Free Lust, Money & Murder by Mike Wells Page A

transmission in her hand.
    Bill smiled.
    “You bastard,” she said under her breath.
    His expression darkened. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
    Elaine just stood there, glaring.
    “I had nothing to do with where they chose to transfer you,” Bill said. “I simply told them that I thought your talents were being wasted here—” he looked distastefully down at her legs “—and I think they are. Maybe in Bulgaria you’ll find a situation that’s more acceptable to you.”
    He turned back to the papers on his desk. “You’ll leave tomorrow. Summarize everything you’re working on and have it on my desk by five o’clock today.”
     
    * * *
    That evening, Elaine stayed late, packing up her personal things in the office, putting them in boxes. Bill would go over it all with a fine-tooth comb and send it on to Bulgaria.
    She felt as bitter as the weather outside.
    Just as she was about to leave, she sat back down at her stark desk. She looked at the dark computer screen, hesitated, then turned it on and logged into the system. The damage has been done , she thought.
    She opened up the criminal databases and continued her work on the Ronald Eskew case.
    After only an hour, she stumbled on something exciting.
    There was a modeling agency that was started in Dayton, Ohio only two months after Rising Star disappeared. It was only open eight months, then closed. According to city records, the owner had been R. E. Crawford.
    Crawford—that was the name his assistant had used.
    What about Robert E. Crawford?
    Elaine typed the name into the FBI criminal database, waiting on pins and needles.
    After a moment, it came back with a match.
    Ronald E. Crawford, a.k.a. Robert A. Eskew, a.k.a. Steven B. Hayes, a.k.a, Edward T. Cane, a.k.a... The list went on.
    She opened up the rest of the file.
    Her heart gave a thump as the man’s mug shots appeared, front and side views, holding a number.
    It was him! He still had the droopy mustache, and a beard as well.
    She skimmed through the file, her heart beating faster and faster. Wanted for direct mail fraud, computer phishing, passing bad checks, currency counterfeiting... a dozen white-collar crimes.
    Elaine frowned, confused, scrolling back and forth through the long file. Where was he now? He’d obviously been arrested, because there were mug shots.
    Ah, there it was. Five years ago...
    Convicted on three counts of direct mail fraud, Decatur, Illinois. He was sentenced to two years in an Illinois minimum security prison.
    And then what?
    The file seemed to end there.
    Then she noticed the last line.
    September, 17th, 2006. Deceased .
    Deceased? she thought numbly. The man is dead ?
    That couldn’t be...
    With a growing sense of disappointment, she clicked on some more buttons. She finally found the death certificate.
    Cause of death: heart failure. It is the opinion of the examining physician that the deceased passed away peacefully in his sleep.
     
     
    * * *
    Elaine left Montana in a daze.
    As she gazed out the airplane window, watching Great Falls sink away, it felt as if the rug of life had been yanked out from under her.
    ...passed away peacefully in his sleep.
    It wasn’t possible! The loathsome man who was responsible for her father’s death, had passed away peacefully in his sleep .
    The bastard! The lucky, despicable bastard!
    Only during the last few hours did Elaine fully realize that everything she had done since her father committed suicide—every major decision she had made, and every action as a result of those decisions—was driven by her desire to get even with Ronald Eskew.
    And now the man was dead!
    It just wasn’t fair. The greatest irony was that he had died long before she had even finished college.
    Elaine felt every emotion imaginable, and she felt nothing. She had turned down two perfectly good jobs, had gone through that hellish process to join the Secret Service—and for what?
    She was the captain of a rudderless ship.
     
    * *