Thin Blood Thick Water (Clueless Resolutions Book 2) (24 page)

Within a few hours after meeting with Don Chace, a decision to ‘get away from it all’ for a brief time was made, and the mutually agreed-upon venue was the perfect spot. They drove on highway I-95 south to the quiet coastal town on the shoreline of New York Sound, a few miles beyond the New Haven area.  Located on an alley leading to a wharf surrounded by local fishing boats, the small, weather-beaten café, was where Max and Maggie went during the early days of their intimate involvement. Their initial need for a discrete place to meet due to the potential perception of a business-related collusion, had long since been resolved.  The romantic memories, rather than fading had grown stronger.  This couple would be hard pressed to explain how profound the sense of togetherness, which neither had experienced with previous relationships, impacted their lives. This humble setting was, in their minds, ideologically comparable to descriptions of bliss. It would probably never be replicated, regardless of their ultimate destinies. They felt fortunate to have experienced the magical feelings between two persons which they knew had eluded the lives of so many couples.

The interior décor hadn’t changed that much from their last visit years before. The moisture-proof, red-and-white checkerboard ‘tablecloths’ were the same. The candles-in-a bottle table settings were the same. The dimly-lit interior and the glass-door refrigerators were the same, although the selection of hand prepared, pre-made, clear-wrapped sandwiches had an extended variety of choices.  The bartender/waiter was a stranger to them but beers-in-bottles were, as usual in this environment, their early evening order after having helped themselves to the pre-wrapped sandwiches of choice. As was their custom, they both wiped the necks of the beer bottles prior to their first ‘chug’. The sandwich supper with potato chips from a bag was digestible, the beers were re-ordered and, after topping off the meal with ice cream cups from the freezer, the decision was made to settle the tab and leave.

The next stop, back when they were newly involved, would be a nearby motor inn. There they would spend the night releasing the compelling physical and emotional attractions which were suppressed due to political-correctness in their almost-daily business interactions. In more recent times, the setting for this release of pent-up desire had evolved to either his or her residence. On this evening the location was their currently shared apartment at Hargrove House Apartments.

During the drive back to their apartment a swap of suggestions between Maggie and Max evolved into a guideline for action, which was shaping into a ‘game plan’.

Maggie sensed that the need for her financial solutions and services to ‘underwater’, or bankrupt real estate property owners was becoming outmoded.  As with other financial advisers serving essentially the middle class populace, until recently she had been able to assist many new homeowners who were challenged in keeping up the mortgage payments by re-financing.  Job opportunities began to fade, lending policies had become more stringent, and the bottom suddenly dropped out of the real estate market. The impact on the overall U.S. economy was devastating.

“The bottom line is I may have to rethink my operation”, she stated to Max.

He understood now why she had no hesitation in joining him to assist his investigation in Nova Scotia, and enjoying a working-vacation as well. Max’s concern with his USAP Partnership position, in the meantime, had deepened due to the accumulating questions about the operations.

“Based on what we got from Don Chace, I can see things a little more clearly now,” Max told Maggie. “Something is likely being covered up, probably by Chip along with another, or others.”

At that point they agreed to put the conversation on hold until they talked again with Don Chace.

An uneventful evening at home, some good wine with cheese and crackers, and some light mood music, was exactly what they needed. It produced the positive feeling that some of the uncertainty in their lives might be resolved. Neither of them liked the future of their investments, or their income, to be shrouded in mystery.

The following day began with some changes. An unusually early snowfall had coated everything within the viewing area.  It was a fast-moving cold front which left two inches of snow which, by mid-morning, had already melted off roads, cars, and the south facing rooftops. The ground was not completely frozen yet and the snow cover would most likely be gone by evening. Maggie was leaving to check in at her office.  Max was outdoors and had started both cars. They were idling to warm the heaters as Maggie descended the apartment entrance steps. Max could not resist the opportunity to toss a snowball at her. It broke on her shoulder and splattered over her attaché case.

“Max, you jack-ass,” she yelled, half laughing as she put down her case and scoped up a handful of snow. Quickly squeezing it into a projectile she winged a good throw at him which hit him below the belt. She burst out laughing as he looked down at the front of his trousers which were soaked in the crotch area from the slushy snowball.

“Oh, that’s just great!” Max said looking down at his wet pants. “How do I explain this when I go in to pick up the morning paper?” he asked rhetorically.

“Well, you fired the first shot,” she quipped. “Just suck your thumb and look cross-eyed, they’ll just think it’s natural.” She drove away still laughing at him as he was brushing himself off.

Max was back at the apartment reading the newspaper and having his second cup of coffee when his phone buzzed.  It was Don Chace wanting to know if he and Maggie could meet him around noon. With Chace on hold, Max called Maggie and got her agreement. After getting back on the call with Chace, arrangements were made to meet at a midpoint between their locations. A restaurant just south of Hartford was the designated site.

Maggie finished her visit at Marshall Financial Services and drove to the apartment. She and Max then drove to the highway and proceeded northward to meet Don Chace.

After a twenty minute drive they pulled into the parking lot of the White Coach Tavern, in the town of Meriden, just off the I-91 exit ramp. The timing was excellent as, while Max was steering into an empty space Maggie spotted Don and another similar-looking man. They had apparently just arrived and were walking into the restaurant entrance.

The foursome exchanged greetings and Don Chace introduced Maurice Leblanc to Max and Maggie. Leblanc was one of his counterparts in the RCMP, out of the New Brunswick headquarters. An isolated booth in a corner of the cocktail lounge was deemed acceptable to the group and they seated themselves for a light lunch. Small talk was swapped while the waitress went about talking their orders and serving the beverages. It was explained that Maurice was an acquaintance of Don’s FBI superior. He and Don connected over the incident in Nova Scotia back when Maggie’s office manager, Jessie, had sounded the alarm over Maggie’s disappearance.

Once lunch was served, Maurice detailed how the Mounted Police had been assisting local New Brunswick and Halifax authorities in the investigation of the Bickford Lab owner’s demise. In processing the wide-ranging facts surrounding the sudden death of Ernest Bickford, suspicious circumstances revolving around the Laboratory operation were uncovered.

Maurice seemed to be skirting around the edges of the case, so Don Chace interrupted to tell him that he had talked about the case with Max and Maggie the previous afternoon and explained that he had previously worked in tandem with the two civilians a few years earlier. Chace had mentioned it to Maurice in advance, without names attached, and wanted him to know that these two individuals were the couple he had spoken about. At that, Maurice nodded knowingly and proceeded to openly discuss information that had surfaced during his work on the Bickford case.

Some of what Maurice detailed in his narrative was known to USAP through Max’s investigation and his and Maggie’s follow-up, but some startling facts were revealed which unexpectedly impacted the couple’s involvement.

Mahlah Bickford’s involvement in the death of her husband Ernest Bickford wasn’t clear. Harold Lee (Chip) Chaplain’s frequent presence in Halifax seemed peculiar. Danyel Uhlman, a visitor to Canada without a visa, was listed as an uncooperative witness to the circumstances surrounding the death. Mahlah Bickford was listed as beneficiary to the Bickford property and business, plus being beneficiary to a two million dollar term life insurance policy which paid double indemnity for accidental death. She had requested, and had been denied, the four million dollar payment from a London England-based insuring company. Because of his private aircraft piloting license there was an exclusion clause for double-indemnity payment for accidental death if it occurred during piloting, or co-piloting, personal or private flights. The insurance company consulted the local authorities for details on the death and, after being rebuffed, had contacted the higher Canadian policing authority, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police for assistance. The settlement was still pending. It was at that point in time that the Bickford Laboratory buildings and business were listed for sale with an open listing to all real estate brokers, asking one million, five hundred thousand dollars. It was after eight months of no response that the open listing was canceled.

In following Marcel’s recital of the sequence of events, Max realized that it was about that time when he was designated to evaluate the realistic market value of the Bickford Laboratory operation, presumably for an investment for the USAP real estate portfolio. He had not been made aware that the property had recently been listed for sale.

Marcel pointed out that it was during the insurance company investigation that the RCMP learned that an illicit drug importing business had been operating through the Bickford Laboratory location. Contraband shipped alternately, from Central America and South America, was exchanged in the North Atlantic waters off Nova Scotia.  It was transferred from cargo ships, or sometimes vacation liners, to small fishing boats. From there it was picked up by an ‘underwater research vessel’ off the southern coast of Nova Scotia. The illicit drugs were parceled out to the Native Canadian employees at Bickford Laboratory under the threat that they could be fired for not participating. The employees’ relatives hid the contraband under their clothing in small batches when taken by ferry to the indigenous Canadian peoples reservation located in New Brunswick along the ‘Forty Five Mile River’.

Legitimate Bickford Laboratory business transactions during the previous five years were few. Some were fabricated, presumably to give the impression of legitimacy. The main source of income was from drug trafficking.  Because the RCMP investigation had to be discrete, it was ineffectual, and no criminal charges resulted.

Marcel related, exasperatedly, that the investigative efforts were stymied by the lack of cooperation by local elected officials, politically-appointed police forces, and the local general population.  The majority of the population there were either related to, or sympathetic with, indigenous Canadian tribes.

Although descended from a tribe in the Ontario, Canada region, Mahlah Bickford’s heritage was nevertheless Canadian Native Indian and as such, she had been accepted by the locals. By her connection between the ruling tribal elders, and her husband’s inherited ownership Bickford Laboratory, she had formulated the pathway for the illicit drug smuggling and distribution. After her husband’s death, ownership of the property went to Mahlah free and clear of any encumbrances.

This information blind-sided both Max and Maggie. Neither of them would be considered naïve or innocent to the failings and frailty of society, and both were reasonably knowledgeable, but to their chagrin, the complicated illicit operation just described to them had existed right under their noses. Other than being perplexed over questionable practices and mysterious actions by some of the Partners, they were too busy familiarizing themselves with a challenging, rather exiting, new lifestyle to be aware of any negatives.

“We really appreciate having this spelled out for us,” Max said, addressing Don. “You’re pretty high up on our list of good friends, but the realist in me suspects that you guys have an idea how to break through that frustrating stone-walling you’ve been dealing with,” he added, glancing now at Maurice. “Am I close?”

“I told you these people weren’t the dumb hicks that they seemed to be, being taken-in by those sharpies at USAP, didn’t I?” Don chipped-in kiddingly to Maurice, referencing Maggie and Max with a smirk.

The foursome had a good intermission-laugh at that quip by Chace, who Max and Maggie had only known as a serious investigator. The formal ice layer was broken now and Maggie, as an indication that Max and she would be agreeable, asked how they could help.

After a round of after-lunch cocktails, and another beer for Don, had been served the group got down to the business at hand. Maurice laid out a scenario created to place the two principals, Mahlah Bickford and Chip Chaplain in a circumstance whereby any intentional self-serving, possibly criminal, activities they had participated in under USAP auspices, would be demonstrated beyond a reasonable doubt. The crucial factor was that the transaction had to occur at a location under U.S.A. jurisdiction so that Mahlah wouldn’t have access to her umbrella of protection from the Canadian Indian sphere of influence. Existing U.S. and Canadian international cooperative agreements would have to be respected in the process, as well.

Maurice asked Maggie if there was a recent inquiry from any potential buyers for Bickford Laboratory as a result of the investigation ordered by Chip Chaplain. Maggie explained that, although a licensed real estate broker, she was licensed only in the New England states. Max added that the valuation was probably assigned to him ‘for the potential purchase of the property by USAP’ as a favor to the grieving widow.  Max reiterated that he was not told by Chip that the property had been recently listed for sale.  Based on what they were hearing Max knew now that, because of Chip’s and Mahlah’s clandestine involvement, Chip had probably concocted the potential purchase as a ruse. Making contact for potential local financing, and functioning as a broker-consultant, had been Maggie’s goal, and Max’s part, as a real estate appraiser, was to estimate the current market value of the property. Maggie suggested that a valuation of the business operation would require a thorough audit of the books, which, according to Max’s cursory inspection, appeared to be un-reliable.