Chris leaned forward at his desk. “I told them that, but they aren’t willing to shell out the cash on an ongoing basis. Gave me the long lecture about how shoplifting is part of the cost of doing business.”
“That’s true,” Annie said. “But you gave me the indication it’s unusually high right now.”
“It is. It is.” Chris rubbed the stubble on his chin. “We’ve either been proved to be an easy mark, or we’re being targeted by a shoplifting ring.”
“Or both,” Jake said. “Likely both.”
“Richmond Hill PD has no organized crime unit,” Annie said. “I believe it falls under the jurisdiction of burglary, and they’re overworked and understaffed. The police don’t have the time or the resources to handle every case of shoplifting.”
“So what’s the answer?” Chris asked. “You guys can’t curb it by yourselves, and my staff is too small to make much of a dent. They don’t want to put guards at every door. It makes the shoppers feel uneasy, and that’s bad for business.”
“We have to pull it up by the roots,” Jake said.
“What does that mean?”
Jake stood and paced the small office, speaking as he thought. “If this is a ring, there’s no point in grabbing the occasional booster. They’ll just be replaced.” He stood still and looked at Chris. “We have to get to the ringleaders—to the fences, the ones who’re receiving and redistributing the stolen goods.”
“It’s not just Cranston’s,” Chris said. “Every store goes through this at one time or another. We catch a lot of shoplifters, but the professional boosters are probably getting away.”
“What about your cameras?” Jake asked.
Chris shook his head slowly. “These people are a different breed of thieves. Cameras often identify the casual shoplifter, but the organized boosters are more brazen. They often disguise themselves in some way, or avoid the cameras altogether.”
“Or they wait until no one’s paying attention and they walk out,” Annie said.
“Exactly. But if they’re seen, and even if the security tags go off at the door, cashiers and clerks do little to stop them and usually let them run. Sometimes they call the police, but by then, they’re gone.” Chris shrugged and let out a long breath. “I can’t blame them. Who wants to risk getting injured for minimum wage?”
Annie sat forward. “Leave it with us, Chris. We’ll work on it and see if we can come up with a plan of action. We might not zero in on the ringleaders, but we’ll see what we can do for Cranston’s.”
Chris grinned. “You have an idea?”
Jake looked at Annie. “We’re working on it.” He didn’t have any great plan yet, but he knew between the two of them, they’d figure something out.”
Jake stood, shook Chris’s hand, and followed Annie through the store and back out to the parking lot. “Any ideas?” he asked, as they got in the Firebird.
“Nothing yet,” Annie said.
Chapter 6
Tuesday, 9:05 a.m.
HANK SAT AT THE kitchen table in his small apartment. His pushed his breakfast dishes aside and sipped at a coffee as he reviewed his scant notes regarding the murder of Werner Shaft.
Callaway didn’t have time to take care of Hank’s request, CSI had nothing for him yet, so he submitted to the inevitable and made a phone call to Maria Shaft.
This time, there was an answer.
Hank introduced himself and asked if he could drop by to see her right away.
He heard Mrs. Shaft take a quick breath. There was a pause, and then, “Is … is this to do with my husband? He didn’t come home last night and I’m out of my mind.”
This was not something Hank wanted to do over the phone. He needed to see her in person. “Mrs. Shaft, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” He double-checked the address he found for Werner Shaft, was assured it was correct, and hung up the phone. He grabbed his briefcase and keys, strapped on his service weapon, and went to his car.
Hank usually enjoyed his job, but the task he now faced was one he dreaded. As he drove, he thought about the many times in the past he had to do this very same thing, and it always went the same way—denial, anger, acceptance, then mourning. And for him, it never got any easier.
The only positive aspect was the motivation it gave him to catch the culprit, and a determination to persevere until they were brought to justice.
The Shaft residence was located in a middle-class neighborhood on a mature street. There was nothing outstanding about the brick dwelling itself—a double-car garage in front, the odd plant and shrub scattered around, one car in the driveway.
He parked behind a dark-green Mazda, got out of his car, and went up the brick pathway to the front door. He took a deep breath and rang the bell.
Maria Shaft was in her midthirties, with long dark hair and a roundish face. When she answered the door, Hank saw lines of worry on her face, her unsmiling mouth set in a grim line.
He introduced himself and she showed him to the front room. He sat uneasily on the couch as she took a seat in a matching chair. She sat straight, leaned forward slightly, her hands in her lap. “Has my husband done something he shouldn’t have, Detective? He’s been arrested again, hasn’t he?”
Hank gathered his thoughts as he placed his briefcase carefully on the cushion beside him and sat back. He took a deep breath and observed her closely. “I’m afraid it’s more than that.”
She tilted her head slightly to one side, the expression on her face unchanged.
“Your husband was killed last night, Mrs. Shaft.”
Her eyes widened, her mouth opened, and she remained still a moment, then, “Killed? How? Are you sure it was him?”
Hank snapped open his briefcase, removed the printout on Werner Shaft, and held it up for her to see. “Is this your husband, Ma’am?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
Hank put the paper back in his briefcase. “There’s no mistake. It was him.”
She stared at Hank, her breathing quick and erratic. Then in a hoarse voice, barely above a whisper, she asked, “What happened?”
“He was murdered.”
Her eyes opened wider. “Murdered?”
“I’m afraid so, Ma’am. I’m sorry. I tried to reach you last night.”
“I was babysitting,” she whispered. “For my sister. I wasn’t home until late.” She paused. “Do you know who … killed him?”
“Not yet,” Hank said. “If you’re up to it, I need to ask you a few questions.”
She nodded and reached to the stand near her chair for a tissue. The tears started, and she dabbed at her eyes, sobbing quietly.
“Do you know of anyone who might’ve wanted to harm your husband?”
She hesitated and glanced aside. Finally, she looked Hank in the eye and said, “Detective, my husband was involved with some bad characters in the past. As you probably know, he did some time in prison, but I … I didn’t know any of his former acquaintances. Perhaps someone he knew before …”
That caught Hank by surprise. He hadn’t had the time to dig very deeply, still unaware of Werner Shaft’s record. That opened it up to a lot of possibilities, and it also might explain why Shaft carried a weapon.
“We’ve just started the investigation, Mrs. Shaft, so we have no suspects yet. Anything you can tell us might help.”
Maria Shaft sniffed and wiped at her nose. “I’ll help you with whatever you want to know, but I’m at a loss.”
Hank pulled out his notepad and pen and cleared his throat. “Do you and your husband have any children?”
“No, we never did.” She looked away wistfully. “Werner never wanted children and so …” Her voice trailed off, leaving Hank with the impression she unwillingly yielded to her husband’s wishes.
Hank made a notation in his pad. “So, it’s just the two of you here?”
Mrs. Shaft leaned forward. “My husband’s brother lives with us. Rocky. He occupies the basement apartment.”
Hank made ano
ther note. “Do you know if he’s home right now?”
She shook her head. “He works at the same place my husband works … worked. He’ll be there now.”
“And where’s that?”
“Werner was the warehouse manager at Richmond Distributing, and Rocky works in the shipping department.”
Hank wrote down the name and put a question mark beside it. “Do they ride to work together?”
“Sometimes. It depends on their shift. This morning Rocky took his own vehicle because my husband …”
“What kind of vehicle does Rocky drive?”
“It’s a red Ford pickup. I’m not sure what year it is.”
Hank nodded and made a note to find out what vehicle or vehicles were registered in Rocky’s name. According to the witness, the killer drove a white, Honda Accord, and Hank wanted to find out if anyone close to Werner Shaft had a vehicle with that description registered in their name.
Another part of this uncomfortable task was asking uncomfortable questions. “Mrs. Shaft, you said you were babysitting last night for your sister. I’ll need her name and address.”
Mrs. Shaft didn’t blink, perhaps not realizing Hank’s intention was to check her alibi. “Her name’s Melinda Windsor. They live at 335 Polimer Street.” She paused. “Detective, you don’t think they had anything to do with this, do you?”
“Not at all,” Hank said, jotting down the information. “I just need to fill in all the pieces.” He looked back up. “What time did you get home last night?”
“It was after eleven.”
“Did you drive there?”
“Yes, I took my car.”
Hank pointed over his shoulder. “The car in the driveway?”
“Yes.”
Hank made a final note, read through what he wrote, and tucked his notepad away. He removed a card from his briefcase, leaned over, and handed it to the grieving widow. “Call me if you think of anything that might be useful.”
“I will, Detective.” She dabbed at her eyes with the tissue, took the card, and laid it on the stand beside her.
Hank stood, wished her well, and offered to connect her with their grief counseling services.
She declined the invitation and let him out.
He got into his car and looked at his notes. He had a few people to visit and some phone calls to make. He would assign the least sensitive ones to King and look after the rest himself.
Right now, he was anxious to see what Callaway had come up with.
Chapter 7
Tuesday, 9:18 a.m.
ANNIE AND JAKE sat in the Firebird in front of Cranston’s, tossing around ideas. There were several approaches they could take in this situation, all of them viable.
“We could wait for somebody to boost something, follow them, and find out who they’re selling to,” was Jake’s first suggestion.
Annie considered that a moment. “We need to get the top dog. A booster would likely be selling the stuff to a midlevel person, probably in some obscure location, and then it would be turned over to the top-level fence.”
“If we can find the midlevel guy, can’t we follow him?”
“Perhaps,” Annie said. “But if this is as organized as I think, there’s a lot of money involved, so there’ll be a lot more security between the mid and top levels. I’m sure they take extreme precautions, and it’s unlikely more than a few people know who runs the show or where the merchandise is warehoused.”
Jake drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “That’s true. Boosters, and perhaps midlevel fences, get caught all the time, and the top dogs don’t want to risk their operation whenever someone gets nabbed.”
“There might be a better way,” Annie said. “Most of this stuff is being sold at discount stores and flea markets. If we can find out who’s selling stolen goods, we might be able to find out where they get it from.”
“I don’t think they’ll give up their source to a couple of strangers,” Jake said.
“What if we made a special order? Perhaps a quantity of something they sell and wait for a delivery?”
“And follow the delivery guy? That could mean staking out the place for hours, maybe days.”
Annie’s face twisted into a grimace. “Sounds like a long shot, doesn’t it?”
Jake snapped his fingers and turned in his seat to face Annie. “I’ve got it,” he said.
“Don’t keep me in suspense.”
Jake grinned. “Our goal is to follow the boosted goods to the final buyer, right?”
“Right.”
“Simple.” Jake shrugged a shoulder. “We put a tracker in the goods and see where they end up.”
“And how do we know what they’re going to boost?”
“Ah, that’s the beauty of it. We set up a sting.”
Annie thought a moment and then chuckled. “We tempt them with something they can’t resist.”
Jake nodded vigorously. “Exactly. What do you think?”
“It’s the best idea yet and I think it’s worth a shot. Let’s go talk to Chris.”
The security office was empty when Jake pushed the door open. They paged Chris from the nearby information desk. He soon showed up, a big grin splitting his face. “Back so soon? Did you solve the mystery of the disappearing stuff?”
Jake laughed. “Not yet, but we have an idea.”
Chris waved toward the office and they went in and sat down.
“We want to set up a sting,” Jake said. “We’ll use a tracker and follow it.”
“A sting?” Chris said. His eyes narrowed and Annie saw his mind considering it.
“You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar,” Annie said. “Boosters can’t resist big-screen TVs.”
Chris sat forward, rested his elbows on the desk, and cupped his hands under his bristly chin. He looked at Annie over top. “I think we can do that. I’ll have to clear it with the manager, but I’m sure he’ll go along with the game.”
“We’ll need his cooperation anyway,” Jake said. “We need to make sure the goods with the trackers inside are too tempting to resist.”
“I’m sure it can be arranged.” Chris picked up the phone and paged the manager. In a few minutes, a fifty-something man entered the office. Jake explained the plan and was assured of full backing.
“He’s under some heat from the owners as well,” Chris said when the manager left. “I fully expected he’d be all for it.” He stood. “I’m ready to get this thing underway as soon as you are.”
“Let’s do it,” Jake said.
“I want to take a look around,” Annie said, as she stood. Jake and Chris followed her to the electronics department. A stack of big-screen televisions was on sale. “Those are perfect,” she said. “Put them by the entrance door, not the exit. I want them to be seen when our mark comes in.”
“I’ll get the tracker,” Jake said, turning to go. “It’s in the car.”
Chris pushed his cap back far enough to scratch his head. “What happens if we make this so tempting we end up turning an innocent shopper into a booster?”
Annie frowned at Chris. “So-called innocent shoppers don’t become shoplifters unless it’s in them to start with.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right, but what if a casual shoplifter takes it? One who’s not associated with the organized ring?”
“That’s a chance we’ll have to take. If it happens, we’ll bust the shoplifter, get the TV and tracker back, and try again.”
“Kill two birds with one stone.”
“Let’s hope we’ll kill more than two.”
Jake sauntered back in and handed a small metal box to Chris. “Here’s the tracker. All set up and ready to go. Put this in the case with the TV and we’re good. We can track its location on my cell phone at any time.” Jake pulled out his phone and revealed a web-based map. A red dot on the map indicated the tracker’s current location.
“Excellent,” Chris said. “I’ll get a stock boy to set it up immediately
.”
Within ten minutes, an inventory control clerk wheeled a dolly of cartons to the designated spot. Jake carefully opened one, inserted the tracker deep inside the packaging where it wouldn’t be seen if opened, then seamlessly taped it closed.
Just inside the front door, below a display model, the stack of televisions was set up, the box with the tracker on top.
“Perfect,” Jake said. “It’s motion activated, so we’ll know exactly when the box is moved. Now we wait.” He turned to Chris. “Make sure none of the security personnel hang around the front door. We don’t want to scare anyone off.”
“I’ll get on it right away,” Chris said, as he turned to go. “Ring me as soon as something happens.”
“Oh, one more thing,” Annie said.
Chris turned back.
“Make sure nobody buys the top one. We don’t want the police to break down the door of one of your customers.”
Chris laughed. “Yeah, that wouldn’t be good for business.” He waved a hand and was gone.
Jake and Annie went to the Firebird and Jake pulled the vehicle into a spot closer to the front of the building. They had a direct view of the merchandise. He opened the trunk, retrieved two pairs of binoculars from a cardboard box, got back in the car, and handed one pair to Annie.
Annie adjusted the focus, training her binoculars on the front window. She could see perfectly.
All they needed to do now was wait.
Chapter 8
Tuesday, 9:54 a.m.
HANK PAID A VISIT to Melinda Windsor before returning to the precinct. Mrs. Windsor confirmed her sister, Maria Shaft, had been babysitting for her the previous evening, from 7:00 until 11:00 pm. Mrs. Windsor and her husband had gone out for the evening for dinner and a movie. They got home not long before 11:00 pm, and Mrs. Shaft drove herself home at that time. That fit with the story Maria Shaft had given him.
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