Murder at Bear Ranch

by Alex Harris

  Chapter 12

  “Marlene, this new friend of your dad’s, can you tell us how to get ahold of him?” Oriole called the daughter of the deceased.

  “Gary, Gary, something. He’s an architect locally. He’s on a bunch of committees here. One is the Sharlot Hall Museum. You could get ahold of them for how to find him. But can you be discreet? I don’t want Daddy’s name dragged through the mud.” Marlene was almost in tears.

  “We just want to ask some questions. We’ll be as discreet as possible. It might help if you could give us a little more information on Gary. That might help us be even more discreet. Did you look through your dad’s stuff to see if there might be a name and phone number?” Patience was a virtue, but Oriole’s was running out.

  “Well, I never looked for a phone number. If Daddy had it, it would either be in his cell phone or his PDA or maybe on his desk. Where’s his phone and PDA? Do you have them, ‘cause I don’t have either.”

  “This is the first we heard his phone and PDA are missing. Can you give us the makes, models and carrier, please.” Patience was replaced by teeth grinding.

  “Well, I’m sorry. There have been so many details. I just forgot about the phone and PDA. I’ll get the make and model and the number. The carrier is the same as everyone’s here. It’ll only take me a minute. Oh, here, here are some phone numbers in Daddy’s hand writing. This one is for Gary. I don’t know anyone else named Gary so this must be it.”

  “Thanks, Marlene, I know this has not been easy for you. I appreciate all your help. Things will sometimes fall through the cracks. We’ll get through this together. You wouldn’t happen to have the most current bill would you, does your bill show recent calls? That might save us getting a subpoena.” Oriole had taken a moment to put herself in Marlene’s shoes and relaxed back to her compassionate self.

  “The bill does show calls made and received. We’ll have to separate Daddy’s from the others because they all come in on the same bill.”

  “That’s okay, can you fax me a copy of the bill then it’ll be easier to eliminate the company personnel.” Oriole was ready to get on with locating Gary.

  “Sure, I’ll just fax you a complete copy. Names are next to the number as to who is assigned which number.”

  Fred had taken the time to review the will and insurance policies of Marvin Stutz before placing a phone call to the widow. “Mrs. Stutz, this is Detective O’Neill. I need to ask a few questions on follow up. Is now a good time?”

  “ Well, no time is a good time, but what do you need to know?” Fred could hear the reluctance in Mary’s voice.

  “It looks to me that the insurance policies go to your children, and everything else to you. Is that right?”

  “Yes, there’s a $250,000.00 insurance policy to Jeremy and Marlene and the house here, the cars, the condo Marvin bought for himself and the one for Marlene, some stocks, the paintings, jewelry, heirlooms, and everything else is mine. And it should be, after putting up with his lifestyle all these years.” Her voice was just a bit snippy.

  “Ma’am can you tell me how much the estate is worth?” Fred refused to allow her to divert him.

  “There is no estate. My name was on everything, joint tenants with right of survivorship. Nothing will be probated because I survived Marvin and it’s mine now.” He could almost see her stomp her Jimmy Choos.

  “Yes, ma’am that’s why I’m calling. It looks to me like the holdings would run close to two million dollars excluding the insurance policy. Am I close?” Fred wanted her to know he had done his homework.

  “Well, that seems high. I certainly haven’t had time to add it all up. I’ve been a little busy with arrangements. What difference does it make anyway?”

  “I’m just doing some follow up, Mrs. Stutz.”

  “I wish you would quit calling me that. I haven’t used his name for years. Call me Mary or call me Ms Stillwell. Okay?” Mary’s voice had taken on an edge even the phone lines couldn’t disguise.

  “The difference is we’re trying to find out what happened to your late husband, who might benefit from his death, and who might have had a motive to kill him.” Fred decided not to pull any punches in laying it on the line for her.

  “Wait just a minute here. You’re not saying I had a motive are you?” Indignation poured forth from her. “Why that’s the most ludicrous thing I’ve heard. You’re out of your mind. Don’t you have anything better to do with your time than hound me. I’ve just buried my husband and you’re accusing me of killing him. I demand you leave me alone or I’ll be forced to contact your supervisor.” With that, she slammed down the phone.

  Fred sat at his desk, holding a dead phone, looking smug as Oriole walked by. “Just what canary did you swallow.” Oriole smiled at her partner.

  “It gets curiouser and curiouser. Shakespeare was right, me thinks the lady doth protest too much. Let’s bump the grieving widow up the list of possibles.” Fred grinned at Oriole.

  “Tell me why?”

  “Two million whys, that’s why. She gets it all except for the kids get an insurance policy. Nothing goes through probate because of the way it was titled and deeded. Everything was in both names, even though she despised him.” Fred was stacking the paperwork in an expando file.

  “I have what I think is THE Gary’s phone number, plus Marlene faxed over cell phone records. Did you know his phone was missing and that PDA thing-a-ma-bob? Why do people have the PDA anyway? Can’t they keep up with life with a plain ole fashioned calendar? My life is too complicated as it is, what would I do with two more things to keep up with.” Oriole was bemoaning progress.

  “Let’s call and see if it is “THE” Gary. Then let’s compare cell phone records with the numbers we know and see who was the last to call Marvin. Which do you want live phone or quiet, boring paper?” Fred was trying to work his subtle magic on Oriole.

  “Oh, no you don’t, boring paper is my cup of tea. You call. I know you, you’re trying to make me do what you don’t want to by making it sound horrible. Then I follow your suggestion and end up regretting it. No, siree, no, siree. This girl ain’t falling in that trap again.”

  “Ok.OK. I’ll do the phone stuff. No problemo.”

  “Wait a minute; are you trying to snow me. Did you really want to do the phone and really wanted me to do the paper? No I’ll take the phone you take the paper.”

  “Sure whatever you say.” Fred could hardly keep from laughing out loud at messing with her mind.

  “Too easy. If you fold like that, that means you really didn’t want me to do paper because the phone’ll be easier. No. Nope. Nada. I’ll do paper and you do phone.” Oriole’s years with Fred convinced her he was working her, but she just wasn’t sure which way.

  “We’ll flip a coin.” Fred suggested.

  “Oh, sure that double headed nickel in your left pants pocket. Not even. If we flip, it’ll be with my coin, not yours. You sneaky devil.” Now Oriole thought she had figured out what he wanted all the time and was ahead of him and the game.

  “You guys could have had it done by now. Quit arguing and just do it.” Lieutenant Miranda chastised them as he walked through CID.

  Oriole whispered across her desk to Fred, “you did that on purpose, you knew he was coming. I’m remembering this for future reference, you dog.”

  Fred was overcome with laughter and picked up the phone to call “the” Gary. “Gary, this is Detective O’Neill with the sheriff’s office. Do you have a moment, I’d like to ask you some questions?”

  “Sheriff’s Office? What can I do for you?” The voice was a deep bass with a definite southern drawl.

  “We’re doing some background checks. Do you know a Marvin Stutz?”

  “Oh.” A long pause created more questions for Fred.

  “Well, do you know him?”

  “Well as a matter of fact, we were acquainted. What’s this about?”

  “Would it be convenient for you to come down to the office to discuss
this further?” Fred was signaling Oriole with a thumbs up.

  “Come down? What can’t we discuss over the phone? I’m really busy here.” There was a certain put-offishness about the inquiry.

  “Perhaps we could come there. It won’t take long. Tell me where you are, we can be there in 10 minutes.” Fred wasn’t about to let this guy get away.

  “Uh, no. I’m busy right now. Tell me what your schedule is this afternoon. I could probably get away this afternoon.” There was a hint of panic in his voice.

  “How about 2:00? Would that work for you?” Fred wanted to pin him down as soon as he could.

  “Fine. I’ll be at your office. Is that the one on Gurley?”

  “Yes. If you’ll just go to the door next to the constable’s office and ask for Detective O’Neill. They’ll call me. I’ll see you at 2:00. Thanks.” Fred hung up and clapped his hands.

  “Are we excited about something?” Oriole looked up from her review of the cell phone records.

  “He’s too busy for us at his office. Bullshit. He’ll be here at 2. See anything in the phone records?”

  “Yeah. All the employees in management had a company cell phone. Marvin got a total of 15 calls the day he went missing. Four from Marlene, which matches what she said. Three from Littleton. Two from Smith. The rest are a variety. What’s Gary’s cell and office number?” Oriole tapped her pencil against her teeth.

  “We only have office on “the”. Remind me to get his cell phone number when he gets here. Do any of them come from California or Tucson?” Fred was thinking in terms of family.

  “Two from a California area code. That’s probably Mrs. Stutz. None from Tucson or to.” Oriole responded.

  “That would be either ‘Mary, or Ms Stillwell’ as I was informed. What about out going?”

  “Six out going. One to Littleton, two to Smith. Two local. One to California.” Oriole looked up from her copies of Stutz’s records.

  “We need to follow up on those local. Betya dollars to donuts, at least one is to “the”.” Fred could hardly contain his glee in the new found records.

  “We’ve got time to meet with Joe, if you want before our meeting with “the”. How about lunch, I’m starving. All this reading is making me hungry. Let’s call Joe and grab some Chinese.” Oriole was indeed hungry, but also wanted to bring Joe up to speed on what they’d found.

  At lunch Joe briefly explained the plans so far. He had set up a sting buy with meth using the CRI and planned it during the shift work of JD Norman. He had acquired a good deal of meth for the buy and had previously measured the amount, recorded it and used a special dye to mark the package and the meth. His plan was to set up the buy with his CRI and to use Fred or Oriole to complete the process.

  Unfortunately, Joe was unable to get Fred or Oriole and because of his concern about an insider, he contacted a DEA friend to join him, JD, and the rest of the Narcotics Team.

  The six met at the Village parking lot close to 7 pm. The CRI was patted down, pockets turned, socks checked and coat squeezed. His car was checked by the drug Canine dog. The money was marked and copied. Everything was set for a buy to go down at 9:30 p.m. out near Embry Riddle University. Joe and JD rode together. The other four split up and took two cars. The CRI went by himself. They had outfitted him with the latest video camera disguised as a key fob.

  The team was in place behind the new grocery store waiting for the buy to go down. The CRI had enough cash to buy an ounce of meth. That much meth on the streets would meet the needs of hundreds of users especially after it was cut with baking powder or cornstarch.

  Littleton, the CRI, waited in his truck in a semi-crowded part of the parking lot. The seller was to pull his car in next to Littleton’s and make the transfer. At 9:45, a late model BMW pulled in next to Littleton. Littleton figured nobody in a Beemer would be selling and paid little attention to the car until there was a rap on the window.

  “I’m lost. Can you give me directions to the Grand Canyon?” The code that the seller had given to Littleton on the phone earlier in the day.

  “Sure, I’ll draw you a map.” Littleton replied and slipped the money in an envelope he handed to the guy in the Beemer.

  “The directions look easy. Here you can have your envelope back.” And the dope was put inside the envelope and passed back to Littleton. Joe had scheduled a late afternoon meeting with Littleton away from the pipeline and away from the office to maintain some secrecy The rock pit was secluded, yet frequently used by locals for target practice. “Your work has been real important to us. I appreciate the position you’re in. Tell me what’s been going on since Mr. Stutz was killed.”

  “Smith has been real busy, but not at work. I’ve been keeping an eye on his comings and goings. I think something big is happening soon. He seems to be antsy. I’m keeping my distance ‘cause I don’t trust him. He’d soon stick a knife in ya as look at ya. I’m telling you he’s dangerous. I saw him kill a dog that wandered in the yard, just because the dog wouldn’t leave. He beat it to death and didn’t even bat an eye. This guy is off the charts.” Littleton paced back and forth in front of Joe’s SUV.

  “Anything else going on that you’ve seen?” Joe asked.

  “Seems every time I see him he has a different car. What’s that all about? Also he has several cell phones, the company one and then another that is real small he keeps in his pocket. I’ve seen him use it instead of the company one several times toward the end of the day. A couple weeks back, I was downtown for an arts festival and it was real crowded. He was on the plaza sitting on a bench like he was waiting for someone. It’s that bench over by the gazebo. That’s where all the bikes park when they’re in town. Some biker dude walked over and sat down and had a cigarette, then got up and left, put something in his saddlebags and roared on down Montezuma.”

  Joe considered the possibilities, but without more didn’t see how the incident on the plaza was significant. Littleton left. Joe took a few practice shots, took time to clean his gun and placed some phone calls before he left to give Littleton time to get back to work.