The dying five, p.9
The Dying Five, page 9
As it turned out, it wasn’t the cop boyfriend who’d killed Billy’s sister; it was his then patrol partner, with whom she was having an affair. When she refused to run away with him, he killed her in a fit of rage. The precinct orchestrated a huge cover-up, sending the guy to work in another state. TD5 took matters into their own hands, alerting the media, anonymously, to their handy work, delivering the clues they’d gathered. The case busted wide open after an investigative reporter published the story on the front page of the Indianapolis Star. The police chief and several other officers were canned.
“I vaguely recall that story,” Shelly said. “I remember the governor was quite upset. I don’t think he was upset about the girl getting killed and the cover-up, more so, how the scandal impacted his police force. It was like he’d wished it had stayed covered up.”
“Exactly,” Stephen said. “And that is why we do not trust the cops or the government. If you knew what I knew...”
“Oh, I know quite a bit,” Shelly said.
“What’s next, Stephen?” Charles asked. Charles was rubbing his belly more today than I’d noticed before, which signaled his pain was ramping up.
“Glad you asked, Charles.” Stephen’s new validation skills were working because Charles smiled through his discomfort. The group leaned in, ready for Stephen to lay out the plan.
“The next moves will rely on Shelly and Callie.” I sat up in my chair, caught completely off guard. I had no idea what Stephen had up his sleeve or what I could do to contribute. Shelly seemed quite energized by the opportunity. When Stephen gave us our marching orders, I understood what I needed to do, but felt uneasy about it. I went out and started the van. Driving TD5 home, I wondered if I could pull off a gig as an actress. It would be my first role.
Chapter Twenty
Dearest Nephew,
You will not believe this case! We are hot on the trail of Eric Graham’s killer. We have some suspects. They’re big money people, investors in Eric’s company. Remember I told you I was planning to interview Shana? I got the real story. She wasn’t forthcoming at the outset because she was afraid we’d think she was involved. I told you, didn’t I? As it turns out, all arrows pointed to her innocence, and I’m glad, because I do love Charles and Marj.
We took a trip to Brown County, Indiana to search for more clues. At first, I thought it was just a lovely trip to a town nestled in the hills, but alas, no. Stephen was working the case the entire time. He took a soil sample from one of the places Green Playscapes had laid groundcover (for more information, John, you can Google the company). We’re waiting on results, Stephen said, but I’m not sure what he means by that.
Stephen worked his internet magic and found some connections between some missing money and these investors using shell companies to hide the money in offshore accounts. Can this be more fun, John? Murder and money in offshore accounts! Sounds like one of your books!
We’re getting close, but we have a lot more work to do, John. I imagine you’re quite busy yourself, writing your next bestseller. Your Aunt Mary will get an advanced copy from the library, like always. I’ll keep you posted as this case comes along.
All my love,
Your Adoring Aunt Mary
Chapter Twenty-One
It was the second time in two weeks TD5 had received a group text. The first was from Geoff alerting us to Talia’s rapid decline. The second, just received, was Charles, panicked. Shana hadn’t come back from her date the night before. Stephen was first to respond. “I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe their relationship made it to fourth base.” Then Shelly. “Oh my, Charles! I’m sure you’re worried! But I’m certain she’s fine. Have you tried calling her?” And Mary. “It’s too early to file a missing person’s report. But you did the right thing texting us. We’re on the case!” I thought about what to say during the flurry of responses. I opted to call Charles instead, feeling like texting wasn’t serving the purpose he’d hoped for.
“Callie, oh goodness, thank you for calling.” I knew Charles had been experiencing more pain than usual, and his concern about Shana was likely exacerbating it.
“Charles, you sound very worried.”
“I’m not an alarmist, Callie. I’ve tried calling and texting Shana and I’ve waited. Even if she had spent the night with...what’s his name? Dave? She would have let us know she was going to be gone all night. Marj and I are still staying with her, and she’s been a big help, fussing over me. It’s given Marj a break. Anyway, she wouldn’t just stay out all night without telling us. In case her phone died, I waited until now to reach out and I called Green Playscapes. She hasn’t shown up for work. She hasn’t missed a day of work since she started there. This is serious, Callie. Something has happened to her.”
“Have you called the police?”
“No, Mary is right. They won’t take a missing person report until she’s been gone 48 hours. She’s an adult, allowed to come and go as she pleases, they would say. But I know my granddaughter. This isn’t like her. Not like her at all.” Charles began to cry. I could hear Marj in the background telling him to sit and relax, that worrying himself sick wasn’t going to do anyone any good.
“Let me call Stephen,” I said. “I’ll pick up TD5 and we’ll be right over.” I called Stephen and filled him in. I drove to The Situation Room and got the van when my phone pinged. Stephen had texted the others who were ready to be picked up. Stephen was going to call an Uber to get to Charles more quickly. I felt a pang in my heart. Stephen was worried for Charles, and concerned for Shana, too.
Charles was pacing back and forth in Shana’s living room when we filed in. It seemed like months, not a couple of weeks, since we’d been in that living room discussing Eric’s murder with Shana. Stephen was already there, and had taken a seat next to Charles, who was now sitting due to Marj’s orders. He was rubbing his belly, which I thought might have become a nervous tic instead of a sign of his discomfort. Maybe it was both.
“Walk us through what’s been going on, Charles.” Stephen’s voice was soft and comforting. It sounded foreign, like someone else was talking through Stephen’s mouth.
Charles reached for Marj’s hand. She caressed it and nodded at him to tell us what he knew. “Shana came home from work and said she had a date. She’s twenty-five, so we don’t ask for details. She’s her own woman. Marj and I stayed up until eleven watching Antiques Road Show. Shana has been out with this guy...Dave, I think, a few times and she’s usually home by midnight. By the time we’d gotten ready for bed, it was eleven-thirty. Marj would usually wake up when Shana opened the garage door, but Marj didn’t wake up because Shana didn’t come home. We got up around eight this morning, thinking Shana had already left for work. Her bedroom door was open, and we didn’t see any evidence of her having been home. She would leave the coffee pot on for us, and her breakfast dishes should have been in the sink.” Charles took a deep breath and stood up to stretch. He patted his stomach. Stephen reached for Charles’ hand and gave it a squeeze. Charles looked at Stephen with anxious eyes, squeezed back, and sat down. “We have both tried calling her and texting her. We thought her phone might be dead, or she might have lost it. But we agree, Marj and I, that something is wrong. It’s one thing to not come home at night. It’s another thing for Shana to not show up to work.”
Stephen coughed. It wasn’t a genuine cough. It was a nervous cough. He pushed his glasses up his nose and smoothed his hair. “Charles, I can help, but before I do, I need to tell you something that is going to make you a bit fiery toward me.”
“I don’t care what it is as long as you can help us get Shana back.”
“I’m still not convinced she’s missing, but I have an idea about how to find her. Last week, when I was gathering intel on all the players related to Eric Graham’s death, I pulled data from Shana’s phone. Don’t ask me how, I won’t tell you. In any event, I can track her phone for you and find its last location.”
“Oh Stephen, thank you!” Marj jumped up out of her chair and gave Stephen a hug. He sat stiff, unprepared. Marj didn’t notice. Stephen’s violation of Shana’s privacy was immediately forgiven.
“It’s not a problem, Marj,” Stephen said. “It’s what I do.”
Stephen pulled out his tablet and the attached keyboard from its holder. He typed for a few seconds. “Her phone was last located near 38th and Rural Street. I’m doing a Google search of that area now. Not much, a Taco Bell, an auto parts store, and a gas station. You said she had her car, right? Let me see if I can locate her car via her phone. If she had her car connected to Bluetooth, I should be able to find where it’s parked.” Stephen typed. His eyebrows raised. “Well, her car is parked on Massachusetts Avenue, within walking distance from Green Playscapes and near all the restaurants and hipster shops. I wonder if she had her date in one of those restaurants.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Mary said. “We should take the van and divide and conquer. Charles, will you text us all a picture of Shana to show around to the restaurants in that area? You, Marj, and Callie can do those inquiries. Stephen and I can take the Uber to 38th and Rural and poke around there.”
We agreed on the plan when Charles’ phone rang. The caller ID didn’t reveal the number. Charles answered the phone and listened.
“Sweetheart, where are you,” Charles rushed, relief in his voice. Marj jumped up and threw her arms around Charles and strained to hear what was being said through the phone’s speaker. Mary motioned for him to put it on speakerphone, but he put his hand up. His eyes grew wide, and his face took on a look of horror. “Shana, stay put. We’re on our way.”
We piled into the van. On the way, Charles said that Shana woke up in an alley between houses a block from where Stephen located her phone. She was disoriented and dizzy, like she’d had too much to drink, but she said she’d had only one glass of wine at dinner. The last thing she remembered was having dinner with Dave, but things were fuzzy after that.
“Where is she now?” Mary asked.
Charles said Shana couldn’t find her phone, and she’d managed to walk to a nearby gas station. The clerk let her use his phone, dialing Charles’ number and holding it up to her ear. No one handed over their phones these days, even when people are clearly in distress, Shelly said with disdain.
Stephen once again told me to step on it. He monitored police signals and said we were in the clear to speed, so I drove faster than I ever had in my life. “I’m so very glad she’s okay,” Shelly said with her arm around Marj. “And we will help you protect her at all costs.” I wondered exactly how we’d do that, but Shelly was in friend mode, offering help we might not be able to provide.
We arrived at the gas station in record time, and Charles, Marj, and I went in to get Shana. The clerk behind the plexiglass gave us suspicious looks but then returned his focus back to his phone.
Shana was disheveled. Her face was streaked with dirt, and she was shivering. Her shirt was torn. Charles and Marj took her in their arms, holding her while she wept and trembled. We wrapped Shelly’s afghan around Shana, walked out of the gas station, and helped her into the van. I handed her a bottle of water. She took two drinks. “I’m okay, Pop Pop. I promise. I’m still in shock,” Shana said as Charles kept both of his arms around her. “My brain fog is starting to clear.” I glanced in the rearview mirror and spied Mary discretely pulling out her notepad. Mary, always on the case, even at the most delicate of moments.
“Do you recall anything after the glass of wine?” Mary asked in a small voice, trying to slide in some compassionate interrogation.
“Not now, Mary,” Charles said.
“It’s okay, Pop Pop. Mary’s right. If I can remember when it’s fresh in my mind, it’s more helpful.” Shana took a couple of minutes to organize her thoughts. “First of all, after I called you, I went to the bathroom at the gas station. I feared the worst, that I’d been...you know...assaulted.” Charles cringed. Marj gasped. “But I wasn’t. I think my clothes are torn and I’m dirty from being dumped in that alley.” Marj massaged Shana’s shoulders with one hand and clung to her with the other. “I remember becoming very drowsy after my glass of wine. I think I must have told Dave I needed to go home, but then...I don’t know what happened...except...I woke up in a dark room. I was tied to a chair. I was terrified. Then I heard a woman’s voice. Strangely, it sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it.”
“What did she say?” Mary said, now pulling out her phone.
“She asked me what Eric said to me in the Uber before he died. My head was pounding from whatever had been in my drink and I couldn’t think. I managed to say he told me nothing. Which was true. He didn’t tell me anything important until he was dying on his stoop. She asked me repeatedly, and I told her the same thing. Somehow I could sense that the woman didn’t intend to hurt me. No one laid a hand on me while I was being interrogated. I thought she would have hit me the first time I told her I didn’t know anything, but she didn’t. After what seemed like hours, but probably wasn’t, she forced me to drink a bottle of water. Then I woke up in that alley. The water she gave me must have had the same stuff that was in my wine.”
“Rohypnol,” Mary enunciated, holding her phone speaker to her mouth.
“Shana, dear, I think we should take you to a police station,” Shelly said in her gentile loving grandmother tone.
“Yes, sweetheart,” Marj said. “Shelly’s right. We need to file a report.”
Shana shook her head. “I understand but I don’t believe the police will help me, even if there is evidence of the drug in my system. I’m a black woman who has no real memory of what happened. I don’t know who Dave really is, apparently, or who the woman was who questioned me. I don’t think the police would help.” Charles winced, his face giving away the emotional pain he felt for his granddaughter. I thought he might press her to go to the police, but instead he tightened his protective grip on her shoulder.
Stephen typed on his tablet keyboard. “Mary, send me the recording you just took of Shana’s story. I have a hunch.” Mary seemed all too pleased to do so. “Sent,” she said.
I was no sleuth, and I hadn’t seen every episode of Perry Mason five times, but I had a hunch of my own. More pieces came together when Stephen told me what he wanted me to do. I was a bit intimidated by my upcoming mission, but Shana’s abduction pushed my discomfort into determination.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I had two missions, and both felt like shots in the dark. Shana said the man she dated was Dave, from Dave’s Auto Service, the same placed the Columbarium used to secretly service our TD5 van. A coincidence? A very strange one if so.
I drove the van to Dave’s Auto Service, located on the near-westside in the industrial district. I greeted the man at the desk and asked to speak with Dave, stating he regularly serviced our van and was a “friend of a friend”. The man, whose name tag said “Shaun” laughed. Shaun looked at me with quizzical eyes and rested his elbows on the counter, as if waiting for me to tell him a story. He asked for the van description, including the VIN number. I gave it to him and repeated my request to speak with Dave.
“Lady, Dave hasn’t been alive in twenty years. We kept his name on the shop because he was a well-known and well-liked guy. Also, I have no records of your van in our system. What makes you think we have been servicing your van? Have you brought it to us before?” I was extremely confused. This was where Shana said Dave worked, right? And Dave’s Auto Shop was who picked up the van for The Columbarium when we needed it fixed, I was sure of it. Maybe it was a coincidence and meant nothing. Dave was a common name.
“No, it was picked up by two of your men, brought here, and returned to our parking lot the next day.”
Shaun was now belly-laughing. “Listen, lady. We don’t pick up cars. Cars come to us. Unless you call for a tow, we don’t show.” Shaun had himself in hysterics, proud of his lyrical prose.
“There is no one named Dave who works here?” I asked. I felt my face flush, like I was on a game show and had just given an absurd response to a simple question the entire audience knew the answer to.
“No lady, no Dave here anymore. Now, does your van need servicing or not?”
My mind was swirling. “Um, no. Okay, thank you.”
I hurried out to the parking lot and looked at the shop sign. It looked exactly like the emblem on the side of the truck that had come to service the van. And I was certain that Shana said this is where the guy worked she had been dating. Shaun would have no reason to lie, and Stephen could easily check the story on good ‘ole Dave’s death. I texted Stephen. No dice at Dave’s. Apparently, Dave has been dead for twenty years.
Thirty seconds later, my phone pings. Correct. I found the shop is now owned by someone named Brian. Looks like a nephew on old Dave’s wife’s side.
Should I go in and ask for Brian?
I waited two minutes for Stephen’s reply. No. I just had Charles show Shana a picture of the nephew. He’s not our suspect. Move on to your next mission. This is a dead end. No pun intended.
I took I-70 downtown. My appointment at Higgins, Coben, and King was at one o’clock, and I was now running early, since Dave was dead, and I didn’t end up talking to anyone at the shop about the connection with the van or Shana. If Dave’s Auto wasn’t servicing the van, then who the heck was? And what does The Columbarium have to do with this, if anything? Maybe there’s another Dave’s Auto Shop with a similar sign. It was all swimming in my brain and a headache was settling in. I wished I had taken pictures of those two guys who took the van. Even if they had nothing to do with this, it would satisfy my curiosity having their faces somewhere other than in my memory. I could barely recall what either of them looked like. I’m not sure I could pick them out of a lineup, but Shana could, if one of them was the guy we were looking for.
