What's Left is Right: Book two of The Detective Bill Ross Crime Series (9 page)

Latisha Williams was standing at the bar ordering a drink when Marie and Tommy walked into Oil Can Harry’s. A Monday is generally a quiet night in this Austin icon for those with an alternative lifestyle, and the Monday after the Thanksgiving weekend was even quieter than normal. This was perhaps why Latisha had suggested that they meet there, or perhaps she just liked the décor.

There was a poster adjacent to the bar advertising “Drag Survivor” every Wednesday and another pitching “Stripper Circus - The Dirtiest Show on Earth” on Thursdays. Tommy was really glad it was Monday.

The Williams family was from Mississippi. Latisha had grown up in Jackson, the state capitol, and she had attended Mississippi University. She graduated with honors from the Meek School of Journalism and was now a nationally renowned crime reporter with the Austin
Statesman
newspaper. Her father and mother lived in New Orleans, where her father Leroy H. Williams sat on the city council.

~

“Hi, Marie, haven’t seen you in quite some time, how’s Shelly?” said Latisha in her dark, sultry southern voice.

“She’s good, Latisha, how’ve you been? I see you still get enjoyment poking the badger. Someday you’ll upset the wrong people, or perhaps that’s what really turns you on,” replied Marie.

“Good to see you too, Marie, you haven’t changed a bit,” laughed Latisha. “I take it this this is the great Detective Tommy Ross that I’ve been hearing so much about. Good to meet you, Tommy.”

Tommy and Marie ordered a couple of Lone Star long necks and followed Latisha to a table in a quiet corner that she had obviously chosen in advance of their arrival.

“So you suggested that we meet, so here I am and I’m all ears. So what’s really going on over at Whispering Hollow,” said Latisha not wasting any time.

Tommy took it from there.

“I am sure that you’ve done your homework, Latisha, and you know that earlier this year there was a body of a man found at Whispering Hollow. It was reported that it was a homeless person who had accidently burned to death when setting a fire to keep warm.”

“Yes, I remember that, not exactly going to make CNN. Wolf Blitzer is not flying into Bergstrom any time soon,” said Latisha, getting a little bored with the preamble.

“So as you guessed it there is more to this story than meets the eye, but we’re not going to share it all with you unless we get your agreement to stay quiet for now. If you do, we would also like to enlist your help as we think that you may have information that could be useful. We also think that you’re good at what you do, and working together we might be able to solve this. If you do this and give us your word to stay quiet for now, then we’ll give you the exclusive when we eventually get all the pieces of the puzzle to fit. It could be big, Latisha, and you would have it all to yourself.”

Tommy paused to allow Latisha to take it all in.

“What if I just say yes and then go run with the story tomorrow anyway?” said Latisha with a grin.

“Then I would spread the word on what you did and you would be finished in Austin. I would make sure that everyone was told and your sources in the Austin Police Department and elsewhere would dry up,” said Tommy.

The grin was suddenly gone from Latisha’s face.

“Well, I guess I have no choice then. You have my word.
Now spill the beans
! What’s going on, what do you think I know and how do you think I can help?

~

Latisha was on board! Tommy brought her up to speed on where they were in the investigation and the fact that they thought it might be linked to the huge construction project in some way.

Latisha sat for a few minutes digesting all that she had heard. Her brain was wired to look for conspiracy in almost everything. That’s what made her such a good reporter and helped to earn her the Rottweiler reputation and be voted as one of the most influential black female voices in America. She was not about to share completely what she knew about the marina project; she needed these two detectives to talk more, so she started a conversation to dig into the detail a little more.

“It’s a big leap from a dead homeless guy to a murder connected to a regional development project. What evidence do you have to suggest that there might be a connection?” Latisha had stuck the shovel in the ground, now she wanted to see if they started digging. Tommy picked up the shovel.

“You are right, Latisha; however, good detective work starts with gathering facts and then trying to organize them into an overall pattern. Most times it involves looking for the parts that don’t fit a given situation and asking the question, why? We are not saying that it’s linked to the construction project. However, the killing did take place right in the center of everything that is going on over there at Whispering Hollow. We have many whys here that need to be examined:

1. Why try to make the murder looking like a lynching?

2. Why choose that spot miles from main highways?

3. Why cut the dead man’s hands off?

These whys then lead us to speculation:

1. The “lynching” plot was designed to set us off in the wrong direction right from the start.

2. The wording on the “message” was not written by rednecks looking to kill wetbacks.

3. Eyewitnesses had suggested that white trucks were seen leaving the scene after the fire was set.

4. We have seen lots of white trucks in the area involved with the construction work.

“Marie and I discussed this with the third member of our team, my father, Bill Ross, who has had many years of experience working homicides in the UK. He was instrumental in helping us solve the Luther Fisher case a few months back. His speculation is that this might be another example of “hiding in plain sight.”

The murder took place in such a remote area as Whispering Hollow for a reason, and that reason was not a lynching of some poor vagrant or wetback. It was because the killers
lived in the neighborhood
. They drove white trucks around all the time. No one would think anything suspicious, and when the deed was done they would simply fade into the background and return home at the end of another day’s work.”

“I see,” said Latisha, leaning back in her chair, feeling rather proud of her plan. She had let them tell her perhaps more than they wanted to tell her at this stage.

This could be something big!
she thought to herself. She needed to decide if she wanted to go all in with these detectives, tell them what she knew and then continue to work with them as they had suggested, and see if this did lead to something big. She decided to go all in.

~

“I wrote an editorial piece a couple of months ago around the plan for a new marina in the Whispering Hollow area. The marina is actually planned in the Venture Point neighborhood that is adjacent to Whispering Hollow. The reason I wrote the piece was not about the marina per se; it was about the rapid transit rail link extension that’s planned as part of the marina development. What was planned did not make a lot of sense to me and the proposal was that it would be a private development not funded by issuing a bond that taxpayers would have to fund. That made me even more suspicious.”

“Austin is exploding as
the
place to be in the U.S. There has always been a great music scene here and the South by Southwest annual music and film event is now huge and has been expanded to include a Technology Summit with VCs with deep pockets coming in to town looking for the next big thing.

Then there is the Circuit of the Americas. This world-class racing circuit is now the home of the U.S. Formula One Grand Prix. A once-a-year event that attracts some of the richest people in the world to flock to the city.

“As you can imagine, in the years ahead the entire infrastructure of the city and the surrounding area will be stretched to breaking point by this explosion of activity. There are major opportunities for private companies to invest and the profit potential is off the charts. Where there is money to be made in this type of scale there is always the opportunity for corruption. I smelled a rat with the proposal for a private rail line to a new marina out in the middle of nowhere. That was the starting point for my editorial piece.”

There was more she could share with them on the work she had done but she chose to hold that back until she understood what “working together” meant.

~

“So how do you propose that we work together, Tommy?”

“I propose that you and Marie work on building on what you have uncovered about the rail link and the marina. Marie can share with you what she has done in trying to get to the bottom of the funding for all of this development work, including the marina and the rail link. We can then see where all of this might lead,” replied Tommy.

Working closely with Marie, now that sounds good
, thought Latisha.
Not sure that Shelly will be thrilled about that!

“Marie, why don’t you bring Latisha up to speed on the work you have done on this to date.”

“I have enlisted the help of an investment banker from Houston. No need to go into why he is assisting us right now—I can share that with you later. But suffice to say he has been a great help.”

“All of the land in the area of Whispering Hollow and Venture Point plus the surrounding area to Cedar Park in the south and to Lago Vista to the north was originally part of the huge McMullen ranch. Garrison McMullen started selling off pieces for residential and commercial development some years ago, but he still owns the majority of what was the original ranch land and he also retains mineral rights for the pieces he sold off.

“Venture Point Holdings (VPH) was formed in 2008. VPH consists of several components: The Venture Point Investment Fund, Deng Tang Corporation, Robertson Richards LLC and Rodriguez Holdings. The chairman and largest stockholder of VPH is Garrison McMullen, and the vice-chairman and second largest stockholder is Enrique Escobar Rodriguez, owner of the third largest ranch in Texas, the Colinas Verde ranch on the Mexican border just north of Laredo.

“We have discovered in our research that VPH operates like a closed cartel. VPH owns smaller so-called independent contracting companies. These companies provide products and services for all of the construction and development work being undertaken by VPH. These products and services include electrical trades, plumbing trades, timber supplies, cement, roofing materials, and everything needed for internal finishing, including appliances, kitchen and bathroom fixtures, lighting and all painting and decorating trades. These firms “compete” for contract awards with other firms not owned by VPH, but eighty percent of the time the winning bid is a VPH-owned company.

“Rodriguez Trucking provides all transportation in the U.S. International shipping of appliances and other products from China is provided by Deng Tang Shipping Lines. Deng Tang is a huge conglomerate in China; they not only own ocean freight operations, they also manufacture the products they ship to the U.S., and they own and operate residential complexes, casinos and golf courses to cater to the needs of a rapidly growing middle class in Asia.”

“So you can see, Latisha, there could be a huge story here, and my guess is that we haven’t even scratched the surface yet,” said Tommy. “Our interest is finding the killer or killers. You can have the story to take in whatever direction you see fit. You and Marie working together could get to the bottom of this, I feel sure! “Do we have a deal?” said Tommy, making sure that he kept solid eye contact with Latisha till she gave her answer.

“Deal!” said Latisha.

Without hesitation, Julian Hernandez agreed to pay for Bill’s trip to Germany. “Call my assistant and tell her what you need. She can help make your travel arrangements and charge it to my personal account.”

Before any travel arrangements could be made, they needed to reach out to the relevant German law enforcement agencies and brief them on the case and the need to be on their turf to further the investigation.

Located in the southwest of Germany, east of the Upper Rhine, Baden-Württemberg is Germany’s third largest state with 10.7 million inhabitants. Most of the major cities of Baden-Württemberg straddle the banks of the Neckar River, which runs through the state. These cities include Stuttgart (the capital), Heilbronn, Heidelberg, Mannheim and Karlsruhe.

The Baden-Württemberg Police is the state law enforcement agency with approximately 25,000 officers and 7,000 civilian employees. The responsibility for law enforcement in Heidelberg falls under the regional command located in Karlsruhe.

To get permission to pursue the case and to interview German citizens, proper permissions had to be received via the office of Herr Gunter Fassbinder, the Regional Police Commissioner in Karlsruhe.

It took Bill Ross a week to get these permissions in place and to coordinate with the Karlsruhe and Heidelberg police and to make arrangements to meet with Claudette Weiss in Heidelberg. It was made clear that Miss Weiss was not a suspect and that the reason for the trip was simply to gather as much background as possible on Mike Muguara and his company, Geist Reiter GmbH.

With all the needed authorizations and paperwork in place, Bill flew out of Houston to Frankfurt on United Airlines flight UA8867. Julian Hernandez had approved a business class ticket, so Bill was able to stretch out on the sleeper seat and get some shuteye for the ten-hour flight.

The Airbus touched down in Frankfurt thirty minutes ahead of schedule at 8 a.m. local time. Bill could see the snow being blown across the runway as the wide-body jet negotiated its way to Gate16A at terminal one. He shivered in anticipation of the cold weather he knew he would have to endure in his few days in Germany, but also with the excitement of the chase. What mysteries would he uncover about the life of Mike Muguara, and would it bring him any closer to finding his killers? Only time would tell.

For even the most seasoned traveler, a ten-hour overnight international flight is exhausting. Bill navigated his way through the river of humanity in the airport terminal as multiple wide-bodies disgorged their contents in the early hours of the morning. It got worse when he hit the lines for immigration control. What appeared to be thousands of people were moving through the control barriers left and then right, single file, weaving their way ever closer to the uniformed border control agent to present their paperwork and hopefully gain entry to the country without further delay.

Bill had some advantage over most others that morning; he was a business class traveler and could therefore access the shorter lines for preferred travelers. He looked on with genuine pity at the families with young children enduring the economy class lines. He guessed that they could be in line for hours, their kids tired and hungry, with no understanding or appreciation for the delay.

And then it was over. He emerged from the customs hall with his luggage and he saw the sign immediately: “HERR ROSS,” held high by a young police officer in his light blue uniform and white-topped hat. He had obviously drawn the short straw to be the one to drive to Frankfurt that cold December morning to pick up a Texas police officer. Who knows what this young man expected to see, and Bill was tempted to joke about needing to pick up his horse and saddle from the oversized luggage area, but thought better of it.

“Herr Ross, my name is Officer Hartmann, pleased to meet you. Is this all of your luggage? We have a short walk to the car. Would you like to take a coffee and perhaps a croissant to enjoy on the drive to Heidelberg? It should only take 30-40 minutes,” said the young, nervous officer.

Bill declined the kind offer of coffee and climbed into the back of the Mercedes police car with its light blue and silver livery. A few minutes later on the 5 Autobahn South to Heidelberg, Bill was glad he had made the decision to pass on the coffee. The young officer was in the fast lane doing 160 kilometers per hour. Bill’s knuckles were the color of the falling snow as he hung on for dear life in the backseat, squeezing his eyes closed for extended periods, almost terrified to open them again.

~

They made it safely to Heidelberg and Officer Hartmann helped Bill get checked into the Crown Plaza in the center of the city. Bill’s legs were still shaking from the terror of the high-speed drive as he provided the young desk clerk with his identification. On completion of the check-in process, Officer Hartmann considered his duties to be successfully completed. He shook Bill’s hand, wished him a pleasant stay and clicked his heels. He then saluted and was gone in an instant.

The Crown Plaza is the best “American” hotel in the center of Heidelberg. The Old Town is a short walk away as is the main bridge over the river Neckar to the Neuenheim area of the city. Bill would need to take that bridge to get to Ladenburger Strasse where the offices of Geist Reiter GbmH were located and where he had scheduled to meet Claudette Weiss the following morning.

He had a short nap to recover from his travels. Around three in the afternoon he got up, showered and wrapped himself up in coat, scarf and hat and went out for a walk to the old city. He walked along Bismarkplatz and then turned onto Hauptstrasse toward the old town.

~

In December the old town of Heidelberg transforms into a winter wonderland of outdoor markets. It was getting dark and the snow was beginning to fall when Bill reached the main section of the market. There were traders as far as the eye could see lined up one after the other, selling their wares in stalls set up for the season. Each stall was festooned with Christmas lights twinkling in the night sky.

There was every conceivable Christmas ornament and traditional German gingerbread baked goods on sale. The food and drink stalls were packed to overflowing with market-goers having their fill of Gluhwien, a local hot-spiced wine, to keep out the cold and add to the Christmas cheer. Hot steam rose from the cooking and the air was heavy with the smell of grilled bratwurst, onions, hot chocolate and roasted nuts. Children were yelling and carolers were singing. Bill tried to take it all in and he let it engulf him like the warmth from a raging log fire on a cold winter’s night. It was perfect.
Welcome to Germany,
he muttered to himself as he smiled and sipped on his Gluhwien.

~

Bill slept well after his Christmas market experience, and he rose early to have breakfast with Erwin Gunst, whose title was Polizeioberkommissar, which roughly translated was a senior inspector role, and Markus Schweible, Kriminalkommissar, a plainclothes detective, similar in rank to Tommy.

After the initial exchange of pleasantries, the three got down to discussing the case and the planned meeting with Claudette Weiss later that morning. Markus was able to bring Bill up to speed on what he knew about Geist Reiter GbmH. Marcus had done considerable research since his preliminary telephone discussion with Bill the week before.

Mike Muguara had established Geist Reiter five years earlier after leaving the U.S. military. He had been stationed in Stuttgart and had fallen in love with Germany and decided to stay there. He formed a partnership with a German national, Saul Weiss, and his partner, Henri Hoffman. They were joint owners of a company that traded in diamonds. Mike provided security services to Saul and Henri and to other rich business executives who traveled internationally. Saul and Henri had both invested in Geist Reiter, giving Mike the working capital he needed to get his security business rolling. Claudette Weiss was Saul Weiss’s granddaughter.

As far as Markus could tell, Mike Muguara would do all the security work personally for executives traveling in Europe. For those traveling to the U.S. he would travel there with them or hand off the assignment to one of his three associates in the U.S. They would be able to find out more when they met with Claudette.

~

When they arrived at the office of Geist Reiter, they found that it shared the same building as the Weiss & Hoffman diamond business. Security to gain access to the building was only marginally easier than getting into the vault at Fort Knox.

It was a four story grey stone building in the oldest part of the town. Bill speculated that it probably had not changed much since WWII. Claudette greeted them as they exited the 1920s era elevator with its metal expanding safety door. She led them into a small conference room where coffee and water awaited their arrival, as did Saul Weiss.

They all shook hands and sat down. Bill felt the tension in the room. Saul Weiss was not a happy camper and it was obvious that he was uncomfortable that there were strangers in his inner sanctum, let alone German and U.S. law enforcement.

“Before we start, may I look at everyone’s official credentials. please,” said Saul Weiss with a fair degree of controlled aggression in his demeanor.

With their credentials reviewed. Saul continued on. “Do you have positive identification that the deceased is Mike Muguara?”

“We are not one hundred percent,” said Bill and it was obvious that this answer did not sit well with Saul. Before Saul could further vent his obvious anger Bill continued, “However, we are better than ninety percent. I would say that only when we can match DNA will we be one hundred percent.” This seemed to calm Saul down a bit.

“So, you have come a long way, Officer Ross. How can we be of assistance?”

“We need to try to find out why Mike Muguara was in the USA and why he was using the name of a long-dead military colleague,” said Bill.

At that Claudette and Saul Weiss looked at each other, Claudette obviously waiting for her grandfather to give her the okay to talk. Before he did that, the old man looked at the two German police officers and made an opening statement.

“For the benefit of Detective Ross, I will continue to speak in English. Polizeioberkommissar Gunst, this is a murder enquiry, yes? To answer the questions that this U.S. officer may have, I need your assurances that anything we say about our business here today is private and only for the purposes of helping the officer find the killer or killers of my friend and colleague Mike Muguara. You have my assurance that there is nothing we are doing in our business operations that is illegal, but others could construe our processes as being so if they twisted the facts to fit their own ends. Do I have your word that what we discuss here today will be held private between us and not used to prosecute us in any way later?”

There was a long pregnant pause and Bill felt for a moment that no such agreement would be reached. He was both amazed and relieved when Ernie Gunst responded.

“You have my word.”

“Good, then let’s move on. Go ahead, Claudette, and answer Officer Ross’s question,” said Saul, now beginning to look a little less agitated.

“The answer to the first part of your question, Officer Ross, is that Mike used the name of Raul Hernandez for two reasons,” said Claudette. “One was to stay under the radar in the security work he undertook and the second was for tax purposes that we need not go into here. He would occasionally employ his friend Joe Nichol to help him in larger jobs in the U.S. and Joe would use the alias of Jimmy Martinelli.

“To the second part of your question, why was he in the U.S.? I am not completely sure, as I was not fully informed as to the details of each assignment. Earlier in 2013, after he completed another corporate assignment, Mike had taken a few days off to try to track down his birth parents. His grandparents in Oklahoma had raised him but he promised himself that after leaving the military he would try to find out who he really was.

He had made some progress in the search for his birth parents’ identity when he had to return to Germany for another European assignment. A couple of months later he went back to the U.S. to continue his search, and this time when he returned he became very secretive, very distant. Something had changed him. I could tell, Detective, because Mike was not just my employer, he was my lover.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss, Miss Weiss, condolences,” said Bill with respect, and his words were not lost on Saul Weiss, who silently nodded his thanks.

“He seemed to be carrying a lot of cash, Claudette, was that usual?”

Again Claudette glanced over at her grandfather and it was he who now spoke.

“He did this, of course, to avoid being traced through credit card transactions. He flew back and forth from here to the U.S. using his own identity and then once in the U.S. he became Raul Hernandez. His role in my business was not only security; he was also a courier for my diamonds, taking them to my brother’s operation in Houston. My brother would give him cash that he would then use for his expenses, allowing him to become Raul Hernandez,” said Saul.

Bill Ross shot a quick look at the two German policemen and they rolled their eyes, now realizing why Saul Weiss had asked them for the earlier commitment to secrecy.

“Would it be possible to get access to his apartment, Claudette? I’d like to take a look around and see if there is anything that might help with our investigation.”

“We lived together in the apartment upstairs, Detective Ross. There is nothing related to the business there. I keep personal items Mike and I bought together, but there is nothing related to the business in the apartment. We were very diligent in keeping the activities of the business out of our personal life.