She looked at her watch. She was ten minutes late.
“I hate to see you be without a car,” she said.
“Don’t worry about me. We’ll fix yours tomorrow. Pick me up in the morning when you come to work.”
“Thanks,” she said smiling.
Wilson tossed her the keys and she headed out the door to Grandview City Hall.
Sam drove into the parking lot and relief washed over her when she saw that Brady was still standing at the main lobby doors, waiting for her. She rolled down the window and called to him.
“What happened to your cool Mustang?” Brady asked when he got inside Wilson’s Honda.
“Battery’s dead, I guess. I was coming to get you and when I tried to start it nothing happened.”
“Whose car is this?” Brady asked, eyeing the interior.
“It’s my publisher’s.”
“What does ‘Page 83’ mean?” he asked.
Sam looked at him puzzled. “Page 83?”
“It’s on the license plate. I saw it when you drove in.”
Sam hadn’t noticed. “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask Wilson what it means.”
“But I like your car better. It’s cool.”
“I like it too, Brady. But I hope you won’t mind riding in this one tonight.”
“I’m glad you came, ’cause I was gettin’ hungry.”
“Me, too.”
They went to a small Italian restaurant on 38th Avenue between Wadsworth and Sheridan boulevards. The place was intimate and the food and service were always good. They spent an hour eating and talking. She told him why she needed to visit the records department after business hours. She was relieved he understood and was so willing to help.
By 8 p.m. they had returned to city hall. The double doors in the main lobby slid open automatically as they approached and dim lighting greeted them when they entered. They walked together down the central corridor until they reached the police department’s administration offices.
The small blue sign to the left of the door read:
Administration – Grandview Police
Brady used an alternate route to the records department so they could bypass the emergency dispatch operators. He held his wallet to the magnetic strip. When the light on the strip turned from red to green, he pulled down the handle and the door opened with ease. Sam followed him down one corridor, then another before they reached the hallway she recognized.
She had traveled this same path only a month ago with Rey. A yawning sadness pulled at her. She thought of his wife and daughters and wondered how they were coping. She thought of his little girls growing up without their father and, as she had often done, wondered why life was so unfair.
“This way,” Brady said, motioning for her to follow.
She smiled at him, though he did not see it. Her smile was for something new she had noticed in him. Brady was standing taller. His shoulders were firm and straight. His eyes were focused and had a clarity that she hadn’t seen in years. It was the determination and awareness that she saw in him now when he was on the basketball court.
Basketball made him feel useful, as if he had meaning and purpose being on the court. He hadn’t always felt that way, until one night following a game. Brady, Robin and Sam were sitting on a bench waiting for Todd. They were chatting about the game that Brady’s team had to come from behind to win.
Sam and Robin watched from the sidelines and cheered when Brady made the winning shot. He had played well throughout the game, but didn’t think much of his performance until later. Sam remembered Robin telling Brady after the game that there was meaning to his presence on the court.
“What?” Brady replied looking quizzically at Robin.
Robin tousled his hair playfully and replied, “You helped your team win, silly. You made the winning shot.”
“Can we close the door?” Sam asked when they reached the record’s room.
“Sure,” Brady said and shut the door softly.
When the door clicked shut, Sam’s heart, as if on cue, began to race. She knew she did not have the luxury of time or permission to be in this room. She was aware of the rush of adrenaline surging through her body. She turned to face the wall of files and felt her blood pumping along the sides of her neck. When she grabbed the first file, her hands were clammy and she ran them along the front of her slacks, smiling nervously at Brady. Then she shrugged off the anxiety and began to search the files.
Brady stood behind Sam looking over her shoulder. As she searched, she told him about the first night she had been here. She was surprised when Brady said he knew Rey.
“Do you know him because you work here?” she asked looking over her shoulder at Brady.
He shook his head.
“Did he help Todd with your basketball team?”
Again Brady wagged his head.
“Then how did you know him?”
“He was helping Robin.”
She swallowed involuntarily. She turned to face Brady. “You knew Rey was helping Robin?”
Brady nodded innocently.
Her inklings were confirmed. Brady did know. Robin had confided in him. He listened to what Robin had to say and then she would tell him their conversation was just between them.
“This is our secret,” she would say.
Sam knew her sister. Robin would make Brady promise not to tell anyone. Not her. Not Todd. Not his father. No one on the basketball team. Not any employee at city hall. There was not much that Brady could do for Robin now, except one thing. Keep her secrets.
Sam returned the file to the shelf and put her hand lightly on his shoulder. When she spoke her voice was low and reflective.
“You knew what Robin was doing, don’t you, Brady?”
She waited for him to speak. She could see he was processing whether to tell her what he knew. He pulled nervously at his fingers and avoided looking her in the eye.
“Brady,” she said softly.
The sound of her voice brought his eyes to hers. He tried to look away, but she wouldn’t let him.
“Brady, please. Please tell me. I can’t do this on my own. I … I need you. I don’t know where else to turn. I can’t trust anyone else. Please. I’m running out of time.”
Brady kept his attention fixed on Sam. She wondered if he could see the quiet desperation in her eyes.
“Robin liked to walk around the lake at Crown Hill.”
“Crown Hill?”
Brady’s comment caught Sam off guard, but only for a moment before she registered what he was saying. She knew Robin liked going to Crown Hill, a 177-acre park that abutted a cemetery bearing the same name. It straddled Wadsworth Boulevard to the east and paralleled Kipling Parkway between 26th and 32nd avenues on the west.
The 1.5-mile Lake Loop Trail around Crown Hill Lake provided a breathtaking view of the foothills. It was a tranquil place to walk and weather made it accessible year round. Sam knew that Robin liked to walk there because bells from the cemetery chimed every half-hour, sending a soothing sound reverberating into the distance. Robin would often walk the loop alone or with a companion. The lake lent itself to conversation.
“You’d walk with Robin, wouldn’t you, Brady?” Sam asked surprised that she didn’t stop to think that Robin would walk the loop with Brady.
Brady nodded.
“We went a lot,” he said. “But I couldn’t go around the lake as many times as she could. So we’d sit at one of the benches and talk.”
“And she told you everything.”
“Uh-huh.”
Brady began to fidget with his fingers again.
“But I did something wrong,” he said.
Sam’s eyes widened in surprise. “What could you possibly do wrong, Brady?”
“Maybe I shoulda said somethin’ to Todd or you or somebody. Robin might be here now.”
She sighed softly, sadly. “Brady, you couldn’t say anything to Todd, me or anyone. You were doing what Robin asked you. She s
poke to you in confidence. She asked you not to say anything and you were honoring that request. These people are very bad people and Robin was trying to protect you. She didn’t want you to get hurt. She didn’t want any of us to get hurt …”
Her voice fell away. Her mind was spinning.
If she had done differently would Robin still be alive?
“But we have to do something now, Brady. Robin would be the first to tell you it’s okay to tell me what you know.”
He turned from her and began to scan the files.
“I don’t know where a lot of them are, but Rey and Robin were here one night and color-coded them.”
Sam frowned.
“How did they manage to do that?” she asked. “Wouldn’t that call someone’s attention to the file?”
“Nah,” Brady said still searching the files. “It was just a little mark. Nothing so that anyone would notice.”
He found one of the files and showed her.
“See.” He showed her a small red dot at the lower left-hand corner outside the manila folder. It looked inconspicuous enough. His eyes were smiling when she looked from the folder to him.
“Are these on all the files?” she asked.
“Just the ones Rey and Robin marked. I don’t know where they’re all at. But some of them I do.”
Sam swallowed hard as she took the folder from Brady. She was afraid to open it, afraid of the initials she might see on the report marked with the little red dot.
She took a deep breath, flipped the file open and began to scan the documents.
Written at the top of the report in bold lettering was:
GRANDVIEW POLICE DEPARTMENT
EVIDENCE/PROPERTY INVENTORY AND SUBMISSION REPORT
In a small box next to it was the case number. In the first column below were the initials of the arresting officer, followed by the item number, quantity and sub code. The next section began with the word ‘description’ and included enough space to write what had been confiscated during the arrest. A column called ‘disposition code’ followed.
She did not recognize the arresting officer’s initials, P.C.S.
“Do you recognize those initials, Brady?”
Brady scanned the document.
“Paul Carlos Sandoval. He’s cool. He helps Todd with our team.”
Paul Carlos Sandoval had listed five item numbers on this report. Quantity listed for each item seized was one and under the sub code she saw the letter ‘S’ for suspect. She scanned Sandoval’s description of the drugs seized.
“Almost twelve pounds of marijuana. Wow.”
She read on. “And three pounds of black tar heroin found in a gym bag were also taken.”
Brady was silent as she continued scanning the report.
“I wonder what the street value of that heroin would be?” she asked.
It was a rhetorical question, but Brady answered.
“Depends,” he said. “On how much it gets diluted on the street.”
She glared at him. Her shock that he would know showed. Brady sensed her next question.
“Robin told me that,” he said and offered a small smile.
Sam returned her attention to the report. An ‘E’ marked the disposition box. She pointed to the section and looked at Brady.
“The drugs from this report were taken to property and evidence?” she asked.
Brady nodded.
The bottom of the report included a place for remarks. But Sandoval had written nothing in the section.
Finally, printed in bold letters in the last box on the lower right-hand corner were the words:
Signature/Commanding Officer
Her eyes shifted slowly toward the box and the initials inside. They were written in their usual clear and concise style: J.C.
Sam shook her head slowly, not trusting her voice.
There may have been other officers at the Grandview Police Department with the same initials, but only one who had the authority to sign off on these reports. Sam knew his handwriting, a flair that slanted just to the left.
Jonathan Church.
She closed the file quickly. “Are there others?” she asked, feeling tightness spread in her chest.
Brady nodded and began to scan the rows of reports looking for the little red dot. Within the hour, she had read through more than twenty drug-related reports. They confirmed what she feared most. Each report listed different drugs confiscated, suspects arrested, and arresting officer. Rey was right. Nothing on the reports followed the same pattern. Except one thing. The same initials appeared in the authorizing box in the lower right-hand corner each time.
Her ex-husband’s.
“No,” she whispered.
Sam tried to ignore the queasy feeling that was closing in on her, making it hard to draw a breath. She glanced around the small room for a chair, but there wasn’t one.
Brady was studying her intently.
“Sam?” he called softly. “Are you okay?”
The sound of his voice brought her eyes to his and the level of his concern surprised her. He studied her eyes until they softened. She laughed slightly.
“I’m fine, Brady. I’m just trying to understand what I’m reading.”
She closed the file and handed it to Brady and he returned it to the shelf. Sam leaned against the wall.
“It hurts me to think she had to do this on her own,” she said finally. “What I’ve learned is mind boggling. Who knows how long Robin and Rey had been doing this?”
“Robin told me since last Fourth of July.”
“Five months before she died.”
Sam closed her eyes and rubbed them hard. After few moments she collected herself. She pushed away from the wall.
“I’d better get you home before your parents start to wonder where you are.”
She headed for the door but stopped when she noticed that Brady didn’t follow.
Sam turned to him. “What’s the matter?”
His lack of response told her he knew more. She walked back him and put a hand on his shoulder.
“What else to do you know, Brady?” Sam asked.
“Follow me,” he said and smiled.
Forty-one
Brady and Sam left the police administration offices without being noticed and walked in silence toward an elevator at the opposite end of the main lobby.
“Where are we going?” Sam asked when they were inside.
“To my office,” Brady said, not taking his eyes from the numbers as one, then two illuminated.
His office was located in the administrative wing. Sam had never been to his office and noticed that the small room was only big enough to hold his mail cart, a desk and chair. The walls were blank except for a single color photograph over his desk that showed an Air Force fighter jet in flight against a backdrop of perfect indigo sky.
There was a laptop on Brady’s desk. He pulled the chair out, sat down in front of the computer and turned it on. A soft whirling sound filled the tiny office. As the computer finished booting, Sam watched Brady open his middle drawer. He pulled out a hardcover book and she caught a glimpse of the title before he opened it: The History of Planes. He pulled an index card from the center of the book.
He studied the card a moment and put it down in front of him. He fixed his attention on the computer screen.
“Robin wrote these instructions out for me,” he said, pointing a stubby finger at the index card.
He followed each step exactly as it was written. Sam watched as his fingers moved methodically over the keyboard and as the computer responded instantly to his commands.
Before he executed the last step, he turned to her.
“Watch this,” he said and smiled widely, “this is really cool.”
Sam directed her attention to the computer screen and, as Brady entered the final command, the program’s menu began to scroll down the screen. She drew closer and frowned as she read.
She saw that one of the menus listed a host of
corporate accounts. Brady executed another command and a new file popped up on the screen. Sam read intently.
The file detailed how money from illegal drug smuggling operations in New York, Chicago, Los Angeles and Denver were bounced around the country until they were wired to accounts in Zurich, Switzerland and Milan, Italy. From there, a map showed how the money was transferred into phony business accounts in the Cayman Islands.
She put a hand on the back of Brady’s chair to steady herself, remembering the afternoon in Robin’s office when she found the tattered document that contained information on hundreds of frozen bank accounts across the country. The Grandview National Bank was on that list.
When Brady hit another command key, a host of banks nationwide popped up on the screen. Sam noticed that the list containing more than twenty banks was in alphabetical order. She followed the bank names listed A-B-C-D-E-F- and held her breath before she got to G.
It was there … Grandview National Bank.
“You knew this bank was on the list, didn’t you, Brady?”
Brady nodded, then pressed another command and a new file emerged. Her pulse raced with excitement. She couldn’t read fast enough.
Large sums of cash were smuggled out of this Denver suburb and staggering amounts of money had been laundered over a ten-month period. When Sam saw the total amount she gasped.
“Fifty million dollars and it’s all coming from inside this department,” she said.
Brady nodded without turning to look at her. She could tell by watching his index finger tapping eagerly on the keys that he was impatient to execute the next command.
“There’s more?” she asked.
Brady responded by pressing the appropriate key. Another file filled the screen. Sam studied the information before her a moment. They exchanged glances. There was a twinkle in his eye and he was sitting as straight and tall as Sam had ever seen him.
“How long have you known about this, Brady?”
He shrugged. He didn’t know, really. “A while,” he said. “But Robin asked me not to tell and now I’m sorry I didn’t, but I couldn’t …”
Brady’s voice trailed off when Sam rested a hand lightly on his shoulder. She patted it gently, as if to assure him. When she spoke, her voice was gentle, almost a whisper.
The Friday Edition (A Samantha Church Mystery) Page 23
