Left Holding the Bag

by Carol Dean Jones

  “So what happened then?” he said instead.

  “Old Artie hopped right in that car, and they took off. She was laughing, so I figured they were going to go catch up with the guy she came with, but that ain’t what happened.”

  “It isn’t?” Sarah asked encouraging him to go on.

  “No. When the guy got back here with help and saw that his car and his girl were gone, he kicked the gas pump – thought he was going to knock it over. What a temper that guy had. And the language, excuse me ma’am, was something you wouldn’t want to hear.”

  Hoping the man would continue, Charles said, “This Artie, an old guy, huh?” Charles asked.

  “No. Artie’s no older than me. I don’t know why they call him Old Artie. They just do. I know he was homeless for a while, but he’s been living across the street in that rooming house for the past year or so.”

  “Is he there now?”

  “To tell you the truth, I don’t think I’ve seen that man since he fixed that car and drove off. Never saw any of them again.”

  Charles and Sarah thanked the man profusely. Charles pulled a couple of twenties out of his wallet, and the man accepted them saying, “Oh, you don’t need to pay me,” as he quickly slipped the bills into his apron pocket.

  Sarah and Charles drove directly across the street and rang the manager’s doorbell.

  * * *

  “I have no idea what became of that scumbag,” Mrs. Roberts was saying. “He lived here for about a year and never paid on time. I’d have to toss his stuff out on the curb before he’d pay. I finally figured out what day he got his government check and that’s the day I’d put his stuff out,” she said with a cackle, “and he’d sign the check over to me to get back in.”

  “Clever trick,” Sarah said, hoping to keep the woman talking.

  “It didn’t cover the rent, but I let it slide. There was something wrong with the guy. Why are you two looking for him anyway? You seem like nice folks. He’s not family, is he?”

  Sarah looked at Charles, and he shrugged a look that she figured meant that they had nothing to lose. They told the woman the whole story, and she listened intently.

  “You mean that girl that was killed down in Nashville a couple of months ago? I thought that looked like the same girl that was walking around outside the truck stop over there.”

  “You saw her?” Sarah said with surprise.

  “And you recognized her?” Charles added, suddenly sitting up straighter in his chair and giving her his full attention.

  “Sure. Her picture was in the paper every day back then. She’d been missing, and there was a big reward. I think she was the daughter of some big politician up north and he was trying to find her.”

  “Did Artie know about her?”

  “Sure. I called him down to look out the window at her. I told him I thought it was the same girl. He grabbed the paper and stared at it. She had this beautiful long red hair just like the girl in the picture. I told Artie we should call the police and try to get the reward.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He didn’t say anything. He just went into the kitchen, and I think he went out the back door.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “No,” she said defensively, “and I got my reasons. I didn’t want the cops snooping around here. Matter of fact,” she added thoughtfully, “I think that’s the last time I ever saw Old Artie.”

  “Do you have any idea where he might be now?” Charles asked.

  “No idea. I’ve got his stuff in the back. All he had was some clothes and a box of letters from his brother down in Florida. Do you want to see them?”

  Sarah and Charles didn’t stay overnight in Tennessee. Charles put a call in to Detective Halifax and got the ball rolling.

  Chapter 22

  A secluded area along Florida’s Gulf coast

  The man pulled the car over and parked it by the side of the road. The tank registered empty, and the steam from the engine had been nearly blinding. “Bad luck,” he muttered to himself as he started walking toward the Gulf and his brother’s trailer. “Nothing but bad luck my whole life. Can’t ever catch a break.”

  Artie thought his luck had finally changed in Tennessee when he looked across the street at that pretty young girl and immediately recognized her. The police had been to the restaurant passing out fliers. He had studied the picture back then imagining what it would be like to find her. He pictured himself enjoying the fortune the wealthy father would pay to get his daughter back.

  He knew he had to play it cool. He offered to help her get the car started and told her they’d go find her boyfriend. It was working, too, until she realized what he was doing.

  Why did she have to fight him? He sure couldn’t collect with nothing but a body to return. “I didn’t mean to kill her,” he said aloud but didn’t even believe it himself. It hadn’t been the first time he’d felt that pull…that desire from deep inside to squeeze the life out of a living thing…but he’d never given in to it before, at least not with a person. He wondered if he’d get another chance.

  Artie’s life had been a succession of tragedies, or bad luck, as he sometimes called them. His father’s mysterious death, the loss of his childhood home, being expelled from school, his inability to hold down a job. His brother had gotten away from it all and Artie thought he should have done the same. He wished he’d stuck closer to his brother. His brother always got the breaks.

  “Well, I’m down here now, and things are going to start looking up.” Once the car broke down in Tennessee, he left it and hitched rides with truckers across Georgia, glad to put miles between him and the girl’s body.

  He was able to hotwire an old car parked behind a gas station once he got to Florida. He’d figured it was waiting for repairs. He’d had to stop along the way to work on it just to keep it going. When it stopped only a few miles from his destination, he just left it and continued on foot.

  He’d been traveling for a month or so he figured. He’d taken a few odd jobs just to keep a few dollars in his pocket. He’s used a trucker’s cell phone to change the address on his government check so he’d have money when he got to his brother’s place.

  It was growing dark as he crossed the expanse of thorny scrub grass and sand. He could smell the Gulf just beyond the next bend. It was a deserted area which pleased him. He’d had enough of people for a long while.

  He looked at the crumpled map which he’d studied for years, planning to improve his lot in life by following in his brother’s footsteps. “It’s just a little farther up the road,” he told himself with a guttural sound of pleasure. He turned onto the rutted lane that led past the dilapidated trailer half hidden by weeds and discarded trash.

  “Guess who?” he hollered as he opened the rusty door and stepped into the abandoned trailer.

  The distant sirens were growing closer and, as he turned to look out into the dusk, the flashing lights of a dozen police cars were fast approaching the trailer.

  “Can’t ever catch a break.”

  Chapter 23

  “How did they know that this Artie guy was in Florida?” Sophie asked.

  The Undercover Sleuths were all sitting around the dining room table at the Parker’s house celebrating the capture of the real killer and the fact that Darius was now off the hook for murder. Sarah had just served a pancake breakfast along with turkey sausage and a bowl of thinly sliced strawberries for those who wanted to add them to their stacks.

  “Well,” Charles responded as he reached for the can of fat-free whipped cream which he squirted generously on top of his strawberry- covered pancakes, “first of all, we guessed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sarah and I read the letters from the brother that were in the rooming house where this Artie guy had been staying.”

  “And he was encouraging Artie to come down to Florida?” Andy asked.

  “Quite the opposite. In every letter, the brother told him not t
o come. He clearly had no interest in reconnecting with Artie, but we found several maps of Florida with the brother’s area circled and a couple of notes that laid out several routes to the Gulf side of Florida. It just seemed logical that the guy would be heading that way, although the last letter from the brother was dated two years ago. We knew he might not even be there anymore, and, as it turned out, he wasn’t.”

  “But we called Detective Halifax and told him there was a chance they might find Old Artie there,” Sarah added.

  “As it turned out,” Charles continued, “Hal had an even better idea. There were several government check stubs in the shoe box, and Hal checked, on the off chance that the guy had been stupid enough to submit a change of address.”

  “Surely he wasn't,” Sophie commented.

  “Yes, he was just that stupid,” Charles responded. “He called ahead and had his checks mailed to his brother’s address…at least what he thought was his brother’s address.”

  “And that’s where they found him?”

  “It sure was. According to Hal, our guy was standing in the doorway of his brother’s abandoned trailer, just waiting for the police cars to reach him.”

  “Did he put up a fight?” Norman asked.

  “He just mumbled something about never catching a break, but he went willingly. Hal said the local cops down there are arranging extradition to Nashville where he’ll stand trial for the girl’s murder.”

  “Any chance he’ll get off?” Sophie asked.

  “None,” Charles responded. “Not only did he have her jewelry in his possession, but those previously unidentified fingerprints were his.”

  “So I guess our work is done,” Sophie announced proudly with a glob of whipped cream dripping down her chin.

  “Not exactly,” Sarah said. “We still don’t know what happened to Darius.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” Bernice said, looking guilty as she lowered her eyes and laid her fork down.

  “Bernice?” Sarah said. “What do you mean?”

  Bernice was quiet for a few moments and then spoke in a soft voice. The group had to lean in to hear her. “He called me a couple of weeks ago and told me he is right here in Middletown.”

  “And you didn’t tell us?” Sarah said in a stunned tone. “Bernice, what were you thinking?”

  “I’m sorry. He told me he was here and that he was hiding out until the police found the real killer. He knew that if they picked him up, he would be charged with the girl’s murder. He told me he didn’t do it and I believed him. I’m sorry, Sarah and everyone else, but I had to keep it to myself just hoping the killer would be caught.”

  Andy was sitting next to Bernice quietly, but, like everyone else, had stopped eating. He put his arm around her shoulder and gently patted her. “They understand,” he murmured.

  “You knew this?” Charles said to Andy, and his friend nodded his head almost imperceptibly.

  “I knew, and I believed him too,” Andy responded. “I spoke with him, and he admitted that he deserved to be charged with the crimes he had committed, but he was also sure if they found him, he’d go down for Courtney’s death, and he was probably right.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” Charles replied, still looking upset about it. “But…”

  “He insisted that he had nothing to do with it,” Andy continued, “and he told the same story you told about going for help with the car and returning to find the car and the girl both gone. He had no idea what had happened to them. That’s when he decided to just come back to Middletown.”

  “Did he have anything else to say?” Charles asked.

  “He said that he planned to turn himself in just as soon as the real killer was caught. I think he meant it, Charles. I really do.”

  “Do you know where he is?” Charles asked. He was immediately sorry that he had asked the question because if Andy told him, he’d be bound by professional ethics to report it to Hal. As it was, he’d have to tell him that the guy was in town.

  “I didn’t ask and he didn’t say. Bernice and I talked about it, and we decided to trust him. He didn’t have to call Bernice, you know. He wasn’t asking for anything except her trust and to let her know he was okay.”

  Everyone except Bernice went back to their meal eventually, but without the gusto they previously had. Later as Sarah was taking the dishes off the table and Sophie was refilling the coffee cups, Charles cell phone rang.

  He glanced at the display and saw that it was Halifax. “I need to take this,” he said as he stood and moved out of the dining room. How much should I tell him, he wondered.

  He returned a few minutes later with a broad grin.

  “Darius Mitchell just turned himself in.”

  Everyone except Bernice cheered. She laid her head on Andy’s shoulder and wept, but everyone knew they were tears of relief.

  Charles smiled across the table at his wife’s new friend and said, “You were right, Bernice.” She smiled back at him through her tears.

  * * *

  Sarah and Bernice had cleared the table and refreshed everyone’s coffee when Charles asked that everyone remain around the table for a few minutes longer. “Hal had some other news too,” he said. Turning toward Bernice, he added, “For you, Bernice.”

  She looked at him with curiosity and a touch of dread. “What?” She asked cautiously.

  “There were other arrests made today.”

  “And that affects me?” she responded clearly confused.

  “It sure does. Hal told me about this a few days ago, but he asked that I not talk about it until the arrests were made. It seems that a major credit card trafficking ring out of Central America was infiltrated by the FBI and our police came in contact with them while trying to link Darius to your credit card fiasco. It turns out these guys have been placing skimmers in ATMs and gas pumps all over the mid-West, and that’s how your credit cards were compromised,” Charles announced excitedly, pleased to be able to present her with this good news.

  “I don’t understand,” Bernice responded without much expression.

  Not exactly the reaction I expected. Charles realized his own enthusiasm had interfered with his ability to explain what had happened clearly. “Okay,” he said. “Let me explain about these skimmers.” At this point, the entire group was giving him their complete attention.

  “First of all, is everyone here aware of your credit card problem, Bernice?”

  “Yes, I told Andy, and the rest of you were involved from the beginning,” she responded.

  “Okay, so what we’re talking about is a small device that criminals attach to card readers on ATMs, gas pumps, or any kind of payment terminal where you might be inserting your credit card. These are called skimmers, and they are able to capture your credit card information once you insert your card.”

  Bernice was astonished. “Are you saying it wasn’t Darius that stole my credit card information?”

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “And this is how my credit cards numbers ended up down to Central America?”

  “Yep. That’s what Hal told me.”

  “I can hardly believe this,” Bernice said, sitting back in her chair and looking stunned. “It wasn’t Darius?” she repeated rhetorically.

  “I’ve heard about the skimmers,” Norman commented, “but I had no idea they’d made their way to Middletown. I use my credit or debit card for almost everything,” he added. “I assume the skimmers read debit cards as well?”

  “Yes, but to get the most out of a debit card, they would need your pin number. Some of the skimmers have small cameras built in to read your actions as you punch in the numbers so it’s always good to shield the pad when you’re inputting your number.”

  “This is really scary,” Sophie exclaimed. “I don’t think I’ll ever use a credit card again. But,” she added, “That would be very inconvenient, especially at gas pumps.”

  “Despite skimmers, credit cards are still probably safer th
an shopping with cash,” Andy interjected.

  “I agree,” Charles said. “If you’re interested, Hal gave me some pointers on how to avoid skimmers.”

  “I sure want to know,” Sarah responded. “Wait while I make another pot of coffee, and why don’t we move to the living room where it’s more comfortable.”

  Sophie followed Sarah into the kitchen and reached into the tote bag she had placed on the kitchen table earlier.

  “What’s that?” Sarah asked.

  “Well, I didn’t know if you’d need sticky buns with your breakfast, but when I saw you were having pancakes, I knew you wouldn’t want me to put them out, but now that we’re going to probably be here for a while, perhaps…?”

  Sarah burst out laughing, “Of course you may serve your sticky buns. Everyone will be delighted. Just grab a handful of napkins and six dessert plates. There’s a platter on the second shelf you can use to serve them.”

  “I’m so pleased for Bernice,” Sophie said as she arranged the buns on the platter. “I don’t know what the courts will decide about Darius, but she realizes that he has to pay for the crimes he committed, and that doesn’t bother her. She must be very relieved to know he won’t be falsely accused of murder.”

  “And relieved that he didn’t steal her credit card numbers. Now I’m wondering if he actually took the money from her checking account.”

  “He did,” Bernice said stepping into the kitchen at that moment. “I just asked Charles that question, and he said it would require a debit card and pin number to wipe out my bank account. I never got a debit card.”

  “So it was Darius that took the money out of your account?”

  “Yes, when he called me he admitted it and said he was going to pay me back every penny. Of course, I’ve heard that before, and I’ve blindly believed him, but I think there’s a possibility he just might do it this time.”

  As soon as the group had reassembled in the living room and were relaxing in front of the fire, Charles shared some of the information he had on avoiding skimmers.