Saltwater in the Bluegrass (5 page)

“Give it to me.”

Lamar, seeing what was going on, what his sister was capable of, immediately jumped in, trying to defuse the situation, “Katherine, stop it, there’s no reason for this. You’re being rude.”

“Can it, Lamar? Your wife needs to follow some very simple, but important rules, if she is going to live here.”

“Your behavior is uncalled for. Kristina was just trying to help.”

“Rule number one, I don’t need Kristina’s help. Ever.” Katherine said.

“Obviously, you don’t. Still, there is no reason for the attitude,”

Lamar said, waiting for a reaction.

Katherine did not respond.

“Here it is, the letter,” Kristina said. “I’m sorry I left it in the car last night. I hope it was alright? I didn’t mean for it to be a problem.”

“No, it’s not alright. It is a problem. I’d prefer it, next time, that you tell the delivery driver to do his job and deliver the package to the person it is addressed to.”

“Sure, I’ll do that,” Kristina said.”

Katherine grabbed the letter out of Kristina’s hand, turned, and walked out the door.

Lamar shook his head, but Kristina just smiled. “Typical Katherine,” Lamar said.

“I guess. Oh, by the way, darling,” Kristina continued, “I have a new outfit that I want to show you upstairs in the bedroom.”

Lamar looked back with a smile. “Been spending a little of the family fortune, have you?”

“No, no, I’ve been spending a lot of the family fortune,” replied Kristina with a laugh.

Upstairs in the bedroom, the mood began to change quickly. Kristina pulled the copy she had made from her purse and gave it to Lamar.

“What do you think this means?” Kristina asked as she handed it over to him.

“What is this, anyway?” Lamar asked as he looked over the paper. Kristina turned, slightly lifting her head. “I’m not sure. I just thought it puzzling, and with Katherine’s history, with underhanded schemes and self-absorbed opportunities, I felt I should pass it along to you and let you sort it out.”

Lamar knew his sister, what she was capable of. He’d seen it before. He made a grunting sound of contempt, rolled his eyes, and then turned back to his wife now sitting on the edge of the bed. “I appreciate that,” Lamar said.

Over the next few minutes, Kristina told Lamar what she had done, how she had come to have this copy of the document. The longer they looked at the copy, the more suspicious they became. They were also apprehensive about the way Katherine acted when they had arrived home.

Something had to be up.

Tomorrow, questions would have to be answered.

Katherine had to be up to something. Why else would she be acting like this, acting even stranger than normal? Time would eventually tell what was going on. There was nothing Kristina would like more than to find out what it was and then knock Katherine off of her perch with it.

Time and timing, this was all it would take.

Katherine knew
something was up, especially when Lamar had started asking questions pertaining to the Brazilian mines. She knew Lamar.

She knew for sure on Sunday morning when he began walking around the house, acting like he was hiding thoughts, digging for answers, and feeling for clues. It wasn’t like him. Katherine was always the one with ice water running through her veins. She could look someone straight in the eye and lie without their ever knowing. When it came to family matters, associate conflicts, or boardroom theatrics, Katherine showed no mercy. Being the one in charge meant everything. Being the one that won was everything.

In Katherine’s eyes, Kristina, Lamar’s wife of two years, was not smart enough to be acting the way she was, at least not without knowing something was up. And Lamar was, in her eyes, too naïve and oblivious to the things that were right in front of him. Combined, they were not smart enough or capable enough to know what Katherine had been doing.

Katherine then stopped in the hallway, the corridor stretched in both directions, examining her suspicions. She thought; was it possible that Kristina had found out what was in the envelope? Was it possible that she had shown the information to Lamar before they drove home? Katherine had never trusted anyone.

Then again, so what if Lamar found it? Would he be able to understand the letter? Probably not? Would he be able to understand the code that had worked so well for many months? Again, probably not? The more she thought, the more she wondered. The more she wondered, the more she knew that it was possible. She began to think. Maybe it was time she cut her losses to this pathetic excuse for a dysfunctional family and branch out on her own.

It was late Sunday evening, and Katherine needed to talk with Joseph Bowen in Brazil immediately.

She picked up the phone, dialed the number, and waited patiently for the call to go through. Within seconds it had, and she placed the order on her brother.

Whenever Katherine needed to talk in privacy, she would go over to the penthouse. For her, it was standard practice. Not only did she own the top floor, but she also occupied the twenty-third floor just below her, which was kept vacant. This way she would never be bothered with sounds or noises coming from people below. The area also gave her a secured place to keep financial records and surveillance tapes.

Katherine made it perfectly clear to Joseph Bowen: she felt certain the documents in the envelope sent to her by Ylime had been intercepted by Kristina, and most likely the document had been shown to Lamar. It could no longer be tolerated. This scheme was too sweet of a deal to let her brother or sister-in-law spoil it now. Joseph picked up on what Katherine was saying.

“So, Katherine, you’re saying it’s fourth and long, and we need to punt the ball.”

“What? No, you idiot. I pay you way too much money for you to let someone tap my phones and listen to my phone conversations. I want my brother killed. Do you understand me? I want him dead. Now take care of this mess, or I’ll get someone else that can. Do you understand? I want him dead, now!”

“Sure, Katherine, sure thing, I understand. I’ll take care of it for you as soon as Lamar arrives down here. I’ll take care of it. Now, is there anything else you need me to do?”

“Yes,” Katherine said.

“What is it?”

“After you get rid of my brother, I want you to take care of that little tramp he’s married to.”

Katherine’s call to Joseph Bowen
had been
short and deliberate. It had accomplished what she needed. It was still
going through her thoughts even now, late in the evening a week later. Everything as far as she was concerned was over. Lamar was dead, the press conference was over, and the tide of reporters had finally backed off. Twilight had deepened into night. Katherine was into her third drink when the phone rang once again. It was her public relations man, Frank Manning.

“Hi, Katherine, anything you need?”

“No thank you, Frank.”

“Okay, just thought I would check up on you before I went to bed. It’s been a long day for all of us. I just thought I’d ask.”

“Thanks, Frank. That is sweet of you.”

“Sure I can’t get you something? It’s no problem.”

“No, Frank.”

“Okay then. I’ll see you at the office in the morning. Good night.”

“Good night, Frank.”

Katherine hung up the phone and, without a glimmer of niceness she had used on the phone, turned and pulled the cord out of the wall.

“Stupid, pathetic little weasel,” she said. “Like I need his help.”

She then called it a night, retiring to the bedroom.
Across town and a week earlier,
Lamar had closed
himself off from the family pretty much all day the day after he received the letter.

He had gotten up early in the morning, around six a.m., long before anyone else and had gone into the kitchen. He made a cup of coffee, grabbed a muffin, and then went straight into his office at the house, locking the door behind him.

At four o’clock in the afternoon, Lamar walked out of the office with his briefcase, left the house, got in his car and drove off—not saying a word to anyone—and didn’t return until long after everyone had gone to bed. Memories of the past told him his sister was up to something.

But what was it?

What was this coded message sent to Katherine from Brazil, from a man named Ylime, somebody that he had never heard of? Why was Katherine dealing with someone from Brazil when she knew that Lamar was the one in charge of the mining operations in Porto Alegre? He hated her interference. Why was she so insistent that he hire Joseph Bowen to oversee the mining operations? Too many things were leading up to trouble.

Everything continued to lead back to two things: these two men, Sevil Ylime and Joseph Bowen, and this coded message Ylime had sent.

What was the connection? What was the message? One thing was sure: the mines, all three of them, had not met there projections for the last twelve months. The quality and excellence of the finds were still substantially high, but the deposit, which is based on quantity, quality, and rate of percentage dug, did not add up. The reserve of deposit that had been projected was far below its annual expectations. Stock holders were beginning to ask questions.

Somehow, someone was obviously skimming off the top. It had to be part of what Katherine was involved with, and it had to be stopped immediately.

Sixty-two hours prior
to the explosion, Lamar had abruptly dropped everything in his life. His meeting in the boardroom at the newspaper, dealing with labor issues, his luncheon with two of the Louisville Aldermen at Kunz’s considering his proposal on zoning changes along the corner of Fifth and Broadway, his racquetball game with his son Lamar Jr., and his Monday evening gin rummy game at the country club.

The Kentucky Wildcat Basketball Calendar that hung behind his desk in his office at home read Monday April 8th. His watch, a Boluva handed down from his father, had just minutes ago beeped six fortyfive a.m. Down the hall, golden sunlight drenched the east porch, pouring through the glass double doors, and sparkled rays made warm rectangle shapes on the tile floor.

Carlton, the uniformed butler who had been with the family for twenty years, was just bringing in the morning newspaper. Mrs. Kimball, the white-haired housekeeper that had served for the last eight years, was in the dining room pouring the coffee. Kristina was still in bed nursing the makeshift headache she had invented the night before. Little did Kristina know Lamar was not interested in being with her this morning or having sex. He was too busy running the business.

Katherine was already dressed in her gray tweed business suit with no accessories or jewelry and on her way in her Mercedes to a meeting she had scheduled in the Beneficial Life Towers downtown. Lamar Jr. was on his way up to Frankfort, to the capital, to sit in on the Sixth District Legislature meeting. There would be no time this morning for breakfast or coffee.

Lamar was dressed, packed, and leaving in five minutes for the Bowman Field Airport. He had already called the Shell Aviation Terminal the night before, talking with Barry Snawder, senior vice president of operations, to get all the clearance data ready and to inform his people to have Scott Hazel, his ground crew team leader, to get his plane, The Paper Boy, ready to fly south at first light. The Paper Boy was number one of the three new Citation CJ2 jets that Ingram Enterprises owned, and today it was heading to Brazil.

Sixty hours
and counting to the time that Lamar Ingram would lose his life. Prior to this, he had been the oldest son to the most influential and wealthy family in Louisville. Number one son, as his father Baxter Ingram would say.

Owner, along with his sister Katherine Whitworth Ingram, since their father and mother had died and left them
The Kentuckianna
Tribune
Newspaper, The Bluegrass Lumber and Mill Works Operation, The Blue Dye Ink and Paper Company, seventeen buildings that stood within the downtown business district, five international financing bank and trust houses, three law firms—one of which dealt with patents, copyrights, and publishing, one with land research development, and the other with litigation—and then there were the three mining operations located in Brazil.

Lamar climbed the five steps boarding the private jet, only acknowledging the two pilots and walking straight past the ground crew.

Within minutes, the jet left the ground and circled to the right in a southwestern direction. It would take twelve hours before he arrived in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Until then, Lamar would have time to bring the hatred and fear he had discovered to a manageable level. While on the flight, Lamar went over the letter that Kristina had given him upstairs in the bedroom. What was Katherine up to, and with whom? Why was he heading down to Brazil with only speculations? Because he trusted Katherine as far as he could throw her.

His first thought was that if Katherine was doing something dishonest to the company and wanted it kept secret, then Joseph Bowen had to be involved.

Lamar had never thought much of the three advisors that Katherine had hired for her part of the company—Joseph Bowen, Patrick Lane, or Randy Traden—especially Bowen, and now Bowen was working in Brazil and overseeing the company’s largest operation.
Forty-two hours and counting
as Lamar’s jet landed in Rio de Janeiro and taxied down the runway to the terminal, the plane coming to a smooth stop alongside the airport building. Lamar watched through the window as the ground crew started servicing the plane before the doors were even open.

The Paper Boy had flown into this airport on several occasions in the last two years.

Within thirty minutes, The Paper Boy was fueled and serviced and was taxiing down the runway once again. It would take fifty-two minutes to reach the Sao Paulo airport.

Lamar had already told the captain to call ahead when they were on final approach to have a car and driver waiting outside the gate for him when he arrived. Just as expected, the car was parked right outside the gate with the driver standing beside the back door. It would be twelve hours by car to the operations office that controlled all three mines.