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Authors: Patricia M. Clark

Tags: #thriller, #suspense, #mystery, #humor, #serial killer, #women sleuths, #private investigation

Worse Than Being Alone (21 page)

BOOK: Worse Than Being Alone
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I arrived at the office first, unlocked the door,
and started the coffeemaker. Roni’s phone call had interrupted a
vivid dream that involved Tina Brown dancing on a table with Lionel
and I cheering her on. In the next scene, Lionel and I were
kissing, which was when my cell phone chirped. Instead of the next
scene that I was totally looking forward to, I had to hear Roni’s
voice telling me to get up and meet her at the office. I had just
started sipping my first cup of coffee when Roni strolled in.


Hey, how’s it going?” Roni
asked.


Good, how about some
coffee?”


Oh, yeah, that sounds good,” she
said as she put her briefcase on the desk and got a mug. “OK,
before we get down to business I have to know how last night
went.”


It went well. I got pictures and
video of Tina Brown dancing on tables, She’s remarkably flexible
for someone with such a bad back.”


That’s great,” she said. “Now for
what I really want to know. How was Lionel?”


He was really
helpful.”


And,” she said, flailing her
hands.


You’ll be happy to know it
actually was a date. I really like him, and I couldn’t spot a
single freak flag.”


Wahoo, now try not to mess it
up,” she said as Cindy walked in.


Mess up what?” Cindy asked as she
put her things on her desk.


Kitty did have a date with Lionel
last night,” Roni said. “So, that was my advice.”


Sounds appropriate to me,” Cindy
said as she got some coffee.


Why isn’t anyone worried about
Lionel mucking it up?” I asked.

They both stopped sipping, stared
at me, and said simultaneously. “Duh.”


OK, let’s change the subject,” I
said. “So, it sounds like we have a hysterical employer on our
hands.”


I got a phone call from Pete
Rizzo this morning, Cindy,” Roni said, glancing at Cindy. “He owns
a construction company and has had a bunch of claims recently. One
of these workers came to Pete’s office yesterday to get his check.
According to Pete, Tim Werther was arrogant and had a big smirk on
his face. I think that really pissed Pete off. Big mistake. He
wants us to get on Werther right away. Actually, that’s the cleaned
up version of what he wants us to do.”


I thought you were heading down
to Cape Girardeau to check out husband number three today,” Cindy
said.


I was, but Pete Rizzo is very
persuasive,” Roni said.


Not to mention the big bonus he
offered,” I said. “It’s kind of unusual to have an employer call
us. Usually, it’s the adjuster.”


Pete Rizzo said he looked into
Tim Werther’s eyes,” Roni said. “He said he knows he’s lying, and
he wants us to prove it. He doesn’t care how long it takes or how
much it costs.”


Our dream client,” I
said.


Only if we can actually catch
Werther doing something,” Roni said. “I told Pete we would give it
a day or two and call him with an update. Werther has an
appointment with Dr. Carson this morning.”


Why don’t we take two cars,” I
said. “I know Carson’s secretary fairly well. I’ll go in the office
and figure out what Werther looks like. Then I’ll send you a text
description. I’ll get what I can after he is seen, and you can
follow him after he leaves the office. We can meet up after
that.”


That sounds good,” Roni said. “We
should probably get going.”

Dr. Marshall Carson’s office had recently relocated
to a smaller office in the hospital complex due to his dwindling
practice. Forbidden from doing surgery any longer, and nearing
retirement, Carson had decided to become a complete hack for the
plaintiff attorneys in the area. Truth be told, there were hacks on
both sides, groups of doctors who gave insurance companies what
they wanted and those who gave plaintiff attorneys what they
wanted. Roni and I tried to avoid anyone from either group.

I entered Dr. Carson’s fifth floor office and
approached the front desk. I could see Tim Werther was already
signed in so I took a seat where I could watch the six patients
seated in the room. I pulled a book out of my briefcase and
pretended to read as I studied the others. Only two of them looked
to be young enough to fit the general description. One was tall and
very buff, wearing a tee shirt a couple of sizes too small to
accentuate the Pecs. The other was average everything. Average
height, weight, and appearance except for the huge pair of black
glasses that seemed to cover his whole face. My money was on Mr.
Muscles so I was surprised when the secretary called Tim Werther’s
name and Mr. Average responded and was escorted back to see Dr.
Carson.

I texted Roni a description of Tim Werther and
pulled out my laptop to complete a few reports. Thirty minutes
later, Tim Werther came out of the inner office and left. I sent
Roni another text and went to the desk, where the secretary greeted
me warmly. She told me Tim Werther had a follow up in two weeks and
was supposed to start therapy the next day. I left Carson’s office,
retrieved my car, and called Roni.


Hey,” I said when Roni answered.
“Where are you?”


I’m watching Tim Werther getting
take out from the Taco Bell on Olive.”


The one right down the street
from Carson’s office?” I asked.


That’s the one. I’m in the lot in
the front.”


I’ll head over there.” I said.
“Does he seem to be paying attention?”


Not that I can tell. If you get
here before he leaves, I’ll let you take over for a
bit.”


OK, I’m only a block away,” I
said.


He’s in an old red Silverado
truck. The license number is 346-NCO. He’s just pulling out of the
drive through and getting in line to leave.”


I see him,” I said. “I’ll pull in
behind him.”

Thirty minutes later, Tim Werther pulled into the
lot of West County Orthopedics, exited the truck and entered the
single story building where 10 orthopedic surgeons had their
office. I snapped several pictures of Tim Werther as Roni scrambled
to follow him into the office. I parked near the exit to the lot
and waited. I was surprised when I got Roni’s text.


There’s no Tim Werther on the
sign-up sheet. I’m really confused. He’s sitting here apparently
waiting to be called. Maybe you should have your brother run the
plate and see who owns the truck?”

My brother, David, is a detective with the Major
Case Squad, which is a unit assigned high profile murder cases in
the region. He is not above doing a favor for his baby sister. I
called him and he agreed to run another plate for me because after
all, that was more important than catching murderers. I told him he
was finally getting his priorities right. He hung up on me just as
Roni sent another text.


They just called Max Watson and
our guy walked back into Dr. Cantor’s office. What the hell is
going on? I’ll stay when he leaves and get what I can. You follow
him, OK?”

I got another text from Roni when Max Watson, or
whoever he was, left Dr. Cantor’s office. I followed him when he
left the parking lot. The red Silverado was three cars ahead of me
on highway 64 when Roni called.


Hey, this is nuts,” she said. “I
know the nurse at Cantor’s office. She told me Max Watson has a
work-related injury from about two months ago. He has a different
employer and SSN than Tim Werther.”


That’s not the worst of
it.”


What do you mean?” she
asked.


I called my brother Dave and he
called me back. The truck belongs to a guy named Thomas
Sloan.”


So, who the hell are we
following?”

 

Chapter Thirty-Six

I continued to follow the multi-identity driver of
the red Silverado until we got on Highway 270 South. At that point,
Roni passed me and pulled in four cars behind the driver. What a
confusing mess we had stumbled upon. I was wondering where the
mystery man’s next destination would be and how many identities he
actually possessed.

The late afternoon traffic presaged the horrendous
rush hour to come. Our loosely constructed plan involved tailing
the driver to his next destination and figuring it out from there.
Our man took the I44 East exit and then the Lindbergh South Exit. I
took over the lead as Roni fell back again. The driver did not seem
to be checking his mirrors or exhibiting any other indication he
was worried about being followed.

Our next stop was a bank. Thomas/Tim/Max put on a
red Cardinals hat, sunglasses, and carried a small backpack as he
exited the truck and headed for the front door of First Federal.
Ten minutes later he exited the bank, jumped in his truck, and took
off. Several miles later, he made a turn into a residential
neighborhood. After several blocks, he pulled into a driveway. I
continued down the street and grabbed my cell phone.


Hey, just pull over where you
are,” I said. “He just pulled into a driveway. I went by and I’m
down the street. He’s getting out of the truck and going into the
house.”


What do you think?” Roni
asked.


He’s at the address listed on
Thomas Sloan’s drivers license I got from Dave.”


So, you think he really is Thomas
Sloan?” Roni asked.


Or not. Dave was going to fax me
a copy of Sloan’s drivers license and his record. He has a couple
of shoplifting arrests and a juvenile record that’s
sealed.”


He looks so young,” Roni said.
“How old is he?”


He just turned 19. Dave said he’s
a suspect in a Radio Shack robbery last New Years. They think he
may be involved but they can’t prove it. The store was completely
cleaned out. The hard drives from all the surveillance cameras in
the area were removed and there were no prints.”


He’s really a busy boy,” Roni
said.


Supposedly, he lives at this
address with his mother. He doesn’t seem to be heading out right
away. Why don’t we go back to the office and see if we can figure
out if we have been following Thomas Sloan all day? We should be
able to tell from the picture on the driver’s license. We can also
look up Werther and Watson on the State workers’ comp website, and
do a background check on all of them.”

Thirty minutes later, we were staring at the faxed
picture of Thomas Sloan’s driver’s license, wondering how many
other aliases he had. I did a couple of other computer checks on
Tim Werther and Max Watson. Roni had checked the workers’ comp
site, made a few phone calls, and then we sat down to compare
notes.


Max Watson was hired six months
ago at Mercury Manufacturing,” Roni said. “On his fourth day, he
was asked to change some light bulbs in the break room. He was
alone and claimed he fell off the ladder. He’s been off work and
getting his checks and treatment ever since. They don’t really even
seem suspicious.”


Who did you say you
were?”


I told them I was a physical
therapist,” Roni said. “I told them he missed a session. They said
it wasn’t the first time.”


I did the bureau of records
search. The real Max Watson has the same birth date but
unfortunately, he died when he was 10 years old. Same for Tim
Werther, only he was only 5 when he died.”


Classic identity theft,” Roni
said. “Get a copy of the birth certificate and then get other ID
like an SSN and/or a driver’s license.”


It just amazes me someone this
young has the nerve to try and pull this off. You have to wonder
how many claims he has going. We’ll have to check the therapy
records, but I bet he only goes when they threaten to cut off his
checks.”


Do you think he plans to ride it
out till the end?” Roni asked. “To actually get a settlement on
these claims?”


He’s got a brass set, that’s for
sure. We should call Pete Rizzo and tell him what we have. It’s
certainly enough to end Werther’s claim against his
company.”


And probably send him to jail for
fraud,” Roni said as she picked up the phone and began dialing. “I
agree. We should let Pete decide how he wants to
proceed.”

Pete Rizzo was at a construction
site, so it took another call to his cell phone to make the
connection.


This is Pete Rizzo,” he
said.


Mr. Rizzo,” Roni said, “I’m here
with my partner, Kitty Talty. You’re on speaker phone. We followed
Tim Werther today and we wanted to give you an update.”


Call me Pete,” he said. “I need
to walk back to my truck so just hold on a minute. OK, It’s good.
What have you got?”


Tim Werther is an alias,” Roni
said. “His real name is Thomas Sloan. He also has at least one
other claim as someone named Max Watson.”


I knew it,” Pete said. “That
little punk.”


We already have enough to end his
claim against your company,” I said. “He’s using a stolen identity.
If you want, we can call the insurance company and give them the
info and they can take it from there.”

BOOK: Worse Than Being Alone
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