Deadly Riddles (Mike Anderson Book 1), page 11
Everything I had said today was the truth. I did lie to him, just not today. It was yesterday. That's why I didn't want to talk about it. He asked why my father had gotten full custody. He asked why I didn't want to go live with her after graduating high school. That was the lie. My parents never got divorced.
As soon as that thought had popped in my mind, it was like I had gone back in time. I could see the hospital room as if I were actually there. I was reliving my nightmare, the same one I had been having the past few days that had denied me of a good nights sleep.
"Michael, how did you get here?" My mother finally spotted me at the entrance to the room she was in. She was just laying there in the bed next to the heart monitor that was keeping track of her heart rate.
"I called a cab over here." I said with a mischievous grin.
"Does Mrs. Jones know where you are?" She asked. Mrs. Jones was babysitting me because my dad was out of town on business.
"I told her I was going to Jessica's." I responded, "Thirteen is too old for a babysitter anyway."
"Mike, when she finds out you aren't there, she's going to be worried about you." She scolded. The way she sounded, it was like she always did when I did something I wasn't supposed to. Even when she was in a hospital bed, she never stopped being a parent.
"But I haven't been able to see you all week!" I complained, "When I was in the hospital, Jessica was allowed to see me everyday. I just wanted to do the same."
"I'm coming back home soon. I'll be fine."
"I know you will be coming back home soon, but I just missed you. There are all these things that I wanted to tell you about."
"So you came all the way up here to tell me? You couldn't wait?" That drew a chuckle from my mother, "What's going to happen when you grow up and get a job and your own place? I can't travel with you wherever you go."
We kept going for about five minutes. I got to talk about my day and the past couple of days because she had been at the hospital since the beginning of the week. Everything was normal.
Then she started to complain about her chest tightening. She had pushed the call button, and by the time the nurse got there she was in the middle of a heart attack. Doctors rushed into the room, pushing me outside. I could just make out the crowd of doctors from my vantage point in the hallway. I heard the loud beeping of the heart monitor, faster and faster it went.
I didn't know what to do. My life was crumbling down around me and there was nothing I could do. Then suddenly, the doctors weren't moving with the same urgency they had been before. It took me a few seconds to realize what had just happened. I had just watched her die.
They had forgotten that I was there in all the panic to save her. I don't know if they ever tried to look for me, because I got out of there as fast as I could. I don't even remember how I got home. I might've walked the whole way back. But I remembered locking myself up in my room and crying the rest of the day.
Just like I was doing now, having relived the memory I had kept buried for years. And for a while, I completely lost it.
"Why did you have to die so young?" I yelled at no one in particular, "Why did you have to go? I always knew I could talk to you. Always knew that no matter what had happened, you would understand. But you had to die and leave me here on my own. Why?"
I felt so worthless. I had a career. I had money. I had my health. But what did it matter? I had no one. Everyone I cared about was gone, and anyone that tried to reach out to me I had pushed away. If I were to die right now, would anyone care? Would I even have a funeral? I wiped the tears out of my eyes, and let my hand fall to my side. I felt fur. Looking down, I saw the cat curled up against my leg purring. He would care if I died, because then he would be a stray again.
"Did you even know your mother?" I asked the cat. Maybe I was crazy, talking to a cat. But I needed to get all of this off my chest. Dr. Adams was right. This was easier than dealing with human beings.
I had heard that animals, especially cats and dogs, could tell when their owner wasn't feeling good. I always thought that that was sentimental fluff that pet owners wanted to believe about their pets. But when you think about it, animals communicate non-verbally. So if anyone would be able to see the signs of someone in emotional distress, it's them.
So I was sitting there, telling my cat about my problems. Maybe he couldn't respond, but I felt like he understood. And for a while there it was like old times on those rides back home from the airport with my mother, just talking about things that were bothering me.
And that's when I realized that this was what Dr. Adams had tried to get me to do this whole time. He didn't want me to just answer questions. He wanted me to talk about my problems to someone.
We talked for about twenty minutes. Or more like I talked and he just sat there, and I felt much better at the end of the twenty minutes. The phone eventually rang, and I knew it would probably be Dr. Adams, so I picked it up.
"Hello?" I said into the phone.
"Mike? Are you ok? You left the session suddenly." So it was Dr. Adams.
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that." I said apologetically, "I freaked out. But I promise that I'll make the session up if that's ok with you. And we can start where we ended today."
I wasn't going to run away this time. I would go back to my consultation job with the HPD, and I would make it work. I didn't get to help them that much this time, but there was always the next case. I couldn't quit on them this early in the game.
"Oh really? That's great news. It sounds like you had a break through at home." He sounded excited.
"Oh, and I finally thought of a name for my cat." I began, my gaze shifting towards my room where he was still lying down, "I'm going to name him Ash."
Ashley was my mother's first name.
Chapter Sixteen
It had been a long day, between being involved in a police chase and only hours later having a breakdown at my place. I welcomed the chance to sit back and play video games for a good long time. I needed to relax. So I put on some techno, grabbed a controller and sat down in my favorite seat.
I found my buddies all online. This was usually the time we all got on to play this game. So we got in a group and started queuing up for group events. After that loss to Hunting Party a few days ago, we were hungry to get back in the game.
"Yo, you locked that cat in the other room this time?" Darth asked me with some concern. He didn't want a repeat of two days ago.
"He won't interrupt us this time." I responded. I hadn't locked Ash in the other room like a prisoner that was being punished. He was sitting in front of me watching me play the game. I trusted that he wouldn't get in the way this time.
We had gotten all warmed up on group events, destroying every team we came across with ease. Usually the plan was the same, but depending on the type of game some roles might be slightly different. The simpler the plan the better, so that the team could learn it fast without frustration. Once you master the plan, you get to the point where you know everyone's role and then the plan evolves. You start to see little things that you could do to make the team more effective, and everyone else on the team sees what you are doing and they react accordingly.
After a few hours of playing, we finally got what we wanted: a match against Hunting Party. The game was capture the flag and it was on the exact same map. With this win we would take back the capture the flag title. Everyone in our group was amped.
"We got this, yo!" Darth encouraged the rest of us, "Let's bust that party up!"
The plan was remarkably similar to the one from a few days ago. I anticipated that they would be watching out for my sniper, trying to plan around it. I accounted for that by telling the group that I would be move around after every shot or two so that they wouldn't be able to gage my position by the direction the sniper fire came from.
It made it slightly harder to see the field, but I was confidant that this would work. The rest of the plan was the same. Take out the scout, and then go after the base. Between Red's rifle and my sniper, we were able to control the scout and shut out their offense. They didn't want to commit anyone else to offense because they were convinced we would slip up and they would be able to take advantage eventually. This was truly an epic battle.
"I just took out the scout." Red informed me. It took a few tries to time the scout's death with our attack on the base. A few times our attack failed and they were almost able to strike back before we stabilized at our base. But this time we were able to break through.
"Oh snap that sucka almost got me!" Darth exclaimed, "Ok, Gramps, I got da stick and I'm headed that way. Punch dat foo."
I was positioned on top of our base. I knew that whoever was chasing the flag carrier would have a hard time dodging an attack from the front if he was trying to go after the flag at the same time. The scout had respawned and was now chasing Darth.
"Get him, yo!"
"He's in sight. Aiming..." I told him. I carefully tracked the chaser's movements. It only took a few seconds and I had him locked. The hair on my arms started to tingle with excitement, I was about to seal our victory. We would beat Hunting Party for the first time and regain our Capture the Flag title.
"Boom, headshot." I whispered to myself as I took the shot. The chaser dropped, and suddenly there was no one even close to Darth carrying the flag.
"To da thirty! To da twenty five!" Darth mimicked a football announcer calling a long touchdown run, "No one is within twenty yards of him and he could... go... all... da... way!"
Seconds later the screen flashed that we had captured the flag and won the game. Vindication baby! I celebrated by silently pumped my fist in celebration. The others were a little louder.
"Sweet! Nice shot, Gramps!" Tooth yelled into his microphone.
"YES!" Darth somehow was even louder, "That's how Karl Malone do it!"
Darth sometimes got a little over excited when we won. And as usual he started spouting off references to things I've never heard of in celebration. But could I blame the guy? He got to carry the flag back to the base. You could say that metaphorically he carried our Capture the Flag title back to us as well.
"Karl Malone?" Red asked. Red didn't understand the reference either. I wasn't sure anyone did.
"The basketball player, yo!" Darth tried to explain.
"Who is he and what does he have to do with capture the flag?" He asked.
"They call him 'The Mailman'" Darth explained to Red in a sing song voice, "Because he delivers da ball to da hole! Just like I did on these suckas!"
It didn't click immediately. But when it did, oh did it click. Karl Malone was 'The Mailman'. On the schedule when Spartz had a meeting with the head of shipping he put Karl down as the code phrase. He was referring to Karl Malone. Spartz must've been a basketball fan.
"Darth, you are a genius!" I proclaimed, "Sorry guys but I have to go."
They figured this was as good a time as any to call it a night, with a win this epic. I was at my computer in seconds, thankful that the code word for his meeting with Shelby was "Skip" and not a common name like Steve.
I searched for any Skips in the NBA. I figured that would be a good place to start. There were no famous Skips, but there was a Rafer "Skip to my Lou" Alston that was a former Hosuton Rocket. That had to be it. So I clicked on the link for his bio.
He was a journeyman in the NBA, playing in cities all over the map. His significant stints were in Toronto and Houston. But what he was most known for was being a street baller for the "And 1" mix tape tour before becoming an NBA pro. "And 1 mix tape tour", I thought about that phrase for a second before it hit me.
Spartz wasn't the kidnapper, he was another victim.
* * *
I rushed to the station, trying to come up with a plan on the way. Not a plan to put the right guy in jail, I had already figured that one out. The only plan I needed now was one that would convince Taylor that Spartz wasn't the kidnapper.
"Cheif!" I yelled out as soon as I got there, I spotted the Cheif and ran over to him, "Is Smith still in custody?"
"Yes, Mike. We got him on kidnapping." He replied, "What's wrong?"
I took a deep breath. I wasn't running away. A criminal could walk if I didn't tell him. I had been in this position before, arguing with Taylor about a case. But that was back when I had a detective friend for support, and not to mention I would've been the one going to jail had I not said anything.
"Don't let him leave. You still need to talk to him." I said.
"Why? We already have the guy for kidnapping." The cheif said with a confused look on his face.
"He's not the brains behind the operation."
"I know, Spartz was."
"No." I countered, "Its Shelby."
"He kidnapped his own daughter?" Taylor said, nearly laughing. I was prepared for this reaction.
"I figured out what the schedule meant. 'Karl' is Karl Malone, power forward for the Utah Jazz in the 90s, also known as "the Mailman". That's the connection to the meeting with the head of shipping. 'Skip' refers to Rafer "Skip to my Lou" Alston, former Houston Rockets point guard. Alston was regarded as one of the best streetballers for the And 1 Mix Tape Tour before he went pro."
"So?"
"Emphasis on the 'tape' part." I said, finishing up my speech "Spartz was blackmailing Shelby."
"That's a bit of a stretch, Mike."
"I know it is, but when you consider the rest of the evidence. It makes perfect sense." I told him.
"What evidence? The only evidence we have points to Spartz."
"How did he break into the house without disabling the alarm or triggering it? Why is his daughter's favorite toy missing? Why place the deadline to deliver the ransom at five days away? And why would he risk being seen in the same vehicle with the guy he 'hired' to kidnap the guy's daughter?" My series of questions all pointed to Shelby as the guy behind this whole thing.
"What happened was Shelby needed a way to get out of having to pay Spartz money." I continued. "He knew the only way out was to murder Spartz. So he began scheming up a plan that would get Spartz out of the way and leave him in the clear."
"And he comes up with a plan as complex as this?" Taylor asked, "Rich people away with murder all the time, all he would've needed was an alibi."
"Maybe, but he's also a businessman, and he knows that image matters. Even if the courts find him innocent, he was connected to a murder investigation and the court of public opinion will reign down their version of justice."
"Ok, so what was the plan?" He asked.
"The plan was to have his daughter kidnapped, and then stage an event to murder Spartz, framing him to look like the kidnapper. They left clues behind that would lead us to suspect Spartz so that when he finally was killed off, we would just close the case."
"So, that police chase was a setup?" Taylor wondered.
"No, that was a coincidence." I explained, "It still worked out, but the plan was to never let Smith get caught. I assume Shelby is paying extra to keep Smith quiet."
That was really the only part that remained a mystery: how they would kill him. I'm sure it would've involved some weapon and it would be positioned to look like self defense. Or they could've just staged an accident. And then Shelby's daughter would've come back and everyone would be happy.
Even if we had suspected Shelby was involved, with no evidence it would've been a media nightmare to even have an investigation. Taylor had the exact same thoughts I did apparently.
"Your theory makes sense." Shelby admitted, "But we don't have any way to prove it. And if we go to him with this story, the media will be all over us."
"Don't worry. I have a plan." I said.
* * *
I watched from the one way mirror outside of the interrogation room as Taylor walked in and sat down across from Smith and his lawyer. Smith had confessed to the kidnapping without a lawyer, but when he heard that Taylor wanted to ask him some more questions, he demanded that his lawyer be present. Of course, he didn't know that this played right into my hand. All the pieces were in place, and I had planned it in such a way that whether the plan worked or not, it would be over within minutes.
The lawyer started this off, "Can we finish this fast? He gave you what you wanted already."
"If Smith plays ball, this will end fast." Taylor glared in Smith's direction as he said the words, "I've come to offer you a deal."
"I don't think I have any information that you could use." Smith answered back regretfully. He comfortably leaned back in his chair as if he had all the answers already. Confidence won't help convince someone you are innocent when they already know you are guilty.
"What is the deal?" asked the interested lawyer.
"Reduced murder sentence." replied Taylor, drawing a confused look from Smith and a laugh from his lawyer.
"He confessed to kidnapping already, and is looking at maybe a third of that time. What trick are you trying to play Chief?" asked the lawyer, anger showing in his voice.
"Ok, no tricks." Taylor leaned forward and his body language changed, "I know that Shelby put you up to the kidnapping, and you shot Spartz to cover your tracks during the police chase."
The look of shock on Smith's face lasted only a split second, but it was enough to convince the chief that he had struck gold. I knew that with no evidence a shock tactic wouldn't get a confession. This part of the plan was only to erase the last of any doubt that I was wrong about Shelby.
"Do you have any evidence to support this allegation?" asked the lawyer.
"No." replied the chief. One would think that having no evidence is a bad thing, but the plan had been put into motion. It was just a matter of letting the logic do its work.
"Then you are wasting our time with your shock tactics." The lawyer said, grabbing his briefcase and motioning Smith to the door.
"Smith, are you sure you don't want to take the deal? I think it's the smart thing to do: reduced murder sentence for information on Spartz." Taylor offered the deal one last time.
