'Sean's Predicament' is out today!

Sean's Predicament

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A C21 Story

Sean Miller is a professional thief. When he breaks into the home of C21 handler Jonah and is discovered, Jonah makes him an offer he can't resist -- join the covert organization and put his talents to a more legitimate use. C21 skirts the edges of the law, bringing criminals to justice that the police can’t seem to catch, and they could use someone with Sean’s talents.

For his first job, Sean is teamed with Ken Ward, one of Jonah's men, to bring down a phony adoption racket. In the process, Sean fights his growing interest in Ken, certain it won't be reciprocated. Is he right? Or will the two men become more than just partners when they are teamed up again to stop a gang of jewel thieves?

EXCERPT:

It was the third evening after Sean had discovered the house which no visible means of keeping trespassers from entering its property. That intrigued Sean, as had the fact he couldn't find any information about the owner. So he had spent the last two nights doing recon. As far as he was able to determine, there were only three people there on a regular basis -- a man and woman he thought were husband and wife, and a younger man who seemed to be an employee.

In the process of his surveillance, Sean had located the well-concealed motion detectors and cameras that covered the edge of the grounds. He was certain very few people would know they were there unless they were as skilled as him.

Okay, time to find out if this is going to be worth my time and energy.

Sean used his night vision binoculars to study one of the omni-directional motion sensors, as he had the previous night. Then, with a nod, he took a jammer from his backpack, pointing it at the sensor. After making an adjustment, he turned it on, which deactivated the sensor. Then he did the same thing to the camera a few feet away. The second he was certain it was safe, he moved swiftly inside the invisible parameter to the back of the home's multi-car garage before reactivating both the camera and the sensor. The whole operation took less than two minutes.

The next step was getting from the garage to the house. Again, he knew where the motion sensors were located under the roof's eaves. Choosing the one closest to him, he deactivated it momentarily, sped to the back of the house, and turned it on again. Inching slowly forward, he stepped onto the back porch.

Now for the real test. Getting inside.

The jammer worked on wireless systems, but if the interior security was wired into a landline it wouldn't help. The damned problem with not knowing who set up their system.

He studied the lock on the door before choosing which pick to use. With the door now unlocked, he turned on the jammer, then eased the door open. Using another of his 'toys', he located the security keypad, hidden behind a panel by the side of the door from the mudroom into what, he presumed, was the kitchen. The same device told him what the code was and he punched it in. So far, no alarms had sounded, but then with a system as sophisticated as he suspected this one was, none would. Any notification of a breach would either go to the security company, if there was one, or to the homeowner.

He smiled dryly. At least no one's come in, guns drawn.

Stepping into the kitchen, he saw two doors. One, he discovered, opened onto a pantry. The second led to a hallway. Ahead of him, at the far end, he saw a flight of stairs going up to the second floor. Ignoring them for the moment, he eased his way down to the large living room. Impressive. They must entertain a lot. He walked across the room to check out the bookshelves. He knew enough about books to realize there were several very valuable ones behind the locked, glass-fronted doors on one of them.

"If you like reading, feel free," a voice said from behind him.

Sean spun around, his hands fisting, and groaned. The two men standing there both held guns. They weren't pointed at him, but he had the feeling they would be if he made any sudden moves.

"You are better than I hoped," the older man said.

"Excuse me?" Sean replied, beyond surprised at his words.

The man smiled, gesturing to one of the sofas. "Why don't we all sit and discuss what comes next."

"Like you calling the cops?"

"Not at all." The man holstered his gun before taking a seat in an armchair across from the sofa. "I'm Jonah. My friend is Ken Ward, one of my ... employees, for lack of a better word at the moment. And you are?"

"Very puzzled," Sean said, reluctantly sitting at one end of the sofa, putting his pack on the floor beside him.

Ken nodded. "We all are at first." He studied Sean, so Sean studied him back. He saw a pleasant-looking man about his age. Not particularly handsome, although if he smiled, that might change. He had short, dark hair, intense eyes, and a shadow of a mustache, as if he hadn't shaved recently.

Walt Murphy – Part Two – 42

Friday, I actually did stay away from anything concerning the late Ms Engel. I do have a business to run and in that respect there was more than enough to keep me busy.

Saturday I went in to work with the intention of getting back to the Engel case, even though, as such, it didn't exist anymore. Well except in my head and for the cops. I wondered if Detective Sharp had been able to locate Ben. Getting that information from Carlo Donati would probably take an act of congress, or the threat of filing obstruction of justice charges against him.

I considered asking a guy I know who has 'friends' at various cell-phone providers for help. I've used him before when I wanted to gain access to someone's phone records. Legal? Probably, well definitely not. Do I do it anyway? Yep. Chances are Tom had already done that with Donati's records but I knew for certain he wouldn't tell me if he had. So I called my guy and laid out what I needed. He said it could take a couple of days to find out anything, which I'd already figured. Still, it was one step in the right direction if it worked.

Next on the agenda, putting a time-frame to my contacts with the killer. I knew in a general way, but spelling it out might show me something I'd missed. So I did.

1 – Saturday night – Ms Engel murdered

2 – Sunday the potshot at me/Ricky – green car in front of house

3 – Monday – first message from killer

4 – Tuesday – second message after my lunch with Caiazzo – that night the woman at the Elite gym was murdered

5 – Wednesday – the attempted break-in at the house

There had been nothing more since then, but that didn't mean the killer wasn't watching me, or tracking me somehow. I pointed the cursor at number four. Was her murder the direct result of my not backing away? I sure as hell hoped not.

Looking at the list I added:

Friday: My initial contact with Carlo Donati, first by phone and then in person. The first woman murdered.

Saturday: Carlo was in the city because he visited my office again. My 'date' with Ms Engel at the bar was followed by her murder later that night.

Sunday: Carlo could still have been in town. I didn't know Milano existed at that point, so he didn't know about me. Presumption but probably true.

Monday: Same holds true about Milano as for Sunday. Called Carlo but that doesn't say he was in Louisville since it was to his cell phone.

Tuesday: Lunch with Caiazzo. Only knew about Milano at that point. No contact with him until after the second message. Called Carlo about son. Got the brush off. Second woman murdered.

Wednesday: Frank Milano shows up here first thing in the morning, thanks to Caiazzo.  He could have remained in town. But as stated above, he didn't know I was looking for him until Caiazzo contacted him. Presumptively.

Thursday through today: No contact with/from killer.

At this point I could almost rule out Frank Milano. He didn't know I had anything to do with Ms Engel until after I received the messages. Of course it was possible he'd been stalking her with the intention of killing her, if he lied about when they ran into each other and she attempted to blackmail him again. In that case he could have followed her when she came to my office. Possible, but not probable, to my way of thinking.

So my money was on Carlo Donati or Ben. A toss-up but I'm betting on Ben. He had the most to lose—and a bigger reason to hate Ms Engel—than Carlo did. If Carlo had talked to Ben on Friday, telling him that his mother was searching for him, it could have triggered the killings. He, Ben, does a practice run Friday night—either to see if he has the guts for it, or to try out his plan for getting rid of his mother. Either way works as a motive for the first murder. Since he knows about me, thanks to Carlo, he decides to try to scare me off. Should I let it go to my head that he thinks I'm smart enough to figure out he's the killer? Probably not. He's just covering all bases to keep from being caught.

Now all I have to do is find Ben. Uh-huh. If Tom hasn't, and I think he'd have told me if he had, given that I was a target of sorts, what the hell chance do I have? Only one. Figure out how to get Ben to show his face again.

I picked up the phone and called Carlo.

"Mr Murphy," he said coldly when I identified myself. "What now?"

"I'd like you to give Ben a message for me."

After a brief pause, he said, "If I hear from him, I'd be glad to."

"Tell him I just found something he dropped when he paid a visit to my house. If he wants it back he should give me a call. It would be in his best interests if he did."

"He visited you?" Carlo sounded shocked.

"In a manner of speaking. He'll know what I mean."

"I'll…let him know."

"Thanks."

With that, I hung up.

Now it was just wait and see if Ben took the bait. I printed out my notes, shut down the computer and headed home.

Walt Murphy – Part Two – 41

"Three suspects? Mr Donati, his son and…?" Tom said, looking as if it pained him to even have to ask.

"Frank Milano. One of her ex boyfriends."

Tom frowned. "Milano as in the mob Milano?"

"Amedeo Milano's son. Ms Engel blackmailed him a while back and the father paid her off. Frank thought that was the end of it until he ran into her the night before she was murdered. And why the hell am I telling you this instead of making you find out for yourself?"

Tom smirked. "Because you're a good citizen?"

Both Ricky and I snorted.

After chuckling at our response, Tom got back down to business. "So—about Mr Milano. How did he just happen to run into her again?"

I filled him in on what Frank had told me and how I managed to find out about him in the first place. Tom looked disgusted that he hadn't come up with that information on his own.

When I was finished he thanked me, somewhat half-heartedly, then blew it by telling me, "You are to back off now. Understand. For your own good. The next time the killer might do more than just try to break into your place. He might succeed."

"If it was him, and not a random burglar," I pointed out.

"Do you really believe it wasn't him?"

"No," I had to admit.   

"So you're going to keep your nose out of it now?"

I shrugged, earning me a glare from Tom. "Look," I said, "the fact I seem to have gotten under the killer's skin might lead to my finding out who it is—if he keeps up with the messages. One thing I know already, he rides a motorcycle. It's black, where it isn't covered with dirt—and that included the license plate. Maybe a Harley but I'm no expert. Not tricked out." I described what I could of the driver, which wasn't much.

"And if he does go after Ricky again?"

"I can handle myself now," Ricky said adamantly.

Tom cocked an eyebrow. "Walt gave you some pointers? Good if he did, but it's one thing to know and another to put them to use when it comes down to the nitty-gritty."

Ricky nodded. "I know, but if it's me or him…"

"Let's just hope it doesn't come to that," Tom said. "It's less likely to if Walt…"

"Backs off. I got it," I said.

"Then do it." Tom stood, going to open the office door. Getting the message, Ricky and I started to leave. Tom stopped me momentarily, saying, "If you find out anything else…"

"You'll be the first to know, I promise," I replied with a grin. He knows me too well.

Walt Murphy – Part Two – 40

As soon as we got back to the office I bit the bullet and called Detective Sharp.

The first words out of Tom's mouth were, "What did I tell you?" followed immediately by, "I want you down here ASAP."

If a cop orders me to do something I generally obey. Generally. This time I would. Ricky insisted on coming with me. "To defuse the situation," to quote him.

When we arrived at the precinct I asked the desk sergeant to let Detective Sharp know we were here. I knew Tom was more than pissed because it took him only a minute to come down to get us. The glowering look he gave me could have turned ice to steam.

The second we were in his office with the door closed he asked me, "Are you trying to get Ricky killed? Whoever this guy is, he's not someone to fool around with, in case you haven't gotten the picture yet. Three murders under his belt…"

I broke into his rant. "Three? Two by my count."

"Three. Ms Engel, the woman from the Elite gym, and one Friday night, before Ms Engel's on Saturday. We only just connected that one to the last two."

"Different MO?"

Tom waggled his hand. "In a parking lot but not one belonging to a gym. The detective in charge put down to a mugging gone wrong because her purse was missing. She did try to defend herself."

"Then what tied it to the others?"

"The knife that was used and the angles of the stab wounds. According to the coroner it was the same in all three cases. He said he thought he remembered seeing something similar in a report from one of his assistants. So he went back and looked. Once he compared the autopsy data from it with that from Ms Engel and the Elite woman, he came to the conclusion the three killings are connected."

"Okay." I didn't have to think hard before saying, "So maybe the first woman was a practice case for him?"

"A logical conclusion."  

"He's on a roll," Ricky muttered. "Three in what? A week? Maybe you're jumping to conclusions and none of this has to do with Ms Engel specifically."

"Meaning we have a serial killer on our hands," Tom stated. When Ricky nodded, Tom said, "Then why is Walt being threatened?"

"Um… Well…" Ricky replied hesitantly.

"Yeah, exactly." Tom frowned at us. "Why the hell am I even talking with you about this? I wanted you here to reinforce what I said the last time I saw you, Walt. Stay out of this. It stopped being your case the minute Ms Engel was murdered."

"Looks like the killer doesn't agree with you."

"He wouldn't be after you if you had kept your nose out of it," Tom said tightly.

"If I had, I wouldn't have narrowed it down to three possible suspects," I replied, my anger getting the better of my common sense right now.

Walt Murphy – Part Two – 39

The talk with my client went better than I'd hoped. Yeah, at first she was pissed off to find out she'd been right. "Only six months he's been here and already he takes what isn't his." Then, when I told her why, and got her to admit he had only been taking items that were past their sell date, she calmed down.

"Maybe," she said thoughtfully, "I've been too interested in wringing every penny out of my business, although God only knows I need to. But still, what could it hurt to let Danny take some of the older stuff to the foodbank." She smiled to herself. "It could earn me a few points in heaven even."

"Probably more than a few," I agreed, chuckling.

"Then I'll do it. But he'll have to let me choose what, and tell the people at that place that he has my permission. I don't want them thinking bad of me anymore."

With that settled, Ricky and I headed on to a deserted farm on the edge of town that I used on occasion for some practice shooting, when I felt my skills were getting rusty. It was private, and beat the hell out of paying to go to a shooting range. While he'd never end up being sniper material, by the time we finished he could at least hit within the body I'd chalked out on the side of the old barn.

"That you can hit it at all is what counts," I told him when he sounded disappointed he hadn't hit the chest every time. "You just have to stop someone long enough to get away from them."

"If they don't shoot back," he pointed out.

"There is that, but now you stand a fighting chance of escaping."

"Speaking of fighting…"

So I taught him a few moves to defend against a knife attack. They mainly involved grabbing the wrist of the hand holding the knife and turning it away then---if he couldn't get the knife out of the attacker's hand---where to punch and how to headbutt and sweep his attacker's legs out from under him. Again, Ricky would never win a medal for his skills, but at least he got the hang of it.

"I feel…safer now," he said, panting a bit from all the physical exertion.

"The main thing is to try to avoid a confrontation in the first place," I pointed out. "But when faced with it, the next best thing it to stay alive. Wounds heal. Death is permanent and I do not want to be going to your funeral."

He smiled weakly. "Had to say that, didn't you."

"Yep. Because it's the truth. Now, how about a late lunch on me. You've earned it."

"On you?" He grinned wickedly.

"Not how I meant it, and you know it," I grumbled.

"Well damn," he replied, snapping his fingers. "Oh well, I'll still take you up on the lunch offer. At Georgio's?"

"You bet."