Ian had rented out Open Fields and invited friends to drop by. All were entertainers who could carry a tune. He had gotten the idea when he ran across one of Bill Gaither’s Homecoming programs on PBS. He gathered a few singers; Jimmy Sage, Susan Andrews, a few members of El Toro, even Tippy and Colton joined in. Jimmy and Susan gathered another handful.
They just turned on some lights, set up a few cameras and started the tape rolling while everyone played whatever instruments they brought along and sang. Jeremy had even talked Ian in to doing a few songs himself. He sat at the piano and played a song that he’d been working on for awhile.
He called it “The Other Side of the Moon”. Granted, it was a pretty sad song, but it always made him feel better after he sang it. It must be the catharsis of pouring out your loneliness and heartache to someone who has passed on.
When he finished the song Jimmy Sage and Susan shouted simultaneously “That’s mine!” After the session both wanted to put in on their new albums. It was Marc from El Toro that said they should both do it, and since Susan had bought El Toro’s catalogue, Ian granted permission. It seemed that on top of everything else, Ian was now a professional songwriter. It made him laugh.
It hadn’t occurred to him that about half of the early songs from El Toro’s catalogue were either co written or solely written by him until he got a check in the mail. Susan had chosen two for her new album, if she did record “The Other Side of the Moon” that would be a trio of tunes he had inadvertently contributed.
Jimmy Sage was making a bold move with his new album. Marc was producing it, as well as Susan’s. While it was still a country album, it had a new flavor and at Ian’s suggestion the cover would be the first time Jimmy appeared without a cowboy hat.
Ian, Wella and Susan had come up with a concept for an event series, one that had a limited number of episodes and would feature a minimum of one song broadcast live from a concert somewhere in the United States. In between would be music and comedy either taped specifically for the program or videos made by the viewing public with tools and footage they could download from a link on the HRT website.
They were calling it “Is That On Tonight”. The selling point would be an event that would be one of the most inexpensive variety programs ever produced. The comedy bits and much of taped music footage would be done the way the old country show “Hee Haw” was made.
They would film all of the bits that involved specific characters or sets for the entire season at one time. Ian realized they could do this and only contract people for a few days to a weeks worth of work, saving bundles of cash and allowing the performers a bigger chunk of the back end, which would be more profitable because of the low initial cost.
Other details of Ian’s business life had fallen into place as well. Trampus Scott was in full force, joining in the producing team by helping to pool the cash needed for funding for the dream project, “Quarters”. His casting was sheer genius on many levels. Jeremy and Trampus were best buds, and had been for over ten years. There was a natural playfulness between them that the public couldn’t get enough of and translated easily to the screen. Everytime they had appeared on screen together previously it generated a blockbuster.
The rebooted “Sebastian Manor” had hit the airwaves as well. Within minutes it caused a glut of calls to stations around the country running it. By the end of the first hour it was all daytime audiences could talk about. By the end of that first week it was all anyone in the country could talk about. Ratings for it and “The Best of Everything” were soaring. Baxter Black was oddly silent.
Even at half days, Ian was settling into his new regimen at HRT. Wella was now in full control of what used to be his division, and the other branches of the network seem to be following suit with little resistance. Although the Fall Season hadn’t begun, the campaign was bringing in new viewers.
The retooling of the Summer schedule was proving effective. They had quietly dropped almost everything they had planned to cancel and made all the major time shifts to existing programs. Holes were being filled with classics dusted off from HRT vaults and they were regularly winning those time slots.
They had also begun filling in with some series from other English speaking networks, made available via some past misguided brokering. Some of it was taking off, Ian and David Turner were in fast negotiations for full summer runs the next year or to fill time slots of new series that would need to be quickly cancelled.
HRT was no longer on the bottom of the heap. It wasn’t number one, but David Letterman was no longer able to get laughs out of comments about the network needing bypass surgery.
The work place was full of energy, new ideas and excitement. No one seemed to be convinced that what “they used to do” was still valid. The other networks were beginning to sweat a little, hoping that the summer blip was just curiosity and the Fall line up would be nothing for them to think about just as it had been in the past.
Ian’s only worry now was the phone call he received making him now wait impatiently in a chair at the police station. He didn’t like this part of reality. He didn’t like not being in control. He didn’t like the way the vinyl of the chair made his pants crawl up his butt crack.
“Mr. Justyn?” A severe looking woman in blue came up to him.
“Yes.”
“Would you follow me please?” She didn’t give him time to answer, and didn’t take into account that he was still heavily reliant on a cane to walk. He was practically breathless when she threw open a door and motioned him in.
Ian wasn’t sure if he should sigh in relief or panic when he spotted Kellen in the office with two other men. Kellen immediately came to Ian and helped him to a chair.
“Hey, buddy.” Kellen handed him a glass of water as Ian took a seat. The chair was just as uncomfortable as the one outside. “Thank you for coming down on such short notice.”
“Why am I not sure I’m going to like this.” Ian said, simply holding the disposable cup.
Kellen patted him on the shoulder. “Ian do you remember Andy Mitchell?” He motioned to the young man sitting in the chair beside the empty one Kellen had been in.
“Not really. I apologize, if I should.” Ian tried to at least seem like he wasn’t approaching third gear in terror.
“It’s fine, Mr. Justyn.” The young man smiled. “To be honest, I’m not sure if we’ve actually met or not. I’m one of the officers that has been investigating your…”
Ian held up his hand. “Yeah, okay. I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s still difficult to close my eyes at night, without prescriptions, and not remember what you’ve been investigating. I hope you understand.” The young man nodded and looked at his feet as Kellen took back his seat.
“I am assuming that this is about…all that…” Ian looked for a placed to put the unwanted cup down and gave up, continuing to hold it like Oliver waiting for more gruel.
“And Mr. Justyn, I’m Yancy Barrow.” The third man, seated behind the big desk looked at Ian, said simply as a fact, nothing more, nothing less. “There has been a development in the case.”
“Development?” Ian looked at Kellen and then turned questioningly to Kellen. “How can there be a development when the case is closed?”
“Well, sir…” The man behind the desk started to say.
“Look, you seemed to have been very happy adding up a lot of things that don’t make sense; leaving my friends, my little boy and I with a lot of questions. We smile a lot, and don’t talk about it, but the truth is the pat little conclusion you’ve saddled us with gave us nothing to feel secure about.”
Yancy Barrow sat back in his chair and stuck a fancy pen in his mouth. “And exactly what do you think happened, Mr. Justyn?”
“I don’t effing know, Mr. Barrow, Detective Barrow, whatever. All I know is the boyfriend of a co-worker popped out of a closet in the middle of the night, dressed in black and started shooting at everything and everyone in sight and nothing else makes sense. Not an attempted burglary, which I might add no one, NO ONE, can figure out for certain what was stolen, not any kind of kinky sex thing when it was obviously that the man had been hiding in the house all day long, passing up many opportunities to force himself on any number of people…”
“Ian…” Kellen tried to calm Ian down, but he was on a roll and he wasn’t about to let anything stop him.
“And the fact that the police department, who so quickly deduced an open and shut case, has never bothered to even chat with me or Billy, the two living, and I cannot stress the word living enough, victims of said case.”
“I can see how you would be a little upset.” Barrow made mistake of saying.
Ian dropped the plastic cup, swinging his cane at it and expertly baseballing it to the wall behind the desk. “Upset?” He pushed himself to his feet. “Don’t patronize me. I am not upset. I am pissed off. You people, hired and trained to serve and protect and aid in justice have taken a big blue dump all over me. You give me no closure, no access to any information to even try and get closure. A man with a mystery dies looking in my eyes blurting out some cryptic legend, I’m still recovering from physical injuries and I’m afraid to pee at night without a body guard close by.”
“Ian, Ian…we’ve hit a trigger.” Kellen stood and looked in Ian’s eyes. “We know you are angry. You have a right to be. We’re angry, too. That’s why you are here. Some pieces have fallen into place and we need to let you know what’s going on.” He pulled the chair close to Ian. “Take a deep breath. Have a seat.”
Suddenly exhausted Ian plopped straight down. “I…uh…I’m so sorry. I had no idea I’d go off like that. I usually don’t…” he rambled.
Andy Mitchell presented Ian with another cup of water. “A little to the left next time, there’s a spot the maintenance people keep missing.” Ian tried to smile past his mortification and gulped most of the contents in one swallow.
Mitchell stayed on his knees. “Mr. Justyn…Ian. We’ve had questions, too. You aren’t the only one who knew that things didn’t add up the way everyone insisted they did. Both Kellen and I have been quietly keeping this investigation open.”
“Kellen?” Ian looked up at his friend.
“We deliberately kept everyone out of the loop. Very few knew we were doing an investigation on our own.”
“But why?” Ian didn’t know if he was hurt, relieved or more pissed off.
Kellen looked at Barrow and back to Ian. “Give us a moment to explain, please.”
“Kellen, a man is dead, I don’t feel safe in my own home and Ella has disappeared…a doubt a moment is going to make things right.”
“Ian, we found Ella.” Kellen looked at the floor.
Ian started to breath a sigh of relief until he got a good look at Kellen’s face. “No…please no…” When no one corrected him immediately tears began to quietly fall down his face.
“It’s one of the reasons you’re here.” Andy Mitchell said very quietly. “We found her body about a week and a half ago. We had her down as a Jane Doe. She was just identified positively this morning.”
“One of the reasons?” Ian didn’t like the sound of anything he was hearing. He didn’t dare close his eyes. The night discussed was vividly ransacking his brain along with visions of beatings and violations he couldn’t keep buried in moments of uncertainty.
Mitchell looked at Barrow who nodded. “Ian two days ago Peyton Balouche committed suicide.”
“Who’s Peyton Balouche?” Ian asked.
“The other detective assigned to the case.” Kellen answered.
“My partner.” Andy Mitchell looked again at his feet.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Detective.” He said honestly. “But I don’t understand how…”
“One of the reasons Andy and I were quietly investigating this is because we suspected Balouche of covering things up.” Kellen said. “We had to keep everyone in the dark or run the risk of tipping Balouche off.”
“And now everything is different.” Ian didn’t ask, but couldn’t quite believe.
“Balouche left a message on my answering machine telling me to meet him at this address.” Mitchell handed Ian a slip of paper. “Does that ring any bells?”
Ian looked, thought and confidently shook his head no. Andy Mitchell continued. “When I arrived the front door was unlocked. I went in and discovered Peyton’s body swinging from a rope next to a desk. He left a note explaining it all.”
“All of what?” Ian hated himself for asking.
“Balouche admitted that he and Blue Richards had used a third party at HRT to forge employment contracts, skimming well over a million dollars. The intent was to continue skimming until they gathered enough evidence to plant fingering you for the crime.”
“Me?”
Kellen nodded his head. “According to the note, when you caught on to the payroll fraud yourself things started to fall apart. He and Richards decided to kill both you and Ronnie forging a suicide note with your confession to the crime.”
“Holy…” Ian’s eyes shot wide open, he started to hyperventilate. He took a couple of deep breaths, got himself under control and then nodded for someone to continue, obviously there was more.
“When Blue was killed instead, Peyton covered everything up as best he could. But the third party admitted that Richards had killed two other people, witnesses they had used to aid things along. They fought and Balouche claims he accidentally killed the other party. He finally couldn’t take it anymore, wrote his confession and hung himself.”
Ian already knew, but he had to hear it out loud. “The third party.”
Kellen didn’t want to be the one, but he knew Ian had to hear it from him. “It was Ella, Ian. He named Ella as the plant.”
“Lab reports indicate she died a few days after Blue Richards was killed. We found he body in the alley, beaten beyond recognition and skull finally crushed in.” Andy filled in the details. “Balouche worked very hard to make it a Jane Doe, picking over facts for the reports. We’re led to believe what few instincts he had kicked in and he knew I was keeping that case open behind his back.”
Ian wiped the tears from his face and took a deep ragged breath. “Well, I have a lot o trouble believing Ella could be involved in any way, but it all makes sense now.”
“Yes.” Kellen nodded and quietly added. “Yes it does.”
“Everything is tied up in a neat little bow. Every I dotted and T crossed.” Mitchell added.
“Then it’s over.” Ian looked at the men in the room.
“That’s where I come in.” Barrow looked at Ian.
“Uh oh.” Ian looked in his empty cup. “I’m sorry, I need some more water, unless you have something stronger; a soft drink, alcohol, Valium…”
Kellen picked up the pitcher of room temperature water from a cart and placed it where Ian could help himself. “Ian, buddy, once again we need to be very careful. Rest assured that you and Ronnie are being watched and protected twenty four seven. I swear on my life nothing else will happen.”
Ian gulped another cup of water. “Kellen, I appreciate your assurances, but unless someone tells me what’s going on in a hurry, it won’t be a disposable cup splattered against that wall. Talk…now…all of it…”
Yancy Barrow smiled. “You are just a tiger when you’re riled aren’t you?” The joking smile left his face when Ian’s eyes bored holes through him. “Mr. Justyn for safety reasons…”
“You may be referring to the safety of myself and my son, but let me assure you Detective Barrow that your safety is the one on the line at this very moment.” The three men in the chairs all straightened upright. “I’m sick of all this. Fill me in or I call my lawyer…one…”
“Mr. Justyn…” Barrow sat forward.
“…Two”
“Alright, Ian…” Kellen grabbed the cane from his hand and turned to his co-horts. “He deserves to know everything. This all seems to be oddly centered around him. Maybe he can fill in some of the blanks.”
“Do I hear a three?” Ian’s expression didn’t change. His heart was bumping and he could feel something inside racing up and down.
“Mr. Justyn, are you sure that address Peyton Balouche’s body was found in is not familiar in any way?”
“Absolutely. Why?”
“Ian…” Kellen said. “It’s rented in your name.”
“What?”
“That’s just the beginning.” Andy Mitchell admitted. “As of yesterday, this all looked complete, almost every piece of the puzzle fell into place.”
“At least in a way that made sense.” Kellen said. “All but the Darla Hutton aspect, and we were willing to chalk that up into just something in Blue Richards brain moments before…”
“Yeah, yeah.” Ian held up a hand. “I get the picture. If everything was so pat yesterday, what changed everything today?”
“I showed up.” Yancy Barrow said. “Let’s do this step by step if we’re going to lay it on the line. I have no problem with Mr. Justyn being involved. According to my information he may be the only one who can actually solve this sordid mess.”
“Then why all the patronizing and the secrecy?” Ian wasn’t convinced.
“That was my idea.” Kellen said. “I didn’t want you involved anymore than you were. I thought simply for your safety and sanity it was better to only tell you what you needed to know.”
Ian nodded his head and pushed him self slowly up using the desk as his fulcrum. He turned and caught Kellen off guard with a swift right hook.
The other men bolted up and stared at Kellen, caught by surprise and rubbing his jaw.
“Don’t make me use my good arm.” Ian flexed his right hand.
Kellen nodded his head. “I deserved that.” He motioned for the others to start spilling the beans.
“Can we all be calm about this?” Yarrow carefully took his seat and held his hands up.
“Probably not.” Ian continued to flex his right hand, but took his seat. “Start talking.”
Andy nodded his head. “It all finally made sense, but just to be sure I did a thorough check to make sure Balouche’s note checked out. I was able to identify the Jane Doe as Ella Manchester but wasn’t able to get any verification from fingerprints, dental records or DNA. I had to get a court order to run the prints through higher security files.”
“That’s when I got alerted.” Barrow added. “But we’ll get to that.”
“I finally called Kellen to come over to the scene where I found Balouche’s body.”
Kellen nodded, pulling himself up to his chair. “That’s when little things came together and then fell apart.”
“Okay, you’re losing me.” Ian poured a cup of water and handed it to Kellen. “Is this over or not?”
The man with the puffy jaw sipped and waved his hands. “At first the note made sense. They had forged ID and rented the apartment in your name via the Internet. They had even stashed enough evidence to point fingers directly at you.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“Forged contracts, and little personal things that one might leave behind accidentally.” Andy said.
“Like?”
There was a sigh. “Marlboro Light 100 butts dropped outside the window, a couple of cell phones you thought you had lost stashed in places one might forget to look and remember those gloves you thought you’d left at the restaurant?” Kellen looked at Ian. “They were at the back of the top shelf of the closet right by the front door of the apartment.”
Ian’s eyes got wide. “There was enough there, that if I hadn’t read Balouche’s confession even I couldn’t deny you’d been involved.”
“And how do you know that I’m not?” Ian decided to play devil’s advocate.
“Because of a few little things they didn’t know, but the two of us did.” Andy indicated Kellen and himself. Mitchell reached for a file on the desk, opened it and looked at it. “I recognized Balouche’s handwriting immediately, even after pouring over it several dozen times I had no doubt.” He handed it to Ian. “But it’s a forgery.”
“How do you know?” Ian handed it back.
“I caught it.” Kellen said. “Look again.”
They watched Ian’s eyes scan down the papers, flip to the second page and scan more until his eyes shot up to meet Kellen’s. “Whoops…”
Kellen nodded his head. Andy turned to Barrow. “I would probably have caught it eventually. It wasn’t until Kellen reminded me that I remembered him correcting both Balouche and I when he sighed his statement the night of Blue Richard’s death.”
“He spelled my last name with an “I” instead of a “Y”.” Ian said out loud.
“I double checked.” Andy said. “On every document, note and paper since then we always spelled your name correctly. We even made jokes about it. Peyton Balouche did not write that note.”
“Then there was the kicker.” Kellen turned to Yancy Barrow.
“The reason Ella’s body couldn’t be identified had nothing to do with any cover up Balouche did. There were facts he didn’t know, facts neither he, Blue Richards or whoever this third party at HRT had any idea about.” Barrow informed Ian.
“And they are?” Ian raised an eyebrow indicating he was still taking no prisoners.
“Ella Manchester doesn’t exist.” Barrow said.
Ian sat back in his chair. “Of course she exists, I’ve worked side by side with her for the past five, six months.”
“Of course you did.” Barrow folded his hands in front of him. “But the woman you knew as Ella Manchester was born Isabella Nicholas. She was my partner.” Barrow waited for that to register. “In the F.B.I.”
Ian took a moment to pick his jaw up off the floor. “The F.B.I. is involved?”
“Not until this morning.” Kellen said, still rubbing his jaw.
“Isabella got out.” Barrow explained. “She was tired of having a job that lived her life for her. She moved out here and started a new life. I got a few calls and emails, telling me how much she loved it. She enjoyed using her brain for something other than tracking down America’s Most Wanted.”
“She was amazing.” Ian said mournfully.
“Then the tone started to change and suddenly there was no contact.” Yancy Barrow’s tone matched Ian’s. “I assumed she’d moved on and had decided not to look back.”
“Wait a minute.” Ian caught a detail. “You said the tone changed. How?”
Barrow smiled. “You’re pretty good at this.”
“Moving right along.” Ian flexed is right fist again and looked at Kellen. “I think I hurt something.”
“No kidding.” He said.
“She mentioned albeit cryptically that something was up and she was resisting getting involved in it.” Barrow stepped in. “She mentioned she’d met a man, outside of work, who seemed a little too interested in what was going on at work. Then nothing until a little over a month ago.”
“Time wise around twenty four hours after your…accident.” Andy hesitated at the last word.
“She left a message on a private number she and I only used for emergencies. She didn’t go into detail but said there was trouble, that by the time I got the voice mail she was either in hiding or dead and that I needed to come straight here and help you specifically put all the pieces together.”
“What pieces?” Ian was dumb founded.
Andy lurched forward. “Obviously the man she was talking about was Blue Richards. She sniffed and dug around and uncovered what was going on.”
“We don’t know if she was holding out to get more information or she didn’t realize it herself until Balouche and Andy showed up at her door with the news about Blue.” Kellen told Ian.
“Regardless, whoever this other party is either knew what she’d figured out or she was just a loose end he’s been very tidy about cleaning up.” Barrow mentioned.
“Third party?” Ian said. “You’re positive there is a third party?”
“Thanks to Ella…” Andy corrected himself. “Isabella we are positive.”
Before Ian could ask Kellen answered. “She left us a clue, leading right back to you.”
“Ian,” Yancy Barrow took a very gentle route. “I’m going to show you something not very pretty but I need you to look at it and tell me what you see.”
He nodded his head and accepted a photograph the agent handed him.
“This is a photograph of the crime scene where we found Ella’s body.” Andy warned him.
One look, and it became difficult for Ian to swallow. He put his hand to his mouth and forced himself to examine it closely. He slipped it back on the desk face down and nodded. “Writing in blood on the wall behind the body. I can’t read what it says.”
The three men looked at each other and smiled. “It’s difficult to tell from the wall, but tests have confirmed that Ella wrote it in her own blood before she died.”
“Before her skull…”
Ian held up that hand again. “Got it.” He took another hard swallow and reached for the water, forgoing the cup and just slurping from the room temperature pitcher.
“She was a smart girl.” Barrow said looking off into a good memory. “She protected it in a way she knew would keep it safe. Now all we have to do is figure out what it means.”
The sound of more shuffling photographs made Ian’s head turn. “She leaned up against it and it soaked into the linen blouse she was wearing. Can you read it now?”
“Damn…” Ian groaned. “Hutton… it says Hutton and two other words.”
“Okay, Ian, this actually sounds worse than it is.” Andy Mitchell reached for a third photograph. The blood soaked through her shirt and dried on her skin, using computer timing mechanisms on blood spatter we were able to get a little better picture.”
He handed the last one to Ian. He was relieved to see that it wasn’t nearly as wretching as either of the others. He looked at it closely. “Hutton something girl…bad girl?” He shook his head. “I’m sorry it doesn’t make sense.”
Handing the photo back, Ian sighed. “Wait…” He grabbed the second photo back and looked again nodding his head. “It’s not three words. It’s four.”
Ian pointed out his point as the three men leaned in closer. “Look…Hutton top line clearly…then something “AD” and break then I’m pretty sure that’s the word “girl” but both underneath the first word.”
“Right.” Barrow agreed.
“Down here,” Ian pointed a few inches down angled to the right. “It looks like a smudge, but its another word…something that starts with an “s” maybe?”
“It sort of trails off like she was losing energy or consciousness maybe, struggling to get it written.” One of them said.
“But he’s right. It’s clearly another word.”
“Does that help any?” Ian looked up at them.
“Yes and maybe more when we run that part of the spatter through the computer.” Andy said and picked up the phone.
“One more thing, and I’m satisfied.” Ian plopped back down in the chair. “Obviously there is a third party involved, the forgery proves that, but how do we catch this guy?”
“We’re not…” Kellen gave a hard look at Ian who returned it making him back down.
“Again, Isabella left us a little clue to his identity.” Yarrow explained. “There was blood on her skirt that doesn’t match hers. I’m running it through our DNA banks, but I’m willing to bet it matches, everything else does.”
“Matches?” Ian asked.
“For the past few years a series of similar scams have popped up, each company involved larger, each pay off bigger and each with a larger pile of bodies we’ve managed to connect getting bigger.”
“How long?” Ian asked.
“A little under a decade. Each time, someone is fingered for the scam and an employee from the company disappears without a trace.”
“Descriptions, finger prints, anything?” Ian hoped.
“Pretty clean. Usually a man…”
“Usually?” Ian balked.
“Always the same approximate height and weight, but twice a woman but not a man.” Barrow admitted.
“Then how do you even know it’s the same person?”
“Desk, apartments, cars, the works wiped clean but on the bodies or at the scene there’s always a stray little piece of DNA, identical that ties them all together.”
“Like what?” Ian asked. “An eye lash, a wad of spit?”
Yancy Barrow nodded his head. “Always something tiny, ignored at first until it showed up enough times to tie it all together. A stray hair on the body of man pushed out a window; skin found underneath the fingernails of a woman bludgeoned to death and not wiped totally clean, little things at almost every scene.”
“And I take it there’s something else that links the scenes together where DNA isn’t found?” Ian was making mental notes in his mind.
Yancy Barrow nodded his head. “In the other cases, and enough with both turning up, the cross factor is the use of a drug called Rohypnol.”
Ian’s eyes popped open and he looked at Kellen. Kellen read the look on Ian’s face and turned to Barrow. “The Date Rape Drug?”
Barrow nodded. “Drop a pill in a an alcoholic drink and if the victim stays awake long enough…in large doses people have been known to go absolutely psychotic.”
“I’m familiar with it.” Ian said. “Mr. Barrow, thank you for the details, but I think it’s my turn.”
“Your turn?” The man said.
“Has Kellen informed you of anything that went on in my life before Blue Richards threw a pipe bomb at it?” Ian looked at Kellen. “Or has he left you out of the loop for your own protection?”
“I…uh…” Kellen stumbled.
“Jackson?” Barrow scrutinized Kellen’s confusion.
Ian held up his hand. “Don’t worry, until about two seconds ago I never would have made any connection either.”
“Do I need to throw a right hook?” Barrow raised an eyebrow.
“He’s right, Yancy.” Kellen admitted. “Until you mentioned Rohypnol, I didn’t think anything concerning Ian connected other than what we’ve discussed.”
“I’m totally lost.” Andy Mitchell shrugged his shoulders and looked at Barrow.
“Shortly after arriving in town, two friends took me out for a night on the town.” Ian informed him. “I had a couple of drinks and suddenly found myself creating a little bit of an Internet sensation.”
Kellen interjected. “I didn’t know him well then. I just assumed that his actions at the club were normal for him. Later, when Ian relayed his version of the evening and his unique reaction to two drinks, I concluded that he’d been ruffied.”
“It’s a stretch, but since we’ve already made the connection it does fit.” Barrow admitted.
“Or could not be connected at all.” Ian said. “However that’s just the warm up.”
“Warm up?”
Ian nodded his head. “Are familiar with my history at all, specifically my son’s history?” Barrow shook his head. “But once again a question in your puzzle oddly answers a question in mine.”
Kellen, hoping to make it easier on Ian jumped in. “Ian’s wife died in childbirth, he gave the boy to his sister in law and her husband to raise. They passed away a few months ago, and now…”
“And now my son and I are reunited. Please don’t ask me to go into any unnecessary details.”
“I won’t.” Barrow nodded his head. “And I’m not seeing any connection.”
Ian took a deep breath. “I had flown back to Lost Mountain, that’s were I was born, for the funeral of the woman who basically raised me. I hadn’t seen Ronnie since I gave him away, but Kyle and Janie the people…” Ian stumbled a bit and left it there. “I had sold them the farm, and my Aunt Hil lived on the property adjacent. After the funeral, Kyle went bersek for lack of a better term, shot a heating oil tank at the back of the house.”
Kellen picked up when it was obvious Ian was having trouble going on. “Janie and Kyle were both killed in the fire. Ian saved the boy.” Kellen turned to Ian. “I’m not sure what this episode has to do with this either to be honest.”
“Well, once again not going into more detail than I have to, Kyle’s sudden actions have bothered me. I’ve known the man all my life. We grew up together, things didn’t make sense, so I had a reporter friend do a little digging.”
“Billy’s sister?” Kellen asked.
“Yes. She put together a little report for me that Billy brought with him. Kyle’s autopsy showed massive amounts of Rohypnol in his system. The investigators in Virginia, assumed that either he had taken some to keep him calm and it backfired or he had a drug problem. Neither made a whole lot of sense to me.”
Andy spoke up. “He could have been worried that you might be coming to take the boy away…”
“You’re thinking like a cop again, Andy.” Ian said. “Not someone who knew this man, and not someone who understood the decisions that were made ten years ago. The only person in that house who would have any difficulty with me seeing my son was me.”
Yancy Barrow sat back in the chair behind the desk. “You are thinking that Blue Richard’s attack was not the first on your life.”
“Not until you put that in my head.” Ian said with a frown. “I was thinking that whatever Kyle ate or drank laced with Rohypnol was meant for me. Someone has been determined that I shoot my own foot off from almost moment one since I arrived at HRT.”
Kellen’s face changed to an odd expression. “He’s right, we’ve been thinking like cops.”
“You’re thinking that Ian was never the intended patsy but the intended victim all along.”
Andy said.
“Not exactly.” Ian scooted forward on the chair. “Using your puzzle metaphor, you keep looking at the shape of the pieces to see how they might drop in, instead of actually piecing them together. You’ve laid aside the one piece that makes all of this fit.”
“Okay, I guess I am thinking like a cop.” Barrow frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s a piece we haven’t discussed, and it’s the one that really ties everything together.”
Kellen smiled. He looked at Ian. “Darla Hutton?”
“Bingo.” Ian turned to the two still confused men. “Here’s how it fits together. It doesn’t give us all the answers but it makes everything, I mean everything from my little song and dance number to this moment make sense.”
“Let me start it and see if we’re on the same page.” Kellen said, suddenly full of energy. “Whoever this person is…”
“And you know I’m not convinced it’s not a woman, but that’s an episode for later.” Ian said.
“Episode?” Andy said.
“You guys think like cops.” Ian smiled. “I think like a television executive.”
“Mini series later, Ian.” Kellen snarked. Ian motioned for him to continue. “This is a small time con artist, investing himself in a company quietly long enough to gather a couple of people to help him bilk to company out of money. He stays in the background and lets them do the dirty work. Yancy, am I right so far?”
“On the money, so to speak.” He said. “And when the unwitting accomplices start to panic he kills them dumps the body and disappears, only reappear somewhere and repeat the process.”
“So he ends up at HRT, a nice step up for him. Lots of money, executives running around stabbing each other in the back, he barely has to hide what he’s doing.” Kellen smiled. “This one is probably the easiest mark he’s hit. Then along comes Ian. New kid in town, a sucker from the boonies, the perfect pigeon for his shell game.”
“Got the second act yet?” Ian asked Kellen. When he hesitated Ian took over. “While he’s there, figuring out how to cage the pigeon he stumbles upon a bigger scam.”
“A bigger scam?” Andy said.
Kellen’s grin grew wide. “Darla Hutton…”
Ian nodded, “Darla Hutton.”
“I’m still not seeing how this all fits together.” Barrow ran his hands through his hair.
“Obviously you are neither a Hollywood legend fanatic nor a homosexual, Mr. Barrow.” Ian almost laughed. “Darla Hutton, the “H” in HRT. Most people, obviously you not included, are aware that she disappeared with James Redfield…”
“The “R” in HRT.” Kellen added.
Andy sat back. “Oh yeah, the legend goes both were married to other people but fell in love, ran off together changing their names and living happily ever after.”
“The truth to the legend is no one really knows the truth. David Turner…” Ian looked at Barrow.
“I take it that’s the “T” in HRT?” He sighed.
“You catch on quick.” Ian smiled. “Mr. Turner himself doesn’t know where they are, or if in fact they did run off together. There is one small portion of the legend that is true, but only the direst of Old Hollywood fans would know…”
“Or possibly an employee of HRT.” Kellen added.
Andy’s eyes glistened. “You mean there actually was a baby?”
Ian nodded his head. “Darla Hutton was pregnant with David Turner’s child when she disappeared.”
Dots finally connected for Yancy Barrow. “So you think the con man switched cons in the middle of the game, thinking he could claim to be the son of this Darla Hutton?”
“I think that’s a very real possibility. It makes sense. It also ties me in and helps us narrow down who we’re looking for.” Ian sat back pleased with himself.
“I don’t see how this ties you into the scam more solidly.” Andy said.
“Simple, as soon as I arrived at HRT my history, a poor orphan from the sticks whose mother dies when he was an infant and never knew his father spread like wildfire.” Ian looked around the room realizing as he said it out loud exactly how much sense it made. “I realize that my math skills amount to having to take my shoes off to count to eleven, but I’m probably around the right age to claim to be an heir. I became a target not because I was dumb enough to let myself get targeted, but because he or she thought I was smart enough to try and pull the same scam.”
“And the fact that David Turner attached himself to you so quickly, made many nervous at the network.” Kellen capped it off.
“Exactly.”
“It makes perfect sense.” Yancy nodded. “I have been thinking that this man has cleared out. I was going to start taking a look any one connected with the network that might have left within the last week or two or recently turned in their notice.”
“I’m willing to bet whoever is still there.” Ian said. “If they had just had Balouche admit to everything, I would agree with you, but the fact that he absolved me and tied it all up to make it all over makes me positive they are still at HRT, but have hatched another, better scheme to claim the throne.”
“I have one question about this theory.” Mitchell put up his hand like he was in school. “This guy usually grabs the money and runs, what makes you think we wants to stay around and take over a television network. Wouldn’t that run the risk of his scam being uncovered?”
Kellen frowned a bit. “He’s right Ian.”
“Thinking like cops again, or at least ones that don’t know the whole story.” Ian knew he was right.
“Isabella was right as always.” Barrow mused. “Tell us the rest of the story.”
“Neither Redfield or Hutton have legally been declared dead. Turner holds their proxies and controls an over whelming majority of the stock because of it.”
“Still means this man has to stick around running the risk of being exposed.”
“Nope.” Ian shook his head. “They only have to hand around long enough to forge enough documents proving they are the heir apparent, and then they get a minimum of one third of the pie.” Before anyone could say anything else. “David Turner has continued to split the profits up even three ways and deposit them in bank accounts in the names of James Redfield and Darla Hutton until they or an heir is found.”
Yancy Barrow sat back in his chair. “Prove you’re an heir, get a check for how many years of profits?”
“Forty nine to fifty plus interest.”
Yancy Barrow whistled. “Fake a birth certificate, hang around long enough to prove it, cash a check, disappear and retire.”
“So I guess the next question is,” Kellen said out loud. “How do we beat this person at their own game?”
“Well usually I would say not to do the same thing and expect a different outcome.” Ian sighed. “But this time, we’ve got at least four people who know what we’re looking for and not just one accidentally stumbling across it.”
“And that means…?” Kellen said.
Ian looked at Yancy Barrow. “Mr. Barrow, a wonderful young woman on my team is sadly no longer available.”
“Are you offering me a position, Mr. Justyn?” He smiled.
“You’ve proven yourself to be very slow on the uptake.” Ian told the room. “Your going to need to prove yourself or it will send up flares to everyone, but yes. You start Monday.”
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