The Morelville Mysteries Collection Page 5

  I set up a teleconference with Gene and a rep from the U.S. Marshall’s service. We got a tentative agreement from the Marshall’s to get Freestyle into the witness protection program based on the validity of the information he gave us. Gene had very little else to report. The team had no new leads. Everyone was pinning their hopes on getting new leads out of my clandestine meeting with the former gang banger tonight.

  My backup for the mission, Lew Conti, and I pulled into a deserted parking lot a couple of minutes before 10:30. We radioed the rest of the team our location. We checked vests and weapons and then dismounted carefully in full view of the few west facing windows there were though they were dark and covered with chain mesh. Someone might be watching our approach.

  We approached the door cautiously but, before we even reached it, a voice that could only belong to Freestyle called out, “Identify yourselves!”

  “Agents Rossi and Conti,” I called back, hoping that my voice would reassure him that it really was me. It must have worked, as the door swung open and Freestyle motioned us inside with a quick wave of his hand. He closed and bolted the door behind us. We were in for a penny or a pound now.

  Freestyle looked me over quickly and then tossed his head toward Conti. “Why he here?”

  “Policy. Agents don’t do night missions alone.”

  The warehouse was a dark and musty smelling cavern. What little I could see appeared to be pretty empty. Freestyle led the way along the entry wall to an office just off the main shop floor on a side wall. A tiny battery powered lamp was the only illumination in the windowless little room.

  “Who else you got out there?”

  “There’s a back-up team that can roll fast.”

  “So you’s are wired?”

  “Mic’d, yes.”

  “I dunno man. I don’t like being played like this here.”

  “Look, we have to do what we have to do. There’s a protection plan in the works for you. You keep your end of the deal and I’ll keep mine.” I paused for a beat and let that sink in. Then I asked, “Are we square?”

  Lew stood strong and silent to my left flank, foot braced against the now closed office door. I stood in front of the makeshift pallet table Freestyle had his little lamp and a couple of crushed Red Bull cans sitting on. He’d been here awhile and he was wired up on energy drinks and who knows what else.

  We played a staring game for what seemed like an eternity but really was probably only a matter of seconds. Finally, he broke the silence.

  “Man, I needs to get outta this town. Tell me what I gotta do.”

  “What do you have for me?”

  “Why are you looking for Relic man? Relic is bad news.”

  “Relic isn’t going to be your problem anymore.”

  He was quiet for several more seconds then he started telling his story. “I spent most of the last two years in the joint. While I was down, J-Dawg took over my crew. We was doin’ mostly meth then.” He eyeballed Lew. Conti didn’t move and I didn’t interrupt.

  “J-Dawg had dollar sign dreams man. He didn’t want to keep pushing five dollar bags to junkies. He wanted cut in on the big money goods ops that some other crews were workin’.”

  “So?” Gangbangers’ wanting more green in their pockets wasn’t news.

  “You just don’t step on the toes of other crews man. You gotta work the system.”

  “Where does Relic enter the picture?”

  “Man in the cell next to mine worked for Relic’s crew doin’ those sorts of runs. Says Relic set him up to take the fall for a hit. He wanted revenge. He said he could pass information to J-Dawg that would help him seize control of part of a big smuggle op from Relic’s crew.”

  “What info did he pass?”

  “Nothin’ man. Got shanked the next day. Bled out in the rec yard.”

  “Who killed him?”

  “Unofficially now; guy name of Vincent on Relic’s order. The warden never fingered anybody for it.”

  “That fast?” I was stunned.

  “Hell yeah, that fast! Why you think I need outta here so quick like? Word gets out...” He trailed off, shook his head and then picked right back up, “I get the same! Damn!”

  “Where can I find Vincent?”

  “No clue man. He went invisible when he got out’ the joint ‘bout a month ago. He might’a been offed too.”

  I’d have to look at the visitor logs and see who might have delivered the hit order to Vincent before the murder of the other prisoner. If I could find the messenger that delivered the order, I had a path to Relic. It was a slim lead but more than I had before.

  “So how you getting’ me outta here?”

  “Marshall’s service will be extracting you. I’m sorry but it won’t be tonight. Give me another day and I’ll be in touch with details. Be prepared to give a pickup location tomorrow.”

  I didn’t make enough to maintain a crash pad in two cities. I checked into an extended stay hotel for the night on the agencies dime. I figured on being in town a couple of days to follow up on my lead and to ensure Freestyle got what I promised him.

  Sleep was slow to come. I kept thinking about finally having a direct link to Relic. Even if I couldn’t find enough evidence to link him to the whole smuggling operation, I had him on murder one for ordering the prison hit. One way or another, a loser would be off the street. I would though do whatever it took to get enough information out of him to bring the whole ring down.

  I thought also about Mel’s stalker. She was a big girl and a seasoned police officer. I knew she could handle her situation but there was her sister and her kids to think about too. She really needed some back up. I desperately wanted to ensure that her stalker was in no way related to my smuggling investigation.

  I had a job to do and Mel was just the sort of distraction that I didn’t need but couldn’t seem to help thinking about. I needed to find the major players in this, shut down the whole shooting match and then get the heck out of Ohio and away from her, for good.

  Chapter 7 – Mel

  I planned on starting my day by going out and rousting Travis Stearman to question him about the wad of twenties that Eddie saw him getting from the tattooed guy we couldn’t pinpoint in the mug shots. When I got to the office though, I had a visitor waiting to see me. An agent had arrived on assignment from the Secret Service. He was here to look into the fake twenties that were surfacing around the county.

  He stood when I walked in. I’m a tall woman but he had me by several inches. He was easily 6’6” or more. He was the stereotype of a movie worthy G-man: black suit, perfectly creased, a close cut of his sandy colored hair, squared off jaw and broad shoulders. He had hidden his eyes behind dark aviator sunglasses but he removed and pocketed them when I approached him.

  I may be gay but I sure wasn’t blind. The guy was a looker. My assistant Holly, a sheriff’s deputy herself, and usually a very competent, unflappable one, was swooning visibly. I shot her a look. She just grinned and fanned herself just outside of his line of vision – or so she hoped.

  “Sheriff, I’m Agent Webb.”

  “I wish I could say it’s nice to meet you but understanding the circumstances that bring you here...” I trailed off and gave Holly another teasing look. “Why don’t we talk in my office?”

  He followed me in and took a seat. I spun the combination for my locked files and pulled out the file folder of clear evidence bags with each of the twenties I’d confiscated so far and handed them across the desk to him. “I have the details of where those were last passed and the contact information for those involved in passing them.”

  He looked each bill over; front and back. “These are pretty high quality work. I’ll have to have them examined and compared against stuff we’ve already seized to know if it’s related or if we’re dealing with a new printer.”

  I thought about Travis and what Eddie had seen but, really, the twenties could have been from anything and not actually counterfeit. I’d alerted all th
e merchants in Zanesville when the fake bills started surfacing. Many merchants were checking all of their bills now. Travis hadn’t been caught with any so maybe he wasn’t passing funny money but up to something else that probably wasn’t legal or above board. I decided I really needed to talk to Travis before I said anything to Webb.

  “Do you do a lot of counterfeit money investigations?”

  “Not these days. Since the appearance of most of the bills changed drastically several years back and certain security features were added, it’s a lot less common.”

  “What else can I help you with here?”

  “I’ll need to follow up with the people involved in the passing and receiving of these bills and then with anyone they lead me to. That should keep me busy for a couple of days while our lab analyzes these. Do you have a place where I can conduct private interviews if I need to?”

  “Sure. Feel free to use anything here that you need to. I’ll have Holly show you around.”

  He handed me his card. “Any leads or any more bills surface, please call me. I’m staying here in town for at least a few days.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Thank you Sheriff. I’ll check in with Holly now.”

  I’ll just bet you will...

  He rose and took his leave. I closed the door behind him. I wanted to get a little paperwork done before I went about running down Travis Stearman.

  There was a manila envelope in my inbox. I sat back and stared at it. My stomach did a flip flop. I shook my head. I shouldn’t be afraid of a damn envelope. It could be anything!

  I pulled out a pair of evidence gloves, put them on then carefully pulled the envelope out of the pile of mail in the box. Other than having my name on it, there was nothing remarkable to identify it. It was a thicker package than the last time but much lighter.

  It was closed with the clasp only. Whoever sent it hadn’t licked the gummed flap to seal the envelope. I opened it very carefully to preserve so much as even a partial print on the clasp. I peered inside. It was a piece of clothing of some kind.

  Holding the envelope by the edges, I turned it upside down letting the cloth slide out onto my desk. It was a pair of my boxer shorts.

  My first reaction was to be stunned. Then, as I realized that Sally had invaded my home – our home – I grew angry. Her stalking was escalating and her boldness was coming at the expense of the privacy of my family and the sanctity of our home. I wasn’t having it.

  The phone rang, jolting my thoughts back to business and away from my personal life. I slid the briefs back into the envelope as I answered, “Sheriff Crane.”

  “It’s Dana. I’m just checking in with you to see if everything is okay.”

  Still a little dazed at what I had lying on the desk in front of me and now equally angry that she was checking up on me, I went off. “I can handle it Agent Rossi! I’m a big girl and an officer of the law. I don’t need your help protecting myself from an idiot that’s gone off halfcocked!”

  “Handle what? Wait a minute... Have you gotten something else from your stalker?”

  Oops! I let my anger get the better of me there! I put my hand over the receiver and took a deep breath.

  Not a patient person, Dana was all over my silence. “You did get something from her, didn’t you?”

  “Sally is my problem and I’ll handle her.” I measured my words and tried to calm down.

  “I’m in Chicago. Our lab here has the envelope you gave me. I should have results back soon. I’ll be back in Ohio within the next day or two to go over them with you so keep the beer cold.”

  She hung up before I could respond. Damn her! I really don’t need these distractions right now. I need to stay focused. I took another deep breath. “Focus!” I said out loud to no one but myself. Then, I stepped out of my office and found Holly sitting at her desk nodding into the phone. She hung up and turned to me.

  “You need to get over to the Shanty in Morelville. They’re reporting a shooting.”

  “That’s a new one! On my way,” I said over my shoulder as I strode out the door.

  On my way to the village, I thought about Sally. She was becoming quite a problem. And then, Dana Rossi’s face clouded my vision. I shook my head to clear all of the unwanted thoughts. I needed to be focused for whatever lay ahead.

  I drew my side arm and walked in cautiously. It wasn’t a big place and there were only a few people inside. I found Mike Cottrell, the local volunteer Fire Chief, standing just inside the door with a loaded shotgun. He was looking a little tired. He usually pulled the night shift on the paid squad in Zanesville. The shots probably woke him and he’d grabbed the gun and went running toward the danger. That was Mike.

  He nodded toward me as I stepped inside. “Sheriff.”

  I nodded back then turned my focus to the center of the room where Travis Stearman and two other men were standing. I’d say my day was starting to look up but the two other gentlemen both had pistols pointed at Stearman.

  I walked over to the group, pointed at Stearman and said, “Just the man I wanted to see.” Then, I looked at both of the other two men and, addressing the group, I asked, “What seems to be the problem here?”

  A young man with gang tattoos I’d never seen was staring daggers at Travis and pointing a 9mm pistol at him. That was a gun the general population around here didn’t carry. Both the gangbanger and Travis were sporting the telltale signs of swelling faces after a couple of thrown punches managed to land.

  Mike’s shotgun was trained on the group of three men. I’d known him a long time. Pulling the trigger is something I knew he wouldn’t hesitate to do if any of the three did anything else that was remotely threatening.

  Addressing the heavily tattooed man with his pistol trained firmly on Travis, I said, “Everyone put your weapons down.” I lowered my own service pistol but I didn’t holster it.

  The tattooed gangbanger swung around and shot wildly at me as he teetered off balance from his sudden movement. Instinct made me duck as he started his motion so his shot missed badly. In the commotion, Mike’s shotgun boomed and Travis grabbed his leg as he crumpled to the floor. He’d taken a hit from some scattering buckshot. The tattooed man regained his balance and scrambled for the door as Mike made a quick decision and retrained the shotgun on the second banger. He dropped his gun on the floor and kicked it to Mike.

  I looked toward the owner, Kasey, who was standing frozen, eyes wide behind her service counter and yelled, “Call 911 for a squad and back-up!” Then, over my shoulder to Nick, “Keep Travis here when they get here and try not to shoot anyone else!” I took off after the escaping shooter.

  He had about a 10 second head start but there aren’t a whole lot of places to go in Morelville and he wasn’t getting anywhere fast with his “jailing” pants down around his ass making it difficult for him to run. The big city fashion trend was certainly working in my favor.

  “Stop! Police!” I was closing fast.

  Droopy Drawers hazarded a look over his shoulder and squeezed off a shot. His round grazed my left shoulder as it whistled by. I felt an immediate sting and simultaneously became annoyed about having a good uniform shirt ruined.

  I stopped, took a stance and fired. The gangbanger hit the ground and summersaulted forward a couple of times from his former momentum. I’d caught him good in the right shoulder. No more shooting at me for him! He tried to push himself up with his gun still in his hand but his arm collapsed and he writhed in obvious pain.

  I was on him within a couple seconds of him hitting the ground. I disarmed him quickly and cuffed his hands behind his back while he screamed about his pain and my brutality. I hauled him off the ground and began reciting his rights to him but he likely never heard them as he continued to swear and carry on.

  We walked back to the Shanty, with me propelling him forward from behind. By the time we reached the porch entry, he was losing the will to fight. Inside, Travis was sitting on the floor looking a little pale and hold
ing a dish towel over his bleeding leg. The other man’s weapon was still on the floor beside Mike who still held a shotgun on both of them. Mike kicked it to me.

  I shoved the banger into a booth unceremoniously then flex cuffed Travis and the third man. Mike lowered the shotgun and handed it to Kasey. He glanced over the flesh wound on Travis’s leg then approached the banger in the booth to look at his shoulder. Kasey moved into action. She handed me the shotgun then grabbed towels and headed toward Mike and the gangbanger. I knew both of the wounded would be okay. Neither was bleeding that badly.

  “Kasey stop; Mike can handle it until the squad gets here. Tell me what the hell happened!”

  She took a deep breath and then sank into a chair. “I was tryin’ to get ready for the lunch crowd. I was rolling out some Stromboli dough in the kitchen so I didn’t see everything. Travis came in first and ordered at the counter. He was sitting back there in the corner, facing the door, drinking a Pepsi and waiting for his food. Those other two came in and sat down with him.”

  “Have you seen them in here before?”

  “Nope. Never, but it seemed like he knew them. I went out to see if they wanted anything. They asked for beer but I don’t sell no beer at 11:00 AM. They didn’t want food, so I went back to the kitchen. Next thing I know, they’re yelling at each other. I come up front and went to dial Junior to tell him I had problems over here. That’s when the smaller guy jumped up, yanked a gun out from under his shirt in front and started waving it around. I ducked behind the counter.”

  “I heard them scufflin’ around out here and then a shot went off. Next thing I know, Mike come bursting through the door yelling. They stopped. While he held them in check, I called 911 and now here we all are.” She was still shaking.

  My back-up, Deputy Spence, arrived. I set him about taking a formal statement from Kasey and then I began to search the three men. I seized I.D.’s, money, weapons, bullets and cigarettes. Everything went into evidence bags.