“And he has been living with the knowledge that many people believe that, Mr. Schell,” Lane argued. “It has been a terrible burden for him to bear.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Rudy replied. “The point is that each of you can be of great service to the FBI. Let me put it another way. If we apprehend Parker Bennett, we believe we would be able to recover at least some, if not most, of the money he stole. Ms. Harper, like you, we think the countess is communicating with Parker Bennett. I would like you to continue to go in and out of that apartment as often as is reasonable and report to us anything you may hear. Obviously you do feel the countess is getting nervous about the decorating expenses.”
“You bet she is,” Glady retorted. “Like I said, I plan on removing some artwork and sculptures from the apartment unless the outstanding two million dollars is paid this week.”
“Wouldn’t that terminate your relationship with the countess?” Rudy asked worriedly.
“Yes, it would, because I sure as heck am not going to do any more work if I’m not getting paid,” Glady answered.
“Ms. Harper,” Rudy began slowly, “would you leave the artwork there so that you can continue to frequent the apartment for a while longer? I would like you to place a listening device in the countess’s bedroom. I assure you I have a court order authorizing this. During the day when she is not there, what room does she spend most of her time in?”
“The library,” Glady answered. “She usually has her lunch served in there and whenever she takes a phone call, she does so in that room.”
“Then I will want a listening device in the library as well,” Rudy said. “And, Ms. Harmon, I would like you to encourage Eric Bennett in his affection toward you.”
“How do you know he shows affection toward me?” Lane asked angrily.
“We have been watching him, Ms. Harmon,” Rudy replied. “I would like you to win Eric Bennett’s trust. Tell him you don’t care if he was involved with his father. At least hint at that.”
“I absolutely will do no such thing!” Lane cried. “Eric is a fine and decent man and he has suffered terribly throughout this entire ordeal. He told me he emptied his own bank account and turned over every dime he had to the victims’ recovery fund.”
Rudy’s voice became chipped with ice. “Ms. Harmon, Eric Bennett did not give one penny to the victims’ recovery fund. Believe me, I would know. If he told you that, it was a complete fabrication. And if he lied to you about that, I can assure you that he’s lied about other things as well. Our hope is that if you seem to him to be responsive to his overtures toward you, if you even tell him you don’t care if he was involved in the fraud, he may trust you enough to confide in you. Now I will show you how to use a listening device when you are with him. I would also ask you to see him perhaps several times each week for dinner.”
Shaken, Lane stared at Schell. I don’t think he’s telling the truth, she thought. He’s manipulating me to try to get me to spy on Eric; I know he is. The thought of wearing a hidden microphone to record every word Eric said was abhorrent to her.
“I absolutely refuse to cooperate,” she said heatedly. “I believe in Eric Bennett’s innocence. It’s disgusting that you are asking me to entrap him.”
“Do you believe that Eric Bennett really emptied his bank account and sold his stock portfolio to aid the victims?” Schell asked scornfully.
“Yes I do, Mr. Schell, and I believe you are trying to trick me into turning against a friend who trusts me.”
“You’re a fool, Lane,” Glady said crisply. “I will be happy to plant those devices in the countess’s apartment, Mr. Schell. As I told you, I believe Parker Bennett’s money is paying my bills and I don’t like it. If you can prove the countess is involved, you would be able to seize that apartment and its proceeds would go to the victims’ fund, correct?”
“That is correct,” Rudy agreed.
“Well, you will get more money for it since my refurbishment than you would have before. So that is my contribution to the fund,” Glady said.
“Glady, you seem to be forgetting that the de la Marcos’ estate owns the apartment, not the countess,” Lane interjected.
“I haven’t forgotten that, Lane,” Glady shot back. “But if she goes to jail, I will bet you that if they can get that apartment back, they will be happy to make some sort of deal to repay the value of my improvements.”
Rudy Schell had heard that Glady Harper was an excellent businesswoman. She sure is, he thought, then said, “Ms. Harper, thank you. With your help we may be able to bring Parker Bennett to justice.”
He turned to Lane. “Ms. Harmon, I would be most grateful if you would cooperate with us. I hope you will reconsider.”
“I won’t,” Lane snapped.
She sat quietly while an agent came in and showed Glady how to wear the listening device and where to place one in the library and one in the bedroom of the de la Marco apartment. As she expected, Glady only needed to be told once. When the agent started to go over the process again, she snapped, “I’m not a complete idiot. A child could learn how to do it the first time.”
When they were ready to leave, Rudy Schell looked at Lane. “As I said a few minutes ago, I hope you will reconsider and cooperate. It is my obligation to inform you that if you divulge to anyone the existence of the court order authorizing the listening devices, you will be criminally charged with obstruction of justice.”
“I will neither say nor hint at any of this.” Lane turned and left the room. Glady followed her, silent.
For once she’s being smart, Lane thought as they went down in the elevator. She knows better than to make any wisecracks about Eric and me. If she does, she better find herself another assistant. And she’ll never find one as good as I am.
Rudy had escorted them to the door of the conference room. Now he sat down. He was absolutely sure that Derek Landry was representing Countess de la Marco and the last thing he wanted was to give her the reward money on top of guaranteed immunity and anonymity. To get Parker Bennett they might have to go along with it but at least they could stall for a little while.
Rudy sensed it was all coming to a head. He felt that rush of excitement that was always part of his nature when he was closing in for the kill. He could taste the satisfaction of knocking on the door of wherever Parker Bennett was hiding and placing him under arrest.
55
During the drive back to Montpelier, Joel Weber took in the surrounding area. The skies were bluer here than in Manhattan. Understandable, he thought. New York has more cars, more buildings, and God knows how many more people.
It was nearly three o’clock when he pulled into the parking lot of Montpelier High School. If it had been very cold in Hanover, it was downright freezing here!
With hurried steps he went from the parking lot to the school and rang the bell. Instantly, a slender woman in her late sixties was at the door pulling it open with one hand.
“Hello, Mr. Weber, I’m Kay Madonna, the principal’s secretary. I’ll take you right in to him. He’s been expecting you.”
Joel followed her down the hall through a small reception area and into the office of Glenn Callow. A man of about sixty, of average height and a full head of salt-and-pepper hair, he rose, extended his hand, invited Joel to sit down, then came directly to the point.
“How can I help you, Mr. Weber? What is this about?”
“I’ll start out by informing you that I am a retired FBI agent and am now with Adams Investigations Agency. We are looking into the background of Eric Bennett. We have learned that a young woman who graduated from your school was dating him with some regularity before he suddenly left Magna Carta College seventeen years ago. Were you here at that time?” Joel asked.
“Yes, I was.”
“It is my understanding that the young woman he was dating was Regina Crowley. Do you remember her?”
“Very well,” Callow responded. His face relaxed into a smile. “Regina was an A student, on t
he debating team, and a good tennis player.”
“Did anything out of the ordinary happen to Regina while she was at your school?”
“No, not really.”
Joel sensed that Callow was growing uncomfortable with his questions.
“Mr. Callow, please understand that I am only interested in Regina Crowley insofar as she may be linked to Eric Bennett,” Joel said.
“I appreciate that, Mr. Weber, but aside from Regina withdrawing during her junior year due to a prolonged case of mononucleosis, I can’t think of anything that was unusual during her time here.”
“Do you know what happened to her after that?” Joel persisted.
“Yes, I do. She returned to school the following year. After graduating near the top of her class she went to Boston College and BC Law School.”
“Have you kept in touch with her?” Joel asked.
“As far as I know she has never been back here,” Callow said quietly. “But she does send a donation to the student fund every year.”
“Can you give me her address?”
The principal hesitated for a moment. “I don’t see any reason why not. Her married name is Fitzsimmons and she lives in Hartford. I should add that she is a real estate attorney with the law firm of Manley and Fusaro. Their offices are located in Hartford.”
Joel rose from his chair. He knew that there was no need to ask any more questions of the principal. He had the information he needed from this interview.
“Mr. Callow, you have been most helpful and I am grateful to you for taking the time to see me,” Joel said. The two men shook hands and Joel headed out to the parking lot.
As soon as he was in his car he dialed information on his cell phone and asked for the number and address of the Manley & Fusaro law firm. In an instant, a text message had been sent to his phone with the information he needed.
He pressed the call button and when an operator answered, he asked to speak to Regina Fitzsimmons.
“One moment please. I’ll see if she’s here.”
At the first ring, he heard the phone being picked up. “Regina Fitzsimmons,” a voice answered.
“Ms. Fitzsimmons, please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Joel Weber. I am a private investigator and a former FBI agent. I would like very much to meet with you. I am investigating the background of Eric Bennett and I believe you may have information which might prove relevant. Would you be willing to see me?” he asked.
There was a long pause. “Finally, after all this time. I guess it won’t do any harm. Yes, Mr. Weber, I will see you.”
“I am leaving Montpelier now. I understand it is about a three-hour drive to Hartford? I could be at your office at approximately six thirty. Is it possible to meet you then?” Joel replied.
“Yes,” Fitzsimmons confirmed. “I’m planning to work late so about six thirty will be fine. Do you have our address?”
“Yes, I do, and thank you very much.” Joel broke the connection, thinking what a productive afternoon he had had so far.
A light snow had begun to fall but fortunately he reached Hartford before it grew in intensity and had the chance to become a real winter storm.
The law offices of Manley & Fusaro were located in a solid red brick building on Main Street in Hartford.
Joel parked his car, sprinted up the stairs to the entrance, and rang the bell of the firm.
Joel had calculated that Regina Fitzsimmons was approximately thirty-four years old. The young woman who answered the door was a petite blonde. She looked even younger than Joel had imagined. Her greeting was warm.
“Please come in, Mr. Weber. I’m Regina Fitzsimmons. There’s hot coffee waiting in my office. I am sure you could use a cup after such a long drive.”
She led Joel through the reception area and into her private office. The receptionist had left for the day but Joel could hear other voices coming from down the hall.
She closed the door, invited him to sit down, and took her own chair at her desk.
“I knew this day would come,” she said. “And maybe I’m glad it has. I see Eric has been getting away with helping his father steal all that money and it sickens me.”
The story she proceeded to tell Joel was horrifying.
“All of us used to go to the Magna Carta football games. Eric was a sophomore there. I was a junior in high school. He started paying attention to me. He would sit next to me at the games and at halftime he always bought me my favorite game snack, a hot chocolate and a hot pretzel. He was good-looking and very charming. I was flattered and I guess I had a crush on him. One Saturday it was particularly nasty out, cold and rainy, a kind of icy rain. Before the game even started, Eric said to me, ‘Let’s get out of here and find a movie.’ On the way, he stopped at a diner. ‘Wait in the car,’ he said. ‘They may not have a hot pretzel but I can get you a hot chocolate.’ He came back carrying the hot chocolate. He urged me to drink it. A few minutes later he said, ‘You look pale. Are you okay?’ ”
Regina stopped and turned her face away from Joel. He could see the tears in her eyes.
Regina continued. “The next thing I knew I was waking up. We were coming out of a drive-in movie. It was three hours later. He said I had fallen asleep for most of the movie. He said, ‘I think you’re getting sick.’ I didn’t feel well. I thought I must have been getting my period because later I saw some blood on my underwear. It simply never occurred to me that he had raped me. Six weeks later I started bleeding profusely. My mother rushed me to the hospital and she was told that I had had a miscarriage.”
“What was her reaction?” Joel asked quietly.
“Sheer horror,” Regina whispered.
“Did she report it to the police?” Joel asked.
“The doctor asked if the sex was consensual and my mother said yes. She gave me a look that would have killed, but I understood. If she had reported a date rape, no matter how hard you try you can’t keep that kind of thing a secret. It gets around. She didn’t want that to follow me all of my life. But then I guess I had some sort of breakdown. I could not stop crying. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat,” Regina took a deep breath and continued.
“My father abandoned us when I was two years old. I have no idea where he is. My mother was trying to decide if she had made a mistake in not reporting it when she saw the condition I was in. She called her one male relative. He was her cousin Dwight Crowley, the columnist. He came to see us and he was absolutely wonderful. He took me to a psychiatrist who was fabulous. Dwight paid for everything. I told the doctor that the only time I could possibly have conceived was the day Eric gave me a ride from that football game. I simply don’t remember the next few hours after I got into his car. The psychiatrist believed I was telling the absolute truth and was not trying to cover up any secret romance. Neither Dwight nor the doctor agreed with my mother about covering it up, but she was just so frantic about my reputation. The psychiatrist, of course, was bound by doctor-patient confidentiality, but Mother made Dwight swear to her he would never tell anyone about it. Our story was simply that I had contracted a severe case of mononucleosis and that was why I lost the school year.”
“Do you think everyone believed it?” Joel’s voice was soothing.
“Yes, I do,” Regina responded. “And right after all this happened a student at Magna Carta reported to the dean that Eric Bennett had tried to force himself on her but that she had managed to break away from him. That’s why he was asked to leave the school. His father made a ten-million-dollar donation so that his record remained unblemished. The story was that Eric left voluntarily when in reality he had been expelled.”
“I was told that Eric Bennett was mugged at that time.”
Regina was crying now but managed a smile. “I still don’t know and will probably never know for certain if Dwight had a hand in that. It could have been someone who knew the other girl he molested. I just don’t know.”
“Is it all right if I share this information you have given me w
ith my office? You have my word it will not go any further,” Joel said.
“As long as I have your word it will remain confidential, then yes. Let me just add that as you may already know, in regard to Eric Bennett, beneath that charming exterior there is a nasty, vicious, dangerous man.” Regina’s voice rose in anger as she spoke.
“Believe me, Ms. Fitzsimmons, I will not forget. Now, if I may, I have one final question I would like to ask you. Do you by chance know if Eric was close to his father?”
“ ‘Close’ isn’t the word,” Regina said heatedly. “Eric was always talking about him, bragging about him, telling people how smart he was, how successful he was, how generous he was. Parker Bennett showered Eric with gifts. The car Eric drove me in was a Maserati, a gift from Dad for his birthday.”
She paused and then continued. “Mr. Weber, from what I read in the newspapers and from all that I remember about Eric, I would bet those two were joined at the hip cheating those poor people. If you can prove that Eric is involved, I swear, I’ll throw a party.”
56
Parker Bennett got off the plane in Miami and dragged his two suitcases outside the terminal. On the Internet he had found a Night and Day Motel that was near the airport. It was located in a part of town that he knew was sleazy and where no questions would be asked. He would register under a different name and by paying cash in advance would be safe from detection.
In the bathroom of the airport he had changed from his customary trench coat into a lightweight polyester zip-up jacket. He had also bought a cap, one size larger than he needed, which came down over his eyes and sat low on his forehead. Hailing a cab, he gave the address of the motel.
When he first arrived at the registration desk, he put a one-hundred-dollar-bill on the counter. “For you,” he said to the desk clerk. The clerk, a sallow bald guy who looked as though he had seen everything, slid the bill into his pocket and said, “The room is fifty dollars a night, pay in advance.”
The Melody Lingers On Page 17
