by H. T. Night
“The gun is an Italian Model 1889 Bodeo revolver,” I said.
“The same model used to kill Sutton,” Arthur Santino said.
“Exactly. Darlene, also known as Adriana Moretti in Italy, ironically has filed a claim on the same model weapon that took Sutton’s life.” I turned to Monroe. “You mentioned that you had possibly found the weapon used in Sutton’s murder.”
“Ballistics came back negative,” he answered. “However, a stash of weapons was traced back to a gun shop in Los Angeles.” Monroe stepped forward again and continued, “We believe there are a total of fifteen people involved in this crime ring, most of whom are using taxpayers’ dollars to live rent-free or using federal housing assistance while committing these crimes.”
I jotted down additional names on the tree and spoke when Monroe had finished. “Lori Hines, who is the daughter of Darlene, has been arrested multiple times in the last few years. She’s Freddy Hernandez’ girlfriend and the mother of his son. We believe Freddy and some of his gang were the criminals who held up the gun shop in Los Angeles.”
“Yeah,” Monroe continued, “stashing the stolen weapons under his mother’s house—the house she was given by HUD to live in.”
“Yeah, but we also believe it might be an inside job with the gun shop owner, especially in light of the phone call that Helling received,” I said.
“Inside job?” A man asked.
“Yes. Let me explain. We have a pretty good idea that the gun used to kill Sutton may have left the country, but we’re still working on the evidence. Seven months prior to Sutton’s murder, a woman by the name of Veronica Delany walked into a gun shop called The Art of Antique Weaponry and gave her gun to the owner, Frank Owusu, to send out to be serviced. Fair enough, right?”
The group listened intently.
“The gun was an Italian Bodeo Model 1889 revolver. And that in itself isn’t a big deal, but after Sutton’s murder, the same woman, Veronica Delany, went back to the gun shop for another service of the same weapon. Frank claims she picked up the weapon on the day indicated in his records, but after checking his camera footage of that day, there was never a woman who came back to pick up that gun.”
“Anyone check to see if Veronica is actually Darlene Michaels?” another man called out.
I pointed toward the crowd at that guy. “Yes! In fact, we discovered that Frank Owusu and Darlene Michaels’ grandfather fought in the Italian civil war together. And that Veronica Delany has made several other purchases through her grandfather’s friend, Frank Owusu.”
“Have you found anything that proves that Veronica is Darlene?” asked a different detective.
“Not yet,” I answered. “And we don’t believe that the weapon used in Sutton’s murder found its way to Italy via the post office or UPS. Realistically, it was smuggled back over, if not destroyed. Furthermore, we’ve brought the LAPD in to handle Frank Owusu’s alleged robbery. We can prove that he allowed them to come in and steal the weapons and he filed a claim to get the money back he lost.”
I moved to sit back down and Monroe asked if there were any questions.
Another detective asked, “Are we conducting the raid simultaneously across all locations or at different times?”
“We have two warrants and we’re waiting on a third before we proceed,” Monroe said. “We’re gearing up to serve them simultaneously tomorrow.”
Arthur Santino chimed in. “We’re looking at serving a warrant at the houses of Martha Hernandez, Lori Hines and Darlene Michaels. We will also take all three into custody for questioning about the various crimes committed by each of them.”
Fortunato stood. “I have a list of names and who you’ll report to tomorrow. I’m passing it around. Make note of the location and time.”
Chad grabbed the pot of coffee and filled up my mug and topped off his mug as well. I grabbed a cream and some sugar and stirred as I leaned into my partner. “Do you think we’re ready?”
“As ready as we’re going to be. There’s enough evidence here, Sam, to take them down. At the very least with HUD, they will all lose their benefits. But I see jail time in their future, too.”
“It’s too bad about the weapon used to murder Sutton.” Chad sighed.
“Don’t rule it out just yet. I have a feeling that gun will turn up somewhere after all is said and done.”
“This case is so big and in-depth,” Chad stated. “I’m not even sure that the crime tree is doing it justice.”
The room had cleared out and Fortunato walked over to us.
“Good job, you two.”
“Thanks, boss,” I said.
“I have you down to serve the warrant at the home of Darlene Michaels tomorrow.”
“You got it,” Chad said. “We’ll be there bright and early.”
He nodded at us both and disappeared into the slew of detectives and agents filing out of the room and moving into the hallway.
I took a deep breath, said goodbye to Chad and headed out to my minivan.
Chapter Twelve
“Sam?” Danny poked his head into my home office. “Are you coming to bed any time soon?”
“I’ll be there in a bit.” This case was kicking my ass and I was making sure I had everything in order before tomorrow.
He stepped into the room and took a seat on the leather sofa across from my desk. My eyes lifted to his. “Is something wrong?”
“We’re serving warrants tomorrow. It’s a big case. My boss asked me to streamline the facts and evidence and put it on his desk before we serve the warrant.”
“Tammy was asking about you yesterday,” Danny interrupted.
It felt like Danny had just ignored everything I’d said.
He continued, “Tammy was playing detective in her room and the next thing I knew she walked out with your lipstick on and in a pair of your red heels.”
I laughed. “Did you take a picture?”
“Of course. That was definitely picture-worthy.”
“She was a bit clingy today when I picked her up at Mary Lou’s. I know my hours have been crazy this week. We’re at the end of this mess soon and then I’ll be back to a normal schedule.”
Danny sat on the couch with his forearms resting on his legs. He was leaning forward, staring at me. “Well, Tammy isn’t the only one who is missing you.”
“I know, Danny. As soon as we close this case—and I’m hoping it’s before the weekend starts—I’m asking my boss if I can take a two-week vacation.”
“Two weeks? Really?” He seemed extremely surprised.
“I need a break,” I continued. “Maybe some time to just be a wife and mom.”
“I’m not complaining.”
“I was also thinking that if you can get some time off work, maybe we can rent a beach house for a few days and take Tammy. Or go to Disneyland even. We still have our annual passes. Either way, we’ll get some quality family time together.”
“You have been thinking about this, haven’t you?”
“Yes, I have.” I took a deep sigh and said, “Fifteen minutes? I’ll shut down in fifteen minutes.”
Danny kissed my forehead and left my office.
Tomorrow was going to be a big day.
I must have dozed off because I woke to a paper from one of the folders stuck to my cheek. Lifting my head from the desk, a sharp pain moved across my neck into my shoulder and down my back.
I reached up and massaged that area of my shoulder and neck with my hand. Guilt hit me hard when I thought of Danny. I closed my folders and moved quietly through the back hallway, glancing in on Tammy before I stood in the doorway of our bedroom.
The covers were bunched down at his feet. He wore plaid boxers and nothing else. Sprawled in his favorite position, on his stomach, he was sleeping smack in the middle of our queen-size bed. I glanced down at my wristwatch and noticed the time was 11 p.m.
I needed to jog, to blow off some steam, to get good sleep. My workday would come fast and some inner voic
e inside of me wasn’t feeling completely safe with the events that were going to unfold in the morning.
I grabbed my service weapon, stuffed it in a fanny pack and took off out the front door. The cool air hit my face. I took off running around our block. I wasn’t going to go far, just a couple times around to wear myself out.
As I jogged, thoughts flew through my mind. I flipped through each paper in the files as I did while I was at my desk, each dot connecting to another. There were so many facets of this case. The rare weapon used in the Sutton murder and the blatant housing fraud committed when Darlene subleased her place, or when Martha Hernandez allowed stolen weapons in her home and even Lori Hines’ fraud on her application and housing an individual with a violent past who had allegedly murdered a detective.
Before I knew it, I had made it around the block three times and was back in front of my house. It was time to let this case rest while I slept. Tomorrow, we’d have the opportunity to create the links we needed in the case.
I opened the front door and stepped into the house quietly. After a quick shower, I slid into bed next to my husband and wrapped my leg over his, resting my head against his arm. I fell to sleep within seconds.
Chapter Thirteen
Over the years that I’d worked as a federal agent, I had stood at the door of over fifteen different residents, holding a search warrant. Of those fifteen, none of them had made me feel as uncertain and unsure as Darlene Michaels. Not because I doubted her guilt, but because her criminal ties ran deep—deep into HUD and even further into Italy and who knew where else.
Something about knowing the little I knew about this woman’s background gave me an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach—a gnawing irritation that started yesterday, carried into last night and continued this morning. This time, standing in front of Darlene Michaels’ door, that knot gripped the inside of my stomach with a twist of concern and uncertainty.
“You okay?” Chad asked.
I glanced back at the team behind us. It was still early. About 7 a.m. and the sun was just starting to light up the sky. Monroe and another detective stood to our sides.
“Never felt better,” I answered.
“Don’t tell me, you stayed up all night working on that report for Fortunato?” he said as he pounded on the front door.
“Don’t presume that you know me really well, Chad.”
“Know you?” He chuckled. “You’re predictable, woman.”
“Predictable?” I raised an eyebrow as I simultaneously banged on the door again after Chad’s knock went unanswered.
“Hang on,” a woman said as she opened the door and peeked through the crack. “What do you want?”
“Darlene Michaels?” Chad asked.
“Like I said, what do you want?” She was as pleasant as a catheter extraction.
I leaned into Chad, saying softly, “This should be fun.”
My partner took a folded piece of paper from Detective Monroe. “Darlene Michaels, we’re serving you with a search warrant.”
After a few more remarks back and forth, Darlene opened the door and stepped to the side. Her arms folded across her chest, beady brown eyes narrowed at the team moving into her home and a lit cigarette hanging from her mouth. My eyes scanned her place. And then, the first thing I noticed was that damn beauty mark on the area of her scalp at the hairline.
She blew out smoke from the corner of her mouth. “What are you looking for? Whatever it is, you have the wrong person.”
I asked her to join me in the kitchen while the detectives and agents moved about the house collecting computers and mail and anything that might incriminate Darlene for housing fraud and a multitude of other crimes.
“Are you married?” I asked.
“If you want to call it that.” She tilted her head and smirked, eyeing me up and down. “Although he wasn’t much of a husband. Limp and all, you know.”
My first mental note: the woman was crude. “From what I understand, he provided you with a nice house, food and companionship.”
She inhaled deeply, pulling the smoke into her lungs. Then she held it as she put her cigarette out on the white wall. Leaving an ash stain. “Agent Moon, is it?”
I gave her a courteous nod.
“Don’t try and tongue-tie me up with your manipulative words. I know how this system works. Your handouts always come with a price, don’t they?”
“Apparently, you do, Mrs. Michaels,” I responded.
“You can take whatever you want,” Darlene said. “But you won’t find anything in this house that incriminates me. I’m innocent.”
“Yes, I’m sure you are.” I hesitated, thinking about the red vehicle she’d bought and stored at Andre’s house. “How about your garage? Can I see in your garage?”
“If you must,” Darlene commented, annoyed.
“I must,” I said.
I followed her to the garage. We passed several team members who were removing items from her house. And I continued to pry for information. “So, you lived with your husband until you decided to call it quits, right?”
She shook her head and kept walking.
“I was thinking about your grandson,” I said. “How all of this will affect him.”
She tensed up and quickly retorted, “I don’t have a grandson.”
“And yet, I thought you did. I’m thinking Bobby might be disappointed to hear that you’ve disowned him.”
She stopped in mid-stride and then continued, regaining her composure. I was quite certain she was trying to use everything she had inside of her to keep from making a comment toward me. As we reached the door leading into the garage, Darlene grabbed a key to unlock the door from inside the house.
I followed her down three small stairs and into the dark garage.
“Do you have a light in here?”
She flipped it on and I moved in front of her. Of course, that was my first mistake, especially when I felt something hard come down on the back of my head at the same time I heard her say, “Leave my grandson out of this.”
The cracking sound made me wonder if she’d used a hammer on my skull, but I literally had a millisecond to allow that thought to happen before everything went dark.
Chapter Fourteen
When I came to, I reached up and felt a sticky blood glob matted in the back of my head. I was still lying on the garage floor and the place was dark and cold and I was dizzy, unstable. I rolled onto my stomach and pushed myself upward onto my knees.
When I finally got myself to my feet, I stumbled over to the three steps and gripped the doorknob. It was locked from the inside of the house. I felt around for the light switch and after sticking my fingers in several sticky spider webs, I found it and flipped it on. I brushed off my hands.
The sound of people outside told me I hadn’t been out that long. I glanced at my wristwatch and fifteen minutes had passed. With a closed fist, I pounded on the door, calling out for my partner. Nothing.
An old, rundown car set in the two-car garage. One side was used for storage and an old gray car sat on the other side. I took careful steps, still dizzy, as I made my way to the vehicle. I slid inside and pressed one hand on the horn, sending an insistent blaring sound that echoed through the garage. While I held my hand on the horn, I used my right hand to open the glove compartment stuffed with papers. I pulled them out, letting them fall to the ground near my feet.
On the right side was a key with a keychain of a storage facility, including the address. I slid the key in my pocket at the same time that the garage door from the house was opened and Chad came outside. He saw my blood on the cement floor and ran toward me, picking me up in his arms and pulling me out of the vehicle.
“Are you okay? Sam! Don’t close your eyes. Stay awake.”
I was awake, barely. Dozing in and out of consciousness. “My head,” I managed to say.
“I know, Sam. We’ve already called an ambulance. They’re on their way. Stay with me.”
“
What did she use to hit me?” I barely said.
“I don’t know, Sam.”
“A bat. The bitch used a damn bat.” I groaned with pain when I felt sure I knew the weapon she’d used to knock me out.
Chad laid me down on the grass outside. I was thankful. The last thing I wanted to do was have my open wound rest upon the filthy carpet in her house. As I stared at Chad’s face, I saw him pixelate as he faded out of my view. In the background, I heard an ambulance coming down the street.
“Samantha Moon, don’t you close your eyes, damn it.” Chad’s voice was soothing, even when he was mad, or concerned or worried. He had a way of making feel like he had my back in any situation. Of course, he was a pain in the ass at times also, but right now, and most times, I was glad to have him by my side.
I knew when Chad had left my side to attend to federal business and when the ambulance paramedics were there with me. The compassion was gone and now, I had men and women hard at work to make sure that I stayed conscious. I blinked a few times and as my vision started to clear, so did the foggy feeling in my head.
I lost track of time for a few moments and was now on a gurney in the ambulance with Chad was sitting at my side.
I smiled. “We busted her?”
“Yep,” Chad said.
“I’m kind of thirsty,” I whispered, my lips dry.
“No, I’m not getting you coffee,” he smiled leaning forward. “So, the EMT said you’ll live another day to tell this story to your children.”
“I can’t believe she got one up on me. That rarely happens.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay. She was arrested. Adding this new crime to her endless list of crimes, she’ll be in prison for an extremely long time.”
“What about the gun? Anyone find that?”
“Not yet.”
I took a deep breath and licked my lips. “What about the other search warrants?”
“Just received a call five minutes ago that they’ve all been served and agents and detectives are clearing out the places.”
