The weather had turned warmer in Georgia. There was no need for a coat. Jen and Molly were in their office, working. How do you want to start with Charlize’s case?” Molly asked Jen.
“Let’s retrace the route that Charlize and Maury took and see what we come up with,” Jen answered. “We’ll go to the parking garage first and start there.”
They drove to the parking garage at the address that Charlize gave them and found the two parking spots that Mr. Richards used. There was the BMW. The Honda was missing. Jen got out and placed a tracker on the car. “I’ve got an idea,” Molly said. “Let’s go to the garage office. Jen drove to the office on the ground floor. Molly walked over to the window were an African American sat behind thick glass. “Pardon me, sir,” she said. The man looked up. “Could you tell me who is renting parking space 395?”
The man frowned. “Why?”
“Well, I’m not too steady on my feet because I have these prothesis, and I stumbled against his car and I think I may have scratched it.”
The man shook his head and looked at his computer. After a moment or two he printed out a page and handed it to Molly. On the paper was a copy of a driver’s license with a telephone number. “Just so you know,” the man said. “the garage assumes no responsibility for any damage that occurs while parking here.” It was a well-rehearsed line.
Molly got back into Jen car and handed her the printout. Jen looked at it and said, “What the fuck? His name isn’t Jimmy Richards, it’s Jimmy Richardson.”
“The license looks real,” Molly added. “It’s one of those new upgraded ones that are hard to forge. I’ll check it out when we get back to the office.”
After a few minutes at the office, Molly turned to Jen. “The name appears to be correct and so does the address.”
“So, this guy married Biju under a false name.” Jen said.
“It looks like it,” Molly answered. “We can check that out. It would be helpful if we knew Biju’s real name. They must have a marriage license on file.”
Jen and Molly searched all the records of marriages in Atlanta and surrounding villages and towns as well as wedding announcements in the papers. Nothing popped up.
“If they didn’t get married here, where would they go to get married?” Jen asked.
They both answered, “Vegas!”
After searching for a couple of hours, Jen and Molly located a marriage license for Jimmy Richards and Biju Huang. Biju’s birthplace as listed as Hong Kong, China. They were also able to locate the chapel where they were married. On a hunch, Jen asked if the chapel took pictures for the brides and grooms. They did. Soon Jen and Molly had copies of the photograph of the happy couple. Biju appeared to be in her twenties.
Jen and Molly went over what they found out so far. They put the pictures on the white board with magnets. Molly stood back and looked at the pictures for a minute. “No one has reported Biju missing. No body has turned up. How does an old fart like Jimmy find a young, beautiful bride like Biju?”
“Money and mail order,” Jen suggested.
“I thought that was illegal,” replied Molly. “Isn’t that sex trafficking?”
“No,” Jen answered. “It’s only sex trafficking when the brides are kidnapped or underage.”
“Okay,” said Molly. “She’s a mail order bride from Hong Kong. Jimmy paid her way and married her. She must have a green card. Right?”
“You’re right. The immigration bureau would have, but they won’t let us have a copy. I don’t think we need it. She may not have connected with Jimmy on her own. She probably went through some type of network or organization. I’ve seen those ads that say Asian brides looking for husbands. Maybe we can find out the middle-man that hooked Jimmy and Biju up.”
“Why do we need that?” Molly asked.