Wendell shrugged. “I may not be as smart as my father but I’m not stupid. So, again, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“People have been kidnapped and people have died,” Robie said.
“Don’t know what to tell you.”
“You’re planning to go public with your company?”
“We are.”
“So you have a lot to lose if this comes out,” said Robie.
“In the grand scheme of things, no. My old man had withdrawn from the business over the last five years. Our underwriters are banking on me, not him. He’s dead. I’m not. Even if he was a pedophile, the boys on Wall Street won’t give a damn. All they care about is the bottom line, and we make a shitload of money. We invested well, got our fingers in all the best places. We weathered the recession and had the capital to buy at bargain-rate prices when everybody was bailing. All we have is upside. The story is great. The IPO is going full steam ahead, bad news about Dad or not.”
“So why do you care about the pictures, then?” asked Reel.
When Wendell said nothing Robie answered. “Because his mother Norma Jean is still alive.”
Wendell looked away again. “My old man was an asshole. Treated me and my sisters like shit. I’m running the company now largely because my father was too busy living his life of decadence.”
“Diddling little boys?”
“I always thought he was off with other women. I wish he had been. Now, I guess I know better.”
“And your mother?”
“Heart of gold. Innocent as they come. Maybe as naïve as they come. If she saw those photos it would kill her.” He turned to look at them. “Kill her. And that’s just not something I can live with.”
“So you wanted the pictures back?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“And you’re sticking with your story that you didn’t have Sherman Clancy killed?”
“Like I said, I had no idea who Sherman Clancy was until his son showed up. Then I went back over the company’s financials. I found a rogue account that had been set up a long time ago. Money was funneled in and money was funneled out over decades. Millions of bucks. Maybe tens of millions. I tried to track where the dollars went but it was like a black hole. Even had my CPAs on the job, but they couldn’t do it either. Like I said, my old man was smart. Then Pete shows up on my doorstep and starts talking about pictures and money. That’s when I put two and two together.”
“But that was after Sherman died?”
“And after my father died, too. I had no reason to look at that part of his life until that punk showed up trying to blackmail my family. I guess he figured with my father dead and his old man dead, too, he needed to keep the gravy train going. Least that’s what he intimated.”
“So you met with him face-to-face?”
“Yeah, right here in fact.”
“Based on the pictures?”
“I recognized my father. Enough said.”
“And did you know the kids in the photo?”
Wendell shook his head. “No. They looked like…just kids.” He glanced down, his face turning pale.
“None of them were white, Mr. Wendell,” pointed out Robie. “They were either black or Latino. I’m wondering if that’s significant.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it might tell us where they came from.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know anything about that.”
Robie said, “I was at Pete’s house when he showed up with those men. They were there to get the pictures and kill Pete. They said they were going to give him an acid bath.”
“Maybe they did and maybe they didn’t. I can’t tell you. Maybe they were just trying to scare him so he’d give up the pictures and go away for good.”
“And you of course won’t admit to siccing them on Pete?”
“No, I won’t. That’s why I have a room full of lawyers. And I know you two don’t have recording devices on you. They would have set off the sensor built into the door frame you walked through.”
Robie glanced at the door. “Your doing?”
“No, my old man’s. Like I said, smart. And paranoid.”
Robie studied him. “You and your sisters? Did he ever…?”
“Never,” snapped Wendell. “I mean not with me. And I don’t believe with my sisters, either.” He paused. “But it’s not like I ever came out and asked them after I saw those photos. But…but wouldn’t they be screwed up or something if that had happened to them? If their own father had done that to them?”
He looked up at them in a pleading fashion.
“And they’re not screwed up?” asked Reel.
“Not so they admit,” replied Wendell.
“Well, maybe it’s a hard thing to admit,” said Robie.
“I didn’t kill Sherman Clancy. And I didn’t have anybody else do it. I just didn’t want my mother to ever see…to ever see those pictures. And if these men threatened Pete or went over the line, that wasn’t my doing. I didn’t want it to go down like that. I just wanted the pictures.”
“And if the FBI were to go through your accounts, would they find money paid to certain contractors that would seem mysterious? Like the men who were killed?”
“I’m a careful man. Interpret that how you want.”
“The pictures we saw,” said Robie. “Someone had to take them. Did Pete ever tell you who was the cameraman?”
Wendell looked genuinely puzzled by this question.
“Hell, I was fixated on seeing my dad like that, I never even thought about the person taking them. You mean another adult was involved in this?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“But who? Who is the sick son of a bitch? Was it this Sherm Clancy?”
“I wish I knew,” said Robie.
“And the photos?”
“I won’t use them unless I have to. But be prepared, Mr. Wendell, that this all might very well come out.”
Chapter
55
Robie and Reel were sitting in their car outside of the Wendells’ Gulf Coast home. He had left his phone number with Wendell in case the man wanted to talk to them again.
Robie was now on his phone doing a search. He pulled up a screen and read down it. “News feed. ‘Billionaire oil man and noted philanthropist Nelson Wendell died on the operating table after emergency surgery to repair an aneurysm in his aorta.’ Like Bobby said, he died before Sherm Clancy did.”
“So you believe the son’s story?” said Reel.
“Yeah, I do. While he wouldn’t incriminate himself, what he did tell us about his father seemed sincere.”
“Yeah, I thought so, too.”
“Which means we have to find out who took the photos.”
“Why? Do you think that’s connected to the recent murders?”
“You don’t think they are?”
“Well, those photos were taken a long time ago. The murders of Clancy and the two Chisum sisters are very recent. There may not be a connection, especially if we believe Bobby Wendell that he didn’t kill Clancy.”
Robie shook his head. “I think all three murders are linked, Clancy and the Chisums.”
“And your father is being framed? Why?”
“I think he is being framed, but I don’t know why.”
“I’m not convinced of any of this, Robie.”
“Okay, but do you have another lead I’m not aware of?” said Robie curtly.
“No. I’m just trying to see the big picture on this.”
“The big picture, I think, includes somebody being involved in this who we don’t have a clue to as yet. An unknown factor that is driving all this.”
“Okay, Clancy dead. I get that. He was blackmailing Wendell. But if Wendell’s son didn’t kill him, then who?”
“How about the guy who was taking the pictures?”