Death of a Bankster (10 page)

Two and a half hours later, Maddie and Sue walked out of the bank having talked with three other employees who all cross-confirmed that Sam only handled foreign customers and that he spoke several other languages. An hour of that time had been spent going through Sam Crawford’s desk and office where they found nothing that provided any new meaningful information.

Maddie drove as they left the bank. Sue said to her, “I could certainly see what Paige Crawford meant when she talked about Blanche and the women who work at the bank. They’re all hot, to use my brother’s way of saying it.”

“I agree,” Maddie said, “but having sexy, smart women in your employ is not a crime. Hell, the guys might even consider it a fringe benefit.”

They rode in silence for a few miles, the police radio untypically joining in their silence. Then Maddie glanced over at Sue. “Give me three words that describe your opinion of Maxwell Norbert.”

“Smooth, smart, and not very likeable. Well, that’s more than three. You know what I mean.”

“Did you notice him looking at your bust?” Maddie asked Sue.

“No. Well, sort of, but that happens. I think that’s part of boy training 101. They learn that young. Based on the ladies who work at his bank, Maxwell Norbert is obviously doing his post-graduate work. Why?”

“While he looked at you, he licked his lower lip.”

Sue looked over at Maddie. “Is there some significance to that?”

“Haven’t you ever learned about that?” Sue shook her head. “Well, Detective Martin, here’s part of that training you wanted when you got your detective’s shield. If a man licks his upper lip while he stares at a woman’s tits it means he’s thinking passion. If he licks his lower lip he’s thinking evil. Norbert licked his lower lip.”

“And this theory of yours is scientifically proven, I suppose.”

“An ongoing study,” Maddie explained, “I’ve been developing data since I reached the age of fifteen, when the boys started noticing.”

“Okay, Sergeant, let’s get serious again. What are your three words for describing Maxwell Norbert?”

“Pretty much the same as yours,” Maddie said right off. “I felt he was ready for us even though we hadn’t called to let him know we were coming. We were expected, at least anticipated. So, I agree, smooth, smart, and something that made me consider doubting nearly everything he said, so, yeah, not very likeable.”

“Does the fact that Sam Crawford speaks foreign languages jibe with the money laundering angle?”

Maddie raised her shoulders to Sue’s question, and then let them sag. “Could be, but it’s pretty loose. Remember, the original mention of money laundering came from the phony FBI agents, and even that got to us secondhand through Paige Crawford. We can’t let ourselves get distracted by paying attention to a supposed federal beef. We’ve got ourselves a local murder. That’s our jurisdiction, although, if there is money laundering it could go to motive.”

“So, what’s our other possibles?”

“Everything, anything at this point. He could have been killed by his wife or her lover, if she has one. Maybe even in concert with Carla Roth. In light of the international banking angle, perhaps the shooting was paid for by a foreign government which would mean Paige’s mother was right. Whoever is behind this was not only capable of arranging for a long-distance shot, they were prepared to impersonate FBI agents, even brought along business cards printed to identify themselves as such. And don’t forget they had staged a backup medical examiner so they could take the body. Premeditated from the get go. Those imposters knew Sam Crawford would be murdered. There’s no other way they could have been set up and ready to come to the house.”

“That would mean Paige Crawford got a visit from the people who had murdered her husband a few minutes before.” Sue turned on the seat to face Maddie. “That’s cold.”

“I don’t see how else it could have gone down. You realize that what we’re discussing now is rooted in the belief that Paige and Carla have told the truth. We have nothing that confirms this stuff about imposters is for real.”

“Let’s go back to the spouse angle again, Maddie. Lord knows lots of married folk are bumped off by their loving others. You think Paige and Carla could be lesbians? I guess Paige would be a switch-hitter given she already had a husband. Sam Crawford traveled a lot and while he was gone, his wife and Carla could’ve grown increasingly close. If they did it, maybe there were no FBI agents or medical examiner. They could have shot him, buried him or whatever, and sent us off to chase a tall tale. Why don’t I look more closely into the bank accounts of Sam and Paige Crawford? Also Carla Roth, see if either of them might have withdrawn enough to pay whoever took that long-distance shot. It might be a bit dicey to get into Carla’s account, but let me take a crack at it.”

“If the shot was not fired from long distance, the ladies could have plugged him in the head, not needing a sniper, and used the weekend to dump him wherever and rehearse their story before they came calling at the station on Monday.”

“I’ll need Paige Crawford to approve a look at her bank account.”

“She’ll give you permission,” Maddie said, “if she’s innocent.”

“What if she’s guilty?”

“She’ll still do it,” Maddie said. “If Paige did it, with or without a lover, Carla or a man, she’s worked hard to look innocent and sympathetic. She won’t act in a way that will blow that impression. No. She’ll cooperate in getting you whatever you want from the bank. As for Carla, as you said, that will be a bit dicey. We have no basis for asking her to approve our doing so. Hopefully you can find something out backchannel.”

“Okey dokey, artichokey,” Sue said. When Maddie looked at her like she had a screw loose, Sue said, “My grandmother used to say that all the time. I haven’t used it for years. It just came out.”

“You were saying?”

“I’ll have Paige come down to the station to sign an authorization instructing the bank to give us any and all information and access to accounts.”

“Be sure to cover the angle of accounts at other banks. Maybe they didn’t want Mr. Norbert knowing everything about all their finances. If she says they only used Nation’s First, have her authorization include an affidavit that there are no other bank accounts of any type in any other institution. Oh, and be sure these documents reference both U.S. and foreign banks. Remember, Sam Crawford traveled outside the U.S. a fair amount and he speaks other languages. Have the station house attorney draw it up.”

“You got it,” Sue said before Maddie continued.

“At this point, all the possibles remain possible. We need to find those phony FBI agents, if in fact those imposters ever existed.”

“And find the body.”

“If the team that killed Sam Crawford is as good as they’re starting to look, we may never find Sam’s remains.”

Chapter 11

“Maddie! Maddie! Where are you?”

“I’m pulling out of my garage. What’s up?”

“You won’t believe this. You just won’t fucking believe it.”

“Sue. Where are you? Damn, woman. What’s this about?”

“I’m at the station. Got here two minutes ago and the phone on your desk kept ringing. I answered it.”

“Okay. But a ringing phone doesn’t make you have an orgasm. You’ve got me speeding and I don’t even know why. What’s going on?”

“Well, you know how we said yesterday that we had to find Sam Crawford’s body? Well, it’s been found. It’s over at the medical examiner’s office.”

“How did it get there?” Maddie asked as she turned onto the interstate for the short ride downtown. “Where was it found?”

“Right there. Right the fuck there.”

Maddie had already learned that when her partner got really excited, she tended to slip back into the street talk of the rough neighborhood where she had grown up. “Sue, what do you mean, right there?”

“Just what I’m saying, Sergeant Richards.” Maddie knew that as Sue started down off an excited high she tended to talk more formally—part of her self-calming mechanism. “Sam Crawford’s body is in the medical examiner’s office, in one of their bags, on one of their trays, in one of their refrigerated storage compartments. Holy shit, Maddie.”

“Okay. Stay calm. First, get calm. Where did they find his body and why wasn’t I called when it was found?” Maddie glanced at her speedometer and started slowing as the needle passed eighty.

“We were called when it was found. They just found it. Dr. Conner’s assistant found it right in one of their body bags, like I just said. Right damn there. That’s what I’m saying. Right damn there. Sam Crawford was there waiting for them when they got to work.”

“How did his body get there?”

“Welcome to the mystery of the day, Maddie. No one knows. It’s just there. Hey, this is good news, right? I mean we needed to find the body and the body found us. Holy Shit, Maddie. The assistant found Sam Crawford in a bag under refrigeration. Don’t that beat all?”

“It sure does. Okay. I’m headed there. … No. You stay at the stationhouse. I’ll see you a little later … What? Yes. I’ll keep you informed.”

Maddie punched on the siren, and then reached out her driver’s window to stick a magnetized red light to the roof. Then she stomped on her accelerator. This wasn’t a textbook reason for using her siren and roof lights, but it was close enough.

* * *

“Rosemary,” Maddie said, just below a scream as soon as she walked through the medical examiner’s door from the parking lot behind West Jefferson Avenue. The department was in fact, the Maricopa County Medical Examiner’s office, but it handled the city of Phoenix where its office was located within Maricopa County. Rosemary Conner had been the medical examiner for the Phoenix area for nearly a year and the two women had become pretty good friends. Maddie knew this mysterious appearance of a dead body would not reflect well on her friend.

“Rosemary. Rosemary. Where are you?”

“Hi, Maddie,” Dr. Conner said as she came around the corner, pulling a pair of latex gloves off as she approached.

“Is it true? You’ve found Sam Crawford’s body?”

“More like he found us. One of my people opened a bag we thought contained the remains of a Mexican boy found dead in the desert. He was among a dozen illegals abandoned without water. Instead he finds the remains of two unidentified children, both boys, in that same bag.”

“Rosemary, I’m sorry if I sound insensitive about the two boys, but my department is in an uproar over this. I need answers.”

“Okay. Okay. The assistant, Steve, starts opening various bags until he gets to this one where he finds the two little boys. After that he immediately checked the bag which was supposed to contain the other one of those two children. That’s where he found Sam Crawford. Who we’re assuming is Sam Crawford. Steve didn’t know who the man was at first, no reason he should. He was baffled because we never bag bodies together. Through a series of guesses and checking we concluded our mystery guest might be the dude you told me had gone missing. The body the phony medical examiner took from the Crawford home late last Thursday night. We’re still not certain. Not absolutely anyway, but he does fit the general description you gave me over the phone last week. Protocol requires we obtain a proper confirming ID before we formally book this guy as Sam Crawford.”

“Let me have a look.”

The two women scurried down the hall into the main autopsy room where Maddie saw a man on a gurney butted up against a sink, the light over the body on. Rosemary led Maddie to that examining table.

“Have you seen pictures of Mr. Crawford?” Maddie nodded. Rosemary moved her hand up and down in the space over the body. “Would you say this is Sam Crawford?” Maddie nodded. “I’ll still need positive ID from someone we can use.”

Maddie nodded again. “I’ll get his wife, Paige Crawford, down here as soon as possible. But, first, let’s see if we can find some answers for me to use to explain how her husband’s body disappeared with a phony medical examiner, and then reappeared in the office of the real medical examiner.”

“Let’s go in my office. I haven’t had a chance to get coffee yet.” Rosemary led the way. Maddie followed.

After a series of nods and headshakes about coffee and fixings, Rosemary handed a mug of black coffee to Maddie who sat in a hardback chair across from the doctor’s desk. Rosemary tore open a paper bag which held two Danish topped with some kind of pasty looking red slime.

“You’re a doctor, Rosemary. Do you think when we get to heaven that we’ll be able to eat all the Danish we want every morning, and have pasta every night without gaining any weight?”

“I don’t think that falls under the purview of a doctor.”

“My mother says it’ll work like that, but I guess we should focus on your unexpected visitor.”

“If we assume the report you got from his wife is true,” Rosemary began, “that explains the disappearing part. As for reappearing here, who the hell knows?”

“How long has it been here?” Maddie asked.

“I was just forming an opinion about that when you came in hollering for me.”

“And?”

“The condition of the body, remember he was killed, or his wife is claiming he was killed, what seven or eight days ago?”

Maddie nodded, “A week ago yesterday, yeah.” Then she twirled her hand to signal Rosemary to get to the point.

“Accepting, for the moment, that Thursday night a week ago was the time of death, this body has been under refrigeration for most, maybe all, of that time.”

“You mean it’s been here the whole time? The entire damn time? We’re going to look like the Keystone Cops.”

“Now wait, Maddie. I didn’t say the body has been here the whole time. I only said, under refrigeration somewhere most or all that time.”

“Can you determine what hours, what days and nights since a week ago yesterday that your office has been unmanned?”

“Finally, a question for which I have an answer, that’s easy. We are usually unstaffed, during the week, from around ten at night until six the next morning, when Steve arrives. We staff shorter hours on Saturday, and none on Sunday. Of course, all that blows up if we get behind or some kind of calamity brings in extra business which happens more often than we’d like. Or a load of illegals gets left to fry in the desert. That’s how we got the two young boys that were bagged together. Apparently by the person looking for a bag in which to put the body we’re assuming is Sam Crawford.”

“So, this white, male cadaver could’ve been here the whole time? I mean, how many places in town can you keep a full grown man refrigerated for a week?”

“Meatpackers for sure,” Rosemary said, then after a pause she added, “and some mortuaries.”

“Then there’s refrigerated storage lockers for hunters or ranchers,” Maddie said, “even homeowners who buy meat in bulk and store it away from their homes, maybe a dozen or so of them. Then the meatpackers and mortuaries you mentioned could get the list up to twenty or so. I’ll have Sue check that out. Call around to see if any of them recently had and now don’t have the body of a grown man. I can’t imagine why they would, or why they would admit it if they did. There could be some you-store-it-you-lock-it refrigerated rental units without the companies knowing the contents. I’m guessing there are some of those. We’ll throw in a question about break-ins.”

“Sounds like a good place to start.”

“Now, Rosemary, I need you to put aside selfish concerns and answer this. What is the likelihood that Mr. Crawford has been a guest here the whole time?”

“My first reaction is, no way. Never happened, impossible, then my head says yeah, could happen. Bottom line: how many people want to sneak a dead body into the ME’s office? So, sure, it’s possible. I guess. It’s like nobody breaks into a prison, out yes, in no. No one wants in, same for morgues. There’s not a lot of demand to get into the place where the county keeps dead bodies. I just told you the hours that we are commonly unstaffed and locked down with security on. If someone brought him in—”

“Rosemary, he’s here so someone did bring him in.”

“Okay. Okay. That’s true. My point being, if they did so while we were shut down, and it would be impossible while we’re here, they would have had to get through security. As you just said, the fact the body is here says they got through the security. The question is when? Last night? Last week?”

“I need a list of everyone who has keys to this facility and knows how to turn off the alarm system. Include the cleaning crew.”

“For security reasons and sanitation, we do most of our own cleaning. The occasional exceptions occur with Steve or me here while whatever is being done that requires off-hours access.”

“That shortens the list, but I still need it. Include your staff, outside doctors, whoever. Everyone who has keys and alarm details. No. No. Two lists, everyone with either keys or alarm details. And highlight those who are on both lists. All we know for now is the body is here, and it could have been here since the night his wife said he was shot dead. This is the first absolute proven fact on this case. We have the body. It is dead. It is here. I think that’s progress. I hope it is. Of course, that assumes this dude is Sam Crawford, but I’ll get that squared away damn quick. Any gut feel for how long his body’s been here?”

“Not really. We simply have no reason to open body bags until it’s time for us to process a given body.” Rosemary Conner summed it all up with a shrug.

“So, what made Steve Gibbs start opening the bags?”

“Now this is the part that’ll really ring your bell. We got a phone call about an hour or so ago on our private direct line. Steve answered thinking it was one of only a few people who have that number. Steve’s aunt. His fiancée. My roommate. Like that. The caller said you’ve got a mystery guest in one of your bags. Then the guy hung up.” Maddie held her coffee cup in midair and leaned forward as Rosemary continued: “Steve went hunting. He glanced at each bag tag and began opening any which looked askance for any reason. He remembered the two boys coming in about ten days ago. We both did. That whole group was unidentified. We’ve been busy and we just haven’t gotten to them all as quickly as we would in a perfect world.”

“What made Steve suspect something was wrong with that particular bag?”

“Like I said, we remembered these two small boys.” Rosemary got up and began pacing. “The bag of the first boy looked too bulky for who should have been inside. As soon as Steve opened the bag he knew something was wrong. The feet were at the top, not the head, and there were too many feet. Both boys were in the one bag. They weren’t just stuffed in there. There was care taken. I give whoever did it credit for that. They respected the remains as much as they could, given they were double packing the two children. Steve then checked the bag tagged for the other boy and surprise, our mystery man.”

“Just like the caller had said.”

“Just like the caller had said,” Rosemary echoed Maddie. “So the guy who killed Sam Crawford, again assuming this is Crawford, wanted him found.”

“Apparently the killer, or someone with knowledge, got impatient that the body hadn’t yet been found. That someone decided to call to force the find.”

“Wouldn’t the caller have to be your killer?”

“Probably, most likely, not for certain,” Maddie admitted. She motioned toward the coffee pot on the hotplate in the corner on a table. Rosemary shook off an offer of more. Maddie refilled her cup. “But not for certain,” she repeated. “So far nothing in this case is for certain.”

“Except now, Sam Crawford is dead. That’s for certain.”

Maddie nodded, while pursing her lips. “How much time do you need to finish the autopsy?”

“Like usual. I’ll start right away. What I saw before you came in seems to confirm what the wife reported. This man was shot in the back of the head. Likely the kill shot, but we’ll know that soon enough. The represented time horizon, a week ago yesterday, seemed generally right, assuming he has been refrigerated which is a must-have-been-done thing, given the state of his body.”

“Hold off starting for a while, until I get the wife down here for your confirmation. You’ll be working on his head. She’ll need to see his face.” Rosemary nodded her agreement.

Rosemary, apparently having changed her mind, refilled her cup while Maddie called Detective Martin. After filling her in about what they now knew and still didn’t know, Maddie instructed Sue to phone canvass the places where a body might have been kept refrigerated since the night of the reported shooting. Maddie didn’t think that would take them anywhere, but it needed to be checked.

Instincts told Maddie that a smart someone would not handle a dead body twice. Move it twice. Whoever they pursued not only had the smarts to set up a plausible con to get the body out of the home in plain sight, but to get into the M.E.’s office through the alarm system, and to find out their private line number. That person would have done it all that first night. Handled the body once, getting it done before anyone started looking for the killer or for Sam’s body. Most likely as soon as they left the Crawford residence. She was sure now. The imposter medical examiner with the van would have come straight to the ME’s office. The shooting team was smart as well as ruthless.