Fatal Greed (9 page)

Victoria sat with perfect posture in the one chair positioned to see everyone without her turning her head. Chuck didn’t mind her feeling the position of power. Self-perception was everything to this lady, he realized.

“I’d like to thank Victoria for extending this invitation for us to get together and keep the communication channels open during this important time in our operation.”
Get in and get out
, Chuck reminded himself.

Chuck and David provided an update on their pieces of the operation, revealing the underbelly of the related tasks only when necessary. David told the group that the purchase of the building and associated mineral rights at 216 West Main was now closed, and as planned, they’d ensured the purchase would not be publicized. .This required two separate cash payouts, one to the agent at the title company and one to the clerk in the county appraisal office.

As David’s discussion morphed into one of his endless stories, Chuck glanced at Victoria, who was apparently absorbing every nugget of information. He recalled how she’d described the structure of the deal with her brothers. Victoria had convinced her brothers in just a matter of minutes that selling the actual physical property to a third party was how these big deals were put together. She’d never been impressed with the owners’ business savvy, especially on any type of global scale, but their naiveté had surprised her throughout the entire acquisition process.

After David finally concluded his drawn-out tale about climbing Mount Everest, Chuck then explained the nature of the conversations in progress with the city government. The mayor and others were concerned about losing locally based jobs to India, especially to a firm based in India. The task of calming the patriotic emotions fell on
Turug
, who appeared to understand the anxiety around keeping jobs in America.

“I’ve been in a half dozen meetings with the honorable mayor, the city manager, and the economic development director. I’ve gone into detail explaining our plans to expand our client base within America, specifically this region.”
Turug
clasped his hands. “As we all know, it’s important to keep the noise as quiet as possible until the gas well is up and running, and then we can simply dismiss this distracting courtship with government officials.”

They all knew the critical path for tapping one of the largest gas discoveries in the southwest went through the city zoning department. This was the main focus of Chuck’s operational chief, Tony. It was a delicate situation, because of the need to keep the discussion underground. If the public gained knowledge of their plan prior to zoning approval, God only knew how many environmentalists and historians would come out of the woodwork. OG would be flooded with lawsuits. Chuck’s vision could be delayed years and cost millions.

Chuck considered tree-hugging environmentalists to be anti-capitalists and one of the main factors why tort reform was necessary. It wasn’t the greed of the big companies that made prices go up, Chuck believed, it was the damn lawyers standing up for the “little man,” forcing corporations to waste time on overhead.

Victoria spoke for the first time. “Gentleman, I appreciate the updates you’ve provided, but we have reason for concern on two fronts. I need to understand how we’re approaching the roadblocks in the zoning department. And we can’t ignore the situation with the girl.”

Chuck shifted his eyes toward David, who then sent a text message. Seconds later, a tall, burly man ambled up the hill from the eighteenth green, carrying a sand wedge. Tony had just played the final four holes of the Gold course.

Chuck winked at his brother. He liked the grand entry, if for no other reason than it kept Tony away until the last possible moment.

“Good day, everyone.” Tony walked over and shook hands with
Turug
and Victoria. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Victoria. I’m honored to finally meet the brains of this operation.”

“What did you say your name was?” Victoria asked politely with only a slight edge.

“Tony, ma’am.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your last name.”

Tony glanced at Chuck, then back to Victoria. “Just call me Tony. That’s what everyone calls me.”

“What if I want to call you by your last name?”

Chuck knew Victoria was purposely testing
Tony’s
resolve.

“It’s Tony. Just Tony, ma’am.”

Victoria sipped her drink. Tony had diffused the first volley.

Chuck called the waiter over to freshen drinks and bring a new round of appetizers. He motioned
Turug
to lighten the mood.

“Every time I visit this club, I see its magical beauty, especially as the sun sets behind the trees. Victoria, you must feel proud to own this fine establishment.”

“Evidently, you’re not aware I’m only a minority owner, and my dead husband’s family would rather me not have the small amount of the pie that I do,” Victoria said.

Turug
had taken his best shot.

Chuck drank a final fortifying swig of his
Chivas
Regal.

“Everyone, we’ve received mixed messages from two key people on the zoning commission.” Chuck explained, “Once they understood the incentive package on reaching a certain milestone, our players were very much on board with what we needed to accomplish. Since the incident, however, they’ve shut off all communication.”

Chuck paused to think about the terms he would use. “We had enlisted the help of one of our up-and-coming associates, who became friendly with each of these married middle-aged men. She was instructed to learn as much about them as possible, providing updates to Tony here.”

Tony raised his hand and nodded.

“Unfortunately, just as she was attempting to seal the deal, she was murdered.”

 
“I’m sorry, but I’m a bit confused, given what you told me,” Victoria interjected. Chuck knew she was referencing their earlier phone call.

“From similar operations, we learned to utilize as few field operatives as possible. Therefore, we had Ms. Chambers align herself closely with the editor of the local newspaper to ensure we’d have leverage to persuade coverage of certain activities. But even with experienced field operatives, it’s difficult to predict how people react in emotional situations. The editor’s husband, Reinaldo Silva, took the life of our talented Ms. Chambers. And, as a result, the two zoning commission members have been scared off.”

“So, the editor is a woman?” Victoria raised both of her sculpted eyebrows.

“Yes, a Karina Silva.”

“Oh my.” Victoria fanned herself. “This is getting more salacious by the minute. I just don’t want our operation to get caught up in this repugnant ordeal.”

Chuck nodded and scanned the group for further reaction.

“If you believe further monies are required to help finalize this transaction, I am willing to increase my donation to this valiant effort.”
Turug
raised a hand like a politician addressing his constituents, as if the rest of the group should envy his dedication and loyalty.

“It might be necessary, but I’m not sure that alone will do the trick,” Chuck said. “The extra funding will be helpful in other areas. Now that we have a murder investigation to monitor, we need the police department to move the investigation in a certain direction. Apparently, the police chief has a desire to retire at a local lake, and he has his eyes on a nice houseboat.”

David raised his glass. “We support the police.” The group chuckled lightly.

Chuck observed Victoria, her demeanor still placid. She brought her hand to her chin, as if the wheels in her brain were cranking through the myriad thoughts. From what he could tell, her mind never stopped.

“After careful examination of our options to mitigate this situation with our two favorite zoning commission members, we’ve decided to execute ‘operation deep throat.’”

Victoria snorted water, and David grinned like a teenager holding the keys to Daddy’s Cadillac.

Chuck and David had brainstormed on a more appealing name, and when they couldn’t think of one, an idea popped into Chuck’s mind late one night as he was turning the pages of Richard Nixon’s memoir—Watergate. The historical reference seemed appropriate, given the nature of the project.

The plan involved bringing in a new field operative with talents similar to Tiffany’s, but who possessed advanced skills to close the deal quickly, in one steamy night, if possible. Working closely with Tony, she would manage to be alone with each zoning member, use her drug of choice, then capture the necessary evidence.

“Tony will be our main contact during this process and will oversee each step,” Chuck said. “Any questions?”

***

Victoria didn’t flinch when Chuck revealed the distasteful details to drive the operation through the next crucial phase. Still, she couldn’t get past Tony not revealing his last name.

“Yes, Silva is his last name. Reinaldo Silva.” I had repeated my request three times to the person answering the phone at the police department.

I heard the clerk’s lips smacking, like she was chewing gum. “I need to put you on hold, sir.”

Damn red tape. I waited and wondered if Reinaldo had been able to meet with his new attorney, and if the attorney been able to find time on the judge’s docket and get bail set.

“Listen, Mr. Boyle—”

“Doyle.”

“Whatever. All I know is Reinaldo Silva is still in jail.” She popped her gum. “I can’t be your errand girl. We run a police department around here, not a concierge service.”

She hung up. Merry Christmas to you too, I thought.

It was the morning after Reinaldo had been arrested, and I wanted an update on his status before heading in to work. Yesterday, Paula and I had huddled with her husband, Greg, to find a competent defense attorney for Reinaldo. Based upon a reference from his bank’s tax attorney, Greg recommended Brian Gentry. Brian wasn’t exactly Johnny Cochran, but he once represented a man who’d been charged with voluntary manslaughter. The man purportedly killed his cousin over a money dispute. Brian negotiated a plea bargain, and his client received only a five-year sentence.

I’d been on autopilot since
Reinaldo’s
arrest, pondering what I could do for him, while temporarily blocking out who was on the receiving end of
Reinaldo’s
alleged act of violence—Tiffany Chambers, the girl who no one represented.

I grabbed the newspaper off the front lawn and tossed it into the front passenger seat. My mind was circling around Reinaldo. There had been rumors he was having an affair. Maybe Tiffany was the other woman. I couldn’t fathom that Reinaldo was capable of murder. He didn’t own a gun that I knew of. The way Stu’s source had described the body, it seemed so violent. Maybe every murder is brutal and grotesque, a quick gunshot to the head or a tortuous, claw-your-eyes-out killing.

I had to remind myself many people can be arrested and charged with a crime, but that doesn’t necessarily prove guilt. It would severely damage
Reinaldo’s
image and reputation, but he could repair those things. Could he mend his relationship with Karina? She was awfully distraught and bitter right now.

One step at a time. First we had to find out if Reinaldo really did this. As I made my final left turn into the familiar gravel parking lot, I kept shaking my head in amazement at this entire saga, as if I was convincing myself Reinaldo would not, could not, murder an innocent—

Wait! My mind shifted. How innocent was Tiffany in all of this?

I saw a person walking ahead, but deep thought caused me to wait an extra second before slamming on the brakes. The car skidded on loose gravel, stopping just inches in front of Paula, frozen like a statue, her skin the color of stone as if all her blood had been sucked out of her body.

I jumped out of my car.

“Jesus Christ, Michael, what the hell were you looking at?” Paula held her hand to her chest, gasping to catch her breath.

“I’m so sorry, Paula. My mind was spinning with all of the questions from Tiffany’s murder and
Reinaldo’s
arrest. I’m really sorry.”

She put her hand on my shoulder, took a few deep breaths, and told me we would get through the turmoil. As I parked my car, I agreed with her notion—there will be life on the other side of all of this. But I couldn’t envision what it would look like.

By the time I entered the building, my heart rate had dropped under one hundred. I waved to a couple of coworkers, including Jennifer and Mrs. Ireland. I dumped my computer bag at the side of my desk and opened the newspaper to review the latest news on the arrest, dreading what I would likely see.

No large headline. No byline. Only a skinny article on the right side of the front page, below the fold. Almost an afterthought. It noted
Reinaldo’s
arrest in factual terms. It didn’t even jump to an inside page. It failed to mention the cause of death or the dispute associated with it.

What is this crap? Didn’t Karina understand she had a duty to perform on behalf of the community? She must be in a dreadful state of mind. I felt a need to help—her, Reinaldo, Tiffany’s spirit, my colleagues, myself. My feelings were in conflict. And that clouded the path on where to start or what I should do. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. I felt a headache coming on.

Everything seemed to be unraveling.