window without setting off the alarm. After this he would no longer need to wait for the garage door to be opened, or risk during daylight hours being seen using the spare key near the front door. As soon as he finished with the side window, he went back into the laundry room and turned the alarm on so that Maxwell, upon his arrival, would not detect anything out of the ordinary.
Ryan Testler was now a full partner in the Norbert household with equal access.
He glanced at his watch: 3:00 p.m. Ryan assumed he had at minimum another hour or two even if Maxwell came home early seeing it was a Saturday. His next order of preparation was positioning the things he had brought in his bag. Things he would need to greet and control Maxwell Norbert. With that done, he went on an information hunt.
He did a general walkthrough of the house to gain a feel for the lay of the land. After that he settled down in Norbert’s
office. The desk was not locked. This condition was part laziness and part overconfidence in the home security system. An hour later, he had finished going through the two-drawer file cabinet beside the desk. He had found files containing the statements for various bank and brokerage accounts, as well as something he hadn’t expected. The Norberts owned a second home in Sedona, Arizona, a lovely mountain community in upstate Arizona about two hours north of Phoenix. Ryan smiled as he recalled the time he had spent in Sedona last year with a lady named Linda Darby, one of the most intuitively savvy women he had ever known.
The file on Norberts’ Sedona home included the alarm code there and a ring with three spare keys. Ryan jotted down the Sedona security alarm code. Rather than chance taking one of the three keys and having it missed, he used one of the keys to make an impression which would allow him to later create a duplicate key. Next, he made notes of the various account numbers, including one in a bank in the Cayman Islands, which included a password that conveniently had been in that same file. The brokerage and bank statements indicated the Norberts had a significant net worth.
He also found a .22 caliber handgun, loaded. He had hoped he would.
Ryan assumed Norbert had at least one safe-deposit box, but accessing this kind of box was difficult to impossible. Ryan located a safe in the floor of a closet off the utility room. He considered the time it would take him to open it, a skill Ryan had but not one of his strongest. He decided instead that he would force Norbert to open the safe if, after meeting with Norbert, he decided he needed to see the contents of the safe. If his meeting with Norbert did not create a need to get into that safe, he would ignore it. This would allow Norbert to think his safe remained secure, so he would not move its contents.
Ryan’s last act was to install surveillance recorders in the Norberts’ bedroom, office, and kitchen, routing them to a radio frequency that would pass whatever the equipment heard to a recorder he would hide outside near the rear wash he had used to reach the house. This recorder would allow remote retrieval. After this visit, Norbert would be suspicious. He would most likely have the phones and house checked by an expert for surveillance equipment. Because this would likely result in the finding and removing of his original phone tap, Ryan then secreted a second surveillance recorder in Norbert’s office. This one he could activate remotely in the event the others were found and removed.
