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Monday, December 10
Adam woke up with a headache, something that didn’t get any better after getting a call from Creighton Querry. Not that Adam minded getting up at the crack of dawn, but four-thirty was a touch early, even by his standards. The early hour was necessary if they wanted to meet with someone who said he was too busy to talk except from six to six-thirty.
So here Adam was, standing on a chilly concrete floor staring up at a bright yellow gantry with large hollow metal tubes hanging below. His “handler” pointed out parts in various stages of assembly, from giant fiberglass blades to nacelles to heat exchangers. Men and women in hard hats scurried from one station to another.
Catching sight of Cray, Adam waved him over, and their guide escorted them to the main offices, specifically the office for co-owner, Kirk Joffe. The man motioned for them to sit, adding, “Sorry for the early hours, but we’re swamped right now. Working ‘round the clock. My calendar is divided into fifteen-minute slots.”
Adam said, “This is an impressive plant you have here. Wind turbine components must be in high demand.”
“They are. We were the first company to manufacture these parts in the Northeast. Unfortunately, we’re no longer the only company. Competition is cut-throat.”
Adam pulled out his notebook to make sure he got the terms right. “You use dysprosium and neodymium in your plant, is that right?”
“They’re crucial. And the Chinese control almost the entire market. When a shipment goes missing, it’s huge. We need those rare earths to stay afloat. Without them, we’d go bankrupt. The bigger companies have more leverage, so they’re first in line for anything else. This supplier was our last hope.”
Cray butted in, “Why did you choose this particular supplier?”
“They had a more reasonable price. And willing to deal with small potatoes like us.”
Adam asked, “Mr. Joffe, I’d also like to ask you about how your business got started. Your wife is your partner, I believe. But she’s not your first wife, is that correct?”
Joffe leaned back in his chair. “If this is headed where I think it is, I want you to know I’m not proud of the way I handled the breakup of my marriage, running off with Jenny like that. But I’m much happier now. It was the best thing for me. Fern was controlling, micromanaging, jealous, suspicious—well, that part came true. But maybe what I did was a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
“By Fern, you mean Fern Gery?” Adam owed Cray for finding out that bit of news.
“Yeah.”
“How acrimonious was the divorce?”
“My wife, Jenny, well she was my girlfriend at the time, was afraid for her life. I was afraid for my life. Fern left dead rats in my car, my wife got a package with a bloody cow’s heart, and more. She was clever, though. Nothing that could ever trace the harassment to her. On the surface, she was all gracious and polite in the court proceedings. But as you watched her, you see the wheels turning in her head as she schemed.”
If she was everything Joffe said, then Fern was indeed a good actress, for Adam hadn’t suspected anything of the kind in talking with her. Nor had Beverly—someone used to disguises and playing roles to fool other people. “Mr. Joffe, do you think she could have had anything to do with the missing rare-earths shipment?”
“I hadn’t heard anything from her for a couple of years and thought her vendetta had faded away. She doesn’t have much money. Not enough to buy off the supplier or pay someone else to steal the shipment. And she’s smart, but not that smart. I can’t see her being able to pull something like this off.”
A floor supervisor skidded into the office and shouted something about a computer malfunction before ducking back out. Joffe sighed and rose to his feet. “Sorry I can’t chat with you more, Detective Dutton, Mr. Querry.”
“We understand, sir. If we have more questions, we’ll give you a call.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather the next phone call be good news about finding that shipment.”
The same handler led Adam and Cray through the labyrinth and back outside, where Cray scanned the front of the building and the sign that read, “Windfall Manufacturing.” He said, “Wind-FAIL is more like it. Or will be soon.”
Adam’s guide had told him the plant employed close to fifty people, not huge by most manufacturer standards. But jobs weren’t all that plentiful in this part of Vermont. Those people and their families would suffer mightily if the plant went bankrupt.
He said, “On the phone, you said you had a very good reason for believing Fern Gery may have some knowledge of this rare-earths theft. But even her ex doesn’t think she’s capable of it.”
“I didn’t say she did it, now did I?”
“No need to be cranky, bar-boy. So what’s her connection?”
“I ran down a petty thug who specializes in low-level crimes. In and out of jail, doing whatever dicey gig he can find in between. He stays under the radar, leaving the big plays to other people willing to take the risk. But his checkered history means he’s developed an address book filled with lowlifes. Said he ‘thought’ he mighta heard about a guy with a loose tongue.”
“And this ‘loose tongue’ likes to lap up rare dirt, I take it?”
“So he said. Or my contact said. Second-hand tips, you know.”
“You got a name for Mr. Loose Lips?”
“Bruno Giacometti. He’s—”
“Fern Gery’s new boyfriend.” Adam recalled how Fern had smiling referred to him as her “Italian Stallion.” He was their new dark horse.
“You met him, Adam?”
“No, but I think I need to. You got an address?”
“Lives in a trailer park not too far from here. The one behind the old burned-out mill. On Larson Lane.”
“You up for a nice chat with this guy?”
Cray grinned. “Sure. We can stop and pick up some cupcakes with pink icing and some tea.”
Adam rolled his eyes, and Cray said, “Should get some for us, then. I need energy for a rumble. And I have a feeling this tête-à-tête may end badly. By which I mean well.”
“How would your mysterious client feel about all of this?”
“He’s paying me for results. Any way I have to get ‘em.”
“I should get back-up.”
“Nah, it’ll make him more suspicious. We can take him.”
Adam agreed, somewhat against his better judgment. But Jinks was in the middle of her usual hectic morning rush of getting the kids to school and herself to work. And it was just a “friendly” little chat, minus cupcakes, to find out what this Giacometti character knew or didn’t about Clay’s case. Or even Harlan’s.
Since Clay knew the way, Adam let him take the lead in his car, with Adam following behind. He half-hoped they had success, half-hoped they didn’t. If Fern Gery were tied into this, it would be a blow to Beverly. Almost everyone she’d ever formed an attachment to had died or disappointed her. He wanted to protect her from that kind of pain, not add to it.
