Double Trouble

by Scott Wittenburg

  So at thirteen years old he decided he was through being a nobody and a loser. He was going to start taking the world by the balls and show everybody what he was really made of. This transition was gradual at first, and later accelerated by alcohol and drug abuse. Finally he decided one fateful day to turn his pent-up anger and frustration into a life lesson for the rest of the world to learn.

  He broke into his high school. Entering the place had been a snap—all he had to do was break the glass on the door with a hammer, pull the handle and he was in. He recalled the thudding of his heart in his chest as he slinked through the dark, quiet halls, lighting his way with a cheap penlight.

  He randomly entered the classrooms and offices at will, empowered by the fact that he could do anything he pleased and nobody could stop him. It had been an incredibly cathartic experience.

  After twenty minutes, he left the school by the same way he’d entered it. In his backpack was an iBook laptop, a laser pointer, a graphing calculator and about three bucks in change from one of the teacher’s desk drawers. He felt wealthy beyond his wildest dreams. And more in control than he’d ever felt in his little life.

  He had no sooner exited the school grounds when he was suddenly bathed in a blast of brilliant light. He looked to his left in terror as a police cruiser pulled over to the curb, the spotlight crisply trained on him.

  Clark took off in the opposite direction and heard the policeman holler “halt, police!” as he tore down the street as fast as his legs could carry him. Seconds later he heard loud footsteps and heavy panting directly behind him. He turned around just as the officer tripped him up and threw him to the ground.

  The next thing Clark knew he was in the back of the cruiser headed for the police station. He was questioned and his parents were notified that their son had been caught breaking and entering McKinley High School.

  When he saw his father show up at the station and saw the look of pure anger on his face he had nearly laughed out loud. His only son had just broken the law and was now in the custody of the police. His father was thinking, where have I gone wrong?

  Well Dad, let me tell you where you went wrong. Instead of treating me like a piece of shit all my life, maybe you should have tried a radically different approach. Like showing me some respect and caring about my well-being in this fucked up world. Teaching me how to stand up for myself instead of letting me be a pussy and a wimp. Now look what you’ve created!

  That was the turning point in Clark’s life. He had discovered a way to get the attention he so longed for. And learned how to take control of a situation. No more putting up with all the shit the world was dealing him. He’d discovered an outlet—a way by which he could become a real person for a change.

  Because his father was considered one of the pillars of the community and because he was a juvenile with no prior run-ins with the law, Clark got off with little more than a slap on the wrist. He was grateful for that because he was spared a criminal record, which would have seriously jeopardized his future. He graduated high school with honors, went to college and earned a degree and eventually landed this lame job at Davidson and Associates.

  What nobody knew was that he had managed to accrue a substantial income through his life of crime over the years. He had socked most of it away, appearing to be living a simple life, while in fact he was living la dolce vita. And not once had he been caught again.

  At twenty-six years old he owned a second home out in the sticks that very few folks in the city even knew about. It was his retreat. He never went there during the week, choosing only to go on the weekends, spending the majority of his time in this modest apartment. That was the key to success—laying low and staying low.

  His pride and joy was his collection of vintage cars he had amassed through the years. Besides his skills as a burglar, Clark knew how to work on cars. He could take a junked ’67 GTO and turn it into a masterpiece. He had learned auto body repair work while working part time in high school. He had always been handy with engines from observing his uncle as a child, who was an excellent mechanic and the only relative he had ever been fond of.

  Clark decided he would smoke a joint and take it easy tonight. It was Friday and time to let loose a little. Maybe scope out the new chick that just moved in on the fifth floor. What a fucking body! What he wouldn’t give to hop on top of that.

  But first thing’s first. He typed in Fulway, West Virginia and read the Wikipedia description of the town. It was located in Humboldt County with a population of 4,643. Most of the area was rural; the Humboldt County Sheriff’s department kept the law.

  He clicked a link and was taken to the Humboldt County Sheriffs Department website. The Sheriff’s name was Dwayne Gifford and there were a half dozen deputies working under him. Clark studied the site and took screenshots of their uniforms, badges and anything else he felt was relevant.

  Clark then went back and clicked the images tab on his browser and a hundred thumbnail images of sheriff’s patrol cars filled the screen. He examined the Humboldt County vehicles and took a few more screenshots. It appeared as though their patrol cars were late model white Ford Crown Vics with gold stripes and navy blue lettering. He knew that these images could be outdated so just to be on the safe side he would do a little more research on that.

  Satisfied that he had done all he could at this point, he shut down his computer and rolled a joint. He fired it up and inhaled deeply, a big smile on his face. Life is good, he thought. Tonight he would celebrate his success by getting high and watching the tube. The girl on the fifth would have to wait for another time.

  Tomorrow he would pack up the car and head for Fulway, West Virginia. There was a lot of work to be done and he was fucking stoked, baby.

  CHAPTER 23

  Amanda turned on the tap, tested the water and stepped into the shower. For a moment she simply stood there luxuriating in the calming effect of the hot water as it ran down her body. She eventually found herself doing what she often did when she showered—reflecting and collecting her thoughts.

  Before she had gone to bed the night before, she recalled thinking how relieved she was that Nick had listened to her and agreed to return to Milldale. Now she truly felt she could move forward with the case, knowing that Nick was willing to stand firm and be cooperative as the investigation proceeded.

  She had followed behind Nick for the three-hour drive. Upon their arrival in town, they had eaten supper at the Blue Plate Diner. They talked about a lot of things including old times, her life in Columbus and of course, the case. While in the process of telling Nick about Sheriff Foley’s suspicion of his son, she suddenly realized she had been overlooking what could be an important detail in the case. Sheriff Foley had told his son that he had checked and there had been no deputies patrolling the area around Jodi’s home the morning of her murder. So if Mark Foley had not been the one driving the cruiser, who could it have been?

  Was it possible that the murderer and the person driving the patrol car were one in the same? Possible, yes—but how likely was it? Not very. Another thought came to mind. Could the driver of the patrol car actually have been an imposter? Somebody who had been impersonating an officer of the law?

  That would help explain how the murderer had gained access to Jodi’s home prior to robbing and murdering her. A stretch perhaps, but she couldn’t rule it out.

  She thought of some other aspects of the case that needed to be investigated. Like who, besides Nick and close family members, could possibly have known that Jodi had stashed her inheritance in a hidden safe? This had been a stumbling block so far because nobody seemed keen on looking beyond Nick as the perp. Could somebody else have known about the safe?

  But was this detail really relevant? The murderer didn’t necessarily have to know where the safe was hidden to pull off the crime. All he had to do was threaten Jodi to give up her valuables or else, and she would have proceeded to show him where the safe was. What would be more relevant was finding out who
had known Jodi had inherited a small fortune from her grandmother and that it was stashed away in her home, not in a bank vault.

  And what about Jodi being the main beneficiary of the inheritance in the first place? Somebody might assume Jodi’s wealthy grandmother would leave a small fortune to her granddaughter, but how likely was that? Wouldn’t her grandmother have more likely bequeathed the bulk of her estate to her son or daughter instead? Jodi’s parents were both alive, so it would seem that one of them would be the main beneficiary of their mother’s estate—not Jodi.

  As she shampooed her hair, Amanda tried to recall Jodi’s grandparents. She remembered that her father’s parents had lived across town in a modest home. She had a feeling that this hadn’t been the wealthy side of Jodi’s family.

  So that left her mother’s parents. Amanda needed to give Hank and Nancy Brooks a call. Find out what she could about the conditions of Nancy’s mother’s inheritance.

  She finished her shower and dressed. Although it was Saturday, Uncle Ken was meeting a client and didn’t expect to be back until later that day. After a light breakfast, she gave the Brooks a call and asked Nancy if she would mind answering a few questions. Nancy responded by inviting her over to her home. Amanda promised she would be there in ten minutes.

  Upon her arrival, Amanda filled Nancy in on the latest details of the case, omitting the part about Nick’s near suicide. There was no sense in upsetting the poor woman any more than she already was.

  “I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about Jodi’s inheritance. I know her grandmother left her a sizable sum, but I’m curious why Jodi was the primary benefactor of her estate. Or is that not true?”

  Nancy smiled. “No, it’s true. My parents absolutely adored Jodi. She was, after all, their only grandchild—just as I was their only child. The problem was that they lived up in Cleveland so they weren’t able to see Jodi nearly as often as they would have liked to. My father was part owner of a pharmaceutical company and a very busy man, so my folks had to settle on driving down here whenever time allowed so they could spend time with their little princess.

  “Before my father passed away some years ago, he and Mom had decided to set aside a trust fund for Jodi, which was quite considerable. After Dad died, Mom had me ask Jodi if she wanted her trust fund yet. Jodi had been funny about that trust fund all along—for some reason she always refused to cash in on it. I think she wanted to see if she and Nick could make it on their own without any sort of financial assistance. Anyway, she told me to tell my mother to just continue holding onto it, which she did.

  “Well, after Mom died last year and the matter of settling the estate came up, we were in for quite a surprise. The trust fund was no more.”

  “What do you mean?” Amanda said.

  “There was no trust fund for Jodi—at least not in the same form as it had been previously set up. Instead, Mom had invested that money into things that could be considered gifts to avoid excessive state and federal taxation. She had been advised by her accountant to re-distribute the trust funds in such a way so that Jodi would be able to net what she was entitled to instead of giving half of it away to the government.”

  “I see. Do you by any chance know who your mother’s accountant was?”

  “Not offhand. But I could find out if you’d like me to.”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  “Wait a moment. I’ll be back.”

  Nancy left the room. Amanda was fairly tax savvy, having earned a marketing degree plus her experience at UrbanGroup. She was aware that one could substantially lessen the tax burden on his or her inheritance by carefully planning ahead, usually under the direction of a reputable accountant. Although Amanda wasn’t familiar with death taxes per se, it was apparent that Jodi’s grandmother had been advised of what she could and could not do legally to maximize her assets.

  Nancy returned moments later, carrying a manila folder. She handed Amanda a document.

  “Here’s a copy of Mom’s will. Clipped to the top is a business card for the accounting firm.”

  Amanda read the business card and saw that the firm was located in Cleveland. She got out her iPhone and took a close-up shot of the card.

  “Thanks,” she said, handing the document back to Nancy.

  “No problem.”

  “So besides Jodi, Nick, your attorney, and this accounting firm, can you think of anybody else who might have known of Jodi’s inheritance?”

  Nancy shook her head. “Not off hand. I guess that Jodi or Nick could have told their friends about it, but that’s not very likely.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Jodi was actually embarrassed about it. When she learned the actual value of her inheritance, which was around ninety-five thousand dollars, she was absolutely flabbergasted. As I said before, she had always been sort of funny about her trust fund. Maybe because she thought of it as some kind of hand-out. Jodi was a strong believer that folks should provide for themselves instead of relying on others—I think she got that from her father.

  “Fact is, Jodi wanted us to have it instead. We of course refused. I explained that her grandparents wanted her to have that money and they would turn in their graves if she didn’t accept it. She finally listened to reason.”

  “What about Nick? Could he have told anybody?”

  “It’s even less likely that Nick would have told anybody about it. He was worried sick that someone might try to rip Jodi off if they found out about it—especially after he’d learned of her refusal to deposit it in the bank. He told her that she was a sitting duck with all of that loot in the house.”

  “It’s ironic isn’t it? That Nick, who had been so concerned about this inheritance putting his ex-wife at risk, is now the prime suspect of robbing and murdering her.”

  “I’ll say. They couldn’t be more off the mark,” Nancy sighed.

  “Well, I’m going to do what I can to set the record straight. Please give me a call if you think of anything at all that might help with the case, okay?”

  “I will certainly do that.”

  Amanda arose and gave Jodi’s mother a hug. “We’re going to find out who did this, Mrs. Brooks. I promise.”

  “Thanks, Mandy. I sure hope so.”

  As she got in the Jeep, Amanda realized she had made a huge mistake by promising Mrs. Brooks she would solve this case. Alan would have a cow if he knew she’d said that! And who in the hell did she think she was making such a bold statement, anyway? Nancy Drew?

  Feeling frustration and regret welling inside, she started the engine and headed back to Uncle Ken’s house. As angry as she was for making the promise in the first place, she was all the more determined to see that it wouldn’t be broken.

  Uncle Ken was just getting out of his car when she arrived. He came over to open the door for her.

  “Great timing!” he smiled.

  “You got back sooner than I thought you would,” she replied.

  “My appointment was a no-show. Where have you been?”

  Amanda told him about her visit with Jodi’s mother and what she had found out. Uncle Ken brewed a fresh pot of coffee, poured his niece a cup and joined her at the kitchen table.

  “Let me get this straight,” he said. “You are looking for anybody who not only knew of Jodi’s inheritance but that it was stashed away in her house.”

  “Right. It’s the only thing that fits.”

  “And you think that this was the only motive for this crime?”

  “I do. What else could it be?”

  “But why would this person murder Jodi? I mean, yes, the guy may have not wanted her to be able to identify him so he killed her, but that doesn’t fit the usual pattern of a burglary. Most burglars don’t want to murder their victims unless they absolutely have to. I would think that somebody planning on burglarizing the Wilburn house would either have done it while she was away from the house or disguise himself so he wouldn’t be recognized if she were present. You see w
hat I’m saying?”

  “I do. But what if the perp wanted more than just to steal Jodi’s inheritance?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, like sex. Just because there were no signs of sexual assault doesn’t mean there wasn’t something going on. I mean, it’s possible isn’t it?”

  “Yes, I guess so. But again, the odds seem against it based on the forensic evidence.”

  “Then maybe there was something else he wanted. Like—I don’t know—something he got out of doing it—something we don’t know about. He did bodily assault Jodi—she had a cut and bruises on her face. Maybe the guy hates women and simply wanted to make her suffer before killing her.”

  “I agree that anything’s possible, Mandy. But you have to admit that these theories are quite a stretch. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “I know. But what else could it have been? If you eliminate Nick and Mark Foley as suspects, it doesn’t leave much else to run with. Which brings me to something else that could be important to this case. The patrol car that the neighbor saw that day. The one that Sheriff Foley knows was not supposed to be out there at that time. The one that makes him think that maybe his own son was the one who did it. What if guy who was driving that patrol car wasn’t Mark but is the still person who murdered Jodi? That would put a whole new light on this.”

  “That doesn’t make much sense. If neither the sheriff’s son nor any of the deputies was driving that patrol car, then maybe what the neighbor thought she saw wasn’t really a patrol car in the first place. Isn’t that a possibility?”

  “Yes, but it also could have been a patrol car from another county with somebody pretending to be a cop driving it.”

  Ken chuckled. “Now that’s really a stretch!”

  He saw that his niece was not smiling. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean that to come out the way it did. But honey, you have to admit that even if any of these theories were true, it would be next to impossible to prove anything. You’re talking about a stranger-on-stranger murder, which are the most difficult cases to prosecute. That’s because unless there is an eyewitness or some solid evidence such as DNA, the odds are slim to nil of proving such a crime ever occurred.”