Case of the Fertilized Fish Ch. 01

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1:00pm, April 6th. After Laura left, I put the cash she gave me as well as the papers from the case into the well-hidden wall safe, then left to do some grocery shopping. Maybe it was that feeling of satisfaction after getting the best piece of ass I ever had, but I failed to notice the black car that came alongside me as I began walking down the street. I realized it only after the car stopped and a man in a suit got out of the shotgun seat, then open the backseat door.

"All right, Ferrament, let's go." said FBI Special Agent in Charge Jack Shellac. His black hair was cut and styled 'professionally', combed to one side. He was not a tall man, but he had a barrel-chested power to him. He was wearing the ubiquitous FBI gray suit and black tie.

"Fat Jack Shellac." I said witheringly. "What the hell do you want with me?"

"Just get in the car, you redheaded punk." Jack replied. I saw that his hand was in his pocket; he was covering me with his Federal firearm.

"It's a dangerous habit to finger loaded firearms in one's pocket." I said, repeating the line spoken to me earlier in the morning.

"Dangerous for you, Ferrament, if you don't get your ass into the car." Shellac replied as he held the back door. Having no choice, I got into the backseat. "Slide over." he said. I did, and Shellac got into the backseat with me.

The big Cadillac pulled back onto the road. It was being driven by FBI Special Agent J.P. Dobbs. He was in better shape and had a much more laid back personality than Jack Shellac. He also was a good friend of Police Lieutenant Bentley Bayse, sharing a love of bluetick hounds and All Things Orange. That explained some of Bayse's knowledge of the case... and, I suspected, a lot of the FBI's knowledge, as well.

SAC Shellac spoke first. "Let's not insult each other's intelligence. You know why I picked you up. Tell me what you know about the Griese murder. Don't give me the boilerplate bullshit about client confidentiality, no matter how good Laura Thornwell is in bed. I need to know what you know about the Griese murder."

"Why do you care?" I asked. "Murder is a State charge, not Federal."

Shellac said "All I'm going to tell you is that we've been watching Mitt Willard for a long, long time. That guy is the poster child of the Corporate Elites, and he crosses the line all the time. He doesn't care who he hurts or even kills. We think you may be right that he had Knox Thornwell and Lenore Willard killed. Mitt married Lenore to weasel his way into that company, and when she rebelled and was about to divorce him, the house suddenly went *boom!*."

I said "And the use of explosives is Federal, as is illegal smuggling across State lines. But like you said, let's not insult each other's intelligences. Was Griese an undercover Agent? Or a Confidential Informant for you?"

"What he is now, is dead." said Shellac. He then took out a small stack of $100 bills, wrapped the same way as the money Laura had handed me, and put it into the inner pocket of my jacket. "And you're on my payroll now. So start talking."

I sang like a canary as Special Agent Dobbs drove us all around town, including the neighborhood where the Thornwell home used to be, and past the Bottle Shop and the Pet Store that was figuring so much into this case. When I finished, Shellac said "So who do you suspect? Willard? or Mrs. Thornwell? The Police are evenly divided, and green dollar bills might have something to do with that. I need to know what you think."

"I haven't talked to Willard." I said. "I'd have to do that before I can answer you. So do that... take me to interview Mitt Willard."

Shellac said. "How 'bout that, Dobbs? He is reading. my. mind."

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After our tour of just about every street in Spring Valley and the surrounding county, Special Agent J.P. Dobbs drove us to a modern glass-walled building in what was the newest and most modern part of the town, where the high-price lawyers, wealthy big banksters, and powerful company executives had their various headquarters.

"I'll tell him you're a Consultant with us, which isn't totally a lie." Jack Shellac said as we walked into the building lobby. "But let me do the talking. You just watch and observe."

We went up to the fourth and top floor of the building and into an office with double doors that opened outward into the hall. The name 'Willard Enterprises' was on the wall behind the receptionist's desk. The receptionist was in her 20s and she was very pretty. Too bad her mannerisms didn't come close to matching those looks.

She gave us very disdainful looks, then gave Jack Shellac an even uglier look when he presented his FBI credentials. "There are three FBI Agents here to see Mr. Willard, without appointment." she said into her telephone handset. A moment later another female voice said that Mr. Willard would see them.

We were allowed past locked double doors into the back hallway, which went left, but was a dead-end going right... Willard's offices only took up half the space that it appeared to from outside. We were ushered down the hallway, past a conference room and two offices by a Security Officer to the office at the end of the hall. The secretary got up and opened the door and ushered us in.

"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" said Mitt Willard, who had risen to a standing position behind his desk. Willard was tall, had been lanky but was beginning to get a bit of girth with age, which appeared to be in his late fifties. His suit was expensive, and every hair on his head was in place. His name 'Mitt' was appropriate; he indeed really did look like he could be Mitt Romney's twin, which made me like him even less than I already did.

"I'm Special Agent in Charge Jack Shellac." said Special Agent in Charge Jack Shellac. "This is Special Agent J.P. Dobbs, and Russ Ferrament, who is working with us as an FBI Consultant. We'd like to talk to you about a private matter, sir."

Special Agent Dobbs had taken up a position near the door, where he could monitor everyone in the room. And there was one other person in the room: to Willard's left, our right, was a man in an expensive suit. "This is my attorney, Jack Spratt." said Willard. "I'm sure you'll understand that I want an attorney present during any conversation with Federal Agents."

"It's your right to have one." said Shellac. "And I'm sure that you'll understand that I'm going to read you your rights before having this conversation."

He read Willard's considerable legal rights from the card. When he asked Willard if Willard understood the rights, Willard said "That's pretty formal, Agent Shellac. So what is this about?"

"You guys just saw that I have properly mirandized Mr. Willard here." Jack said. "I'm also going to tape-record this... 'conversation'." He put a small device on the edge of the desk, and turned it on to record, then said the date and time, who he was and where he was, and what the purpose of the interview was.

"Mr. Willard," said Shellac, "I understand that you own half of Huxtable Distributors?"

"Yes, what of it?" said Willard.

"How well do you and Laura Thornwell get along?" Shellac asked.

Willard barked a short laugh. "I suspect you already know that my sister-in-law and I do not get along very well at all. She has done everything she can to keep me out of the business, despite my rights as an equal shareholder and owner to take part in its operations."

"Do you know someone named David Griese?" asked Shellac.

"What is the point of these questions?" asked the lawyer Spratt. "Mr. Willard, I advise you to answer no more of these questions."

"It's okay." said Willard with a smug look on his face. "I know what this is about. I saw it on the news where that reporter Sharon Akira was talking about his death." He was looking right at me as he said Sharon's name. Was that a message to me that he knew I'd talked to her?

"Yes, he was found dead on the morning of April 2nd." said Shellac. "He worked for Huxtable Distributors, and reportedly was engaged to be married to Mrs. Thornwell. She also said you're planning to create a competing distribution company to put her out of business, and you were recruiting Griese away from her. Is that true?"

"Is that what she told you?" Mitt Willard said with a sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, that's a crock of shit. You've met Laura, Mr. Ferrament. Do you really believe she would marry a delivery man like David Griese?"

"I never question the course of true love." I replied. "Like your marriage to Lenore Thornwell."

Willard glared at me for a second, then refocused. "Okay, let's cut to the chase, here. You are here, Agent Shellac, because you think I had something to do with David Griese's murder."

"Did you?" fired back Shellac, peering hard at Willard.

"Tell me, Agent Shellac... why would I kill a man who was about to become very valuable to me as my employee?" said Willard. Seeing the look of shock on Jack's face, and looking very pleased by it, he continued: "Gentlemen, Laura Thornwell has been lying to you."

Willard: "She's been lying about me for years. She claimed the gas explosion that killed my wife an her husband was deliberately set, even though an investigation by top experts showed it to be a tragic accident. And now she's telling you fantasies that I'm creating a competing company? No, gentlemen, what I am doing is buying her out."

"Whaa?" gasped Shellac.

Willard continued: "I'm buying her half of Huxtable, and at better than fair market value. The valuation of Huxtable shares is ten million dollars total. I'm paying her six million dollars for her half. And once I own Huxtable, experienced employees like David Griese will be valuable to me... well, he would've been if he had not died."

Jack asked "So how well did you know David Griese?"

"It's not like we were drinking buddies, or anything like that." replied Willard. "Now Greezy was a drinker; he even won a bourbon tasting contest once. But he's not the kind of guy I associate with." He looked at me and said "Nor the kind of guy Laura would date, much less be engaged to. She might drag him into her bed to keep him wrapped around her finger... something she does a lot, so I'm told... but engaged? Sheesh."

"We'll check up on all that." said Jack Shellac. "Russ, you got anything?" He could see that I really wanted to ask a question.

"Just one thing." I said. "Mr. Willard, where were you on April 1st?"

"Ah, April Fool's Day." said Willard. "I went to the bank that morning, to secure the financing to pay Laura her money for the Huxtable shares. I remember it clearly, because the bank president told me my loan had been denied, then he laughed and said 'April Fools!'. I wasn't all that amused, but laughed it off and we completed the loan process."

Willard: "Then I went to the Federal Courthouse to put in the paperwork transferring all the Federal permits that Huxtable has into my name. That took a while, and I was there most of the day. You can check up on that with the bank president, of course."

"We will." said FBI SAC Shellac. "Come on, let's go." Special Agent Dobbs and I followed him out the door.

As we got back in the car, Shellac said "That must be how Mrs. Thornwell suddenly has cash. Mitt's paying her for her shares."

"Only problem is that she vowed never to sell out to him." I replied. "And you'll have to confirm that the deal even happened, much less has been consummated."

Special Agent J.P. Dobbs said "Maybe he did threaten to start his own business, and crush hers, and she saw the light and sold out." Good thought, I had to admit to myself. This guy is no dummy, even if he does hang out with Bentley Bayse.

Jack Shellac added: "And there's one thing I gotta say, Ferrament. Laura Thornwell is not coming across as the most honest dame we've ever met. As much as I'd like to bust Willard, we simply cannot assume Laura Thornwell is telling the truth. Everything she's saying could be as much a lie as what Willard is telling us."

"Could well be." I said, conceding the point... for the moment.

Part 6 - Getting Too Close

The Federal Agents dropped me off in front of the building that contained my office. I went upstairs and into my office, carefully looking around to see if anyone had been in there in my absence. I even checked the telephone for bugs, but found none.

I secured the money Jack Shellac had put in my jacket pocket. As I did, I looked at the stack of money Laura Thornwell had paid me, and a small current of shock went through me: the wrapper was exactly the same as the wrapper around the money Jack had forced upon me!

The serial numbers weren't sequential; they were at least that careful, I thought to myself. And hell, money is money, and I've got bills to pay and a mouth to feed. Mine. I secured the money in the safe, then locked up the office as I left.

I had to warn Sharon Akira about Mitt Willard, but didn't trust using my phone line in the office. And I needed to get in touch with Laura Thornwell, and confront her face to face about what Willard had told me and Shellac.

I went down the street to the Italian Restaurant. I had helped the owner Beppo when the cops had leaned on him on behalf of the mob, and in gratitude he always charged me only what the food cost. He also let me use his telephone when I needed to.

I dialed Sharon Akira's number at the Chronicle, and she answered. I told her that Mitt Willard was aware she was investigating David Griese's death, and that I was concerned for her safety.

"Thanks for the heads-up." she said. "I've noticed cars trying to follow me, and I'm pretty sure one of them is a Federal Government vehicle. And I'm glad you called. I have some new information for you, and I don't want to talk about it over the phone."

"Can you get in touch with Laura Thornwell?" I asked. "I need to ask her a few questions."

"I'll try." said Sharon. "But she's pretty much disappeared. The Police have been looking for her, too, and I don't think their intentions toward her are honorable..."

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7:30pm, April 6th. The heavy cloud cover to the west filled the sky with angry reds and purples as the sun set behind them. In the rapidly dwindling light, I came up to Dan & Julie's Fine Wine and Spirits at the left end of the building. I saw a black Toyota parked at the other corner of the building, past Dan & Julie's Exotic Fish and Pets. I could not tell if anyone was in that car.

The Bottle Shop was closed, which was a surprise to me. I went over to the Pet Store. It was closed, also, but the door was unlocked. I went inside. Lights in the aquariums and tanks gave off enough light to see. I stepped further inside, walking towards the back door, then heard a noise behind me. I turned to see Sharon Akira and Laura Thornwell just inside the front door.

"Ladies, why don't we go somewhere and talk?" I suggested. And then I saw Sharon look past me towards the back of the store, her slanted eyes wide with shock.

"Look out!" she yelled as I turned to see what it was. I saw six men in all black, wearing black full-head masks coming into the room from the back!

In a flash, in a shorter amount of time than it took you to read this, I realized that Laura had shown no surprise when the thugs came out, and she was slow to follow Sharon out the door. The dame had set me up. She didn't even want the case solved; she just wanted a patsy to be taken down in her place, and I was the one chosen to be served up as the blue plate special.

"Run!" I yelled to the women as I turned to face the threat. I should have run, too, but in spite of the betrayal, some sense of chivalry overcame me. I had to cover for Sharon, at least. I reached for my friend in my pocket, knowing that he could make six eloquent arguments in my favor.

*click!* *click!* *click!* *click!*

To my horror, I realized that I was shooting blanks. Had the dame emptied my gun after emptying my balls? Had she drained my loads after she'd drained my loads? I had no time to contemplate. I turned to quickly leave before the conversation took a philosophical turn that would decidedly not be in my favor.

But it was too late. Her cohorts caught up to me, and they began practicing for their chiropractor degrees, using my body as their target. I covered my head with my arms, but could not stop all the closed-fist punches to my ribs, my belly, and my back, along with vicious kicks to my back and head that sucked my consciousness out of me.

As I lay limp on the floor, struggling to breathe and to see, I heard a voice, an all-too-familiar voice say "Make sure. Use the snake." A second later, I barely saw that the coral snake had been taken out of its tank, and one of the thugs was pressing its head against the back of my hand. The coral snake bit down and then began chewing, as coral snakes were wont to do when delivering their powerful, deadly neurotoxin into their victim.

But I didn't feet it, nor anything else, as everything faded to black....

To be continued.

You have the clues. Who is the arch-criminal? Tune in next time. Same Russ time. Same Russ channel.