As Mark drove away, he slammed his palm against the dashboard. He’d sure blown that one. He had only confirmed that the suspects all exhibited violent behavior and that each of them had a motive. As he came to a stop sign, his scowl turned to a smile. He had uncovered one new piece of information.
Ken Idler, having learned of the amateur investigation when interviewed by Shelby, had appeared previously as public enemy number one on the list of most likely candidates to have thrown the rock through his living-room window and broken his car window. But since Howard indicated that Ken had talked to the other suspects about Shelby, any of those creeps could have been the source of the intimidation.
When Mark reached home, he called Marston Electronics in Denver and reached Norborne Marston’s administrative assistant.
“Just a minute, Mr. Yeager.”
After a momentary pause, a booming voice came on the line. “Mark Yeager. How the hell are you? You still taking over the networking market?”
“Actually, I’m semi-retired. Since we last spoke a year ago, I sold my company to Cisco and plan to do some consulting soon.”
“You’re too young to retire. Can’t see you sitting around on your butt as a consultant.”
“I had a little bout with cancer that slowed me down for a while.”
“Sorry to hear that. How’re you doing now?”
“I’m bouncing back.” Mark took a deep breath. “I’m calling because I ran into someone who used to work for you. A man named Howard Roscoe.”
“Roscoe, huh?” Norborne’s tone sounded cold. “We let him go. Aggressive salesman, but trouble.”
“Can you share any particulars?”
Norborne gave a deep sigh. “Best hear it from my VP of sales, Chip Deever. Why are you asking?”
Mark braced himself and then decided to be direct since Norborne didn’t like beating around the bush. “Howard Roscoe is a suspect in a murder. I’m checking out his background.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. The guy had a violent temper. I’ll tell Chip to speak openly with you. Give him a call tomorrow.”
That afternoon Mark pulled into the parking structure on Walnut and walked the block to Reagan Caldwell’s second-floor office.
A tanned arm poking out of a polo shirt shot out to welcome Mark. “Haven’t seen you at any of the Chamber of Commerce luncheons in the last year.”
“No. With selling my company and then dealing with prostate cancer, I’ve been inactive.”
Reagan furled his brow. “Sorry to hear you had cancer.”
“I’ve recovered,” Mark said, hoping he spoke the truth. “So, let’s discuss Manny.”
“Since we last talked, there has been one further development. Barbara Grimes called again, said she found his will. I’m executor.”
“That will simplify things since Barbara doesn’t have a clue on how to proceed.”
“How much do you know about Manny’s business?” Reagan asked.
“Not very much. I knew him through platform tennis. When I visited Barbara this last weekend, she let me go through some of the files in his home office.”
“Manny could be rated as one of my more unusual clients. You couldn’t classify him as a traditional investor. He ran his own business, didn’t have any associates but participated in a diverse range of financial activities.”
“I understand he had some sort of business relationship with Ken Idler of Idler Enterprises.”
Reagan frowned. “One of those undocumented transactions I mentioned to you. Manny never showed me any contract that defined the terms and conditions of their agreement.”
“What I saw hinted at some sort of a consulting relationship.”
“I never learned a great deal, but it involved significant payments on an irregular basis.”
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand dollars at a time.”
Mark whistled. “What could he have done for Idler worth that kind of money?”
“That’s what I can’t figure out.”
“And Manny never mentioned any details to you?”
Reagan shook his head. “I asked him, but he didn’t want to discuss it.”
If he were a betting man, Mark thought, he’d place his money on blackmail. He’d have to find some specific evidence.
“I understand Manny also invested in Jacob Fish’s company, Creo Tech,” Mark said.
“Yes. Manny kept good records on that deal. He received a profit distribution at the end of last year from Creo Tech.”
“Did you have any indication that Jacob Fish put pressure on Manny to pull out of Creo?”
Reagan pursed his lips. “No. Why would he?”
“There seemed to be a growing conflict between Manny and Fish. Regarding another project, I also found evidence that Manny bought and sold rifles, his source of supply being a company called Westerfield Weapons.”
Reagan looked surprised. “That’s a new one to me. It must be an additional sideline. I’m not aware of any business expenses associated with a Westerfield Weapons from last fiscal year.”
“Another file I found indicated financial transactions between Manny and Lee Daggett.”
“I’m aware of that. Interest payments on a loan that Manny made to Daggett.”
“How long had that been going on?”
“Manny made the loan over a year ago.”
“It must have been sizeable.”
“Yes,” Reagan replied. “One point two million dollars.”
Mark gasped. “Why did Manny loan that kind of money to Daggett?”
“I questioned him,” Reagan said. “He only laughed and said he earned a fantastic interest rate.”
“It may have been, but that seems like an awfully risky loan.”
“My take as well.”
“From what I saw in the files, Daggett didn’t make the interest payments consistently,” Mark said.
“That’s correct. For whatever reason, Manny didn’t seem concerned.”
“Have you ever seen the loan agreement?”
“No,” Reagan replied.
“What would prevent Lee from defaulting and sticking Manny with the remainder of the loan?”
“I don’t know.”
Ben had speculated about an undocumented loan, Mark recalled. Maybe Lee had eliminated the financial exposure of repaying Manny.
Thursday morning Mark called Chip Deever.
“Norborne told me you wanted to talk regarding Howard Roscoe,” Deever said.
“Yes. I’m trying to track down some information and would like to speak with you.”
“I’d prefer not to discuss it over the phone. I’m going out of town this afternoon and will be gone the rest of the week, but could meet you for lunch on Monday. Would noon at the Brown Palace work for you?”
“That’s fine.”
“Good. I’ll have my admin make a reservation for us.”
At dusk, Mark sat staring out his window at two deer grazing in the greenbelt. One ducked to eat the brown grass, while the other peered ahead with its ears perked up.
These deer always need to be looking out for mountain lions, Mark thought. Just as he would have to watch out for one of the suspects who might take the next step beyond making threats. If he could only determine which of the four to focus on. It was still an open playing field.
He looked again as the sky continued to darken, wishing more daylight remained. He detested one thing about this time of year—losing the hour of evening light now that they had gone off daylight savings time. He had no objection to the darkness in the morning, but he didn’t like the daylight ending so early in the late afternoon.
He wiggled a pen between his thumb and index finger and tried to decide what to do next in the investigation. His game at lunch time had been disappointing. Shelby had arrived twenty minutes late, setting a record even for him.
Mark’s friends had razzed him regarding the duct tape he had placed on his torn glove and sweat-suit pants.
“Do you want us to take up a collection so you can buy some new togs?” Ben had asked, laughing loudly.
“Maybe a trip to the Salvation Army store if you’re too cheap to buy something new,” Woody had suggested.
Mark had played badly, and Woody had to leave early so, all in all, a frustrating outing.
He considered taking a brief walk or catching a short catnap so he’d be prepared for a long night session meeting with the planning board to fight for the platform tennis courts. The ring of the telephone interrupted his stalled decision process. He sighed and picked up the phone to hear his son, Norm, on the line.
“Dad, I tracked down that Idler Enterprises info for you.”
“What’d you find?”
“Did you know that Idler was under investigation by the FTC?”
“My tennis buddy, Shelby, uncovered that information before he and the others dropped out of the investigation, but he didn’t have any details.”
“Ken Idler received a subpoena to testify and turned over a slew of records. They charged him with two counts of deceptive practices under the Federal Trade Commission act. Seems he imported antique vases from China, but some customers claimed they were imitations made in Taiwan. Idler settled by reimbursing his clients and claiming that someone tampered with his shipment. The FTC dropped the case for lack of further evidence.”
“The Taiwan connection’s interesting. What happened there?”
“Again, nothing conclusive. But the record shows that Idler Enterprises did import vases from a company called Lingan Ling.”
Mark jumped up, bashing his knee on his desk. “That’s the company Jacob Fish dealt with. These guys all seem linked together. Woody speculated that they all plotted Manny’s murder. Maybe a conspiracy among the suspects isn’t too farfetched.”
“Do you want me to do some checking on Lingan Ling?”
“Yes, please. See if you can find anything further that ties them to either Idler Enterprises or Creo Tech.” Mark rubbed his knee and sat down again.
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do. By the way, Mom’s worried.”
“I know, but I’m taking care of myself. It’s good she’s safe with you for a while. I hope it’s not causing you any inconvenience.”
“No. It’s working out fine. Dawn and Mom have been shopping and playing tourists. It’s good for Dawn as well. She’s taking a break before resuming her job search.”
“I thought she had found something.”
“She had an offer, but after meeting more of the people and thinking it over she decided to turn it down. It offered low pay, and the products they manufactured didn’t excite her.”
“And the name of the company?”
“Westerfield Weapons.”