Chance Encounters

Chapter 31

oOoOo

After checking all the folder names, files and documents, with thorough cross referencing, including family names, Cupcake seemed a likely possibility. Stephanie breathed a huge sigh of relief when that was an unfruitful path. She didn't like the idea of him using it let alone constantly calling her that name. Bad vibes, bad memories.

"Bob. Try Bob."

Hector looked at Stephanie slyly, raising an eyebrow and a sneaky smirk appeared. He set the search in motion. In the computer files and folders through it was rapidly scrolling, there were the usual files and some obscure ones which didn't amount to anything. Morelli was not as savvy as Gaspick to have an encrypted file. But there, in one of the sub folders they found it. In the Electrics folder was Bob.

"Ooh! Lookie, lookie."

"Gotcha!"

oOoOo

Through the TPD, Rangeman was permitted unlimited access to Morelli's work computer for the Forensic Cyber Investigation. Internal Affairs was kept apprised of any suspicious findings. The Chief had also allowed Rangeman Security to search Morelli's tiny crappy apartment, looking for his home laptop, any other phones, and search the place for hidden stashes of information, keys or any evidence that cash. No loose floorboards nor keys. No money trail. No paper trail either. Giving Rangeman access helped overcome some of the restrictions that the TPD was bound to abide by and the Chief considered this as part of their joint task force. The added efficient man power made it expedient. Basically, he gave Ranger carte blanche to find any evidence, knowing they would be thorough. Even Morelli's old house which he had inherited from his Aunt Rose was searched. But since he had to sell it to cover his costs, he had left nothing there.

The police arrived with a search warrant for Mooch's house and at the same time his brother Anthony as well. Both searches were done simultaneously, so there would be no forewarning each other. However, no glory there.

Bella nearly had a stroke when they arrived while Angie Morelli was out shopping. She screamed hysterically until she half collapsed. One of the TPD officers who spoke Italian, placed her in a chair and settled her down, despite her threats to put her evil eye on him and all those brutes who invaded her home. Bobby, in medic mode, checked her vitals, talking quietly, ignoring her mutterings, gifting her with his stunning smile. She settled somewhat and Bobby was able to confirm that an ambulance was not needed, but could be on standby when her daughter Angie arrived home. She was bound to wind herself up again.

Sure enough, when Angie arrived with all the police searching her home, Bella became even more distraught and Bobby strongly recommended that another family member should take her while they were conducting their search. It was going to be a while, he subtly warned Angie Morelli. Bobby used all his charm, talking smoothly and calmly, expressing concern for an impending stroke. Angie was nervous and edgy, but finally conceded reluctantly that it would be in everyone's best interests while watching the goings on nervously. Anthony won that lottery.

Watching intensely was Tank observing Angie's reaction for any acute tells from across the room. He was quietly feeding his observations to Lester and Hal, and Cal and Ram, on their comms as her visible agitation ramped up. From the moment she arrived she had a look of sheer panic on her face, and he was certain it wasn't for concern over her very distraught mother's welfare and frantic state of mind. No. Angie was very anxious they would find something.

Angie had watched nervously, with increased fidgeting as they entered her room, and the cupboard under the stairs. Tank nodded to Eddie and Big Dog. She became even more edgy as they approached her mother's room. Bella's room was even more interesting. Eureka! They hit the mother lode. Three boxes, one in his mother's room on top of the wardrobe, one in Bella's room hidden in the bottom drawer of her dressing table, and a metal box from the cupboard under the stairs. This was hidden in a well-disguised trapdoor. After a quick glance and confirmation, all three incriminating items were sealed and bagged, and removed promptly, with much hysterics and frantic remonstrations from Angie. The neighbours had come to see what all the fuss was about earlier when the raid first began. Now they relished that Angie Morelli was being dealt with so firmly and publicly. Her standing in the community had already plummeted with the wild media coverage when her shamed detective son was charged and sentenced to jail.

Back at Rangeman in the big conference room they had the three bags on the table. Everything was photographed and documented.

"Blood is thicker than water," Tank said in disdain. "So much for the allegedly disowning of her son and Bella's 'no longer favourite' grandson routine. That bastard knew his mother's home would always stay and be the safest place to store any evidence that he needed, for later. He'd been shrewd, but not smart enough."

The first box contained folders and envelopes with photos of various men and women in compromising situations. The Blackmail box. And, there was a logbook, with detailed records, dated with dollar amounts. He had used a code of initials, but on the back of one photo for each target, he had written the identity with its corresponding code. Morelli had been a busy man. He must have used his work time to collect. The Chief was beyond furious when he discovered this.

Hidden amongst old baby toys and memorabilia, the second box from Bella's room was a real treasure trove. Stitched roughly inside the well-worn blue bunny was a key. A memory card was found in a little pair of tiny knitted baby booties. The key looked like a locker key. Stephanie recognised it as one like Eula's, a locker key from the station. On the back of the photos were written the usual things like the date and details of Joseph through time, from baby, boyhood, sports, high school and both navy and police uniform photos. But on the back of the navy photo, in a different pen was a numerical code. A bank account. On the reverse side of the police graduation was another number, the locker number.

The metal box, was a cash box, stored in two compartments. One compartment held a small stash from bribes, betting and the blackmail. But it was his passport, credit cards and the notebook that really nailed him along with the neatly packed notes in counted bundles. He had created a new identity with credit cards and a different driver's licence. They surmised this was his ready to go cash stash for a quick getaway. The notebook was another detailed ledger and was obviously from the boxing betting funds. That bank account must be quite flush, given the six-figure running total recorded in the last entry.

Gaspick's information had been very helpful in alluding to Morelli's involvement in the match fixing and illegal betting and here was the evidence. The Chief and Internal Affairs were surprised with all the data. He should have been a book keeper or an accountant. There were some interesting names on the list, including Gaspick and a few of his other TPD subordinates. Yeah, the Chief was mighty pleased.

In the locker at the station, they found his phones and a laptop. Stephanie and Hector had found what they were looking for. He had kept all the aforementioned details and records on his laptop as a backup. Thanks to Bob.

oOoOo

With the addition of attempted murder on his record, Gary Gaspick found himself in the same jail, and in the same wing as Morelli. His sentence was just short of twenty years. He dreaded the thought of finding Morelli here, working hard to maintain a low profile. He didn't know what to expect but he damned well knew it wouldn't be good.

It only took a week for their paths to cross. He saw him from afar and was shocked by his sunken and hollow-eyed, sallow appearance. He looked broken. He wondered how long before he would end up the same … or worse.

The next time, Morelli was closer, and recognised him. Oh, shit! He knew he was fucked. He tried hard to ignore him but that death glare Morelli gave him was so fierce that it frightened the hell out of Gaspick. But he also noticed how emaciated Morelli looked, limping heavily and obviously beaten up. When he grinned sardonically at him, he saw that Morelli had a couple of teeth missing and some bruises were evident. His cocky demeanour was gone. But that evil look from Morelli and his overall appearance sent a frisson of fear through his entire body. He'd been able to keep a low profile this first week, but he knew that was not going to last. Like Morelli, it was a matter of time, they were both dead men walking.

On their third encounter, which happened in the dining room, Morelli deliberately walked past him, stealing his bread with a show of bravado and a mocking challenge. But it was when Morelli whispered to one of his larger dining companions, while pointing deliberately in Gaspick's direction, that he realised with horror that his days were numbered. He tried not to show his rising fear but that was lost when he was given a sinister grin by the rest of Morelli's eating companions. Obviously, he was the topic of discussion. He toyed with his food. He ate some dry crackers and washed it down with some water to help quell the rising nausea.

Spending time in the exercise yard was a terrifying experience for Gaspick. He was aware of the sly and lecherous looks and kept his back to the wall. He shared company with some long termers who advised him on how to keep his head. But once you are a marked man, he was told, your days are numbered.

Once again Morelli found himself in the infirmary. He was pissing blood again from severely bruised kidneys. Surgery was declined and he was treated with such disdain, he was surprised they let him into the infirmary at all. They gave him a shot for the pain and duly recorded another visit on his file. At this rate he could be eligible for frequent flyer points! The senior medical officer, Dr Marcus Wilson, was initially concerned, having seen evidence of this sort of treatment meted out to ex cops many times before, and felt compelled to make him as comfortable as was allowed in these circumstances.

However, when he discovered who Morelli was and what he had done, his sympathy diminished rather quickly. His much younger sister had known Stephanie Plum and often spoke about her. The Vixen was her new moniker and when he discovered they were one and the same, he realised the connection with Morelli from his sister's fangirling ramble at a family get together recently. He liked to hear about the outside world, a refreshing change from his morbid existence dealing with prison medical practice. Sometimes, it felt like he was serving time inside, it was that demoralising and he felt a change was imminent.

A chance encounter with Robert Brown at a two-day medical conference on trauma, critical care, intensive care and emergency medicine was very informative. During a break, he asked Robert Brown about his role in the field. Both had previous military experience and this connection was mutually respected. He explained how he had successfully transitioned to civilian life with Rangeman in his role as company medic as well as his various duties in security and skip chasing. Marcus was envious of Bobby's work place and the benefits that came with it. Though his transition had been equally successful, he admitted that his time at the jail as senior medical officer was going to be end dated once he found an alternative placement.

On the second day of the conference, they ate lunch at the same table. Realising Robert Brown was in Trenton, Dr Marcus Wilson asked if he had heard about the Vixen in his line of work. Well, Robert Brown spoke with such high respect about her and enlightened the senior medical officer even further.

Much to Bobby's delight, he shared the plight of Joseph Morelli inside the slammer and the frequency of his infirmary visits and the various injuries and rapid escalation of said injuries he had incurred since he was transferred from the isolation wing. That he'd had time in that isolation wing infuriated Bobby, but he was reassured and wickedly delighted that Morelli's protective custodial vacation was curtailed. How on earth did he get that lucky? Marcus said he would make some discreet inquiries. He also indicated that another recent inmate, also an ex-cop, was making more frequent visits to the infirmary. Once again, after confirming that said ex-cop was Gary Gaspick, Bobby very eagerly enlightened Marcus even more, including the attempted murder on the Vixen.

oOoOo

The Warden was shaking his head. Deaths in custody always meant a hell of a lot of paper work. In one month, a couple of the long-term inmates had died from declining illness and infections. Natural causes were inevitable with some of these long-termers. Another inmate had died from bowel cancer which had rapidly declined. Suicide was not an uncommon cause of death and there had been four this month alone. He shook his head.

But it was these last two deaths that caused him the greatest concern, occurring within the same week. Their injuries evidenced repeated attacks from other inmates, over an extended period of time, including aggravated assault and rape. The medical records indicated the range of injuries and the frequency of said injuries. Both, he discovered, were former police officers. The prison justice system was remorseless. It was a vicious one and sadly, the victims were dealt with insidiously.

oOoOo

TBC

Not a happy ending for our two ex TPDs. But, sadly, that is reality. But, honestly, I sense some of you will be happy dancing.

So … what next? In the interim, life goes on in the outside world.

I want to acknowledge a special thanks to Ms. Margaret who has been my biggest supporter and how we love to bounce ideas around. This chapter is for you.