Crime of Passion

by Roy Glenn

  “Jamara, try typing W O N N I E M T E L as the password.”

  “Okay.” Jamara typed each letter carefully. “I'm in. let me see that paper, Garrett.” She looked at the paper and smiled. “That's kinda clever.”

  “What?” Garrett asked. “What does it mean?”

  “W O N N I E M T E L is let me in now, spelled backwards.”

  Marcus smiled at Jamara and Carmen rolled her eyes. “That's excellent. Now can you tell us what FC, ML HF means?” he asked Jamara, but she was back in her zone. Now that she had access, Jamara clicked around in the system trying to become familiar with how it worked. Jamara tried to access the disk directly. “Since it hasn't asked me to associate it, we at least know we're in the right place.”

  “Try to access one of the names on this list,” Carmen directed and handed the client list to Jamara. “Try Alexander Hamilton.”

  Jamara accessed the records of Alexander Hamilton. Everyone leaned in and stared at the screen, as if they knew what they were looking at. Jamara smiled to herself. She shook her head and accessed another record, Hegenio Ortiz, and then another. Smiling more with each click of the mouse as it all came together in her mind. “They all seem to be a mixed of Asset Allocation Funds and Fixed Income Securities.” Jamara turned around and faced everyone. “I think I know what ML stands for.”

  “You gonna tell us, or make us all take turns guessing?” Garrett demanded.

  “Money Laundering.”

  HIGH SPEED

  “Money Laundering? Jamara, are you sure?” Marcus asked.

  “No. There's no way I can be one hundred percent sure. But I'm looking at the patterns that are consistent in all the accounts I've gone into.”

  “What are Asset Allocation Funds and Fixed Income Securities, anyway?” Carmen asked.

  “Asset Allocation Funds are Mutual funds that feature a mix of stocks, bonds, and cash equivalents to meet the investment objectives of individual investors. In this case, the mix is mostly cash. Look here, you can see a steady pattern of deposits and pay-outs. Fixed Income Securities are Debt securities or IOUs for borrowed money,” Jamara explained. “They obligate the borrower to pay the owner interest during the term of the loan and to return the principal or face value, when the loan matures. And it was all tax-deferred, so payment of taxes were not due until sometime in the future, which never comes.”

  “Get as much information on paper as you can, as quickly as you can, and get out,” Marcus said as he, Carmen and Garrett left the room. They went back in the living room and sat down.

  “Money laundering. That's what it's all about,” Carmen said.

  “Money is the oldest motive for murder since the world began. Other than woman, that is,” Garrett commented.

  “So let's speculate,” Marcus said. “See where we are. Frank Collins is using accounts at Hudson Financial to launder money. Suzanne finds out about it and tells Desireé that something is going on.”

  “But Suzanne is murdered before she can tell her what,” Carmen threw in.

  Garrett stood up and began pacing, as Jamara joined them in the living room. “So now Suzanne is dead and he's upset about what happened. He's upset because he knows she was killed because of what he was doing. My guess would be he was going to talk and that's why he was killed. Mondrya Foster found out what was going on and they killed her. The question is; who is they?”

  “My bet would be Bill Hudson,” Marcus offered. “Somehow he knew that Mondrya made a copy of those files and that I might get them.”

  “What makes you think that?” Garrett asked

  “He didn't tell you?” Carmen said coyly.

  “Tell me what?”

  “The day after Mondrya was killed, Hudson offers to back me for DA. He was counting on me keeping quiet about it in exchange for the position.”

  “If Hudson knew that your girl copied those files,” Jamara said. “It's a safe bet that he knows we accessed the system tonight.”

  “She's right, big dog,” Garrett said, plopping down on the couch next to Jamara. She moved closer to him. Which raised an eyebrow on both Marcus and Carmen. “What you gonna do now?”

  “Take what we have to the police,” Marcus answered.

  “Are you sure that's a good idea?” Garrett inquired.

  “What do you mean, Garrett?”

  “Well, this is just me thinking out loud, but the police investigated each of those murders, and you see how that turned out.”

  “Are you saying the police are involved?” Carmen asked.

  “I'm not saying anything. But I used to be a cop and I know how some of them operate. But, like I said, this is just me thinking out loud.”

  “What do you think we should do then?” Marcus asked.

  “I got a partner who works for the DEA,” Garret announced. “I'll give him a call and try to set up a meeting. Until then, I wouldn't trust nobody. And even then, you should cover yourself.”

  Jamara stood up and started back to her den. “I'll go and make two copies of everything. One for you, Marcus, and one for you,” she said smiling at Garrett.

  “Marcus, do you think Frank Collins told Dez?”

  “I don't know. But it figures that he did and that may have been why she was murdered.”

  “But who did all these killings?” Carmen asked.

  “You think it was Hudson?” Garrett asked.

  “Have either of you ever met Bill Hudson?” Marcus asked smiling. “He’s a scrawny little white man, he might weigh a buck fifty, soaking wet. He might have done it, but I would think he'd get someone to handle his light work.” Jamara returned to the room and handed Marcus the original CD and a copy and gave one to Garrett. “Keep that someplace safe, Garrett. I'm going back to the office and put these in the safe.” Carmen got up and started moving toward the door and Marcus followed behind her. “Give me a call when you set up the meeting with your friend at the DEA. When you do, I'd like you to sit in with us. You too, Jamara, in case they have questions about how we accessed the information.”

  “I don't think so,” Jamara frowned. “I try to avoid law enforcement types at all costs. Hanging around Garrett is enough for me.”

  “I understand,” Marcus said, knowing she was on probation. Garrett walked up to Marcus.

  “Here,” Garrett said, attempting to hand Marcus a gun. “Take this. You might need it.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks, Garrett,” Marcus replied pushing the gun away. “I think we'll be all right without it.”

  “You sure? If we're right about this, at least five people have been killed over this information.”

  “Really, Garrett, I'll be fine.”

  Marcus and Carmen walked to the car and got in. “Are you sure we didn't need that gun, Marcus? Garrett is right, a lot of people have gotten killed over this,” Carmen said as she drove off.

  “Will be fine, Carmen. Trust me.”

  “Okay, if you say so. And speaking of Garrett, I think him and Jamara got a thing going on.”

  “I wouldn't be surprised if they did. Jamara's a very pretty woman and besides, he thinks Paven is seeing somebody else.”

  “What makes him think that?”

  “His oldest daughter, Aleana told him that Paven goes out late every night and she doesn't come home until early in the morning.”

  “Sounds like she gotta man to me,” Carmen said as they approached a red light. Carmen put her foot on the brake, and it went down to the floor board. She tried again; the brake light on the dash board came on. “There's something wrong with the brakes!”

  “What's wrong?”

  “They don't work!”

  “Look out!” Marcus yelled as they approached the cars stopped at the light.

  Hydroplaning out of control on the wet surface, Carmen was able to maneuver her way around them. As she sped through the intersection, an oncoming car approached with the driver leaning on his horn.

  Carmen was almost passed him, but he clipped the tail end of her car, cau
sing it to go into a spin. Another car hit them and forced them off the road. The car sailed down the hill headed for a cluster of trees. Carmen pulled up the emergency brake. The car began to spin again.

  “Cut the wheel hard to the left!” Marcus yelled.

  Carmen turned the wheel as hard as she could.

  The back tires burst, as the car came out of its spin, continuing to slide down the hall sideways. Getting closer to the trees. The car collided with a tree, just behind the rear passenger door. The window shattered. The passenger cabins multi-chamber air bag system deployed from the headliner when sensors detected the side impact, protecting Marcus from head injury and the broken glass. Instead, his head slammed into the airbag. Carmen fell into Marcus. The front of the car hit another tree and bounced off. Marcus and Carmen held each other tight as they jerked in the opposite direction.

  The car stopped.

  “Marcus!” Carmen took off her seatbelt. “Are you alright?” she said removing his seatbelt.

  “Huh?” Marcus muttered.

  Carmen grabbed Marcus by the shoulder and dragged him out if the car.

  “I'm all right, Carmen,” Marcus said leaning on Carmen's shoulder, as they moved slowly away from the car. “I'm just a little dizzy, that all.”

  “Really, Marcus? I would have never guessed. You did hit that airbag pretty hard.”

  “That shit hurt, too.”

  QUINTESSENTIALLY

  Before too much time passed, the police had set up barricades at the top of the hill and the area was crowded with emergency personnel, was being taken over by two men in suits. Information had gone out over the emergency channel that Marcus Douglas and Carmen Taylor were the occupants of the car, so a small press contingent was slowly forming. The paramedics were almost finished checking out Marcus. He had a small cut on the side of his head and some swelling. Carmen came through the ordeal without a scratch. One of the paramedics bandaged his wound and gave him a cold pack for the swelling and recommended that they have themselves checked out by their personal physicians at their earliest convenience. As soon as the paramedics moved away, the two men approached Marcus and Carmen.

  “Mr. Douglas, Ms. Taylor, I'm special agent Lawrence Rietman, FBI,” he said and showed his badge.

  “FBI?” Marcus said. “What is the FBI doing at a car accident?”

  “Mr. Douglas, I'd be glad to answer all of your questions, but first, are both of you all right?”

  “Just a scratch.”

  “Ms. Taylor?” the agent asked.

  “I'm fine, what’s going on here?” Carmen asked.

  “As I said, I'll be glad to answer all of your questions, however this is not the time or place for that discussion. Right now it is important that we get you away from this area. At this time I'd asked both of you to refrain from making any more statements regarding this matter. Don't answer any questions. Not from me, from any police officers should they approach you. And there is a group of reporters forming at the top of the hill, we like to avoid them all together. So—”

  “What is going on here?” Marcus demanded to know.

  “Mr. Douglas,” the other man said. “I'm DEA agent John Debreeze. I believe Garrett Mason mentioned me to you?”

  “Yes he did.”

  “Please, Mr. Douglas, cooperate with special agent Rietman. It is for your safety.”

  “All right we'll cooperate with you,” Marcus said taking Carmen's hand.

  “A helicopter will arrive shortly, with your permission; it will take you to the federal building downtown. From there federal agents will take you to a hotel for your protection. I've arranged to have a doctor look the two of you over again at that time. In the morning, you'll be escorted back to the federal building and we will discuss the matter at that time,” special agent Rietman said as the helicopter landed.

  “Why the helicopter?” Carmen asked.

  “Ms. Taylor, I'm not at all interested in walking the two of you past those cameras, the helicopter just makes it easier. Then I'll go up there and make a statement to the press that this accident definitely did not involve you and Mr. Douglas. So if you'd please follow me, I'd like to get this done before the press helicopters start circling the area.”

  Special agent Rietman walked quickly toward the helicopter and Marcus and Carmen followed reluctantly. Once they were belted into the craft, a female agent joined them. “I'm Agent Azizah Grant; I've been assigned to you for the evening. I'm sure Special Agent Rietman went over with you how things are going to go. I'll be with you at all times until we reach the hotel. At that time I will enter and sweep the room,” Agent Grant said as the helicopter took off. “Once I've satisfied myself that the room is secure, you will enter and I will be right outside the door in case you need anything.”

  “Thanks Agent Grant. I'm sure we'll be fine.” Marcus said.

  “Pronounce your name again, please,” Carmen said.

  “It's Azizah.”

  “That's very pretty,” Marcus said.

  “Ignore him, he thinks everybody's name is pretty. But it is a pretty name and very unique. Does it mean anything?”

  “It means mighty and strong.”

  “That's good to know, but can you shoot?”

  Agent Grant smiled her response.

  Agent Grant was true to her word and once she checked the room, she said goodnight and positioned herself outside of the door. Marcus and Carmen began to settle into the room for the evening when there was a knock at the door.

  “Who is it?” Marcus yelled.

  “It's Agent Grant, Mr. Douglas. I have the doctor Agent Rietman discussed with you.”

  Marcus opened the door and allowed the doctor to enter. After he examined Marcus and redressed his wound he moved onto Carmen. He gave them both a clean bill of health and departed.

  “So, what do we do now?” Carmen asked.

  “I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. I'm gonna to call room service,” Marcus said looking around the room for the phone. “Where's the phone?”

  “I don't see it.” Carmen joined Marcus looking for the phone. After looking in all the logical places Carmen opened the door and told Agent Grant, “Excuse me, this may sound stupid, but we can't find the phone.”

  “It's been removed from the room. Is there something that I can get for you?”

  “Yes, some food, we're hungry.”

  “Okay,” Agent Grant said. “Is there a menu in there?”

  Marcus quickly looked around the room. “I don't see one anywhere.”

  “Okay, what now?” Agent Grant shook her head.

  “They do mean for us to eat, don't they?” Carmen asked.

  “I'm sorry about this folks. I'll try to get a menu up here soon.”

  “Thank you,” Carmen said and slammed the door in Agent Grants face. Then she opened it again. “I'm sorry that I slammed the door in your face. I know none of this is your fault.”

  “That's all right, Ms. Taylor. I know this can't be easy for you. I promise I'll get a menu up here as soon as I can.” This time Carmen closed the door lightly.

  “I'm glad you cleaned that up. The last thing we need is to piss off the person protecting us.”

  The following morning at nine, Agent Grant knocked on the door to inform Marcus and Carmen that she was ready to escort them back to the federal building. Upon arrival they were taken to a conference room, where Special Agent Rietman, DEA Agent DeBreeze, and another man they had never seen before joined them.

  “Ms. Taylor, Mr. Douglas, this is Special Agent Ward. He is the agent in charge of this investigation,” Special Agent Rietman said.

  “And just what investigation is that Agent Ward?” Marcus asked sarcastically.

  Special Agent Ward looked at Marcus and then to Agent Rietman.

  “We've been keeping tabs on your investigation since Mr. Mason started asking questions about Frank Collins,” Agent DeBreeze said looking at the two special agents. “And to answer your question, Mr. Douglas, we've bee
n investigating Hudson Financials for some time now.”

  “That's why Frank Collins file was missing from the police station.”

  “That's correct.”

  “What exactly are you investigating Hudson for?”

  “We have reason to believe that Frank Collins was using his position at Hudson Financial to launder money before he was murdered. We had a preliminary discussion with him and I thought we had a deal.”

  “That's when his wife was murdered,” Agent Rietman said. “That's when we entered the investigation. We are proceeding under the presumption that Bill Hudson is in control and he had his wife murdered to keep Collins in line. When that didn't happen he was murdered, too.”

  “If that's the case, why do the police list his death as a suicide?”

  “That's where it gets a little hairy,” Rietman said.

  Special Agent Ward stood up. “Let’s cut this bullshiting around, and get to the point of this. Excuse my language, Ms. Taylor. We know that Hudson is laundering money through those accounts; we know that everyone that gets in his way dies of some accidental death. What I want to know is what your involvement is in this case?”

  “We're pretty sure that he has someone in the police department working with them.” Agent Rietman added in answer to Marcus' question.

  “We are investigating the murder of Desireé Ferguson. Mrs. Ferguson and Suzanne Collins were friends and we started out looking for any connection between the two deaths.”

  “And what have you found out Mr. Douglas?”

  “Mason said you had some information for us.”

  “Yes,” Marcus said going into his briefcase. He handed Agent DeBreeze the CD and copies of the client lists. Agent DeBreeze looked over the list carefully before passing them on. “Would you mind telling me how you were able to obtain these items, Mr. Douglas?”

  “I got the information from Mondrya Foster. She is or was VP of operations at Hudson.”

  “You said was?” Agent Rietman said.

  “Yes, she was murdered recently during a robbery at Starbucks. However, I have information from a source, who wished to remain anonymous that leads us to conclude that Ms. Fosters death was not a random act but was intended to keep this information from getting to me.”