Avarice or Innocence (JOHN LOGAN FILES Book 1)

by Marshall Huffman

  “We have had a team over there since we came for you. No one has found the gun,” Logan said.

  “It’s right there on the top shelf. They can’t miss it,” he insisted.

  “Alright. If it’s there we will find it,” they sat not talking for several minutes.

  The door opened and a policeman stuck his head in. He talked to Logan for a few seconds and left.

  “Your lawyer is here. He is on his way in,” Logan told him. Ashton just shook his head.

  The attorney barged into the room.

  “What are you doing in here?” he demanded of the detective.

  “Well counselor this is my station. I’ll be anywhere I want. You’re not a criminal lawyer are you?” Logan asked.

  “Why? What difference is it to you?” he asked.

  “Because if you were, you would know we never leave a prisoner alone. He has been read his rights. Now, let’s get you down off your high horse and get to work. We have some questions I want to ask. You advise him all you want,” Logan said.

  “Jim, are you all right?”

  “Fine. Let’s get this over with. My head is pounding. Let the detective ask his questions.”

  “I think we should talk first. In private,” the attorney said.

  “No. Let’s just end this. I need to lie down and think,” he said.

  “All right but this is not the right thing to do,” he warned.

  “Enough,” Logan said, “Ashton where did you go this afternoon between noon and two fifteen?”

  “I went to lunch then did some window shopping. I lost track of time and when I saw how late it was I went right back to the office.”

  “Your secretary said you never go to lunch. Why did you today?”

  “I don’t know. I think the fact that we sold the company and I suddenly found myself with nothing to do for the first time in years. I honestly don’t know why I did.”

  “I hate that word. Honestly. Usually people who use it seldom mean it. We would like for you to consent to a paraffin test on your hands and a spectrum analysis of your clothes. Will you do that?”

  “He will not,” the lawyer chimed in.

  “Yes I will. Look I’ll do whatever it takes to clear this up,” Ashton said.

  “Good. Just sign a confession and I’ll go home for then night,” Logan said.

  “Good to see you still have a sense of humor. Other than the confession I’ll be happy to cooperate,” Jim said, smiling briefly.

  “Look Ashton. I think you’re an alright guy. Really I do, but this is just too much. Did you kill Linda Taylor?” he asked.

  “No. I did not. I was totally shocked when you came to arrest me. I had been trying to reach her all day. I have been expecting her to call,” he said.

  “Why?”

  Jim went into the long explanation about the Millennium3 processor chip and the problems they had encountered. It took him several minutes to tell the entire story.

  He went over his entire day and his window shopping expedition. Logan had to change the tape in the recorder at some point. The attorney kept trying to get Ashton to stop but he was determined to tell everything.

  “You knew your gun was tested recently?”

  “Yes. They told me that I should clean it when they gave it back. They did a test firing into a water tank or something like that. I guess they don’t do cleaning,” he said.

  “Not part of the service,” Logan said.

  They talked for another hour before the Captain tapped on the window.

  “Yeah,” Logan said when he stuck his head in the door.

  “Our brothers from the FBI are in my office. I think we should talk,” he told the detective.

  “Be right there,” he said and turned to Ashton, “You and your attorney will be taken to central booking. You will be booked in and sent for arraignment. What happens after that is up to the judge.”

  “Logan, I need your help. Someone is setting me up for all of this. I know it and I think you do too. Help me,” he said.

  Logan didn’t answer. The Captain was standing there waiting. Another officer came in and led Ashton and his attorney down the hall. He could hear the attorney saying that he needed to get a criminal lawyer and that this was out of his field. He suggested a couple of names but Logan didn’t catch them nor did he care.

  “You didn’t inform the FBI that you were arresting Ashton?” the Captain asked putting his hands on his hips.

  “I did not.”

  The Captain just looked at him for a second then said, “Good for you. Now you let me handle them."

  He playfully slugged Logan on the arm and they headed to his office. You could hear the yelling half way through the building and in the end, the two FBI agents stormed out.

  The other officers applauded as they went by just to add insult to injury. Ashton was arrested on a homicide, pure and simple. There was little they could do about it. The fight over how to handle the kidnappings would be fought at a higher level. For now it was Blues one, Pinstripes zero.

  ****

  “Stephanie is that you?”

  “Who else? You were expecting company,” she said lighthearted. She knew Carla was losing it. She needed to help her maintain her composure.

  “It’s nice to hear your voice. You always sound so positive. How long has it been since we last talked? It seems like days,” Carla said.

  “I think my watch must have stopped,” Stephanie said.

  Carla laughed just a little for the first time, “Okay, Okay. No more dumb questions. How are you feeling?”

  “Tired, alone and hungry. I never seem to get enough to eat,” she said.

  “I know. I don’t do anything all day and yet I’m bone tired.”

  They talked about nothing and everything and Carla finally said, “Oh. Hey I thought of something. I heard a foghorn. I don’t know when but fairly recently.”

  “Are you sure? I didn’t hear a thing. Are you sure it was a foghorn and not a truck or something. A train maybe?”

  “No. I’m sure. Well I think I’m sure. I guess I could have dreamed it but have you noticed how damp it is? I can almost smell water in the air. You know like when you’re near a large lake or ocean.”

  “Ocean? We live a hundred miles from any ocean,” Stephanie said.

  “I know, but who knows where they have taken us? The river isn’t very far. Terry and I still use my parent’s old place from time to time. My sister owns it now but she lets us use it. Come to think of it, I’ve heard foghorns there before too. Do you think we could be near the river?”

  “Look Carla, I don’t know. I guess I don’t have the same senses that you do. I don’t think it feels damp at all. Do you think you’re coming down with something?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t tell real from fantasy anymore,” Carla said dejectedly.

  “Look, don't get down in the dumps. You could be right. I’ll try to listen more carefully. I just never thought about it before.”

  “You’re probably right. It’s just in my dreams I guess.”

  “Hang in there kid. We will get through this soon. I don’t know how long we have been here but they won’t keep us too much longer.”

  “How do you know?” Carla asked.

  “It only makes sense. The longer they keep us the more likely they will get caught. All we have to do is hang on.”

  “What you say makes perfect sense. If they weren’t going to let us go why would they keep us alive? You’re right as usual Stephanie. Maybe it isn’t as bad as I’ve been making it out to be,” she said with new hope in her voice.

  “That’s it. Just hold on and we will be fine.”

  The captors let them stay together for longer than usual and when they finally took Stephanie way, Carla was in much better spirits. Sometime later Carla was startled awake by a new sound. She lay there trying to figure it out. It sounded like pounding. Maybe someone had found them and was trying to get in.

  She struggled to sit up. The pou
nding continued for some time and moved around the room. She thought it might be someone hammering but it didn’t make much sense to her. Were they sealing them in a tomb? There was nothing she could do but wait, hope and pray. She had time to do a lot of all three. Sometime later they brought Stephanie back in the room. That in itself was unusual.

  The strange voice said, “You will speak and tell your husbands you are all right.”

  “Who are you?” Stephanie yelled at the voice.

  “Do as you are told or you will not be treated so nice,” the voice warned.

  “I will not,” Stephanie said defiantly. A sharp blow and a quick intake of breath was heard by Carla.

  “You leave her alone,” she shouted.

  “Speak,” the voice said.

  “All right but don’t hurt her.”

  “Start now,” the voice said.

  “Ah...what should we say? This is Carla Larkins. I don’t know where we are. I am foggy on the date and time but Stephanie Ashton is here with me. Say something Steph.”

  “Yeah. I’m here. Just come and get us okay?”

  “Enough,” the voice said and they could hear the tape recorder being turned off.

  When they were finished they took Stephanie from the room.

  Carla yelled, “We will be all right Stephanie. You said so yourself.”

  All she heard was the sound of retreating footsteps.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “So what did you find out?” Logan asked, sitting at his desk.

  “What a place. I talked to the manager if you can call him that. I showed him the picture but he swears that he never saw the guy. Like I’m so surprised. He wouldn’t have said he recognized them if I had shown him a picture of his own mother,” Winston said.

  “Money didn’t work?” Logan asked.

  “No,” he said disgustedly.

  “That’s a first. So, no positive ID. Did you ask about the car?”

  “Are you kidding? What cars? According to him he never gets up to look. I went through his registration book but no Ashton. He said most people just call ahead and he leaves the key under the door mat. They know the drill there. It’s the original ‘No Tell Motel’” Winston said.

  “How do they pay for the room then?”

  “He bills them. He said they always pay promptly. Don't want to mess up a good thing, I guess.”

  “But he has to send the bills someplace. How is that done?”

  “Well that’s kind of a strange thing too. Most go to P.O. Boxes. There was nothing listed for Ashton or anyone else I recognized except for Smith and Jones. Lots of those,” he said rolling his eyes.

  “Gee, who would have guessed?” Logan replied.

  “Let’s start checking out mail boxes. That should lead to some pretty interesting things,” Winston said.

  “Lead on McDuff,” John said, grabbing his coat.

  They ran into trouble almost immediately. The Post Office was worse than the FBI to deal with. No wonder they go around shooting each other, Logan thought. It took threats, a warrant and finally a court order to get the names released. Even then it was like pulling teeth.

  Now the long process of trying to match the La Strada’s billing records with the P.O. Boxes. It was time consuming and tedious. Logan didn’t seem to mind so much but Winston was about to pull his hair out.

  “Hey Logan, you had better come quick,” one of the officers said.

  “What’s up?”

  “Just come on. You’ll find out,” the cop said walking down the hall and down the stairs to the first floor of the precinct.

  When they got there the place was a madhouse. The police had arrested a group of demonstrators at a nearby abortion clinic and it was total chaos. The place was jammed with people and everyone was shoving and shouting. The women were the hardest to control. Most of the men were sort of just taking it all in.

  Extra units were brought in from other precincts but it took almost two hours before they restored calm. By the time Logan and Winston went back upstairs they felt like they had been in a battle for their lives and lost.

  “I’m whipped,” Logan said, rubbing his hip and back.

  “Did you see that one lady try to do a karate chop on me? Can you believe that? I almost punched her in the mouth but you know the lawsuit that would have brought. Police brutality and all that hogwash,” Winston said.

  “Well at least the worst is over. What else could possible go wrong?”

  Just then the phone rang and both of them just looked at it.

  “You get it. I don’t want to know,” Logan said.

  Winston hesitantly answered it. He listened for several seconds before saying, “I see. Thank you. I’ll pass that along,” and hung up.

  “What gives, I hesitate to ask,” Logan said rubbing his hip again.

  “Oh nothing much. It’s just that apparently James Ashton somehow managed to walk out of the station during all the commotion downstairs.”

  Logan sat down heavily in his chair and put his elbows on his knees before placing his face in his hands. Nothing was ever simple, he sighed.

  ****

  Ashton had been handcuffed to the left wrist of the officer and taken down the stairs. His attorney was following close behind giving him advice.

  “Jim, I can get you through booking and the arraignment all right but after that you simply must get a criminal lawyer. I do tort law and am in no way qualified to take on a murder trial. We must get Phillips or McGuire immediately. They are both top notch,” he was saying as the started down the stairs.

  “Do whatever you think is best,” Jim said, not really paying much attention. They could hear noises drifting up the stairwell.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” the policeman said, “It sounds like we have a full house.”

  “Sounds like a lot of shouting to me,” the attorney said.

  The level of noise continued to build as they got closer to the bottom of the stairs. When they stepped into the room it was total pandemonium. People were everywhere, shoving, pushing and yelling at each other. Every available officer was trying to get things back under control.

  “This is crazy,” the officer said to no one in particular.

  “What in the world?” the attorney said in wide-eyed amazement at the mayhem taking place around them. Papers were being tossed and chairs knocked over. Signs that said ‘Stop Murdering Babies’ and ‘Save our Children’ were being used as clubs and weapons against both the police and another group with signs proclaiming ‘Freedom of Choice’.

  Phones, papers, and lamps were being knocked off of desks and trampled underfoot. A wave of out of control humanity surged toward where Ashton and the policeman were standing in stunned shock. They were shoved back and the officer was pushed and went over a bench pulling Ashton with him. The attorney was shoved up against the wall and his briefcase went flying, papers and folders adding to the general carnage taking place.

  The police officer hit his head hard on the edge of the railing and landed with a solid crash to the floor followed by Ashton’s full weight. The bench was shoved over on top of them as the riot continued to devastate the interior of the confined room. A policeman grabbed the attorney and wrestled him to the floor.

  “No. Stop. I’m an attorney,” Jim could hear him screaming as he was shoved and dragged deeper into the fracas.

  Jim tried to get up but the crush of humanity forced him back down. The officer was not moving and Jim was sure he was seriously hurt. Blood was running from a cut over his eye. There was little he could do. Just trying to breathe was challenging with all the pressure from fallen people.

  He finally worked his feet up against the back of the bench and pushed with all his might. He gained a small amount of space but could only hold for a few seconds before the body mass was just too much to handle. The bench fell back on the two men again and Jim fought to get his breath.

  He knew it must be even worse for
the officer he was lying on. He worked his free hand down and was able to locate the keys on the officer’s key chain but it took a great deal of effort to finally get them out of his pocket. He fumbled with the keys until he was eventually able to get the handcuff off his wrist. He quickly raised his hands and feet against the bench and shoved with all the force he could muster and was able to get enough leverage to shove a few people off of them.

  He got to his feet, still pushing people away and tried to pull the officer up off the floor. He was dead weight but he finally got a purchase under his arms and dragged him to the stairwell. Jim checked him and found he was still breathing but was obviously seriously injured.

  He saw a door just inside the room and quickly pushed his way to it. Once he got inside he found it was one of the small courtrooms. Several people were huddled together in the far corner.

  “What is going on out there,” the judge demanded.

  “A riot of some kind. I just ducked in here to get out of danger. It is out of control,” Jim said heaving for breath.

  “What are the police doing about it?” he asked.

  “Mostly losing the battle. They are outnumbered ten to one. Several officers are hurt and it doesn’t show any sign of letting up.”

  An object or body crashed heavily against the door and they all jumped. One lady let out a small yelp.

  “All right everyone, we need to clear this room. I want you all to follow me immediately,” the Judge said.

  He led them to a chamber room that had an outside door.

  “Move quickly. I want you all to leave the area immediately. I do not want anyone getting hurt or killed. Go. Go,” he said, starting to shove them out the door.

  Ashton didn’t know what to do. If he left he would certainly be considered a fugitive once this all blew over, if he stayed he was surely going to jail. The Judge shoved him in the back and before he knew it he was standing outside and the door was shut. He looked around and could see more police cars arriving. A barrier was being set up around the perimeter of the station.

  Officers in riot gear were starting to appear. He was torn as to what was the best thing to do. Finally he just walked to the sidewalk. A policeman roughly shoved him on the other side of the barrier. He stood there for a few minutes, indecision tugging at his brain.