Chapter Seven - Clues
Hutch leaned forward in his chair opposite Starsky. "Let me get this straight," he said carefully, his analytical mind highly wired. "You say Mr. Irish has taken out money from several bank accounts, from customers whose money he see to and used them to found the Octopus Corporation?"
Starsky nodded. "The report from the fraud department suggests that's the case…"
"No, no," Hutch mumbled tiredly before his partner could even finish and shook his head. "It's only circumstantial Starsk."
"Maybe if you look at the reports from the various investigations one by one but if you bother to connect the little dots on the way you might see the whole picture," Starsky countered cunningly.
"Mr. Irish was the accountant responsible for placing Mr. Han's money in the bank. He set him up as a customer," Hutch said as he quickly skimmed through the report laid in front of him.
Starsky nodded. "Says here that Mr. Han, aka the Chairman of the Octopus Corporation, wanted no one else to look into his business," he said.
"Even more interesting is that the Octopus Corporation owns the famous club at Third and Main called The Rocket," Hutch remarked.
"The Rocket?" Starsky echoed curiously. "What is it they say? - The place to be if you have the money to spend."
"A high society club during the day and an illegal gambling place at night," Hutch added. "It's common knowledge, it's just that they seem to be prepared every time a warrant is made."
"Jo-Anne Fields was seen at the Rocket wasn't she?" Starsky asked curiously, looking at his partner for confirmation.
Hucth nodded. "Cabral said he'd seen her there while he was undercover. She came in with a large amount of money that she had won a few days earlier at another place and spent the lot." he said.
"So, a gambler then?" Starsky mused. "That's what Cassidy said before you got here. Said she was a girl with a messy background and a lot of debts."
"Well, would you look at this," Hutch exclaimed.
"What?" Starsky demanded.
"Among Mr. Irish's clients is Mr. Gordon. Isn't that a surprise?" the blonde detective asked sarcastically.
"What are you getting at?" the other half of the detective duo asked.
"Look at the notes from the bank director," Hutch returned cryptically as he handed over the folder to his partner.
"Mr. Irish has added a fee to be drawn from the account every third month…" he trailed off and let out a low whistle…"look at the amount."
"Only the fee, which Mr. Irish has taken out, not only from Mr. Gordon's account but of his other clients, has not turned up at the bank," Hutch added.
"There is one more thing," Starsky pointed out smugly. "No fee has been drawn from Mr. Han's account. Strangely he has gained money from business projects and several dummy corporations. According to the final words of the fraud department's report…"
"He could claim he's really gotten the money legally and not by switching accounts by Mr. Irish," Hutch cautioned. "I'm afraid it might not hold up in court."
"Maybe not but the higher you climb the higher the reason you'll grow careless and expose something that can lead to your downfall," Starsky said with an enigmatic smile.
"Stop talking in riddles, Starsk, it's too late at night for that," Hutch complained.
"Let me enlighten you Blondie. While you've been away and enjoyed yourself I've been reading up on Mr. Irish. Turns out there are no papers recording his birth or where he's from. Looks like he was born at the age of thirty one here in Bay City. His diploma of education says he's studied at Harvard but the school claims to have no knowledge of a Mr. Irish ever attending. And there's more; while getting employment at the bank he quickly took control over the bank accounts of several of the key persons in the Octopus Corporation. Those that are now behind lock and key in a lovely facility called Bay City State Prison. Now, guess who's been shadowing Mr. Irish from day one?"
Hutch frowned and shrugged.
"Pepe, the dealer you've just picked up at the bust," Starsky let on as he stabbed a finger at Hutch. "The same man who's been seen talking to Jo-Anne Fields at The Rocket and probably the man responsible for her death."
"Is there a point in this?" Hutch asked.
"I'm getting to that. You see, Mr. Irish knew, since he was Mr. Gordon's bank accountant, that he had a lot of money at home in his safe and he also knew that Jo-Anne Fields worked for him. This is where he got careless. He ordered Pepe to set her up and collect the money. As of a few hours ago the exact amount of money that Jo-Anne took from Mr. Gordon's safe appeared on a closed account at the bank. It then got transferred to another account that belongs to Prio Holdings – a dummy corporation…"
"For the Octopus Corporation," Hutch finished with a grin. "Starsk you're on to something here."
He tilted his head cockily and took a sip of his coffee. "I've been calling in favors from a lot of places. Especially the economics department."
"Didn't know you had it in you, partner," Hutch said. "Considering your love for paperwork."
"As the doctor's said, I'm a miracle – or was it oracle?" Starsky drawled cockily as he placed his feet on the desk and his hands behind his neck.
"Starsky!" Dobey shouted angrily as he walked out of his office and into the duty room causing the curly haired detective to cringe. "Don't you have some manners?"
"What's brought on this foul mood, captain?" Hutch asked innocently, secretly enjoying his superior admonishing his partner. "No candy bar?"
"Captain Marks has been forced to release Mr. Irish," he returned.
"What?" Hutch asked incredulously.
"You heard me," Dobey replied angrily. "I told you to build a case before bringing him in."
"Build a case?" Starsky echoed unbelievingly. "The guy is guilty, Captain. He organized the whole thing!"
"He got Jo-Anne killed. That way he got all the money and no one to tell the story," Hutch reasoned testily.
"Do you know how long we've been trying to get to him?" Dobey countered. "Lieutenant Cabral even went undercover and infiltrated the business a while back and Irish still managed to get off the hook."
"If we can't bring him in for the connections to the Octopus business, at least not at first, let's keep him in custody for the Jo-Anne Fields murder and let him sweat for a while," Starsky suggested. "We don't have to enlighten him about the fact that we can't tie him to it."
"He buys himself protection," Hutch broke in. "However, I have a feeling that someone will spill. Pepe knows too much about the finances for Irish to feel comfortable."
"Look, I've just had an argument with the chief about how to run this department and how to cooperate with the other departments and the last thing I need right now is to have this slimy money laundering bank accountant slip through my fingers but that's what most likely to happen," Dobey cautioned seriously.
Starsky and Hutch looked at each other.
The captain sighed tiredly, it had been a long couple of days. "Now you listen to me. You have been gone a long time and a lot of things have happened out there. Irish is a smart man, that's how he's survived and managed to expand the Octopus' operations with the Octopus himself out of the picture," he explained heatedly.
"I can't take this anymore!" Starsky said angrily, slamming the folder he'd been holding in his hand in the desk. "Hutch could've been killed during that raid today!"
"You too if you'd been there," his blonde partner cautioned, suddenly glad he hadn't had to worry about Starsky's whereabouts back then.
"Now, four hours later, you're telling me – telling us, that Mr. Irish has left, been bailed out by his goons?" Starsky questioned fiercely.
Dobey looked away. He clearly wasn't too pleased about it but there had been nothing he could have done.
"Please tell me, you didn't release the rest as well," Hutch stated sourly.
The captain shook his head. "No, Pepe and the bunch of crackpots you busted are not getting out," he returned.
"Well, let's work on them," Hutch persisted. "Let's convince them to tell some dirt that'll bring Irish down. I'm sure Pepe and I can come to some sort of agreement."
Dobey made a face. "Go ahead."
OOOOOO
Doctor Judith Kaufman blinked tiredly, her vision greying as she looked though the magnification of the precision instrument in front of her. Giving up on it she stretched trying to work out the kinks in her back.
"It's coming from the African Transcontinental Strain," Doctor Meredith deduced as he walked into the lab, having been down in the hospital library. "At least that was what Doctor Stevens named it."
"Doctor Stevens?" Judith wondered aloud.
"You don't remember Jonathan do you?" Meredith sighed as he sat down next to where she stood. "He would have been around seventy years old now if he'd survived. He went to the African continent ten years ago to start an organization that would help oversee the local inhabitant's needs in a little village…I don't remember the name of it."
"He called back home two years later and was worried about an outbreak of a long lasting fever. He described various other symptoms to me as well. We put together a group of people in Alabama to try and help him decide what was going on; unfortunately we came up with nothing. The virus ran its course and took the weakest – young and old – to the grave. The people infected that survived seemed no unhealthier than anyone else. It was called 'the evil fever' by the villagers and strangely it didn't turn up anywhere else," Meredith explained.
Judith frowned. "You think that somehow Mr. Gordon has contracted 'the evil fever'?" she asked.
John shook his head. "No, not really, but the similarities all are there. However, there is a strong similarity with the Dengue fever as well. What has me believing it's not Dengue is that that kind of virus doesn't jump from human to human."
"'The evil fever' did?" Judith asked, intrigued by this revelation. "Are you sure it was not something they picked up from the unsanitary water or due to poor hygiene?"
"If it came from the water source or lack of hygiene as you suggest, please explain to me why it was contracted again?" Doctor Meredith asked.
Judith threw her hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. "I can't," she said sadly.
John sighed, looking very tired all of a sudden. "What's the latest about Tracy?" he asked, not really sure he wanted to know.
"We're still waiting for the lab to process," his younger colleague replied.
OOOOOO
Detective Sergeant David Starsky ran for all he was worth, at least that's how he felt as he was coming down the lane at speed, his Adidas running shoes hampering on the pavement. It was late and despite the city pulse the rather chilly night held most people indoors this time of early night.
Detective Sergeant Kenneth Hutchinson had trouble keeping up with his curly haired partner even though he was running daily but he pushed himself further to keep even steps. To say he was relieved when Starsky finally slowed down to a jogging pace and then stopped altogether to rest his hands on his knees and take a breath was an understatement. Mimicking his partner's move he too bent forward, panting heavily, and placed his hands on his thighs.
"Hey, buddy," Hutch began between breaths as he turned to look at his friend who had his eyes closed.
The somewhat shorter and more muscular built man said nothing as he tried to slow his breathing.
"Hey, Starsk? Are you all right?" Hutch tried in concern.
The blue eyes shot open at the statement and Hutch was rewarded by an undignified glare. "I told you before…" he began in annoyance as he stabbed a finger at his blond partner's chest.
"I know, I know. 'Stop asking me if I'm fine'," Hutch said, the last part a direct quote from Starsky himself. "It's just that…I don't know…"
"Don't you sugarcoat it, out with it," Starsky urged in a straight forward tone of voice as he straightened, carefully worked out the kinks in his neck and then took a step forward.
Hutch fell into steps with him. "Tomorrow is a big day, Starsk," he said carefully, waiting for his friend's reaction as he wiped the perspiration off his forehead. "You shouldn't empty all of your reserves like this. You'll need everything you got at those physical tests."
"I just need to feel alive, Hutch," Starsky returned softly, almost pleading with him to understand.
The blond detective smiled slightly, his expression unreadable even to Starsky for a moment. "Well, you're not going there alone," he said resolutely.
"Thanks, I appreciate it. I really do but I don't need a baby sitter," Dave returned.
"Hey, it's not you I'm going to protect. It's that Doctor Matthews fella if he says something you don't like," Hutch returned with twinkle in his eye as he playfully slapped Starsky on his back.
Dave Starsky couldn't help but to chuckle and then shake his head. "Whatever you say, partner," he said.
OOOOOO
To be continued
/This last 'scene' in this chapter was actually the start of this story. Thank you for your reviews, I love to hear from you ;)