Sting of the Scorpion Ch. 04

Reubens added "That could be, but since that time there are several murders, mostly of drug-related criminals, that remain unsolved. And there could be cases like that Morris/Konnichi case you just had... which should remain open, if you ask me."

"Oh yes, I didn't close it." I said. "Guys, I really appreciate you coming to me with this. I can't be called up as SBI Reserve for a case that is currently in my own jurisdiction, as Sharples is. Let me buy you lunch at a really good diner in Coltrane County, where we can talk about it some more..."

Part 16 - House Plans and Other Plans

Back to the present, Wednesday, May 13th. I had gone over to the FBI offices to check in with Jack Muscone, but neither he nor anyone from his team was there. Not even Sandra Speer. That told me a lot. I went back to my office, and when I arrived my assistant Helena gave me a message.

"Don," she said, "you got a phone call while you were gone, about 10 minutes ago. It was from J.P. Goldman of the J.P. Goldman Bank. He wants you to come see him."

"I'll give him a call right now." I said.

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

With Cindy in tow, I drove to the J.P. Goldman Bank. We were both wearing the new "blue" uniform design: to my utter delight, the ugly yellow piping down the sides of the pants, denoting the Command Group, was gone! It was replaced with two thin light blue lines which matched the lighter blue of our uniform shirts, and was really two blue stripes with a dark blue piping stripe between them. Our jackets had thick light blue piping on the sleeve near the cuff. Lieutenants, Supervisors and Detectives now had one thicker line of solid light blue piping on the pants, and a thin light blue piping on the jacket sleeves. Sergeants had thick black piping on the pants, nothing on the jacket sleeves; and Patrolmen had one thin black line of piping on the pants and nothing on the jacket sleeves.

And despite the increasingly warm weather, we both wore our Duty Dress jackets, and I put on a tie... one did not go to see Town & County Councilman and University Trustee J.P. Goldman without looking good and professional. And look good we did.

We were ushered into a small conference room, and within two minutes Mr. Goldman himself came into the room. "Thank you for coming, Officers. And congratulations on your promotion, Captain Ross. Well deserved, well deserved."

"Thank you, sir." Cindy replied as Goldman had us take seats.

"I'll get right to this." said much older man. "I know you spoke with Ms. Steele as part of your investigation of the Morris deaths, and she cleared it with me before beginning her internal investigation. What I want you to know is that I would never allow a subordinate to put herself on the line about anything when I am perfectly capable of doing so myself."

"Therefore," he said, handing me a file folder of information, "I am personally going to give you the information you requested about Mr. Morris and his activities here at the bank. And you may ask me any questions that you like. I understand you probably think I'm too far above the mundane operations of the bank, but I do take a personal interest in the well-being of all of my employees as well as serving our customers."

Mr. Goldman was a bit different that many execs today, who couldn't care less about employees or day-to-day operations of the 'minions'. And this was something I tried to emulate... looking after my people without micro-managing them, and taking the shots instead of undermining a subordinate.

"I appreciate that, Mr. Goldman." I said. "I'll just ask the open-ended questions of what you knew about Ricky Morris, his wife, and why you think this tragedy occurred."

"I'll give you this background first." said Goldman, who first drank some water. "Ricky came in as an accountant, and was a bit stereotypical of them... introspective, dull, not dynamic at all. He had few friends. His work was good but he made absolutely no effort to rise within his department nor the Bank. He then began dating that Jennifer Madoff woman. Selena was really worried about that; she didn't like Jennifer at all. Selena has good instincts about such things."

Just then there was a knock on the door and Selena herself looked in. "Ah, come in Selena, come in." said Mr. Goldman. "Officers, I asked Selena to come in and explain the information I gave you. Have a seat, Selena."

"Thank you, J.P." Selena said. "Guys, we started Monday after I talked with you. Ricky accessed a lot of places to gather the information he needed for his spreadsheets and balancing the numbers. I asked my investigator to look into his activities before he met Jennifer, while they were dating, and after they were married."

"Mr. Goldman, I might need to hire Selena away from you, to be a Detective for my Police Force." I said with a grin.

"Don't you dare." said Goldman affably. "Tell them what you found, Selena."

Selena reported: "Before they were married, Ricky mostly looked up aggregate numbers. He might access the Home Mortgage department, but only hit the data for the weekly or monthly numbers. Only twice did he actually look into individual accounts, and both of those had IRS issues which made him have to look at the tax and non-tax numbers."

Nothing surprising there: most (and it should be all) businesses have two sets of books: one for the IRS, one for daily operations. That's legal, too, but I digress...

Selena went on: "After he met Jennifer, we find more examples of Ricky accessing individual or business accounts. Not very often, but it began slowly increasing."

I was looking at the data as Selena went on. "Before they got married, Ricky almost never accessed records from his computer at home. We do have a secure application that would allow him to do that, and I do it all the time."

"And this is an example of Mr. Morris not applying himself to his work." said J.P. Goldman. "He only did his work here, at the bank, and during regular business hours."

"I see." I said, aware of Goldman's criticism of employees not working extra hours for his bank... that was 'old school', too.

Selena continued: "As you can see in that report, after Ricky married Jennifer he began accessing individual and business records a lot more actively. And the names will very likely interest you."

"Oh, they most certainly do." I said. I showed Cindy the names: Donovan and Trish Donolan, Mr. Blair, BigPharmaCorp, Crown Chemicals, Ward Harvester, Thomas P. Cook's company, Thomas P. Cook himself, all seventeen Deacons (or Elders?) of the First Baptist Church, Pastor Westboro, some members of the Catholic Church, ditto that for the Methodist Church, Dynacorp, Anthony Warner, Dr. Sidney Wellman, Dr. Bonnie Karpathian, and more recently, Todd Burke, Jeanine Olivet Burke, Seth Warner, Karen Warner Harlan, Barry Oliver... and me, Your Iron Crowbar.

"Like a Who's Who of Iron Crowbar cases." Cindy whispered when she saw them. I nodded, feeling Goldman and Selena peering at us.

"You may keep that." said J.P. Goldman. "Of course, you must keep it in the strictest confidence, as evidence from your new Confidential Informant, that being myself... and don't put it in the same place as those Jack Burke tapes that KSTD is suing over."

"Don't worry, I won't." I said. "And I am very grateful to you both for this information." I wondered if either of them realized the true import and depth of what they'd given me.

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

"It's nearly lunchtime. Want to see the new Cabin before we go eat?" I asked Cindy as we got into the SUV.

"Sure!" she said enthusiastically. As we drove to the northeast part of the Town and along the northern border of the University, we discussed the information we'd been given.

"So Ricky Morris became a spy within the Bank?" Cindy speculated.

"I'd venture the guess that it was Jennifer herself accessing the information from their home." I said. "Jennifer was a nasty slut; it's really unlikely that she'd marry a dud like Ricky just out of love, excuse my cynicism. I'm betting that bitch got his password and accessed the data herself, and Ricky likely never even knew."

"Very true, and I agree that she only married him for access to his job and the files." Cindy said.

"What else do you think about the Morris/Konnichi murders?" I asked.

"I'm not a Troy, and I don't even play one on TV." said Cindy as we climbed the side of the hill, curving south and overlooking the University. "But when I get that Iron Crowbar cynicism, I begin to wonder if these people weren't targeted, as opposed to a random act of domestic violence."

"Yep, that Iron Crowbar cynicism is working well for you." I said. I clicked the remote that opened the gate across the driveway to the Cabin.

"The only thing I didn't understand was why they got the records of the Pastor and Deacons of the First Baptist Church and the other churches." Cindy said.

"Maybe for blackmail purposes." I said. "You know how we as Police go through financial records to find anomalies that might help solve a crime? Well, the bad guys can do that to, and for illicit purposes."

"True." Cindy said as we parked. "But I noticed that none of those guys, especially Pastor Westboro, had a lot of money in their accounts. He's on your 'Eightfold Fence' list, but if he's got money, it's not in his J.P. Goldman Bank account."

"True enough." I said. "By the way, Cindy, and this is a direct order: do not share this information with anyone. Not with the Data Team, not with 'The Abacus', not with Teresa or any Detectives." 'The Abacus' was what we called Detective Julie Newton behind her back, because she was so good with accounting books and financial records. "I'm going to put it into encrypted evidence, under my personal seal."

"Oh, okay." Cindy said. She then looked at the front of the new Cabin. "Oh, wow. This is awesome." We got out of the SUV.

The old Cabin had its ground floor partially sunken in from this driveway level. The New Cabin was built up, the first floor at ground level, and a half basement below on the other (deck) side. The A-Frame of the three story house came down to just eight feet off the ground, and on each side was a one-car garage, utilizing that cramped space, one garage on the far (south) end, the other where the old garage had been, on the right (north) side. The door was near the garage on the right, and two large windows were part of the wall looking onto the driveway and at the side of the mountain that went up to the top.

I unlocked and opened the front door, which was on the east side. The Cabin was empty, having not yet been furnished. Indeed, the electrical wiring was being finished up and some of the drywall was not yet painted.

"Oh this is fantastic!" Cindy said as she came inside, into the front room. "This is so much better than the old Cabin's floor plan."

"Yes, that's the silver lining of the fire." I said. "I got to design this much more efficiently."

"You don't have to answer this," Cindy said, "but even with the insurance and your wife's money, how did you do this on a cop's salary?"

I just grinned as I said "I had a benefactor. Someone guaranteed a two million dollar loan. I only spent $1.2 million, and most of that was for the bulletproof windows. Every window in the house is made by ArmorGlassCorp."

"Nice guy, whoever did that." Cindy said. "Henry Wargrave? feeling guilty about burning your old house down?"

"Nooooo," I intoned, "he didn't commit that crime, but he sure wasn't going to help my wife in any way. Just between you and me, it was P. Harvey Eckhart. And I won't be totally shocked if in the near future I am handed the deed to the property free and clear, as a gift from him."

"Ouch." Cindy said. "Don, I know you're a man of integrity, but watch out about that, so that it doesn't look like some kind of perk. The last thing we need is for KSTD to be distorting things and calling you out for taking bribes."

"Yes, you're right." I said with a smile. "But I think by July 4th I'll be able to show why it'll be okay." Seeing her look, I said "No, don't ask. And yes, I'm keeping this secret from you for now. In time, my friend... in time. Now let me show you the house."

The front door opened to a front room. Along the side wall on the right was the staircase to the upstairs bedrooms, a coat closet and storage space built in beneath the stairs. Looking west, towards the back of the house, the front room was open to the Great Room in back, and the dominant feature were the two huge windows that formed the back wall, and gave that spectacular view of the Town and beyond, as well as the back deck. The line of demarcation between the rooms was a fireplace. It was in the center of the house, with gas logs, and opened to both sides so that it served both rooms.

"So this is your office to the left here?" Cindy asked. Looking to the front, there was only one window in the front room. To the left (south) of the front room was indeed my office, which could be entered from the other garage, as well. The other front window dominated that wall. Behind the office (towards the back of the house) was a half-bath, which could be accessed from the Great Room, also.

"And here's the secret I need to show you and no one else, except my wife of course." I said. I pulled back the carpet to reveal the floor. Pulling on what looked like an indention near the wall, the floor was shown to be a trap door on a hinge. I pulled the floor up and back, revealing narrow steps, and a five foot door that went under the front wall of the house and into the mountainside.

"Wine cellar." I said. "Old Man Bonniker had it built in. This trap door can be locked from underneath, and that door bolted from inside, to make that a safe room."

"Or a prison." Cindy said ominously. "I'd hate to be trapped down there."

"Me, too." I said. "Okay, lets go see the rest of the house."

Looking around the Great Room, Cindy said "It's not quite as wide as it was before."

"Good observation." I said, actually impressed with Cindy's spatial acuity. "The space behind the second garage has been used for stairs to the basement." I said, opening a door that was almost at the 'border' of the great room and front room. Stairs went down to the right, to the west towards the 'deck' side of the house, the back side.

The basement was about half the size of the Great Room above it, and the windows showed the underside of the deck. There was a small metal door on the left (south) end, which was set into the concrete of the foundation and wall, and was solidly and doubly bolted shut. The laundry room was also on that side of the house, really nothing more than a nook for the washer and dryer behind folding doors. On the other side (north side), under the kitchen, were folding doors that hid a closet space.

"That's the 'door to nowhere'." I said, referring to the bolted door leading outside. "If you go out, you're practically going down the mountainside. It is possible that the fire influenced my thinking on that."

"I hear ya. Nice game room, here." Cindy said. "Or you could run more water lines and put in a bathroom and it's a bedroom." We went back upstairs.

The kitchen was not impressive. The slant of the roof seemed to make it look smaller than it was, and I had not even put in the island counter that I'd wanted. The breakfast room was by the triangular shaped window, giving that view of the deck and the Town beyond. The door to the deck was on the side of the house, making one go around the corner to the deck.

The deck actually went the full length of the back of the house, and the middle portion extended over the cliff in a trapezoid shape, with walkways going to either side alongside the wall of the house. Above the "door to nowhere" was the door from the Great Room to the deck, on the opposite side of the kitchen, which looked virtually concealed in the wall from the outside.

"And now for the piece d'resistance." I said. The wall between the breakfast room and Great Room seemed very thick. It was where the double fireplaces had been in the old Cabin. As Cindy watched, I opened what looked like the wall to the breakfast room side, revealing the slender, 30-inch-wide stairs leading up to the bedroom. I explained the concept of the narrow stairs in Thomas Jefferson's home, Monticello, in Virginia.

"One would definitely get the idea that you were thinking of fire escapes when designing this house." Cindy said.

"Ya think?" I replied. "Of course the whole thing is concrete, steel, and Hardiplank, so it won't burn easily, either. Let's go upstairs." We went to the main staircase and up, then turned left. The old Cabin's front room had been a vaulted ceiling to the slanted (towards the mountain) roof. This house utilized that space for two bedrooms, not large but adequate, with windows looking onto the side of the mountain over the driveway.

At the end of the hallway, one door went left... into the outer bedroom, where the slanted roof of the A-frame was part of the ceiling. Straight ahead was the bathroom, with a tub and shower on one side, the toilet and lavatory on the other, and built into the slanted roof at back was a towel cabinet. On the right, was the door to the master bedroom.

That door opened onto almost the dead middle of the bedroom. The windows overlooking the deck were most of the back wall, giving that spectacular view. Looking from the door, there was a door on the left wall that went to the master bathroom. It was on the other side from where the Old Cabin's bathroom had been; there had been the walk-in closet there before. I switched sides because it was easier to run water lines on that side of the house, and so that the bathroom wouldn't be directly above the kitchen. The long, narrow bathroom had a toilet in its own little room at the end, a hot tub halfway tucked under the slanting roof, and a long, thin vanity and sink.

"Okay, that secret stairwell has to be in the walk-in closet." Cindy said, going to the closet on the right side. The door was 1/3 of the way down the wall from the end of the house. Sure enough, to the left was a sliding panel that revealed the thin staircase to the breakfast room, with a hardcore deadbolt lock that prevented anyone from sneaking up the stairs from below and easily opening the door. To the right was the walk-in closet. It was not nearly as large as the previous Cabin's walk-in closet had been, but was decent enough in size.

"Oh, I see the underside of stairs." said Cindy. "Where do those go?"

"I'll show you." I said. Back in the hallway, right at the turn that led down the stairs, there was a door. Behind it was... more stairs! We went up those to the attic room. It was not very large and the roof was apexing just above it. The two windows were triangles at the top of the house, again looking out in spectacular view of the Town and a long way in the distance. I saw a train coming from the west, just over the horizon, as Cindy looked around the room.

"I guess this is a playroom for the kids?" she said.

"And dog." I replied. "It could potentially be divided in half, and an office or sitting room for Laura could be made out of part of it."

"Which brings up the question..." Cindy said, "how does she feel about moving back up here?"

"She doesn't." I said. "We're not moving up here permanently. Laura never was too crazy about the old Cabin, as you and some others told me in the past. So it'll be like a weekend retreat, or for me to work or entertain at while we mostly live in the Mountain Nest. She can walk to her office from there; one can't really scale the mountain from here, though... and after the night of the fire, I hope I never have to do that again, for any reason."

"I hear that." Cindy murmured.