Read Online Murder in the Rue St. Ann by Greg Herren - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Greg Herren
Tags: Suspense
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unnatural shade of black. A pack of Camels was tucked into her smock pocket.
I pulled out my little notebook. “Is this your fax number?” I read the number off to her.
“Uh huh. Why?”
I gave her a warm smile and showed her my badge. “I’m trying to track down some faxes that were sent from this office.”
“Oh..” She walked to the back and returned with a black three ring binder. She set it down on the counter in front of me. “We track our faxes— the number they are being sent to and who sent them.”
I looked at the binder. “May I?” I asked.
“Knock yourself out.” She said as she walked around from behind the counter. “I’m gonna step out and have a quick smoke.”
The door shut behind her. I opened the notebook and scanned the first page of a simple ledger recording the time, the fax number, and the name of the sender. I flipped to the back and started to work my way forward, looking for familiar names. And on July 27 th , there it was: Mark Williams, and Ruth’s number. I turned the page. Two more the next day, and so on and so on. I walked over to the copy machine and started copying the pages. The clerk was still out on the sidewalk. I didn’t think it was necessary to copy every page, but a few would suffice to prove my point.
When she opened the door and came back in, the notebook was back on the counter and I was picking through the postcard rack. “Find what you needed?” she asked as she went around behind the counter again.
“Yeah. How much are copies?”
“Five cents each.”
I pulled out a quarter and placed it on the counter. “I made five.”
“Cool.” She rang it up and put the quarter in the drawer. “You want the receipt?”
I shook my head no, walked out, and looked down the street for a cab. It didn’t take long— maybe five minutes— and I was on my way home. My cab driver wasn’t one of the talkative ones, fortunately. I just stared out the window and tried to figure out what Williams’s game was. He was losing money on the shows at Domino’s. How much was she paying him? It seemed like all of this was an incredibly complicated way to go about drumming up business—and an expensive one. I paid the cabbie when we arrived at my place, went into my apartment and turned on my computer.
The Internet had changed the private eye business significantly. I used to have to manually do research—filling out forms and paying fees to get information. Now, all I had to do was go to some websites designed specifically for private eyes to get that information within seconds. The easiest way to start was with the Social Security number, but I didn’t have Williams’s. So I logged into a business license website and plugged in ‘attitude pr.’ Just as Ruth had said, it was listed with the state as a sole proprietorship under Zane Rathburn. I then checked their payroll tax logs. Interesting. They only had two employees listed: Zane Rathburn and Mark Williams. Bingo! There was the Social Security number for both. I copied down Williams’s, and went to another site, that listed criminal records. Just on a hunch, I typed in Williams’s Social Security number. A few moments passed while the computer searched through the site’s records, and then it came up.
I whistled. Ten years ago, Williams had been convicted of credit card fraud in Savannah. He’d served five years before being paroled, and his parole had been completed three years later. He was 24 when he was convicted, which made him 34 now. I printed out the report, and signed off the Internet.
I got a Dr. Pepper out of the refrigerator. I made copies of the report and then some copies of the faxes Ruth had received, matching them up to the report.
Not bad, I thought to myself as I sat back down at the computer. I called Dominique’s office. After a few rings her voice mail picked up. “Dominique, I’ve found out who’s behind the harassment. I haven’t figured out why yet—give me a call when
I pulled out my little notebook. “Is this your fax number?” I read the number off to her.
“Uh huh. Why?”
I gave her a warm smile and showed her my badge. “I’m trying to track down some faxes that were sent from this office.”
“Oh..” She walked to the back and returned with a black three ring binder. She set it down on the counter in front of me. “We track our faxes— the number they are being sent to and who sent them.”
I looked at the binder. “May I?” I asked.
“Knock yourself out.” She said as she walked around from behind the counter. “I’m gonna step out and have a quick smoke.”
The door shut behind her. I opened the notebook and scanned the first page of a simple ledger recording the time, the fax number, and the name of the sender. I flipped to the back and started to work my way forward, looking for familiar names. And on July 27 th , there it was: Mark Williams, and Ruth’s number. I turned the page. Two more the next day, and so on and so on. I walked over to the copy machine and started copying the pages. The clerk was still out on the sidewalk. I didn’t think it was necessary to copy every page, but a few would suffice to prove my point.
When she opened the door and came back in, the notebook was back on the counter and I was picking through the postcard rack. “Find what you needed?” she asked as she went around behind the counter again.
“Yeah. How much are copies?”
“Five cents each.”
I pulled out a quarter and placed it on the counter. “I made five.”
“Cool.” She rang it up and put the quarter in the drawer. “You want the receipt?”
I shook my head no, walked out, and looked down the street for a cab. It didn’t take long— maybe five minutes— and I was on my way home. My cab driver wasn’t one of the talkative ones, fortunately. I just stared out the window and tried to figure out what Williams’s game was. He was losing money on the shows at Domino’s. How much was she paying him? It seemed like all of this was an incredibly complicated way to go about drumming up business—and an expensive one. I paid the cabbie when we arrived at my place, went into my apartment and turned on my computer.
The Internet had changed the private eye business significantly. I used to have to manually do research—filling out forms and paying fees to get information. Now, all I had to do was go to some websites designed specifically for private eyes to get that information within seconds. The easiest way to start was with the Social Security number, but I didn’t have Williams’s. So I logged into a business license website and plugged in ‘attitude pr.’ Just as Ruth had said, it was listed with the state as a sole proprietorship under Zane Rathburn. I then checked their payroll tax logs. Interesting. They only had two employees listed: Zane Rathburn and Mark Williams. Bingo! There was the Social Security number for both. I copied down Williams’s, and went to another site, that listed criminal records. Just on a hunch, I typed in Williams’s Social Security number. A few moments passed while the computer searched through the site’s records, and then it came up.
I whistled. Ten years ago, Williams had been convicted of credit card fraud in Savannah. He’d served five years before being paroled, and his parole had been completed three years later. He was 24 when he was convicted, which made him 34 now. I printed out the report, and signed off the Internet.
I got a Dr. Pepper out of the refrigerator. I made copies of the report and then some copies of the faxes Ruth had received, matching them up to the report.
Not bad, I thought to myself as I sat back down at the computer. I called Dominique’s office. After a few rings her voice mail picked up. “Dominique, I’ve found out who’s behind the harassment. I haven’t figured out why yet—give me a call when
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