The Phantom Photographer: Murder in Marin Mystery - Book 3 (Murder in Marin Mysteries)

by Martin Brown

  It was at that moment Michael considered taking what he had learned from this single act of revenge and using his photography as a means of extorting money from people who were simply selected targets. Three more Freds paying the same amount of money each month would yield over fourteen thousand dollars a year in found income. Better still, there was the excitement and the danger of the hunt. Michael wanted to relive that moment when he first showed Fred those incriminating photos. He was fully in charge, and he enjoyed that greatly.

  Michael vividly remembered the way Fred’s mouth twisted in anguish when he realized that he was cornered and now needed to pay to keep the mess he had created from damaging his life and the lives of others. What choice did he have? He had been caught satisfying his carnal appetites, and for that Michael created a steep penalty. Being caught for killing his blackmailer was clearly a risk Fred was unwilling to take. His only regret was dropping the name of his employer into the mix. But what possible harm could come from that?

  Any newly found source of income, however, could vanish in seconds. Fred, for example, might decide to leave Barbara and move in with his perky brunette. He could die suddenly; Barbara could as well. Secrets that are worth paying for one day can lose their currency the next. All the more reason Michael should play the extortion game holding several cards as opposed to one.

  As long as you stayed in the game and did the hard work of following your prey, you should come out ahead. In addition to the financial benefits, there was the thrill of the hunt. All these individuals thought their adultery came with no strings attached. Between his skills with a camera and his insights into human behavior, Michael imagined himself a future master at this game. It was simply another form of hunting that he and Christopher had learned to enjoy. “Keep your target in your sight,” their father would say. “Track silently and execute with swiftness and accuracy.”

  Michael took out his notebook and began to write down the steps needed to achieve his goal. He quickly came to one crucial decision: the first step in extorting money is to learn as much as you can about your target. He needed to know what they do, their routine, and where they should and should not be at a given point of the day. Before he tracked Fred, for example, he knew about his Sunday routine. Clearly, that one piece of knowledge was essential to his subsequent discoveries.

  Working at Cook’s Camera, Michael knew many of his regular customers, and he knew the few friends he had made over the past year plus of living in Marin. He had gone out on a handful of dates, but none of them were girls he particularly liked, or more importantly, trusted. There was no denying that he lived a socially isolated life.

  Michael was a naturally shy person, and that needed to change. Then an idea occurred to him. The camera that often hung around his neck or was slung over his shoulder was the perfect cover for a shy person to hide behind. Rather than joining the local Rotary Club chapter, the chamber of commerce, or serving in some capacity with various volunteer groups, his entire value to the community could be defined through the use of his camera.

  When Milton returned from lunch, Michael put his plan into action.

  “I’ve been thinking I’d like to get more involved with the community. Rotary, chamber, or any organization you would recommend.”

  “I’m in both. And I’d like to see you do that as well. I would have suggested it before now, but I know you put a lot of personal time into your work here at the shop and into your photography.”

  “Well, that’s the other thing I wanted to mention. I’m really excited about black and white photography for doing individual portraits and just shooting people in general. Would it be coming on too strong if I volunteered to act as photographer to one or both of those organizations?”

  “No, are you kidding? I’d love it. I’ve been the go to guy for years and I’d be glad to share that work with someone I trusted to do a good job. That would be great.”

  “Okay, then just let me know when and where the next meetings are. I’m excited about getting involved.”

  Michael, imagining the potential rewards of his scheme, jumped in with enthusiasm. It took a little rearranging of store hours, because the chamber’s monthly meeting, like that of the Rotary, was during the day. Fortunately, the chamber was a breakfast that was usually over before their ten o’clock opening, and for the Rotary, they just announced that the camera shop would be closed the second Tuesday of every month between the hours of twelve and two, so they could both attend.

  With a professional grade Nikon camera strapped around his neck, Michael was far less shy. Within a few months, to Milton’s delight, Michael was the go to guy for the photography needs of both organizations.

  Michael, a careful observer and a good listener, spent the first few months wondering which of the many people he met might be worth the time needed for closer examination. The chamber had a fifty-fifty split between males and females. The Rotary, on the other hand, had two male members for every one female. He was confident that he’d have better luck tracking one or two male targets in both organizations. He then proceeded carefully in picking his first two candidates.

  At the chamber, it was Marv Reagan, a man in his mid-thirties, who fit, in Michael’s view, the characteristics of alpha males he had studied while pursuing his major in anthropology.

  In the Rotary, his choice was Paul Ablow, a forty-year old portrait of a self-made successful businessman with an ego as recognizable as his accomplishments.

  Marv and Paul knew each other, both being longtime members of the community, but they avoided crossing into one another’s power base. Like two dominant gorillas, Michael reasoned, who had made the conscious decision to avoid each other’s power base. Marv was clearly the chamber’s go to guy, often talking over anyone trying to express a different point of view.

  Paul’s rule over the Rotary was accomplished in less obvious ways. In his years at the club, he had held every one of its offices, and unlike the many business owners, who all had opinions to contribute at chamber meetings, Rotary was a lower key less aggressive group. Even those who may have thought that he was presenting his own arguments as the consensus of opinion allowed him to move forward without objection.

  Michael suspected that Marv was involved in embezzling funds from the chamber’s two annual community fund raising events. Paul, he suspected, was subtler in his approach. Rather than outright embezzlement, Paul likely engaged in the type of soft theft that occurs when an organization’s purchases to provide food and drink for the executive board’s annual retreat also stocks your pantry and liquor cabinet for the year to come. After all, leftovers are unavoidable. Particularly when you order twice the food and drink you need.

  But, above all that, Marv and Paul had one other essential qualification that made them worthy targets; both were married. Not knowing which of the two to track first, Michael flipped a coin, heads, Marv; tails, Paul. Marv won, or in this case, lost.

  Unlike Paul, Marv was not a business owner, but rather managed a family owned auto parts retail store along Novato Boulevard. Michael pitched Marv and the chamber’s executive board the idea of an ongoing photo page feature in their monthly publication.

  “I would take photos of a day in the life of a chamber member business. This becomes a feature that showcases the business and the people that make the place run, from the owners to the staff. I think it could help build membership, and I’d be happy to have the chosen company of each month’s feature use the photos in any promotional pieces they wanted to, as long as I got a photo credit line on that piece.”

  Marv thought that a wonderful idea and proposed that his auto parts business be the series’ first feature.

  In spending his day at Anderson’s Auto Parts, “Novato’s Choice for Quality and Price,” as the banner hung above their entrance announced, Michael got a closer view of Marv in action. He certainly had an eye for the ladies working in the company’s business office. There was Sheryl in accounting, a young blond with short hair and
tight jeans, who Michael made a mental note to follow, and Sandy, also young, blonde, and well proportioned, who was sweet and accommodating to everyone, particularly Marv.

  Michael made sure to take several shots of Marv with each of these two women to see if their body language or his actions might indicate that this was more than a casual friendship.

  When, in preparing for a shot together, Sandy brushed aside with her hand some unruly hair back over Marv’s ear, Michael immediately sensed that these two had a deeper, more personal relationship. There was no overt behavior, just enough intimacy in their body language to arouse his further attention.

  Michael knew that his observation and tracking of Marv and Sandy would likely be more difficult and time consuming than that of Fred and Nora. Clearly, there was a large degree of luck in the case of Fred. Particularly the deserted marshland behind his girlfriend’s house and their uninhibited enjoyment of a sunny day on what they foolishly assumed was a private view.

  Regardless of the time it might take to prove his theory, Michael felt confident he had now picked up a trail of misbehavior on the part of Marv, and he was committed to following through. Besides, Marv, the auto parts store manager, had such a high opinion of himself, that taking him down a peg or two would ultimately be quite satisfying.

  After two nights in which they went their separate ways after leaving work, Marv and Sandy headed out together on the third night. As he had on the two previous nights, Michael was sitting in his car in a grocery store’s parking lot across the street. Marv’s car turned left out of the parking lot and Michael started his car and hurried to catch up. Marv drove just a half-mile along South Novato Boulevard, where he turned into the parking lot of a popular Mexican restaurant.

  After sitting in his car for thirty minutes, tired of hearing the Mariachi music and listening to the laughter from within, Michael decided to go inside. He had no idea what he would find. They might be nibbling on Nachos, or each other, or having drinks with friends from work.

  Get in there, he thought. Do your job!

  With a camera dangling on a strap hanging from his shoulder, he walked inside to discover a busy bar serving happy hour drinks and free cheese nachos, and there in the middle of the bar were Marv and Sandy with their legs casually entwined.

  “Oh, hi guys,” Michael said cheerfully.

  “Michael,” Marv said, clearly by now on his second margarita. “Meeting a lady friend?”

  “Actually, I was meeting a pal. We’re going to see Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.”

  “Oh, nice, I heard it’s really good. You remember my friend Sandy.”

  “Yes, I remember shooting your photo the other day.”

  “You’re cute, I should introduce you to my niece, Cathy; she’s trying to break into modeling and she could use a few good photos.”

  Sandy, Michael thought, was just one drink away from slurring her words.

  “Sure, here’s my card with my number at the camera shop. Tell her to call anytime. You know, I’ll bet I missed my buddy; I better get moving before I miss the start of the film too.”

  Back in the parking lot, Michael pulled his car to the back and waited another thirty minutes. Marv and Sandy had to be on their last round, he reasoned. If something was going to happen tonight, now should be the time.

  Michael quickly loaded in a roll of film that could maximize the resolution of an image taken in low light. Fortunately, Marv’s car was positioned across from the restaurant’s entrance, which was reasonably well lit. Naturally, he was uncertain as to what would come next. But, as he’d learned with Fred, if you’re unprepared to catch the moment, you’re certain to leave empty handed.

  Michael steadied his telephoto lens on top of his steering wheel and started clicking rapidly as Marv and Sandy exited and walked the short distance to the car. Marv was obviously looped, because he was all over Sandy before opening her door. His hands rubbed the sides of her breasts as he gave her a hungry kiss. Then his hands moved down and around to cup her bottom. Michael was delighted by the show. Suddenly realizing that they were doing in public what they both wanted to do in private, Marv and Sandy ducked into the car and drove off, with Michael trailing a hundred feet behind.

  As they began to follow the reverse path of their earlier drive from the auto parts shop, Michael wondered if that was where they enjoyed their late night trysts. To his surprise, that apparently was their hideaway. When they turned into the company’s parking lot, Michael drove a half block beyond and parked at a late night Wendy’s franchise. He grabbed his camera and walked back down the block. He knew he was taking a risk, but the thrill of the hunt was irresistible.

  He looked in hope of seeing a light coming from one of the office windows that lined the back of the building. He was thrilled when he spotted what he thought might be the glow of a small desk lamp.

  He hesitated for just a moment, and then thought, what the hell, they’re drunk and horny; what are the chances they’re going to be aware of anything other than their desperate need for one another?

  Michael peeked up at the window that was directly over his head. Knowing full well he was not going to get what he now thought of as the money shot without a better angle on the action, he quietly walked to the rear of the property, where at the close of business all packing crates and cartons from incoming shipments were left for the early morning refuse pickup. As he hoped, there was a discarded four by six shipping pallet that provided the needed eighteen-inch lift to assure he captured what he jokingly thought of as that “special Kodak moment.” Before moving it into position under the window, he thought it wise to stand on the pallet and jump up on it a couple of times. Relieved that it was solid and not likely to crack under his weight, and thereby give his presence away, he carried his improvised photo stand through the unlit back lot and placed it into position.

  Michael stepped up on the pallet, and rising slowly from a crouching position, he carefully moved his head up over the level of the window and was greeted by the sight of Marv with his pants down around his ankles, lunging at Sandy’s generous breasts. He took a deep breath, raised his camera, and began shooting away. He fired off a roll of twelve shots in a matter of moments, returned the trashed pallet to where he had found it, and was happily back at his car a few minutes later.

  He stopped to celebrate by walking into Wendy’s and ordering a double cheeseburger, a chocolate shake, and a large order of fries. With his best friend, the high speed, nearly silent shutter, thirty-five millimeter Nikon comfortably resting at his side, Michael sat in the dark of his car and thoroughly enjoyed his dinner. An ice cream split at the Swensen’s on Redwood Boulevard finished off his late dinner. Dessert that night, he told himself, was on Marv.

  Back in the car, filled with the thrill of a successful hunt, Michael quickly turned his thoughts to what these photos might be worth to his target. Before confronting Marv, he needed to carefully assess Marv’s financial standing. The last thing he wanted to do was set a price well below a monthly payment that Marv could comfortably afford, or above what he could possibly pay.

  Certainly, Marv presented himself as someone comfortable with his financial standing, but that, of course, could be a deceit. There was little doubt about the quality and clarity of the images he captured, and tomorrow night in the camera shop’s darkroom, any questions would be settled.

  The next morning, Michael greeted Milton with a few seemingly innocent questions.

  “Marv seems like a really nice guy. I’ve enjoyed getting to know him. Is he a part owner in that auto parts business he manages?”

  “Not that I’ve ever heard. Marv talks a good game, but the one who is the real breadwinner in that family is Marv’s wife. She’s a divorce attorney, a partner in a big firm in San Francisco. My wife has known her for years.”

  “So, Marv’s not the big breadwinner? He sure acts like king of the hill.”

  “I know he has a very high opinion of himself. He’s a nice enough guy, but
I’ll be damned if I know what his wife sees in him. Maybe he’s a great lover,” Milton said and gave a short laugh.

  “Well, maybe he is. I suppose you never know.”

  Later that night, Michael pulled some beautiful photos out of the chemical soup that always gave the darkroom that particularly pungent smell. Even before they had completely set, he could tell in the glow of the darkroom’s red light that the photos met his own increasingly high standards. The parking lot shots were acceptable and helped to document the sequence of events, but that series of quick snaps that he caught from the high angle of the office window were all contest winners.

  After Michael clipped the dozen eight by ten photos onto a wire to dry, he switched on the lights in order to fully appreciate his handiwork. He was still uncertain as to what Marv’s monthly penance should be, but he had no doubt that this collection of photos would provide a nice addition to his income. He was indeed a better hunter than his father and brother had ever thought.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Four hundred dollars a month seemed like a reasonable number. No doubt, forty-eight hundred a year would likely make a sizable ding in Marv’s discretionary spending, but from what Milton suggested regarding his divorce attorney wife, the pain of paying Michael should be a small compared to the financial pain his wife would inflict if she ever saw these photos.

  The thought of inventing a plausible explanation as to why people were sending him a monthly check suddenly interrupted happy feelings of financial security. Should Marv and Sandy enjoy one too many margaritas one night and wrap their car around a telephone pole, it was likely that his attorney wife might take a closer look at his financial dealings. So, in every case, a cover story needed to be available.