Chapter 29

 

Where is Frank Morrell? More importantly, where is my necklace? Pen pondered the questions while Amber left her computer momentarily to get herself and Gracie sodas from the fridge. She returned to her chair, took a long swig of the cola and reached for her computer mouse again.

“Where he is, that’s a question I haven’t figured out yet. I’ve got tons of background now, though.”

“So, let’s sift through that information and put our heads together to figure out what he would do next,” Sandy suggested. She’d given up the saggy futon for a straight-backed chair she pulled closer to the rest of the group.

“I’ve printed a few things,” Amber said, reaching for pages near the big monitor. “Figured it would be good for each of us to memorize some of this data.”

She handed them around. The list consisted of names:

Known aliases of Frank Morrell:

“I’m seeing a pattern,” Gracie commented with a wry grin.

“I read a book once,” Amber said, catching Gracie’s chuckle. “Yes, I’ve read books—a lot. This one was about a family of con artists. Anyway, one thing this group did was change names all the time, and they frequently switched first and last names around. For them, it’s easier to remember the name they’re using at the moment. For us, maybe we’ll spot a pattern. I haven’t had time yet but when I get into them and search airline records, I’ll see if tickets show up issued under any combination of these names.”

“Well, I think you’ve done a marvelous job here, Amber.” Pen had to admit she’d been skeptical about bringing such a young person into their group. Now she was glad they did.

A second page was attached and Amber flipped to her copy now. “These are the things I’ve found from police records. He’s worked the Midwest a lot, Florida and the northeast some. Apparently, your case was the first time he came to the southwest.”

Lucky me, thought Pen. She looked at page two.

Known cons of Frank Morrell:

There were more but Pen stopped. “What are all these?”

Amber sent a quirky smile toward Gracie. “From that same book … The Wire is an old one that goes back to the days when horse race results were sent by telegraph across country. Con men figured out how to interrupt the signal just long enough to place bets on a race that had already been run, ensuring they always won their bets. It becomes a real con when he convinces the mark to bet big. First they let him get a few wins, and as he increases his bets the con makes sure he loses. Modern day versions might not be about horses and they certainly aren’t about telegraph lines, but they always involve convincing someone they are privy to inside information and can make big money by betting on it.”

Pen thought of the Robert Redford movie, The Sting. She’d loved that film.

“The Market is similar—some kind of so-called inside information about the stock market,” Amber said. “The Sweetheart is just what it sounds like. The con artist—most often female, sometimes a male—targets an older, lonely person. Widowed men are prime targets but con men will go after older women too.”

“Oh my gosh,” Sandy said. “It happened to one of our clients at the bank. A successful gentleman with a tidy account. This woman came into his life. She wasn’t even especially a pretty one, but she convinced him she loved him more than anything in the world. Of course she didn’t start out asking for money—it never works that way. She just wanted to spend time with him, take up his hobbies, adapt to his interests. He was flattered beyond belief.

“Pretty soon her extended family came into it. Her granddaughter just lost her apartment—could he help her find a place? Could he make the repairs and cover just a couple months rent? A son out of state got into a bit of a jam—could Mr., um, Smith loan him a thousand dollars? After awhile, it’s bigger things. A new wardrobe for a trip, proper jewelry to go with the new clothes—all expenses, of course, paid by our client. After awhile he “gifted” her some real estate and wrote her into the will. This went on for years, until his money was completely gone.”

Gracie’s eyes were wide. “How does a successful—presumably smart—man fall for that? Can’t he see what’s going on?”

“The heart never sees those things. Our client even went through with a marriage of sorts, although no one from his immediate family was invited so they don’t know if it was real. And he’d never admit to having been duped. He’s too smart to have been scammed, in his mind.”

“It’s called a long con,” Amber said. “When the payout is big enough, these people will spend years working it. The con artist often goes off during the day—either to a fictitious job or ‘doing her own thing’ when she’s really consulting with the rest of her cohorts—while the old guy just blissfully waits for her to come home and hop in bed with him.”

“Okay, that part of it I don’t even want to imagine,” Gracie said.

“Back to Frank Morrell,” Pen said. “He doesn’t seem the sort to hang around with someone for years, working to clean out her bank accounts.”

Sandy spoke up. “It could be he has a woman somewhere, just comes and goes from her place?”

“The only time he was questioned by police in a sweetheart scam,” Amber said, “was a quick-and-dirty sort of deal. Met this lady on a cruise ship and they really hit it off. She bought him a ton of expensive gifts in the shops, visited the branch of her bank on a shore excursion for cash to ‘help him out’ … He promised to come see her in Fort Lauderdale as soon as he’d run home to Atlanta to take care of some business. Of course he never showed and it took a lot of nagging by the woman’s friends to convince her he didn’t live in Atlanta and wouldn’t be coming back. A friend actually dragged her to the police station to file a report, in hopes the cruise line would somehow prevent him from doing the same routine on some other passenger.”

“I’m glad he didn’t come on to me romantically, not that I couldn’t have handled such an advance,” Pen said. “But then I guess he did get away with what he really wanted.”