Chapter 6

Early the next morning, Calleigh and Ryan stepped down from the interior of the hummer. The ever present puffy clouds above reflected the unbelievably bright sunlight from their tops and yet many showed rain mist from dark undersides. Those were the source of the 'sun' showers so famous in Miami where rain fell on one block and the orb of Helios lit another. Both CSIs looked up at the large billboard over bays where two trucks were parked. Printed in a font that could have been used on the sign on the warehouse in Dickens' Christmas Carol, only larger and in blue, it read Beeks and Son, Ltd. It was located at the end of an alley among an array of other warehouses. Both knew that, in back, another roadway led to piers a few blocks away where carts and small trucks brought goods to and from ships docked there.

"Mr. Hubbell said to go in through the big doors and turn right."

"Does he know why we're coming, Ryan?"

"Yeah, I told him. He sounded pretty upset about Beeks' death."

The two headed to the stairs that took them to the level that allowed direct loading into the trucks from the warehouse floor. They hugged the edge of the massive doors to stay out of the way of the men pushing dollies across the entrance. After letting their eyes adjust to the shaded interior for a moment, they spotted the corrugated metal enclosed office tucked into the corner. The lit office was revealed through the louvered window and the small window in the closed door.

Opening the door, they were greeted by a pleasant breath of air conditioned air after the heat of the open ended warehouse where no breeze was felt. There were two small desks, one by the door and the other in the opposite corner. Both were just large enough to hold laptop computers and some papers. A woman of middle age sat at the desk by the door. Before she could speak, the man with gray hair rose from his desk in the corner extending his hand. At the same time, he turned his head to the woman. "Molly, these are the people I told you were coming."

The woman nodded gravely showing only a glimmer of a smile then turned to her computer.

The man turned to Ryan and Calleigh and shook their hands briefly. "I can't tell you how upset I am about this. Mikey ran this place as well as his father did."

Calleigh blinked with an uncertain smile. "You called him Mikey?"

"Sure, we all did. His father was Michael Beeks the first. The story is that Mikey hung around warehouse all the time from the time he was twelve, before I was hired. He learned the business from the bottom up."

"How did he manage to run this place and maintain a position as an officer in the Navy?" asked Ryan.

"Besides me, there are three others who act as managers. When Mikey isn't available, we all get to together and make decisions. Mikey almost never has had a problem with what we've done. He has always been pretty clear on the 'what to do if' angles."

"But you're head manager."

"Well, I'm Manager in Charge of Management I guess you'd say. I'd tell the other managers what Mikey wanted in terms of distribution of work."

"What has the longest stretch of time been where you were in charge?" Ryan noticed that Molly made no pretense of not listening in.

"Never more than a few days. I mean, even when Mikey was stationed in Seattle, we generally kept in touch by phone and computer. I'd send him paperwork through email if we needed a signature. The rest was through our database. Back in the day Michael senior hardly ever left this office." He turned to the secretary. "Did he Molly?"

The well-coiffed woman's large ear rings shook as she twisted her head back and forth with a faraway look in her eyes.

"Now, if I have to, even I can manage this place from a beach in Bimini. I have on occasion too. Mostly though, I stay here. I'm just old fashioned I guess."

"Did Mr. Beeks ever say what would happen to the company on his demise?" Ryan desisted from bringing out a notebook as he had done in his days of being a uniformed officer. If the others on the team could remember information from an interview without making notes he would too.

"If he ever made any plans he never told me. I guess it's supposed to go to Junior, his son. That's Michael III but still, they called him Junior. Maybe his mother is supposed to take care of things until the kid is old enough."

"And until you know?"

"Until somebody tells me different, I'm going to show up and manage this place, just like my job description says."

Calleigh had been looking around casually as if only partly listening to what was being said. Suddenly she broke in and asked, "What do you import?"

"We get everything from crockery from Asia to wood from South America. We export feathers and hats, stuff like that."

Displaying her most southerly charming smile, Calleigh held out her hand and thanked Mr. Hubbell for his time and assured him that if they needed any more information, they would call on him again.

Outside of the building, they conferred on impressions.

"I don't know Calleigh. I've heard of multitasking but Navy Officer and owner of an import and export business of this size? That seems a bit much."

The two climbed into the hummer. They both held their doors open a moment while the air conditioner kicked in and started blowing out the oven like heat. Once that was done, Calleigh turned off the air and both rolled down their windows.

"As far as I know, there are no laws against it as long as the work doesn't interfere with their military duties or run counter to their pledge to uphold the constitution of the United States. It does sound like he had it all pretty well controlled with being in constant contact and managers handling what he couldn't." She started the engine.

"And there's no motive on the managers' parts. Now that Beeks is dead, they don't know what's going to happen." Ryan inhaled the moving air coming through the windows. One thing about Florida air is that, once it is moving, it feels great. "Unless Hubbell wasn't giving us the whole picture."

"Also, did you notice the secretary's look when we were talking about Beeks?" Calleigh asked.

"You mean that misty look that only middle aged women get when thinking about a past love life? Yeah, I sure did."

Calleigh giggled. "Watch it Ryan. I'm too close to middle age to want to think about what I'd look like moping over a love that might have been. Anyway, as far as Hubbell is concerned, we'll just have to wait and see on that score.

"Meanwhile, we hope that Deeshawn's aunt is a little more recovered. Horatio wants us to find out if anyone was aware of his new address."

# # #

The two CSIs found Maven Lorento much more composed than they heard she had been. Still prone to a few tears now and then, she was able to answer their questions.

To their inquiry about how many people were aware of Deeshawn's address she first looked down at her hands in her lap. She was wearing tight jeans giving her legs the appearance of sausages in blue casings. Her sweater blouse, on the other hand was flattering, not too tight or saggy loose, in a golden orange that highlighted her skin tone. The large orange sequins that caught the light gave a rippling effect to the whole piece as she breathed. "Well, now, let me think on that a minute. Mostly all I saw were the three friends from the math club. Oh, then a couple of times the other members, two boys who were bigger and then that skinny, pale girl came. That's when they were advancing to the higher levels of that tournament." She paused and flashed a lovely smile in a nervous fashion and stared at her hands again. They were clasped tightly, fighting to dive for cover between her thighs. "I don't think there was anyone else but I can't be sure. I mean, someone else from the school might live around here and seen him coming home. No one else came into the house, that's for sure."

"Could he have brought anyone in when you weren't home?"

She pulled her head back and frowned. "Only if he did it when he was supposed to be in school." Then she shook her head. "My husband, when he was alive, worked as a janitor at high schools. My, the tales he brought home of what kids try to get away with was enough turn kinky hair straight. When he was alive, I worked too and we had it so one of us was always at home when Teshonda was home from school. When he passed, I went on welfare just so I could take care of her. She's a good girl but I wasn't going to take any chances."

"And I don't imagine Deeshawn showed any inclination to go against the rules of the house?"

Again that disbelieving shake of the head. "Oh, I know Teshonda talks about being sorrowful right now. No doubt she is too. When Deeshawn was alive though, they mixed it up a few times. Teshonda admired his smarts but figured she was older and knew better. If she had seen him bring someone into the house when I was out back or taking a shower, she would have been more than pleased to tattle and he knew it. He just never did and I don't think he would have anyway." She pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.

Ryan didn't catch it but Calleigh could see the cloth was one of the dozens Horatio bought to hand out to weeping victims. This one had obviously been carefully laundered and ironed for more use. No doubt, after a few uses again, it would be washed, perhaps by hand, and ironed again.

As if reading Calleigh's mind, Maven looked up at the blond woman beside her. "Is Lieutenant Caine going to need information from me?"

Smiling sympathetically, Calleigh answered, "We will tell him what you said, don't worry."

Maven blinked her luminous dark eyes. "I see."

# # #

An hour later, Calleigh and Ryan reported their morning's findings to Horatio.

"Apparently only the members of the club knew he had moved."

"One thing bothered me, Horatio."

"What is that Mr. Wolfe?"

"Teshonda Lorento had some dustups with Deeshawn. Her mother said she would have tattled on any rule-breaking in a heartbeat. My sisters and I threatened each other, gave each other grief, but we would never have told on each other. Maybe there wasn't a bond of siblings there but they were cousins which could be nearly as close. I would want to follow up on it."

"Very interesting. Thank you Mr. Wolfe.

"And what goods does Beeks and Son, Limited import and export?"

He had written some notes in the ride back. He couldn't help it. Referring to them he said, "Just about everything from cheap dishware, meat, wood, and tobacco coming in to feathers, prepared food, and head gear going out."

Horatio raised his chin and scanned brightly lit lab ceiling. "Dishware can come from Asia, if I'm not mistaken."

Calleigh and Ryan raised their eyebrows at each other; they never knew where their boss was heading with a thought.

"Calleigh, return to the warehouse tomorrow with Eric please and get tracking routes for all of their most common imports. I want to know where it goes from the warehouse."

"What will be a red flag?"

"I think you'll know it when you see it."

"And until tomorrow?"

"This evening I want all of you and Frank Tripp to go to the homes of the kids that weren't in Deeshawn's circle of friends and talk to the parents. Mr. Wolfe, did you get any refusals?"

"Oh, I sure did. Mr. Odobescu talked about his rights as a homeowner. From his accent I'm not sure he knows what his rights are." Ryan's rye expression added emphasis to his statement.

From the looks on Horatio's and Calleigh's faces, he judged he had put his foot into his mouth again. "I mean, he might be so new into this country, he hasn't had time to understand his rights."

"And Letitia, does she also have a heavy accent?" Calleigh smiled innocently.

"Well, no, she doesn't have…a…trace…" He looked around nervously. "I think I have a test running that I have to go see about." He turned and bolted to his section of the lab.

Calleigh grinned as she looked up at Horatio's furrowed face. "Don't worry, I won't let him off the leash until he's completely house trained."

Flashing a rare smile and staring directly into the blue-green eyes, he said, "Most of us needed trainers in our younger days."

Switching thoughts he continued, "Eric and I will take on Mr. Odobescu. You take Ryan to Rick Taylor's home and Frank can take a uni to talk to Rick Taylor."

"Sounds like a plan. If we run into any trouble I'll call."

"Please do."

"I guess I better go chuck Ryan under his chin or rub his ears to make him feel better. Did I need so much scratching and pets when I was new?"

"No Calleigh, you didn't but then you were a special case."

"Aw shucks, you always say the nicest things."

"Go take care of Ryan. Keep in touch please."

# # #

"When Ryan and I were talking with Letitia, she just seemed shy."

"Which is often the case with abused children, Eric. From what you say Ms. Huerta told you, even if she isn't physically abused, it might be emotional."

"You mean like being told you're a dummy over and over?" Eric sneered at the idea.

"When done over a period of years, those words alone can have a devastating effect on a person. When added to different variations and then told you don't have the power to escape, you become a slave."

"Without a chain or cuff in sight."

"Let's hope she's just a shy brilliant child with a low opinion of herself as most teens do."

"I did a quick background check on her father. Came to the states from Moldova five years ago but Letitia has been here since she was three, living with a cousin. Dad is clean. Works as an auto mechanic.

Their first encounter with Letitia's father was not promising. Speaking with a heavy accent he growled through the door, "Go away. I don't have to talk to you."

Using what he hoped was a reasonable tone of voice in spite of an urge to simply rush the door, Horatio said, "True, you don't have to talk to us without the presence of a lawyer but we have a search warrant and you do have to let us in to search your home."

Then both the men could hear a child's voice, sounding surprisingly adult, say, "Papa, let them in. You are behaving irrationally."

"Go to your room you bad child. What will they think of me as a parent to hear you speak so to your Papa."

"Papa, please, let's just open the door and find out what they want. They can't do anything to you because you didn't do anything."

After a moment, the door opened and the pale face peered out. Behind her was a man with a walrus mustache, heavy brow ridges over eyes that had many sad tales to tell. "Hi Mr. Delko, I thought I recognized your voice."

"Hi Letitia, can we come in?" He smiled his crookedly which seemed to always please the ladies no matter what age they were.

Again using that adult attitude that was so different from the mumbling unsure child he had seen the day before, she sighed. "Since I'm guessing that piece of paper in your pocket is the search warrant, I bet we don't have a choice, do we?"

Horatio bent his head to one side, fascinated with this pale face surrounded by straight black hair topped with short bangs. "You know what? I would rather your father allow us in by choice. We are investigating your friend's murder and to do so, we have to look for the source of the weapon used on him. This means starting with his family, then his friends and acquaintances in an every widening circle. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I do. My father, however, believes a man's home is his castle. Let me talk to him for a few minutes. Can you wait here?" Her face was without expression yet open and innocent.

Not believing she was innocent for a second, Horatio lowered his voice and whispered, "Just don't leave the house."

Looking almost disappointed, Letitia spoke some words in her father's middle European tongue and they both walked to another room.

While waiting, both silently looked around the small living room where cheap replicas of triptychs showing the Mother and Child were staring glassily from their frames, greasy furniture hugged the walls and a large rug that was beyond worn covered bare wood floors.

"I guess Dad isn't much on keeping up with repairs." Delko observed under his breath.

"And perhaps Letitia had never been introduced to the niceties of housekeeping," Horatio continued the thought sadly

The odd couple returned and Mr. Odobescu put out a rough paw. "I am sorry gentlemen. Sometimes I forget manners. Letitia says you looking for what we don't have. So, look." He spread his arms open which didn't do much for the air quality in the stuffy room.

Horatio gave Delko the signal to check Mr. Odobescu's bedroom first. He knew the up and coming CSI would check under the bed, including under the bed itself, in the closet, including any loose floorboards, and under the bathroom sink and the toilet tank top for any gun taped to those places or any sign that one had been put there.

Letitia followed Delko and Mr. Odobescu followed Horatio, both at a respectful distance, saying not a word. It wasn't until after searching the living room and then the small kitchen with Delko that Horatio looked through the grimy window into the dark back yard and he suddenly found the father by his side examining his face. This caused him to ask, "What's out there, Mr. Odobescu?"

"Why you ask? Nothing but grass, trees, nothing." He turned to Letitia with a snarl. "You tell them Letitia."

"He's right, you know. It's just what he says, grass and trees with a broken brick wall around it. It's what we call our back yard." She almost smiled at her own sly jest.

Delko sat in a chair at a small table by the wall. It made wooden creaks under his weight so he positioned himself to be ready to spring forward if it decided to give away. "Letitia, you get that we have to be certain that we have looked everywhere that anyone could hide a gun even if we're pretty sure that there's no weapon?"

Suddenly looking like she was thirty rather than fourteen, Letitia paused. Her eyes moved as if she were counting objects of some sort or doing calculations in her head. It was easy to see she was weighing Delko's remarks, the pros and cons with what she understood to be truth. "I also get that we have certain inalienable rights." Her words were spoken with a flat finality of a founding father.

Delko shook his head and looked pleadingly up at Horatio. "She's right, isn't she?"

Horatio knew well he could search the back yard as part of the property. On the other hand, he didn't want to push the child's belief in a citizen's rights. Inclining his head forward he said, "I think so. We had probable cause to search the home but none, at the moment, to search the back yard. Thank you for your time Mr. Odobescu." He nodded at the father. "And Letitia, it was a pleasure to meet you." He advanced and took her smaller hand in his larger one and held it gently for a moment before letting go.

In the hummer he asked, "What do you think, Eric?"

"Maybe Pops has a buried treasure in the back yard?"

"So, no guns, you think?"

"I wasn't getting any feelings about it. How about you?"

"Not yet."

They drove away.