Dead Deceiver (20 page)

“If it has to do with our fraudster out here, I sure could use a break,” said Lew.

“Our public records search on Charles F. Mason has yielded some ve-r-r-y interesting information,” said Beth, her face the most animated Lew had ever seen it. “First, my search of national databases showed about four thousand Charles Masons but only three with the middle initial “F.” Next I went into LexusNexus and got it narrowed to a former resident of Minneapolis. That seemed promising. That’s when I turned it over to Dani. I had to get home, get the kids some dinner. Dani, tell Chief Ferris what you found.”

Dani pushed her curls behind her ears and looked up at Lew as she spoke.

“So cool, Chief Ferris. I found notices of three divorce hearings and several liens against someone named Charles F. Mason. Since a lawyer’s name was attached to the most recent divorce notice, I emailed that person, who happened to be online at the time, and said we might be researching the same guy. That’s when I called Professor Hellenbrand for the first time.

“Yes,” said Beth, “Dani called a little over an hour ago with the lawyer’s email address so I emailed that photo that I took this morning. Gosh,” said Beth with a sudden pained look, “I hope that was okay.”

“Fine,” said Lew.

Dani and Beth exchanged glances as if to relish the moment. Then Beth said in a determined tone, “He’s our man. He’s the same man that Dr. Schumacher married. You can see for yourself.” She pointed to the computer screen where Beth’s photo was displayed alongside a photo of five people in a meeting in the divorce lawyer’s office. The only difference was that Charles F. Mason on that day was wearing a white shirt open at the neck under a navy blue blazer. More businessman than artist.

“Divorced three times?” asked Lew. “Over what period of time are we talking?”

“Fifteen years or so,” said Beth. “Divorced twice. We aren’t sure but he may still be married to Number Three.”

“And
to Patience Schumacher?” Lew rolled her eyes at the two women.

“The lawyer said he had been looking for Mr. Mason for over a year,” said Dani. “But he retired last fall and turned the divorce case over to a partner in his former firm.”

“Right,” interjected Beth. “I called him on the phone when I got here to be sure we, you know, weren’t jumping to conclusions. He’s checking the status of the case tomorrow.

“He’s doubtful that the divorce has gone through because the woman involved wanted a hundred thousand dollars paid back. The law office did a money search but found nothing. That’s why he said he doubts Charles Mason has that kind of money and Wife Number Three wasn’t going to let him off the hook until she was paid.”

“Wow,” said Lew, half leaning against a nearby desk. “Wow.”

“The lawyer was nice enough to take the time to give me the background on Mr. Mason,” said Beth. “Seems he has never made much money but always managed to land jobs at places like Target or Best Buy. He would keep each job until he met a woman who fell for him, they would marry, he would persuade her to put his name on a joint bank account and about a year into the marriage, he would empty the account and take off. A pattern.”

“Did he say if these women were fellow employees or customers?”

“Both,” said Beth. “One had been his manager and the other bought a home entertainment center from him, which he helped install and never left. That’s what the lawyer said,” said Beth with a hint of humor. Lew had a hunch that if Beth weren’t in the throes of grief over the death of her close friend that she might have more of a lively, dry wit than first appeared.

“What are the liens about?” asked Lew.

“Dani,” said Beth, “you found that data. What’s the story on those?”

By now Dani’s girlish mannerism had morphed into a sense of authority that Lew found more reassuring. “Lawsuits from the women involved,” said the girl, hitting keys and leaning towards the screen as she spoke. “One wanted a car back; the other was out a chunk of her savings that he was supposed to use as a down payment on a house but never did.” Dani scrolled down, looking for more. “Guess that’s what I’ve got so far, Chief Ferris.

Lew, arms crossed and thinking back over the details, said “So basically, we have a gentleman who prefers ladies with generous bank accounts. That would include Dr. Schumacher, wouldn’t it.”

Beth and Dani nodded in agreement.

“There’s more from the lawyer,” said Beth. “I kept thinking I was keeping him from his dinner but he was really ready to talk. It’s personal stuff—but do you want to hear—”

“For heaven’s sake, yes,” said Lew. “You know, Beth, it takes skill to get people to open up, especially lawyers. You’re good.” Beth blushed at the compliment.

“Apparently the ladies he wed found him quite charming and colorful. He told his first wife his hobby was raising bald eagles.”

“No,” said Lew, “how pretentious. And she believed him? Honestly. Keep going.”

Beth looked down at her notes. “Wendy—that’s Wife Number Two—was told he wanted to become a master gardener. But in the divorce documents she states that after they married, he never picked up a shovel. Wife Number Three married him thinking he was a frustrated poet …”

“And Patience Schumacher thinks he’s a painter of fine art,” said Lew. “What crap! Dani,” Lew shook a finger at the young woman, “you learn from this—don’t ever let a guy bullshit you, okay?”

Dani giggled. “Promise.”

Beth smiled, then said, “but here is the frustrating part—we have found no indication that Mr. Mason has anything but the most rudimentary experience with computers. Otherwise I would suspect him as our fraudster.”

“Too bad,” said Lew. “We need to confirm whether or not he is married to that another woman.”

“The lawyer is having the law office send the divorce documents over by courier tomorrow. I’ve arranged for the package to be delivered to your office, Chief. You can expect them by late morning.”

“Once they arrive, I’ll get Mr. Mason in for questioning.”

“That should be interesting,” said Beth, slipping her notepad into her purse. “Okay, I’m heading home now. Dani is going to do a little more work on this search tonight if that’s okay?”

“Fine,” said Lew. “You go. I’ll stay here with Dani until we call it an evening. So far no sign of the spammer, correct?”

“Nothing yet,” said Dani as she waved goodnight to Beth.

Lew took the chair next to Dani. “Poor Dr. Schumacher,” she said with a shake of her head. “I hate having to be the person to tell her the truth about Charles Franklin Mason.”

The evening passed slowly. Not once did the cursor move that had been set up to signal the presence of spam. Around ten o’clock, Dani decided she needed a quick break for water and the bathroom.

And, thought Lew, the cute janitor, of course.

Before leaving the room, Dani said, “what you want to watch for, Chief Ferris, is this.”

She showed Lew how the cursor would react if spam entered the system. “But it has always arrived by this time so I think it isn’t going to happen tonight.”

“How do you know that?” asked Lew. “We’ve only been watching for a night.”

“Oh, Chief Ferris, that’s not true exactly. For two weeks now, Professor Hellenbrand and I have been watching the spam coming in—and there has been a real pattern to it. That’s before we knew it was originating from within the system. No, whoever it is has always sent the emails by now.”

“Okay, I’ll watch,” said Lew.

Nothing moved. All that happened was someone entertaining Dani at the vending machines—at least Lew heard her peals of laughter before she returned to the office.

“Oh, that guy,” said Dani, bouncing into the room. “He’s so cute.”

“Which guy are we talking about?” said Lew.

“The janitor—the one who wants to take me snowmobiling.” She sat down, a grin of delight on her face. “He’s got a neat beard, kinda like my dad’s,” she gestured towards her chin, “and these huge dark eyes. Long lashes. Cool looking guy.”

“Dani,” warned Lew, “I thought you said he’s a lot older.”

“Yeah,” said Dani, raising both arms to shake her curls back behind her ears. “He is. I keep telling him that.” She gave a small secret smile and Lew could see she felt very flattered. “But you know, the longer you’ve worked here, the more money you make.”

“I assume he told you that.”

“Uh huh.”

Lew resisted the urge to tell her to be careful. She had delivered enough instructions tonight. At ten-thirty, they put the computer to sleep and walked to their cars in the parking lot. Parked on the walkway running alongside the maintenance garage, which was located at the far end of the parking lot, Lew saw a red snowmobile. She bet anything that was the sled Dani was hoping to ride.

Some things never change: girls like guys with cool cars … or sleds. Lew knew. She made that mistake herself once upon a time.

C
HAPTER
26

T
he knock on the door to Lew’s office startled Osborne, who had just poured himself a cup of coffee and was in the midst of pouring one for Lew. He turned to Lew with a questioning look.

“Who is it?” she called from where she sat behind her desk, busy with reviewing emails that had come in overnight.

“Bruce,” said a voice from behind the door. Osborne pulled open the door.

“Bruce!” Lew got to her feet. “It’s seven o’clock in the morning. What are you doing here so early?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Got incredible results in late last night. Chief, you won’t believe the DNA matches. I was so excited that I finally got up at five, went by the office to be sure I hadn’t imagined things and decided to drive up here with the results.”

“I appreciate that,” said Lew. “But you could have phoned and emailed—”

“But then I couldn’t see your face.”

Lew laughed as she beckoned Bruce over to the table near the windows where the morning sun was flooding in. Icicles dripped on the pavement outside. If you didn’t count the frigid temperatures outdoors, the combination of sunlight and Bruce Peter’s good cheer was making for a very pleasant start to the morning.

“Okay, okay,” said Lew as if she was trying to calm a Labrador Retriever, “let’s all sit down over here and see what you got. Doc, pour this man a cup of coffee, would you please?”

“Lots of cream and sugar, if you have it,” said Bruce, slapping a folder on the table as he pulled out a chair.

Osborne found himself chuckling. Bruce Peters might be a skilled forensic technician in his mid-thirties, an expert on grim matters, but at the moment he was as hyper as a ten year old who has just landed his first muskie.

Bruce leaned over the file he had laid on the table before him, eyes gleaming as they searched Lew’s face. “Got a perfect DNA match with Charles Mason, okay?”

“Ouch,” said Lew. “Guess I hate to hear that. So much for his wife’s insistence he was out of town when the break-in occurred.”

“Hold on. Got the same perfect DNA match from the national criminal database—a convicted felon in California who walked away from a minimum-security prison three months ago.
Richard
Mason is his name. Goes by ‘Dick’ and he’s got a long rap sheet of white-collar crime. Forged checks, counterfeit checks, embezzlement, identity theft and … tah dah! … computer fraud.”

“I’m confused,” said Lew. “Just last night Beth Hellenbrand did a public records search, which turned up divorce records on Charles who appears to have been living in Minneapolis. But are you saying that Charles is really … Dick?”

“Hold your horses, Chief, I’m not finished,” said Bruce. “Next I compared the fingerprints on record for Dick Mason with the ones I took yesterday from Charles.
No match
. I also have a printout in my folder here of assorted mug shots of Dick Mason, which may be very helpful.”

“The bottom line?” asked Lew. Osborne walked over to the conference table where Bruce was laying out the photos.

“The two are brothers,” said Bruce, slipping photos from his file. “Identical twins.” He turned one photo over.

“This fellow is at least fifty pounds heavier than Charles,” said Osborne, “but I see definite similarities in the configuration of the skull.” Years as a dentist had honed his ability to visualize the bone structure hidden beneath jowls and sagging skin.

“You have a better eye than I do, Doc,” said Lew, poring over the photo. “This guy doesn’t look at all like poor skinny, pale-faced Charles.”

Bruce sat back quiet in his chair. “People change over time. I checked the records on Dick Mason and my guess is we’ll find them to be the same height, blood type, everything except the fingerprints and the weight.”

“So why,” asked Lew, speaking slowly, “would Charles Mason’s brother leave a DNA sample that would implicate his brother?”

“That is the question, isn’t it,” said Bruce. “I will tell you one thing, though—the average person is not aware that identical twins do not share the same fingerprints. Whoever said that criminals are brilliant?” Bruce grinned, “at least not as smart as me. Seriously, DNA is the gold standard today. Most lab techs in law enforcement would have stopped with the DNA match.”

“Deliberate sabotage, you think?” asked Osborne.

“What time is it?” asked Lew.

“Time to call Charles Mason,” said Bruce. “I will bet you a fly fishing trip to Jackson Hole that he and his brother are behind the computer fraud at the college.”

Charles sounded mildly surprised when he got the call from Chief Ferris an hour later. “Certainly,” he answered when she asked him to come in to the police station. “I’ll drive right in if you wish.”

“No, Charles, ten o’clock is just fine,” said Lew. Beth had called to say that the divorce papers and legal files would be arriving by nine thirty and Lew decided it would be good to have those documents on hand during the meeting with Charles.

“Think he’ll try to run?” asked Osborne when she was off the call.

“That wouldn’t be smart,” said Lew.

“Smart does not take money from a wife and disappear.”

“Now wait, Doc. The divorce papers stated that he left those women—not that he disappeared. After all, he did get served with divorce papers. I don’t think he’ll run … yet.