by DiAnn Mills
“We’re working on getting your money back. The lawyer says whoever withdrew the funds had the account number and proper transfer documentation. Now the bank won’t allow a dime to be released without all three of our signatures.”
Gramps shook his head. “Losing cash because a person makes a stupid decision is one thing. Take me to the FBI. Those folks will get the money returned to its rightful owners. Can’t tell me Silver Hospitality was the only elderly care center hit by bad boys.”
“I’d rather wait until I’ve had time to talk to Marsha Leonard again, and our lawyer.”
“White-collar crimes are under the jurisdiction of the FBI. You’re an excellent police officer, but we need more resources. The ones who stole the fifty grand still have our bank account number. You think we’re safe, and maybe so. But those crooks need to be behind bars.”
“I promise I’ll get you answers.”
Gramps pushed back his empty bowl. “Either you take me, or I’ll get Abby to drive. Their office is on State Highway 290, big green windows. You choose.”
“I need a receipt or a name.” His grandparents had been swindled, but what could he do? Gramps’s mind jumped from past to present to not remembering. The bank transaction had the appearance of his grandfather’s conducting the business.
“Told you the receipt was to be sent e-mail.”
“But you don’t have e-mail.”
Gramps shrugged. “I intended to set one up.”
“Even the FBI requires evidence of a suspected crime.”
Gramps drummed his fingers on the table. “I have the salesman’s appointment on my calendar and his name. I also have a brochure from his company.”
He disappeared and soon returned. He laid a brochure from Lifestyle Insurance on the table. No contact information was listed.
“Take this, and see what you can find out. The same guy who sold life insurance to Tom and Emma gave me his propaganda,” he said. “The man convinced us that our families would benefit from our generosity.” He spit the words. “The security camera at Silver Hospitality must have been down ’cause I know what happened.”
“Give me a little more time.”
“I’ll handle this on my own.”
“Daniel, I’ll take him to the FBI.” Gran hadn’t said a word to this point. “This isn’t your fight.”
A dull ache persisted at the base of Daniel’s head. “Okay, we’ll go in the morning. I’ll call into work now and tell them I’ll be late.”
His cell phone buzzed: Marsha Leonard.
“Daniel.” Her voice trembled. “When Tom Hanson’s son arrived to pick him up, we thought he was sleeping . . . but he’d died of a heart attack. Would you tell Earl and Abby? They were so close.”
His gut twisted. “I saw him tonight, and he was fit, healthy. Gramps played dominoes with him. I can’t believe this.”
“Me too. But his time must have come. Tom’s family has requested a memorial service tomorrow evening.”
“We will be there. Please give our condolences to the family.” The call ended, he glanced at his grandparents. Uneasiness dumped caution into his system. According to Gramps, Tom had purchased a fraudulent life insurance policy. And now he was dead.
CHAPTER 4
8:30 A.M. THURSDAY
Laurel’s stomach protested her lack of breakfast, and lunch was over three hours away. But she had a sure way to appease her stomach’s growls. With her attention on the computer screen, she pulled open a drawer and wrapped her fingers around a Snickers bar. The luscious scent made her mouth water—the velvety milk chocolate and the crunch of peanuts. True nirvana.
Relishing each bite, she scrolled through the reports from statewide agencies, reading the victims’ accountings. Many were ashamed, robbed of their finances, and depressed. Instantly she sobered. These guys needed to be stopped. That meant following through in seeing Wilmington, proving he was behind the scams with his encoded communication. Did he think she wouldn’t recognize it?
Acid rose in her throat. Wilmington was her prize criminal. She’d clip his wings for this and ensure he never hurt anyone again. The thought of meeting with him today made her skin crawl.
Her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts: Su-Min.
“Laurel, we have an interview. Thatcher Graves introduced me to an elderly couple and their grandson who need to talk to us.” She indicated the interview room to meet them.
Thatcher worked violent crime. She and Su-Min worked white collar. Why the threesome on an interview when she had so much to do?
“I’ll be right there.” She popped the last bite of Snickers into her mouth and grabbed her iPad and cell phone. Curiosity filled her. But she didn’t need another case to divert her time, only the one looming over her.
Laurel knocked on the interview door and waited for permission to enter. Five minutes later Su-Min joined her in the hall. The interview must be intense to make her wait.
“Won’t take long,” Su-Min said.
“Why Thatcher?”
She shook her head. “Random. He walked in with an elderly couple and their grandson. The older man told him his friend might have been murdered. That got Thatcher’s attention, and he decided to take part in the interview.”
“Okay. What’s going on?”
“The intel we’re receiving is indicative of similar cases involving elderly fraud. I think this complaint is worth pursuing.” Su-Min gestured her inside.
An older couple and a younger man stood when Laurel and Su-Min entered the room.
Su-Min began the introductions. “Mr. and Mrs. Hilton, Officer Daniel Hilton, this is Special Agent Laurel Evertson. She and I work white collar crime together. I’ve called her in because she’s been investigating a case that mirrors your concerns.”
Laurel shook hands with the Hiltons, noting the white-haired man’s Santa-type appeal and the younger man clad in jeans and a blue knit shirt. The woman trembled, perhaps fearful of the interview or an indication of a neurological problem. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Shall we get started?”
The Hiltons sat across the table from the agents.
Laurel opened her iPad. “How can I help?”
Su-Min cleared her throat. “Agent Evertson, the Hiltons are clients of Silver Hospitality, an elderly day care facility that provides assistance from 6 a.m. to 9 p.m. seven days a week. Their grandson, Officer Hilton, provides the transportation.”
Laurel googled Silver Hospitality and learned it was a private facility off Memorial Drive that specialized in memory care, likely the reason the younger Hilton accompanied the older couple. How sad for him.
“I don’t have dementia,” Mrs. Hilton said, her brown eyes bright with intelligence. At one time, her hair must have been a vivid red, and the years had merely softened the color. “I accompany Earl to the facility six days a week as a companion. We’ve been together for seventy years, and I don’t intend to stop because of a little mind blip. I spend most of the day with my husband, but sometimes I leave him alone with his friends to play games and talk.” She straightened and revealed the sophistication of years gone by. “We’re here because Earl was scammed and possibly a few others.” She rested her hand atop her husband’s.
Officer Hilton smiled at his grandmother, and she relaxed. Sweet sight.
“And you believe a crime has been committed?” Su-Min said to Mrs. Hilton.
“Yes, but I was not privy to any financial arrangements. Earl told me he had purchased a life insurance policy, and I ignored him. Then the savings account statement came in, and fifty thousand dollars was missing.” She sighed. “We are financially secure, but the theft needs to be addressed.”
“Abby, I’m so sorry,” Earl said. “The FBI and Daniel will help us get our money back and find the answers.”
The older man appeared lucid, but if this man had Alzheimer’s or dementia, little of what he said in court would be valid.
“You’re thinking I haven’t a clue what I’m talking about.” E
arl folded his hands on the table. “Yes, I’ve been diagnosed with the big A. That means my mind jumps around from time to time, and it could happen during this conversation. So I need to say a few things now just in case.”
The grandson stiffened. Yet his eyes emitted warmth and caring.
“My grandson here is a blessing. Daniel has his own home and responsibilities, but he’s ready at a moment’s notice to take care of Abby and me. Spends more time at our house than his. He was totally against the meeting today. In fact, he’s helping Silver Hospitality conduct staff interviews to see if any of them bypassed the security system to let the salesman inside. But I threatened to come alone. One of our friends just passed, and I know he purchased something from the swindler. A woman at the facility bought sour goods too.”
“What was your friend’s name?” Su-Min said.
“Tom Hanson.”
“What was the name of the company and the salesman?”
Mr. Hilton pulled a slip of paper from his shirt pocket. “I found this inside my Bible, the name of Russell Jergon. I think he represented a company called Lifestyle Insurance. As I said, my mind isn’t what it used to be. I remember a gravelly voice.”
Su-Min handed the piece of paper to Thatcher and on to Laurel, who did a quick search and found nothing listed for the business or the salesman. Neither did the slip of paper have the business’s name. “Do you have an address or phone number?” Laurel said.
“No, ma’am. Jergon visited the center during the afternoon. Talked to Tom, Emma, and me.” The lines in his face deepened. “Are you real agents or are you playing a game?”
Compassion poured through her. “No reason to feel deceived. We’re here to help. Were you given a receipt?”
“All I remember is the man said he preferred to send an e-receipt. I didn’t want to sound like a product of the Dark Ages, so I gave him the address Daniel had suggested I use for setting up an e-mail account.” He shook his head. “Why I didn’t give him Daniel’s e-mail is ludicrous. Anyway, I intended to go home and have him get me online, but I forgot.”
“It’s all right, Gramps,” Officer Hilton said.
A tear slipped from a clouded eye. “I’m aware of how ridiculous this sounds. But human dignity is involved here. A company scammed old folks whose minds are like light switches, and now a friend has died. Supposed to have been a heart attack. My Abby is the only mentally healthy client there.”
“I’m surprised the facility allows her to join you.” Laurel studied her for signs of dementia.
Abby Hilton smiled. “That’s because our money is building a new wing. Get my own way a lot.”
More of a reason for bad guys to get their fingers into the Hiltons’ pie. Laurel mentally compared the other elderly scam cases, realizing the Hiltons’ claims were nearly identical, except no one else had reported a death. The latter needed to be looked into.
“Technology can accomplish anything, and that scares me.” Earl’s shoulders rose and fell. Beaten and humiliated. “When we’re logical, no one wants to admit they’ve been preyed on.” He straightened. “The man came twice to talk to folks.” He looked at his wife. “Right?”
“That’s what you told me, dear. I saw the man talking to Earl, Tom, and Emma. I thought he was a visitor. Then I listened to the conversation and realized he was urging Emma to give him money. The rules state clients are supposed to keep personal belongings locked up in the safe, but there’s always ways to get around the rules. I went after the director, but she was busy. By the time I convinced the security guard there was a problem, Jergon had left.”
“Is the deceased’s family aware of your claims?” Thatcher said.
“I have no idea,” Abby said. “Tom’s death is more my concern than losing money. He was a healthy man. Alzheimer’s people usually die of pneumonia.”
Laurel made notes on her iPad. “Did the salesman have anything unusual about his appearance?”
Abby nodded at Earl. “He was older than my grandson,” he said. “Had streaks of gray in his hair. Dark brown. Possibly a little Hispanic blood, but no accent. He was under six foot. Muscular, like he worked out.”
“Thank you, sir,” Laurel said. “When did he visit?”
“A month ago. Like I said earlier, he came in the afternoons when some take naps.”
“It’s a perfect time,” Abby said. “Half the staff is on break then. I often talk to the receptionist or director. Daniel, have I missed anything?”
“I don’t think so.”
What a gentle tone he used for his grandparents. “Mrs. Hilton, did you or any of the staff talk to the salesman?” Laurel said.
“Yes. I asked him what he was doing there. Later I checked but couldn’t find where he’d signed in at the front desk.”
Daniel nodded. “The facility has security cameras in place and no one is allowed past the receptionist area unless their name is on the client’s list, they’ve produced identity, and they’re electronically allowed inside the clients’ area. I checked again before we came, and there’s nothing indicating a man with his description.” Daniel’s voice was not the least condemning. Laurel’s respect for the younger man rose several notches.
“The cameras could have been turned off. They’re computer controlled,” Earl said. “And you’ve been there in the afternoon, walked in without a question.”
“In my uniform. They recognize me.”
Earl clenched his fist. “Anything can happen if properly planned.”
“My husband owned an accounting firm.” Abby linked her arm with his. “He can spot a crime before it happens.”
“That takes an intelligent man.” Laurel smiled into the older man’s face. “The FBI’s work is useless without community support. Our job here is to sort through the facts and make an informed decision.”
“Are you placating me, young lady?” Earl raised a brow. “How long have you been an agent?”
“Eleven years, sir.”
“Because if you think a sweet smile will make me feel better, you’re wrong. Dead wrong. I don’t intend to give up until the truth surfaces.”
Laurel liked Earl’s spunky attitude, although irritability was an indication of Alzheimer’s. She admired Abby’s support of a man who was reverting to memories from the past to communicate in the present. “Not at all. You aren’t the first person to complain about being cheated out of money. This could be a small operation or a large one working city to city. We have other reported cases similar to yours.”
The older man turned to his grandson. “You’ll follow up on this, right? We don’t need any more suspicious deaths.”
Normally Laurel would have smiled at Earl’s attempt at manipulation, but not when the man had experienced a fraud.
“I’ll keep in contact with the FBI,” Daniel said. “Inform you of any new developments.”
“I don’t have any more questions,” Thatcher said. “But we’ll look into the matter. Special Agent Evertson may have a few questions.”
Other than involving an artist for a sketch of Russell Jergon, she didn’t have much to go on. The whole concept of coercing older people out of their hard-earned money frustrated her. What she needed to check was the mental and physical status of all the victims.
“What can I do to help? And who’d believe me?” Earl said. “I could pick out the man in a lineup, and that makes me a candidate to get hurt.”
“I understand,” Laurel said.
“Do you? Have you ever been afraid for your life?”
Laurel masked her fear. When Jesse died, she’d taken a six-week leave of absence to deal with the aftermath of her undercover work. “Since your caretaker is an HPD officer, I doubt anyone will bother you.”
“Thanks, young lady. Jimmy, I’m ready to go. Your mom will have lunch on the table.”
There went her idea to have Earl help compile a sketch of the salesman.
Daniel sighed. “We do need to leave. Gramps, I’m Daniel, not Jimmy.”
Earl eyed him. “You aren’t Jimmy?”
“He’s my dad. I’m your grandson.”
Earl stood. “Guess I’m confused.” He peered at Gran. “Who are you?”
Abby took his hand. “I’m your favorite redhead.”
Daniel nodded at the agents, obvious embarrassment creeping into his face. “Thank you very much for your time. You have my contact information. I apologize for any inconvenience.”
“That’s why we’re here.” Thatcher’s words sounded professional with a twinge of sympathy.
“Wait a minute.” Laurel wanted to soothe what the Hiltons might interpret as noncaring. “Here’s my card, Officer Hilton. I promise I’ll look further into this. Illegal activities involving the elderly are one of my personal projects.” She moved around the table and took Earl’s hand, pressing another card into his palm. His eyes no longer sparkled. “Sir, I do know what it’s like to be afraid for your life. I’m here for whatever you need.”
CHAPTER 5
10:15 A.M. THURSDAY
Exiting the FBI building, Daniel glanced at the bureau’s emblem etched in stone outside the glass doors. Many a press conference took place here, and he hoped the fool he’d made of himself today wouldn’t be the subject of one of them.
He mulled over this conversation with Agent Evertson. He didn’t need to act like she was the enemy. The whole matter could have been handled better. He tended to be hard on himself, demanding perfection in all aspects of his work. It was frustrating to feel shut out of an investigation, and he’d let his personal feelings for the big FBI and his grandparents’ welfare get in the way of professionalism. The two law enforcement agencies needed to work together for the good of the people. Neither was superior to the other. His conclusions inched from irritated to logically thinking through what alienation from the FBI meant. If his grandparents had stumbled onto a viable crime—and he believed they had—then it must be stopped.
Gran was so loyal, but by her own admission, she hadn’t witnessed all of Gramps’s claims. But the money had disappeared from their account, and the problem originated at Silver Hospitality. Daniel had been adamant, insisting the facility had been lax in their security. With Miss Leonard’s permission, he’d hoped to uncover some answers by conducting staff interviews.
