Midnight City Ch. 01

"Good!" I said. "I'm glad you're here. You are used to my idiosyncrasies, and there are a couple of things I want you to look for on the body." I handed Martha a folded piece of paper. "And don't let these guys see that. Payback for them surprising me with your presence."

"But we did surprise you, at long last." said the DepDirector with his pursed smile. "Okay, let's go into the conference room and you can catch us up on what you found last night." An Agent escorted Martha to the basement, where the autopsy would be performed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After briefing the FBI team on Tiffany/Betty, I continued with the family:

"Okay, John Barclay sounds like a financially well-connected name... and he is." I said. "His father was a financier in Boston. John majored in Finance at Penn, went to Harvard Law for his law degree. Went to work for a banking conglomerate named WorldBankTrust, which isn't exactly your local J.P. Goldman Bank; it's basically a bank for bankers, has 'Rothschild' all over it."

"So we already have "Big Boyz' influences in the case." said Muscone.

"That explains the high tension at the State Line last night." Cindy said most astutely.

"Very true, Green Crowbar." I said. "So continuing the story: young Mr. Barclay was sent to the Charlotte, North Carolina branch of this bank, and while living there he met Daphne Reynolds, a young socialite from another money family of the Old South. They married and had two children, the late Tiffany Barclay, and now-17-year-old Ethan. I'm waiting on more data on them."

I continued: "Mr. Barclay rose quickly within WorldBankTrust, and came to the City ten years ago. Six years ago he saw the opportunity to run as Attorney General of the State next to us, did so, and easily won. The curious thing about that, is that he did not run as a Republican, but as a Democrat. I would think with this background, he'd be like Mittens Baker and run as a Pubbie, not as a Dem."

"Maybe he ran against the Republican incumbent." said Lindy Linares.

"In fact, he did." said the DepDirector. "And I can tell you in the here and now that that election was fraught with discrepancies. But the Republicans refused to mount a legal challenge. They just let it happen; it was almost as if they colluded in it."

"Don't get the Iron Crowbar started on that." Cindy said, again most very astutely.

"Ye-ezzz." I said witheringly. "Anyway, he's the A.G. over there now. And from what I saw last night, he either has a lot of support among State and local LEOs... or they are very afraid of him."

"Maybe some of both---" started Jack Muscone. Just then, a young FBI Agent in a well-fitting suit came to the door.

"Uh, sir," said the Agent, "we have a young woman at the front door who says she is with the Town & County Police Department and here to see Commander Troy. She has a badge, but..."

"Let me guess." I said. "She is dressed in leather, looking 'Punk', hair dyed either pink or blue... I'll guess blue, would you say 'blue', Kato?... and she is about to rock these poor Agents' world."

"Uh, yes sir..." said the Agent.

"Well, man," I said, "it should be obvious I'm expecting her. Show her in, show her in!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A moment later, Mary Mahoney Milton was escorted into the conference room. Sure enough, Mary had chosen to have blue hair today. She still looked smoking hot.

I made the unnecessary introductions, then Mary handed me a jump drive. "The information you wanted, Commander." she said as she handed it to me.

"Thank you." I said. I plugged the jump drive into my secure computer, then looked at the information. "Okay, no arrests for either Mr. or Mrs. Barclay. Ethan has three traffic tickets for speeding; one more and his license is pulled. Oh, here's something... there was a home invasion a few years ago, in North Carolina... Mr. Barclay shot the intruder with his legally-purchased revolver, and the perp died at the scene. Deemed self-defense, and that makes sense to me."

"But there was a crime against them." said Muscone.

"So it would seeeeem." I said in my best 'Chief Moynahan' imitation voice. "The perp in that case was a cat burglar, and his luck ran out. He picked the wrong place, got his ass shot dead."

"Or so the official story goes." said the DepDirector.

"I looked up that perp, sir." I said. "He was a pretty well known and successful cat burglar. Unless you know something, sir, I'd say this was just a burglary that ended the right way for the good guys, and badly for the cat."

"No, I just suggested that with 20/20 hindsight," said the DepDirector, "remembering what someone said about coincidences."

"I'll look deeper into that, sir." said Lindy Linares.

I then said: "Okay, these are school records of the Barclay children, among other things. Seems Tiffany was pretty introverted as a child. She did the Brownies and the Girl Scouts for a while, was in the band as a majorette, or flag girl, or whatever they call them these days... then there's a few notes that she was hanging out with the wrong crowd, especially boys."

"Boys are definitely the wrong crowd." said Cindy. Britt Maxwell chuckled.

"Especially the ones in the TCPD." I replied drily.

"We'll hang out with you, Don." said Sandra Speer, with a flirtatious look at me. Lindy Linares nodded vigorously in agreement. I smiled at them.

"Okay," I said, "so as not to waste any more of the FBI's time with our bad jokes... okay, Ethan goes by the name 'Tommy' in school. He was on the football team, but virtually never played. Was on the baseball team, warmed the benches. Didn't letter in anything. Grades were okay... well, looks like some of them got changed upwardly, and after the fact. Got into a couple of fights. Counselors say he seemed frustrated and generally unhappy, but couldn't be brought to say anything, and then his father would step i and stop the counseling sessions.."

"How do you get that stuff?" asked the DepDirector. "I know Mrs. Milton and her husband are the very best at hacking, but to get counselor notes like this?"

"I am a happily married man, Mr. Director." I replied, a directly indirect reference to my wife, who happened to be a psychiatrist as well as a high-ranking operative of the Central Intelligence Agency, and as such could get some records even the FBI normally cannot.

"Okay, finances..." I said. "Tiffany had... none, that I can tell. No bank accounts. One credit card in her father's name, probably for emergencies, only used a couple of times..."

"Okay, we need to get going." said the DepDirector, interrupting me. "We're going to Acropolis City, the capitol city of Barclay's State."

"And please let Commander Troy take the lead on all questioning." said Jack Muscone.

"I'll brief all of you on what to ask and what not to ask just yet." I said. "By the way, I need to send a team of people to this address."

"Wow, that's in the Red Light District." said Muscone, seeing it. "Whassup with that?"

"It's Betty Lamarr's address on her drivers license." I replied. I made a call to Sapper Warren and Robin Ventura of the City Police. I then thanked Mary, and asked her to work with the FBI guys to get a warrant to get cell phone records.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The trip was nearly two hours. We were in a big FBI SUV, with Jack Muscone driving, me riding shotgun, and Lindy, Cindy, and Sandra in the backseat. After telling everyone what things to not mention to the Barclays, I consumed a couple of Egg McMuffins and coffee... and as I'd predicted at sunrise, I promptly fell asleep. Cindy awakened me just as we were passing through Sparta, on the way to Acropolis City.

"There's Eastern State University, sir." Cindy said. "Theo graduated from there." I watched as we passed through. Eastern State looked a good bit like our own university, and like my Wildcats' Campus, as well.

Driving on, we arrived at the Barclay's neighborhood. Their home was in a gated community, and the home itself was fenced in and gated. It reminded me of our own Heritage Cloisters, but on steroids. And the security was 'no shit' serious. We drove in and parked in front of the front door.

The Deputy Director came up to A.G. Barclay, and I could see that both were practiced at playing The Game. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Mr. Barclay." said the DepDirector as they shook hands.

"I'm very appreciative that the Deputy Director of the FBI took the time to visit us." said Barclay. "Come on in. I'll have to ask you to not talk with our son unless we the parents are present." I noticed there were a couple of men in suits in the doorway, one of them being a lawyer, I perceived.

The house was not as large on the inside as it seemed to be on the outside. As I looked around, I got a feeling of sterility, of perfect appointment but none of the 'lived in' feel of a home. No dogs, either. Never good when there are no dogs...

"Have a seat." said Mr. Barclay to all of us in the living room. Chairs had been pulled from the dining room table, and we sat with A.G. and Mrs. Barclay. I took this moment to study her.

Daphne had light brown hair that seemed to have streaks or highlights of a reddish tinge to them. She was attractive, slender, in decent shape from playing tennis a lot, and she looked like the typical Southern socialite that was now a gentleman politician's wife. But her face seemed to look just a bit haggard, and the makeup didn't hide it. By that I did not mean the grief she was experiencing upon the loss of her daughter, but something deeper, more chronic. However, I saw no bruising or marks suggesting physical abuse. Last, but not least, she did not strike me as particularly intelligent.

Jack Muscone led the questions. "I'm sorry we have to do this so soon after Tiffany's death, but it's imperative if we're going to find the killer. First, do you know of anyone that would have wanted to harm Tiffany?"

"No." said Barclay. "She was a normal girl. If she had any enemies, I don't know who they might be."

"Mrs. Barclay?" asked Muscone. "Did your daughter have any friends, or boyfriends, that she might have had a falling out with?"

"No, nothing like that." Mrs. Barclay said. "She... she had friends, but not really any close ones. We're a... close family... and she stayed with us for the most part. She went with John to the Capitol a lot, and watched the politics in the Statehouse, went with him to ball games, things like that."

"Mrs. Barclay," I asked, "did your daughter talk to you about any boyfriends at the University?"

"No, she didn't." said Mrs. Barclay. "She was very active and busy at School; she didn't call us a lot. And when she did, she didn't mention any boys, not specific ones."

"She was working very hard at school." said Mr. Barclay. "She was active in many groups, as well as trying to get her undergraduate degree in three years so she could begin postgraduate work early. She didn't have much time for dating."

"What was she majoring in?" asked Cindy.

"Psychology." said A.G. Barclay.

"The one time she called and was totally excited," said Mrs. Barclay, "was when she was accepted to work with the Head of the Psychology Department, Dr. Fredricson. She said that was a very big deal."

I asked "Did Tiffany ever say what she was going to do with her Psychology degree?"

"No..." Barclay said, as if he was thinking about it. "I always had the idea she was going to go on to graduate work, but she never really talked about it with me."

"Why did Tiffany go to the University in the other State?" asked Jack Muscone, asking a planted question at my request. "Why not go to Eastern State?"

"We wanted her to go to Eastern State." said Mr. Barclay. "But she said the Psychology program at the University was the best, especially with Dr. Fredricson there. This Dr. Fredricson must be the gold standard of professors, the way Tiffany talked about her."

"I've heard that about Dr. Fredricson, also." I said, my face and voice straight deadpan. Then I said: "Mr. Barclay, I'm sure you understand that in your position as the Attorney General of this State, someone might try to attack you through your daughter. Were there any threats against you, or them? If there were, we need to know, sir."

"Uh, no." said A.G. Barclay, "No, there was nothing of that kind."

"Is there anyone you've prosecuted in the past that might hold a grudge?" asked Jack Muscone.

"No." said Barclay. "And to be honest, before I ran for A.G., most of my legal experience was in finance-related areas. I never tried any cases in a Courtroom or anything like that. And as A.G., we've really had no big cases, not the news-making kind like that Iron Crowbar guy in our neighboring State--- oh, wait... you said your name was..." He peered over at me.

"Yes, it is me." I said, meeting his look. "I am here as an FBI Consultant."

"Well... good." said the A.G. "If you're on the case for us, maybe it'll get solved, with all due respect to the rest of you." So why did the Barclays look nervous? I asked myself.

"I have just one more question." I said. "Did Tiffany own a car?"

"No." said Barclay. "We didn't buy her one, anyway. She normally got rides with friends, and on a few occasions I had a State vehicle take her to School. Probably not totally legitimate, but I reimbursed the State for the costs. And that is one of the reasons she didn't come home a lot from School... it wasn't easy arranging transportation."

I just nodded but said no more. And I felt mental power of the Green Crowbar trying to reach me. I mentally pushed back...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Cindy, Sandra, and I were looking through Tiffany's room. It was what one would expect to see of a young girl's room: pink and white paint on the walls, teddy bears all over the bed, a 'frilly' bedspread, desk and chair painted white. There were not a lot of books in the bookshelf over the desk. A couple of plaques on the wall.

"Not a single picture of a boy." said Sandra. "Not any rock band boys, nor rock band girls for that matter."

"No pictures of girlfriends, either." said Cindy. "Nor groups of friends posing for selfies at some event."

"No school accolades for good grades." I said. "Yet Laura accepted her into her program, which would not happen if Tiffany weren't pretty smart."

"She must've turned on the switch in college." Cindy said. "Both academically and socially."

"Yes." I said. "Okay, I'm going to go look at Ethan's room." I went down the hall into the next bedroom.

Ethan Barclay was lying on his bed, and he sat up as I entered. He was slender, almost skinny, with brown hair. His face resembled his mother much more than his father. He was wearing a shirt and blue jeans, both getting dirty after several days of continuous wear.

"Hello, Tommy." I said. "Mind if I take a quick look?"

"Uh, no sir." said Ethan. I looked around. The room was painted blue with white trim. The room was a bit messy, the bedding rumpled, a couple of items of clothing on the floor. The desk was almost bare. There were a few trophies on the chest of drawers, various kids league 'participation' trophies.

"Sir," said one of the security men, who had come up, "this is not Tiffany's room."

"So I've observed." I said.

"Sir, you cannot question Ethan without his parents being present."

"I am not questioning him." I said, continuing to look around. Ethan looked nervous.

"Sir, you need to come with me."

"No." I said, turning to face the security man. "You go get his father, and bring him up here, so that I can talk to Ethan in his father's presence."

"You still need to come with me." said the man, looking tense.

"Or what?" I said.

"Or I will have to make you leave, by force if necessary."

I reached into my trenchcoat, and the red crowbar made its appearance. "You are welcome to try." I said.

The man was going to go for his gun, but he felt his wrist being grabbed. He turned around to see Cindy Ross, who was exhibiting a green crowbar.

"I wouldn't try to do that." Cindy said. "The crowbars are for show. I'll shoot you dead if you draw your gun."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"I've heard of your reputation, Commander Troy." said Barclay, sitting on the bed next to his son. Ethan was slouching over, his hands clasped in front of him. "It is one of creating agitation, and you've done that here."

"My apologies, Mr. Barclay." I said. "But I am investigating your daughter's death, and I don't brook interference very well. Since you are now here, I do need to speak to Ethan, if I may." Barclay nodded, and I said "Ethan, I'm sorry about your sister. I need to ask you if you know of anyone who was threatening her, or threatening you or your parents through her."

"No sir." said Ethan.

"Did your sister ever tell you of any problems with anyone she was having?" I asked.

"No sir." said Ethan, his voice sounding dull.

"When did you last see or talk to your sister, Ethan?"

"I dunno, the last time she was home, I guess."

"And that was... when?" I asked.

"Last summer, I guess." Ethan said. I made the rather obvious deduction that he was not very forthcoming with his answers.

"Tiffany didn't stay at home last summer, Commander." said Mr. Barclay. "She said she was doing intern work at the University, and some in the City. She came home the July 4th weekend, and right around August 1st. Apparently there was some big stuff going on in the University Town, and she wanted to get away from the crowds."

"Interesting." I said. "Ethan, do you have a car?"

"No sir." said Ethan."

"He drives mine or his mother's if he needs to go anywhere." said Barclay. He then added "I'm sure you will find out that he's gotten a few speeding tickets." The last sentence was stated rather harshly, and I knew it was spoken at Ethan more than at me.

"So, Ethan," I said, "I see a chessboard on your desk. You play?"

"Not really." said Ethan. "I'm not very good. It's a nerdy game, anyway."

I smiled. "When I was in high school, the second best player on our chess team was also the best pitcher on the baseball team. He even made it to the minor leagues. And he loved chess." I wondered what had become of my friend Mike, but then refocused.

"So, you play sports?" I asked.

"Yeah, some." said Ethan.

"He's on the football team, too." said John Barclay, who added emphatically: "Even if he doesn't play much, sports teach discipline and life lessons for success."

"True enough." I said. "Ethan... how well did you and your sister get along?"

"Okay, I guess." said Ethan, keeping his eyes staring at the floor. "She did her thing, I did mine, you know."

"No, I don't know." I replied. "So you were or were not very close?"

"We kept to ourselves." Ethan said.

"Did you give her rides to School, or anywhere else?"

"No sir." said Ethan. "She usually drove Mom or Dad's car, or one of her friends picked her up."

"Did Tiffany and Ethan fight, Mr. Barclay? Or were they close?" I asked, having gotten nowhere with Ethan.

"Somewhere in between, I guess." said Barclay. "They got along, but kept mostly to themselves. Isn't that right, son?" Ethan nodded in agreement, his eyes still studying the floor.

"Okay, Ethan, thanks for your time." I said. I handed him my FBI Consultant card. "If you think of anything that can help us find your sister's killer, give me a call, okay?"

"Yes sir." said Ethan.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As we were getting ready to go, John Barclay said "Commander, this will sound awful so soon after Tiffany's death, but I have to ask: will State Tech be kicked out of its Conference?"

I nodded. "I see... if they are, your Governor and other politicians will make a bid for Eastern State over here to be admitted to the Conference."