Key man, p.21
Key Man, page 21
“Oh, Christ!” Kate cried. “Jesus, Christ! Why couldn’t I see it yesterday?”
Sam, Ski, and Jud jumped to their feet. Ski was the first to reach Kate.
“Christ, it’s her!” Kate exclaimed, pointing to the picture of Liz on the credenza.
“Of course it’s her,” observed Jud. “This is Liz’s office after all. It’s OK to have a picture of yourself in your office, especially if it reminds you that you do have a life outside of work.”
“No, what I mean is it’s NOT her. That’s not your Liz. That’s Elizabeth Rockwell. I knew I knew her!”
“Liz, Elizabeth, around here she’s always been Liz,” stated Jud.
“But, don’t you see?” Kate continued trying to catch her breath. “That’s Elizabeth Rockwell. Terrance Newberry’s girlfriend, Elizabeth Rockwell. I recognize her from the society clips I put together on Terrance.
“When you introduced us yesterday I felt like I’d met her somewhere before, but I couldn’t place her. We hadn’t met; I’d just seen pictures of her with Terrance.
“I couldn’t put it together yesterday, the glasses and everything. But this picture. That’s her. And she knows we’ve got something going on Terrance.”
“I had no idea,” Jud gushed, looking like he might faint on the spot. “Strictly against company policy. No dating clients. No compromising relationships. No conflicts of interest.” With that, Jud slid into one of the chairs next to Liz’s desk.
“OK,” Sam offered as he started to pace. “So Liz, Elizabeth, whoever she is, has undoubtedly told Terrance something’s up. I was about to try to corner him with the news that we like him as a suspect in the Newberry murder anyway. Maybe we haven’t lost much here. Maybe Liz just alerted Terrance something was up. Maybe we’re OK here.”
Jud slumped further into the chair and looked like he might be ill any second. “I told her,” came out as a whisper.
Sam stopped pacing and lunged at Jud, “You told her what?” Sam screamed through clenched teeth, his face about four inches from Jud’s.
“You told her what?” Sam repeated.
“Everything.” Jud exhaled. “I told her everything.”
“Everything!” snarled Sam.
“Everything,” Jud reiterated, cowering further back into the chair. “She was all over me after you guys left. Terrance-was-her-client, this. And, she-had-a-right-to-know, that. She said it wasn’t fair to jeopardize her standing in the firm by asking for compromising information on one of her clients without her knowing why. And she was right. She threatened to call the Chairman of the Board at home. Wake him up in the middle of the night and disavow any part in allowing you access to Terrance’s records without all the proper paperwork.”
After a couple of deep breaths, when it was clear that no one was going to interrupt and that his story wasn’t complete, Jud continued, “I thought it was important for you guys to get what you needed today! That’s what you said. She calls the Chairman directly, and not only would I lose my job on the spot, but whoever replaced me, probably Liz, would have been instructed to show you the door until you had all your search warrants and subpoenas not only in order, but reviewed and approved by our house counsel.”
One more deep breath and Jud finished, “So I told her everything.”
“That we liked Terrance for a string of murders?” asked Sam.
“Yeah,” answered Jud.
Sam now had his face two inches from Jud’s, “That we suspect Terrance is hiding profits associated with those murders in overseas accounts?”
“Yeah,” Jud responded meekly. “I told her everything. Once I started, it all came out. At the time, I thought it was the right thing to do.” Jud looked like a whipped dog as he finished admitting his sins.
Sam allowed Jud about 15 seconds of self-pity and then informed him that he was now considered guilty of obstruction of justice and could possibly end up as an accessory to murder. If Jud looked shaken before, now he was reduced to jelly.
Sam told Jud that his only hope was to get on their side, in a big way. Help them, and they’d do what they could to help him.
Jud knew he was an innocent bystander. He knew that he’d had nothing to do with Terrance’s ill-gotten gains. He knew that telling Liz everything was the right thing to do.
He knew all that, but Kafka-ish things did happen. At least they did on TV, which was the basis of his reality away from the office.
Jud had no interest in testing the system. He’d do anything and everything the detectives asked.
After thinking about the situation for a minute or two, Sam concluded that their mission that morning hadn’t really changed. They still needed to trace Terrance’s income.
Sam informed his new cohort, Jud, that his first assignment was to sit down at Liz’s computer and call up Newberry’s accounts. Jud told Sam that he wasn’t making things up the previous day. He really couldn’t get into Liz’s computer or paper files.
Sam reached over the top of the desk, picked up the phone, and handed it to Jud. “Do whatever you need to do. Call whoever you need to call. Get whatever code words, instructions, whatever it takes. We’ve got to find out what’s on this fucking computer.”
IV
It took more than three hours for Jud to get through all of the explanations, proper channels, and tech support people before he had the clearance and passwords he needed to get into Liz’s computer. Once inside, it took another half hour, and help from one of the younger brokers, to figure out how Liz had organized her customers and their files.
While SecureFirst provided basic computer software and technical support, each broker was free to set up their personal computer files however he or she saw fit. So each broker’s computer records were organized differently.
Kate wasn’t a computer whiz, but she seemed to follow Liz’s logic in organizing her files. However, even though she cracked Liz’s filing system, Kate couldn’t locate anything on Terrance Newberry.
After a while, it was clear that Kate was having trouble accessing Terrance’s file not because she was looking in the wrong place. She was having trouble accessing Terrance’s file because it had been deleted.
Letting Jud take the lead, the foursome tore through Liz’s office, the general computer room, and even the supply room looking for a back-up. Liz obviously had deleted all of Terrance’s computer records, purged the trash files on her hard drive ... but if they could just find a back-up.
Liz was thorough. No trace of a back-up anywhere.
Liz’s purging of Terrance’s files was so complete that no matter what Ski tried, he wasn’t able to recover, reconstruct, or un-delete any records. Liz knew computers as well as she knew the market.
It was going to take a full day for the courier to arrive with the keys to Liz’s fireproof files. Everyone tried to remain optimistic that they’d find something in Liz’s hard copy files that would tie Terrance to the ‘short sales’ transaction. However, she’d been so thorough in cleaning out the computer records, in their hearts they knew there really wasn’t much hope they’d find anything even remotely useful once the file cabinets were opened.
Chapter 39
Jules Jewel had been almost honest with Sam when he told him he’d spent every evening for the past two years in his shit-ass trailer, reading his Bible. He’d get an urge every once in awhile he’d need to satisfy, but for the most part Jules filled his empty evenings reading his Bible, looking for meaning in his empty life.
It took Jules nearly a year to read the Bible from cover-to-cover the first time. Jules knew he was slow at catching on to most things, so he spent another year reading the good book a second time. It still didn’t make any sense.
Jules expected an instruction manual. He wanted specific directions for redemption. He was left confused.
Jules never saw the light. He never accepted Jesus as his personal savior. He never even appreciated any of the poetry, tall tales, or parables he had forced himself to read.
After two years, it was time to do some catching up.
II
Jules tried to catch up for two years of sitting in his shit-ass trailer, reading that worthless Bible, all in one night. He tried to relive his past. Not in slow motion, like when you’re drowning, but fast-forward, like on speed.
Jules started with the motorcycle. An easy target, but he wanted to watch the gas tank explode.
Then he moved on to the deserted gas station. There could be some gas fumes left in the abandoned tanks and flammable materials mixed in with the discarded trash in the old repair bay.
The structure burned like any other vacant building. The underground tanks didn’t blow. Jules was disappointed.
Frustrated, Jules moved on to a worthy target. He’d torch one of the oil refinery tanks located just off the I-405. He’d share his triumph with the late-night commuters.
But before he could get within 100 feet of the tank he’d selected, Jules was grabbed by security.
III
“OK, Jules, here’s the deal.” Ski stated flatly after reentering the interview room. “I’ve talked to the DA. He’s willing to make a deal, just to keep you off his calendar.”
“I don’t need to make no deal.”
“Follow me on this, Jules. We got you trespassing on the refinery grounds. You’re carrying incendiary material, heading for the tanks.”
“That don’t mean nothing.”
“Add in that you’ve got a history of arsons.”
“Nothin’s ever been proven.”
“You’ve got a history of being a suspect in numerous arsons. AND, we got three eyewitnesses who pulled you out of the lineup as the guy who set a motorcycle on fire the same night.
“So don’t tell me you don’t need to make a deal. You make a deal, or you piss the DA off. You piss him off, become a smudge on his calendar, and you’ll find out why you should have made a deal.”
“OK ... just for argument, let’s say I want to make a deal. What kind of deal can you offer?”
“We know you’re a pyro. We want you in the system. We want you to have a record. But, since this is your first ‘official’ offense, we’re willing to cut you some slack if you cooperate.”
“Cooperate? Like how?”
“Draw a straight line from the motorcycle fire to the refinery and it runs right through an abandoned gas station that was torched last night. We know that’s your work, but it’s going to take a lot of effort to prove it. You can save us all a lot of time by confessing to that one.”
“And where’s the deal come in?”
“The deal is ... you confess to the motorcycle and the gas station fires and we’ll drop the trespassing, malicious mischief, and attempted arson charges related to the refinery. And we’ll recommend that, as a cooperative first offender, you be given a suspended sentence for the arsons, so long as you attend mandatory counseling sessions for a year. No time, just counseling that you obviously can use. Kid, it’s a hell of a deal.”
“Do I have to pay for the counseling? ’Cause I’m barely getting by as it is.”
“The State of California will be happy to pay for your counseling.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Write up a statement describing how you set the motorcycle and the gas station fires. I get the D.A.’s deal typed up. We trade. And that’s about it.”
IV
The State of California lived up to its end of the deal with Jules Jewel. Essentially, Jules got a walk on the two arsons.
But, Ski had failed to mention one little detail. A transient’s body had been discovered inside the abandoned gas station. He’d apparently been asleep when Jules set the fire, and he died in the blaze.
Jule’s confession allowed him to walk from the arsons but not the homicide. He’d already made one deal. Now he had no choice but to make another and plead guilty to manslaughter, with its 25-year sentence.
The transient killed in the gas station was never identified. The arson squad didn’t find any identification or personal effects besides a wad of charred cash — more than $700 — and a badly burned, handwritten, marginally coherent manifesto that railed against the evils of modern technology ... satellites, cell phones, and other wireless devices that put messages out on the airwaves, to worm their way into people’s heads. Messages that could make people listen to things they didn’t want to hear. Messages that could make them do things they didn’t want to do.
Chapter 40
Elizabeth Rockwell essentially fell off the face of the earth. She left LA the evening that Sam, Ski, and Kate first visited SecureFirst. Ski was able to trace her as far as Paris. From there Liz had booked train reservations to Marseilles, Stockholm, and Athens.
It was impossible to determine if she actually boarded any of the trains. It didn’t really matter, because once off U.S. soil, all she needed was a little determination and a lot of cash to disappear completely. And she had both.
Sam was sure that Terrance had also pulled a disappearing act. They’d already wasted the better part of the day breaking into Liz’s computer and tracking her flight from the country. Finding a warm trail for Terrance would be even harder now.
Maximizing the resources he could muster to hunt for Terrance, Sam called in Donny to help him, Ski, and Kate make calls. Sam even recruited Jud to work the phones as a demonstration of Jud’s good faith effort to atone for his sins.
Sam believed Terrance, who, as far as he knew, was still vacationing on Martha’s Vineyard, would want to catch an international flight as soon as possible. So, Ski was assigned the Dulles airport, Donny and Jud split the New York/New Jersey airports, and Kate took Boston.
Sam took a more direct route this time. Using the ‘official police business’ approach, he managed to obtain Terrance’s unlisted phone number in Martha’s Vineyard. “Maybe the bastard hasn’t left yet. Maybe he’s still busy cleaning out his bank accounts.”
No answer at Terrance’s vacation home.
Sam rang up the local constable, this time identifying himself and the reason for his call. He asked the duty officer to have a patrol car dispatched to Terrance’s home to see if there was any sign of his whereabouts.
Not long after his call, word came back that the Martha’s Vineyard house looked to have been closed up for the season. There was nothing at the property that would indicate where Terrance was, where he might have gone, or when he left.
The airport search hadn’t fared any better. No trace of Terrance Newberry leaving the country.
They immediately speculated that Terrance must have anticipated the possibility he could, at some point, be linked to any one of thirty-odd murders. So he must have had contingency plans for getting out of the country. They already knew he was smart. There was no reason to think he would not have made arrangements for a quick, quiet, and complete disappearance.
As the dead ends mounted, Sam decided to call Oscar. “That pompous butler has to know Terrance’s whereabouts. He’ll give me that ‘I know nothing’ crap. But once I hit him with the possibility of accessory to murder and unlawful flight, I’ll bet his memory improves.”
Sam rang up the Newberry residence, and on the third ring Oscar answered. “Newberry residence ... Well certainly Detective Siemen, I do remember you. You were here at the residence just last week ... Well, Detective Siemen, I’m not sure exactly what you mean, but let me assure you that I wouldn’t, how’d you say, give you any crap, about Mr. Newberry’s whereabouts ... Please be assured that if you asked me Mr. Newberry’s whereabouts, and if I had that information, I’d be more than happy to share it with you ... Detective Siemen, are you actually interested in Mr. Newberry’s location, or are you primarily interested in raising your voice to me?”
Sam was wound pretty tight, so he took a deep breath, apologized to Oscar, and then stated “Yes, I am interested in Mr. Newberry’s location, and I’d appreciate any help you could provide in tracing Terrance.”
“In that case,” Oscar volunteered, “Mr. Newberry’s right here. Actually, he’s still in bed. Returned home late last night.”
Oscar continued on, “I put your request for an appointment right at the top of Mr. Newberry’s incoming mail and messages. But, as I said, Mr. Newberry didn’t return until very late last night. I’m sure he’ll set a time for a meeting once he is up and has an opportunity to see what the rest of his schedule looks like.”
Sam was speechless. So Oscar filled the vacuum with, “is there anything else I can do for you at this time, Detective?”
“No, nothing else at this time,” Sam stammered weakly. “Just make sure Terrance knows that I need to see him on an important matter, as soon as possible. Oh, and thanks.”
Sam just stood there in stunned silence. He couldn’t believe that the reason they hadn’t been able to find any clue as to how or when Terrance Newberry had fled the country was because he wasn’t on the run. He’d left Martha’s Vineyard to return to Los Angeles. He wasn’t on the lamb. He was home, in bed, sleeping like one.
The two detectives and their three civilian ‘assistants’ had been working the phones out of one of Jud’s mid-sized conference rooms. Jud’s offices offered the necessary space and telecommunications equipment so that they could make their calls within earshot of each other. By hosting the bull pen session, Jud saw an opportunity to start working off his debt to society. And the SecureFirst offices were certainly plusher than anything Sam or Ski, or for that matter, even Donny, had to offer.
When Sam regained his bearings, he announced to the group, “Fucker’s at home, sleeping like a baby.”
Donny was the first to react to Sam’s declaration. “Come again?”
“Fucker’s home, sleeping like a baby,” Sam continued. “We can call off the dogs. Terrance didn’t split Martha’s Vineyard for parts unknown. He flew back to LA last night and he’s up at his big house, as we speak, sleep’n like a fuckin’ baby.”
“Guy’s got some real balls,” Kate observed.
