“A criminal family profile?”
“Not a Mafia name but hey, you’re raised in it, you step in it. You don’t need to be mobbed up for that. You want me to send this to you?”
Adam did, printed out the resulting information and added it to the papers on his desk.
Time for a little off-duty surveillance. Finding Woodruff Street on the map, Adam drove just over the Fairfax County border to one of North Arlington’s modest old residential neighborhoods.
Any discovery here counted as research only, because Fairfax County jurisdiction stopped at the Arlington County line. On the other hand, if nothing surfaced here useful to Fairfax County, he could still mention his findings at the multi-jurisdictional monthly meeting where adjacent-county criminal investigators compared notes on crimes, suspects and arrests.
Forbes’ Honda van was not visible on the street in front of the house but might be parked in the detached closed garage beside it. Adam pulled to the curb, parked unobtrusively among other cars along the street and pretended to read a newspaper as he watched the house.
He hadn’t long to wait. Forbes and the girl walked from the house and entered the closed garage via a people door. Five minutes passed before the motorized garage door lifted and the van backed out. Adam followed them at a safe distance as they drove to an upscale Arlington County neighborhood and stopped at a moving sale.
When the two emerged from their van, Adam did a double take. Forbes now wore a convincing brown wavy wig and compatible moustache. Red hair, cut in a bob style, transformed the girl dramatically. These deliberate disguises raised a red flag for Adam.
The girl went into the sale first while Forbes rummaged for something in the back of their van. A few minutes later, he followed her into the house. Locking his own car as he climbed out, Adam went inside also. Thanks to the Shannon connection, he knew the sale routine now, and he wandered among the rooms, ostensibly shopping while tailing his quarry.
Common at such sales were signs on closets or locked rooms that read “Do Not Enter” or “Nothing in Here for Sale.” Most bedroom door locks could be opened effortlessly with a simple tool the size of a toothpick, easily concealed in one’s hand. As Adam climbed the stairs to the second floor, he pretended to look the other way as Forbes emerged from one of these closed rooms and sauntered nonchalantly down the hall to shop in the open rooms. The harried couple giving the sale mistakenly posted nobody upstairs to watch buyers.
Adam lingered upstairs long enough after Forbes left to notice the girl ease out of the other closed room. Her bulky purse hung heavily from a shoulder strap. Did it bulge more than when she arrived? Back downstairs, Adam noticed they left the sale separately, pretending not to know each other. Peering out from the corner of a window in the house, he saw them meet down the street at their van.
Returning to his unmarked police car, he recorded the sale address and eyed their car while pretending to study a magazine. As they drove away, he followed at a distance, back to their house. They parked in the garage and its automatic door closed behind them. When they left the garage for their house, they looked to neighbors exactly as when they originally started out. For Adam, this subterfuge and clandestine behavior at the sale clinched criminal activity.
As he waited to see what they’d do next, Adam turned on his Computer Aided Dispatch and checked the screen. Half an hour later, they came out, got into their van and drove, this time toward McLean. As he followed, something else on the CAD caught his eye. A burglary reported at the very moving sale they’d just left. Wallet missing $1,200 in cash, no doubt profits from the sale which the owners had temporarily stashed for safe-keeping in one of the upstairs “locked” rooms.
Was what he’d seen sufficient probable-cause to toss their house for evidence? If he were an Arlington County cop, he’d try for a search warrant or at least put active surveillance on their activities. If caught red-handed at a house they’d earlier cased, the warrant was a given.
But with this jurisdictional issue, Adam could either alert the local Arlington County police to take over now or he could try to catch Forbes committing another crime in Fairfax County.
He decided to sit tight another half hour to see what they did next.
CHAPTER 16
From Woodruff Avenue, Forbes and the girl drove down Chesterbrook to Kirby Road, a right on Chain Bridge and down to the Dogwoods. Sure enough, another target: an estate sale run by professionals. Even Adam gaped at the mansion’s size and grandeur.
Forbes got out first, now clean shaven, wearing a blond wig and different shirt and shoes. He strolled toward the sale. A few minutes later, the girl emerged, now also a blond with short, curly hair and clad in slacks and a jacket. Changing clothes in the van, hidden by the vehicle’s deeply tinted windows, resulted in transformations so effective that sellers at the previous sale would describe their burglars very differently from those at this house. Clever!
Adam considered the link between garage sales and the subsequent burglaries at the same addresses. While a light-fingered thief might pocket anything handy at a sale, he’d need an accurate sketch for the big heist when he returned. Under the watchful eyes of pros in charge here, this pair who just stole easy pickings at the Arlington sale more likely cased this place for a future burglary. Adam couldn’t call for backup before they committed a crime and, unlike their activity at the previous sale, this might be a mapping operation only. Though suspicious, sketching at an estate sale broke no law!
Before starting into the sale himself, Adam realized his two suspects had seen him numerous times in the past few hours. He might spook them by appearing yet again. Unprepared, he glanced around the car for an impromptu disguise. Borrowing Forbes’ strategy, he covered his hair with a baseball cap, slipped on a light windbreaker and donned sun glasses before appraising the results in the rearview mirror. Not a total redo, but not bad!
Inside, the gleaming white marble foyer, gorgeous flower arrangements in stunning vases, expensive Oriental rugs, custom furniture and unique, pricey knick-knacks impressed Adam, as he guessed they would everyone who entered. The house was so very large that Adam moved fast to find either Forbes or the girl, who had deliberately split in different directions. With four rambling stories to cover by himself, he realized he couldn’t be everywhere at once. Nor did he choose to alert this pair that he shadowed them. Reluctantly, he resigned himself to wait for them outside in his car.
How long would it take to map a house this size? Unable to do it all from memory, they’d need to draw a layout shortly after their visit when details were fresh. The resulting sketches were likely kept at their house, together with loot from previously burgled houses. If cops could get into Forbes’ house, he felt sure they’d find evidence to take these two down.
Cops understood frustration. You invested your time, risked your life and caught your perp, but could you convict him? Sure, law protected the innocent, but the prospect of losing these arrogant young criminals irritated Adam. They would keep scoring, eventually graduating to greater criminal activity, because that’s how it worked. The cockier they got and the riskier their heists, the likelier an encounter with a homeowner that could end disastrously for that innocent party. Some called it the “Las Vegas syndrome” because however much you won was never enough once you fancied yourself on an unbeatable roll.
Adam thought of Bernard Welch’s legendary case that rocked Fairfax County in l980. Posing as an antique dealer, Welch bought a house in Great Falls to use as headquarters for burglarizing wealthy homes over a 20-mile radius. Unbelievably successful, he grew increasingly confident and took ever greater risks. Welch’s own crime spree would have lasted even longer had a home owner not returned unexpectedly to discover him mid-burglary. Michael Halberstam, a cardiac physician, confronted Welch, who shot him twice at close range and then ran outdoors to escape. Though seriously wounded, Halberstam dragged himself to his car, attempting to drive to a hospital, when he spotted Welch in the road and delibe
rately ran him over.
Both critically injured men were rushed separately to Sibley Memorial Hospital, their ironic connection unknown. Doctors worked in different operating rooms trying to save each of their lives. They succeeded with Welch but not Halberstam. Welch received sentences totaling 143 years for felony murder, second-degree burglary with a deadly weapon, burglary and grand larceny, while the community lost a celebrated physician and the Halberstams, a beloved family member.
Adam’s reflections halted abruptly as he glanced up to see Forbes and then the girl exit the mansion separately and return independently to their van. Follow them again? He looked at his watch. No, time to call it a day. He needed to get ready for his first date with Hannah tonight and he wouldn’t miss that! Warm thoughts of her floated into his mind. Not just her great looks, which he’d noted immediately, but her appealing personality. She was smart, funny, clever and desirable... He smiled. She’d needle him when she learned he’d spent his off-duty afternoon still working a case.
His watch showed 5:00 p.m.. Just enough time to go home, shower, shave and pick her up at 7:00. Thinking fast, he called the McLean sub-station and explained the circumstances of this case to Jake Torres, a friend who had duty tonight. “ We need to watch out for Forbes’ tag number anywhere in Fairfax County. Don’t apprehend but follow and observe. Look, I’m off tonight but call my pager if anything breaks on this Forbes case. That’s right, day or night.”
CHAPTER 17
Cradling luscious Hannah in his arms, Adam covered her with tender kisses as she responded to his every touch. He’d never felt so powerfully drawn to any woman. He pulled her to him and...
His cell phone’s insistent chirp jerked him abruptly from deep sleep, melting his consuming dream. Groggy, he blinked awake and sat up. “Iverson here.”
“This is the eye on your Forbes guy,” said Jake Torres’ familiar voice. “He’s on the prowl tonight. We’re in Vienna. Not much traffic this late, so it’s hard to do a close tail without tipping him off. Maybe he’s just taking his target’s night-time temperature or maybe he’s going to hit the place. You want in?”
Already on his feet, Adam held the cell phone with one hand, pulling on his trousers with the other. “I’m on my way. Where in Vienna? Okay, 15 minutes tops. Thanks for the word.”
His car sped down Dolly Madison Boulevard and past Tysons Corner’s brightly lighted but largely deserted office complexes and shopping malls. A foaming beehive of activity during the day, at this hour even the hotels and restaurants buttoned down. Maple Avenue, Vienna’s main street, was nearly abandoned.
Adam spoke into his phone. “Okay, I’m on Maple entering Vienna, just passed Westwood Country Club. Is he still on the move?... where did he stop?... parked there how long?... Okay, I’ll park a block away and come in on foot. What are you driving?... no, I’m plain clothes and packing concealed. Make sure you know who you’re shooting at, buddy; I’m the guy wearing dark green.” Adam laughed, dropping the phone onto the seat and putting both hands on the wheel as he glided into the wealthy neighborhood of large lots graced with big, pricey houses.
Little transpired in this suburban residential neighborhood’s wee hours except for occasional ghostly movements of deer grazing in the lush residential gardens or a dog’s distant bark punctuating the monotonous drone of summer insects. Very far away, probably on Route 66, a siren wailed faintly for a moment before the night swallowed the sound.
Grabbing his cell phone, Adam crouched behind bushes in the yard opposite Forbes’ van. According to the surveillance team, the van hadn’t moved for fifteen minutes. Everyone waited. Due to his hunched position in the shrubbery, Adam felt uncomfortable pressure from the shoulder-holstered gun compressed against his chest.
Slowly, quietly, the passenger door of Forbes’ van opened. The inside dome light did not illuminate. The figure slipping out the door resembled a shadow more than a person. Clad entirely in black, including shoes, gloves and ski mask, the specter slipped quickly across the road and into the side yard of a large, prestigious house.
Forbes’ driver/lookout stayed in his car. He might have a clever way to alert Forbes of trouble, Adam thought. He could follow the thief inside the house, but if the owners were home, apprehending him there could invite risky cross-fire. Adam chose a different tack. He’d wait for Forbes’ return to his get-away van with the loot in hand. The on-sight team in the next block provided instant backup if Adam spearheaded an arrest. If the get-away car sped off, they’d call in a Be-On-Look-Out for quick apprehension. Adam recognized Forbes’ van from his earlier surveillance in Arlington. What could go wrong? That question always made Adam uneasy!
Long minutes ticked by while the pastoral night-time scene continued unchanged. Adam shifted to a more comfortable position, growing impatient. Waiting was tough!
A large, very old dog plodded along the sidewalk in front of Adam, closely followed by an even older man shuffling behind. At this hour, the master expected no one whose scent the animal might detect. But tonight, the protective old dog stopped to sniff the air. Catching Adam’s scent, the graying animal emitted a gravelly bark, persistently repeated despite his old master’s efforts to quiet him. Lights snapped on in a neighboring house as this unusual nighttime warning awakened sleeping occupants. If they saw the strange car, they might dial 9-1-1.
Inside the van, Fred froze with fright. He alerted Ralph to trouble by activating the vibrating cell phone and knew his brother would not return to the van now. Fred prayed he could remember everything Ralph told him to do. If not, his older brother would be furious later.
They’d rehearsed the contingency plan. Ralph would take off on foot, using his wits and the money in his pocket to eventually find a way home if their subsequent cell phone communication failed. Meanwhile, Fred would drive slowly and inconspicuously out of the residential area until he reached the main road, obeying speed limits. If not followed, he’d circuitously drive home. If followed, he’d head toward the District or Maryland, introducing the jurisdictional complication of state lines while leading pursuers away from both the crime scene and from their evidence-filled Arlington house. The brothers would then attempt coded communication on their cell phones every hour on the hour until successful.
Fred hated making decisions on his own because of Ralph’s unfailing criticism; therefore he relied totally on his brother’s specific instructions for every situation. Turning the key in the ignition, Fred started the engine, shifted into gear and eased down the street. As he crept along the subdivision’s residential roads, a car unexpectedly fell in behind him. Fred’s eyes widened. He accelerated a little faster. The follower kept pace.
Out of the residential neighborhood at last, Fred ached to head for the safety of their Arlington house but stuck to the memorized drill. As Fred turned onto Vienna’s main road, his panic grew as the car behind also turned. Torn between speeding away with at least a chance of escape or continuing at the speed limit and hoping the tail lost interest, Fred struggled to do as he’d been told. His anguish escalated to stark fear when the flashing light of an unmarked police car pulled him over three minutes later on Maple Avenue.
Back on the dark residential street, Adam rushed toward Forbes’ target house, hoping to catch the thief in flight. Pausing in the poor light of a moonless night, Adam blindly followed the sounds of movement and pounding feet ahead. He lurched after Forbes as they dashed through yards, over fences and across streets. Several times they both fell quiet, each listening for the other. Then Forbes led the chase again, darting off in yet another direction.
Backup gone but still in hot pursuit, Adam faced a judgment call: to continue solo at increased personal risk or regroup for a safer future try with cover. He forged on. Ahead, he heard metal crashing, more dogs barking. Only a few years older than the perp and in good physical condition, Adam assumed he could keep up, but could he overtake?
The chance light from a porch lamp illuminated the dark ground where Adam spotted
and scooped up Forbes’ discarded black ski mask. If Forbes shed his other black outer garments, could he emerge normally attired on any residential street and stroll unnoticed to freedom?
Rather than moving toward town, the suspect headed instead for the wooded preserves flanking this suburban area. Possessing only rudimentary Boy Scout survival skills, Adam was no woodsman. But Forbes might be! Out of the residential area now, both men struggled through thick brush and dodged woodland trees. Adam had a cell phone to call for backup, but where the hell was he? He packed a gun, but perhaps Forbes carried, too.
Suddenly, Adam heard crashing in the bushes ahead, followed by a splash and silence. Proceeding cautiously, he peered into darkness under the thick canopy of trees, caught his balance in time to jerk back quickly and avoid sliding down the bank and into a creek.
Adam stood quietly, listening. He couldn’t use his flashlight because if Forbes were armed, he’d become an illuminated target. Instead, using his eyes and ears as tools in the darkness, Adam stood absolutely still, straining to hear any sound. He waited, listening.
“Officer, may we be of assistance,” said a soft-spoken voice at his elbow. Adam whirled around, gun in hand, to stare at the well-dressed man standing before him. A big dog of unrecognizable breed sat obediently at the man’s side.
“Who...?” Adam began.
The man continued in the same quiet voice, “I’m a resident here, Edward Wilford, and also organizer of our neighborhood watch. Here’s my ID, though it’s hard to read here in the dark. May I see your badge also?” Adam complied and Wilford continued. “This is Jackie,” he patted the dog’s head. “We spend a lot of time outdoors together and we know this parkland well. We also hunt together and she is well-trained. I see you have a piece of clothing from the man you’re chasing. Perhaps Jackie might help you find him.”
Garage Sale Stalker (Garage Sale Mysteries) Page 10
