Saltwater in the Bluegrass (3 page)

“That’s what’s strange, Tommy. He shouldn’t have been there, not now, not this time of year.”

“I agree.”

“Is there anything you know, anything you’re not telling me?”

“No.”

“I’m old enough to know whatever it is. Is there something, anything I should know? Tell me, Tommy. What really happened, what was really going on down there at the site? Why was dad there?”

Lamar Jr. asked again and again repeating himself.

“I don’t know, boy, I can’t explain it. It shouldn’t have happened. He shouldn’t have been there. You’re right; something doesn’t sound right; something doesn’t feel right. Your dad wasn’t supposed to be down there until the latter-part of next month. That was the plan. That’s what he had said.”

“I know; that’s what he told me.”

“Actually, I was going with him. We were going together to play a few rounds of golf after touring the operation. You know, like we’ve done the past few years.”

“Like last year.”

“Right, like last year. As for what I think, I’m still trying to piece things together myself.”

“Who else have you talked with?”

“There was a conference call scheduled for early tomorrow morning, with your dad. He was supposed to be on it. He was supposed to review numbers with Douglas concerning the European operations. Your dad never misses his weekly conference calls. Never. So, I don’t know. Then again, the news reports I’m picking up now continue to say it was a terrible accident.”

“An accident? That’s not true, is it?” Lamar Jr. said.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure. It’s not like your father to put himself in situations he can’t get out of.”

“Tommy, someone had to have caused the explosion,” Lamar Jr. quickly suggested.

“That’s my guess, but I’m still not sure,” Tommy conveyed.

“So you think it’s possible someone intentionally caused Dad’s death?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“What are you thinking?”

“How could there have been a propane explosion in the number two mine near the main shaft anyway? That doesn’t make any sense. Propane isn’t store inside the mine. There are too many company and government regulations to let something like that happen, especially concerning employee safety and physical structure. Too many procedures in place.”

“You’re right.”

“The thought is ridicules. Nothing like this just happens.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“It had to have been staged.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Tommy said.

“A methane gas pocket, carbon monoxide poisoning, maybe I could buy that; those things are always threats, especially when it comes to mining operations, but not propane. How did they know it was propane anyway?”

“Dusty mentioned that they have uncovered parts from several large propane tanks that blew.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“You’re right,” Tommy said.

“Were there any after fires?” Lamar asked.

“No, I don’t think so. Dusty didn’t mention any.”

“Then it’s obvious; it wasn’t a methane gas buildup.”

“You’re right.”

“I can’t believe this,” Lamar Jr. lashed back over the phone.

“Tommy, first my mother and now my father. I can’t believe this. You’ve got to find out what really happened.”

“I will.”

“Promise me, Tommy. Promise me you will find out what happened and let me know.”

“Of course I will. I promise. I’ll get to the bottom of it. I’m flying down there tomorrow morning. I promise I will call you as soon as I know something.”

Lamar Jr. had only
hours earlier heard about his father’s accident. He had always thought of Thomas as an uncle and knew that Thomas would set him straight about what had actually happened to his father.

An emergency conference call had been set up between the eight branches of Ingram Enterprises, connecting all corporate officers and branch managers. Over the next five hours news of more than just the explosion started to surface.

It was around eight-thirty when Thomas finally remembered to call Elle and tell her what was going on. He needed to tell her that he would be leaving for Brazil on the red-eye and needed her to pack his bags. He had been put in charge of finding out what had happened. This was not the first time, and probably not the last time, Elle would have to entertain a social party without him being there. Answers had to be found and found quickly.

Douglas Richards
had joined Ingram Enterprises right out of Harvard Law School. He was an avid hunter and accomplished sailor, wore a close-cropped military style haircut and, while in the office, always displayed a serious demeanor. Douglas had interned for Lamar during his junior and senior years of college and once vetted had joined the company full time in the early eighties after completing his master’s degree at Oxford.

Lamar and Thomas both liked what they saw in Douglas. They liked his drive, his ambition, and the qualities he represented. Together they had given Douglas quite the incentive package to come aboard once he graduated. Before Douglas knew it, he was running the European operation from offices in Paris, France.

Ingram Enterprises also had offices in London and Stockholm and was making plans to open up two new European branches within the coming year.

It was nearly midnight Paris time when the company conference call ended.

Thomas conducted the conference call along with Douglas and Milford Langston. It was only fitting since all three men were senior advisors on the board.

All the partners who had been on the conference call were top recruits in their field. It was good knowing that each of the men were on top of their game, especially at this time.

It was business as usual.

It was morning before Thomas and Douglas were able to talk with Katherine.

At the
Kentuckianna Tribune
in downtown Louisville, the presses were already being stopped. Reporters, pressmen, operators, news runners, copy editors, managers, and staff were all running through the ten-story building that housed the newspaper operations as though the mine explosion had just occurred inside their building. The front page of tomorrow’s issue had to be scrapped. The new story was worked. It had to be worked and then reworked and then sent through the composing room and then into the pressroom. It had to be printed as the new feature under the next morning’s headline, and there were only a few hours to make this happen before it would be old news.

The edition had to reflect the man, the events, the times, the history, and the life of one of the most influential and respected men in Kentucky history. It had to be precise yet bold.

Lamar Ingram had not only been the owner and CEO of Ingram Enterprises, he was also the owner of the Kentuckianna Tribune and former Lieutenant Governor of the state.

The front page of tomorrow’s local newspaper would read:
Mining Explosion

Lamar Alex Ingram Presumed Dead

Friday at the local press conference, held in the rotunda of the Channel Eleven News Building in Louisville, Frank Manning, spokesman and public relations manager for Ingram Enterprises and the Ingram family, spoke briefly. He talked while eager news reporters crowded around with pencil and pad in hand with television cameras rolling. Alongside Frank sat Katherine Ingram, Lamar’s sister and co-owner of the Ingram Company.

Beside Katherine sat her husband Milford Langston.

“First, on behalf of myself, Katherine, Milford, and the entire Ingram family, I would like to say how saddened we are tonight at the loss of this great man. Lamar was a husband, a brother, a devoted father, and a friend of many people. He will be missed by all those that knew him. He will be greatly missed.

“We will do everything possible to find out exactly what happened at the mine and why the accident occurred. We also mourn for the other men, the many workers at the mine, who lost their lives along with Lamar.

“Plans are being made at this time to have Lamar’s body brought home and buried. Thank you.”

Katherine Ingram
stood alone inside her newly-built penthouse suite, alone on the top floor of the prestigious Ingram Towers in downtown Louisville. There were times she needed to be away from her family, away from the Ingram Manor house, away from her friends, her husband, and all the people that tried so desperately to push their way into her life; and tonight was one of those nights. This is where she needed to be.

This is where she would retreat, where she would find solace, her space, where she would recharge her thoughts. It would be at this location.

Katherine felt right at home here, just as she had on many other occasions, sipping on a martini and looking out over the Ohio River through the large picture windows that ran the length of the living room. Standing there, watching out her windows as the barges, the boats, and the river life seemed to continue on, moving up and down the river as usual, with no concern in what had just happened in her life or to her brother.

How dare they? If she could stop them she would.

“Screw it,” she muttered under her breath, now forced to focus on the matter at hand. It was as though they were oblivious to Katherine’s world, oblivious to the news that had only hours earlier hit the Kentucky area. Unaware of the death of her brother, unaware of the grief of the city, and ignorant to the pain that Katherine Ingram and her immediate family were now feeling.

The sun had now gone down. What had been the outline of downtown Louisville was now complete and utter darkness, except for glowing lights from buildings far in the distance and headlights moving along the interstates and bridges. Streetlights now illuminated the busy streets, placing shadowy effects on the river walk below. Katherine had looked out these windows on many occasions, during parties, social gathering, nights with a client or a business acquaintance, closing deals or getting thrills, but for tonight she was seeing things, simple things, just a little bit clearer than usual from her twenty-fourth floor hideaway palace.

No longer in her mind would she be typecast in the roll of sister of Lamar Ingram or daughter of the founder of the company, Baxter Ingram. Both were dead. Now she would be seen as owner, CEO, and head of the Ingram Empire.

She was in control. Power and control of the operations were now at her fingertips, just as she had always hoped and dreamed they would someday be. It was now all hers.

When it came to business dealings, no one would be standing in her way, no one pushing their ideas on her, no one forcing his or her morals on the subject, no one watching over her shoulder to make sure she held the highest regards for loyalty and integrity when dealing with the business world or the people in it. Katherine saw things clearly now.

Everything she had worked for was now within reach. She could taste the victory, and she would savor it for a long time. It was hers. Mrs. Embry, a long-time service worker of the Ingrams, who Katherine kept on duty at the penthouse, walked into the living room from the servant’s quarters.

“Mrs. Ingram, will there be anything else that you need tonight, Madam? Anything else I can get you before I leave?”

With a gesture seldom seen by the common help, Katherine turned to her, smiling over her martini glass and said, “No. No thank you, Betty. I have everything I need. Everything is just fine. You may go.”

“Yes, Madam. Goodnight.”

Minutes later, the
phone rang. Katherine surveyed the room, moved across the floor, around the sofa, and stood beside the glass coffee table. Not amused by the display on the caller ID, Katherine held her ground, steadfast, letting the phone continue ringing several times before picking it up and answering. It was Milford, Katherine’s husband, her cowboy, soul mate, and her pain-in-the-ass.

“You’re keeping late hours,” Milford said.

“I was up.”

“I figured as much.”

“What do you want?” Katherine asked.

“Nothing really,” Milford said, leaning against his kitchen table stirring his drink.

“Why did you call?”

“You sound surprised.”

“No. Not really. I’m sadly aware of your needs and intrusiveness. I was just hoping to be left alone tonight.”

“I couldn’t sleep. I keep thinking about Lamar. What happened?

You know, it’s quiet over here at the main house. I was just up.”

“Me too,” Katherine said.

“I made myself a drink, sat in the swing, took a long walk, came back inside. I was thinking about fixing another drink.”

“Where did you go?”

“Just up to the barn and back. I checked on the horses. I was just thinking, you know, about life, Lamar, death, general shit, things like that.”

“What else?” Katherine asked.

“What do we do next?”

“About what?” Katherine asked.

“Everything; our business, our life, the horses, the group, the farm, Lamar,” Milford protested.

“I really don’t want to talk about it, especially not now.”

“Why not? Why not now? You going someplace?” Milford asked.

“To bed. I was hoping, planning, to go to bed. Now’s not the time,”

Katherine scoffed.

“How can you sleep?” Milford asked. “Your brother was just killed. Where’s your passion, your emotions?”

“I know that. It’s devastating.”

“So how?” Milford asked.

“As for Lamar, we move on with our lives. We move on. So what do you want? Is that it? Is that really why you called and interrupted me this late in the evening?”

“No.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. I was just checking on my wife, seeing how you are. Stupid me, I was wondering if you might need something, anything. I just wanted to talk to you, hear your voice. Is that such an incredible stretch? You seem surprised.”

“No. Not really. Why?”

“Why? What?” Milford asked, quickly realizing Katherine was, for whatever reason, in one of her moods, being confrontational with everything he said or did. “I just explained it.”

Katherine paused. “Why are you checking up on me, anyway? I told you I wanted to be left alone.”

Milford paused for a minute, and then said, “I’m not checking up on you. I just thought you might want to come home tonight, be together, so we could talk, comfort each other.”