Midway through the pages, Cork glanced up, questioningly.
“I know. They don’t look like much,” Schanno admitted. “I wasn’t sure about them either. So I asked Sandy here to take a look, considering his association with the casino.”
Cork swung his gaze over to Parrant.
“It doesn’t take a genius,” Parrant said, “to see that the figures have been juggled. A good accountant would spot it eventually. Or someone who knows the casino operation well. Like Dad or me.”
“Embezzlement?” Cork asked.
Parrant nodded. “From just the cursory look I took, I’d say at least a hundred thousand. A complete audit will probably turn up a lot more.”
“How did he expect to get away with it?” Cork asked. “If you saw it right off?”
“Regulations regarding Indian-run casinos are extremely lax. An audit wouldn’t necessarily take place for years. We tried to negotiate a contract with the Iron Lake band that would give management responsibility to Great North, because we have all the business expertise they need. They chose to manage it themselves, with Russell Blackwater at the helm. This is the result.” Parrant shook his head disdainfully.
“How’d Lytton get hold of this report?”
Parrant shrugged. “Paid off someone in the business office. It wouldn’t be that hard.”
Schanno sat back in his chair, looking pleased. “I told you the ATF was interested in Lytton and the Minnesota Civilian Brigade. They believed money had become suddenly available to finance arms. I figure Lytton was blackmailing Blackwater. Sure would be a good way to come by lots of untraceable income.”
“So you think Blackwater killed Lytton to end the blackmail,” Cork said.
“I think once Jack the Ripper was out of the way, it looked like a piece of cake to Blackwater. If the Ripper had still been alive, maybe Lytton would be, too.”
The accusation in Schanno’s words wasn’t wasted on Cork.
“I’m taking Cy Borkmann off his surveillance of Lytton’s cabin,” Schanno went on. “He’ll be happy he can sleep at home nights. Maybe I can sleep now, too.”
Parrant stood up and put on his coat. “If you don’t need me anymore, I’d like to get back to the office. I think I’ve done what I can in all this.”
“Thanks for your help, Sandy. I’ll be in touch.”
Parrant offered Cork a cool nod in parting.
“Crazy world, Cork,” Wally Schanno observed after Parrant was gone. He swiveled in his chair, grimaced a little and held his leg a moment. Cork saw the distortion under his pants that was the thick rounding of bandages about his thigh. “Crazy world,” Schanno went on, “but it makes a lot more sense to me now than it did yesterday.”
“Seems that way,” Cork said.
“Seems?” Schanno shot him an unpleasant look. “What do you mean by that?”
“Where’d you get this folder, Wally?”
“Like I said, Lytton had it.”
“Where?”
“Does that matter?”
“It might. Did Sigurd bring you the file?”
“Sigurd?”
“They told me at the hospital our coroner visited you this morning. You left right after. Did he bring you the file?”
“In a manner of speaking.” He reached into his desk drawer and brought out a key that he handed to Cork. “He brought me that.”
The key was silver with “Aurora U-Store” engraved on the head along with the number 213.
“He found it on Lytton when he took a look at the body in his official capacity. My men must’ve missed it.”
“So you went over and found the shed that fit the key.”
“Exactly. The file was there.”
“All by itself? Just waiting for you to pick it up?”
“No. I had to do some digging. Lytton had a lot of equipment in the shed. A slew of eavesdropping equipment, fancy camera apparatus.”
“And that?” Cork pointed toward the white filing cabinet he’d noticed earlier.
“And that,” Schanno admitted.
“Mind if I look at it?”
The sheriff considered it a moment. “I don’t see why not. Maybe it’ll help you understand my dilemma.”
Cork opened the top drawer. It was full of folders like the one on Russell Blackwater. He recognized many of the names on the folder labels.
“Try the middle drawer, midway back,” Schanno suggested.
Cork checked the drawer, found a folder marked “O’Connor, C.” He pulled it out. It was thin. Inside were a couple of photographs, enlarged. Of Molly and him embracing naked on the shore by her sauna. Like the photos of Jo and Parrant, they’d been taken from somewhere out on the lake at night.
Schanno rocked back carefully. “You know the equipment in Lytton’s unit at the Aurora U-Store was pretty sophisticated stuff. A lot of those files have photographs more or less like those. I’m sure they were shot by Harlan Lytton. All of the subjects have been caught in some indiscretion, things the folks here in Aurora would love to chew on for a while, but nothing really criminal, so far as I’ve been able to see. Blackwater’s file was different.”
“You think Lytton was blackmailing all these people?”
“Was he blackmailing you?”
“No.”
“Then he probably wasn’t. Kept it limited to where he could make the most with the least difficulty. Blackwater got a lot from his embezzling. Enough to share easily with Harlan Lytton.”
“You really think Lytton was smart enough to figure out the thing with Blackwater and the casino?”
“Look at those files, Cork. The man was used to nosing through other people’s crap. Man like that probably knows where to look for the worst.”
Cork had to agree. Lytton was just that kind of man.
“What do you think about Blackwater? What was he doing at the judge’s?”
Schanno’s hand instinctively sought out his bandaged leg and felt it gently. “I read your statement this morning. You told Blackwater last night at the casino that you were going to have me check out his whereabouts on the night Lytton was killed. I think Blackwater followed you. I think he planned to kill you to keep from putting me onto him. He saw you go in the side door. He just didn’t see you go out the front. Bastard shot me by mistake.”
“I suppose I ought to thank you, then,” Cork said. “You probably saved my life.”
Schanno waved it off. “Getting things back to normal around here is all I want.”
Cork closed the folder but didn’t return it to the drawer. “Will things ever be back to normal, Wally? Seems to me when you found this file cabinet, you latched onto a real Pandora’s box. Now that you’ve opened it, can you close it again?”
Schanno looked uneasy. “I don’t know. I figure the worst is over. I’m not sure what purpose would be served by bringing all this to light. Seems like it would only lead to a lot of decent folks getting hurt. So far as I know, only you and me know what’s in there. I’d just as soon keep it that way.” He nodded toward the cabinet. “Whyn’t you put the folder back, Cork.”
Cork slipped it in where he’d found it, then spotted a folder not far behind with the name “Parrant, S.” He pulled the folder out.
“Cork!” Schanno hollered.
Cork ignored Schanno and opened the folder.
“Goddamn you, Cork, get outta there!” Schanno was struggling to stand, grabbing at the crutches that leaned against the wall behind him.
There were several photographs inside. Shots like those he’d seen before. Of trysting around Parrant’s hot tub. Although several different women were involved, none of them was Jo. Cork recognized a couple. Parrant’s secretary, Helen Barnes. Sue Jacobson, the chancellor of Aurora Community College. Unlike Jo, they were not married. Cork noted quickly the time date at the bottom of each photo. They’d all been taken before Parrant began his affair with Jo. From the looks of it, the man had been faithful. In his way. That there were no pictures of Jo surprised Cork. But he was also relieved since Schanno had undoubtedly already looked at the folder.
Schanno grabbed the folder angrily from Cork’s hands. His face was contorted with outrage and pain.