For once in his life Augie Sinisi had the upper hand. He strode confidently into the marble-floored lobby of Richards Enterprises.
“I’d like to see Mr. Richards, please.”
The prim receptionist eyed Augie’s overalls. “Do you have an appointment, sir?”
“No. I don’t. Just tell Mr. Richards that August Sinisi wants to see him. I have some very important information for him.”
Within minutes Augie was sitting in Larson’s office.
“This better be good, Augie. I’m very busy.”
“I know, Larson. You’re a busy guy. Very busy.” Augie’s smug smile signaled trouble.
“What is it, Augie? What’s this information you have for me?”
“I just thought you’d be interested to know that the police could be getting an anonymous tip about your parents’ untimely death.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Larson said sharply.
“You know damn well what it means, Larson.”
Larson’s mind raced. The strongbox. Augie’s got the letter. Careful. Careful.
“You know, Augie, my house was broken into over the weekend.”
“Gee, that’s too bad.”
“If someone had something that had been stolen from my house, that could mean that person was a thief. That person could get into a lot of trouble for that, especially if it turned out he had been breaking into other houses, too.”
“Yeah, I guess he could. But not as much trouble as someone who offed his parents.”
Larson absentmindedly fingered the paperweight that sat atop the latest financial report of Richards Enterprises as he considered Augie’s words. “Yes, that’s true. But neither person would want to go to jail, would they?”
“No. And nobody would have to, either. If I get my money out of your company and get something extra as, you might say, a little dividend, nobody has to go to jail. The police don’t need to know anything.”