“But how do you figure Roger being behind the murders? He was the one receiving death threats.”
“He says he received death threats. We have no independent proof of that.”
“That’s true,” she conceded.
“And I checked something in the local newspapers at the library today. There were no public notices of the blasting for Sunday night. They blasted without fulfilling the notice requirement.”
“That’s a real big deal, Puller. Nice work.”
“So we have gunfire and explosives going off at pretty much the same time. One covers the other. And that mine belonged to Trent. Who had the authority to do blasting without filing the requisite public notice?”
“Legally, no one. Whoever did authorize it is in serious trouble.”
“I think we need to find out. And we need to find out if anyone saw someone around my car this afternoon.”
“I’ll get right on that. But, Puller, I can’t believe that my sister had anything to do with it.”
“I don’t want to think that she did either, Cole, but the circumstances are suspicious.”
“They are,” she agreed.
She scuffed the gravel with her shoe again. “I’m not sure I’m the best person to investigate this.”
“If you’re okay with it, I can do it.”
“I’m okay with it. But Puller, one more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, she’s my sister. But you let the evidence take you where it goes, okay?”
“Okay.”
“When are you going to do it?”
“Right now.”
CHAPTER
70
Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Breath. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Breath.
The air was humid, the smell oppressive. You could walk briskly and break into a flop sweat.
Four more strokes. A single breath. Then another quartet of strokes and Jean Trent came up for air after touching the side of the pool for the sixtieth time.
“Working off lunch?”
She jerked around in the water and stared over at the far edge of the thirty-meter pool.
Puller was sitting in a teak chair, his big hands on his thighs.
She said, “How did you get in here?”
He pointed to the wall of glass. “Through that door over there. You really ought to lock it.”
“I mean, how did you get on the grounds?”
He rose, came over to her, looked down. “You mean how did I manage to dodge the fat old guy in the rental uniform out there?”
She walked to the steps and came out of the pool and wrung out her hair. She had on a black one-piece. She was trim with good muscle tone.
She might have also just tried to blow his car up with him in it.
“You swim?” she asked.
“Not unless someone I’m after jumps in the water. Wanted to talk to you.”
She walked over to a teak chaise longue with a blue cushion with white piping set against one wall. A terrycloth robe was there. She slipped it on and sat down on the chaise.
“What about? Did lunch not agree with you? You seem out of sorts.”
He perched on a chair next to her. “I was actually wondering whether I should arrest you.”
She appeared startled. “What? Why?”
“Attempted murder of a federal officer.”
She sat forward. “And how exactly do you figure that?”
“When I got back from lunch with you there was a bomb under my car. I’m getting tired of people trying to turn me into little pieces of flesh.”
“I know nothing about that. And since I was with you at lunch I could hardly have planted a bomb in your car.”
“You could have paid someone to do it.”
“And why would I do that?”
“That’s what I’m here to find out.”
“I need to get dressed. I have a dinner to go to tonight. If you want to continue this conversation, we’ll have to do it at another time.”
“Actually, we’ll do it right now.”
She stood. “I want you out of my house. Now!”
“And I want some answers. I’m here with the blessing of the police department.”
Jean’s lips parted but she said nothing.
“In other words, your sister knows I’m here.”
“I didn’t put a bomb in your car.”
“ Under my car.”
“I didn’t do that either. What reason would I have to kill you?”
“That’s an easy one. I’m here to investigate a series of murders. If you or someone you’re connected to is involved in those crimes you’d naturally want me out of the way. So you invite me to lunch. You insist on driving. We come back and I almost go boom. You can see why I’m suspicious.”
She sat back down; her confidence seemed to drain away. “I… I can’t explain that. I don’t know what is going on.” When she looked back up there were tears in her eyes. “I’m telling you the truth, Puller.”
He watched her, debating the authenticity of those tears. He’d watched lots of suspects cry, from iron-hard soldiers to expectant moms to teenagers who’d lost their way as military brats.
“Just because you say it’s the truth doesn’t mean anything to me,” he said. “So until I find out otherwise, you’re officially a suspect. Do you understand that?”
She nodded dumbly.
“And if you have any information that would help me in my investigation, now would be a really good time to share it.”
“Information like what?”
“Like why is your husband so nervous. And don’t tell me it’s about death threats. I’ve come to the conclusion that that’s just bullshit. It happened before, with your brother, and I think he’s just using that as a convenient cover.”
“Cover for what?”
“He’s upgraded his security, Jean. The driver of his Escalade? He’s a former Marine.”
“How do you know that?”
“Army can sniff Marines out from a hundred miles away. The guy is a pro and he’s armed. And he’s new, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“It was a good choice. He’s light-years ahead of the old fart outside.”
“But his security here hasn’t really been increased. We still just have the same retired cop outside.”
“That’s because Roger isn’t here right now. So I guess he’s less concerned about your personal safety, or that of your daughter. His pro travels with him only.”
“What would he be afraid of?” she asked.
“You said he has lots of enemies. But they’re just the same old ones, right? How about something or someone new? That would justify the new muscle.”
“I can’t think of what that might be. As I said, I don’t get involved in Roger’s business.”
“If you keep lying to me, Jean, I will cuff you and haul your ass right out of here.”
More tears spilled from her eyes. “I don’t want to go to jail.”
“Then tell me the truth. You picked everything out at your B-and-B. Right down to the coffee cups. You know about business management. I’m betting you supervised the construction of this house, because judging from the interior decorating at Trent Exploration, that’s not Roger’s strong suit. So are you telling me you’ve ceded all knowledge of his business to him? Because I’m not buying it.”
They sat in silence for a couple of minutes. The humidity weighed down on Puller. At least the desert had been a dry heat. He watched Jean. He was not going to break the silence. He was not going to get up and leave. He was just going to wait for her to finally crack.
“There are some problems at Trent Exploration.”
“Like what?”
“Like missing money. Diverted accounts. Offshore phantom banking relationships. Things that shouldn’t be there are. Things that should be there aren’t.”
“And Roger is aware of this?”
“Very.”
“What’s he doing about it?”
“Whatever he can, but his options are limited. He made some business decisions last year that required an infusion of capital. A lot of it. The revenues he thought would develop from those business decisions never materialized. The debts are still there. He thought he had money to cover it. But with all the money disappearing he’s in a cash flow bind. That’s why Roger was in New York, trying to get some financing help. But the banks still aren’t lending. They’ve tried everywhere they can think of.”