Secret Undertaking

by Mark de Castrique

  He laughed. “No offense but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to live in a funeral home. Initially, we’ll be in my rental house. When we buy, I’d like something like you have. Out of town and relatively secluded.”

  My house was a cabin built from materials salvaged from four historic log homes scattered throughout the Blue Ridge. I didn’t build it. A psychiatrist from Charleston purchased five acres of mountain property, assembled the logs into a new structure whose interior contained all the modern conveniences, and then fell ill and had to sell his mountain dream. My place was unique and Fletcher was unlikely to find something similar unless he created it himself.

  “But that doesn’t mean we couldn’t share ownership of this property,” Fletcher said. “We’ll see how things play out.”

  “All right,” I agreed. “And I’ll check on the lift. As a kid, I slid down that bannister. Might be fun riding up.”

  I left Fletcher and returned to the Sheriff’s Department around three. Tommy Lee was in his office scanning through a document.

  “Close the door and take a chair,” he ordered. “Ferguson gave me the last six months of bank statements for Toby, Sonny, and Rufus.”

  “Anything stand out?”

  “I’ve just given it a cursory read, but Toby’s activity was minimal. An occasional cash deposit and a monthly utility check that often brought the balance close to zero. If he was getting any money from his EBT card, Rufus was paying him in cash. On the other hand, Sonny had regular deposits into his account every two weeks. The auto repair shop paid him by check and the amounts varied slightly. I guess because Sonny worked by the hour.”

  “Any indication that Harold Carson was paying him additional money under the table?”

  “No. And looking at the six-month totals, Sonny earned more than would qualify him for food stamps. He was telling the truth when he said he told his father he didn’t want any part of the scam.”

  “But he knew about it.”

  “The list we found proves that. And it’s believable that he wouldn’t turn in his father, especially if hard times forced Toby into his situation.”

  “What about Rufus?”

  Tommy Lee flipped through some pages. “That’s more interesting. He had two checking accounts, a business one for the store and a second for his personal finances. The business had a mix of deposits from the major credit cards, EBT card transfers, a few personal checks, and cash. Rufus paid himself a modest salary by check with the proper withholdings. He had some part-time hourly cashiers who were paid by check. Now, we don’t know if he was also slipping them cash from the register. I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case and he was avoiding employer payments to Social Security and Workers Comp. After all, that’s what he suggested Sonny work out with Harold Carson.”

  “You think there was enough cash floating around to account for what we found in his closet?”

  Tommy Lee set the papers aside. “I doubt it. Especially since he spent a lot of cash on the pickup restoration. So he had to be siphoning off the phony EBT card income somehow. I think that’s where the accounts payable come in. Lots of payments to grocery suppliers and vendors. We need to see if they are all legitimate. I’d asked for Ferguson to run the financials on all the stores on Sonny’s list, but he claimed that was overreach and he couldn’t get the approval to pry into so many private businesses for a fishing expedition.”

  “It is a fishing expedition.”

  Tommy Lee threw up his hands. “Of course it’s a fishing expedition. That’s what I told Ferguson. I’m fishing in a pond with three dead bodies. He was sympathetic but claimed his hands were tied without more proof.”

  “What about tracking the EBT cards in those stores?”

  “Ferguson made the request and was told the FNS would get back to him.”

  “He had to go through FNS?”

  Tommy Lee shrugged. “Food and Nutrition Services is a federal program. They had to be covered. I don’t know which will be worse—they say they can’t help us or they say they can. Their help always comes with a price, a price that at the minimum means they’ll want to meddle in our investigation.”

  The intercom on Tommy Lee’s phone buzzed.

  “What?” he asked, letting the line stay on speaker.

  “There’s a gentleman here to see you,” Marge said.

  From the tone of her voice we knew the gentleman had to be standing right in front of her.

  “I’m tied up with Barry.”

  “He says to tell you he’s an investigator with the Food and Nutrition Services. It’s important he speak with you.”

  Tommy Lee snorted an involuntary laugh. “What did I tell you,” he whispered to me. “I’m betting on those dreaded words, ‘I’m from the government and I’m here to help you.’” He turned back to the intercom. “Put the gentleman in Interview One. Barry and I will be there in a few minutes.”

  The sheriff stood. “If this guy’s a jerk, I might tell him thanks, but no thanks.”

  “If anybody can recognize a jerk, it’s you.”

  “I know. So just wait until you see your next performance review.”

  Our visitor was seated in one of the chairs on the interviewers’ side of the table. I didn’t know whether he’d done that by chance or whether he was used to conducting interrogations and took it out of habit.

  He stood and we shook hands. He introduced himself as Collier Crockett. He wore the standard issue dark blue suit and American flag lapel pin. I guess he didn’t want us to forget his FNS credentials were federal. If he wore that wardrobe during an active investigation in the mountains, he’d stick out like a ballerina at a square dance.

  Tommy Lee sat beside him and I was left with the suspect’s chair. As the sheriff and I had quickly discussed in his office, we said nothing further. We didn’t even ask what he wanted.

  After about thirty seconds of awkward silence, Crockett said, “I understand you’re working a case involving SNAP benefits.”

  Tommy Lee shrugged. “We’re working a double homicide and the motive might be entangled with use of an EBT card.”

  “And you asked for records of benefit charges at Taylor’s Short Stop?”

  “Yes. The location of the first murder.”

  “And now you want benefit transactions for roughly twenty more stores?”

  “Through the auspices of the State Bureau of Investigation. Our case overlaps with the attempted murder of Commissioner of Agriculture Graham James.”

  “But I understand Special Agent Ferguson wasn’t able to obtain the necessary authorization for such a sweeping request.”

  “Then we’ll proceed with our own petition.”

  Crockett’s smile morphed toward a sneer. He folded his arms across his chest. “That’s not going to happen.”

  Tommy Lee crossed his arms. “Really? Who made you king of our investigation?”

  “Nobody. Pursue your leads but the EBT cards are out of bounds.”

  Tommy Lee dropped his arms and leaned closer to the FNS agent. “Let’s cut the crap. You’re running your own investigation and you’re afraid we’re going to come in like the Keystone Cops and blow up your case.”

  “Your words, not mine, Sheriff.”

  “Well, here are some more of my words, Mr. Crockett. You can stick your case where the Carolina moon don’t shine, and if I have to haul each one of those store owners into this interview room and ask them to bring their EBT records, I will. Two of my citizens have been murdered and I don’t give a rat’s ass whether that screws your case or not. Now, I might not be able to force them to supply their records voluntarily, but they’ll know they are on my radar and I’ll inform them whatever they say will be shared with the SBI. That is unless you climb down off of your goddammed high horse and give me a good reason I shouldn’t.”

  The slick agent went a
s red as a stoplight. “You’re trying to blackmail me,” he said with a voice so constricted it was more of a squeak.

  “No.” Tommy Lee bent in even closer. “Read my lips. I’m pursuing my murder cases down any and all avenues. And if you’re blocking my way, I’ll do whatever I can to run you over.”

  Crockett was not only pinned in his chair by Tommy Lee’s invasion into his personal space, he was also caught by the sheriff’s piercing one-eyed stare. In an instant, it became a battle of wills as to who would look away first. I began to think I might have time to go out for a hamburger.

  Finally, Crockett chose a way to save face. He kept his gaze fixed on Tommy Lee’s good eye and said, “Let me rewind and start this conversation over.”

  The sheriff leaned back in his chair. “Okay. We’re listening.”

  “I came to North Carolina about four years ago. Before that I’d worked in New York, New Jersey, and Chicago investigating food stamp fraud. Not the guy who sneaks a bottle of Thunderbird on his card or splits a couple of bucks with a store owner. We were breaking up more sophisticated scams—a network that involved food suppliers, in addition to benefit-recipients and corrupt store owners.”

  “How’d it work?” Tommy Lee asked.

  “Legal purchases would be made and the store owner would get the EBT card’s deposit into his account. But the sold products would be restocked. Or sometimes trucked to another store. Keep reselling the same merchandise that you’ve only paid for once. All EBT receipts were for legally qualified purchases. It’s just that the cardholder got cash instead, usually fifty cents on the dollar. And we come down to economy of scale. Too much for a single store owner to organize and finance, but not for a proven business enterprise.”

  “Like what?” Tommy Lee asked.

  “Like the mob. They can redistribute the food, enforce the store agreements with the store owners, and intimidate any wayward customers who might decide to blow the whistle. But that rarely happens because everyone at every level is breaking the law. Once a food stamp user accepts a cash payment, they are part of the conspiracy.”

  “How do you break it?”

  “Get the goods on someone and try to flip them.”

  “Is that what you’re doing here?”

  “Well, most of my work was in eastern North Carolina. Undercover. But we were making progress here.”

  I remembered the newspaper accounts of the busts in that part of the state. I looked at the slick Mr. Crockett and tried to envision him blending into the small tobacco towns that made up the bulk of eastern North Carolina’s population.

  “How long have you been in this area?” Tommy Lee asked.

  “About six months. We’ve had our eye on Rufus Taylor. His death was a setback.”

  “Had you turned him?” I asked.

  “We were close. I don’t know if there was a leak or Toby McKay’s rampage spooked someone higher up. We have other things working. That’s why I don’t want us stepping on each other. I mean I could make a case that your murders should be folded into our investigation, but I’m not going to push for that.”

  “Because it would be over my dead body,” Tommy Lee said.

  Crockett smiled. “I believe you’ve already made that abundantly clear. So, my proposal is you let me take care of the big picture. You look at individual grocery stores where you think there’s a link, but not do a sweeping request for information that could swamp you in data analysis but be business as usual for us. I promise you when we nail them, and we will, your murder charge will trump and you can go after them tooth and nail. How’s that sound?”

  Tommy Lee scowled. “Like I’m putting all my eggs in your basket.”

  “Maybe. But they’re still your eggs.”

  The sheriff thought for a moment. Crockett was right about our being inundated with EBT receipts that we didn’t have the manpower to examine.

  “Then who do you think killed Rufus and Sonny?” Tommy Lee asked.

  “Outside muscle. Probably Chicago. We found ties between them and the rings we busted down east. You know how it is, Sheriff. It’s like squeezing a balloon. Control a bulge in one place and it pops out in another. I might be wrong but I think that bulge might have appeared in your backyard.”

  “So, you don’t know for sure that the mob is even here.”

  “No. But unless your homicides are some Hatfield and McCoy feud, I’m betting we turn something up. I just want to make sure we don’t stumble over each other in the process.”

  Tommy Lee looked at me. “What do you think?”

  I didn’t know whether I was supposed to play good cop or bad cop. So, I gave an honest answer. “Give Mr. Crockett his run with the overall EBT conspiracy. I’ll follow up on local connections we have to Sonny and Rufus.”

  “That’s fine,” Crockett quickly agreed. “And let’s keep lines of communication open. If I find a connection to your murders, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Tommy Lee stood. “All right. Let’s hope each of us gets justice served.”

  “Good.” Crockett rose and shook Tommy Lee’s hand. “Sorry I came on a little strong. I’m passionate about my work, and I respect that you are too. I look forward to working with both of you.”

  Tommy Lee escorted Collier Crockett out of the department. I went straight to his office, knowing he’d want to debrief the meeting.

  “What do you think?” I asked when he returned.

  “I think that if Mr. Crockett sent his DNA to ancestry.com it would come back ten percent human and ninety percent horse shit. He’s either just starting and wants to pump us for all we know, or he’s well down the road and doesn’t want us getting any credit for his bust. But, I’m willing to play along where the EBT records are concerned. We probably couldn’t get them, and the analysis could be beyond our capabilities. We’ll see how forthcoming he is. Meanwhile, Commissioner James has your card coming and we keep to our original plan. Nothing’s changed there.”

  He walked behind his desk and slid open one of the side drawers. He pulled out a holster attached to a thin nylon belt. “Here’s the gun you asked for. It’s a Kimber Ultra RCP II. One of the smallest forty-fives you can carry. Seven shot magazine and weighs only twenty-five ounces. Three-inch barrel so you’ll need close range but it has the punch to knock someone over if you hit any part of the body. Shoot at least fifty rounds at the range so you’re comfortable with it. I figure you don’t want a shoulder holster. This rig works under your shirt and around your waist to fit the small of your back. The holster straps are Velcro so you just yank the pistol free. I can get you an ankle holster if you prefer.”

  I took the gun and rested it in the palm of my hand. “What’s RCP stand for?”

  “Refined Carry Pistol. Just a marketing term. But you’re refined, right?”

  “As smooth as Collier Crockett.”

  Tommy Lee groaned. “Oh, please.”

  My cell rang. I pulled it from my belt. “It’s Archie.”

  “Better take it.”

  “Hey, Archie. I’m with Tommy Lee. What’s up?”

  “They came in.” Archie was so excited the three words came out as one.”

  “The Sinclairs?”

  I saw Tommy Lee’s eyebrows arch.

  “Yes. They have a company. Sinclairity Sales. Only now they’ve added two additional corporate officers. Do the names Robert and Joan Santona mean anything?”

  “Indeed, they do.” I put Archie on speaker and repeated the names for Tommy Lee.

  “Where are you now?” Tommy Lee asked.

  “My office. Do you want to see these papers?”

  “Yes. But don’t bring them here. Barry and I will meet you at the funeral home at…” he glanced at his watch “…at five.”

  “Okay.”

  “Archie,” Tommy Lee said.

  “Yes?”


  “Good work.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff.”

  I disconnected. “That’s an interesting development.”

  “Yes. But not conclusive of anything. Remember, we’re following this lead because Archie told them he would be speaking to Sonny McKay. But if this operation is being run out of Chicago, then the plan to hit Rufus was already in the works. And the Sinclairs wanted this insurance work done back in July. We know that’s a fact because Archie missed the meeting.”

  “So, what are you saying? That Toby’s attempt on James and Rufus’ murder just happened to occur on the same day?”

  “I have to recognize it’s a possibility. I just don’t want us getting ahead of ourselves.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  Tommy Lee sighed. “Well, we already have the SBI and FNS involved. Hell, we might as well bring in the U.S. Marshals. Next it will be the FBI, the Park Rangers, and the security guards at Walmart.”

  “Those guys are good. Could be a career move if you ever lose an election.”

  “Nah. I’ve got my heart set on Costco.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tommy Lee, Archie, and I sat in the parlor with three untouched glasses of Diet Coke on the coffee table in front of us. The sheriff and I were in chairs, and Archie had his briefcase open on the sofa cushion next to him.

  “The three policies are from three different insurance companies.” Archie passed them to Tommy Lee. “I have brokerage arrangements with each, so what forms I didn’t have on file I was able to download.”

  Tommy Lee gave the policies a quick look, trusting Archie to understand the meaning of all the fine print.

  “They are what the Sinclairs described,” Archie explained. “Joan Santona owns a policy on Robert Santona’s life and is the beneficiary. He owns one on Joan and is the beneficiary, and the second-to-die policy is owned by Joan with the ASPCA as the beneficiary.”

  “Why does the wife own that one?” Tommy Lee asked.

  “No particular reason. Statistically, she should outlive her husband. And since much of the premium came from her inheritance, she probably wrote the checks.”