“What did he pay for this, whatever it’s called?” Dan asked.
“Twenty thousand.”
“Holy shit. For a sword?”
“King Ferdinand’s sword,” I corrected.
“So who is King Ferdinand anyway?” Eric asked.
You know, for a college graduate he is pretty damn dumb. I decided to just go on with the story.
“Simon made several investments with Andrew Kramer but he got taken for almost sixty-five thousand on one of Kramer’s scams. Obviously he couldn’t stand for that so Kramer became a victim.”
“From what I know of Kramer he pretty much cheated everyone he came into contact with,” Jean added.
“You’re absolutely correct. Of course having all that money was a problem. That’s where James Clayton Baron comes in. He set up the off-shore accounts and stashed the money for both Farley and Kramer.”
“So where is the money now?” McGregor asked.
“Now this next part I am getting second hand from Constable Pettigrew in the Cayman Islands. It seems he has had a rash of island murders. Evidently Baron, hearing that Farley and Kramer were dead decided this was his chance to take all the money and run. He went to the Caymans and posed as Farley at one bank and Kramer at another. Not only that but he had another client he decided to add to his take as well. Does the name Linda Evans ring a bell?” I said looking around the room.
“No way,” Eric said.
“Yep. Simon had crossed her path when he was the Vice President at the Credit Union where Linda worked. When she got caught, a lot of the blame fell on Simon. Financial oversight was one of his responsibilities. You know how it works. The President shifts the blame to someone lower on the food chain,” I said looking at Captain McGregor.
After giving me the evil eye, he finally asked, “So, what happened to the money? Obviously Baron doesn’t have it.”
“Constable Pettigrew said that after Baron had gotten all the money, he had a good amount crated up and put on board his boat the ‘Twin Screws’. Rather appropriate name. Anyway, evidently it never made it to the boat. Either Simon killed Baron or had someone else do it. They found Baron’s body separated from his head. The money was missing as well.”
“Bartoni. I hate to mention it but where the hell is the money?”
“It seems it was loaded onto another boat that eventually landed in one of the Key’s.”
“So Simon has the money?”
“That’s the theory.”
“But little proof,” the captain interjected.
“Not much really. We do know that he followed Baron down to the Caymans the very next day. He didn’t even try to fake his identity. Why should he, No one knew who he was at that time? He even stayed at the same Hilton as Baron.”
“So now we have a name and a face to go with it. All we have to do now is catch him,” Jean said.
“Piece of cake,” Eric chimed in.
The captain pretended not to have heard, “So where is this guy?”
“17221 Largo Street.”
“Then why don’t you guys get off your butts and go get this bastard,” McGregor suggested.
Well, suggested is probably not the right word. More like growled.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
We all piled into an SUV and headed over to Simon Tiller’s to see if he was stupid enough to still be there. I sincerely doubted it.
“They won’t find him,” I said.
“What makes you say that?”
“Look, the guy got his revenge. He got the money. Why would he stick around now? He probably flew to Florida, got on his boat and took off for parts unknown.”
“Any you surmise this...how exactly?”
“Because it’s what I would do. He has all the money he will ever need. Taking more chances just doesn’t make sense.”
“Let me ask you this. Has anything he’s done so far made any sense?”
“Uh...well no but...”
“So what you are really talking about is your gut feeling,” Jean said.
Humm. This woman is too damn smart.
“Alright, what do you think he is going to do?”
“Take the money and run.”
“What? What? That’s what I just said.”
“Yes, but mine is based on personality profiling. Mine is scientific, yours is guesswork.”
“Hey Jean, you know what I like about the FBI?”
“What?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“Oh hardy-har,” she said.
***
Dan and Eric were bundled up in their cop car when we finally drove up. I trudged over to the car and Dan rolled down the window.
“Anything happening?”
“Maybe. Some guy drove up and went inside. It is impossible to tell from here if it was Tiller.”
“Alright. Come on, we will go talk to this guy. If it is Tiller we will pull his ass down to the station.”
“You’re the boss,” he said and rolled up the window.
They both climbed out of the car and I went and told Jean the plan. She wanted to come with us but I wasn’t too keen on the idea. Like most FBI agents, she won the argument so she went along.
I sent Eric and Dan around to the back of the house in case Tiller decided to run.
“Ready?” I asked Jean.
“Do it.”
I rang the doorbell. I could hear it inside. I looked through the glass and saw movement. I rested my hand on the butt of my gun.
I rang again and heard, “Just a moment.”
“Getting ready to run?” Jean asked.
“Probably putting his tights on.”
The door opened and a short, husky man stood there.
“You’re the police, correct?”
“Yeah.”
“And I take it you are Detective Bartoni?”
“I am.”
“I have something for you,” he said and turned and walked to a table in the hall. He picked up an envelope and handed it to me.
“This is for me?”
“Correct. Mr. Tiller said I was to give it to no one but you.”
“Who are you?”
“Actually, I’m just a stage hand at the Capital Repertoire Theater. Mr. Tiller paid me a hundred dollars to be here and wait for you to show up.”
“Where is Tiller now?” I asked.
“I haven’t the foggiest idea. He just handed me this envelope, gave me the instructions, and paid me the C-note.”
I looked at him for several seconds to see if he would look away but he didn’t.
“Your name?” Jean asked.
“Martin. Martin James Fulton.”
“Alright Mr. Fulton. We will need you to come down to the police station and make a statement.”
“But I just did.”
“Sorry, it doesn’t work that way. You’ll need to come to the station.”
“Do I need a lawyer?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Do you?” I said.
“Well, I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“There you go.”
Jean and I walked back to the car and sent a text to Dan telling him it was all over and to come on in out of the cold. A few minutes later Dan and Eric walked over to their car. They followed us when we took off.
“You going to open that or what?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“I will.”
“When?”
“Oh hell,” I said handing her the envelope.
“You read it,” I said.
She carefully peeled the flap back and unfolded the letter. Just glancing over I could see it was longer than I had expected.
My dear Detective Bartoni,
It has been a pleasure to watch your progress in the papers. I doubt they appreciate the effort you put into trying to apprehend me. You see, rightness is on my side. Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, blood and revenge are hammering in my head.
I am sure you
have pondered why I would seek revenge after much time has elapsed but wrongs should never go unpunished. Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man still to remember wrongs? I can only say that I feel vindicated.
Farewell, Detective Bartoni. The jury, passing on the prisoner's life, may in the sworn twelve have a thief or two guiltier than him they try? I feel free for the first time. Simply the thing that I am shall make me live.
Adieu,
“Well a real nutcase right to the end. I guess that’s what I should have expected.”
“He is different.”
“You think he is gone for good?”
“I’m not so sure. It won’t take very much to push him even further into Cephaloneuronal Disseminata.”
“Yeah. I was just about to say that cerialwhatever thing,” I said.
“It is just the clinical name for crazy.”
“So what’s next?” I asked.
“He will go on the FBI’s most wanted list. We will notify Interpol to be on the lookout for him as well.”
“You think he is out of the country?”
“Honestly, I do but I also think he will show up again at some point. He has his revenge for now but people like him will start to see others that have wronged him, real or imagined,” Jean said.
We didn’t talk for a few more minutes, each lost in our own thoughts. I was pretty disgusted with myself for not getting this dork. I hate it when the perp is always one step ahead of me. This is the second time I have known who the killer was and couldn’t put him away. Maybe I was losing my touch. It really bummed me out to let this guy outfox me.
“Put it in cold case, Bartoni,” McGregor said in a softer voice than usual.
He knew it was eating at me so he was going easy on me. About the time I want to strangle him he goes and does something human and I start liking him again. Maybe this was his way of keeping me off balance. If it was, he was doing a masterful job.
I decided to go home, clean up, and see if Dr. Ben Warman was available for another ‘memorable’ date.
- CASE FILE PENDING -
About the author:
Marshall W. Huffman did not begin writing until after he retired from teaching. He decided to start with a trilogy based on a cataclysmic event. Marshall’s first trilogy is THE EVENT and consists of THE END, THE BEGINNING, and THE REVELATION. With THE EVENTS success he decided to write a second trilogy that is a frightening look at the events that could lead to THE SECOND CIVIL WAR. It is made up of: Book I – A NATION DIVIDED; BOOK II – A NATION AT WAR; BOOK III – A NATION HEALING.
Marshall was born in Bainbridge, Georgia and grew up in Indiana. After spending eight years in the Navy, he attended Ball State University, earning a B.S. degree in Business.
During and after college, he was involved in the restaurant business and spent the next twenty-five years in all types of venues, eventually owing his own fine dining restaurant. After years of long hours, he decided on a career change. He attended Eastern Illinois University earning a MBA. Because of his business background, Eastern Illinois University asked him to teach in the hospitality management program. He was recruited from Eastern to Parkland College and soon took over as the Program Director for the Hospitality Program. During his tenure there, he became a chef and had a television show called Cooking around the World with Chef Marshall and taught a series of Gourmet cooking classes for Continuing Education as well.
Professor Huffman retired from teaching along with his wife, Dr. Susan Huffman, to the Tampa Bay Florida area.
You can find his e-books or in paperback under: MARSHALL HUFFMAN at Amazon.com.
THE SHAKESPEARE MURDERS Page 16
