Daly City, California
Once again Tyler found himself running down a city street in the middle of the night. His gun drawn, he was chasing a man dressed in a long black overcoat wearing a gray fedora. As Tyler was closing in, the stranger turned and fired. Tyler was thrown backwards into a pile of rubbish as the bullet ripped into his shoulder. He saw the stranger turn and come toward him. When he was less than ten feet away, Tyler saw him raise his weapon and fire at him point blank.
"Shit," Tyler said aloud as he jerked awake. Looking around he realized he was still in Daly City, California and today he would meet up with the lawyer, David Spencer. After a quick shower and breakfast he rolled out onto the patio overlooking a cliff that fell into the ocean. He could see people below going about their business; walking their dogs, or just strolling down the beach.
"Back home they're freezing their asses off, while I am here enjoying the warmth," he thought to himself.
Stepping back into the bedroom, he stopped in the middle and scanned the area. Jack Ferrari was obviously a very meticulous and cautious man. No one knew anything about him, other than he was a successful real estate agent. Yet, there were no pictures or magazines of houses, or any real estate information a serious and successful agent might possess. In other words, the pristine surroundings did not reveal who Jack Ferrari was; “Not from this point of view,” thought Tyler.
His eyes fell upon the nearby closet. Walking over to it he opened the door, turned on the closet light, and stepped back. There were a couple of suits and three shirts. Shoes and a pair of sneakers lined the bottom of the closet. There was a shelf above the suits with nothing on it.
Tyler examined the sneakers and found sand between the bottom grooves; obviously used for jogging, or running. He then turned to the suits and examined each one, checking to see if anything was left in the pockets, but found nothing.
As he moved each suit down the rack he discovered a combination safe. "Son of a bitch," he said to himself. He tried his hand at opening it by listening for the click as he turned the dial. "This ain’t going to happen. Only in the movies," he said to himself.
After some thought Tyler decided he was going to have to get the proper listening instruments to get this safe open, or pay a locksmith to do it. In any case he would get it opened, one way or another.
There was something tugging at Tyler since he entered this house, but he couldn't put his finger on it until now. There was no television anywhere in this pad. "Man this guy really liked solitude," he thought.
Tyler spent the rest of the day going through everything in the house. One by one he examined every piece of furniture, appliance, cupboard, and article of clothing. As a result he discovered a key hidden in the heel of one of the shoes. "Now what the hell is this for?" Tyler thought to himself while holding the key between his fingers.
Now his detective instincts were looking for where the answer to the key would be. He checked behind the few hanging pictures, in drawers, under the beds and almost every square inch of the house. "I wonder if it's in the safe," he thought to himself. "That's probably it."
Before he knew it, the day had passed and it was time for him to go meet up with David Spencer. He had checked the yellow pages and found the phone number to the restaurant, then called and got directions to the location. Arriving fifteen minutes early, he was able to scope out the area. The corner restaurant had booths along the right and left with six foot high windows where passing pedestrians could peer in. There were several tables in the middle and a sitting bar to the far left. Some of the booths and tables were already occupied, though the place was far from being full.
A waitress advised Tyler that he could seat himself, as she handed him a menu. "Thank you," he responded as he made his way to the furthest booth with a view of the entryway, and sat down with his back to the wall.
Tyler did not have to wait too long before David Spencer arrived. He had advised the waitress that he was expecting a Mr. David Spencer and to point the gentleman in his direction. Both men shook hands as David slipped into the seat opposite Tyler, then placed a paper bag on the seat next to him.
"Mr. Tyler Santiago, can I trouble you to show me some identification?" David asked him. Tyler stared at the man for a second, smiled and reached into his wallet for his ID. After examining Tyler's driver's license, David handed it back to him.
As David was about to speak, the waitress approached them for their order. Tyler ordered a cheeseburger with fries on the side, and David stated that he would have the same; both ordered beer to wash it down with.
"It's funny that you picked this spot to sit," David Spencer said.
"Why is that?" Tyler asked.
"It's where Mr. Ferrari always sat," David responded. He reached into the bag, pulled out three sealed manila envelopes and handed them over to Tyler.
Tyler took the envelopes without examining the contents. All three were sealed with clear tape which covered a signature that crossed the flap. It was obvious it was meant to show that the envelopes had not been tampered with.
"Like I said on the phone, I don't know the contents of these envelopes, and I was instructed to hand them over to you. As well as this sealed shoebox," David said, now taking it out of the bag. He handed the bag to Tyler who, without looking inside any of the items, put them back in and placed the bag alongside him.
"Aren't you even curious as to what's in the envelopes?" David asked him.
"Not right now," Tyler responded. "Can you tell me anything about Jack Ferrari?" Tyler asked.
Over the next couple of hours David told Tyler everything he knew about Jack Ferrari; how they met and how they conducted business together. He also told him the house was paid for, and Mr. Ferrari had provided enough funds to pay the taxes for the next several years.
"May I ask you a question," David ventured.
"Sure, what is it?" Tyler responded.
"Was Mr. Ferrari your father?" David asked him.
Tyler hesitated. He was hit by the sudden realization that Jack Ferrari and Theo Gresco may be one and the same. Not wanting to show his hand, Tyler said, "No, but I think he worked for my father. I am going to find out, one way or another."
"For what it's worth, I liked the guy," David said.
Tyler was tempted to tell David that the guy he liked was also a cold blooded killer. "Yeah, I heard the guy was very likeable," Tyler said instead.
They finished their meal and had one more beer before parting ways.
"Mr. Santiago, you got my number so if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call."
"I may just do that," Tyler responded.
Half an hour later, Tyler was back at the house. He had placed the three envelopes and shoebox on the kitchen table, made himself some coffee and sat down. The envelopes were marked one, two, and three; obviously the order in which he was supposed to open them. Taking the first envelope, he grabbed a kitchen knife and slit it open, then poured the items onto the table.
It contained two sheets with numbers on them, several bundles of cash in hundred dollar bills, and a small book containing phone numbers. The envelope also contained a letter to Tyler.
He picked up the letter and started to read;
Tyler Santiago,
If you are reading this letter you can assume that I won't be coming back.
There should be approximately two thousand dollars in cash, two papers containing numbers and this letter. In the other two envelopes you will find some pictures and an address book of friends and contacts. Do what you want with them. In the third envelope there is a list of individuals I owe money to with instructions on how to pay them. You'll find enough money to cover all of the expenses, including any traveling you will have to do. I am sure you can figure out what the list of numbers are.
Good luck to you.
Tyler opened the second envelope and dumped it on the table. He was awe struck when he started to go through the pictures. It was a whole collection of pictures of himself. One showed him getting ice cream from Fat man, in another he was playing baseball with his friends. A more recent one showed him at the academy graduating. There were probably over a hundred pictures of him.
As Tyler shuffled through the pictures, tears began to swell in his eyes. "All this time... You bastard!" Tyler screamed.
Not wanting to know anymore, he walked away from the table and into the bedroom, sat down on the edge of the bed and fell backwards. He lay there for some time, staring up at the ceiling, before falling asleep.
***
The next morning, Tyler went straight to the table and began looking at each picture. Something inside of him had changed. He wanted to know more as he placed each picture in chronological order. When he was done, he figured there were over ninety pictures, and that they ranged from when he was five years old to when he graduated from the academy. There was a gap of about five years, after his mom had been murdered. Examining the pictures before the five year gap, he realized it was either Fat man or Uncle Ted taking the pictures. After that it was someone else; someone who stayed in the shadows. From what he could see, he determined he had not been aware that someone was taking his picture.
Placing the pictures back in the second envelope he opened the third one.
The list of six individuals contained four columns. The first column contained an individual’s name, the second their address, the third a monetary amount and the last a name. The name Nick Costello ran down the fourth column for almost every item listed, except for a few of them where the name listed was either Tim Goldman, or Robert Edwards. It was obvious to Tyler that these were the aliases that Jack Ferrari, a.k.a. Theo Gresco, used when contacting these individuals.
The total amount for the third column was $43,000. There were six stacks of bills with an initial atop each one corresponding to the individual listed. "So now I am a delivery boy for this asshole," Tyler thought to himself.
Tyler put the money and the list back in the third envelope, and turned to look at the two pages containing the list of numbers. At first he couldn't figure out what the numbers corresponded to until he noticed every number either ended with an S or an A. Those ending with an S consisted of eight numbers, while those ending with an A were made up of nine numbers. Also, there were only three numbers with the letter S and fifteen numbers with the letter A.
Tyler grabbed a piece of paper and began to separate the two listings. As he wrote down the numbers he began to understand what they were. Obviously, this guy wanted Tyler to figure it out with little effort. The numbers containing the letter S were the combinations to safes and the other numbers were bank account numbers. "Easy as pie," Tyler thought to himself.
Taking the first S numbers, Tyler walked over to the safe in the closet, and by separating the numbers into twos he tried out the combination. "How much easier can you make this?" he thought to himself as the door to the safe opened. Inside, he found approximately $62,000 in cash. "Man this guy was loaded."
Not taking anything for granted anymore, he examined the safe and found that the shelf was loose. Removing it, he found a hidden compartment in the back requiring a key. Taking the key he found earlier, he opened it and found six small stacks, each containing two credit cards, a passport, driver's license and a social security card. Tyler found himself again, staring at the face of the man he shot and watched fall into the East River. Though they all contained the same picture, the driver's licenses and passports had different names; Jack Ferrari, Robert Edwards, Tim Goldman, Nick Galuchi and a couple of others.
"This was the work of a true artist," Tyler thought as he examined each driver's license and passport. "So now we know," Tyler mused. "My father was all of these people.”
Over the next couple of weeks Tyler was able to match up the account numbers to the different banks associated with the credit cards. Realizing that the individuals on this list were probably not your everyday good citizens, he had made up his mind to pay them as dictated on the list. But first he had decided to take a trip to Chicago.
It was late in October when Tyler, carrying a duffle bag with enough clothes for a week’s stay, found himself stepping into a department store at Midway Airport in Chicago to buy a heavy coat. From there he hailed a cab and headed for the address his aunt had given him. He was hoping there would be a nearby hotel he could check into when he arrived at his destination.