Chapter 5

Jim hated spending Sunday morning alone. When his parents were there, he knew there would be a delicious brunch, after which the Cook would have the rest of the day off. There was really no point in her preparing a big meal when it was just him, so he told her to take the entire day off and he’d scramble an egg for himself. That part was easy enough, and this Sunday morning, he had a mission to fulfill. Regan had asked him to ride along to New Salem to check out some horses. While the Wheeler stable wasn't expanding, Jed Tomlin had asked for Regan's opinion on some horses he wanted to purchase and train for dressage competition. They planned to leave mid-morning.

One good thing about being alone was that it allowed him to start on his computer research early. After wolfing down an egg and cheese sandwich for breakfast, he decided to begin with the online editions of the local newspaper, and then searching the internet for recent crime trends in Sleepyside, White Plains, and the surrounding Westchester County area. When he typed in the search criteria he couldn't believe the number of crimes committed.

“Seven bank robberies already this summer!” He spoke aloud as he read. “I wonder if Mr. Belden knows about that.” He continued to peruse the results, stopping to read the account of a Croton man who’d passed out on someone’s lawn at two in the morning. After reading the man’s wild tale of a night of drinking, followed by passing out, and eventually being rolled and robbed before the homeowners discovered him the next morning, Jim shook his head in disbelief wondering for a moment what it would be like to walk outside and find a man passed out on the front lawn.

Crime was clearly still big business, he decided as the search results were in the hundreds of thousands. Only the first three to four pages seemed to reflect recent crimes for the year, and the first two covered mostly local crimes. He focused more carefully on refining his search and obtained results for the time period since the first of May. Trixie’s birthday, he thought. With a small smile at the recollection of his favorite Bob-White, he resumed his perusal of the modified search results. After reviewing several pages of web hits, including stories of odd crimes involving credit card fraud, identify theft, and a strange report of stolen cooking oil, he leaned back in his chair and contemplated the various crimes reported. There were plenty of interesting robberies in Westchester County, he admitted to himself. Three men posing as police officers were still at large, not to mention a bizarre theft of thousands of dollars worth of make-up from a store in White Plains. But he’d turned up nothing that resembled what had happened in Sleepyside on Friday.

He clicked the online edition of the regional newspaper, The Westchester Journal News, and searched again. Nothing appeared that hadn’t been picked up in his internet search, although the Wheelers’ login and password to the paid portion of the online subscription gave him access to various police blotters as well as the county law enforcement. He did notice with some surprise that the Journal posted such public facts as marriage licenses, divorces, deeds, bankruptcy listings, births, and deaths. In the back of his mind he knew that such things were a matter of public record, but he hadn’t considered that some of the more personal details of someone’s life – like a divorce – would be published in the newspaper. At least there aren’t that many listed, he thought as he scanned the listing.

He continued reading accounts of criminal activities and felt his pulse race when he found a story of someone using a baseball bat in a crime. His hopes were dashed when he discovered the bat was actually used in a domestic dispute and it hadn't played any part in a robbery. Checking the time displayed in the corner of his monitor, he cringed. He'd been engrossed in the accounts of crimes for over an hour, and had nothing to show for it. Frustrated with his lack of findings, he took a break and made his way back to the kitchen. There had to be a different way to search that would lead to more pertinent information about the robbery at the Red Moon Café. Maybe I should search on crimes associated with Asian Restaurants, he pondered as he poured orange juice into a tall glass. After returning the carton to the refrigerator, he sat down on a bar stool at the kitchen island.

“What would Trixie do?" he wondered aloud as he took a sip of the tart but sweet low pulp beverage. He snorted as he realized Trixie would leave the computer searches to Mart. Instead, she'd be out talking with Cindy Wong, Spider, Tammy Ashby, even Zack Wong if she thought he could offer a clue to the crime. "She's more feet on the street." He spoke aloud again.

"Who are feet on the street?" The question came from the direction of the mudroom’s entrance to the kitchen.

Jim turned and shot a grin at the red-haired groom. "Trixie," he answered easily. "I’ve been trying to puzzle something out and wasn’t getting anywhere. So I decided to try to think about how she would figure it out."

Regan nodded in understanding. "You ready to leave?" he asked. "I was thinking if you weren't studying or anything this morning, we could start out now, and then get back here a little earlier than originally planned."

"Sure," Jim replied. "I wasn't planning on studying until the evening. Any reason you're anxious to get back?"

"Lianne's on call today, but if we're back at a decent hour, she can go to dinner with me," Regan answered. "Between her schedule and my schedule ...." His voice trailed off, and he ended with a shrug. "You know how it is?"

"Yep, I know exactly what you mean. Let's get going." Jim drained his glass of juice. The drive to New Salem would give him a chance to ask Regan about his take on the crime. He stood and crossed to the sink where he quickly rinsed the glass and placed it in the dishwasher. "I've got some questions for you anyway."

"About what?" Regan asked.

"Do you like eating at Wong's Red Moon Cafe?"

"Sure," the groom replied. "Did you want to eat there or something?"

"No, I want to know what you might have heard about the robbery they had on Friday."

Regan stopped and he placed his hands on hips. "What would Trixie do, huh? You guys aren't by any chance getting involved in a mystery, are you?"

"Maybe," Jim admitted reluctantly. "But if Trixie or Honey asks you, the answer is no."

 

The two-hour drive to New Salem was uneventful and both men agreed to stop for lunch after the horses had been checked out. Regan had visited the operation before. Its owner and trainer was retained by a number of equestrian centers throughout the United States. The two horses he was evaluating certainly looked good on paper, but the asking price had Jed Tomlin worried. Regan watched carefully as the trainer put the horses through their paces, his expression inscrutable. When they were done, he thanked the trainer for his time.

"But ... aren't you going to tell me what you think of my two warm-bloods?" The trainer was clearly surprised at Regan's lack of feedback.

"No," he replied curtly. "I'll tell Jed what I think, and I'm sure he'll be in touch with you."

With that he motioned to Jim and the two men left.

"You didn't like the horses, did you?" Jim asked once they were settled in the cab of the truck.

"They were great horses," Regan admitted. "Jed will do well to get them for dressage."

"But you acted like there was a problem with them," Jim protested.

"No...." Regan answered slowly. "I didn't. How will it help Jed if that trainer thinks I'm crazy about those horses?" He paused and without giving Jim a chance to respond he answered his own question. "Jed's going to want to negotiate the price. There's no point in giving a widely-respected dressage trainer any more ammunition to hold firm on a healthy price." He turned and grinned at Jim. "Haven't you learned anything from your Dad?"

Jim laughed. "You sure fooled me."

"That was the point. Now, how about some lunch?"

The two men were not as familiar with New Salem as they were Sleepyside and White Plains, but they soon found what appeared to be a suitable place to eat in the heart of New Salem. The Irish Pub more than satisfied them, and they left sated, with good food warming their bellies.

As they crossed the street to where Regan had parked the truck, Jim slowed. He noticed a familiar figure furtively using an ATM at a branch bank nearby. His distraction was noticeable and when they arrived at the vehicle, Regan inquired, "What gives, Jim? See someone you know?"

Jim nodded slowly. "I'm not sure, but that lady using the ATM over at the First Third Bank sure looks familiar. Do you recognize her?"

Regan turned to look and could only see a profile of the woman in question. "I don't think so. It's hard to tell from this angle. I'll turn around and see if we can get a better look. We need to head out that way to get back on the main road south."

True to his word, he managed to pull out of the parking spot and turn so they were driving toward the bank. As they drew closer, the woman finished her transaction and turned. It was obvious she had made a cash withdrawal, since she was stuffing a thick leaflet of cash into her purse. Unfortunately, she was looking down and the men were unable to get a good luck at her face.

"I know her from somewhere," Jim said. "But for the life of me, I can't place her. Did she look familiar to you?"

Regan shook his head. "Didn't know her from Adam. My advice is quit trying to remember, then it will come to you."

Jim nodded. "You're right of course, but it's going to bug me for the rest of the day."

 

 

Brian uttered a mild oath as he dropped the newly drawn vial of blood that the technician had just handed him. Accidents involving bodily fluids were never good and dealing with the clean-up of the resulting biohazard was bad enough. Unfortunately, because he was responsible for the spill, he had to complete the incident report and drug test. The extra time involved nearly caused him to miss lunch on Wednesday at the Red Moon. That was when he was supposed to try to pump Cindy Wong for information about the robbery, as he’d planned with the Bob-White guys.

Cindy greeted him cheerfully and was surprised to find he was by himself. Mart and Dan were slaving over Mrs. Boyer's breathtakingly beautiful lawns and manicured gardens. For some reason, the rather eccentric millionaire seemed to hold the two young men personally responsible that her flowers weren't engaged in riotous blooms like those being grown by Mrs. Elliott. Despite her demands, she remained one of their favorite clients, and they had both passed on lunch. Jim was teaching at the inner- city school program until Friday, so Brian was on his own. He needed to get some information, but he wasn't sure of the best way to do it.

The restaurant was packed, and Brian informed the owner he would be happy to wait or she could seat him in a back corner, out of the way. She nodded and escorted him to a small table near the cash register. It was a table that she rarely used for customer seating, since it was technically behind the register but to one side. Brian had a full view of the patrons and the business. After ordering lunch, he engaged in people-watching, noting the various groups of people enjoying lunch that day. There was, of course, the usual collection of business men, probably from International Pine, he decided. A few sales clerks from Crimper's department store and an assortment of librarians, bank tellers, the delivery guy from the florist and others complete the gathering. Brian recognized many of the customers and didn't see a group or person that seemed out of place. He was relieved that Cindy Wong was waiting on him personally, since he figured that gave him the best opportunity to obtain more information about the robbery. He took a chance when she dropped off his beverage.

"Do the police have any new leads on your robbery?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said with a frown. "But my father-in-law found an old computer from the store in the city, and we should be able to recover our books and records."

"You had a good back-up?" he asked.

"Yes. We always back up," she explained. "Every day and then a weekly one as well. We are lucky. We won't lose any of our sales data or our transactions. "

Brian pondered that information as Cindy moved on to ring up a customer's bill. He noticed she smiled and asked them if everything was okay as she concluded the transaction. They left obviously happy with their dining experience and Cindy disappeared into the back kitchens to check on orders in process.

It wasn't long before she served his order and he inhaled its savory aroma. The Wednesday special, Red Moon Delight, was a signature dish of the restaurant, a combination of shrimp, scallops, and chicken in a Cantonese garlic sauce. He picked up the chopsticks in anticipation.

"Do you need anything else?" she inquired.

"Some more water when you have a chance," he replied, racking his brain to think of how he might ask another question. She brought him more water before he could decide on something to ask. He sighed in frustration. This is harder than it looks, he thought. But gleeps, I'll never tell Trixie that. There has to be something.

Deciding his best bet would be to eat slowly and wait for the lunch crowd to disperse a little so Cindy Wong would not feel rushed, he started eating, formulating questions and continuing to study his fellow diners.

His plan turned out well; the vast majority of the lunch crowd was gone when Cindy returned to clear his place.

"Did you enjoy our daily special?" she asked him as she removed the empty dish from in front of him.

"Excellent," he confirmed with a smile. "I'm too full for dessert, but I'd like to get an order of pot stickers to go."

She nodded and disappeared momentarily to turn in his order and drop off the dishes in the kitchen. She returned with the water pitcher and topped off his glass. "Do you need anything else? It will only take a few minutes for your order."

"No, I'm good," he answered with a smile. "Say, Mrs. Wong …" He tried to sound casual, but it was obvious to him that he was uncomfortable questioning the owner. "I read in the Sleepyside Sun about your robbery, but they didn't give a lot of details. What's up with that?"

She frowned and turned to set the pitcher of water down next to the register before giving him her full attention. "Apparently the police hold back quite a few details," she said. "The way that Detective Webster explained it to me, it helps their investigation if they leave things out."

"Yeah, but the paper didn't even say if the three people that held you up were male or female," Brian said. "Don't you think the police would want people to be on the lookout for the right people?"

Cindy shook her head. "That's because there were conflicting reports. It was obvious to me that it was three young women trying very hard to look like teenage boys. However, Tammy insisted to Detective Webster that the person with the gun was a teen-aged male and the other two were males as well."

"Women?" Brian was taken aback. He hadn't expected that. "Isn't it unusual for women to be involved in a crime like that?"

"Apparently," she said dryly. "But I saw all three of them clearly, and I know the difference between the hands of a young woman and the hands of a teen-aged boy. The disguises were good, and if they had worn gloves I might not have caught on, but they were all females."

"What about their voices?" he asked. "Wasn't it obvious from their voices?"

Cindy again shook her head. "Only one of them did any talking and she spoke into a voice changer. The voice sounded like gravel."

"Wow!" Brian was astounded at the facts that the paper had omitted. "That’s an unusual crime."

"So I'm told. You know what else is odd to me?" she added. "Detective Webster thought I was crazy about this as well, but they really wanted my computer more than the money. It's like the money was an afterthought."

"Your computer?" Brian echoed.

She nodded. "They asked for the computer and then the money." She shrugged. "We were lucky. If we can recover our books and records, then all we're really out is the cash and after all, that’s why we pay insurance premiums."

"Do you think it was a sorority prank? Maybe an initiation?" Brian asked.

"Noooo," she answered slowly. "They were nervous, and why they broke our credit card machine I'll never know, but that's already been replaced by the credit card company."

"Is that what they used the bats for?" he asked.

She nodded and turned to check on his to-go order.

Brian couldn't think of anything else before she returned with the order and his heavily discounted bill. He frowned and looked at her. "Mrs. Wong, it's not that I don't appreciate what you've done but you don't need to keep giving us free food and discounts. We hardly did anything to help you."

"Pshaw!" she waved her hand airily. "You helped more than you realize. Zane is at that ... difficult age."

"Mrs. Wong, if you keep doing this we'll have to eat somewhere else," he warned. "It makes us uncomfortable. We didn't do anything for you that you wouldn't have done in the same circumstance."

"Okay, okay," she smiled at him. "This is the last time."

Brian dropped a generous tip on the table and nodded. "Okay. The last time."