by C. M. Sutter
She went silent.
“That’s better.”
Mike sat at the table and weighed his options while he stared at the vial in his hand. He gave it a swirl, thought about its contents, and returned it to his chest pocket.
I can take the old woman’s car and hit the road now, or pack it up with food and supplies, eat a filling meal, get a good night’s sleep, then reevaluate everything in the morning. I bet that old bag has plenty of money stashed too.
He went to her purse and dumped it over the table. Her cell phone, a checkbook, and that all-important wallet fell out along with a bottle containing nitroglycerin pills.
Heart problems, huh? I bet you could use one of these about now.
His phone rang just as he was heading to the bathroom with the bottle in hand. He fished the phone out of his pants pocket.
Danny Greenly? What the hell does he want?
“Danny, what’s up?”
“Mr. Glover, I thought you ought to know.”
“Know what?” Mike walked outside and sat on the porch. He didn’t need the old woman to hear his side of the conversation through the bathroom door. He shook a cigarette out of the pack, held it between his lips, and flicked the wheel on the lighter. The end of the cigarette glowed orange as he took a deep pull.
“The cops called me and asked if I knew of other properties you managed for the C Corp.”
“What’d you say?”
“I said no.”
“That was the right answer, Danny. Expect to see a bonus in your mailbox soon, and don’t tell them anything if they call again.”
“You bet, sir, and thank you.”
Mike powered down his phone. No need to give the cops any help tracking him down. He picked up the old woman’s phone and stuffed it in his pocket.
So the sheriff’s office knows for sure that Mike Morton and I are the same person. That means they’re tracking down the properties under my real name. It’ll take longer to get the information they want from the C Corp, though, especially since those records are being held at the title company in St. Thomas. Nothing happens quickly in the Caribbean. I’ll be safe here for a while.
Mike walked back in and locked the door behind him. He pulled the curtains closed, jiggled the handle on the patio door, and peeked into the garage. The house was buttoned up tight. With everything secure, including Mrs. Kittleman, he went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Hmm… so what looks good?”
Chapter 63
Back at Morton’s house, Amber and I picked apart the contents of the firepit until dark. We placed in the evidence bag a burnt heel of a shoe, several pieces of red fabric, and a lone bra strap with the plastic slide still intact but melted.
“Those bits of clothing definitely belonged to a woman,” I said, “and likely Naomi.”
The guys, already in the house, had gone through the botanical garden earlier, and with Lena’s help, had determined through photographs that at least ten poisonous plants were being nurtured in that garden. Ashtrays filled with Salem cigarette butts sat on most flat surfaces.
I wrinkled my nose when we walked through the door. “That guy was quite the smoker. This house stinks to high heaven.”
Jack tipped his chin at us. “What did you find in the firepit?”
“A little bit of everything—pieces of shoe leather and a heel, a bra strap, and more of that red stretchy material.”
“Enough evidence to suggest an outfit, then?”
“I’d say so,” Amber said. “How’s the search in here going?”
“Billings and Clayton are rummaging through paperwork in Mike’s office. They had to break the lock on the file cabinet. Guess he didn’t have time to gather everything and no vehicle to put things in. He likely took what was most important to him in that backpack.”
“Do you think he hitchhiked?”
Jack frowned. “Doubt it. That would be too undignified for someone with a superiority complex like he has.”
“But there wouldn’t be a paper trail. Independent drivers and taxis have to report their rides.”
Amber cocked her head. “Independents who are self-employed don’t have to if they work under the table and deal only in cash.”
“Then we’ll never find him.” I opened a drawer and began rifling through it. It was apparently the kitchen junk drawer since I found nothing of interest inside. I moved on to the living room and opened the lower cabinets of the bookcase then took a seat on the floor, with Amber at my side. “There’s a ton of paperwork in here, so we might as well dig in.” We spent a tedious hour going through every sheet of paper. Some dated back to when Morton lived in Madison.
“I guess this is a good sign,” Amber said. “If he keeps every slip of paper he’s ever had, then we’re bound to find something.”
Jack moved his stack of papers to the side, stood, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Everything is kinking up on me.” He called out to Clayton and Billings. “Find anything yet?”
Clayton walked out of the office. “Yeah, several mortgage documents that were filed by the county and signed by Martin Glover.”
“Any that we aren’t aware of?”
Billings spoke up from the other room. “Not yet.”
I shook my head. “I still don’t understand why he has some properties purchased by a C Corp and others by Martin Glover.”
“I imagine he’s trying to hide income and have zero liability with the ones under the C Corp,” Jack said.
“Hey, check this out.” I handed four slips of paper to Amber. “He kept receipts from a trip to the Virgin Islands. Who does stupid things like that?”
Amber pointed at the stacks of paper in front of us. “Apparently he does.”
Jack knelt at our side. “What kind of receipts?”
“Here, take a look.” Amber passed them to Jack. A wire transfer to a title company, a bank deposit, a drugstore receipt for a five-hundred-count bottle of aspirin, and a bar tab had been folded together and secured with a paper clip.
Jack looked at each one. “They’re all dated during the same week eighteen months ago. Didn’t he tell UWM he wanted to retire to the US Virgin Islands?”
Billings walked out of the office. “Yep, he sure did.”
“The receipts were signed by Martin Glover, and it shows the last four digits of his credit card number. Start looking for credit card bills under that name.” Jack looked around. “Damn it. He must have stashed his computer in that backpack. I don’t see one anywhere.”
“What about all the other mail? Is it being delivered to Michael Morton or Martin Glover?”
We searched the house and didn’t find a single envelope with a name on it.
I pointed at the full-size shredder near the office door. “That’s probably where all the envelopes went.”
Jack pointed at Clayton. “Chad, run down to the mailbox and check for new mail. I doubt if he thought about getting it today.”
Clayton did and was back minutes later. “Looks like everything comes to Martin Glover, and get this, one envelope is from the bank. That could be a gold mine of information.”
“Open it.”
My head nearly spun off my shoulders. “That’s a federal crime, Jack.”
“Not when we have a warrant in hand. Now go ahead, Clayton.”
Chad ripped open the envelope and smoothed out the three sheets of paper that showed deposits and withdrawals.
Jack looked over his shoulder. “More wire transfers, and they’re all going to a bank in St. Thomas. So maybe some renters give him personal checks, he deposits them here, and then the funds are wired to an account in the Caribbean. That account is probably attached to the C Corp, which buys more properties back in the states.”
“That seems like a lot of work for no obvious reason.”
“True but following these bread crumbs might tell us where he’s holed up. That bank in the Virgin Islands is only a phone call away.” Jack pushed up his sleeve and checked the time. “U
nfortunately, that will have to wait until tomorrow. Banking hours are over for the day, so for now, let’s keep digging through these papers.”
We’d spent hours going through useless paperwork and realized our best bet was still to contact that bank the next morning. With our evidence bags full, we buttoned up the house and called it a night.
Chapter 64
The knocking wouldn’t stop that Friday morning. Mike peered out the window and saw an elderly lady standing on the porch. She continued to pound and called out Mrs. Kittleman’s name. “Mildred, open the door. Did you forget about breakfast and bingo? Are you home?”
Mildred’s ringing phone would give him away. He quickly silenced it and hoped the nosy woman outside hadn’t heard it ring. He watched as she dropped her phone back into her purse and walked to the garage.
Did I make sure that side door was locked last night?
He couldn’t remember. He ran to the door between the kitchen and garage and secured it. Seconds later, the woman banged on that door.
I can’t believe that damn old hag came into the garage. Now she saw the car and knows for sure that Mildred is home.
Mike crouched under the picture window that faced the driveway and peeked out. He watched the woman try the phone one more time before climbing into her car and pulling away.
Good, maybe she gave up—or maybe she’s going to report this to the police. I better see what Mildred can tell me. It might be time to go.
Mike knocked on the bathroom door. “Mildred, I’m coming in, so don’t do anything you’ll regret.” He cracked open the door just enough to get a glimpse of the full-sized vanity mirror. In its reflection, he saw Mildred slumped over the tub. “Son of a bitch.” He rushed in and went to her side. It was too late—she was cold and stiff. “Damn it, it’s just my luck the old woman had a heart attack. Now I’ve really got to make myself scarce.”
Mike grabbed everything he could use for the foreseeable future, including her wallet, and ripped the keys off the hook by the garage door. He raised the overhead, got in the car, and squealed the tires as he shifted into reverse. He had to get out of the county, the state, and then the country. He patted his chest pocket to check—the vial was still there.
Chapter 65
I noticed Jack leaning against his doorframe. He blew on his steaming coffee and began the morning update.
“Okay, listen up, people. The lab confirmed that the DNA on the cigarette butts matched each other as well as the swab sample from Naomi’s body. The proof is irrefutable that Glover is our guy, and the DA has agreed to go forward with murder charges against Martin Glover, aka Mike Morton. Now, all we have to do is find him. I’ve checked the website for the bank Glover uses in the Virgin Islands, and it opens in forty-five minutes. Our warrant for his information will hold up at the bank and at the title company he wired money to. Even though the accounts may be under the control of the C Corp, Martin Glover is the person who made the transactions. The US Virgin Islands is a territory of the United States, and they have to abide by our laws.”
“Have all of his buildings that we know of been checked?” I asked.
“Both Fond du Lac and Dodge Counties sent deputies to search the buildings. He wasn’t at any of them.” Jack’s sigh was discouraging. “We don’t know his next of kin since he isn’t local to our area. I’ve reached out to Dane County and asked for their help. For now, we wait, at least until I talk to the right people in the Virgin Islands.”
When his desk phone rang, Jack pushed off the door. He took a seat and answered it. “Yes, this is Lieutenant Steele. On the outskirts of Addison? That isn’t the Allenton police station’s jurisdiction. Okay, I’ll send a deputy out there.” Jack dialed Dispatch and gave Peggy the address. “Who’s out that way? Yep, that’s fine. Have him update me when he knows something.” Jack returned to the bull pen and took a seat in Amber’s guest chair.
“What was that about?” Billings asked.
“An old lady called in for a wellness check on her friend. She said the woman doesn’t answer the door or the phone, but her car is in the garage. They’re missing breakfast and bingo.”
I smiled. “What a life to look forward to.”
Clayton chuckled. “Yeah, you young pups have a long wait.” He turned to Jack. “Who are you sending?”
“Ebert can be there in less than ten minutes.” Jack rolled his neck and glanced at the clock.
“The time isn’t going to go any faster by staring at the clock, Boss,” I said.
“Yeah, I know. I finished reading Becca’s journal last night. She wrote that she was going to tell the counselors what Morton was up to. It sounded like she was scared to death of him.”
Amber groaned. “Yeah, literally.”
Jack’s phone rang again. “Sure, patch him through. What’s wrong, Ebert? Uh-huh, that’s what the old lady told Allenton’s police department. Yeah, go on in, and I’ll stay on the line.” Jack covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “Ebert said the overhead is wide open, and the door from the garage to the house is unlocked. A complete contradiction to what the caller told the police.”
“That’s odd,” Billings said. “Maybe dementia is setting in.”
Jack shook his head. “Yeah, I’m still here. That’s troubling. Okay, watch your moves, Ebert, and call out to her.” Jack turned toward us. “The contents of her purse were dumped out on the table.”
My interest was piqued, and the four of us sat on the edges of our seats as we listened to Jack’s side of the conversation.
“Shit! Clear the house and get Silver out there. Amber and Kate are on their way.”
Jack hung up. “Ebert said the old lady is dead in the bathroom, and it looks like the house has been gone through.”
I stood, secured my shoulder holster, and grabbed my purse. “And that probably explains why the car is gone and the overhead was left open. The burglar was actually in the house when the friend stopped by. He made a quick exit after she drove away.”
Amber turned back to Jack as we headed to the door. “Do you think this has anything to do with Glover?”
“At this point, I have no idea, but anything is possible. I’ll let Lena and the guys know what’s going on. They shouldn’t be far behind you.”
Amber and I took off, the siren engaged and the lights flashing red and blue. Twenty minutes later, we reached the small house set back off the road. Two patrol cars sat in the driveway, and Ebert approached us as I pulled in.
“What have you got, Tim?” I killed the engine and climbed out. Amber and I walked with him to the house.
He pointed at the garage and explained his every move. “The overhead was open when I arrived, and the door between the garage and house was unlocked. Once in the kitchen, I noticed the purse’s contents scattered on the table. I checked the living room for the homeowner, called out her name, then continued down the hallway. That’s when I saw her body slumped over the tub—she was ice cold and stiff.”
I jerked back my head. “That wouldn’t make sense if the perp just committed a burglary and killed the woman in the process. The call came in less than an hour ago, and apparently he was still in the home.”
Silver walked in. “I agree with you, Kate. Let’s see what Lena gives the woman as a TOD.”
“Got a name for her?” Amber asked as we entered the bathroom and took a look at the deceased.
“Mildred Kittleman, aged eighty.”
I rubbed my head. It was beginning to pound. “First things first. Pull up her name in the DMV database and put a BOLO out for her car. The perp couldn’t have gotten far. We also need to know if she owns this house or rents it. We can’t conduct a thorough search without a warrant unless we’re absolutely sure the home belonged to her. We need to interview that caller too. Have the PD pick her up.”
Amber and I walked each room. She noticed me squinting. “Something wrong?”
“My eyes are blurring, and my head is pounding.”
“Again? Maybe thi
s problem has been a sinus infection all along.”
“I don’t think so.”
We continued on and saw that the house had definitely been gone through. We returned to the kitchen and stared at the contents of Mildred’s purse.
“The wallet is missing.” Amber looked around. “I don’t see a house phone or a cell phone anywhere. Ebert, the friend said she tried calling Mildred, right?”
“That’s correct.”
“Okay, tell the Allenton PD we’ll interview the friend at their station. Meanwhile, talk to the closest neighbors and find out everything you can about Mildred.”
When I heard cars approaching, I peered out the window. Lena and the forensic team had arrived, and we needed an estimated time of death before anything.
“I have to get some ibuprofen from the car. I’ll be right back.” I returned to the house minutes later with Lena, Jason, and our forensic team.
“Hey, guys.” Amber tipped her head toward the hallway. “The deceased is in the bathroom.”
Kyle nodded and headed in that direction.
“We’ll need your best guess at a time and cause of death as soon as possible, Lena. That’ll tell us something about the perp and how long he was here.”
“You got it.” Lena turned to Dan. “Go ahead and snap your pics so I can get in there and examine the body. That room is too small for all of us.”
Chapter 66
I pulled into the Allenton Police Department’s lot, and Amber and I headed for the front door. Lena had given us a rough estimate of how long Mrs. Kittleman had been dead—it was seven hours, give or take. Our forensic team photographed the residence while we waited for information on the property owner on record. The BOLO was in place for the car and covered the entire state.
An officer led us back to the interview room Mrs. Yahr sat in.
“Mrs. Yahr?” I extended my hand and Amber did too. “We’re detectives from the sheriff’s office and need to ask you some questions about Mildred.”
“Is she okay? It isn’t like her to forget our plans.”
