Flying Too Close to the Sun, George Jehn [freda ebook reader txt] 📗

“Let me first check with our lab people.” Daly phoned the FBI’s New York lab, gave the guy who answered his badge number, a brief background and read off the names and prescription numbers. A few moments later the technician said both medications were primarily used as seizure prevention medications for people with epilepsy. Daly then called Doctor Friedman, gave the background, his FBI shield number and explained why he was calling. “Is Christina Shepard a patient of yours?”

Friedman quickly checked his records and relayed that he had no patient by that name.

After Daly gave him a physical description, the neurologist said he had another epilepsy patient who fit that description and who lived with a Miss Sheppard.

“I know you can’t give me the name of this other patient, but did she pay for her visit with health insurance?”

“No. She paid cash. She claimed she had no insurance.”

Daly was now starting to get the full picture, thanked the doctor and hung up. He sat down and phoned O’Brien. After discussing Shepard’s death, asked, “Do you know if she had epilepsy?”

“She’s been out sick for a while with a cold or something, but, epilepsy? No. She couldn’t have. That permanently disqualifies a pilot from flying.”

After thanking O’Brien, he hung up.

Continuing their search, they found a checkbook and bank statements in the kitchen hutch, along with several overdue Con Edison electric bills and letters threatening to shut off the power. Daly noticed a telephone phone bill lying on the kitchen table and scanning the long distance numbers showed several made to area code 612, Minneapolis. That piqued his interest, so he called the number and after identifying himself and giving his badge number had a conversation with Mimi Johansen. After relaying what happened, she informed them Shepard was her adopted daughter’s biological mother. This news came as a surprise and was followed by a lengthy discussion with Laurel, who filled him in on the history and Christina’s epilepsy. She went on to tell him an anguished Christina had told her she feared she could no longer afford to pay her college tuition due to her disease. This was not the sign of a person who had stolen over two million bucks. Daly thanked her and hung up. “I just can’t understand this,” Daly said to Morganthaler. “She needed money, but although the motives are present, there’s zero evidence pointing to any involvement.” Morganthaler just nodded his head.

In the living room, Morganthaler pointed to the empty space on the wall where the large screen TV and stereo were located on their last visit. He mumbled to Daly, “I wonder where those went?”

“I don’t know, but they’re not anywhere in the house. It appears that lowlife Bennedeto also left because there is no male clothing in the drawers, or anywhere.” They checked and discovered he had called in sick for work.

“Let’s pay that dirtbag a visit.” They drove to the Brooklyn address he had previously provided. A dark-haired, scantily clad young girl answered their knock. After flashing their credentials, she reluctantly let them into the small apartment where the stale air smelled like dirty feet and unwashed bodies. They hollered out to Bennedeto and impatiently waited in the tiny hallway where the once beige-colored carpet looked like people had been wiping their mud-caked feet on it for years. Morganthaler took out his pad and asked the girl, “What’s your name?”

“Mary. Mary O’Rourke, sir” she stammered.

He jotted it down. “How old are you?”

“I’m, uh, eighteen,” she finally managed, not looking at him.

“You don’t look eighteen.”

“I am,” she maintained, staring at her bare feet.

“Give me your address.”

She complied and a moment later David emerged from the bedroom clad in boxers and put his arm around her waist.

“You guys just won’t stop harassing me. Whaddaya want now?”

Daly spoke. “You know anything about what happened to Ms. Shepard?” Morganthaler tapped Daly on the shoulder and pointed to two items off in a corner of the apartment while David had his back turned.

“What happened? I haven’t even spoken with that bitch. What kind of bullshit did she feed you?”

“She’s dead.”

“Dead! What the hell happened?”

“We thought perhaps you could enlighten us?”

David put up both large hands as if to stop them. “Now wait one goddamned minute. We broke up a while back and—”

“Shut up and put your hands down,” Morganthaler ordered, detecting a large chink in Bennedeto’s phony armor. “When did you steal these? Were you lookin’ to make a quick buck?” pointing to the stack of TV and stereo equipment.

“Those are mine,” he shot back in the same tone of voice a man would use if he’d been caught by his wife with a naked hooker.

“Oh really? Perhaps then you can explain how Ms. Shepard had previously showed us credit card receipts in her name for those.”

“I, I don’t know—”

The young girl put her hand to her mouth. As he roughly spun David around and placed handcuffs on him, a sneering Morganthaler took out a small card and brusquely read David his Miranda rights. “At this time you’re being arrested on suspicion of aggravated burglary of one giant screen television and a surround sound stereo system.” Pointing to the young lady he added, “You are also suspected of engaging in sex with a minor. You may remain silent and are entitled to an attorney. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

David began to protest, but realized it was fruitless. Quickly deciding on a new approach he tried sucking up by informing the cops Christina had recently been diagnosed with epilepsy. “If anyone found out it meant the end of her career.” David wouldn’t mention the strange shipments out of fear he might somehow be implicated in whatever happened, or the baggage heists, meaning additional, big trouble.

“We already know that.”

“How did you..? Can I at least get dressed?” he begged, sounding like he might break down and cry. Morganthaler removed the cuffs and guarded him closely while his request was honored.