George almost slipped into the old Abbot and Costello comedy routine about baseball players and their funny names but caught himself in time. They had done that joke several times in the past, and it was getting old. Instead, for the next two hours, he fed Jackson a constant stream of consumers with problems ranging from spaghetti sauce contaminated by a bug to home improvement screw-ups. Jackson took them all with the same enthusiasm. Some cases were resolved quickly and to everyone’s satisfaction, and others would require follow-up. But it was always entertaining and sometimes enlightening and educational. He usually had an attorney or two on call, ready to jump in and explain the legal side of things. In a few rare instances, Jackson actually sided with the contractor. He had no patience for homeowners who blamed contractors unfairly, and when that happened, the homeowner was admonished with a verbal beating.
And then, a fellow named Jim from Golden called about Daniels Automotive. Charlie, the owner of the shop, had been murdered on Friday night, but the body still hadn’t been discovered by the time the show went on the air Monday morning.
“Jim, I remember this scumbag. It seems we keep getting calls about him. Go ahead and tell us what your issue is, but keep in mind that so far, we haven’t been able to resolve anyone else’s problem with him.”
“Okay. Thanks for taking my call, Bob. I took my car to Daniels Automotive for an engine rebuild about a month ago. It seemed okay for a few days, but then, I started having trouble.”
“Who worked on it? And did you take it back?”
“Charlie worked on it. I think he’s the owner of the shop. I called him to bring it back in, and he kept giving me the runaround. I took the car to another mechanic to have a look, and he said it was terrible. Some parts weren’t replaced, and others seemed to be replaced with used parts.”
“Jim, I don’t know if you have been listening to our show lately, but Daniels Automotive has been coming up a lot lately. Sounds like you aren’t the only one he’s been ripping off. George, you called him recently; tell us about the call.”
“Yeah, Bob, I talked with Charlie just last week. He was pretty rude, actually, and didn’t let me talk much. He cursed at me and then hung up. This morning, I was able to talk to one of the other mechanics there, and he admitted they were getting a few complaints lately but didn’t want to elaborate. He said he had not seen Charlie this morning. He said that these problems would have to be worked out with Charlie.”
“Okay.” Jackson sighed. “We’re getting stonewalled. I would take the car down there and bring an attorney with you. Not much else you can do. It doesn’t sound like he cares about what we say about him on the air. Julia, I think we need to add Daniels Automotive to the Wall of Shame Scum List on the website. And to all our listeners out there, please avoid using Daniels Automotive for your car repair needs.”
This was the kind of thing that drove Jackson up a wall. He prided himself on getting results for his callers; in fact, his entire reputation and ego was built on it. When it went poorly, like with Daniels Automotive, Jackson wanted to scream. And he usually did. Over the years, he had developed a deep animosity toward contractors and businessmen who preyed on consumers, and it went deeper than his on-air persona. Failure was not something he tolerated in himself. His ego demanded that he get satisfaction, and nothing less than putting scammers and crooks out of business was acceptable. Each company that was closed due to his efforts was like winning an Olympic gold medal. And he could never have too many of those.
It was the victories that brought him public adoration. But he didn’t win all the battles, and even when he was successful, he added to his list of haters and detractors. There were those who rightly or wrongly felt that they had been harmed by Jackson’s activism. A bad word by Jackson on the air or in print could ruin a reputation overnight, and sometimes—although it was rare—Jackson had been too hasty in his condemnation, resulting in numerous lawsuits. So far, all had been unsuccessful. In addition to the legal threats and lawsuits, Jackson often received physical threats—mostly idealized, but occasionally, real. On more than one occasion, he had been sucker-punched and goaded into fistfights, but so far, due to his conditioning and training, he had walked away from each fight victorious—albeit bloodied at times.
“We will keep trying to get Daniels Automotive to step up and deal with these issues, but this sounds like a pattern with them, so I don’t hold out any hope. Best advice I can give is to find another mechanic, and sue this bastard.”
The show continued much like any other day. Jackson and his team won most of the battles, and, true to pattern, Jackson imparted his wisdom without any attempt at humility. He raised his voice and called people crooks and scumbags when his frustration level grew—usually, because someone was uncooperative. But he didn’t keep his comments and opinions to just home improvement or auto repair, no—Jackson had a clear bias when it came to politics, and was not shy about his progressive-left leanings. However, he also took on the Democrats when he felt they weren’t being honest or fair. No one was spared from his criticism. And as usual, he bordered on slander and libel at times, but he never quite crossed the line, almost as if he had been schooled by an attorney. The few businessmen who took offense and challenged him on air found that it just energized him even more. He loved a good fight.
George, on the other hand, was always reserved and even-keeled. Nothing seemed to rile him, and if it did, he hid it well. He would hold his ground and fight for a consumer, but typically, it was delivered diplomatically. Confrontation was not enjoyable for him, and he believed that it would not garner as much success as diplomacy and negotiation. His love and respect for Jackson was immense, but he just didn’t share Jackson’s penchant for fighting. But who could argue with success? And Jackson had showed over the years that his style was hard to beat.
When it was time to sign off, Jackson ended like he did most days, with a lecture to his audience about how to avoid getting ripped off. And when that didn’t work, he rambled on about what he would like to do with the scumbags who crossed his path. One would be hard-pressed to know whether it was tongue-in-cheek or he would seriously do anyone harm.
“I’d like to rip their heads off and put them in a ditch!” he screamed. “They don’t belong in our society, and I’ll do everything in my power to protect you from them. That’s it for our show today. We will be back same time tomorrow, ready to fight the good fight for you. In the meantime, try not to get scammed—but if you do, you know you can always call the Consumer Champion.”
Justin McGraw turned off his radio as Jackson signed off. After his interview with Brian Stevens, Justin couldn’t let go of the feeling that there was a connection between the Consumer Champion show and the murder of Lane Stevens. He knew it was too early to make any conclusions, and, as a reporter, he had to make sure this notion didn’t find its way into his column, but he still couldn’t shake it. Whether it was the weed or the alcohol driving him, he decided it couldn’t do any harm to listen to the show for the next few days. And take notes. Every contractor that was mentioned went into his notebook.
Chapter Nine
“Some men are alive simply because it is against the law to kill them.”
—Edward W. Howe
Detective Stein sipped his cup of coffee at his desk, trying to come up with a list of people who might have something to gain from murdering Lane Stevens. The most obvious would be those who had been ripped off by Stevens. The problem was that not all the clients knew they were being ripped off yet. There was also the problem of incomplete records—or so, he surmised. The secretary had a list of clients, but upon going over it with the detective, she indicated that some key names had been left off. She knew the mayor and some other big shots in town were clients but couldn’t prove it, since the list she had showing the investment amounts didn’t include them. She had no idea he had been paying them on the side for recommending clients, either.
“Jake, I interviewed everyone on his client list, a
nd no one jumps out as a credible suspect. Most of them didn’t even know they were being ripped off, and the ones who did had credible alibis.”
“What are we missing?” asked Detective Stein.
“I think we have a real vigilante killer on our hands,” offered Detective Baird.
“Oh?”
“Yes, Sir. I don’t remember the case now, but it sounds like something we studied at the academy.”
“I see.”
“There was this guy who saw himself as a vigilante and was going after anyone he thought had escaped justice.”
“You don’t think it was one of his clients who got wind of his scam? Maybe Stevens had another list of clients that we haven’t found.”
“I suppose, but the note and the MO seem like something a vigilante looking for attention would do.”
It was an interesting theory, and Detective Stein let it sit for now. What he couldn’t do was get too bogged down in a theory like that and overlook some obvious possible suspects. He knew about the rumors of high-visibility clients, but that would take some digging and some finesse to follow-up on. He found it odd that the mayor, the fire chief, and some low-level politicians weren’t on the list—and yet, he knew they were clients, according to his chief. Why not? Or, as in the case of the owner of the Tribune, the investment amount he would have lost was not enough to justify murder. He needed to keep that from the press, so he kept his thoughts about that to himself.
On a chalkboard, he wrote the facts. Unfortunately, they were fewer than he would have liked.
Drugs on the table – Trazadone (commonly used, but not the victim’s)
Blonde hairs on victim, car, and table in front of victim (inconclusive, but could be a wig)
Red lipstick on glass
Girl victim went home with (no one at bar had ever seen her before)
Fought with brother (but has alibi)
Note from killers (from mass-produced printer, commonly-used paper)
Client list so far inconclusive, but lots of people with motive
No foreign fingerprints in the house
“So, you think the note proves it’s a vigilante?” Detective Stein asked the rookie.
“Yes. Why else would they leave a note? If it was just someone upset with being ripped off by him, why bother with a note? And it specifically states there will be more.”
“Could be someone looking to throw us off-track. Whoever it is, they are good and thought this out.” Stein was troubled by the lack of physical evidence. It was not a crime of passion. The killers were methodical. He even suspected the blonde hairs and drugs were meant to throw off the investigation. Interesting how everyone at the bar saw the girl Stevens was with, but no one could identify her. She had made a point to be seen. He suspected her green eyes were fake, as well.
They didn’t have any clear suspects, but they had eliminated most of the known clients as perps. Unfortunately, that list didn’t include who he suspected were the biggest losers in Stevens’ scam. And someone who lost millions could easily be motivated to take revenge. Making it look like a vigilante was responsible would steer the police in the wrong direction. He had asked Justin McGraw to keep an ear out for some big-name clients and let him know what he found out. So far, Justin had confirmed that there were some high-profile clients who had been scammed but there was no confirmation yet who they were or how much they had lost. He would keep digging.
Justin had explained the scam to Stein as best as he knew at this point. Stevens had been targeting both high-value clients as well as mid-level retirees. It was the mid-level retirees who first started to complain to the Consumer Champion. That’s probably what spooked Stevens into trying to leave town suddenly. The scam was simple, explained Justin. Stevens would take their money and invest some of it in high-risk securities; the rest he put in bogus securities, all secretly managed by himself. He kept his clients happy and at bay by showing them bogus reports boasting significant gains. Money from new clients was used to mollify older clients if someone needed a dispersal.
There is always a trail when it comes to money, and this was no different. Stevens had created bogus accounts in the Caymans and transferred the money from the client investment accounts into those. The name on the Cayman accounts matched the name on the plane ticket and his bogus passport. But Stevens wasn’t quite as sharp as he thought, and although he thought he covered his tracks well, the trail would have eventually led right to him. But by the time his Denver Bank informed authorities about the Cayman ties, he would have moved the money again.
Stevens’ secretary described how clients had been increasingly concerned the last few weeks, and she could tell Lane was getting nervous and irritated. She spoke about how he would get angry when pressured to cash out clients and would attempt to stall them as long as he could. The clients would complain to her, and although she was getting suspicious, she had no idea he was planning on ripping everyone off. She didn’t understand the workings of the deals and wasn’t trained in accounting or investing, so she had no clue how the scam worked. All she knew was what Lane told her, which was that the market was in turmoil and that had caused the panic. She was surprised as anyone when the detectives told her Lane had a false ID and a ticket to the Caymans.
Stein stared at the board, trying to come up with some piece they were missing. If it wasn’t a crime of passion, then he surmised someone had something to gain. Who was it? Could Stevens have had a silent partner who didn’t want to share?
His thoughts were interrupted by his cell phone.
“Hello. This is Detective Stein.” He listened intently and said, “Okay. We’ll be right over.” He disconnected the call. “Come on,” he said to Detective Baird. “The Revengers struck again.”
“What?” said Baird with a look of shock.
“A Mr. Charlie Stanton, owner of Daniels Automotive, was found dead this morning at his home.”
“How do you know it was the Revengers?” asked Baird.
“They left another note.”
Stein drove, while Baird pestered him with questions, all of which had no answers. Stein’s GPS guided them to an older neighborhood that was showing its age. Most of the homes appeared well-kept, until they pulled up in front of Stanton’s. It was a dump. Literally. The yard was devoid of anything that resembled landscaping, and the only things growing in it were some hedges and weeds. Interspersed in the weeds were various car parts and trash. The house itself had needed a paint job years ago, and the roof was missing dozens of shingles. Stanton was clearly not a man who took pride in his property. Stein looked for a condemned sign but didn’t see one.
Uniformed cops were at the scene and had put up the familiar crime scene barrier with yellow tape. A crowd of neighbors had formed outside the barrier on the sidewalk. Crime scene investigators dressed in white coveralls were moving inside and outside the house, collecting anything that looked like evidence—which at this point was a lot, considering all the junk everywhere. A police photographer moved about, snapping dozens of shots and keeping a log of each of them. The press arrived at about the same time as Stein and Baird. McGraw hurried from his car to join the group that was forming and altered his direction when he saw Stein.
“Justin, I see you got here quickly,” said Jake.
“Good morning, Detective Stein. It’s the Revengers again, isn’t it?”
“I just got here. What make you say that? Did you get any other phone calls I should know about?”
“No, Sir. No calls yet. I have to tell you that I’ve been monitoring the Consumer Champion for the last few days and when I heard the name Charlie Stanton on the police call, I realized that I had heard that name on the show, as well.”
Stein nodded. “Okay, great. Let me know if you get another call.” He left Justin and walked over to a uniformed cop who was interviewing a man in greasy overalls. The cop turned to the detectives.
“Detective Stein,” he nodded. “This is Tim. One of the mechanics at Daniels A
utomotive. He made the 911 call this morning.”
“Hello, Tim. I’m Detective Stein, and this is Detective Baird. What can you tell us?”
“Umm, Charlie didn’t show up for work today. Not that uncommon, but we didn’t get paid on Friday, and the guys were getting antsy about payroll. I tried calling him a few times but there was no answer, so I decided to just come over here and talk to him.”
“I see. What else can you tell me?” asked Stein.
“Things have been rough at the shop lately. Lots of complaints from customers about billing issues and work he did for them. He left Friday in a bad mood. People were threatening lawsuits.”
“How did you find the body?”
“I came down here looking for him and when he didn’t answer the door, I looked in the garage to see if his truck was there. When I opened the garage door, the smell of carbon monoxide was really strong. I figured he might have been working on the truck with the door closed, so I opened it all the way to let some air in.” Tim paused to catch his breath.
Stein waited patiently for him to continue.
“When the air cleared out a little, I went in the garage and saw him sitting in his truck.”
“Did you touch anything?” asked Jake.
All In A Day's Work Page 10
