Robie looked at Taggert, then returned his gaze to Monda. “Well, we’ll see if we can get enough to change your mind, Sheriff.”
“Okay, but keep in mind if the Wendells come after you, don’t look for any help from me. Not ’less you got some strong evidence they’re connected to all this.”
“Message received loud and clear,” said Robie as Taggert gave him a sympathetic look.
Robie and Reel left the office.
Outside Taggert caught up to them.
“Monda is a good guy, Robie. But he’s caught between a rock and a hard place here.”
“I get that, Sheila. But it’s apparently up to us to do his job.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Check out the Wendells. Any help you can give us on that?”
“Their main house is up in Jackson. But they keep a place down on the Gulf over near Biloxi. Makes the Willows look like a shanty.”
She gave them the address. “They’re there this time of year.”
“Do you know anything about the family?”
“Norma Jean is the mother, the widow of Nelson. There’re a bunch of grown kids and then grandkids. I hear tell that Bobby Wendell, the oldest boy, is runnin’ things now. He’s the only son. The others are daughters. They get their share of the money and they all live wonderful lives, but they have nothin’ to do with the business.”
“So Bobby’s the one taking the company public?”
“That’s right.”
“How do you know so much about them?” asked Reel.
“Everybody down here knows about the Wendells. Sort of like royalty to us. And the sheriff is right, they do a lot of good. Names on hospitals and museums and colleges all across the south. Good, charitable folks. And they provide a lot of jobs.”
“So why are you helping us then?” Reel wanted to know, her tone suspicious.
“I don’t have anybody worth carin’ about that works for Coastal. And I don’t like folks gettin’ away with shit, no matter the size of their bank account. Especially when it involves kids.”
“Works for me,” said Reel.
They left Taggert and walked back to their car.
“So how do you want to approach this?” Reel asked.
Robie leaned against the fender of the car.
“They have to know that their guys were killed. And the ones who got away are probably long since gone. If they were outside contractors we may not be able to trace a connection unless we get ahold of financial records showing transfers of money to the muscle.”
“And even if we had access, Coastal probably has lots of slush funds to ferry money like that around and make it untraceable.”
“Agreed. And despite what I said to Monda, I doubt the FBI will be interested in pursuing this with the little we can tell them.”
Reel said, “And Wurtzburger is after a serial killer, not a corporate titan run amok.”
“If the cops can’t tie the dead guys to Coastal that is a complete dead end. Even with Pete’s testimony. Monda is right. Pete is not going to be seen as a reliable witness. Blackmailer, yes. Honest citizen telling the truth, no.”
“Which gets me back to my question: How do we do this?”
“Sometimes the direct approach is the best.”
“So go to Bobby Wendell?” said Reel.
“Yeah.”
“With what?”
“With the only leverage we have.”
“Which is?” she asked.
“Pictures of his dear old dad playing with kids.”
Chapter
54
Bobby Wendell looked up at the pair.
“I don’t usually encourage visitors without an appointment.”
Robie and Reel were in the palatial Gulf Coast retreat of the Wendell family that looked more like a Ritz-Carlton resort than an individual home.
The rich weren’t just unlike other people — they apparently lived on an entirely different planet.
“And yet here we are,” said Robie.
“Well, your communication was…provocative.”
Bobby Wendell was taller than Robie, lean with longish graying hair and a slab of rock for a chin. His dark green, penetrating eyes held on the pair as he sat on a couch with sweeping views of the water.
Robie and Reel had been escorted in by beefy security when they had sent in a four-word message at the front gate of the estate.
Your father in pictures.
“Yes, it was. Intentionally so.”
Without waiting for an invitation Robie sat across from Wendell.
Reel remained standing. They had left their weapons in the car, because they figured they would be confiscated. But the security guards weren’t that good on the pat-down at the gate.
They had missed things.
A blade inside Robie’s belt.
And a garrote wire hidden in Reel’s sleeve.
“And why was that?”
“Dead guys back at a swamp in Cantrell.”
Wendell shrugged. “So? What does that have to do with me?”
“If they were working for you it has everything to do with you.”
“I have lots of people who work for me. But no one who’s dead.”
Robie said, “I figured you’d say that. So let’s get to the pictures. Unless you want us to leave now?”
“I’m listening.”
“We talked to Pete.”
“Pete who?”
“Nice one,” said Reel.
Wendell glanced up at her. “You look very serious. Very professional.”
“Then looks aren’t deceiving.”
Wendell glanced back at Robie.
“Pictures?”
“Your father. And his young friends.”
Wendell winced, looked away, and rubbed his mouth with his index finger.
“I hope you’re better at blackmailing than that little shit was.”
“Is that a confession?” said Reel.
“What do you want?”
“A man is in prison right now, on trial for killing Sherman Clancy.”
“Okay. What does that have to do with my situation?”
“It has a lot to do with it if you had Sherm killed. That would mean the other guy is innocent.”
Wendell leaned forward and said, “Until my father died I didn’t even know who Sherman Clancy was. In fact, I didn’t know who Pete Clancy was until he tried to blackmail me.”
“So you admit you know who Pete is?” said Robie.
“Trust me, I wish I didn’t.”
“But you knew about your father’s…problem?”
“That he liked to diddle little kids? No, I had no clue about that until Pete sent me the pictures.”
“So you’re saying you didn’t have Sherman killed?”
“If I did, why in the hell would I admit it to you? But the fact is, no, I had no idea my father was being blackmailed for anything. When I saw the pictures…” His voice trailed off and he rose, walked over to the window, and looked out at the view.
“We have a hundred and forty-seven oil and gas platforms out in the Gulf,” he said. “We’re not as big as ExxonMobil, but we do really well. My father was a brilliant businessman; none better in my mind. I couldn’t hold a candle to him when it came to doing deals and making money. I think it’s because I’m not a psychopath. He evidently was. But then again, some of the best capitalists are.”
He turned back around to face them. “But when I saw those pictures I wanted to vomit. I wanted to kill my old man.”
“And how exactly did he die?” asked Robie.
“On the operating table. He’d had an aortic aneurysm. No question how his life ended. They didn’t even bother with an autopsy. And I didn’t see the pictures until after he died.”
“And you hired people to get the pictures back from Pete?”