Thank God for Irish Women Ch. 10

Friday, May 28, 2010

The drive from Reno to San Francisco was quiet. Emily didn't have much to say. I tried to start conversations only to have her stop them. I could tell she was tense and dreaded returning to the apartment. A couple of times, when I glanced at her, I saw tears in her eyes.

"Matt, I'm not sure I'm ready to go back. There are just too many memories."

"Can we try? We don't have to stay there if you don't want to."

She didn't answer.

We arrived at the apartment a little after noon. Emily showed me her silver 2004 Honda Civic parked outside her door. Her stepdad gave it to her in 2006 when she turned 16. It was nice and clean with very few door dings. She started it, and the engine sounded fine. Emily had obviously taken care of it, and the interior was almost spotless.

When she opened the apartment door, we were pleasantly surprised that, on first glance, everything seemed to be in order. Emily did a quick check and found a few things out of place, and some drawers left slightly open; otherwise, the police had left it in good shape.

As I expected, seeing Patrick's belongings hit Emily hard. But she looked scared, which is not what I expected. She sat and cried for many long minutes. All I could do was hold her.

"I'm sorry, Matt. I promised myself that I'd be strong and not do this. I can't help it. I'm sorry. He's here. I can feel him."

"You have many great memories in this apartment, and he's still here in those memories. As long as we're here, it'll be tough on you, I'm afraid."

"You talked about getting a place as soon as you can. Could we please go ahead and do that? I can't sleep here. I sense he's here, staring at me. Please."

"Let's take what you need and move into a hotel for a few weeks. We can search for a place and move there quickly."

"Can we leave now?" She was shaking.

I nodded. "Is there anything you need to take?"

"Let me get the rest of Mom's jewelry and some of my clothes."

While she gathered her belongings, I used my smart phone to find a hotel... booking us for seven nights at the Staybridge Suites in Sunnyvale.

Emily and I carried the clothes and other belongings to her Civic. When we opened the trunk, there was a box that didn't belong to her.

"What's this doing here?" she asked herself.

It was a brown cardboard box about 12 inches high and 18 inches wide. The flaps were taped.

"You've not seen it before?"

"No."

"Do you think Patrick put it here before you left?"

"I remember that he borrowed my car the day before we left and went to meet some friends. Patrick's car was being serviced at the dealership. He told me that his buddy was having some guys over to watch a ballgame."

I asked, "Should we open it?"

"I suppose."

I used my pocketknife to cut the tape. Emily opened the flaps to reveal contents that shocked us. It was money... thousands and thousands of dollars. It was in bundles; each held together by rubber bands. Emily and I stared at it and then at each other.

"This is drug money, Emily."

"How do you know?"

"What else could it be?"

"Patrick must have picked it up the afternoon before we left."

"Does anyone else have a key to the car?"

"Patrick did, but that's it as far as I know."

"Where's that key?"

She reached in her pocket and pulled it out. "It was in the apartment, on the kitchen counter, which surprised me. He normally kept it in a bowl on the dresser."

"Why would he leave this box in your car?"

"I've no idea."

"Do you think the car could be a drop point for someone?"

"That would mean others have a key." Emily was becoming angry. "Damn you Patrick." She reached into the box and removed a bundle.

"What should we do, Matt? There must be $50,000 here."

"Well, let's think. If we call the police and tell them where we found it, they could seize your car. If we put it in the apartment, they will know we put it there."

"We're screwed!" Emily exclaimed.

"Not necessarily. If it's a drop point, then maybe someone put it here recently and someone else is coming to get it soon."

"You mean Patrick might not have done it?"

"Possibly. If it is a drop point, we need to move the car immediately. We don't want anyone to find it until we can figure out what to do. Can you follow me to the hotel?"

"Let's hurry," she replied.

****

We arrived at the Staybridge about 20 minutes later. Traffic was terrible. After checking in and finding our room, we returned to the car and talked while unloading our luggage.

"On the way here, I had an idea," said Emily. "Why don't we put the money in a Salvation Army drop box? We passed one on the way here."

"That's a good idea. Where was it?"

"It's in a shopping center parking lot."

"I'll bet there are security cameras watching the parking lot. We'll need to protect our identity." I said.

She replied, "Should I take it tonight?"

"No. Let me do it. If the police catch me somehow, I won't lose my trust fund. If you're caught and they can convince a jury to convict you of something, then you'll lose yours."

"I didn't think of that. What charges could they file against us?"

"Disposing of evidence and theft come to mind."

"Holy crap, Matt, why did Patrick get involved in this?" she whined.

"We'll never know the answer, I suppose."

She asked, "I wonder if he left it for Bobby Taylor to pick up."

"When was he arrested?"

"Patrick heard about it four days after we left. I'm not sure when it happened."

"If he was arrested a day or two after you left, then maybe Patrick had left it for him."

"Matt, I'm sorry I pulled you into this. I had no idea what was going on right under my nose. I'm so ashamed of him."

"You had nothing to do with it, sweetheart."

"Let's get rid of it. Should we also sell my car or trade it in? If it's a drop spot and other keys are out there, I can't keep it."

"Let's trade it in. Is the title in your name?"

"Oh rats! It's in my stepdad's name. He has it."

"We'll have to get it from him."

"No! I don't ever want to see him again."

"Then, we can drive it over to his house and drop it off. Just leave him a note and say you're returning it. I'll buy you a new car tomorrow."

"Matt, I have another idea. Why don't we take most of the money out and give it to one of the charities, anonymously. We can send it to them in a priority mailing box with no return address. We then call the police and report we found some money in my car. If they confiscate the car, fine. My a-hole stepfather will be the loser, not me."

"Not really; I'm the one who has to buy you a new car. Your stepdad is already out that money."

"Yeah, you're right. But he could sell it."

"A 2004 Civic isn't worth much," I replied.

"Am I worth a new car?" She asked with a grin.

"Emily, I'll buy you whatever car you want." She smiled, and I could almost see the gears turning in her head.

"Can I call the police now and tell them what we found?"

"Why not? That way they'll know you're innocent. You're just doing your duty to report it. But, we don't know for sure that it's drug money, do we?"

She replied, "No, we don't. Let's take the box to our room for safekeeping. This is a lot of money to leave in the car."

After unpacking, Emily called Sergeant Williams at the Stanford Campus Police Department.

He answered, "Sergeant Williams speaking."

"Hi. This is Emily Ryan. I talked to you a few days ago about a drug case you were investigating."

"Oh, yes, of course. Can you hold a second?"

I started my voice recording app.

"I'm back. What can I do for you Miss Ryan?"

"Sir, I returned to my apartment an hour ago and found something very unexpected in the trunk of my car. I left it parked here while I was away. There's a box that doesn't belong to me. I have no idea who put it there, but I thought I should let you know."

"Oh! Thanks for calling. We've turned this case over to the FBI. I'll let them know to contact you. Just leave it where you found it."

Emily replied, "Please have them call soon."

"I will, thanks again."

After she disconnected, Emily asked, "Are you surprised by the FBI taking over the case? This is getting weird."

"I'm not surprised since Detective Lindsay said the DEA was involved. I was surprised he didn't ask about the contents of the box. That defies human nature."

"Maybe he didn't care since it's no longer his case."

"That's probably it," I replied, still in doubt.

****

We relaxed in the room and watched TV until the phone rang late in the afternoon. Emily answered and turned on the speaker so I could record the call.

"Hello."

"Good afternoon. This is Agent Daniel Norris with the FBI. May I speak with Miss Emily Ryan please?"

"Good afternoon, sir. This is Emily. I've been expecting your call."

"Hello, Miss Ryan. Sorry we're calling so late in the afternoon. I think Sergeant Williams at the Stanford Campus Police Department told you we're investigating a drug case."

"That's correct," Emily replied.

"He said that you were a friend of Patrick Jones, Jr. who was a suspect in that case. Is that correct?"

"It is."

"Sergeant Williams informed us that you have found something you think might be connected to that case. Is that correct?"

"Yes sir. I found a box in the trunk of my car when I returned home today. I don't know where it came from."

"Do you know what's in the box?"

"Yes, a bunch of money."

"I see. May I and my associate come to see you?"

"Sure. I'm at the Staybridge Suites in Sunnyvale."

"Where's the car?"

"It's here."

"Would it be possible for us to come first thing tomorrow morning? We have another investigation tying us up this afternoon and evening."

"Sure. About 8:00 am or so?"

"Between 8:00 and 9:00 am. We'll call you when we arrive or if anything changes."

"That'll be fine."

The agent replied, "Good, we'll see you then."

We had dinner at a nearby restaurant and found a post office that had priority mail boxes in their after-hours lobby. I took two and drove back to the hotel. There, we prepared the boxes for mailing to the Salvation Army and Emily placed them in the closet. They were stuffed, but nine bundles of bills remained.

It had been a tough day for Emily. We cuddled in bed that night and fell asleep thinking about the next day and the FBI involvement. It was just a simple marijuana case, or so we thought.

Saturday, May 29, 2010

Emily woke me as she returned to bed. She was cold, and I jumped when her body touched mine.

"Jeez, girl, where have you been?"

"Outside."

"Outside the hotel?"

"Yeah. I changed my mind this morning. I put all the money back in the cardboard box and returned it to the car."

I thought for a moment. "What changed your mind?"

"I dreamed last night that there was something evil about that money. The dream was not specific, only that the money was bad and I must put it back. One day, I'll donate my own money to charities, not someone else's."

I replied, "That's wise."

She backed into my chest, and we snuggled until the alarm went off.

Breakfast was in the lobby restaurant. As we lingered over the third cup of coffee, Emily's phone rang.

"Hello.

"Yes.

"That's fine. We're in the lobby restaurant.

"Sure, come on."

She said the FBI agents were in the lobby and were coming to our table. They arrived in just a moment, and it was obvious whom they were. Agent Norris was a very average looking white man in a dark business suit. His associate was an attractive black female named Agent Sheila Jackson who was wearing a dark gray pants suit. I raised my hand to indicate our location.

They introduced themselves and showed their identification. I asked them to sit with us. We exchanged pleasantries for a few moments. They were well-practiced at making people feel comfortable. I think they were studying our faces and establishing a baseline for comparison to our expressions if we were lying.

"Mr. Anderson, we were only aware of Miss Ryan planning to meet with us. What's your role?" asked Jackson.

"We're engaged," I replied. They glanced at each other.

"That's a surprise. Miss Ryan, we understood that Patrick was your live-in boyfriend," said Norris.

"He was."

He continued, "One of your friends indicated that you and Patrick were planning to be married."

"We weren't engaged. We'd talked about it, but marriage was a long way off."

The two agents looked confused, maybe suspicious, but didn't continue that line of questioning.

Jackson asked, "You and Mr. Anderson returned to the apartment yesterday?"

"Yes, but Matt hadn't been here before."

"Where were you?"

"Driving from Atlanta. We stopped to visit Matt's parents in Iowa for a few days."

"Patrick was a homicide victim in Atlanta on May 4th. Is that correct?" asked Jackson.

Emily replied, "Yes. I'm not sure if he was killed on the fourth, but he was kidnapped, and the car stolen while we were at a gas station the evening of the fourth. He was found dead the next morning... murdered by one of the men who stole the car."

"Did you know he was involved in a marijuana growing and distribution network on the Stanford campus?" asked Norris.

"I learned that on May 3rd, while we were driving to Atlanta."

"How did you learn about it?"

"He told me."

Jackson continued, "He told you about it for the first time while you were driving?"

"He received a text that Bobby Taylor had been arrested. That's when he told me about his partnership with Bobby."

"What was your reaction?" Norris asked.

"I wanted to kill him. We had a big fight, and he hit me in the mouth with his fist."

"Then what happened?" asked Jackson.

"I struggled to get the bleeding stopped. The inside of my mouth was cut."

Norris asked, "Was anything else said?"

"Yeah, I called him a lot of names."

"No, I mean by him."

"We didn't talk until that night when we had another big argument at the hotel. I couldn't believe how stupid he was to be involved in something like that. I begged him to turn himself in, and maybe it would go easier on him. He refused and said he could get out of it with his dad's help."

"What did he mean by that?" asked Jackson.

"I've no idea."

"Did he get the money he was using from his father?" asked Jackson.

"I've no idea where the money came from."

"Was Patrick working somewhere as well as going to school?" asked Norris.

"No. I was the only one working."

Norris asked, "Did you maintain separate bank accounts."

I sensed that Emily was becoming upset.

"You know the answer to that is 'yes,' don't you?" Emily sharply replied.

"Tell us anyway," said Jackson.

"Yes, we kept separate bank accounts." Emily glared at her.

"Miss Ryan. There's no reason to be angry. We're just trying to understand who's involved," said Norris.

Emily replied, "You and the campus police keep asking the same questions. Do you think you're going to catch me in a lie? If so, that's not going to happen. I'm telling the truth."

Jackson said, "Tell us about the box you found yesterday."

"When I returned to the apartment, I was very upset and suggested we not stay there. We decided to get a room here. I was moving clothes and a few things I needed and that's when I saw the box."

Agent Jackson asked, "And you have no idea who put it there?"

She exclaimed, "No! You already know that."

I glanced at her. Emily was very frustrated.

"Who has a key to the car?" asked Jackson.

"Patrick and I were the only ones, as far as I know."

"You think Patrick put the money there?" asked Jackson.

"I've no idea. The thing I know as fact is that I didn't do it."

"Can you show it to us?" asked Norris.

"Sure," Emily replied.

I paid for breakfast, and we walked to the lobby door. Jackson turned to me and said, "It's not necessary for you to come with us."

I replied, "I want to hear what the two of you ask Emily. She's in a very fragile state of mind since yesterday, and I don't trust you two alone with her." They seemed to be insulted.

Jackson replied, "Mr. Anderson, you can't interfere with our investigation."

Emily looked scared.

"You're right. But, we can stop now and you can talk to Emily's attorney who I will retain for her."

Jackson glared at me before silently holding the door open. We walked to Emily's car and opened the trunk. When the agents saw the box, I noticed a look of surprise on Jackson's face. Maybe she was surprised by its size.

Norris asked, "Was the box open when you found it?"

"No. I cut it open."

"Did you remove any of the money?" asked Jackson.

I replied, "I did. We took it inside and locked it in the room for safekeeping overnight."

"So your fingerprints will be on the box," stated Norris.

"Yes, and so will Emily's."

Jackson asked, "Didn't the campus police tell you not to move it?"

I replied, "Yes, after we had moved it."

Norris said, "We'll have to take this into custody."

I responded, "Fine. Please give Emily a receipt for the amount in the box."

"We don't know how much it is," replied Norris.

"Then, we need to count it," I replied. "If it's not claimed in 12 months, I believe it belongs to Emily since it was found in her car."

Jackson responded, "The car is not registered in her name."

When she said that, I knew immediately what was going on.

I asked, "Is it a law that you must inform Emily when someone claims the money?"

Norris replied, "When more than one person has a legal claim to property, all parties are entitled to know who has been granted custody of that property."

Before anyone could stop her, Emily reached into the trunk and removed the box.

I smiled. "Emily has possession now, no matter whose car it is." The agents had to agree with the obvious since Emily was holding it.

I continued, "When you inform Emily of the identity of the claimant, we will then charge that person with trespassing and unlawful entry of Emily's vehicle. I'm sure a sharp lawyer can come up with grounds for a lawsuit since someone tried to frame Emily."

The two agents looked at each other. They were trapped, and they knew it.

Emily asked, "How did you know that my name is not on the car registration?"

Jackson replied, "We obviously checked it."

I said, "You knew Emily's car was parked at the apartment and could easily search it, if you wanted to. A key was in the apartment on the kitchen counter. You said you had a search warrant that covered the car." The two agents again glanced at each other. They obviously realized that they had said too much. A trap was now ready to snap close and they had set it.

"We didn't know this car was at the apartment," replied Agent Norris. That was all he could say. The trap was getting tighter. No doubt, the car had been searched.

I replied, "Wait a second. You knew the description of her car. It was described in the warrant, I'm sure. You had the key to it, it was parked in front of her apartment, and you now say you didn't know it was there and thus didn't find this box of money. All you had to do was press the unlock button on the key. Isn't that pretty shoddy police work?" I asked. "I always thought the FBI were pros."

They didn't respond but I could tell they were embarrassed and pissed to be criticized like that.

"I think you did search the car, found the money, and left it there as a test of Emily."

They denied it but not with enthusiasm.

"Let's go count the money, unless you've already done so," I said.

They were silent. I smiled and took the box from Emily. We walked together to our suite. The four of us counted the money for the next hour. The agents appeared to be bored out of their minds but had no choice other than to participate. Emily was legally entitled to an accurate receipt.

There was $110,550 in mostly fives, tens and twenties with a sprinkling of hundreds and fifties here and there. I wrote the receipt for them to sign. We walked down to the front desk, with Agent Norris carrying the box, and had the receipt notarized after they signed it along with Emily. The hotel made a copy for the agents.