Chapter 38

Special Agent Sherman Dixon had gotten the call from the Executive Assistant Director’s office in Washington, D.C. Thomas Wright, EAD, wanted to meet with him. Sherm had no idea what it was about when he walked in and sat down, but he found out fast.

“Good morning, Agent Dixon. Have a seat.”

“Good morning, sir,” said Sherm.

“I’d like you to explain what you know about a man named Avram Solomon and why you inquired about him,” said the EAD.

Uh-oh…

“I went to college with a guy, Joe Garrett, who is a private investigator now. We were talking on the phone about his girlfriend, who’s originally from Boston,” said Sherm. “She was a good friend of Marcus Solomon. You recall that artist who was murdered in Key West, sir?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Well, she mentioned to my friend that she was suspicious of the victim’s brother, Avram Solomon. She told Joe she knew some people who worked for this Solomon guy in Boston, who thought he might be doing something illegal with his car dealership business,” said Sherm.

“Some people? Who?”

“I don’t know their names, sir. I asked about this Solomon guy out of curiosity. I thought he might be laundering money, maybe, for the Tambini family. But no one recognized the name and he wasn’t in the system. Sir? May I ask what this is about?”

“Yes, you may. You are being temporarily assigned to a Top Secret task force in Boston. It’s an ongoing drug investigation. This individual, Avram Solomon, has recently figured into it.

“You are to gather as much information as you can from your friend, the detective, and his girlfriend, too…especially the names of any people who work for, or with Solomon, and who might have pertinent information that they are willing to share with us.

“Then you are to fly immediately to Boston to meet Special Agent in Charge, Robert Branson, who is heading up this task force,” said the EAD. “And, Agent Dixon, you can’t tell anyone about this investigation. You have to get this information without divulging anything about the task force. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I don’t want any leaks from this office.”

“No, sir.”

“All right, then. Good luck to you,” he said, extending his hand.

“Thank you, sir,” said Sherm, giving his hand a final shake. “Goodbye.”

Sounds like Joe’s suspect is up to his eyeballs in illegal activities, thought Sherm, as he walked down the hall toward the elevator. But how the hell does it connect with the brother’s death in Key West?

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