Chapter Thirteen:
I contacted only one person to help carry out my plan against Sonny Winters. One person was all I needed. A hacker. A hacker among hackers. This person is categorized as a criminal by law enforcement. But I’m not in law enforcement. I’m a private investigator. Given the fact that most of my investigations are routine and require no sophisticated technical abilities, I rarely have had to call on him for his services. Now was one of those times.
For obvious reasons, I can’t give you his name. I can’t give you his computer name either(For the same obvious reasons). He prefers the name: ’El Conquistador Grande’.(The Mighty Conqueror). I prefer the name: ’El Gusano’ (The Worm). And because I’m the one writing the story, El Gusano is the name that will be used. If he wants to be called The Mighty Conquerer he’s going to have to write his own book.
El Gusano is a short, thin Latino, Caucasian, Caucasian, Asian, African, Latino. His family ancestors moved around a lot. They slept around a lot too. Gusano used to live in Wannabe, but left years ago. His normal day job is as a computer technician. What he does specifically, I don’t know. I don’t care either. His black ribbed hair sits too close to the scalp like grass that’s been drastically over mowed. There’s a small diamond stud earring in his left ear.
The man, despite the appearance of being in his late teens, is actually close to being thirty years old. There’s a highly developed grade of intelligence behind those dull brown eyes of his. This high grade of intelligence is offset by raging snobbery, greed, and self-importance. I don’t like him and he doesn’t like me. This wasn’t a problem because we had nothing that be called any kind of a relationship. The only contact we’ve had has been rare and one sided. I call him when I need his special services.
Why does he help me when I ask him to? I’ll tell you. When I was cop I caught him in illegal activities.(Hacking, what else?) I could’ve busted him, but I didn’t. His crimes, to me, were harmless and undeserving of doing a decent stretch in prison. So, I didn’t report his crimes. But I kept a complete record of them for future reference. There were also one or two crimes that I caught wind of after that as well. So, I use this knowledge against him in order to get him to do occasional jobs for me. Our conversation this time, like every other time, took place on a computer.
“Hello there, Gusano.”
“I want you to know you’re interrupting some very important business.”
“This is Caterski from Wannabe.”
“No shit. Who else calls me Gusano? What do you want?”
“I need your help.”
“Why did I ask? Why? That’s all you ever want.”
“I always pay, don’t I?”
“Go away, I’m busy.”
“Doing what?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“I know what that means.“ (He’s up to something illegal again)
“Caterski, will you please----.”
“Five minutes is all I asking for. Five minutes.”
“What did I do to deserve you?”
“Deserve? Deserve? If human beings all got what they deserved we’d all either be six feet in the ground or have a permanent place ain a padded cell.”
“You don’t think much of the human race, do you?”
“History will do that to you.”
“What do want Caterski? The sooner you tell me the sooner you go away. You’re already knee deep into your five minutes.”
“I need a b&e. Actually, I need two of them.”
“Who are they and kind of info do you want?”
“William ’Sonny’ Winters is the first one. He’s local.”
“I know. I used to live there remember? Everyone in Wannabe knows the Winters family.”
“The other one is Gina Wilson. She lives Maine. I don‘t know what town. She has a lobster business. I don’t know the name of it.”
‘I don’t what town. I don’t know the name of her business. Are you holding out on me just to make this harder for me.“
“One: I need this stuff fast, so making it harder for you goes against my interests. Two: This isn’t hard for you. Nothing on the computer is hard for you. Three; You’re a fucking putz.”
The other end went quiet for a long time. Gusano was the type of person who can insult people up, down, inside, and out and think nothing about it. But if you give it back to him, he gets hurt and bothered. I knew that ahead of time, of course, so I had no excuse for saying it. It was stupid. Luckily for me, Gusano stayed with me.
“You may continue know,” he said.
“Fore Gina Wilson, I want you to check on her business. In the red or in the black. Debts, loans. Check on any vices she might have. Pull up her phone calls. I want to know if she’s had any contact with anyone at the Winters’ house or any of her other relatives here.. Look at her travel. See if she’s been to Wannabe before now.”
“Is that it?”
“For Gina Wilson, yeah. Now I need to tell you what I want for Sonny Winters.”
“Go ahead.”
“Bank accounts, foreign and domestic. Big deposits, big withdrawals. Trips, foreign and domestic. Phone calls, foreign and domestic.”
“What are you looking for?”
“Anything illegal.”
“How far back do I go?”
“Six months.”
“Anything else your royal pain in the ass?”
“Give me a few seconds, I’m thinking.”
“Watch out world, Caterski’s thinking again.”
“The world could do worse than listen to me. And it proves every damn time the sun rises in the east.”
“A Polack philosopher waxing poetic as the world corrodes and decays.”
“Why do I waste my time talking about anything to you?”
“Your time? Who cares about your time. It’s my time that really counts.”
“To who?”
“To me.“
“Who the hell are you?”
“I’m a somebody.”
“Only to you, are you a somebody.”
“Is any one else necessary?”
“You’re a somebody because somebody thinks so and that somebody is you.”
“Exactly. You know what else Caterski?”
“What?”
“Your time is up.”
So, ended our conversation. Before I even had a chance to shut down the computer, the phone rang. It was Alex’s police contact. He, too, shall remain anonymous. The man was a little skittish by nature according to Alex. Nerves of slivered glass she told me. The contact was expecting her to answer the phone. So, when a male voice came on the line, the conversation almost ended before it even started. Luckily, he stayed on just long enough for me to introduce myself.
“Is the line clear?”, he asked.
Yes.”
“It’s not tapped.”
No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Are you lying to me“
I had to stifle a laugh over that last question. It is easily one of the most comically absurd questions in history. Think about it, one person asking another person if they are lying. How many times has anyone yes to that question? Do you want to another equally
absurd question? Are you sleeping? Yes, I’m sleeping.
“I’ll give you what was in the official report first,” the informant said.
“Go slow, I’m writing it down.”
“Mrs. Donna Winters. Age: 45. Race: Caucasian. Sex: Female. Wounds: Single gunshot from a .9mm Mauser pistol. Bullet entry point: Right temple. Cause of death: Single gunshot wound to the right temple. Status of death: Suicide. Status of case: Closed.”
“What about the body?,” I asked. “Were there any marks on her? And the car, what was the status of the car?”
“This is from the official report. The victim was fully dressed at the time of her death. She suffered no other injuries other than the fatal gunshot wound to the right temple. The car, a dark gray Mercedes, was found parked. The engine was off. All windows and doors were closed. Is there anything else?
“Did someone call it in? Or did a cruiser happen by and see the car?”
“It was called in.”
“What time?”
“1:18 a.m.”
“A name?”
“No name. Anonymous.”
“Mr. or Miss?”
“What?”
“Man or woman?”
“The report doesn’t say.”
“Shit.”
“Time of death?”
“Between 11 and 11:30.”
I was writing as fast as I could, but I still had trouble keeping up with him. He’d started out slow just as I asked him to, but then he started speeding up more and more as he went along. My head was with him the entire way. But my writing hand was lagging behind. I asked him to go through the information again. It took some time a little persuasion, but eventually he agreed.
“Okay,” I said. “We’ve done the official version. Now, let’s hear the unofficial.”
“There’s jewelry missing.”
“Jewelry?”
“Jewelry.”
“What kind?”
“The expensive kind. Three or four pair of earrings, a gold diamond encrusted watch, and four necklaces. Two pearls and two diamonds.”
“Was there a box?”
“A box?”
“A jewelry box.”
“No, no box. Rumor has it that the jewelry was found in the car, but never made it downtown.”
“So, somebody at the scene took it.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you if her husband was at the scene?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know or you don’t want to know.”
“Would I have called if I didn’t want to talk.”
He’s up to his nose in hesitation. He wanted to sound offended by my doubting him, but this was just a stalling tactic to bide for time. Doubt had crawled into mind through the back door and he was having a hard time dealing with it. Doubt over the rightness of what he was doing. For a few seconds, I thought he’d just walked off and left the phone dangling. I didn’t hear anything at all. I thought I’d lost him and was to hang up, when he finally decided to come back on the line.
“The official report is full of lies,” he said.
“What kind of lies?”
“There was no gun found at the scene.”
“Yet, they instantly ruled it a suicide.“
“Yeah.”
“Not exactly proper police procedure, is it?”
“No, not exactly.”
“There’s one other thing I need to tell you.”
“Go ahead.”
“Mrs. Winters was bruised.”
“What kind?”
“Strangle marks on her neck.”
“Anything else?”
“No. Do you think Sonny Winters murdered his wife?”
“I don’t know. Some of the evidence says yes, some of it says no.”
“It must’ve been him who pulled strings to alter what went the official reports.
What other reason could there be.”
“There are one or two other explanations.”
“Such as?”
“Someone else murdered her and was trying to frame Sonny. Someone else found her after she killed herself and was trying to frame Sonny.”
I rubbed my eyes and let out a long, teary eyed yawn. I needed sleep. God, did need sleep.
“My name stays out of this no matter what, right,” he asked.
“No matter what.”
“Is there anything else?”
“No, that’s it. Thanks.”
“Alexandria was decent to me when she was here. There weren’t many-----. I like to help her out when I can. Which isn’t often.”
“I know how you can help her some more.”
“How?”
“Call her. Not a business call. Leave that out of it. She’s having a lot of personal problems. She needs reassuring voices.”
“Aren’t you doing that?”
“I’m trying, but she won’t let me in.”
“Maybe you’re too close.”
“Maybe.”
“I’ve got to go now. Bye.”
“Okay, thanks.”
I hung up the phone hoping to go lay down for awhile and get some sleep. But I’d barely started upstairs to my bed, when the phone rang again. This call, unlike the first, was short, fast, and one sided.
“The will is being read at 9 a.m. Monday morning at Sonny Winters’ home. Be there. It will be worth your while. More Winters family fun. A peeping Tom look behind the scenes. You will not want to miss it. But it will not be what you think. So think beyond what you see and what you hear. Think beyond to what really is and not what it just seems to be. Goodbye, Mr. Caterski.”
The phone call ended there without my ever getting the chance to ask a question or even a single word. The call was cryptic enough, telling me things without really telling me anything at all. I couldn’t even tell if the caller was male or female. The voice had been purposely scrambled to disguise it. But the caller, whoever he or she was, had failed in realizing the purpose of the call. I wouldn’t be going to the reading of the will.
I followed this phone up with two outgoing calls. A couple of fences and a couple of middle ground thieves I knew. I asked them if they knew anything about hot, high class jewelry being sold since Donna Winters died. Their answers were all negative. So, I told them to keep their eyes and ears open and let me know if anything turns up.
After that I crawled into bed. I fell asleep reading Baldwin’s ‘No Name in the Street’ and listening to Gary Moore’s slow blues guittar crying just for me. I don’t know when Alex and Gina came back. I didn’t know and I didn’t care.
When I woke up the next morning, there were pictures of Sarah, Shelley, Alex, and------, in the palm of my right hand. I don’t know how they got there. I don’t remember digging them out of my wallet the night before. I don’t remember looking at them or even touching them.
Who else would put them there but me? It had to be me, didn’t it? It was the only plausible answer. Then, while laying there in a groggy, barely awake glaze, I suddenly understood why those pictures were in my hand. Three of the four people in those pictures had left me. And the fourth one, I believed, was about to do the same. To me, she now seemed to be walking on the other side of destiny, a far away place where I couldn’t reach her. She, like all of the others, would walk away and leave me to live in the dark abyss alone. A place I’d been to a million times before.