by Kelly, Diane
I responded with: Sounds great, Morgan! See you then!
Immediately after sending the e-mail I contacted Hana and gave her the details. “You want to be part of the bust, right?”
“Are you kidding me?” she said. “After having to let that guy kiss me and pretending to love the harmonica? Of course I do!”
We spoke for several minutes, devising our plan. When we finished, I contacted Nataya, Leslie, and Julia and gave them the scoop. “You want in?”
They responded with a unanimous, “Yes!”
* * *
Early Monday morning, the mail clerk brought me another load of responses from members of Flo Cash’s bartering network. “Here you go,” he said, setting the stack on my desk.
“Thanks.”
“You close to busting her?” he asked.
“Closer every minute.”
I was even closer to busting Morgan Walker. My nerves were already abuzz with excitement. I barely had time to get through three of the responses before it was time for me and Hana to head up to Addison. I gathered up my purse, slid my blazer on to hide the gun holstered at my hip, and all but cartwheeled down the hall to Hana’s office. Busting crooks is good for one’s disposition.
I stopped in her doorway. “You ready?”
She slid her gun into her holster and covered it with a jacket, too. “I am now. Let’s go.”
As we passed Nick’s office, he called out, “Give ’im hell, girls!”
He’d wanted to come along but had a pre-arranged deposition he had to attend early this afternoon that got in the way. To be honest, though I’d appreciated his help getting us to this point, I kind of liked the idea of Jack/Morgan’s dates taking him down on their own. Of course Hana and I would take the lead. We couldn’t put innocent civilians at risk. But at least they’d get a chance to see things go down.
Hana and I walked outside to the parking lot, hopped into our G-rides, and caravanned up to Lewisville. While I parked at the sandwich shop, Hana got into place at the bank.
I found Morgan sitting at a Formica booth inside the shop, cleaning his eyeglasses with a napkin.
He put his glasses back on, gave me a warm smile, and stood to give me a hug. “It’s good to see you, Sara.”
“You, too.” Prepare to go down, jerkface.
We made our way to the counter, where we ordered sandwiches and drinks. When they were ready, we carried them back to the booth.
I took a sip from my straw. “How was your weekend?”
“Honestly?” He dropped his gaze. “Not so good.”
“Why’s that?”
“Shane’s causing more problems. He found his mother’s debit card and used it to wipe out our entire checking account. The card was in a drawer in the bedroom. I hadn’t thought to cut it up.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.” I wasn’t sorry at all. I had the fictional Shane to thank for allowing me to bust his sorry-ass stepfather today.
Morgan changed topics, mentioning the rain they’d had in Oklahoma City Friday night. As if he’d know. He’d been shaking his tush at the nightclub. Or at least I assumed he’d been shaking his tush. For all I knew he was a wallflower.
“That new Armie Hammer movie opens this weekend,” he said. “I’d love to take you. How’s your Saturday night look?”
Saturday night I’d be helping Alicia take care of last-minute details for her Sunday wedding. But this guy didn’t need to know that. I knew he had no intention of taking me out on Saturday. He was only mentioning the future to make it seem as if we’d have one, to put me off my guard, give me hope.
“Saturday?” I said. “Sure, I’m free. You won’t have to be in Oklahoma?”
“Not this weekend, luckily,” he said.
I continued to eat my sandwich, having a hard time getting the food down with all the excited butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. Only a few more minutes and this guy would be going down. I could hardly wait!
Finally, we finished our lunch and tossed our trash in the bin. He walked me out to my car.
As we stopped next to it, he pulled out his wallet. “Sara, I have a big favor to ask you. If it’s an imposition, feel free to say no. I haven’t had a chance to open a new bank account since Shane emptied mine over the weekend. I also want to talk to my attorney first, and see what he suggests. Unfortunately, this leaves me without access to my cash or anywhere to cash my paycheck. If I sign this check over to you, would you mind cashing it for me?”
He held out the check to show it to me. It was a standard blue business check with the name “TRANQUILITY TREATMENT CENTER, INC.” printed across the top, along with an address in Oklahoma City. It was made payable to Morgan Walker in the amount of $2,000.00.
I looked up at him. “Shane’s really put you in a bind, huh?”
“He has.”
“I’d be happy to cash it for you.” I gestured across the street. “In fact, there’s a branch of my bank right over there.”
“Thanks so much, Sara.” He smiled broadly. “You’re a lifesaver.”
Oh, Morgan, you poor idiot. You’ll have such a different opinion of me ten minutes from now.
“Let’s just walk over,” I suggested. “No sense moving our cars, since the bank’s so close.”
“Okay,” he said, though I sensed he was a little nervous not having his getaway vehicle nearby.
We walked across the street. In my peripheral vision I saw Hana’s G-ride parked in the employee area at the back of the bank lot. She’d put up a window screen to hide the fact that she was in the car, but I knew she was nonetheless watching me and Morgan approach.
We were halfway up the main drive when Morgan said, “Uh-oh. My phone’s vibrating. I think I’m getting a call.”
Yeah, right.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and pretended to consult the readout. “It’s the center. I’m going to have to take this. But I don’t want to waste more of your time than necessary. Why don’t you go on inside and cash the check and I can meet you back out here?”
He didn’t give me a chance to object before putting the phone to his ear and saying, “Hello?” The turd even had the nerve to make a shooing motion with his hand, telling me to go on into the bank.
Stupid dumbass.
I went inside the bank and waited in line for a teller, offering a discreet wave to Leslie, Nataya, and Julia, who were seated in an area at the side of the lobby. When it was my turn, I approached the woman at the counter. “Hi,” I said. “Do you have any brochures on mortgages?”
“We sure do,” the woman said, reaching under the counter and pulling out a pamphlet. “This will tell you all about the various options.”
“Thanks.” I took the brochure from her. “Any chance I could get one of your cash envelopes? I’ve got a bunch of loose change in my car and I need something to put it in.”
Loose change was a lame reason for needing an envelope, but it was as good as any other, I supposed. And it got the job done. The woman handed a white cash envelope over the counter to me.
“Much appreciated,” I said. Just for grins, I grabbed a red lollipop from the basket on the counter, too.
As I headed back toward the front door, I folded the mortgage brochure, stuffed it inside the cash envelope to make the envelope appear full, and licked the seal to close it. Without turning my head, I winked at the security guard stationed in the lobby. I’d spoken with the branch manager and Security by phone this morning and warned them there was likely to be one hell of a scuffle in their parking lot around noon. They’d seemed excited by the idea. I supposed banking could be a fairly routine, uneventful business. It might be fun to shake things up a little.
I headed out the door and looked around, putting a hand over my eyes to shield them from the sun. Where did Morgan go? I didn’t see him, but I did catch a glimpse of Hana darting between cars, her gun drawn.
Oh, there he is. Morgan had walked even farther away from the bank, standing almost back at the street
we’d crossed. He was still pretending to talk on his phone. Such a chatty Cathy.
I held up the cash envelope. Come and get it, sucka!
He smiled, nodded, and ended the call that had never actually even started. As I walked toward him, he took a few small steps in my direction, just enough to allow Hana to circle around on foot behind him. She crouched at the front fender of a bright yellow Mustang, ready to pounce.
I stopped a few paces short and held out the envelope. “Here you go.”
He stepped forward and took it from me, putting a finger under the seal to release it. I eased back to put some distance between us as he reached into the envelope and pulled out the mortgage brochure. Every molecule of his charm instantly dissipated. He glared up at me. “What the hell is this?”
“Today you’ve got a date with justice.” Okay, so it was a corny thing to say. But it felt good to say it, anyway. My gun was out and pointed at his face in an instant. “IRS! Put your hands up! Now!”
He turned as if to run but changed his mind when he spotted Hana standing in his path, her legs spread for balance, her gun at the ready. Between me, Hana, and the cars, he was pretty much blocked in all directions.
“Are both of you with the IRS?” His face was equal parts rage and befuddlement as he raised his hands and looked from one of us to the other. “What is this?”
“You’re busted,” I said, punctuating my words with a scoff. “I’d think that would be obvious.”
“Busted?” he cried, his glasses glinting in the sun. “For what?”
Playing innocent this late in the game? Please. “On your knees!”
“But these pants are Armani!”
“What do you care?” I spat. “You didn’t pay for them. Not with your own money, anyway.”
“It’s June!” he shrieked. “In Texas! The asphalt’s going to burn me!”
I motioned downward with my gun. “Ask me if I care.”
He didn’t ask. And I didn’t care.
Still he didn’t obey. Instead, his eyes went wild, his head snapping back and forth between me and Hana as if he was trying to determine which of us would go down easier. He chose me, storming in my direction.
Instinctively I backed toward the line of cars.
“Hi-yah!” Morgan whipped around like a top, his right leg kicking out.
Yep. The guy’s a black belt, all right.
I jerked back, his foot missing my head by mere inches. Uh-oh. I’d known this guy could be good at martial arts, but I hadn’t realized he’d be able to move this fast.
He spun again, the force causing his eyeglasses to fly from his face, his leg a blur as it swung at my face. I fell to a crouch a split second before his leg whipped over my head, barely missing me.
My thoughts rocketed through my brain at warp speed. Should I shoot the guy? It was tempting. After all, if he managed to land one of those kicks I could end up with a serious head injury. He might knock me out and get my gun, killing me or Hana or both. Maybe even innocent bystanders, too. But I also knew that shooting him would be risky. Any use of potentially lethal force would be scrutinized under a microscope. If I were found to have used excessive force, I could lose my job or end up in prison. This guy hadn’t physically hurt anyone. He’d only taken their money. He’d been a nonviolent offender, up until now.
I hadn’t fully processed my thoughts and was still in a crouch when he came at me again. I did the only thing I could at that point. I curled into a ball and rolled backward between two parked cars. His kick missed me by inches, instead hitting the back fender of a black SUV with enough force to cause a loud kadunk and a dent. The car’s alarm system activated: Eert-eert-eert!
I was still on the ground when he stepped back to the opening between the cars and threw a punch, his fist coming at me like a piston. I drew my head back and he ended up punching the SUV’s tire. Thump!
“Hey!” Hana hollered, coming up at Morgan from behind.
Eert-eert-eert!
He turned to go after her now, giving me a chance to recover. Grabbing a door handle, I pulled myself to a stand between the cars.
Eert-eert-eert!
Morgan hurtled toward my partner. Hana raised her gun as if to shoot. In a millisecond her face went through a range of emotions. No doubt she was having the same thoughts I’d had. Would shooting this crazed ninja prove to be a bad decision?
Eert-eert-eert!
At the last possible instant she dove sideways between a sedan and a pickup. Momentum carried Morgan forward and he impacted the tailgate of a pickup, his knee smashing against the trailer hitch that extended from under the back bumper. He might be a martial arts expert, but without his glasses his vision had clearly gone screwy. All those slick moves were of no use if you couldn’t get a good bead on your target.
As the truck’s alarm erupted in a whoop-whoop-whoop, Morgan fell to the ground, clutching his knee, screaming in agony.
Eert-eert-eert! Whoop-whoop-whoop! “Aaaagh!”
The cacophony was deafening.
Eert-eert-eert! Whoop-whoop-whoop! “Aaaagh!”
I shoved my gun back into my holster, reaching instead for my pepper spray. With his knee injured, he probably wasn’t going anywhere, but I wanted to be ready just in case.
As I held my pepper spray aimed at him, Hana returned her gun to her holster, stepped behind him, and pulled his hands down into position to be cuffed.
“I don’t understand!” He looked over his shoulder at Hana before returning his eyes to me, grimacing in pain. “Why are you doing this?”
I rolled my eyes and addressed Hana. “Why do people play dumb?”
Seriously, did they think playing innocent was somehow going to fool us? That we hadn’t gathered substantial evidence before arriving at this point? Sheesh. Give us some credit.
Eert-eert-eert! Whoop-whoop-whoop!
The guy was not to be deterred. “I have a right to an explanation!” As footsteps sounded to my rear, his gaze traveled from my face to a spot behind me. He squinted, trying to make things out but having a little trouble without his glasses. “Oh, shit!”
Leslie, Nataya, and Julia stepped up next to me.
“Are we enough explanation for you?” Nataya asked.
Eert-eert-eert! Whoop-whoop-whoop!
“Bastard!” Julia cried.
“I want a lawyer!” Morgan yelled up at me, a look of terror on his face. “Now!”
I’d heard about as much as I wanted to hear from this guy. I pulled out the lollipop, ripped the wrap from it, and shoved it in his mouth. “You have the right to remain silent,” I told him. “Anything you say or do—”
Before I realized what was happening Leslie had stepped forward and kicked Jack/Morgan/Bailey where the sun doesn’t shine, just as she’d said she wanted to do. He coughed out the lollipop and lolled to the side. With his hands cuffed behind him, he fell onto the hot asphalt, his cheek smacking with the impact.
Eert-eert-eert! Whoop-whoop-whoop!
As he writhed in agony, I bent down to his level, put my face in his, and finished reading his rights. Well, more like I hollered his rights. It was hard to be heard over the car alarms. When I was done, I pulled the harmonica out of my pocket. “Seems like an appropriate time for some blues.” Twee-twoh-twoh-twoo-twoo.
He curled into a fetal position and glared up at me.
Eert-eert-eert! Whoop-whoop-whoop!
Returning the instrument to my pocket, I grabbed his hands and yanked him to his feet. “Okay, Jack Smirnoff, Morgan Walker, or Bailey Chambord, let’s go.”
chapter twenty-nine
Getting to Know You, Getting to Know All About You
Hana and I spent the rest of Monday getting the catfishing Casanova processed. Though he’d been excessively verbal in the bank parking lot, he became very tight-lipped once he’d been placed in the U.S. Marshal’s squad car.
“What’s your real name?” I asked through the open window.
No response.
“What dating sites have you posted profiles on?”
Still no response.
I stuck my head through the window, got in his face, and hissed, “Why would you think a woman like me is only worth a Tuesday?”
He didn’t respond to that question, either, though I couldn’t much blame him. Anything he said could earn him a bullet between the eyes.
Hana retrieved his keys and wallet from his pockets. While Kevin Andersen’s license was found in the locked glove box of the Mercedes, according to the con artist’s real driver’s license his name was Dustin Haverkamp. His home address was listed in Denton.
Once the marshal had hauled Haverkamp off to jail, Hana and I bade Nataya, Leslie, and Julia good-bye.
“Y’all take care now,” I said.
“Thanks for everything!” Julia called, Leslie and Nataya murmuring in agreement.
I tossed Haverkamp’s broken glasses into a trash bin, and Hana and I returned to the IRS office. We gathered around my computer, where I ran a quick search of the W-2 filings for the previous year. According to the records, Dustin had worked at a tavern in Fort Worth.
“That explains his aliases,” I said. “He got them right off the bottles at work.”
“It also explains his good listening skills,” Hana said. “Sympathetic bartenders get bigger tips.”
Hana and I obtained a search warrant for his home and drove up to Denton. I had to give the guy credit. He’d been clever to stay in the Dallas area for his dates. Though his hometown of Denton wasn’t too far up the road, those who lived in Dallas had little reason to go to the smaller city unless they were University of North Texas alums attending a football game. His chances of running into one of his victims in his hometown were slim.
Armed with the warrant and his keys, we drove to his address. He lived in a contemporary condo with a modern, spare decor.
“Nice place,” Hana said as we came in the door and took a glance around.
I sniffed the air. There was no telltale odor of a litter box, no fur on the couch or chairs, and no food or water bowls in the kitchen. Looked like Marmalade was even more fictitious than Morgan Walker. He’d probably found the photo of the orange tabby online somewhere. After all, there were 987 million cats on the Internet to choose from.
