Dead Broke (Lana Denae Mystery Series Book 1)

by Bruce A. Borders

  Busy in his office, the man didn’t notice Lana until she spoke. Immediately turning away from his desk, he stood to greet her.

  “Don’t stop working because of me, I just came in to let you know that Ray is here.”

  Holloway nodded. “Yes, I saw him come in a few minutes ago and set him up in the outer office. I hope he has better luck than Davie did.”

  “I’m sure he will,” Lana said. Then quickly added, “Not to disparage Davie of course, it’s just that cyber crimes are Ray’s specialty.”

  “Mine too, these days,” Holloway said.

  “Oh?” Lana said with a raised eyebrow.

  “Setting up fraudulent investment accounts is not exactly legal,” Holloway explained. “Pretty sure the Securities and Exchange Board would not approve.”

  “That was done as part of an investigation,” Lana argued.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Holloway said. “They only recognize federal investigations, and you must notify them beforehand. They have to sign off on any fake accounts.”

  “What fake account?” Lana said. “I happen to know a Mr. Kurt Stabler. In fact, he looks just like the picture on his account profile. I’d even be willing to bet he’s invested quite heavily in the AI-GLIS Fund at the moment.” She shrugged. “Seems legit to me.”

  “Appreciate the support but that’s not likely to fly with the Feds.”

  “Well, let’s hope Ray finds something quick then.”

  The two had been walking as they talked. Reaching the outer office, they stopped.

  Ray finally noticed them and said, “I may have some good news in a few minutes.” Then, looking to Holloway’s IT guy, he asked, “Is it working?”

  Davie didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “So far. Shouldn’t be too long now.”

  Nodding, Ray turned back to Lana. “I’ll spare you the technical details but we’re trying something a little unorthodox—hopefully it will work.”

  “So, you were able to track him then?” Lana asked, a hopeful pitch to her voice.

  “Not yet. But I was able to isolate...” he paused mid-sentence. “Nevermind, I said I’d skip all the technical talk. The condensed version is, I think I’ve successfully created a backwards projection, which theoretically could identify his ISP and eventually, his computer ID.”

  Lana pursed her lips in thought. “You said you’ll know in a few minutes?”

  “Should,” Ray nodded. “Might take a while longer to get all the information. A few hours, maybe—or sooner, now that Davie is helping.”

  Glancing down at her watch, Lana said, “We have six hours before our three o’clock meeting. Let’s hope that’s enough time. I’d like to know which direction the meeting will take—hopefully it will pertain to apprehending our suspect at his home and not addressing trying to catch him in the act of murder.”

  “I’ll let you know the minute I find something,” Ray promised.

  Heading back to the precinct, Lana noticed she was a little on edge; the way she felt when a case was about to reach its turning point. She just wished she knew which way it was going to turn—for the better, or for the worse.

  Spending the rest of the morning studying a map of downtown Portland, she assigned positions to the plainclothes officers who would be helping if they needed to go through with the plan to put Kurt out as bait. The officers would be stationed at various strategic locations on and around the Steel Bridge. She had no doubt her men could subdue the suspect. The only question was if they could do it before he attempted to kill Kurt Stabler. In order to assure that, there needed to be enough guys close by to make sure the suspect had no chance to get that close. But they needed to stay out of sight.

  Lana sighed. Careful as she was with the planning, this was all speculation, based on the assumption the suspect would act in a manner consistent to his history, and assuming the man would go after Kurt Stabler. But what if he didn’t? What if he used a different method of attack? Would he choose to wait, and possibly go after Kurt at a later date? And, if they never found the suspect, did that mean Kurt would be in danger indefinitely? Had she made a huge mistake? Had her plan put Kurt perpetually in the killer’s sights?

  She took a deep breath, trying to stop her worried mind from running away with itself. The effort did little to calm her nerves. Grimly, she knew there were no answers to the deluge of questions—yet, which only added to her anxiety. This was another man’s life she was gambling with.

  Leaving the precinct, Lana went for lunch downtown, hoping to clear her head. At fifteen after one, she returned and was pleasantly surprised to find Ray seated in her office. A smiling Ray.

  “Good news?” she asked hopefully.

  Ray nodded, handing her a single sheet of paper. At the top was a name, Eric Schmidt, and below that an email address as well as a physical address. These were followed by an extensive profile and a long list of other information.

  “This is our guy?”

  “Affirmative,” Ray said. “He tried to disguise his identity in several ways; the computer and Internet were registered to different names, not his own. He used a lot of names, in fact.”

  “So how are you sure he is the right guy?”

  Ray smiled proudly, almost gloating, as he detailed his “daring” escapades through cyber space. “I had an idea to search recent transactions, banks, credit cards, and other online activity: PayPal, Etsy, Ebay, and of course the big one, Amazon. Then, I cross-referenced that info against the names of our victims. And got several matches.”

  “I assume you were somehow able to narrow it down?”

  Nodding, Ray said, “Turns out he has used the identity of all six ‘jumpers,’ setting up a virtual smorgasbord of credit. Those, combined with the investment payouts, have him set for life. It’s well over a million dollars.”

  “And how does that help us?”

  Ray was smirking a little now. “He made a mistake. A critical one. Everything traced back to a single computer. All these accounts, with multiple names; every one of them was set up from the same computer. That wouldn’t be unusual if the computer were in a library or some business. But when the computer is located in a single residency apartment...”

  Lana nodded. “Eric Schmidt’s apartment. But how can you be sure someone else wasn’t living there or using his computer?”

  “Got it covered,” Ray said. “I checked the utility records for the past several months; the water and electricity usage is consistent with one occupant. The only name listed on the accounts is, Eric Schmidt, the same name that appears on the lease. And, DMV records confirm that this address belongs to one Eric Schmidt.”

  Lana scanned the information on the paper. “Five-feet and seven inches tall, and one hundred seventy-eight pounds,” she said.

  “Yes,” Ray said, “Which is within the range of the description we got from the video. But...” he paused then.

  “What?” Lana said. “I don’t have time for buts.”

  Ray frowned. “Well, oddly, there are no firearms registered to him, nor is there any record of him purchasing one.”

  “That’s not unusual,” Lana said with a puzzled look. “Lot’s of people do not own weapons.”

  “Whoever killed Mrs. Wymer did use a gun,” Ray reminded her.

  Lana shrugged. “Easy enough to obtain a gun these days without going through the hassle of using a dealer.”

  “I realize that,” Ray said. “But Mr. Schmidt is an upstanding citizen, or at least was until recently—no priors of any kind. If he had wanted a gun he could’ve easily passed the background check.”

  “Maybe he didn’t want there to be a record because of how he intended to use it.”

  “Maybe,” Ray said. Then, “There is also this interesting fact: Eric Schmidt was previously enrolled in ITT - Technical Institute, right here in Portland. He didn’t graduate but, up until he dropped out, he was at the top of his class.”

  “So, he would have the knowledge and the ability to pull this off,” L
ana said. “Hacking into Cascade Global’s computers, covering his tracks while doing so, and even disabling the security cameras.”

  “Easily.”

  “Well, that’s good enough for me. Let’s hope it’s enough for a warrant.”

  Ray looked like he wanted to say something more but didn’t know if he should.

  “What is it?”

  “Well... It’s just, Sophia Davis, who I know you don’t think much of, came by while you were at lunch. She wanted me to pass along her psyche profile of the man based on the information I discovered.”

  “Yay!” Lana said, not sounding the least bit happy. “Hope it’s a little more on the money than her previous redneck theme. That one seems to be severely flawed.”

  Without comment, Ray handed Lana the psychiatrist’s two-page report, neatly typed.

  “I’m not going to read all of that,” Lana squawked. “Just give me the Reader’s Digest version.”

  Ray shrugged. “Figured you'd say that. She says that Eric, being a loner, needs the attention he’s getting from all of this. Craves it, she says, because he’s trying to make up for being ignored by his parents as a child. So, now he wants to make his name known. Down deep, she claims, he’s not really a killer.”

  Lana was shaking her head in disbelief. “So, we’re supposed to go easy on him because he had a difficult childhood? I don’t think so!” she railed. He’s a killer, pure and simple. A cold-blooded killer.”

  Ray nodded. “You see why I hesitated to bring it up,” he said. “But I promised Sophia I’d give it to you.”

  “Thanks,” Lana told him. “But as usual, her analysis is absurd. I think I’ll go see if I can round up a judge who’ll get me that warrant.”

  “Good idea,” Ray agreed.

  Finding a judge who agreed with her was not difficult and less than an hour later, Lana returned, the warrant in hand. Officers were already filing in for their three o’clock meeting.

  Taking the first two who walked through the door, Lana immediately sent them to relieve Jamie and Damien; with directions they send the detectives back to the precinct. She had “almost” promised her “partners” they could take, or at least share the credit on this case and thought it only fair to include them in the bust. Besides, she trusted them—far more than she trusted the other members of the force.

  Captain Hayden, who usually stayed secluded behind the isolating walls of his office, preferring to remain mysterious and enigmatic to the rank and file, for once made a surprise appearance, walking into the precinct main room as Lana was finishing up her notes. “I see you have everything under control,” he said.

  “I think so,” she told him. “Ray has provided us pictures, that he download from Google, of the suspect and the stand-alone apartment. This will allow our guys to be a least a little familiar with the place. I also plan to send a plain car past the residence just before we arrive to ensure there are no surprises awaiting us.”

  The Captain nodded his approval. “And Detectives Spencer and Wyatt? Will they be on hand?”

  “On their way back here now, sir. Officers McGregor and Chase have relieved them at the safe house.”

  Contemplating Lana’s words a moment, the Captain nodded again. “Keep me apprised of the operation.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  With that, the Captain was gone.

  “What was that all about? Ray asked quietly.

  Lana shrugged. “Just wanted to see how things are going, I guess.”

  “Never that curious any other time,” Ray said.

  “Well, this isn’t an ordinary case,” Lana pointed out. “We’ve had seven murders. He probably has the Chief of Police, the Mayor, and the City Council all asking when we’re going to have this thing solved.”

  Ray nodded in agreement. “Bet he does. Probably a lot of other people too.”

  The time was now five minutes past three and Lana again slid out her box, stepping up to give a short speech. Calling for everyone’s attention, she’d just gotten them quieted down when Jamie and Damien slipped in the door. Acknowledging them with a brief nod, she waited as they found a place along the back wall.

  “Now that we’re all here,” she began, “I have some good news. Our perp has been identified, thanks to Officer Ray Chaffe.” Waiting for the short smattering of applause, she held up the picture of the suspect. “The man’s name is Eric Schmidt. We have obtained a search warrant and will be conducting a raid this evening on his residence. Officer Chaffe has provided us pictures of the apartment, which are posted on the board behind you. Familiarize yourself with the layout please.

  We will be seizing all computers, as well as anything financial. If Mr. Schmidt is encountered, he is to be taken into custody. However, do not fire on the suspect unless necessary. We want the man alive.

  We will make the raid at six. But will leave well before that in order to have everyone in position and ready to move on my signal. That’s all for now.”

  Stepping down off her box, Lana caught Jamie’s eye and motioned that she needed to speak privately with him and his partner. Moving to the far side of the room, she waited for the two detectives to join her.

  “What’s up?” Jamie asked when they were close enough to talk without being overheard.

  “Here’s the way this is going to work,” Lana said. “I will go in first. I want you two to follow right behind me. Pick three others to back us, with the rest remaining outside.”

  “You realize standard police procedure is to send in the grunts first, right?” Jamie said.

  Lana shook her head. “Not the way I operate. I think that rule was made by someone like Commander Olsen, who believes they are more important than everybody else.”

  Smirking, Jamie nodded.

  “Anything else?” Damien asked.

  “Yeah,” Lana said. “If it comes down to a shootout—don’t shoot me.”

  “There you go giving orders again,” Jamie replied, in his patented blithe tone.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Open up! Police!” Lana called out the order loud and clear, pounding on the door with her fist. Waiting only a few seconds, she knocked again, announcing, “Police! We have a warrant to search the premises.”

  Getting no response, she motioned for the officer holding the battering ram to bust open the door. Standing off to the side, weapon in hand, she checked once to make sure Jamie and Damien were in position. Satisfied her backup was in place, she focused straight ahead.

  The two windows, one on each side of the door, presented a danger. Anyone inside the apartment could easily fire right through them and Lana tried to keep her body close to the wall to minimize the possibility. But she could not afford the luxury of moving her eyes off the door; that’s where the action, if there were any, would most likely be. The other officers, armed with rifles and positioned safely behind their vehicles, would watch the windows. She was confident they would do their job. She had to be; there was little choice in the matter now.

  Knowing the suspect was inside, thanks to the unmarked cruiser she’d sent by just minutes before she and the others arrived, was a little unnerving. That he hadn’t answered the door, suggested he might have some nefarious plan once she and her guys attempted to enter.

  But she couldn’t worry about that now.

  Raising her hand, Lana gave the signal to initiate the breeching of the door.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the front end of the battering ram come into view. Then saw, and heard, it smash against the door. As the wooden doorframe splintered and busted, giving way to the force behind the blow, the door flew open and Lana instinctively began moving forward. “Police! Hands in the air!” she shouted as her body crossed the threshold.

  In the darkened interior, she caught sight of the suspect on the far side of the room. The man was seated at the dining room table, smiling serenely as if he had not a care in the world.

  “Hands in the air!” Lana shouted again, aiming her Glock squar
ely between the man’s eyes.

  The guy didn’t flinch. Didn’t even move. And still, he wore the creepy smile.

  Close enough now to recognize him as the man in the photograph Ray had provided, Lana quickly checked to make sure Jamie and Damien flanked her on both sides before holstering her weapon. Reaching for her handcuffs, she said, “Eric Schmidt, you are under arrest.”

  As the other officers cleared the rest of the apartment, Lana read her suspect his rights and then called for him to be taken outside.

  Once Eric was secured in the squad car, she reached for her phone. The first call was to the two officers stationed at Roselyn Wymer’s apartment. Informing them of the progress on the raid, she said Eric Schmidt was in custody and they could leave the apartment.

  Next, she dialed Nellie Langstrom’s number and asked to speak with Kurt. Bringing him up to date, she said, “So, we believe we have arrested your aunt’s killer.”

  “Good to hear,” Kurt said. “Thank you. So, am I free to go?”

  “That might not be a good idea just yet, until we get an update out to the media,” Lana told him. “But if you’d like, you can start going through your aunt’s things. I spoke to the DA and her apartment has been officially cleared; you’re free to do what you want with it. I’ll come by after I’m finished and give you a ride back to your hotel.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ll see you sometime this evening, but it might be late,” Lana said, hanging up the phone.

  Back in Eric’s apartment, Lana joined Jamie and Damien in a systematic room-by-room search, hauling out two computers, a tablet, several boxes of software, and multiple hard drives from the living room.

  Moving on to the bedroom, they found another tablet and half a dozen more computers in various stages of disrepair. On the far side of the bed, the floor was lined with a broad array of computer parts.

  “How can anyone, let alone a low-life like this guy, afford all these computers?” Jamie wondered. “I have a decent job and I can barely afford a single one.”

  “You haven’t been knocking people off and stealing their investments either, have you?” Damien said.