DIRTBAG CHAPTER 28

    They were ready to move in on his order, Stuart and two officers standing at ease, watching Lan focus his mind and body, through the practice of Ti Chi: he said it was necessary before he entered the suspect’s residence, “Cause you never know what might be waiting for you in there,” he once said.  As he moved slowly through the rhythm of the exercise with eyes closed, humming to himself, Stuart and the others looked on impatiently.  She felt like she put up with a lot of bullshit, but this took the cake.  She resented Lan always being given the lead detective work when Cecil was out of the picture.  It was her turn, damn it!  They had the search warrant for Blair Thomas’s residence.  “Let’s execute it!”  She thought, but no.  She kept her mouth shut and simmered like a roast in the oven.
    Opening his eyes wide, thrusting out a fist and drawing one back, Lan yelled, “Let’s Go!  Attack!”
    The officers yelled the warrior cry and they all moved in for the search.  Somehow the men understood Lan’s need to prepare himself for battle, the fighting cry united them into a fighting team, while Stuart lagged behind.
    In Blair’s apartment, Lan discovered a rune set and cloth talismans, hand stitched, like the ones Cecil found in the basement at Nigel’s house.  In the Englishman’s closet, Lan found size 9 shoe, the same size shoe that left a bloody footprint on the basement floor.  Lan bagged all the shoes he found in the closet, not a single pair of Cobham’s.
    As he was coming out of Blair’s apartment, Stuart came up stairs and told him that Blair’s car was missing.  They both realized at the same time it must be at the airport.  By that afternoon, they had a massive search party involving five different agencies looking for the missing vehicle, out of maybe a million parking spaces at San Francisco International Airport, they had twenty people conducting the search and a long day ahead of them.

    While the search for Blair’s car went on, Cecil drove over 92 to Half Moon Bay.  He found the pleasantly plump sheriff in his office eating a donut and the detective knocked politely on his door.
    “Ah, Cecil, I’m glad to see you’ve made a full recovery.  Donut?”  He asked, offering him one, wiping a few crumbles off his uniform.
    “Thank you, no.”
    “Whatever brings you to our side of the world?”
    “Well,” Cecil was eager to get to it and he sat down and leaned into the sheriff’s desk, “I began to think the timing was interesting, you know, you getting that 187 call, while we were at the cafe, before my abduction.”
    “Oh I wouldn’t read too much into these things, probably just a coincidence.”
    “Right.”  Cecil wasn’t buying it.  “And this case has far too many of those.” They locked eyes and held their ground, neither one convinced of the other’s POV.  Cecil said, “Tell me about the victim.”
    “Ah, a lawyer, mid-fifties…”
    “Name.”
    “Todd Jacobs.”
    “Any affiliations?  Clubs?  Season tickets at the opera?”
    “Ah, not much, he was a Mason, that’s about it.”
    “What Lodge?”
    “Ah, the one here in Half Moon Bay,” the same lodge he applied to join.  “We ah, arranged an appointment to talk to the Grand… whatever he is-”
    “The Worshipful Master.”
    Eyeing him strangely for knowing that, he continued, “Yes, well, there really was no need.  Weiss was 3 thousand miles away at the time.  I’m sure Jacobs’s death is unrelated to… their organization.”
    “Oh, how can you be so sure?”
    Sheriff Radcliffe shrugged.  “There is no evidence to indicate they were involved.”
    “What’s your theory of the crime?”
    “He was out walking in the woods; someone robbed him and shot him three times, once in the head.”
    “Execution style?”  Cecil found this interesting.  “Lot of blood at the crime scene?”
    Radcliffe knew what he was asking and he didn’t like it.  “My forensic team and I don’t think this was a body dumping.  A lot of the blood soaked into the ground, so we were unable to collect much where the body lay.”
    “Who called it in?”
    “Anonymous tip.”
    Cecil went, “Humph.”
    “I know what you’re thinking,” said Radcliffe.  “But if your abduction was connected to this… case, I would tell you.”
    Nodding no, “Any suspects?”
    “We have a person of interest.”  Reluctant to go on, he didn’t want to say too much about an ongoing investigation, he said, “Homeless guy.  He knows the location of the gun.  My men are getting it now.”
    “How did he get the weapon?”
    “Says he found it.”
    “I think I might know where your primary crime scene was.”
    “This isn’t a body dumping.”  The sheriff said with finality.
    “Consider this theory,” Cecil was excited, “he is killed in the cafe where I was abducted.  That’s why they tore out some of the flooring and one wall, not because of some dry rot.   I checked into that story.  It didn’t hold water, no pun intended.  It looks to me like your lawyer was shot in the cafe, which was cleaned up afterwards for my arrival, then after I was abducted, they got rid of any evidence that remained.”
    Radcliffe thought his theory was far fetched and he couldn’t prove it.

    Cecil’s plan to join the Masonic lodge in Half Moon Bay ended when he received official notification that his application was refused.  He was disappointed he couldn’t infiltrate their organization, however, it wasn’t a total loss, because one of the elders who was at his interview reached out to him over the phone, wanted to meet with him alone, so they arranged to meet at a place where they could speak privately.
    In Half Moon Bay, under a wind blown pine tree, before a steep cliff, the two men sat on a bench, over looking a sandy beach and an ocean of waves.
    The man was the same balding, gray hair, with bushy eyebrows, who was so nice to him, asking him soft ball questions and smiling.  His raspy voice was unusually horse and he had to clear his throat.  “What I’m about to tell you could get me killed; if it was known I betrayed the order,” he said, lighting a cigarette.  “My name is on your list and I occupy the chair in the North west, as the Senior Warden,” Weiss’s right hand man, “and,” he said, “Todd Jacobs was a friend of mine.”
    “Also a fellow Mason, belonging to your lodge in Half Moon Bay, if I’m not mistaken.”
    “You are correct.”
    “He was killed in the same cafe I was abducted in, wasn’t he?”
    “Almost assuredly, by Weiss, or rather, one of his goons.”
    “Why?”
    “Why do you think?  To control the lodge, to become Worshipful Master.”
    “Oh, I see,” Cecil said, with understanding.  “Do you have proof of this?”
    The elder turned on a tape recorder:
    He turned off the tape recorder and said, “At least three people saw him at his
    They heard his raspy voice talking on the machine, saying, “Victor, there you are, I’ve been looking all over for you.  We have a problem.  Todd is missing.  I went to the cafe.  He said earlier, that you were to meet him there.”
    The voice of Victor Weiss sounded distant, with some static interference.  “I haven’t seen him.”  And the raspy voice went, “But you two were to meet,” and the billionaire said, “yeah, we were supposed to meet, but he didn’t show.”
    “It’s strange.  I went by the cafe.  A few of your men were cleaning up… some blood… that was on the floor… you know anything about that?”
    “No, that is strange.  What do you suppose happened?”  Weiss asked.
    The raspy voice was full of concern, “Just tell me this: do you know where Todd is?  Do you?  You do, you do!  Damn it!  You had him killed.  Admit it!”
    “Ron, Ron listen to yourself, do you know how crazy you sound?  He’s probably safe and sound at home and even if he isn’t, you can’t think I had anything to do with it.”
    “I know you, I know you’d stop at nothing…”
    The sound of someone choking, as if by strangulation and Weiss said, “You repeat that to anyone, expulsion will be the least of your problems.”
 house in half Moon Bay on the night of the murder.  I was one of them and… I’d be willing to testify, if you could get this guy and put him away for life.”
    Cecil had other questions, but the man had to run, handing the tape over, saying “If anyone knew, I mean…”  The detective knew what he meant, Weiss would kill him too.  Cecil was going to bring the whistle blower in as a material witness, but he decided to follow him instead.  Turns out, he was a wealthy judge, living in a gated community.



 Copyright 2016  William Leslie