Chapter 12
No Accounting for Thieves
The following Sunday, Bessita was seated at a table in the El Amigo finishing up her tallies for the week. The bar was closed on Sundays and while she did the paperwork, a crew of south Americans did a deep clean of the premises. She hated the stale smell of cigarette smoke and spilled beer and fried food that built up during the week. Having been raised in the family restaurant business in Panama City, which had been an upscale dining establishment, she had never gotten used to the fetid smells that came with operating a bar, burger and taco joint.
As she did each week, she realized that they made only a modest profit due to having to buy all supplies through various wholesalers controlled by Vargas as part of RV Enterprises. It was all part of his set up. She knew they charged 50% more than she would have paid to any other provisioner in the city. It was just another way he skimmed money off the top. That, and the wad of cash that one of Ramon’s minions took from the till each night after closing. Only credit card receipts were kept accurately. And with the majority of the patrons being day laborers who were paid in cash it only added to Ramon’s bottom line, not El Amigo’s.
Bessita closed her ledger after filling in the weeks numbers. The weekly tabulation was provided on a separate spread sheet that would be given to Milton Porter’s accountant, Harold Waters.
Punctual as ever, the door opened at 11;30 and Harold entered. He was a rather doughy shaped, pasty faced man with slick straight hair and heavy black horn rimmed glasses. “So how’d we do this week?” he asked as he sat down heavily at the table opposite Bessita.
‘Despite our efforts we made a bit of money this week,”she said sarcastically.
“Well we’ll just have to fix that,” was the reply. We cant be showing the Revenue boys that we are making any money. Perhaps I’ll have to raise the rent again or up the price you pay for our imported beer.”
“How about raising my salary,” Bessita said.
“Oh we couldn’t do that. I’d have to show that on your 1040 statement at the end of the year.
“Well, if we got credit for all the cash that Ramon skims off the top, there would be more than enough going around to pay me what I’m worth. How about at least letting me put some local beers on tap so I can increase the margins.”
“Now Bessita. You know we import all our own beers from south of the border. We have to keep Ramon’s planes and trucks busy. And its what gives El Amigo is authentic flavors.’
“I’d give up some authenticity to have a bit more in my bank account. I work damn hard here.:
“As you should. Its too bad, your Poppa owes so much money to Ramon. He was never a good businessman in Panama and depended on Ramon to keep him afloat all those years and of course, provide the cash to buy this place here.”
“You know we only own this place on paper. And in Panama, it was Ramon’s goons and thieving suppliers that got Poppa in trouble in the first place.”
“Well, I wasn’t there, but I understand it, your Poppa saw most of his profits disappear up his nose.’
“Yes, also supplied by Ramon.”
“Ah Bessita, mustn’t be bitter. After all, you are now in the US of A with the chance to make something of yourself. You should thank Ramon for making it possible. And by the way, I hear he is a bit pissed at you for taking up with an ex cop. I would be careful if I were you.”
“How would you know? I haven’t taken up with anybody. And if you are referring to the guy who was in here last week and stood up to Ramon, I’d never seen him before. I just helped him leave.”
“From something sounding so simple as that, it did kick up a hornets nest I hear. You’d best be careful. Take it from someone who worries about you.
“And that would be you? Why the sudden interest in me?”
“Lets just say, I enjoy these little weekly conversations. And besides, you might need a friend someday. Someone who can count and knows the score.”
“Well I’ll keep that in mind. But now I have a hundred things to do so don’t let me keep you from your appointed rounds. I’m sure you have other stops to make.”
“As much as I hate to leave you, you are correct. RV Enterprises is expanding rapidly into all sorts of businesses. With our supply of good low cost labor, only the limit of Ramon’s imagination can stop his growth. For example just his pool cleaning and supply business has tripled in just the last three months. We’ve had to buy a half dozen new trucks to respond to the demand. Most of his competitors, or should I say, “former competitors’ have found they just couldn’t keep up and have closed their businesses. Ramon is becoming quite the entrepreneur in Circle City. You should be nicer to him.”
“I’ll keep that in mind Harold. Now, until next Sunday. I have a business to run myself.”
Bessita waited until she heard the sound of Harold’s car crunch on the gravel and pull away, then reached into her purse which was sitting on the table and clicked off the mini dictaphone recorder. “That went better than I expected,”she thought to herself.
Later that day, Bessita drove around for over two hours, making stops and trying to insure that she was not being followed. In the end, she had parked her black Mustang in the lot behind the Melody Inn before joining Jack in the back booth. Jack whistled and then said, “Holy cow! Ramon is really putting a full court press on service and supply businesses here in the city.” after Bessita played back the tape of her conversation with Harold.
“Harold has always been rather chatty. I just let him try and impress me and on he went.”
“That tactic sure works with me too, but I dont have anything like that to tell you.”
“You already impress me so there’s nothing you have to tell me. Well ,maybe a few sweet nothings might be nice.”
Despite himself, Jack blushed. “Well maybe we should talk business first. What I get from all this is amazing. He’s extorting competitors. Likely using illegal workers. Bringing in products from South America without paying taxes or duties. Using his air business to smuggle products, people and drugs into the country likely hidden in the shipments. Skimming cash off the top from his businesses and along with profits from drugs, probably shipping it out of the country on return flights to deposit in less strict banking and regulating countries like Panama. I gotta admit, Ramon doesn’t think small.”
Bessita leaned forward, “Jack, dont forget the part about having to get rid of a partner who was not playing the game and setting you up. Can you use that to clear your name.”
“’Unfortunately, I dont think that tape can be admitted as evidence first of all. And it is hearsay. I doubt Harold knows something directly. But he does know all the numbers. That’s how they got Capone you know, his accountant had two sets of books. That might take down Ramon but it wont likely clear me. We need more direct evidence.”
“What can I do?”
“Actually you have done more than enough. I think you need to just be your normal self while I figure this all out where to go from here. Don’t risk anything.”
“Does that mean, we shouldn’t see each other?”
‘”As much as it pains me to say, we should probably stay away from each other. It is clear Ramon is not a guy to be taken lightly. And he has a lot of not so nice guys out there on the street working for him. “
“But Jack, I’m just starting to enjoy this…whatever it is… between us. At least let’s enjoy the evening and pretend we are just two people who are starting to be into each other.”
Jack looked deeply into her eyes. “Bessita, I don’t have to pretend. And I have even more reasons now to want and get myself in the clear.”
After a pause Bessita said quietly, “Jack, I’m starving. Do you think Eddie could get me steak. I’ll even try a Strohs.”
It was quite dark when Jack walked Bessita to her car. Wrapping her small body in his arms he bent down and kissed her long and thoroughly. “Stay safe and play it cool. I’ll be in touch when I know something,” Jack said as he closed the door for her.
As Bessita began to pull away she waved to Jack. Then she looked into her rear view mirror. There was a man standing at the back of the lot. He tried to blend into the darkness but she could see him. He looked familiar, and a shiver went up her spine.
Chapter 13
The Pool Guy
The Mustang’s tires screeched as Bessita slammed on the brakes. She flung open the door and yelled out to Jack as he ran towards the car, “Jack. There.. In the back of the lot, behind that van, there’s a guy. I think he works for Ramon!”
Jack turned, running back up the drive alongside the Melody into the parking lot, heading toward the blue van backed up against the tall wire fence which enclosed the space. The light came on in the cabin as he saw the door open and a slender young man jump into the drivers seat and begin to stab at putting his key into the ignition lock. The engine caught and he slammed the gear lever into D and the truck began to pull away just a Jack arrived. The door had not been closed in his hurry to escape and Jack pulled it wide with his left hand as his right grabbed the man by the collar pulling him half way out of the vehicle while he jumped on top and pushed the gear lever back to N as the motor raced but the truck slowed.
Adrenaline pumped through his veins and into his mind. The events of the last month, his frustration at his life being turned upside down, being framed for a murder, being used by his ex-wife, loss of his livelihood and the limits on what he could do about it , and they had stolen his damn Studie! All that came together in that instant as he jerked the young man out of the truck and flung him to the ground, jumping on top of him.
Jack had always been the level headed one, the one who stayed in control when events were out of control. Mr. Cool no matter what. But now he was blind with rage. He drew back his fist just as Bessita came running up and yelled, “Jack, don’t hit him, Jack, you can’t risk it. Jack, don’t!”
And his brain switched back on. Holding his fist cocked he shouted, “Why are you here, hiding? Who sent you? Tell me dammit or by god I’ll smash your face. I dont care. Why are you following her?”
Fear shown on the mans face. Jack did appear to be capable of extreme violence. “I no follow her. I follow you!”
“Who told you to follow me? You better tell me or I’ll call the cops and tell them you tried to run me down. And I have a witness and there is closed circuit tv of this lot. It’l show you’ve been sitting here. What, casing the bar for a robbery? You’ll end up in jail, and I’ll bet you don’t have a residence card do you.” Whether any of that would happen or not, Jack depended on the man being scared enough of Jack and being deported that he would talk.
“Who sent you?”
Jack’s left hand began to tighten around the man’s throat and he coughed then struggled out the words, “Pancho, Pancho Herrera. I work for him. I clean pools. Do garden work. I make no problem for you. I just supposed to watch you. When not me, there are others.”
Jack still sat on top of the man but relaxed his grip on the man’s throat. “Bessita, open the glove box and get the registration. Who does the van belong to?”
Bessita walked around to the other side of the van and sat down in the passenger seat as she sorted through the glove box. “Here it is Jack,” she said as she held it under the overhead light. “RV Pool Care. He works for Pancho, one of the guys who was with Ramon that night at the bar.”
Jack leaned back down into the man’s face. “Who are you. What is your name?”
“Ernesto. Ernesto Garcia.”
“So Ernesto, do all you pool guys follow around people?”
“We do what Pancho tell us. They hold our papers, and our families in Panama. We have no choice.”
Jack pushed himself up off Ernesto then pulled him to his feet. “Well Ernesto, you have a choice now. And you’d better make the right one. You’d better just report back to Pancho, that I spent the evening here, by myself, crying in my beer then stumbling home. If, I ever hear of anything happening to Bessita, or to this restaurant, it will be you I will come after. And I wont care at that point what happens to me. But you can be sure, there will be no one to stop me from tracking you down and taking it all out on you. Comprendez? Do you understand me?
“I…I understand.”
“You”d better because I am dead serious. One last question…do you guys always use the vans when you do whatever Pancho tells you to do?”
Ernesto began to brush himself off as he walked to the open door of the van, the motor still running. “Yeah sure. No body pay no attention to a plain blue work van. It like they invisible.’
Then a thought occurred to Jack and he approached the van. “Ernesto, what if I could help you. Help you with your papers, and your family. Get them out of Panama and here. I have a lot of connections still. People who could help me help you.”
“What you mean?”
“If you will help me, I’ll help you. Simple as that. It seems to me that if those who are holding your family as ransom and taking advantage of you here, were to be taken out of their positions of control, be sent to prison for a long time, you would be free to make your life as you want, with your family here.”
Ernesto stood, holding onto the roof of the van, considering what Jack had said. “You could do that.”
“If I can prove what I believe, then I’ll have a lot of police and political power behind me. But I’ll need some help. From someone on the inside. Someone who is, like the van, invisible, if you get my meaning.”
“How I know I can trust you?’
Bessita came forward and took his hand. “Ernesto, I would not be here if I did not trust Jack with my life. If he says he will help you, you can count on it.”
Ernesto looked at Bessita considering. Then he spoke to Jack. “What would I have to do.”
“Nothing other than what you are told to do as always. But just tell me what it is and what is going on. I’ll take it from there. So what are you supposed to do now?”
“I go back to the warehouse and tell what I see to Pancho?”
“And what did you see?”
A small smile began across Emilio’s face. “ I see a man who drink beer and look like he has no friends and do nothing.”
“Very good Ernesto. Now the next time you are told to follow me, let me know and I’ll give you some good things to report, if you give me some good things about what is going on at the warehouse.”
“I know one thing about warehouse you might like. There a shiny black old car hidden behind boxes. It just show up last week. I had to get some pool supplies for my job and see it.”
Jack looked at him. “Ernesto, I think this is the beginning of a very good partnership.”
Jack stood next to Bessita as they watched the van go down the drive and take the right turn to the south side. “What do you think?” he asked.
“Well,’ she said, her dark eyes staring up at him. “At least now you have two people who can help you. It has to be all up from here.”
The yellow light of the parking lot glowed off her skin and reflected gold flashes from her shimmering black hair. Jack was once again taken aback by this beautiful woman who was risking herself for him. He slowly bent down and kissed her again, and she kissed him back.
Once Jack got home, after giving some milk and back scratches to Melba who was waiting for him at the door, he went into his office and replayed the micro tape given him by Bessita, making notes of the inferences relayed by Vargás’ accountant, Harold Waters. He listed the main points:
Things I now know:
- High cash flow from skimming his businesses and drug sales…where do they hide the cash or turn it legit???
- Assorted labor intensive businesses useful for hiring illegals. What is the extent of all the RV Enterprises?
- Use of fear and threats of families back home to keep employees in line
- Closed supply chain for his businesses at high prices
- Transportation system for bringing in supplies – way to bring in drugs in supply containers???
- Charter airplane business from Indy airport. How does it help?
- Use of extortion and low cost labor to undercut competitors. Must be some”competitors/enemies” willing to talk
- Increased number of Pool Vans – Use of Pool business vans for other purposes…drug shipping??
- What’s in the warehouse??? How do I get the Studie back?
- How can I turn Harold Waters into a snitch?
- I’m being followed but now I know how…look for blue vans/trucks
- Need to protect Bessita and Ernesto!!!!
Then there were the questions left from the beginning:
- How is Milton Porter tied into all this?? What does Vargas have on him??
- How is Rachel tied into all this??
- Where does son William fit in all this…if at all?
- Who is the contact inside the DA’s office protecting Vargas?
- Who the hell was in Gordon’s house when I left?
- Who killed Gordon????
Jack rolled the list over and over in his mind. Melba had jumped on his desk demanding attention. “Ah Melba. Yeah, so many questions and not one answered. And they’ll all be here in the morning and we’ll get a fresh start. Let’s get to bed.”
Her meow answered and she jumped down, knowing the routine. Jack turned off all the lights and checked the locks. As he headed down the small hall to the stairs up to his bedroom, he stopped himself and went back to his office. A large safe was built into the closet and he twirled the combination clanking it open. Reaching inside he got out a locked metal box and put it on his desk. Pulling out the bottom drawer of the desk, hidden in a slot was a key he used to open the box and took out his 9mm Glock in its shoulder holster. It had been his weapon during all the years on the force and he was expert in its use and workings.
He checked the clip before sliding it up into the handle and ensuring the safety was on. He knew things were getting serious and he had been marked by Vargas and his men. He had to be ready. Replacing the box and closing the safe. He went up the stairs, hung his clothes and crawled into bed, the gun was on the stand next to him and the phone. Melba was waiting and nestled against him as he turned out the light.
Jack tried to sleep but kept tossing and turning, the things on the list replaying in his mind. There was something that he was missing, something that could be the key to open the lock on all the questions. Finally he fell asleep.
His eyes opened wide as something came to him. The dial of the clock said “05:32” He turned on the light and padded back down to his office. All the documents and evidence he had gathered were in binders across the top of the desk. Flipping the switch on the desk lamp, he reached for one that said “Ralph Crum”on it and opened it to the tab that said “Rachel Gordon – Deposition” and flipped the pages to the very end. And there it was, the clue he had missed.
Jack read the transcript of Rachel’s answers to Crum’s questions:
“And there was no one else in the house that you know of when you left.”
“Not that I was aware.”
“Your house is a walled compound. Is there any other way to enter?”
“Yes, there is a service entrance gate at the back. There is parking next to the garages behind the house. Charles never liked having trucks and deliveries coming up the front drive and parking in front of the house.”
“And how is that gate operated”
“There is an intercom speaker system with a button. It was wired to Charles’ office and he would push the button to open the gate.”
“Is there any other way the gate could be opened? Did you have to buzz Charles to get your car in or out of the garage?”
“No. We have many cars. Each one has a telecommand. And our service staff has one as does the pool man.”
Jack closed the binder and sat trying to make sense of what he had read. That was it! The pool man had an entry to the compound. He came in a van, normal and “invisible” to anyone. Vargas or one of his men could come and go without raising any attention or alarm to the neighbors or to those in the household. Now he needed to prove that the van and the pool guy were there at the time of the murder. As he thought about that, he realized there was one person who might know.
He went back to bed and knew his next steps. And he fell asleep, Melba purring at his side.
Chapter 14
Connections
Due to his late night efforts at looking at the pieces to the puzzle that was his life at the moment, Jack had ignored Melba’s 8 o’clock Äaaack” in his ear. It was a bit after 9 and he had just sat down to his coffee and toast to read the results from the Sunday basketball games when his phone rang.
“Jack, it’s Benny from down at records. I been busy. Lew Martin has had me doing a lot of research on RV Enterprises. Boy, have I found a lot of stuff. I think you might want to drop by. It just so happens there’s an extra copy of everything that is just sitting on my desk doin’ nothin’.”
“Anything special?”
“Well yes and no. I mean, he’s expanded rapidly into the service business here in the City. You need som’pin done, he can provide it. But there’s more and I’d rather not be discussing it over the phone if you get my meaning. Best you come by.”
“ I’ll be there in about an hour but I do have to make a run up to Crawfordsville to check something out and be there before noon.”
“Well then I’d suggest you get yourself going. Gee, now that you don’t have a regular gig you seem to be getting lazy.”
“’I had a late night.’
“Oh, that old excuse. Didn’t use to bother you.”
“Yeah, well being old is not an excuse. Its a reality. I’ll be there in an hour. By the way, did you ever find out who issued the approval to trace the license plate on Mo’s truck the other night.?”
“Not specifically, but that along with the warrant for your arrest came from the Assistant DA’s office. Yeah, Wiggins office, the guy who wants to fry you.”
“Well, I ain’t in the pan just yet. “
“Perhaps but you are well seasoned and they got the grease good and hot for you. See you in a bit.’
Jack contemplated his next moves as he quickly showered and shaved putting on some nice grey wool slacks, a blue button down shirt and a casual blue blazer in order to hide the shoulder holster with the Glock. He was taking no chances from now on.
Before leaving, he looked from the windows at the front of the house to see if there was a blue van parked along the street. He could just make out a blue blur a couple blocks down. He headed out the back door to his garage.
This section of the City had been developed in the 20s. The lots were all narrow with just enough room to give a bit of space on either side of the houses. But the lots were a half block deep with a service alley running parallel to the streets. Entrances to garages for those who had them, were from the alley. Jack’s was a double length garage where the Studie was parked every night.
But Jack also had a second car. Whenever you have an old classic, you always need a back up. And also, whenever Jack needed to stake out someone or someplace he needed something less conspicuous than that sleek black chrome beast. Just before starting up his PI business, he had bought an old Ford Crown Victoria State Police car at the regular auctions held by the state to get rid of worn out or wrecked vehicles in its fleet. The car had over 300,000 miles on the clock when Jack bought. it But those cars were made super tough with heavy duty brakes and suspensions and big motors. Jack had left it with Mo for six months to totally rebuild the motor and fix back to spec any of the running gear. Other than painting it black all over, Jack wanted the body left pretty much the way it was. So the car did not look like much, but it could outrun just about anything on the road.
As he put the key in the ignition and the big V8 rumbled to life, he laughed at himself. Now why didn’t I drive this to Gordon’s that day. No one would have paid attention to it. But no, I had to show off in the Studie. Oh well.
He backed slowly out of his drive into the alley and headed North in the direction away from the blue van he had seen on the main street in front of his house. As he came to the cross blocks, he looked carefully to insure there was not another van parked waiting. As with most Midwestern US cities, built on the perfectly flat prairie that extended from Ohio a couple thousand miles to Colorado, Circle City was laid out in a regular square grid pattern, all streets north/south or east/west. Finally he turned left heading over several blocks before pointing the Crown Vic South toward downtown and the Records office and City Hall.
Benny was behind the glass partition and counter which separated the rows of files from those who came looking for a copy of an official record. He nodded his head toward the end where there was a door to the Section and moved down to unlock it for Jack, motioning him to follow. City Hall was now almost a hundred years old and the records Bureau was stuffed from floor to ceiling with the official transactions and milestones of lives and businesses ever since its opening. Most were lost to time and stacks on stacks. But Benny had spent his entire professional life wandering those warrens of shelves and boxes and binders. If it was there to be found, he could find it. While they had begun to microfilm most documents, you still had to know where to look.
Benny opened the door to the cubby that was his office and shut it behind Jack. Inside, it was surprisingly neat. There was a gray steel office desk from the 50s, a wooden swivel chair behind, and a matching steel armchair perpendicular to the desk. Benny had to slide by sideways to get by the desk and into his chair. Opening a file drawer, he pulled out a fat folder of copies of documents and papers and dropped it on the desk in front of Jack.
“Like I said Jack, your friend Vargas has been very busy. In the two years or so that RV Enterprises has been in business here in the City, he has managed to take over control of many of the service businesses here in town. Pool maintenance, building and repair. Garden care. Roofing and home construction and renovation. Concrete, tile work, flooring, painting, Car washes. Cleaning services. All work that is labor intensive thus subject to being able to undercut competitors with low wage workers…illegals if you want to call it what it is. Then he comes in and buys the others out. Interestingly, he does not change the names of the businesses. They all seem to be the same old companies but he owns them all or most of them. So on the surface there is competition but underneath, he controls it all. And he also owns the material suppliers and the delivery trucks. It’s a total vertical monopoly.
Now he is moving into fast food and bars. Same MO, undercut on price then be there to buy up the competition. Either sell to him or he’ll bankrupt them or maybe threaten them out. And he has the wholesalers that provide all the necessities, food and drink.
And here is the interesting kicker. Charles Gordon was the banker, investor that provided him the funds for all this. And Milton Porter was the legal guru behind it all. With all the mixes of companies and enterprises and contracts.
But that’s not all. I told you about his airport charter business and the hanger he has here. He has another one, in Gulfport Mississippi. I looked it up on the map. It’s 3 ½ hours by jet from Panama to Gulfport, then another 1 ½ hours to Indy. And you know Panama is just across the border from Medellin, Columbia. That’s the home to the drug cartel, cocaine. “
Jack sat for a minute, processing all he had just heard. “On my god Benny, I never imagined that Vargas had become so powerful. With his inside banking and legal support, no wonder he has connections all the way into the DA’s office. And as I think about it, there’s two other things, Gulfport has. One is a huge coast line of marshes and swamp around a bay and river making it more peninsula than mainland. Perfect for offloading something you dont want to have to go through official review at the main port. And two, they have recently opened some of the first casinos outside of Vegas. And there has been a lot of talk about how those casinos got approved and built. A lot of payoffs and cash money flowing into there. And if you’re trying to hide a lot of cash, to wash it through the system, what better place than at a casino.”
“Jack, there’s something else I realized looking at the map. Gulfport is at the end of the
I 55/I 65 Interstate highway that goes north/south right up through the center of the US. It starts at Gulfport and ends at Chicago and Detroit. It goes through Memphis, Nashville, Louisville, Circle City and on up to Chicago or Detroit. And from here you are only two or three hours to those cities as well as Columbus or St. Louis in either direction.. Say you wanted to distribute something you didn’t want the authorities to know about, what better way than to off load it in small boats or hide it in big shipments of goods coming from South America, especially if you have some friendly local customs or Drug Enforcement agents and your own hangars. Then you put it on trucks and make deliveries all the way up.’
“Benny How’d you come up with all this stuff?”
“Well, first I began looking at any records that had changed about Pool companies in the last two years. Such as building permits for new pools. Then I looked at changes in registrations for vehicles owned by pool companies. When a company got sold, they had to transfer the title of any trucks to the new owner. That gave me the list of buyouts. Then I looked at real estate transactions for those companies. The next thing I found is that they all used Milton Porter’s firm for all the deed registrations which ultimately listed RV Enterprises.
Then I began to do the same thing to any business that uses day labor, like garden services, roofers, home construction, now bars and fast food, wholesale liquor and food products, delivery firms. And then there was the air charter and service business. The tentacles of this organization is amazing!
And there was one last thing: tax records. It seems all those companies now use the same accountant to file their state and local taxes: Harold Waters. And what is the most amazing thing, it seems none of those companies made much of a profit last year. They must be benevolent associations because almost all lost money. How bout that?”
Benny sat back, quite proud of himself. Jack whistled. “Bennie you sure do have a devious mind. You’d have made a great detective.”
“Wha-da-ya mean?” Benniy replied with faked outrage, “I am a detective. What do you think I do all day, every day. I track down stuff. It’s just most times, nobody asks me to put it together. You always did. So, there you go. Now what Mr. Detective?”
“So did you tell all this to Lieutenant Martin?”
“He didn’t ask, so I didn’t tell. But he does have all these documents.”
“Then maybe it’s time to drop a few crumbs of a trail for him. Bennie, how can I thank you for all this.’
“How bout a big steak dinner at St. Elmo’s when this is all over. On my civil servant salary, I can’t afford to go there.”
“Benny, in my current situation, it’s going to be a long time before I can afford it myself. But what about one of Eddie’s thick sirloins at the Melody? The beer is cold. The wine good and cheap. The jukebox great. And the atmosphere and clientele are far more interesting.”
Chapter 15
Bridging the Gaps
As Jack headed the Ford up the interstate to see if he could contact Will Gordon again, he began to process all the information given him by Benny. He was trying to make sense out of why Charles Gordon was liquidating assets while at the same time Vargas was expanding his investment into Circle City businesses. And what caused the breakdown between them that might have led Vargas to kill Gordon.
Obviously Vargas had something on Gordon or found out that Gordon was going to blow the whistle on RV Enterprises. Maybe he had a change of heart about the expanding drug business Vargas was leading. But then, he did not think Gordon all that concerned about illegalities, so what was it? Who would know, Porter? Rachel?
Then the thought occurred to him, the accountant, Harold Waters. He did the books. He filed the taxes. And with Gordon closing out US assets and moving them overseas, there would be huge tax issues. He needed to find out all he could about Waters. That would be his next step. And Jack knew who he would call when he got back to town.
For much of his years on the force, Jack had worked with one particular agent at the IRS, Justin Brand. When a homicide seemed to involve assets and tax issues as a cause, it was Justin that Jack would go to for advice and assistance from their investigative unit. After Reagan and the Republicans began to strangle the IRS audits of the rich and focus on the poor, Justin had resigned from the iRS and opened his own forensic and tax consulting business. He was used by a lot of the local divorce attorneys and probate judges to help track down assets that were being hidden or devalued. If anyone could help him track down Gordon’s money trail, it would be Justin. And Justin would also be the guy to review all the RV Enterprises tax forms filed by Harold Waters.
Jack pulled the big black sedan into the Wabash College library parking lot. Sitting in the corner was the red Ferrari Mondial convertible of Will Gordon. It was almost noon and Will would be heading back to his Fraternity for lunch. Jack planned to approach him to see if he would talk for a bit. While he waited he pulled out his Motorola Flip phone and called Justin to see if they could meet.
“Jack, how you holding up?” boomed the big man’s voice out of the small phone. “Why you calling me. Don’t tell me now their trying to get you on tax issues too?”
“I wish,” Jack laughed. “That would mean I had some money to go after. You know us lonely PI guys do all our work out of love. And by the way, I have to tell you up front, I’m pretty well busted since I got no clients at the moment.’”
There was only a moment’s pause. “Look Jack, I know you. I know you didn’t kill Gordon. But it sure stirred up a hornets nest in the business and banking community here in the City. There’s rumors he was cashing out and moving his money abroad.”
“They aren’t just rumors, Justin. It was a fact. But there are a lot more complications. I could sure use your help or at least advice on what to look for. Could I come see you?”
‘”I’m tied up for the rest of the day Jack. How bout a beer someplace. You still go to the Mel? I could meet you there around 6. How would that be?”
“Super Justin. I can’t thank you enough. But given my current situation, that’s about all I can offer you, is my thanks.”
“Dont worry about it Jack. I’ll get it back in some professional courtesy from you some day.”
“Yeah, well I hope I’ll be at liberty to give it to you. I’m kinda stuck at the moment. See you later.”
As Jack was putting his phone away, he saw Will crossing the street toward the parking lot and he headed over to the car to meet him. “Hello again Will. Do you mind talking for a couple minutes, I need your help with something.”
“Uhh, Mr. Driscol. I’m not supposed to talk to you. Milton made that very clear.”
“Oh, really. When did that happen? What did he say?”
Will, had unlocked the car and put his canvas bag with his books onto the back seat. “I told Mom about you meeting me at the library and Milton came up the next day. He wanted to know what you asked me and what we talked about. He seemed a bit worried that I had told you about my father’s shady business practices. He said that I needed to be careful about that as it could affect Mom’s inheritance and me, of course. So he told me never to talk to you.”
“Will, I promise not to get into any of that. I just want your recollections of the morning Charles was killed.”
“I’ve already told you, there was no one in the house as far as I knew. But my Dad’s door was closed so there could have been.”
“Can you walk me through your morning?”
“Yeah, well, OK. I’ve told all this to the Police. Ï’d been up late studying the night before. I’d come home for the evening so I could have some privacy. I had an exam scheduled for that next day in the afternoon, so was going to focus on prep for it and skipped my finance class class that morning. I had some coffee and toast around 8. I had a quick shower and went by Mom’s room to say bye around 8:45”
“You told me the last time that she was on the phone with Milton so you did not talk.”
“That’s right, I just gave her a wave and headed back downstairs. Dad’s door was closed like I said, so I went out the back to the garage, got my car and headed back here to the Library. I got here a bit before 10. Then went to lunch at the Delt house. It was there I got the call about Dad.”
“Did you see anyone outside as you left?”
“No.”
“And you went out the front drive.”
“No, I took the back drive out, through the electric gate. It is a more direct route to the interstate.”
“And did you notice anything different or other cars back there?”
“Not really, I did see one of the blue vans the pool guys and gardener’s use. They are around all the time. It was coming down the road to the gate as I was leaving. That was about it.”
“Did you notice who was in the van?”
“No, I was thinking about getting back to school. There were two guys in it I think.”
“And when you got here, did you see Mrs. Steagle or any of the librarians at the desk?”
“Like I told the police, the desk was empty, so I just signed in and went up to my usual carrel and got back into studying.’
“ And when you left?”
“Well, it being time for lunch, there were a lot of guys around the desk checking books out and I just signed out and left.”
“Will, thanks a lot. I wont bother you any more. I promise, though it is likely you’ll be asked to testify to all this at my trial. I hope you dont mind.”
“It”s about all I know so no big deal.”
“One small thing. Since this is all you told the police, could you not tell Milton or you Mom we talked again.? I don’t want them thinking I’m harassing you are anything. I do appreciate your openness to me.”
“That’s ok Mr. Driscol. I know Mom went to you for help and you really did try your best. I appreciate that.
After Will drove off, Jack walked over to the library and through the massive doors. Presiding as usual, was Mrs. Steagle. An assistant was checking out books and students at they headed off for lunch. She eyed Jack approaching.
“Mr. Driscol. Will Gordon is not here.”
“Hello Mrs Steagle. Actually I did not come here to talk to Will but to you. Did you ever find the missing sign in page from the day of Charles Gordon’s death?”
“No. And I am very upset about that. We have so many valuable manuscripts and collections that I have strict rules about the sign in and out procedure. “
“Look, I’m trying to avoid having to put Will on the stand to explain why no one saw him that morning. Would you mind showing the book again where the page was removed? I’d like to see how it was taken out.”
After a moment of thought, Mrs. Steagle went over to a shelf behind the desk. “This is where I keep the full registers. We have a new one since then.” And she put the book in front of Jack who flipped quickly to where the page was missing.
“ Look at this Mrs. Steagle, it was clearly torn out, see the rough edge where it was separated from the other page. Not too neatly at all, I would say it was pulled out rather hurriedly. Certainly not cut. It looks like it was just for that morning’s registrants cause the next page starts with 3:45 in the afternoon and then goes on to early the next day.”
Then Jack flipped that page over. There, near the top of the next page “11:43 Milton Porter”. And 4 lines below “11: 57 Milton Porter”.
“Mrs. Steagle, do you recall Milton Porter coming in the next day?”
“Not really but he is here quite often. Not only is he on the board of trustees, he is also a patron of the Library. He bestowed his collection of International Law books here. It is one of the most extensive in the US. We are quite proud of it. It helps our young men prepare for the global business world we live in now. Mr. Porter comes by quite often to research something.”
Jack stood, looking at the book. It would have been so easy for Porter to pull the page below away while he had the book when signing out. And as Will had said earlier, and he had seen, there is a crush at the desk just before lunch.
Now why had Milton Porter, the day after his main client was killed, have come up to the library for all of about 15 minutes. Unless, he wanted to tamper with Will’s alibi. Another missing puzzle piece of Porter’s behavior the day of the murder and right after. Why had he been talking to Rachel the morning of the murder when he was supposedly with another client. And who were the two men in the blue van coming to Gordon’s back gate?
Jack had a thought before firing up the Ford for the trip back to the City. Taking out his cell phone, he dialed up Pete Stanchic, the PI who had warned him about the dossier being tampered with. “Pete, I heard you were back in town. Things have quieted down a bit I guess since I’m pretty well convicted by now.”
“Yeah, well Jack. I had to get back to work at some point. And with you out of the picture, I’m getting a lot more cases to handle. You’re being off the street is good for my business.“
“Then Pete, you owe me one.”
“Jack as I recall you owe me.”
“Then let’s call us even and now I can ask you for another favor.”
“It depends Jack. You know I’m still likely marked by those guys who ransacked my place.”
“This one’s simple. You still sweet on that engineer lady down at Bell telephone, Judy.”
“Umm, yes. What does that matter.”
“Pete, I need a phone call traced. Milton Porter was talking to Rachel Gordon at about 8:45 am on the morning of the murder. Can you get me any info on that call. Porter was supposed to be in his office building. But I have suspicion that he was actually not in downtown. So he was likely using his cell phone. You think you could find out any info about where that phone was located around then. It’s important.”
“Jack this is a big one. Bell is a bit huffy about people getting other people’s phone records. Judy could get in real trouble if someone found out. “
“Believe me Pete, this is really, really important. It goes to Porter’s alibi. And if we find what I’m hoping, I’ll have Ralph Crum ask the court for a supenae for the records so she would not be connected.”
“Ok Jack, I’ll see what I can do.”
It was late that evening when Jack headed out of the Melody for home. Justin Brand had been intrigued by the tax records that Benny had copied for Jack. He had agreed that they were grossly underestimating the income from the various businesses now under the RV Enterprises umbrella. And the investigative terrier that was in him was excited to be on the scent of so much fakery. He asked Jack to take the documents with him to let him look more deeply into the records and be in touch with some of his former colleagues down at the IRS to see what else he could learn. The other thing he wanted to do was to try and piece together the money trail that Gordon had been using to shift assets overseas.
As Jack let the door to the Mel close behind him, the lights on a blue van parked across the street, flashed. Jack recognized Ernesto Garcia through the open window. Jack walked over and got into the passenger seat. “So Ernesto. How are you doing? On duty tonight I see.”
“Si. Things go ok now. Pancho, he seem not so interest in you any more. He think you not cause any problem for them. They got big delivery yesterday from the south. So he busy with that. Many blue trucks go on road after’
“And you Ernesto?”
“I just do pool work and garden. But watch you tomorrow night.”
“To make it easy for you, I’ll be here again tomorrow night. How’s Bessita?”
“Me think, OK. Not hear anything.”
After getting home and making amends for leaving Melba alone all day, Jack was sitting at his desk thinking through the day’s activity. What had seemed to have been a bridge too far to proving his innocence was finally being shortened. He now knew there was an RV Enterprises blue van at the scene of the murder. He felt he knew Porter had not been in his office or his clients and maybe could get the proof through the phone records. He was now following the money trail with Justin’s help. And there was going to be a big shipment of drugs in the RV warehouse about to fan out across the midwest. There still remained a lot of threads to pull together but things were beginning to fall in place.
He was just about to go to bed when the phone rang. “Jack. It’s Bessita. I need to see you.”
Jack’s heart skipped a beat.
Chapter 16
Account Me Out
Harold Waters was a meticulous man. Everything was according to a strict plan. His office, behind a discreet door on the 14th floor of the National Bank building was immaculately organized. Nothing was allowed to be out of place. Nothing was allowed to be showing other than what he was working on at the moment. He was the same in his habits. He arrived precisely at 8:57 each morning. He bought a coffee to go from the shop in the lobby, large with milk and two sugars and one doughnut which he carried with him in a brown sack as he walked through the open doors to the elevator waiting to take him to his floor.
Though it said “14’on the panel, Harold chuckled to himself each day as he pushed the button, knowing it was actually the 13th floor but buildings avoided listing a 13th floor. How in this day and age could people still be so superstitious he would think. It’s the same floor whether it is called the 13th or the 14th. This would go through his mind as he was carried up and the doors opened.
The central shaft opened onto a main corridor with smaller ones branching off. His office was at the end, in a corner. There was no notice or sign or plaque which denoted anything about what lay behind. Milton had insisted on that when he installed Harold there just after he had received his CPA licenses. Milton had discovered Harold when he was still an undergraduate at Wabash College. Harold was not a member of one of the fraternities, or on any club or groups of leaders. While not a stand out student in most subjects, he did seem to have a way with numbers and had been pointed out to Milton by the accounting professor.
Harold’s parents struggled to pay the high tuition rates at Wabash but believed it would help him have access to the business world. Milton had then subsidized him, provided him with tutor’s to make it through all the required courses and to prepare for the CPA exam. Actually, that had been easy for Harold. Milton had offered Harold a job as accountant to Porter, Liston and Reed. 20 years later, it was the only place Harold had ever worked. So Harold was not actually a CPA in the sense of having multiple clients. Essentially, his only client was Milton. An Accounting Department was located in the 30th floor offices of the building. They serviced all the clients of the Law Firm as well as managed the expenses of the Firm itself.
Harold had never worried about that, about being seen as the head of Accounting for the firm or part of a large group. He did not need the recognition, or the hassles of boring accounts management or tax prep. He was very well paid for what he did. Harold was an expert at Tax Law and the ways to use the law to help Milton shield and maximize the profits of Milton’s few personal clients as well as Milton’s own assets. Which meant, that for all his professional life he had been the accountant for Charles Gordon.
It had been Harold, who had proposed to Milton and then Gordon, the advantages of using offshore banks and dummy corporations set up in tax friendly countries such as Panama in order to avoid paying any tax on Gordon’s substantial wealth. It may not have been ethical, but the point was, it was legal. And Harold was passionate about finding and exploiting unexpected uses of arcane language that found its way into complicated tax legislation. In fact Harold had suggested such language changes to law to Milton. It was Milton then who drafted the legal language and suggested it to several local and national legislators, beholden to the legal and campaign fund support that Milton provided them, for insertion into routine tax bills or incorporation laws. And Harold was there, ready to use those laws to their legal and sometimes barely legal, limits.
It was all a game for Harold. He did not mind being unknown. It let him live his own life. He loved music and food and art. Through Milton’s help, he had purchased a large Victorian house on the North side totally renovating it. Along the front of the house, the main floor was turned into a huge salon where his art and antiques were tastefully presented. A built in stereo system piped classical and jazz music into every room.
In the back, the kitchen was upgraded with professional quality equipment with a swinging door leading to his paneled dining room which looked out over the side and back gardens. Not that Harold did much of the cooking or certainly any of the gardening. His ample salary had been wisely invested in deals being put together by Milton, allowing him to get in on the ground floor of what would prove to be quite lucrative gains as the market in general would begin to be aware and prices would rise. One of Harold’s other extravagances had been to hire an actual butler/cook, who managed all the household for Harold.
So Harold’s life had developed into one of contentment. He had money to purchase art, to be a patron of the Museum, to have prime seats at the symphony, to have courtside tickets to the pro basketball team…every Hoosier is a fan of basketball, even one who is known more for his art collection that his jump shot. Actually, it was an excellent tax write off as he would donate his seats to various charities or business acquaintances.
When not eating at home with a few guests or friends from the art and antiques world in which he circled, Harold had a regular table at St. Elmo’s. Precisely every work day at 12:15, Harold would approach the door at St. Elmo’s to be greeted by George and shown to his table in the back room corner. Among all the mover’s and shakers of Central City that would be in the room, Harold was probably the least well known publicly. But they all knew he worked for Milton Porter and regularity and association made him known to them. That had enabled him to join various charitable and community boards to which he gave his personal time. So he had developed a regular and contented life.
That had all changed when he was tasked by Milton, to examine ways to help Charles Gordon close out his stateside investments and to move his money off shore and off the ability for it to be tracked by the IRS, or by his wife. After several months of analysis, and visits to various fund safe havens, it had been Harold’s plan for Milton to open an office in Panama and begin the process of establishing the chain of phony corporate fronts through which the money could be flowed into oblivion out of the reach of any government or personal entity.
It was in Panama, that Harold had been given the name of someone who could help him overcome any governmental or banking regulator who would insist on some strict adherence to the law. And that is how Ramon Vargas became the Panamanian point man for Milton Porter and, ultimately, Charles Gordon. Little did they realize at the time, that it would be Vargas who had captured them.
Piece by piece, Vargas took control of Gordon’s affairs in Panama. And then he announced his plan to come to Circle City and open his business and investments in the US and expected Milton and Gordon to help him. It was made clear, that not helping him was an option. They had no idea how quickly Vargas would establish himself and the true nature of his businesses and how ruthlessly he would go about taking control. Harold had unwittingly unleashed the monster. No one would ever say “no” to Ramon Vargas…more than once.
All these things were going through Harold’s mind as he sat drinking his coffee. He was no longer the self contented and contained man he used to be. Every day, he felt his was being sucked deeper and deeper into a black hole of crime where he would never be allowed to see the light of day again. That was not how it was supposed to turn out. He had never anticipated being turned into a “bag man” for a gangster, going around and collecting cash and accounts and washing the records of the profits and coming up with ever cleverer ways for those profits to disappear into Vargas’ off shore accounts.
The joy he had previously enjoyed with cultural events, and charity banquets and basketball games had drained away bit by bit. Each day, he realized how much further down the path into illegality he traveled. The only event he now looked forward to was the weekly visit to the El Amigo and his chance to sit with the magnificent Bessita Alvarez. Her smile had lit up his life and he even harbored thoughts of asking her to a dinner or concert. He paid particular attention to his dress and appearance on those days. Never the most athletic of men, and certainly a gourmand for much of his recent life, Harold never thought of himself as attractive. His black straight hair could never be coiffed to make his round face disappear. So he tried to make up for his lack of physical appeal with a patter that he prepared each week before he arrived, thinking he could impress her with his nonchalance and intelligence. She of course, was always about business with him
As the weeks and months of his visits went by, Bessita became ever more bitter at how Vargas was using them and Harold was his envoy. Harold tried the think of ways in which he could ingratiate himself to her. The only way he could do that he realized, was to protect her from the potential fallout from Vargas’ enterprises crashing down. El Amigo’s books had been cooked along with all the rest and it was her father’s name on the tax form.
Harold swiveled his chair, looking out over the credenza behind his desk, through the corner windows. The flat land of Indiana spread out to infinity from his view. Depression began to overtake him. It was also his name on all those tax forms as the “preparer’”. Yes, he could try to say that he had been provided false information, but there were too many witnesses that knew he was the one doing the records. And if it ever came out, he would be jailed. Milton would go down too. The law firm would be closed, everyone suspect, turning on each other.
Actually, the first domino in the inevitable falling of it all, had been the murder of Charles Gordon. Harold knew that Gordon had figured out that Vargas had manipulated all those corporate entities in Panama so that he was a co-equal partner and had the ability to transfer the money as he wished. Gordon had questioned Harold just day’s before his murder and realized what Vargas was doing. Gordon told Harold he was going to go to Panama to expose Vargas to the Prosecutor there. He was killed before he could raise the alarm anywhere. Harold had figured that out and was afraid that someone else would realize that he knew it too. Harold knew that if Vargas found out he was a dead man.
The more Harold sat and looked out the window, the more he felt trapped. He could not turn to Milton, who of course was part of the entire enterprise. None of the acquaintances he had made over the years could help him out. If anything, they would shun him and he would be isolated from any the the organizations he was a part of. He would lose his CPA license. He would be jailed. He would lose his house and whatever reputation he had built. He was in despair and the only thing he could think of doing, as irrational as it sounded, was to call Bessita. She knew what was going on already, so at least he could talk to her without it getting back to Vargas. Bessita was smart. She had a survival instinct. Perhaps she could help him figure out what to do.
“Bessita, this is Harold Waters”
“ Yes Harold. What do you want? It’s not sunday yet. I dont have my books ready.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s about the other things, you know, the things I talked about last week. About how maybe I could help you out. Can we meet for lunch, I’d like to talk over a few things with you. Can you meet me at St. Elmo’s for lunch at 12:15. It’s important.”
“Harold, I got lunch crowd already coming in here. I’m busy.”
“Bessita, your father can handle it for once. This is really important. It concerns Vargas.”
“Hold on a minute.” Harold heard a muffling of the phone.”Papa is not happy. I told him there is a problem with one of our suppliers that I have to go help figure out. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“When you get there, just tell George at the door that you are my guest. He’ll take care of you.”
George had been suitably impressed when Bessita arrived. “That Harold, he certainly improving the quality of his guests.” he had said as he took her into the back room where Harold sat waiting.
“Let’s order first so we get that out of the way,” Harold said. “Would you like a steak or some fish.”
“I’m not all that hungry. Maybe just a salad.”
“They make a great Cesar salad here, “ he said passing along their order to his waiter.
After it came and they were alone, in the buzz of the crowd in the room, Harold began to explain what was going on. About how Vargas had used Gordon and his money to expand into the US and all the other aspects of his business including the real reason he was here to use those businesses as a front for distributing drugs. And about how Gordon had become suspicious. And the implications to her own business and her father if it all came out.
When he finished, Bessita looked at him. “Why are you telling me all this.”
“I’m stuck in the middle. I have no where to turn. No one who can help me. I guess I just wanted someone to listen. And I trust you.” And then Harold just stopped talking and looked at Bessita, the emotion filling his eyes.
Bessita sat for a moment. Then she put her hand out on top of Harold’s. “I’ll think about it and let you know. That’s all I can do. I’m new here in this country. We could lose everything. And Vargas is not anyone to mess with.”
Bessita tried to call Jack but did not have his cell phone number nor did she know he would be out all day and evening nor where to find him.
It was late when he picked up the phone. “Jack, It’s Bessita. I need to see you!”
Chapter 17
The View From the Windows
Ramon Vargas watched the doors close behind Milton Porter on the private elevator, then the wood panel slide back into place that disguised it. Originally built as the Penthouse elevator from the basement garage to Charles Gordon’s office at the top of the National Bank Building, it had been connected to Milton Porter’s office on the 30th floor, over a decade ago to allow Milton to have easy access to his main client. It is how Milton introduced Vargas to Gordon during his initial visit to Circle City to establish the corporate entities in Panama that would be used to hide Gordon’s resources. When Vargas announced he wanted to create his businesses in the City, he had insisted to Milton, that he be given an appropriate suite of offices to allow him access as well.
Tenants on the 25 floor were encouraged to accept leases on a lower floor by a generous reduction in their price and a construction budget as well. During the time of the relocation Vargas had overseen the design and fitting out of his suite to include the panel which hid the elevator doors. Initially, it was Vargas who used it to discuss plans with Milton and then up to Gordon. But now, it was Milton, who came to Vargas.
The sleek modern design of the rooms reflected everything about Vargas himself. From his slicked back black hair, to his trimmed pencil thin mustache, the heavy gold chains around his neck, the expensive tailored suits, the white shirts with French cuffs and gold links, the gold rolex on wrist, down to the highly polished italian loafers on his feet, the details were what mattered. And Vargas was a master of details. Nothing was taken to chance.
Vargas had been a colonel in the army under General Noriega. He had made many contacts with the CIA and US military during those days. He had also been one of the General’s key connections to the Medellin drug cartel. So much of his organizational and devious approach to things had been learned during the mid 80s. After the US had invaded and captured Noriega, Vargas used his contacts with the US services to escape prosecution. That left him well positioned to pick up the pieces of Noriegas’s empire and political control in Panama.
His office had been sound proofed and paneled with rosewood brought from the Amazon. The furnishings were lush with primitive artwork placed throughout. Panels hid a bar and a communication center that allowed him direct and secure access to his wide flung enterprises in the US and Panama. Another panel hid a door to a private hallway that led to the stairwell.
Outside his own office was the office of his personal assistant Wanda Jennings. She was originally from London but had relocated to the Bahamas where Vargas had found her working for one of the private banking consortium which early on focused on how to hide the resources and tax liabilities of the rich. Ramon had recognized her thorough understanding of international banking laws. He had also discovered that under her posh accent, expensive clothes and clipped british manner, she hid a larcenous streak. Vargas had caught her tapping into his accounts in order to amass her own small fortune. Rather than turning her over to the authorities, he had hired her to help him build his empire. Together they had created Strategic Investment Partners, a firm advising the rich on how to take advantage of the Panamanian and offshore banking systems. She had been key to the scheme that had entrapped Charles Gordon and was now managing the systems being used by Vargas to cover his activities.
Vargas sat looking out the wall of windows in his office, reviewing the recent meeting with Milton. He had decided to expand RV Enterprises into another area: private security. He already had a security group that managed activities at his airport facility and the warehouses. There was a huge inventory of equipment and supplies and personal to oversee. It was Pancho who was in charge of that group. It also provide the street muscle of the organization. Vargas had realized, the providing security for other firms, actually gave him inside access to those business. The firm which provided security guards, had keys to all the facility they were to guard. And if you included electronic security systems it expanded the reach, as well as the ability to learn all about what was going on in those firms. So he had begun to buy competitor security firms in the area. Milton had brought him the contracts finalizing the latest purchase.
It also gave him another outlet to place employees that he smuggled in from Panama. He wanted loyalty and cheap labor. And with his hold on their families back in Panama, he knew he had both.
Just as the view of Circle City expanded out in all directions, so too had RV Enterprises. When Wanda had introduced him to Milton a few years back, he had never thought it would have turned out so spectacularly. In a way, it had been too easy. Gordon was all too happy to use any method that would help him hide his money from the feds and US courts.
It was his own greed that left Gordon vulnerable to Vargas’ schemes. He was all too willing to go along with the plans to import cocaine to the US as long as he would get his share of the profits laundered through his shadow corporations and into his offshore accounts. But he had no idea of the extent to which Vargas planned to use Gordon to establish himself in Circle City. Gordon’s family connections provided the access to the politicians and the inner circle of bankers and the establishment that had run the city for generations. Gordon had underestimated the extent to which Vargas would infiltrate those systems, putting police, city and state officials, and insiders in the justice system on his generous payroll.
A lot of cash was required in the start up of RV Enterprises. There was the charter airline, HemisphAIR, and the two hubs with hangers in both Gulfport and Circle City. A big chunk of cash was needed to achieve the appropriate permits and Federal Aviation approvals. And then there was the purchase of one of the Gulfport Gambling Casinos and a fleet of service boats. And then the trucking companies and warehouses to ship and store his food, drink products for the wholesale business, and chemical supplies and equipment for the pool service. And then it had been concrete and paint for the construction businesses. All of which covered for the shipment of cocaine into and up through the middle of the US. It had been built stealthily and steadily by Vargas with Wanda Jennings’ devious mind and the willing legal help of Milton Porter and Charles Gordon’s money.
Unfortunately, Charles was not aware of the extent to which Vargas had access to the Gordon fortune. He did not realize that all those dummy corporations listed Vargas as a partner. He had trusted Wilton to protect him. But even Wilton had been outfoxed by Vargas. Gordon had been sent an account statement by mistake from one of the banks, where the money was stashed, showing the account depleted. He had gone to Panama without telling Vargas and using a local attorney had discovered the true nature of his partnership with Vargas. He had returned to Circle City planning to alter the relationship. But of course Vargas was alerted by his Panama contacts. And that led to the confrontation that morning at the Gordon Mansion. It was a shame it had to happen. Had Gordon been just a bit more patient, he would have found himself more rich than ever. Gordon had wanted out but perhaps just a bit too publicly. And in his end, it was very public, just not in the way he had imagined.
In a way, he was glad of Gordon’s demise. Now there was no trace of his funds which all came to Vargas as the remaining “partner”. It had all come to a head that morning in Gordon’s office. It had been lucky that their confrontation had been interrupted by Gordon’s appointment with that broken down PI, Driscol. Gordon was obsessed with ridding himself of his wife. He had bragged to them before telling them to wait upstairs, that he had a report that would make it easy for him to convince Driscol to either go along or to be blackmailed into admitting having an affair with his ex-wife.
After Driscol left without caving to Gordon’s threats, Gordon had been enraged and was in no mood to be compromising with Vargas. And events had spiraled out of control from there. What had happened next had been totally unplanned but Vargas was quite pleased with himself how he had organized things and got the blame put on the dumb PI. He of the “oh so obvious” Studebaker. It had been such an easy thing for Porter to convince some of the less affluent neighbors to “remember”seeing that black beast parked on the street. And of course that greedy Assistant DA was all to happy to quickly “find” the killer and get his own name in the papers. Wiggins was so looking forward to the trial and easy conviction for a crime of passion committed by an old cop gone bad. All that pub would propel him into being voted DA in the next round of elections, generously supported by RV Enterprises of course.
What Vargas had not anticipated was Driscol showing up at El Amigo. He had allowed himself to lose control in front of his own troops when Driscol had humiliated him in front of Bessita. At that point it became personal. He would not underestimate Driscol again. As that thought went through his head he realized there was a bit of unfinished business.
Vargas turned from his reverie looking out over his expanding empire and pushed the button under his desktop. In just a few seconds the door to the outer office opened and Wanda Jennings came through. Vargas as usual took in her attractive image in it’s trim conservative fashion and her efficient bearing. “Yes RV. What do you need.”
“Always right to the point. That’s why I like you so much. All business. Anyway, there is something that has to be taken care of. I want you to call Pancho and tell him to put that Studebaker at the warehouse on the next semi that is going back down to Gulfport. I want it on our container ship that will be returning to Panama City. It will be a big hit down there. And of course hidden from view from here and any association with me.”
“It’s done” Wanda replied. “Anything else?”
“Si. Here is the contract for the purchase of Circle City Security Services, the newest acquisition to RV Enterprises. I want you to go there and immediately take possession of their books and give it your unique review. Find out what opportunities we might have with their cash flow and staffing situation. I think we need to replace their guards with some of our guys. And, of course, get their customer list. See who might be susceptible to some inside activity.
“I’ll get right on it,” Wanda replied as she headed to the door.
“Oh, one last thing. Get me everything you can find out about that Driscol guy. I think I may have been too easy on him. I dont just want him convicted, I want him buried!”
As the door closed, Vargas swiveled his Eames desk chair and began looking out the wall of windows again, deep in thought and with a smile on his face started thinking of all the hurt he could put on that has been PI.
Chapter 18
The Chef’s Surprise
Jack carefully dropped in some cider vinegar into the skillet of boiling and slightly salted water. Other than when he ate at the Mel, Jack pretty much did his own cooking. The odd hours of being a homicide detective meant that he sometimes arrived home quite late. He tried his best to avoid the habit of grabbing a pizza or some burgers while at the station or on the way home. He always found cooking to be relaxing no matter the time of day when he would get to his house.
Melba would sit on the stool opposite his work island, her bowl of milk placed there for her to drink while Jack had a glass of wine and cut his veggies and prepped whatever protein he was having for the evening. The kitchen had been one of the extravagances he had given himself at the house over the years. His 6 burner Wolf stove had a large extraction hood overhead to waft the smoke and vapors to the outside Just to the left was the sink underneath a window that looked out into his small side yard with the shrubs along the wooden fence screening him from his neighbors just on the other side of the narrow lot.
The wall cabinet to the right of the stove contained the herbs and spices he used to make his various mixes to season his food. Above them were the bottles of liquid flavorings and hot sauces he loved. The work island drawers along the granite counter top had his silverware in one, knives in the next, wooden spoons and tongs in the next and then the pots and pans in drawers along the bottom. It was all designed so everything was to hand within a step or two.
Stereo speakers hung in the corners of the kitchen connected to his central sound system. The first thing he did when he came in would be to turn on music, either jazz, rock or the classics depending on his mood or the time of day. His house was his haven, a place to escape from the craziness and despair of the world in which he worked. It still had all its 1920’s craftsmen features of heavy woodwork, and stained glass windows and plaster walls with arches between the main rooms.
Jack cracked open 4 eggs into a bowl, sliced four inch thick rounds from the baguette he had picked up at the artisan bakery up in Broad Ripple the day before and put two into the toaster. Grabbing some silverware from the drawer, then two placemats and napkins from the corner cabinet, he went through the arch into the small room at the back of the house where he had a table. It was in this little alcove that he normally ate his meals though he did have a regular dining room and table that could be expanded to seat up to eight between his living room and kitchen. He only ate in there when he would have occasional dinner parties or more formal dinners for friends and the rare date when he would cook at home.
Jack did enjoy entertaining and was a good cook. He found cooking a creative outlet. But he only had people over a few times a year. It always seemed as his cases just took more time than he ever anticipated, he really was unable to plan too far ahead. And this morning’s breakfast had been totally unanticipated.
Walking around the corner from the kitchen through his dining room, into the hall, he knocked gently on the bathroom door. “Coffee’s up and the eggs will be ready when you are.”
“Be there in a minute,” came the rich voice from within.
Jack returned to the kitchen, pushed down on the knob on top his french coffee press, put some milk into a small pitcher and into the microwave, and replaced the two pieces of toast with the other two slices. He looked around the kitchen to make sure everything was ready. He was slightly nervous despite his years and experience. He was far more comfortable dealing with, criminals, dead bodies and nefarious goings on than he was with beautiful women dropping into his life.
When Bessita had called last night, she had been insistent that she needed to speak with him immediately. She said she had crucial information that could not wait but she had to shut the bar. As most places would be closed, Jack thought it best that she come to his house. He gave her instructions how to find the alley, come through the gate and park her mustang in his garage.
Over a bottle of Cote du Rhone red, she had tumbled out the story of her lunch with Harold Waters and all the details of Vargas’ operation, and ruthlessness in taking over all his competitors and how the cash was being laundered back down through the Casino in Gulfport. And the extent to which he had bought the services of public officials at all levels of government including the DEA and IRS.
Jack of course had figured out much of this as being probable, but now he had a direct connection and validation of his theory. But what to do with it? And how to use Harold Waters without getting him killed. And there was still the problem of if Jack sent along any of this information to the police or prosecutor or the feds, the word would get back to Vargas and there would be nothing there to see, especially Harold.
Jack had sat opposite her in the living room, listening to her story and marveling at how cool she was with all this and important to her that this would somehow help Jack be free. This was also the first time, Jack had truly been alone with her. He watched her refined movements, the glistening of her mane of hair, the flashing of her eyes, the smile that crinkled her face. At times he totally forgot about his situation and just sat taking in this very special woman who was so fearless and straightforward. As her energy flagged, the story told, the wine enjoyed it was all he could do to not take her in his arms. It was almost 4 am and way to late for her to drive all the way down to her apartment on the south side, so he suggested she stay the night… in the guest bedroom.
The was a slow look at Jack and then a grin. “ Your guest bedroom? Are you sure this will be OK? I mean what might people think?’
“What people are you thinking about? I live alone except for Melba, and it’s obvious she likes you,” Jack said looking over at the couch where Melba had curled up next to Bessita. He then added, “And I like you too, a lot, but things are probably complicated enough for us at the moment to rush into something more.”
“Ohh, kaay” Bessita said slowly. And with that she got up and walked over to Jack pulling him up from his chair, wrapping her arms around his head pulling his head down for a kiss, a long kiss, a full kiss then with her head back looked up into his eyes. “The guest bedroom it will be…this time. I have to say I am beat and work will come early in the morning. So point me in the right direction.”
After leaving her, Jack had gone up the stairs to his bedroom but spent much of the night thinking of Bessita and all she had told him. He knew he had to somehow get to Harold Waters and how to get his information to the right people without Vargas finding out. He finally fell asleep with that vision of Bessita in his arms.
So he had risen early with the idea of fixing her breakfast before sending her on her way to work. A slight knock on her door informed her of the hour and how he had laid out a towel for her in the downstairs bath and would fix breakfast for her.
He heard the bathroom door open and the padding of bare feet on the hardwood floors as she came around the corner into his kitchen. Once again he was not prepared for what he saw. Her copper skin glowed under the black hair contrasting with the long sleeved white shirt she was wearing, the shirttail hanging down to her exposed thighs.
She smiled at him, “I hope you dont mind? I borrowed one of your shirts from the closet. I couldn’t find a robe.”
“Without doubt, that shirt has never looked so good. Have some coffee while I fix the eggs. Milk and sugar. I thought you might like some cafe con leche, well, my version of it. I hope you like poached eggs.”
“Mmmm, the coffee sounds great and I love poached eggs. Nobody has ever fixed them for me before, just had them at restaurants.”
“Well, I hope I don’t disappoint,” Jack said as he turned to the stove and slid the eggs gently into the boiling water.
“Jack, not one thing you have done has disappointed me. Pleasantly surprised,..god yes!”
Jack busied himself gently spooning water up over the eggs to cook the white evenly. Then he pulled two plates from the oven that had been warming, put the toast on them and ladled an egg on top each one. “Take your coffee to the table would you madame, your poached eggs are served, “ He followed her into the little alcove putting the plates onto the table.”
Bessita raised her coffee cup to Jack. “Well here’s to my first poached eggs a la Jack. I do hope I get this chance again sometime. “ She clinked her cup against his, and took up her fork and knife slicing into the yellow which ran from the egg onto the toast and the plate. “Oh perfect…just like the cook.” And she made approving sounds as the eggs disappeared.
With the last piece of bread she finished wiping the plate, took the last sip from her coffee setting it down on the table, leaned back in the chair and looked across at Jack with her big eyes. “So where do we go from here?”
Jack, as usual, taken aback by her directness, stammered, “Well you know I really think you are spectacular and hope my life turns out so that I can get to know you far better.”
Her deep laugh followed. “Actually, I wanted to know what we were going to do about Vargas and Waters and your whole murder problem… but that was really sweet of you to think I was talking about us.
As Jack took that in, there was a knock at the front door. “Ahh, saved by the bell as it were. Hold both those thoughts.” He rose walked straight from the kitchen through the dining room and to the front door off the living room. There was another, more insistent knock before he managed to get there. The arched heavy wooden door had a small stained glass window at eye level but you could not totally make out the details of the person on the other side. Jack opened it.
Rachel was standing there. “Jack we have to talk. It’s terrible it involves Will and Milton and everything,” she said as she walked past Jack into the house.”
Jack, had not a chance to stop her, closed the door and followed her. “I thought you weren’t supposed to talk with me. “
The words spilled out. “ Yeah, you weren’t supposed to talk with Will either, but I hear you did again. You’ve got to leave him out of this. It’s about Charles. All his money is gone. Milton told me that yesterday. He says there’s nothing left for me. What will I do and what will happen to my son. I dont know who to turn to other than you. Oh, can I have some coffee I couldn’t sleep last night and then rushed here this morning.”
While saying that she had crossed the dining room into the kitchen stopping as she looked past the island seeing Bessita sitting calmly at the table beyond. Rachel’s mouth opened, not saying anything as she turned back to Jack who stood bemused realizing the scene that was before him.
“You have company,” Rachel said incredulously. “You’re not alone.”
“Well its nice of you to notice Rachel but it seemed like you had long ago stopped worrying about me being ‘alone’”.
Bessita got up walking through the kitchen said to Jack, “I see you are going to be busy. I need to be getting on to work. We can pick this up later, when things are a little less complicated.
Rachel, mouth still open, watched Bessita walk past, down the hall to the bedroom and close the door.
Chapter 19
From Princess to Pauper
Rachel waited silently, sitting on the sofa in the living room while Jack walked Bessita back through the kitchen and out the back door into the garage. He clicked open the garage door and the electric gate to the alley.
Jack opened the door to the Mustang and then wrapped his arms around Bessita standing next to him. “Sorry our breakfast got cut short. I was actually looking forward to talking about where things go from here.”
Bessita looked up into Jack’s blue eyes. “Jack, both our lives are pretty complicated now. And until all this is resolved, one way or another, there’s not much we are going to be able to do about where things go from here. So let’s deal with first things first, getting you in the clear and Vargas out of the picture. I understand that.”
Jack kissed her. “You know. If I’d have known that I’d have to go through this to meet you, I would have volunteered to do it.”
“That’s sweet to say Jack. But let’s hope that we have a chance to let this work out. Until then we have to focus on getting you off. As we agreed, I think our best chance is to get Waters to help us. I’ll work on that. Now you’d best go back in there and see what is going on with Rachel.”
“Actually, with what Waters told you, I think I already know. But we need to get something concrete from Waters. We’ve got to get the feds involved in this and bypass the local DA. And I’ll need something more than just hearsay.”
Jack watched the Mustang head up the alley and disappear before he closed the garage door and went back into the house. Rachel met him in the kitchen as he emerged through the door. “All your troubles don’t seem to be keeping you from enjoying yourself” she said archly.
“First of all Rachel, my life is none of your business. And you don’t know anything about what is going on with Charles’ murder and all the fallout that is coming to light from that, although from what you said, you are starting to experience some of it yourself. What did you think? You were just going to continue the good life as before but without Charles making things difficult.? Sounds like you thought it was going to work out just fine. You may have even been the one to benefit the most by his death. I didn’t actually see you being the grieving widow that day we found him.”
“Jack, don”t be hateful. You know I did not want Charles dead. I just wanted a divorce and what was rightfully mine…and Will’s. And it’s true. I did not love him. He mostly left me on my own so it worked out between us. But things began to change a couple years ago, when he began going down to Panama with Milton.”
“So did he know about your relationship with Milton?”
Rachel’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“Come on Rachel. I wouldn’t be much of a detective if I hadn’t figured out that Will is Milton’s son and that you two have continued having a relationship all this time. What I don’t understand is how Charles had not figured it out a long time ago. Else wise, why was he trying to frame me for your adultery. He knew something was going on. Obviously Milton was protecting himself, and you. He did not want to lose his cash cow at the law firm. He hired the PI who prepared the report on you and me. But Milton censored his part out of it. I heard it direct from the PI who did it. So you’ve been covering it up for a long time. And now Milton has cut you loose too, it seems. Didn’t he offer to take care of you now that Gordon’s money has disappeared?”
Rachel began to deflate before Jack’s eyes, sinking down onto the stool in front of the kitchen island. “I…I…I guess I expected…that after a period of time we could be more out in the open. But he told me yesterday, that Charles’s death has changed things. It appears the house, which was a long time family house, is being sold and I have no recourse. And all Charles’s money was in accounts in his name. All my expenses were never questioned. They were all payed by the accountants at Milton’s firm. When I wanted something, I just bought it. But I expected that the prenup would have protected me. Now Charles’s accounts here are closed, or frozen with his death. The will and the prenup didn’t protect me from that.”
“Doesn’t sound like Milton protected you either.”
“What am I going to do? I have no place to go. I have no money. What will happen to Will?”
‘You don’t think Milton will insure that Will is taken care of? It seems like he has been quite active in his life up at Wabash. You could always file a paternity suit. Actually, I get the impression that Will is pretty much prepared to make it on his own anyway.”
“Milton said we could not afford the scandal. It would cost us our social positions and perhaps him clients. And the effect on Will would be difficult on him.”
“I think you underestimate how strong Will is. He’ll cope and get over it and on with his life. Might even be good for him to break free from feeling he is Gordon’s son. He did not respect Charles at all from what I took from talking with him.”
“You can’t know that. Besides Milton is my only hope now.”
“Then why are you here? Get Milton to help.”
“Oh Jack. I’m afraid. Milton was so cold to me yesterday. I just don’t know what to do.” Tears began to fill her eyes and her voice choked.
“Well, to start you have to tell the truth about what has been going on with you and Milton. And you have to tell the whole story about what went on that morning before you left to meet up downtown with your attorney, Rick, and then me. Tell me about the conversation you were having with Milton when Will came to your room to say he was going back to Wabash.”
Rachel, stiffened.”How do you know that?”
“Obviously because Will told me. And if you expect any help from me, you have to be straight with me.”
“Milton said I should never talk with anyone about that.”
“Yes, the same Milton who is now putting you out on the street. So what was the call about?”
“It was about Charles’ business and how his partner from Panama was here and they were going to finalize all the deals. He also said it would impact the divorce and prenup so I shouldn’t talk about it with you or with Rick. That he would work it out.”
“Did he say when they would be meeting with Charles?”
“Not really. But implied it would be that day.”
“How did he say it exactly?”
“He did not say a time just that ‘We’re gonna meet with Charles and hash this all out and that everything would be ok.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes, he asked about Will and I told him he was leaving for school and that I was going downtown to meet with Rick about the divorce. And he asked when I would be leaving.”
“So then what did you do after you talked with Milton?”
“ I took a bath, then sat at my desk off my bedroom and wrote notes. I was organizing a charity dinner and had to contact several people for donations and review the plans for the dinner. I talked with the caterer and the florist. Usual stuff. Then I dressed and went down and out to get my car.”
“So when you left, did you see any other vehicles in the property?”
“Just the Pool company van. They were parked behind the garage where they always were after coming in the back gate. I drove around the house and out the front gate, as you know.”
“So the pool guys were there when you left. You’re sure of that?”
“I told you, they do the pool and the grounds as well. They are there regularly.”
“’ Why didn’t you mention this to Lieutenant Martin or the DA?”
“Nobody asked. Other than did I know if anyone was in the house. Which I have said I did not think so unless they were in with Charles which is the truth. I don’t think the pool guys would be sitting with Charles for god’s sake.”
Jack stood, looking across the island, studying Rachel. He knew her well. He did not detect any sign that she was being anything but honest with him. He made a decision.
“Ok Rachel. I’ll do what I can. But you have to promise me one thing. You cannot mention being here or our conversation to Milton. If he gets wind that we’ve talked or what we’ve talked about, you may find yourself in great danger. We are dealing with people who have no qualms about anything. Charles’ death proves that. Do you understand?”
“Well yes. But what am I to do?”
“ I’d tell Milton that you expect your bills to continue to be paid by his accountants and that he has an obligation to see that you are protected. There is a lot about the two of you that might not make good reading in the papers if it gets out and you might intimate that. And that you expect him to do what he can to see you cared for in the settlement of the estate. l doubt they will kick you out of the house immediately. And I would advise you to call Rick and see if he’ll agree to take you back as a client to resolve the prenup. Don’t tell that to Milton though. Let Rick handle it.
Rachel got up from the stool and went up to Jack putting her arms around him. “Oh Jack. You always seemed to know what to do. I feel so much better knowing you are still willing to help me despite how I’ve treated you these last weeks.”
Jack remained stiff and unresponsive. “We’ve a long way to go before either of us is out of the woods. Now go back home and act normal and push back on Milton. I’ve got things to do.”
As it was a Thursday, Jack was at his usual booth that evening at the Mel having dinner. He had spent the afternoon updating Justin Brand with all the things Bessita had passed along from Harold Waters. Justin had already been in contact with some of his former colleagues at the IRS who were excited about busting this case. The two agreed that it would all come down to getting some documentation from Waters. And for the moment it was being held tightly from local authorities. So for the first time, Jack was feeling that things were at least now moving in the right direction for him.
The door opened and Pete Stanchic walked down past the bar, nodding to Edie, and sat across from Jack. “I see being an accused murderer has not affected your appetite” he said while reaching over and poaching two fries off Jack’s plate. “ Ahh, she still makes the best real fries in town.”
“So you came here to eat?” Jack laughed.
“Nope, just stopped by from having drinks with Judy and have some business to take care of this evening. You know a good PI never closes.”
“And….”Jack questioned.
“So where do you think Milton’s phone was at 8:45 AM on the morning of the murder?”
“In Carmel.”
“Yes, and more specific than that. It was connected to the cell tower nearest to the Gordon mansion. So it looks like you might be getting a get out of jail card.”
“Well, I haven’t rolled the dice yet. But my turn might be coming. Thanks for this and I owe you…again.”
“At this rate Jack, you’ll be working for me for a long time.” Pete got up and waved to Edie as he walked out.
Edie came over to Jack’s booth. “Well you look happier than I’ve seen you in a long time. Good news?”
“Let’s just say that I might soon be able to pay my tab again if things fall into place. In the meantime, think you can front me another Strohs?”
Edie laughed. “Well, if your celebrating, this one’s on the house and I might even join you.”
As Jack left later that evening, parked across the street was a blue van. The lights flashed at him as he walked out. Jack crossed over and piled in shaking hands with Ernesto. “How’s it going Ernesto?”
“Bueno. I think you might want to hear some thing. Today, the big black car in the warehouse. It was loaded on one of RV Enterprise trailer. I help put containers up behind. We have special containers that bring things up from south. The have false bottoms where things hidden. So we send the containers back looking empty for next shipment. Trailers also special built with hidden spaces. Pancho, he stuff packages in the compartments for flying back to Panama from airport in Gulfport. But this time the trailer only half filled with containers due to car up front. It go out Monday afternoon. Here license plate number for trailer.”
“Ernesto I can’t thank you enough. I promise you that I will do everything I can to see you are taken care of regarding a green card. Things may be resolved here pretty soon.”
Melba was at the door waiting for Jack as he came through from the garage. First thing was to return her greeting with back scratches, then some cat milk into her bowl. “Melba, what an interesting couple of days. We may be getting back to normal soon. Well that would mean I’m not hanging around the house all day but you’ll cope.
Pulling a Strohs from the fridge, Jack walked around to the hall into his office and began making notes on his pad. There was much to organize for the coming days and he wanted to make sure he had it all planned out.
He was just about to turn out the light and head upstairs to bed, when his cell phone rang. “Jack, it’s Bessita. Just wanted to find out if you survived the Ex. And guess what, I spoke with Harold. He said we could talk more about things on Sunday when he comes for my weekly account. He wants some assurances that he will be treated well. And mostly protected.”
“Oh Bessita, I’m so glad to hear your voice. It was kinda hurried this morning. I’ve been busy today and things are actually moving along. But we have to be very careful. Vargas is smart and ruthless as you know. When it comes down, everything has to be in order or he’ll skip on us and then we’ll be left hanging…and exposed.”
And the call went on until they reluctantly said goodnight. And Jack called Melba up the stairs and crawled into bed and slept better than he had in weeks.