Mortal Crimes: 7 Novels of Suspense by Brett Battles, Robert Gregory Browne, Melissa F. Miller, J. Carson Black, Michael Wallace, M A Comley, Carol Davis Luce
Authors: Brett Battles, Robert Gregory Browne, Melissa F. Miller, J. Carson Black, Michael Wallace, M A Comley, Carol Davis Luce
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Action & Adventure, Crime, Mystery, Genre Fiction, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense
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checks. In the same transaction, he would deposit a check in the amount of $1,242.33 and make a withdrawal of $1,200.00. The juxtaposition of deposits and withdrawals were easy to spot; Grady had made these kinds of transactions eight times in the last six months.
Laura went over all the bank statements, looking at the amounts and thinking of his office expenditures. There shouldn't be many of those. Sean Grady was the sole proprietor of the midtown office. His overhead was low: bottled water, paper, toner, ink cartridges, miscellaneous office supplies, phone, electric.
Pursuant to the subpoena, Laura requested copies of the suspicious checks. She also explored Grady's cash machine transactions and made sure she had photos of him at the ATM machines, so he couldn't claim later that someone had stolen his ATM card and made the withdrawals.
Fraud was a lot of work. Tracking numbers, looking at bank accounts. Some of her fellow squad members lived for it. It worked their little gray cells like nothing else. But as far as Laura was concerned, they could have it.
She loved the hunt. She loved homicide.
________
After investigating Grady for several weeks, Laura had a list of thirteen victims.
She interviewed Doris Spitzer-Malveaux, the first victim. At the end of the interview Laura had been wrung out. She would never want to make an enemy of Ms. Spitzer-Malveaux.
Laura visited Sean Grady and asked him about the specific policies. He gave her a song and dance—a very good one. He'd recently moved offices; there was upheaval in both the insurance industry in general and in his own office. That they had to sever connections with one policy underwriter, and regarding a new Texas-based company, Sam Houston Fidelity, there had been some anomalies they were currently working out. He was sure it could be cleared up.
Laura needed to make sure she had enough evidence against him before interviewing him a second time; he still had some wiggle room.
That was how she'd left it until today. Until this most recent phone call from Melissa Stevens. Melissa had gone to Sean's office because she still had to service the account. She hadn’t seen Grady, but she’d heard him. Or rather, she’d heard noises from the bathroom. Laura wondered if Sean's new inamorata was enjoying her turn over the bathroom sink.
That was when Melissa had spotted the airplane tickets on Grady's desk.
Tickets for two to Canada. One way.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Gerald Grady Insurance anchored one end of a strip mall on Speedway Blvd. It was like any other strip mall in Tucson: beige stucco with glass store fronts, plastic letters spelling out the names of each business across the top. A black Hummer was backed into the slot immediately in front of the door.
After driving through the back alley and checking the doors out to the rear parking area (there were three—not every store had one, and Gerald Grady Insurance was one that did not) Laura made another pass before parking on the street around the corner. Even with white-collar offenders, she was careful. She didn't want to tip him off into running.
She walked inside, hit by a sour-smelling current of humid air coming from a vent somewhere above. Lurking underneath was an even worse odor—mildew.
The office was empty. For a moment, Laura wondered if Grady had taken off already. It was possible he had taken a taxi and left the Hummer.
She took in the spatial dimensions of the room, looking for three things: cover, concealment, and an escape route.
At first blush, the only way in or out of the store was through the door she'd entered.
Melissa had mentioned a bathroom, but Laura didn't see one. The door to a walk-in storage closet on the right side of the shop was ajar. She peeked inside. Shelves lined one wall above a counter with a coffee maker and a stack of cups. The room went only ten feet back, and most of the space was taken up by the copy machine—Melissa's copy machine. The door was hollow-core;
Laura went over all the bank statements, looking at the amounts and thinking of his office expenditures. There shouldn't be many of those. Sean Grady was the sole proprietor of the midtown office. His overhead was low: bottled water, paper, toner, ink cartridges, miscellaneous office supplies, phone, electric.
Pursuant to the subpoena, Laura requested copies of the suspicious checks. She also explored Grady's cash machine transactions and made sure she had photos of him at the ATM machines, so he couldn't claim later that someone had stolen his ATM card and made the withdrawals.
Fraud was a lot of work. Tracking numbers, looking at bank accounts. Some of her fellow squad members lived for it. It worked their little gray cells like nothing else. But as far as Laura was concerned, they could have it.
She loved the hunt. She loved homicide.
________
After investigating Grady for several weeks, Laura had a list of thirteen victims.
She interviewed Doris Spitzer-Malveaux, the first victim. At the end of the interview Laura had been wrung out. She would never want to make an enemy of Ms. Spitzer-Malveaux.
Laura visited Sean Grady and asked him about the specific policies. He gave her a song and dance—a very good one. He'd recently moved offices; there was upheaval in both the insurance industry in general and in his own office. That they had to sever connections with one policy underwriter, and regarding a new Texas-based company, Sam Houston Fidelity, there had been some anomalies they were currently working out. He was sure it could be cleared up.
Laura needed to make sure she had enough evidence against him before interviewing him a second time; he still had some wiggle room.
That was how she'd left it until today. Until this most recent phone call from Melissa Stevens. Melissa had gone to Sean's office because she still had to service the account. She hadn’t seen Grady, but she’d heard him. Or rather, she’d heard noises from the bathroom. Laura wondered if Sean's new inamorata was enjoying her turn over the bathroom sink.
That was when Melissa had spotted the airplane tickets on Grady's desk.
Tickets for two to Canada. One way.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Gerald Grady Insurance anchored one end of a strip mall on Speedway Blvd. It was like any other strip mall in Tucson: beige stucco with glass store fronts, plastic letters spelling out the names of each business across the top. A black Hummer was backed into the slot immediately in front of the door.
After driving through the back alley and checking the doors out to the rear parking area (there were three—not every store had one, and Gerald Grady Insurance was one that did not) Laura made another pass before parking on the street around the corner. Even with white-collar offenders, she was careful. She didn't want to tip him off into running.
She walked inside, hit by a sour-smelling current of humid air coming from a vent somewhere above. Lurking underneath was an even worse odor—mildew.
The office was empty. For a moment, Laura wondered if Grady had taken off already. It was possible he had taken a taxi and left the Hummer.
She took in the spatial dimensions of the room, looking for three things: cover, concealment, and an escape route.
At first blush, the only way in or out of the store was through the door she'd entered.
Melissa had mentioned a bathroom, but Laura didn't see one. The door to a walk-in storage closet on the right side of the shop was ajar. She peeked inside. Shelves lined one wall above a counter with a coffee maker and a stack of cups. The room went only ten feet back, and most of the space was taken up by the copy machine—Melissa's copy machine. The door was hollow-core;
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