Bury Me When I'm Dead (26 page)

“What's going on with that construction?” Don asked, taking a big bite of pickle.

“I think I can answer that,” Charlie said. “The city received a grant to restore the pavilion. It looks like some of the work has started.”

“Will that be a problem for the meeting?” Gil asked.

“Actually, it could help. I can substitute some of our guys for the construction crew,” James said.

“What about the lake, anyplace to hide a few people along the shoreline?” Charlie asked.

Griggs spoke up. “See that land mass in the lake? It's about one hundred feet south of the pavilion and covered over in brush. We can definitely place one or two agents there with good line-of-sight.”

“Right,” James said, jotting a few notes.

“What's that to the left of the parking lot?” Charlie pointed to the screen.

“Here, use this,” James said, passing Charlie a laser pointer. “Just
push that button to turn it on and direct it at the area you want to highlight.” Charlie followed James' instruction and flashed the light across the screen. “There,” she said getting the hang of the tool and circling an object. “What is that?”

“That's the pedestrian bridge I mentioned,” Griggs said. “It connects the pavilion area with the Casino but it shouldn't come into play, it's hundreds of yards away.”

“Let me see that thing,” Don said, reaching for the pointer. “Zoom the picture out a bit, will you?” Agent Griggs got a nod from James.

“Okay, if there are a couple of men here,” Don circled an area on the Lake Tacoma land mass, “a guy positioned up here at the band shell, and maybe a couple of guys dressed as construction workers in the parking lot, we should have the scene covered.” Don clicked off the laser pen and leaned back in his chair, examining the little gizmo.

“What time of day will you set up the meeting?” James asked.

“Well, I was thinking around three-thirty,” Charlie said. “Abrams starts his day early. So, he wouldn't have any qualms about leaving the office at that hour.”

“Maybe I should be the one to pick up Abrams, and then you can ride with Joyce?” Don said.

“That's another thing,” James interrupted. “I need Owens to be at the meeting.”

“Why? If we capture Barnes, or whoever he sends to do his dirty work, won't that be good enough to charge him with attempted murder?” Don asked.

“Yes, but we think he may be ready to disappear. He bought a boat this week, a small yacht actually, and he's been loading it with goods. He knows he's being watched and he thinks we're closing in on him. The only way to be certain he doesn't give us the slip is to have him at the scene.”

They brainstormed for ninety minutes about logistics, manpower, and contingencies then settled on a week from Monday for the rendezvous. Monday was the least busy day at Belle Isle and by three o'clock, the rowers, cycling groups and lunch goers would have had their fun and dispersed.

Charlie left the conference room to make her calls because phone
frequencies were blocked in most areas of the field office. She would call Leonard Abrams first and tell him that Joyce would meet him. Then she'd make the call to Owens. She was escorted to the phone area and the others listened to the calls from the conference room, thanks to agent Berman in the audio booth.

“If Joyce doesn't want to be seen, shouldn't it be an evening appointment?” Owens challenged Charlie.

“A meeting during business hours would be best for Abrams, and that's what Joyce prefers. Besides, cars in that area of the park after dark are more likely to get the attention of the police patrols,” Charlie explained.

“Well. I guess that's okay. Abrams probably wouldn't want to go to Belle Isle at night anyway,” Owens admitted.

“I was thinking you might drive Leonard in for the meeting,” Charlie said.

“Really? I figured you or one of your associates would do that.”

“Well, we could, but Joyce asked me to accompany her to the rendezvous. She doesn't want to do this by herself. And I think it would be good if Leonard also had someone he knew to drive him in. This is sure to be an emotional meeting for both of them. Don't you think?”

“Of course,” Owens said.

When Charlie disconnected the call, the agent in the booth played back the recording for those in the conference room.

“He was kind of nervous about a daytime meeting, wasn't he?” Gil noted.

“Roaches prefer the dark,” Don quipped.

“Well, at least now we can lock in some plans,” James said.

Charlie was visibly shaken, when she was escorted back to the conference room. She began gathering up her belongings.

“I've got to get back to Detroit right away,” she announced.

“What's wrong?” Gil asked.

“It's my mother. I picked up a message that was left an hour ago.
She went out this morning to do some shopping and never returned.”

Don checked his watch. “It's just after four o'clock in Detroit. She probably just got caught up in shopping and lost track of time.”

“No, Don. She's never away this long and she's not answering her phone. Besides, she was alone. I'll need a ride to the hotel and then to the airport,” Charlie demanded of James.

“There's not another direct flight to Detroit until six,” James said.

“I don't care. I can't sit around here or at the hotel.”

“Look, Ms. Mack . . . Charlie. I know we've mostly been a pain in the ass for you, but the Bureau can be of some help to you now,” James said.

Charlie considered James' offer, nodded, and dejectedly sat in her chair. James sprang from his seat. “Tell Agent Griggs, here, everything you know about where your mother was going today,” he said before hurriedly exiting the room.

“What's your mother's address?” Griggs asked and within a few minutes the white board had a satellite photo of Detroit's New Center area. “Okay, here's a live street view of her building.”

“Yes, that's the place,” Charlie said.

“What time did she leave this morning?”

“It was almost ten o'clock. She took a cab.”

With some very fast typing and a few clicks of her mouse, Griggs projected another view of the building's entrance and within two minutes a taxi pulled into the horseshoe drive in front. Ernestine came out of the building and got into the cab.

“That's her,” Charlie said excitedly, standing at her seat. “She told Gloria at the front desk that she was going to the Renaissance Center.”

“Okay,” Griggs said, punching her keyboard, and up popped a satellite view of Detroit's most iconic landmark. She moved her finger over the mouse pad, zooming into the Jefferson Street Plaza entrance. “So, she left in the cab at 9:55 a.m. ET and it would take her about twenty minutes to get to the RenCen building,”

“Do you know Detroit?” Gil asked.

“Yes, I was assigned to the Detroit field office for three years,” Griggs said.

“You don't look old enough to have worked for the FBI three years,” Gil noted.

Emily Griggs smiled. “I've been told I look fifteen, which has come in handy for some undercover assignments, but I'm a lot older than that.” Griggs quickly shifted gears: “Okay, here's the view of the entrance at 10:15 a.m. This is where the cab would likely drop off your mother.”

The group in the conference room watched the screen intently. Taxis picked up and dropped off passengers. Private vehicles occasionally moved through the circular drive and if they stopped, one of the police officers patrolling the entrance approached the driver.

“I guess cameras are everywhere these days,” Gil observed.

“People are always crying about the loss of privacy but that's the price we pay for even a modicum of security,” Don said with emotion.

“And compared to other countries, like England or Israel, we're way behind the curve when it comes to satellite surveillance,” Griggs acknowledged.

“There. That's her getting out of the yellow cab,” Charlie shouted.

Griggs hit a button to freeze the screen then advanced it in slow motion.

“Okay. She entered the RenCen at 10:22 a.m. She's wearing dark slacks and a black sweater over an orange blouse,” Griggs said, punching the information into her computer. “How tall is your mother?”

“She's five-foot-five,” Charlie said.

“And how old?”

“Sixty-nine.”

Griggs punched more keys. “Okay, we've forwarded this information to the Detroit Police with a general BOLO. Now, let's see if we can find out where your mother went after she got inside. If she purchased something would she have used a credit card?”

Charlie opened a small address book to retrieve her mother's Visa card number. Agent Griggs glanced at Charlie, raised her eyebrows and then quickly looked away.

“We're a little behind when it comes to technology, Agent Griggs,” Gil said. “Don has a rolodex and he's still trying to figure out the camera on his cell phone.”

Don wasn't the least bit embarrassed. “I pay attention to the technology stuff that matters, like that board. I really want one of those.”

Griggs pulled a Blackberry from the front pocket of her jacket. “Pretty soon, everyone will have one of these. They're already standard issue for every agent. You can send and receive email, access the internet and hold all your contacts in electronic form,” she said looking at Charlie who had finally found the page with her mother's account numbers and passwords. “I can access a database and show where that particular credit card was used today,” Griggs said as she typed. “Okay, here it is. Used at 11:15 at Carol's Boutique and again at 11:40 a.m. at an accessories store. Small purchases, under twenty dollars. Wait, here's another charge at 12:45 p.m. at the Eastern Market Sandwich shop.”

“So she left the RenCen and went to Eastern Market?” Charlie asked.

“It appears so. Let's see what vantage point I have for Eastern Market around lunchtime,” Griggs said, furiously pressing her keypad. They watched the screen for almost fifteen minutes. Shoppers were crammed into the market.

“Isn't that your mother sitting in front of that restaurant?” Gil said. “See, at the top right of the screen?”

Griggs zoomed into the area. First the picture blurred, then became sharper.

“Yes, there she is!” Charlie stood again.

“She looks fine. Enjoying herself,” Don said. “Is this live?”

“No, it's recorded from 12:30 p.m. Eastern Time.”

“What does she do after that?” Charlie asked.

Griggs toggled the picture forward at twice the normal speed, then four times normal. People moved quickly like characters in a silent movie. The group watched Ernestine leave the café and meander around the market, stopping at several stalls. At one of the flower vendors she picked up a bouquet of lilies and abruptly put them down and walked out of the frame.

“Where is she going?” Charlie asked frantically.

Griggs fired off a set of rapid keystrokes, bringing another angle of Eastern Market into view, and zoomed into the middle of the
screen. “This is a minute later. There she is heading back toward the restaurant.”

Ernestine was nearly back to the sandwich shop when she was intercepted by two men. They chatted for a moment and then the three exited the market at the Russell Street entrance.

“What just happened?” Charlie shouted. “Why did she leave with those men?”

“Wait a minute, maybe it's not something bad,” Don said. “Go back. Let's see that again.”

Griggs pushed a couple of buttons and they all re-watched the video. Ernestine was walking hurriedly back in the direction she had come from. The two men approached her and the three talked for a half minute before one took her elbow and they walked out of the market.

“She didn't look in distress,” Don observed. “But that guy is clearly leading her away.”

Charlie slumped into her seat and clasped her hands together to stop their shaking. Gil circled the conference table to sit next to her.

“Let's go back to before she left the restaurant,” Gil said. “Can we get a closer look?”

The footage of Ernestine eating at the restaurant popped back onto the screen. They all watched in real time as she ate, used her credit card to pay her check, and relaxed at the outdoor table, sipping from a cup. Finally, she stood, gathered up her small shopping bags and left the restaurant.

“Uh oh,” Gil said, pointing at the screen. “Look, her purse is still hanging over the back of the chair. She must have been going back for her purse.”

The two men came into view. They were both dressed in jeans, sneakers and hoodies. They loitered on the walkway adjacent to the sandwich shop. Then one nonchalantly walked over to the chair, lifted Ernestine's purse from the back, tucked it under his sweatshirt, and the two slowly walked out of the camera's view.