Chapter 15: Setting the Trap

The college, the FBI, and I agreed that springing the trap would have to wait until the end of the semester. Agent Foster might come to Minot in May, and we’d set up our trap for Ginny.

When we first met, I immediately liked Agent Foster. He was a no-nonsense government official who followed the rules but was also an outstanding guy. After our meeting for the day, we headed out to eat that night. I knew he had a per diem for meals, so I recommended a decent local steakhouse. They sold excellent cuts of meat at low costs. After eating, we sat around as we spoke for a while afterward. He drank coffee, while I sipped a local micro-brewed IPA.

Agent Foster and I shared comparable middle-class backgrounds. He hailed from the Chesapeake Bay region of Maryland, whereas I came from the Great Lakes. I went to college, and he joined the military. He pursued an accounting degree while in the service and completed it using the GI Bill. Agent Foster looked to be ten years older and ten years wiser. Of course, he had to bring up in our talk my idiotic decision to tell Ginny that I loved her. He denies being so foolish. He was single, like me, and he said he was content with his situation since it gave him less hassles.

I dropped him off at his motel around 9 PM.

The next morning, he toured the town of Minot, looking for a place to set up a trap to catch Ginny. Nothing suited him; there were too many places where harm could hurt innocent people. Before he caught his flight back to Chicago, he stopped in to see me. Agent Foster explained the potential problems they faced here. There was no guarantee she would come here in the first place. He felt she would wait for a more opportune time to make her attack.

I said. “It is too bad you can’t bust her at the airport when she arrives to do the deed.”

Agent Foster looked at me amazed and said, “You are wasting your talents teaching; you need to become a special agent. You would be a natural.”

After our brief meeting, Agent Foster left my office and headed to the airport for his flight back to Chicago.

Feeling like I needed to do more, I started reading up on federal laws about murder. I found a statute that seemed to apply. Murder for Hire (18 U.S.C. Section 1958). If someone traveled or communicated across state lines, they would have violated this federal law. This would include the intended victim. Murder-for-hire was then a federal crime, if the conditions outlined in this subsection could be proven. Prove Ginny called someone or had someone come across state lines to murder her parents, then they would have her.

I called Agent Foster, all excited. He answered on the third ring. “Special Agent Foster, what crime are you reporting.?”

“Special Agent Foster, I have a way to create a case against Ginny. It is going to take some legwork on your part to get the evidence to charge her and then convict her.” I excitedly told him. “Look up 20 U.S.C. Section 1958. If she used the mail or phone to induce someone to go across state lines to commit the murder of her parents, we have her.”

“That’s stretching things a bit to make it work. A judge would throw that out of court in no time. Nice try, though,” he responded.

I answered back. “No, no, you don’t get it. Ginny does not have a clue about LP gas, RVs, or explosives. You have to get definite proof of how her parents died. If they did not die from strangulation, then they died by other means. That means she had help in doing the deed. A coroner’s report on the means of death should prove how they died. A fire marshal’s report on how the fire started should prove tampering. That would be proof of the cause of death. A combo of phone records and motel records could prove the rest of the case, I would think. Her credit card slips, phone reservations, and gas credit card information would be evidence. Put that all together, and you have her. If you like, I can calculate the probability of something occurring with a sampling error of less than 2%. I can prove the probability of how accurate the evidence is. That would stand up in court. Numbers don’t lie.”

Agent Foster chuckled. “You math guys think you are so smart.”

I responded. “Yep.” I chuckled hanging up the phone.

Later that week, my phone rang, and when I answered it, it was Agent Foster.

“OK, I got the autopsy report on Ginny’s parents here in front of me. The deaths came from smoke inhalation and third-degree burns of the trachea. Those poor people died from breathing in the flames.” Agent Foster said. “What a crappy way to have died. Their last moments had to have been pure hell. I want this case now. There is no further need to convince me. The propane line regulators were definitely tampered with. It is in the fire marshal’s report.”

“You have met the first two sets in the equation,” I said. “Now we have to prove the last two sets of the equation and cancel them out, the equation is solved. Find out who showed her how to do it and make the connection. She contacted him by mail or phone. You prove she called an individual to help her, we will get the conviction.”

“OK, Mr. Math guy, when this is all over, I am going to march you to Quantico at gunpoint.” Agent Foster remarked. “You make solving cases too easy.”

It was now the second week of June. The school’s spring semester had been over for almost three weeks. At the beginning of following week, the summer sessions will start. I had not heard anything from my FBI contact for several weeks, and I was growing concerned. This caused me to wonder how the case was progressing. I know it would take time to track down all the leads they had, but I still wanted results.

I was sitting in my office reading a technical magazine for computer enthusiasts. An article in it caught my interest. A couple of electronics nerds had developed a new technology. It could imitate telephone switching systems. You could be in Cleveland and call a number. The receiving switching equipment would record the connection as being from another city. My initial thought was that it was a nice toy, expensive, but still an electronic toy. On further contemplation, a light bulb went off in my head. If true, I could be as safe as a bug in a rug. The equipment could say I was in Chicago, Seattle, or wherever. Hmmm ... It was time to call my friendly neighborhood FBI agent.