Protecting the King Ch 10
~ ~ Lester – Day 7– Noon Tuesday ~ ~
By the time Lester got to Morelli's house, he'd already had a busy day.
Eager to get started, Stephanie had arrived at Rangeman at the surprisingly-early-for-her time of 0800. She'd suggested starting the night before after they'd eaten dinner but he'd gently vetoed that. He knew that she'd had a stressful day hunting down the video, confronting the prosecutor, hearing about Ranger, and then releasing the video to the public. She needed to relax and get her head on straight before trying to focus on searches.
Besides, based on the remains of the cake in her kitchen and what he knew of her timeline, she'd inhaled half a layer cake in an astoundingly short period of time, even for her, and was heading for a sugar crash. Sure enough, right about the time the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man was terrorizing Manhattan, she was starting to nod off. He took the half-full beer bottle from her hand and guided her to the bedroom. He spent a few minutes cleaning the kitchen, giving her time to get changed and under the covers. She was sound asleep when he checked on her. He turned off the lights, gave Rex a treat, and locked up when he left.
This morning, she had looked much better as Lester brought her up to speed. Her particular genius with searching was connecting seemingly unrelated things or finding patterns no one else had noticed or thought of. She also had a knack for picking out what information mattered and what was just noise. The more she had to work with, the more likely she was to succeed so he gave her every detail of what they'd uncovered so far.
Once she was briefed in, Stephanie was itching to check out ADA Cartman starting with a full background search. That suited Lester just fine. In fact, if she hadn't suggested it, he would have. Whatever was going on, the prosecutor was knee deep in it. Lester had authorized Steph's use of the usual deep-search programs and of the covert ones they had access to thanks to their government connections. Hector would help her with the latter.
Next on his To Do list was a video call with the ATF group at the Trenton Field Office. Tank had reached out to them the other day and the Resident Agent In Charge, RAC Evan Birdsong, had asked to be kept in the loop. Rangeman was represented in this meeting by himself, Tank, Hector, Cal, Ram, and Bones. Lester was lead with Tank as second in command. The others were there as department heads. This morning, Lester laid out plans he wanted to set in motion with the ATF's assistance.
Lester figured he'd let RAC Birdsong decide if or how to escalate it on the ATF side. Considering that not only had Rangeman confirmed that a cop was corrupt but had turned up an ADA who was likely compromised, Lester had a feeling that this would go well up the chain.
After the meeting, he headed out. There was a stop he wanted to make before he got to Morelli's. Even with that, Lester was running right on time, though he didn't see Morelli's truck when he cruised past the house. He parked around the block, grabbed the bag with his purchase, then casually walked over to Morelli's backyard. Letting himself in was ridiculously easy. Really, a cop should know better than to have locks that cheap.
He stepped into the kitchen and shut the door. There was the thunder of big furry paws galloping on hard floors and the goofy creature masquerading as a dog came rushing over to say hello. Lester set the bag on the counter and braced for impact. Bob was always so happy to see everyone that he turned into a wiggly, jumping, slobber machine. Lester, already covered in long orange fur, gave him big pats and rubbed his head. Bob flopped over, tongue lolling, tail wagging, and Lester rubbed his tummy and told him what a good boy he was.
"Hey, big fella. I got you something."
Lester reached into the bag and pulled out a large rawhide dog bone, holding it out for Bob to inspect. Bob got to his feet and sniffed it, feathered tail waving excitedly. Taking the rawhide gently from Lester, he trotted back to the living room out of sight.
Brushing at his clothes with his hands, Lester tried to get the dog hair off with limited success. The orange showed up beautifully against his Rangeman black uniform. Oh well. He'd change when he got back to Haywood. He leaned against a kitchen counter waiting for Morelli, who was already a few minutes late. Five minutes later, Lester was rummaging through the fridge and cabinets.
It was nearly noon and Lester was halfway through his sandwich when he heard the front door lock tumble over. There was the sound of heavy footsteps then the door closed. Apparently Bob was engrossed in his new treat because there was no galloping. There were footsteps, muffled by the area rug in the living room, and then Morelli's voice, sounding suspicious, said, "Crap. What are you eating now?"
More footsteps on the hardwood floor of the hallway and Morelli came around the corner into the kitchen, looking displeased. His frown deepened as he saw Lester holding half a sandwich and drinking a glass of soda.
"By all means," he said sarcastically, "make yourself at home." He dropped his keys and a slim folder on the table.
"Don't worry – I made you one, too." Lester pointed with his chin to a second plate on the table. "You're now out of salami, though. And low on brown mustard."
Morelli took a moment to think then must have decided to let it go. He sat at the table where Lester had a plate with the sandwich and some chips, a glass of ice, and a can of soda. Morelli cracked open the soda and poured it into the glass.
Around bites of sandwich, Morelli said, "Don't think this gets you off the hook for breaking into my house."
"You were late. I couldn't hang around outside drawing attention to us collaborating. Besides, once you hear what we've got on Simpkins, you'll thank me for showing up." Lester finished his sandwich and washed it down with the last of his soda. "And anyway, your grandma could get through that cheese ball lock. You really ought to upgrade."
Morelli snorted. "All my grandma has to do is give it The Eye and any door will open. It wouldn't dare not to."
Lester tipped his head, conceding the point. Morelli's Grandma Bella was a whole different kind of scary than Steph's Grandma Mazur. He wiped his hands on the paper towel he'd put out as a napkin, and pushed the plate away.
Morelli picked up the folder and handed it to Lester, who scanned the few documents inside as Morelli continued eating. The first document was a report typed up by Morelli on his findings so far. Lester had to admit it was well-written – succinct, easy to follow.
Morelli hadn't been able to get any official files yet from the Internal Affairs Division of the Newark Police Department. However, he had a source in that IAD who had supplied him with the main points.
According to the source, Simpkins had gotten in trouble about ten years prior for a gambling addiction that affected his job performance. He'd been placed on paid leave until he completed the required counseling. After that there were two accusations of bribery that weren't proven due to one accuser suddenly recanting and the other disappearing.
More disturbing were the multiple reports of excessive force, usually against women. As with the bribery charges, nothing could be proven. After reading that, Lester was even more relieved that Stephanie had heeded the warnings to stay away from Simpkins. Unfortunately, he also knew it was a matter of time before she went after him anyway. Hopefully, they could take down the cop before then.
Right about the time Simpkins resigned from Newark for the move to Trenton, he had emerged as a possible suspect in a long-term issue of confiscated guns going missing from evidence storage. There were only a few guns every few months and never more than one or two at once. For years, it had been put down to bad record keeping. Then the IAD had commissioned an intensive audit on all confiscated weapons going back several years. Many more guns turned up missing and records appeared to have been altered to hide the theft. The older the case, the more likely the weapons were to have been pilfered.
Simpkins' stated reason for the abrupt move to Trenton was to be closer to his aging mother. And guess who had written him a glowing letter of recommendation when he applied to TPD? None other than ADA Cynthia Cartman. Supposedly she had worked with Simpkins on a few cases where the defendant was wanted for crimes both here in Mercer County and in Essex County where Newark was located.
While Lester read, Morelli finished his lunch then went to the refrigerator and pulled out another can of soda. He started to set it on the table at his seat then set it next to Lester's glass instead. He got a second can for himself then opened the freezer. He grabbed two ice cream sandwiches, tossing one to the table in front of Lester, and sat down holding the other.
Lester put the folder down. "Interesting tidbit in there about Cartman. Wonder how far back that alliance goes?" He popped the top of the soda and poured it into the glass then unwrapped the ice cream. He hadn't had one of these in ages. "As for that gambling problem? That's still alive and well."
With that, he gave Morelli a rundown of how the current situation arose from the initial ATF operation targeting Player and others for gun running. He outlined all of the findings right up through the camera footage from the meeting at the racetrack mere days before the shooting where Simpkins literally pointed out the murdered man to Player's lieutenant as the snitch who betrayed them. The conversation about Simpkins' continued gambling and being in Player's pocket for years was doubly interesting in light of the IAD report.
Morelli gave the kind of smile a hunter might give when taking down his prey. "We've got him, then. Even if nothing else comes to light, that footage will nail him to the wall."
"Next up, we find out how crooked Cartman is and whether she's tied into Player or just Simpkins." Lester wiped his mouth and hands of the sticky residue from the ice cream sandwich. He'd forgotten how messy they could be. "When you get back to the station, you'll find the chief wants to talk to you about a special assignment at the request of the ATF's Trenton Field Office."
Morelli stilled and narrowed his gaze at Lester who put one hand up.
"I told the ATF we needed a liaison with TPD to assist with the Simpkins side of things and we do. I specifically requested you. That way anything you've already done is sanctioned. Nothing will come back on you for poking around or on your sources for talking to you. You're covered." Lester shrugged one shoulder. "Besides, you may be an asshole but you know what you're doing and you've got good instincts."
"Gee, thanks." Morellis' mouth flattened into a disapproving line. "Let me guess – I report to you."
Lester grinned. He'd been looking forward to telling Morelli this. He started to reply but was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. The contact name was simply 'Rangeman', so someone was calling from one of the building's many lines.
"Yo."
"Really? Don't any of you ever say hello?" Steph's voice was half teasing, half serious.
Seemed as if Stephanie's previous work experience in retail had given her very specific standards of phone etiquette that none of the Rangemen met. Ram once said they should write up a course for her on Telephone Etiquette 101 called How Not to Waste Time With Pointless Greetings and Goodbyes. Lester had punched him in the arm and told him to ignore it like the rest of them did.
"Hey, Beautiful! What's up?"
"Well, um, I was thinking. There's something I want to check on but I don't know if the data exists or how to get it. If you're still at Morelli's can you ask him?"
"I can put you on speaker phone so you can ask him directly."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Oh … is that a good idea? I mean, he was so mad last night."
She sounded uncertain and he could picture her fidgeting. He put as much reassurance as he could into his reply.
"It'll be fine. You'll be on speaker in a second." Lester put the phone on speaker and set it on the table . "Okay, Steph. Ask away."
"Okay. Um … I don't know if the data I need exists anywhere, but … While the searches on Cynthia are running I've been looking at Fendi purses and online images and trying to figure out how she could be helpful to criminals. Same with Simpkins. And I started thinking maybe the question isn't 'What are they doing to help Player?' but 'What AREN'T they doing?'
"Like, what if Player's guy gets caught in Newark? Maybe Simpkins makes sure he doesn't get arrested or if he does it's for a lesser crime. And something similar here in Mercer County? The police may arrest someone but isn't it the prosecutor's office that decides whether to go to court? Maybe Cynthia makes sure it doesn't go to court or gets dropped?
"And then there's the other way around. What if at the same time Simpkins and Cynthia are protecting Player and his guys, they're also targeting Player's competition? Making sure those other guys get heavier charges and do get prosecuted? They'd be clearing the streets for Player and his gang to take over."
There was silence when she finished as Lester and Morelli thought about it.
"How about it, Morelli?" asked Lester. "Is there any data already out there that we can use? Something that's already in a database that we can sort and filter and look for patterns? We don't have nearly enough time to compile info from reports."
Morelli folded his arms across his chest and stared at the table top, deep in thought. He rubbed his chin and looked up. "I think I can find what we need, but some of it's going to be in codes and abbreviations that Steph won't be familiar with."
Lester had thought that might be the case. "Then you'll have to work together," he said firmly. Steph started to speak but he cut her off, and deliberately used his command voice, though that was more for Morelli's benefit. "We don't have time for personal issues." He softened his tone and added, "The longer this takes, the longer Ranger sits in jail and the longer two corrupt officers of the law roam free."
The former would motivate Stephanie and the latter would motivate Morelli. Hopefully, the two of them could keep it together long enough to get the job done.
"We're all meeting in person with the ATF and TPD tomorrow at Haywood. I don't expect you to finish this overnight, but we will need some kind of preliminary report. And Stephanie, I'll bet anything that you're right on target with both of those scenarios. Good job." Lester smiled, even though she couldn't see it. "When this is over, I'll get you a six pack of Ben & Jerry's in whatever flavors you want."
Her laugh was a little shaky, but she sounded okay when she replied. "I'm holding you to that, mister."
He disconnected and gave Morelli a hard look. "If you are anything but professional with her, you'll answer to me first and then to every man at Rangeman."
Anger flared in Morelli's eyes as he leaned forward, palms flat on the table top. "If you think –"
Lester talked over him. "Just so you know, I already had that video. I got it two days ago and held onto it as our ace in the hole. Odds are, even with this investigation, that video would have become part of the case at some point. Anyone with access – lawyers, cops, paralegals, whoever – could see it. So don't take your temper out on Steph."
"She's the one who was out with someone else," Morelli countered hotly.
"Four days after you took a date to Rossini's." Lester had wanted to put a full stop to his attitude for a long time so he jumped at the opportunity. "Verbena Hasselbeck."
Morelli backed off a little. "Look, we were in an open dating –"
"Rosemary Ricci."
Morelli shut his mouth.
"Susanna Gilthorpe." Lester slouched in the chair, one arm draped over the back of it and the other resting on the table. With each name, he tapped a finger on the wooden top. " Lucy Carter. – tap – Marie Bianchi. – tap – Lisa Brown. – tap – Julietta De Luca. – tap – Anna Maria Romano. – tap – Haley –"
"Enough!" Morelli looked a little green. "You've made your point. I take it you've gone to the trouble of following me for a long time."
"Following you?" Lester burst out laughing. "Man, all that's just from the Burg grapevine and the talk at the cop shop. It's not Rangeman that knows you step out. It's the whole damn city of Trenton."
Lester stood and pushed his chair into the table as Morelli's phone pinged with a text.
"That'll be your chief, wanting to see you right away about your special assignment. I'll be sure to let him know what we've discussed and the info you need. That should help you get it quicker. Don't worry, I'll see myself out."
Lester left the way he arrived – through the back door – leaving a fuming Morelli behind.
~ ~ Stephanie – Day 8 – Morning Wednesday ~ ~
When Stephanie showed up at Rangeman yesterday morning, Lester had clued her in on what Rangeman had been doing behind the scenes. She was relieved that they were doing more than it looked like. She was also sorry that by uploading the video she had taken away some of the element of surprise. Now everyone including the bad people knew that the frame up would probably fail. The bad guys were likely scrambling, but to do what? Rush through with the frame? Hurry to get Ranger behind bars and his company torn apart? Or were they working on some new strategy, something that Ranger and his men wouldn't be prepared for?
Although she regretted inadvertently messing with the investigation, she wasn't really sorry for what she'd done. Now everyone knew Ranger was innocent and that was all that mattered to her. That, and avoiding her mother for the next few years. As for figuring out how the conspirators would respond, she figured that the best thing to do was keep investigating. She had started her research with Cartman since Lester and Morelli had already been investigating Simpkins.
Steph had been really apprehensive about working closely with Joe yesterday afternoon, but in the end it was fine. To her relief, he'd been nothing but professional and polite. Hector had set up a couple of computer stations and a printer in the smaller conference room on the fifth floor so they could work side by side.
Morelli was able to sign in remotely to the systems he needed. Stephanie explained what she was looking for. He showed her what the different databases had available then put together a spreadsheet at her direction. Some of the information was only available on imaged documents so it took longer than they had hoped, but the results did show promise.
They worked until almost 1:00 a.m. when Morelli went home. Steph took the elevator to the seventh floor, intending to sleep in Ranger's apartment. She stepped out of the elevator, walked the few steps across the hall, and stopped. She found that she couldn't bear to step foot in there with him in jail. She couldn't even make herself unlock the door. Unable to move, she stood in front of the door, holding the key fob, and trying not to cry.
She wasn't sure how much time passed before she heard the elevator ding and suddenly Hector was there. He gave her a hug and spoke softly in Spanish, rubbing her back soothingly. He led her downstairs to his apartment where he offered to take the couch and give her the bed, but she insisted on the couch. When she woke In the morning, Hector was already gone, and there were fresh clothes courtesy of Ella.
She went back to the fifth floor, ostensibly to work, but found herself not doing much more than killing time. Finally, it was nearly time for the meeting. It didn't officially start for seven more minutes but Stephanie was afraid of being late. At least she'd already given Hector the items she wanted shown on screen when she gave her preliminary report. She grabbed a fresh notepad from the supply closet and a pen from her desk just in case she needed to take notes. Okay, so she'd probably use it to doodle but that would help keep her from fidgeting. She hoped.
Stephanie hurried down to the big conference room on the first floor and grabbed an empty seat near the door. She ended up between Cal on her left and Ram on her right. Hector was on the other side of Ram, at the foot of the big oval table, a laptop open in front of him. The laptop was set up to mirror over to the large screen television which hung on the side wall. Lester was opposite Hector, at the head of the table, with Tank to his right, and Bones to his left. Empty chairs were scattered around the table.
"Hi, guys." She looked around but only saw the Merry Men.
Morelli and the Chief should be here any second. She knew the ATF would be here but only had a vague idea of what that meant. She tapped Ram on the shoulder and whispered, "Um … does the ATF have officers like the police? Or agents like the FBI?"
Ram leaned closer and whispered back. "They have fewer ranks than the cops. Most of them, the field level criminal investigators, are Special Agents. That's kind of the equivalent of officers and detectives. Above that are Supervisory Special Agents and Group Supervisors, or SSAs and SGs, who oversee units of five to ten agents."
Cal leaned in too. "A small office like Trenton is a RAC office. That means that the SSA is also the highest rank in the office. Because of that, they get elevated to Resident Agent in Charge and they have more authority."
Stephanie noticed that he pronounced RAC like the word 'rack' but said the letters for SSA individually, like ess-ess-a. She hoped she did it the right way if she had to say them when giving her report.
"Right," said Ram. "From there it goes up to the Assistant Special Agent in Charge who oversees several groups, then Deputy Assistant Special Agent in Charge, kind of like a Deputy Chief. After that is the highest rank, Special Agent in Charge like the Chief of Police."
"Will any of those be here? Cal said Trenton only goes up to RAC, right?" Stephanie was trying to get the information organized in her head.
Cal answered this time. "The RAC and one or two SAs will come from Trenton, but this is big enough that the SAC from the Division Field Office in Newark will be here. Probably bring the DSAC."
"Okay. I think I got it." Stephanie fiddled with the placement of her pen on the pristine note pad. "Oh wait! What do I call them?"
"If you're talking about them," said Ram, "use the abbreviated title and last name, like RAC Birdsong. If you're talking to them, then Mr. or Ms. and last name, like Mr. Birdsong."
Stephanie smiled and bumped shoulders with each man. "Thanks for the crash course, guys."
She was glad she'd asked about it. Talking in a group like this gave her anxiety ever since an incident in high school when her English teacher made everyone read an essay aloud to the class. There was a word that she had only read, but never heard pronounced. It meant commonplace or boring but her classmates' reaction was anything but that. The word was banal, but she had pronounced it to rhyme with … well never mind what it rhymed with, the point was that she got teased about that for months afterwards and she had vowed never to use that word again. The incident had also made her nervous about public speaking.
There was the sound of multiple voices in the hallway and a large group of people walked in. She knew Morelli, of course, and Trenton Police Chief Steve Wallace. They sat together across from her. There was a group of five people dressed in variations of office casual. Some wore polo shirts, some wore button downs. One man wore a sport coat with what could have been a clip on tie. All five of them were 'dressed', as the Rangemen would say, their weapons neatly holstered on similar utility belts. The last person to enter was a tall, attractive man in a suit and tie who could have been a Rangeman, though he was probably a bit older than Vince and Bones.
Stephanie checked her watch. Less than one minute to go and everyone was in place and ready to start. No wonder she got teased for thinking 15 minutes late was close enough.
The guests were quickly introduced and she made a point of remembering the names. Handsome Suit Guy was Jeff Dinsmore, Ranger's lawyer. Trenton ATF had sent RAC Evan Birdsong, and Special Agents Amy Rivera and Jerry Munson. The Newark Field Division office was represented by ASAC Kelly Anne Johnson and SAC Luke Dumas.
After that, Lester started the meeting with a summary of everything on Simpkins to date. There was the promise of a deeper investigation to be conducted jointly with the Newark ATF and the Newark police IAD.
Stephanie was next on the agenda with her preliminary report. The best she could do for an image to go with it was a scan of a printout of the part of the spreadsheet that had handwritten notes from her and Morelli. She explained what data she hoped to look at then turned it over to Joe since he had done the comparative reviews. He went over the results so far. Apparently, he'd found enough to say that Stephanie was probably right. It certainly merited a full investigation.
"Very good, Detective," said Chief Wallace. "I knew we could count on you."
Morelli shook his head. "Because of the time crunch we're under, I did the leg work but this was entirely Stephanie's concept."
Under the table, Cal patted her knee, and Ram gave a thumbs-up, and she had to keep from smiling.
"We've got something else, too,' Stephanie said. Everyone turned to look at her and she faltered. "Okay, um, well, once Joe understood what I was looking for, I went back to looking at the Prosecutor's Department social media pages and also news items about local society or charity balls and dinners looking for photos of Cynthia. I needed to see what she was wearing."
"You've got him," ASAC Johnson jerked her thumb at Morelli, "doing your data mining while you sit and check out dresses?" She spoke flatly, clearly disapproving.
"Trust me," Morelli told her. "You're going to want to hear this."
Stephanie already felt like a kindergartner in a college class and Johnson made it much worse. But Joe speaking up for her helped. Then, looking around the table she could see the confidence that every Rangeman there had in her. She took a deep breath, ignored the butterflies in her stomach, and continued.
"When I spoke to Cynthia on Monday, I noticed that she had what looked like a genuine Prada shoulder bag and very high end jewelry. Yet her suit and her shoes were moderately priced and very sensible but worth much, much less than her accessories.
"The Prada bag retails for about four thousand dollars. The leather briefcase was also Prada and also about four thousand dollars. The average annual salary for an assistant district attorney in New Jersey is between fifty-six thousand and eighty-seven thousand dollars. So, the bags are expensive but certainly within splurge-range.
"But there was something familiar about the jewelry. Then I remembered seeing that design in an ad. It's the Tiffany Knot in solid 18 karat rose gold with diamonds. That day she was wearing the plain gold bangle that retails for over seven thousand dollars, the small pendant with diamonds that retails for over four thousand, the plain gold ring for over two thousand, and the diamond earrings that go for over three thousand. Oh, and her watch is also Tiffany. It's rose gold and diamond and retails for over twenty five thousand dollars.
"So just two days ago she's at work with a two hundred dollar suit, fifty dollar shoes, and accessories that sell for over fifty thousand."
Stephanie waited for comments but everyone was too stunned to speak so she continued.
"I know what you're thinking. Knockoffs on Ebay, right? Maybe for the bags, but those will still cost quite a bit. High end brands hold their value. And you're certainly not going to find Tiffany on Ebay. I cross-checked her credit cards as well as her checking account. There are no transactions for Ebay or any other discount resellers. There's also no purchases for the items I saw. But maybe she bought those before the time frame I was looking at.
"So, I went looking for photos to see what else she had. There were quite a few that caught my eye. Hector? Could you put up that one I gave you?"
An image of a smiling Cynthia arriving at some charity ball popped up on screen. She was in a black and purple dress, with black pumps, both of which Stepanie had seen for sale at Macy's. There was rose gold jewelry at her neck, ears, both wrists, and on two fingers. A purple handbag hung from one shoulder.
"Again, we're looking at reasonably priced clothes and knockout accessories. Apparently, she bought the entire line of the Tiffany Knot design. Total cost of the full line is over ninety-thousand. Tonight she's in the diamond versions all the way, and the costs on this are much higher. See that diamond neck band, the double row Tiffany Knot? That alone retails for thirty-four thousand. And that bag? Is Fendi." Stephanie paused, expecting a reaction, but they all looked at her blankly. Clearly, no one here followed high fashion.
"Fendi crocodile to be exact." Another pause. Another silence from the audience. Oh for Pete's sake. Speaking more sharply than intended, she said, "That bag goes for thirty-two thousand dollars."
A surprised murmur went around the table and one person, she thought it might have been one of the Special Agents, whispered "Holy shit!" That was more like it.
"Based on the photos that I found, Cynthia has at least two other Fendi crocodile bags, and one of the mink. She has a second Prada briefcase plus bags from Gucci, Coach, and Yves St. Laurent. I could see multiple pieces from the Victoria and other collections at Tiffany's.
"Her transaction history shows a lot of time spent at five star spas and restaurants. She buys high-end facial products too, from a spa line where the daily moisturizer alone is two hundred dollars per jar." She looked around the room. "Any … any questions?"
"Is it possible," asked RAC Birdsong slowly, "that she has other sources of income to explain this?"
"Well, I only got the transcripts of her last two years tax returns this morning. I've barely had a chance to look at them but they do show a few rental properties."
"Well, okay," said Chief Wallace. "Other income."
Stephanie shook her head. "Like I said, I barely had time to look, but I recognized the address on one of those properties. It's pure coincidence that I was there a couple of weeks ago looking for a skip. It's a low-rent apartment building with four units, two up and two down. The tax return showed at least five times more in rent than it should have. It also had a huge amount deducted for maintenance and lawn care and stuff but that building is really run down with no yard to speak of."
Once again she paused and once again no one commented. She really didn't have anything more to say but wasn't sure how to end it so she smiled and said "Well, that's all I have. I'm sorry I don't have more."
"Sorry?" said SAC Dumas. "Sorry you don't have more? Ms. Plum, in two days you've identified a corrupt official, detected a pattern of malfeasance, and perfectly outlined a case for tax fraud and money laundering. This is outstanding work. Absolutely outstanding. You are to be commended for what you've done."
Stephanie felt a blush warm her cheeks from the unexpected praise. There was also a happy warm spot in her stomach where the butterflies had been. She could swear the Merry Men were looking at her with pride. Lester, of course, also winked at her. The others in the room, including Morelli, looked at her with respect.
Lester said, "Stephanie also has some ideas for getting Cartman to incriminate herself which we'll work on after tonight's takedown. Speaking of which … " He gestured to Hector who changed the image on the screen to some kind of timetable.
"May I remind you," said Dinsmore, splitting his gaze between Dumas and Wallace, "that my client will take no part in this until we have a document from the District Attorney himself not only dropping all charges but absolving Mr. Manoso of all culpability. SAC Dumas, we also await the document from your office and the Department of Corrections authorizing Rangeman to conduct tonight's special operations."
Dumas responded for both himself and the police chief. "I've got the ATF and DOC documents with me. After this meeting, the three of us will call the DA. You'll have that document in hand before we leave the building."
Lester made sure they were finished then continued. "As you may know, we've been working on this for several days. By this time tomorrow morning, Thomas "Player" Parsley will have additional charges and Ranger will be back among us. Now, if you look at the timeline …"
Stephanie had no idea this had been in the works. For once, instead of zoning out with boredom, she followed intently along.
~ ~ continued ~ ~
Author's Note:
The incident with mispronouncing "banal" did happen in high school but not, thank heavens, to me. A fellow classmate who loved to argue with the history teacher accidentally turned what he'd intended as a mic drop moment into something closer to open mic night at the comedy club. The teacher calmly corrected his pronunciation and continued their discussion. The other students spent the rest of the class period trying not to giggle.