What's Left is Right: Book two of The Detective Bill Ross Crime Series (11 page)

“Detective Tommy Ross, Travis County Police Department. Did you have a guy stay here a year or so ago, name of Raul Hernandez?

“Let me look on the database, Detective,” said the tall, black duty manager. “Can you be a little more specific than a year ago, the month perhaps?”

“Try December 2013,” said Tommy.

“Yes, we had a Raul Hernandez stayed with us then, paid three months’ rent cash up front. Do you have a photograph?”

Tommy gave him the photograph.

“Yes, I recognize him, real nice guy. Military type, I would say, no small talk, all very yes sir, no sir. Toward the end of the three months he never slept here. I tried to call him on the cell number he had given me but the number was no longer in service. When we couldn’t locate him we entered the room and looked in the closet. Everything was very orderly, all clothes folded, everything in place. We stored it all for six months in case he came back and then we gave it all to Goodwill.”

“Okay thanks, this has been very helpful. Sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

“My name’s Nate Brown,” said the young manager, stepping around the desk to shake Tommy’s hand.

Tommy happened to glance down at the young man’s shoes. “Real nice shoes, Nate, what make are they?”

“Oh, they’re Hugo Boss,” replied Nate proudly.

“Looks like you take about size ten or eleven, same as me,” said Tommy.

“Yes, size ten, Detective.”

“I guess not everything went to Goodwill
,”
mumbled Tommy as he walked to his car.

~

When Tommy arrived back in his office there was a note on his desk that Bill Dunwoody wanted to see him as soon as possible. When he arrived at the chief’s office he was told to go right on in.

“Special Forces Command has sent over the service records for Mike Muguara and Joe Nichol as we requested,” said the chief.

Tommy and the chief looked over the information, and a lot of the content had been blanked out with black marker as the information was considered to be too sensitive to national security. The main information was all there, including initial training and qualification for Special Forces. The teams in the Iraqi desert had been selected based on their complementary skills. Mike Muguara was an explosives expert and Joe Nichol a sniper. Other than that there was little in the records that the team didn’t already know.

It was Monday morning and Bill Ross arrived in the office with his customary coffee in hand in a brand new mug. Elaine had sent off to Scotland for a set of four mugs with the Kilmarnock FC logo and surprised Bill that morning with one of them when he went to pour his coffee. He was ecstatic about the gift and it helped to dull the pain of the Killie loss to Glasgow Rangers in the Scottish Cup on the weekend. Tommy’s Oakland Raiders had not faired any better, and he sat at his desk head in hands as he had done on many Monday mornings over the past few years.

“Why are you so bright and cheerful this morning?” said Tommy, his mood as black as a Raiders player’s jersey.

“New mug, Tommy, you know me, KTID - Killie Till I Die,” replied his dad.

“I was thinking over the weekend that you should hold off going back to Whispering Hollow to interview Jimmy Rodriguez and his limo driver. If the leather jacket that I saw the driver wearing was the one that Mike Muguara bought in Houston, he might try to dump it if he thinks we suspect him. Let me get down to Houston tomorrow and see what’s in the U-Haul storage locker first and then we can regroup.” said Bill.

“Makes sense, Dad. I interviewed the desk manager at the Extended Stay Hotel the other day and he was wearing Hugo Boss shoes that I have no doubt belonged to Mike. Seems like most of Austin is wearing dead man’s clothes,” replied Tommy.

“Marie is over at the
Statesman
today working with Latisha Williams and making good progress on the financial network behind Venture Point Holdings. What did you learn from your trip to Boston? I guessed that given that you didn’t call me over the weekend that it wasn’t any great breakthrough,” continued Tommy.

“Interesting guy Joe Nichol. I wouldn’t like to cross him. He could probably kill me with the little finger of his right hand. He was very careful with everything he said, and the reason for the extended rental of the Cadillac SUV back in October of 2013 was to deliver a
package
for Mike Muguara to the storage locker in Houston. He wouldn’t tell me what it contained, but suggested that I go and look for myself. That is the reason I want to get down to Houston tomorrow.

“He did confirm that Mike was disturbed about something he had uncovered in his search for his birth parents, and this gelled with what Claudette Weiss had said to me on my trip to Germany.”

“If I’m not going to go visit Jimmy Rodriguez right now, why don’t I drive down with you to Houston tomorrow?” said Tommy.

“Sounds like a plan,” replied Bill.

~

They called the Harris County Sheriff to give them a head’s up that they were coming into the Houston area. Harris County offered their assistance and just to call them if the need arose. With this green light in place, the following morning they set off down FM290, passing through Elgin on the way.

“We need to stop at Southside Market on the way back and pick up some brisket and sausage,” said Tommy as they drove past this bastion of barbeque perfection. The smoke from the meat slowly roasting in their oak barbeque pits was drifting across the highway, filling their car with an aroma that made their mouths water.

It was almost eleven when they arrived at the outskirts of Houston. They decided to surprise Martha and Jacob Goldman at M & J Fine Clothing before visiting the storage facility out by the airport.

The bell tinkled as they pushed open the door to the clothing emporium. It was like being transported back in time; it looked like a real tailor and smelled like one. The finest worsteds hung from rails for the welcomed inspection of potential customers. There was no background music or loss-leader sale item displayed to entice the spur-of-the-moment shopper as they entered the store. No prices could be seen displayed anywhere. If you couldn’t afford the merchandise you shouldn’t be in the store.

“Good morning, gentlemen, and welcome to M & J Fine Clothing, how might I be of assistance today?” said Martha as she emerged from the back of the store.

“Good morning to you, Martha!” said Bill, and the woman recognized the accent right away.

“Officer Ross, how wonderful. Jacob, it’s, Officer Ross come to visit with us.” Martha could not hide her excitement as she called her husband to come meet the Scottish detective she had told him so much about, as she stepped forward and gave Bill a huge hug.

Jacob Goldman appeared from behind the curtain that led to the tailor’s workshop at the rear of the store. The years of tailoring had caused him to walk a little stooped over and he looked up over the top of his gold-rimmed spectacles.

“Welcome. My name is Jacob Goldman.”

“Very pleased to meet you, Jacob, and you also, Martha. We have business here in Houston today as we continue to work the case, and we both decided that we should come visit with you first. This is Tommy Ross, the lead detective on the case. Tommy is also my son.”

“We are so glad you came, and I can see the resemblance. You both must have some refreshment after your journey. May we offer you coffee or tea or some water perhaps?” said Martha.

“Coffee would be great,” said Tommy.

Martha invited them into the back of the store to a little sitting area adjacent the workshop.

“We want to thank you for helping us make the breakthrough on this case,” began Bill. “The BMW clue and the name Raul Hernandez helped us immensely. Thank you so much, Martha.”

“Ever since the call we had together, Officer Ross, I have been racking my brain to think if there was anything else that I could remember that might help you in your investigation, but alas not,” said Martha apologetically.

“You gave us what we needed, Martha, and thank you for that. We have made really solid progress and we think we might be on the verge of another breakthrough,” said Tommy, wanting to put Martha at ease and to reinforce the genuine gratitude they had for her help.

“You offer your customers a level of personal service that they can’t get from the big chains. Is that what allows you to remain competitive? It must be a hard life,” said Bill.

“It’s not a hard life, Officer Ross,” said Jacob taking the opportunity to engage in the conversation. “Both of our parents and their extended families had to endure hardships beyond our comprehension during the war, Deputy Ross. Our life is full of riches today because of their sacrifice. Whither it’s bespoke tailoring services or off-the-shelf merchandise, we put our signature on every product and they walk out of our store knowing that they have a lifetime commitment of service from Martha and me. That’s all we can do, ensure that our customers know that we want them to look good in our clothing and feel good about life.”

The depth of passion in Jacob Goldman’s response almost took Bill’s breath away.
This is what it meant to be Jewish
, thought Bill.
A lifetime of commitment to their faith, their family, their lineage and their chosen profession. No matter your political views you couldn’t help but admire that.

“You said
put your signature on every product
. Did you mean that literally or was it just a figure of speech?” said Tommy, his sixth sense again kicking in that the comment may have real significance.

“We do
sign everything,
Detective Ross, it’s not a figure of speech. We have a patch with a replica of my signature and the telephone number of our store. It’s stitched on every item we sell. We have different styles of patch based on the particular item of merchandise. It is our commitment to lifetime warranty,” said Jacob proudly.

“So the leather Hugo Boss jacket that you sold to Raul Hernandez, there would be a patch with you signature on the jacket, yes? Where on the jacket would you typically attach this patch?”

“It’s always in the same location on a man’s jacket, Officer Ross. It’s on the inside of the right sleeve two inches up from the end of the sleeve. It would not be seen, but the customer would know where it was located and he could simply turn the end of the sleeve inside out and retrieve the store telephone number.”

“This will be extremely helpful to us in our inquiries,” said Tommy, looking over at his father, and they both knew what this meant. They had now a hook to bait the limo driver.

~

They said their goodbyes to Martha and Jacob and headed to the U-Haul storage facility at the Houston airport.

Given its location, the U-Haul facility was huge. It offered mostly large air-conditioned units, although there were smaller storage lockers that could also be rented on a daily basis by travelers from the airport.

They checked with the manager and showed their IDs. Claudette had been as good as her word and had advised the manager that it was likely that detectives from Austin would want access to the unit. Each renter fit their storage unit with their personal lock of choice; the manager cut off the lock on Raul Hernandez’ unit with a huge pair of shears. It was obvious that this manner of entry was a regular occurrence, as he completed the task with ease and, when complete, left the detectives to inspect the contents.

Bill had speculated on what they might find in the locker, and when they lifted up the heavy metal roller door, Bill’s speculation had been right - weapons, lots of weapons, not only guns and ammo, but surveillance equipment, explosives and timers - Semtex. They needed to call the Harris County Sheriff and get the area secured.

In the corner of the unit there was a desk-come-workbench and a chair. On the desk was a laptop, a high intensity lamp on an extending arm and a similar extending arm with a lighted magnifying glass. Mike Muguara could sit in this air-conditioned locker, completely unseen, conduct his research on his laptop, and assemble whatever he needed for any security job he had contracted for.

While they waited for the local sheriffs to arrive they conducted a detailed search of the locker and an inventory of the ordnance.

1. SR 25 Sniper rifle with night force scope and Harris bi-pod.

2. FN MK20 Sniper Support Rifle (SSR).

3. FN SCAR STD Assault Rifle.

4. FN SCAR CQC with Grenade Launcher.

5. HK MP5N (9mm) Sub Machine Gun.

6. HK MK 23 SOCOM 45mm Handgun.

7. Smith & Wesson 686 .357 Revolver.

8. Sig Sauer P226 Handgun.

9. 2 pairs Armasight PVS7-3 Alpha Gen 3 Night Vision Goggles.

10. Ultra Long Range HD IP PTZ Surveillance Camera with IR Laser Illumination.

11. About 18 pounds of Semtex and detonators.

They booted up the laptop and it was obvious that it had been cleaned using some sophisticated software. Bill remembered what Claudette had said:

“We were very concerned about data security in our line of work. Mike used a Mac Air 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.”

There was no removable hard drive or external data storage device anywhere in the storage unit.

~

The Harris County Sheriff’s officers arrived. Bill and Tommy briefed them on the investigation and that the Raul Hernandez who had rented the unit, alias Mike Muguara, was now deceased. The team secured the area and removed the entire ordnance.

Bill and Tommy asked that they not touch the desk and the laptop as they still wanted to try to access information from the computer. The Harris County team agreed. By early evening they had gone and Bill and Tommy stared at the empty storage unit containing only the desk and a laptop. There was something really eerie about the scene.

The desk drawers were empty and Tommy removed each of them so he could look into the back of the desk to see if any papers or other stuff had perhaps fallen down the back. He saw a crumpled piece of yellow notepad paper immediately and stuck his hand in the back of the desk and pulled it out. It looked like it had been in there for some time, and he un-crumpled it and laid it flat on the desk.

It was a random list of words and names.

Venture Point Holdings

Enrique Escobar Rodriguez

Pablo Zambrano

Jimmy Rodriguez

Pepe Vivar

Garrison McMullen

Alyana McMullen (Reyes)

Achak Muguara

Gavin McMullen

Antonella Aguilar

McMullen riding accident?

Merry Christmas -Feliz Navidad in Colinas Verde?

US-China supply line?

“So what do you make of it, Dad?” said Tommy.

“Strange. It’s very strange that we should find it like this. Strange list. There are questions interspersed with people’s names, so what questions belong to which names and why write the list this way?

“It’s like a random word cloud, and all of the words in the cloud are connected to some overall theme. Sorry to keep saying this, but it’s like a jigsaw puzzle when you first dump all the pieces out of the box onto the table. You know they are all connected, but you first need a place to start and you always start with taking two separate pieces and putting them together, then a third and a fourth. The other thing you do with a jigsaw puzzle is that you begin to assemble different groups of parts in separate sections and then bring these sections together to complete the overall picture.”