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  Full Circle

  An Endwell Investigations Mystery

  By

  FJ Donohue

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Raymond Leonard was twenty-three years old and autistic, high functioning but not able to live on his own. However, he was able to interact with other people and maintain social relationships. He lived with his mother and father on Binghamton’s west-side and worked at The Sheltered Workshop in town. His brother was a senior at Northeastern University in Boston majoring in statistics. He planned to stay in the Boston area after graduation.

  It was a safe and comfortable life for Raymond. He had his family, his job and his home. His parents helped him to develop his independence. They knew that there would come a day when they would not be able to look after him. Along with his father, he managed the day-to-day household expenses. He had a number of other jobs around the house, all designed to help him understand what it took to run a house and be independent. Although he did not drive, he did most of the grocery shopping for the family. There was a Weis supermarket about five blocks from the house. He had a backpack and roller cart he used to carry the groceries. He enjoyed the structure of shopping. Make a list, go to the store, buy the groceries, take them home and then put them away. The completeness of the task was appealing to him. A defined beginning and end.

  He was also a bit of an explorer. His trips were not always a straight walk to the store but a wider-ranging walk about the town. When he was little, his mom had always pointed out the trees and flowers when they went on their walks, and he still liked to look at them.

  The season was well into fall. The clocks had been turned back and the days were much shorter now. There were plenty of leaves still on the trees but their earlier vibrant colors were now dull and they would soon fall. Raymond had decided to take a walk to look at the leaves on the way to the store because he’d heard his mom say they’d soon be gone.

  This evening, he walked through an older part of Binghamton that had seen better days but where the trees were fully grown. The city was trying to improve the area and some of the abandoned houses had been torn down.

  He was passing two empty lots, side by side. They had been there for some time and were overgrown, neighborhood junk starting to accumulate. He casually stopped and walked in a bit to look around. But the vegetation was dense and in the fading light he couldn’t see much. As he was leaving the lot to continue his walk, he saw three men having a heated conversation in the back of the lot. He saw flashes and heard the sound of gunshots. Two men had been shot and he saw it happen!

  Raymond was terrified. What just happened? he thought. Then he saw a man with a gun coming toward him. Without knowing what he was doing or where he was going, he quickly ran out of the lot, crossed the street and headed towards the downtown area. I have to get away! This is a really bad man, was all he could think.

  But Raymond was not the only one on the street. Reilly Harrington, who was from Rochester, had arrived at the bus station earlier and was on his way to the same lot to pick up a backpack full of drugs. He had been sober for some months now and was trying to get away from the drug life. However, the lure of some quick money was hard to resist. So, he thought, one more trip as a drug mule for a dealer in the Rochester area and then close it out. Reilly made most of his trips in upstate New York, with occasional runs to New York City. Being a drug mule supported his meager lifestyle. He knew this type of work was reckless and dangerous. Sooner or later it would come crashing down on him.

  When he arrived at the lot to pick up the drugs, Raymond was already gone and all he saw was a guy running down the street with a gun. It wasn’t anyone he knew. Whoa, that’s not one of the dudes I’m supposed to meet. Where are my guys?, thought Reilly. He knew something was wrong. Really wrong! He went up to the lot and looked in but couldn’t see much. He went into the lot about ten feet and then he saw the two guys he was supposed to meet, both dead. I got to get out of here now! Somebody must have heard something. I don’t want to be around when the cops come. He quickly got out of the lot and headed downtown. He headed back to the bus station looking for the next bus to Rochester. Someone robbed those guys and killed them. He’ll shoot me, to, if he knows I was there.

  Raymond had stopped running now. He walked at a rapid pace but where to go? He came to the bus station and saw three buses loading and unloading. I’ll take one of those buses. I have to get out of here now. If the bad man finds me, he’ll hurt me!

  Raymond had the grocery shopping money and some of his own. Not much, maybe sixty dollars total. Small bills and change. He went up to the ticket window and just looked at the agent. He didn’t know what to say. Where should he go? He looked back at the buses at the gates and thought, one of these I guess.

  He was looking at the Rochester bus when the ticket agent said, “What’s it going to be my friend?”

  “That one, Rochester,” replied Raymond.

  “Can’t do that, it just came in from Rochester and will depart in ten minutes for Monticello and then on to the city. There is a Rochester bus coming from the city in thirty minutes.” New York City was usually referred to as the city by the upstate folks.

  “Want that one?”

  “Okay,” replied Raymond. “I’ll take that bus.”

  “It’ll go from Gate 3 over there; we’ll make an announcement soon.”

  Raymond bought a ticket and took a seat near Gate 3 where he could see most of the doors in the terminal and waited for the bus.

  Reilly Harrington came into the bus station about ten minutes after Raymond sat down. He went up to the ticket window. “When’s the next bus to Rochester?”

  “The driver just called in with a status. He’s about fifteen minutes out. Want a ticket?”

  “Yeah.”

  Reilly paid for the ticket, sat down to wait for the incoming bus. What is going on? That’s it, I’m finished with this life. If I’d been in that lot ten minutes earlier, I’d be toast. It’s over! Maria is right, sooner or later you die in the drug business. I’m going to continue to stay sober this time and not go back. If the killer knows I was nearby, he’ll find me and kill me for sure. Maria Suarez was Reilly’s on-again-off-again girlfriend. Reilly wanted a more committed relationship but she would not get too close to him given his life style. She was there for him but would not let the relationship develop. She worked as an administrator at a not-for-profit that supported halfway houses in Rochester and Monroe County. Mainly for people recently released from prison or enrolled in rehabilitation programs.

  Reilly texted his dealer in Rochester. They had a codeword system to let him know he had picked up the “package” and also if he had trouble. Reilly used a burner and sent a text with the codewords for a
problem. It said, “gone south 11:50” which was the code for a broken deal and the arrival time in Rochester for his bus. He took the sim card out of the burner and broke it into small pieces. He knew he’d have a reception committee waiting for him when he got to Rochester. These guys have only one way to deal with problems—violence! They’re not going to be happy campers, he thought.

  As he was sitting in the station lobby, he noticed Raymond sitting not too far away. He looked agitated and clearly in a very nervous state. He was constantly rocking forward and back which Reilly knew was a coping mechanism for extreme stress. Well, I guess I’m not the only guy with problems. This dude is hurting, he thought. Reilly kept looking at Raymond. It was odd; he was not dressed as a typical guy would be at his age. The clothes were clean and not worn but there was a style and color disconnect. Sort of like his mother was still buying his clothes. The colors and styles were a bit dated. If he was aware of it, it didn’t seem to bother him. At that point, they made eye contact. Reilly felt sorry for the guy. He smiled and made a small hand wave gesture. Raymond didn’t respond but kept looking in his direction. Strange dude, thought Reilly, wonder what his problem is? He guessed he was five to ten years older than Raymond. Neither one knew that the other had been way too close to the murders.

  When they started to board the Rochester bus, Reilly was one of first to board. He took a seat by a window. The bus was about half full. He saw Raymond still outside. He was letting the other passengers board ahead of him. Is this guy going to get on the bus? He really seems confused, he thought.

  About that time the bus driver was coming out of the terminal with the passenger manifest and spoke to Raymond. Reilly couldn’t hear what was said but imagined he was telling him to board the bus if he wanted to go to Rochester. Raymond got on the bus; spotted Reilly and sat down next to him. What the hell, plenty of empty seats, why sit next to me? What’s your game? They settled in to their seats and were off to Rochester. Reilly could sense Raymond constantly looking at him as he kept rocking back and forth.

  Finally Raymond said, “I’m Raymond. I’m going to Rochester.”

  “Well, you’re on the right bus. Is someone going to meet you?”

  “I don’t have anybody.”

  “Where are you going to stay?”

  “I don’t have anybody.”

  “You already said that. You can’t just get on a bus and get someplace at midnight without a place to stay and a plan.”

  What am I going to do about this guy? thought Reilly, I just can’t cut him loose at the bus station at midnight. Nothing good will come from that. Maybe I should keep him for the night and then get social services involved tomorrow. I’ll call Maria and see what she thinks. Something’s not right with this guy and I don’t understand it. He’s not a threat but he acts sort of strange. Christ, when is all this shit going to end? The Rochester dealers are going to be really pissed off at losing their dope and will try to blame me for it. I can see that coming. Now I got this weird dude who doesn’t have a clue about what he’s doing.

  Chapter 2

  How long has it been? he thought. Today was a special day. It was the anniversary of Emi’s and the baby’s murder all those years ago. Anniversary? Isn’t that for a celebration? Should be a happy time; but for Alastair, it was a day of remembrance. He always made sure the day was spent quietly away from his busy private investigation agency. He sat quietly in his house in Endwell, New York thinking back to those days as he always did every year on this day.

  The events were still with him. Not so much the trauma now but certainly the memory. Over the years, he would hear a laugh, voice intonation, see a color and it would trigger memories. Although Alastair, known to his friends as Al, had never been in combat, he knew that this is what PTSD must be like. Most of the memories now were from the good times they had together. The memories of the trauma were still there but he had learned to manage them and live with them.

  What happened back then?

  Alastair had majored in Finance and Economics in college. He joined the Air Force and was an Electronics Officer in the Air Force. Go figure that. The needs of the Air Force trumped any career path you had in mind! However, it was a good maturing process for him. Command of a large team at various detachments around the world and a department head when back at the home base.

  He got out of the Air Force after four years and joined the FBI. They liked his college major and Air Force background. It was a good fit for them and for Alastair. After training at Quantico, VA, he was assigned to the field office in Houston as part of a team chasing an entrenched money laundering operation. It took three years to assemble the case, but when they finished, it was bullet-proof. All the bad boys went down!

  Alastair was a very good investigator and analyst. He had established himself with the bureau. After his success in Houston, he was promoted and posted to the field office in Miami. A bigger operation and more action. He headed a team of four agents investigating a drug and money laundering operation with hooks into other east coast states. This was a lot more complicated and like the Houston operation, would not be solved overnight.

  His new boss, Chris Collins, summarized the job best. “Al, Miami is just like Houston, no home runs here either. Singles and doubles are good. Hell, I’ll even take a base on balls!”

  “I understand Chris, dig, dig, dig.”

  “You got that right! But before you start on the case, take a few days and find yourself a nice place to live. Miami has all kinds of residential pockets, so to say. Smaller neighborhoods where folks sort of know each other. Let me ask my wife to show you around, it’ll take some of the mystery out of it.”

  He found a nice condominium about twenty minutes from the office. It was at the bottom of a cul-de-sac. Six buildings with four apartments in each building. Plenty of trees and green space. Good shopping nearby. This is really nice, he thought. Am I with the FBI for the long haul? Maybe.

  Three years later, it all came crashing down!

  Chapter 3

  Not long after he arrived in town, Alastair met Emily McDougal at the University of Miami. He was at the university library looking for language training material and online courses. Before coming to Miami, the bureau had sent him to Quantico to learn Italian. A lot of the bad boys he was interested in spoke Italian and the bureau wanted him to get closer to their language and culture. He found he had a good aptitude for languages and wanted to maintain his proficiency. I want to improve my Italian and also look into Spanish, he thought. Speaking Spanish will make living here a lot more comfortable. They’re both romance languages so they share common roots. Should be an easier challenge.

  Emily was an independent editor and researcher who owned her own business. Her assignments were varied. Editing and fact checking nonfiction books and novels were the bulk of her business. She also supported the faculty at the university in their research work as well as cleaning up clumsy sentences and better organizing their reports. This part of the business was expanding rapidly. She worked out of her house about fifteen minutes from the university. She had done well with the business and was planning to take on an assistant. She was twenty-seven, closer to twenty-eight and Alastair was thirty-one, taking a hard look at thirty-two. Probably not love at first sight for either of them, but they knew this relationship was special and would grow. Both of them were long past the boy-girl dating scene. They were married about a year later.

  They rented out his condo and he moved into Emily’s comfortable bungalow. Like his condo, it was in a quiet area with lots of green space and trees.

  One afternoon, Alastair came home early from the office. Emily had just finished editing a faculty research report on statistical theory that was poorly organized and loaded with errors in grammar. She was happy to have that behind her. She found Alastair with his head in the refrigerator looking for something to tide him over until dinner.

  “Don’t get your head stuck in the fridge, crime fighter! Dinner will be early
tonight; I have a meeting on campus with the author of this research report I just finished. The guy may be smart but he sure can’t write. Must have slept through all his English classes. Let’s go out for dinner tomorrow night. I have a surprise for you and want to have a nice evening to tell you.”

  “Great, can you give me a hint?”

  “Certainly not. You’re going to have to pay to find out!”

  “Will it make me happy?”

  “Well, it won’t make you sad, silly.”

  Alastair made a reservation at their favorite Italian restaurant. He had gotten to know the staff and it was always an opportunity to use his Italian. Mistakes and all! They loved him for trying and one of the waiters usually imitated his accent with much laughter. Always fun to be around friends.

  They never made it to the restaurant!

  He saw the big SUV in the rear mirror as it started to pass them while they drove on a causeway with water on both sides. He didn’t see the rear side window come down and never saw the Uzi. They were both struck multiple times and were forced off the road, rolling over and crashing into the water.

  Alastair was in a coma for more than two months. When he came around, he didn’t know where he was and was in a panic to see his wife. He was in a well-lit hospital room with a wall of monitors constantly blinking and chirping. He tried to get up and one or more of the devices attached to him fell off. A nurse quickly came in to make sure he was okay. When she saw he was awake, she immediately called the attending doctor.

  “Where’s my wife? Where am I? What day is it?”

  “The doctor will be here in a minute, Mr. Stewart.”

  Doctor Gilmore arrived a few minutes later. He was surprised to see Alastair conscious. Usually, a patient will exhibit some mild activity before coming out of a coma. Maybe some body movement, eye flutter or even vocal sounds. His brain activity had been active so they anticipated he would regain consciousness but this was a surprise.