11.2 Transition

She arrived at the North Coastal Sheriff’s Station in her Ford Bronco SUV. Natalia wore black pantsuit and a provocative tie since the tightness of her jacket rather over her breast augmented its practicality. Her hair done in a smooth low bun with side sweep. She was ushered to the conference room.

Captain Jean Mayron entered, “Oh daddy! What can I call you, Mr Phol?”

“Natalia,” she replied, “Good Morning, sir!”

“Morning! You should have preferred a dress!”

“You asked me to dress like a man.”

“Did I?” he glared, “What are those?”

“I did an implant.”

He chuckled, “Oh daddy! I can call you Miss Phol now and next time, dress like a lady.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Let’s talk business,” he moved to his seat by the far side, “What is it that you want to talk about?”

“I want the case,” began Natalia, “I’m going to re-enter into the Charleston case you gave me six years ago. If you will permit me or else, I do it on my own.”

“What is the reason?” asked the captain.

“I got it all wrong,” Natalia pushed the magazine towards him, “this house is on sale for nine million. It is 69 Church Street now owned by Paul Clancy. The owner of the boat called ‘Valor’ where I found fingerprints that link to the case five and a half years ago. And two years before Paul Clancy bought that house from a man called Noth Edwidge Wellinois. He is the heir to this property, a stepbrother of Thomas Avon Cyril, a son of Sidney Martin and a half-brother to Savon Martin…the one who died of nicotine overdose. Do you remember, sir?”

“Yes. Go on. What are you getting at?”

“I want the probate record. I’ve called the court. I won’t be able to get it without being there in person and without paying for it. They will not post it. I want to find out this Noth Edwidge Wellinois. I’m afraid, I shall not call Jacob Lawrence or Thomas Cyril at this stage. I have to go there.”

“You want to go after the money!” cried Mayron, “you still believe it was murder!”

Natalia remained silent.

“You know, this case is closed. We have nothing to do with it. If you want to do your own investigation, I have no objection. Do it! Go on! Call them!”

“Sir!” she said, “I can’t call them. It is a dead end. I’ve done everything I could from my side. I’d only expose myself if I call. Sir, I don’t have evidence but a hunch that Joseph Fellon who put the camera case in the storage bin is Noth Edwidge Wellinois. I have to prove this. If I could prove, I can probably prove that Savon Martin’s death was murder. I have to find this person. His fingerprints were in the case.”

“The worst mistake you make is following your gut. How do you know it is him?”

“Please don’t ask me now. I cannot say anything without a little bit more confidence. It has to do with skin colour.”

“And this lady, you said who took all the photos, is she involved?”

“I bet. She lied to me.”

“Lied? How?”

“She said she collected hush money. She’s a liar. I think I know who are involved. I have to relocate all of them and locate some of them wherever.”

“Who else are involved.”

“I believe one of the law offices,” said Natalia.

“What if you are wrong?”

“Sir, I will know if I’m wrong after looking into it a second time. I never checked on these guys, Paul Clancy or Noth Wellinois. I didn’t know Savon Martin had a half-brother. If a decedent Sidney Martin owned the real estate under the will, survived by a son, there is no way Thomas Cyril can get the mansion.

“Linda Linz or nobody mentioned Noth Edwidge Wellinois to the police in Milwaukee. It raises questions. I still do not know if Jacob Lawrence is hiding something or Carmen or Hulsen & Quinn.”

“Why must he be mentioned?” asked Mayron.

“I feel someone there knew about him,” Natalia said, “there’s no reason not to mention unless if he or she wants to hide something.”

“And you are going to get the mansion back to him after proving this boy was murdered,” articulated the chief, “You hear, mister…miss…Phol, I believe you but I’m not going to let you sell your findings to Thomas Cyril.”

“I am not going after the money.”

“You will not, but Natalia, you cannot force it or steal it or trespass into a property. You have to do it in a way that is permitted by law.”

“Yes sir.”

“I am going to assign you back to the case. If you say this Fellon guy is your suspect, we go on, do it under stranger-danger. I will cover your expenses and deny not a reward but I must know. You must tell me everything before you tell Thomas Cyril.”

“Yes sir,” agreed Natalia, “I will fly.”

“You can fly six times. Then, if it is worth going further, I will decide.” Captain Mayron said, “Jon, give her the camera case. Get weekly reports. She’s hired with full backing.”

Jonathan Simms insisted, “Come this way, Sarin! Do I still have to call you Sarin and not Natalia?”

“You can call me Mono,” she responded in a low tone.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes, please,” Natalia demanded, “Look for this man, Noth Edwidge Wellinois, in San Diego 619.”

“San Diego!”

“Yes, San Diego. When I looked into the websites, there appeared an article on Yahoo with a B&W pictures of a circus. I could not quite make their faces but one of the names was a Crape. This Wellinois is a Crape. A son of Sidney Martin. He could be living among the Crapes. This circus is called ‘Selenelion’. He is associated with this word which is a circus in Corpus Christi.”

“His description?” Simms asked.

“A hunch again. He’s short, very short, four and a half. It is my guess he breathed around Six-One-Nine or he was here in 1988.”

 

Natalia bit a stacked burger, wearing stockings, deep red panties and bra, a shawl on her shoulder, when she heard knocks on the door. She peeped through the eyehole, released the shawl from her shoulders and flung the door wide open. “Oops!” She went down on her knees in a cringe holding her palms in the front and ran to pick her red shorts, “Come in! Jon! I’m sorry!”

Jonathan Simms entered a narrow bedroom with microwave, sink and a tiny bathroom. He glanced at the floor covered of papers and more scattered over the bed. “What is going on here?”

“I am going through all the paperwork to refresh my mind. See! Those fingerprints I dubbed as Kit and Kat fall into Kat and Kit that I figured before at some point but I dropped it because, Linda’s fingerprints were not in them. Neither Kit, nor Kat. I messed it. Actually, we got Linda’s fingerprints much later from 906 Maurus Circle. I scribbled all that crap in this!” Natalia picked her black notebook and tossed aside, “Care for a drink!”

“No thanks. Not now.”

She cleared a seat for him, “Please sit down! And now, I am beginning to think, Kit is actually Wellinois. He took the photographs outside Hulsen & Quinn. He took the pictures of 69 Church Street. I could be wrong.

“When she said, she stole the logo from a circus she attended in Annaville, Linda was there to meet Noth Edwidge Wellinois.”

“Maybe you are getting at something,” Jonathan Simms said waving the folder he carried, “I brought this here…what I got form Corpus Christi Police Department. This Selenelion was going strong between 1979 and 1986. After an incident of killing an animal in circus act in front of the audience, this circus collapsed. Then they became a mobile circus. A caravan set out and ended somewhere in New Mexico. You’d find an interesting name, Franklin Crape.”

“Franklin Crape?”

“Yes, the circus owner. Read this!” he sighed, “I couldn’t find a connection to San Diego. I am still trying. There seems to be no record of this Joseph Fellon or Noth Wellinois.”

Natalia said, “I called this home décor magazine. The columnist in New York said Wellinois was the heir. She went to 69 through the realtor, gave me this address in Charleston. I think I know where I can find Paul Clancy so I am not calling. I am not calling anyone now. I’m flying there. I can’t take these papers. And I think it’s all useless. I have to start from scratch. What are you doing here in the city?”

“Department call. I have to go back in two hours. Well, Mono, I thought you could afford a bigger place!”

“I could,” she said, “I came across a lot of good apartments. This building is new and two miles from my office. I’m not a family guy. I’m not too comfortable to be around families. Here you find single guys from all walks of life. I am happy here.”

“How is the noise level?” asked Simms.

“Not that loud. I hear aircrafts. Sometimes I can’t hear them. Weekends Rosecrans is noisy.”