Agnes Delanco cut in. "I've got people checking sales. We have an approximate time frame and partial ID."
Frank continued. "We have a hospital report from inner city Cleveland. Mr. Thomas Morley was admitted with a gunshot wound to his leg, sustained, according to him, when he was mugged in an alley while taking a short cut to his car."
"That's him!"
Vasapolli didn't stop. "We have an address and phone number. He was treated overnight and paid with his insurance card and for good measure, his credit card."
"Great work!"
"You keep interrupting. Not so great. Do you know who Thomas Morley is? I guess not, 'cause you wouldn't say 'great work' if you did; he's the father of Jennifer Morley, the Alabama kid this bastard murdered. Remember, swami? He killed the father too. Then he stole his credit card, insurance papers and god knows what else and used 'em to get patched up in Cleveland."
"The credit card processor wasn't alerted?"
"It was too soon after the Morley killing. Besides, this guy is smart. He left the wallet with the body so no one knew the card and papers even existed, much less were stolen. You can bet by now, he's dumped them. We did acquire a blurry video image and a pretty good visual descripting of the perp."
"That takes real. . . "
"Balls," he finished my sentence. "I told you he was smart. He made a purchase using the card earlier, just to make sure there wasn't a stop order on it. There was no way for the insurance company to know they weren't paying for the real Thomas Morley, of Alabama, mugged on vacation. That's the story he laid on them."
"Where was he staying locally?" I asked.
"At a Ramada Inn, only he wasn't really there; just the address he gave."
"What about fingerprints?" I asked.
"Look Swami, you're not talking to the FBI or the cops; I'm just private citizen Frank Vasapolli. I've got friends, who get me stuff every ones in a while
but it's not always easy. In this case, I didn't waste my time trying. Hospitals clean up real well and we weren't exactly Johnnie-on-the-spot getting there."
"What about his vehicle?"
"Either they forgot to ask or didn't bother. What did they care? It was supposed to be in a parking lot nearby."
There was nothing more to say. I congratulated them both on a great job and terminated the call. Once again, close but no gold star.
Vermont. It is delightful here, smelling of sun-drenched pine and a hint of campfires. I almost plucked a little beauty from a nearby tent the other night as her parents partied with other campers several yards away. But, alas, the danger was too great and I am a cautious man. Another opportunity will present itself I'm sure, but not where I might be identified with my perfect house on wheels and electric bicycle.