VANISHING ACT - Angie Bartoni Case File # 11: Angie Bartoni Case File # 11 (Angie Bartoni Case Files)

by Marshall Huffman

  “Edward Milliken.”

  “You actually have something?” he asked.

  “Not really. It’s just a fishing expedition. We have some circumstantial stuff. We are going to take a run at him and see what we can find out,” I told him.

  “Just be careful.”

  “I will. It’s all pretty much based on the truth,” I said.

  “Pretty much?”

  “You don’t need to know too much,” I replied.

  Dan was sitting with Milliken when I walked in the room.

  “Edward, we have been kind of busy since we last talked. We’ve done a lot of leg work. Even talked to some old Detectives who investigated your case. You remember Detective Donner don’t you? He sure knows you. By the way, Internal Affairs has him right now. Seems there is some question about how he suddenly obtained twenty-five thousand dollars. Of course that doesn’t bother you I’m sure. We also talked to Detective Shipman. He investigated the disappearance of Beverly, your first wife. He sends his regards.”

  “Angie, he said he hoped old Edward here rotted in hell. He knew he did away with her,” Dan interjected

  “Dan. Shame on you. Edward is very sensitive. He doesn’t want to hear that kind of thing.”

  “You have nothing. He had nothing. Besides that was ten years ago,” Milliken said.

  “Doesn’t matter how long ago it was. There is no statute of limitation on murder.”

  “You need a body to prove murder if I’m not mistaken,” he shot back.

  “We’ll talk about that later. Right now I need to read you your rights.”

  “You did that already.”

  “I did but I have to do it again,” I told him.

  I got out my little card the DA insisted we use and read them to him. This time, to his credit, he answered ‘yes’ when asked if understood.

  “Let’s start with Detective Donner. What was the twenty-five thousand for? Was he blackmailing you?”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” he insisted.

  “Well here is the thing. Your bank records show you withdrawing twenty-five thousand and depositing into the account of Detective Donner. So let me ask you again, what was that all about?”

  “He did some work for me. After my second wife went missing I hired him to do some private investigator work.”

  “Her name is Janet. Did you forget that?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “So poor Janet goes missing, just like Beverly did and you decided to hire Donner to do some additional work for you. Is that what you are telling me?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And what did he find out?”

  “Nothing really.”

  “Well that had to stink. Twenty-five grand for nothing.”

  “I wasn’t too happy about it if that is what you are asking.”

  “And so far, between the three wives ‘missing’, you are just a bit over 1.8 million dollars richer.”

  “Don’t forget the place in Colorado. It is estimated to be worth another seven hundred and fifty thousand,” Dan chimed in.

  “So we are talking about three and a half million all total. Not bad. Let me ask you, is that enough or does a fourth Mrs. Milliken need to disappear? Is that who was at your house? The car was pretty pricey,” I said trying to irritate him.

  “You have nothing on me,” he said with that smirk on his face that made me want to slap him into next week.

  “You are wrong. We have you on a bribery charge. It isn’t what I want, but it is a start.”

  The door opening caused a lull in the conversation.

  “His attorney is here.”

  “Hey, show him in. He is just in time to hear him get charged.”

  “You can’t do this.”

  “Wanna’ bet?” I said trying to imitate his stupid smirk.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  After his attorney assured him that everything was going to be just dandy, we charged Edward Milliken with the bribery of a police officer. He started telling us it was for additional work…no, it was a loan…wait, it was for doing investigative work on something else. Guess he couldn’t make up his mind.

  It didn’t really matter. The ADA, Linda Anderson, was good with it and said to go ahead and book him. I noticed the smirk was gone when we took him down for his mug shot and finger printing.

  On television the detectives would be running around like crazy chasing down the bad guy. Forensics would be finding microscopic bits of DNA and it would magically lead to the killer. Not in real life. We are sitting on our rears, reading files, and looking for anything that could possibly help before the captain says, that’s it, and pulls the plug.

  “Got the DMV report.”

  “And?” I asked.

  “The Austin Martin belongs to Kimmi Coleman. She lives at 3 Court, Lake of the Woods.”

  “Pretty high rent district.”

  “Goes with the car, I guess,” Dan replied.

  “Why don’t we go see how the rich live?” I said.

  I didn’t really expect much to come out of this but it was better than just sitting and hoping to find something.

  Lake of the Woods was a gated community that sheltered the well-to-do. I thought we were going to have to arrest the gate guard just to get in. Snot nosed twerp. Coleman’s place wasn’t all that much different from the others but it did sit facing a large man made body of water. Calling it a lake was stretching it a considerable amount. The garage door was up and the Austin Martin was parked in it. We didn’t see one car in the driveway anyplace in the community. Must be one of those ‘no-no’ rules they have like what color your house can be and what kind of flowers you can plant.

  I would not do well in a place like this. The first time a bunch of do-gooders came to tell me my car couldn’t sit in the drive would be their last. Anyway, I’ll never end up in a place like this even if I could afford it.

  We knocked on the door…actually we rang the bell but you know what I mean. A few seconds later Kimmi opened the door showing us a body with not much covered. She saw it obviously wasn’t who she was expecting and quickly wrapped her very thick robe around her. I didn’t want to look over at Dan; I already knew his eyes were bugging out of his head.

  “I…I was expecting someone else.”

  “I kind of figured that,” I said.

  “You’re the police.”

  Oooh, smart and attractive. Better be careful with this one.

  “Correct. We need to ask you a few questions,” I said.

  “Could you come back later? I have a friend coming by in just a few minutes. I would hate to have to reschedule.”

  “Friend? You’re a friend with Edward Milliken as well aren’t you?”

  “I know Ed.”

  “Seems like the two of you like to be friends at the downtown Hilton every other Friday. That’s a pretty close friendship.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Really. What do you think Dan? I think we should take her down to the station for hindering an investigation.”

  “That would prove interesting,” he said.

  “Wait. Yes, okay. Ed and I met every other Friday at the Hilton.”

  “What is you occupation Ms. Coleman?”

  “Private Masseuse.”

  “So you went to give good old Ed a massage every Friday,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “What was the argument about at his house?” Dan asked.

  “He wanted me to come to the house from now on. I told him sure if I got the money he would pay for the room. He said no way. We argued and you showed up. I split.”

  “What do you know about his wife?”

  “Only what Ed tells me. She is cold, manipulative, and spends all of his money. That kind of thing.”

  “Did he happen to mention that she is missing?”

  “No. Heavens, that’s terrible. He never said a thing.”

  “Gee, I’m so surprised.”

  Ju
st then a Corvette pulled up and a guy that looked to be in his seventies got out, took one look at us, got back in the Vette and was gone.

  “Oops,” I said.

  ***

  “Bartoni, Roberts, come to my office,” McGregor said when we got back from wasting our time with ‘Kimmi Coleman; Private Masseuse’. This did not sound good. I was all prepared to have him pull the plug on Milliken.

  “What’s up?” I asked when we got into his office.

  “You might as well hear it from me. Both Milliken and Detective Donner have been kicked. It seems the two attorneys got together and now their stories match. Milliken now claims that he paid the twenty-five grand for staying on the case to find his missing darling lost wife. Of course Donner backs that up.”

  “So they are both going to walk?” I asked.

  “Yep. The best thing anyone can do is get him for not declaring the twenty-five thousand on his taxes. He will have to pay a fine and penalty, but that’s all,” the captain said.

  “Let me guess, Donner is being reinstated.”

  “Absolutely,” McGregor replied.

  “That really stinks,” I said.

  “Big time,” McGregor agreed.

  “Now what?” Dan asked.

  “I would say that you need to watch your back. Donner has a screw loose so you be careful, understand?” the captain warned.

  “I’ll be fine. Donner is a moron. I can handle him.”

  “Just watch it,” he said once more.

  ***

  Well that certainly wasn’t very good news,” Dan said as we made it back to our desks.

  “Nothing has been very good about this entire case. Honestly this looks like one that is going to get away from us,” I said discouraged.

  “That doesn’t sound like you,” Dan replied.

  “Just tell me one thing we have to go on? Dan, we simply have nothing.”

  “Man, you are out of sorts.”

  “I know, I know. Still I don’t even know where to look next. So he had a hooker he went to see every Friday. That doesn’t do us any good. Yeah, he probably paid Donner twenty-five grand to help him get rid of Mrs. Milliken Two, but we have no proof. We have nothing on his first wife other than Shipman saying he thinks the husband did it. The neighbors? They saw this and saw that but no one will back up the claims and we have no charges against him. His record is almost spotless. So, you will have to excuse me this time if I just don’t see the bright side of this case. I would be happy to grab onto anything no matter how small, but I just don’t see us getting anywhere.”

  “We could stake his place out?” Dan suggested.

  “For?”

  “For to see what he is up to.”

  “He is up to counting his money.”

  “You are no fun. I’m going home,” Dan said.

  “That sounds like the best plan we have had all day. See you tomorrow.”

  I took the long way home again, letting the wind sweep my mind clear. I didn’t even think about where I was going; I just drove.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The next morning we learned that the Milliken case was being pulled from us. It was being turned over to missing persons since there was no proof that a homicide took place.

  Did I like it? Truthfully? I had mixed emotions. It meant that Milliken was going to get away with it yet again. On the other hand, we were burning hours and had nothing to show for it.

  “So what are we on now?” Dan asked.

  “Paperwork first, and then go back to the Hoch murder,” the captain said.

  “Geez, from one dead end to another,” Dan lamented.

  “Part of the job. Let’s get our paperwork caught up and then hit it,” I told him.

  He sighed and started going through each case we had finished up but hadn’t dotted our I’s and crossed our T’s yet. We spent the next three hours hardly talking except for an occasional sigh.

  The captain strolled over and handed me a slip of paper.

  “Got a body in a dumpster. You and Roberts go check it out.”

  “On our way,” I said.

  I was glad for the break. I can only do routine paper work so long. I didn’t become a cop to be a desk jockey. The dumpster was located along the White River. There are a bunch of pull-off areas so people can stop and watch the industrial sludge being dumped. Just kidding. Would anyone do something like that? It was easy to locate, not only was there the usual collection of patrol cars but the news vans were already on location. That was just ducky.

  Of course the questions started before we even ducked under the tape. What did they really expect? Obviously we just drove up so what could we possible know? They probably knew more than we did at this point. I just ignored them and headed down the embankment to where three dumpsters sat.

  I could see Sorenson’s head pop up every once in a while. He was in the dumpster checking out the body, or he could be looking for something to eat. I never knew about the ME.

  “Anyone home,” I said knocking on the side of the dumpster.

  “Yeah and I don’t need any guff from you, Bartoni.”

  “Oooh, kind of crabby are we?”

  “I’ll crabby you. Get your lazy butt in here and take a look and you won’t be so chipper. Ladder is on the other side.”

  I walked around and climbed the ladder and looked inside. He was right. It was gross. A torso was just about all that was left. It had been a woman at one time, now it was just a hunk of mangled flesh. The head was missing; both hands and the feet had been cut off and none too gently.

  “Axe?” I asked.

  “More than likely. A machete maybe, but considering the way the bones are chipped, I think an axe.”

  “Gonna’ be a while figuring out who she was unless we get lucky with DNA,” I said.

  “You know Bartoni, people are just getting meaner and more evil. It seems like no one can just shoot someone any longer. Now they have to shoot them, set them on fire, and cut them up. It’s like they don’t get that after they are dead none of that other stuff really matters.”

  “Rage. We are more outraged, than ever before. I think the crazies per square mile are going up,” I replied.

  “Well someone needs to put a stop to it,” Sorenson said.

  “Not going to happen. Gonna be kind of hard to determine exact cause of death without a head,” I told him.

  “It will probably turn up. I haven’t even looked in the other two yet.”

  “How was this discovered?” I asked.

  “Some homeless guy was looking for cans or food. He is with one of the cops,” he said nodding his head toward the area where all the patrol cars were parked.

  “I’ll go check out his story.”

  “Sure, leave me here alone to deal with this.”

  “That’s why you get the big bucks. I’m just a lowly detective. Now excuse me and I will go do some detective things.”

  “Better take Roberts with you if any real police work is going to get done,” he shouted.

  I thought about closing he lid on the dumpster but thought better of it at the last minute. The homeless guy’s name was Bill Lane. He told us he was looking for aluminum cans or any food. According to him, he could usually find a nice assortment of food people had thrown away in these three dumpsters.

  “Did you look in the other dumpsters?” I asked him.

  “No way, not after looking in that one.”

  “So you just happened to pick that one first?”

  “Sure, the lid was open.”

  “How did you get hold of the police? Don’t tell me you have a cell phone,” I said.

  “No, I don’t have no cell phone. I flagged a car down. I couldn’t get anyone to stop until I stood in the road. I told the person there was a dead body down there and they called 911.”

  “Is that person here?”

  “No way. As soon as they called they got out of here like they were on fire,” Lane told us.

  “We can trace that
later. Did you see anyone around when you headed to the dumpsters?”

  “Not a soul,” he replied

  “Where do you usually sleep?” I asked.

  “Different places. The 10th Street Mission when it is cold.”

  “Alright Mr. Lane. Can you think of anything else that might help us solve this?”

  He just shrugged, “Not really.”

  “Thank you for making the effort to flag someone down. Mr. Lane, you see pretty intelligent. You are physically fit. I’m sure someone like you could get a job if you wanted to.”

  “I had a job. I was working for a pharmaceutical company. I realized they were doing nothing but screwing people out of money. They manipulated the marketplace and could raise prices as much as they wanted. I just got sick of it and walked out.”

  “But why not get another job?”

  “I was part of that. I was as guilty as the next guy. I decided I didn’t need that kind of life anymore.”

  “Here, you missed dinner, the least we can do is give you some money so you can eat tonight.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he insisted.

  I handed him a twenty and folded his fingers over it.

  “Please,” I said.

  He looked at me for several seconds and then said, “Thanks,” and walked off.

  Dan came up and told me they found one of the feet but nothing else and Sorenson was getting grumpier by the minute.

  “Hey Sorenson, you still in there?”

  “I need some help you twit,” he yelled.

  “We can have the others get the body out,” I shouted back.

  “Just get in here and help me,” he said, his voice rising.

  I climbed up the ladder and started giggling.

  “Don’t,” he warned.

  He had fallen back and was lodged between the dumpster wall and the torso which had fallen over on him. Being over seventy, he didn’t have the upper body strength to get it off him so he was trapped. I did my best not to laugh as I climbed in to help him up.

  “I’m warning you Bartoni, one word of this and I will pump you full of formaldehyde.”

  “I swear, not a word.”

  “I mean it,” he said.

  “I believe you. Not a word,” I promised.

  I could hardly wait to tell Dan.