Chapter 24

Marc Anthony watched the family pack up and leave. He didn’t know where they were going but he was glad they were going out of town. Away from the shed. He needed to know why Keith was going into the shed and what was in there. Something about it was sinister. He stood hidden on his back patio and watched Nancy tell the kids they needed to be in the car. She looked a little on edge and frayed, but they were good kids and didn’t fuss too much about having their play interrupted. Marc Anthony now had more time to get all the information he could for Nancy without running into Keith.

First, he wanted to check out the life insurance policy, with the family gone and a little intel about where Keith might keep something, Marc Anthony thought that would be the easiest piece of information to uncover. Killing the close wolves first, Marc Anthony thought.

He made sure the truck was down the road and heading out of town before he let himself in through the back door. Since it was a rented house, there wasn’t any alarm system he had to worry about and Nancy said there were no cameras as there wasn’t any need for them.

“He knows where I am and he knows my schedule,” Nancy told him during their consultation.

Marc Anthony moved through the kitchen and into the living room. There were two bedrooms on the north side of the house and the master bedroom was on the south side. Marc Anthony ignored the kids’ bedrooms as there shouldn’t be anything in there. He doubted Keith went into those rooms.

The house was a mirror image of his house and he knew the master bedroom had an extra sitting area that he used as an office. He bet Keith did the same thing. Sure enough, Keith had made the little sitting area into an office and even went as far as to place a locked file cabinet under the desk. Marc Anthony got into the file cabinet and removed some of the files.

A lot of it was clients’ life insurance policies, annuities and property insurance. Marc Anthony put these aside and searched for something that gave him any clues as to where Keith kept his money. He found the life insurance policy for Nancy and placed it in a file to take back to his office. He also found several bank statements, construction contracts and a lease agreement for the office building.

Marc Anthony closed that drawer and opened the next one to find personal tax shelters, an individual retirement account and several brokerage accounts. Keith was hiding a substantial amount from Nancy, or at least not talking to her about it. He took these documents as well and closed the bottom drawer. He took a look around and saw a Singer sewing table with an old-fashioned locked compartment. It was in a portion of the room that was definitely Nancy’s. Marc Anthony wondered what his client was hiding from her husband. He might not know enough about the setup to see the compartment or even find it locked. Marc Anthony knew enough about it and it was locked. He got out his tools and worked the latch free. The door to the compartment opened and Marc Anthony saw where she had gotten the money to pay him. He quickly counted it and found about $45,000 in cash. He placed the cash back and locked the door.

Marc Anthony grabbed the papers he found, shut off the light and shut the door. He wanted to make sure he left it just like he found it, but it was going to be some time before the family came back. He made his way into his home office and started copying the paperwork. He knew he was looking at Keith’s financial life, but he wanted the originals back in their appropriate spot before the sun went down.

Later that evening, Marc Anthony poured over the copies, and found that Nancy did indeed own the business; she was on the insurance, lease and occupancy certificates. Keith had taken out a million-dollar policy on her and he was the beneficiary. This worried Marc Anthony until he saw an identical policy for himself listing Nancy as the beneficiary. Money wasn’t Keith’s problem. He was swimming in it. The house alone was costing them $1.5 million, but the construction was coming under budget and on time. Marc Anthony, a homeowner and landlord, was jealous; he made a separate note of the general contractor and some of the subcontractors. Shaking his head, he moved on to the brokerage accounts which didn’t list Nancy as the beneficiary. They all listed the children. Three for each of the kids.

Marc Anthony was startled when his phone rang, “hello.” He answered it without looking. He hoped it wasn’t Shorty. They had closed down the motel and prostitution ring, but Coyot could open it again at will.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Melissa was on the other line. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” Marc Anthony breathed a sigh of relief. “Want to meet me at the house? I am working on Nancy’s case right now and could use some insight.”

“I will be right there, with bells on,” Melissa said.

“Bring a pizza and those bells, but not much else,” Marc Anthony said. “I don’t feel like taking off your stockings this time, or your tailored suit.”

“I am not wearing hose or my suit,” Melissa laughed. “Don’t worry, I will make it easy for you.”

“This time,” Marc Anthony said, then hung up his phone. He sat it down and looked at the papers in front of him. Why doesn’t Nancy know about any of this, he wondered.

Melissa, as promised, came in with pizza and a shirt dress that showed off her long legs and opened down the front. She did indeed make it easy for me, Marc Anthony thought.

“So,” Melissa placed the pizza down, grabbed plates and glasses. “What are you working on?”

Marc Anthony went into the kitchen, opened the wine fridge and grabbed a bottle of red wine. He popped the cork and poured a hefty amount into both glasses. He took a glass to Melissa and held the other to his lips. He let the wine wet his tongue and took a few deep breaths. Generally, men hide money from their wives, but Keith was responsible. Keith made sure his family was taken care of, he had all the paperwork in order, their wills were made out. There might even be copies in a lock box at some attorney’s office.

“You said that Keith, or someone like him wants to be in control,” Marc Anthony broke the silence.

“That is right,” Melissa said as she served him a slice of pizza. “Keith wants control over everything including his family.”

“Then tell me why he would go to all the trouble of creating brokerage accounts that go to his kids, a life insurance policy for himself, a life insurance policy for Nancy, two different bank accounts,” Marc Anthony trailed off.

Melissa thought about it as she ate her pizza, that does sound like someone who is responsible. Keith does work in insurance, so he would be familiar with the policies.

“He isn’t responsible,” Melissa said as she started to put the pieces together. “Nancy is a Toler. She came from a very affluent family and they live in the Westwood area.”

“Where Keith and Nancy are building this massive house,” Marc Anthony showed her the construction contract and loan documents. “$1.5 mil.”

“This isn’t Keith, well, the house might be Keith,” Melissa said. “This contractor doesn’t work for just anyone. This is Jordan Toler’s doing.”

“I wonder if that is what made Keith,” Marc Anthony asked as he finished his first slice.

“Oh no,” Melissa said as she grabbed another slice, “he is the way he is from his youth. Nancy’s father had nothing to do with that.”

“Why hasn’t Daddy stepped in and straightened up his son-in-law?” Marc Anthony asked.

“Jordan would if he thought Keith was a nuisance,” Melissa said. “My father and he are good friends. They also pal around with the Conways. Both brothers. Trust me, if Jordan Tolar thought for a minute that his little girl was hurt, he would make Keith disappear. I am sure Keith knows this, he wouldn’t risk hurting Nancy or the kids.”

“She owns everything,” Marc Anthony pointed out. “Her name is on the business license, the rental agreement and the insurance.”

“That would be Daddy’s doing too,” Melissa said. “Nancy had a business when she married Keith. She must have kept everything the same, helped him get his insurance license and his brokerage.”

“I have heard some yelling, screaming and all-out temper tantrums in the last few weeks,” Marc Anthony said. “In fact, I talked to her a few days before she came into my office.”

“He will yell, he will bully, he will push her around and she will let it happen,” Melissa said. “Jordan Tolar is a hard man himself. She basically married her father, or part of Keith reminds her of her father. She came to you because she started looking and found she was in over her head. But if he so much as bruises her cheek, everything is gone. Jordan Tolar will make sure of it.”

“So Keith is not the only monster in her life,” Marc Anthony mused.

“Keith is just the most dangerous,” Melissa pointed out. “I am sure if it came to it, she would let her father off his leash.”

Brandon wanted to close this case and go home already. He gained field experience, he learned a lot about investigations, thanks to Lloyd, and he was sure they had the right guy. He was tired of sleeping in the Best Western, he wanted a good meal he could actually make and he wanted his things. This whole trip was starting to take its toll.

“What are we missing from our case?” Brandon asked Lloyd as he walked into the office and took a cup of coffee from one of the officers who was helping Lloyd organize all the case information.

“We need definitive proof that Keith killed all these girls,” Lloyd said, looking over the stack of files again. “Fifteen, fifteen girls gone.”

“So we need DNA but his lawyer wants us to get a warrant and the judge won’t sign off on it because he feels it is a fishing expedition?” Brandon took another swig of the coffee. It was a little burnt but wet.

“That is what the district attorney said,” Lloyd said.

“Why do you need a warrant,” the officer asked looking at the assault case file.

“Because that is how the Fourth Amendment works, son,” Lloyd rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I know that, sir,” the officer blushed, “but why don’t you take the sample from the girl’s blade? We still have it in evidence, we know it belongs to the suspect, he admitted getting stabbed, and we have the police report.”

“How stupid am I?” Brandon slammed down his coffee cup spilling some of the contents.

“Sir?” the officer asked.

“We had that goddamned sword in evidence this whole time?” Brandon went to the phone and called down to the evidence desk. “I need to know if you released a sword for case…” Brandon snapped his fingers for Veronica’s case file. The officer found it and handed it to him. “28973245. Yeah, I’ll hold.”

“No, sir,” the answer came, “the sword is still here and it is bagged as evidence number four.”

“Four?” Brandon asked. “What was one through three?”

“Pictures of the deer stand where the crime took place, pictures of the school where we found the girl,” The officer’s voice trailed off.

“OK, can you pull number four for me?” Brandon said. “I want the blood from that blade taken to the lab and the DNA sample ran against the donor sample in case number 31288213. That is the Casey Hammond case. Put a rush on it.” Brandon hung up the phone and turned to the officer, “What is your name?”

“Officer Jared Brody,” he answered nervously.

“Thank you, Officer Brody,” Brandon shook his hand. “You just saved us a lot of aggravation.”

“You’re welcome, sir,” Brody blushed again.

Brandon was about to follow the sword to the technicians when the dispatch officer knocked on their door.

“Lieutenant,” She handed Lloyd a file, “here is the toxicology report for your apparent suicide case.”

Lloyd looked at the report, “Well, this changes nothing. There were antiviral medications in his bloodstream consistent with cabotegravir and rilpivirine.”

“What does that treat?” Brandon asked, looking over Lloyd’s shoulder at the report.

“Our swinger was HIV positive,” Lloyd muttered, pointing at the positive HIV indication on the report.

The dispatch officer knocked on the door again, “Lieutenant, there is a Michael Wellington to see you. He wants to talk to you about Mannie Davis.”

“Who,” Lloyd asked, confused.

“Your suicide case,” the officer pointed to the file name.

“Show him into an interview room,” Lloyd said. “I will be right there. Well, kid, you coming?”

“In for a penny, in for a pound,” Brandon answered as he followed Lloyd into the third interview room.

“Hello, Mr. Wellington, I am Lieutenant Lloyd Feldman,” Lloyd held out his hand and Michael shook it. “This is my partner, Brandon Row.”

Brandon also shook Michaels's hand, “Good to meet you, sir.”

“Well, Mr. Wellington, what can I do for you?” Lloyd asked.

“Please, call me Michael,” the young man said. “I don’t stand on formalities here, Lieutenant. I came here to clear up a little misunderstanding about my former lover, Mannie, you see, I know he had nothing to do with the deaths of those girls.”

Brandon and Lloyd inhaled and looked at each other. They had to go about this delicately. Brandon was the first one to speak.

“We know that, Michael,” Brandon said smoothly, “we compared his DNA to the DNA we collected from the girls and they don’t match.”

Michael just nodded and sniffed again. He took a deep breath, “when will that be in the papers? They made such a big deal about yesterday.”

“Yes,” Lloyd agreed, “they did. But we are going to make sure we tell the media that Mannie has been cleared and they still need to be on the lookout for the real killer. I wanted to have it in the Sunday edition. You know, reach more people and clear Mannie of all suspicion.”

“I don’t know why he was under suspicion in the first place,” Michael said gruffly. “If you knew him, you wouldn’t have jumped to that conclusion.”

“I am sorry, Michael,” Lloyd said gently. “I didn’t know him. Why don’t you tell me a little about him so we can figure out why he would want to take his life.”

“I don’t know,” Michael broke down. “We were going to get married, we were going to start a life together.”

“Did you know Mannie was HIV positive?” Brandon asked quietly.

“Yes, but he was on medication,” Michael said. “He was diagnosed about five years ago. He was taking his medication; he could live a long and healthy life. It wasn’t a death sentence.”

“Did he think it was?” Brandon asked.

Michael broke down completely now that he learned his lover was cleared of all suspicion and just shook his head.

They spent a little more time reassuring Michael that the press would know Mannie had nothing to do with the deaths of the girls. They were no closer to figuring out why Mannie Davis hung himself than before Michael Wellington came in.

“What do you make of that?” Lloyd asked.

“I noticed that his feet were the right size for those shoe prints walking out,” Brandon said. “But why come in here, expose yourself just to make sure he wasn’t implicated in a serial killing?”

“Maybe it is exactly what it looks like,” Lloyd said. “He hung himself, and the footprints leading out are just a coincidence. Someone on the first floor who didn’t know anyone was on the third floor.”

“Simple,” Brandon said. “But something doesn’t sit right with me. I mean, we didn’t even ask where this guy was from. He wasn’t from here. And hanging himself because of a positive HIV test? I would understand if this was the 1980s or 1990s, but this is 2020. These guys aren’t killing themselves due to a positive test. I think there is something going on in that building.”

“If there is, we will get it then,” Lloyd said. “But, now, we close this case. Sometimes, you have to accept things for what they are.”

Brandon nodded and started to walk back to the office. He was still waiting on the DNA report from the blood on the sword, “I guess we better get that press release written.”

“We do that right now, Keith will know we will come back to him,” Lloyd pointed out.

“Doubt it,” Brandon said. “He will think we are all out of suspects and need to begin again. I wonder if he thought of the DNA he left on Veronica’s sword?”

“My god,” Lloyd said as the thought just occurred to him, “I hope not. I am glad I told them to get away for a week or so.”

“Think they will do it?” Brandon asked.

“According to Maxwell, they are already gone,” Lloyd answered.

Officer Brody handed Brandon the results of the DNA from the sword and the DNA from Casey’s case.

“It is a good thing,” Brandon said as he read the results, “because your little darling was right. Keith’s DNA matches the DNA from the Casey Hammond file and subsequently all the others. Keith Ridgewood is our killer. I will call Maxwell and tell him his niece helped us get the evidence we needed to take this asshole off the streets.”

“Why call Maxwell?” Lloyd asked. “Why not call her father?”

“The FBI likes to keep a positive relationship with all defense attorneys,” Brandon said. “Well at least I like to,” he said after seeing Lloyd’s skeptical expression.

Officer Brody was about to walk out before Brandon stopped him, “Brody, don’t let me forget to contact the district attorney and have him drop the case against Veronica Conway; we promised after all. We need to clean up that sword and deliver it to its owner. I would feel better if she had it back.”