Fireflies: A Katie Bell Mystery (book 1) (20 page)

Behind them over Trader Lake fireworks began to be set off, bright blue and red and green and purple and orange lights a perfect background as they continued to make out, ushering in 2013.

A
rthur Bell finished looking
over the files again and tossed them down on his desk.

Agents Tapscott and Fields sat across from him, waiting patiently. Well, Tapscott was patient, Fields looked like she was about to jump across the table and shake Arthur by his shirt, probably demanding him to tell her what he was thinking.

Arthur did his best to suppress a smile, he did after all find her enthusiasm a bit amusing, but at the moment what he was looking at bothered him more than a minor entertainment at work.

“Fifty thousand?”

He didn’t look up when he asked his team. Arthur was still looking at the dull brown file in front of him.

Tapscott understood what he was asking and nodded his head slightly, the former SEAL training all over his body language.

“It looks that way, yes.”

“So while our criminal is indeed up to something … criminal, it does not at the moment appear to have anything to do with Martin Snow.”

“I mean we can throw this over to Major Crimes unit. They’ll be happy about this catch, but yeah … chances are they are knocking over a bank in the next week.”

Fields hadn’t said anything, but she was looking back and forth between the two of them in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

“You have something you’d like to add, Fields?”

“This guy is a known associate of Martin Snow’s and is somehow linked to his copycat killer. We gotta do more than just hand this over. Come on.”

“The simplest explanation…” Tapscott muttered.

“Murphy’s law,” Fields shot back.

Arthur held up his hand just as his senior agent opened his mouth to come up with a retort. Arthur figured he was saving the younger man. He had a feeling that nothing that came out of his mouth would be as clever as Fields’s retort anyway.

“Okay. But what’s our reason?”

“Reason for what?”

“For keeping this. It’s not our division, and I’m not really too keen on trying to randomly bust in on some bank robbers.”

“We have a time table of a week. We keep this, trail them.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “With the current budget? No way I can authorize that kind of manpower for a solid week without … well, anything solid.”

Fields threw up her hands. “Boss, does anything about this feel right? A copycat, stops short because he ‘feels bad,” but fifty grand from his personal accounts goes missing to fund a friend of the person he’s copycatting’s high class bank robbery?”

Arthur said nothing for a moment, but his eyes slowly moved to the other man in the room. “What do you think?”

Agent Tapscott frowned. “What do you mean?”

Arthur clasped his hands together, his fingers forming a triangle as he put his elbows up on his desk. He looked at them for a moment before he looked back up at both of his colleagues. “She has a point. This doesn’t add up.”

Tapscott thought about it for a long time before speaking up again. It was obvious to Arthur he was picking his words carefully, something that the strong younger man did not always do.

“I agree that this all seems a little suspicious, but what I am specifically talking about is what the evidence is showing us. I think it’s entirely likely that Dimitri Markovic might have been involved with the copycat. He might even have helped pushed Seaborn to suicide and used it to help fund his own criminal endeavors, but that doesn’t lead us back to Snow. Who I might add, is still safely behind bars.”

“Well, technically it’s a cell combining the latest polycarbonate, glass, and some steel, but yes, I get your point,” Arthur said.

“Okay, a compromise. I’m going to have an agent following Markovic for the next five days, and I won’t kick this over to FC for seventy-two hours. Show me what he’s doing. Build a case.”

“Wiretap?” Fields asked.

Arthur already knew she was going to ask for it. It was in her nature. He didn’t mind it. If he had been in her position, he would have asked for the tap too.

“I’ll allow for a trace, we don’t need a warrant for that, but you’re not taking any of this to a judge for the real thing until you have
more,
you understand, Agent?” he said, his eyes not leaving hers.

Fields met his gaze evenly and nodded. She may have wanted more, but she knew his compromise was fair, and given all the angles was probably the only reasonable course unless he considered … instinct. The gut feeling that he wouldn’t admit to her, but the one they were both sharing at that moment.

That was the hardest part about being in charge … not being able to just fly by the seat of his pants like the old days, not just go with his gut instinct. He could to some degree, but not when it was obvious that there was a much more logical course of action.

Arthur was willing to take big risks, but only when it truly felt like the only course of action. This was not one of those times, though he had a feeling it may very well end up heading down that particular path.

“Okay, you know what to do. Go,” Arthur added, dismissing them.

Once they left the office Arthur looked down at the file again. It didn’t make sense. Why had William Seaborn been wrapped up with a classic gangster? Martin Snow had never had any ties to organized crime. The two different criminal elements did not travel in the same circles. Certainly organized crime had its fare share of psychopaths and murderers, but there was always a reason for it, a logic to it.

Snow would be the first person to tell Arthur there was logic behind his actions as well, and while that was true to a degree the logic was not that of … someone rational or actually sane.

Organized crime’s logic in general leaned towards the more rational, even if their logic was psychotic. at the end of the day they cared about what any organization in a capitalistic society cared about; the bottom line.

Martin Snow on the other hand … his bottom-line was a higher body count.

The puzzle didn’t make sense at all. There was something Arthur was missing, and he was determined to find out exactly what it was.

A
gent Tapscott yawned
and looked around the office. The unit was between cases at the moment, which meant one thing; paperwork. Tapscott loved most things about his job, but the one thing he would do away with would be that. He had been in the Special Forces for God’s sake. He had once killed a man in the desert with a brick. He was a good agent and was happy to give up his life for his country. Doing paperwork, the mundane, bureaucratic bullshit of covering your and the government’s own ass. It was the worst.

His phone chirped on his desk. Tapscott glanced at the screen.

Looking forward to tonight
.

It was from Lacy Persons, who he had started making a habit of seeing more than he cared to admit. She was gorgeous, she was damaged and she was
great
in bed. The best part was she was not the least bit clingy. She had her life, and he had his. Just every few nights or so she would come over to his place, or he would head over to hers.

Me too.

He set his phone down and started to go over the most recent report. Statistics and figures started to blur together on the page for him. Tapscott yawned and leaned back in his chair. The phone chirped again.

Check your email;)
.

Tapscott hesitated and then brought up his Gmail on his computer screen. There was a single email that simply said
tonight
. Tapscott looked around before opening it. There were two pictures; both of Lacy in matching black and white panties, and both pictures she covered her gorgeous breasts with her arm.

“Nice pictures partner,” Agent Fields said behind him.

Tapscott jumped in his seat and quickly logged out of his email. Fields was standing behind him, shaking her head but smiling a little.

“You know you’re not supposed to log into your personal email on a work computer right?”

“I’m at those damned security meetings just like you are.”

Fields shrugged. “Can’t say I blame you. She looks pretty damned hot in those panties. Although, hooking up with a former witness is just…”

Tapscott folded his arms across his chest.

“I don’t know, tacky?”

Tapscott laughed. “I’ve been called worse.”

“You and me both, partner, you and me both. Come on. We need to go send all those files back to records.”

He stood up and popped his neck. “Weren’t they supposed to go back months ago?”

“Yeah well, I wanted to go through them again.”

“And did you uncover any diamonds in the rough? Any secret clue that ever other agent both local, state, and federal missed? Some missing piece that connects well … all of it?”

Fields gave him a withering look. “Let us just say that I did not. The devil may be in the details, but apparently this one got away.”

“What are you two arguing about?” Arthur asked, exiting his office.

“Oh, we’re finally sending those old Snow files back to storage. My lovely partner was just dragging her feet in admitting that she gained no new information from them.”

Arthur adjusted his red and yellow tie and said, “Better to try and fail than to never try at all. Also, you didn’t discover anything of value? Nothing at all?”

Fields sighed. “I mean, you know those files backwards and forwards. At the end of the day once you caught him it was typical boring procedure that brought him down. Nothing really was left missing. That’s why Snow is where he is today.”

“That’s not entirely true you know. There was one item that I always found curious. About ten million in diamonds, from Jessica Preston.”

Fields frowned for a second, trying to remember. “Victim number five?”

Arthur nodded. “That’s the one. Now the DA thought he fenced them and used the money to buy that set of fake passports and credit cards we found in his Jaguar, but I always thought that he used money he laundered from his own firm to get them and hid the diamonds somewhere in case of a rainy day.”

“Why did no one follow up on that?” Tapscott asked.

“Oh we did, but since one of the last acts Snow did as a free man was destroy his work hard drives and gut his firm’s accountant with a meat cleaver … it was hard to track,” Arthur said.

“Yeah, his accounts were a mess. Money in Swiss accounts, shell corporations … I found it funny we didn’t even nail him for tax evasion, which by all accounts it looks like we could have,” Fields added.

“We didn’t need to,” Arthur said.

He headed towards the elevator, leaving the two junior agents where they stood.

“Well come on, those boxes aren’t going to stack themselves,” Fields said, and Tapscott followed after her.

M
eet up later
?

Katie stared at the text but didn’t reply; instead she slipped her phone back in her left coat pocket and got out of her Camry.

It was cool in the evening air and she shivered as she flipped the top of her green coat up and walked up the grassy knoll. Somewhere in the distance a mourning dove cooed, and that noise felt out of place considering the season. Mourning doves always reminded Katie of late summer, of lazy shade and lemonade and the shimmer of heat rising from dusty country roads. Still the birds sounded sad, and that fit her solemn mood, especially considering where she was.

Katie made it to the top of the hill and walked between the rows of familiar gravestones. In her left hand she clutched a single red rose, and she set it down when she finally came to the right one.

Part of her wanted to just turn around and head back to school, but tradition was tradition, and this one was important. She took a seat on the grass and listened as the wind began to whisper in her ears.

Katie reached out and touched the cold headstone with her fingers.

“Hey, Mom,” Katie whispered. “It’s been awhile. Schools going … Okay I guess. I suppose I could tell you I’m staying out of trouble, but we both know that’s not entirely the truth. I wish you could meet my roommate. I think you’d like her. I can see from a lack of flowers that Dad hasn’t been by yet. I’m still trying to take care of him best I can, but you know how he is. More stubborn than a goat,” Katie said and laughed.

The wind licked her ears and Katie brushed a strand of her red hair behind her right one, so it would stop tickling her.

“If he knew what I was doing, trying to catch a killer … he wouldn’t approve. Thing is though, Mom, I think you would have. You always said ‘don’t let your talents go to waste’ and well … I’m trying to not let them. Besides … I have to know the truth. Justice has to be served.”

Even over the wind Katie could feel someone approaching her and she fell silent. She wanted to say more, a lot more, but instead she inhaled and exhaled, and closed her eyes.

A familiar hand touched her shoulder, and squeezed it. Katie reached up and grabbed his wrist, squeezing her father back.

He sat a single white rose next to Katie’s and took a seat beside her on the grass.

“Hey,” Arthur said.

“It’s the whole family,” Katie said.

They sat there for a long time, neither of them speaking. Some traditions were important to keep, no matter what.

K
atie’s heart
was thumping in her chest as she made her way through the police station.

Detectives Levitt and Powell both looked tired as they watched her enter. Levitt nodded to Powell before approaching Katie.

“What is it? What have you got?”

“You mind if I have some coffee first? I had a late night. We could talk in the interrogation room or…”

Powell frowned but went to get coffee.

“Here at the desk is fine with me. Please, sit,” Levitt said, offering Katie her chair.

That was what Katie had hoped for, and half of what she needed. Levitt took Powell’s seat directly across from her. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I just was wanted to say I think I have a flash of one of the attackers. At least I think I do. Any chance you have those photos for me to look at?”

Levitt regarded her for a moment and nodded. “Yeah, of course. Why the jogging of your memory?”

Katie smiled weakly. “Honestly? I had a vivid dream that brought more of it back. Also, you got any aspirin? I’m sporting a pretty nasty hangover.”

Levitt smiled. “I understand that one. Hang on,” she said and stood up, moving around to her side of the desk directly next to Katie. As she did she bent down and pulled out her keys, unlocking the top desk drawer. Levitt opened, it her head bent down and as she did Katie leaned forward and slid the thumb drive Stacy had given her into the empty USB slot in the back of the detective’s work computer. A quick box flashed on the screen and Katie tapped the enter key as fast as she could so the box disappeared. Levitt stood up and handed Katie a small bottle of aspirin.

“Here you go,” she said.

“Thanks.”

T
he next hour
as she looked through endless mug shots was one of the longest and tensest of Katie’s life. She didn’t identify any of the men she saw, but it didn’t surprise her. Looking at mug shots was only her secondary reason being at the station.

Then, after forty minutes of looking, he was right there, staring back at her.

The Latino man.

Katie almost missed it, because the photo was probably five years old. Felipe Smith. She considered not telling the two detectives, but at that moment an opportunity appeared.

Detective Levitt got up, excusing herself to use the restroom. Katie waited till she was around the corner of the hall before she tapped the picture.

“It might be this one. He’s older now of course, but…”

Detective Powell looked surprised that she had spoken up, and got up from his side of the desk and moved around to Katie’s side. He looked at the picture and then went back to his side of the desk.

As he turned his back to Katie to go back to his side of the desk, Katie leaned forward and grabbed the thumb drive, pulling it free. Instead of pulling her hand back to her side and pocketing the tiny device, she simply lowered her hand to the desk, so the motion was smaller in case the detective caught it in his peripheral vision.

He didn’t. Powell was muttering to himself, reciting Felipe Smith’s number. The detective typed for a moment.

“Well, that’s interesting.”

“What is?”

“You sure that’s him?”

“I’m as reliable as unreliable eyewitness’s can be.”

Powell rolled his eyes.

“Your Felipe Smith was booked seven years ago for a bar room brawl. Was thrown in the drunk tank, but the other guy refused to file charges. The one witness recanted his story the next day. Felipe Smith was released the next day.”

“Sounds like a fake alias.”

“No shit,” he said, looking up from his computer screen.

Katie smiled, and while Powell was looking right at her she pocketed the drive. He wasn’t paying attention to her hand, because he was busy trying to get a read on her from her facial expression. Katie knew her eyes probably dilated a bit when she slipped the thumb drive back in her pocket, but otherwise she doubted she gave off any other visible tells. Her heart was beating like she had just run a 10k, but the detective couldn’t hear that.

At least she had a name for the Latino man. Felipe Smith. It was almost certainly an alias, but she would take it.

Katie didn’t start to breathe normally till she was back in the safety of her Camry.

3
:45PM

Arthur Bell looked at the body and shook his head.

“Didn’t leave us a ton to work with,” Agent Fields said behind him.

They were at the high school football stadium of Clint, three towns west from the City.

The body was a man in his mid forties judging from the wear on his hands, and he had been heavyset with a thick beer belly. His jeans were faded and the left knee was ripped, and he wore a pair of dirty and worn work boots. He had on a denim shirt too, that was stained brown with his blood. There was no head however, as it had been sawed off.

“No identification, but the sheriff knew who it was right away and called it in. That’s when the computer did the cross reference and we got the call,” agent Tapscott said.

Arthur bent down to get a closer look at the headless man’s work shirt.

“Who was he?”

Fields opened her notebook and glanced at the sheet. “A Bob Walker. An associate of Corey Cox. They did a stint together upstate and were suspected in at least three bank robberies. That was before Cox got better at what he did, and Walker went back in for eighteen months. Apparently he’s been working as a mechanic for the last two years out here at a garage.”

Arthur stood back up and dusted his hands off on his suit pants.

“What was his skill set?”

Agent Tapscott shook his head. “We don’t have that yet. Most of his files are still in some basement over in county, and they haven’t been digitized. They should be at the office tomorrow morning.”

Arthur frowned.

“What?”

“I don’t like it. Whatever Cox is up to … it’s happening soon.”

“You mean whatever Dimitri Markovic and Cox are up to.”

“Still, it’s not technically ours. If we do catch anything…”

“You don’t need to remind me of that,” Arthur snapped as he took the stairs two at a time, quickly passing his agents.

Tapscott turned and looked at Agent Fields. “Smooth.”

“You know, my middle name and all that,” she said and leaned in closer to examine the body.

Tapscott noted that she had gotten her hair cut recently. In fact, in general Fields seemed to glow more lately, and be in a far better mood at work.

He dropped to his haunches, and pretended to examine the body. His phone rattled in his pocket, but just a single distinct vibration. That meant a text. Probably from Lacy. She really was becoming a growing conscious part of his life. Still, they were still strictly casual.

“So how do you think it all ties together?”

“Meaning?”

“What’s your theory?”

“I’ll form one once I have the case files from county.”

“Just for kicks, what do you think happened, with the evidence in front of you?”

Fields looked at the body and closed here eyes, but just for a moment.

“I think we went into the dark looking for one thing, but found something else entirely.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean if Markovic was tied up with Seaborn, I think it had to do with the money more than anything else. Who knows? Maybe Seaborn was paying Markovic to help him kill the girls, and when Seaborn developed a conscious he took the money and ran. That was months ago. I’m guessing now he’s going back to what he’s more familiar with. That’s why he’s teaming up with Cox, and that’s why we have poor old Bob here.”

“Robbery?”

“Yeah,” she paused for a second and then had to ask it. “What do you think?”

“I think Agent Bell is right. I think they all are connected, we just don’t have all the puzzle pieces yet.”

“You honestly think this is all some elaborate scheme by Snow?”

“I have no clue what it is, but I think we still aren’t seeing the big picture. Arthur is the closest of us to actually seeing it, and that’s why he’s grumpy.”

“Fair points. Well, I guess we’ll just let local LEO’s take this one from here. Saves us time on paperwork anyway.”

Tapscott grinned. “Now you’re learning. Listen, we’ve been partners for almost six months now, and since you have proven that it doesn’t look like you will wash out … you wanna grab a drink sometime?”

Fields did a double take and even took a step back. “Um, it’s a nice offer, but I don’t know…”

Tapscott held out his hand. “Just a work drink. Strictly professional. I mean I’d be an idiot if I thought it was anything more than that considering…” he trailed off.

Fields folded her arms across her chest. “Considering what?”

He looked surprised, and said, “Considering we are both interested in women.”

Fields dark skin went a shade lighter and she looked away from her partner, though her lips turned upward a little, like she was fighting to hide a smile. “Isn’t it a little presumptuous on your part? How do you know that maybe you just aren’t my type?”

Tapscott snorted. “Please, I’d be a terrible agent if I didn’t know. In the time we’ve been together you’ve not once looked at a man twice, while there have been half a dozen female encounters where you were obviously checking them out.”

This time Fields didn’t try to hide her smile. “Fair enough. Sure, a drink sounds great, but you’re buying the first round.”