I'll Protect You (Clueless Resolutions Book 1) (18 page)

Maggie was up early Thursday morning brimming with nervous energy, for what reason she did not know.  She arrived at her office early and was the first person there. Ten minutes later, in walked Francine.

“Well, good morning Maggie.” she said with a surprised look.  “You’re the early bird this morning, aren’t you?”  Maggie returned the greeting and explained that she had a lot to do this day.

“The coffee is brewing”, she said as she noticed Francine looking at the listing agreement and pictures of the Pickering Street property.

“Oh, New Haven”, noted Francine, “we’re moving on up, I see.” Maggie’s leads usually were confined to East Wayford.

“Oh, yeah”, Maggie replied. “It’s just over the river bridge. I took it as a favor for a friend of mine. The house is vacant so you can check it out. Here are the keys. With the long holiday weekend you’ll have a short showing time before auction, but it’s in great shape and it could sell fast.”

“Oh yes, fast sale, that’s what I like!” said Francine with a rather sinister smile.  Maggie grinned back, bade Francine adieu, and left the office.

As she was driving out of the office driveway, Maggie was nervous. She wasn’t accustomed to doing business any other way than straight up.
What kind of freaking situation am I getting into? I just knowingly handed over a false listing agreement that I signed, accepting it for the company! Okay, so maybe the company won’t be around long. Okay, so maybe it’s justifiable and for a good cause, but this isn’t me. I don’t like lying to people. I would absolutely shit as a spy!

Maggie had to laugh out loud as she drove aimlessly in the general direction of her apartment. “
I must be going nuts! Max talked me into this. I’m calling him right now.”
Maggie silently resolved.  She pulled over to the curb and dialed Max.

“Yo, Wazzup?” was the response.

“What the hell is that? Are you going to become a rapper or something?” she asked.  Max laughed.

“I’m laughing in the face of danger, I think,” he said, “This operation makes me jittery.”

“We have to talk,” Maggie demanded, “where do you want to go?”

“Come over to my place. I just got out of the shower and I’m getting dressed”, he suggested, mimicking her severe, demanding tone.

Maggie was already calming down as she pulled up to Max’s building.  She just needed to talk to someone right now.

Bruce Grover was setting up ladders to trim the front shrubbery and looked up as Maggie got out of her car.

“Hello Bruce”, she said flatly.  Grover, as usual, seemed preoccupied and was acting as though he was not sure what to say.

“Hey, how are you doing?” he blurted. “These things grow faster than weeds”, he seemed to complain, as if Maggie could do anything about it.

Maggie just kept walking.
What is he freaking talking about? Does he want me to cut the god damned bushes,
she thought as she rang Max’s buzzer. “Who is it?” Max asked teasingly.

“You know who the f… it is, buzz me in!” she said loudly.  Grover turned away quickly as though he was eavesdropping on something private.  Max buzzed her in and she went up to his open apartment door.

“What a screwball!” she said.

“Excuse me miss”, Max said with fake indignation, “do I know you?”

“I’m talking about your man Bruce,” she said, ignoring Max’s silly attitude, “That guy must be on something.  You never know what he is going to come out with”, she said in exasperation.  Max sensed that what Grover had said didn’t amount to much.

“He’s probably just inhibited by your gorgeousness”, he said as he pinched her cheek.  She turned to face Max, put her arms around his waist, and looked up into his eyes.

“Kiss me you fool”, she said, surprising Max, and surprising herself. They kissed briefly and then broke apart, bringing themselves back to reality.

“I just needed to talk,” Maggie said, “I’m having doubts about our involvement in the police work”, she added with a look of concern.

Max poured two cups of coffee and they sat at his dinette table sorting out, in their minds, the dire circumstances they were likely to be facing.  One way or another, their lives were about to change and career moves would most likely be necessitated.

“What if you had to relocate for a new job”, Maggie wondered. “Would you have to sell this apartment building?”  Max had been thinking the same thing.

“I don’t know, actually”, he replied. “I could contract with a management company to maintain it, I suppose.”

“You sure can’t leave that shmuck Bruce to run it”, Maggie said. “He’d have you in the poor house in no time at all.”

“I know that”, Max agreed, “Bruce Grover is only as good as what you see.  I don’t think there is much more.  What about you? I wouldn’t have any doubts about a management arrangement with you”, Max asked.

“I could, I guess”, she responded, “but what if I have to relocate as well?”  Silence followed that thought.

“Could you run Jenson & Associates?” Maggie inquired.

“I’m not licensed as an auctioneer, for one thing,” Max responded, “and all I know about auctioning is; ‘Going once - going twice - sold to the lady with the big tits’!” he quipped.

“Christ Max, this is serious”, she said.  Then she broke out laughing until her eyes were blurred at the picture of Max, in her mind’s eye, banging down the auctioneer’s gavel.  Max loved to watch her laugh.

“Well, you’re better off than I am. Between the rent, car payments and insurance”, Maggie said after she composed herself. “I’d be in trouble after six months without some kind of substantial income.”

At around 10:00 AM, Francine, Carrie and Sheena Green were looking through the newly listed New Haven house.

“This is really clean and in good shape. I think I know somebody that would want this”, saleswoman Green commented to Francine after the inspection.

“Great”, said Francine, “but you’d better move fast and have a pre-qualified buyer. It’s going up for auction in three and a half weeks, otherwise.”

Carrie had checked out the half-bathroom and the den with the sofa.

“What do you think?” Francine asked.

“It looks okay”, she responded without much enthusiasm.

Francine was concerned about Carrie’s frame of mind.  Carl Jenson had a “high roller” ready to “roll”, but if Carl’s customer was disappointed in Carrie there could be a backlash within the crowd that Carl commanded.

“If you have doubts about the place…” Francine trailed off, trying to get Carrie’s reaction.

“Oh, no, it’s fine.” Carrie said with feigned sincerity.

Francine took some extra pictures with her cell phone.  Then they locked up and went back over the bridge to East Wayford.

Francine was back in her office, on the phone with her rolodex in front of her and with her door closed, within five minutes after they got back to the Stanley Realty office.

At 11:45 Chief Devaro, Inspector Chace and Detective Salvadore were in conference following the morning roll call and briefing.  Salvadore was pursuing the matter of the perfume smells at the crime scene with the other two principals in the homicide investigation, when Chief Devaro got a call on his cell phone.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” he said, as he rose to leave the room, “this is private.”

Salvadore went on with the perfume details as Chace pretended to be interested.  Chace had been briefed about the matter and both he and the chief agreed that although it seemed to have merit, Salvadore must be deterred from following up on it for a few days.

The chief returned and, with a glance at Chace, asked if they had more to discuss. Salvadore was left hanging, but deferred to the chief and tactfully agreed to wait for further instruction to follow up. The meeting adjourned.  The chief motioned to Chace and they both left the building for lunch.

The inspector and the chief ordered lunch at Jerry’s bar and took a table in the corner while they waited to be served.  Speaking with a subdued voice and speaking in a semi-code, always a difficult task for the chief with his heavy voice, the chief revealed that Carrie had called. She told him that a ‘session’ had been arranged for her at the Pickering Street location, on July 3
rd
, 9:30 PM.  She expected to get the clients I.D. prior to the session, as usual.

The chief had pushed Carrie to try and get the ID info earlier, although he did not mention any specific reason for the rush.  Actually, the reason was for Chace to have time for setting up a tail on the client, on the night of the ‘session’, to see if he was going alone, and/or to find out if he was being followed.

Chace was encouraged about the quickness of Francine ‘taking the bait’.  He was anxious to set up for the possible encounter and he was slightly disappointed that it was still days away.

“That’s a lot of time for things to stay in place,” he commented.

“True”, the chief agreed, “but most everyone in the picture will be involved with the long holiday weekend, which will start tomorrow night and won’t be over until next Wednesday morning.  I think that’s in our favor.” he suggested.

“I hope you’re right, Lou”, Chace responded. “Our necks are out a mile.”

Carrie Slavonic went into the Stanley Realty office on Friday morning around 9:30.  She and Francine exchanged hellos as she went to the message boxes to retrieve messages.  On her way back toward Francine’s office she walked by Maggie’s cubicle. Maggie looked up at Carrie and Carrie looked back.

“Good morning.” Maggie said in her usual sing-song style.

“Hi.” was Carrie’s return, as she diverted her gaze and walked into Francine’s office, closing the door behind her.

“This memo says you wanted to see me?” she stated to Francine in an inquiring tone.

“Yes, how are you feeling, dear?  Is everything okay?” Francine asked.

“Sure, everything’s fine. I guess I had the bug or something for a few days”, Carrie answered.

“You’ve been looking a little peaked, sweetie. Here, take this and go see my masseuse over the weekend”, Francine said in her best motherly tone, as she handed Carrie a business card and four fifty dollar bills. “She’ll give you a good massage. Then go get yourself some new summer clothes. That will surely pick up your spirits, don’t you think?” Francine asked rhetorically.  Carrie took the masseuse’s business card and the money.  With her eyes downcast she said, “Thanks, I guess I could use a boost, for sure.”  Looking up, Carrie then asked if Francine was planning to be around the office over the weekend.  Francine said she had planned to visit relatives on Sunday, but although the office would be closed Monday and Tuesday, she would be coming in to check for phone messages and emails.

“In case I miss you, should I take the keys to the ‘house’ and the picture ID of the ‘client’ now?” asked Carrie, making air quotes.

“Yes, good idea, but come in tomorrow. I’m waiting for the ID by email.  I should have it by tomorrow afternoon. It’s best you have it. We can’t leave that lying around”, Francine said. “Sheena wants the key to show the house on Sunday. We only have the one, so it should be back here on the key rack by Sunday night or Monday morning. Okay? Will that work?” Francine asked.

“That sounds like a plan”, responded Carrie. “I’ll come by for the ID copy tomorrow afternoon.”

Maggie watched Carrie come out of Francine’s office to retrieve her bag and walk out the door.  Through the window she could see Carrie, with her cell phone up to her ear, as she walked like a model on a runway to her Porsche in the parking spaces. 
Just like the successful little business woman that she is,
Maggie thought, bemusedly.

Chief Devaro and Inspector Chace were huddled over a work table in the chief’s office with the door closed, looking at the floor plan of the New Haven house and the plat map showing the 194 Pickering Street lot.  Also on the table was a print-out of a satellite map of the neighborhood.  They were strategizing the planned operation and how they would set up at the scene in advance of the planned session time.

“Here’s how I see it, tell me what you think”, said the chief.  “The timer lights will have the living room lit. The blinds will be slightly open.  When Carrie comes in the front entrance, you’ll be there.  You will tell her that this is the sting and you’re the stand-in for the client.  You’ll be armed and wearing the neck brace under a turtle neck shirt.  I’ll come into the great room when I hear her shut the door. We don’t want her so spooked that she turns and runs.  When the client rings the door bell, she’ll let him in and step back.  You’ll come from behind and put him in an arm lock and I’ll cuff him.  We’ll put him in the laundry room on a chair.”

“Carrie will stay for thirty or forty minutes”, the chief went on. “I’ll duck out of the way while you and she go into the den.  With the lights on dim, you and she will move around so that your silhouettes can be seen through the blinds.  After a few minutes you both sit on the sofa for about another ten, or fifteen minutes. She then gets up and goes to the bathroom with the light on. Five minutes later, she comes back to the den. You’ll do another minute of silhouettes and then she leaves. You walk her to the door and out she goes. As she leaves, I’ll be out of sight watching you through the mirror that’s hanging at the end of the hall. Then we wait to see what happens next.”

Don Chace had listened intently to the chief’s plan.

“I think that pretty much re-creates what we know of the first two cases here in East Wayford, but with the Sheffield case the victim was apparently attacked outside.”

“Right.” said the chief. “I’m thinking he got claustrophobic, or impatient, and went out of the house prematurely right after she left.  Remember, there was a cigarette butt that had burned out to its full original length on the driveway, like it was dropped as soon as it was lit.  Carrie told us that she leaves the door slightly ajar and pre-set to lock when it is closed. When arranging the session appointment, the client is instructed to wait ten minutes after the ‘model’ leaves, then to pull the door closed, and locked, behind him when he goes out to his car. As Carrie leaves she always reminds the client to follow those instructions. I say that the victim in the Sheffield case probably left the house a little too quickly”, added the chief.

“Were you a detective Lou?” asked Don Chace, jokingly.

“No, and I wasn’t a movie director, but I’ve never had my ass this far into a sling, either!” the chief shot back.  Both of the seasoned law enforcement professionals had a quiet laugh over that come-back.

The inspector brought up his plan for tracking the client.

“Once we get the ID information, I’ll contact a trooper in the area. Hopefully he will be in-state. If not, I’ll have to work through our regional network. We can arrange for the client to be tailed at a safe distance. The tail will call us when they arrive in the neighborhood and then hang around nearby. He won’t know anything about our set-up. If the client isn’t cooperative we can have the tail transport him to the nearest barracks to be detained for a while.” The chief thought the plan was sound and nodded his approval.

“It looks like we have most of the set-up in place, and close enough to simulate the previous homicide environments”, the chief stated, “and hopefully, it will produce some results. This hair-brained scheme we cooked up could fall short, or worse, blow up in our faces, but somehow I feel better doing something, rather than sitting around with our heads up our asses.”

Don Chace bid farewell to Lou Devaro and left.

Late Friday afternoon a call to Chief Devaro came from the local TV station requesting an interview regarding the preparations for the traditional Independence Day fireworks display and planned celebrations.  There was the carnival at the village center, the parade and the July 4th Eve, known as one of the best in the area.  The chief knew that if he agreed to speak to the media the questions would eventually drift to the “serial killings” to which they were now commonly referred. He had prepared the headquarters secretary to, whenever the expected media call came, put the call on hold and advise him immediately by private cell phone.

The chief’s cell phone rang just as he was leaving headquarters.  As he answered and recognized the secretary’s call, he accelerated out of the station parking area and continued south toward the I-95 highway.

“Give the call to Lieutenant Salvadore”, the chief directed. “He’s the ‘Acting Deputy Chief’ for the weekend.”  The secretary, who had worked for the chief for several years, and who was a staunch ally, understood completely.  Chief Devaro was confident that she would know exactly how to handle Salvadore’s unofficial, ad hoc sort of promotion.

The chief called Inspector Chace to apprise him of the situation and, with Chace’s agreement they made plans to meet the following afternoon at the chief’s home in Hamden.  There they would shoot some pool, have a few beers, and wait for the call from Carrie after she picked up the session client’s ID.

Earlier in the day Max had completed an evaluation of Jerry Pippin’s properties and stopped in right at the 11 o’clock morning opening time.  He wanted to present it to Jerry before the busy Friday noon crowd arrived.

“Hey Mate, how goes it?” Jerry asked greeting Max as he entered.

“It goes well, I guess, I have the report of my evaluation on your properties.” he said as he handed an unaddressed, sealed manila envelope across the bar to Jerry.

“Ah, I was wondering how that was going”, Jerry commented.  No other customers had arrived as yet and Jerry immediately opened the envelope.

Noting the front summary page showing the estimate of full market value, Jerry was pleasantly surprised at the dollar figure.  It was substantially higher than what he had agreed to pay when he signed the buy-and-sell agreement, those seemingly short years back in time.

“Don’t get too excited”, Max cautioned. “That represents a best case scenario right now, and the market is cooling down as we speak.”  Max went on to explain that the estimate was subject to legal action to separate the house deed from the bar deed, with the town’s permission.  That action would be subject to attorney fees and court costs.

“Right, I understand, Max, but this will give me a bargaining chip if, and when, I challenge the mortgage holder to re-write the mortgage terms.” Jerry responded.  Max was surprised at Jerry’s reaction. He was cagier and a lot more savvy about property ownership than Max had given him credit for.

“What’s the tab for the report, Mate?” Jerry asked.

“Let it ride towards my bar tab and let me know when you think it’s reached what it’s worth to you,” Max replied.
“He must be hard pressed for cash right now. I’ll let it run to 300 bucks unless he calls it earlier.”
Max silently promised himself.  This was much lower than his usual fee.

“Deal Mate, I really appreciate this.  I know you and Maggie know your business.  Was she a help on this?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” responded Max, just as Maggie walked in and sat next to him at the bar. 

“Did I miss something?” she asked.

“Yep” was Max’s response. Maggie looked a little puzzled but knew she’d get the explanation later.  Jerry burst into a laugh, knowing that it would happen that way.  They were a cool couple, in his opinion.  He enjoyed the style of mutual friendship they displayed.