Mort laughed uproariously and slapped his knee.
“Could you always do that?”
“Ever since I was a kid. I always knew when the phone was about to ring and often who was calling. And I could just tell things about people when I’d sit next to them.”
Karen shook her head. “Damnedest thing I ever saw.”
They were silent again.
“Also, you should have that shoulder looked at. It’s getting worse.”
Karen just shook her head and laughed.
***
About an hour later the front door opened and an attractive dark-haired woman, wearing a red dress just about the color of the car, exited. She got into the red Ford and backed out of the driveway. Karen waited until she was about half a block ahead and then began to follow.
They drove on a two-lane road into Clifton and out the other side. The Ford made a right onto a country highway and out into the Jersey suburbs. They passed through several small towns and finally the car pulled into an out-of-the-way motel.
Karen parked off to the side and they watched.
Maria got out of the car and went into the office. She came out a few moments later with a key in her hand. Then she took out her iPhone, sent a text, and went into cabin number three.
Mort was anxious. “Now what?”
Their wait was quite short. A few minutes later a blue Jaguar pulled up only a few spaces from where they sat. The door opened and Dr. Williamson stepped from the car. He walked over to cabin number three, opened the door, and entered, closing the door behind him.
“Well,” said Mort, “will you look at that?”
Karen grinned. “Yep. Okay, so the doctor and the anesthesiologist are involved. So what? What could be so important about Ms. Rodriguez that my uncle would put her name into the files? Surely not just because they’re having an affair.”
Mort took out his cellphone. “That’s what we’re going to find out. Let’s head back to the office.”
***
“So Williamson is involved with Maria Rodriguez. That’s very interesting.” Lowell sat back in his chair. “Mort, have you gotten anything else on them?”
“Not really. Just those party pictures.”
“Well, keep digging.”
Karen was excited. “There’s got to be a reason my uncle included her in those files. At least this is a clue.”
Lowell nodded. “We will certainly follow up on Maria Rodriguez.”
“I’d like to keep tailing her.”
Lowell tried to be diplomatic. “It takes at least three people to successfully tail someone covertly.”
She nodded. “I know. I just can’t sit here on my hands, and there’s nothing else I can do.”
“Why don’t you and Mort see what you can dig up on Ms. Rodriguez and if you find a lead I’ll be happy to follow up?”
Chapter Twenty-nine
When Lowell arrived at the office at seven-thirty, he found an overnight package from the post office waiting outside the door. The return address had a picture of a dancing marshmallow complete with top hat and cane. He wondered how they managed to get away with copying the Mr. Peanut logo so closely. He opened the office door and entered, turned on Sarah’s lamp, and left the package on her desk. Then he entered his inner office, fed Buster and Keaton, and got to work.
At nine exactly Sarah buzzed twice. Lowell returned her buzz.
A few moments later she knocked and opened the door. “Hey boss,” she said, as she stuffed a red marshmallow into her mouth. “God, these things are delicious. I think this one is strawberry, or maybe raspberry. Want one?”
Lowell shook his head. He used to love the sweet gelatin-based treats, ever since childhood, but had to give them up once he stopped eating meat. He wondered if Buddy made a vegan product. “No thanks. What’ve you got for me?”
She swallowed the gooey delight. “You don’t know what you’re missing. Although they are messy.” She was trying to clean her teeth with her tongue. “You’ve got twenty-seven messages. It’ll take me a while to get through them all.”
“We’ve got a busy day ahead. Mark down any that are directly connected to the two active cases and leave the rest for later.”
She went back to her desk. Lowell worked on the charts of the bookkeeper, Harriet, and her brother. He was trying to decide what the best course of action would be. Both charts showed the possibility of incarceration, but nothing was guaranteed.
At nine-thirty Mort entered. He was nibbling on a green marshmallow.
“It’s lime-flavored,” he said, as he popped the rest of it into his mouth.
Lowell grimaced. “I’m waiting to see what the Feds say about the embezzlement case. Not much more we can do right now.”
Mort flapped his arms. “How about Williamson?”
“I’m also on hold there waiting to hear from him about the operation.”
Mort watched his friend’s face. “This case is bothering you, isn’t it?”
Lowell nodded. “Yes, something’s just not right about all of this. I’ll know better once I hear from him. For now, I need you to do some digging into the background of the bookkeeper and her brother.”
“Anything in particular?”
“I want to know if they have property outside the U.S. Also what their general financial situation is. Do they have any money? Any prior arrests or maybe IRS troubles?”
Mort’s head bobbed up and down. “Okay, I’ll get right on it.” He went back to his office.
***
About eleven Lowell’s intercom buzzed.
“Yes Sarah?’
“Buddy Ferguson is on line two.”
“Lowell.”
“Mr. Lowell, I’ve just heard from the FBI.”
“Buddy, are your phones any more secured than they were?”
“Well, I’ve got my door closed, but I suppose someone could be listening.”
Lowell rubbed his eyes while shaking his head. “I’d better come over.”
“I’m here all day.”
Lowell hung up and then dialed Melinda.
“Hi, Dad, what’s up?”
“I have to go to the marshmallow company, and I was wondering if you were free later to compare notes.”
“I’m busy all day, but I can meet you at the townhouse after work.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll call you later.”
Lowell hung up, left the office, and met Andy in front of the building.
***
Twenty minutes later he entered the marshmallow company and was quickly ushered into Buddy’s office. Buddy closed the door behind them.
“So what did the FBI come up with?”
Buddy opened the plastic container and began eating. “Agent Bill Jensen is in charge. He’s reluctant to examine the bank’s records and said you have to have more evidence before he’ll order it.”
“I’ll talk to him,” said Lowell.
“I wish you would. Maybe you can convince him of the severity of the situation. People who have worked for us, some for more than twenty years, are in danger of losing their retirement accounts. That’s got to be important enough for them to investigate, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I would think so. Give me his number.”
Buddy wrote the number on a piece of paper and handed it to Lowell. “You still think it’s Harriet and her brother?”
“I do. Of the birth dates you gave me, her chart was the most likely. But once I saw her brother’s that clinched it. Now we need the proof that only the FBI can obtain.”
“Well, Harriet often works from home, but she’s working here today if you’d like to see her.”
Lowell thought about it. “That might be a good idea.”
“Just take a walk to the left toward the bathroom at the end of
the hall. Her office is the last one on the right.”
Lowell got up and headed down the hall. He went toward the men’s room, but as he passed by he glanced into the bookkeeper’s office. The door was open and behind the desk sat a woman about forty, with longish blond hair pulled back into a bun. She wore a green dress and black flats, little make up, and no jewelry, except for a single ring on her left hand. She was focused on her paperwork, her concentration on the task at hand. As Lowell passed by she looked up. Their eyes met briefly, and then she put her head back down. The glance was fleeting, but it said volumes to Lowell. There was something wrong in that look.
He went into the bathroom to complete the subterfuge, washed his hands, and returned to Buddy’s office.
“Well,” asked Buddy, “what’d you think?”
Lowell sat. “What I’ve thought all along. She did it.”
Buddy’s smile almost faded from his rotund face. “Harriet, of all people. But will you be able to prove it?”
“I hope so. I’ll let you know what happens after I speak to Agent Jensen.”
Buddy nodded, and then grabbed an almost fluorescent looking yellow goodie. Lowell stared at it, a slightly sickened look on his face.
“It’s banana cream pie, a new flavor we’re trying out. Would you like one?” He ate it.
Lowell shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“Did you get the box I sent over to your office?”
“Yes, I did. Thank you. My staff is enjoying them immensely, especially Sarah.”
Buddy’s smile widened. “My pleasure. Just let me know if you need any more.” He shuffled some papers half-heartedly and then threw them down on his desk. “I just can’t concentrate until this is settled. It’s just really so depressing.” His smile faded momentarily.
Lowell got up to leave. “I understand. I’ll call Agent Jensen today and see what he has to say. I’ll let you know as soon as I have any more information.”
Chapter Thirty
Lowell left the building and headed uptown to his office. It was a beautiful day for walking, not too hot or humid, with an almost-autumn like breeze coming from the East River. He texted Andy and gave him his route, then he started up First Avenue.
At Sixteenth Street the light was with him and he started to cross. His phone rang and he stopped to take it out of his pocket. He stepped back onto the sidewalk just as a light colored SUV darted out from the traffic on First Avenue and made a sharp right hand turn down Sixteenth, missing Lowell by barely an inch. Had he not stopped he would surely have been killed. The SUV continued speeding down the street. He was shaken up. He answered the phone but had to catch his breath before speaking.
“Hello? Dad?”
Melinda’s voice was enough to smack him back to reality. “Hello?”
“Dad, are you alright?”
“I was almost killed just now in an accident crossing the street.”
“Are you sure it was an accident?”
“I’m not sure of anything.”
“Where are you?”
“Walking up First. I just left the marshmallow company.”
“Get into a cab.”
“Andy’ll be here in a few minutes. I’ll be fine.”
“Call me when you’re at the office, okay?”
“Melinda, I’m fine, really. I’m sure it was just someone from New Jersey. You know how they drive in the city.”
She was not amused.
“Here’s Andy now. I’ll call you later.”
He hung up. Andy pulled the limo to the sidewalk and Lowell got in.
“What’s up boss?”
Lowell told Andy what had happened.
“You want to go to the office?”
Lowell shook his head. “I want to look for that SUV. Maybe they haven’t gotten out of the neighborhood yet.”
“Sure, I’ll cruise around a little. What color was it?”
“Tan. And I think it was a Chevy.”
Andy went down Eighteenth Street and turned north on First Avenue. No sign of the SUV. They rode around the East Side for about twenty minutes when Lowell spotted it on Twelfth Street.
“Andy, there it is, up ahead at the light.”
Andy floored the limo and had almost caught up to the SUV when a car jolted out of a parking space and almost ran into them. The wheels of the limo squealed their displeasure as Andy slammed on the brakes just missing the car. He pulled around it just as the SUV went through the light.
“Were you able to see the license plate?” asked Lowell.
“Sorry boss, couldn’t get it.”
They waited for the light to change and hurried through the intersection heading west in the direction the SUV had taken. At Ninth Avenue, Andy spotted it again.
“They’re heading downtown.”
“Follow them,” said Lowell.
They were only a few cars behind when a city bus pulled out in front of the limo and stopped. “Boss, there’s no way around him.”
When the bus finally moved on, there was no sight of the SUV.
After another thirty minutes they gave up. Andy swung back east and dropped Lowell at the office.
When he came in Sarah was waiting anxiously for him. “What happened? Melinda called and said you were almost run over.”
“Sarah, it was an accident. Let’s not make more out of it than it deserves.”
He went into his office and called his daughter. “I’m at the office.”
“What do you think is going on?”
“I’m sure it was just an acc…”
“Dad!”
He sighed. “Alright. I don’t know what’s going on. I’ve got those cases that are very active at the moment.”
“Any others on the back burner that someone might be trying to scare you off of or kill you before you even get started?”
“I don’t know.”
“This is not making me happy.”
“Try not to worry,” said Lowell. “I’ll be fine.”
He hung up and almost immediately the intercom buzzed. “Yes Sarah?’
“It’s Buddy on line one.”
Lowell picked up the phone. “Yes, Buddy?”
“Harriet’s gone. Right after you left, she got up and just walked out without saying a word. She’s never done that in the fifteen years I’ve know her. What does it mean?”
“It means that we’ve got to move quickly or you’ll never get your pension fund back.”
“Oh hell,” said Buddy.
“Buddy, do you know what type of car Harriet drives?”
“Not off hand. Is it important?”
“I was almost run over after leaving your office this morning.”
Buddy gasped. “Surely you don’t think Harriet had anything to do with it, do you?”
“I don’t believe in coincidences. The fact that it happened moments after she and I saw each other for the first time makes me rather suspicious. It may have been a random accident, or it could have been her or her brother.”
“Oh,” said Buddy, “this is all just too much for me.” Lowell could hear him chewing. “Please let me know anything that you discover.”
Lowell hung up and buzzed Mort.
“What’s up, David?”
“I want you to find out if the bookkeeper or her brother owns a tan SUV, maybe a Chevy.” He gave Mort the brother’s name and the bank he worked for. “And find out his birth information.”
“Will do.”
Lowell buzzed Sarah. “Get me FBI headquarters.” He gave her the number. “I want to speak to Agent Jensen.”
Chapter Thirty-one
The FBI New York headquarters was located at 26 Federal Plaza on lower Broadway. The offices were on the twenty-third floor and looked the way one would expect. Simple, s
terile, spartan. They made Lowell’s office look ornate by comparison. Lowell was ushered into Agent Jensen’s office where he was met by two men.
One was about six feet tall with brown hair just starting to gray around the temples. He stood up and stuck out his hand. “Mr. Lowell, I’m Special Agent Jensen and this is Special Agent Anderson.”
The other man rose. They shook hands.
“Now,” continued Jensen, “what is this all about?”
“Are you familiar with my work?” asked the astrologer.
Jensen nodded. “Buddy Ferguson told me you were involved in this embezzlement and I did a little homework. You were quite impressive on a few cases. But…” He stopped and turned his hands up.
“You have your doubts about my abilities.”
The agent looked a little uncomfortable. “You must understand…”
Lowell held up his hand. “I understand completely. You wouldn’t be the first person to question the validity of astrology.”
The agent seemed relieved.
Lowell took out his laptop. “Would you be willing to give me your birth information? Or perhaps that of someone close to you?”
The agent smirked. “Knock yourself out.” He thought for a moment. “You could’ve looked me up already and found out things about my life.”
“True,” admitted the astrologer. “So give me someone else’s.”
Jensen thought for a moment. “Do you have to know who it is?”
Lowell tugged on his ponytail. “Not at all.”
“Okay. July 10th, 1968.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any chance you know the time of birth and the city?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. It’s 11:12 in the morning in Boston.”
Lowell began entering the information into his computer. Then he put the chart up on the screen along with the current transits. “Well, this is quite an active chart. This person is quite nervous and easily upset. He or she is fidgety and accident prone. The planet Uranus sits on the ascendant and is in square to Mercury. Car accidents are very possible. Also their health, in particular the lungs and bronchial tubes are susceptible to difficulties or sudden events. Asthma or other breathing disorders are common.
Evil in the 1st House Page 13
