“It seems Councilor you can be had. You just do not come cheap.”
“Okay, okay,” Gillingham replied. “I can see you are beginning to get the picture. These folks are now getting tired of waiting. They’ve been looking everywhere for Phillips. The money he took from them may be only the tip of what he embezzled or hustled before he left. With that kind of stash, he will be very difficult to find.”
Sotello watched the feral little animal within the woman he walked with emerge again as she glanced up into his face. “God help him if I ever find out where he went.”
Sotello patted her shoulder and stepped away. “Do you really think they will kill you just because your boyfriend scammed them?”
“The real question here genius, is whether I want to find out.”
“Why don’t you pull up stakes and… wait a minute…” Sotello smacked his forehead with the catcher’s mitt on his left arm. “Oh my God dear, did we fall hard or what. You have no money to pull up stakes with, do you? Lovable Adrian rang the little bell deep down within that course exterior and hit the mother lode, didn’t he?”
The silence he received for an answer gave Sotello all the information he needed. “Okay I’m in. Where do we go from here, and how close to broke are you?”
Chapter 3
Ellen
“Now all of a sudden you want to help me again. What’s up with you Sotello?”
“I like someone who can lose their shirt, and instead of whining about it, they try to stay alive. At least you have your priorities straight. Again, how broke are you?”
“I still have a few CD’s worth around twenty-five thousand dollars, and I still have around ten thousand in my business checking account, but that’s about all. My case load has suffered because of all this, but I’m still making money.”
“People have started over with less,” Sotello said.
“Aren’t you going to ask me how much he took me for?”
“I’m not a sadist. Do you own your own home outright, and do you rent or own your business property?”
“I own the home, but if Adrian could have stuck around for a while longer, I would have probably hocked that too. I rent space for my law office.”
“Let me guess,” Sotello said. “You were going to be in on the ground floor with a group of investors in some dot com or software venture, right?”
“You are getting to be rather annoying.”
“It sounds pretty stupid now, but I bet he had the con wrapped up in a real nice looking package. We may need to find out if anyone else got in on the ground floor with you. Why don’t we go over to my office and get this started?”
“You aren’t thinking of getting lucky, are you Sotello?”
“If you mean with you in the biblical sense, what exactly would be lucky about it for me?”
“You bastard. Do I still have to pay up front?”
“Either that or you could let me in on the wonderful deal you got from Mr. Phillips.”
“I’ll write you a check,” Gillingham replied.
Sotello led her to where he had parked his car. When they reached it, Gillingham started laughing. “You have got to be kidding.”
Sotello unlocked the passenger side door and opened it for her. She got in, and he went quickly around to the other side. She reached over and unlocked his side for him. Sotello slid his bulk behind the wheel, fastening his seatbelt, and starting the engine with practiced ease. Gillingham fastened her seat belt, keeping her eyes on him. Sotello pulled out onto the road and glanced her way. Seeing her still watching him, he looked at her questioningly.
“What?”
“What the hell is this thing?”
“Oh, it’s a 1974 Dodge Dart Sport,” Sotello answered. “The emblems fell off quite a while ago. I keep it pretty clean inside though.”
“Yea, you really travel in style.”
“Thank you,” Sotello smiled. “I’ll give you some pointers on car care, and maybe you can give me some tips on investing.”
“You will never leave that alone, will you?”
“Why Councilor,” Sotello said, “I thought you knew the key to life: parry and thrust, parry and thrust. If you plan on thrusting, you better make sure your shield’s still attached to your arm, just in case you miss.”
“Oh, a philosopher too? Any other gems of wisdom to impart?”
“You can’t get something for nothing,” Sotello quipped.
“You have climbed another notch on my Annoy-o-meter.”
“I can live with that. Enough about me, do you really have a dog named Tinker?”
“Why would I lie about… never mind. Yes, I do have a dog named Tinker.”
Sotello nodded. “Good, she will help better than a bunch of motion detectors. You don’t seem to be the type to own a dog.”
“At least I have one mysterious quality. Do you own a dog?”
“I did. He died last year after being with me for fourteen years.”
“What was he?”
“Australian Shepard mix. I called him Gyp.”
“Tinker’s only three,” Lynn told him. “One of my clients gave her to me. I was going to get rid of her as soon as I was sure the client wouldn’t know, and then I couldn’t. Are you going to get another dog?”
“I don’t think so. It was too tough watching him the last couple of years.”
“If you got another one now,” Lynn suggested, “you could die together.”
“Nice imagery, but I think I’ll pass.”
Sotello turned on Foothill Boulevard, heading up the hill in the direction of McArthur Boulevard. About half way up the hill, he pulled up across the street from the front of a small office building. Only about fifty feet across, Gillingham could not see anything through the tinted and barred storefront window. Above the window, in plain black letters, read Oakland Detective Agency. Sotello led the way across the street and through the entryway door, which was enshrouded in metal sheeting. A digitally enhanced sound went off as they crossed the threshold.
The dark patterned carpet, stretching across the room, looked well cleaned and unmarked. Three plain padded chairs were grouped in front of the large computer desk. A small monitor and desktop computer were the only office equipment visible. The walls were adorned with pictures of Sotello with various people Gillingham recognized at a glance as political and sports figures from around the area. A water cooler stood next to the office window, and other than a couple of potted plants on either side of the door, there were no other furnishings. Another door leading to the rest of the building could only be accessed after going around the desk. A small security port on the door provided surveillance of the entire room from the other side. Gillingham spotted a security camera mounted in a corner, pointed out to allow taping of everything between the two doors.
The door behind the desk opened, and a beautiful, light skinned black woman walked into the room. She wore a dark blue dress with matching high-heeled shoes. Her jet-black hair hung in light waves down past her neck. In high-heeled shoes, the woman was only slightly taller than Gillingham. She looked at Gillingham with amused interest, and then turned to smile at Sotello. Her angular face, adorned with only a slight bit of makeup, could not have been more stunning.
Sotello put his arm around the woman’s shoulders as he turned to Gillingham. “May I present my daughter Ellen? Ellen, this is Deborah Gillingham, Attorney at Law. She likes to be called by her middle name, Lynn. I do not know, after our morning’s adventures, whether she wishes to be on that familiar a basis.”
Gillingham smiled and stuck out her hand, which Ellen took strongly in her own. “Hello Ellen, and of course you can call me Lynn. Your father may continue calling me Ms. Gillingham.”
Sotello’s daughter laughed, a sound with an almost musical lilt to it. She pushed her Father back, and looked at him suspiciously. She then looked back at Gillingham. “I am pleased to meet you Lynn. My Father does not look marked up, so I assume he has only accosted you with his
Machiavellian wit, rather than any physical abuse. Well Dad, what have you done now?”
Sotello had been enjoying the interchange quietly, as if knowing he would do well to wait for the initial barrage to end. “I have acted in accordance with the highest level of honor and dignity. I resent your implication, without fact, little missy.”
Ellen laughed again, enjoying her Father’s indignant performance. She motioned for Lynn to take a seat in front of the desk. She sat down behind the desk, while Sotello pulled up a chair, one over from Lynn.
“How long have you worked for your father Ellen?”
“My brother and I have been doing part time work in here for almost as long as Dad has owned it.” As if sensing the underlying question, Ellen answered. “My mother died of cancer five years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She was in a lot of pain, so it was a blessing towards the end. Anyway, I guess you had better tell me about your morning from the beginning if you don’t mind.” Ellen opened the desk drawer in front of her and clicked a switch.
Lynn hesitated momentarily, looking towards Sotello. He smiled at her, and nodded for her to go ahead. She began at the beginning, and filled in the information around how Phillips had conned her. Ellen listened intently, taking notes occasionally. When Gillingham finished, Sotello described Ramon Bennet for his daughter, and what little he knew about Adrian Phillips. Ellen looked at her with genuine concern.
“You have been putting up with this for months?” Ellen shook her head. “I would have probably went postal by now.” She looked at her father again. “Well old man, how do you want to start? I can dig up everything available on the two names we have, and then go from there.”
“I thought you had midterms to worry about. Are you sure you have the time to get started on this?”
“I’ll be fine. When Craig gets here, I’ll fill him in before I take off. He can finish up.”
“Did he locate the Webster girl over at Berkley?” Sotello asked. “I have to get word to her parents one way or another by the end of the day, and let them know where we’re at.”
“He found her last night,” Ellen answered. “She’s shacked up with some guy in Piedmont. Her roommate was afraid to tell Webster’s parents where she was. Romeo went over in his Sam Spade outfit, and the roommate told him her life story. He went over to the place in Piedmont, and she answered the door. The boyfriend pulled her back from the door, and told our boy Elliot Ness to do an anatomically impossible act, and slammed the door.”
Sotello was already laughing at his daughter’s description of her brother’s part in the case. “He could have just watched the place for a few minutes to confirm her living there. How many times do I have to go over with him the fact we gather information here, and leave contact as a last resort? She could have been living with an axe murderer.”
“He went back to his car and did it by the numbers,” Ellen nodded. “He came back and downloaded the pictures already, because he knew you would be upset with him for going to the door. I can call the parents and ask if they want the information faxed to them. I already have the file ready to E-mail to them if they want it that way too.”
Sotello nodded. “Call them, but do not give them any information over the phone. Ask them when it would be convenient for me to go over the information with them. I don’t want anyone hurt, and I want to gauge their reaction to the news. If they go ballistic, I want to have the opportunity to calm them down. Tell Craig I said he did a great job except for the approach. Will he be here after lunch?”
“He said he has a paper to write,” Ellen replied. “He plans on adding some case notes to close up the Webster file. I’ll show him how far I get with Lynn’s case, and tell him you’ll be in around lunchtime. What do you have planned for now?”
“Lynn and I will be going over to the range with one of the shotguns, and the twenty-two auto.”
“Davis Street?” Ellen asked.
“No, not with the shotgun. We’ll go over to Castro Valley. Call me if you need me…”
“Oh, wait a minute Dad,” Ellen interrupted, as she went into the back, and came out with a folder. “Check this out.”
Sotello took the folder from her. The top paper, inside the folder, listed address and place of employment for a Louise Fletcher. He smiled up at his daughter. “What name has she been using?”
“Connolly, Grace Connolly,” Ellen answered. “She has the two kids with her too.”
“How did you break it?” Sotello asked.
“She contacted her Mom on a cell phone.”
“I see her husband was right all along,” Sotello commented. “She did head out in our direction. Do you think we can get the boy wonder to go to Placerville and snap some pictures without being seen?”
“Let me do it Dad. I would be less conspicuous.”
“Sounds good,” Sotello agreed. “You can take my Dodge.”
“Not even on a bet,” Ellen laughed, with Lynn joining her. “Geez, another car critic. That car seemed okay when I took you to softball practice and to your friends’ houses.”
“You’ve grown to be too much like Al Bundy, Dad,” Ellen told him. “Pretty soon you will have a million miles on that Dodge, just like Al did on his, in the TV show. Driving around in your Dodge is embarrassing.”
“Anyway, I guess it would be okay for you to do it. When would you like to start?”
“Can I wait until tomorrow? I’ll leave before the traffic goes crazy in the morning.”
“You call me when you get there,” Sotello cautioned, “and stay in touch. Do not start getting cocky like your brother.”
“You worry too much,” Ellen replied.
“No such thing in the realm of fatherhood, stay in touch.”
“I will,” Ellen promised.
“How did the new digital work for Craig?”
“Come on back and I’ll show you. Would you like a cup of coffee Lynn? I have some I just made in the back.”
“I would love some,” Lynn replied. “I have been trying to recruit your Father to do some work with me. It would pay very well. Of course it will have to wait until I get past this last goof up of mine.”
They walked together through the door into the back area, with Ellen leading the way, and Sotello bringing up the rear. Gillingham stopped in shock as she crossed the threshold of the room. She estimated the room to be about three thousand square feet. There were four main areas partitioned off with glass windowed partitions, and a hallway running from the front to the back.
“Welcome to the Bat Cave,” Ellen said proudly. “Craig and I helped Dad design it. When we were kids, it doubled as a playroom and schoolroom.”
“Incredible,” Lynn exclaimed. “Your place here really impresses me Jim. You have it nicely hidden. No one would think anything like this exists beyond your front office.”
“Ellen can give you a tour while I get the weapons out,” Sotello replied. “Then Ellen can show me Craig’s photography work. Afterwards, we can all sit down and have a cup of coffee.”
Sotello went through the first door on the right, which Ellen pointed out to Lynn. “Our library and conference room there, also houses Dad’s gun safe, along with our surveillance gear. Over here on the right, we have our computer and communications room. There is a workstation, complete with intercom, in each of the other areas. Down here on the left, we have our kitchen and dining room. Past the conference room on the right, we have our workout room, where we all try to stay in shape. At the end of the hall we have a full bath, and small bedroom, in case we need to stay over. There are fire exits out of each of the rooms.”
Lynn followed her, marveling at the simple yet complex design and utility of the place. Ellen led her into the kitchen area, complete with cooking alcove and serving bar. She poured three cups of coffee from a professional looking coffee machine. Ellen doctored her Dad’s coffee up the way he liked it, as Lynn fixed her own. Ellen led the way back out towards the conference room, meeting
her Dad, who was coming out with a gun bag. Sotello took the coffee meant for him from his daughter.
They all went into the computer room, as Ellen called up the file on the Webster case, showing her Dad the photo file attachment with the photos Craig had taken. Sotello viewed them all in thumbnail form, and then as a full screen view. He then printed out one of the photos, critically comparing it to one of his older file photos. He looked up at Ellen with a satisfied smile.
“I really see the difference. Have you worked around on blowing up small sections? I bet the detail knocked you for a loop.”
“Craig flipped when he saw the difference,” Ellen confirmed. “We both took turns on the photos. We zeroed in on license plate numbers, house numbers, entrance details, and foliage around the place. I can see a world of possibilities Dad.”
“Just so you don’t think I let my gadget side get carried away, and blew a bunch of money on another toy,” Sotello observed.
“You have the right,” Ellen laughed. “You should buy anything you want.”
“That thinking, my dear,” Sotello replied, “does not keep a business solvent. Follow the golden rule: buy…”
“…buy things which you enjoy, that also make money. I know Dad. Come on, let’s quit boring Lynn here, and go sit down in the kitchen. You should hear the James Sotello lecture series on business expenses and break even points, Lynn. I can make you up a video if you have trouble sleeping at night.”
“Why you ungrateful young yuppie larvae,” Sotello blustered from behind her, as Lynn laughed at the interchange between the two.
“You need some new material Dad,” Ellen replied patiently. “You cannot continue to use that outdated theft from Ghostbusters II indefinitely.”
“I can, and I will,” Sotello insisted. “It still applies adequately to almost every situation involving you and your brother.”
They all sat down at the serving bar as they drank their coffee. Lynn looked over at Sotello’s daughter. “You know Ellen, I really like your name. It seems kind of an old fashioned one you don’t hear very often anymore.”
“Alien,” Ellen replied. “My Dad named me after the heroine in the movie Alien.”
Sotello: Detective, ex-FBI, ex-Secret Service (DeLeo's Action Thriller Singles Book 1) Page 3
