What's Left is Right: Book two of The Detective Bill Ross Crime Series (10 page)

“Everything related to the business is either on my laptop or his. We were very concerned about data security in our line of work. He used a laptop with a separate removable hard drive for external data storage. We kept nothing on the Cloud, everything on removable hard drives, so if someone stole the laptop there would be nothing on it of any significance. I am happy to take you through my files, but I dealt mostly with finance, not operational matters.”

“There is one place that you might want to check out, Officer Ross, and that’s a storage unit that Mike kept in Houston. I can give you the address and send an email to the management there that you are authorized for access.”

“That would be
very
helpful, Claudette. What did he keep there?”

“Not sure, I didn’t ask. I didn’t interfere with operational issues and that’s why even though I had not heard from him for almost a year, I didn’t get too alarmed. He had done this before, being gone without contact for over six months or more at a stretch, and then he would email to tell me he was coming home.”

“So what happens to Geist Reiter now?” asked Bill.

It was again Saul who provided the answer.

“The business will be closed down. Mike left very explicit written instructions with me in the event of his death. The business has a little over five million euro in cash and other assets. Twenty percent is to be given to Claudette and the balance is to be paid to a law firm in Oklahoma as a donation to the Penateka tribe. As you probably already know, Detective, Mike Muguara was Comanche Indian.

“One final question for Claudette, if I may,” said Bill.

“Do you have the contact details for Joe Nichol?”

“The only way they communicated was via text, email and instant messenger. I can give you that information. I have no phone numbers or a mailing address,” said Claudette.

“That will be good, Claudette. Oh, I almost forgot, could I have the name of the law firm in Oklahoma, please? I don’t know if it might help but it’s another piece of the jigsaw puzzle.”

Saul agreed and gave Bill the information he requested. They all shook hands and the meeting ended. Markus and Ernie drove Bill to the Holiday Inn at Frankfurt airport. The following morning Bill flew back to the U.S.

Bill Ross was still suffering from jet lag the following morning when they all met again in the conference room to update the white board on what they now knew and to agree on next steps.

“Very successful trip to Heidelberg,” said Bill, kicking the meeting off and providing a written report on his trip to Germany.

“Some of the smoke is now clearing on this. We now know that Mike Muguara used the name Raul Hernandez when engaged in security assignments in the U.S. We can say with a fair degree of certainty that the person who bought the clothes from Martha Goldman was Mike Muguara and that he is our victim. We’ll not be able to be one hundred percent certain on this until we can match DNA.

“A storage unit was opened a couple of years ago in the name of Raul Hernandez at the U-Haul center by the Greenspoint Mall close by the Houston Airport. Claudette Weiss will contact them and get us clearance to open this unit. She has no idea what the contents might be, as she consistently stressed that she was never involved in operational matters. It will be interesting to see what that storage unit might contain.

“We also have new information that Mike employed his friend and ex-member of the
Spirit Riders
, Joe Nichol, to do occasional security work for him in the U.S. and that when Joe engaged in this work he used the alias of Jimmy Martinelli. We need to track down Joe Nichol and see what he knows, if anything. We have email info for him but nothing else.

“The final piece of information that I found out in Germany and could be relevant is that upon his death he stipulated that most of his financial assets were to go to the Penateka Indian tribe. The financial transaction was to be managed by a law firm in Lawton, Oklahoma named Corbin, Clayton and Anderson. We need to talk with them.

“One other thing. We need to do more work on the BMW; it could still be helpful in providing clues if we could track its movements from the time it was rented from the George Bush Airport until the time it was discovered in a parking lot on Lamar Boulevard.

“That’s it from me,” said Bill.

“Marie and I met with Latisha Williams. We have her agreement to work with us in return for getting an exclusive to the story when we fit this all together,” said Tommy.

“I have contacted Julian Hernandez and he has agreed to help in the research on Venture Point Holdings, the conglomerate behind the development at Whispering Hollow and Venture Point,” continued Marie.

“Then there is Jimmy Rodriguez,” said Bill. “Let’s not forget that piece of work. We need to learn more about his activities and his limo driver, the guy with the Hugo Boss leather jacket.”

“I also need to get back to Chief Dunwoody. We still have nothing from Special Forces Command on the service records of Mike Muguara and Joe Nichol. Some of the information might not be needed now, but we still need to track down Joe. We have the email info you brought back from Germany, so I guess that’s where we should start.”

“Okay, action items,” said Tommy getting everyone’s attention.

“Dad, you take the Joe Nichol connection and the storage unit in Houston. You can stop by M & J Fine Clothing when you’re there and thank Martha from all of us as it was her clue about the shoes and the BMW that really got us rolling on this.

“Marie, you continue your work with Julian Hernandez and ensure that Latisha is focused and is not tempted to do anything dumb.

“I will see if I can get more information on the movements of the BMW and get back out to Whispering Hollow and meet with Jimmy Rodriguez and his driver. He doesn’t know me, and I can keep quiet on what we know based on your day of golf with him, Dad. I’ll use the ’routine inquiries’ mode to try to put him at ease.”

“We all have work to do, so let’s get to it.”

~

Bill Ross was back at his desk and still fighting the jet lag. It was just after lunchtime as he fought to keep his eyes open. He launched an email to Joe Nichol using the information provided by Claudette.

Bill’s email read, “My name is Bill Ross. I am an officer with the Travis County Police Department and would like to speak with you about Mike Muguara. I was recently at the Geist Reiter offices in Heidelberg visiting with Claudette Weiss and she gave me your contact info. We believe that Mike Muguara was murdered in Travis County some months ago. Given your relationship with the deceased, we would like to talk with you as soon as possible. Can you provide a telephone number that I can call?”

The reply to the email arrived less than an hour later and it was short and to the point.

“No telephone. You want to talk, come to Boston. The Bootsy Brogan's pub on Kingston Street and ask for Sean O’Driscoll at the bar. He will check your credentials and if it’s you, he’ll tell you where you can find me.”

“I guess I’m off on another road trip,” mumbled Bill.

~

Based on the progress being made on the case, Bill Dunwoody approved the trip to Boston, and the following night Bill was on Jet Blue flight 1038 leaving Austin at 6:45 p.m. and arriving at Boston Logan just before midnight. He grabbed a cab and got to his hotel in South Boston about 1 a.m. He was exhausted and fell asleep fully clothed on the top of the bed.

Bootsy Brogan’s pub smelled like a mixture of Pine-Sol disinfectant and Pledge wood polish. It had just turned 11 a.m. and the pub had just opened its doors. It was a U.S. version of an Irish bar with dark wood and gleaming brass. Signs for Guinness and Jameson Irish whiskey dominated the walls, and the chalkboard by the bar listed the lunch specials, fish and chips, Irish stew and all-day Irish breakfast. It reminded Bill just a little of the pubs in Scotland and, in particular, a certain area of Glasgow within a stone’s throw of Celtic Park—watering holes for the faithful, where tall tales are told and ballads sung.

“Is Sean O’Driscoll around?” said Bill to the attractive young girl behind the bar already pulling pints of Guinness for the regulars.

“Gets in about noon, you’ll have a pint while you’re waiting, will you?”

Bill guessed that the accent was County Cork but, if not, certainly from south of Dublin.

“Are you from Cork then, Miss?”

“No, I’m from Waterford me‘self, and you’re not from Boston. My name’s Kathleen and your name?”

“My name’s Bill Ross and yes I’m not from Boston. I’m originally from Scotland, a town called Kilmarnock on the west coast, just south of Glasgow.”

“I know Kilmarnock, I’ve actually been there once. My sister lives in Ayr and her husband is an Ayr United supporter. We went up to Kilmarnock when Ayr played them in some cup game. What a laugh we had. Great place Kilmarnock.”

“Well I never, you’ve been to Killie. I
will
have that pint, thanks, Kathleen. I’ll sit right over there and perhaps you can ask Sean to come join me when he gets in?”

“I’ll bring your pint over and tell Sean what you ask. Go sit yourself down,” said Kathleen with a smile.

Bill was drawing on the last few drops of his Guinness when Sean O’Driscoll sat down beside him. He had a big round face and red cheeks and looked like he was born to be a bartender in an Irish bar.

“Bill Ross I understand? Do you have something on you that will confirm that?” Bill gave him his ID and he looked at it purposefully before handing it back.

“Pretty good likeness. The guy in the picture is a little younger, but I guess you’re him,” laughed Sean. “The guy you’re looking for is sitting by the bar over there in the corner. We both saw you arrive and we’ve been watching you for the past hour. Good wee liar is our Kathleen.” Again the bartender laughed, got to his feet and walked past the bar to the office beyond.

Bill walked over to the man seated at the bar. He pulled up a stool and sat down next to Joe Nichol. He looked like Billy Connolly in his role as Il Duce in
Boondock Saints
. In front of him was a half-drunk pint of Guinness, standing guard over a smaller glass that Bill guessed contained Jameson.

“Ever try Glenmorangie?” said Bill, looking straight ahead with not even a glance in Joe’s direction.

“And why the feck would I do that?” replied Joe Nichol.

Their conversation was off to a good start.

“You sure it’s Mike?” said Joe.

“Afraid so.”

“How’d he die?”

Bill explained the circumstances as he knew them surrounding the death of Mike Muguara.

“We all have to go sometime, I guess, but that’s one hell of a fucked-up way to check out,” said Joe.

“You know anything that might help us?”

“Something happened last year when he was over here. He’d been trying to track down his birth parents and he stumbled onto something. He wouldn’t tell me about it, just said that he might need my help and that he would be in touch in the normal way if that need arose.”

“One question, Joe. On October 18, 2013, you rented a Cadillac SUV using the alias James Martinelli and returned it on October 26
th
with a total of 4,010 miles driven. What was that all about?”

“Mike wanted me to drop off a package for him at his storage locker in Houston,”

“What was in the package?”

“Certain items that we use in our profession, and I won’t talk about any of that. You might want to check out the storage facility; my guess is that you already know where it is. I would like to be kept in the loop regarding your investigation. You can text or email me, now that we’ve met. If you are open and honest with me then I will help in any way I can. I would like that the killers get what’s coming to them sooner rather than later. No need to shake hands or any of that shit. That’s all I have for you. If you want to stay and have a few pops that’s fine, but no further talk about this.”

Joe Nichol had ended the conversation. After a few additional “pops,” Bill Ross caught a cab back to Logan Airport for his flight home.

~

While Bill was in Boston, Tommy was on the trail of the BMW. He visited the car park on Lamar Boulevard where the SIXT Car Rental team had picked up the abandoned vehicle. Tommy looked around the parking lot, wondering why Mike Muguara might have been in this vicinity, and saw the Gold’s Gym.

“Hi, I’m Detective Tommy Ross with Travis County Police Department. Is the manager around?” said Tommy.

“Let me get him for you.”

“Hi, Detective, I’m Alan Archer. How can I help?”

“How long have you been a manager here, Mr. Archer?”

“Almost five years now.”

“Do you recognize this man? He may have worked out here, perhaps paid for a short-term membership in cash a year or so ago?”

Alan Archer studied the photograph of Mike Muguara.

“Yes, I believe I do recognize him, Detective Ross, for two reasons. One, he paid three months’ cash up front, and also his workout routine. Not many people can run flat out on a treadmill for an hour and then go through a weight routine that some NFL players would have had a tough time with!”

“Would you have any paperwork for him?” asked Bill.

“Give me a name and I’ll look and see,”

“Raul Hernandez.”

“Raul Hernandez, you say, yes, here it is. He gave an address as the Extended Stay Hotel on Braker Lane by the Capital of Texas Highway.”

“His BMW was recovered in the parking lot in January. Do you remember seeing that?” asked Tommy.

“Yes, I do, Detective. Was that Raul Hernandez car? I always wondered who it might have belonged to.”

“You’ve been very helpful, Mr. Archer., Is there anything else you remember, anything at all?”

“Sometimes we get some altercations in the parking lot, Detective. Adrenalin and testosterone is flowing when some of the guys leave the gym. We watch for it since we know it happens a lot. I remember a couple of times some guys got in his face, but he would always completely ignore them except for one night.”

“What happened this particular night?” asked Tommy, his sixth sense sending signals that something of significance might be about to appear.

“This black limo was parked in the corner of the lot next to a white pickup and another Ford of some type, I think it might have been a Taurus. There were several guys all talking together and every so often looking over here at folks entering and leaving the gym. When Raul walked out they approached him and a big argument ensued. Right at that moment I was distracted by a problem in the gym. A few minutes later when I got back to the window they were all gone. I never thought any more about it until now.”

“I don’t suppose you could recognize any of the men again or the license plate of any of the vehicles, including the limo?” asked Tommy, knowing what the answer would be.

“Afraid not, Detective. Now I think of it, the white pickup had a logo on the side of the door. I don’t remember what it said but the colors were red and blue. It was the name of some contractor, like electrical or plumbing, I think. If I saw it again, I might recognize it.”

“This has been very helpful, Mr. Archer. Here is my business card; if you think of anything else, please call.”

~

Tommy left the gym and headed over to the Extended Stay Hotel on Braker Lane. The duty manager was busying himself on the desktop computer when Tommy walked in.