“Enough,” James said, raising his voice, something he rarely did.
He was not the type to lose control. In fact he had a plaque that said; ‘Never let them see you sweat’. It was a motto he believed in.
“I will not be yelled at James Baron. I am not some cheap tart,” she said.
“Funny, you’re acting like one,” he said, closing the suitcase and zipping it.
“You bastard,” she yelled at him.
He didn’t bother to reply; he walked out of the house, climbed in his Austin Martin Vantage and didn’t bother to look back at his wife standing in the doorway. He should have.
* * *
Jean Dixon was sitting in Captain McGregor’s office when I stuck my head in the door.
“Got a second?” I asked.
“Sure. Ms. Dixon and I were just discussing you.”
“Oh great. I’ll bet that was some conversation.”
“Actually, Ms. Dixon was just telling me that she had you softened up to the idea of a profiler somewhat.”
“What?”
“No, really,” McGregor said. I looked at her, then at the captain and back at her.
They both burst out laughing.
“Big whoopee,” I said.
“Hey, no harm no foul. So what do you have?”
“The link between the three murders is an attorney named James Baron. He has a private practice and all three of them are connected in various business dealings. They have all three been dealing with each other for at least ten years. They have all gotten rich together. Baron takes everything, cleans it up and makes it seem legitimate. Phony corporations, phony deeds, anything and everything you can think of. Our old buddy Baron is in this up to his ears,” I said.
“You have proof?”
“Well duh Captain, only a ton of it.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Waiting for a warrant. Things are really backed up over at the courthouse, I said.
“Have you sent anyone to watch him? Keep an eye on him?” McGregor asked.
“No. He has no way of knowing we are on to him yet. We got this information from public records. There is no reason for him to bolt.”
“Still, I would feel a lot better if you sent someone to watch the guy.”
“Sure, I’ll have Dan and Eric go to his office and I’ll head over to his house. They can run the warrant out when it clears.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll call and let you know when it’s on the way,” the captain replied.
“You mind if I tag along?” Jean asked?”
“Really?”
“Sure. I don’t get to go into the field much. It would give me a chance to see how you operate. It might help me to understand what you do better and that might make me better at my job. I told you, I’m always learning.”
“Captain?”
“Fine with me.”
“Okay then. You’re welcome to ride along but I have to tell you, it probably won’t be very exciting.”
“It’s not all that exciting sitting around here all day.”
“I know what you mean. The company is rather dull.”
“Out,” McGregor said, pointing to the door.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Oh, my God. Who are you?”
“I seek James Baron.”
“Why are you dressed like that? Besides, James isn’t here?”
“Wench, tis important business. I must speak with James. Tis urgent.”
“I don’t care how urgent it is. He isn’t here. Now I want you to leave or I will call the police,” she said starting to shut the door.
He shoved the door open and rushed in the foyer grabbing Emily by the throat and shoving her against the wall. She tried to scream but nothing but a gurgling noise escaped her mouth. Her eyes bulged out as he held his face close to hers.
“Mrs. Baron. It is not polite to speak to people like that. Shutting the door in someone’s face is very rude. I don’t like rude people. They make me angry. Do you understand Mrs. Baron? She could only stare into his eyes. She couldn’t even move her head. He was going to kill her, she could sense it. Suddenly, he let her go. She collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.
The man walked casually over to the door and closed it, locking the dead bolt. She wanted to scream for help but he was standing before her again and she was afraid to do anything but look up at him.
“Mrs. Baron. Maybe we had a failure to communicate. I love that line. Remember the movie ‘Cool Hand Luke’? Where the warden tells Newman, ‘What we have here is a failure to communicate’. So, I’m thinking that’s what we have. I need to speak to James Baron. You say he is not here. If that is so, all you have to do is tell me where I can find him.”
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
“What? Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
“I don’t know where he is,” she said slightly louder.
“You don’t know where your own husband is? Is that what I’m hearing?”
“Yes.”
“You have no idea?”
“No.”
“Mrs. Baron. It is only 6:30 p.m. That’s pretty early. I can make this a very long night for you. One you would rather not have happen. I can assure you, you will tell me anyway before the sun comes up. Do yourself a favor; tell me where Mr. Baron is.”
“I honestly don’t know. He left an hour ago. He took a suitcase with him. He didn’t say where he was going.”
“A suitcase?”
“Yes.”
“He took off with a suitcase but didn’t tell you where he was going?”
“Yes. No. I mean, he didn’t say.”
“And being the good wife you are, you didn’t ask?”
“Yes, I did but he wouldn’t tell me. He said it was business. Some kind of emergency he had to take care of. An important client was killed.”
“Mrs. Baron, I want to believe you but I simply can’t take your word on this. I believe he did tell you. Maybe not exactly where he was headed but more than you have told me. I afraid I’m not going to be able to leave before I know exactly what he did tell you.”
“Please. I don’t know any more than that. I would tell you if I did.”
“We will see,” he said and pulled her up by the hair and half shoved, half dragged her into the front room.
He threw her on the couch and jumped on top of her forcing his knee in her stomach.
“Mrs. Baron, I really didn’t want to do this. I dislike having to inflict damage on those that are not directly responsible for others’ suffering but I will do whatever is necessary. I can assure you that this will be long and painful,” he said pulling a dagger from the scabbard on his belt.
“No. No. Please. Don’t. I don’t know where he went,” she pleaded.
“I’m going to put your right eye out first, then your left. I will continue until you are nothing more than a mass of quivering flesh when I am done. No one will even recognize you but you will not be dead,” he said and lowered the point of the knife toward her eye.
“The Cayman Islands,” she said.
“The Cayman Islands? Now see? Wasn’t that a lot easier? This could have been so much more pleasant for both of us if you had just said that in the first place. I wouldn’t have had to get all worked up. You could have gone about your business and everything would have worked out fine. Why didn’t you just tell me in the first place? Why make everything so hard?”
“Something scared James. I figured someone was out to get him. I was trying to protect him,” she said.
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe someone was trying to protect him?”
“Protect him? How? By coming in the house and threatening to kill me? How does that protect him?”
“Because if I can get it out of you, so could they,” he said taking his knee of her chest.
“And just how are you going to protect him?” she asked.
“Now I can go watch his back. If anyone shows up I can get th
e jump on them.”
“Are you a cop?”
“Something like that.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Your outfit didn’t make sense. I thought I was helping,” she said.
“Heck, I’m just kidding anyway. I’m going to kill your husband,” he said and drove the knife through Emily’s heart. She stared at him in disbelief trying to figure out what had just happened. The last thing she saw was him smiling down at her. He spent the next twenty minutes going through James’s office desk and files before finding what he wanted.
* * *
I looked at my watch, it was close to 8:45 p.m. and I wondered if they would even get the warrant this late at night. We had been there for only twenty minutes but already I was wishing we had stopped and grabbed a sandwich first. Lights were on in the house but no cars were parked in the driveway. With any luck they were in for the night and when, or if, the warrant came we could simply grab Mr. Baron and have a nice friendly conversation with him. Fat chance.
“How long do we sit here?” Jean asked.
“I wish I knew. Until someone signs the damn warrant all we can do is sit. I just wish we had eaten first.”
“I have a couple of candy bars in my purse. You want one?”
“Sure,” I said enthusiastically.
She rummaged around in the suitcase that she called a hand bag and came up with a Snickers Bar and a Three Musketeers.
“Which one?” she asked, holding them out.
“Hey, I don’t care. Either is just fine with me. They’re yours; you take the one you like best.”
“I like them equally. Pick the one you want.”
Crap. It is never simple. Being polite is hard work. I considered taking them both and saying I couldn’t make up my mind but that would be tacky.
“How about the Snickers,” I finally said. She held it out and I took it. It seemed like she held on just a bit.
“Did you want the Snickers?” I said.
“Oh no. This is fine.”
“Really. I had just as soon have the Three Musketeers.”
“No, I’m fine with this,” she said looking down at it but making no move to open it.
I hate this stuff. Now I felt guilty for taking the Snickers. How in the world can picking a candy bar make someone feel guilty? I reached over and took the Three Musketeer and put the Snickers in her hand. Before she could say anything I tore the wrapper off and took a bite. She watched me for a few seconds and then put the Snickers bar back in her purse.
“What?” I said as she closed up her bag.
“I don’t like nuts all that much. They get caught in my teeth.”
“For Christ…” I didn’t finish, I just laid my head back on the headrest.
People are so hard to figure out. I was just starting to say something I would probably regret later when my cell phone rang.
“Bartoni.”
“Got the warrant. It should be in your hands in ten minutes. Were about two miles from your location.”
“Good. Bring it on up to the house. We’re going to go on up and ring the bell,” I said and hung up.
“Warrant’s on the way. Let’s go. When we get up there, I want you to stay off to the side, out of the doorway. I doubt that anything will happen but you can never be too sure. Just don’t get between me and the door.”
“Got it,” she said.
I rang the bell. We could hear the chimes echo but no one came to the door. I rang them again but the results were the same.
“Lights are on and no one’s home,” I said.
“Maybe they just want it to look like someone is home,” Jean said.
“Always a possibility.”
Just then a car pulled in the drive. It was one of our cars and a cop brought the warrant over to me.
“Hang on a second. I’m going to go in. We can’t get an answer.”
“You sure you want to do that?”
“I just want you as back up,” I told him.
“You’re the boss.”
I put my hand on the knob and turned it. The door opened easily. If no one was home they were certainly trusting. I had a very bad feeling. I pulled my gun and crept forward. A phone was lying on the floor and a mirror on the wall was hanging crooked. This did not look good. I stuck my head outside and motioned for the two cops.
“I don’t like what I see so far. You come with me and you go call for back up. I have a feeling something went down here.”
I went to one side of the door leading to the next room and the other cop went to the other. I motioned for him to go in low and I would go high on three. The room was dark so if someone was inside they would have a big advantage. If they had a shotgun we were probably toast. On three we both charged through the door but nothing happened.
“See if you can find a light or light switch,” I said.
A few seconds later the lights came on. On the sofa lay the body of a woman, drenched in blood, looking up at the ceiling.
“Son of a bitch,” the cop said.
“More than likely the wife of Mr. Baron,” I replied.
I could see she had been stabbed but she was fully clothed. I carefully pulled the collar back on her shirt and could see some discoloration around her neck. She had been choked as well. The problem was this didn’t fit in with the other crimes. She wasn’t the lawyer and her skull seemed just fine. So how did she fit into the equation? Did this guy screw up? No, that wasn’t likely. She had something he wanted. What? Information? We went through the rest of the house room by room but found nothing. There was no trace of James Baron. I called the other team, Dan answered.
“What’s up Angie?”
“I just found Mrs. Baron dead. So far no trace of Mr. Baron here. Have you guys seen anything of him?”
“No. We have been going through his office but so far we haven’t seen hide nor hair of him. We have his computer and files. CSI is cleaning out the place right now. You want them over there when they finish up?”
“I already put in a call. I notified the ME as well. I’ll let the captain know as soon as CSI and the ME finish up,” I said.
“Okay, see ya back at the ranch,” Dan said.
Jean was looking a little green. She looked like she could throw up any second. She had been looking at the body of Mrs. Baron.
“You okay?” I asked.
“She’s dead.”
“Deader than a doornail, whatever the hell that means,” I said.”
“Shouldn’t we cover her up?”
“Not until the ME gets here. He needs to look her over just the way she is. Once the CSI techs and the ME are done, they will bag her and tag her and it’s off to the morgue.”
“You make it sound so routine, like it means nothing.”
“I’m just telling you how it is. There is no glory in being murdered, nothing pretty about it. You don’t look so good. Maybe you should get some fresh air,” I said.
“I think I’ll be alright,” she said, taking a deep breath.
“Here,” I said, pulling the rest of the Three Musketeer from my coat pocket, you might want to finish this off.”
She heaved once, put her hand over her mouth and ran for the door. I heard something about a heartless twit but didn’t see how it could be aimed at me.
* * *
The sun was just setting when the Cayman Airlines plane taxied to a halt in front of the customs building. Like on every airplane, passengers immediately started pressing into the isle as soon as the plane came to a stop. Somehow they believe that it will help them get off faster. It proves that we are still basically like sheep. One person jumps up and everyone feels compelled to follow in case they are missing something. James watched in amusement as they were all cramped into the small space between the seats, trying not to touch each other. Finally, after the isles had cleared he got up and retrieved his bag from the overhead compartment. He exited the plane and strolled to the customs lines.
All of the people in such a big hurry
were still there waiting. He had been here so many times before he knew how it worked and how long it would take. No one was in a hurry in the Islands.
Customs is basically a joke. ‘Got anything to declare’? ‘No I’m taking drugs out of the country not bringing them in’. ‘Okay, enjoy your stay.’
Finally he walked out of the terminal and to the end of the building. He passed a large group of people trying to figure out where the car rental place was. He laughed as he walked across the street and into the building.
“Yes, may I help you?” an attractive female asked.
“James Baron. I have a Jeep reserved.”
“Yes Mr. Baron. Driver’s License, proof of insurance, and credit card, please.” He handed her an envelope that contained everything required. He was just getting his keys when a group came in.
“Is this where you get cars?”
“Yes,” the girl said.
“Well, why in the hell didn’t they tell us that when we got here? We have been looking all over the place,” an obviously irritated man said.
“You’re here now. Come on in and I’ll get you on your way as quickly as I can,” she said pleasantly.
“My Jeep?”
“White one. Slot three. Remember to drive on the left,” she said flashing him a smile.
“I will,” he said and went to find the Jeep. The top was up and he quickly put it down.
He put it in gear and headed for South Church Street in Georgetown. He was staying at the Grand Cayman Ritz-Carlton. He had specified a deckhouse on Seven Mile Beach with an infinity pool. As usual, there was no disappointment. No one did it better than the Ritz when it came to service and meeting expectations. The house had over 7000 square feet of space with five bedrooms. It was totally decadent and he loved it.
Tomorrow he would go to the Cayman National Bank Ltd. and access Linda Evans’ account. He would then go down the street to First Cayman Bank and empty the account of Melvin Farley. Of course the real money was in the Griffinder Bank Gd.
While it was not widely known, it was used by a very select clientele who wanted the absolute maximum security and anonymity. They asked no questions and no one, but no one, accessed the accounts of their client’s deposits. They did not care where it came from or where it went. They were in one business. Banking. Moral issues were not a part of the equation.
THE SHAKESPEARE MURDERS Page 9
