Wrongful Convictions, page 20
“Ken Northbird.” The name cut the cool night air, saying it out loud sent a chill down his spine.
Tess didn’t say anything. Marcel waited, ten seconds, twenty seconds. He became uncomfortable and thought about speaking again, then she responded.
“Ken Northbird! Are you flipping dense?” He could hear a building rage in her voice.
“He filed a petition with the Innocence Institute, he says he is innocent.” Marcel tried to explain.
“Marcel, you saw him shoot Henry in cold blood right in front of you! How can you even think for one second he’s innocent?” Her rage was turning to exasperation and he felt like she was probably on the verge of tears.
“You know Tess, after all these years maybe I made a mistake. There is evidence to suggest that it maybe wasn’t him.” If he couldn’t convince her how could he ever convince a jury?
“Well if it wasn’t Northbird, who was it?” she said through tears.
“You remember Antonio Eagle?” Marcel thought he saw her recoil when he said that name.
“Yeah.”
“Did you know he was the first suspect the police had in mind?”
Tess stopped crying. Her face went from sadness and confusion to...anger? Marcel couldn’t be sure. Something he had said had triggered something within her.
51
Tess’ confusion turned back to rage. This rage was not directed at Marcel. This rage was directed at Clifford Banks. Antonio Eagle was Clifford’s number one goon, and though she never considered herself a brilliant mind, she knew when she was being used. Clifford was using her as a pawn in a game she wanted no part of, especially if it came at the expense of Marcel.
Tess loved Marcel. She had loved him as a little boy back on the rez; he was family. She took care of him. Watched after him when his mom was too high to know she had a kid. After Marcel’s dad went bat shit and ended up in prison, she had taken sole responsibility for him. Sure, Henry was his legal guardian, but she was the one who made sure there was food in the house and got him to school. Henry certainly never gave a shit about school. It was funny, she was only a few years older than him and barely made it through school herself, but she knew that he deserved so much better than he got.
Tess now loved Marcel as an artifact from her past and a hope for a future whose prospect was quickly starting to fade as she approached her forties. Marcel had grown into a good looking man, strong and fit. He was making something out of his life; earning money as a professional athlete, but also investing in his future outside of the sporting with law school. He was the type of guy who quietly gave back to his community by working with children and had a good heart. He was confident and people flocked to him. In Marcel she saw hope, and she desperately needed hope now more than ever.
For Tess, life had been a gradual downhill ride since the time Henry was murdered. When she was with Henry she was on top of the world. He was powerful and he provided for her and her mom. They lived in a decent house and the bills were always paid. When he died they were no longer able to afford such a nice house. Though her mom worked for Chairman Bank’s, she wasn’t making the kind of money Henry was hustling. In short order Tess had lost her entire family: first Henry, then Marcel moved to Colorado, and within a couple years her mom got sick. Tess spent two years caring for her before she finally passed away from cancer, leaving Tess all alone. The Chairman had taken care of her, and for a split second she thought that he could be her salvation. But that was fool’s gold, like so much else in her life. Bank’s had been married, and she had been nothing more than something on the side. He had no interest in taking care of her long term, so she had broken it off. The only reason she kept contact with him at all was because he was willing to pay for his indiscretion.
Tess moved down to the Twin Cities to live with her aunt and nephew. Tess’ own sister was strung out, and she was unable to take care of the child. Drugs were an unpleasant fact of life, like mosquitos and sub zero temps. It made Tess sick that people had to accept that, but what choice did they have. Anyway, the boy lived with Tess’ aunt, and now that her aunt was getting up in years, more and more of the care and support the boy needed came from Tess. Tess was struggling. It was a scramble to make ends meet. Tess had started nursing school, but had to drop out because she no longer had the time to take care of her aunt and her nephew and still pay the bills. Instead of making the good money that registered nurses made, she was a nursing assistant that made only enough to scrape by. Her aunt’s social security check paid the rent in their shitty apartment in a Somali neighborhood that she thought amounted to a war zone, with shootings regularly and a stench that she couldn’t escape.
Tess thought a life like this was no life at all. At thirty three years old, options were starting to run out for her. She couldn’t see herself living in that same shitty apartment, subsisting on social security when she was sixty. She couldn’t see herself living there at forty. The thought of suicide had been sneaking into her thoughts more and more every day. The payments she received from Banks kept her going. She stashed every one of them away in an account, hoping to heaven she would one day use it to finish school, or buy a house if she was too old to go back to school. That little stash was her suicide antidote for now.
Of course, that was all before she saw Marcel for the first time at the gym. The sight of him brought back all the old memories and created new possibilities all at the same time. Clifford had always had an interest in Marcel. Tess had thought it was because Clifford was a reformer and had a high opinion of the young boy who had broke the code and help break the gangs on the reservation. That thought was reaffirmed after the fight when Banks invited him to return like a conquering hero. The information that she was hearing coming from Marcel right now painted a completely different picture, a picture that made all too much sense, given what she knew about Clifford’s character.
Marcel said that Antonio Eagle was a possible suspect. If Eagle was in fact Henry’s killer, then Banks’ interest in Marcel would be more to protect his own asset than to welcome Marcel home. If Eagle had been the one who killed Henry, then Banks’ certainly knew about it because Eagle didn’t take a shit unless he had permission from Banks. It was entirely probable that Banks had ordered the killing. Tess knew that Banks wasn’t above getting his hands dirty in the name of reform. Her mother had told her stories. Killing Henry and then sleeping with her was a whole new low, even for a guy like Clifford. She knew Eagle was capable. If it really was Eagle, she was in a dangerous spot.
Tess considered telling Marcel everything she knew about Banks, but wasn’t prepared to do that just yet. She needed more information.
52
Shannon didn’t find anything in Joanne’s bedroom, so she slipped out and went down the hall, peaking in each of the doors. There were three more bedrooms on the floor. None of them had anything in them. At the end of the hall was another bathroom. She went in and locked the door behind her. First she pulled on the mirror to get to the cupboard behind it. Inside were several vials and containers, none of which was anything of any particular interest. Next she went through the linen closet. Inside was a wicker basket. Shannon opened the wicker basket and found a large ziplock bag that contained several pills. She opened the baggy and took out a couple of the pills and put them in her pocket.
Her expedition was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Shannon?” It was Joanne.
Shit!
Shannon had been gone for a considerable amount of time and was also not where she was supposed to be. Her heart rate cranked up.
“Umm yeah, I went to the downstairs bathroom but the toilet paper was out.” Shannon stood frozen in the linen closet. She doubted Joanne would come busting in, but if she did she was in deep shit. Little did Shannon know Joanne had just filled the toilet paper that morning.
“Oh, umm okay, sorry.” She could hear Joanne walk back towards the stairs.
Shannon quickly stuffed the baggie back into the wicker basket and did her best to place it in the linen closet as she found it. She flushed the toilet for the sake of the ruse and washed her hands. She unlocked the bathroom door and made her way back down to the dining room. The table was all cleaned off, and the dishes had been put in the dishwasher.
“What do you want Marcel and I to do next?” Shannon spoke as if nothing happened.
“We will need to meet with Northbird, as a group,” Joanne spoke, Shannon felt like Joanne was doing her best to cover up her suspicions.
I wore out my welcome, I need an exit strategy.
“You know Joanne, I hate to eat and run but it is getting late and I have a pretty healthy drive home from here…” she just sort of trailed off.
“No worries, we will get to it tomorrow, get in touch with Marcel and let’s set something up.” It seemed Joanne wanted her out as much as she wanted to be out of that house.
“I’ll show you out.”
Joanne followed her to the stairwell down to the kitchen, and then down the stairs. Shannon knew better than to even glance in the direction of the Buick after her excursion through Joanne’s house.
Joanne stood in the doorway of the garage and watched Shannon get into her car and back out of the garage. The sight of Joanne in the doorway staring out at her with the garage door closing between them made her feel a great sense of unease. She was getting a better picture of what Joanne was into and knew that everything was falling into place.
53
Tavian had watched the two cars pull into Joanne’s driveway, but only the Firebird had left. The driver of the Buick was in the passenger seat. This was an odd development, so he decided to follow the car back to North Minneapolis.
He knew that Joanne was into something insidious. He had the basic outline now and he just needed a few key details to put the screws to her. Her handling of the Northbird case was completely out of character for her. First she had reviewed a case without the proper paperwork filled out. This had never happened before. Next she agreed to meet Northbird without any background research. Not only was this also unprecedented it was expressly forbidden as a matter of procedure by the A-I-I. Someone had gotten to her, but how and for what purpose? As of right now, he couldn’t connect any of the dots to Milton or the pills. The most recent development, bringing in Wright, was also a highly unusual move. Outside the obvious ethical implications, there were also some purely moral issues that concerned him. Joanne’s approach to Wright was cold and impersonal, not the act of someone working for the greater good, but rather someone who had a job to get done. That was typical Joanne.
There was a lot at stake and Tavian knew it. He hoped that the man and the woman inside this house would provide him clues. He had an assumption that this could be Joanne’s drug connection. He wasn’t exactly sure what role the car played in the whole thing. He doubted it was the delivery vessel for a small amount of drugs for Joanne’s personal use, but it was certainly feasible that it was used to deliver enough for distribution. It was highly likely this was the major shipment that they had been waiting on for so long. If he could make a move on the two in the Firebird, maybe he could squeeze them just enough to get a warrant for Joanne’s home and that car. He made a call to the field office and filled them in on Joanne.
Tavian followed them all the way, waiting for the smallest traffic infraction with nothing serious enough to warrant a stop and search. He ran the plates and everything came up aces on the owner William Curtis. He thought about getting a peak in the house but ultimately came to the conclusion that it was too risky. So he sat and watched, drifting in and out of his own thoughts until about eight-thirty when a man emerged from the house talking on a phone. To his surprise, the man was Joanne’s student from the Northbird case.
How the hell was he involved in all of this?
If he had some sort of side connection to Joanne, that would explain her lack of concern for the moral and ethical implications. However, his reaction in her office seemed legit. If the man he thought was named Marcel had been acting, it was an award winning performance, and he needed to consider heading to Hollywood or Broadway. He was a future Oscar winner.
Could Marcel be pulling the strings somehow? Maybe he was supplying the drugs to Joanne? Marcel had connections to the man in Colorado. He certainly could be the one brokering the deal. Maybe Marcel was the kingpin. It didn’t make sense. Marcel was new to the scene. Maybe he was simply a new employee. Whatever the situation, everything led back to the reservation. The reservation was the key to this investigation.
Well, well, well.
Shortly after Marcel exited the house, the driver of the Buick came out and took a seat next to him. Tavian wished he had ears on the conversation. There were answers abound in what the two of them were discussing. He watched them talk for about a half an hour before they got up and went back inside. The conversation was what Tavian had come to see. There were more pieces that he could use to fill in the puzzle. Now he had a decision to make: go back and keep an eye on Joanne or make an attempt to bring in the mystery Buick driver. Either way the end game was to get a look at that Buick. He hadn’t slept in a considerable amount of time and didn’t feel like he completely had his wits about him.
Think this through.
At this point he didn’t really have any probable cause on the driver of the Buick. If he hung around his current location he risked the Buick being disposed of. If he went back to Joanne’s he risked missing an opportunity to bring in a potential suspect he felt he had a good chance of flipping.
Call in the locals.
He picked up his phone and made a call to his agent in charge. They could keep an eye on the woman for the next twenty-four hours. He was heading back to Joanne’s.
54
SAC Josef hung up the phone and reviewed all of the notes together. There were two new developments to digest. First the Northbird situation. There would be more to come on that case, but it wasn’t a run of the mill operation. The second pertained to a Buick Lesabre delivered to Benson under some odd circumstances. It was enough to get a sneak and peek warrant. The warrant would allow an incursion into Joanne’s garage to ascertain whether the car was in fact used in the traffic of illegal narcotics. There was enough probable cause for that. Josef wanted to act quickly, but he didn’t want to tip Joanne off that she was being investigated just yet. He punched in the number for Kerwin Marshall, a Federal Magistrate for the District of Minnesota. He and Marshall had went to law school together and he knew Marshall would be a little more forgiving on the details of their probable cause than some of the others. Once the warrant was obtained, Tavian who had the car under his watch, would have the green light whenever the situation presented itself to enter.
His next course of action would be to find out where in the hell that car came from. He made a call to Paula Moreno in the fourth precinct to put surveillance on William Curtis and Tess Whitebird. The local police would be waiting to secure arrest warrants for them if Tavian turned up anything in the Buick.
Finally there was Marcel Wright. This kid just might be the key to finally bringing this ring down. He was smart and he certainly had a lot to lose. Interestingly enough, he seemed to have connections to every facet of the case. Maybe it was time to squeeze him a little and see which way he would go on this thing. Josef picked up the phone again.
“This is Josef. Let’s put the screws to Wright.”
He got the response he expected.
“No, I know, but we need to make him uncomfortable. If he gets nervous he will slip up. If he is involved we will know about it right away. If not we pull him in, he definitely knows the players and we can put him to work. He isn’t going to risk that title fight.”
He listened to the response. He anticipated it. The time for patience had passed now it was the time to make a bold move. His guy in the field was not one for bold moves. He could make the slow play with the best of them but every once in a while needed a kick in the shorts.
“Look, we have been at this for two years, it’s time to make our move. Go see Wright. Let’s make this bust, and then you get to move on with your career. The promotion will be waiting.”
55
The next day started off relatively quiet compared to the events of the last forty-eight hours. Marcel hadn’t yet spoken with Shannon about her meeting with Joanne. He also hadn’t spoken any more with Tess about Northbird and his brother. He had gotten up early for his morning run. When he stepped out the door of his apartment, he was greeted by a blast of brisk fall air. The cold front that had passed through had altered the weather of the city drastically. There was a heavy frost on the ground, and the temperature now that the sun was up a little was barely in the fourties.
Today is a day for Harriet Island.
It was earlier than St. Paul got going in the morning and the streets were still pretty quiet. He headed out past the Cathedral and down Kellogg into downtown. As he made his way past Crowne Plaza toward Harriet Island, he started to get the feeling he wasn’t alone. He picked up the pace a little and took a quick peek behind him. His feeling was right; he wasn’t alone. There was another man out for a run about a half block behind him. Likely a patron from the hotel. Nothing really to concern himself about. Marcel continued to Wabasha turned right and headed across the river. The man behind him followed.
Marcel crossed the bridge and turned right onto one of the paved trails that snaked out to the island. The man behind him continue to follow. Marcel continued to check behind him; he had not yet approached nervousness, but now he was aware. Marcel devised a quick plan to weave around to see if the man was actually following him. When he took a right on the next path, and another consecutive right going back the direction he started, the man followed. This was confirmation the man behind him was much more of an issue than he originally thought. He picked his pace up again and headed toward the pavilion.
Tess didn’t say anything. Marcel waited, ten seconds, twenty seconds. He became uncomfortable and thought about speaking again, then she responded.
“Ken Northbird! Are you flipping dense?” He could hear a building rage in her voice.
“He filed a petition with the Innocence Institute, he says he is innocent.” Marcel tried to explain.
“Marcel, you saw him shoot Henry in cold blood right in front of you! How can you even think for one second he’s innocent?” Her rage was turning to exasperation and he felt like she was probably on the verge of tears.
“You know Tess, after all these years maybe I made a mistake. There is evidence to suggest that it maybe wasn’t him.” If he couldn’t convince her how could he ever convince a jury?
“Well if it wasn’t Northbird, who was it?” she said through tears.
“You remember Antonio Eagle?” Marcel thought he saw her recoil when he said that name.
“Yeah.”
“Did you know he was the first suspect the police had in mind?”
Tess stopped crying. Her face went from sadness and confusion to...anger? Marcel couldn’t be sure. Something he had said had triggered something within her.
51
Tess’ confusion turned back to rage. This rage was not directed at Marcel. This rage was directed at Clifford Banks. Antonio Eagle was Clifford’s number one goon, and though she never considered herself a brilliant mind, she knew when she was being used. Clifford was using her as a pawn in a game she wanted no part of, especially if it came at the expense of Marcel.
Tess loved Marcel. She had loved him as a little boy back on the rez; he was family. She took care of him. Watched after him when his mom was too high to know she had a kid. After Marcel’s dad went bat shit and ended up in prison, she had taken sole responsibility for him. Sure, Henry was his legal guardian, but she was the one who made sure there was food in the house and got him to school. Henry certainly never gave a shit about school. It was funny, she was only a few years older than him and barely made it through school herself, but she knew that he deserved so much better than he got.
Tess now loved Marcel as an artifact from her past and a hope for a future whose prospect was quickly starting to fade as she approached her forties. Marcel had grown into a good looking man, strong and fit. He was making something out of his life; earning money as a professional athlete, but also investing in his future outside of the sporting with law school. He was the type of guy who quietly gave back to his community by working with children and had a good heart. He was confident and people flocked to him. In Marcel she saw hope, and she desperately needed hope now more than ever.
For Tess, life had been a gradual downhill ride since the time Henry was murdered. When she was with Henry she was on top of the world. He was powerful and he provided for her and her mom. They lived in a decent house and the bills were always paid. When he died they were no longer able to afford such a nice house. Though her mom worked for Chairman Bank’s, she wasn’t making the kind of money Henry was hustling. In short order Tess had lost her entire family: first Henry, then Marcel moved to Colorado, and within a couple years her mom got sick. Tess spent two years caring for her before she finally passed away from cancer, leaving Tess all alone. The Chairman had taken care of her, and for a split second she thought that he could be her salvation. But that was fool’s gold, like so much else in her life. Bank’s had been married, and she had been nothing more than something on the side. He had no interest in taking care of her long term, so she had broken it off. The only reason she kept contact with him at all was because he was willing to pay for his indiscretion.
Tess moved down to the Twin Cities to live with her aunt and nephew. Tess’ own sister was strung out, and she was unable to take care of the child. Drugs were an unpleasant fact of life, like mosquitos and sub zero temps. It made Tess sick that people had to accept that, but what choice did they have. Anyway, the boy lived with Tess’ aunt, and now that her aunt was getting up in years, more and more of the care and support the boy needed came from Tess. Tess was struggling. It was a scramble to make ends meet. Tess had started nursing school, but had to drop out because she no longer had the time to take care of her aunt and her nephew and still pay the bills. Instead of making the good money that registered nurses made, she was a nursing assistant that made only enough to scrape by. Her aunt’s social security check paid the rent in their shitty apartment in a Somali neighborhood that she thought amounted to a war zone, with shootings regularly and a stench that she couldn’t escape.
Tess thought a life like this was no life at all. At thirty three years old, options were starting to run out for her. She couldn’t see herself living in that same shitty apartment, subsisting on social security when she was sixty. She couldn’t see herself living there at forty. The thought of suicide had been sneaking into her thoughts more and more every day. The payments she received from Banks kept her going. She stashed every one of them away in an account, hoping to heaven she would one day use it to finish school, or buy a house if she was too old to go back to school. That little stash was her suicide antidote for now.
Of course, that was all before she saw Marcel for the first time at the gym. The sight of him brought back all the old memories and created new possibilities all at the same time. Clifford had always had an interest in Marcel. Tess had thought it was because Clifford was a reformer and had a high opinion of the young boy who had broke the code and help break the gangs on the reservation. That thought was reaffirmed after the fight when Banks invited him to return like a conquering hero. The information that she was hearing coming from Marcel right now painted a completely different picture, a picture that made all too much sense, given what she knew about Clifford’s character.
Marcel said that Antonio Eagle was a possible suspect. If Eagle was in fact Henry’s killer, then Banks’ interest in Marcel would be more to protect his own asset than to welcome Marcel home. If Eagle had been the one who killed Henry, then Banks’ certainly knew about it because Eagle didn’t take a shit unless he had permission from Banks. It was entirely probable that Banks had ordered the killing. Tess knew that Banks wasn’t above getting his hands dirty in the name of reform. Her mother had told her stories. Killing Henry and then sleeping with her was a whole new low, even for a guy like Clifford. She knew Eagle was capable. If it really was Eagle, she was in a dangerous spot.
Tess considered telling Marcel everything she knew about Banks, but wasn’t prepared to do that just yet. She needed more information.
52
Shannon didn’t find anything in Joanne’s bedroom, so she slipped out and went down the hall, peaking in each of the doors. There were three more bedrooms on the floor. None of them had anything in them. At the end of the hall was another bathroom. She went in and locked the door behind her. First she pulled on the mirror to get to the cupboard behind it. Inside were several vials and containers, none of which was anything of any particular interest. Next she went through the linen closet. Inside was a wicker basket. Shannon opened the wicker basket and found a large ziplock bag that contained several pills. She opened the baggy and took out a couple of the pills and put them in her pocket.
Her expedition was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Shannon?” It was Joanne.
Shit!
Shannon had been gone for a considerable amount of time and was also not where she was supposed to be. Her heart rate cranked up.
“Umm yeah, I went to the downstairs bathroom but the toilet paper was out.” Shannon stood frozen in the linen closet. She doubted Joanne would come busting in, but if she did she was in deep shit. Little did Shannon know Joanne had just filled the toilet paper that morning.
“Oh, umm okay, sorry.” She could hear Joanne walk back towards the stairs.
Shannon quickly stuffed the baggie back into the wicker basket and did her best to place it in the linen closet as she found it. She flushed the toilet for the sake of the ruse and washed her hands. She unlocked the bathroom door and made her way back down to the dining room. The table was all cleaned off, and the dishes had been put in the dishwasher.
“What do you want Marcel and I to do next?” Shannon spoke as if nothing happened.
“We will need to meet with Northbird, as a group,” Joanne spoke, Shannon felt like Joanne was doing her best to cover up her suspicions.
I wore out my welcome, I need an exit strategy.
“You know Joanne, I hate to eat and run but it is getting late and I have a pretty healthy drive home from here…” she just sort of trailed off.
“No worries, we will get to it tomorrow, get in touch with Marcel and let’s set something up.” It seemed Joanne wanted her out as much as she wanted to be out of that house.
“I’ll show you out.”
Joanne followed her to the stairwell down to the kitchen, and then down the stairs. Shannon knew better than to even glance in the direction of the Buick after her excursion through Joanne’s house.
Joanne stood in the doorway of the garage and watched Shannon get into her car and back out of the garage. The sight of Joanne in the doorway staring out at her with the garage door closing between them made her feel a great sense of unease. She was getting a better picture of what Joanne was into and knew that everything was falling into place.
53
Tavian had watched the two cars pull into Joanne’s driveway, but only the Firebird had left. The driver of the Buick was in the passenger seat. This was an odd development, so he decided to follow the car back to North Minneapolis.
He knew that Joanne was into something insidious. He had the basic outline now and he just needed a few key details to put the screws to her. Her handling of the Northbird case was completely out of character for her. First she had reviewed a case without the proper paperwork filled out. This had never happened before. Next she agreed to meet Northbird without any background research. Not only was this also unprecedented it was expressly forbidden as a matter of procedure by the A-I-I. Someone had gotten to her, but how and for what purpose? As of right now, he couldn’t connect any of the dots to Milton or the pills. The most recent development, bringing in Wright, was also a highly unusual move. Outside the obvious ethical implications, there were also some purely moral issues that concerned him. Joanne’s approach to Wright was cold and impersonal, not the act of someone working for the greater good, but rather someone who had a job to get done. That was typical Joanne.
There was a lot at stake and Tavian knew it. He hoped that the man and the woman inside this house would provide him clues. He had an assumption that this could be Joanne’s drug connection. He wasn’t exactly sure what role the car played in the whole thing. He doubted it was the delivery vessel for a small amount of drugs for Joanne’s personal use, but it was certainly feasible that it was used to deliver enough for distribution. It was highly likely this was the major shipment that they had been waiting on for so long. If he could make a move on the two in the Firebird, maybe he could squeeze them just enough to get a warrant for Joanne’s home and that car. He made a call to the field office and filled them in on Joanne.
Tavian followed them all the way, waiting for the smallest traffic infraction with nothing serious enough to warrant a stop and search. He ran the plates and everything came up aces on the owner William Curtis. He thought about getting a peak in the house but ultimately came to the conclusion that it was too risky. So he sat and watched, drifting in and out of his own thoughts until about eight-thirty when a man emerged from the house talking on a phone. To his surprise, the man was Joanne’s student from the Northbird case.
How the hell was he involved in all of this?
If he had some sort of side connection to Joanne, that would explain her lack of concern for the moral and ethical implications. However, his reaction in her office seemed legit. If the man he thought was named Marcel had been acting, it was an award winning performance, and he needed to consider heading to Hollywood or Broadway. He was a future Oscar winner.
Could Marcel be pulling the strings somehow? Maybe he was supplying the drugs to Joanne? Marcel had connections to the man in Colorado. He certainly could be the one brokering the deal. Maybe Marcel was the kingpin. It didn’t make sense. Marcel was new to the scene. Maybe he was simply a new employee. Whatever the situation, everything led back to the reservation. The reservation was the key to this investigation.
Well, well, well.
Shortly after Marcel exited the house, the driver of the Buick came out and took a seat next to him. Tavian wished he had ears on the conversation. There were answers abound in what the two of them were discussing. He watched them talk for about a half an hour before they got up and went back inside. The conversation was what Tavian had come to see. There were more pieces that he could use to fill in the puzzle. Now he had a decision to make: go back and keep an eye on Joanne or make an attempt to bring in the mystery Buick driver. Either way the end game was to get a look at that Buick. He hadn’t slept in a considerable amount of time and didn’t feel like he completely had his wits about him.
Think this through.
At this point he didn’t really have any probable cause on the driver of the Buick. If he hung around his current location he risked the Buick being disposed of. If he went back to Joanne’s he risked missing an opportunity to bring in a potential suspect he felt he had a good chance of flipping.
Call in the locals.
He picked up his phone and made a call to his agent in charge. They could keep an eye on the woman for the next twenty-four hours. He was heading back to Joanne’s.
54
SAC Josef hung up the phone and reviewed all of the notes together. There were two new developments to digest. First the Northbird situation. There would be more to come on that case, but it wasn’t a run of the mill operation. The second pertained to a Buick Lesabre delivered to Benson under some odd circumstances. It was enough to get a sneak and peek warrant. The warrant would allow an incursion into Joanne’s garage to ascertain whether the car was in fact used in the traffic of illegal narcotics. There was enough probable cause for that. Josef wanted to act quickly, but he didn’t want to tip Joanne off that she was being investigated just yet. He punched in the number for Kerwin Marshall, a Federal Magistrate for the District of Minnesota. He and Marshall had went to law school together and he knew Marshall would be a little more forgiving on the details of their probable cause than some of the others. Once the warrant was obtained, Tavian who had the car under his watch, would have the green light whenever the situation presented itself to enter.
His next course of action would be to find out where in the hell that car came from. He made a call to Paula Moreno in the fourth precinct to put surveillance on William Curtis and Tess Whitebird. The local police would be waiting to secure arrest warrants for them if Tavian turned up anything in the Buick.
Finally there was Marcel Wright. This kid just might be the key to finally bringing this ring down. He was smart and he certainly had a lot to lose. Interestingly enough, he seemed to have connections to every facet of the case. Maybe it was time to squeeze him a little and see which way he would go on this thing. Josef picked up the phone again.
“This is Josef. Let’s put the screws to Wright.”
He got the response he expected.
“No, I know, but we need to make him uncomfortable. If he gets nervous he will slip up. If he is involved we will know about it right away. If not we pull him in, he definitely knows the players and we can put him to work. He isn’t going to risk that title fight.”
He listened to the response. He anticipated it. The time for patience had passed now it was the time to make a bold move. His guy in the field was not one for bold moves. He could make the slow play with the best of them but every once in a while needed a kick in the shorts.
“Look, we have been at this for two years, it’s time to make our move. Go see Wright. Let’s make this bust, and then you get to move on with your career. The promotion will be waiting.”
55
The next day started off relatively quiet compared to the events of the last forty-eight hours. Marcel hadn’t yet spoken with Shannon about her meeting with Joanne. He also hadn’t spoken any more with Tess about Northbird and his brother. He had gotten up early for his morning run. When he stepped out the door of his apartment, he was greeted by a blast of brisk fall air. The cold front that had passed through had altered the weather of the city drastically. There was a heavy frost on the ground, and the temperature now that the sun was up a little was barely in the fourties.
Today is a day for Harriet Island.
It was earlier than St. Paul got going in the morning and the streets were still pretty quiet. He headed out past the Cathedral and down Kellogg into downtown. As he made his way past Crowne Plaza toward Harriet Island, he started to get the feeling he wasn’t alone. He picked up the pace a little and took a quick peek behind him. His feeling was right; he wasn’t alone. There was another man out for a run about a half block behind him. Likely a patron from the hotel. Nothing really to concern himself about. Marcel continued to Wabasha turned right and headed across the river. The man behind him followed.
Marcel crossed the bridge and turned right onto one of the paved trails that snaked out to the island. The man behind him continue to follow. Marcel continued to check behind him; he had not yet approached nervousness, but now he was aware. Marcel devised a quick plan to weave around to see if the man was actually following him. When he took a right on the next path, and another consecutive right going back the direction he started, the man followed. This was confirmation the man behind him was much more of an issue than he originally thought. He picked his pace up again and headed toward the pavilion.
