Caught On Tape
By rankamateur
Time: Fall of 2002
Scarecrow and Mrs. King, and other characters from the show, belong to Warner Bros. and Shoot The Moon Enterprises, Ltd.
References to "The Khrushchev List", written by Lee Maddux.
The idea for this story came from that *finish-the-who-done-it-in-250-words-or-less* contest in the TVGuide. Good grief - in fanfic you can hardly even say "good morning" in 250 words or less!
In this little AU world, as in three previous stories, Lee and Amanda have their own security cum private investigation business. Their twins, William Matthew and Jennifer Amanda, are teenagers.
The proprietors of Stetson Security, Inc., are called on to help out their old friends at The Agency once again. This time they're asked to solve a murder.
Probably PG - mainly for what you might *imagine* is on the tapes.
Thanks to buffy for her suggestions and error trapping. Any and all remaining mistakes are mine.
--------------------------
"Good morning, sweetheart," Amanda said cheerily, as she breezed into their office. She dropped her purse on the top of the filing cabinet, before walking over and giving Lee a quick kiss.
"Good morning to you too," Lee looked up and smiled at his wife. Setting the document he had been reading down on his desk he continued, "what did Billy's teacher have to say? Couldn't have been too bad or you wouldn't be in this good of a mood," he observed.
"No, it wasn't too bad. It seems a few of the girl's in his English class are spending too much time passing him notes and trying to ahh, engage him in conversation."
"That's hardly HIS fault," Lee said somewhat annoyed at the teacher's obvious lack of fairness.
"The teacher called him," Amanda paused as though remembering the exact words, "a disruptive influence," she smiled as she finished the quote. Pushing aside some papers, she perched on the edge of Lee's desk.
"Disruptive influence," Lee scoffed, "that's ridiculous. It isn't his fault if the girls find him, ahh, interesting."
"Interesting? More like - irresistible. Just like his father," she finished in a soft voice.
"Honey, no girls have passed notes to me in years," he grinned.
"That's 'cause they know they'd have to go through me!"
They both laughed
"Thank goodness Jenny's such an angel," Lee observed, looking every bit the proud father he was.
"Hmm, yeah, but I am a little worried about that football player that keeps hangin' around. He's a senior and I think he's just a little, well you know, a bit too mature for her." Amanda's furrowed brow confirmed her state of mind.
"If he gets outta line, I'll snap him like a dead twig," Lee growled.
"I know you will, sweetheart, that's what worries me the *most*. I think what we need here is a little father daughter talk, about how much we trust her and the wayward nature of football players - which you know about first hand." Amanda recalled with a smile her husband's days as a player - a football player.
"You want me to shatter my little girl's illusions about her Dad?" Lee asked with a hurt look on his face.
"Umm, well, it would be for a good cause." Amanda looked down and then back up, into Lee's eyes.
How could he resist her? "OK. I'll talk to Jenny. Satisfied?"
"Yeah," she answered, leaning forward to give her husband another quick kiss.
"Well, now that everything is secure on the home front - how about a little help on this case?" He scooped several pieces of paper together, pushed them into a manila folder and handed it to Amanda. "Take your time," he grinned, "it's a real puzzler.
"So, what's up?" Amanda turned serious.
"Francine called early this morning. She wants us to take an unofficial look and see what we can come up with in this murder case. So far Metro Police are stumped. They're not getting any help from the five people who were there when it happened, either. They all claim that they weren't paying attention to the victim and nobody saw nothin'. But when the valet came in the room, he says his boss was on the floor and all five of them were standing near the body."
"Wow." Amanda shook her head, "I don't understand why Francine, well The Agency, is interested in a homicide?" She got up and walked over to her own desk. She sat down and began to leaf through the papers in the file.
Lee leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head and laced his fingers together. "The dead man works, or rather he *worked*, for the Committee on Internal Security."
"The CIS? Don't I remember one of their people being involved in that business with the Khrushchev List a few years back?"
"Yeah, a guy named Singer. Very highly placed. He wound up blowing himself into little tiny pieces."
"Oh right," Amanda grimaced. "I was glad I missed that."
"Yeah, I'm glad you did too," he said sincerely. "Anyway, ever since that little scandal, the CIS has been kind of sensitive. They want an independent investigation that won't attract a lot of media attention, but they want to know why this guy, Roger Peterson, was killed and if it had anything to do with his knowledge of government secrets."
"And Francine thought The Agency was too visible or too close?" Amanda wondered.
"I think she just didn't want The Agency directly involved at this point. Just in case. So, it's Stetson Security to the rescue. The first thing we need to do it check out the scene of the crime," Lee said somewhat melodramatically. "We'll need a way to get into the house. I'm not sure if the cops are still sitting on it or not."
"Well," Amanda thought for a moment, "if they're still guarding the place, we could use some phony CIS ID badges. If they're through and there's nobody around - we just cut the yellow tape and look for the alarm system."
"Right," Lee grinned. "Your lock pick or mine?"
---------------------------------------
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up in front of a large white house, located in the most expensive area of the city. They sat in the car for a moment, admiring the beautifully manicured lawn, the riot of color provided by beds of fall flowers, still blooming. There were several large, old trees which were losing their leaves now, but which no doubt provided welcome shade in the heat of summer.
"I don't see any sign of the police. Shall we go around back and find a way in?"
"Let's go."
Lee got out and went around and helped his wife out of the car, the latest of several Corvettes he had owned over the years.
-------
"Wow, what a mansion! He could afford this on a government salary? Even a pretty highly placed bureaucrat's salary?" Amanda was awed by the place - the furnishings, the paintings - the general level of opulence.......
"Well," Lee filled in, "he's supposed to have come from a wealthy family. Maybe we should check that out."
"Yeah," Amanda agreed. "Maybe we should look for hidden assets - like Swiss bank accounts or something..."
"Right. But first, let's check out the house. Maybe the cops missed something."
Amanda sat down on one of the couches in the spacious living room. She leaned back and started studying the room carefully. Then, something in one corner, in an area of the crown molding, caught her eye. A defect. She got up and walked over and stood underneath the spot. "Lee, look up there - in this corner. What do think that is?"
"A knothole?" he guessed.
"No. Crown molding in a house as expensive as this one doesn't have knotholes! You need to find a ladder and get up there and take a closer look."
"Oh, Amanda...... OK. I'll check in the garage. See if there's one stored there. Be back in a minute."
A few minutes later, Lee returned, lugging a six-foot ladder. Leaning it against the wall, he climbed up and carefully inspected the area. "You're right. It's not a defect. It's the lens of a camera....a video camera. I better find a way up into the attic."
"Please, be careful Lee."'
"Always," he grinned.
Thirty minutes later, Lee had collected video tapes from cameras located in the ceilings of nearly every room in the house. He also had discovered a large, locked cabinet in the attic. It was filled with video cassettes. The dates on the labels appeared to go back to at least 1997. After making a random selection from these tapes, choosing from those that were about three, six and twelve months old, he made his way back downstairs.
"Let's take these back to the office and start checking them out." Lee set the stack of tapes down on an end table and began brushing some dust off his jacket. "They need to vacuum their attic," he mumbled.
"Right. I found a couple of plastic bags in the kitchen. Here, I'll hold 'em open and you stick in the tapes."
-----------------------------------------
"Hey, Maggy, we're back," Lee called to their receptionist/secretary and invaluable factotum.
"So I see. Do you need some help," Maggy responded as she started to get up from her desk.
"No, that's OK, we got it. We're goin' to use the TV in the lunch room," Amanda answered for them. She had always liked Margaret Stevens, Maggy, who reminded her very much of Mrs. Marsten, the distinguished woman who had guarded the Georgetown Portal of The Agency for so many years.
Lee and Amanda took the tapes into the small but comfortable room that served as a lunch room/lounge for the employees of Stetson Security.
After watching the tape from the living room, which showed five people standing very close to Roger Peterson, as he grasped at his throat and then fell, lifeless, to the floor, the Stetson's could not understand how any of the five could deny knowledge of the murder.
"Evidently, they didn't know about the camera in the living room," Lee guessed.
"Yeah, they probably thought he only had cameras in the bedrooms."
"Amanda, could you get me that list of the names of these *witnesses*."
"Sure," Amanda went back into the office and briefly fumbled through the folder on her desk and then pulled out a sheet of paper. Walking back into the other room, she held out the list. "Here you go."
"Thanks. We have - Donald Summers, CIA; Reginald Baskins, son of a wealthy newspaper publisher; Leland Connell, works for the NSC. Wow! And we have Barbara Barnes, daughter of a rich U.S. Senator and last but not least, Maryanne Young, also CIA. Well, now we have their names and Francine's people have supplied descriptions and even photos a three of them, so we can match names with the faces on the tape. Let's check out some of those bedroom tapes."
"All right. Here's the first one." Amanda removed the tape and inserted the one Lee had labeled *Bedroom A*.
Amanda's face turned beet-red as she looked, open mouthed, at the picture on the TV screen. And this was only the beginning of the first tape! "Lee - shut that thing off or fast-forward it!"
"Amanduh! We need to identify the people on the tape and we can't do that in fast- forward. Probably they're all candidates for blackmail."
"Oh brother!"
Lee couldn't help but laugh. "It's the age-old question: Bergman or Truffaut."
"Hah! More like the Bunny Channel on cable. Art it isn't! "
"How do you know about the Bunny Channel," Lee asked with a mischievous grin.
"I *hear* things. Ahh, actually, I caught *your* son watching it one night."
"He was watching that........"
"Noo," it was Amanda's turn to smile, "just kidding."
Lee looked relieved, then annoyed. "Can we move along here. Look, I need your help but if you don't want to watch......"
"Umm, why don't we check some of the older tapes. If we're trying to find murder suspects, we should look for people who were filmed some time ago - people who've been paying blackmail for a while and who don't want to have to pay anymore."
"Good idea," Lee agreed. "Let's see....why don't we start with this one. It's about six months old."
"OK. Oh, boy," Amanda thought this was going to be as bad as the other bedroom tape, when.... "Hey, - maybe we *don't* have to watch every second of every one. Look down in the right-hand corner of the film. It looks like the date and initials. Looks like DS and MY. Peterson must have had a way to edit and add the initials to the tapes."
"You're right," Lee agreed moving a little closer the screen. "There was some equipment in the library that probably was for editing video tapes! Now according to this list, Donald Summers and Maryanne Young were present at the murder. And I do believe those folks in that bed are Donald and Maryanne. I bet we can find the other three on one or more of these tapes. We've got to keep looking. I'll have Maggy order us some lunch."
After checking through several more tapes, four of the five murder witnesses/suspects, had been identified. Lee had no doubt that further viewing would reveal the fifth suspect too.
All caught on tape in very compromising circumstances. Definitely not the sort of thing you wanted to see on the front page of one of those tabloids or on the evening news.
"Well, that's enough of that," Lee said, rubbing his eyes. "We'll turn these tapes over to Francine. Her people will have to go through all of them so they can identify, locate and interview every single individual.... find out what Peterson wanted from them...money or information. If it was just money - plain old-fashioned blackmail - then they're off the hook. But if it was intelligence, government secrets, then they have to find out exactly what kind of secrets and how much damage could have been done to U.S. interests. A very big job."
"With only initials - that could mean watching those films for weeks....months.........."
"Years," Lee finished.
"Oh..oh....OH MY GOSH!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One of the several phones on her desk rang, loudly. 'Damn,' she thought, 'not another interruption!'
"Desmond," she said curtly.
"Hello, Mzzz. Desmond," Lee deliberately dragged out the *Ms* part. "How's the beautiful and charming head of Field Section today?"
"She's tired, cranky and running hours behind in her work. What's up Stetson?"
"Just a quick update on the Peterson case. We've found the motive."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yup. Blackmail. Seems our boy was running his own little *pleasure dome* for some of his sybaritic friends who had either money or access to government secrets. Then he captured them on film * in flagrante delicto* I think is the expression....."
"Latin..., Lee. I'm impressed."
"I picked up a few phrases from Billy," Lee said quietly, remembering his old friend and mentor, Billy Melrose. "Anyway, we found some very interesting video tapes. I'm having them sent over to you today. And there are more, still at the house, in a cabinet in the attic. You'll want to take a look at those too. Oh, and you might want to check out some machines in the library that're probably for editing tapes."
"Great. More work," Francine grumbled. "You know," she tapped her pen on the desk and furrowed her brow as she reflected, "now that I think about it....I remember that this Peterson burst on the DC social scene about five years ago. I've heard that he developed a reputation for throwing some pretty lavish and very X-rated parties."
"Guess he had kind of a Ponzi scheme going. He used blackmail to finance his life style and used his lifestyle to find more victims to blackmail."
"Not exactly a *Ponzi*, since nobody else made any money from it."
"Whatever. Right now I'm too tired to come up with a more accurate analogy."
"That's all right. He was a *really* nice guy," Francine observed dryly. "But I thought he had money - old family money?"
"A lot of people thought that, but I wonder. Why don't you have some of your people take a look at his bank account. Maybe check for activity that looks like regular payments. How about Swiss or Cayman Island accounts?"
Good thinking. Will do. Take care....and Lee..."
"What?"
"Thanks."
"Wait till you get my bill. Bye Francine."
"Goodbye, Scarecrow!" She smiled and shook her head. 'Boy, do I miss him. Heck, I even miss Amanda.'
--------------------------------------
As Lee finished up his phone conversation with Francine, Amanda went back to the file, studying the various reports a little more closely. "The M.E. says the cause of death was a severed carotid artery....massive hemorrhage....a small knife..."
"Which was recovered because Peterson's valet came into the room right after his boss hit the floor. He called the police immediately and they showed up pretty quick. So there was no chance to dispose of the murder weapon. Lucky for us."
"Yeah, but," she quickly scanned several other pages, "it says here that there were no good finger prints, so how much help is it?" She glanced up at Lee. "Oh my gosh," she continued reading the coroner's report, "he calls the wound an *incision*. Somebody would have to have medical training to do something like this, wouldn't they? Nasty," she shuddered.
"But quick, maybe almost painless." Lee observed, with clinical detachment.
"Yeah," Amanda interjected, "I hope it was painless."
"You know," according to what the tape shows, he didn't cry out. He just dropped like a rock," Lee rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Is that why the witnesses didn't seem to know what had happened?"
"Oh Lee, com'on. You know as well as I do that they *had* to have seen what happened. None of them were standing more than a foot or two away from Peterson when he was ..... you know. Hmmm. Lee..."
"What?"
"Did you ever see the movie *Murder On The Orient Express*?"
"Not that I remember. Why?" He knew better than to ask his wife what in the world some old movie had to do with the case at hand. There would be a connection.
"Well," she continued tentatively, "in that movie the main character, Hercule Poirot, he's an Agatha Christie detective..."
"Oh yeah," Lee cut in, "I think I do remember that. But if it has something to do with our little problem, could you get to the point?"
Amanda pursed her lips momentarily, sighed and then continued...."Well, in the movie there wasn't just one killer. They ALL did it and of course, they all covered for each other."
Lee thought for a moment and then a smile spread across his face. "That's IT! Of course!. Maybe they ALL didn't use the knife, but they all wanted Peterson dead. They were ALL in on it!"
"Yeah. I guess it's not exactly the same.........'
"But close enough!" Lee pulled his wife into an embrace.
"This is my reward for solving the case?"
"Just a down payment," Lee answered in a suggestive tone of voice. "Your real reward comes later."
"Hmm," Amanda smiled. "I can hardly wait."
"But first, we'd better try and find out which of our five suspects have some kind of medical skills."
"How very practical of you. Do you know what time it is?"
"Amanda........"
"OK."
-------------------------------
There was a sharp rap at the door of the office and then a young man breezed in, without waiting for an invitation.
"Thank goodness for computers and Data Banks. Are you ready for this?" Mark Thomas, Stetson Securities best, and only, field operative asked, a note of triumph in his voice.
"Ready for what? Mark....please. Don't make a production out of it," Lee said impatiently.
"Turns out you have THREE possibles, with varying levels of medical connections."
"Great," Lee muttered, "go on."
Mark recited his findings. Summers had been a medic in the National Guard and served in the Gulf War. Baskins' father was a surgeon. And Maryanne quit nursing school in 1985 to marry Jason Young.
"So we've got three with some level of medical skills," Amanda repeated, mostly to herself.
"What about the weapon," Mark asked, "any prints?"
"Nothing usable," Lee supplied, "but The Agency Forensics boys are still checking. Apparently the knife didn't match any of the cutlery in the house, so the killer brought it with him....or her."
"Well," Amanda sighed, "maybe we'd better take another look at the film of the murder - slow it down - see if there's anything we missed."
"Good idea. Let's go back to the lounge and I'll rack it up"
---------------
"There! Freeze it." Amanda pointed to the screen. "See? The butler......"
"The valet.........," Lee corrected.
"OK, OK, the *valet* comes in the room just as Peterson falls down and Summers has the handle of the knife in his handkerchief but he *drops* the knife. He can't pick it up without the valet seeing him!"
"Right. Gotcha Mr. Summers!" Lee said gleefully.
"Well, sort of... I mean, we see him drop the knife but we don't actually see him stab Peterson."
"Yeah, you're right. Baskins is blocking the view of victim at that precise moment. But still, it's *got* to be Summers......", Lee reasoned. "He definitely had the weapon. And there is no way the rest of them didn't see what happened."
-------------------
After another hour of going over the film, frame by frame, Lee stopped the tape. I think I'll call my old friend Lt. Bob Jamison of Metro Homicide. It's time for a little get together with our five suspects."
"Are you going to have them arrested? Amanda asked, stifling a yawn.
"I think I can get Bob to haul them in for questioning. We'll take the tape along and show him just what we found."
"I wonder why they kept comin' around - after he was blackmailing them?"
"Well," Lee speculated, "once they were caught and forced to pay, they probably figured they might as well enjoy Peterson's *hospitality*."
"True. And it gave them easy access once they decided to kill him. Boy," Amanda shivered, "nice people."
----------------------------------------
The next morning at Metro PD Headquarters, the *gang of five*, as Lee now referred to them, was assembled in the lobby. Lee, Amanda and Lt. Jamison stood apart from the group, making a deliberate show of the video tape, which Lee had just finished reviewing with the Lieutenant.
All five suspects began talking in loud and angry voices. Something about wanting their lawyers, lawsuits and the stupidity of the authorities. Each was taken to a separate interrogation room.
After things quieted down, Lt. Jamison turned to Lee with a quizzical expression. "The prints are smudged and the film didn't show anything or anyone, clearly. Why do you want them arrested?"
"Bob! Whadda'ya mean *it didn't show*....you just looked at it...."
"Well, I mean I'm not positive I saw what you're told me I was seeing," the Lieutenant said, somewhat defensively.
Lee sighed, more than a little exasperated, "Oh brother. OK, let's go back in your office and look at the tape again!"
------------------
Lee began to run the film again, frame by frame. "Look, there." He stopped the tape. "See? Summers wipes the knife handle, drops the knife and then stuffs the handkerchief back in his pocket. All four of them *had* to see him. So they are in on it with him."
"I see it now. I don't know how I missed that the first time." The lieutenant looked a bit embarrassed.
"Good. Now we'll just tell each one that we know they're in it together - they're all guilty of murder one - and see who wants to deal."
"A little bluff?" Jamison looked a bit skeptical.
"Well, not entirely, we know Summers didn't wipe off the murder weapon because he couldn't stand the sight of blood," Lee said sarcastically.
"Lee...," Amanda cautioned him with a look.
"Come on Bob, Summers *probably* did it, but they're all guilty. You know that. We just need to get one of the five to admit it."
"All right, all right, already." Jamison knew Lee's plan was the best, maybe the *only* way to solve this case. "We'll do a little bluffing. First I'll need to brief a couple of my men to we can talk to suspects simultaneously. I don't want this to take all day."
"Picky, picky," Lee grinned.
----------------
Forty-five minutes later, Barbara Barnes was signing the statement she had given to Lt. Jamison, which detailed the planning and execution of the crime and confirmed Lee's conclusion that Donald Summers had been the one who actually stabbed Peterson.
The gang of five was out of business.
-------------
Lee walked in his front door, tired and looking forward to a relaxing evening with his family.
"Hi, Daddy. Bye, Daddy. Oh, this is Jerry, my friend from school." Jenny gestured toward the tall, well-built young man standing behind her, helping her into her coat.
"How do you do, Mr. Stetson," the young man extended his hand.
Lee took it and shook it......"Ahh, nice to meet you, Jerry."
"And don't worry Sir. I'll have Jenny home early." With that the two young people were out the door.
"Who's that?" Lee inquired of Amanda, who had just walked into the entry hall.
"Come on into the family room," she said, giving Lee a little kiss hello. "That's the football player."
"WHAT? Maybe I should go after them. I haven't had that little talk with Jenny yet."
"Relax sweetheart. They're going to a pep rally before the big game. Billy will be with them.....'
"He's no help," Lee interrupted, running his fingers through his hair in that all too familiar gesture of nervousness or anxiety.
"And so will Philip and Jamie," she said soothingly.
"Philip and Jamie? Why?" Lee started to pace.
"They'll be there to cheer on their alma mater and to keep an eye on their little sister. OK?"
"Oh, OK," Lee said, visibly relaxing.
"Now," Amanda said in a playful tone, a little twinkle in her dark brown eyes, "don't I remember you saying something a while back about a reward?"
"Oohhh yeaahh. Your reward." He flashed one of those dimpled grins that still made her heart beat just a little faster.
"Did you have anything special in mind, Mr. Stetson?" She asked innocently, as she reached up and loosened his tie.
"Why don't we go upstairs and discuss it, Mrs. Stetson." Lee extended his hand.
"What about dinner?"
"Ahh, we can reheat it in the microwave."
Amanda reached out and took his hand. "Oh, that's a *good* idea."
end
By rankamateur
Time: Fall of 2002
Scarecrow and Mrs. King, and other characters from the show, belong to Warner Bros. and Shoot The Moon Enterprises, Ltd.
References to "The Khrushchev List", written by Lee Maddux.
The idea for this story came from that *finish-the-who-done-it-in-250-words-or-less* contest in the TVGuide. Good grief - in fanfic you can hardly even say "good morning" in 250 words or less!
In this little AU world, as in three previous stories, Lee and Amanda have their own security cum private investigation business. Their twins, William Matthew and Jennifer Amanda, are teenagers.
The proprietors of Stetson Security, Inc., are called on to help out their old friends at The Agency once again. This time they're asked to solve a murder.
Probably PG - mainly for what you might *imagine* is on the tapes.
Thanks to buffy for her suggestions and error trapping. Any and all remaining mistakes are mine.
--------------------------
"Good morning, sweetheart," Amanda said cheerily, as she breezed into their office. She dropped her purse on the top of the filing cabinet, before walking over and giving Lee a quick kiss.
"Good morning to you too," Lee looked up and smiled at his wife. Setting the document he had been reading down on his desk he continued, "what did Billy's teacher have to say? Couldn't have been too bad or you wouldn't be in this good of a mood," he observed.
"No, it wasn't too bad. It seems a few of the girl's in his English class are spending too much time passing him notes and trying to ahh, engage him in conversation."
"That's hardly HIS fault," Lee said somewhat annoyed at the teacher's obvious lack of fairness.
"The teacher called him," Amanda paused as though remembering the exact words, "a disruptive influence," she smiled as she finished the quote. Pushing aside some papers, she perched on the edge of Lee's desk.
"Disruptive influence," Lee scoffed, "that's ridiculous. It isn't his fault if the girls find him, ahh, interesting."
"Interesting? More like - irresistible. Just like his father," she finished in a soft voice.
"Honey, no girls have passed notes to me in years," he grinned.
"That's 'cause they know they'd have to go through me!"
They both laughed
"Thank goodness Jenny's such an angel," Lee observed, looking every bit the proud father he was.
"Hmm, yeah, but I am a little worried about that football player that keeps hangin' around. He's a senior and I think he's just a little, well you know, a bit too mature for her." Amanda's furrowed brow confirmed her state of mind.
"If he gets outta line, I'll snap him like a dead twig," Lee growled.
"I know you will, sweetheart, that's what worries me the *most*. I think what we need here is a little father daughter talk, about how much we trust her and the wayward nature of football players - which you know about first hand." Amanda recalled with a smile her husband's days as a player - a football player.
"You want me to shatter my little girl's illusions about her Dad?" Lee asked with a hurt look on his face.
"Umm, well, it would be for a good cause." Amanda looked down and then back up, into Lee's eyes.
How could he resist her? "OK. I'll talk to Jenny. Satisfied?"
"Yeah," she answered, leaning forward to give her husband another quick kiss.
"Well, now that everything is secure on the home front - how about a little help on this case?" He scooped several pieces of paper together, pushed them into a manila folder and handed it to Amanda. "Take your time," he grinned, "it's a real puzzler.
"So, what's up?" Amanda turned serious.
"Francine called early this morning. She wants us to take an unofficial look and see what we can come up with in this murder case. So far Metro Police are stumped. They're not getting any help from the five people who were there when it happened, either. They all claim that they weren't paying attention to the victim and nobody saw nothin'. But when the valet came in the room, he says his boss was on the floor and all five of them were standing near the body."
"Wow." Amanda shook her head, "I don't understand why Francine, well The Agency, is interested in a homicide?" She got up and walked over to her own desk. She sat down and began to leaf through the papers in the file.
Lee leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head and laced his fingers together. "The dead man works, or rather he *worked*, for the Committee on Internal Security."
"The CIS? Don't I remember one of their people being involved in that business with the Khrushchev List a few years back?"
"Yeah, a guy named Singer. Very highly placed. He wound up blowing himself into little tiny pieces."
"Oh right," Amanda grimaced. "I was glad I missed that."
"Yeah, I'm glad you did too," he said sincerely. "Anyway, ever since that little scandal, the CIS has been kind of sensitive. They want an independent investigation that won't attract a lot of media attention, but they want to know why this guy, Roger Peterson, was killed and if it had anything to do with his knowledge of government secrets."
"And Francine thought The Agency was too visible or too close?" Amanda wondered.
"I think she just didn't want The Agency directly involved at this point. Just in case. So, it's Stetson Security to the rescue. The first thing we need to do it check out the scene of the crime," Lee said somewhat melodramatically. "We'll need a way to get into the house. I'm not sure if the cops are still sitting on it or not."
"Well," Amanda thought for a moment, "if they're still guarding the place, we could use some phony CIS ID badges. If they're through and there's nobody around - we just cut the yellow tape and look for the alarm system."
"Right," Lee grinned. "Your lock pick or mine?"
---------------------------------------
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up in front of a large white house, located in the most expensive area of the city. They sat in the car for a moment, admiring the beautifully manicured lawn, the riot of color provided by beds of fall flowers, still blooming. There were several large, old trees which were losing their leaves now, but which no doubt provided welcome shade in the heat of summer.
"I don't see any sign of the police. Shall we go around back and find a way in?"
"Let's go."
Lee got out and went around and helped his wife out of the car, the latest of several Corvettes he had owned over the years.
-------
"Wow, what a mansion! He could afford this on a government salary? Even a pretty highly placed bureaucrat's salary?" Amanda was awed by the place - the furnishings, the paintings - the general level of opulence.......
"Well," Lee filled in, "he's supposed to have come from a wealthy family. Maybe we should check that out."
"Yeah," Amanda agreed. "Maybe we should look for hidden assets - like Swiss bank accounts or something..."
"Right. But first, let's check out the house. Maybe the cops missed something."
Amanda sat down on one of the couches in the spacious living room. She leaned back and started studying the room carefully. Then, something in one corner, in an area of the crown molding, caught her eye. A defect. She got up and walked over and stood underneath the spot. "Lee, look up there - in this corner. What do think that is?"
"A knothole?" he guessed.
"No. Crown molding in a house as expensive as this one doesn't have knotholes! You need to find a ladder and get up there and take a closer look."
"Oh, Amanda...... OK. I'll check in the garage. See if there's one stored there. Be back in a minute."
A few minutes later, Lee returned, lugging a six-foot ladder. Leaning it against the wall, he climbed up and carefully inspected the area. "You're right. It's not a defect. It's the lens of a camera....a video camera. I better find a way up into the attic."
"Please, be careful Lee."'
"Always," he grinned.
Thirty minutes later, Lee had collected video tapes from cameras located in the ceilings of nearly every room in the house. He also had discovered a large, locked cabinet in the attic. It was filled with video cassettes. The dates on the labels appeared to go back to at least 1997. After making a random selection from these tapes, choosing from those that were about three, six and twelve months old, he made his way back downstairs.
"Let's take these back to the office and start checking them out." Lee set the stack of tapes down on an end table and began brushing some dust off his jacket. "They need to vacuum their attic," he mumbled.
"Right. I found a couple of plastic bags in the kitchen. Here, I'll hold 'em open and you stick in the tapes."
-----------------------------------------
"Hey, Maggy, we're back," Lee called to their receptionist/secretary and invaluable factotum.
"So I see. Do you need some help," Maggy responded as she started to get up from her desk.
"No, that's OK, we got it. We're goin' to use the TV in the lunch room," Amanda answered for them. She had always liked Margaret Stevens, Maggy, who reminded her very much of Mrs. Marsten, the distinguished woman who had guarded the Georgetown Portal of The Agency for so many years.
Lee and Amanda took the tapes into the small but comfortable room that served as a lunch room/lounge for the employees of Stetson Security.
After watching the tape from the living room, which showed five people standing very close to Roger Peterson, as he grasped at his throat and then fell, lifeless, to the floor, the Stetson's could not understand how any of the five could deny knowledge of the murder.
"Evidently, they didn't know about the camera in the living room," Lee guessed.
"Yeah, they probably thought he only had cameras in the bedrooms."
"Amanda, could you get me that list of the names of these *witnesses*."
"Sure," Amanda went back into the office and briefly fumbled through the folder on her desk and then pulled out a sheet of paper. Walking back into the other room, she held out the list. "Here you go."
"Thanks. We have - Donald Summers, CIA; Reginald Baskins, son of a wealthy newspaper publisher; Leland Connell, works for the NSC. Wow! And we have Barbara Barnes, daughter of a rich U.S. Senator and last but not least, Maryanne Young, also CIA. Well, now we have their names and Francine's people have supplied descriptions and even photos a three of them, so we can match names with the faces on the tape. Let's check out some of those bedroom tapes."
"All right. Here's the first one." Amanda removed the tape and inserted the one Lee had labeled *Bedroom A*.
Amanda's face turned beet-red as she looked, open mouthed, at the picture on the TV screen. And this was only the beginning of the first tape! "Lee - shut that thing off or fast-forward it!"
"Amanduh! We need to identify the people on the tape and we can't do that in fast- forward. Probably they're all candidates for blackmail."
"Oh brother!"
Lee couldn't help but laugh. "It's the age-old question: Bergman or Truffaut."
"Hah! More like the Bunny Channel on cable. Art it isn't! "
"How do you know about the Bunny Channel," Lee asked with a mischievous grin.
"I *hear* things. Ahh, actually, I caught *your* son watching it one night."
"He was watching that........"
"Noo," it was Amanda's turn to smile, "just kidding."
Lee looked relieved, then annoyed. "Can we move along here. Look, I need your help but if you don't want to watch......"
"Umm, why don't we check some of the older tapes. If we're trying to find murder suspects, we should look for people who were filmed some time ago - people who've been paying blackmail for a while and who don't want to have to pay anymore."
"Good idea," Lee agreed. "Let's see....why don't we start with this one. It's about six months old."
"OK. Oh, boy," Amanda thought this was going to be as bad as the other bedroom tape, when.... "Hey, - maybe we *don't* have to watch every second of every one. Look down in the right-hand corner of the film. It looks like the date and initials. Looks like DS and MY. Peterson must have had a way to edit and add the initials to the tapes."
"You're right," Lee agreed moving a little closer the screen. "There was some equipment in the library that probably was for editing video tapes! Now according to this list, Donald Summers and Maryanne Young were present at the murder. And I do believe those folks in that bed are Donald and Maryanne. I bet we can find the other three on one or more of these tapes. We've got to keep looking. I'll have Maggy order us some lunch."
After checking through several more tapes, four of the five murder witnesses/suspects, had been identified. Lee had no doubt that further viewing would reveal the fifth suspect too.
All caught on tape in very compromising circumstances. Definitely not the sort of thing you wanted to see on the front page of one of those tabloids or on the evening news.
"Well, that's enough of that," Lee said, rubbing his eyes. "We'll turn these tapes over to Francine. Her people will have to go through all of them so they can identify, locate and interview every single individual.... find out what Peterson wanted from them...money or information. If it was just money - plain old-fashioned blackmail - then they're off the hook. But if it was intelligence, government secrets, then they have to find out exactly what kind of secrets and how much damage could have been done to U.S. interests. A very big job."
"With only initials - that could mean watching those films for weeks....months.........."
"Years," Lee finished.
"Oh..oh....OH MY GOSH!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One of the several phones on her desk rang, loudly. 'Damn,' she thought, 'not another interruption!'
"Desmond," she said curtly.
"Hello, Mzzz. Desmond," Lee deliberately dragged out the *Ms* part. "How's the beautiful and charming head of Field Section today?"
"She's tired, cranky and running hours behind in her work. What's up Stetson?"
"Just a quick update on the Peterson case. We've found the motive."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yup. Blackmail. Seems our boy was running his own little *pleasure dome* for some of his sybaritic friends who had either money or access to government secrets. Then he captured them on film * in flagrante delicto* I think is the expression....."
"Latin..., Lee. I'm impressed."
"I picked up a few phrases from Billy," Lee said quietly, remembering his old friend and mentor, Billy Melrose. "Anyway, we found some very interesting video tapes. I'm having them sent over to you today. And there are more, still at the house, in a cabinet in the attic. You'll want to take a look at those too. Oh, and you might want to check out some machines in the library that're probably for editing tapes."
"Great. More work," Francine grumbled. "You know," she tapped her pen on the desk and furrowed her brow as she reflected, "now that I think about it....I remember that this Peterson burst on the DC social scene about five years ago. I've heard that he developed a reputation for throwing some pretty lavish and very X-rated parties."
"Guess he had kind of a Ponzi scheme going. He used blackmail to finance his life style and used his lifestyle to find more victims to blackmail."
"Not exactly a *Ponzi*, since nobody else made any money from it."
"Whatever. Right now I'm too tired to come up with a more accurate analogy."
"That's all right. He was a *really* nice guy," Francine observed dryly. "But I thought he had money - old family money?"
"A lot of people thought that, but I wonder. Why don't you have some of your people take a look at his bank account. Maybe check for activity that looks like regular payments. How about Swiss or Cayman Island accounts?"
Good thinking. Will do. Take care....and Lee..."
"What?"
"Thanks."
"Wait till you get my bill. Bye Francine."
"Goodbye, Scarecrow!" She smiled and shook her head. 'Boy, do I miss him. Heck, I even miss Amanda.'
--------------------------------------
As Lee finished up his phone conversation with Francine, Amanda went back to the file, studying the various reports a little more closely. "The M.E. says the cause of death was a severed carotid artery....massive hemorrhage....a small knife..."
"Which was recovered because Peterson's valet came into the room right after his boss hit the floor. He called the police immediately and they showed up pretty quick. So there was no chance to dispose of the murder weapon. Lucky for us."
"Yeah, but," she quickly scanned several other pages, "it says here that there were no good finger prints, so how much help is it?" She glanced up at Lee. "Oh my gosh," she continued reading the coroner's report, "he calls the wound an *incision*. Somebody would have to have medical training to do something like this, wouldn't they? Nasty," she shuddered.
"But quick, maybe almost painless." Lee observed, with clinical detachment.
"Yeah," Amanda interjected, "I hope it was painless."
"You know," according to what the tape shows, he didn't cry out. He just dropped like a rock," Lee rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Is that why the witnesses didn't seem to know what had happened?"
"Oh Lee, com'on. You know as well as I do that they *had* to have seen what happened. None of them were standing more than a foot or two away from Peterson when he was ..... you know. Hmmm. Lee..."
"What?"
"Did you ever see the movie *Murder On The Orient Express*?"
"Not that I remember. Why?" He knew better than to ask his wife what in the world some old movie had to do with the case at hand. There would be a connection.
"Well," she continued tentatively, "in that movie the main character, Hercule Poirot, he's an Agatha Christie detective..."
"Oh yeah," Lee cut in, "I think I do remember that. But if it has something to do with our little problem, could you get to the point?"
Amanda pursed her lips momentarily, sighed and then continued...."Well, in the movie there wasn't just one killer. They ALL did it and of course, they all covered for each other."
Lee thought for a moment and then a smile spread across his face. "That's IT! Of course!. Maybe they ALL didn't use the knife, but they all wanted Peterson dead. They were ALL in on it!"
"Yeah. I guess it's not exactly the same.........'
"But close enough!" Lee pulled his wife into an embrace.
"This is my reward for solving the case?"
"Just a down payment," Lee answered in a suggestive tone of voice. "Your real reward comes later."
"Hmm," Amanda smiled. "I can hardly wait."
"But first, we'd better try and find out which of our five suspects have some kind of medical skills."
"How very practical of you. Do you know what time it is?"
"Amanda........"
"OK."
-------------------------------
There was a sharp rap at the door of the office and then a young man breezed in, without waiting for an invitation.
"Thank goodness for computers and Data Banks. Are you ready for this?" Mark Thomas, Stetson Securities best, and only, field operative asked, a note of triumph in his voice.
"Ready for what? Mark....please. Don't make a production out of it," Lee said impatiently.
"Turns out you have THREE possibles, with varying levels of medical connections."
"Great," Lee muttered, "go on."
Mark recited his findings. Summers had been a medic in the National Guard and served in the Gulf War. Baskins' father was a surgeon. And Maryanne quit nursing school in 1985 to marry Jason Young.
"So we've got three with some level of medical skills," Amanda repeated, mostly to herself.
"What about the weapon," Mark asked, "any prints?"
"Nothing usable," Lee supplied, "but The Agency Forensics boys are still checking. Apparently the knife didn't match any of the cutlery in the house, so the killer brought it with him....or her."
"Well," Amanda sighed, "maybe we'd better take another look at the film of the murder - slow it down - see if there's anything we missed."
"Good idea. Let's go back to the lounge and I'll rack it up"
---------------
"There! Freeze it." Amanda pointed to the screen. "See? The butler......"
"The valet.........," Lee corrected.
"OK, OK, the *valet* comes in the room just as Peterson falls down and Summers has the handle of the knife in his handkerchief but he *drops* the knife. He can't pick it up without the valet seeing him!"
"Right. Gotcha Mr. Summers!" Lee said gleefully.
"Well, sort of... I mean, we see him drop the knife but we don't actually see him stab Peterson."
"Yeah, you're right. Baskins is blocking the view of victim at that precise moment. But still, it's *got* to be Summers......", Lee reasoned. "He definitely had the weapon. And there is no way the rest of them didn't see what happened."
-------------------
After another hour of going over the film, frame by frame, Lee stopped the tape. I think I'll call my old friend Lt. Bob Jamison of Metro Homicide. It's time for a little get together with our five suspects."
"Are you going to have them arrested? Amanda asked, stifling a yawn.
"I think I can get Bob to haul them in for questioning. We'll take the tape along and show him just what we found."
"I wonder why they kept comin' around - after he was blackmailing them?"
"Well," Lee speculated, "once they were caught and forced to pay, they probably figured they might as well enjoy Peterson's *hospitality*."
"True. And it gave them easy access once they decided to kill him. Boy," Amanda shivered, "nice people."
----------------------------------------
The next morning at Metro PD Headquarters, the *gang of five*, as Lee now referred to them, was assembled in the lobby. Lee, Amanda and Lt. Jamison stood apart from the group, making a deliberate show of the video tape, which Lee had just finished reviewing with the Lieutenant.
All five suspects began talking in loud and angry voices. Something about wanting their lawyers, lawsuits and the stupidity of the authorities. Each was taken to a separate interrogation room.
After things quieted down, Lt. Jamison turned to Lee with a quizzical expression. "The prints are smudged and the film didn't show anything or anyone, clearly. Why do you want them arrested?"
"Bob! Whadda'ya mean *it didn't show*....you just looked at it...."
"Well, I mean I'm not positive I saw what you're told me I was seeing," the Lieutenant said, somewhat defensively.
Lee sighed, more than a little exasperated, "Oh brother. OK, let's go back in your office and look at the tape again!"
------------------
Lee began to run the film again, frame by frame. "Look, there." He stopped the tape. "See? Summers wipes the knife handle, drops the knife and then stuffs the handkerchief back in his pocket. All four of them *had* to see him. So they are in on it with him."
"I see it now. I don't know how I missed that the first time." The lieutenant looked a bit embarrassed.
"Good. Now we'll just tell each one that we know they're in it together - they're all guilty of murder one - and see who wants to deal."
"A little bluff?" Jamison looked a bit skeptical.
"Well, not entirely, we know Summers didn't wipe off the murder weapon because he couldn't stand the sight of blood," Lee said sarcastically.
"Lee...," Amanda cautioned him with a look.
"Come on Bob, Summers *probably* did it, but they're all guilty. You know that. We just need to get one of the five to admit it."
"All right, all right, already." Jamison knew Lee's plan was the best, maybe the *only* way to solve this case. "We'll do a little bluffing. First I'll need to brief a couple of my men to we can talk to suspects simultaneously. I don't want this to take all day."
"Picky, picky," Lee grinned.
----------------
Forty-five minutes later, Barbara Barnes was signing the statement she had given to Lt. Jamison, which detailed the planning and execution of the crime and confirmed Lee's conclusion that Donald Summers had been the one who actually stabbed Peterson.
The gang of five was out of business.
-------------
Lee walked in his front door, tired and looking forward to a relaxing evening with his family.
"Hi, Daddy. Bye, Daddy. Oh, this is Jerry, my friend from school." Jenny gestured toward the tall, well-built young man standing behind her, helping her into her coat.
"How do you do, Mr. Stetson," the young man extended his hand.
Lee took it and shook it......"Ahh, nice to meet you, Jerry."
"And don't worry Sir. I'll have Jenny home early." With that the two young people were out the door.
"Who's that?" Lee inquired of Amanda, who had just walked into the entry hall.
"Come on into the family room," she said, giving Lee a little kiss hello. "That's the football player."
"WHAT? Maybe I should go after them. I haven't had that little talk with Jenny yet."
"Relax sweetheart. They're going to a pep rally before the big game. Billy will be with them.....'
"He's no help," Lee interrupted, running his fingers through his hair in that all too familiar gesture of nervousness or anxiety.
"And so will Philip and Jamie," she said soothingly.
"Philip and Jamie? Why?" Lee started to pace.
"They'll be there to cheer on their alma mater and to keep an eye on their little sister. OK?"
"Oh, OK," Lee said, visibly relaxing.
"Now," Amanda said in a playful tone, a little twinkle in her dark brown eyes, "don't I remember you saying something a while back about a reward?"
"Oohhh yeaahh. Your reward." He flashed one of those dimpled grins that still made her heart beat just a little faster.
"Did you have anything special in mind, Mr. Stetson?" She asked innocently, as she reached up and loosened his tie.
"Why don't we go upstairs and discuss it, Mrs. Stetson." Lee extended his hand.
"What about dinner?"
"Ahh, we can reheat it in the microwave."
Amanda reached out and took his hand. "Oh, that's a *good* idea."
end