Jess knew all of this, but he was probably going somewhere with the background. Now that she had him talking, she wanted to keep the words flowing, too.
“Even though it can be faked.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “What was the fourth point?”
Morris used his thumb instead of his pinky to mark the last item. “The most important point. The letter claimed one of his law school classmates recommended him. A guy named Aleksy Kowalski in New Orleans.”
Tiny hairs stood up on the back of Jess’s neck. She felt the familiar electricity that always warned her when she was on the right track. Aleksy Kowalski was one of the names on the list Blazek had given her at the jail.
“Not exactly a name a scammer might pull out of thin air, is it?” she said.
Morris quickly stifled the grin that lifted his lips at the corner. “Not only that, Blazek and Kowalski had referred business to each other in the past, though Blazek said the pair hadn’t seen each other in years.”
“But a savvy guy like Blazek wouldn’t have been sucked in, even by the seemingly legitimate letter. Wouldn’t he have checked with Kowalski before he got involved?”
“He claimed he called and Kowalski vouched for the deal.” Morris leaned forward, hands folded around his coffee, elbows resting on the table. “That’s where things got more interesting. We found no evidence of that call.”
The reason was obvious, but she chewed her lip a moment like she was thinking things through. “Because the call was never made.”
“That.” Morris was skilled at interview techniques. He’d led her to the question and next he’d supply a better answer. “And because we couldn’t find Kowalski.”
“He doesn’t exist?”
“Oh, Kowalski exists. Or he did at one time, anyway.” Morris seemed to warm to his subject. He leaned in further. “We found his house in the Garden District in New Orleans, but we can’t find him now and we spent a fair amount of time looking.”
“Why didn’t you tell Blazek?”
“I did. Blazek knows.”
She frowned again. So Blazek lied about Morris failing to follow up on his claims, too. She wasn’t surprised. Blazek wouldn’t know the truth if it bit him in the ass.
Morris grunted, a sound something like laughter. “Blazek claims otherwise, doesn’t he? Spent all his time crying on your shoulder about how the FBI was ignoring his legitimate defenses and not making any effort to find the real bad guys, right? That guy’s nose is longer than Pinocchio’s.”
A quick laugh escaped Jess’s throat at the mental image, although Blazek was more like a crazy killer in a horror movie to her than the charming wooden boy with a penchant for harmless lies. “Something like that. He gave me five names.”
“Let me guess. Kowalski, Warga, Supko, Zmich, and Grantly.”
“Odd names.” She finished her coffee and wiggled a little, fruitlessly seeking a more comfortable position on the hard chair.
“My boss thinks Warga and Zmich are from New York.” He shrugged and leaned back. “But then, he thinks everyone with an unusual name is from New York. He doesn’t trust the place.”
“Blazek said they were all victims, and you did nothing to help them.”
“Oh yeah, victims. That’s rich. They’re thieves. Like Blazek.” His mouth formed a hard line. After a moment’s pause, he said, “Grantly is the odd man out. He has a thriving real estate business in Florida. We talked to him. Said he didn’t need any help, and wasn’t involved. We searched his phone and bank records. He hadn’t connected with Blazek in over four years.”
“So, Grantly’s off the list.” Jess watched his face for micro expressions to prove he was being less than truthful with her, but she saw none. Her gut said she could trust him. Then again, she’d been wrong before.
Morris’s lips pressed tight and his gaze pierced straight through her as if he could see the quality of her heart. One of them would have to take a chance.
Jess opened her mouth to ask him what he was thinking, but he cut her off. “Advanced fee scammers have come a long way from the old Nigerian letter fraud. These days they operate the world over. Most are small potatoes, hoping for a score. But some are a lot more expert.”
She had already researched Blazek’s scam. It was distressingly familiar because it worked far too often to steal the lives of victims.
In the old days, the scammer would collect money from a series of progressively more profitable contacts with a single person. They worked on a volume basis. They sent thousands of invitations and hit the jackpot less than one percent of the time, like any direct-mail marketer.
When they found a good prospect, they would persuade the victim to pay a fee in advance of some promised windfall. The windfall was always framed as a request for help and an offer to pay for that help with an outrageously huge sum of money way too good to be true. Which was the first hint that the scammer was playing the victim for a sucker.
Once the gullible victim fell under the scammer’s spell, the scammer would keep asking for “fees,” money for this and that, always leading toward the promised millions of dollars, but never quite getting there.
Eventually, the victim would give up.
Some would climb into high-dollar levels before they figured out they were being scammed, but most did not.
They’d wise up, or run out of money, and that was the end. The scammer moved on. The victim was left in a world of hurt.
The scams weren’t reported because the victims were either too embarrassed or felt guilty. In some cases, the victims had become criminals themselves because they embezzled money to pay the scammers and were now in too deep.
For the scammer, the victim was nothing but a hit and run. The scammer found a new batch of email addresses that would lead them to the next victim. The scammer was long gone.
Jess squared her shoulders. “You think Kowalski was running the scam, using Blazek and the others? Kowalski folded his tent and disappeared because Blazek got caught?”
“Could be. Scammers work better in teams. They prop each other up, and give the illusion of respectability.”
The café’s espresso machine gurgled and hissed. Coffee aroma filled the air. Her stomach gurgled like the machine. She sniffed the dregs in her cup and placed it back on the table, regretting she hadn’t finished it while it was hot.
“You said you had some new information for me.”
She pushed the cup aside and folded her hands on the table. “I went to see Joshua Supko.”
“Ah.”
“He’s dead.”
“One of the few definite facts in this whole affair.” He shrugged.
“Right. Sorry.” She nodded. “Stupid of me to think you might not know already.”
“Was Supko’s death what you wanted to tell me about?”
“Not exactly. Do you buy the suicide story?”
“Do you?”
She shook her head. “He was a successful businessman. At least that’s what his wife thinks.”
“You met her?”
“Yes. She’s gone down in the world.”
“I have the feeling she’ll get back up. She has…assets.”
Jess grinned.
“Don’t get me wrong.” He held up his wedding band and wiggled his fingers. “She’s a fighter and a survivor.”
“She said she and her husband were a good match. So, was he a fighter and a survivor?”
“Apparently. Up until the last.”
“Why was his death determined a suicide?”
“If we had any evidence to the contrary, it wouldn’t be.”
“That’s the problem with this whole Blazek affair, isn’t it?”
“Why yes, Miss Kimball, yes it is.” He picked up her cup. “Perhaps I should buy lunch.”
She watched while he approached the counter and stood in line. In her experience, the FBI expected citizens to cooperate with them. They only bought lunch for their wives and informants, and she wasn’t his wife.<
br />
So, he was hoping she would have or find some evidence against Blazek and his friends. Something the FBI hadn’t been able to find. Hard facts that would capture the rest of Blazek’s ring and maybe result in new charges against Blazek, too. Bring them all down. Give the victims at least a small measure of justice.
She took a deep breath. All of that was more than fine with her. She had been looking forward to a few days off to recharge her batteries starting tomorrow. But she couldn’t leave this job unfinished, even if it seemed the FBI could.
She’d be doing the work either way. She might as well get some help from the FBI while she chased the facts.
She could do things the FBI couldn’t, and the other way around, too. For this job, Morris and Kimball could be a good team.
Maybe.
Morris returned with a tray of two steaming espressos and four small cellophane wrapped blueberry muffins. “Best they’ve got left up there I’m afraid.”
Jess didn’t wait to be asked. She took a shot of the espresso, and started on one of the muffins. She spoke with her mouth half full. “Do you think Blazek was at the top of the tree on this team?”
He curled up one side of his face and swallowed the muffin. “Possibly, I suppose.”
“Because that’s all the evidence you were able to find?”
“Blazek has been convicted. He’s made partial restitution to his victims, and he’s on his way to federal prison. Case closed as far as my bosses are concerned.” He popped the rest of the muffin into his mouth.
She picked up her espresso. “What about the rest of the group?”
“We’re a part of the government. It’s all about doing the best for the masses. Biggest bang for the public buck. And believe me when I tell you, we’ve got a boat load of other cases.” He waved his hand toward the FBI building. “I’ve got seven active cases that I’m working on right this minute. All important. It’s like whack-a-mole. We just hit the one standing highest, and move on to the next.”
“Like Blazek and his scammers. You gave him a good whack and can’t take the time to finish the job.”
He glowered, but she sensed he was angry with the situation and she’d found the real reason he’d agreed to meet with her.
She put her cup back on the table. “I just meant—”
“I know. Thing is, I can’t follow up. There’s a hundred loose ends and—”
“Do you trust me?” She put every ounce of sincerity she could muster into the question because FBI agents score off the charts on skepticism in personality tests. If he didn’t trust her, this conversation had been a total waste of time.
Morris leaned back as if she was invading his personal comfort zone. “What does trust have to do with anything?”
“Because the only important thing in your Blazek investigation right now is information. And when the FBI shares information, you have to trust the person you’re giving it to.”
He shrugged. “The Blazek case is over. Everything we have is now a matter of public record.”
She narrowed her eyes and shook her head slowly. “Not everything, Agent Morris. You never release everything. You don’t have to release everything and you might need some of that seemingly unessential stuff in the future. You’ve held things back.”
“True. But you could spend a week picking through the public leftovers and know just as much as I do. Maybe more.”
“Suppose I do that.”
He produced a silver flash drive from his pocket. “Suppose you did. Suppose you dug into all the bits and pieces we found and didn’t use. Suppose you collected all of it onto this.” He turned the flash drive over in his fingers. “You could have. Then you’d have a lot of stuff to go on.”
She stared at the drive, willing him to hand it over. “You want me to investigate.”
He nodded. “And to publicize. To dig stuff up. Jog memories. Give other victims courage.”
“To find evidence.”
He leaned forward. “Just point us to it, Jess. We’ll enforce the law, and handle the justice. We’d do it ourselves if we could. It’s not for a lack of desire, it’s pure workload.”
“Whack-a-mole.”
He nodded and held out his palm.
She wrapped her fingers around the drive.
“There are a couple of things I should tell you,” he said.
She put the drive in her pocket, and cleared her throat.
“You found Supko was dead.” He nodded to her pocket. “So are Warga and Zmich. All suicides.”
Jess’s eyes widened. “Cyanide?”
He scowled and didn’t reply.
“How can you not follow up on this?”
“This is bad, Jess. But we’ve got other cases that are worse. A lot worse.” He took a deep breath. “If you saw what we’re dealing with, maybe you’d understand.”
Her nostrils flared and she felt her heart thumping hard. She breathed in through her nose, and back out again. Slowly. She was overreacting. She knew it. He’d handed her what could have taken her weeks to find. He was boxed into a corner, and she’d offered him an option. He wasn’t ignoring the Blazek scammers. He was taking a leap of faith, depending on her.
She took another breath and another and another until she could speak calmly again. “Why were the deaths determined as suicides?”
Morris glanced at his watch. He answered her questions quickly. “They all occurred in different states, and at the time, we didn’t have the link between the names.”
“But cyanide?”
“Not that rare, unfortunately. It’s not hard to obtain.” He waved his hand. “Cyanide is used in several industries, and there are places on the Internet to buy it in large quantities.”
“What about the other two, Kowalski and Grantly?”
“We can’t find Kowalski. Grantly says he’s healthy, wealthy, and not involved.”
“So, if they are part of his team and still out there scamming, why did Blazek identify them?”
“Good question.”
“Is Blazek a suspect?”
“For the suicides? Warga and Zmich, maybe. Not for Supko. Blazek was in custody by then.”
“And you’ve no idea where Kowalski is? None?”
Morris shook his head twice, fast and hard.
“If we could connect Blazek—”
“We didn’t charge him with murder. So he can’t claim double jeopardy.” Morris nodded as if she’d located the chink in Blazek’s armor.
“But it would mean they committed three murders, for sure. Supko, Warga, and Zmich.”
He nodded again.
“Which leaves us with Kowalski or Grantly as the only two left on the inside of the team.”
“And Kowalski has disappeared.”
“He’s in hiding?”
“We think so. Yes. From us or from the other murderer.”
Jess exhaled. “Too many options.”
Morris grunted another of his humorless laughs. “Exactly what my boss said. Right before he directed me to my never-ending supply of other cases.” He pulled a post-it from his pocket. “Last known addresses. For Kowalski and Grantly. If you’re interested.”
She took the note, flipping it between her fingers. “Mrs. Supko mentioned another name. Mark or Mar-zeck or something. It kind of rhymed with Blazek.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing. She just confused the two names.”
“Mar-zeck and Blazek?”
Jess nodded.
Morris thought for a moment. “New one on me.”
“We were talking about who her husband had been working with.”
Morris shrugged. “Add him to the list. Just don’t tell my boss.”
“I don’t think I want to meet your boss.”
Morris shook his head. “He’s trying to do the best job with too few resources, that’s all.” His eyebrows knitted together. “I’ve read your bio, Jess. What was it you said? There’s no justice when the victims have no chance to be made
whole? Well, we don’t even know all the victims in Blazek’s scheme, let alone the criminals, but that doesn’t stop us from trying to do our jobs.”
“You mean it doesn’t stop me from trying, don’t you?”
“I have every faith.” Morris gave her a genuine smile that flashed most of his recently cleaned teeth. “But these men are dangerous, Jess. If we’re right, they’re cold-blooded killers. So stay inside the lines this time, okay?”
She didn’t reply.
Morris placed a heavy hand on her forearm and looked straight into her eyes. “I won’t be able to help you if you go off the reservation on this, Jess. Stick to the rules and we’ll all be fine.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Morris shook hands outside the coffee shop, and headed back into the FBI building.
Jess walked to her car. Five men on Blazek’s list. Kowalski, Warga, Zmich, Supko, and Grantly. Three suicides. One missing. One claimed to be uninvolved.
Could Blazek be at the center of that team?
What about Kowalski? Had he killed the others and bugged out? Had he set up shop somewhere else already?
She unlocked her car and settled into a bubble of hot, sticky air. It made sense that he’d relocated only if Kowalski thought his guilt would be discovered. She started the engine, flipped the air-conditioner to full, and turned the vents to blast cold air on her face.
Morris would have checked airline records, so Kowalski couldn’t simply have hopped on a plane, murdered Supko and the others and flown home. New Orleans to Dallas was a long drive, and Morris would have checked credit card activity that might have revealed a road trip.
Jess turned the Kowalski problem over in her mind a bit longer but nothing brilliant popped up.
Which left Grantly, the real estate guy from Florida. She rummaged in her bag and found Morris’s post it note. New Orleans for Kowalski or Florida for Grantly? Neither option caused the familiar frissons along her spine that usually suggested one choice was better than the other. Tossing a coin seemed like a reasonable option here.
Like Morris’s boss, she had to go where she stood the greatest chance of finding something, the biggest potential bang for her buck. Kowalski had disappeared. He seemed a more likely killer than Grantly. If she could find him, or find out something from his friends, neighbors, or co-workers that Morris hadn’t found, then the FBI might put more resources on the case.
Fatal Demand Page 6
