Bad Faith

22

The Memphis Police Detective’s Droopy hound-dog face remained unresponsive as he sat back in a chair listening to Marlene. Tall and thin as a rail, Wink Winkler didn’t say a word for several moments after she finished and he had closed his notebook. She wondered if he was just going to dismiss her as some crackpot private investigator.

Then he smiled. “I sure do appreciate you, ma’am,” he said with a southern drawl that reminded her of Johnny Cash. “I knew there was something wrong about that son of a bitch LaFontaine, pardon my French. I just couldn’t piece it together fast enough, and then he skipped town so I couldn’t keep tabs on him neither.”

They were sitting in the detective squad room of the Memphis Police Department, and he now pushed a manila folder across the table to her. “I shouldn’t be talking to you about an open case,” he continued. “But after you left your message, I did a little calling around myself. Got some friends with the NYPD, and while they might be damn Yankees, I can trust ’em, and they said you and your husband-who you failed to mention is the DA up there-are good folks and that if you said something was important, then I needed to listen to you real careful. And glad I did.”

Winkler explained that when Charlie Hale was beaten and later died, the case had been handed to him to investigate along with a dozen others. “We’re not New York City when it comes to homicides,” he said. “But we average more than a hundred and fifty a year, which for a city the size of Memphis is more per capita than New York by quite a bit. In fact, there have been times, unfortunately, when we earned the ‘Murder Capital of the United States’ moniker. Most of these murders are drug-related, or domestic violence, and we either catch the killer right out of the box or they go unsolved. Looking at the Hale case, I didn’t initially hold out much hope. Charlie wasn’t unknown to us. He had a half-dozen convictions on his record, mostly simple assaults and minor drug-possession-type charges; done a little time in the county jail, that’s about it. As you know, he and his missus lived in a pretty tough neighborhood, one of the highest crime areas in Shelby County. I figured he either crossed one of his dealer friends or just wasn’t careful enough when he went out that night.”

“So what changed your mind, Wink?” Marlene asked.

“I don’t know, a hunch maybe,” Winkler answered. “I didn’t have any leads, no weapon, no witnesses … the perps took his wallet and watch, so it looked like a robbery. But the first time I talked to his wife, there was another woman there who insisted on staying for ‘moral support’ and I couldn’t get the two apart. Something just bothered me …”

“This other woman a pretty brunette, late thirties?”

“Yeah … wouldn’t give her name but when I heard your story right away I made the connection to this ‘Sister Sarah’ you told me about. Anyway, Monique didn’t say much. She said she had no idea who might want to hurt her husband. But she seemed scared and it just kept bugging me, so I waited a few days and then sat down the block from her house until I was pretty sure no one else was there, and then went back to talk to her.”

Winkler shook his head. “She was not happy to see me,” he said. “About as nervous as a possum in the middle of a pack of hounds. But she lightened up some when I saw the photo of her daughter and we started talkin’ about the poor kid. She said they’d been getting treatment at the children’s hospital with Dr. Aronberg, but stopped going to the doctor when this LaFontaine character showed up at their door with his spiel about faith healing and all. She got up and peeped out the window, and then said that her husband was unhappy with the preacher after their daughter died, something ’bout an insurance policy. Sounds like the same thing you’ve run into with the Ellis family. But right about then, this other woman shows up again, like she’d been watching the house, too. And that was it; Monique shut down and I never could get another word out of her.”

“Were you able to find out anything about LaFontaine?” Marlene asked.

“Not much,” Winkler admitted. “He’d registered his ‘church,’ and I’m using the term loosely, for tax purposes with himself and this Frank Bernsen character as the church officers. But otherwise, he was clean as a whistle. I smelled ex-con all over him when we talked, but he was cool as a cucumber-shook his head over ‘poor Charlie Hale’ but didn’t know anything. Guess it all makes sense in light of what your husband told you about the ATF wiping their records-nothing but a bunch of rogue cowboys in that agency.”

“Just remember that information was on the QT, Wink,” Marlene reminded him. “Our best revenge will be to take their little pals down.”

“Gotcha,” Winkler replied. “I won’t say a thing. But I will keep it in mind the next time those ol’ boys come askin’ for favors.”

“You talked to Dr. Aronberg, too,” Marlene noted.

“Yes, ma’am,” Winkler replied. “Good man but didn’t have much to contribute. Was treating Natalie; then the family stopped coming in and didn’t respond to telephone calls. Glad I had the sense to leave my business card with him.”

“I am, too,” Marlene said. “So if you’re thinking like I’m thinking, this LaFontaine is a con man and he works these families with sick kids. Gets some of them to donate ‘to the church’ and others to take out these insurance policies under fraudulent terms and sign the benefits over to him.”

“Looks that way,” Winkler said. “But how’d he know who to target?”

Marlene thought about it for a minute. “I think it would have to be somebody on the inside who knew these families and their kids,” she said.

The detective frowned. “You think Aronberg-”

Marlene was shaking her head before he could finish his sentence. “No, I don’t,” she said. “Of course it’s a possibility, but I’d bet my bank account that his love for those kids and his anger at LaFontaine were all genuine. But he’s a good place to start to figure out who was feeding LaFontaine the information. I think I’ll drop by after I leave here.”

Winkler nodded. “Let me know what you find out,” he said. “In the meantime, I’m worried about Monique Hale. She was frightened, and apparently with good cause. I’m going to go pick her up and get her to a safe location until the bad guys are off the street. I don’t know that I’m going to be able to put a case together against LaFontaine for the murder of her husband, but if I can’t, I still want to make sure she’s okay in case you need her in New York.”

Marlene looked at her watch. “That reminds me. I have to pick up the two guys I was telling you about, Assistant DA Ray Guma and Detective Clay Fulton, at the airport at six. They’re going to want to get statements from Aronberg and Monique, too. Maybe the three of you can do that together. In the meantime, I’m going to see if Sister Sarah is willing to cooperate.”

“Maybe I should pick her up, too,” Winkler said.

“Let me have a shot at her first,” Marlene said. “If she’s a pro at the con game, she may be a pretty tough cookie to crack. But if I can convince her that cooperating is her best chance to avoid taking an acting-in-concert murder rap, she may roll over on LaFontaine and his henchman, Frank Bernsen. One thing about good con artists is that they know when the jig is up. And besides, I think she may be susceptible to a woman’s touch.”

Winkler laughed. “Have to admit, Marlene, it’s worked on me a time or two. But let me know how it goes. If she doesn’t talk to you nice, I’ll haul her butt in here and do it the old-fashioned way.”

“Deal, Wink,” Marlene said with a grin.

An hour later, Marlene again found herself in Dr. Aronberg’s office. She’d called his office and learned that he was treating a patient but would meet her as soon as he was done. She was still looking at the photographs on his wall when he entered.

“Ms. Ciampi, this is both a pleasant surprise and a bit of serendipity,” he said.

“Why is that?”

“Well, I was going to call you when I finished my rounds this morning,” he said. “I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what you told me yesterday, particularly regarding the life insurance scam. I just couldn’t see how a company would have issued a policy for Natalie Hale or Micah Ellis, not once they’d looked into their medical records.”

“And?”

“And I decided to play Sherlock Holmes,” Aronberg said lightly, though his smile then faded into a frown. “When I was at the hospital, I tried to pull up their records and they weren’t there.”

“What do you mean they weren’t there?”

“They don’t exist. They’ve been expunged,” Aronberg said, his voice growing angrier.

“You’re sure they existed?” Marlene asked. “Or that they wouldn’t have been moved to some storage facility because the children weren’t being treated, or had died?”

“I’m absolutely positive they were there,” Aronberg said. “One of my assistants and I made numerous entries from diagnosis through treatment. In fact, I have copies of those records in my own computer. As for some special storage area for the files of children who stop treatment or are deceased, there’s no such thing to my knowledge. And besides, I did a search of all hospital records; those names don’t exist in the hospital’s database.”

“Who would have access to those computer files?”

Aronberg shrugged. “There are a number of people. Doctors, such as myself, but generally only to their own patients’ files. The tech guys, of course, and some of the administrative staff.”

Marlene’s brow furrowed and she quickly filled the physician in on her conversation with Detective Winkler. “So who would know which children and families to target?”

“If what you’re telling me about how this LaFontaine works is right,” Aronberg said, “he not only would have to know which children have been diagnosed with potentially fatal diseases, he would need at least a basic understanding of the disease and how it progresses. Apparently, part of how the parents get sucked into his scheme relies on his knowing that the child will appear to be getting better, which often occurs once the effects of chemo and radiation wear off and the body begins to heal itself.”

Aronberg pondered for a moment. “I’d say we’re looking at a medical professional, probably a physician.”

Marlene suddenly recalled something Nonie had told her about how LaFontaine seemed to know so much about the family. “This person might also have access to some family history, such as their religious affiliations and employment records. I guess that’s the sort of thing a professional con man would be able to pull out of his hat; one of the characteristics of a grifter is having good intuition. But it also might be a clue.”

Aronberg nodded. “When they come in, the parents fill in a pretty extensive form that covers family history, including questions about religious affiliations-we do try to meet their spiritual as well as physical needs through the hospital’s ministerial staff. And many of our patients’ families can’t afford the treatments and have to apply for financial aid, so there’s a lot of that information as well.”

“All right, let’s narrow it down,” Marlene said. “Who would have the medical knowledge, and access to the computers and this personal information?”

Aronberg thought about it and then a lightbulb seemed to go off in his mind. His face fell and tears came to his eyes. “I can think of one person for sure,” he said. “But I have a hard time believing it. He’s a friend and a colleague, a good doctor, though he’s an administrator now.” He paused and shook his head. “I can’t fathom why he would do such a thing.”

“I’m sorry,” Marlene said. “But people do things out of character for all sorts of reasons.”

Aronberg’s face had grown gray and grim. “I’m sorry, too. But I can’t think of anything more evil than preying on a sick child and that child’s parents. If he participated in this, then he’s not the man I thought I knew, and he needs to pay for it.”

“His name?” Marlene asked.

“Dr. Maury Holstein. He’s my brother-in-law.”

As soon as Marlene got out of Aronberg’s office and into her car, she called the Memphis detective. “Hey, Wink, you able to get Monique Hale?” she asked.

“I went by and nobody was home,” the detective answered. “I got an unmarked car sitting down the block, so when she shows we’ll get her. What about you? What did Doc Aronberg have to say?”

Marlene told him about her conversation with the doctor.

Winkler whistled. “That’s a hell of a thing. You think Aronberg will warn him?”

Marlene thought about it. She had a plan in mind and it would fail if Aronberg decided to warn his brother-in-law. Not this guy, she told herself, not the guy who still cries over a child he couldn’t save ten years ago. “No,” she said. “I think we’re safe there. I asked him if he’d be available to give a statement when Guma and Fulton arrive and he said yes. In the meantime, I have a plan to get this Dr. Holstein to lead us back to LaFontaine.”

“What are you thinkin’?”

“Well, I’d like to know how he reacts if a certain Memphis police detective comes nosing around, asking questions,” she said.

“And maybe he’ll panic and start making calls to a certain flimflam man in New York?” Winkler said with a chuckle. “I’ll want to get a subpoena for that phone record, and any others he may have made back when LaFontaine was still in town. But I know a friendly judge and between what you’ve got, your boys coming in from New York, and a little arm-twisting, I think that won’t be a problem. In fact, I think I’ll go chat with Dr. Holstein right now and set this in motion.”

Before Marlene could answer, her cell phone buzzed and indicated she had a text message from a Memphis area code. “Hold on a second,” she said. “Maybe this is Monique.”

Instead the text read: “Will talk. Meet me at the club at 6. Sarah.”

Marlene told the detective about the text. “I’ll never make it,” she said. “I have to pick up my guys.”

“Maybe I should meet Sarah,” Winkler suggested. “We could all get together after that at headquarters.”

Marlene thought about it. “No. She’s expecting me,” she decided. “A cop shows up instead and she may lawyer up. She’s not the big fish here; LaFontaine, or Westlund, or whatever his real name is, he’s the big one we don’t want to get away. Guma and Fulton will just have to cool their heels.”

“Tell you what,” Winkler said. “I’ll go roust Holstein and then pick up your guys myself. We can get a statement from Aronberg and hopefully Monique Hale will show up by then. Maybe you can get Sister Sarah to give up the whole shebang.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Marlene replied. “I’ll stay in contact.”