Into The Web

By Wayne Cotes

Retired homicide detective turned private investigator, Marcus Maddox, has never been known for his ability to resist a beautiful woman. So, when Lauri Wright walks into his office asking him to find her missing husband, Maddox can hardly say no. Except Lauri's husband is a big-league money launderer with a lot of dangerous people nervous over h

• Language: English
• Publisher: Westwood Books Publishing
• Release date: Apr 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685365240

Wayne Cotes

Born and raised in Colorado, Wayne Cotes is a Marine Corps veteran and retired as a Lieutenant of Police after serving his community for twenty-seven years. He still serves his country as a Senior Chief Petty Officer in the United States Navy reserves and has done three tours overseas. He currently resides in San Ramon, California with his wife and is the proud father of an Australian Cattle Dog named Cheerio and a German Shepperd-mix named Ryleigh.

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Copyright © 2022 by Wayne Cotes.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Into the Web: A Marcus Maddox Novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Excepting historical figures, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.

Westwood Books Publishing LLC

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3343 Peachtree Rd NE Ste 145-725

Atlanta, GA 30326

www.westwoodbookspublishing.com

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Look for my other books on Amazon, in both paperback and e-book:

Me, the World, and a Dog Named Steve: The Mini-Expeditions (Book 1)

Woden’s Key: A Me, the World, and a Dog Named Steve Adventure (Book 2)

The Undying: A Me, the World, and a Dog Named Steve Adventure (Book 3)

The Serenity Stone: A Me, the World, and a Dog Named Steve Adventure (Book 4)

Copy Cat: A Marcus Maddox Novel (Book 1)

L.E.O. – The True Stories of Lt. Wayne Cotes

CHAPTER ONE

Don’t judge my husband and me too harshly, Mr. Maddox. There are many who disagree with our lifestyle, but it works well for us." Her voice was cultured and soft, almost like she was whispering across the short distance between us even though I didn’t need to strain to hear her.

I took in the woman sitting in one of the yellow, vinyl upholstered chairs that sat on the other side of my desk. My partner, Martin Sanchez, was disgusted by those chairs. I thought they added to the seedy ambiance that our small private detective agency needed to be successful. People didn’t expect to walk into a private investigator’s office in East Oakland and find opulence—or for it to be sterile like a dentist’s office. They expected to find old oak desks and yellowed vinyl chairs. If one of the chairs had a crack in it from too much use, all the better. I had yielded to my partner on that matter though, and the damaged chair had found its way to the garbage dumpster. Of course, he hadn’t expected me to be able to replace it, but the used and repurposed furniture store not far from our office had an ample supply.

Mrs. Lauri Wright was the much younger wife of investment banker Melvin Corinthian Wright. She was tall—just a few inches shy of six feet—with long legs, an hourglass figure, and strawberry blond hair that fell in perfect ringlets to her waist. Her ruby-red painted lips were pursed together in worry. Not because she thought I would judge her and her husband harshly due to their chosen lifestyle, though. She didn’t strike me as the type of person who really cared what others thought of her; she simply played the game for the sake of assuaging society’s cultural norms. No, her lips were drawn tight out of concern for her husband. Melvin Corey Wright wasn’t just an investment banker; he was a money launder—apparently, for a number of dangerous criminal organizations in the San Francisco Bay Area. He was also missing.

Just so I understand you correctly, Mrs. Wright, your husband went missing a week ago, after receiving a threat from an undisclosed source. The police believe that the threat was staged and that your husband ran off with his mistress. They have plenty of evidence that supports that line of investigation. Text messages from him to her, hotel receipts from Aspen, etcetera. Do I have this right so far? I asked as I tried to put all the pieces together in my head.

Yes, Mr. Maddox. She nodded as she removed a tissue from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. I wasn’t used to anyone calling me mister. Most just called me Maddox. There were a rare few, like any one of my three ex-wives, that had called me by my first name, Marcus. Of course, that was before the marriages ended up on the rocks. Now, if they think of me at all, the names they have for me are, no doubt, less than flattering.

Except, you and your husband have an open relationship. The woman . . . I had to pause there, as I hadn’t quite caught her name before.

Arianna.

. . . Arianna, is your girlfriend. The way it came out of my mouth was half-statement, half-question. I looked at the picture she had provided me of Arianna. It was professionally done, which didn’t surprise me. She looked like a model, every bit the beauty that Mrs. Wright was. Her hair was dark and shiny and perfectly styled; she had large brown eyes, full lips, and a figure some men would sell their soul for. In the photo, she was wearing a beige dress that clung to her body and she quite possibly had the longest legs of any woman I had ever seen, including the young lady sitting across from me. I realized in that moment that I wasn’t judging Corey and Lauri Wright and their open relationship. I was jealous of it.

Our girlfriend, Mr. Maddox. She dabbed her eyes again. My husband wouldn’t run off with her, as the police put it. There’s no need.

And there were no problems in your relationship with your husband or Arianna? I inquired, putting away my jealousy. I had never been a handsome man. I could have been. I had a strong jawline and a chiseled chin, but a freak childhood accident with an ocelot had left one side of my face with deep scars. Who had ever thought that mixing children and wild animals together was a bright idea should have been shot on the spot before they bred and made more stupid people. Then again, my mom had encouraged me to sit next to the cat to have my picture taken so maybe I shouldn’t have been too hard on the guy. Add to that, my hair had gone prematurely gray and a fresh scar, also on the left side, where the doctors had to sew me closed after a bullet missed hitting me right in the center of my forehead by less than a few inches and had instead peeled my scalp away from my skull.

None, Mr. Maddox. She seemed prepared to say more but stopped. Maybe all wasn’t as right as she was making it out be.

I sat back in my chair, bringing my hand to my face to briefly stroke my chin. Mrs. Wright, if I’m to help you, I need to know everything that might lead to the whereabouts and safe return of your husband.

She took a deep breath like she was preparing to dive into cold water. The night before he disappeared, we had a fight. He had received a threat. Someone thought he had been skimming money from their account. He was working from home that day and had the phone on speaker. I confronted him about it after. I was worried. She took another breath. I know my husband’s business isn’t all above board. He launders money for some dangerous people, and if those people ever thought he was taking more than his normal commission, they would kill him.

She had been far more upfront with me about the money laundering than she had with the police. She wanted her husband found but she didn’t want him to end up in jail after that, so she had sought my firm out, Maddox Investigations, LLC. I was the founder and lead detective but not the majority owner. That distinct honor belonged to my partner, Martin Sanchez, MD. Marty (or, as I liked to call him, Reno) had walked away from a lucrative practice as a doctor and surgeon to become, of all things, a private detective. He never said why, and I never pushed the issue. If he ever wanted to tell me, he would.

As to why I called him Reno, he was the biggest, little man I had ever seen. Martin had muscles on top of muscles. His arms were bigger than my thighs, and I wasn’t a small man. At 6'2, I weighed in at a solid 215 lbs. I worked out daily. Martin, on the other hand, was only 5'3 but had to weigh close to 250 without an ounce of fat on him. It was a fitting nickname, considering Reno touted itself as the biggest little city in the world. He was also the reason our agency was still afloat. I may have been a great detective, but I sucked at running a business.

Any idea who the person on the other end of the line was? I asked.

No. She replied after a few seconds of thought. I never got involved in my husband’s business. I was content to enjoy the lifestyle it provided us without thinking of the moral implications of where that money came from.

Was it a man or woman on the other end of the phone?

A man, but I heard a woman in the background. She appeared to be the one asking the questions and the man was just her mouthpiece. When the call was over, I went to check on Corey, and he was visibly shaken. That scared me as well, which is probably why we ended up fighting. My husband isn’t a weak man, Mr. Maddox. He’s been dealing with criminals most of his life and hasn’t only survived those dealings but thrived on them. That call frightened him though. She had placed the tissue back in her purse and then shifted her long legs so that she could cross them the other way, right over left. I couldn’t help myself as I watched her change positions. I wasn’t a saint by any stretch of the imagination, quite the contrary. Momentarily, I had to imagine what it would be like to be with not just one, but two gorgeous women.

With an effort, I pulled my eyes away from Lauri Wright’s legs and back to her face. She had caught me staring, and I saw the calculating look in her eye. She was trying to manipulate me into taking her case, playing up the damsel in distress. I was annoyed with myself for falling for it, too. I knew women were a weakness of mine; it’s how I had ended up married three times.

A message flashed up on the screen of my computer. $500.00 an hour plus expenses, $10,000.00 retainer. She can afford it. The message was from MacKenzie Holder, our office manager and the third and final member of our little team. Mac’s mother had died when she was a teen, and she had gone to live with her abusive father. That arrangement didn’t last long before she ran away and spent the next few years living on the streets. Such was her father’s compassion, he elected not to bother the police with such trivialities as a missing person report.

I ignored the message. Our fee is $200.00 a billable hour plus expenses with a $5000.00 retainer fee. Once the retainer has been exhausted, you’ll be billed at the end of the month or at the conclusion of the case, whichever comes first. The expenses could add up, Mrs. Wright. The last location we have is Aspen, Colorado. We’ll have to start there, and that means flying my team and me out, hotels, etc. Mac had no problems taking the wealthy for as much as we could. I was more into charging people what I considered a reasonable amount based on the case.

That’s fine, Mr. Maddox. I want my husband found. I’m worried and I miss him. Her eyes started to well up with tears, and she pulled the tissue from her purse once more.

We’ll find him, Mrs. Wright. I stood up. Our office manager will draw up the contract and gather whatever information you’re able to provide. Ultimately, we’ll need access to your phone records, computers, credit card statements, etc. I assure you that all the information you provide will be kept strictly confidential.

Lauri Wright stood as well and reached out to shake my hand. Thank you, Mr. Maddox.

You’re welcome, Mrs. Wright. I shouldn’t have promised we’d find him. I hated to break my word, and I wasn’t sure that Corey Wright hadn’t already been ghosted and buried in a place no one would ever find him.

I escorted Mrs. Wright out of my office and over to Mac’s desk. The lobby area of our little firm was decorated in the same manner as my office. Two yellow vinyl chairs sat across from a matching couch with a beat-up coffee table sitting between them. The furniture was straight out of the 1970s and had come with the building when I bought it.

Mac’s desk sat in the middle, back portion of the lobby. It was government surplus, picked up at a steep discount, and was large enough that it could double as a table for six if it weren’t for the computer tower, papers, and files that cluttered its surface. Behind the desk sat Mac, almost lost in the stacks of folders. She was young, not quite twenty-one years old. She had dirty blond hair that fell past her shoulders when it was let loose of the ponytail she normally wore, and green eyes that seemed to sparkle with inner mischief. She smiled warmly as we approached the desk and stood to greet our client. When Mrs. Wright wasn’t looking, she mouthed the words, Push over, at me. Discreetly, I gave her the finger.

It had been almost two years since MacKenzie Holder had come to work for us. She had been living on the streets since she was sixteen and it hadn’t been an easy life. Reno had been reluctant to hire her. She had no experience with filing, phone etiquette, billing, etc., and very little experience with the most common computer office products. It hadn’t been easy to convince him that she deserved a chance, but eventually, we extended her a job offer. She turned out to be a fast learner, and it wasn’t long before she was legitimately running our office.

The building our office was in was three stories. The top two floors were apartments that Reno and I lived in. There was a small, studio apartment on the bottom floor that we used to use when we had a client who had to lay low for a minute. Now Mac lived there, part of the benefits package we offered. I felt fortunate we could do that much. We certainly didn’t offer much more in the way of compensation. The salary she was paid was based on our caseload, which could vary widely from month to month. We didn’t offer health insurance or dental. We did have workers’ compensation, which was fortunate because the medical bills that followed my getting stabbed and then shot would have been astronomical.

Mrs. Wright, this is MacKenzie Holder, our office manager. She’ll help you from here. We’ll update you regularly about the status of your case but, if you ever have any questions or concerns, please feel free to call us at any time. I said with what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

Mrs. Wright extended her hand once more, which I took gently in my own. Her hand was delicate, the fingers long and thin with perfectly manicured nails. Compared to my own, which were scarred and rough, I was afraid I’d accidentally crush it if I wasn’t careful. Thank you, Mr. Maddox. Please, find my husband. Her eyes once more glistened with tears.

I simply nodded and then returned to my office. Corey Wright had been a part of the criminal element for most of his adult life. He was also a smart man, and smart men would have a well-thought-out exit strategy if things went south. My two biggest concerns were that, if Corey Wright didn’t want to be found, I didn’t have the resources to find him, no matter how good a detective I was . . . or he was dead.

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