Crime Seen (17 page)

‘‘Maybe his ten years in prison had something to do with making him a little more wormy, a little less popular.’’

‘‘He spent ten years in prison?’’

‘‘Yep, for possession with intent to deliver. And get this—he got out right before Walter was murdered.’’

‘‘What about his brother?’’

‘‘Ron? Same rap sheet, but he beat a lot of the charges. Zimmerman’s also posted bond on him.’’

‘‘Interesting,’’ I said. ‘‘Zimmerman gets around.’’

‘‘He does a healthy business, from what I can gather.’’

‘‘What about the other names I gave you—the two women? Anything on them?’’

Candice turned a page in her file. ‘‘There’s no criminal history for them, but I did find an interesting connection to Zimmerman.’’

‘‘What’s that?’’

‘‘Both have sons who’ve had run-ins with the law, and guess who secured bond for them before trial?’’

‘‘I’ll take Ben Zimmerman for two hundred, Alex,’’ I said.

‘‘You would be two hundred dollars richer,’’ Candice answered with a wink.

‘‘I’m assuming the houses were the collateral for the bond?’’

Candice nodded. ‘‘Yep. That must be how Zimmerman is getting these lists to Sheldon. The women come in, want to bail out their boys, and he jots down their info to pass to Jacob once the trial’s over.’’

‘‘Wonder what’s in it for Zimmerman,’’ I said.

Candice closed the file. ‘‘Gotta be some kind of a kickback,’’ she said. ‘‘He’s certainly not the type to do it for the goodwill.’’

‘‘I saw the loan application for one of the women, Carmen Perez. She’s taking a ton of money out of her equity.’’

‘‘She paying off debt?’’

‘‘Nope. She’s only got one credit card, and that has a small balance on it.’’

‘‘Maybe she’s investing it.’’

My left side got thick and heavy. ‘‘I don’t think so,’’ I said. ‘‘She’s got no savings to speak of and no retirement account.’’

‘‘Doesn’t mean she can’t start now with the cash-out of the equity in her house,’’ Candice said reasonably.

I nodded and tried to stifle a yawn. ‘‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed that that’s what it is.’’

‘‘I think you need to go home and get some rest,’’ Candice said, eyeing me critically. ‘‘Why don’t we skip the gym tomorrow morning and hit it after we get back from Jackson?’’

‘‘Sounds good,’’ I said, clicking my computer off. ‘‘Are we meeting here?’’

‘‘Yeah. Meet me in the parking garage at noon and we’ll take my car.’’

‘‘Sounds good,’’ I said again, wearily. Candice and I parted at my Mazda and I drove home, dog-tired. Eggy greeted me with a rousing round of running in circles followed by a few good yaps. The poor guy had to be getting lonely with all the time I was spending away from home.

At eleven o’clock I crawled into bed and was about to turn out the light when my phone rang. ‘‘Hey, cowboy,’’ I said sleepily.

‘‘Did I wake you?’’ he asked.

‘‘Nope, but I am getting ready to turn in.’’

‘‘I hadn’t heard from you all day,’’ he said. ‘‘I even stopped by your office around noon, but you weren’t around.’’

‘‘I was running errands,’’ I said easily. ‘‘Next time give me a heads-up on the cell and I’ll meet you for lunch.’’

‘‘I wanted to let you know that we nailed Max Goodyear today.’’

‘‘The guy from the waterworks?’’

‘‘Yep. And I have you to thank,’’ he said with a chuckle. ‘‘We put those surveillance cameras up in his office, and sure enough, we caught him this morning coming into one of the comptroller’s offices, picking up her keyboard, and jotting something down from a piece of paper she had there. Later we learned that the woman who sits there writes down the new password every week and hides it under her keyboard.’’

‘‘He’s been stealing it all this time,’’ I said.

‘‘Uh-huh. We tapped his computer too, so the moment he logged in and used the password to get to the account and siphon off a few grand we had him.’’

‘‘Did you arrest him?’’

‘‘Yep. One of the most gratifying busts I’ve ever made,’’ Dutch said. ‘‘And I’m taking you to dinner to celebrate.’’

I gave a loud yawn into the receiver. ‘‘Sounds good, Dutch. Let’s plan on Friday night after my closing on Fern, okay?’’

‘‘It’s a date,’’ he said and then there was a pause before he added, ‘‘I miss you, Edgar.’’

I smiled. ‘‘You’d better,’’ I purred. ‘‘See you Friday, cowboy.’’ I disconnected. I rolled over onto my side with a sigh of contentment. I loved that Dutch and I were in such a good place, and just as I had that thought, I heard a faint buzz from my intuition that bothered me. I had a feeling that there was trouble ahead for the two of us, and for the life of sleepy old me, I couldn’t figure out why.

Chapter Seven

I slept in until the last possible moment before bolting out of bed, taking a quick shower, and dashing out the door to Universal Mortgage. I made it there by eight thirty and still beat Darren by ten minutes.

‘‘Morning,’’ he said happily when he saw me.

‘‘Morning,’’ I replied. ‘‘Should I go sit with Bree again?’’

‘‘Actually,’’ he said, ‘‘I have to shoot out to Bloomfield Hills to take a loan application. Want to ride shotgun?’’

‘‘That would be great,’’ I said with relief. I was going to die of boredom if I had to enter one more loan into the system. ‘‘But I have to be back by lunchtime. I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon.’’

‘‘Nothing serious, I hope?’’

‘‘No. Just my allergist. I have awful allergies.’’ Man, I was good at making stuff up on the fly—as long as it wasn’t to my boyfriend.

‘‘No problem,’’ Darren said. ‘‘Come on, let’s go make some money.’’

I followed Darren out to his car and paused before getting in. ‘‘Nice,’’ I said as he clicked the locks for the gray Mercedes.

‘‘Work here for a while and you could be driving one of these babies too, Abby.’’

‘‘Good to know,’’ I said, forcing a smile. I got in and Darren pulled out of the space, cruising down the ramp and into traffic.

We’d gone about three blocks when my crew sent an intuitive alert to me. I had the feeling that I needed to be very aware of my surroundings. I sat up straight and looked around. To my right, I saw a familiar face in the car next to us. ‘‘Oh, shit!’’ I said as my boyfriend locked eyes with me.

‘‘What’s the matter?’’ Darren asked. Without thinking, I dove out of sight, my head landing in Darren’s lap. ‘‘Abby, what the—’’

‘‘Drive!’’ I yelled at him. ‘‘Just drive away!’’ I felt his leg muscles tense and the car accelerated. Just then my cell phone rang. Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled it free and worked it up to my ear. ‘‘Hello?’’ I said, craning my neck to speak into the phone.

‘‘You okay?’’ asked Dutch.

‘‘Fine,’’ I said lightly. ‘‘Why?’’

‘‘Because your head is in the lap of a guy driving a Mercedes-Benz, Edgar, and that’s rather strange behavior—even for you.’’

‘‘Huh?’’ I said, keeping my voice casual. ‘‘Don’t know what you’re talking about, Dutch. I’m at the office.’’

‘‘Really?’’ he said, and I could hear the tension in his voice. ‘‘That’s odd, because your cell phone is currentlyin the possession of someone bearing a striking resemblance to you and heading east on Long Lake Road.’’

‘‘Oh, crap,’’ I muttered. I had forgotten again that he had that stupid GPS locator on his cell that allowed him to track my every movement. ‘‘Hello?!’’ I suddenly yelled into the phone. ‘‘Dutch? Can you hear me?’’

‘‘I’m here,’’ he said.

‘‘Hello?!’’ I said again.

‘‘Abby, I’m here.’’

‘‘Darn,’’ I said, pulling the phone slightly away from my ear. ‘‘I always drop calls in this area.’’ I quickly turned the cell off, then twisted in my seat and eyed Darren. ‘‘Can you move this thing any faster?’’

‘‘You want to tell me what’s going on?’’ he asked.

‘‘Sure,’’ I said. ‘‘Just tell me when we’re clear of the black Range Rover tailing us.’’

About three minutes later Darren said, ‘‘We’re clear. I dropped him at the red light behind us.’’

I sat up in my seat and straightened my hair and clothing. ‘‘I am in trouble,’’ I said.

‘‘Will you tell me what’s going on?’’

‘‘That was my boyfriend back there,’’ I admitted.

Darren’s eyebrow arched. ‘‘I thought you were single.’’

I frowned. ‘‘I suppose that at this very moment that is a true statement.’’

‘‘Are you afraid of this guy?’’ Darren asked me, his features lined with concern.

‘‘No,’’ I said, looking behind us. ‘‘It’s just that he’s a little on the jealous side, and I don’t think he’d like it if he knew I was driving around with another guy.’’

‘‘I see,’’ said Darren. ‘‘Do you think he saw you?’’

‘‘Most definitely,’’ I said with a heavy sigh. ‘‘And I have no idea how I’m going to explain this to him.’’

‘‘Just tell him that your new job requires you to travel with an experienced loan officer. It’s just business.’’

I nodded absently while my thoughts whirled. There was no way I could tell Dutch that I was working for Universal Mortgage. He’d be furious that I was within a hundred feet of Dick Wolfe. ‘‘I am so dead,’’ I muttered.

A few minutes later, Darren and I arrived at the house of Tim and Tina Schalube. They were a nice couple who were struggling to assist with the housing and medical expenses of Tina’s ailing parents. They’d gotten behind in their property tax payments, along with a few of their credit cards. I listened as Darren smooth-talked them into overextending themselves with a three-year interest-only balloon mortgage that allowed them to take a good chunk of their equity out and increase their loan to property value. He told them that given the neighborhood and the size of their five-thousand-square-foot home, the value of their property was likely to increase ten to twenty percent over the next three years, which meant that they’d still have plenty of equity if and when they wanted to refinance.

As I listened to him, I had a hard time holding in my anger. I knew both intuitively and from a practical sense that with Michigan’s struggling economy and the current downsizing of all the local automotive firms, there was no way this house was going to appreciate so much in such a short period. The Schalubes stood a really good chance to lose money, not make it. What’s more, by being locked into a balloon mortgage,they would be forced to refinance in three years—which meant they might have a much higher interest rate too. Still, in order to keep my cover, I had to play along, smiling and nodding at all the right times as the couple nervously scanned the application paperwork and signed the forms.

We left their home only an hour after we’d arrived, and Darren was riding high. ‘‘Did you see that?’’ he said to me as we pulled out of the driveway. ‘‘They didn’t even flinch when I tacked on the origination fee!’’

‘‘I saw,’’ I said, keeping my voice even.

‘‘Easiest six grand I ever made,’’ Darren continued, exuberant about sticking it to the Schalubes. ‘‘There’s a sucker born every day!’’

That was it. I’d had enough. ‘‘Doesn’t that bother you even a little?’’ I snapped.

‘‘Doesn’t what bother me?’’ he asked, looking puzzled.

‘‘These people are really struggling financially and you’re most likely putting them in a much worse situation, not to mention taking a good chunk of their equity in closing costs with it.’’

‘‘Did you see me holding a gun to their head?’’ Darren said defensively.

I scowled at him and turned my head away to look out the window. ‘‘Whatever,’’ I said, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.

‘‘They got themselves into their own mess, Abby. Not me. And if the universe wants to teach them a lesson by having them hand over their money to me and suffer for it down the road, then I’m actually helping them, aren’t I?’’

I felt my face grow hot as my temper reached the boiling point. Turning back to Darren I said, ‘‘Did you ever consider, Darren, that the universe isn’t trying to teach the Schalubes the lesson? Maybe the powers that be are trying instead to teach
you
a lesson about doing the right thing.’’

Darren gave me a huge roll of his eyes and turned back to watching the road. ‘‘You know, you’re never going to make it in this business with that kind of an attitude.’’

Damn skippy,
I thought,
and thank God for that.

A short time later Darren dropped me at my car and I wasted no time getting to my office so I could meet Candice. I wanted to be as far away from the cutthroat environment of Universal Mortgage as I could get.

When I pulled into the parking garage, I could see Candice’s car already parked in the space next to mine. I rolled into my slot and pulled a little coin purse out of my shoulder bag that held my ID and credit cards, shoving it into the pocket of my blazer. Next, I pulled out my cell phone and clicked it on, then tucked that back into the bag and shoved it under the front seat. I then joined Candice in her SUV. ‘‘Tough day at work?’’ she asked, looking at me critically.

‘‘Darren Cox is an asshole,’’ I snapped.

‘‘Tell me something I don’t know,’’ Candice said. ‘‘Want to fill me in?’’

I sighed heavily. ‘‘It’s not even worth getting into,’’ I said. After we drove for a minute or two, I had an idea and asked to borrow her cell phone.

‘‘Where’s yours?’’ she asked as she handed it to me.

‘‘Under the seat of my car. I figure if Dutch has any ideas about tracking my whereabouts via his cellular GPS system, he’ll see I’m at the office.’’

‘‘You left your purse behind too?’’

‘‘Yeah, but I brought my ID. One less thing the guards at the prison have to sort through,’’ I said as I punched a phone number into her phone. The call was to an old friend of mine, Tracy Gibson, who still worked at the bank where I used to work. She was the woman who had handled all of my own loan applications. I gave her all the details about the Schalubes, including the phone number I’d discreetly managed to jot down from their loan application. I told her to give them a call and offer them a competitive rate and program. ‘‘They’re being raked over the coals, Tracy,’’ I said. ‘‘I know you can do better on rate and terms, and I also know your fees will be a fraction of what they’re currently being charged.’’