He looked in my direction and then diverted his eyes to the center of the room. He ran to the chair and quickly removed the tarp which revealed a body.
“Who is this?” he said.
I moved closer to have a look.
“That’s Roland Pierson.”
“Who’s Roland Pierson?”
“He works with Marvin Dillingham at the BEP. He’s the man who gave me Marvin’s contact information … when Marvin was forced to take leave from the Bureau.”
“Worked,” Rosey said. “He’s dead.”
“And he has been relieved of a few of his digits. No doubt this is his blood on the floor.”
“I hope none of that blood has come from either Laurel or Marvin.”
“I wonder what Roland Pierson has to do with this,” I said more to myself than to Rosey.
“Here we go,” Rosey said, “there’s a handwritten note on top the laptop.”
I moved around to the back of the chair and behind Roland’s body. Rosey handed me the note after he had read it. The brief note told me to hit any key on the laptop for a message. I hit the space bar. The following message appeared on the screen:
In case you find this after the exchange, you need to know that
no harm has come to Laurel Shelton yet. I require her yet to
make certain of my exit from the country. Collateral or leverage,
whichever you might choose to call it, she is necessary for my safety.
Farewell, Miss Evans. A joy doing business with you. Oh, by the way,
you will discover that Thaddeus Wilkerson is no longer among the living.
If they have not already done so, our fine Metro Police will
discover his body in his office. Apparent suicide, or that’s probably
the most likely explanation that will be given. I will take good care of Laurel.
It was not signed.
64
Rosey called the local authorities and they were on the scene in less than half an hour. They also brought some Asheville detectives with them. The scene was checked and re-checked and we were questioned as to our involvement. More than once. Time passed too slowly for me.
We told them just enough to keep from being detained. Cooperative but vaguely helpful. I honestly had no leads, so my deflection was forthright. I gave them some names to verify who we were and why we were there. My old friend Wineski of the Norfolk police was called. I got a clean bill of health as did Starnes. Rosey contacted some of his employers in D.C. to verify his credentials.
They told us to stay close by for a few days as the investigation proceeded. As for the woman who showed up just as we were about to enter the house, she claimed to have accidentally arrived at the wrong address. Since she had an out of town license plate and a plausible storyline, they vetted her rather quickly. She tried to leave once but Starnes was there to insist that she remain. She told them nothing of our computer transaction at Chapala in Weaverville. I decided to see if I could hold off on telling the truth of that Chapala rendezvous in the hopes that a background check might reveal something for which the authorities might detain the woman.
A funeral home from Weaverville took the body of Roland Pierson to Asheville for an autopsy after the crime scene unit had finished processing the building and the body. The out-building crime scene was secured and they left an officer in charge for the time being. Everyone else left to conduct more thorough investigations. Right.
After the police and the detectives had completed their questions and search of the premises, Marvin K. Dillingham was not to be found at his residence. I was at a loss to explain where Marvin might be. He had not been mentioned in the computer note left for us.
Our little foursome remained inside the house during most of the interrogations and the searches. A policeman was standing outside the front door to secure the premises from likely intruders. Or maybe some curiosity seekers. I think two detectives were still milling around the out-building talking and looking and trying to figure out what had happened.
The living room was quiet at the moment. The woman was seated on the couch and clearly showing signs of agitation. I didn’t care a bit that she seemed to be uncomfortable. I really wanted to tell the police about my meeting in Weaverville with her, but I would have to explain too much about the attempted monetary exchange. Since the money did not go through, there was no way the police could charge her with involvement in some kidnapping scheme. However, we did tell the police that twelve year old Laurel Shelton was missing along with Marvin Dillingham. We had no idea where Marvin was. Then again, we had no idea where Laurel was either. Once the investigators found the computer and the note up on the screen, our storyline was validated.
One of the Asheville detectives told us that he had checked on that Thaddeus Wilkerson mentioned in the computer note. The Metro D.C. Police had found Wilkerson’s body in his office. They told the Asheville detective that preliminary findings were that it was an apparent suicide.
“And that exchange,” the detective said to me for the fourth or fifth time. “What again did that note mean by exchange?”
“I suppose it meant our verbal exchange,” I fudged a little.
“Could be. So you were on the heels of this fellow who has kidnapped this girl?”
“We were and we only communicated with phone calls,” I lied again. I didn’t like this, but I had no choice. The whole thing was too complicated for me to tell him exactly what was what.
“Stay in touch,” he said without asking any further questions.
He turned and headed to the door. “I may have some follow up things after the F.B.I. is through questioning you. I have your number.” He left.
Starnes was seated next to the woman. Rosey was in an easy chair to my left and Starnes right. I was sitting backwards in a cane back chair directly in front of the woman.
I used Starnes’ sophisticated cell phone to take a picture of the woman. I sent it to Rogers. We were waiting on the identification to come back. I expected that she had lied to the police about her name and her relationship in all of this mess. I was not privy to what she told the police, but I figured that she had to lie about her knowledge of this whole thing.
“You can’t keep holding me like this,” she said.
“You promised not to speak,” I said.
“I made no such promise.”
“Right. More like a threat. So, here’s the thing … either tell us something we need to know or keep quiet.”
“Hmph,” she said.
This might be a long ordeal.
Rogers called me. I stepped outside to talk in private, away from our quasi-captive woman.
“Her name is Betty Jane Jones. She works in the Treasury Building in Washington. She is the office manager for Samuel Jeffers who is a director in the Office of Product Development at BEP.”
“No connections?” I said.
“Remote. Maybe even weird. But since you keep telling me that there is no such thing as a coincidence, I found something.”
“Remote can be good, maybe even weird as well.”
“She buys a unique blend of coffee for her office from a small company that operates out of Miami. They get their beans from the Caribbean. The blend she always buys is called Jamaican Feast. It also happens to be the singular coffee preferred by someone you know.”
“This really sounds like a stretch, even for me,” I said. “And who’s the person I know?”
“Marvin K. Dillingham.”
“Oh, my. Knock me over and call me stupid. But I don’t see any serious connection here. They like the same coffee. Not sure that’s sufficient cause to suspect someone of theft, murder and kidnapping. Quite a leap, even for me.”
“They both order from the same Miami company.”
“Still not enough,” I said.
“It is always shipped to the same address,” she said.
“Of course it is. Where are you going with this?”
“It does not mat
ter who orders it, Betty Jones or Marvin K. The order is always shipped to the same address.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. It is shipped to Marvin’s post office box. She must have a key, or Marvin picks up the coffee for her as well as for himself when it comes in. So then I did some checking of the security cameras at the post office, and guess what?”
“You clever lady.”
“Bingo. Found her opening Marvin’s box to remove said coffee and other mail. The other detail is they both pay for said coffee orders via Marvin’s credit card.”
“Hmm. I think you may have something there, Sleuth Rogers.”
“Even if I do say so myself.”
I returned to the living room.
“Well, Betty Jane Jones. Pleased to meet you.”
She seemed surprised, but said nothing. It happened to be the name that she had actually given to the police when they questioned her. The cop standing outside the front door overheard me repeat the name when Rogers gave it to me. He told me that was the name she had given them earlier when they questioned her.
“It seems that our new acquaintance here is connected to our friend Marvin K. Dillingham.”
Surprise registered on both Starnes and Rosey.
“We’re acquaintances,” she said.
“More likely, friends with benefits.”
“Do tell,” Rosey said.
“I’m sayin’ nothing,” Betty Jones said.
I decided to take a leap and see what might happen to one of my hair-brain theories.
“Here’s the thing, Betty Jones,” I said. “Marvin has kidnapped a twelve year old girl and he is planning to leave the country. He has at least a two hour head start on us, likely more. I’m guessing that he is not waiting for you to get somewhere.”
“You’re lying just to get me to talk,” she said.
Starnes and Rosey were now paying close attention to what I was saying.
I took out the message I had printed from the laptop before we had called the authorities. I read some of it to Betty Jane Jones. I wanted her to hear the part about Laurel accompanying that person in order to get away safely.
“How do I know that you are not making this up?” she said.
“Well, good point, Betty Jones. You really do not know that for sure. But, I must say it is quite a fabrication on our part just to get you to talk to us. But, as you say, no way of knowing for sure. Okay, here’s the thing. The young girl that Marvin has is a friend of ours and if anything happens to her, or, we do not find her and she leaves the country with this so-called friend of yours, then I will do everything in my power to make sure that the rest of your life is absolutely miserable. The least of your problems will be the fact that you are incarcerated with a life sentence without the possibility of parole. I will make certain that you are implemented as an accessory to murder, all of the murders which it appears you are connected with, even remotely. Prison is not where you want to be with enemies. Child abductors and child abusers are not fondly received in prison I’m told. Think hell on earth.”
“I didn’t know anything about kidnapping a child,” she said suddenly. “That was not part of our plan.”
“Improvisation without conferring, no doubt.”
“You talk funny. Marvin told me that.”
Surprise suddenly registered with Starnes and Rosey. My hunch and wild theory was developing.
“So, Marvin was the Voice on your computer at the restaurant,” I said in hopes that she would verify that much.
“Yes, he was. But that girl was in no danger. He promised me. He said it was all an act on his part, that he would never hurt her. Marvin wouldn’t hurt anybody.”
“Marvin has had several people killed in this little plan of his, yours, by the way,” I said.
“I know nothing about anybody being killed. I just know I was to meet him tomorrow afternoon at the Newark Airport. We were flying out to an island in the Caribbean.”
“Which island?”
“He wouldn’t tell me. He said he wanted to surprise me.”
“And you and Marvin would be set for life.”
“Five hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money,” she smiled when she said it.
“Five hundred thousand dollars?” I said and returned her smile.
“He had a partner in D.C. It was to be split two ways.”
“Did he tell you the name of his partner?”
“Thaddeus Wilkerson.”
“I see,” I said. “One million dollars split evenly.”
“That was the plan,” she said. She was convinced of Marvin’s truthfulness.
I handed her the printed note from the computer Marvin had left in the out building. She read it slowly. She seemed to take extra time when she was near the end of it. The part about Thaddeus Wilkerson being dead in his office was the part that seemed to be of significance for her. She looked at me. Her expression had altered substantially.
“You believe me now?” I said. “You understand what I told you about the murders? This was just one. And there was the body in the outbuilding that was taken away a few hours ago. You probably knew him as well.”
“Who was that?” she asked.
“Roland Pierson. He worked alongside of Marvin, correct?” I said.
She was dumbfounded. Marvin had deceived her completely. She nodded but said nothing.
“What time was your departure from Newark?”
“He told me to be there by 5:00 p.m. I don’t know what time the plane was to leave.”
“And he has the tickets,” I said.
Her head drooped to her chest and I think she was crying. I felt no empathy for Betty Jones. Some crimes are beyond my sympathetic feelings for the criminals. Murder and international theft are on one level. They’re bad enough. Kidnapping a child and leaving the country with said child, well, that’s way beyond anything I can fathom. Easy for me to draw some lines. Also easy for me to erase people who cross those lines if the opportunity comes along.
65
Starnes agreed to remain with Betty Jones and hand her over to the local authorities. The F.B.I. would surely want to speak with her at some point. We figured that there would be repercussions regarding our withholding information to them as well as unlawfully detaining Betty Jones for our own investigation. Starnes said she could handle it. Rosey and I had no doubt.
We left immediately in Diamond’s Silverado. It was after 8:00 when we pulled out of Marvin’s driveway. Sam was in the backseat steadily watching whatever he was watching through the windshield. His favorite position in Rosey’s Jag was sitting in the back between the front seats. The Silverado offered a similar luxury to him. He was quite content.
I punched in the destination of Newark Liberty International Airport on Brewster Road into the GPS system of the Silverado. Diamond’s sophisticated unit provided all of the pertinent information we needed to get there. We had about 671 miles to cover by the deadline Betty Jones had provided.
A female voice from the in-dash GPS informed us that it would take more than ten hours to travel that distance.
“Wanna bet?” Rosey said. Since he was driving this time, I decided not to draw swords on him and challenge his manly driving skills. Mr. Macho was behind the wheel.
“You talkin’ to me or to her?” I pointed to the GPS in the center of the console.
“Less than ten,” he said.
“I don’t like her voice. Too sultry or something,” I said.
“Are you jealous of a GPS voice?”
“Not jealous, just … judgmental,” I confessed.
“Sure,” he answered in a mocking tone. “I happen to like the voice. Has an alluring quality.”
“Yeah,” I said, “if one liked to be allured.”
“One of my favorite pastimes,” he said.
“Yeah, we’ve already established that fact.”
“I hate it when you remember my confessions.”
En route I called Mission Hospital in Ashevil
le to check on Diamond. She answered the phone and that was a great beginning. Now that she was awake and feeling better, I did note that she sounded about as weak as I had ever heard her. As weak as a puppy. I updated her on some of the details, but I left out much of what we knew since she didn’t need to be on the phone for a long period. I did mention that Marvin Dillingham was the brains behind the whole affair, and that we were headed to Newark in hopes of derailing his planned escape with Laurel.
“Never suspected that rascal,” she said feebly. “Until the little wimp shot me.”
“None of us suspected Marvin. Even now I’m having a hard time getting my mind around the idea that he was the mastermind behind this whole scheme.”
“It’s a stretch, but then again, hard to know some folks in a short time frame. Humans can surprise you.”
“Yeah, you humans often surprise us,” I said.
“Call me when you have some news,” she said. “I’m so very tired. I need to rest. Sorry.”
“Take care. I’ll be back to see you as soon we catch this sleaze.”
We stopped for gas in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. While Rosey was refueling the tank, I bought us some crackers and water. I was trying unsuccessfully to remember how long it had been since I had eaten anything. Detective work can get that way.
We arrived just under ten hours in Newark. We drove straight to the airport.
“Probably should park and sleep some,” he said. “Rest would be good.”
“Park and sleep,” I said.
“You think he’s already here?”
“Best bet, yes. Likely stayed in one of the nearby hotels. I’ll get Rogers to check.”
We paid and parked in the long term section. It was the first lot we came to close enough to a terminal. I told Rogers to check on flights to any of the islands of the Caribbean that would be leaving after 5 p.m.
“That’s a lot of islands and a long time frame,” she complained.
“You’ve got a micro-processor with speeds that defy the imagination.”
“I’m on it. Just don’t expect miracles.”
“Don’t disappoint me. Laurel’s life depends on this,” I said.
Out Jumps Jack Death: A Clancy Evans Mystery (Clancy Evans PI Book 8) Page 33
