The Morelville Mysteries Collection Page 3

  I drew on him in case he had a gun nearby and I flashed my badge. Grandma sank, shaking, into a chair.

  I put the badge away and, still training my pistol at his head, I identified myself as a Customs and Border Protection agent. I quickly glanced sideways at the old woman. She was in a daze but motionless.

  “I want to talk to you about smuggling,” I said.

  He sneered at me and tossed his head. “Nice lookin' white lady like you. You could get hurt real bad comin' round here pointing a piece where you got no business.”

  “I'm just looking for some information. We can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way; your choice.” I wasn't about to show this guy any fear.

  “Buzz off. I don't talk to no cops, man.”

  “Antoine!” It was the old woman. “Enough. I'll not have violence in this house! We've been through enough!”

  Properly cowed, the sneering look disappeared. He released a loud breath and leaned back on the sofa. After what seemed like an eternity, he asked, “What do you want to know?”

  “I need to find Relic.”

  Freestyle looked away. “I don't know him.”

  “All I need is to find him. Anything that would put me on his trail...”

  He didn't look back at me. After several more long seconds, he shook his head. Then, very faintly, I heard, “What's in it for me?”

  “I'll talk to my command but, for them to do anything; you have to give me something first.”

  “Maybe so, but not here. How do I get you, man?”

  I laid my card on the table in front of him. Looking back at him, I said, “Just call that number, 24/7. Don't make me wait. I found you today. I can find you tomorrow too.”

  I backed out of the house and holstered my gun but didn't fasten it. I wanted fast access.

  I returned to Cleveland and, the next day, I drove to Zanesville. I walked into the Sheriff's Office and announced my presence. I explained that I was a federal agent, that I was armed and that I would not be giving up my weapon.

  Sheriff Crane stepped into the receiving area and said to the Desk Sergeant, “Let her pass.” She looked the part of the lady in charge from head to toe. She eyeballed me with an unreadable expression as I moved toward her.

  “Let's talk in my office.”

  I followed her down a short hallway. She opened a door on the left side and, moving around behind a Government Issue desk, she pointed to the only other chair in the room. The room was sparsely decorated and not at all what I expected of a County Sheriff's own office.

  She moved a stack of mail from the middle of her desk blotter to the corner then leaned forward, hands folded over her desk blotter. She grinned and eyed me casually. It was disconcerting after her attempt at roughing me up in our previous meeting. “So, what can I help you with today?”

  “You tell me. You’re the one who stormed the Cleveland Port Office and demanded to be a part of our investigation.”

  “Look; why don’t you just tell me what you’re really working on?”

  “I’m not going to tell you because that information is on a need to know basis and you don’t need to know.”

  “Then why did you come back down here? This is my turf. I need to know what’s going on here, in my town, in my county. I’m starting to think you came back just because you couldn’t stay away from me.”

  “You don’t have the clearance, Sheriff.” I spat her temporary title out like it was something distasteful in my mouth. She had hit a nerve.

  “Why don’t you just give me the general overview... somewhere for me to start? I have reason to believe that what I’m working on and what you’re working on are linked together.”

  “I assure you, they’re not.”

  “Let’s be clear. If you stir up any trouble here, I’ll be on you like white on rice.”

  “Promise?” I instantly blushed. Uggh! Where the hell did that come from?

  She laughed. It was a beautiful, deep sound this time that took my breath away. I caught myself staring at her and quickly turned away. Snap out of it! I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

  “Geno Corelli told me that you’ll be my liaison. Isn’t he the boss?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes...” I trailed off.

  “He’s in charge of you, isn’t he?

  I was evasive. “Locally.”

  “So, liaise.” She smiled again. She knew it got under my skin when she did that.

  I attempted to draw in a breath and then, inexplicably, I gave in. “We’re working on a knock off goods smuggling operation.”

  “Money laundering or counterfeiting of bills involved?”

  “Not that we’re aware of so far but, I suppose it’s possible.”

  “How is Morelville involved?”

  “It isn’t... that we know of.” I was guessing there. The team had so little to go on but I didn’t want her to know that. I certainly didn’t want her to know Sheriff Carter had been a key player in the whole scheme. I planned to hold that card close for a while longer.

  “Then why were you there the other day?”

  “I was meeting with someone who we thought might have some information. I left with no more than I started with.”

  “So, you have nothing.” It was a statement not a question.

  I bristled. “We have a date when we know a large, high dollar shipment is moving but we don’t know the origin or the final destination.”

  “How can I help you?”

  I shrugged and said, “At this point, I don’t know. If we get some more intel that leads us back to this area, I’ll let you know.” I really didn't think she could help and I didn't want her involved in the case anyway. There were still too many unanswered questions. She or other officers in her department could be involved. We just didn’t know yet. Going with that, I feared I may have already told her too much but Gene seemed to believe that she was one of the good guys.

  She donned a skeptical expression but I wasn't giving her any more. Much to my relief, she stood up, signaling the end of our meeting.

  “Thank you.”

  As I stood too, she extended her hand to me. I leaned in to take it but in my clumsiness at the thought of touching her, I bumped the desk and sent her stack of mail skittering to the floor.

  “I'm so sorry!” I skirted the desk and stooped to pick up the mess I'd created as she did the same. We jostled each other as we reached for the same large envelope. It was full of photographs of her that spilled out of it onto the floor.

  There were dozens of shots taken of her with her sister and a couple of kids. In some, she was in the khakis and the plaid shirt she'd been wearing two days before. In others, obviously shot with a high powered lens, she was in other clothes, both inside and outside of her home, alone and with the others, preparing food, eating, changing...

  “What the hell are these?” I yelled.

  She was snatching up the photos and stuffing them back into the envelope. “Nothing. Don't worry about it.”

  Maybe she didn't want me to worry but she sure was!

  I sat back down. “When were those taken?”

  She blew out a breath. “Over the past two days. That's what I was wearing yesterday”, she said as she held out one of the photos.

  “After you arrested me and after you went to Cleveland and met with Corelli?”

  “That has nothing to do with it!”

  “The hell it doesn't! Smuggling designer knock-offs is big business and some of these people we're dealing with consider killing people that get in their way as all in a day's work.”

  “Gee. I'm such a moron! I must have missed the bad guy class at the academy!” She smiled. I knew now that she smiled at me to mock me. Our short truce was over!

  Without thinking about what I might be revealing, I blurted out, “Look, there are people around here that probably know we're investigating a smuggling operation. Someone saw you visit the Port Office. They didn't 'appreciate' it. From here on, you need to stay
out of what we're working on.”

  “I'm a big girl. I can handle the risk.”

  “I'm not asking you to stay out of this. I'm telling you to.”

  “What are you going to do, tell my mommy? Seriously Dana?” She was pissed. “Whatever danger is threatening the peace and quiet in this county, you can be sure I’ll be out there fighting it.” Mel scowled this time, showing her teeth.

  I wondered what she’d do if I tried to kiss her. My heart raced. As volatile and bad-tempered as she was, she might just draw her service weapon and shoot me. Still, kissing those lips would be worth the risk. I resigned not to do it. That wasn’t why I was in town. I had business to take care of and chasing after beautiful butch women was no longer a part of my life anyway. I had too much baggage to carry. Nobody deserved to have to deal with all of my crap just to be in a relationship with me.

  “Stick to catching runaway livestock.” I moved toward the door. “Just forget about me and my crew.” I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be forgetting about Mel anytime soon.

  I walked out of the station and away from Mel Crane. At least I had a potential lead in Chicago. Freestyle would have to figure out how much he could tell me and I needed to figure out how to protect him from his former gang. I needed to talk to Gene about that. I also needed to make sure no one hurt Mel.

  Chapter 4 - Mel

  Curse Dana Rossi! “Stick to catching runaway livestock...” Just who the hell does she think she is? I’m not letting a city girl Customs Agent tell me what to do!

  I was in an interrogation room having my fourth confrontation of the year with Eddie Pierce, a twenty-something, unemployed, hill jack who leaned toward shoplifting and petty theft when the work and the unemployment checks ran out. He was small time but I knew that he knew some of the bigger local players.

  Pierce sat across from me in the small room. His clothes were practically threadbare and he looked like he hadn't had a bath or shower in a few days, at least.

  “Have you been branching out these days? The crime rate is on the rise in the county. I have lots of burglary and vandalism cases going on. What else have you been up to lately?”

  He looked scared. “Sheriff, I swear all I done is a little shoplifting and maybe a smash and grab. I got laid off several months back. The checks weren't enough and now they stopped comin' too. My lady is pregnant. She ain't eatin' right cause we ain't got the money and the doc at the clinic is getting on her.”

  “Drop your pride and cut this petty theft crap out. Get her signed up for WIC so you can get food in the house the honest way. Charity is better than jail. She needs to go to their building over on Putnam.”

  “I'll take her to do it tomorrow Sheriff, I swear, if I don't have to go to jail. I can't afford no bail. There ain't nobody else to take her if I ain't there. She don't drive.”

  “How about an exchange? I asked him. “You give me information and I talk to the judge about no jail time and community service.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “What do you know about the mini crime wave we've got going on around here that you say you're not a part of?”

  “I don't know nothin' 'bout that. It's the truth! I don't know what I can tell you.”

  “If you can't tell me anything useful, I'm going to have to take you down to holding for the night.” He hung his head. I had really thought I could get somewhere with him.

  “Come on. Get up. I’ll walk you down there.”

  We walked out of interrogation and headed down the hall to booking. He was shaking visibly. I thought he might be scared but, really, I knew better. He wasn’t a first timer. I looked at his sunken cheeks and his gaunt frame and I realized he must be hungry. He was stealing for his girl and their unborn child but he wasn't eating himself.

  I wheeled him into the break room. “Look. How about a soda? It's on me.”

  “That's kind of you ma'am.” His eyes grew wide as he looked at the vending machines. “If it's all right with you, I see some juice in that machine over there. I'd like to have me one of those.”

  I watched him out of the corner of my eye while I put money in the machine for his juice. He was eying the candy machine hungrily.

  “I've been so busy today, I didn't get to eat lunch,” I told him. “I'm going to grab a Snicker's bar. Do you want one?”

  He lit up at that and nodded. I wasn't sure how it was going to go with his juice but the gesture brought him to my side.

  “Thank you ma'am. I ain't had lunch neither”, he said as he gulped his first bite. “It's sure nice of you to do this.”

  He followed me out of the break room. I played my next card.

  “I know you would prefer to work if you could. I'm not here to torture you and take advantage of you. I have a job to do but that doesn't give me the right to treat people who are just trying to get by like crap.” I was laying it on a little thick and I knew it, but I could see the wheels turning in his head.

  He started to speak and then paused and looked around. I figured that he was about to finger someone for one of my very real burglary or vandalism crimes. Instead, he leaned close to me and he said, “I know something about that funny money they were talkin’ about on TV the other day.”

  Jackpot! I could barely believe my ears.

  “You don't say? Let's take this conversation into my office and keep it between us.”

  I hustled him inside and closed the door.

  He started to pace.

  “Please, sit down.”

  He perched on the edge of his chair. “I probably shouldn't have said anything. If anyone finds out I snitched...”

  “No one will find out from me. You have my word.”

  He looked around like he was trying to make sure we were completely alone. “I was hangin' out with Travis last week, helpin' him work on his truck.”

  “Travis who?”

  “Stearman. Lives over in the Burg”

  I knew Travis Stearman quite well. He has a misdemeanor rap sheet as long as my arm. In our last run in, one of my deputies had busted him for possession with intent to distribute after stopping him for a moving violation. His attorney got him off when we failed to prove probable cause to search his vehicle. He wasn't high on the list of my favorite people. “How do you know he's passing fake money?”

  “I don't know for sure that he is but somethin' ain't right. We was putting a lift kit on his truck. I'd had a few beers and I needed to take a leak. While I was in the bathroom, a guy showed up. I heard them come in the house. They was talkin' real quiet.”

  “I couldn't hear what they was sayin’ but then I saw the other guy give Travis a stack of what looked like a hundred brand new twenties. Travis didn't give him nothin' in return.”

  “I didn't say nothin' to them and I acted like I didn't see nothin'. I figured if he was still dealin', I didn't want no part of it. I didn't think about it again until I saw the funny money thing on the news. Them looked like brand new twenties...” He trailed off.

  “Did you know the other guy?”

  “Never seen him before.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Black but real light. Maybe six foot tall. Lots of tattoos. Was wearin' a ball cap and sun glasses.”

  “Let's look at some pictures.” I had him pull his chair around to my side of the desk while I booted up my computer. We looked at hundreds of mug shots but, in the end, we had no luck. We couldn't finger the money man. At least I had a lead.

  I walked Eddie through processing and got him released on his own recognizance for the time being. By the time I wrapped everything up with him, it was late. I wanted to pay a visit to Travis Stearman but I was drained. That would have to wait until morning.

  I headed home. My sister was working second shift at the station. The kids would want dinner. I smiled at the thought of a little domestic bliss after a long day in crime's clutches.

  When I pulled in, Beth, Kris's daughter, hung out over the near side of the back deck r
ail and waved me over. “Aunt Mel! Come see!”

  ###

  I've been a cop for 14 years. Nothing, in all that time, prepared me for the things my sister's teenagers could hit me with that I never saw coming. I sucked in a breath, blew it out and walked around to the back of the house. There, I found Cole, my nephew, Kris's oldest, sitting astride an oil drum that he'd rigged up on ropes not meant for the purpose between a tree and one of the decorative side rail spindles on our deck that wasn't made for the abuse it was getting. Two of his friends were jerking the ropes up and down as he “pretended” to be a professional bull rider, his latest obsession.

  Cole was 15 going on five. There was no reasoning with him when he got one of his crazy ideas. He had to learn the hard way, Every. Single. Time.

  The clothesline style rope Cole’s buddy on the tree side, Ben, was jerking was about 3/8ths inch thick woven cotton. Under the weight and stress, it was stretching. The barrel Cole was “riding” plummeted toward the ground. The boy was unceremoniously dumped backwards on his head. To add insult to injury, the force of his fall, loosened the deck railing and it snapped the spindle the rope on the other end was tied to, sending shards of wood flying.

  His buddies both jumped back, stunned. Beth rushed off the deck, to his side. I whipped out my cell phone, completely prepared to call for a squad.

  Beth screamed, “Cole! Cole! Are you okay?”

  I moved fast toward him yelling at her not to touch him.

  He lay stationary on his back on the cool, damp ground for several seconds, eyes closed. As I was kneeling down beside him, he opened his eyes and groaned.

  “Don't move buddy.”

  He ignored me. He lifted his head and then he struggled to sit up. He shook his head like he was shaking out dust and then, despite my efforts to hold him down, he got up.

  “That was so cool!” he crowed, as he staggered to his feet. Only then did he realize that his little stunt had damaged the deck and he got real quiet.

  His two buddies, once seeing that he was okay, split like firewood leaving him hanging in my glare. I ordered both he and Beth into the house and to their rooms. Beth stomped off muttering that she had only been watching and that punishing her wasn’t fair. I hated to be the bad guy at home but it had been a long day, my head was pounding and I was just in no mood for any more of their crazy antics.