by Marvin Wolf
Will said, “We could probably get civilian law enforcement to help with that.”
Chelmin said, “Okay, but hold off on that until we get a look at Mrs. Richardson’s phone logs and her financials.”
Ash said, “How did your poker game go, Alf?”
Landon brightened. “First of all, I won over $800, so I can write Spaulding a check for his seed money.”
Around the table, everyone laughed.
Ash said, “Alf, you were supposed to make friends, not take their money.”
“Not to worry,” he replied. “Turns out this game is mostly donkeys, with a couple of guys who are there to take the donkeys’ money. I should tell you that I put myself through college playing poker, and that’s how I did it: I found games where most of the players expect to lose most of their money. The O Club game is a quarter ante, a dollar limit on raises, and no more than three raises on a hand. In other words, a friendly game.
“As I left for the night, I was invited to another game, table stakes, $500 buy in.”
Chelmin said, “When and where?”
“Tonight, 2200 hours. I gave them my undercover phone number, and I’m expecting a text.”
Chelmin said, “Why the cloak and dagger routine?”
Alf shrugged. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”
Chelmin looked at Ash and then at Will. “What’s next on your agenda?”
Will said, “We’re going to try to find Sharon’s car, and see if we can locate her belongings. The Sheriff’s Department may have put some of them into evidence, and we’ll also try her last landlord.”
Chelmin got to his feet. “Sounds like you’re on top of things. Keep me informed.”
§
The partners split up. Ash called Rachel Bloom and arranged to meet her at Sharon’s last home. headed for Reeves Avenue and Reeves Repairs.
He arrived to a meeting—five burly men in coveralls on chairs around a desk piled high with spare parts. Behind the desk stood a beefy, balding man in a white shirt and slacks. His name tag said “Mr. Evans.”
Everyone looked up as Will entered.
He approached Evans, showed his badge.
“Special Agent Will Spaulding, CID,” he said. “I need about three minutes of your time.”
“We’re having a meeting,” the man said, looking outraged.
“Three minutes. Right now, please.”
Evans smiled. “Never heard a Fed say ‘please’ before.”
Will returned the smile. “Do you still have a car that belonged to Sharon Coe?”
A mechanic cleared his throat. “The fuel pump job?”
Will nodded. “That’s it.”
Evans shook his head. “Sheriffs came and got it months ago. And I’m out $400 in labor and parts on that job. What happened to Mrs. Coe?”
Will frowned. “She was murdered. Do you recall the name of the deputy who took the car?”
“There were two of them. Detectives.”
“Did they give you a receipt for the car?”
Evans moved to a filing cabinet, thumbed through it, removed a sheet of paper, which he handed to Will.
The signature was illegible. But the paper was a standard form, and it had a number. Will said, “Could you make me a photocopy of this?”
“Fifty cents,” said Evans, deadpan.
“Make it a dollar,” said Will, and reached into his wallet as everyone laughed. Two minutes later he was out the door with the copy.
§
Ash turned the corner onto the street where Rachel Bloom lived and was surprised to find her sitting on the front stoop. She waved, and Ash pulled to the curb.
Rachel came down the stairs and stepped into the street on the driver’s side of the car.
“It’s just a few doors down,” she said. “Can we walk? I need the exercise.”
Ash locked the car and mounted the sidewalk.
“They’re expecting us,” Rachel said. “But my children will be home from school soon, so I’m just going to introduce you to Sandy and then scoot.”
“I’m grateful for your help,” replied Ash.
“May I ask a personal question?” Rachel said.
“Maybe.”
“How is that someone who looks like you is named Asher Shapiro?”
Ash smiled. “Someone short, with olive skin and dark hair, is that what you mean?”
Rachel giggled. “You know what I mean.”
“Yes,” said Ash. “I’m adopted. My parents are Jewish.”
“And you, Agent Shapiro—are you Jewish?”
“I had a bat mitzvah. But to tell the truth, right now I’d have to say that my god is Justice—it’s been a while since I found myself in a synagogue.”
They came to a house very similar to the Bloom residence, and Rachel climbed the steps and rang the doorbell. After a minute the door opened and a tall, willowy woman with fair skin and red hair smiled at Rachel and then extended a hand to Ash.
Bloom said, “This is Special Agent Asher Shapiro. Agent Shapiro, Dorothy Collins.”
Ash said, “Mrs. Collins, I’m investigating the murder of Sharon Coe. Have you rented her apartment to another tenant?”
Collins said, “No.”
Ash said, “What about her belongings? Do you still have them?”
Collins said. “Her clothes and her furniture, such as it is.”
“What about her personal papers?”
“Jeff’s grandmother came and went through everything. She took Jeff’s birth certificate some other papers, his clothes and toys, and some other things.”
“Do you remember when that was?”
Collins put the back of her hand against her forehead and shut her eyes. “I’m not sure of the date, but it was either the morning of the day after she went missing or the next morning.”
“Are there any papers left at all—appointment book, a diary, family documents?”
Again Dorothy shook her head. “Oh, no. The sheriffs came, boxed thing up, and took it away.”
“And when was that?”
“The same day that Mrs. Richardson was here. A few hours later, I think.”
Chapter 32
Will found Ash in her car in a corner of the Sheriff’s public parking area and climbed in beside her.
“So?” she said.
“So the Sheriff’s men picked up the car a few days after her body was found.” He handed her the receipt, which she looked at closely.
She jabbed a sharp fingernail at the date in the upper corner of the page. “No! They picked it up on August 14—the day after she went missing, and more than a week before her body was found.”
Will said, “They were looking for evidence about her disappearance.”
Ash pursed her lips. “Maybe, but she wasn’t driving that car when she went missing. Can you think of what they hoped to find in that car?”
Will said, “If it was my case, I’d have done the same thing, as soon as I learned she was missing. You never know what you might find in someone’s car.”
Ash puffed out her cheeks, as if to say that she wasn’t buying Will’s theory.
Will said, “What did you find?”
“Our vic’s landlady said that Idelle Richardson came to Sharon’s apartment either the morning after she went missing or the next one, and took her grandson’s birth certificate and other papers. Sheriffs took the rest of her papers the same day.”
Will said, “Circumstantial, but it stinks to high heaven.”
Ash opened the door and swung her legs out. “Wait here,” she said. “I’m going to have a girly heart-to-heart with Sheriff Taliaferro.”
Chapter 33
When Special Agent Alfred Landon worked undercover, he used one of three fictional identities created for this purpose. When he began looking into poker games, he assumed the identity of Forrest Milgram, a civilian systems analyst employed by the post data processing center, an identity that included a faux personnel file kept in Human Relations with a
n artificial personal history. Landon was in fact trained in computer science, including a master’s degree from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Milgram, however, was a UCLA graduate. To protect this identity from compromise, all UCLA student yearbooks available at that institution’s library had been reprinted to include mention of the fictional Milgram, including photos.
Dressed in loose blue jeans and a long-sleeved flannel shirt under a windbreaker and wearing a Red Sox baseball cap, Landon entered the officer’s open mess and turned into a corridor off the bar. He opened the third door down the corridor and found himself in a room with a billiard table and three card tables. It was a little after 1900 hours; the room was empty except for a short, powerfully built man of perhaps 50 years. He had a full head of curly, dark blond hair with long sideburns, a closely-trimmed beard and mustache, and wore a blue dress shirt open at the neck, pressed khaki slacks, and a blue blazer with gold buttons.
“Who are you?” said the man.
“Milgram,” said Landon. “Forrest Milgram. I thought there was a game here tonight?”
The man said, “I’m Reggie. I’ll take you to the game, but first, empty your pockets on that table.”
Landon took a step toward the table and stopped. “What’s going on? I just came to play poker,” he said.
“And you will. First things first. Your pockets, please.”
Landon shrugged and laid his wallet, phone, car keys, and several coins on the billiard table.
Reggie opened the wallet, took out Landon’s California drivers license and compared the photo on it to Landon’s face. Then he looked at his Department of the Army ID, and examined the other cards, checking that all their names matched the license. He put everything back in the wallet.
“Take off your wristwatch,” Reggie said.
Landon unbuckled the clasp and handed his stainless steel Rolex Oyster Perpetual to Reggie, who examined it carefully, then handed it back.
“Nice watch,” Reggie said. “What did it set you back?”
“I won it in a poker game,” said Landon, letting his annoyance show.
“There’s a thousand dollar buy-in,” said Reggie.
“I heard $500.”
“It’s a thousand. Do you have the money?”
Landon unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a black fabric money belt. “Satisfied?”
Reggie shook his head, smiling. “Please take it off. I need to look at it.”
Landon smiled back. “Why?”
“Procedure. You’ll understand in a few minutes. For now, I need to see the belt.”
Sighing, Landon reached into his shirt and unfastened the belt, pulled it out, and handed it to Reggie. Reggie didn’t open the belt’s cash compartments, but he felt each carefully with his fingers before handing it back to Landon.
“I’ll hang on to your phone,” he said, dropping it into a pocket. “You can have it back when we return.”
“Return? I thought the game was here, in the club?”
“It’s at another location. Now I’m going to frisk you,” he added, then did a quick pat-down of Landon’s limbs and torso. Finally, he took the Red Sox cap off Landon’s head and inspected it, running his finger inside the sweatband to check for God knows what.
“Okay,” said Reggie. “You’re good to go.”
Landon put his things into his pockets. “What now?”
“Now we go,” he said, and led Landon out of the room, down the corridor, and out a back entrance, to a black SUVd. Landon noticed that the windows were tinted so that no one could see inside.
Reggie said, “Get in and use the seat belt,” he said.
Two minutes later, with Landon strapped into the right front seat, Reggie came around, opened the passenger door, and handed him a pair of goggles. “Put these on,” he said.
What the hell have I stepped in, wondered Landon as he pulled the goggles on and found himself unable to see anything.
The passenger door was closed from the outside, and Landon felt the vehicle shift slightly as Reggie got into the driver’s seat. Landon heard him buckling himself in and then felt the car move. There was no engine sound, from which Landon concluded he was riding in an electric or hybrid vehicle.
“Relax,” said a man in a voice that was not Reggie’s. “It’s just a few minutes and then you can play poker.”
Chapter 34
Will awoke with a start to find Ash climbing behind the wheel. It was dark, and he glanced at his wristwatch to see, with a shock, that it was almost 9:00 pm. Suddenly he was ravenously hungry.
“Sorry about that, partner,” she said.
“Where have you been, Ash?”
“I sent you two texts. Check your phone.”
Will pulled out his phone and opened the text message folder. The first message, sent at 1515 hours, said “Going for a ride with Sheriff T. Back whenever. Sorry.”
The second, sent at 1920 hours, said “We’re having dinner. Sorry.”
Will shrugged. “Tell me.”
Ash started the engine. “I’ll bet you’re starving. If you’ll settle for fast food, I’ll buy.”
“What about my car?”
“We’ll come back for it. Where do you want to eat?”
“Lafitte’s Fast Filets, which isn’t terrible, and it’s on the way home.”
“Not while I’m still breathing. Worst fish I’ve ever smelled. Anyway, we’re not going home yet.”
“Anything, then.”
Half an hour later, after gobbling down a salad and a chicken sandwich at a Chick-fil-A down the road from the fish-and-chips house, Will finished his Diet Dr. Pepper, wadded his trash into a ball and put it in the plastic bag hanging from the gear shift knob.
“So, what did you girls talk about?”
“We went to see some judges—three—and none of them would give us a search warrant for Idelle Richardson’s phones or financials. Then Sheriff T took me out for piss-poor Chinese food, we had a few beers, and she said she might be able to find another way if I could give her a few days to work on it.”
“Sounds like a stall.”
“Yeah, maybe. So tomorrow let’s see how much weight your pal Chelmin has with the US District Court for the Southern District of Alabama.”
“You have some experience with that court?”
“A little. They prefer to see solid evidence before they’ll grant a warrant for financials. They’re a little looser on phones. And the judges are more Alabama than U.S., if you know what I mean.”
“Good ole boys with deep roots in the community.”
“Exactly.”
Will sat back in his chair. “Ash, what’s the rest of our assignment? Why are we sitting in a parked car in a fast-food parking lot?”
“Langdon is under, and he’s at that high-roller game.”
“Isn’t at the Officer’s Club? On the base?”
“It’s here in Dothan. He’s got a satellite beacon in his belt buckle and a panic beacon in his shirt cuff button.”
“And why is this the first I’m hearing about this?”
“He activated the satellite tracker two hours ago; it sent an alert to my phone. I’ll get you the app tomorrow.”
“Why did he activate the tracker?”
“Because he’s here in Dothan. In a house in Green Acres. A house that we’ve both been in.”
“You’re saying that there’s a high-stakes poker game in Idelle Richardson’s house?”
“Unless he’s merely been kidnapped.”
“What are we waiting for?”
“Right now we’re waiting for you to go back inside and use the restroom. We could be on stakeout all night.”
Chapter 35
Landon had given up trying to remember all the turns and that he felt the SUV take. But when it slowed to a crawl, made a sharp right turn, and tilted forward, he knew he was descending. After several seconds the vehicle turned again, slowed to a crawl, and stopped. Behind him, an electric motor whined and he felt the air
pressure change. Someone opened his door at exactly the moment that the driver opened the other door. Landon felt the vehicle shift as the driver left it.
“Hi Forrest,” said a man’s familiar voice. “You can take your goggles off now.”
Landon removed his hat and goggles. As his eyes adjusted he saw that he was in a large garage with at least three other parked SUVs. Standing next to the open door was a man he knew as Billy, a poker player from the Officer’s Club.
“Sorry for all the cloak-and-dagger,” Billy said. “It’s necessary because we’re no longer on the base, and the authorities here think that poker is gambling.”
Chapter 36
Ash drove past the Richardson house
“Buttoned up tight,” Will said. “Not even a night light.”
“Let’s try the alley,” Ash said. “There must be a rear entrance.”
Before turning into the alley, she turned off the headlights, and they crept down the darkened alley past the house without stopping. As they approached the cross street, Will put his hand lightly on her shoulder.
“Keep going,” he said. “Down to the next block.”
“Why?”
“I saw somebody in the walkway next to the garage.”
Ash pulled across the street and continued to drive slowly down the alley.
“When you get to the cross street, turn left, and then turn your lights on,” Will said.
Ash bit her lower lip but said nothing until they turned left.
“What are you thinking?” she said.
“Let’s find a parking place near the house.”
Ash turned left on the next cross street, parked at the curb, then turned out the headlights.
Will said, “I’m sure I saw somebody in that walkway. A man dressed in dark clothes.”
Ash said, “Okay. You saw someone. What does that tell us?”
