IT’S THE NEXT MORNING AND Erica is in the offices of the Bellamy Foundation, about to start her interview with Neal Clark. He’s put aside any testiness he might feel at being pressured into the interview and is subdued but gracious, even charming, as the two of them are lit and sound-checked.
Save the charm, buddy, I’m looking for some answers.
Eileen gives her the go. “I’m here with Neal Clark, the Canadian billionaire who raised eyebrows when it was announced that he and the so-called Homeland of North Dakota had signed an agreement to build a pipeline from the Homeland to Winnipeg, Manitoba, for the purpose of transporting oil from the Homeland’s vast reserves to Canada. Can you tell us how this pipeline venture came to be?”
“Well, Erica, I’ve been a friend and admirer of Mary and Sturges Bellamy for a decade. We share a belief that private enterprise is the engine of economic growth and personal freedom. I support their movement, and this seemed like a natural, mutually beneficial project.”
“Even though it’s a violation of federal law to build it without going through the permitting process?”
“The Homeland doesn’t recognize the authority of American laws. And neither do I.”
“Some people would say that you’re exploiting Mary Bellamy and the Homeland.”
“Nobody exploits Mary Bellamy.”
“You seem to know her very well.”
Neal shoots her an icy glance. “When you do business with someone, you get to see their true character in action.”
“So in effect you’re acting as a character witness?”
“I thought we were here to discuss my business endeavors.”
“Business and personal life often comingle, don’t you find?”
“That depends entirely on the parties involved.”
“Do you have any other joint ventures planned with the Homeland?”
“We’re discussing a couple of possible projects. I can’t say more than that.”
“Why not?”
“Because the talks are preliminary.”
“Did you know a Winnipeg businessman named Freddy McDougal?”
Neal flinches slightly but quickly recovers. “I know the name. Never met the man.”
“He was implicated in the death of Joan Marcus.”
“Joan Marcus?”
“The woman who was murdered in the ladies’ room of the Staybridge Hotel.”
“Terrible crime.”
“Yes. And still unsolved. Were you aware that Ms. Marcus worked as a bookkeeper for one of your companies, Oil Field Solutions?”
Sweat breaks out on Neal’s brow. Good. “I had no idea.”
“Well, she did.”
“Look, I have thousands of employees.”
“Yes, but Joan Marcus is the only one who tried to reach me the night she was murdered. She told me she had some important information. I spoke with her just before she was murdered. She sounded frightened. Her daughter believed that she was murdered because she’d seen something troubling at your company.”
“Look, this is ridiculous, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He uncrosses and recrosses his legs, brushes at his pants leg.
“Can you access Ms. Marcus’s employment history at Oil Field Solutions?”
Neal looks like he’s about to storm off the set. Then Erica sees something remarkable. He reaches for his water glass and takes a long, slow sip. He nods his head in a little tic, sits up straight, and says, in a voice as smooth as satin, “I’d be happy to. I’m curious myself as to what poor Ms. Marcus was concerned about. You know, she may simply have been disgruntled. Something interpersonal. These things can escalate. But I’ll look into it and get back to you as soon as possible.”
“So you yourself weren’t involved in her murder, or in Freddy McDougal’s death?”
Neal Clark smiles indulgently. “Erica, I started working full-time when I was fourteen. I don’t have a high school diploma. Everything I have, I’ve earned. I love what I do. I’m a happy man, a fortunate man, a blessed man. I pay my people fairly, provide benefits, and engender great loyalty. Now, what was your question again?”
Erica knows when she’s been outmaneuvered. Besides, his loss of composure early in the interview told her what she most wants to know.